#these are all over the place topic wise and emotion wise

[kwilquib]

Promised 9

chapter - 0

Fromis_9 x Male reader

Word Count: 4.5k+

Chapters: One | Two | Three

a/n: This is just set up of the story, no smut in this chapter. but this chapter is important, for the story.

The classroom buzzed with the faint whispers of students exchanging notes and furtive glances at their phones. You sat slouched at the back, staring blankly at your open notebook, the pages still pristine except for a single doodle in the corner: a coffee cup. You idly tapped your pen against the desk, your thoughts drifting far from the lecture.

“Mr. Kang Junho!”

The sharp voice of your Professor Min snapped You back to reality. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned toward you. You straightened, blinking rapidly as the professor leveled a stern gaze at you from the podium.

“Care to join us in this riveting discussion, or are you busy solving life’s great mysteries back there?” Professor Min’s voice was tinged with sarcasm.

“Uh, no, sir. I mean, yes, I’m listening,” You stammered, scratching the back of your neck. A few chuckles rippled through the classroom.

Satisfied, the professor adjusted his glasses and continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room. “As I was saying, today’s topic is about myths and their reflection of humanity. Take, for instance, the legend of the Promised Nine.”

The room quieted, the students now leaning in slightly. Professor Min always had a way of making even the dullest of topics sound compelling.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people. No matter how many treaties he signed or how many battles he fought, peace was fleeting. He despaired, knowing that humanity’s greatest enemy was not the sword but the emotions that drove men to wield it: pride, envy, wrath, greed, gluttony, sloth, lust, apathy, deceit…”

Junho’s attention perked up. There was something strangely familiar about the words, though you couldn’t place why.

“So the king, in his desperation, climbed the tallest mountain in the land to plead with the deity who ruled the heavens. He begged for salvation, not for himself, but for humanity. The deity listened, moved by the king’s earnestness. But salvation comes with a cost.”

Professor Min paused dramatically, glancing at his captivated audience. “A promise was made—a sacred pact between the king and the deity. Aid would be sent to humanity, not as armies or riches, but as nine beings, each representing the most volatile of human emotions. Their purpose? To keep the balance of these forces, preventing anyone from consuming the world.”

He walked over to the whiteboard and wrote the words The Promised Nine in bold letters.

“But there was a catch,” he continued. “The deity warned the king that these emotions, though tempered, could never truly be eradicated. The Promised Nine would struggle with the very forces they were meant to contain. And should even one of them fall to the temptation of their burden…”

Professor Min trailed off, his gaze sweeping the room.

“What would happen?” a student near the front blurted, unable to resist.

“Should one of the Nine succumb, their emotion would consume them entirely, turning them into a force of destruction. And that destruction could spread unchecked, tipping the scales and plunging the world into chaos once more. To prevent this, the Deity decreed that the Nine would be connected to a chosen mortal—an anchor. This anchor would serve as their confidant, grounding them when the weight of their burden became too great to bear.”

He turned back to the whiteboard, writing in large, bold letters: The Promised Nine.

“The anchor is as important as the Nine themselves,” he said. “Without them, the balance could not be maintained. The king agreed to the Diety’s terms, knowing full well the cost. And thus, the Promised Nine came into being.”

Professor Min stepped back from the board, his expression somber. “But the Diety’s warning still lingers in the echoes of time: no balance lasts forever. The story of the Promised Nine reminds us that humanity’s greatest strength—and its greatest threat—lies within ourselves.”

The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the room, breaking the spell. Students began packing their bags, the hum of chatter returning.

“Read chapters six through eight for next week!” Professor Min called over the noise.

You gathered your things slowly, the tale still turning over in your mind. As you slung your bag over your shoulder and made your way to the door, you muttered to yourself, “Promised Nine, huh? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.”

—

You exit the lecture hall, slipping into the stream of students flowing out into the bustling campus courtyard. The sun dips low in the sky, casting long shadows and a warm orange glow over everything. You glance at your watch—just enough time to get to your part-time job.

The café isn’t far, a cozy little spot just outside the university gates. Its charming wooden sign, Golden Brew, sways slightly in the breeze. The place is always busy, a favorite among students and faculty alike. But there’s one reason it stands out from the dozens of other coffee shops around: its owner, Gyuri.

You push through the door, greeted by the familiar hum of chatter, clinking cups, and the hiss of the espresso machine. The café smells like roasted beans and freshly baked pastries—a comforting combination that feels like a second home.

“Junho, you’re late!”

The voice is soft yet commanding, and you immediately straighten, turning to the counter. There she is—Gyuri, the radiant owner of Golden Brew. Her beauty is the kind that leaves people momentarily breathless. stood effortlessly graceful in her casual white t-shirt and mint-green cap, her gentle features framed by stray strands of hair and a gaze as warm as the morning sun

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Gyuri,” you stammer, bowing slightly as you head toward the staff room to put your bag away.

“It’s fine, just don’t make a habit of it, okay?” she replies, her voice as warm as the golden light streaming through the café windows.

“Yes, of course!” you reply quickly, though you can’t shake the sense of unease you always feel around her.

It’s not fear, exactly. Gyuri is unfailingly warm and generous. She treats her staff like family, remembers the names of regulars, and always has a smile for everyone who walks through the door. Still, you find yourself hyper-aware of her moods, as though disappointing her might lead to something far worse than a lecture.

When you emerge from the staff room in your apron, Gyuri is already behind the counter, expertly steaming milk for a cappuccino. “Can you handle table seven’s order? They’ve been waiting a bit.”

You grab the tray, carefully balancing two lattes and a slice of cheesecake, weaving your way through the maze of tables. It’s almost automatic at this point—sidestepping bags, dodging half-turned chairs—but when you reach the corner table, you stop.

She’s there.

Seoyeon.

She’s a regular, not a student or faculty, just... always here. You’ve seen her enough times to notice the details: the dark circles under her eyes, natural and striking, framing her otherwise delicate features. She’s beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you—her sleepy, almost lazy demeanor masks something deeper.

She’s hunched over her laptop, typing slowly, as if testing each word before committing to it. The oversized navy shirt drapes over her frame, and her hair carelessly tied, some falls messily around her face. You set the tray down gently, not wanting to disturb whatever she’s working on.

“Thanks,” she mutters without looking up, her voice soft, almost as if she’s halfway to falling asleep.

You nod, even though she doesn’t see it, and glance at her screen. It’s filled with text—lines upon lines of words you can’t make sense of from this angle. Stories, maybe? Essays? You don’t know, and it’s not your place to ask.

As you turn to leave, she stretches, her movements slow and languid, like she has all the time in the world. For a moment, you wonder what keeps her coming back here, day after day, to sit in that same spot, typing away.

But you shake the thought off. You’ve got other tables to serve.

.You make your way back behind the counter, tray in hand. It’s a small relief to retreat to this spot, even if only for a few moments. Manning the cashier is easier—less weaving between tables, fewer chances to trip or spill something. The register beeps softly as you organize receipts and prepare for the next wave of customers.

The door opens, and the atmosphere in the café shifts. It’s subtle, like a faint breeze stirring through a room, but you notice it immediately. Heads turn—students and faculty alike—and conversations falter as if someone hit pause.

You glance up and freeze.

Jiheon.

Her name is spoken in hushed tones across campus, her presence both admired and untouchable. She moves with an effortless grace that feels out of place in the mundane setting of the café, her bright smile commanding attention without even trying. But it’s her eyes that hold you—the way they curve into crescent moons with a hint of something sharper, more mischievous, just beneath the surface.

To your utter disbelief, she walks directly to the counter. Your counter.

“Hi there,” she says, her voice smooth and casual, like she’s greeting an old friend. Her gaze locks onto yours, and her smile widens slightly. “You’re Junho, right?”

You blink, caught so off guard that you almost drop the pen in your hand. “Uh… yeah?” Your answer comes out as more of a question than a confirmation.

Her smile grows, as if your awkwardness amuses her. “Thought so. I’m Jiheon.” She leans in just slightly, resting one hand on the counter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your wariness kicks in. Jiheon—the Jiheon—is talking to you? Asking for your name? It feels like the kind of thing that only happens to other people. Your eyes flick briefly to Gyuri at the other end of the counter. She’s busy steaming milk, not even sparing a glance in Jiheon’s direction.

“Nice to meet you,” you manage, your voice steadier this time, though your thoughts are racing. “Uh, caramel macchiato?” You blurt the question out more out of instinct than anything else.

Her laugh is light, lilting, but there’s something playful in it, like she’s already decided you’re her new source of entertainment. “Hmm. Good guess,” she teases, tapping a finger against the counter. “Sure, I’ll have that. But I’m impressed you remembered. I didn’t think I was that predictable.”

You feel your face heat up, fumbling to punch her order into the register. “It’s not that, I just—uh—” You stop, realizing anything you say will just dig you deeper.

She watches you, clearly enjoying the way you stumble over your words. “Relax, Junho,” she says, her tone soft but undeniably amused. “I’m just messing with you.”

Handing her the receipt, you attempt a smile. “Coming right up.”

Instead of moving to find a seat, she lingers by the counter, her eyes drifting lazily around the café before landing back on you. “Nice place. Gyuri’s done a great job here, hasn’t she?”

Your gaze flicks to Gyuri again. Still busy. Still not looking this way. “Yeah, she has,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral.

Jiheon tilts her head, her smile still firmly in place. “You two seem close,” she muses, her tone light but probing. “Gyuri’s lucky to have someone like you helping her out.”

The way she says it makes you feel like she’s toying with you, testing your reaction. “I just do what I can,” you say cautiously.

Her eyes light up, as if you’ve said something particularly amusing. “I bet you do.” She straightens up and takes a step back. “Well, Junho, it’s been… enlightening.” Her smile takes on an almost cat-like quality. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be around.”

As she walks away to find a seat, the tension in your shoulders eases, but her presence lingers like a shadow. You glance at Gyuri one last time, hoping for some kind of reaction, but she’s focused on the drinks in front of her, her usual calm smile in place.

And yet, for just a moment, you swear there’s something almost knowing in the way she glances at Jiheon’s retreating figure..

—

The bell above the door jingles as the last customer leaves, and you let out a long breath, leaning against the counter. The café feels different now—quiet, peaceful, but heavy with the lingering scent of coffee and pastries. It’s nighttime, and the warm glow of the overhead lights gives the empty space a cozy but slightly eerie feel.

“Good job today, Junho,” Gyuri says, flashing you one of her signature warm smiles as she locks the cash register.

“Thanks, Ms. Gyuri,” you reply, your voice softer than usual in the now-empty café.

After finishing up your closing duties—wiping down tables, stacking chairs, and sweeping the floors—you grab your jacket and step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, with only a few scattered groups of students heading home. You adjust your backpack, your thoughts already drifting toward the comfort of your cramped boarding room.

As you turn a corner, someone bumps into you.

“Ah, sorry,” you mumble automatically, stepping back.

The girl doesn’t even glance up, her eyes glued to her phone. She’s wearing what looks like an e-sport jersey jacket, its bold colors contrasting with the dark street. Her brown hair catches the ambient glow of the streetlights, faintly shining as she moves past you. For a brief moment, her face is illuminated, and it’s enough to leave an impression.

She’s stunning.

Before you can fully process it, your impulse kicks in. You take a step forward, clearing your throat. “Hey, uh, I’m Junho...”

But she doesn’t respond. Her focus remains solely on the screen of her phone, and she keeps walking, oblivious to your presence.

You stand there for a second, feeling a bit foolish, then shake your head. The image of her lingers in your mind as she disappears into the night, leaving you with nothing but the quiet hum of the street.

When you finally reach your room, you fumble with your keys and push the door open. It’s as small and cramped as ever, but it’s yours. You toss your jacket onto the single chair by the desk, only to realize something’s missing. Your bag. You groan, running a hand through your hair. You must’ve left it at the café in your rush to leave. There’s no helping it—you’ll have to go back.

The walk feels longer this time, the quiet streets amplifying the sound of your footsteps. As you get closer, a strange unease settles in your chest. The air feels heavier, the streetlights casting elongated shadows that seem to move just out of sync with your steps. Your skin prickles, as if something unseen is watching.

When you reach the café, you notice something strange. Cars are parked outside. Not just any cars—luxury vehicles, sleek and expensive, the kind you’d expect to see in a high-end district, not outside a cozy student café. Their polished exteriors gleam under the soft glow of the streetlights, each one a testament to sophistication and taste.

Your gaze drifts across the lineup, catching details that feel oddly personal. A jet-black SUV, imposing and understated. A sapphire blue Porsche, sharp and vibrant, eerily luring you in. Your eyes stop briefly on a compact car that feels out of place among the giants—a Mini Cooper. Its emerald green paint shimmers, the kind of green that feels rich and alive, paired with racing stripes that speak of personality rather than pure extravagance. It’s less ostentatious but undeniably stylish, a subtle standout among its peers.

As you approach, an inexplicable resistance builds inside you, like a pressure against your chest. Your feet feel heavier, your thoughts fuzzier, and for a brief moment, you consider turning around. The café seems distant, almost unreal, like it’s shifting away even as you step closer. But you shake it off, forcing yourself forward.

You head to the backdoor, fishing out the spare key Gyuri gave you for emergencies. Pushing it open, you step into the staff area and spot your bag right where you left it. Relieved, you sling it over your shoulder and turn to leave.

That’s when you hear it.

The faint jingle of the front doorbell breaks the silence, followed by muffled voices.

You freeze. The café should be empty, but there’s a light seeping through the crack of the door leading to the main lobby. Slowly, you step closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

Peeking through the door, you see her.

She steps inside like she owns the air she breathes, her presence commanding yet effortless. Her long, jet-black hair cascades down her back, perfectly straight, with sharp bangs framing her face. Under the glow of the café lights, her striking blue eyes seem almost unnatural, as if they were cut from the sky itself.

For a moment, her gaze sweeps the café, and then it lands directly on you.

Your heart skips a beat. You’re sure you’ve been caught—your face heats up, and you’re ready to stammer some excuse about being here after hours. But her expression doesn’t shift.

Her lips curl into a smile, slow and deliberate, as if she’s been waiting for this very moment. It’s the kind of smile that feels personal, like it holds a secret meant only for you.

But then, as quickly as her eyes found yours, they slid away.

It’s deliberate—you’re certain of that. She must have seen you. And yet, she acts as if you’re invisible, as if your presence is of no consequence. She turns, her hair sweeping behind her like a silk curtain, and addresses the others in the room.

From your hidden vantage point, you take in the scene.

The café, which should have been empty, is instead alive with movement. A group of women fills the space, each one radiating an aura of distinct confidence and beauty. They aren’t just sitting or lounging; they seem to command the room, transforming it into something that feels foreign, almost sacred.

“Chaeyoung,” one of the women calls out, her tone both teasing and sharp, “you’re late.”

Your eyes dart to the source of the voice, and your breath catches—it’s her. The same woman you bumped into earlier, the one engrossed in her phone. She’s still wearing that e-sport jersey jacket, looking as effortlessly confident as she had before.

“And Nagyung? You’re not late?” Chaeyoung fires back, her tone teasing, her smile sharper now.

The casual banter between them feels like watching something private, yet you can’t look away.

Your gaze shifts to the rest of the table. The initial shock of seeing Chaeyoung fades as you take in the others, each of them equally striking in their presence. You almost stumble backward when you spot familiar faces.

Gyuri, whose warmth you’ve come to rely on, sits with an unfamiliar coolness about her. Her brow is furrowed, a faint trace of annoyance crossing her usually gentle features. It sharpens her striking appearance, making her seem like someone you’ve never truly known. There's a tension in her posture that makes you feel like you're seeing a side of her that’s been hidden until now.

Seoyeon leans lazily toward the women beside her, her relaxed posture contrasting the air of composure around the table.

The woman Seoyeon is leaning into feels strangely familiar, as if you should recognize her. She matches the others in beauty, her jet-black hair framing a delicate face. A soft smile plays at her lips, radiating warmth and charm. With luminous skin and deep, expressive eyes, she exudes an effortless elegance that captivates without even trying.

And as if that weren’t enough to leave you reeling, on the other side of the table, you recognize Lee Saerom.

The Saerom. The top celebrity, known for her flawless visuals and commanding performances.

Sitting next to her is Song Hayoung, the famous songwriter and soloist whose music dominates every chart. 

They’re casually leaning into the conversation, as though their combined fame and aura aren’t enough to make this room the most exclusive place in the city.

“Is Jiwon not here yet?” Chaeyoung asks as she slips into a seat, her voice nonchalant, but her eyes scanning the room with interest.

The front doorbell jingles, and the door swings open.

“I’m here!!” a bright, piercing voice calls out.

Your head swivels toward the source, and there she is. Jiwon, bounding through the entrance like a whirlwind of energy, her grin lighting up the room before her words even have a chance.

“Jisun, did you bring food?” Jiwon’s question comes rapid-fire, her tone playful but undeniably demanding.

The woman Seoyeon was leaning into rose. She moves with calm precision, her composure stark against Jiwon’s lively presence.

"Of course, I brought food. Wouldn’t want you to starve." Jisun says, her voice soft but firm, as she produces a stack of containers seemingly out of nowhere. She places them on the table, the gesture practiced, as though she had been anticipating the request long before it was asked.

It hits you then. Roh Jisun. The world-famous chef. Known for her culinary brilliance and beauty. You've seen her multiple times before in magazines, tv, or online articles. You can hardly believe she's here, so close, exuding an effortless elegance.

“Can we finally get started? I still have to clean up after all of you,” Gyuri complained, her annoyance clear.

Now that the group had gathered, all eyes shifted to Saerom, who was waiting for their attention.

“Our youngest is losing control,” Saerom began.

“We all constantly are,” Nagyung shrugged off the concern.

“This isn't the same, you know that,” Saerom replied firmly.

“Don’t try to ignore these meetings, Nagyung. I’m losing millions just being here,” Jiwon said, flaunting her wealth.

“Must be nice having all those millions,” Hayoung remarked. While her gaze focuses on the only fork on the table, in the hands of Chaeyoung.

“You’re a millionaire too. Why are you eyeing my money?” Jiwon shot back defensively.

“Ahem!… Losing control?” Gyuri steered the conversation back on track.

Saerom, now commanding their full attention, spoke with purpose.

“We need to consider finally finding an anchor.”

“Then we’ll get an anchor. Meeting is done,” Soyeon said with a yawn, stretching.

Charyoung, still twirling the fork between her fingers, smirked. “Do we have to? I’ve been liking her attitude recently.”

“It’s time,” Saerom replied, her tone serious. “We can’t risk it. If deceit consumes her…”

“It will consume all of us,” Gyuri finished, her voice dark.

