#the actual decision for this is pending but like.

[cult-of-dollbabies]

for abomination I want Kyle and Andy to have a run-in with some other supernatural creature as a fill for childs play 2 & their shared traumatic bonding experience from that movie and while it absolutely wont be canon to the au I had a vision of them facing off gremlins in my sleepy haze last night and thought it'd be cool/kinda hilarious

[reasonsforhope]

"Tuesday’s [April 9, 2024] definition-shifting court ruling means nearly 50 governments must now contend with a new era of climate litigation.

Governments be warned: You must protect your citizens from climate change — it’s their human right.

The prescient message was laced throughout a dense ruling Tuesday from Europe’s top human rights court. The court’s conclusion? Humans have a right to safety from climate catastrophes that is rooted in their right to life, privacy and family.

The definition-shifting decision from the European Court of Human Rights means nearly 50 governments representing almost 700 million people will now have to contend with a new era of litigation from climate-stricken communities alleging inaction. 

While the judgment itself doesn’t include any penalties — the case featured several women accusing Switzerland of failing to shield them from climate dangers — it does establish a potent precedent that people can use to sue governments in national courts.

The verdict will serve “as a blueprint for how to successfully sue your own government over climate failures,” said Ruth Delbaere, a legal specialist at Avaaz, a U.S.-based nonprofit that promotes climate activism...

Courting the courts on climate

The European Court of Human Rights was established in the decade following World War II but has grown in importance over the last generation. As the judicial arm of the Council of Europe, an international human rights organization, the court’s rulings are binding on the council’s 46 members, spanning all of Europe and numerous countries on its borders.

As a result, Tuesday’s [April 9, 2024] ruling will help elevate climate litigation from a country-by-country battle to one that stretches across continents.

Previously, climate activists had mostly found success in suing individual countries to force climate action. 

A 2019 Dutch Supreme Court verdict forced the Netherlands to slash its greenhouse gas emissions by 25 percent, while in 2021 a French court ruled the government was responsible for environmental damage after it failed to meet greenhouse gas reduction goals. That same year, Germany’s Constitutional Court issued a sweeping judgment that the country’s 2019 climate law was partly “unconstitutional” because it put too much of the emissions-cutting burden on future generations.

Even in the U.S., young environmental activists won a local case last year against state agencies after arguing that the continued use of fossil fuels violated their right to a "clean and healthful environment."

But 2024 is shaping up to be a turning point for climate litigation, redefining who has a right to sue over climate issues, what arguments they can use, and whom they can target. 

To start, experts overwhelmingly expect that Tuesday’s ruling will reverberate across future lawsuits — both in Europe and globally. The judgment even includes specifics about what steps governments must take to comply with their new climate-related human rights obligations. The list includes things like a concrete deadline to reach climate neutrality, a pathway to getting there, and evidence the country is actually on that path...

Concretely, the verdict could also affect the outcomes of six other high-profile climate lawsuits pending before the human rights court, including a Greenpeace-backed suit questioning whether Norway's decision to grant new oil and gas licenses complies with its carbon-cutting strategy.

An emerging legal strategy

In the coming months, other international bodies are also expected to issue their own rulings on the same thorny legal issues, which could further solidify the evolving trend. 

The International Court of Justice, the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea and the Inter-American Court of Human Rights all have similar cases working through the system.

"All these cases together will clarify the legal obligations of states to protect rights in the context of climate change — and will set the stage for decades to come," said Chowdhury, from the environmental law center."

-via Politico, April 9, 2024

[cherryredstars]

I'm so happy you did part 2 of fear or lust ❤️ It's one of my favorite pieces you've done.

Can we get a last part of the series where reader and Miguel are about to graduate and how she is getting job offers from halfway across the world. Miguel obviously doesn't want her to leave him, so he bullies convinces her to stay with him.

Love your work!

Kisses 💋💋💋

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Toxic!Miguel, Manipulative Sex, Penetrative Sex, Choking, Forced Agreement

A/N: Thank you, sweets! Enjoy!

Unedited

Part 1 Part 2

You are destined for greater things.

That's what the university's dean had said during their graduation. Miguel knew that was particularly true for the two of you, everyone else he didn't quite care. He had already been offered positions in the biggest corporate businesses specializing in science and genetics, the offers still pending and eagerly awaiting his response. He's seen from the common snooping around on your phone that your emails were spammed with similar offers from different businesses across the world, some you've kept personal contact with through messaging. It makes him sour, not because he doesn't want you to succeed, but because he doesn't want you flying halfway across the fucking world to do it.

He finally has you trapped between his claws, but now you're already planning to escape him. Makes him grumpy, his mind already brewing with ways to get you to stay, to get the offers beckoning you with fully-paid flights to different countries to suddenly disappear. Ways to make you stay with him. He's already narrowed down the job offers in you're onslaught of requests that align with the location of the offer he's going to accept. A nice position in Alchemax right here in Nueva York. You would still have a great selection of jobs to accept here, a few five or more positions that are stationed around the same area. All he has to do is convince you to take up their offers.

That's why he has you trapped under him, his hand wrapped around your throat as his chest sits flush with your back. Your lips are just as puffy and wet as your eyes as tears run down your cheeks. Miguel feeds harsh, slow thrusts into your drooling cunt, slowly dragging against your walls just to spear you on his entire length again. You let out broken sobs, eyes half-lidded and staring into nothing as you get lost in the pleasure.

Miguel's mouth rests just by your ear, speaking words so low and casual as if he isn't abusing your precious cunt.

"Think some nobody across the world s'gonna make your pussy feel this good, hm?" He mutters to you, smiling evilly at the way the words cause your spine to jolt.

"N-no," You force out through wobbly lips, blinking slowly as your mind tries to process what he's actually saying.

"Then why would you wanna leave, Bambi?" Miguel chuckles, furthering his point with a suffocating thrust against your cervix, making you choke on your next breath.

"I-" You begin, brows furrowing. Why was it you wanted to leave? You don't remember. You don't even remember what he's talking about. "I don't know..."

"You don't know?" Miguel chuckles, something dark and condescending in his voice. "Well that's stupid then, don't you think."

You nod in agreement, eyes rolling back with a drawn out moan as Miguel forces his hand between your body and the mattress to rub at your swollen clit. Miguel leans further into you, his teeth capturing your ear as he gives it a bite that he soothes with a long lick.

"Should just stay here with me, Bambi. You don't really want to leave, right?"

The way he says it, even though he presents it like a simple question, seems final. Like he's already made the decision for you. But your mind is too overloaded to catch it, for it to break it down and blare out warning bells. Instead you nod with a half-assed hum as you feel your orgasm approaching. Your mouth drops open in a moan, a shaky call of his name forming on your lips as you feel your body beginning to stiffen as that ball in your stomach is on the brink of explosion.

You cry out when Miguel stops completely, keeping his cock snug and motionless against your fluttering walls.

"Why-" You sob, trying to move your hips despite the impossible weight he presses into you. "Miggy- I- so close!"

Miguel snarls, his hand tightening around your throat. A panic seizes in your chest as your airway contracts.

"Say it," He grits into your ear. "Say that you'll stay."

You hesitate, your mind trying to understand the words and push away the pain around your neck. But Miguel only adds to the pressure when you don't respond, feeling his patience wanning.

"I-" You choke, words strained until he lightens his hold, "I'm going to s-stay."

Miguel seems to suddenly brighten, turning your head so his forehead rests against your sweaty one. "Promise?"

"Yeah," You whisper out, sniffling as your tears gather at the corner of your lips. "I promise."

Miguel grins, something ruthless and demented before he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss seems more like a punishment rather than a reward, his tongue thrashing in your mouth and his lips bruising. When he pulls away, he licks away the tears from your face, chuckling before he adjusts his position.

"Good girl, Bambi. Was that so hard?" He laughs, his hand leaving it's place against your throat and clit to wrap around your hips.

He begins thrusting again, faster and rougher than before. He leaves your head completely empty as he praises you for falling into his trap, feeding your blank brain with prettied up images of how nice your future will be. Feeds you with dolled up images of the two of you moving in together in a nice apartment in Nueva York that's a fair distance from both of your places of employment. Grunts about how happy he'll be to come home from work to find you splayed out on your shared bed waiting for him to return and fill you up again and again.

He doesn't stop until you're screaming out your release, coating his cock in a beautiful sheen of milky white until you're too exhausted and fucked out. He rewards you with a gift of his own cum, stuffing your cunt just like he promised in those worded glimpses of your future together. He makes sure to care for you after, caring until you get sleepy and fall into a deep sleep. It's only then that he goes through your phone, writing a rejection to send and copy and paste to all your other job offers. What type of man would he be if he didn't take care of this for you when you're completely incapable of doing it yourself? Don't worry though, he promises he'll sit down with you and help you write your acceptance to any of the other jobs here in Nueva York.

Promise.

[erectile-disgruntlement]

TW: suicidal thoughts and law enforcement

I had an interview at my local Safeway today and they offered me the job pending a background check. I thought I should be honest about my criminal history because if they're going to do a background check, I might as well not lie about it and make myself look worse. That was the wrong fucking decision. They decided the harassment conviction that I self reported along with my "rehabilitation" plans of weekly therapy and the phone number of the victim in the case were just too horrible for me to be hired. This is the only fucking place that would give me 4 hour shifts and I'm so fucking tired. I just want to be done with that stupid fucking conviction.

In July of last year, I called 911 on my partner after he grabbed a knife and threatened to kill himself after he ruptured my eardrum. For reasons completely beyond me, the police decided to arrest me and throw my ass in jail. It was like 9-10 am and I still had to wait till 1 pm the next day to see a judge. I wasn't given any of my medications that night despite them having them and my heart rate being in the 150's or higher the entire night.

