#this is unprecedented. this is a never done before thing and they did it With Them.

[danielsarmand]

you think it's over????? daniel's vampire eyes are normally blue but they turn orange when he talks about his maker armand AND YOU THINK IT'S OVER????????????? we have never been so back. keep your chin up princess

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Much Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has found a soft spot for a girl who is much too kind for her own good, too trusting, in such a gruesome world.

warnings : astarion bites.

a/n : i haven't played baldurs gate (so i apologize for my lack of knowledge) but astarion is consuming my brain.

“Do you honestly feel safe sleeping with him sitting this close by?”

“He’s done nothing but help us this whole time, why would I not?”

“Because he’s a vampire?” Shadowhearts face is blank, speaking as though her words shouldn’t need to be spoken, an obvious thought. She stares into you, awaiting a proper answerings, and she almost scoffs when she doesn’t get what she wants. In return you roll your eyes, continue to ready yourself to sleep. 

When you feel that you're ready to go to bed, Shadowhearts voice is unheard. She is already situated inside of her bedroll, which she had set up farther away from the fire than you liked, in a way of protecting herself from a seemingly harmless Astarion. In all fairness, you have probably been too trusting in the man. But how could you not?

He had been such a tease since the moment you met him. Because he seemed to annoy you, he never left your side. But you quickly grew fond of the pale man, and it was suddenly you who couldn’t leave his side. Astarion had no problem with this, and a weird fondness began brewing in his chest whenever he was around you. He had a burdening soft spot for you unlike anyone else. He couldn’t even bring himself to feed around you in case he scared you off, feeling an unprecedented amount of fear of losing you. The relationship you shared was teetering on a very thin line of romance and teasing gone too far. 

The two of you were an unlikely pair. Astarion was manipulative, and you knew that from watching him work, but he never used it on you (as far as you knew). He viewed you as too sweet for your own good, taking it upon himself to keep you from danger. In all honesty, you probably didn’t need him for that. Sure he helped when you were obviously being lied to and couldn’t tell but you could hold your own in battle just fine. From your point of view he was nothing but trustworthy and helpful. Shadowheart, your ever protective friend, had a hard time seeing the same thing. 

But when you made a fuss about having to sleep in your armour, unlike Shadowheart who had no problem with the matter, he had offered up a spare shirt. You weren’t sure where it had been beforehand but it was comfy, with undone strings hanging from the neckline, and it was large enough to go down to your mid thigh which was perfect. And his scent covering it was an added bonus. You had never thought much about it, but you never wore your heavy pants to sleep, being too hot inside your stuffy bed roll. 

You were usually asleep before everyone else, and the first to wake in the morning, so this never proved to be a problem. And, if you had to think about it, you were usually in a tent by yourself. But with only Shadowheart and Astarion around you didn’t see a problem. 

But when you crawled into your bedroll, at a middle distance between Astarion propped up against a log by the fire and Shadowheart sleeping farther from him, you began to see the problem. Shadowhearts words from before were dug into your brain, what if Astarion was dangerous and he did end up hurting you in your sleep just like she had said. You had never felt any fear towards the man, but her words had planted an unfamiliar distrust in your head.

You were dangerously aware of every noise around you. Unable to sleep, because of your focus on everything around you. The soft snores from Shadowhearts bedroll, and the quiet hum from a bored  Astarion playing with the fire. As long as he was by the fire, seated much too close for comfort now, you thought you’d be able to hear him coming. You think everything is fine, but being so edge you catch the smallest sounds, and you shoot up at the sound of a twig snapping. 

“My, my. Such a light sleeper my dear.” You turn towards Astarion, breath heavy, and a guilty feeling festering in your lower stomach. He’s almost exactly where he was when you first laid down. There’s a smug grin written on his face and you’re not sure why, though you don’t have the energy to question it. With sleepy eyes, you look around once more searching for anything out of the ordinary in the darkness, but you turn back to Astarion in the end. 

“I can’t sleep.” He throws another piece of wood on the fire, the light dancing across his face in pretty patterns from the dispersed light, his white shirt untied just enough to see his collarbones and the beginning of his chest. The sight alone has thrown the tenseness away from your body, and your muscles soften up, posture loosening. 

“And is there any reason in particular?” You meet his eyes again, a flurry of heat covers your cheeks, the look in his eyes telling you that you had been caught ogling him. “You seem so on edge, darling.”

He’s seated, practically the same height as you while he lays against the log, but it feels like he’s staring down at you. His fangs show as he parts his lips in a small, condescending grin. 

“I’m just not used to sleeping out in the woods s’all.” He nods, he doesn’t believe you, and you can understand why because you’ve only been camping in the wild for weeks by now. 

“Are you sure that's all? Cause I believe I heard that vile woman over there talking about a ‘bigger threat’ than whatever’s out there.” He gestures to Shadowheart and the dark, full woods around you. 

You shake your head, pout on your face, nervous that he would think differently of you if he knew what was actually going through your head. He was perceptive enough and, unbeknownst to you, you were an easy read. Of course he had heard the two of you talking, and he knew that you had not spoken ill of him, but it was so fun to tease you. And he knew you had grown nervous in his presence. 

“You’re not worried because of me are you?” Your eyes widen and you shake your head once more. There was  concern written all over his features, the crinkle in between his brows and his parted lips. To anyone else his concern would look fake, you were certain it was real. And to him, it was somewhere in between. He did feel something for you that put him in an unfortunate position, but the idea that you were scared of him sent misery through his bones.

“No of course not!” The comfy bedroll you had been laying in, shimmies down your legs as your torso tightens up again and your posture becomes much too straight for your liking. 

A soft sigh leaves his mouth, “Would you come sit over by me? You feel so far away.” His lips curve at the corners when you seem to think for a moment, but ultimately stand up. You bunch your bedroll up in your arms, not wanting to sit on the rocks. And when your eyes meet his again, he's already eyeing up your legs, you feel suddenly much too exposed. The night air nips at your skin and you hurry over to the spot beside him, throwing the bed roll on the ground and sitting on top of it. 

“Didn’t need to bring that over, silly girl. There’s a perfectly fine seat right here.” His eyes look down to his lap then back up to you, your face flush again. 

“I’m okay here,” You regret looking at him when you see his eyes plead with you, “..For now.” 

He really was cunning. You figured he was scheming. But he truly had no intention of misleading you, just wanted you close. He couldn’t help that he found it so cute how nice you were. Too nice in his opinion. Dangerous world out there, he was just trying to teach you who you could and couldn’t trust. Maybe you would get into more trouble, if you always trusted men like him.  

But no danger if you never have to think about other men. 

“Do you believe the things she says?” His eyes stared into the fire, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, that guilty feeling was growing in your stomach. “I know you must not trust me, at least not fully.”

You stay silent, you’re almost scared to talk, in fear you offend him anymore then you already have. You pull your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around your legs, guilt eating away at your insides. 

He looks at you now, with his eyes he traces your legs where your shirt no longer hangs enough to cover you, up to your face that wears a pout and tired eyes. “Do I scare you?” 

“No!” You sit up onto your knees, facing him fully. “No! I’m sorry Astarion, if i made you feel that way..”

He almost feels bad for a moment. You were too sweet, and while yes he had been worried for a moment, he was only teasing. 

In your moment of weakness, and putting yourself in an easy position, he grabs you to pull you onto his lap. Where he has wanted you all along. Both thighs on either side of his seated form, face much closer to his own than you ever planned on being. His shirt, adorning your body, hangs down your thighs and rustles against his legs. 

“Could you..promise?” His voice is so smooth, and his eyes look so alluring in this position, his hands planted on your hips. Your breath is caught in your throat when he asks, you aren't so sure that your answer before is entirely truthful now. He has too much control of this situation, and it is making you nervous, more nervous then before if that was even possible. 

“I..I promise. Of course, I promise!” You're in such a compromising position and you wish you had slept with pants on. It’s much too cold out on your bare skin, but being on Astarions lap is making your body much too hot.

“Very good.” His head moves closer to you, pulling your body into his and sending shivers down your spine. 

“Astarion!” Your hands find his shoulders, trying to put distance between you but his hold is strong. He has got you where he wants you and there is no way he will be letting you go. His face buries itself in your neck, breath tickling your skin and his nose leaving soft touches against you. 

“You smell..delicious.” His voice was sultry, and so suggestive. You knew what he wanted, had been waiting for the moment he would say something. He was a hungry man with an uncomfortable amount of power over you. And your neck was looking awfully inviting. You hated that he had you feeling so many things, for a man who was so obviously trying to take advantage of you. 

He may have thought you were naive but you were smart enough to know what this vampire wants from you. Even though you were debating allowing it just so he would be happy and full, it tugged at your mind that he might just be using you for this purpose.

Shadowheart may have been right about him being a threat while you slept, but right now he was just as threatening. Would it hurt when he sunk his teeth into your skin?

As if he suddenly became more conscious in his actions, he pulled away, breath heavy against you. “I’m sorry, you are just such an appetising little thing.” He places a soft kiss to your cheek, your silence beginning to fill him with the same guilt you were feeling. He wasn’t sure why. This is what he wanted, sure he had grown fond of you but this is what he needed from the beginning. But it didn’t feel right anymore, not with the way you were so pliable in his hands, allowing him to tease you just so you wouldn’t offend him. 

“Are you hungry?” Your voice, surprising him, sends his eyes straight to yours. You couldn’t possibly be considering what he thought you were. 

“Yes darling, but don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” He lets out a heavy sigh, planting more kisses on your cheek down to your jaw. His attempt to distract you almost works but you gently move your face away, pulling your hair away from your neck. 

“Could I help?” You looked at him with a warmth in your eyes, one he hadn’t seen from anyone but you for years. Your devotion to him pulled at his heart, you were so willing to help him without even knowing if it would hurt or not. 

“You would do that..for me?” His hand finds your cheek, voice sending gentle vibrations through you. You can only nod, scared that if you speak it’ll be nothing above a whisper. 

He takes your hair from your hand, holding it out of his way. A gentle kiss to your cheek. Another on your jaw. And he moves them all the way down to your neck where he intends to bite. 

‘Astarion?” 

“Yes, my dear?” He pulls away, and you can tell it pains him to by the look of disappointment on his face, lips too pouty for how tough he always tries to act.

“Is it going to hurt?”  His eyes are so soft when he looks at you, even though he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your flesh. 

“I’ll try to make it painless, but you can hold my hand, yeah?” You nod and intertwine your fingers with his, scared but determined to make him happy. 

He returns to his place in your neck, places a soft kiss before he sinks his teeth into you. Immediately, your fingers squeeze his own and he sends a squeeze back so you know he’s there. He almost feels bad, whimpers falling from your lips, but you taste so delectable that he can’t bring himself to. 

Astarion continues to drink, and you allow it. You only make an effort to stop him when you become dizzy, and your head becomes too heavy for you to hold on your own. Your grip on his hand loosens, and you use his other one to tap at his arm. It seems to snap him out of his trance cause he pulls away, licking his lips. 

“You taste as good as I had hoped you would.” A drowsy smile crashes against your face and your chest swells with pride, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The energy is gone from your body. You know he wouldn’t have killed you, but any longer and you wouldn’t be in any condition to fight the next day. You didn’t know if you would be as is. 

Astarion seems to notice, and he moves you to sit inside your bed roll. Your hand still holds his, and you lay on your side to face him. 

“Such a sweet thing,” he rubs your hair flat with his free hand, admiring your sleepy features in the fire light, “Sleep my dear. I’ll keep you safe.”

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-six

679 words

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Steve studies Eddie’s sketches with a frown. They’re thumbnails of people in different positions, and Steve can’t help but compare them to his own. Perhaps he simply has to come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be a good artist. He thought he was improving, given all the time and effort he’s putting into the portraits, especially Eddie’s, but no. He still sucks.

The point of the assignment wasn’t to make the drawings good - only to provide a quick recap on anatomy. Still, though, Eddie’s are good. And Steve’s… Well, at least Steve isn’t going to get a poor grade (because that’s frowned upon when the student tries their best).

The figures on his paper are unproportionate and vaguely unsettling, like his art tends to be.

“They can’t be that bad, Steve,” Eddie says, naively.

Steve had unthinkingly shielded his paper from the other teen - a habit he’d picked up from the project, and when Steve had asked, Eddie had handed his own over passively because he’s a fucking art prodigy, apparently.

Steve slumps in his seat and places his paper in front of Eddie. He hadn’t even pushed to see it. Not once. Now, he picks it up and studies the sketches for a solid minute, brows furrowed in concentration. 

Steve’s frown deepens considerably. He’s beginning to regret handing it over for judgment. Eventually, though, Eddie sets the paper on the table and looks up to make sure he has Steve’s attention before he issues his verdict. As if Steve’s attention is ever directed elsewhere.

Once assured Steve’s eyes are on him, Eddie picks up his pencil and hovers over the paper with the eraser aimed at it. “May I?” he questions. 

Steve huffs. "Sure. ‘S not like they can get any worse," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Eddie erases things here and there. Steve thinks he's about to begin fixing the drawings, but he simply straightens and slides the paper over to Steve. He leans in close and points to one of the places he had erased. "Okay, so...” 

He continues to suggest ways Steve could make them look more like the references. 

At the end of class, Steve actually feels better footed - ready to finish up his portraits. He's almost done with his own, actually, and he only needs a few more things until he'll be satisfied with Eddie's. 