You stay frozen, trying to make sense of the conversation. Consume? Anchor? Deceit? The weight of their words sinks in, and though you know you should leave, something keeps you rooted to the spot. The truth behind their cryptic conversation is just out of reach.

Then, without warning, a soft voice whispered near your ear.

“Curiosity can be dangerous, you know.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, spinning around to find Jiheon standing inches away, her signature eye-smile curved upward in amusement. You’re certain she wasn’t there a second ago. How could she have gotten so close without making a sound?

“Wha—how—?” you stammer, instinctively taking a step back, only to hear the door creak open behind you.

Seoyeon, now fully awake, leans forward slightly, her drowsy facade giving way to genuine surprise. “How did he get here?” she asks, her voice carrying a rare edge of curiosity. Her eyes scan you, but it’s not just scrutiny—it’s disbelief, almost as if you’re some kind of anomaly.

“Who’s this?” Nagyung asks, clearly not remembering you.

“Junho,” Gyuri says softly, her voice now laced with concern and confusion. “How are you here?” Her warm demeanor has returned that almost makes you feel safe. Almost.

Your mind scrambles for an explanation, but Jiheon, ever calm, steps forward, her gaze fixed on you as if she’s reading your very thoughts.

“He overheard,” Jiheon says simply, her tone neither accusatory nor dismissive.

“Clearly” Jiwon crosses her arms, her lively energy dampened by suspicion. “Why did you let him through?”

Jiheon doesn’t answer. Instead, she steps forward, closing the already narrow distance between the two of you. Her eyes glint with an eerie amusement, her head tilting slightly as she examines you like a puzzle she’s just begun to piece together.

“Regardless of how,” Saerom says, her voice cutting through the murmurs and drawing every gaze. She rises slowly, her commanding presence quieting the room once more. “What matters is why. What did he hear?”

“I didn’t mean to listen!” you blurt out, your voice shaky as you raise your hands in defense. “I—I just came back for my bag, and then I heard voices, and—”

“And stopped to eavesdrop,” Chaeyoung interrupts, her voice playful but her eyes uncomfortably sharp.

“No! I mean—yes, but not like that!” you stammer, feeling the weight of their collective stares crushing you. “It’s not what you think! I swear I won’t tell anyone!”

Gyuri sighs, stepping closer. “Junho, you don’t understand. This... what you’ve heard... it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

“I don’t know how you got through the mist ” Jisun adds, her tone firm but not unkind. “But this isn’t something just anyone can know.”

“Maybe,” Chaeyoung says, her lips curving into a sly smile, “he’s not ‘just anyone.’”

“Enough.” Saerom’s single word silences the room, her authority undeniable. Her eyes pierce through you, weighing your very existence. “What’s done is done. The question now is what we do with him.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “Wait!” you cry, your voice desperate. “I swear I won’t say anything! I don’t even understand what I heard! Just let me go, and I’ll forget everything!”

“That’s not how this works,”  Hayoung says from across the room, her voice carrying an edge as she’s now holding the fork she was eyeing earlier.

Jiheon smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she takes another step closer. “Oh, Junho,” she purrs, her voice dripping with playful malice. “It’s not your fault, really. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She tilts her head, her smile widening. “But... well, it’s a little late for regrets, don’t you think?”

Her hand lifts, faint cyan light dancing at her fingertips, and you can’t tear your eyes away. The glow reflects in her eyes, making her look ethereal and otherworldly.

“Jiheon, stop!” Saerom’s voice cuts through, but Jiheon doesn’t even flinch.

“Relax,” Jiheon says lightly, her tone almost soothing as she looks at you. “I’m just helping him... rest a little.”

“Jiheon!” Saerom’s command comes sharper this time, but it’s already too late.

Jiheon’s fingers flick, the cyan light tracing an elegant pattern in the air. “Just a little nap,” she whispers, her voice lilting and playful.

The moment the light touches you, an overwhelming drowsiness washes over your body. Your knees buckle, the edges of your vision darken, and Jiheon’s playful smile is the last thing you see as the world fades to black.

a/n: Before you move one the next chapter, can you guess who's who, with their pairing emotion?

(Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, Sloth, Deceit, and Apathy)

Next ->

[theealbatross]

Sebastian x Reader: i love you, it's ruining my life (One Shot)

Plot | Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him. Tags | none, fluff, slytherin!reader, bad english accent attempt by me, repressed feelings, unhealthy attachment, codependency, teenagers trying to process trauma together, mentions of nightmares, they are both 17 years old [A/N : FUCK JK ROWLING!!!!!!! Also I just needed to write something and somehow a depressed Slytherin boy was just the one to cure my insane writer's block. Enjoy!]

I am not dating Sebastian Sallow, is what you kept saying yet no one seems to ever believe you. Even Natty, bless her kind soul, gave you a look so incredulous as the words went out of your mouth that you couldn’t help but be confused yourself -- were you dating Sebastian?

“I’m not trying to be nosy, my friend. I’m just concerned.”

“About what?” This has been the third person this month with that same irritating expression on their face. Pity.

“I thought … you were always together that I just assumed there was … something.”

You blinked, trying not to let your face slip, afraid that your ever observant friend would read too much into each emotion.

“Well, there’s nothing. So you and the others can –”

“There are others?!”

You widened her eyes, telling Natty to drop it and she wisely did. “The rest of you can stop reporting his rendezvous to me. Understood?”

“There you are!”

Merlin, will the cruel gods of fate ever give you a break?

The deep voice from the door cut through half of the conversations in your table as Sebastian jogged towards you. “Morning, pet.”

He casually grabbed your head gently, pressing a kiss on top of it, before settling down by straddling the chair so he was facing you. “Hey Natty, got lost?”

It wasn’t unheard of for students to not stick to the assigned tables on their houses but it was still odd, especially for someone like Natty who much preferred the company of like-minded people. Always said that the quiet and whispers in the Slytherin table made her uneasy.

Natty looked from you, to him, to the arms that was hidden under the table but was no doubt placed on your waist, subtly but insistently pulling you closer. You silently pleaded for her to ignore it which she thankfully did with a sigh.

“Not at all, Sebastian. Just trying to keep our friend company before you undoubtedly steal her away for the day.”

He didn’t even pretend to be offended by the accusation, only chuckling good-heartedly. “You can be welcome to tag along just for today.”

“Wouldn’t want to intrude. And with the trouble the two of you get into I’d be grounded by my mother for the rest of my life.”

The three of them laughed at that. The conversation thankfully flowing easier and away from the initial topic. Once Ominis arrived and Poppy was called over it was like fifth-year again. The initial circle you had formed has always been a source of comfort, no longer having to have your guard up all the time especially as easy conversation flowed between each other.

“I got some new books for you, just got delivered an hour ago. We should read it tonight.”

You fed him a piece of bread in your hands, knowing that his growing appetite has not been satiated by the plate he made for himself but he would be too lazy to make a new one and would just rather take bits and pieces from your own. “Just for me, huh?”

He grabbed a tuft of grapes before feeding you one as well before he demolished the entire thing. You couldn’t help but giggle when he spat out a small branch that managed to sneak into his mouth.

“It’s that new muggle series you love, paid off one of Ominis’ servant to line for it so you wouldn’t have to sneak out of Hogwarts like I know you had planned to tonight.”

You could feel your face heating up at the fact that he knew you too damn well. “You know I don’t like you spending money on me, Sebastian.”

“Well, you’re gonna be reading it to me so technically I’m spending money for me.”

You gave him a look but he quickly evaded it by feeding you another pair of grapes.

Sebastian had been haunted by nightmares after last year’s events. Ones so bad that the nurse feared he would be a bit too dependent on sleeping potions at such a young age. Thankfully, the two of you had found a solution together, after a late night studying in the Undercroft reading your notes aloud hoping it would stick into your head a bit better – you had turned to find your companion snoring away beside you.

At first, the two of you thought it was the history lesson that put him right to slumber so you borrowed tons of history books in the library for him to read before he slept but an enchanted note later and you were dragging your sleepy self and a blanket out of your chambers as you read about the History of Magic in his bed.

It was that night that you had been eternally grateful that he had no other roommate but Ominis. Especially when you found out that Sebastian was apparently a horrible koala when asleep.

“That’s just –”

“What are you two whispering about?”

You actually jumped, pushing Sebastian away as if the soft voice behind them reminded you of how they had actually drifted closer than what was appropriate.

“Arieta,” Sebastian greeted her with a raised brow, seemingly confused why the Ravenclaw was this far off the room not even all that affected that his new girlfriend just caught him being a bit too comfortable with another girl.

“Sebby!” she shrieked prettily, quickly recovering and pulling on his arm. “We have History of Magic together, remember? You know I can’t survive that class without your shoulder to sleep on.”

She can hear Ominis choke on a laugh yet Arieta shot you a look like it was your fault.

“I, uh,” Sebastian turned to your table, now fully aware that everyone was staring at him with various expression on their faces. “Right, let’s go.”

Ever the gentleman, Sebastian was quick to grab the books in Arieta’s arm as she held on to his hand and dragged him towards the doors.

“Arieta, huh, wouldn’t have pegged her as territorial one,” Natty chuckled, you chucked a grape at her. “What? I am only speaking my mind. Might have to watch out for that one or she might just drag poor Sebastian away from –”

Just before she finished her sentence Sebastian came bounding down the path once again stopping just beside you, catching his breath. “Hey, you’re mine tonight, okay? No adventures.”

His wording left so much to be misinterpreted that even Poppy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, damn near resembling those mooncalfs she loves so much.

"I stand corrected," Natty muttered.

“Sebby!” Arieta screamed at the end of the hallway.

Merlin’s beard.

“I’m coming!” He threw her an impatient look before holding on to your chin so you were looking at him and forcing you to nod. “No adventures.”

This time the embarrassment of the absolute mess that was unfolding before your unfinished breakfast have overwhelmed your brain that you could only nod with him.

“No adventures.”

Sebastian smiled, one of those real, bright ones that makes your body malfunction and your heart to stop beating. Pressing one last kiss on the top of your head and managing to wave to your shared friends he was off and gone through the double doors.

The entire table was left in silence and you had hoped they would let this go but Natty couldn’t give you that mercy as she cleared her throat.

“Well, now I got even more questions.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow you just think about him a lot.

You weren’t as daft as the rest of them have probably assumed. You did think there was a lot more than friendship between Sebastian and you. But with all the things that the two of you had been through it was difficult to pinpoint what it exactly was aside from their unusually intense loyalty to each other.

Was it a trauma bond? Was it just their kindred spirits refusing to let the one soul who understood them go? Did everything that they went through, the secrets they keep, the curses they threw to protect each other become the bloody ribbon that held the unhealthy attachment they had to each other? It could be love. But it could be a whole lot more complicated than that.

That’s what they were. They were complicated.

After the nightmare that was your fifth year the two of you had kept to yourselves with Ominis in tow, trying to keep as low as profile as possible and give your poor professors a break. With your newfound infamy as the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ (blergh) and the dark secret you three were desperately keeping for Sebastian, the best you could hope for was to blend in with the rest of the nameless students in Hogwarts.

That agreement got shot into hell when your dear friend Sebastian Sallow proved to be one of the best beaters in Hogwarts’ long, long history. It was a dare that exploded in your own face to try out and irritate Imelda but when he had accidentally proven to be a bit too good at it their mutual friend clutched at him with her demanding claws and put him through the ringer until he got spat out decent enough to be one of the soldiers to secure the honor of their noble house and win the Quidditch cup this year.

Piled on top of that development was his connection to the Gaunt family, the Hero of Hogwarts, and the rumor of his hefty trust fund waiting for him the moment he turns 18 – Sebastian Sallow, just as the gods intended, became the most eligible bachelor of his age.

And thus your hell begun.

The silent charm he always had with him grew with his stature. He clearly enjoyed the attention after having hid his pretty bloody face behind dangerous books all year last year that it was almost like he was compensating for the hearts he could’ve broken. Every moon it was a different girl looped around his arms and every month it was a different friend reporting to you that your presumed ‘boyfriend’ was found snogging a goddamn Gryffindor in the Three Broomsticks.

It was annoying, confusing, and you were getting sick of it.

“Over here.”

Before you could find the source of the voice you knew all too well, a door had already opened and you were quickly pulled into an empty room – well, room was being generous as it was more of a storage space than anything.

“Sebastian!”

“Shh,” you gawked when his opened palm muffled your voice as he firmly presses it on your mouth. The unmistakable sounds of footsteps and a softer call of his name echoed the hallway outside the door. When the footsteps faded and disappeared, he had the nerve to give you a lopsided grin that turned your face red in irritation. Definitely in irritation.

Nothing quite like being forced to face the boy who had been running around your head all day.

“Sorry bout that, pet,” he chuckled, leaning on the wall an arms-length way from you. “I’m not too good with break-ups, especially when they say no.”

“Must be horrifying,” you sniped shortly, also pressing your back on the nearest wall to give you as much space as possible – it would just be absolutely mortifying to faint because your heart was beating too fast it was like it was trying to escape. “Are you gonna explain why you’ve kidnapped me in this dingy room?”

“Come on now, don’t be short with me. I just wanted to hang out with you ‘s all.”

“You want to hang out with me …. Inside a closet?”

He shrugged, “I never see you anymore these days.”

Ah, the nightmares must be back. She tries to swallow down the bitter taste in her mouth.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian.”

At least he looked guilty. And absolutely miserable.

In the few weeks you had taken your eyes off him it would seem he had another growth spurt. Do boys just not stop growing ever? Looking up at him was starting to get painful. Plus, all those drills they run to prepare for every game had done nothing but well for his physique. You couldn’t help but run your eyes to his broad chest and shoulders before you caught yourself and nearly screamed in horror.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Rough hands grabbed one of yours. He bent his knees so he could look in your eyes as you now outright refuse to meet his, in anger for the absolute shit friend he had been the past months or in embarrassment that you so casually checked him out you’re not quite sure. “I … I got distracted but I missed you. You know I prefer your company over any other.”

Those damned brown eyes, not even the poor light in the windowless room could dull its effect on you. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Your harsh words did not match with the growing smile on your face you failed to suppress. He mirrored your grin, “Do you still have classes?”

You shook your head.

He damn near vibrated in glee. Merlin, you did miss him.

“Let me steal you away.”

In a flash, Sebastian grabbed a hold of your hand to survey the hall one last time before dragging you out of the room and into the nearest Floo. You barely caught the surprise and anger in his ex-girlfriend’s eyes as she gawked by the stairs before you got swallowed up by a green flash of powder.

“Boathouse.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow because this is definitely not a date.

You wouldn’t think the Boathouse would be a romantic place but with the lack of students, the dimming sun and a gorgeous boy leading you in the inside of it for privacy – you couldn’t help but think that anyone who would pass by would be well within their right to think you had become another notch in Sebastian Sallow’s belt.

You’re not sure how you feel about that. A greater witch would’ve been offended but maybe you’re no better than the knots in his belt.

“Sit here.”

Sebastian spread out a worn-out black robe on the ground, patting on it expectantly. Before you could do it yourself, he was already kneeling beside you and removing your shoes and socks. The intimate act forced you to hold your breath, making sure you controlled your face so your jaw doesn’t fall to the floor as he slowly pulled on your socks, gently plopping them on the edge and letting the Black Lake’s water tickle your feet as they dangled.

When you were settled, he nonchalantly laid his head down on your lap. Gods, help you.

“Comfortable, aren’t you?”

He made a dramatic noise of satisfaction, even wiggling in your lap to show his assent. A giggle slipped out of your mouth at the absolute gall of him, your hands naturally falling in his soft, thick, brown hair to play with it.

“What had you been up to, pet?” he mumbles, eyes never leaving your face although you find yourself unable to do the same as you opted to look around the architecture of the Boathouse you rarely visit.

“Nothing much,” you shrugged. “Although I did find that swimming in the Forbidden Forest’s Lake was surprisingly relaxing.”

He hummed, not even surprised at your little antics when you leave his line of sight. The boy had definitely pulled you out of worse situations than roaming around the Forbidden Forest. “You should take me some time. Merlin knows relaxing is what I need.”

A scoff escaped your mouth as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, right after I duel your newest girlfriend for the honor of getting to take you out.”

He poked your side at that, “As entertaining that would be you know all you have to do is send me an owl and I’d trek up to Maurenweem for you.”

Your face clearly showed you didn't believe him and he frowned. Carefully, you ran a finger in-between his brows where a frown formed to relax it.

At this angle you could see the toll the sleepless nights he must’ve been having had on him. If the bags on his eyes was any indication it must’ve been a few nights now. You ran your hands on his hair earning you a satisfied hum as he dangled his hand on the edge of the ledge to play with the water below.

“When was the last time you slept?”

He popped one eye open but your gentle touch proved too much as he closed it again with an even longer hum. “A few hours last night.”

“You should’ve woken me up.”

He gently shook his head, grabbing your free hand so he can hold it by his stomach.

“I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Oh please, Sebastian.”

He chuckled at that, gripping on your hand tightly as he let out a heavy breath. “The nightmares … I thought it’s been better. Barely had any a few months ago. But now it’s just gotten worse.”

The confession broke your heart. Sebastian was not a vulnerable person; despite his usually easy and cheerful demeanor he was quick to wall himself in at the first sign of trouble. You would bet galleons of gold he still feels horrible of all the things he put you through and it was truly in desperation when he had called you over to help him through his insomnia. Which was also why you had welcomed the responsibility with open arms.

“Care to tell? Is it still about Anne?”

His estranged twin has been forefront of most of his darkest nightmares but he shook his head again and for that you were thankful he was spared that at least. “Solomon? Ominis?”

He opened his eyes; it was full of overflowing guilt and fear. And when it seemed he could no longer keep it to himself he sighed, “It’s about you. That’s the reason why I couldn’t …”

The revelation had your blood freezing. “What?”

He sat up, now facing you and taking both of your hands. “I’m only telling you this because you are my best friend and to remind you that none of this is ever your fault. You haven’t done a thing wrong, in fact, I can’t think how I would’ve gotten past any of this if it wasn’t for you.”

You held on to his hands tighter. “Sebastian, you’re scaring me.”

He shook his head, pulling you closer as if to comfort. Why was he comforting you when it was him who had been terrorized by this dream version of you. It was irrational to be mad but how could you not be when apparently you had become one of his problems while you were simultaneously desperately trying to fix it.

A palm on your cheeks pulled you out of your self-loathing.

“All of my dreams … it was of the people I love leaving me. Anne never forgiving me for the rest of my life, Ominis turning me in …”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you buried a sob on the crook of his neck, your hand roping around his back so you can rub on his back comfortingly while he lets everything out.

“And … and every time it happens my brain drives itself insane thinking of plans of what I would do if those nightmares came true. That’s the reason why I couldn’t sleep.” You looked up at him through your lashes but never leaving your spot even as he brings your legs out of the water and over his until you were in his lap.