The fucking trauma didn't stop after I got out though because I still had fucking criminal charges against me. We had a plea deal made up that would expunge the charges after I was on unsupervised probation for a year. And then the day of my fucking sentencing, they switched DAs and that flew out of the window. I was also originally charged with both harassment and assault, but the assault charge was dropped, so the new DA decided to threaten that if I pleaded not guilty and it went to trial, they would add the assault charge back on.

I was basically forced to plead guilty without a plea deal. Thankfully, the judge took pity on me or something so she just gave me 12 months bench probation and ordered me to continue the therapy I was already doing instead of giving me 18 months and making me go to a batters group like the DA wanted.

At this fucking point I'm genuinely contemplating suicide not because I actually want to die, but just because I know I don't have to worry about this shit if I'm dead.

[mochinomnoms]

Funfacts about PTM Characters!

Still chilling out from finishing my thesis, but I had a few fun facts about the side characters for PTM that I'd thought you'd all enjoy in the meantime! It's gonna include some of the canon characters as well as the ocs!

This includes some very minor, but not story defining, spoilers for PTM so proceed with caution! As a reminder, PTM takes place a school year after the current timeline!

Canon Characters:

Jade and Floyd made bets on who would get together with their crush first during their 3rd year. The loser has to let the winner(s) plan and execute the most humiliating way to confess. Neither twin is winning. Azul is currently winning with his bet of “neither of you will, you cowards.”

Ortho went to most of Idia's classes during his time at NRC, so he was allowed to “skip” repeating those years when becoming an official student by taking a competency exam. However, he is still staying for a year since the test only allows for core classes and not his electives. He's happy to do so, though.

Idia stayed at NRC to complete his internship with the school, much to his disappointment. He works as a Technomage Intern with the college's technology department.

The overblot cast got closer with each other and Yuu than expected over the summer due to Crowley and S.T.Y.X. requiring them to take part in a “summer camp” to monitor them and their health. Leona still hates Malleus though. Malleus is still mostly unaware of this.

Malleus still does not know how to use technology. Sebek and Yuu have a weekly call with him via a looking glass mirror that acts like a video call. Malleus enjoys it very much.

Kalim switched places with Jamil and is now vice housewarden, while Jamil is now housewarden. Neither's families were happy about this, but were shut down by Kalim being surprisingly firm about his decision. To everyone's surprise, Kalim does very well as a vice over a housewarden, though Scarabia has had significantly fewer parties since the switch.

Nearly all the clubs that had the 3rd years as captains/heads had one of the 2nd years take over into their 3rd year. Ruggie is now Spelldrive Captain, Azul is head of the Board Game Club, and the Gargoyle Studies Club is headed by Yuu. The Pop Music Club is also more formalized now, with Kalim as the head. The Science Club and Film Studies have an NPC 3rd year as heads.

Yuu isn't actually that bad at singing as everyone has (and will continue to do so) suggested. Most of the student body had classical training growing up as part of their privileged upbringing, and Yuu has to compete with that.

At least two pairs of canon characters will get together at the end! Guess who tehe.

OC:

Silas likes to eat bugs and regularly digs in the dirt behind Ramshackle to find something crunchy to munch. They did it once in front of Jamil and the poor guy screamed in horror.

Yev became the new Pomefiore housewarden due to being able to produce the best posion, as per tradition. However, he's actually quite bad at being a housewarden and his vice is the one that everyone tends to listen to.

The Salson triplets are from the TWST equivalent of Salem, and have a North easterner accent, similar to Boston I think. Wynfred and Marion mimic English, or Rosarian, accents, but Silas does not.

There are two more mermen in the school, minus the canon cast and two ocs. They aren't important to the story, but their names are Mariano De La Reyes and Benji (last name still pending). They're based off of Marina and Benjamin from the third Little Mermaid movie.

Speaking of mermen, Aspen is a squidmer and is based on the colossal squid. He's about 18 ft long and still growing. Tony is based on a tiger shark, but is the runt of his litter, hence why he's so small.

Tommy, the white rabbit beastmen that was introduced as Riddle's new vice, is notorious for always running late. He never has actually been late to anything due to parkouring everywhere and climbing the castle walls to enter the classrooms through the windows. Floyd learned how to parkour from him. Riddle hates everything about this.

Briefly mentioned in the last chapter was the botany professor, Kallpa. Kallpa is based on Kronk and the uncle of Yev.

Nurse Goethel has a wife and two daughters that she brings with her to family days on campus. The daughters are roughly age 11 and 13 and each time they've come have designated a student as the new person they want to marry. Two years ago it was Leona and Trey, last year it was Azul and Jamil, this year it's Jack and Ortho. There is no reasoning behind their decision, it's all based on vibes.

James has met Jade and Floyd when they were all very young. James was on his Great Aunt's ship, who was meeting with Papa Leech for unknown reasons. James only remembers them due to their heterochromia eyes, but the twins don't remember anything.

Marion has a really strong sense of smell that is on par with the beastmen. He hates Pomefiore because the dorm and students are heavily perfumed and it gives him a migraine.

Yaqub actually has a twin brother that goes to RSA. He thinks it's funny that it turned out that way and they like to shittalk their schools together on the weekends. RSA is much more chaotic and full of troublemakers than NRC realizes.

At least two pairs of the freshmen will get together at the end of PTM, but it will be a surprise as to who!

And that's all! I have more but I think I'll save them for another time!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Pain of Living 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, chronic pain, blood/violence, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You deal with pain every day, but a new source of pain lands on your front step.

Note: I know I shouldn’t.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Ibuprofen, pedialyte, gauze, and a few extras just to pad out your cupboards. It’s not quite a success considering what you’re headed back to. You drive cautiously, wondering if anyone else can see the horror sewn into your face. No one stops you, no sirens whoop, you’re left to face the strange man in your bed. 

You get home and carry in the bags, pausing just inside to catch your breath. The brief trip has you ragged. You feel twice as bad as when you left. That isn’t what matters. The blood on your floor reminds you that there is much worse to deal with. 

You bend and take out the large bottle of pills and a bottle of grape electrolytes. Your steps are weighed down by more than your pain. Dread hangs off of you like a wet blanket. 

You knock. On your own door. The man doesn’t answer. Your heart pumps. You knock louder, keeping the bottles hugged under your arm. 

Still no answer. You twist the handle and push inside. Please, let it be an awful nightmare. Don’t let him be dead. 

“Ah, oh god,��� you exclaim and spin away from the sight the strange man’s naked back. The vision of his ass as he bends his leg around your duvet is stamped into your mind. Ugh. “Sorry, I--” 

“Fuck, I finally fell asleep,” he sneers. “Got the painkillers?” You nod at the hallway. The bed creaks and he huffs. “Well... give it.” 

You turn warily. He has the blanket pulled over his lap. His torso is entire naked, a patchwork of stitches, dried blood, and hair. You near the bed and set down the tablets and the electrolytes. 

“NSAIDs,” he rattles the bottle. “Anti-inflammatories help with blood clotting. It’ll keep me from bleeding out like Normandy beach.” You wince at his crude allusion. He rolls his eyes, “relax. Think I’m through the worst of it. No major arteries. But damn...” he leans back against the pillows, “I feel like a slapped ass.” 

You furrow your brow. The way he talks, his arrogance, it makes it hard to feel bad for him despite his injuries. He tosses back two pills and reaches for the other bottle. He gulps eagerly and pops his wet lips. 

“Mm, fuck, exactly what I need. Hey, you got a TV you can move in here? Something to watch?” He asks. 

You hesitate. 

“You should probably sleep--” 

“Thanks, Nurse Ratchet, I’d love to fucking sleep, but I’m restless now you woke me up,” he sneers. 

“Um... I have my laptop.” 

“Any fucking screen that can keep me from going mad staring at the ceiling.” He insists. 

You nod and back out of the room. This is odd. Absurd to the point you question your own sanity. Have you summoned a hallucination out of sheer boredom? Did you snap? Or do you really have the worst luck? 

You sniff and go to find your laptop. You don’t use it for more than filing your insurance claims and to get your mailing labels for your work. He can borrow it for a bit. You don’t have any pending orders. 

You return to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you enter. You hold out the computer. 

“Here, um, it’s all yours.” 

“You talk to anyone?” He asks. 

“Anyone...?” 

“When you went out, did you talk to anyone?” 

“Not really. I used the self-checkout--” 

“Did you tell anyone about me?” He interrupts. 

“Erm, no, I...” 

“Fuck, you are dull. That’s all I need,” he takes the laptop. “You can piss off.” 

You flinch. Wow. That’s not very nice. 

You reach for the laptop as he puts it on his lap, “look, if you’re going to be mean, I have better things to do with that--” 

He grabs your wrist and easily twists it back. Despite his condition, he’s just as strong as his bulging muscles would suggest. You whimper as your eyes glimmer. 

“Ow, let go, please,” you whimper. 

He keeps you locked in for another moment before he obliges. You retract and swallow down the agony. What hurt before is now unbearable. You cradle your arm and retreat. 

“Close the door, raggedy ann.” 

You shut the door. As much to block him out as to appease him. How can someone you helped be so rotten? 

You go to the kitchen and sit in a wooden chair at the small table. You rub your wrist and sniffle. It’s easier to be alone and in pain. You don’t like others to see you struggle. The way that man behaves, you don’t want to show any weakness. 

You blow out between your lips and look at the door. You’ll need to clean up soon. The rug is garbage but getting rid of a blood-stained carpet won’t be easy. And the bleach might not do much for the floor. 

You put your head down on your folded arms. You’ll deal with it eventually. Like everything else. It’s too much. Everything waits on the pain. Your whole life is centered on your aching bones and burning muscles. 

You wallow in your self-pity until you have the energy to get up. When you do, you ignore the inevitable and make coffee. As it brews, there’s a holler. 