The bell rings and Steve turns to make plans with Eddie only to find the teen already looking at him expectantly. "Uh, my place?" Steve suggests. It's only fair after Eddie had hosted on Monday. 

Eddie nods in acknowledgement. "Sounds good, Stevie."

Steve clears his throat, trying not to let it show that he’s aware his face has begun to flame with the arrival of the nickname. 

Stevie. 

It's not like it's unprecedented, people have called him Stevie here and there for as long as he can remember.

It feels different coming from Eddie, though. Makes him feel special.

"You wanna follow my car, then?" Steve asks, standing from his seat finally. 

Eddie levels him with a look that's hard to interpret. "Bold of you to assume the entire school doesn't know where your castle is, Mr. Keg King." 

Right, he'd forgotten about the parties. 

Steve scratches his check. "Huh, right. Meet you there?”

Eddie agrees and Steve finally takes his leave. 

Hours later, when dismissal has rolled around, Steve is trying to remember what state he'd left the house in that morning.

He doesn’t go to his locker even though Eddie’s library book - which he’d picked up yesterday - is in his locker and he’d wanted to grab it for tonight. He's trying to avoid Tommy. He knows his friend will just act like nothing ever happened. And to him, nothing did. He's probably forgotten already, honestly. 

Steve doesn't forget - he never does.

He goes straight to his bimmer and unlocks and opens the door, but as he’s about to descend into his seat, a hand claps him on the back and he straightens again. 

So, Tommy's found him anyway. Great.

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[jewish-sideblog]

Obviously Hamas actions are abhorrent and the rise in antisemitism is uncalled for. What is the proper the response to 75yrs of apartheid though? Something has to be done about that or his cycle will never cease.

So you came from the post in which I explicitly named three organizations working for a two-state solution. And didn’t think… to look into… their proposals for a two-state solution…

As a reminder, before Hamas’s attack, Israel was working on normalizing peaceful relations with Saudi Arabia. That’s dead in the water because Hamas broke a ceasefire and killed a thousand Jewish civilians.

Before Hamas’s attack, there were massive, frequent, and often daily protests among the Israeli public, speaking out against an administration comprised of anti-Palestinians. Those are on hold now, because a thousand Jewish civilians were killed, and the country is at war. But Netanyahu’s coalition of asswipes is built like a house of cards, and they’ll suffer in the next election. That much is clear.

Hamas wasn’t looking to gain territory, win, or free Palestine on October 7th. Israel has never lost a war in its modern history, and it has overcome far worse odds than a couple thousand terrorists. There’s no feasible way for Hamas to have won. They broke the ceasefire and killed civilians anyway. Why? Why waste those lives and those resources, knowing that Israel would retaliate against Gazans?

Because Hamas looked around and saw something that horrified them. They saw Arab nations, once their allies, walking away from the idea of killing millions of Jews in favor of normalization and peace with Israel. They saw the citizens of Israel, rallying in unprecedented numbers for peace and democracy. They saw Fatah, their Palestinian enemies since 2007, ready to come back to the bargaining table for a peaceful two-state resolution.

Hamas broke a ceasefire for a media ploy. They did it, knowing that it would stop the normalization process between the Saudis and Israelis. They did it, knowing that it would bring an abrupt halt to Israeli protests. They did it, knowing that Israel would retaliate, and that the world would be watching as Hamas put Palestinian civilians in the line of fire and blamed it on Israel. They were looking to propagandize a dying movement, and friend, it seems like you bought into it.

Something does have to be done about Israeli’s treatment of Palestinians. Something does have to happen to end this cycle of violence. And plenty of things were being done about it, in the Knesset, on the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. But Hamas considers peace without genocide to be a failure. Peace without genocide leaves Hamas out of a job. So they put a stop to it, at the cost of hundreds of thousands of Palestinian lives.

And you don’t gotta take that from me. Ask them. They aren’t trying to hide it, they’ve been saying it all month. It’s in their founding charter.

[sweetrevxnge]

Ghosts In The Snow

Chapter Seven

Pairing: Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader AU

Summary: Six long years had passed under the reign of the First Order. The bitter winters grew longer, and as they did, hope faded from the hearts of the citizens of Hosnian Prime. As a lieutenant in the Resistance cavalry, it was your duty to nurture that ember of hope. After a mission takes an unexpected turn, you are taken prisoner by a commander in the First Order, a mysterious man with an insatiable appetite—for violence, power, and you. In the coming days, you must keep the spark of your own hope alive from the dark confines of the Commander's castle.

Warnings: sexual content, violence, blood kink, gore, mentions/descriptions of injury and death

*concurrently being published on AO3 and Wattpad as well!

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Spotify Playlist

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter-specific CW: torture (what fun!), period-typical sexism

A/N: the dead speak! lmao at least that's what it feels like coming back after an entire YEAR??? I kinda got sucked into playing 1,200+ hours of baldur's gate 3, romancing a certain vampiric elf time and time again, which gave me plenty of inspiration to continue this fic. I never meant to be gone for so long, so if you're still interested in this story, please let me know!

───────── ❅ 🦇 ❅ ─────────

What have you done?

To say that you were restless would be an understatement. The first order of business when you returned to your chambers was finding a safe place to store your stolen weapon, and now, hours later, you had yet to succeed. 

You paced the room, wearing holes in the soles of your slippers as you wondered if you had made the right decision. It was unlike you to have sticky fingers, but then again, these were unprecedented times. Boldness meant survival.

Above all, you feared Ren was privy to your thievery, despite his silence on the walk back to your chambers. The prick of blood seemed enough to distract him for a moment, or perhaps he was practiced in hiding his tells. Either way, the consequences of him knowing gnawed at your sanity.

Rey had tended the hearth while you were away, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and filled with the familiar scent of dry wood. Her diligence as a handmaid proved to be an unforeseen complication in hiding your contraband.

Instinct urged you to keep it close to your bed, but reason told you it would be found too easily there. Same with the lounges circling the hearth, whose velour cushions could conceal many things if asked to. Though a dagger lodged in one’s rear would raise many concerns, as well as promise unspeakable punishments to come.

For these reasons, you ultimately settled on the bookcase.

Towering in the corner was a collection of books and texts, dense enough to put even the most curious scholars to sleep. A perfect place to hide a dagger.

Dragging a footstool over as a makeshift ladder, you reached for a leather-bound book embossed with gold letters along its spine. Imperium Nunquam Fuit. Though written in Old Basic, you understood its meaning.

The Empire That Never Was. A phrase coined by Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin to describe the destruction of Alderaan during the Revolution. An unsavory way to speak about a fallen civilization—considering he was the man responsible.

You made quick work of hollowing the historical text, skimming the page you’d turned to before defacing it. This passage detailed the last of the Imperial attacks on Alderaan, near the end of the Rebellion. One of the more infamous sieges of the war, earning its place in history with a tithe of blood and destruction.

The lines of script told the story of how Imperial soldiers salted Alderaan’s lands and butchered the citizens—babes and crones included. The Empire was thorough, wiping out an entire civilization over a mere conspiracy. With few survivors, and even fewer successors, Alderaanian blood was a rarity. You supposed that was one of the many things that set General Organa apart from the rest.

Considering the contents, it was a book of little interest to the First Order—a perfect hiding place.

The point of your blade pierced the parchment with ease, as if slicing through a block of butter rather than a thousand-page text. Tragic as it was to ruin a book like this, what other choice did you have? Hosnian Prime’s Grand Archives likely stored dozens of copies; one locked away in the depths of the First Order’s fortress would not be missed.

The fit was snug, but it would do for now. As for the pages you’d carved out, they laid in a pile at your feet, a messy reminder that your room was not private.

You slammed the book shut and returned it, hurrying to clean the shreds of paper scattered across the red carpets. Despite your efforts, the fragments proved too difficult to clean with just your hands alone, forcing you to sweep them into your skirts.

As you carried the pieces to the hearth, a gentle knock sounded through the oak doors. “Gods,” you muttered as you rushed towards the fire, dumping the pages unceremoniously onto the crackling wood.

Another rap on the door.

“Just a moment, please!” It was impossible to hide the panic in your voice as you prodded at the withering pages with an iron poker. Time seemed to slow as you watched the flames engulf the ink, turning Alderaan’s history to ash once more.

“It’s me, my lady.” Muffled by the wood, Rey’s voice was barely audible over the fire, hissing with fresh fodder. If any good came from her being your visitor, it was her staunch etiquette. She would not barge in uninvited—unlike some of the castle’s residents.

Brushing the slivers of evidence from your gown, you opened the doors, mindful of the lingering ash in the hearth. “My apologies. I was…” You cleared your throat, smoothing out your skirts before finishing your lie. “Indecent.”

Demure as ever, Rey dropped her gaze as she curtseyed before you. “It’s no matter, my lady. I was sent to fetch you; the Supreme Leader requests your presence.”

The moment his name left her lips, cotton filled your mouth, forcing its way down your throat as you swallowed your fear. What reason would the Supreme Leader have to summon you—at this late hour, no less?

Your thoughts immediately turned to Commander Ren. Perhaps he had noticed your theft after all and reported your offence to Snoke. If that were true, you vowed to slice his throat first. 

“Did he give a reason?” you asked, trying to maintain your resolve.

Rey’s throat knocked in her slender neck. “He did not say.”

Part of you wanted to take the damned blade with you, but recklessness wouldn’t serve you. Though you did not recognize him as your ruler, you were not keen on adding treason to your ledger.

You sighed, coming to stand beside Rey at the door, shoulders pressed back and hands folded over your lap. “I’m surprised he didn’t send you with manacles.”

She said nothing, but the trace smile on her lips told you all that you needed to know. You couldn’t blame her for watching her tongue around you. Given what transpired last night, you would do the same in her position.

The two of you walked in near silence to the throne chambers, passing countless tall windows with panes stained a deep red, dark enough to block most light from entering. What little light did manage to seep through painted the halls crimson, giving the appearance of blood spilling over the floor.

The burned pages of text flashed in your mind.

Every step forward was committed to memory, including the number of paces between notable fixtures, as well as where each one stood in relation to your chambers. Still, there was no sign of an access point in this section of the castle. But your resolve did not falter. If there was a means of entry into this accursed fortress, there must also be a means of escape.

As you rounded the corner to another corridor, you glanced at your handmaid, noticing that her usual singular bun had evolved into three smaller ones, meeting the nape of her neck in a uniform line.

“You’ve changed your hair.” The observation came out as more of a question than a comment.

“Yes, my lady,” she said, delicate fingers reaching to touch the one near her collar. “An effort to be closer to the gods.”

You furrowed your brows. “How’s that?”

“As there are three of them, there are three knots. We servants are forbidden to worship openly, so we find other ways.” She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her chin towards her chest. “Divine strength allows clarity of the mind.”

While you were not necessarily a pious woman, you were familiar enough with the gods from your upbringing to understand what she meant. As a child, you often prayed at your family’s shrine, asking for a bountiful harvest, good health, and, most of all, peace in the realm. For many years, they fulfilled your wishes. Now, your faith provided you with little comfort.

“Certainly,” you said, not wanting to discuss the subject any further. “Are we nearly there?”

“Just down this hall,” she said, her tone clipped. Either she was annoyed with the change of subject, or just as uneasy about seeing the Supreme Leader as you were.

True to her word, Rey came to a stop near the end of the corridor, leaving a short distance between you and the two looming oak doors, with iron enforcements woven into the grain and a guard posted on either side. Their faces were concealed by crimson veils, the signature regalia of the Praetorian Guard. Those tasked with protecting the ruler of these lands, whether they carried the title of Chancellor, Emperor, or Supreme Leader.

The warmth drained from your face at the sight.

“This is where I leave you, my lady.” Her face lacked its usual peachy hue, her freckles washed away by the candlelight. “The Supreme Leader does not allow us to enter these chambers, save for when he is passing judgment upon us.”

Standing before the faceless guards, you understood her unease.

“Will you be here to escort me back?” you asked, palms growing damp as you clutched the fabric of your gown.

“It is late. I must turn in for the evening.” She shifted her weight, eyes darting between you and the guards, whose presence seemed to loom over you from meters away. “Besides, I should think you do not require my assistance from this point.”

With that, she turned on her heels and retreated, her steps muted as she faded into the stretching darkness of the hallway. Turning to face the guards, dread settled in your stomach. Surely these warriors would not accompany you back to your chambers.

You studied them for a moment, the strategist in your mind seeking to understand what threat they posed. Both were tall and well-fed, given the size of their uniforms. The one to your left carried a bisento, while the other held a tall voulge, both equally unnerving. Their blades were pristine, foreign to combat. You wondered if the same could be said for those wielding them, too.

As if seeking to test your theory, they readied their weapons as you approached, each blade humming as it sliced through the air.

You came to a halt, the hair on the back of your neck now stiff. “I’ve been summoned by the Supreme Leader.”

The two remained poised to strike for a long moment before returning to their sentry state, offering one another a brisk nod as they pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the grand throne room. With tentative steps, you approached, pausing at the threshold.

Black marble columns lined the walkway to the throne, each manned by a knight of the Praetorian Guard, their crimson armor matching the First Order banners draped along the cobbled walls. Above the throne was the room’s sole window, with red stained panels filling the space between the spokes of the First Order insignia. Six steps carved of the same dark mineral as the columns led to the throne, lined with black velvet upholstery and a towering slate backing. Perched comfortably in the seat was Supreme Leader Snoke, draped in golden robes that flowed over his limbs like smelted ore, barely concealing the matching jewelry wrapped snugly around his fingers.