“But then … they turned to you.” His voice dropped so low you almost shivered. “And for the life of me I just couldn’t … see an out of that. If I lost you – If you gave up on me I … I think I’d turn myself in Azkaban myself.”

“Sebastian I would never –”

“I know that,” he whispered. “But I still can’t – I can’t let it go. I can’t let go of these doubts and fear.”

This time he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “That’s why I keep hanging out with all those girls.”

You raised your head in confusion, taking a better look at him.

“I thought if I loved you less, my nightmares would be kinder.”

The breath got caught in your throat. What is he – does he mean –

“But I couldn’t do that either,” He sighed, rubbing a hand on his face, clearly frustrated. “So I’ve decided. I’d rather go insane, let the nightmares do their worst because I am done pretending I don’t love you. I’m done avoiding you, I’m done pretending you aren’t the only light in my life. I’m done. And I love you.”

A fully grown crying Mandrake could drop from the sky and you don’t think you would’ve heard it over your own heart. You could barely comprehend anything but that his grip on your waist was so tight it was almost painful and that his pleading, terrified eyes was in the perfect angle that the late dying sun made it look like it was in a golden fire.

And that Sebastian Sallow … is in love with you. Just as madly as you were with him.

“I’m not forcing you into anything. I needed to let it out. If you want, I fully intend to formally court you until –”

“I love you.” You could no longer bear to put him in such misery. As long as you were alive, he would not question the adoration you’ve felt for him that just kept growing since the first day he had taken you to Hogsmeade. “I love you, Sebastian.”

Just for a moment there was quiet then he burst out laughing. “Thank you, darling." His body visibly shuddered as he sighed in relief, burying his face in your chest. "I’ve already planned to throw myself off the highest cliff in Hogwarts if this had gone south.”

You wrapped your hands around his neck, accepting the gentlest kisses on your neck. “Don’t say that. I plan to be your girlfriend for a very long time.”

His body shook from laughing, this time a kiss under your jaw, “Not that long I hope?”

You frowned, pulling away from him, though his unrelenting hold prevented much space to be in between the two of you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” his thumbs rubbed circles on your thigh, now seemingly shy. “If all goes well, I had hoped to be engaged by the time we graduate. You won’t be just my girlfriend then.”

"You bastard," You gawked, laughing at his proclamation. The happiness was overflowing in your chest that you couldn’t help but just squeeze him into you hoping maybe that your souls would fuse with each other.  “You haven’t even kissed me yet and you’re already pre-proposing?”

He licked his lips, his sleepless eyes now full of vigor. “Ah, we gotta fix that, don’t we, pet?”

“We’re dating.”

Natty sighed in relief.

Poppy clapped.

Garreth passed Imelda a silver coin.

"Excuse me," Ominis muttered, standing up. “I'm gonna request a room change to the Headmaster.”

[callsigns-haze]

Traitors War: 1

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

An Eris x assassin reader mini series! (which may be followed by oneshots)

Eris, the heir to the Autumn throne, along with his brothers wishes to get rid of his father. Never did he know this journey would start 200 years ago with an assassin exiled from the Night court.

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Topics of war and death.

The council chamber of the Night Court is darker than ever, steeped in an oppressive silence that suffocates as you step forward. Shadows cling to the polished floors, stretching toward you like silent accusers, and the bitter taste of magic hangs thick in the air. You can feel the weight of the room bearing down, its chilling atmosphere a testament to the wrath that awaits you.

In the centre of it all, Rhysand sits with an eerie stillness, his face a mask of lethal beauty. But beneath his façade, fury radiates from him in waves, setting his violet eyes alight with a malice that chills you to the bone. Flanking him are Cassian and Azriel, as immovable and unreadable as statues carved from stone. Their stony expressions give nothing away, but the hardened edge in their postures speaks volumes.

“Do you even comprehend what you’ve done?” Rhysand’s voice is low, each syllable sharp as a blade, slicing through the silence with a vicious precision. The scorn woven into his tone sends a shiver down your spine. He does not wait for you to answer. “Of course you don’t. Because if you did, I doubt even you would be foolish enough to stand here, expecting leniency.”

His words strike deep, leaving a sting that blossoms into shame. You try to meet his gaze, but his expression is unyielding, his eyes alight with something dark and unrecognizable. You search for any hint of understanding, any sliver of the Rhysand you’ve known—but he has vanished, leaving behind this cold, merciless figure in his place.

“It was my job,” you manage, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat, each syllable heavy with the weight of your conviction. “I believed it was right.”

“Right?” he sneers, a contemptuous laugh escaping his lips, empty of humour. “You believed?” His voice drips with sarcasm, each word twisted and spat out like venom. “How very noble of you, to decide what’s right for me, for this court, for everyone.”

The force of his fury presses against you like a physical weight, but you force yourself to stand your ground, your hands clenched at your sides. Yet, the truth looms over you—a crushing reminder of the choice you made, the loyalty you gambled away.

His gaze narrows, and his tone drops to a cruel, mocking whisper. “Did you think yourself so wise, so indispensable, that I would forgive such treachery? That I would welcome you back with open arms after you conspired with him? With Eris?”

The hatred in his eyes is a dagger, and you feel it twist with every venomous word he hurls at you. Your skin prickles under his scrutiny, and you want to shrink away, but there is nowhere to hide from the cold, unyielding judgment that fills the room.

“How dare you,” he hisses, his voice like thunder, reverberating through the chamber. “How dare you undermine me, betray me—after everything I’ve given you? I gave you power, status, trust. And this is how you repay me?”

The accusation hangs in the air, suffocating, and you feel the sharp sting of his betrayal as deeply as he does. Words die on your tongue, and you’re left with nothing but silence—a silence he seizes upon, his lips twisting into a cruel smile.

“Look at you,” he sneers, his eyes raking over you with disgust. “The so-called assassin of the Night Court, reduced to this—a traitor, a coward. Did you ever think your lies would not come to light?”

He rises from his seat with deliberate slowness, his every movement a display of dominance and scorn. Cassian and Azriel remain impassive, but you sense their quiet fury, the simmering anger held back by sheer force of will.

Rhysand takes a step forward, and the air between you crackles with magic, raw and potent. The bonds that have marked you as his, that have stained your skin with his trust, begin to burn. You feel them unravel, one by one, slipping away like sand through your fingers, leaving behind a searing emptiness.

“Your place here is gone,” he says, his voice a venomous whisper. “As far as I’m concerned, you are nothing—a stain on this Court, a shame I will gladly erase.”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, your throat thick with the urge to plead, to defend yourself. But you know it would be pointless. He has condemned you already, cast you aside with a cruelty that leaves you hollow.

“Leave,” he orders, his voice cold and final. “And let it be known that from this moment forward, you are banished from the Night Court. Should you ever set foot here again, it will be as my enemy.”

The finality of his words sinks in, and for a moment, the room spins around you. You look at Azriel and Cassian, but their faces remain stony, offering no solace, no reprieve.

With a last, pained glance, you turn and walk away, the silence behind you as heavy as the bonds that now lie shattered at your feet.

-

The bench beneath you is rough, weathered by time and use, but it’s familiar—a place of respite amid the chaos that has engulfed the Autumn Court. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke and pine, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood on your lips. You tilt your head up slightly, trying to steady your breathing, wincing as a fresh wave of pain pulses from the bruises littering your body.

Eris kneels in front of you, his auburn hair glowing like embers in the dim light. His expression is carefully composed, but his gaze flickers with a rare softness, tinged with something unreadable as he delicately presses a damp cloth to your split lip. His fingers are steady, skilled, and his touch is uncharacteristically gentle, a contrast to the ruthless, calculating male the world knows him to be.

“I told you to stay out of the skirmish,” he murmurs, not meeting your eyes as he dabs away the dried blood. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but edged with frustration. “But you never listen, do you?”

You manage a weak smile, though it sends a fresh jolt of pain through your lip. “Where’s the fun in that?” The words are light, but the weight of the past, the years since you’d last shared such closeness, presses heavily between you.

He sighs, a hint of exasperation in his tone, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he holds himself with a rigid precision, as though he’s one wrong move from unravelling. “I don’t need another ghost on my conscience,” he mutters, pressing the cloth a little harder than necessary, and you hiss, but his eyes are still fixed on his work. “Especially not yours.”

Your heart twists at his words, at the flicker of vulnerability he’s revealing, rare and raw. “Eris…if I wanted to stay safe and quiet, I wouldn’t have come here.” Your voice is soft, and his hand pauses for a moment as he absorbs your words, the truth in them, the history that binds you to his fight.

He finally looks up, his amber eyes intense, studying you with a scrutiny that feels as if he’s searching for something lost. “And yet,” he says slowly, his tone cold but his gaze warm, “you are still here, fighting alongside me. After everything.”

You meet his gaze, the memories flooding back—the years in the shadows, the loyalty you once swore to Rhysand that had ended with such bitter finality. And yet, in this moment, here with Eris, there is an understanding, an alliance you’d never expected to find.

“Beron has to be stopped,” you say quietly, a hardness slipping into your voice. “We both know it. We've known it for two hundred years. The things he’s done… he doesn’t deserve the power he holds over these lands. He has to fall.”

Eris’s expression darkens, and his hand, still cradling your chin, trembles slightly. “I know,” he says, his voice thick with something darker, more personal. “But it’s not that simple. Killing him means more than just power shifting—it’s risking everything, for everyone. It means blood on my hands, blood I can’t wash away.”

You reach up, your fingers brushing his, grounding him. “You’ve done this much already, led so many to stand against him. I’ve seen the way the court follows you, Eris. They believe in you.” You pause, searching his eyes. “And so do I.”

A shadow passes over his face, softening the harsh lines of his expression. “Why, after everything that’s happened, do you still believe in me?” His voice is so quiet you almost miss it, but the question lingers in the air, laden with years of unspoken words.

You hold his gaze, your voice firm, unwavering. “Because you chose to be better than him, better than I ever thought a man like you would. You chose a path that no one else would. And no matter what, that choice will always matter to me.”

He swallows, the barest hint of emotion flickering across his face, and he lets out a low, bitter laugh. “Then maybe I am a fool, too, for keeping you here—for wanting you to be by my side when it’s all over.”

You shake your head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the pain. “You’re no fool, Eris. We’re both haunted by our choices, our pasts. But right now, we have a chance to make something right.” You reach out, your fingers grazing his cheek. “And I think it’s worth it, even if it costs us everything, well.... I personally don't have anything to lose.”

For a moment, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes as though savouring the fleeting solace. Then he straightens, his face hardening once more, but there’s a spark in his eyes now, a fierceness that rekindles the fire within him.

Eris’s fingers slip under your arm, steady and firm as he lifts you off the bench. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, but he merely quirks an eyebrow, as if amused by your surprise. His hand lingers a moment longer than necessary, the rough pads of his fingers brushing your bruised skin, grounding you in the moment as he releases you. Then, with a silent understanding, the two of you begin to walk.

The camp sprawls before you, tents set up in rough but orderly rows, each one a mark of defiance against Beron’s reign. Soldiers mill around, sharpening blades, tending to wounds, and whispering quiet plans and reassurances. Fires crackle, sending up thin curls of smoke into the crisp air, their warmth a stark contrast to the heavy chill that hangs over the camp.

Eris keeps a brisk pace beside you, his gaze intense, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings. There’s a palpable energy about him, something sharp and restless, as if he’s a blade just waiting to be unleashed. The soldiers and spies nod respectfully as he passes, but there’s a new light in their eyes—a glimmer of hope, of trust in him that you’ve seldom seen in this court. Despite the darkness, they believe in him. Just as you do.

As you walk, a figure comes jogging toward you, his familiar auburn hair catching the light of the dying sun. Lucien’s face is flushed from exertion, but there’s a victorious gleam in his russet eye as he slows to a stop before you and Eris.

“We’ve taken down another one of Beron’s forces,” Lucien announces, his voice edged with satisfaction. He places his hands on his knees, breathing heavily but grinning. “One of his inner forces. His numbers are dwindling, and his support… well, it’s hanging on by threads now.”

Eris’s lips curl into a slow, calculating smile, his gaze sharpening as Lucien’s words sink in. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone a dark satisfaction laced with bitter triumph. “That’s one less hand Beron has to wield against us.”

Lucien’s gaze shifts to you, his eyes softening as he takes in your injuries. “You look worse for wear,” he remarks, though there’s a flicker of concern beneath his teasing tone. “You should be resting.”

You give him a small, tired smile, shrugging slightly. “Couldn’t leave all the fun to you, could I?”

Eris’s fingers brush your arm, guiding you forward with an unspoken insistence. “Rest will come after Beron is gone,” he says firmly, his voice brokering no argument. He looks to Lucien, his expression hardening. “With this win, we’ll need to reinforce the eastern front. Beron may be desperate, but that will only make him more dangerous.”

Lucien nods, his face growing serious. “The soldiers are preparing as we speak. Morale is high—they know Beron is losing ground.” His gaze sharpens, a glint of satisfaction sparking in his eye. “And they know they’re not just fighting for a cause. They’re fighting for you, Eris.”

Eris’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable, his mask slipping just enough for you to see the weight he carries. But then he straightens, his shoulders squaring with renewed resolve. “Then let’s give them a reason to keep believing,” he says, his voice steely and resolute.

Eris’s hand brushes against yours as he guides you away from Lucien, slipping through the bustling camp. The soldiers and spies nod respectfully as you pass, but you can feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions and curiosity that ripple in your wake. They’ve heard of you, the once-assassin of the Night Court who has returned to fight beside Eris. You can practically feel the stories they must tell—legends whispered in the dark, half-believed tales of your skill, your ruthlessness.

Eris leads you to a tent set slightly apart from the others, tucked away from the main cluster. He steps inside first, holding the tent flap open for you. As you enter, the scent of leather and steel greets you, sharp and familiar. Your old assassin’s gear is laid out on a small table in the centre, the black leather as supple and deadly as you remember. Knives and throwing blades glint in the firelight, each one meticulously sharpened, waiting for your touch.

You move to the table, fingers brushing over the leather armour, the silent weapons that were once an extension of yourself. You slip out of your travel-worn clothes, letting them fall to the ground. Piece by piece, you put on the gear, feeling the familiar weight settle over you like a second skin. The leather is snug, perfectly fitted to your body, and you secure the buckles and straps with practiced precision, feeling the transformation as the assassin within you stirs, roused after all these years.

Eris watches in silence, his gaze unwavering, intense. There’s something in his expression, a flicker of worry that he tries to mask but cannot entirely hide. You reach for the knives, fastening them to your belt, slipping blades into hidden sheaths along your thighs and forearms, every movement precise, deliberate.

Finally, you turn to him, adjusting the last strap on your wrist. He takes a step closer, his hand hovering just near your arm, as if he wants to touch you, to steady you, but holds back. His face is a study of quiet turmoil, the calm, composed mask he wears slipping ever so slightly.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice low, almost pleading. “Sending you, alone, to Beron’s camp… It’s dangerous. Even for you.”

You meet his gaze, holding it with a steady conviction that leaves no room for doubt. “This is what I’m meant for, Eris. I know how to do this.” Your voice is calm, controlled, yet there’s a fire in your eyes, a certainty that hardens your resolve.

He looks down, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he battles with something unspoken. “You’re to burn the camp,” he murmurs, his tone almost bitter, as if the thought of sending you into that inferno cuts him deeply. “To wipe out anyone who stands in your way. You… shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

You lift your chin, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers brushing along his jawline. “If we’re going to end this war, Beron’s camp needs to fall. And I am the best suited to do this. I’ve done things like this before.”

Eris’s hand finally finds yours, his fingers entwining with yours, strong and steady. “Those days are behind you. You’re… more than just an assassin now. More than just a weapon.” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words louder would make them real, and in that moment, you see the worry, the raw, aching fear he’s been hiding.

You squeeze his hand, grounding him, your voice a gentle reassurance. “And I’m still a fighter. I’m still someone who knows how to end a battle.” You step back, straightening, every inch the assassin who once served the Night Court. “You’re leading your forces, Eris. Let me do what I do best.”

He hesitates, his eyes darkening as his thumb grazes your knuckles, the touch tender, lingering. “If anything happens to you…”

“Nothing will,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ll be back before dawn.”

Eris swallows, his gaze never leaving yours, and you see the war within him—the tension between his duty as a leader and his fear as… something more. Finally, he releases your hand, stepping back, his expression once again composed, though his eyes betray him.

“Take my smoke hounds,” he says, voice hardening with reluctant resolve. “They’ll be at your command, lethal and loyal. If anyone stands in your way…” His mouth tightens, as though the thought of what you’re about to do pains him. “Do what you must.”

You nod, feeling the finality of his words settle over you like a cloak. The smoke hounds are Eris’s most trusted creatures—vicious, swift, creatures of shadow and flame. With them by your side, Beron’s camp will fall, reduced to ash and memory.

As you turn to leave, Eris’s voice stops you, a soft, broken whisper. “Come back to me.”

You glance back, meeting his gaze, a silent promise passing between you.

-

The forest blurs around you, dark and thick with shadows as you sprint through the trees, each stride light and precise. The silence of the woods is broken only by the quiet rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the soft, nearly soundless patter of twelve pairs of paws moving in sync beside you. Eris’s smokehounds, shadows among shadows, run with you, their sleek bodies rippling with the restrained power of creatures forged from flame and darkness. Their eyes gleam in the dim light, flickers of red and gold mirroring the embers deep within them.

Your breath comes in steady, controlled puffs, each one carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. You push your pace, weaving around trees, ducking under branches, letting the familiar rhythm of running take over. The hounds follow you with fierce loyalty, twelve shadowed phantoms keeping stride with ease, their eyes never straying from you. You’ve trained with creatures like them before; they know your signals, can read your smallest gestures. And tonight, they know their purpose as well as you do.

Ahead, you see the cliff edge through the trees, the canyon beyond stretching wide and deep, a gaping chasm that offers the perfect vantage point. Twenty-five minutes until the fire, just as planned. You mentally mark each step of the mission: secure the perimeter, then unleash the hounds. They’ll tear through Beron’s forces with merciless precision, a deadly warning sent by Eris himself.

With a soft hand signal, you urge the hounds to pick up the pace. They respond instantly, surging forward in a silent wave, each one attuned to your every movement. You can feel their excitement, their hunger to fulfill their purpose—a lethal harmony that mirrors your own resolve.

At the cliff’s edge, you pause for just a moment, looking out over the vast expanse of trees, campfires flickering faintly in the distance. Beron’s forces are spread across the valley below, unsuspecting, oblivious to the doom that will descend upon them in a matter of minutes. You breathe in, feeling the cool night air fill your lungs, centring yourself.