“Hey, sugar stack,” the man calls, “is that coffee I smell?” 

You tense, a surge of pain rippling through you. You exhale and collect your strength. You yell back, “yeah.” 

“I take mine black. Thanks, baby.” 

You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You’re not a mean person. You’re not cruel. You don’t hate people. In fact, you do your best to keep them happy. You don’t want to be a burden. You don’t to be a problem.  

Yet this man makes your brain fiery. You’re actually annoyed. Angry even. It isn’t that he’s just rude, he presumptuous. He just assumes that everything belongs to him, and that seems to include your home.  

You can guess how he ended up the way he did. He doesn’t exactly inspire kindness. 

[vigilskeep]

oh shadow dragon elf warrior?? 👀👀 say more, if you would like....

i love roman military history, i’ve been passing the time until veilguard by watching chinese period dramas full of dashing generals as male romantic leads, and the shadow dragon backstory says you were adopted into a military family. all this has been combining into some kind of murky soup in my brain for the past few weeks, and out of that soup we have eventually gotten xarius mercar, the shadow dragon elf warrior who has decided to take up residence in my mind

now i’ve been dead set on dwarf for my rook, but for shadow dragon specifically, i want to play an elf. it would feel strange to me to have two of tevinter’s anti-slavery rebels in the party and neither of them be elven, plus it gives us a city elf to contrast with our dalish companions! it adds some interest to the adoption backstory too; what kind of presumably patriotic military family from the tevinter imperium adopts an elven foundling? which (to me) is even more interesting as a non-mage, because magic might be an easy explanation for why you’d want to add someone to your family. so if you take that away, what’s left? and i do really want to play a warrior, so that works out with that and with the background of being part of a military tradition. i mentioned earlier that i think there are really exciting ways to flavour veilguard’s take on warrior for someone once trained to serve in tevinter magic-centric armies!!

i want to play xarius as a contrast to neve... she has a core of idealism and truly loves her city. he might have been raised to believe in such things, but as an elven non-mage, he’s long since been bitterly disillusioned. (tragic backstory pending, but, well, i mean, being those things in minrathous basically is a tragic backstory.) it’s dependent on if i can actually play my rook that way, of course, but i hope so. i think an elf who’s quite jaded about the current state of the world, and has seen the worst it has to offer for his people, is a fun character to have mirror and interact with solas, in that you’re kind of his exact target audience

otherwise, in terms of what i have in mind for personality, he’s definitely more of a fighter than a talker, not a diplomat at all. which may cause me problems. but he’s fiercely intelligent too, with a keen eye for strategy, so not necessarily someone who just blindly thinks with his fists either. it makes him sharply funny and quick-witted. it can also make him a little cold in his decisions, risking things others couldn’t bring themselves to risk, not giving people a second chance, very capable of thinking about the bigger picture rather than being emotionally swayed by what’s right in front of him. but at the same time, he’s super protective of the people he fights beside, because, hey, what’s even the point of playing a sword and board warrior if not. he takes being comrades-in-arms and the duty you have to each other very seriously. since he’s leading the party, they’re his responsibility. on the battlefield, but also off it he can be surprisingly gentle with them, i think

i think that’s all i have... the mercar backstory is fairly vague and i haven’t seen any in-game content that explains further so i don’t want to settle on anything much else. which means he kind of has to be more of a build-as-i-go, wait and see what the game gives me type character. but that might be the best experience for the first game where i don’t know everything abt the story in advance lmao

[mlm-mod-taka]

Hi there! I'm here to request a little something I've had bouncing around in my head a while and I feel like you'd do a great job at writing it! I'd like to request Taka, Gundham, Fuyu, and Kiyo with an S/O who's basically a giant compared to them and is suuuuuuper affectionate and friendly. Like the first time they met, the reader picked them up and basically swooped then into a hug raving about how adorable they are. You don't have to do it ofc, but if you agree to I CANNOT wait to see the

HAVING A BIG, AFFECTIONATE, FRIENDLY S/O • taka, gundham & fuyuhiko x gn reader

first off, i just want to say i am so sorry that you had to wait for so long, i just got back from my two year long break. second, im also sorry, however, i do not write for korekiyo, so i simply didn't include him. i do apologize for not asking if you wanted to replace him with another character, this request has been pending for so long that i decided against it. third, this is more a story in bullet point form than actual headcanons. despite all of this, i hope you can still enjoy this long awaited request.

tws/cws: yelling, cursing, threatening and violence. (mostly during fuyuhiko's part)

|| -> mod taka <3

at first, kiyotaka will admit that he was quite intimidated by you. seeing someone extremely taller than him isn't an everyday occurrence. yes, many other people were taller than him, but not by such a large degree, usually.

however, if he stood next to you, he'd seem like an overgrown child. so, naturally he was on-edge whenever you were near him, since you could probably easily beat him up if you wanted to.

but he had to remind himself that he was the ultimate moral compass! it doesnt matter how strong or large you are, he will discipline and scold you when it was needed. he will never back down from a fight when it comes to morals, even if he could easily lose that fight.

when you two first met, he decided to make the polite decision to introduce himself. once he was done with his maticulously-worded greeting, (that he had planned last night) he was expecting you to respond in a rude tone, filling the delinquent expectations that he had made of you based on your appearance in his head. but instead...

he was met with the biggest, tightest, and closest hug of his life. his first thought was to hug you back, which he was about to follow, until he remembered that you were in a public space and this would technically be considered as pda.

once he realized that revelation, he immediately pulled away from the hug, scolding you about touching people in public without permission. while your hug was extremely warm and welcoming, he forced himself to keep up his own rules.

you just stood there, very still while he gave you a lecture about being physically affectionate with someone you barely know. he also proceeded to go on a mini rant about the negative effects of pda, but you werent listening to any of it.

you were mainly just focused on how he seemed very passionate about keeping the peace, which made him look weirdly cute. people often look very adorable to you whenever they were talking about something they cared alot about, which is what ishimaru was currently doing.

you interrupted his planned speech about keeping ourselves civil, to compliment him about how cute he looked. taka immediately stopped in his tracks, looking at you like you just spoke a forbidden sentence.

"...pardon?" kiyotaka asked, but it sounded more like a flustered squeak he made out of surprise. you repeated your comment about him, watching his face slowly turn more red, realizing that you were being serious about what you said, and that you weren't mocking him like others do.

after the initial shock wore off, he reacted exactly how he expected you to, which was scolding you passionately again. however, it didn't sway your mind, he still looked very adorable to you while he was practically going teacher-mode on you because you called him "cute."

what you didnt expect, however, was what he said right when he finished telling you off. "thats all! i hope you have learned your lesson!... and while i don't agree with your methods of doing so, i do appreciate the compliment." he added the last part on with a rushed shout, then immediately left, trying to hide his red face from you.

from then on out, you actively seeked taka, and tried to befriend him, which he accepted. you still don't tone down your affectionate-ness and compliments at all, but he seems to be scolding you less and less. in fact, he seems like he anticipates them now, which makes you happy. little did you both know, that this friendship would lead to so much more.

gundham is the same as taka. he was intimidated by your large stature, and general... bigness. however, gundham tanaka is no coward, he will challenge anyone who dares compete against tanaka the forbidden one!

he walked up to you, with extreme confidence, and started his usual menacing speech about how he was a more powerful entity compared to you "mortals". before he could even finish the first sentence, you interrupted with a sentence that caught his " mighty" act off guard.

"aw, you're so adorable! like those hampsters that are on your shoulder! you're almost as cute as them!" were your first words to him. before his mind would even catch up to the strange sentences you just uttered to him, you grabbed him and pulled him into a bear hug.

gundham needed a solid few seconds to compose himself before he speaks at all. the devas are all squirming in his scarf, also caught by surprise from the strong hug you gave them. once he does process the situation enough to not look like a shocked puppy, he immediately starts thrashing in your large arms.

"release me from your armed trap at once, mortal!" he says in a mix of rage and panic. you quickly let him go, feeling a slight pain from how haphazardly he was moving in your grasp, and also because he didn't seem like he wanted to be hugged, if the sentence he spoke to you was anything to go by.

when he was released, the first thing he did after dusting himself off was restart his original speech of him being the supreme overlord of ice, but this time, he added that you are a very bold human for having the gal to touch someone so "highly superior" with such carelessness.

...or something along those lines. you weren't sure. your ears were only processing a muddled version of a few of the words he was saying, the rest was a blur. mainly because you weren't really paying attention to what he was going on about, you were just focusing on the cute, confident look on his face. along with the cute hamsters resting cozily in his scarf.

gundham stopped talking once he realized that you weren't looking him in the eye, or even anywhere near his face. you were staring at his neck, so he looked down to see his friends, then shot a sharp glaze at you after realizing why you weren't paying attention to his great speech.

"why are you looking at the dark devas of destruction, mortal? rather than listening to the words im gracing you with? you are not worthy to be in their presence, or mine." he continued death glaring at you, crossing his arms while waiting for your answer to his question.

"oh- im sorry... my lord? i was just admiring how cute and fuzzy the... dark devas? looked!" you gave the hamsters a small wave while speaking. you didn't know why he was speaking strangely and giving his pets such uncommon nicknames, but you didn't mind. you thought it was a little cute, actually.

of course, gundham was used to the compliments towards the devas. however, he wasn't taking the adjectives "cute" and "fuzzy" very well. they were evil! they were his partners in crime! how dare you call them such belitting names? before he could scold you again, you quickly swept the rug from under him again.

you quickly butted in, and started unconsciously showering him in compliments. calling him well-spoken, cool, dressed nicely, had cool hair, handsome, and such. you also added how his voice was very pleasant to listen to, and that his eyes were very expressive and clear.

as the flattering statements added on and on, he got more and more flustered. his slight stuttering from being caught off guard by the first two quickly because full-on sputtering with his face almost becoming as red as mahirus hair.

before you could make him even more speechless, he took the very little confidence he had left to attempt to make his usual "super big and bad evil" goodbye statement, but a very shortened and messy version escaped his lips instead, with him quickly scattering away before more of his pride was taken away by your giant cursed goodness.

while you were left confused as to why he left so suddenly, you quickly bid him adieu, continuing on with your day in hopes that you two would meet again, and maybe, just maybe, you would get along with each other.

little did you know that he was secretly plotting your demise for daring to treat him like that, muttering his evil plans to the dark devas, feeling that he needed to avenge them because of how you described them as if they weren't his wicked subordinates!