The paragon of humility.

He was joined by another: the fire-haired General Hux. His gaze snapped to you as the doors creaked open, beady eyes piercing you like darts from across the chamber.

“Ah, my guest of honor,” Snoke crooned, clasping his hands before his chest in delight. His tone fell icy as he turned to address the General. “Leave us.”

Confusion spread across his pale features as he turned to face Snoke once more. “But, Supreme Leader, there is still much to be discussed.”

“Perhaps I did not make myself clear. You are to leave these chambers at once, General Hux, or you will be removed.” Snoke’s gravelly voice rumbled through the hall with the force of a thousand footsteps, and reluctantly, Hux obeyed.

You watched the scene play out before you from the safety of the doorway, your feet rooted to the floor.

Snoke relaxed in his chair once more, beckoning you in with a hand gesture. “Please, come in, darling.”

Willing your feet to move, you did as he asked, eyes flitting between the Praetorian guard and the approaching General Hux, whose expression could only be described as irate as he brushed past you, black coat fluttering behind him.

Your heart was lodged in your throat as you neared the throne, feeling like a lamb being shepherded towards the maw of a lion. You stopped in line with the last of the guards before the Supreme Leader, leaving some distance still.

Snoke watched you with keen eyes, a stark contrast to his stoic front. “I do hope you are well, my dear. I can only imagine the days spent in anticipation of your wedding are agonizing.”

You frowned. “Is that why you summoned me? To ask me about my wedding?”

“Of course not. But pleasantries are the foundation of any proper conversation.” The humor fell from his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” The words left a sour taste in your mouth, like wine crafted from grapes plucked too early.

Satisfied, he settled back into his throne, resting his hands over the ornate armrests. “See? Deference needn’t be cumbersome.”

His mocking tone made your vision red, but you held your tongue. Invisible threads tied you to him and his guards, each one pulled taught in the silence. It would take nothing more than a misstep to cause one of them to snap.

He spoke again, this time with authority. “It has come to my attention that you are unaware of what is expected of you as a noblewoman.”

You let out a terse exhale. “I suppose I am. Perhaps that is because of the conditions under which I am becoming one.”

A thin smile curled on the Supreme Leader’s lips. “These are unprecedented times, lieutenant.”

The emphasis on your title made your skin crawl. Snoke was calculated, sadistic. With his power, he was untouchable. The red veils surrounding you served as a constant reminder of his invulnerability.

“Now, I am curious. How did you manage that?” he added, tilting his head in intrigue. “A commoner like yourself rising to the rank of a commanding officer is no easy feat—even more so for a woman.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I hardly see how this is relevant to my new status as a noblewoman.”

Despite your outward naivety, you knew too well what being a noblewoman would entail. You’d known from the moment your betrothal was announced. You were to be the docile wife of a commander, providing him an heir, a spare, and a warm bed whenever he pleased. Your military career would be swept away by the title of Lady Ren, all traces of your independence lost to time. You couldn’t think of anything less appealing.

“As a Lady of the First Order, you will be granted privileges seldom given to others, such as this.” Snoke motioned to the surrounding space, and you found yourself unable to decipher his meaning.

He isn’t referring to having an audience with the ruler of the realm as a privilege, is he?

He continued, “The safety of the castle. Our stronghold. You will be protected within its walls.”

Oh. Of course.

You suppressed a scoff. “I find that hard to believe, considering Commander Ren has attempted to strangle me twice over since my arrival.”

“I see,” he mused, pressing an index finger to his lips in thought. “My mercurial underling. If only his mind were half as quick as his temper.”

Somehow, your first instinct was to defend Commander Ren from his inflaming remark. While the Supreme Leader was correct about Ren’s temperament, he didn’t see the side of him that you saw—however infrequently it may have showed itself. There was a tenderness to him, fleeting in nature, like a luminescent star ripping through the night sky. You saw it in his eyes as he sat before your hearth, again when he laced your bodice.

Or perhaps what you felt was just the lingering effects of his charm.

Snoke’s rough voice broke your reverie. “Nevertheless, I’m sure Commander Ren had his reasons. Just as I’m sure whatever actions may have led to these outbursts will cease henceforth, won’t they?”

Before you could answer, a searing pain sliced through your skull, its barbed tendrils reaching into the deepest part of your consciousness. Every muscle in your body became succinctly rigid, frozen in place as an invisible force suspended you midair. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to call out; for the gods, for your mother—even for Commander Ren.

“You will behave yourself, insolent girl, or you will be disposed of.”

Despite your efforts, no sound would come from your throat. An eternity seemed to pass as the Supreme Leader kept you trapped, holding your feet to the fire of his anger. Mustering every ounce of strength, you forced your chin down in agreement, hot tears distorting your vision.

Without moving a muscle, he relinquished his hold on you, your knees cracking against the marble floor in an instant. The violet fabric of your gown pooled around you like the blood of a slain enemy, collecting the tears that fell from your chin.

Before you could find your voice, the creak of wood and subsequent rustling of armor behind you swiped your attention. The guards had readied their weapons, aiming at something other than you.

You flinched as the doors slammed shut, followed by a heavy—yet quick—footfall.

“What is the meaning of this?” Commander Ren’s voice was biting, filled with untamed fury as he entered the grand hall. His cloak rippled behind him like the night sea, silver sword in hand as he marched forward.

You scurried backwards on your tender palms, caught between his rage and the throne. He drew closer, only stopping at the intersection of two of the guards’ blades.

“Commander Ren, what a welcome surprise,” Snoke crooned. “Your bride was just leaving.”

His eyes found yours in an instant—wild and dark. Silently, you pleaded for his cooperation. If he were to strike at the guard, your life would be forfeit.

Outnumbered by eight blades, he stowed his own. “What have you done?” he demanded.

Though he was looking at you, his question was directed at the man atop the throne, whose enthusiasm at his subordinate’s display was palpable.

“Nothing you have not already done yourself,” Snoke growled. With that, he stood to his feet and stepped down from his throne, closing the gap you’d deliberately left and standing over you. “See her back to her chambers, Commander.”

A snarl flashed across Ren’s face as he pushed past the guards and kneeled before you, extending a gloved hand for you. Though he was quiet, his eyes were heavy with guilt.

With legs like a new foal, you accepted his help, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you stood. “Thank you.” The words floated from your mouth, burning your throat as they passed through.

He only nodded in return, guiding you away from the chamber. Because of his intrusion, the outer guards were now sealed inside, allowing some privacy in the dimly lit hall.

Ren came to a halt, moving both of his cool hands to rest on your shoulders, inspecting you. “Are you hurt?”

Averting your eyes, you shook your head dismissively, ignoring how your knees seemed to rattle with every step.

He let out an amused hum. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you will, Commander,” you managed to say through your dry mouth. “I’m fine.”

At that, the two of you carried on in silence, meandering through the castle, passing knights and servants alike down each corridor. Ren’s emotion rolled off of him like heat from a flame, slowly dwindling the further you were from the throne room.

As your legs regained their strength, so did your voice. “How did you know I was in there?”

“Does that really matter?”

“I’d say so. For all I know, you’re the reason he summoned me in the first place,” you argued, head spinning as you tried to recognize your surroundings. Only when you realized these walls were unfamiliar did your pace falter. “Stop!”

He obeyed, meeting you where you stood. “What?”

“Answer me.”

He let out a terse breath. “No, I am not the reason he summoned you. Come, we can discuss this later.”

At that, he began his stride again, but you didn’t follow. “No. I will not take one more step. Not before I know where you are taking me, as it is clearly not my chambers.”

“I’m bringing you somewhere private,” he finally answered.

“Are my chambers not private enough?”

“By the gods,” he hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, it is unbecoming of me to be seen entering your chambers before we are wed.”

You scoffed. “How pragmatic of you.”

Ignoring your comment, he continued, “After your encounter with the Supreme Leader, I think it’s best if we avoid unnecessary speculation—for your sake.”

You couldn’t argue with him. If Snoke was inclined to submit you to the rawest agony over the slightest display of defiance, you could only imagine what else he was capable of.

“Fine,” you conceded, seeing reason in his words. “But let it be known that my cooperation does not reflect my satisfaction with this decision.”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I know.”

[mysumeow]

──Trouble sleeping

WARNINGS ❪ Afab body, reader is referred to with you/your. YANDERE Lyney. Very mild angst. Unrealistic hypnosis, dub-con, piv unprotected sex. Not proofread. SUMMARY ❪ You have trouble sleeping, and Lyney suggests hypnosis therapy to solve it. Lyney is, however, dishonest with how he applies said hypnosis. WORD COUNT ❪ 873 A/N ❪ I remembered I had this smut idea pending since last year i think? ok here it is. ok bye im hungry

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . MASTERLIST

You approached the great magician Lyney with a problem: you were having trouble sleeping.

Not really expecting anything out of your conversation, as you were seeking mere emotional support, Lyney confessed that he had some dexterity in the art of hypnosis and that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

It was a success, seeing as you had fallen asleep in the first five minutes of the session, when on average, it would’ve taken you way longer. Unbeknownst to you, in the throes of sleep, he had whispered selfish suggestions into your subconscious.

... Had he known it was going to be this easy, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

He’s underserving of your love; he was aware. The moment you two met, he was unable to let go of you in all aspects. He looked forward to seeing you at his presentations, at the celebratory dinners after an unrivaled performance, and to having you visit him backstage before a show.

To take you home and have you for the rest of the night.

Perhaps he asked for too much. He thought there was a possibility of the universe knowing he didn’t deserve you, and that’s why things didn’t turn out as he daydreamed they would, without having to resort to this deceitful method...

The feeling of your heaving chest against his and your arms tightening around his shoulders as you rode him pulled him out of his mind, reminding him that he should enjoy this precious moment with you.

Lyney’s hold on your hips became tighter, taking the reigns on the pace again, canting his hips upwards to meet your body at an unforgiving pace. He sucked marks onto your neck.

Greed consumed his judgment, and he bit down with unprecedented force.

Your pained whine didn’t deter him from sucking more hickeys on your unprofaned skin. He needed this. Everyone has to know you’re his.

“Ow, Lyney…” You cried again, hoping that would send him the message to be gentler.

His thrusting ceased, and he put some space between your bodies, but not by much. It was only to take in the sight of the teeth shaped dents on your flesh, along with the reddish marks scattered in the expanse of your shoulders.

Lyney wasn’t a rough lover. He’s got enough introspection to know that.

Your existence, from day one, made him discover a new train of thoughts he was never aware that he could have: the cravings of roughing up in the most pleasurable of ways. Often, Lyney would fantasize about littering your body with his kisses and bites, seizing your arms, and securing you against his frame—not leaving a single inch of space between one another.

Your lovestruck visage seemed to lure him deeper into degeneracy, after all, not only were your eyes pleading for more, but your body as well. Lyney swallowed hard, calming himself down before he cummed too fast with how your pussy tensed around him.

“F-Fuck, Lyney— You feel so good,” You whined, locking your legs around him and using the leverage to make him thrust into you. “Why did you stop? Hurry up, please. Fuck your cum into me,”

Your words weren’t helping his case. Lyney panted against your neck, content with merely kissing and kneading your tits with his hands, his fingers pinching your nipples and making you tremble from lust.

The magician longed for this moment to never end, for the morning to never come, when the hypnosis would end for that day. Because you’ll forget everything that happened prior to the hypnosis, and you’ll want to come back to him every day so he can help you. Lyney convinced himself that he could allow himself to be selfish for once in his life.

“What a naughty mouth for such a lovely face,” He tutted before nipping your bottom lip. Whichever retort you had died in your throat when Lyney’s tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with yours without permitting a single second for you to collect your thoughts. “But who am I to deny you when you keep pulling me into you, as if not wanting to let go…”

With those words, he resumed his unyielding thrusts, and the lascivious noise of the bed creaking from the movements filled the room. Lyney hugged the leg you proceeded to rest on his shoulder, your other leg quivering from the onslaught of pleasure behind him. The position made it easier for him to stuff you with his dick; it was too much, and you lost yourself in the delightful sensations. Lyney was lucid enough to understand you were about to give out, so his hand darted to hold yours, squeezing it to keep you grounded.

Amidst the heartfelt intertwinement, a broken whine of his name escaped your lips when you orgasmed. Lyney doubled over at the feeling of your drenched cunt squeezing him so deliciously, he didn’t stand a chance and cummed almost right after you.

As he caught his breath, he helped you lower your leg back in its place and pressed his lips to yours, his hand caressing the side of your face.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (6)

The Funeral

As the Targaryen and Velaryon households gather on Driftmark to mourn the late Lady Laena, Arianwyn is anxious about meeting not only her half-sisters, but her father for the very first time.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: 😬

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Emrys let out a primal roar, the sound reverberating over the waters of Blackwater Bay. He huffed with agitation as he flew his rider toward Driftmark. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre flew ahead of them, the king’s ship sailing below. As dissatisfied as he was with their slow pace – a necessity to prevent them from arriving at their destination hours before the ship – it was the roiling emotions he sensed from his bond with Arianwyn driving him mad.