Then you leap into motion again, running along the edge of the cliff, the hounds fanning out beside you. The ground is uneven, treacherous, but you move with confidence, your steps sure and steady. The hounds move effortlessly, their eyes fixed forward, waiting for your command to unleash them upon the enemy below.

The minutes tick by, and you count each one, your mind focused, calculating. You know that Eris will be watching the clock, timing your return. He’ll know the moment his hounds have done their work, the moment the fires ignite, marking the beginning of the end for Beron’s camp. And he’ll be waiting, trusting that you will return alongside them.

You feel the power thrumming through your veins, the familiar thrill of the mission, the anticipation of the flames that will soon light up the sky. You glance down at the hounds, each one poised and ready, their bodies taut with barely-contained energy. With a small, barely perceptible nod, you give the signal.

You crouch low, hidden among the dense trees at the edge of the camp. The flickering glow of campfires illuminates the chaos below. Beron’s forces move with the sluggish confidence of men who believe themselves safe, unaware of the inferno waiting to consume them. You pull the bow from your back, your fingers steady as you nock an arrow soaked in pitch. With a deep breath, you draw back the string, the familiar weight and tension grounding you.

The torch at your side flickers in the cool night breeze, casting your shadow long against the forest floor. With a deliberate motion, you dip the arrowhead into the flame. Fire bursts to life, licking up the shaft, bright and hungry. The light reflects off the sharp edges of your assassin’s gear, and for a moment, you’re bathed in a fiery glow.

You take aim at the largest tent—the command centre, judging by its size and central position. The arrow flies, cutting through the air in a deadly arc, embedding itself into the canvas. Flame spreads instantly, roaring to life as the tent is consumed. You don’t wait to watch it burn. Another arrow is already in your hand, aflame and ready. This time, you aim for the storage tent where supplies are stacked high. It ignites with a burst of heat, the fire leaping from one crate to the next.

One more arrow—this time toward the soldiers’ quarters. The shot is perfect. The flames catch, and panic spreads like wildfire. Shouts rise as soldiers scramble to put out the blaze, but it’s too late. Smoke curls upward, dark and thick, a signal of chaos rising to the stars.

You sling your bow across your back and run, feet pounding the forest floor as you follow the path you memorized earlier. Your mind maps out every turn, every slope: the sharp left at the leaning oak, the shallow stream you leap across without hesitation, the narrow ridge that runs parallel to the cliffside. Your breath comes in short bursts, your heart hammering in your chest, but your focus remains razor-sharp.

Then you hear it—shouts behind you. The sound cuts through the night like a blade, and when you glance back, you see them: Beron’s soldiers, torches in hand, spreading through the trees like a swarm. One of them spots you, his shout echoing across the forest, and suddenly the hunt is on.

You push harder, adrenaline surging through your veins, but the weight of your gear slows you. The thick leather straps dig into your shoulders, the metal clasps clinking faintly with every stride. It feels like a leaden anchor dragging you down.

With a frustrated growl, you strip the bow from your back, tossing it aside into the underbrush. Next, you unbuckle the heavier pieces of your armour mid-stride, letting them fall as you run. The bracers follow, the daggers strapped to your thighs discarded one by one. You leave a trail of discarded weaponry in your wake, the promise of lighter steps driving you forward.

But the soldiers are everywhere. Torches light up the forest in jagged lines, cutting off your escape routes. Their shouts grow louder, closer, and the realization hits you: they’re herding you, pushing you toward the cliff. Panic sparks in your chest, but you keep moving, feet skimming over rocks and roots, muscles burning with the effort.

The cliff looms ahead, the forest giving way to open sky and the deafening roar of the river far below. The soldiers close in, their shouts a cacophony that drowns out your pounding heartbeat. There’s no time to think, no time to hesitate. You sprint toward the edge, the ground disappearing beneath your feet as you leap.

For a moment, there’s only silence. The world drops away, the wind rushing past you in a deafening roar. Your stomach lurches as you fall, the vast canyon walls blurring on either side. Below, the river churns violently, a silver ribbon that grows larger with every passing second.

You hit the water hard, the impact stealing the breath from your lungs. The freezing cold engulfs you, dragging you down, the current tugging at your limbs with relentless force. You fight to the surface, gasping for air, the icy water shocking your system into focus.

The river carries you away, the sounds of pursuit fading into the distance. You let it take you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, knowing that survival is your only thought now. Above the churning waters, the smoke from Beron’s camp rises into the night, the promise of fire and destruction marking the beginning of the end.

A/N: this series was supposed to be posted in February but as you can see part one is out now but it will be a while till part 2!

part 2

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Not too long after Captain Spock's miraculous resurrection, Montgomery Scott approached the freshly-demoted Captain Kirk, PADD in hand.

"What's this?" the Captain asked, taking it.

"It's a wee schematic I was hopin' you'd approve, sir. For the Enterprise," Scotty said. He tried not to look too evasive, but acting was never one of his strong suits, and Kirk had long since grown wise to his tells, so he wasn't terribly optimistic.

Sure enough, "I can see that, Scotty," Kirk said, raising both his eyebrows in mild amusement. "I'd like to know what it's for."

For a moment, Scotty was silent, debating how to broach the topic. The Captain was much improved now, after Spock's return (and the return of the bulk of his memory), but for a while there-

Well.

Scotty could understand how the death of a husband could tear someone to pieces. The wound was still raw; too recent and too fresh. That kind of grief didn't just up and disappear, even if the cause for it did. It lingered. If one paid attention - as the crew of the Enterprise did - it was easy to catch the deep weariness that crept into Kirk's eyes when he thought no one was looking, or the way he tensed up every time Spock was out of sight.

He'd been avoiding Engineering, too.

Scotty could understand. Sometimes, he wanted to, too, when the memories rose too close to the surface. So many good officers had died down there over the years, and Captain Spock was the best of them all.

Still, as sensitive as the subject may be, this was important.

"It's a proposal for changes to the warp core," he said. He kept his voice steady, hoping it would keep Kirk steady, too. "To make it safer."

For a moment, the Captain just stared at him, a tangle of emotion just barely visible past that mask of command he so often wore.

"This-" Kirk's voice wavered, and he swallowed before continuing. "This is... for Spock?"

"Aye, sir," Scotty said. He'd started work on it the very night of the Captain's death. "No one will e'er have to suffer the same fate. The fact that it happened in the first place-" Scotty shook his head, mournful. "I could hardly forgive myself. I should 'ave seen the risk."

"Scotty," Kirk breathed, "this is..." Awe and gratitude filled his face as he paged through the files on the PADD. His gaze snapped upwards, meeting Scotty's. "Approved, Captain," he said, clapping Scotty warmly on the shoulder. "And... thank you."

If the Captain's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, Scotty politely ignored them.

"Aye, Captain," he said, beaming widely, then went to get started.

[hatosaur]

it's pretty implied that ellie never came out to joel in the proper sense. she lets him assume that she's into men, gives him the false satisfaction of "seeing" her "crush" on jesse, does not correct him. she's fairly confident in being gay in public for others to see and having others close to her know; so why not correct him? why dodge the topic?

was it out of fear? could it be that she never broached the topic despite being close to him in the early years because of the possibility of his reaction being negative? that she was afraid that out of all things that could force them apart (further apart after they split), him reacting badly to her being gay would be the worst?

what about at the dance? would she have been as wound up as she was if the moment hadn't been an encounter with a vicious homophobe? maybe she would've still snapped without this context, but why is she immediately on the defensive against joel after he sticks up for her?

what about the porch scene? why did she refute his question of dina being her girlfriend so insecurely, looking away, nervously and quietly stumbling over words? why isn't she mean about it? why doesn't she get defensive at the question? why did she lash out again when he expressed acceptance?

i think these scenes revolving around her queerness indicate it as such; that ellie never told joel for fear of a response, that she lets him think what he wants because that's the easiest way for it to be. then, when she's ready to face off against a homophobe, because that's the way things are, that's what she can expect, and joel defends her, she lashes out.

it's such a clear juxtaposition of support and hatred between joel and seth, and being faced with joel's acceptance is too much, makes her turn to the anger she'd been holding onto and reinforce what she thinks is true -- that she doesn't need him. and in the fallout, as her regret dawns on her, so too does the realization; he was protecting her, like always, without hesitation, over this thing she was always afraid he wouldn't accept her for.

in the porch scene, joel chooses his words wisely, and asks if dina is her girlfriend -- not "so you're gay?" or "why did you never tell me?" or "how long has this been a thing?" -- with such a casuality that it seems to throw her off. it's like ellie can hardly get the words out. she refutes the idea, fumbles for each following part of her response, is tense. she wasn't prepared for the question.

and when he finally asserts his support for her, in as explicit terms as he can, you can see ellie become emotional, touched for a moment but overcome, before she launches into the defensive again, exactly like at the dance scene -- meeting his kindness with hostility as a way to cope with her emotions.

and then, in response to her basically saying her life doesn't matter, he affirms that it does.

so he's now affirmed two things that ellie has doubted: that he accepts her being a lesbian, and that her life matters. a conflation of the two, in ellie's mind, may have come after; and after that, her olive branch.

and yeah, him affirming these things for her is fully in the context of his overwhelming parental love for her and her complex feelings about being the cure, but within a queer subtext, it means more. it's such a familiar thing to slink around loved ones and hide being gay/queer for fear of any type of response, and lying by omission in conversation just to keep that state of peace, of normalcy. ellie, with all her brutishness and bravery, falls into it like anyone else, because even while mad at him, she valued that response from him.

a lot of people seem to think that the approach to ellie's queerness is nonchalant, that it's just some unrelated thing about her, but i think that it holds more weight in the narrative that what is explicitly spelled out. it's subtle but it was a deliberate choice to place her queerness at the center of the confrontation. i think that's why ellie's relationship with dina took center stage in the story, and why so much time is devoted to just them -- because her being queer matters to her character, but in a way that perhaps only a queer person can see, analyze, and appreciate (without being blatant enough to anger certain other fans).

[marimology]

Pairing: ichiji vinsmoke x charlotte! trans masc reader

notes: smut, cnc (consensual) , arranged marriage ( mentions sanji and pudding), somewhat romeo and juliet inspired trope, Getting caught, almost getting caught, only ‘person?’ who knows about the relationship is y/n’s door because it lets them know if someone is nearby, transponder snail sex (phone sex), this is me letting my brain cook like sanji , cuckholding

a/n : I love this red headed loser, also my requests are open , ichiji is a girl dad argue with the wall

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who did not expect to fall in love with the 7th son of Charlotte LinLin when he and his family came over came over to whole cake to discuss the marriage between sanji and pudding. ears perking as you heard that they would be here for the next four months.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who when he saw you sitting next to mama his heart would flutter whenever you would try to hold a conversation with him and you would stop as you noticed big mom staring down at you.

ICHJI VINSMOKE who after a month of being on whole cake finally got the courage to ask you out con a date and being surprised when you said yes but you two would have to choose wisely as the public only knew about Sanji and puddings wedding. so he took you out for a picnic underneath a bridge.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loved to leave hickeys around your body but in places where you would be able to hide them after every day so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your family and vise versa.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to threaten you with cumming inside of you every time that you both fuck so that you could walk around with his baby and your family would be wondering whose the father.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who once him and his family left whole cake,missed the touch of your skin and your velvet walls clenching around his cock begging him not to cum inside of you, and your whimpers as you felt his cock form a bludge in your belly .

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to call you after a raid, jerking off to your wanted poster each time your bounty raises saying that he’d turn you into the marines only after fucking you in front of them first. you both have memorized your respective family members sleep schedules memorized as you would masturbate on a call together as the transponder snail would capture all of your pretty noises.

it has now been over a year

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who kept a calendar hidden in his room where he’d count down the days until the next time they’d go to whole cake so he could show you how much he missed you and could pepper your skin with kisses once more, and that night he brought up the topic of getting married in secret which you happily said yes to with tears forming and he wears a cape on his suit that has a button / ring that’s actually his wedding ring whilst you wear yours as a pair of earrings

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who only hated sanji more because he couldn’t publicly say that you were his husband.

sanji vinsmoke who when walking past ichiji’s room heard him end a call with a “love you” but couldn’t pick out who he was talking to … it’s not like he wanted to anyways he care less as to what that asshole was doing he knew he couldn’t feel any emotion towards anyone

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who as soon as Germa docked back on whole cake and they had sanji meet pudding. went to find you in your room and embraced you in the warmest hug that you’ve ever felt and it was your first embrace as husbands. and later that night had you whimpering on his cock and told you how much he missed you as your brain was being turned into mush as you were being forced to take his cock after being overstimulated.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who was happy that straw-hat came wanting to save sanji because that meant that if sanji leaves then he could publicly marry you

brulee charlotte who should’ve minded her own damn business when she was looking through her mirror realm and saw you being made to look at the mirror by a siluette that she couldn’t make out nor did she want to

yonji vinsmoke who wanted to spar with you and went to your room and asked your door to speak with you but was pissed off when it said you were busy and snuck around to try and see what you possibly could’ve been doing that was more important than sparring with him and almost falling over when he saw the sight of you sitting on his brothers lap taking his dick with your face buried in his neck and a Visual Den Den Mushi recording every moment of it as ichiji whispered praises. he should’ve minded his own damn business, but he could see the love in his brothers eyes as he looked you

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who’s heart shattered when big mom announced that she had arranged a marriage between you and a princess from a neighboring kingdom. and you both spared quick glances at eachother, but the poor girl clearly looked like she was in love

later that same night he took both you and the girl to your room and fucked you in front her. telling her that she’d never get a chance to feel how good you are and she should just go somewhere and die because she’s a homewrecker.

And ironically she was found dead the next day and you didn’t know who it was that killed her….. it was ichiji

YOU AND ICHIJI who took the chance to feign your own deaths during the fight between the big mom pirates ,vinsmokes, and straw hats and ran away to be able to live a happy life together only yonji knows you two are still alive

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who is definitely not the worlds most perfect husband but is happy that you even decided to give him a chance

it’s been four years since that day and everyone mourns the lost of you two but little do they know you both live in the same secluded town with your older sister lola and are raising 2 children

TAGLIST: @henrioo @gomugomuslip

©marimology do not steal or copy my work

[pearlywritings]

Alive

synopsis: the fall of your homeland is a catastrophe as it is, however, it's not only the home you and your husband lost. It's just a miracle you didn't lose each other.

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pre-Fatui Pierro (he is more open and emotional), topic of pregnancy and children, a couple of my personal headcannons about Khaenri'ah and how the curse affects the body. [...] - is used in places where Pierro and reader use their real names.

word count: 1.3k+ words in total

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 1 more requests to write. Also this fic is from the same AU my other fic is - Behind the wall of falling snow we love. You can check it if you'd like some more

Bright Sumeru sun is blinding and the evergreen forests are dizzying when you look long enough. And yet [...] forces his eyes to take in the life itself blooming in front of him, tired gaze mindlessly following the movement of a red butterfly, flying by. Red. Red, red, red, r e d╴

Khaenri’ahn stars hide behind the eyelids, fingers clenching in a fist unconsciously. So much blood, everything is dirtied by the curse. To this very second he can hardly endure it - two months later and it still haunts him as if he’s back there, at the beginning of the end. Screams, cries, loud screeching of machines, rumbling of collapsing buildings and deafening booming of explosions… It’s hard to forget, he believes he never will. There is blood on his hands yet he hasn’t killed anyone. He only tried to save, but he managed to save only one╴

The one he can’t imagine his life without.

The one the healer is examining behind his turned back. This old man was tolerable, he kept his mouth shut about two refugees from the fallen nation hiding here, above the surface and under the sun. The two previous ones had to go.

“Your wife’s condition is better,” the silver-haired man shivers, torn from his thoughts and finally lets go of the blindfold, dimming the natural light inside this small house you had luck buying. Your love for wearing jewelry and the rules that dictated adorning his mage’s robes in those helped you both survive so far.

“Be more specific,” he demands, returning to the bed, gaze immediately on your body, resting under the covers. Your eyes, equally as mysterious, momentarily dart from the healer to your husband. Before you could even lift a hand resting atop the duvet, he already leans in and slides his palm under yours, squeezing.

“The healing process is complete,” you see the way his breath shakes when your beloved exhales in relief. Fingers flex around yours in a comforting gesture. “I can’t get rid of this curse mark, but I succeeded in eliminating the harm it caused to her internal organs. But,” the wise man looks at you, no longer talking to the man at your side and his gaze turns sorrowful. Your heart stops in fear, knowing what he is about to confirm. “As I said before - I am afraid you won’t have children again. Ever. From what is known of the medicine right now - the closeness of your reproductive organs to the fetus most likely made them more exposed to the damage. On the bright side, I estimate that this factor won’t stop you from continuing living your life. I am still not sure how exactly this ‘disease’ got into your body, however from my observations over you I can state with all confidence - it’s a miracle you stayed alive, dear.”

It’s a miracle you stayed alive.

Big hand squeezes around yours. He doesn’t know yet, that the two of you were cursed with immortality, he doesn’t know yet, that sooner or later even the damage of the severely cursed part of your body would’ve naturally healed either way (not completely, but still). All he knows right now is that there was a possibility of him losing you.

When the healer leaves your humble abode - this one deserves to live - you ask your lover to help you sit, which he does and immediately takes a seat on the edge of your simple bed (it groans a little under his burly mass, but you both ignore it). He still hasn't let go of your hand.

A few moments are spent in silence. You are deep in your own unease, while he is wrecking his head over the way to start the conversation. Gently. He doesn’t want to bring those memories back - how the curse targeted the weakest spot in your body - your womb, how he had to save you, to make a life-changing decision of ridding your body off what was slowly killing you - your own unborn child... How he used his best knowledge in healing magic to keep you stable and get you out of the falling land. Everything else is a blur. But everything else doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you are alive.

“My heart,” he starts slowly, but these two words are enough to gather your attention, “I am relieved to know you are alright. Forgive me my selfish desires, but I can’t fathom a thought of losing you, of spending the rest of my life without you. I ask a lot from you, but, please,” he covers the hand he is already holding with his other one, “I know it’s hard, but I beg you not to forget the happy days we spent together, the love we share,” your gaze falls to the wedding bracelets clasped around your wrists and your heart clenches when you hear desperation in his voice, “and above all, do not let go of your desire to live… For any reason, understood?”

“If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.”

Your abrupt response surprises you. You didn’t mean to lash out, but suddenly it just happened. Is it the brewing pain in your heart? The dull ache and emptiness in your stomach? The settling understanding of the loss and that life will never be the same? You don’t know. You feel too much.

He is taken aback and you notice. Eyes widen and anxiety settles in your heart - have you pushed him away?