...deep down though, he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to seeing your large, smiley self again. you were one of the few people who didn't scrutinize his personality, and he greatly appreciates it. maybe, when you acknowledge how truly devious he was, then, you could be acquiantances. or something deeper than that.

lets be honest, fuyuhiko would really really dislike you when he first meets you. he has this ideology that people who are positive and kind are fooling him, trying to catch him off guard and trap him with their fake happiness. given his family and who he is, he was taught to be skeptical of almost everyone, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he was skeptical towards you.

everytime you even attempted to get near him, he either yelled at you to back or else he'd shank you, or peko would step in, quickly telling you to leave with her hands already on her sword handle in case you try to push it.

you would try for weeks to even have a slight chance of talking to him, because he is the only person out of your class that you haven't had a personal connection with. heck, you even started to have a slight bond with peko when she wasn't busy protecting fuyuhiko!

if you were being honest, you were genuinely starting to give up on having him warm up to you. you knew that no matter how hard you try, some people will still find ways to dislike you. you thought that this would be one of those unfortunate cases, and you were on the edge of accepting it.

until that one night. you were having trouble sleeping, and nothing seemed to be working. you knew that it was probably too late for anyone to be awake right now, so you decided to take an evening stroll around the school. maybe the walking would tired you out.

you walk out of your dorm, only to see kuzuryu starting absent mindedly at the stars in the late night sky. he looked so... at ease. the sound of a door opening and footsteps started him, and his attitude quickly did a 180, turning aggressive.

"what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?! are you gonna try to fool me again, huh? with your fake smiles and over-the-top hugs?" he yelled, paying no mind to the fact that it was 4am, and he could wake someone up.

you reassured him that you weren't going to hurt him, but to be honest, you were hurt at the accusation that it was fake. you wanted to speak your feelings, but you felt like that would make him more on edge, so you just ignored that hurt for now.

disregarding your word, he told you to stay far away from him, pointing at the very end of the balcony he was leaning against. you did what you were told, not wanting to agitate him further. to be honest, this is probably the nicest he's been to you so far. usually, he'd just tell you to fuck off, so you weren't about to let this rare opportunity to talk to him slip pass you.

after a few moments if silence, you decided to ramble a bit, maybe that'll warm him up to you. you talked about everything you could, random stuff you thought of, all the way to deep philosophical conversations that would make you ponder at night.

fuyuhiko didn't look like he was listening, if anything, he looked as if he was spacing out and using you as a white noise machine. however, that was better than his usual response of him threatening you, so you kept going.

eventually, he said something, cutting you off mid-rant. "you know, you don't have to keep up the act right now." "what do you mean?" "i know you're lying, just admit it to my face so you can stop using all your energy trying to convince me you're a good person."

ouch, that stung. but, this is the longest he's talked to you in private, you couldn't let this go. "well, what if i told you it wasn't a lie?" you smiled at him. "bullshit. no one is ever that positive or nice."

"well, i am. and i'll prove it to you if you'll let me!" "pffft. yeah right. do you just want me to believe that someone as big as you isn't a secret spy or assassin? don't even try."

"im not. i can prove it to you." you were so close. he was talking to you, he was actually talking to you! you would have preferred if the conversation was more positive, yes, but he was talking to you! you were getting somewhere!

"really?" he paused, you could see his eyebrows slightly furrow in thought. "fine, since these other students are making things boring as hell, i'll let you prove it to me."

...it was that easy? all you had to do was say that you were willing to prove it at a balcony when it was 4am? it was a bit anti-climactic, but hey, you weren't complaining. "great! you won't regret this!" you walked to hug him before he put his tough guy act on again.

"don't. touch. me. i said i'd let you prove it to me, not use me as a personal cuddle bear. with how different we look, i think you'd crush me." "ah, not much of a hugger? sorry, i get it. should've asked first."

he yawned. "yeah you should've. anyways, i'm hitting the sack. kill me in my sleep and ill haunt you forever." fuyuhiko spoke as he walked back to his dorm room.

"i won't!" you replied, waving him goodbye. you know it was small progress, but you're getting somewhere. you'll definitely gain his trust.

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT

A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!

A war is in its midst.

When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.

Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.

The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.

The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.

Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.

'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.

‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’

… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.

“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.

Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.

Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.

“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.

Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.

'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.

For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.

Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.

She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.

He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.

Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.

Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.

"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.

Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.

His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.

The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.

"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.

He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.

On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.

He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.

Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.

The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.

"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."

The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.

"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.

"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.

"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."

She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."

Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."

As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.

"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."

Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.

Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.

"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."

She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.

Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.

"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.

"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."

The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.

The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.

"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.

The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.

"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."

"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."

"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."

"That was different. This time… is different."

The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.

His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.

His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.

"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.

He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.

The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.

Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.

"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."

"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.

"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."

Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.

The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.

Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.

The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.

"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.

His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.

"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.

She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.

Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.

"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."

The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.

He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.

The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.

"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.

'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'

Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.

He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.

The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.

She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.

Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.

"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."

Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.

Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.

"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"

Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.

For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.

"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."

The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."

She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.

The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.

The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.

He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.

His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.

He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.

"There we are. All done, Your Grace."

She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.

In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."

She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.

The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.

"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."

Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.

And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.

"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.

His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.

A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.

Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.

Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.

Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.

Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.

And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.

(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.

Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.

They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.

… Were.

But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.

The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.

Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.

The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.

"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.

Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.

Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.

“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.

The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.

Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.

"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"

His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.

"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.

The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.

"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.

At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."

But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.

"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."

But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.

Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."

"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."

The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.

"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."

Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."

"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."

The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."

The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.

"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."

The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"

Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.

"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."

Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."

"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.

Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.

"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.

"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."

"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."

With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.

The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.

Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.

How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?

How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.

"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."

His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.

And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.

***

He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.

The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.

Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.

She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.

His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.

And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.

"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."

Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.

Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.

"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"

The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.

"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."

His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.

"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"

Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.

"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."

"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"

His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"

"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.

As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"

The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"

His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."

"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"

Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."

Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.

The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.

"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."

The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.

"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."

Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."

Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.

The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.

"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."

Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.

"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"

The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.

She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."

She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.

"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"

Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."

"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.

"Yes, my lady."

"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.

"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"

"... Aye, my lady."

Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.

"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"

"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."

The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.

Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.

"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.

The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.

'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.

Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?

Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?

Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.

"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."

The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.

Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."

(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."

As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.

Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.

The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.

***

Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.

Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.

Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?

As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."

Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.

So he was softening up.

She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.

"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."

She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.

"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.

She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.

"... I-I beg your pardon?"

"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."

The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.

The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.

"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."

He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.

"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.

The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.

Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.

Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.

"... Aemond."

Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.

The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.

But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.

As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.

Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.

The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.

This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.

"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.

She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.

Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.

She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.

His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.

"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."

Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.

The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.

A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.

Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.

His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.

"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.

Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.

"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.

"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.

Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.

The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.

She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.

Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.

(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.

The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."

She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.

"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."

Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.

(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.

The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.

She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.

His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.

(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.

"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.

She had uttered the words aloud.

Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.

"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.

"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.

She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."

"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"

"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."

With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.

"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."

His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."

Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.

"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.

Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.

"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.

His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.

That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.

"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.

Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.

His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.

Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.

She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.

She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.

She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.

On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?

Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.

"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"

His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.

Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.

For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.

"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"

"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.

"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."

Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.

Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.

(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.

She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.

"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.

His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.

She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.

Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…

His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.

The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.

"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.

Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.

It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.

Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.

"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."

Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."

"What are you d–"

Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.

She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.

"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."

At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.

Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.

So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.

His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.

He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."

The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.

"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.

He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.

"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.

The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.

The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.

The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.

"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"

"NO!"

" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."

As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.

Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

[multidimensionalguidance]

How will the upcoming Eclipses affect you?

Note: this will be focused on Vedic astrology, so please be respectful if you don't agree nor care.

On March 24, 2024 there will be an Penumbral Lunar Eclipse forming from 9:53pm-2:32am PT, followed by a Total Solar Eclipse on April 8, 2024 at 8:42am-1:52pm PT.

As the ancient Indian legend goes, an eclipse occurs when the shadowy demon Rahu Ketu gets his revenge on the Sun and the Moon by consuming them and stealing their luminous rays. Their pure, creative energy gets twisted and dark during the eclipse and for a few days after. This myth does not exactly conjure a heart warming mental image, and that’s intentional.

According to Vedic Astrology, is that eclipses can be a really bad time to start or make key decisions about projects, relationships, jobs, or any other important thing in the material world.

Do not, on the day of an eclipse or the few days after it, start an important new project, sign a contract, make a deal, or any other material activity if you have another option.

On the other hand, eclipses are a great time to stay in, meditate, and do your inner work. In fact, they provide an especially rich opportunity to connect with spirit because the ‘veils’ are thin.

The Lunar Eclipse will happen in the Virgo-Pisces axis, while the the Solar Eclipse will occur in Pisces. There will be a heavy focus on decluttering our day to day habits which are all deeply related to our spiritual practices and hygiene. Imagine that a huge storm comes through to transform the way you work, your health habits, organization skills, and show you how all of them are deeply connected to our subconscious mind. It comes to show us how most of our day to limitations come from within, and how endings are actually a divine blessing.