Arianwyn had not slept the night before, her mind and heart racing with anxiety about the coming day. Today, after more than ten years of total absence on his part, she would meet her father – Prince Daemon Targaryen.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, she considered each story she had ever been told about the man—the picture painted by one was often immediately contradicted by the next.

The man who rebuilt the city guard of King’s Landing, at last raising the capital from lawlessness. But he achieved this through unprecedented brutality; rumor claimed that on his first night as Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, multiple carts were required to haul away dismembered limbs and extremities.

The man who defeated the Crabfeeder almost single-handedly, restoring Westerosi rule to the long-besieged region. But his triumphant victory came mere hours after he beat a young squire to death, apparently without remorse, for the crime of delivering a message from King Viserys.

The man who, according to most, heroically swept into the Vale to rescue his helpless damsel of a wife. Whose heroics were so great that his wife could not help but finally succumb to him, eschewing nine years of barren marriage.

But Arianwyn knew the truth.

Daemon had not saved his wife – he killed her.

For beneath all his outward charms, the Rogue Prince was a man of selfishness and cruelty. A man who all but abandoned his firstborn before she was even born when he refused the Dragonkeepers offer of an egg for her cradle. Only weeks after Rhea’s death, he flew across the sea to start a new family with a new wife. Years later, he sent grand proclamations back to Westeros announcing the births of Baela and Rhaena, along with formal requests that dragon eggs be sent for their cradles.

Arianwyn’s heart clenched painfully as she remembered another story she’d been told. Just after Rhaenyra was named King Viserys’ heir, Daemon fled King’s Landing for Dragonstone. Six months later, he snuck into the Dragonpit to steal an egg for the child his mistress – some whore from the Street of Silk – supposedly carried. Fortunately, the princess was able to retrieve the egg safely. And in the process, discovered that the purported pregnancy had never been real.

Daemon had done more for the theoretical bastard of a whore than he ever had for his real daughter.

For Arianwyn, his only act of fatherhood was the rape of her mother.

In the days preceding their departure for Driftmark, her Septa had instructed her on what to say and how to act when she met Daemon.

She would do none of it, she decided.

The man never once spared a thought for her. She would happily return the sentiment. Let him defame her as he did her mother or beg her forgiveness for all his sins. She would not care. She would give him naught but the same cold indifference he had shown her for ten years.

But despite her determination, Arianwyn had still shaken with trepidation when she went to mount Emrys that morning. The trip across the Blackwater would be long, leaving her alone with her anxious thoughts.

She tried to have Aemond ride with her so he could keep her mind on other things. Emrys even seemed excited when the prince climbed aboard the saddle. But alas, the queen moved hastily to forbid it, and Aemond was forced to sail with his parents aboard the ship. He was likely being sick at this very moment.

So Arianwyn rode alone, almost thankful for Emrys’ restlessness – guiding him in circles around the ship helped divert her mind from what would happen when they finally landed on the island that was coming into view.

Driftmark had no Dragonpit nor caves or tunnels for the beasts to nest in. Instead, Aegon, Helaena, and Arianwyn landed their dragons half a mile from the castle High Tide on a rocky cliff overlooking a beach. Moondancer, Caraxes, and Meleys were already there, perched on some of the larger boulders as they lay in the sun.

The dragonriders were met by a small number of Velaryon guards, who quickly escorted them to a carriage sent to take them to the castle itself. The path they took was treacherous, winding uncomfortably close to the edge of the island’s cliffs. Each time the horses came too close to the sheer drops, Helaena would gasp, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned from the carriage windows.

Aegon scoffed, “You are a dragonrider, sister. Surely, a mere cliff should not scare you.” In the days since their betrothal was announced, his attitude toward his sister had soured. He no longer ignored her more peculiar tendencies, but seemed to take each as a personal insult.

Arianwyn was utterly exhausted by him. “The drop may be short, cousin,” she said, “but you forget that our carriage does not have wings.”

The prince huffed, blustering to find a witty response, but neither of the girls in the carriage paid any mind to his grumbling as they continued on to the castle.

By the time they arrived in the courtyard, the party from the ship had disembarked. Viserys, already visibly tired from the trip, sat in a cushioned chair servants had brought out for him. Lord Corlys stood before him, deep in hushed conversation with the king. Alicent and Rhaenys stood to the side, engrossed in their own discussion. Aemond stood by himself, leaning against a stone wall.

Daemon was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Baela, Rhaena, or Princess Rhaenyra and her children. But it wasn’t the idea of meeting them that had Arianwyn’s heart racing.

Reminding herself again that she did not care about her father, Arianwyn walked with her cousins as they joined the rest of her family.

At the funeral, Arianwyn stood not with her father and half-sisters, but with the King and Queen.

It made sense, she told herself. She had never met Lady Laena. It was not her place to mourn the woman alongside those who had known and loved her. But still, she noted the stares from the gathered nobility on the cliffs above them, and their questioning whispers about why she was not with her father or sisters.

She took comfort in the fact that those whispers were quiet. At least, they were compared to those of Rhaenyra’s children.

They, too, had never met Laena. But still, they wept. It had only been days since Harwin Strong’s gruesome demise. Their tears were interpreted by many as those of sons mourning their father, serving only to confirm their long-held suspicions of their parentage.

Arianwyn pitied them. Ser Harwin had always been kind to them, bringing them gifts from the docks of King’s Landing and training with them in the castle’s yard. He would be dearly missed. Besides, she would have happily switched places with them, exchanging a loving bastard father for an absent, true one.

As the Maester spoke, Arianwyn watched her father. She could find nothing of herself in his face. She had always been praised for the softness of her features; Daemon was all sharp angles and straight lines. His mouth was small, whereas hers was plump. His nose was large and straight, while hers was small and curved upward slightly. The only similarity lay in the color of their hair, but where his fell straight as bone, hers curled in wild, elegant wisps around her face.

She, at last, turned away when the Maester finished his prayers. Vaemond Velaryon stepped toward the coffin as soldiers of his house began to fasten ropes to the steel anchors embedded in the stone.

He spoke in High Valyrian. “Tubī Velario Lentro Ābrāzme Laene iēdrarta mōrqittot, māzīlarē tubirri Elēdrion ziry umīsilza luo dāriot, hannagon Embrurliot gierūlti.”

Arianwyn looked at her half-sisters. Baela leaned against her grandmother, Rhaenys, while Rhaena stood beside them, fists clenched at her sides. They, too, looked little like their father. From the sweetness of their faces, Arianwyn imagined that her stepmother had been very beautiful indeed.

Vaemond continued. “Solion tolijor zijosy pradarose, Ābrāzma Laena rāeniot hen eglio ilvot lanto taloti hembis. Pōja muña hen zȳho solio āmāzīlus daor, yn ānogrosa gierī ozletaksi humbilza. Velario ānogro rȳ lopor ojāris. Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis.”

Daemon laughed then. A light, blithe chuckle – wholly out a place at such a solemn occasion. All in attendance turned their attention to him, even those who had been closely watching Princess Rhaenyra.

Arianwyn’s blood ran cold. As Vaemond had said those pointed words, “Īlvon qumblī iāris. Īlvon drējī iāris. Se dōrī vajiñagon īlvon bēvilis,” Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin. Daemon had not been looking at Rhaenyra. Nor his wife’s coffin, nor even his daughters by his side. As those words were spoken, he laid his eyes on Arianwyn for the first time in her life.

And he laughed.

That afternoon, amongst the solemnity of the funeral reception, Arianwyn was seething with unquenchable rage. She knew she might face indifference from her father but had also entertained other possibilities. He may have taunted her as he did her mother or insisted she was a bastard. She had even thought that he might seek forgiveness for his years of neglect, repentant now that he had lost another wife.

Never once had she considered that he might find her laughable. Indeed, as he walked past her after the coffin had been lowered into the sea, an amused grin quirked on his face, though he did not turn his eyes to her. Nor had he approached her since.

Instead, Arianwyn sat with Helaena on the far end of the balcony, watching her cousin gently turn over a large spider in her hands as she recited words that seemed to have no meaning. She wanted to grab the spider and crush it in her hands just so she could make something hurt in the same way she did.

But she did not. Doing so would hurt not only the spider but Helaena as well. Arianwyn could never do that. So, she sat on the cool stone, anger crackling through her veins like lightning.

She knew Aemond was a few feet away, watching Helaena as well. But he did not approach, not even after Aegon left to chase after one of the servant girls. She wished he would. That he would say something – anything to make her feel better. But silence was his way. He would simply remain by her side as long as she needed him, as she had done for him countless times.

It was Princess Rhaenys who finally rescued her from her thoughts – and the presence of the spider. “Come, girl,” she said, her voice raw from days of weeping for her daughter. “It is high time you meet your sisters.” The Queen Who Never Was led Arianwyn carefully through the crowd, Aemond following discreetly behind them.

Baela and Rhaena sat on the other side of the balcony, hands entwined, on a stone bench and talked with Jace. Arianwyn instinctively dropped her gaze as they approached.

“Girls,” Rhaenys whispered, kneeling before her granddaughters, “I would like you to meet Arianwyn, your sister.”

Both girls’ eyes, brimming with tears, lifted to look at Arianwyn. She stood still and silent as they examined her, searching for familiarity in her face. Finding none, they mustered what smiles they could and murmured a greeting.

Arianwyn returned the smile, “You have my sympathies for the loss of your mother. I regret that I was never able to meet her.”

Rhaena nodded. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

“Me too,” Arianwyn answered.

Baela tried to respond but only gave in to her tears, her sister following swiftly behind. She and Rhaena fell into their grandmother’s arms, sobbing. “I don’t want Mother to be gone,” she cried.

Sensing that pressing the introduction further would only be unkind to the girls, Arianwyn dipped her head in place of a farewell and walked away, mourning that her first meeting with her sisters required such a tragedy.

When she turned, she saw Aemond standing across a brazier from Jace. The corner of his mouth turned up as if he were about to speak, but he said nothing. Rather he nodded and turned away from his nephew.

“What did he say to you?” Arianwyn whispered as she took his arm and led him away, her protective instincts rising like the hackles of a threatened beast. Before he had left the Red Keep, Jace had begun to taunt Aemond even without Aegon present to egg him on.

Aemond shook his head. “He said nothing. I was going to offer my condolences for Ser Harwin, but I couldn’t think of how to say it without… you know.”

Arianwyn smiled, at last feeling her anger begin to subside. “That was very kind of you.”

Aemond had only just squeezed her arm when Alicent approached them. Her face was grave.

“Come with me, Aria,” the Queen said, her hand extended. “Your father is waiting to meet you.”

[edenmemes]