"You know you are not guilty, [...]?" Your husband reaches to cup your cheek. You hopelessly cling to it with your free one, leaning into the warm palm, closing your eyes. "At that time nothing else could've been done."

"But if I was stronger, if my body was stronger-"

"But we were not, my heart. It's a cruel reality, but every time I see you I am so glad you were spared. Even if it happened like that."

He knows his words are cruel and he says them to your face now, raw and hurting, but that is the only truth he has. And he is not going to lie to the woman he vowed to treasure.

"Sorry for being rude, I didn’t mean it,” you swallow the lump in your throat, and the man beside you reassuringly caresses your cheek. He understands. “And sorry we have to have this conversation… I am not the only one hurt after all.”

"I am not mad, [...]. And you are the one who’s been hurt the most, so we will return to this topic as many times as you need. I will remind you that none of it is your fault,” his promise is soft and you make yourself believe it. He climbs next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist - gently, almost feather-lightly, - and brings you closer to his chest.

"I just really wish it wasn't our one and only chance to have a family," you snuggle into him, diving into the warmth of his body. "You don't hate me for it, right?"

"Of course I do not. There will never be a thing I'll hate you for."

"Thank you…"

"No, thank you for being alive."

He can feel your lips pulling in a small smile against his chest. He is aware that so little time is not enough to numb the mind and heart to the memories and that this pain is hard to heal - he is sure it never completely will, and even though he is pushing his own despair to the back of his head, he fully shares your hurt. He keeps reminding himself, that you got to stay alive and you are right here, he can see, touch, hold, love you…

And even in the frozen lands of your soon-to-be-destination he’ll continue doing so.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Do you think that Ms. Bustier is overhated?

Not particularly. I don't have any strong feelings about her, but she's clearly a terrible teacher who is in way over her head. I totally understand why she sets some people off. If she was a real person that I actually had to deal with, then she'd probably set me off, too, because she so perfectly encapsulates toxic positivity. If you're not familiar with that term, then here's a quick definition:

Toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead. Although setting aside difficult emotions is sometimes necessary temporarily, denying negative feelings long term is harmful because it can prevent people from processing their emotions and overcoming their distress.

Read that definition and then look at this scene from Zombiezou:

Marinette: But Miss Bustier, it's so not fair! It was Chloé, pulling another...Chloé! And...I'm the one who's getting in trouble?! Miss Bustier: Of course you're not in trouble, don't worry! As the class representative, I want you to set a good example for your classmates. Don't give into feelings of anger. Try to forgive Chloé instead. Marinette: I don't get it... Chloé is the meanest person I've ever known. Miss Bustier: Come on... There are much worse people in Paris right now than Chloé Bourgeois. I'm sure people like Chloé are capable of great things. The problem is, they only think of themselves. They don't understand the meaning of love, and we can't force them to change. But perhaps we can show them by setting a good example. That's why Marinettes are so important in today's world; because they have a lot of love to give. I'm counting on you. Marinette: Yes, Miss Bustier.

This is toxic positivity in action. Marinette is told to set aside her extremely valid feelings as if anger is a terrible thing, but it isn't. All emotions have their place and ignoring them can do real harm, a lesson that Miraculous really struggles with. It seems to see "negative" emotions as bad and they're really not. What matters is how we express and address our emotions, not that we experience them. If you want to see a family friendly piece of media do this topic right, then go watch Pixar's Inside Out.

There's also the fact that Chloé is never punished for her actions in this episode. She ruined a gift that probably took Marinette hours and yet Miss Bustier puts the onus to fix things on Marinette, blaming the victim and doing nothing to actually fix the situation. Canon mildly complicates this with Chloé's father's willingness to meddle, making punishing her apparently impossible, but Miss Bustier doesn't even acknowledge that here. The stated logic is that you need to be nice to your bully and that will hopefully magically fix things, which is a terrible lesson that I don't want any kid to learn! What kind of logic is that?

I'll admit that I'm a big fan of "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind," but that doesn't mean that you should never acknowledge harm or fight back. It just means that you need to be measured in your responses and pick your battles wisely. If this episode was about that, then I'd be fine with it, but that's not the lesson here. There is no point where the wrong done to Marinette is even mildly acknowledged. Miss Bustier's initial reaction to seeing Marinette's ruined gift is:

Miss Bustier: Well, I think this present is wonderful. It'll be my new cosmetics bag! Then I'll be able to think of both of you every time I use it.

And we go straight from that to the toxic positivity.

Something is wrong with this woman. You shouldn't even take this approach with preschoolers! While I could see this being a good final solution to something like Chloé scribbling on Marinette's drawing, Chloé's behavior still needs to be addressed. She is still the one in the wrong here. The one whose behavior needs to change.

This is one of many cases where there are two paths to take with this character. The writers clearly want Miss Bustier to be a wonderful teacher, but they wrote a victim-blaming disaster who shouldn't be in charge of anyone. If you're ever adapting her, then it's up to you if you want to redesign her into her intended self or if you want to lean into the bad writing. I think both paths have merit because the writing is so bad that there is no way to make canon Caline work as a good teacher. She's too fundamentally flawed so you either acknowledge how awful she is or do a major overhaul where she's much less forgiving and actually acknowledges things like the Chloé problem.

[likesomanywrecksdo]

fun fact: full moon made me throw up (srsly)

ALSO SPOILERSSSSSS FOR FULL MOON (HELLUVA BOSS S2 EP8)!!! DON'T READ IF U HAVEN'T WATCHED PLSSS

STOLITZ PART 1/2- STOLAS IN FULL MOON

I AM NOT A STOLAS HATER, I LOVE STOLAS WITH ALL MY HEART (i have two hearts, one for stolas and one for blitzø). JUST WANTED TO POINT OUT SOME THINGS HE COULD'VE HANDLED BETTER IN FULL MOON.

Look, I feel SO BAD that Stolas' beautiful love confession was (in Stolas' POV) basically ridiculed and that his first "ily" was a complete joke. I love Full Moon because it explored the many facets of both character's and their complexities.

So let's talk abt where Stolas went wrong in Full Moon (making a part abt Blitzø too, dw nobody is safe heheh)

Stolas knows this is a hard conversation, he's taken into account IMP and keeping it alive and everything but the way he approached the actual topic (deal getting cut off) was very rash. Stolas does not think wisely about his words ("i need it back...permanently" (18:15) + "there's no need, i've made up my mind" (18:39)). Even though Stolas is giving him an out, he does not understand the leverage he has over Blitzø. This is the main thing I noticed abt Stolas in Full Moon, He seems to have come to a realization abt how wrong their deal is but has not come to terms abt how wrong their dynamic is. So when Stolas was pouring his heart out abt how he "wants Blitzø to stay", he is not realizing that Blitzø still has not had time to process him taking away the book in the first place and saying Blitzø does not need to fuck him anymore. This is something that Stolas and only Stolas could ever have the power to do bc of the power dynamic between them. Stolas think he's doing Blitzø a favour but all he's doing is reminding Blitzø that no matter how hard he has worked, it can all dissapear at Stolas' command.

"Blitzø, I think so very highly of you....i didn't realize you think so low of me" (HES CRYING FROM BOTH PAIR OF EYES, MY BABYYYYY)

Stolas babe, if you call someone ur little impish plaything, literally hide ur face with a menu when u get spotted in public with him, literally give him no choice but to fuck you in order to have a livelihood and successful business, HOW IS THAT TELLING HIM U THINK HIGHLY OF HIM? Look, i get it, Stolas does rlly care abt Blitzø, but the problem is, Stolas doesn't see his actions as harmful, he sees the deal as harmful. Stolas doesn't understand that such a huge power, stature and literal socio-economic gap is going to cause some issues that no crystals can fix. Stolas' ingrained bigotry towards imps as well as desperation to escape from his awful marriage cause him to be impulsive and abuse that power, unconsciously.

Stolas' biggest character flaw is his impulsiveness. He realised his sexuality extremely late and now is trying to experience as many things as possible to get back his childhood. He did it through the deal so he could find enjoyment in one thing in his life as well as experience a pivotal point in his queer awakening. The Full Moon Talk, despite being under the guise of maturity, is just as impulsive as the arrangement. Stolas is expecting a certain answer and expecting it immediately. Stolas has had time to understand his emotions and he knew exactly what he wanted to say before Blitzø came. Blitzø came in blind and Stolas knows he's bad with his feeling EVERYONE KNOWS BC IT'S SO OBVIOUS, so the fact that Stolas was expecting some grand love confession when Stolas literally speedrun the difficult parts of the conversation is unfair.

[jyeshindra]

ALL ABOUT GEMINI RISING

Ah, we've made it to the witty chatterboxes of the zodiac, our lovely Gemini Risings! Let's go over the traits and energies of this dynamic, Mercury-ruled placement.

As a reminder, our ascendant is a very personal point in the chart. It is what we see when we gaze out into the horizon. What shall we claim? How do we see the world? And how does the rest of the world see us? In ways, I do believe our ascendant is more revealing than the sun sign. It tells the story of our soul's...why we are here and what we are meant to learn.

We begin with the chart ruler, Mercury. How does Mercury behave in the mutable, airy sign of Gemini? Especially when geared towards one's direction in life?

Mercury is a special planet, having no gender and being one of the fastest moving planets in astrology. In mythology Mercury is associated with tricksters, messengers, writers, and magicians. Mercury is here and there, playing both sides and aligning with motivations not entirely rooted in blacks and whites. Mercury is one to see the grays and to ask "why?". To seek out information and to feed their mind.

You are much like Mercury, Gemini Rising. What you wish to pursue is knowledge itself! You have curious souls that seek to know and explore everything. Information is valuable to you and you know how to get it and what questions to ask. Your mind is hungry and always searching for stimulation.

You are also a connector. Gemini, like the other air signs (and Virgo), are represented by humans, not animals. This speaks to your purpose Gemini which is to connect. You have an ability to understand the intricacies of a situation, of a people, of a culture, and make the necessary connections. If Aries pioneered the land and Taurus settled it, Gemini finds the trade routes and explores other parts of the land and the surrounding peoples.

These risings are often seen as scattered, talkative, and witty. They are blessed with the gift of gab and often charm those that they talk to with their youthful disposition and excitable mannerisms. Mercury makes these sensitive to stimuli and you can often spot a Gemini Rising by their plethora of expressions! You may seem all over the place to some, Gemini, but your mind is constantly assembling and processing and searching. It makes sense!

Appearance-wise, Mercury gives one a child-like or elfin appearance. I've seen these ascendants have bright eyes, a dazzling smile, and maybe even a high-pitched voice. They may also be wiry, with large foreheads and beautiful hands. Perhaps your face is adorned with glasses to give you your mercurial edge?

I believe it is you, Gemini who becomes the mirror for others. You are impressionable, taking on the characteristics of everyone you meet; their speech, their mannerisms, their thoughts even. You take what you need and leave the rest. You are changeable and always open to a conversation or to a new idea. It's this quality that makes you the perfect vessel for your soul's true desire; to reach large audiences and spread your information with the world!

I think with the Virgo 4th house, Gemini often had to teach themselves a lot. Information played a huge role in the household, either in proving oneself as knowledgeable or avoiding criticism from others. Perhaps the Gemini had siblings to care for, or parents who weren't really around. Or maybe there were overbearing guardians who left a sense of helplessness in the Gemini, so they compensate with information.

There may have been no room in your home environment for emotions, Gemini, and so you over-think everything. Your attention to detail is innate, and you can study any topic thoroughly and deeply (Scorpio 6th House), but you are, in ways, avoidant of your own emotional experience. In fact, all your water houses are in Earth, Gemini! This is also likely a sign that your ability to persist and stay strong, to persevere and commit, is a bit unconscious to you. There is some wound of authority here with that Capricorn 8th house, and perhaps your power lies in discipline. In applying yourself time and time again to master whatever it is that you wish to give to the world. 

There are beautiful things to be shared from your mind Gemini with this Pisces 10th House. You want to be seen in your multi-faceted-ness with all of your creative and awesome gifts. You want to be acknowledged and appreciated, not used or taken advantage of. Others may see you in a Piscean way when you take the stage, Gemini. You may have many different things going on at once, or you become someone who can reach a lot of different people. You may change careers a lot! Some famous Gemini Risings include Gordon Ramsey (restaurants feat. world cuisine is very Piscean), Drew Barrymore (isn't she the sweetest?), and Mindy Kaling (so many different projects!)

Lastly, the Taurus 12th house speaks to an inner beauty and artistry within you Gemini. Truly you come from the Earth, with a purity in you that seeks to understand everything in this earthly plane. No stone shall be left unturned! You have left behind a more solid approach to something more airy and exciting. There is so much for you to learn Gemini! But do not forget to rest! Do not forget you come from the Earth and you shall return to the Earth. Take care of your body, eat good food, cover yourself in oils and balms, and appreciate the body you have been given. Your mind is beautiful, but so is the rest of you, Gemini! Adorn it.

Your 7th House is ruled by Sagittarius, indicating you need partnerships that allow you to step outside of your comfort zone and explore your physical reality. You may stay glued to your screens or to your books or to your own mind when you truly do yearn to see and experience and live. Sagittarius will teach you this Gemini, that there is much to be learned and wisdom to be gained from LIVING. You want someone who can teach you about the world and brings you depth and perspective.

You will learn so much through your experiences Gemini and you must acknowledge the darkness within your own heart. That Capricorn 8th house may urge you to close it forever. Fear and paranoia may surround you in matters of merging, despite your desire to connect everything. Dive fearlessly into your own abyss, for this is the power of Capricorn! The strength to persevere and overcome!

That's all for the Gemini Risings for this week. Next week we'll dig into the Cancer Ascendant and discover more about these lovely Moon-ruled folk.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Over Mountains and Sea part 2

2003!Leonardo x reader

Part 1

—-----------------------------------------------

The reader misses her best friend, and decides to take a trip to Japan to surprise him and talk things out💙

Warnings: None, other than spelling of course.

—------------------------------------------------

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the serene landscape of the Japanese mountainside. Between the tranquil rocks and cliffs, nestled among cherry blossoms further down the valley, Leonardo practiced his katas under the watchful eye of the wise Ancient One.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed you in Leonardo's absence. Master Splinter’s decision to send his oldest son to Japan for advanced training and gaining emotional control under the Ancient One had left a void in your heart. You missed your best friend. You knew Leo had had a hard time over the last few months. You haven’t talked about it. The few times you had tried to open up a conversation on the topic, Leo had shut it down, hard and fast. Not even Usagi had been able to make him talk. It was heartbreaking to watch Leo struggle from afar. It only made it more unbearable with the feelings you had developed for your best friend. You watched the man you loved struggle and leave without a word, leaving you back with many questions.

But unable to endure the separation any longer, you made the bold decision to embark on a journey to reunite with him. When you asked Master Splinter for direction, you had expected him to tell you off - that this was Leonardo’s journey and not yours. But instead he smiled and told you where to go.

The journey was arduous, but fueled by determination and love. You meet giants that sensed the meaning of your journey, and sent you in the right direction. As you left the way they had told you, you heard them talk about how; “the little baby won’t stay angry for long”.

You meet traveling ghosts along the roadside, that all left you in peace. As you notice them pass, you couldn’t help but wonder, did Leo meet any of these on his way to the Ancient One?

You finally reached the mountains where Leonardo honed his skills for the past few weeks. The air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms in the valley as you went up the mountain pass, approaching the place the Ancient One had been training Leo, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Leonardo and the Ancient One was meditating in the mountains. Both of them balancing with their legs crossed on a bamboo stick that was placed over a deep drop. The wind blew, causing the tails of Leo’s bandana and the braid on the Ancient One to sway in the breeze.

The Ancient One noticed a new presence amongst the mountains, before you ever came into view. He already knew you were the girl Leonardo had told him about, and a small smile spread on his lips. He rose from his seated position on the bamboo, before jumping back onto safe ground, causing Leonardo to look at him in slight confusion.

"Sometimes, destiny brings those we care about back into our lives", he remarked cryptically, stroking his thin beard.

“Sensei, what are you talking about?”

“You have a visitor, Kumquat”.

“What?!” Leo jumped from the bamboo and next to his master. He had a slight suspicion of who this visitor might be, but he didn’t dare to hope. Because that could be exactly just that - a hope.

You turned the corner of the rocks and came into view. Leo eyes widened in disbelief, unable to comprehend that you stood before him in the very place he sought solace and growth. The Ancient One started chuckling low enough for only him to hear. It was like watching history repeat itself. Leonardo and his brothers may not have been related to Hamato Yoshi in any way, but the Ancient One saw much of his adopted son in the mutant turtle.

"(Y/N)?" Leonardo's voice, a mixture of surprise and joy.

A smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "Hey, Leo", you greeted, your voice carrying the weight of the emotions you had bottled up for so long.

Leonardo approached you, his eyes scanning your face as if to confirm that you were real. The Ancient One took this as his sign to leave, and started walking down the path you had just followed, continuing to chuckle to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell Splinter about this.

"What are you doing here?" Leo asked, his tone a blend of curiosity and concern.

"I couldn't stand being so far away from you," you admitted, your gaze unwavering. "I missed you, Leo. I’ve hated not being able to talk to you".

Leo sighed, a mix of guilt and gratitude etched on his features. "I didn't think anyone would follow me all the way here."

"Some journeys are worth taking," you replied, a soft determination in your eyes. "I had to see you, Leo. I couldn't let you go without telling you how much you mean to me. You’re my best friend and I wish to talk to you and help you".

Leonardo's gaze softened. He remembered all those times you had tried to talk about his thoughts and his struggles, and all those times he had shut you out. He still remembered the hurt on your face clearly, and the fear in your eyes after he had hurt Master Splinter. And yet, you still followed him all the way to Japan to talk to him. You never gave up on him, and you never turned your back to him. With that realization, Leonardo couldn’t help but think of the words of wisdom the Ancient One had spoken to him.

Leo gestured for you to follow him, and so you did, down the path until you came to the valley of cherry trees. The two of you sat down underneath them, the petals of cherry blossoms danced around you like whispers of fate.

Leo started picking at the grass under him, unsure on how to explain himself towards you. He decided to start with what he thought to be the most pressing matter. How much he had missed you too.

"I thought about you every day", he confessed, his eyes staying the grass in his hands. "Training here has been intense, and I've grown in ways I never imagined. But there was always something missing".

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his, making him look you in the eyes. "You weren't missing, Leo. You were just in a different part of my world".

Leo swallowed hard, his vulnerability surfacing. "I didn't realize how much I needed you until now. Not even back home. I’ve always cared for you, I really have, but I thought I could bury these feelings and focus on my training, but seeing you here..."

A tender smile played on your lips as you finished his sentence, "Changed everything?"

He nodded, a mixture of relief and uncertainty in his eyes.