Depending on what house the Lunar or Solar eclipse will be transiting in our chart, it will tell us where to expect this transformations, karmic balance, and overall readjustments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's how the Lunar Eclipse (full moon) or Solar Eclipse (new moon) will affect your chart:

1st/7th House Axis: there will be major changes to how you relate to yourself and others. The way that your personality, physical self, and approach to life has been currently functioning when it comes to relationships, business partners, and way of interacting with others overall will be highlighted for good, bad, or both. If you're a Pisces ASC, there will be a focus and major transformations within your close relationships. If there's anyone that you've been holding onto despite knowing how toxic it is, then you will see it faltering away by the end of April. If there's anyone who has been actively holding negative intentions or sending evil eye your way, it will become obvious, which will then lead you to severing it for good. Now, for Virgo ASC, you will notice major changes to your physical health depending of course on how you've been taking care of yourself. As well on your daily routine, work, and other related themes. There will be an event that will occur that will somehow change the way you've perceived life or yourself, and that will become the trigger to a meaningful change in your personality or attitude.

This eclipse will wash away like a sea storm anything that has been holding back both these signs from greatness, or will make them pay back some pending karma if they've been neglecting themselves or spiritual path. The eye of the storm is on YOU. There will be nowhere to run to anymore. You will face yourself, accept it gracefully, and evolve into the version that has been calling out within for very long.

If you've already been working on your inner and outer self, then no worries! This energy will simply push out of your way anything that has been blocking your blessings.

2nd/8th House Axis: there will be major changes to the way you've used money and resources to achieve longevity, to heal, towards your food habits, and long term financial security. Some major event will make you realize that perhaps you haven't been utilizing it in the best way possible. There might a sudden debt or losses coming your way if you've been ignoring your finances, or on the other hand, there might be a sudden gain of money that happens without you expecting it at all. Overall, it is suggested to not make any major financial decisions and to instead sit down and focus on organizing your finances. Think about those expenses that you don't actually need and that are affecting or accumulating long term. The ones that could be keeping you from achieving long term financial security. Make introspection your focus, and regardless of what comes your way, you will be able to handle it.

3rd/9th House Axis: this is more of a mental and spiritual focus, which is very good actually. You will see changes occuring in the way you've been communicating with yourself and others. The way you've been socializing with siblings, neighbors, and those within your near vicinity. All of this has been affecting how your mental and physical horizons have expanded so far. Your inner world has always been related to your philosophy, education, interactions with those that come from a different cultural background, and your ethics as well. There might sudden events that occur that will transform the way you've been dealing with those matters. Perhaps your relationship with your siblings is not good, but now one of them needs urgent help, and you're put in a situation where your aid helps mending the situation or making you realize why the distancing must continue. Another way could be, how you've been resisting developing academically to a higher level, and now a job requires you go back to learning something. It could also be unexpected traveling or changing from one religion to another (or to believing in none).

4th/10th House Axis: the changes that will occur will be related to how your home environment, family, inner world, mother wounds, or foundations have been affecting your career, reputation, public image, and fame. A situation might occur that changes the way you've perceived both of these matters. Perhaps you've been limited by a tumultuous home situation for a while, and that has kept you from reaching your peak career level, which would then be transformed so you can finally have access to it. It could also be that you've been hyper focusing so much on work that you've been neglecting building a stable home where you can feel safe, secure, and develop your inner world further, which would then imply something happening at work that forces you to face it. Overall, you will find peace among the storm when you decide to sit down and meditate on inner limitations that have been keeping you from reaching your material goals. Do you shy away from the public? Do you hate being perceived? Or Do you love being the center of attention too much? Are you always trying to appeal to the public even when you feel differently within?

Also, this might not occur to everyone, but I sense that those who might be doing corrupt dealings in at work or home will be suddenly exposed for everyone to see. An abusive parent that no one knows about because he keeps a pretty reputation? Everyone in the family and outside will see their true colors. A boss/celebrity/senator that’s using their power to abuse those under their leadership? Public embarrassment as everyone will be seeing their “dirty laundry” and there’s a possibility of them losing said position due to it.

5th/11th House Axis: these changes will be surrounded by the way your romantic pursuits, self expression, creativity, and children (if there are any) affect your goals, long term vision, friends, social network, online persona, wishes, and desires of the future. A situation might occur where a recent crush or someone you’re casually dating (not necessarily formal) exposes something about themselves or you that changes your perception of what you want for the future. It could also be them doing something that affects your reputation online for good or bad. There could also be something like a hobby or creative pursuit bringing you a secure income or popping up on social media. For some others, it could also be adjusting the way they express themselves with their future goals/wishes/desires.

This might not be for majority, but there might be some who find out they are pregnant, and that will of course, put them in a situation of having to re-evaluate their future. If there’s already children in the play, then there might be something that gets revealed about them as well.

Overall, I would suggest to sit down and meditate on the ways that you’ve allowed your inner expression to align with your goals. Are you holding back your gifts and not expressing them online out of fear? Are you overly focusing on material goals so much that you are getting disconnected from your inner child? Are you connecting to the things that bring you joy and align with your goals?

6th/12th House Axis: in here the changes or revelations will have your day to day work, routine, health, and service given to others put into contrast with how you maintain your spirituality, karma, and subconscious beliefs. There might be situations that occur at work that will shake you enough to drive you into isolation and healing. So there’s the possibility of losing your job, only to realize that if you wouldn’t have then a better one was not going to arrive. It could also be something within your spirituality coming to the front and pushing you towards changing your day to day routine, like adding yoga/meditation/journaling. For some others, it could be health conditions that were ignored coming up, and needing to be dealt with wether you like it or not.

I would suggest prioritizing your mental and physical health A LOT during this time, although it won’t be optional. Focus on those aspects and you’ll get positive results by the time eclipse season ends. Just make sure you don’t resist or fight them, as it would only get worst.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope this is useful and informative reading! Please do not be afraid of these Eclipses, they often come with necessary changes that will help us be aligned to our best version.

From my previous experience, I had one occur during my birthday, it was super heavy and honestly the worst one I had. But, I was able to release all the frustrations I had dwelling inside, and literally the next day, had an AMAZING experience. Few months later, four to be specific, I was able to meet my current partner. Mind you, after dealing with a situationship a month after said birthday that left me shook, but was very much needed. Everything I had asked for during the Eclipse came to me, but in a really wonky way, hence why its best to NOT manifest during an Eclipse (if you like chaotic energy though, go right ahead).

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - The Contract

A/N: Can't write part 55 to save my life 😭 but we have another unedited bonus chapter, giving you a little glimpse into their life in the future. If you're not reading the fic, don't worry this is a stand alone piece.

Warnings: Smut (p in v, creampie), dirty talk, swearing, mentions of drinking, not really edited

Series masterlist

Word Count: 3100

Tia tried not to give too much thought to Auston’s contract, the media and fans were doing enough of that.

She had enough going on in her life. Maddie had started to sleep through the night then she started teething. Taylour was wild and energetic, always busy with Felix, wanting to see Brody from down the street or Carter from his class, and still impartial to Maddie. He might have stopped asking “when is she leaving’ but he has shown no interest in his sibling, sometimes becoming frustrated when his parents are busy changing her diaper and need a minute before giving him attention.

Tia has read books, spent hours online reading blogs and stories from other moms in similar situations, trying everything to get them to bond without forcing it, and it’s just not working. She always saw herself with a big family, but more importantly a loving family, how can they be one when Taylour is generally disinterested in her? 

And if it’s not the kids, or Felix’s limp that sporadically appears for a few hours, it’s her line. She used TikTok to advertise and sales erupted. She found herself with a massive list of pending orders, stores in Montreal, Toronto, Brooklyn, and Scottsdale were reaching out to stock her pieces. Made with Grace expanded from a spare room with a sewing machine, to a studio space with a business manager, marketing manager and two additional seamstresses, but even then she doesn’t feel like she can keep up.

So, when Tia told people she didn’t really have time to stress over his contract, she wasn’t lying. It’s not to say they hadn’t talked about their future; they just hadn’t sat down and fully weighed out the options.

She told Auston she would follow him anywhere, that they’d be happy so long as they were together, and she meant every single word but Toronto is a part of her, a part of them, and it would break her to leave it all behind. It’s where both of their children were born, where Taylour learned to walk and talk, where Maddie will learn all those things, where they found each other but more importantly themselves.

Tia wanted Auston to be as objective as possible with his decision, but she knew she had to tell him of her preference.

“And right here.” Judd points to the line at the bottom of the page and Auston once again scribbles his signature. He then flips the final page over, then smiles.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Judd nods. “You are going to be a Maple Leaf for four more years.”

Auston did give some thought to free agency. There are a few teams that have the cap space to meet his needs, and those that don’t would likely move some parts to make it work. He had options, lots of options, but none of them would send him down York Street after practice, right past her studio. And if he didn’t drive past then studio then he couldn’t stop in and raid her snack drawer, lie about needing a button fixed just to sneak in a kiss or two, or just watch his wife hard at work. He wouldn’t be able to take Maddie and Felix on walks through the park where he first felt Tia come back to him, nor could he drive past his old condo where they finally said what they had been holding onto for so long. They couldn’t go to dinner at Beck’s and Camille’s condo, which is actually Tia’s old condo, and see the exact spot where he first held Taylour.

Toronto is home. That was the only reason he needed.

 “Tia and the family must be excited.”

“They will be.” Auston smiles wide and grabs at the beak of his hat to adjust it. “I decided to keep this from them, thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“It will be.” The two men move toward the door where Judd slips into his shoes. “Don’t celebrate too much,” he winks, then steps outside, leaving Auston alone.

He quickly whips his phone from his pocket and opens twitter. Without so much as a second thought he types up a tweet, his first tweet since March. The second he posts the tweet; he is sharing it on his Instagram then heads for the sliding door.