tloz: twilight princess (manga) starters

❝ i was shattered. i lost everything. ❞ ❝ i warned you not to take me lightly. ❞ ❝ we’re partners, aren’t we? ❞ ❝ ever since we’ve met, you’ve been disobedient and rude. ❞ ❝ take suffering as your companion, and unease and fear as friends. if you do, darkness will become light. ❞ ❝ it’s a cold world out there. you’ve gotta learn to trust folks. ❞ ❝ as you stand before me now, you’re all desperation and bravado. that is not true bravery. ❞ ❝ you can’t change your past and you can’t change who you were. you can only decide who you’re going to be. ❞ ❝ resentment is a trap of the heart into which everyone falls. ❞ ❝ you don’t look well. are you ill? ❞ ❝ you were born into life with a destiny. you cannot run away from that. ❞ ❝ you carry a smouldering darkness inside you. ❞ ❝ it’s considered impolite not to give your all in a fight. ❞ ❝ at dusk and dawn...it’s easy for all sorts of things to sneak by. ❞ ❝ since that day, so much has changed for me. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. it’s been hard, huh? ❞ ❝ a true hero must shoulder a heavy responsibility. ❞ ❝ stay calm. move cautiously and remain vigilant. ❞ ❝ one more time. try telling the truth. ❞ ❝ why keep fighting until you’re just a broken wreck? ❞ ❝ if we start a fight, we must be ready to hit back. ❞ ❝ in the end, it’s easier just to be selfish. ❞ ❝ i was lost without you. i was lonely. ❞ ❝ why do i so often taste this sense of loss? ❞ ❝ i think both our journeys are pointing to the same place. ❞ ❝ power does not inhabit a blade without bravery. ❞ ❝ did you hear something? like the cry of a beast... ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? if you’re too weak, then just leave. ❞ ❝ what is strength? is it displays of power mocking the weak? destroying beauty simply to satisfy your greed? ❞ ❝ you get too worked up over things. ❞ ❝ easy for you to say. i’m the one getting beat up. ❞ ❝ i don’t need thanks. i didn’t do it for you. ❞ ❝ depending on your attitude...i might be able to help. ❞ ❝ if you don’t do as i say, i’ll take your arm off. ❞ ❝ as leader, i will not choose the path of pain and death for my people. i must protect them. ❞ ❝ strength isn’t about power...it’s about being brave. ❞ ❝ you have good eyes. the eyes of a proud beast. ❞ ❝ if the need arises, i will not hesitate to pick up a sword and fight. ❞ ❝ i guessed you had a secret past.   people can try to hide it, but nature shows through. ❞ ❝ i was lying when i said i’d never held a sword.❞ ❝ there’s no time for sentimentality. ❞ ❝ if someone comes in who knows about your past, i’ll protect you if they try to hurt you. ❞ ❝ is there something strange about me? ❞ ❝ be careful...there have been monsters around here lately. ❞ ❝ choose...surrender or die. ❞ ❝ when i feel uneasy or afraid i just think: ‘this is my mission’. ❞ ❝ don’t take me for nothing more than a fine doll good only for decoration. ❞ ❝ i’m nothing more than dirt. i’m not worth all that effort. ❞ ❝ why do you think we’re any safer here? ❞ ❝ don’t die on me now. ❞ ❝ ha! even you have a good idea sometimes. ❞ ❝ i fought through all kinds of monsters to get here...and i survived. ❞ ❝ i’ve spent so long looking for you! i’m so glad you’re safe. ❞ ❝ people are always hovering over me...and it’s so suffocating! ❞ ❝ some detours lead to unexpected good luck. ❞ ❝ you say whatever you think...i’ve never done that. ❞ ❝ there is no greater joy than helping a friend. ❞ ❝ what do you mean ‘never mind’? ❞ ❝ these days such peaceful travels are rare indeed. ❞ ❝ wildly rushing into danger isn’t courage. ❞ ❝ didn’t you say there’s something you need to do, no matter what it takes? ❞ ❝ i sense unprecedented danger approaching. ❞ ❝ how do you feel now, looking back upon yourself at that time? ❞ ❝ as usual, you’re a wimp. ❞ ❝ resentment is dangerous. it comes in through the slightest crack in your heart. ❞ ❝ i’d go to the ends of the earth for you. ❞ ❝ it really hasn’t been that long, but you’ve grown into a fine man. ❞ ❝ now is the time for us to take back all that was stolen. ❞ ❝ one thing’s certain --- those aren’t human. ❞ ❝ what do you fight to protect? answer. ❞ ❝ i wish you wouldn’t do such dangerous things. ❞ ❝ if you got hurt due to my mistakes...i don’t think i could live with that. ❞ ❝ why would you do all that...when we’ve only just met? ❞ ❝ it’s a pretty name. perfect for you. ❞ ❝ once your wounds heal, you’ll need to leave right away. ❞ ❝ the hero on his knees! quite a sight. ❞ ❝ how does it feel to be so strong? quite a rush, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ you’re all puffed up on your own arrogance...drunk on your own pride. ❞ ❝ i once wondered how good you are...now i see you’re really skilled. ❞ ❝ i’m not physically strong like you...but my wits, brains and analysis can be helpful. ❞ ❝ don’t say you can’t accept that this is the end. ❞ ❝ you just want to satisfy your own ambition and lust for power. ❞ ❝ it’ll be all right because we’re together. ❞ ❝ why would you leave me at a time like this? ❞ ❝ for the first time i feel like i’m overflowing with incredible power. ❞ ❝ there’s no time for doubt. you are the chosen one. ❞ ❝ your problem is that you demand absolute perfection. ❞ ❝ there is no easy path. but you can definitely overcome it. ❞ ❝ i’m so very sorry. i broke my promise. i hurt you. ❞ ❝ that’s the spirit. hate me more. only then will this fight be worthwhile. ❞ ❝ i thought you were dead. ❞ ❝ well...? say something. or has my beauty left you speechless? ❞ ❝ i never forgot you. not for one moment. ❞ ❝ sorry for killing the mood. ❞ ❝ light and shadow are two sides of the same coin. one cannot exist without the other. ❞ ❝ if you desire something...then that is my desire too. ❞ ❝ who says i’m afraid of you? ❞ ❝ your weapon is little better than a toy. ❞ ❝ all that awaits you is despair. ❞ ❝ i’ve done the unforgivable. i betrayed you. ❞ ❝ i’m here to repay you for what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ since i’ve met you, we’ve travelled a long way...and a lot has happened. ❞ ❝ are you on a journey of self-discovery? ❞ ❝ that was a great strike. if i was a hair slower, you’d have gutted me. ❞ ❝ when i was young, i wanted to be a hero. ❞ ❝ your struggle is futile. ❞ ❝ as you can see, i know how to fight. ❞ ❝ my hatred toward you will not be satisfied by merely killing you once or twice. ❞ ❝ you’ve been through a lot. ❞ ❝ whose side are you on? light or shadow? ❞ ❝ if you run then we’re done for! fight to survive! ❞ ❝ i’m not strong enough. not good enough. ❞ ❝ i must crush your bones, rip out your organs and relish your lingering cries of pain. ❞ ❝ that was close, huh? ❞ ❝ rest now. you don’t have to fight any more. ❞ ❝ i bear this sword so i can protect my home in times like this. ❞

[velvet4510]

It recently occurred to me that the pre-existing relationship between the One Ring and its specific bearer - and the bearer’s opinion of the Ring before and after becoming its bearer - makes a big difference in how much the Ring affects the bearer.

I will elaborate.

Hold your breath, this is gonna get long, I apologize.

Isildur saw the Ring as a reminder of all that Sauron took from him; his home, so many of his people, his brother, and his father … and yet also as a reminder of Sauron’s defeat and how he and his surviving people had prevailed. He took it not out of greed or power-lust, but out of grief, as a weregild for his tragic losses and a symbol of bittersweet victory. He knew the evil that it came from, but also knew the hope that his ownership of it seemed to represent in his head. Therefore, he had both negative and positive feelings toward the Ring, and both types of feelings drove him to claim it and see it as something “precious.” But the pain associated with its memory ultimately made him feel relief when it was lost; as the Unfinished Tales say, he felt release from a great burden after it slipped from his finger in the river. So while he did claim it, he also was able to feel relief at its loss because of that complex and conflicting relationship.

We don’t know much about Sméagol’s pre-Ring life, but all signs point to the notion that he was always an inherently unpleasant and greedy person. It is hinted that he disliked his grandmother and perhaps as a result he was unhappy in his community and didn’t really enjoy being there. Fishing seems to be the only thing that he had a lifelong passion for. And then came the Ring. Something golden and shiny and beautiful amidst all the grass and dirt and water. On his birthday. Perhaps it whispered promises of escape from the existence he hated, of freedom and independence and all the fish he could ever want. Every greedy part of his nature was awakened. So he claimed it. Even if it meant killing his friend to have it. Unlike Isildur, he had zero context of what the Ring really was or where it came from. All he knew was that it was there, offering him things he wanted. All his feelings toward it were positive. So it was precious to him and he couldn’t let it go. Not even when he was in pain. He had no one and nothing. This Ring was his friend, his family, all he had. His precious.

Bilbo is a very interesting case because the Ring did nothing but help him during the whole quest for Erebor. He would’ve been dead many times over if it weren’t for that thing. He wouldn’t have been able to save his friends from the spiders or the dungeons if it weren’t for that thing. All it did for him was good, beneficial to his noble intentions toward people he loved. So of course it became precious to him. It was his friend, his savior. How could it be evil? With no more context than Sméagol had, Bilbo also only had positive feelings toward the Ring. But with a boost from Gandalf, a Maia, he realized he could leave it with something else dear to him. His nephew/surrogate son was more precious to him than this Ring. Surely it would bring Frodo as much help and good as it brought him. So he let it go.

Now Frodo was in an entirely different situation. He knew the Ring did a lot of good for Bilbo, thus it never crossed his mind in those 17 years that it could be dangerous. But how could it help him? He had nothing to hide from. Life was good to him. So he held onto it as a souvenir of Bilbo’s adventure, nothing more. Then came the first of two absolutely major distinctions that made Frodo an unprecedented Ring-bearer. The first is, thanks to Gandalf, Frodo learned the full and complete context of what the Ring is. Not even Isildur knew the full picture of what its malice could do. But Frodo learned all the evil the Ring has done. It may have been a treasure to Bilbo, but it was a danger to him. This was then reinforced by the second unprecedented distinction: After the Council of Elrond, Frodo comprehended and acknowledged that the Ring can only do evil. Any good that it did Bilbo was part of an evil master plan. No intentions could make it less evil. No other Ring-bearer before him was even remotely aware of this. So from then on, the Ring was nothing but a burden to Frodo. How could it be precious to him when it sundered him from home, when it was pounding in his head and making him weaker every day, when it was whispering temptations to hurt or even kill his beloved Sam? When it would cause the end of all he loved? So Frodo felt only negativity toward the Ring. He hated it and wanted it gone. So the Ring switched tactics and instead of tempting him with things he did not want, it fed off his thoughts of his duty to the Council and his love for Sam. “Don’t let anyone else have it because they said you mustn’t, because it will hurt Sam.” And when he reached Mt. Doom, the place where the Ring’s power would inevitably envelop all other, including the power of his own will, all he could gain from it was emptiness. The loss of his ability to act on his knowledge, to do what he wanted, to choose to complete his task. There was still nothing beautiful about this. Nothing precious. It was not his precious, so he did not call it that. It was simply…his. It was his because he had lost the ability to acknowledge that it was not. He only did something in favor of the Ring, for the protection of it, when he lost all his agency and became a puppet. Nothing the Ring said could make him love it or remove his knowledge of what it really is. So the Ring resolved to desperate measures and drowning his free will just to get him to do what it wanted him to do. It was all by force, not by coercion or seduction or exploitation of any positive feelings he had toward it … because there were none. This is why Frodo crucially says “The Ring is mine” in that moment, rather than repeat the cataclysmic words of all the Ring-bearers before him: “My precious.”

Sam as a Ring-bearer is akin to Frodo. He had full context of what the Ring was and how it could only do evil and how it would do whatever it took to survive and return to Sauron. He, like Frodo, knew what Isildur, Gollum, and Bilbo did not know. And then? He spent month after month watching this thing hurt his beloved Frodo, torment Frodo, make Frodo act strange and not like himself. No thing that hurt Frodo could ever be precious to Sam. So Sam hated it. He had no positive feelings for it. And this hatred gave him the ability to recognize its motives when it started tempting him. He had all the context and the negative feelings necessary to comprehend that it was telling him lies and he should not listen to it. So - even though he bore the Ring inside Mordor where its voice in his head was likely much louder than it was in Bilbo’s or even Gollum’s head, he resisted it successfully. It was no more than a burden to him and Frodo both. Which is why the Ring switched tactics and started appealing to Sam’s love, tempting him to carry it for a while and spare Frodo the burden. But Sam’s context and disgust fought back long enough for him to propel himself and Frodo forward, up the mountain.

And while Boromir was not technically a Ring-bearer, there are several noteworthy factors in his feelings toward the Ring. As a participant in the Council, he too gained the necessary context of the Ring’s absolute evil. Yet he did not fully believe it. Unlike the hobbits, or his brother, he was not an old friend of Gandalf the Maia and he did not grow up with stories of supernatural power. He was raised as a grounded military man through and through. His thoughts and interests were in strategy and tactic. And his pride was far greater than the practically-nonexistent pride of Bilbo, Frodo and Sam. So between a lack of understanding the true seriousness of the Ring’s supernatural power, and his natural inclination to think in terms of battle and physical strength, his mind had already laid the groundwork for the Ring to tempt him. But only when it was close. The moment it got away from him, the moment he realized it had driven him to break his friend’s trust and run from him in fear, he finally understood. He finally comprehended that Gandalf and Elrond were right. He finally believed. But tragically, he was never able to tell Frodo that and make things right between them. At least not in the world of the living.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm Late, I know

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 12fin - we waiting 2 weeks I guess? Bah.

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 13fin - I wasn't impressed by the last ep at all. Trash watch happened here.

My final thoughts:

Based on alittlebixth's omegaverse novel #พิษเบ๊บ’ set in the world of car racing omegaverse. Thailand brought us the world's first omegaverse BL but then failed to lean into the courage of its a/b/o convictions by not emphasizing the difference between our world & theirs, adding & subtracting characters & allegiances + a weak ending. With earnest performances, enthusiastic sex scenes, a fantastic side couple, and some delightful scenery chewing - the actors tried… poor things. It's just the story failed both them and their parent genre. Frankly? I just wanted it to be more outrageous and trashy, since I never expected it to be good. Instead, it was just… meh. 7/10

(Imma remind all the newbies that this is not unprecedented from me with hugely popular BL.)

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - I like it but there’s a high % of this show that doesn’t interest me. Anything to do with the side couple, or the friend group, or the cooking competition drives me into a comatose state of UGH. That means that in this episode, I paid attention to about 5 minutes worth. 

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - I'm ready for this to be done. I think they were trying to be this year's Big Dragon, but they just aren't good enough. I really didn’t need a third couple.

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - I'm warming up to FueangKrom a bit. It’s cute. I am finding the pacing interesting. That pacing might be bad, but right now it’s simply different. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) 5-6 of 8 - I still love this show a lot, but this 2 ep installment felt a little disjointed. I’m not sure if that’s the narrative structure or the subs. The captions are shockingly bad for a KBL and I don’t have enough Korean to make up for their clear failings. 

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 5 of 10 - Oh the return of the manic pixie dream ex. This is all very high school drama for purportedly grown-up adults. But them both being jealous and then kissing was sweet.  

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - They remain adorable and the sunshine robot is very sweet. But it is a little slow. 

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 3 of 6 - I prefer the episodes when we get more of them onscreen together. But this was fine. 

Happy Ending (Korea Tues YT) 3fin - The ending disappointed me (are you surprised?). What can I say, not Strongberry's best as far as I’m concerned. High school besties that many could be sweethearts. I don’t like an ending that’s left up in the air. 6/10

It's Done but...

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam, it's on YouTube. I will give it a try when I have a window of time.