"I feel the same way, Leo", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Being without you made me realize that my world is brighter with you in it. But, I kind of knew that already. I got really sad when Splinter told me you were leaving, but seeing you again makes me feel so much better".

The ground underneath the trees became a sacred space, where unspoken feelings intertwined with the essence of cherry blossoms. In that moment, Leonardo took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words lifting from his shoulders.

"I love you, (Y/N)", he confessed, his gaze unwavering. “I always have, and I always will”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you whispered back, "I love you too, Leo".

The kiss that followed felt natural. It had been long awaited, not just by you and Leo, but all the people around you. It was slow and passionate, just like the two of you had always thought it would be. It was how Leo had always dreamed of it, and in that moment he felt more calm than he ever had.

And so, in the heart of Japan, beneath the blooming cherry blossoms, two souls found each other again - a love rekindled amidst the tranquility of the cherry trees and the whispers of destiny.

—---------------------------------------------

Bonus: The next morning, the Ancient One wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find his newest pupil meditating or training in the dojo or in the garden. As Leonardo’s current caregiver, he decided to check up on Master Splinter’s son. He went to his room, and pushed the shoji slightly open. There you and Leo were, sleeping soundly on his futon, holding each other tight, just like the Ancient One had expected.

The Ancient One closed the shoji and left for the kitchen. It was about time Leo and their newest guest got some breakfast.

[witchofhimring]

Loyalty Chapter 11

Synopsis:

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, moontea/abortions, suicide, mentions of rape (not to the reader), Plot twist at the end!

This chapter has a suicide in it so do not read if this topic triggers you.

Great torrents of blood threatened to engulf you in its furry. Here and there you were buffeted with no power to stop it. Utterly bereft of the power to save yourself there was only despair. Owen's cried wailed in your ears. Desperately you tried to find him, but had not the power. "Owen!" You cried out. The babes crying suddenly stopped and the torrents of blood ceased. Now all there was before you was a sea of blood. An eerie quietness settled over the scene. Suddenly a deep moan shook you. Collapsing, you fell into the blood. Your green dress was stained, dripping with dark blood. From the bowels of the sea rose a great Weirwood tree, blood cascading down its great trunk. "Turn back." I moaned and groaned. Faces twisted themselves into the bark. Horrid, terrifying faces peered down at you, each more ghastly than the last. "Time. Time!" It bellowed down at you. Then the tree twisted into a great circle. The circle of time.

"Are you well, My Lady." You were slumped against a chair by the fire. Lady Mari pressed a hand to your forehead. "You have been mumbling in your sleep. How long has this been going on for?" You were not sure if telling Lady Mari the truth was wise. She might take you for something unnatural. Lady Mari had brought up a strong smelling drink that smelt of pine. The taste sat heavily on your tongue and lips. Warmth flooded through your body, making the toes and fingers tingled. "Since I got to the castle." You lied. "It is a strange place, My Lady. I will not be sorry to leave it behind." You had informed your ladies about the impending departure. None looked too sad. It might also be good for Clarissa to get away. If word had not yet spread to Highgarden then things may go well. You had asked Prince Aemond to make them keep silent. But that may not be enough. Even if they said nothing now there was no guarantee that things would stay that way. Most of these women came from great families so threats or bribes would not work.

"How is Clarissa?" "Not much better." Lady Mari said gravely. Clarissa was like poor Queen Helaena, driven mad by grief. Harrenhal was no place for a woman of her condition. Hopefully the entourage from Highgarden would arrive soon. Prince Aemond mentioned that Jaecerion would be arriving soon. You missed him, however complex your feelings were. Letters were rendered null as he often disappeared to Gods know where. You had asked if Alys might come. But Prince Aemond said she was a servant of Harrenhal and he had need of her. Why Prince Aemond needed Alys in particular way beyond you. Too bad there was nothing to be done about it.

You were starting to feel better. Although the dream still dwelled upon you, its power was not so strong. Deciding to visit Alys you got up and threw on a robe. Owen was with his wet nurse and would be fine for a while longer. "I need to be alone. You may go." Lady Mari nodded and left. You opened the shutters to bring some natural light into the room. The shutters flew open and a great wind seemed to pull. Your hands were pressed against the windowsill forcing you to look out on the forest bellow. Except it was not a forest. There was a sea of flood stretching far and wide. A Weirwood tree stood out far in the distance, its branches reaching towards you. "Save yourself! Come to me!" A voice cried out. With a frightened cry you stumbled back. The ground sent an echo of pain through your body. "Fuck." You groaned getting up. Once again you went to the window, warily this time. To your astonishment everything was normal. A forest, not a sea of blood, greeted you. The wind was blowing but weakly. There was no haunting voice, just birds in the trees. Had your fear over dreams bleed into the waking world? "It is just a dream." You tried to convince yourself. Tried being the word. You wanted to tell someone but who could you trust?

Alys might know. After all, she did not follow the New Gods. So down you went. Never before had you been to Alys's room. But you knew the way. Alone you went, bringing anyone else was counterproductive. It got colder the further down you went. You received several glances but no more than that. Finally you arrived at the entrance with its enormous iron double-door. To the left hand side there was a small wooden door. A guard stood there, spear in hand. Despite the curious look he threw your way no one stopped you. The flight of steps was slightly steeper than what felt safe. With one hand on the railing you descended. The servants hall was empty as most of them were unused. The servants Harrenhal did posses were likely out and about. You reached the end of the hallway. At the end was a thick wooden door. It was locked. Damn.

You knocked on the door and waited. Hopefully Alys would hear. After about a minute (or so you thought) there was still no Alys. Turning on your heal the door suddenly opened. "Y/n. I am surprised to see you here." "I do not mean to intrude its just...well this is rather important." You looked back to see if anyone was spying. "I something the matter?" She inquired. "Yes." At the moment it was best to be honest. "Alright." Alys opened the door and stepped inside. Instead of a room you entered another staircase. Alys lead the way, you followed. It was a short journey and Alys unlocked the next door. With a creek the iron hinges moved. Although you had never been inside the servants quarters you doubted the rest had a room as large as this. It was slightly larger than the room yourself occupied. Was Alys in charge of the servants? It would at least explain her accommodations. It was not only the size but objects that lay around. Her bed had comfy green sheets that were likely filled with feathers. The candleholders had engraving imbedded into the metal. Heavy leather books lay around. Not many could read. Maybe the books belonged to the library? Your brain could explain away the books, but the other objects were more mystifying. A gold necklace, silver cuffs, an amethyst! What had Alys sold in order to get these? And they were all there in the open, just lying there!

"Like them?" Alys did not seem the least bit perturbed. There was much about Alys you did not know. She was charismatic and could read. But right now you had so many more questions. Was she just a servant? The only explanation you could think of was that these were gifts from wealthy patrons who's children Alys had taken care of. None of it was hidden, like Alys did not give a damn. Alys pulled out two chairs and bided you to sit down. Going to the fireplaces she ladled a drink into two cups. "You do not need to do that." Alys smiled. "It's polite." You took a sip. Suddenly relaxed you leaned back in the chair. "I have been having these dreams. Though I am not sure if they are just dreams. They recur and today I saw them in the waking world." Alys leaned in slightly with unfeigned curiosity. "What type of dreams?" "There is always a Weirwood tree and blood. Lots of it. And I hear voices. They cry out and I think it is some sort of warning." Alys seemed to ponder your words, thinking them over. "What are these warnings?" "They tell me I am in danger. They tell me to turn back." "Turn back where?" "I do not know."

You left after that. Solidarity was greatly desired. Harrenhal was large and one could be utterly lost in its walls. Being lost was what you wanted. Maybe you could simply disappear into these walls and become another ghost. To Widows Tower you went. Over a hundred years ago another widow had lived here. Princess Rhaena Targaryen, whom some called the Queen of the West had withered into a white haired crone. Rendered old before her time, the woman who could have once been Queen died. Princess Rhaena Targaryen died alone and bereft when she might have been Queen. Although men came first there had been female contenders. As you looked out of a window, thoughts about how Princess Rhaena Targaryen must have felt. Ever woman who had been considered a Queen or heir in her own right had died rather nastily. Was this a curse by the Gods, raging at a woman's impudence. Or just pure bad luck?

The trees rattled bellow you, their leaves clicking in the wind. A great whistling had been blown up. From the north it blew like a herald of warning. Dread filled you. This war had dragged on for over a year. So much of Westeros was burned or bathing in blood. They spoke of how Prince Aemond had set the Riverlands ablaze, how Rhaenyra starved Kings Landing, thousands of families trampled into the dirt. One side would win, but what would be left to rule? A bereft kingdom left to slowly rot like a diseased body. And what would be left of you. If the Greens won you knew things would still not go back to what they once were. The safe trappings of your childhood had been ripped and shredded. If the Blacks won that was even worse. You might flee abroad to Essos. But what life was that for your son? Stripped of his birthright and thrust into a foreign lands. He would never know Westeros and live a shadow of what he might otherwise have been.

Voices emanated from the other side of the door. Who else was here? Alys and Prince Aemond stepped through. It was Alys who noticed you first. "Lady Y/n." Alys curtsied. Prince Aemond simply gazed at you. "Pardon." You nodded and quickly left. Leaving Prince Aemond and Alys to their conversation you descended the stairs. You wondered what Alys and Prince Aemond were discussing. Prince Aemond was not one to interact with servants personally. Even if they did why come here? What was it about their conversation that was so private? Even though it was not your business curiosity still dwelled inside. Ellyn suspected Prince Aemond of an affair, and you wondered if it was true. Though why anyone would want to carry out an affair in the Widows Tower was beyond you.

Once you might have been hurt by the thought of Prince Aemond with another woman. These days all that remained was a dull squeeze of the heart. An residue of your feelings was all that remained. You body remembered the pain, but the heart felt little. For some time you had mourned that girl. Stopping on a flight of stairs you swayed slightly. This hurt was greater than an unrequited love. A girl dressed in green laughing and dancing with her friends. Long walks in the garden and eating lemon cakes. Hiding with Prince Aemond in the alcoves. Those days had been bright and full of laughter. They were another life far removed from this one.

That night you dreamed not of blood and Weirwood tree, but of light and happiness. In this dream you ran through halls, the back of a green dress following. The laughter of other girls rang throughout the corridors. The pink flowers brought over from Essos were in bloom. Some of the girls plucked them creating flower crowns which they worse. Sunlight showered down from above illuminating the Red Keep. On and on you ran, wishing it would never stop.

When the woke a cold reality broke over and you wept. "My Lady, are you well?" "Yes. I am fine."

"Is that everything?" The maids were accounting for your things. Any day now Jaecerion would arrive and take you to Highgarden. You were not sorry to leave Harrenhal in the least. This place could crumble for all you cared. In Highgarden you might be happier, where the sun was strong and flowers bloomed. There was no great love for Lady Jenna but that was such a small sacrifice. You did not want your son to grow up in these walls, there was already a foreboding over Owen being born there in the first case. "You may pack that. I doubt there shall be any need for those before leaving." Your jewels had not been used in a while. There seemed to be no need to wear anything fine in Harrenhal. There was one set you would keep out. A gold and ruby necklace with matching earrings, rings and headpiece. You would not arrive in Highgarden looking like a maid.

"Will we have a guard?" Asked Lady Dara. "Of course, we will be very well guarded." You reassured Lady Dara. "What of Lady Clarissa?" That was a harder question to answer. Clarissa, poor girl, was hardly better. The maester finally gave up trying to make her chose and it became clear that Clarissa would have this child. She was not so far along that some thick clothing could not cover it up. Lady Joan would likely already know, even if you had yet to receive any letters on the matter. As Dowager Lady of Casterly Rock you could have Clarissa stay. In the meantime she could stay in a room and give birth there. The baby could be cared for by another and hopefully Clarissa's reputation would mend. Maybe you were being too optimistic about the outcome. You just prayed this would all work out in the end.

"She will come with us." Lady Cara looked perturbed. "Will a maester be accompanying us, or at least a midwife?" You shook your head. A request had been made and denied. The claim was that Clarissa was not far along enough to need one. A ridiculous claim, you knew the true reason. Lady Mari had seen babes delivered but that was about it. Otherwise you best pray Clarissa remained well during the journey.

Lady Mari entered, announcing her entrance with the words; "When will the papers arrive?" By papers Lady Mari was refering to the business of getting Casterly Rock under the authority of your son. Or rather his regents. Your deceased husbands brother, who had been his brothers heir until your son was born, would rule until Owen was of age. "They were sent to Highgarden." Surprisingly, Lady Mari looked unsettled. "What is is?" "I just find it odd that the documents were not given right to you. Why send them to Highgarden when currently you are here? I am not accusing your family of anything but one may take it upon themselves to witness matters not concerning them." Lady Jenna might not be the warmest person however she was a Tyrell, just as you were. "Be my etes and ears" she had said. She needed you as well, with your status as a Tyrell. Either way, Lady Jenna's granddaughter would marry your son so why would be conspire against you? "We need all parties present and some can not make it to Harrenhal any time soon." That was the less important part, at least for you. You just wanted to flee this place. The greater distance between yourself and this place the better.

"Well I think its taken an awfully long time for this matter." Was all Lady Mari said. You sensed anxiety in her, back rigid with warry dark eyes. You assured her that all was well. The past year had been a horrid stain on everyone so perhaps it was no surprise Lady Mari was so anxious. But you did have to wonder why Lady Mari so mistrusted Lady Jenna. To your knowledge Lady Mari had never met the woman nor did you know of any correspondence. Lady Jenna was not the most a agreeable woman and had long fingers, all the better for taking things. And there were certain papers you would keep out of her hands. On the other hand she was still family, and you were a Tyrell. It had been her who suggested you marry Jason Lannister in the first place. Just because Lady Jenna was unlikable did not make her a traitor.

"Who's book is this?" Lady Dara held up a heavy leather bound book. The symbol of the Wheel of Time was stamped on its cover. You immediately took it. Normally you were careful not to to be caught reading books of this nature. While not witchcraft some might consider reading of the Old Gods heretical. Most nights you hid them under a mattress, but in the chaos of the past few days you had neglected to take precaution. "Oh, I had taken a few books from the library." You tried to sound innocent and silently thanked any god out there that only those two were present. Quickly you took the book and told Lady Dara they would be put away later. You made sure to put it out of sight. While both ladies fussed over some furs you quickly hid the remaining books.

The remaining books that were not place in the library belonged to Alys. You wrapped them up and went downstairs. The guard let you pass silently through. You made sure there were no servants present to witness anything. Knocking on the door Alys let you in. "Finished them already? You're a fast reader." Commented Alys. You took the opportunity to look around the room again. A crude carving on a hand sat beside her bed. Another book lay on the bed, embossed with golden lettering. You examined closely a glass scull looking out through hollow eyes? This was so strange. Despite what Alys said you felt she was holding back. Even if these had been gifts from grateful patrons all of it would have been confiscated by Prince Aemond. Unless he truly was having an affair with her. He trusted her, headed Alys's council.

"I notice you like my objects." You had just spotted an odd bronze contraption. A circular globe surrounded by three thin discs. Alys reached out and the discs spinned. "What is that?" In wonder you inched closer, examining the engravings. "These are the constellation. The Old Gods broke apart a woman and casted those pieces into the air. To guide passengers to their destinies." Here you were regarding a symbol of the Old Gods. Both entranced and anxious, for the Seven may consider it heresy, you gazed further. "Would you like to see more?" A weak protest knocked at your consciousness. Something was off but you did not know what. Deciding to indulge in curiosity you said yes, you would like to see more. Alys unlocked a cabinet and a treasure trove of wonderous devices and objects. You had only seen such things five years ago when in Old Town. Alys reached into the back, pushing past serval objects. A metal box was pulled out and Alys pulled out a key from her dress. Unlocking it, Alys pressed her lips to it. The lid clicked and opened. A small pinch of disappointment prodded you. Just as small piece of bark with a painted design. In dark red was the symbol of time. Alys seemed to hesitate for a moment. A look of trepidation passed in her deep eyes. But she quickly blinked at it was gone. "Is everything okay?" "Yes. Sorry. Pick it up." Alys reached outYou reached in and carefully touched the delicate piece of wood.

Pins were digging into your index and thumb. Little fiery flames were pinching at every nerve. Your right arm seized up in agony. It spread to your chest, wedging deeper. Your heart hammered painfully like a hand was wrapping itself around the organ. The ground was pulling you down. The room was melting before you pooling into a great pool of blood. Hands pulled you back, blood enveloping your body. Iron in strength they held you down with all their might. Flashes of a past that was not your flitted past. A hidden passage, a staircase descending into darkness, a circular room, a brown tattered tapestry obscuring what lay beyond. You reached out and a young woman suddenly appeared, e/c eyes boring into yours.

Something, or rather someone, pulled you away. It was like being pulled out of a great body of cold waters. Laying there dazed and shivering you made out Alys's frantic form above you. She was saying something but she might as well be talking a far way off. Her very touch burned hot in contrast to every inch of your body which was so cold. Slowly feeling and sense returned. Everything once more became clear, and with that horror set in. With a great cry you lurched up. It did not matter that Alys was looking beseechingly up at you, one trembling hand extended. All you could focus on was the light in her eyes which looked mysterious and now so terrible. And in that fear came mistrust, fear and anger. Before Alys could even say anything you were gone, footsteps echoing into the darkness.

You did not stay long enough for Alys's tears.

She had failed. Alys numbly sat there, bereft. Her mission had failed. Entrusted with everything Alys knew now she had failed. It was too soon and there was no taking this back. The girl would never trust her again. Getting up with some difficulty, Alys slowly approached her cabined. Our of everything this was the most ordinary object. A simple wooden bowl. But it was forget from a Weirwood in the days when Andals hued both Northern flesh and trees. She had saved this small bit and fashioned this. Going to the Weirwood was not always an option, especially not in these times. Alys picked up a jug of cold water and poured it in. Leaning over its surface Alys muttered in a language no man living today would understand. Once many could speak of this tongue, now only Alys remained. In the waters depths Alys saw, and despaired. Now there was only one logical outcome. But as Alys turned one last image came, yet she did not see.

You had ignored for some time the whispers surrounding Alys. You more than most understood the maliciousness those rumors carried. These people who called Alys a witch likely did it out of petty jealousy. Well, you once thought that. The truth was that your suspicion had mounted. In defiance of all the rules Alys exercised considerable power. Prince Aemond did not easily take to women. You had been his only female friend of the opposite sex. The most beautiful women had been presented and yet Prince Aemond had turned his back. These women all came from great families and yet he gave not a damn. Alys's looks were head turning. Alys was not just beautiful, she was gorgeous. All this was not truly suspicious. Alys's looks were extraordinary, where even Prince Aemond could not ignore her. The worst bit was bitterness dwelling inside. She had a strength and power you could only dream of. A strength you could not even fathom.