The Arizona heat blasts his face the second the door opens. Felix’s nails on the concrete are heard as he eagerly scurries over from the pool, leaving wet pawprints all over the patio. Auston crouches down and scratches him behind the ears and chuckles when his warm tongue presses to his cheek.

“I know, I’m excited too.” Auston grins, scratching the pups head. “Should we go tell them?” Felix’s tail wags faster and he lets out an excited yip. “Yeah? Let’s go.”

“Hey T.” Auston starts as he sits on the edge of the pool and dangles his feet in the water, Felix plops down beside him for more pets.

“Hey, how was your meeting?” Tia wades through the waist deep water with Maddie on her hip and makes her way to the edge. When Maddie sees Auston her tiny fists open and close, and some incoherent babbles come from her lips. “Is that Daddy?” Tia bounces her a few times before handing Maddie over to him.

“Hi princess.” Auston hooks his arms under her armpits, then brings her in close, peppering her with kisses, hoping to hear one of those giggles she had been letting out as of late. “Meeting was good.” Auston blows a raspberry to her stomach, laughing when her legs kick out.

“Daddy, watch!” Taylour stands at the edge of the pool with his toes hanging over. His arms go up above his head, and he jumps into the air and dives into the water. When he pops his head up a few seconds later, he spits out some water and smiles.

“Wow, you’re getting good at that.” Auston replies, adjusting the brim of Maddie’s bucket hat to fold up and be out of her eyes.

“You weren’t even watching; you were paying attention to Maddie.” Taylour protests.

“I can do both Taylour.” Auston informs him. “But why don’t you show me another one?”

“Fine.” Taylour rolls his eyes and starts swimming to the edge of the pool.

“Hopefully you gave Maddie less sass than him,” Auston jokes. This time he cradles Maddie in close and locks his gaze on Taylour as he positions himself at the pools edge to dive again.

“It’s not funny.” Tia mutters while clapping for Taylour when he pokes his head up after another dive.

“Your dives are great Taylour, arms are really straight.” Auston encourage him.

“Mhm.” He proudly smiles while treading water. “You want to play basketball?”

“Give me five minutes and I’ll get my bathing suit on.”

“Okay.” He swims over to the shallow end to retrieve the basketball, that catches Felix’s attention and he jumps in the pool, splashing the three of them, and starts to swim over to Taylour.

“His reaction is perfectly normal, he is adjusting, just at his own speed. You see Instagram?”

“When would I have seen Instagram?” Tia laughs.

Auston unlocks his phone and hands it to her, forcing her focus away from Taylour. Her forehead creases and lips purse as she scrolls through the posts, wondering what exactly she is supposed to be looking for. “Yeah, Mommy is silly, isn’t she?” Auston uses his baby voice to ask Maddie when she coos in his arms. Unable to wait any longer, he takes the phone back and clicks on his story.

She closes his story, then opens the Toronto Maple Leafs page and sees nothing. She searches Wasserman hockey, but again there is nothing, along with Sportsnet, TSN and ESPN. She keeps opening pages, trying to find confirmation of his somewhat cryptic post. Fed up, Auston snatches his phone back which brings her gaze to him.

“You re-signed?” She asks, in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Butterflies swarm her stomach. “Four years?” 

“Yeah.”

“And you broke the story before anyone else?”

“I was excited.” Auston shrugs, letting his smile grow even wider.

Tia puts her hand on either side of his thighs and pushes herself up. Beads of water roll over her breasts - larger than normal from breastfeeding - down over her stomach and baby weight she can’t seem to shake no matter how hard she tries. Once at eye level with him, Tia presses her lips to his, joyful tears clinging to the corners of her lashes. With Maddie in one hand, Auston brings his other to her hair, wet from the afternoon in the pool, and welcomes the kiss. It’s soft at first but slowly builds to more, his fingers tighten in her hair and her tongue move about his mouth. He can feel the relief wash over her body.

“I’m so happy.” She whispers, choking back tears. “I really wanted to stay.”

“I know.” Of course, he knew. “But you should have told me.”

“Everyone had opinions, I wanted you to make the best decision for your career.”

Auston runs his thumb along her jaw. “You’re the only opinion that matters to me.” 

**

Tia dressed herself in a flowy maroon dress with thick straps. It stopped right at her knee and had a slit that went a few inches up her thigh. She pulled her hair into a simple but stunning bun and managed to apply a little bit of make-up before Maddie woke up from her nap. She fed and changed her, then put Maddie in the newly released mauve coloured polka dot dress with ruffled sleeves along with the matching headband.

She wasn’t overly dressed up (that wasn’t an easy task with unexpected dinner plans and a five-month-old) but the second Auston saw his girls his breath was taken away. He kissed her, almost a little too hard and long, but pulled away then helped load the kids in the car.

They met his family at Modern Oyster Bar & Chophouse. Auston reserved part of the restaurant which provided privacy for their celebration. Tia and Auston kept their phones on silent and tucked away - everybody who knew them was texting to congratulate them, and they just wanted to enjoy the night. And tucked under his arm with cheeks sore from smiling, Tia was doing just that. 

“We’re staying in Toronto?” Taylour probes.

While he begs Tia to take him to every game (even road ones), plays hockey, will show Auston YouTube clips and basically lives and breathes the sport, trades and free agency is all very new to him. He doesn’t understand why Uncle Mike isn’t going to be in Toronto anymore, why he has pictures of Daddy and Uncle Freddie both wearing Leafs jerseys, yet Fred plays for another team, and he certainly doesn’t grasp that there was the potential for them to leave Toronto.

“You sure are.” Brian tells him, gently bouncing Maddie on his thigh, smiling as drool rolls down her chin.

“Maybe without that stress you two can plan your wedding.” Ema beams over her glass of wine.

Auston feels Tia’s body stiffen ever so slightly, but he just laughs. Since the day Auston told his mom he was going to propose Ema has been asking about wedding plans. Once Tia had said yes, she became relentless, never missing an opportunity to ask when the date will be. She understood why they didn’t plan it for last summer given the uncertainty COVID brought and kind of let up once they announced their pregnancy with Maddie, but on more than one occasion Ema brought up how there was months between Tia’s due date and the summer. When Tia and Auston told her they just wanted to enjoy this time as a family without the added stress of planning a wedding, she understood, then tried to get them to lock down a date in 2024.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Auston shrugs.

“Have you even looked at venues?” Brey asks, not in a curious way but a condescending and annoyed way.

She always has been skeptical of their “engagement.” Given her brother declared he was going to marry Tia after one date, FaceTimed with the family at least a dozen times while out shopping for rings because it had to be just right, blew up the family group chat making sure everyone knew not to say anything and to act normal so she wouldn’t suspect anything, then spent the entire day pacing and on the phone ensuring every single detail was perfect, she expected a very short engagement. So, when they reply “we’re not in a rush” anytime someone asks, accidentally call each other husband or wife only to backpedal and say something along the lines of ‘we live together and have kids, were basically married’ it didn’t make sense, and Brey is determined to get the truth out of them.

Auston drops his lips to Tia’s ear and whispers, “should we just tell them?”

Tia cranes her head and squeezes his hand under the table. “No.”

He gently kisses her. “You sure? Make this a lot easier?”

“Make what easier?” Brey cocks her head and narrows her gaze.

Tia and Auston smile at each other as she mindlessly spins the black metal ring on his index finger. The ring she put there over two years ago when they did get married less than 24 hours after getting engaged, because neither one of them wanted to wait. But because all their friends and family couldn’t be there, they kept it a secret. That’s why Tia doesn’t wear her wedding band outside the house (except when she forgets to take it off) and why Auston wears his wedding band is on the index finger and not the ring finger.

Auston turns to Brey with heat flaring behind his cheeks and playfully smirks. “Nothing.”

**

The kids went to his parents and Auston and Tia ubered home. One glass of wine lead to two, which lead to three, and that was where Tia stopped. Her tolerance had dropped since having Maddie and anymore would have made her a mess and Tia didn’t want to be a mess tonight (unless the mess was made from Auston’s cum).

It didn’t take long for them to get to bed, and it was even less time until his head was buried between her legs, greedily bringing orgasm after orgasm to her. When she finally made him stop because her legs were trembling and vision was turning white, Tia found herself on her knees, attempting to return the favour, but Auston didn’t let her finish. At the last second, he roughly grabbed her hair and brought her in for an incredibly sloppy kiss.

“Lie down.” Auston instructs her, nipping at her lower lip.

“No.” Tia breathes out before roughly pressing her lips to his.

“T -”

“I said no.” Tia repeats, then yelps when Auston spanks her.

“I signed the contract; I should get to decide how we celebrate.” His voice is thick and gravelly, as he tries to maintain control. 

“I gave birth to your children so if I say I’m not getting on my back…”Tia pushes away from him and sits on her heels. “I’m not getting on my back.” 

Auston shifts on the mattress, his shoulders cracking in the process. This dominant behaviour from his wife is new and relatively uncommon, but fuck does it ever turn him on.

In one quick motion Tia spins and puts her back to him with her knees on either side of his hips. Using her hand, she strokes his throbbing cock over her entrance, coating it in her slick. He grabs at her ass cheeks, the only thing he can, and they both moan when she fills herself with his length.

“Shit baby.” Auston chuckles. Tia starts to move, up and down on his cock, getting faster and faster while her ass bounces along with her.  “You feel so good.”

“You always fuck me so good.” Tia cries when Auston moves his hips.

“Isn’t that what a good husband should do?” He spanks her again then grunts as her pussy tightens around his cock. “Properly fuck their wife?” He thrusts upward, wincing as she claws at his thighs for support.