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - A Burmese BL? @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch.

It's Airing But...

[NO INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 12 eps - Gave me Luminous Solution vibes. It finished, is it worth it?

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) 12 eps - finished, horror, supposed to be very philosophical, I think I'll give it a go.

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Up

2/16 My Strawberry Film (Japan Gaga) - not quite sure how much BL this one is, because... Japan, but we shall see.

2/17 A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - Khonprot, a third-year head hazer of the engineering faculty, has a secret crush on Pluem, a tsundere fourth-year head hazer. Over the years, he's seen Pluem cycle through many girlfriends. Recently, after a public breakup, however, Khonprot thinks maybe a boy has a chance. Unless this is really good I probably won't I hate the WeTV interface...

Still Coming in Feb

2/24 Unknown (Taiwan Youku) 12 eps - Older brother tough guy criminal breadwinner looks after his sister and defacto adopted little brother. Little bother falls in love with him and is sent away after a stolen kiss. But when he comes back…

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

We gotta talk about LFLS this week. Look at Korea go!

Talking about a dead fish kiss, how meta! This will end up on one of my best of the year moments. I could not have been more gobsmacked.

Also something rarely directly addressed, particularly for same-sex firsts.

And then, a claiming trope, a personal favorite of mine.

Thank you Korea!

I just love them. (Pit Babe)

(Last week)

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Qingque X Reader-Hard Work

A little gift to a good friend of mine @tragedy-of-commons

Fu Xuan was worried.

There are few things that could shake her to her core like this.

It was something beyond comprehension.

It was Qingque.

At her desk.

On time.

WORKING!!!

Fu Xuan had to make sure she had not been poisoned or if she was sick and this was some fever dream.

This was unprecedented.

Her jaw was on the floor.

How was this real!?

What dark sorceries had been cast upon her?

Was someone holding her Celestial Jade board and tiles hostage?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Qingque blitzed through the papers before her.

She wanted to get done as soon as possible.

You told her that if she got all of her work done today, you would take her out to her favorite place.

This was an opportunity she could not pass up, no matter how torturous it was to hold up her side of the bargain.

She’d get to eat her favorite meal, spend the night with you, and, if she was lucky, get off work early! She absolutely had to get this done.

No breaks, no matter how tempting they are to take.

For the rest of the day, she would be a being of pure determination and grit, to get through all of this as fast as she could.

No Celestial Jade.

Minimal amount away from her workstation.

At this rate, she should be done by the time the first couple of workers for the evening shift comes in.

That was perfect, she could be home, get cleaned up, and relax for a bit before she got to enjoy her night with you.

Just a few hundred more papers to go.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Jing Yuan had never seen Fu Xuan in such a state, her hair was a mess, bags were under her eyes, and she was pacing a hole into the floor as she muttered like a madwoman to herself.

“Ah! Jing Yuan! Perfect!” Fu Xuan exclaimed as she finally noticed the general before motioning to the seat next to her.

“Sit, sit, we have important matters to discuss!” The Master Diviner stated as she continued to pace and Jing Yuan warily sat down.

What in the world was going on that had Fu Xuan like this?

Was it one of her predictions? 

Did she see something terrible on the horizon for The Lufou?

Suddenly, Fu Xuan whipped towards the general and exclaimed.

“There is no easy way to say this, but I believe the Apocalypse is approaching. Qingque did her assigned work, all of it.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Qingque happily dug into her meal as she sat next to you.

This was the best date ever.

It was definitely worth all the pain she went through to achieve it.

Not to mention the congratulations from you being more than enough to perk her up from the exertion doing all of that work caused.

Though, she does hope you don’t expect her to start doing this often.

At least unless you're taking her on dates like this when she does.

That could probably get her to do this again.

You really were a terrible influence on her.

[namelessprayers]

"if you were truly sorry, then you wouldn't have to convince me of it, would you?" confronted till with his fists balled at his sides the first instance that the world allowed it to occur.

he had been lingering on ivan's noncommittal excuse of an apology for the last week and it had effectively simmered in a couple more layers of indignation for the worse. in till's mind, ivan owed him at least a proper explanation and perhaps a few favors along with it.

"say something, idiot, don't just look past me when i'm right in front of you." continued till, having noticed the bordering blankness that seemed to dawn on ivan's face as he receded into deep thought.

"i'm sorry." eventually responded ivan. then after a terse pause that must've shown blatant distaste on till's face, he decided to tack on an extra mutter with a slight bow of his head. "i mean it."

being prepared to fight over forgive, till settled in between for forgetting and promptly storming off seething in 'whatever' hissed through his teeth. next time, till swore to either give up on ivan for good or punch him square in the jaw.

both would be cathartic enough to partially satiate till's conflicting feelings about ivan for maybe a month.

======

till met ivan by complete coincidence and still indeterminably fateful chance. it was absolutely nothing to do with the fact that till hadn't had any real friends since the second grade or that he was notably but tolerably lonely wandering by himself after school finished.

it was an odd day, mostly due to till's succession of questionably unsound decisions to not go home immediately and to instead loiter behind private property. he didn't trespass, or he didn't used to, because it risked his mother finding out a few key things about a) his lack of friends and b) his general restlessness in life.

he had scoped out the area before sitting down on the ledge of a lowered billboard which had an advertisement half ripped off its cover. dangling his legs so his feet swung over the grass, till did the only thing he really could do and filled his page with whatever came to mind. it was the best kind of wandering; the least lonely kind.

when till was done, the sun had significantly eased downwards, glare still in full force but from a much different angle than during midday.

distinctly, he could recall near instantly packing up and booking it home as soon as he heard the sound of other people close by; but through some inexplicable intuition, till ended up trailing the outskirts of the wire fence until the group of others came into view.

the boys in question were idiots, no doubt. he could hear it in their tones, jeering and taunting, always so devoid of any real purpose or valuable emotion. till wasn't going to insert himself needlessly into their antics, probably among the likes of trespassing and other things his mother wouldn't approve of.

like proof of the point that till should've turned back, he figured out what the boys were doing in particular, which was beating someone up. probably not the first time they'd done it, nor would it be the last, and yet, till had been compelled to venture closer as if the angle of viewing might change something about the situation.

till waited for at least ten minutes before they got bored and left, revealing that it was his never attending desk mate who got the brunt of the group's past time activities.

with an odd conviction, till scaled the wire fence, tossing his bag over and following within a short span of thirty seconds. after landing on his feet, he stared at ivan from a distance who was just sitting there hunched against the wall in a pitiful bid at disappearing.

on noticing him, till swore that ivan's eyes flashed red, but it was gone too quick for him to know.

it dawned on till that this was entirely unprecedented and completely unnecessary for him to do. in something of a panic that someone might catch him trespassing on this one rare occasion, till efficiently backtracked all the way over the fence, pausing for a brief moment of hesitation before his phone buzzed its discontent at the late hour it was and he urged himself to carry on.

till made it home at the same time he usually did, evading any of his mother's suspicion, but now stuck with the image of ivan expectantly waiting for a person who'd never come.

======

"school's not so bad. it's boring, but it's not bad." said till, sensing that his intent wasn't getting through to ivan who still didn't show up to school and only furrowed his brows at the words. "you've only attended for a single day, how do you even know it's so bad?"

they sat on the curb of a dead end street that no one ever drove down as usual. neither of them had brought up their first official meeting as not much had changed since then besides their increased communication and penchant for holding proper conversations that weren't just glaring; also the fact that till could now spot ivan walking across the street or resting on the playground like a moth to a flame.

"i just do know." replied ivan, assured and unbothered as typical. it was the kind of attitude that ticked till off depending on the person. ivan was lucky that till was starting to form a soft spot for him. "plus, you're not really selling it to me. boring is still bad, in a way."

"maybe it won't be boring. i sit next to you, you know? that can't be boring, can it?" mumbled back till, trying not to sound desperate for ivan to stay around him more often, because that definitely wasn't what this was.

"you're already sitting next to me." tiredly returned ivan, examining the spot where till kicked his feet along the gravel road as though it was some incredible revelation that they were currently here.

"and is it boring?" asked till, attempting to be flippant but ultimately bleeding through with an earnest sincerity that grated on his own ears as he cycled back through their chatting.

"no." ivan said stiffly. when he turned to look at till, it seemed like the sun glinted red in his eyes. "my whole life is boring, except for you."

[gemsofgreece]

OK some things about Greece's Marina Satti results and we're done with this

JK I am not done with Marina I love her but we're done with the circus Marina was in, for another year

So, she is a perfectionist but I hope she will soon understand how much SHE SUCCEEDED. And it will look like a love delirium but no I am not being biased.

Marina Satti got 11th place. Missed Top 10 by one. She was basically killed by the juries.

In the televoting she won 8th place. So she was in the top 10 of all people's votes. She was also 8th in the votes from the Rest of the World, which is a big deal in my opinion.

I won't be mad at the juries because their voting overall made sense in many ways and we were aware that Zari was a not jury-friendly song in any way. It had zurna, it had rap, obviously juries don't go for this stuff. So, it's okay. We knew that.

BUT Marina Satti got 8th - 11th place:

By singing exclusively in the Greek language.

By singing in an entirely Balkan, eastern melody during a year that a lot of the Balkans and East Europe had withdrawn from the contest.

By kinda rapping / reggaetoning, which is generally hated in Eurovision.

By doing exactly her thing, despite knowing how much she would be fought by certain people.

By knowingly choosing the very risky song instead of a ballad and a typical dance song that she also had available as options.

By not trying to be "understood" and get sympathy votes.

By being given a tiny budget from the Greek delegation, much smaller than any previous years including to last year's NQ lame tycoon nephew entry. So GD gave a famous artist like Marina much less money than to those small unknown kids that had gone before her. WTF

By being hated for her song and her (genius) music video and a large percentage of the population writing in English and asking foreigners to not vote for her and blaming her for insulting Greece, Greek culture etc (HINT: No she did not insult it and a blog called gemsofgreece tells you that so relax) and insulting her, her morals, her family, her father's descent and her talent relentlessly for three months

By the unprecedented thing of the freaking SHOWBIZ of the country making openly insulting attacks against her and her song. Like, seriously, there were FAMOUS celebrities going on TV and calling her song "cat vomit", a fashion designer (before her dress choice lol) saying she should go to Eurovision naked because there's no other hope for her to get votes. I am serious. You might say, oh, she must have done something. NO. Guys, no. She has never said or done anything wrong to any celebrity in the country as far as I am aware. She was attacked by musicians, fashion designers, TV shows and honestly nobody knows why. It's a different thing to not like something than to get a polemic position openly as a celebrity against another famous person. This has never happened before, I don't remember anything like this. Celebrities shitting on another artist's effort out of nowhere, especially in advance. To put it simply, now that Marina will have to return to Greece (poor thing), she has good reasons to sue half the country.

By losing her father one month ago.

By getting pretty ill during the semi-final, losing her voice and being administrated medication every three hours.

By suffering chronically from severe anxiety, which is why she refused three prior propositions from the Greek delegation to represent the country.

Well, by receiving a new massive wave of hate from people from or supporting Israel and the Greek government controlled media and press, who all started a fierce campaign against her the last two days before the final. The reason was that she showed intentionally boredom / sleepiness during the time the Israeli contestant was speaking. Make of that what you will, I am only presenting the facts of how her placement was formed here. Many Jewish people wrote they had voted her in the semi but now they wouldn't. I believe because Israel is an eastern country, probably several people of Jewish descent voted for her and then all those votes were lost. It's no matter, I am just explaining that she would probably otherwise be 7th in the televoting, 10th overall. Here we analyze if Marina succeeded her goal, we don't nitpick for Eurovision's sake.

And as you see, she succeeded. With all the odds against her, with a LOT of people hating her and making her life harder and her effort impossible, with the loss of her father, she succeeded in her vision. Bring back Greek language, the eastern sound and having the world dance with it. Shoutout to Armenia who also succeeded in this and made top 10, the song was a little more conventional. Let's be real, Satti achieved all this with a VERY difficult song. The definition of a difficult song and in a little known language. Nothing else, just congratulations to her and I hope she realises all this and does not let her trademark anxiety and perfectionism get the better of her. Also, she really created an international fan community with this and I think there are good things coming for her in the future :)))))

PS1: Odds had her 8th-10th place but they underestimated the juries and the last day's hate she got. In general odds were not very successful this year.

PS2. No worries Greek and Cypriot televoting exchanged the 12 points again :D

PS3: to the ageist haters who wondered why she looks 20 though she is 38, kitties reach her age and you will be crying to look like her

PS4: Marina’s 8th place in televoting was the best placement since 2013, surpassing Amanda and Stefania with the English jury friendly songs 😃😃😃 Greek delegation take a bloody hint

[physalian]

Wicked (part 1) was a solid adaptation

Saw Wicked last night. Only seen the musical once and for a movie longer than both halves of the original combined, the extra added minutes aren’t wasted. I can't exactly praise a movie for storytelling when its legwork was done near beat-for-beat already in the musical, and in the original book, but if you haven't or won't see anything except this film: Yes, it has a very good story.

But I want to talk about what I think is the best example of a “maybe they weren’t so terrible after all” villain redemption retcon, of which Elphaba is kind of the poster child of this whole trend. Why she works, and why something like Cruella did not. Not specific to this version at all.