Some said Alys was the daughter of Ser Lyonel Strong, a bastard. Others protested she was much older. One said Alys, on the day Aegon the Conqueror burned Harrenhal crept out from the woods. To this day, so she said, Alys took the form of a woman and stalked Harrenhal. Images of what you had seen flashed before your eyes. The darkness seemed to close in around you. Servants in the corridor threw themselves out of your way in haste. Away you fled, the brief bond forget with Alys severed.

Your babe was held close. Owen was innocent as to the happenings, you on the other hand were not spared by innocents. Ordering Lady Mari to never let Alys near again you barricaded yourself inside. Fear was a powerful feeling and it confined you to bed. There you lay shivering despite the warm fire blazing. Owen was securely attached to you. Most of all you feared for his safety. How many times had you allowed Alys near your son? Never again. That night you fell into a fitful sleep, seeing Alys's green eyes in the shadows. And dreadful dreams came again.

This time there was no blood but a vast stretch of barren plain. Everything was grey and cold, dark as a cloudy day. You were dressed in green and looking down one could see blood. Pulling back the sleeves you saw bloody wrists weeping as the sticky red substance poured out. Out from the ground half rotting corpses clawed their way out. Ellyn, Vaeron, Alana's and others unrecognized. One was a man with brown hair and blue around his mouth dressed in Tyrell green and gold. In a great throng they rose and surrounded you. "You are one of us." And together each seized a limb and bellow you were dragged.

Never before had you woken with such terror. Barely managing not to tumble you raced out of bed. Owen was barely secure on your arms. He started to fuss and then let out a weak cry. Cold air rushed past as you raced down the halls. This was witchcraft and Alys was behind it. You had been such a fool. Even before arriving you saw her face yet ignored every sign. She was cursed and so were you.

Prince Aemond's door was nearly broken from its hinges. The Prince, alarmed, was on his feet. Only in battle had his ears rang as they did now. You stumbled in and were at his desk. "A witch. Alys Rivers is a witch. Your Grace you must believe me! Warily Prince Aemond shifted. His eyes shifted around, right hand gripping a sword. "And why would you think this?" He did not sound convinced and it frustrated you. "She is! Alys Rivers gave me an object which when it touched it transported me to another realm. Many nights I have dreamt of that place but in that moment I was there." Prince Aemond sat down and pondered your words. Against your wishes he did not look alarmed. Did he think you a liar, or mad? You were shacking with fear by now. It you had your way you would flee this place, now. But everything relied on Prince Aemond and him believing you.

"What does this object look like?" Prince Aemond leaned back, his elbow resting on a knee. Now there was concern and it helped temper your fear. "A simple bark of wood, no larger than my palm. It has the Symbol of Time drawn in red." "Symbol of Time?" You supposed he should not know as a follower of the Seven. "Circular with runes around the rim. You will find it in a cupboard, it is in there." Prince Aemond steadily rose, this brows furrowed. He had grown thin in the past months. Shadows highlighted his gaunt features. He now reminded you of his grandsire Lord Otto who himself had looked older before his time. Worn out by war Prince Aemond was no longer the young boy who spent his days cowering the library. Once he was flushed with youth, just as once you could have trusted him with anything. You clutched Owen to you as he paced. Finally Prince Aemond said he would summon men and bid you depart. He would search her chamber and see if your worries held merit. In your chambers you lingered. The sun set and blood red bleed across the sky like a great blanket. Eventually Prince Aemond turned up alone. Alys Rivers had already disappeared.

You were unprepared for the grief that was reaped upon you the next day. Sitting in a chair you realized that Alys's presence would be sorely missed. She had been the closest thing to a companion these past months. The ladies were fin enough company, but Alys had been something special. And you had a feeling her like would not be seen again. Something great had been lost to you and was now far away. Doom had cast itself upon your mind as everything felt hopeless. The world now felt so small with to end to the misery. Far from solving everything Alys's sudden departure had done more ill. A witch she was but was someone to you. Anger still remained, only now it was directed at yourself. With the shock gone you wondered if this all had been a horrid mistake. The worst bit was that all of it was your own making. The only thing that helped was the notion that she may have wished you ill. Witches could not be trusted.

The nightmares still came. Alys's departure had not stopped them. This was not a surprise. These dreams had perpetuated your mind before she came. You checked your room for tokens, anything that would curse. At least you knew she could slip in nothing after you sent Prince Aemond after her.

The days dragged on until a week had passed. Time was spent solely in your room. The only thing to occupy your sullen mind was Owen. Your son had grown fast with thick hair growing on his head. Nothing gave you more joy than to see this child growing strong. You has sent letters to your sons great uncle to make sure everything was in order. It made you antsy that the business of getting your son recognized as Casterly Rock's lord. Lord Gerard Lannister (your sons great uncle) would be regent. While slightly miffed at having been passed over you understood why. It was not even as if you knew anything about being regent in the first place. Going back to Casterly Rock was not safe as of now. The only reason Lord Gerald Lannister was meeting you so soon was because after you left he had disappeared. By disappeared one meant Ser Gerald was assisting in the hiding of King Aegon. After, he had slipped into Highgarden. The Westerlands were in ruins and too dangerous.

Almost everything had been packed. Waiting, which had been an annoyance before, was becoming unbearable. You wanted out right now. This place was horrid and haunted, ghosts or not. The full horror was falling down all around you. Nothing could forestall the fear you now felt. Sick with worry you clutched Owen to your chest and hid from the world. Lady Mari would read to you, choosing happy stories of maidens finding their prince. Those stories always ended happy, although you supposed that was why Lady Mari chose them. Instead of being a balm such stories were a torment. It just put into stark focus how wretched your own way. Even Ellyn's fate seemed tempting. Cold in the ground with no feelings. Oh to be in a place were nothing could hurt you.

The sweet dreams of days in Kings Landing were worse than nightmares. At least when free of the blood and haunting voices waking was a relief. But those sweet dreams of times long past were the only times you were free. Far from the cold cruel world you basked in the memory of light and a sweet spring. Or you were in the alcove enjoying peace. Prince Aemond, when he was Aemond, was there. The two of you would talk of happier things. Because in those times there was no war. No death stalking the link gobbling up lives. Bitter tears broke over when you woke. Owen was all you lived for now.

"Let me see." You cooed. Owen opened his beautiful eyes and he had you. A tiny smooth hand grasped yours eagerly. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and Owen made a happy squeal. You laughed. "My beautiful baby boy." Picking his up Owen was deposited in your lap. He loved being surrounded by silk. The material of your dress enveloped him in a hug. Owen stretched up happily and you smoothed his curls. A rapid knock at your door was heard. Scooping up Owen you called out. The door had been locked and tightly bolted. "Hello?" "My Lady, Prince Jaecerion has arrived!" Immediately you were up and unlocked the door. Lady Mari looked as relieved as you felt. "When are we leaving? Now?" "First thing in the morning My Lady." With a sigh of relief so much weight was suddenly lifted. You walked past Lady Mari down to the entrance hall where surely Prince Jaecerion sat. The second you entered his head turned. Jaecerion looked the same as he always had. His silver hair was longer but that was it. The brightness in his eyes remained undimmed and the second Jaecerion laid his eyes on you he was on his feet. In just a few short strides Jaecerion had pulled out into a tight and completely informal hug. His hair fell around you like a curtain and although no one else could see it, pretty lips ghosted your forehead. A hand ran down your back. Its thumb gently tracing the path of your spine. "Y/n. I have missed you."

Hardly anyone else was here. Just Prince Aemond and Lady Mari who just walked in. Jaecerion then noticed your son. "This is Owen Lannister." You did not see the look in Jaecerion's eyes, only that he was taking in every inch of your sons face. "He looks like you." You smiled, pleased by the compliment. "Would you like to hold him?" "No." Realizing how he came off Jaecerion quickly covered it up. "My armor might harm him." He quickly said. Disappointed you fastened your hold on the baby. Jaecerion seemed to gather his bearing, for the next moment he was smiling, cheerfulness in place. "I hope your stay was comfortable." He said no without conviction. For anyone who got a look at Harrenhal knew this was no place to relax. "Hardly My Prince. I shall be glad to leave it." Jaecerion chuckled. Gallantly he extended a hand which was excepted.

Meanwhile Prince Aemond seemed removed from his surroundings. His gaze was focused on the steadily dying flames. As you came closer he looked away and your gazes locked. There was something dancing in his eyes. In the purple was fire, images dancing in an erratic trance. Then you blinked and it was gone. "The fire. Does strange things, light does." You though looking into the flames. And then something strange happened. As you looking to the flames a fiery tree was conjured from the flames. Its image flickered and licked at wood. Eyes seemed to be on you, peering onto the very depths of your soul. Suddenly you were far away from this place, only the dancing fire existed. The, just as suddenly a face appeared in its place. Skeletal and thin its evil eyes pierced you with a penetrating glare. It opened its wide mouth with sharp teeth and a cold breath swept the hall. Suddenly everything was dark.

"Y/n!" You were back. Or at least you might have been. Everything was still dark with the scent of smoke filling the air. Someone on your left stumbled into you. You could tell it was Prince Aemond. "Apologies Lady Y/n. What in the Seven Hells is going on?!" Owen had started to wail and you clutched him to you. "I do not know. Guards!" This time it was Jaecerion. Frightened, you just stood there. You could still see that face, although it had disappeared. Its momentary presence made you could in a way nothing else did. That horrid rotting face that emanated cold. And not just any cold, but the type that snuffed out all life. Was this Alys's doing? Had the witch retaliated against you in her anger?

You only saw light when the doors came in. The contrast was so intense you looked away. Owen felt so heavy in your arms. "Y/n, are you hurt?" Jaecerion walked towards you. "Yes." Shivering, you felt a cold sweat run down your back. Your legs quacked underneath you and Prince Aemond immediately darted forward to secure Owen. "Thanks." Was all you could muster. Jaecerion lead you out of that hall. You left that room where unimaginable things took place. While you could leave the room, some things you would never leave behind.

That night you prayed fiercely to the Gods. Hands clasped and on your knees feverish words tumbled from cold lips. To The Mother you prayed, for she may be the most merciful. An idol of her you kept was clutched in a trembling hand. For months it lay forlornly at the bottom of a chest. May The Seven spare you. However some said that there were evil powers beyond the gods. Evil ones in the shadows. Had you come so close to falling into their grasp? All you could do was pray and hope against hope that their mercy would extend to you. So little mercy in the world, even The Seven was limited in that regard. But retribution they had plenty and you may yet fall under its knife.

Owen lay on the bed beside you. He was awake by made no sound. His breathing was all you could hear, with the occasional sniffle. You prayed for him most of all. "Please, I beg of you, let my son live." And yet The Seven may punish him too. Children were often a victim to their parents crimes. And you had been a bad daughter of the faith. Alys may have been your punishment. Praying it would go no further your knees throbbed. Still, you prayed.

Something was looming out there, you just knew it. Far away, yet its malice was great. Carrying with it cold wind imaginings of an endless cold came. This thing, whatever it was, wanted to kill. You imagined it might be Alys, out there with her powers. They had yet to find her and with a war raging no one cared to. The threat may be greater. Your brief flirtation with heresy may have brought the attention of more sinister beings.

When your door opened you jumped and and scooped up Owen. Sagging in relief you realized it was only Owen. "Oh Gods. I am sorry I thought you were something else." Jaecerion looked around the room. "Who else were you expecting?" You sensed jealousy in his tone. "No one in particular. This place is haunted." Jaecerion seemed to relax. "I never took you as one afraid of ghosts. You use to read them to me." Back with you, Jaecerion and Prince Aemond were children you used to take turns reading stories. It was mostly you scaring the living daylight out of the boys. "Harrenhal changed that." Jaecerion walked over to the bed and sat beside you. "Will you had him off to a nursemaid." "No. I want my son with me. At least until we leave this place." Jaecerion looked up at the canopy above. "Afraid of Harren's ghost?" He joked. You on the other hand did not find it funny. "We are leaving early?" "Yes." You stood up and walked over to the crib. Your arms were aching so you allowed the crib to do its job. You flopped into a chair and Jaecerion followed.

"How is your mother? I know she is a captive but have you heard everything?" It was odd to think that once you saw Dowager Queen Alicent every day. Now two years had passed and her face was a mere memory. "Exhausted, last I saw. My sister is treating her well so they say. But I don't trust that cunt." You did not bother to enquire after Helaena. Everyone knew poor Queen Helaena had gone made. You thought about the girls who had been your friends. Lady Lenita and Lady Flora were still alive, but that was all you knew. Strange to think of days when you had all been together.

"Will you be staying with me when I get to Highgarden." "Regrettable no. My brother will need me. So long as Rhaenyra continues to live, and her bastards, there will be a war. The only satisfaction I can get is that two of hers are dead." You looked away. Now as a mother yourself something akin to pity and revulsion stirred within you. Pity for Rhaenyra and revulsion at the satisfaction of Jaecerion's face. A surge of panic came when you realized you actually felt pity for Rhaenyra. "Of course you feel sorry. You are a mother. That does not mean you support her." You told yourself.

"I want you to marry me." It was so sudden you nearly forgot to breath. With a tightened chest your eyes shot towards Jaecerion. Your heart hammered. Was Jaecerion serious? "Do you....want to?" Unsure, you regarded him warily. Although Jaecerion had made his feelings quite well known you still felt uncertain. Of course at twenty you were still young. Remarried was on the table but you had put no great thought into it. "Of course I do!" Jaecerion seemed eager. Jaecerion was handsome and all a woman could wish for. As Prince his wife you would be a princess. You did not love Jaecerion but you cared for him a great deal. Such a match was not bad. But you felt that by saying yes you were deceiving him. Likely Jaecerion would believe you loved him in a way you did not. "May I have time? I am not saying no but there is so much to consider." Jaecerion did not look too upset. He would rather you say yes, of course. But you were not spurning him either. This was simply asking him to wait.

Jaecerion took one hand in his. "I know these past years have been difficult." A thumb stroked worn knuckles. His pretty mouth was not far from your own. "If I can provide anything, all you need do is ask." His voice sent shivers down your spine. The way his eyes looked at you was one gazing at something they desired. Your heart was beating almost painfully, facing beyond belief. "And what would that be?" You knew what he wanted. But what else could you say? In your defense you knew what he meant. But a feeling of trepidation had dawned upon you. Sleeping with Jaecerion was not a good idea. At least not at this moment. They might talk and there was just something nagging at the back of your brain not to. You could not deny that a man gazing at you in such a way was exhilarating. Starting to feel hot between your legs you closed them together. For the first time you felt intense lust stir up within your belly. It enveloped your core and threatened to take over. Jaecerion came even closer, his hands impossibly hot against your knees. A lusty part of you wanted him to continue. To take you here and now, consequences be damned. "Do you mean it?" "Of course! Y/n I want no other!" He had taken your elbows and set you on your feet. While his grip was not painful there was an iron strength to it. Jaecerion was pressing you to his warm body. Despite the layers of clothing you could feel his cock stirring beneath. His desire made it harder to ignore your own.

There were other matters to concern. What would Lady Jenna think of? As a widow and groan legally you need to rely on her leave. But you were also a valuable asset to your family. A bad marriage could put you on their bad side. "I will bring this up with my relatives and heed their council. I do want to marry you Jaecerion, but I want to make sure this is the right decision." Jaecerion knelt before you in a startling gesture of passion. "But you want to?" Your fingers held his in a tightening grip. "Yes. I do."

After that he had left. It was late and most were in bed. You watched him leave with the desire to call Jaecerion back. Your breathing was ragged like one after a run. Desire swelled within you, heating by the minute. "Oh Gods Jaecerion." You closed the door behind and slumped against it. The dress felt too tight and warmth pooled between your legs. You might have called him back if discretion were not a thing. Closing your eyes you lingered on this new sensation. You had never felt this way with your deceased husbands. It was shameful, you knew. But Lord Jason was dead, so would the Gods punish you? Desiring a man in widowhood was not a sin. Plenty women, as so often their husbands outlived them, remarried.

For the firs time you imagined what it would be like to marry Jaecerion. Living in Kings Landing, being a great lady. You would have a husband who loved you. And Gods willing you may have more children. They would be Targaryens and perhaps ride dragons. Everything you would posses. Nevertheless something was still lingering at the back of your consciousness. Eyes went to Owen, soundly sleeping. How would this decision affect Owen? Marrying Jaecerion would tie him closely to the royal family. His half siblings would be first cousins to the king. A union between house Lannister, Tyrell and Lannister would bolster your sons influence. You would hate to have him fostered elsewhere. Despite not being adept at politics you knew they would never allow the heir of Casterly Rock to remain in Kings Landing. That was the sacrifice parents had to make. Despite this, it would bring advantage and in Kings Landing you could keep him safe.

You summoned Lady Dara to undress you. The entire time your mind was racing. "You are shaking My Lady. Shall I get a maester?" "No. It is just cold and I am tired. That is all." Wearing a nightgown and cloak you went to Clarissa's room. You brought Owen as a precaution, trusting no one with the babe. While unwell Clarissa was not dangerous. The stench of sweat hit you. Gathering courage you walked inside. A sputtering candle was all the light provided. On the bed covered in sheets lay Clarissa. You thought she might be asleep until the floor board cracked beneath. A small whine, gentle yet strangely loud, and Clarissa rolled over. "My Lady?" Her voice passed in a wheeze. Her dull green eyes were only illuminated by candel light. "Yes, it is me. We leave tomorrow. Is that not good?" You sat down beside Clarissa. All she did was continue to stare. You noticed she was now looking at Owen. Then you looked to Clarissa's belly, swollen. Bringing Owen may not have been such a good idea. "I feel so alone." Clarissa's eyes welled with bitter tears. Something caught in your throat. You had to remind yourself not to cry. To see one brought so low, especially Clarissa, would make anyone pity this poor girl. A lonely young girl away from home with only despair in sight. "You have us." Brushing a messy piece of hair back you gently stroked her cold cheek. Briefly Clarissa closed her eyes and tears streamed. "And I swear I will protect you." You wanted to protect Clarissa and make this all feel like a bad dream. No one deserved to be bereft of companionship. "Tomorrow we will leave this place. Is that not nice? Highgarden is beautiful and we can spend days under the trees. We have everything planned out for you. You will have the best care and want for nothing." Clarissa looked away and started to cry aloud. You tried to comfort her but Clarissa was in a world of her own. She was practically gasping with sobs, shaking as if ill.

It was not your words that finally made Clarissa stop but exhausting. Finally she slumped against the pillow. You were now sitting on the bed, one hand on her for head.