“Yes.” Tia whines. Auston slaps her ass one more time for good measure then grabs at her hips. He has no intentions of trying to control the pace, she is doing that just fine on her own, he just wants to touch her. He always wants to touch her.

“So, I’m just doing my job Mrs. Matthews.”

Tia’s walls pulsate around him. She loves when he calls her that almost as much as he loves saying it. She wishes they could announce it to the world, then she could legally change her name to match him and their children, even Felix has his last name. Most of the people in their lives would be so happy they wouldn’t even care about missing one of the biggest moments of their lives. Not Ema. She of course would be happy, but she would be disappointed to have been excluded and Tia she can’t live knowing she disappointed the only mother she’s ever had.

“Making sure my wife is taken care of.”

Tia flips her hair to look back at him over her shoulder and whispers in the most innocent of voices, “keep it up and I’m gonna ask you to put another baby in me.”

Auston lets out a shaky exhale, he loved watching Tia be pregnant.

He lifts his hips up, making her fall forward until she is gripping his knees for stability. “I’ll do it.” Auston smacks her ass once again, earning himself a loud, excited yelp. “You just tell me when.”

At this point, Tia didn’t know how Auston was keeping it together, she didn’t know how she was keeping it together. Every single thrust was perfectly placed, brushing up against her g-spot, nudging her closer and closer to her release. Her nails were carved into his thighs, sweat was rolling down her back, down his chest, the sounds coming from their lips were feral, animalistic, but they kept fucking.

He watches himself disappear inside her walls a few more times then grips her hips and holds her on his member, pouring his hot, sticky seed inside – just the way she likes. Her walls grasp and hug his cock, and she can’t help when her eyes see static.

It takes a few minutes for either one to move. There is a lot of panting and muttering of curse words, hands gingerly trailing over the others sticky skin. But when Tia finally finds the strength to lift herself off his now softened cock, Auston wraps his arms around her body and pins her tight to his chest.

“I love you T.” His voice is hoarse.

“I love you too, Aus.” 

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

@youtxbemusic@nicoleloveshockey@emsully2002 @hockeypuckspottspot @ashleymarine@albal321@b34ut1fulb4st4rds@biznastysloneshift12@burkylover@c-tangerine@canadian-girl87@crazzyfann @dana-hqy @delighttfulll@evawest5@every-beautifulthing-thereis@greendragonzz@heatherawoowoo@hockeybabe87@hockeyinaussie@hockeyisit@hockeypuckedmeup@je-ne-regrette-rien@jakekisska@partypoison00 @princesscameston @puccbunni @queenmarvel21 @sixmapleleafs@starswin@trashforbarzal@0kikina0@1-fuzzy-squirrels@janeydeaux@stuff4me2do@callsign-denmark @monnbc @simpgirl-lat@huneyjojo221 @idfan21 @elly-dx@samanthasgone@holyalfalfasprout@lwstuff @mattyzmarner @ashloveshockey

[cult-of-dollbabies]

sometimes I'll remember that official marvel/DC comics have done werewolf 'AU' stories and I become less embarrassed of Abomination

[cheekinpermission]

hello! I was just wondering, do you have any advice for getting so many gems in Twst? Also thank you for your wonderful art, I enjoy looking forward to see what you draw next :D

Buy them

Just kidding! I've only made one purchase for TWST. It was less than $10 and was way back in the beginning for some kind of deal or something.

My 16k gem stash is the product of two years of grinding and selective pulls. I really wish I could say I had some kind of hack but that's really it. I'll talk about how I approach spending resources in the game, though, if anyone finds that useful.

As per usual, I ramble so it'll be under the cut!

1. Pick a favorite character

HEAR ME OUT I KNOW ITS HARD BECAUSE ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE GREAT! But it helps a lot if you're limiting who you're willing to pull for instead of every pretty card that comes out.

Personally, Riddle is my favorite (+ Grim but he's not really a concern card wise) so I'm committed to getting all of his cards. I'd really hate if I couldn't get one of his cards that I really want because I spent my keys / gems on a card that I only kind of wanted. So that's something to think about if it helps keep things in perspective.

All my Riddles!! (I definitely don't have a favorite Riddle shhh)

For example, I absolutely love Ortho's Fairy Gala card. I think it's one of the prettiest in the game! But I didn't pull for it because Ortho isn't a favorite character of mine.

It works the opposite, too. Kalim, Vil, and Ruggie are among my favorites but I've passed on a lot of their cards for one reason or another. I passed on Tsum Kalim because I didn't like the groovy, I passed on Silk Adorned Vil because I didn't like that it didn't have an attached vignette, and I passed on Camp Vargas Ruggie because I didn't like the event itself. While I really love these characters, I'm picky about which ones I'll pull so I don't miss out on a better one later.

For characters that I like quite a bit (top 5 ish), I'll use their free ten set you get on their birthday to try and pull for them. If I don't get them within those ten pulls, I accept it and move on.

I also want to say that this method has allowed to me to get pretty much every card that I've actually wanted. I can even pull for characters that aren't among my favorites (e.g. Idia who has THE BEST SSRS FOR SOME REASON??) and still have a big gem safety net.

I don't pull super often, I don't think, but I've gotten everything I've wanted so I think it's a fair trade-off.

Given my gem stash, you might be able to get away with collecting for a dorm but it'd have to be one of the tiny ones (Scarabia would be excellent because Jamil has almost no SSRs rip)

2. Plan ahead of time using JP TWST events

One of the biggest advantages of JP TWST releasing events way before Eng TWST is that we know what's coming ahead of time so we can plan accordingly. Obviously, this won't work if you're trying to save gems on the Japanese server.

You'll have to be okay with spoilers for the English server, too. At least enough to know if a character you like is in the event. I like to look at the card art and groovies, personally, as those will influence my decision if I'm on the fence.

SPOILERS FOR JP TWST EVENTS

I know which cards that I need to save for in the future:

Riddle’s Swimear SR

Ruggie’s Clubwear SSR

Rollo's SSR (pending available keys)

Riddle's Bloomquet SSR

Vil's Luxe Couture SSR

Vil and Malleus's Tsum SSR (pending groovies)

While we don't have a definitive schedule for a lot of these, a lot of them you can kind of guess.

For example, Riddle's Swimwear SR is part of Stitch's event which seems pretty summer-y to me. It'll likely come out in June or July of this year. Clubwear cards come relatively quickly so I'm anticipating Ruggie's Clubwear SSR fairly soon, too. Gotta make sure I'm saving right now for those bad boys.

Rollo and Riddle will probably come around the same time (Aug-Nov) so I've got a bit of time to build up my collection of keys again.

The others just got released in Japan so they'll take awhile before they reach us and I'm not too worried about them just yet.

SPOILERS DONE!

I think of it like going to the grocery store with a shopping list. Stick to the list and you know you can't overspend!

3. Don't pull for dorm cards

"That's easy for you to say, Cheekin. Riddle is your favorite character and you can get his dorm card for free at the beginning of the game!!"

Why, yes. Yes, you can. Thanks, Riddle!

(Ngl I might've caved and done it for Riddle but ONLY Riddle because he's my fave :D)

Now that all of the dorm uniforms have been released, dorm showcases aren't really a thing but in the event that they do a re-run I would avoid spending keys / gems on them. Same goes for the standard show case. Neither are worth it, IMO.

Dorm uniform cards will always be in the SSR pool regardless of the event, so I think it's better to just take your chances and collect them slowly overtime. Of course, the odds of getting the one you want aren't super high but you'll amass quite a few dorm cards just by pulling for event cards anyways. You're bound to get one you like eventually.

For reference, I've gotten Dorm Idia, Ortho, Vil, Jamil THREE TIMES, Kalim, Azul, Ruggie, Jack, Trey TWICE and Deuce TWICE as a byproduct of pulling for event cards. I wasn't trying to get them but they're here now and I love them for it <3

---

And that's about it! Nothing too groundbreaking. The biggest thing is knowing when to stop. Sometimes when I'm on that gacha grind high and I want to pull just cause it's been awhile since I've gotten an SSR, I'll tell myself to do it later because 99% of the time I'll just forget and it'll never happen!

I have been burned by too many gacha games in the past that I refuse to let it happen to me again in TWST (cough Obey Me COUGH)

Here are all my SSRs so you can judge for yourself how effective it is. (Or if its worth it)

I genuinely have no clue what the average number of SSR's a player who has been playing for over 2 years like me has, but I'm comfortable with what I've got. I've gotten all the cards I've wanted and most of the cards I was interested in so I think it's worth it.

tldr: be selective about your pulling, plan ahead, and resist the urge to pull constantly

Thank you for your kind words about my art!! (And if anyone got to the end of all this WORD VOMIT thanks for listening! Reading. Whatever.)

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

I was wondering if you could explain how the Matrix actually... works? Is it more like a Time Lord artificial afterlife, or just a collection of knowledge? Do you ask your dead housekeeper for her cookie recipe, or do you just access it like Google?

Absolutely!

How does the Matrix work?

Think about Wikipedia.

Now, imagine if Wikipedia had detailed profile pages of every single member of the human race that had lived since its inception in 2001 (around 7.5~ billion individual, heavily detailed profiles).

Then, imagine each profile page had a little downloadable file that was that person's consciousness.

Next, think about how every person's knowledge gained in their life is spread throughout that Wikipedia on every single subject.

Now, think, 'What if Wikipedia had a plugin that could tell you future events based on all the information it has from all these people's experiences?'

Finally, put all this into a cool little weird video game that uses virtual reality.

If you can imagine that, you're pretty close.

💻 Functions of the Matrix

Knowledge Repository: The Matrix acts as an archive, containing the lived histories and profiles of every Time Lord that's lived, and all the knowledge they gained in their life.