Quick synopsis: Wicked is an alternate telling of the events before The Wizard of Oz, the backstory of the Good Witch Glinda and the Wicked Witch of The West. It is not the story of how good triumphed over evil, how Elphaba devolved or perhaps was always mean and nasty and underdog Glinda saved the day.

Instead, it’s a deeply political (and whoo boy is it relevant today) smear campaign against the disenfranchised and the minority population of Oz—the talking animals. Elphaba is the underdog, an up-and-coming bright-eyed sorceress taken under the wing of her magic school’s legendary professor, with hopes to one day meet the Great Wizard of Oz. There she meets mean-girl Galinda and for about half a classic mean-girl storyline, the two are enemies. Galinda makes amends, the two become friends, and they go together to Oz to meet the Wizard…

Who is an even worse man behind the curtain than in the ‘39 movie, a charlatan and a fraud, who, when Elphaba refuses to let him abuse her magic to scapegoat the talking animal community, launches said smear campaign, turning Elphaba into a pariah. Galinda (now Glinda) stays behind as the events of Wizard of Oz play out, using her socio-political savviness to help Elphaba where she can. Oh, and the melting? Well, the Wizard isn’t the only master of illusions.

—

The ingredients are all there for a ridiculously base “girl boss” plot about this OP Mary Sue who just will not get taken seriously by the ugh “men” around her (and this is absolutely a feminist storyline screaming high notes from the rooftops) until she shows them all they’re idiots and fools and she’s amazing. The bullying classmates, Glinda’s narcissism, Elphaba’s unprecedented raw power with magic.

Except it has the one thing so many recent “girl boss” movies don’t: You like Elphaba and she’s not perfect, and, you like Glinda (eventually). She’s not arrogant and flawless. She’s introverted and can come off as rude and unfriendly but she just lacks foundational relationships to help her socialize, and in the face of the shallow dipshits at her school, she has every reason to be rude and unfriendly.

Glinda, too, is naïve, but not cruel, save for one moment where she immediately owns up to it once she realizes how badly she screwed up, risking the thing she cares about most—her reputation and popularity and likability—to help a girl who selflessly gave her the other thing she cares about most: The chance to also become a sorceress.

But most importantly: Elphaba is a victim, not the architect of so much of this story. Mary Sues do everything right without any effort, they don’t struggle, they don’t overcome any fears or prejudice or limitations. Elphaba isn’t the one loudly and proudly demanding an audience with the Wizard. She isn’t going around praising herself and her abilities. She has a lot of power, but never learned how to use it, and she doesn’t luck into her story, she’s explicitly, strategically manipulated into her role.

She'd be more of a Mary Sue if the Wizard's offer was genuine and he was actually a good person, then she really would have lucked her way into fortune by virtue of being inexplicably adept at magic. But she's not, and he's not.

The story manages to build her up without dragging everyone else down. Nor does she "turn evil" because the Wizard doesn't respect her for being green, or a woman, he doesn't give a shit, he just wants what she can do for him. She "turns evil" because they have deeply different philosophies and he's standing in her way and she has no other choice but to flee and become a fugitive. She chooses this, the Wizard doesn't kick her out.

But even before that, Elphaba does become popular, her shallow classmates do start to like her (disproving any notion about how the world will hate her no matter what she does, so fuck ‘em), Glinda does actually have a heart and she is smart, just in a very different school of thought from Elphaba. The influence of the Wizard is just so strong that of course they’re going to believe his lies.

It’s not a story about how “this villain was actually the victim of a Tragic Backstory and you should feel bad for them because it’s even sadder than the hero’s” it’s “this villain was actually the victim of a smear campaign, and the heroes are still heroes, but here’s the other side of who they were fighting”.

But it also works because of the story that it is. Ignoring the actual Oz books (and there are many of them): Precedent already exists in the ‘39 movie—the Wizard is already revealed to be a charlatan. Wicked doesn’t rip up the old script, tell you you’re wrong, and then plop in a whole new story that fucks the continuity. Nor does it ask you to change your mind about a villain who doesn’t really deserve redemption in the first place, like, say, one who skins puppies to wear their fur. Instead, it digs into the fissures that were already there and pulls up the rocks to reveal what’s underneath.

And, Elphaba knows she’s going to be seen as a villain, but she’s not happily engaging in “villainy”. She’s doing what she thinks is right, something the audience should agree with, and is choosing to become a pariah to get her way. She never becomes a “villain”, just the antagonist to the hero’s journey, and I don’t remember the ’39 movie perfectly, but “this little rat from another world dropped a house on my sister and is on her way to kill me, too” would make one justifiably upset.

But overall, it’s just a story with layers and nuance that’s sorely missing in its contemporaries, and, like I said, deeply political without strawmanning either side (wellllllllll...). And, it respects the source material.

I also don’t remember the first Maleficent that well, but I think that also did a good job? Back when the live-action remakes weren’t all hot garbage.

So. Yeah. You want to write a powerful female character very explicitly being a feminist icon (and the consequences that come with it)? Elphaba is the perfect example.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

“Eris…” She hummed to him. “Eris Vanserra.” 

Then her voice grew more urgent. “Eris…Eris…ERIS!” 

He finally shot up in bed. 

Sweat covered Eris’ naked torso as he awoke. Yet goosebumps covered his skin. 

Eris looked to the windows in his bedchambers, and saw that one was open, and there was a strong wind coming through. 

He paused, not remembering leaving it open before he went to bed. 

Slowly, he emerged from his bed and walked to the window. 

Eris stood at the opening, hands gripping the sill. 

A part of him waited for her voice to call out for him still, even now that he was awake. But the wind was quiet, only slightly brushing by him, and cooling the sweat on his muscular chest. 

It was hard to decipher what was actually Y/N calling to him and what was the bond messing with his head. Everything about the two of them felt unprecedented due to Y/N not being merely mortal. 

Eris looked at the block on his nightstand. He had only been sleeping for barely two hours when he’d awoken. That was the most he'd gotten in weeks. 

Go to her, his soul begged. 

Eris suddenly found himself considering his responsibilities in the next couple of days. They were lesser than usual. Why did his heart lighten at that realization? 

Eris closed the window slowly, making sure to secure it this time. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Rhysand and Feyre had granted access to Velaris to Eris not long after his first visit to the Night Court where he left Y/N with them. They hadn’t really known what to expect in regards to Eris actually taking advantage of the privilege. 

Eris had never explored the mystery city. But the bond or perhaps Y/N’s magic – maybe both – seemed to be guiding him. 

He finally turned a tight corner and stopped in his tracks. 

Y/N sat outside what he presumed was her shop. She’d pulled a chair out and seemed to be taking in the morning sun with a large mug of coffee. 

It took Eris a second to realize that there was a spoon in the mug that was stirring itself, while Y/N’s hands kept warm by cupping the sides. He smirked at the little bit of magic. 

Then he noticed that Y/N was mumbling under her breath, as if trying to hide it from anyone who might be wandering past. 

A part of Eris wanted to turn around and forget this whole idea.

But it was nearly impossible to ignore how much better he felt just seeing his mate. The tension in his shoulders was gone, he stood up straighter, the migraine had finally weakened, and the exhaustion had been replaced with a sudden pierce of energy and awareness. 

Eris’ body moved on its own accord. 

It was only when he was a few feet away that Y/N’s eyes met his and they widened in surprise at his appearance. 

Y/N had been talking, mid sentence, when she noticed him. 

“Sorry,” she blurted out without even meaning to. 

“Never apologize to me, Y/N.”

Eris blinked, suddenly realizing he’d never addressed her by her own name before. 

But then he remembered what Cassian had told him: that many thought Y/N to be crazy due to her gifts in witchcraft. And Eris’ hands clenched into fists at his sides, thinking of anyone saying such things about his mate. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N blurted out. She blinked rapidly. “I-I-I mean, what are you doing in Velaris?” 

“News of your store has reached even Autumn Court…” Eris said. But then added, “But I have business with the High Lord and Lady.”

Though he caught how his words came through his mask still – cold and emotionless. 

And Y/N caught it, too. For she shifted in her seat with discomfort, unsure of how to respond to the clashing of his words with his tone.

Eris cleared his throat and looked at the ground.  

Damn himself. He couldn’t even talk to his mate without sounding like some arse. 

“Are you quite well?” 

His head shot up at the question. 

Surely she wasn’t talking to him. 

But she was. 

In fact, Y/N's gaze studied him with genuine concern. He caught how they lingered on the deep shadows beneath his amber eyes.

While Eris never dressed and groomed less than perfection every day of his life, it appeared his exhaustion was impossible to hide.

Eris bowed his head. “It seems a good night’s sleep has rather been a challenge for me, as of late…”

He didn’t see the point in trying to lie to Y/N. The truth was quite clear and he did not wish to seem like he thought her some fool. 

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m familiar.” 

Eris wouldn’t meet her gaze now. 

But he heard her slowly stand from her chair and walk to him. 

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” 

Eris’ gaze once again shot up to meet her’s. 

Y/N stepped even closer with an encouraging smile. “P-Please, I insist.” 

Eris shifted his weight. “I will not be in your way? Your shop has just opened.”

Y/N shook her head. “Business is usually slow in the mornings, especially this early in the week. I promise it is no bother.” 

Eris finally nodded and put a few steps between them as he followed her into the store. Just before stepping in, he looked around them, half expecting that Spymaster to be watching from the darkness or perhaps even one his his shadows. 

Y/N led them to what appeared to be a backroom in the the store. 

A fire was already kindling in the small hearth. Above it hung dozens of herbs drying from being upside down and hanging in front of the warmth. There was a desk shoved into the corner, with a dozen quills and some notebooks strewn across its surface. 

Eris assumed this was where Y/N did all of her conjuring and casting for her merchandise. 

Despite it being her place of work, Eris still felt like he was tainting her personal space, her closest thing to home and sanctuary. 

“Please, do sit.” Y/N gestured to a small table with three chairs opposite the room from the fireplace. 

Eris watched Y/N as she started moving about the room. He studied her outfit: a full quilted skirt and a simple white, button-up shirt with the sleeves already rolled up for her work. It looked less Night Court than the other outfits he’d seen her in. 

A few moments later, Y/N placed a large mug of tea in front of Eris while she had poured herself another mug of coffee. 

“You are quite frustrating, you know?” Y/N smirked at him before taking a sip of coffee. 

Eris tilted his head. “How so?” 

“You save my life, bring me here – a court where you hold no true friends. Your own brother doesn’t seem fond of you. And even he seemed confused that you helped me at all in the first place.” 

“Anything else?” Eris quipped. 

Yes,” Y/N huffed as she sat back and crossed her arms. “T-They tell me too little.” 

Eris couldn’t help but smirk. “They as in the wind?” 

She hesitated before nodding. 

“The Night Court is the safest court in the fae realm for a mortal,” Eris finally explained, as if it were obvious. “I do not have connections in the mortal realm.”

That was not entirely true. He could’ve brought Y/N to the Exiles’ manor. But he didn’t see Jurian or Vassa as capable enough to protect his mate. Furthermore, they owed him nothing.

Y/N’s voice was almost a whisper as she asked, “Are things really so terrible in Autumn Court?” 

Eris only nodded. 

“It may seem hard to believe and though my circumstances were menacing…” She took in a shaky breath. “There was a moment where I couldn’t ignore how…beautiful it was.” 

Eris froze at such a confession. Y/N was dragged and tortured like a slave through his court, yet she still found the beauty in it, same as him. 

“It is not the land that is terrible,” he corrected. “But its ruler and those who stay loyal to him, despite his evil.” 

“And that is why sleep evades you?” Y/N asked carefully. 

Eris lifted his tea again and simply said, “Perhaps.” 

A peaceful silence settled between them. There was only the crackling of the fire, something brewing in a cauldron above it, and the soft ticking of a clock on another wall. 

“You speak of overthrowing your own father so carelessly…I cannot help but ask: what will you do to make it better?”

Eris was rendered speechless. He realized that no one had ever asked him that – mostly because his plans to usurp his father were a dangerous secret. And the few that knew – which was mostly Rhysand’s inner circle – saw him as no less evil than Beron. 

Y/N interpreted his silence as offense. 

“Excuse me,” she quickly apologized. “I’ve f-f-finally spoken out of turn.” 

Her head bowed in shame as she sipped her coffee more. 

“The farmers,” Eris muttered without realizing it. 

Y/N looked at him with confusion. “The farmers?”

“My father pays them poorly. He does it so they’re competitive, desperate, and will do anything for more money or his favor. I would pay them the wage they deserve.” 

“What else?” Y/N encouraged. 

Unbeknownst to Eris, she had seen a spark light in those amber eyes of his. And she wanted to make it burn even brighter. 

“I would banish all the courtier’s who did nothing to stand against my father’s malevolence, all because they gained either power or riches from it. I would view the other court’s as allies, not enemies who would strike Autumn at any moment.” 

Eris took in a deep breath, as if sharing such a thing was the greatest relief. “Autumn Court would become prosperous from my people’s contentment and harmony, not from their fear and pain.” 

Y/N watched him in shy wonderment. 

“But perhaps I am no better than my father,” Eris muttered, staring into his tea. 

Y/N surprised him by leaning forward with utter determination on her face. “The winds say nothing but hideous things about Beron Vanserra.” She hissed his father’s name as if it were venomous. “Was it not him who allowed my trading through his court?”