Clarissa had stopped crying, leaving only hopelessness in those haunted eyes. Your belly ached when you realized there was nothing to be done. Clarissa was so deep in her grief that pulling her out seemed impossible. All you could do was pray Highgarden would bring Clarissa the peace she needed. "Good night Clarissa. Tomorrow we leave and I promise it will get better.

Liar.

"You must shed your colours." The voices called out as they always did. The blood and trees were back terrorizing your dreams. This time you could not move. Something beneath the blood had you rooted. Whatever had you dug its small claws into your flesh. They were small possessing sharp tips. You tried to pull free but it was hopeless. As always you were completely helpless in these dreams. Then there was laughter, the type that sent a chill. Curling into yourself the only thing to do was pray for a reprieve. "The Seven will not reach you here." A voice chuckled. The ground rumbled and you closed your eyes. The voice laughed and laughed and laughed. You looked truly pitiful.

Suddenly you were being pulled by the legs. Whatever had its teeth into you was yanking you along. Trees grew higher and higher. Their leaves were a bright green and its trunks a golden brown.

"Stop it!" This voice was new. Turning around you saw a young woman. She had the same hair and eyes as you. From a distance one may think she was. But despite the similarities she was not. She was trying to run towards you. One hand reaching out, terrified eyes. Instinctively you tried to turn back. Closer she came and you realized she wanted to help. "I can not move!" You were still trying to get free. Finally one feet was free and you looked down. Vines covered in thorns had winded into flesh. Trickles of your own blood dripped with a sickening plop.

She was almost to you. Just a few more steps and.... "No!" Both of you tried out. A vine struck out like a serpent and wound itself around her neck. Now it was you trying to get to her. The girl struggled, her eyes never leaving her face. Slowly she choked, legs frantically kicking. It did not matter how much you struggled. There was nothing you could do. An when her body was let go she fell to the ground. And then something, or someone, let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The screaming did not stop. Sunlight replaced the bleak landscape and the screaming went on and on. You stayed in the bed not daring to move. Footsteps came closer and fear pounded in your heart. When the door slammed open you burst out of bed and seized Owen. Instead of a stranger it was Lady Mari. "Are we under attack?!" Then you noticed the tears in her eyes. Lady Mari was shaking where she stood, red lips trembling. It was she who had been screaming. "Wh-whats happened?" Lady Mari sobbed and gripped at her dress. "It's Clarissa. She's hung herself."

Notes: A grim ending to a grim chapter. This chapter made me sad to write😅. Clarissa was originally mean to die last chapter by I felt it was getting too long. Part one of this series is coming to a close with about 3-5 chapters remaining. Thank you to everyone for reading this far!

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[bluef00t]

heyy, you said a bit ago that you’d been reading comics but weren’t posting about them because they weren’t superhero comics, but I’d be interested in hearing about them, if you’d like to share

This post got LONG because yes, I LOVE talking about comics, thank you for asking :)

Let me start with a list of good titles and get into my thoughts more under the cut: R.U.R., Terrarium In Drawer, My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, Parable of the Sower, Watchmen, Parenthesis, and The Nice House On The Lake.

Starting out with the realization that I never posted my MICE haul to Tumblr, because my favorite read of the year so far was from that:

R.U.R. (drawn by Kateřina Čupová) is well-executed and SO well-aligned with my interests that it's crazy. It's an adaptation of the 1920s play which I somehow still haven't read, and it's just… robots, foundational vintage sci-fi, supply-chain parables, cleverly deployed stageplay metaphors, doomed tower defense scenarios, "simplistic" eurocomic styles that carry massive amounts of emotion, gorgeously bold CMY watercolors with strong color symbolism—everything. My copy is a misprint (two pages are duplicated, though I don't think anything is missing) and it's too bad that the English translation uses a machine-typed font where I suspect the original dialogue was handwritten, but those are small quibbles. Some day I'll read the play to compare/contrast; the logic of text-story-to-comic adaptations always fascinates me.

Since I began typing up this ask, though, I read something which takes a close second place: Terrarium In A Drawer, by Ryoko Kui. Really effectively Twilight-Zone-y little anthology in a variety of styles (both visually and subject-wise). It's often unclear going into a story how you're going to feel by the last page: is there a joke punchline coming? A surprisingly astute, perspective-changing observation? A deeply unsettling, unanswerable question about being alive? Most stories have all three, in some order or another. God, I love Ryoko Kui—she's maybe the ONLY author to successfully convince me that fantasy has certain merits over science fiction when it comes to looking at the world, not just as escapism.

I also, with the release of the second book, got around to My Favorite Thing Is Monsters. There's a very established American Literary Graphic Novel Topic: "precocious gay(/disabled/ethnic) coming-of-age in the 60s(/70s/80s) filtered through escapism into mass media and obsession with the Holocaust(/war/sexual/family) traumas of a previous generation who would rather repress all that". (Maus, Fun Home, and two other books I read called I'm So Glad We Had This Time Together and Victory Parade fit in here as well.) So the plot is "transgressive" in a very familiar way, but that cluster of topics does remain consistently interesting to me. And honestly, I wasn't reading it for the PLOT. The artwork, the integration of famous paintings and pulp cover motifs, is crazy: it reminded me of the forms of Chris Van Allsburg and the color crosshatch of Melanie Gillman, both turned up to 11. The format isn't conventionally comic-y, but the text and image were still inextricable in a way that felt intuitive to me. Without panels, the text walks you through landscapes.

I re-read Parenthesis and read Crazy Like A Fox and the unrelated A Fox In My Brain, which are members of another Adult Graphic Novel subcluster—brain-illness educational autobio. Parentheses, about a cognition-disrupting tumor, was my favorite; it was originally published in French, so my BD bias may be showing.

Parable of the Sower knocked me off balance by being the most brutal graphic novel I've read in a WHILE. I knew Octavia Butler from Bloodchild and Kindred, so I was expecting something messed up, just, holy shit. I should have read the original book back when I was a teenager; it would have changed my brain chemistry and fed my little false prophet complex. The translation to a "comic" felt a little clunky, with dense and not very well integrated chunks of text—it was more "illustrated" than anything but I did like having faces to match with names.

Watchmen, which I already posted a bit about on my superhero comics blog (and probably will more later) was a surprise in the opposite direction. I'd heard a lot about it being super brutal and cynical and deconstructive, but, uh, after reading Moore's Miracleman [ACTUALLY INSANE] I found it merely "noir" and maybe despondently neolib by comparison. It probably has as much in common with Tom Strong, Moore's most optimistic genre loveletter, as it does with Miracleman.

Oh, and I read Where The Body Was. It was fine. I like whodunits, but the payoff didn't make me kick myself in a really satisfying way, and the framing and art was all very normal modern American comic. I blame The Nice House On The Lake a couple years back for raising my expectations about things that look like that. Which, hey, speaking of which, apparently there's a second series being published now, The Nice House By The Sea! Putting that on the reading list now, right behind Boys Weekend by Mattie Lubchansky when that hold comes in…

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hi there! If you don't mind, I would like to request something.

How do you think Knights of Favounius (you don't need to write for all of them, just pic few please) would have handled it if they found out their lover is a spy/traitor?

Sorry if it doesn't make much sense.

no this made pretty good sense don't fret! for the Knights of Favonious i went with who i assumed you met playable character wise, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behavior, being held against will, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Jean would be impervious to it, she doesn’t care who you are or where you came from, what matters most to her is that you remain hers. She’ll do to you what she often does to Klee, locking you in a room until you’ve learned your lesson. Except instead of it being a spare room in the Favonius headquarters it’s a room in the basement of her home. Somewhere no one is allowed to go. 

“Don’t fret my dear, I’ll be back to check on you later.” Jean smiles warmly at you, double checking the locks on the iron cuffs to ensure that you’d stay put. One cuff kept your left hand stuck directly to the wall while two others sat snugly around your ankles, just in case you managed to get your wrist free. She kindly left you a glass of water and a few snacks, just to tide you over until she could return from work. She’d keep you in the dark, windowless room for as long as it takes. You claim to be a traitor but she knows you’re lying. But that’s alright, she’ll keep you here in this room, just for you, until you clear your head and remember who you are.

Yandere!Kaeya would simply raise a brow, mildly intrigued by your confession. He doesn’t believe you, putting more faith into this being a ruse to get away from him than it is the truth, but he sits you down as questions you anyways.

You don’t remember how long you had been sitting in this chair. At your insistence that you were a spy and not really in love with Kaeya, said male had sat you down in a chair in his office. Your wrists were bound to the back of the chair with some spare fabric Kaeya had laying around his office, your ankles and legs remained free though. Kaeya hadn’t brought any physical harm to you, but somehow it seemed that his words alone burned deeper than that. The two of you had been at this for long enough for Kaeya to shed his fur overcoat piece, leaving him in just his cavalry captain uniform. If you wanted to continue to play the act of a spy, then he’d treat you as one, ruthlessly questioning you with a fierce intensity until you give in and break. 

Yandere!Lisa would give a look of surprise, a soft ‘oh?’ leaving her lips as she processes the information. While she had never suspected you of being a spy, she could certainly see where the pieces fell into place. She doesn’t care that you’re a supposed spy, it doesn’t change her love for you.

Lisa’s curious gaze looks up at you from the book she currently had before her, wordlessly she marks her page and closes it. Slowly she stands, coming to a stop before you and bringing her hands up. Her left hand rests on your shoulder as her right comes up to cup your cheek, her thumb gently caressing your skin as she gazes into your eyes. “Dear, such stories should be saved for children’s books.” She smiles kindly at you, placing a kiss to your cheek that wasn’t held in her hand. “Come now, it’s nearly time for lunch. I packed enough to share.”

Yandere!Albedo will act indifferent to the emotion, telling you that he already knew. He’ll tell you that he took care of whoever you were supposed to report back to, and that now you need not worry. Now you are free to spend all your time with him, helping him with his experiments and such.

Albedo doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder as you stand there at the entrance to his lab. He heard everything you said, but simply didn’t feel the need to turn around. “Can you pass me some lizard tail, it’s in that box over there.” Albedo absently points to a box across the room, turning to look at you when he doesn’t hear you move. He takes note of your astonished look. “I already knew of you being an informant. While I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, I did already handle the situation. You no longer have anyone to report back to.” Once more, he motions to the box, asking you to grab him so lizard tail, this time with a little more weight to his words.

[alipeeps]

A Moment But Forever - Episode 31

So I've seen some stuff around about people not being entirely thrilled with the ending? But I shall carry on regardless...

Yuanzhong's friend is a little odd, to say the least.

I do love Yuanzhong finally being honest with Tanyin and telling her about what he had planned etc. Would be a good opportunity for her to be honest in return and explain exactly who she is/was.

Okay that's romantic AF saying that having gained her, he doesn't care what he might lose in exchange... but it does make me anxious for the coming eps... 😂

TELLLL HIMMMMM. Tell him who you are! There will never be a better opportunity!! He is already teetering around the topic!

Okay WTF how is the restrictions the gods placed on her still at work if she is no longer a god?!!

Ok so I fucking went back to episode 4 and checked!

The rules were:

She must not reveal her identity to anyone, nor disclose anything about the divine realm

She must remain by his side at all times - the Divine Hand must not fall into the hands of others, nor may he use it for evil

She must not develop feelings for him - she must never let emotions cloud her judgement

And the penalty, should she break these conditions, her soul will be shattered and her divine soul obliterated.

Now... by any fucking metric, she has already broken all 3 vows!! She revealed her identity to Master Yan, she did let him use the Divine Hand for evil (he may have stopped the attack but he did damage with it for sure!), and she very very clearly has developed feelings for him!

So why is it only now - when she tries to reveal her identity to him specifically - that the spiritual heart vow kicks in? And like... hasn't her divine soul already been obliterated when she destroyed her divine bone? She is no longer a god!

This makes NO sense!!

"Why are you apologising?" Because she desperately wants to be honest with you the way you have been with her, and the stupid dumbass spiritual heart vow won't let her!

Ahhh I love the way he teases her. He is so carefree and cheeky once he was able to let go of his trauma-inspired revenge plan.

He wants to go for a walk out into the Fragrant Grove. That sounds foolish in the extreme in his/their current condition. But am guessing it's a plot device to allow them to bump into Tanghua and co, who looked to also be camping in the Fragrant Grove.

Is that the pear tree she saw in her ?prophetic dream? (In retrospect I think that dream was trying to warn her that Taihe has been taken over by a demon and that part of that demon's soul is in the Divine Hand that has bonded to Yuanzhong)

Ahhh he's making plans again... for a simple, domesticated life for them (and Ah-Xue too!). That's adorable... but it's a terrible omen, cdrama-wise. The second you start to plan for a happy future in a cdrama, you are actively dooming yourself!

This drama really does get into the philosophical questions about life in such an organic way. I love how when it's just the two of them they often get into these conversations about the way life is, and why it is that way, and whether it should be...

Oh man... all that honest heart to heart and sharing stuff about his past... and now she is having to lie to him.

Why though? He knows about the linglong house... can't she just say she created Yandu City when she was the Mute Goddess of Wu Mountain? Or is a linglong city too incredible to believe even for the Mute Goddess?

Ohhhh he was awake and saw what she did with the city...

Anyone else feel that Curly is a tad neurodivergent-coded?

Uhhh doesn't telling her all this break rule 1 about not disclosing anything about the divine realm?

Hey Tanyin... quick question... could a really fucking good barrier let you safely cross the sea of flux?

Hannv girl, you have got some serious fucking issues.

I didn't hurt her? Girl, are you delusional? You very much fucking did, on multiple occasions!

I think what enrages me most about the bad guys in this show is that not a one of them accepts any accountability for their actions. They are all doing terrible, cruel things to people and it's not just that they don't care, they refuse to even acknowledge that and still insist on painting themselves as the innocent, wronged party!

Who the fuck is Chu? Someone in Hannv's past who she feels got deceived by men?

She has gone totally off her rocker...

[oiblackestsheep]

Would it be totally outlandish for me to put my big six here and for you to guess my MBTI from it? I’m Sagittarius Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising, Sagittarius Mercury, Capricorn Venus, Mars Pisces. I know I’m an intuitive thinker but that’s it.

Astrology x MBTI Prediction

Oh HELL yeah, thanks for reaching out, I'd love to do this for you!

Sagittarius: Sun, Mercury

Naturally fierce, optimistic, and philisophical, you'll have an innate love for learning new things that challenge you to expand your mind. More of an iNtuitive astrological sign for sure, but I think that it can be either Ne or Ni, depending on the other placements. Your mercury being in Sagittarius is going to influence you to communicate in very Sag ways, one of the more notable traits being a fast talker who could be more likely to run through a lot of topics really fast. If given the choice between Ne or Ni, I'd lean more towards Ne. Philisophy tends to be a very introspective way of drawing conclusions about the world or how to be, so either of the introverted judging functions (Fi or Ti) could be present here, too.

Possible types: xNxP, xxTP / xxFP

Aquarius: Moon

OOO Air moons always keep me on my toes just a little bit lmao. Aquarius being such a detached sign will already give you points toward being a thinker over a feeler, but it being your moon placement (the luminary that rules your deepest and most personal emotions) will give you an even greater degree of detachment and/or an analytical attitude towards the feelings and opinions you form. This could indicate having an inferior feeling function. However, Aquarius is known as the humanitarian of the Zodiac, which I think tends to exhibit the traits of the objective judging functions, especially Fe.

Possible types: IxTP, ExTJ

Virgo: AC

Same rising sign as my partner - I am very familiar with the traits of Virgo risings lmao. Always on the move, always taking care of the next task, staying on top of your to-do list, striving for pure, unadultered perfection. This is something you aim to become and embody, something to be known for because you place value in these things. Virgo is a very high Si-coded kind of sign because it loves structure and wants to preserve it, but is constantly adding new items to the structure, forever prolonging the journey to perfection. Overall, Virgo is more Si-Ne than Ne-Si, BUT with it being your rising sign with no other placements, and other placements exhibiting an Ne-Si axis, I can see how this could support the Ne-Si axis, too; this is because the rising sign is often times what you ASPIRE to be, and it would make sense to admire functions lower in your function stack that don't come as naturally to you. Still, I'll give the point to Si-Ne first because that is the simpler answer.

Possible types: xSxJ, xNxP

Capricorn: Venus

You may tend to find Capricorn traits attractive in a potential partner. This could be somebody who keeps you grounded and tethered to reality, tells you the cold hard facts (good or bad) when you need to hear them, or you might find long-term determination and goal-oriented people who are wise beyond their years because they put in the hard work to be attractive. OR you might choose to express your own affection to other people in those kinds of ways. These are very high Te and high Ni-coded traits. This could either give you points towards being an xNTJ, or simply just being attracted to xNTJ traits. In addition, it might be that you tend to be attractive to xNTJs, too, so... watchout xNTJs, you might get SMIT lmao 👀 In all seriousness, I'll give you points towards being an xNTJ, and whether you do or do not have any kind of attraction with xNTJs is not a reflection of preference for people similar or different from you without, well, your input to provide context lmao.

Possible types: xNTJ, xSTJ

Pisces: Mars

You've got the planet of action and aggression in one of the least action-oriented or aggressive signs of the Zodiac. The first thing that comes to mind here is discomfort with confrontation and a preference for going with the flow instead. This CAN, but doesn't always, manifest itself as having passive-aggressive tendenies as a way of letting out the negative feelings in a way that feels safe. Fear of confrontation, especially fear of upsetting other people, resembles high Fe traits. You might view self-sacrifice as a comendable outlet for resolving conflict, another Fe trait. You could have a lot of motivation to direct towards other Piscean pursuits like abstract creative expression which can be either Ne or Ni - the operative word here is that Pisces energy is very abstract and nebulous.

Possible types: xNFJ, xNTP

Additional Notes

The majority of the placements you gave me to work with are below your horizon line, indicating that you might keep more aspects of your life private rather than open, so I'd say you might have a preference for introversion. You've got an equal number of fire/water and earth/air placements, so I would say it's possible that the roles that your thinking and feeling functions play in your life and/or your cognition have similar importance to each other, compared to other people of your type, or other types in general. Ie, thinking and feeling functions being your auxiliary and tertiary functions instead of dominant and inferior functions.

Conclusions

Okay, so, let's do the top 5!

INTP

ENTP

INFP

INTJ

ENTJ

I think the most frequently appearing function axis I noticed was Ne-Si which would narrow it down to xNxPs. There were also a lot of Fe traits, some high, some low, but coupled with strong Ne would narrow the list down to xNTP pretty quick. I included INFP because they are the only other introvert with high Ne. The xNTJs got honorable mentions at the bottom because of the Venus in Cap traits that brought in some Te energy.

Tried to be as objective and thorough in my analysis as I possibly could! Hopefully this doesn't age horribly and make me look like I only see my own type in other people lmao.