Quick Updates: Living Time Lords are biologically connected to the Matrix, able to access the information at will (except if you've been a bad Time Lord, of course). When they die the Matrix automatically creates their profile page when they die, so their entire life goes to the Time Lord Wiki for the benefit of all.

Simulated Reality: If entered, the environment is a simulated reality where the personalities of deceased Time Lords can continue to exist. This can make it seem like a kind of artificial afterlife where you could potentially interact with past or future incarnations of Time Lords.

Predictive Tool: The Matrix generates prophecies and foresees potential futures, guiding Time Lords in making informed decisions about potential timelines.

Physical and Astral Projection: Time Lords can also use the Matrix to project their images across spacetime or within the confines of a TARDIS, communicating across vast distances or even between different temporal phases. Isn't that handy?

🔐 Security and Integrity

Despite its advanced capabilities, the Matrix isn't infallible. It can be tampered with, and its data can be manipulated or stolen, which is considered a helluva crime on Gallifrey. The Matrix also uses various safeguards, like Cloister Wraiths and living fibre optic cables that act like firewalls to protect its most critical data.

🔑 Access and Interaction

Access to the Matrix varies; it can be through physical terminals, via direct neural connections, or by using artefacts. Once inside, users can navigate a realm where physical laws are malleable and where their thoughts can shape reality because anything is possible.

🏫 So ...

In practical terms, if you're deadset on finding that cookie recipe, the Matrix could definitely provide access to that knowledge, either by allowing you to interact with the housekeeper's stored personality or by just retrieving the information like a search engine. Alternatively, you could shirk your holiday in Disneyland and jump right into the Matrix to spend a day being attacked by virtual blancmanges and Victoria sponges until you find what you need.

Related:

What is biodata?: What biodata is and what you can use it for.

Factoid: How do Time Lords biologically stay connected to the Matrix?

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[avelera]

"The Regime" (starring Kate Winslet and Matthias Schoenaerts) Episode 2 Review

So last week I gave my review of this first episode of this.... rather perplexing show. And this week, mostly out of morbid curiosity, I tried out episode 2 and thought I'd share my impressions of it.

Once again, let's start with the good:

Matthias Schoenaerts (aka, Booker from The Old Guard) is acting his face off in this. So is Kate Winslet.

That said, they are acting their faces off in completely different shows.

But it kinda works?

Hold on, wait a minute, let me start again, because like this show, I'm immediately completely muddled by how I feel about all this or what the fuck is going on.

Let me put it this way. I thought I was signing up for a sort of "Death of Stalin" political satire, with fictionalized object lessons that clearly applied as cautionary tales to modern political issues like Trump, or Putin, or the Royal Family or whatever, using a heaping side helping of comedy.

That's not quite what we got. And I think the people who signed up for that are going to be... at least a little disappointed. The comedy is absurdist and definitely relies on the cringiness of the big personalities involved. But for me, at least, there wasn't quite enough comedy to say this is, well, a comedy.

If you have historical familiarity with various historical regimes and dictators, you'll definitely get a "Where's Waldo" of traits and idiosyncrasies of various dictators all blended together into Kate Winslet's character as she portrays this fictionalized regime head. You'll get your standard cast of various Political Advisors all tutting over her actions and which way this fictional country should go.

But since it is fictional (it seems based heavily on Moldova as of this episode?) a lot of the political clout, to me, didn't exactly land because again, it's not based on real events so I really don't know where any of this is going or which decisions are actually good or bad in the long run.

And if the show was just going to be about that, I definitely would have quit out of it by now, pending good reviews of the finale somehow pulling everything together.

But now for the really unexpected bit.

Because if you signed up for a dark romance between an absurd, psychologically irregular, frankly bizarre would-be dictator who has the occasional moment of pathos, as played by the stunning and talented Kate Winslet, and her psychosexual relationship with her violently masculine, brooding, and supremely fucked-up self-appointed guard dog with the occasional moment of pathos, as played with dark and terrifying intensity by Matthias Schoenaerts, holy fuck do I think you're about to have the time of your life.

Like, I think the show wants to resonate with Veep audiences who are here for a cringey absurd political comedy, but I think the people who are actually going to be absolutely frothing-at-the-mouth obsessed with this show are like... your Reylo shipping Dark Fucked Up Romance people and Tumblr fandom in general who would really enjoy Villain/Sidekick or Villain/Bodyguard romances as seen when this Possibly Evil Dictator and her Possibly Evil Guard Dog/Advisor are being completely obsessed with each other, all with a rather small side of absurdist comedy as things continue to spiral and get gradually more fucked up.

Now, this is just my review as of 1.02. I have no idea if that's where this show is going because the problem I have with this episode is kinda just a slightly lesser version of the problem I had with 1.01, which could be a matter of taste, in that I really have no fucking clue what this show is going for or what it's trying to accomplish. It's not really laugh out loud funny. It hasn't really said anything political yet. We can't really tell yet what cautionary tales we're supposed to take away, if any?

But in the meantime, there's Winslet and Schoenaerts performing in completely different genres being darkly obsessed with each other and, y'know what, I might stick around just for the slow-motion-trainwreck fascination with whatever the fuck they've got going on.

[tk-duveraun]

20/? Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 (here), 21

Read up through even numbered parts on Ao3

We're quickly approaching the end!

The Snow Leopard chief agreed to Luo Binghe's terms, on the condition that he find them another home if Linguang-jun's territories were too cold. It was difficult for her to consider any place too cold, but the Mobei Clan were pure ice demons and neither party knew where Linguang-jun's land was.

She left him in the care of her nephew, one of the few men left in their population. He asked too many questions about the human realm for Luo Binghe to get much actual sleep, but the food and water were enough when combined with simply sitting.

Just when he was left alone, the System pinged with a notification.

[Answering User: Entity "Luo Baixiao" located. Reassignment pending.]

Luo Binghe slumped into a puddle on the pile of furs he'd been given to sleep on. On one hand, the whole everything with the System raised some serious questions about reincarnation, but on the other hand he was too busy planning on how to marry Shen Yuan to have an existential crisis.

"Can I do anything for him? He did give me my wife."

[Reminding User he is still single.]

"Can I help the kid or not?"

[Upon Completion of Main Scenario Campaign "Intricate Rituals with my Shixiongdi" rewards can be transferred to other entities.]

"Do it."

[This action is not reversible. Recommended action: review rewards.]

"Are you going to marry him to Shen Yuan if the transfer goes through?]

[System rewards do not involve manipulating free will decisions of entities enjoined with System.]

"Then I don't care. Queue the transfer for when I get this bread."

[Confirm action: YES/NO]

Luo Binghe jabbed "yes" and closed the window. He closed his eyes and breathed easily for the first time since seeing the vision of Luo Baixiao's doomed seduction attempt. Luo Binghe wasn't a good or nice person, but he paid his debts.

Once the migraine brought one from bonding with Xin Mo finally faded, Luo Binghe stood and left the hut. There was a sharp wind blowing air that smelt like the sea through the village. Few people were still out and those that were had their noses covered with thick masks.

Luo Binghe found the chief, gave her a firm nod and then went to the gully at the edge of the village. It was where the village drained their waste, but the salty wind neutralized some of the smell. More importantly, Luo Binghe was too polite to risk destroying a nice part of their village if he failed his first attempt to make a portal to the demon realm.

The Endless Abyss, according to Shen Yuan's lessons, was similar to a secret realm — a pocket dimension — anchored to the world: both the human and demon realms. Whereas the barrier between the human and demon realm had natural convergence points, the Abyss could only connect through violent rending. The opening he'd fallen through at the conference had been opened by the cries of the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python.

He kept all of those concepts in the front of his mind as he held out Xin Mo. He raised it to the air before him and felt Meng Mo's presence appear in the back of his mind, watching.

At first, there was nothing, then he released his control on Xin Mo's corruption. As the sludge-like energy spread throughout his body, he felt the blade catch on the air. Luo Binghe closed his eyes and pictured the Northern desert in the demon realm as clearly as he could based on descriptions from both IRS and Qing Jing's library.

Xin Mo's harsh qi burned through his spiritual system, but inch by inch the sword sank into nothing and tore through the air. By the time the sword was level with Luo Binghe's hip, an answering icy wind was gusting through the portal, freezing the sweat on his skin.

The process was painful, laborious and took intense concentration. When it was over, Luo Binghe would wonder how the hell the Original Goods managed to get out with the awful thing, but in the moment it took everything he had to finish the job. When Xin Mo finally hit the rains of salt on the ground, Luo Binghe nearly fell to his knees.

Painfully, he peeled the frozen sweat off his brow and turned to start on his way back to the village. But it seemed he'd taken so long most of the village had gathered behind him, their belongings wrapped in fur and fabric, then strapped to their backs.

Though he was still panting with exertion, Luo Binghe grabbed the edge of the rift in space and pulled. It was like holding a live wire, but instead of stopping his heart the electricity just lit Xin Mo's corrupted qi ablaze. Luo Binghe felt like a seagull trapped in an oil spill that had caught on fire, but he didn't let go, just kept pulling until the Snow Leopard chief stepped through the portal and onto the snow.

From the other side, she clucked and called to her people. One by one, they took deep breaths and stepped through the jagged hole in space.

Luo Binghe loosened his grip on the tear and it remained open, so he fully snatched his hand back. He desperately wanted to protect himself from Xin Mo, but he didn't want to risk locking the sword away closing the portal. He could only grit bared teeth and imagine tearing each Snow Leopard as they walked past him with their entire life on their person.

By the time the last of the demons was through the portal, Luo Binghe had gouged deep rivets in his left hand. His right held Xin Mo in a death grip as he finally let himself step through the portal. When both feet touch the snow, he dropped Xin Mo and yelled like he was going Super Saiyan.

To his disgust, that was an extremely efficient way of constructing his qi defenses against Xin Mo. He sneered at nothing and let himself pass out.