She huffed and leaned back, her face softening. “You are not your father. There is much I must learn of you, Eris Vanserra, but that I am sure of. Because you saved my life in the woods that day.”  

The breath had been knocked from Eris’ chest. He could not breathe, he could not speak. All he could do was feel the heavy beating of his heart and the string between him and Y/N get pulled even tighter. 

If Y/N saw the impact her words had on him, she didn’t show it. 

But their moment was interrupted by the shops entrance bell dinging. 

“Excuse me,” Y/N said politely as she stood. “I will be right back.” 

As soon as she left the backroom, a gasp left Eris. It was like he had been drowning until that very moment when those words left Y/N’s lips. Now his lungs were fighting for every breath. 

It took a few minutes for him to gain control of himself again. 

And then he suddenly felt a crest of fatigue. 

Now that Eris was finally in the presence of his mate again, surrounded by her scent and her safe space, could his body finally find rest?

Eris didn’t mean to, but before Y/N returned, he slumped back in his chair and allowed his eyes to slowly close. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris awoke to the sound of something lightly hitting the table in front of him. 

He jolted awake, quickly remembered where he was by catching Y/N’s sent. 

Before him on the table, a bowl of stew had been placed. 

He looked up to see that it was Y/N who had placed it there and she was ladling another portion into a bowl for herself. 

“How long was I asleep for?” Eris asked hurriedly. 

Y/N smirked. “About 6 hours.”

Eris’ eyes snapped to the now empty tea he had been drinking. 

“You put something in my drink,” he accused. 

Y/N sat across from him with her own bowl of stew. “I did. But it should not have been that strong. You are more tired than you let on.”

It was not the tea, Eris thought. You. You are the magic. 

“Are you upset with me?” Y/N asked before taking her first bite of stew. 

He narrowed his gaze, the mask slightly returning. “I suppose it would not matter if I was.”

“I promise you were perfectly safe back here,” Y/N added. “I checked on you throughout the day.” 

That’s when Eris realized that there had also been a blanket placed on his lap. 

He looked at the bowl of stew in front of him again. 

“Do you need to return to the House of Wind?” Eris asked, expecting one of Rhysand’s bats to interrupt them at any moment to fly her home. 

“They had an important meeting in Day Court...or Winter Court. Can’t remember.”

But Eris knew she did remember. Y/N just didn’t trust Eris enough with that information. It could be nothing important, yet she still protected her friends and the Night Court from him. 

“Thank you…for the stew,” Eris told her softly. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the food at your Court,” she admitted. 

Eris didn’t correct her. He was too busy thinking of this happening once she felt the mating bond, once it had been awoken for her…and she made him this same meal to accept their bond. Eris knew this didn’t answer the magic, he would’ve felt it. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming of the future. 

“You know, Lucien actually asked me to dinner not too long ago,” Y/N said through a smile before blowing on a spoonful of stew. 

Eris’ spoon clattered to the table as he growled, “Stay away from him.”

The growl alone made Y/N laugh at the male, “What ever for?” 

His reaction was exactly the one she had been fishing for and came out triumphant. It seemed rather easy to taunt Eris. And for some reason, Y/N got such joy from it.

“I’ve seen many a female fall for his hollow charm. You can do better.” 

Y/N smirked at that. “Oh, can I?” 

Eris refused to elaborate, choosing to take another bite instead.

Yes, he wanted Y/N to find someone else to love – someone better, safer. But to love Lucien would be the Cauldron’s greatest tortures. And she would be no safer from Beron with him. 

“If I’m being honest,” Y/N started quietly. “I rather pity him.” 

Eris made a noise of disgust. “What for?”

“I do not know much about these mating bonds of faes. But is it not heartbreaking that Elain will not so much as give him a chance?” 

Did Eris dare ask the question that was screaming in his mind to be let out?

“And what do you think of it all?”

“What?”

“Mating bonds.” 

Her brow furrowed in thought. “At first it seemed so…magical.”

“Spoken from a witch...” Eris answered gruffly. 

She glared at him, but continued. “But then Feyre said it didn’t guarantee the two would be happy or in love. And it seemed…r-rather cruel.” She blinked and shook her head. “Look at Lucien…I fear he is lonely. Will he just live the rest of his immortality unloved? And that…that is the true dark side of it all.” 

Eris felt sick at the her words. 

Y/N was so unaware that she spoke of the same thing to her own mate. But to her, it was impossible to have one the begin with. 

“Your mother and father are they…?”

Eris cleared his throat in attempt to push back all the emotions that threatened to expose themselves. “No. No, my mother’s marriage to my father was arranged. No female with any sense would ever agree to marry my father.” 

“And do you have–”

But Y/N’s question was interrupted by the shop bell dinging once again. 

“Oi!” Cassian yelled into the shop. “Are you sleeping in the back again?” 

“Cassian, must you always be yelling?” Feyre giggled. 

“Back so soon?” Y/N called back through a smile. 

“Why?" Cassian laughed. "Did you think we forgot about yo–”

Feyre and Cassian froze in the doorway when they spotted Eris. 

Y/N shrunk in her seat, not sure how to handle their reaction to her guest. 

Feyre recovered first. “Eris, we were not expecting you.” 

“I had already warned him that you were all on court business,” Y/N answered. 

“Ready to go home, Y/N?” Cassian asked. 

“Yes. Store has already been cleaned. I just have to put out the fire and lock up.”

With a wave of Eris hand, the fire extinguished, as well as every candle in the store. 

Y/N paused in awe at it. 

She had assumed Eris had some abilities due to being High Fae and the heir to Autumn Court. But it was still amazing to see. 

“Perhaps we shall wait for you outside,” Feyre answered as she shoved Cassian in the direction of the entrance. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Y/N jumped to her feet and handed Eris a wicker basket that was covered with a grey linen cloth. 

Eris squinted. “What is this?” 

“Sleep candles,” Y/N answered as if it were obvious. “They’re enchanted, but filled with mostly lavender and then some mugwort, rose petals, and rosemary.”

She pointed to a bundle of waxy leaves. “Eucalyptus. Hang it near your bathtub. The steam will impel its relaxing elements.”

Finally she pointed to a jar filled with tea leaves. “This is the poison I gave you earlier today,” she explained with a mischievous smirk. 

“Very funny,” Eris cut.  

He tried not to let his heart warm from her handing him such thoughtful gifts. 

So, instead, he coldly asked, “How much?”

“Free,” Y/N answered, clearly expecting such a question. 

Finally, she realized how dark it had gotten in her shop after Eris blew out every flame. 

“I never really properly thanked you…for what you did for me.”

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” Eris answered harshly. 

But at least his words were true. 

Y/N shook her head at him, almost amused by his severity. “Take the candles and tea, Eris. I have to lock up.”

He started walking out the back room when he paused. “Thank you…for dinner. And for the sleep. And for the…company.”

Eris didn’t look at her as he finally finished with, “I am sure you could see how much I needed it.” 

Y/N looked at him with such sincere sympathy. “You are welcome to rest here anytime.” 

Eris walked outside to find Cassian and Feyre talking hurriedly, yet quietly, between each other. It stopped as soon as they spotted Eris walking out of the store. Both their gazes snapped to the basket in his grasp. 

“Testing the merchandise?” Cassian asked with a playfulness in his eyes. 

Feyre elbowed him in the ribs. 

Eris had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the two of them. “I shall take my leave.” 

“Wait,” Feyre stepped forward. 

Y/N emerged from her store, starting to lock it behind her. 

“We have matters to discuss,” Feyre added, ignoring Y/N’s presence. 

Cassian stepped to Y/N with a knowing smirk and his arms held out. 

“Shall we?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

Y/N groaned. “I’m never going to grow to like flying, you know.”

Cassian lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. And Eris tried to push down the feeling of jealousy and rage he had at seeing another male holding his mate. 

“I know,” Cassian laughed before launching them into the air. 

Y/N yelped and Eris caught her hiding her face in Cassian’s neck. 

“She’s fine,” Feyre told him as she had closely watched Eris’ reaction to his mate being flown further and further away from him by another male. 

Eris ignored the High Lady’s comment and turned to her, already knowing he would not like this conversation. 

“What is this about?” He asked with cold annoyance. “Have we changed our minds about my visiting rights to the Night Court?” 

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Feyre began. “Though I wish I didn’t have to care, I do. Because Y/N has become one of us.” 

“Yes,” Eris growled. “That has become abundantly clear.” 

“I’m going to show you something. Something she said. Lower your shields.” 

Eris wanted to refuse such a request, but did as she asked. 

Images of Y/N flooded his mind. She was drunk and beautiful, warming the room of what looked to be a pleasure house. 

“I-I’ve had my fair share of lovers during my travels – with mortal men…”

“Lovers,” Y/N repeated her own words in a giggle. “As if they were even worthy of the title.”

Y/N’s face suddenly became somewhat sober, twisting into something almost sad. 

Her eyes grew distant. “It never really ended up feeling how I wanted it to. I was always left feeling…used.” 

She let out a drunken, huff of a laugh. “So I stopped bothering…”

Then Feyre was out of Eris head and his shields returned. 

Eris was breathing heavily, nostrils flared. His chest expanded quickly. And his hands were in fists at his side, both surrounded by a ball of deadly flame. 

Whatever males had ever touched Y/N to make her feel such a way…

Everything in Eris’ being wanted to find each of them and torture them until they were begging him for death. 

Feyre stepped closer and lowered her voice as she uttered, “I do not know what your intentions are with Y/N. But understand…if you do anything to treat her in a similar matter, my Court will counter accordingly.” 

Eris held the High Lady’s glare, not backing down. 

And then he winnowed back to Autumn Court. 

––––––––

please, please, please be nice and leave a comment. leave a book report. dissect what you must. it would bring me such joy.

chapter xii

[innerchorus]

Arslan Senki Chapter 134

Things are feeling pretty high stakes right now. The fact that Kishward was badly wounded but didn't die here makes me even more worried that someone else won't be so lucky (we didn't see them but I'm still fretting about Kubard and Isfan).

Horrific scenes as the winged apes descend on Ecbatana, people panic, try to hide inside and get the doors shut even at the cost of the lives of those still outside trying to get in... and then the creatures come through an open window to devour them. It's just... total and unprecedented chaos in the streets.

Pleased to see some of the Parsian soldiers holding it together enough to have a go at shooting them down and defending themselves against a threat they've never seen the likes of before, though. Arrows work. The creatures can be killed. There's just... so many of them, and they're not used to fighting enemies that come from the sky. Doesn't look like they're going to win.

Oh hello.

Forgive me, I've apparently turned into a Holy Master enjoyer

Three centuries would have been... a lot of generations for people back then. It is surprising that details like the winged apes have been lost from memory despite their visual presence in ancient freezes, but it's not totally unbelievable I guess. And there's room for the headcanon that knowledge of them and their creation may have been suppressed so as to avoid anything similar happening again. I wonder whether Farangis, as a priestess, knows anything more? We'll see.

Anyway I really did enjoy that little glimpse of the bastard himself atop Ecbatana's very highest point. He's having the best day. Hopefully someone will ruin his fun soon.

The way my heart froze for a second when we skipped locations to Peshawar because I was in fear that winged apes might have been sent there, too, but it's only a well-timed scene featuring Ayyar before shit gets real with Kishward's fight against Manuchurh.

Ayyar's definitely being set up as a future hero of the next generation, both with this scene and Kishward's words later. Maybe we'll see a flash-forward of him stepping into that role when he's a bit older, maybe we won't.

Anyway the fight had me on the edge of my seat but Kishward delivered, sacrificing his left arm in the end. Guess I'll never get the scene of Gurgin standing on Kubard's sword but Manuchurh balancing barefoot on both of Kishward's blades was a good panel.

The defeated Manuchurh's lament shows the great sorrow these warriors must feel over their fates... perhaps it's this torment that allowed for Team Zahhak to bring them back? Maybe that's what that 'unfinished business' comment was about? Kishward being able to bring some relief by speaking of Arslan's feats and the hope he brings to Pars, and of how in time Ayyar will serve Arslan appeared to bring comfort to his spirit and allow it to depart at last, leaving only his severed head behind after the sorcery-created body disintegrated.

It gives me some hope that we will see the same thing happen with the remaining undead warriors; that they will be defeated in battle and their torment eased by the words of comrades/friends/family.

Kishward feeling that Andragoras's death was his fault (accepting undead Manuchurh's criticism) doesn't surprise me, but it seems he views his injury as 'payment' of sorts for that failure and as such, I don't think he intends to dwell on it as he might have done otherwise. In fact, despite the state of his arm (which I guess may have to be amputated?) he's in very high spirits! He hasn't seen the winged apes yet, though.

Hmmm, Kishward offering the loss of his arm as a token of penitence to Manuchurh does make me wary that we'll see similar sacrifices needing to be made against the other undead warriors. That's... an alarming thought.

Tears of blood confirmed.

Or maybe it's black sorcery ooze, but whatever.

The way the light just goes out of his eyes and his soul(?) is just... gone. Oof. When I think about seeing that happen with Shapur, or what Kharlan's last conversation might be like...

But we will need to wait another month at least before we see that.

It looks like Tus versus Khayr is next.

But did you guys spot it?

So this fight must be happening in the vicinity of what's going on between Sam and Garshasp? Unless it's a mistake or translation error, but that seems unlikely. I'm making a mental note to check the raw when I see it.