#this man does not want to outlive another wife

[pangrams-n-palindromes]

just bobby up high, ready and willing to follow his wife into death

2x06 / 8x03

[nthspecialll]

The survivors

Sometimes I think about the survivors of the Van Der Linde gang scattered across the map and beyond, each of them carrying the same wound that was left with the break of their family and how they try to remember them.

Both Trelawny and Tilly lives in Saint-Denis, I wonder if they ever bumped into one another a few years later, looking at each other across the street, just trying to process the face before them and the time and people that it pulls them back to. The happiest yet the most tragic time for both of them.

They probably crossed the road, meeting half way, their respective parntners holding eye contact for a moment and knowing immediately "oh, they know each other from... that" allowing the two the moment.

I wonder if Tilly cried to Trelawny , telling him how it felt to be there in the end after he left, finally having someone who understands her, and I wonder if Trelawny offered to hunt the others down like he used to. One last chase, one last time searching for the Van Der Lindes, whatever remained of them.

Mary-Beth was probably shocked when she saw Trelawny standing there in Valentine, waving at her with his usual charm, yet a bit of sorrow hidden in his voice. He probably strolled up to her, told her about Tilly and asked her to come visit as they walked together down to Horseshoe Overlook, Mary-Beth telling him about the adventures they had there.

Trelawny probably didn't struggle to find Pearson in Rhodes either, the hollow man with the picture of the old gang on the wall, who could barely look down the street without thinking of the hole in poor Sean's head and who would daily walk down to Clemens Point just to remind himself.

Pearson agrees to meet with Tilly and it becomes a monthly thing, often joined by Mary-Beth. They were held together by their common trauma, their unusual common past.

Trelawny was probably the one who found out about Karen and the fact she had drunken herself to death and had to hang his head low and let Tilly know.

Strauss was beaten to death, he had read that in the newspapers, Uncle was a bit harder to find, staying out of trouble yet also ending up in debt with some ugly men Trelawny could call in favour with. They talk and he brings him to TIlly, but they don't keep in touch.

For the remaining it took years, Trelawny searched up and downand at some point, early 1907 he found Charles fighting in Saint Denis. He told Charles about Tilly and was visibly able to see a weight being lifted off the man's shoulders, but he was too scared of brining back any bad luck to the happy Tilly and stayed away.

John had covered his, Jack's and Abigail's tracks from the law and him. Sadie he found out too late had been in the country but made her way to South Africa to work.

Trelawny stands left, he found them, just like he had done for years, except there is none left now, only John, John who has disappeared into thin air, a bad dream with a bittersweet aftertaste. He doesn't know what to do so he does the one thing he is good at, searching. His wife tells him to stop and although he shortly tries he can't, he too misses the past and wants it back no matter how much the words Arthur spoke to him telling him to leave and not look back had burned themselves into his skull. Searching is what he does, he can do nothing else.

At some point he finds John, after years he finally finds John's name in the newspaper, except it is too late and the only thing that remains of the man is two headstones with his and his wife's name, Abigail's last name replacing Roberts with Marston.

Jack is there too, he doesn't remember Trelawny, but Trelawny remembers him. He sees John's features in the young man who used to have twenty people there to care for him but because of one man now stood alone, the young man who would hopefully outlive the rest of the gang, except he probably wouldn't as he carried a gun and John's hat.

Trelawny knew then that the boy would suffer the same fate his uncle hat and he knew that a few years from then his search would lead to yet another early grave or a name scratched in the book of a jailor.

[ceruleanwhore]

So I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics floating around the Cybird/Ikemen fandom spaces about pregnancy or having children, but I have yet to see any childfree content at all, as @sevenai pointed out in a post they made about ikevamp. As such, I’ve put together a list of childfree headcanons for all the ikevamp men for those of us who want such things.

Napoleon — After the tragedy of his only legitimate son’s premature death during his life, I think it’s perfectly plausible that he would not want to try to produce another child of his own. Besides, the children he teaches with Isaac do more than enough to fill the void and warm his heart. I imagine that, at some point, the topic of children would come up and, when his partner would nervously disclose that she doesn’t actually want to have any of their own, he would feel relief.

Leo — Being in a relationship with anyone at all (especially a human) is already more than enough heartbreak, I don’t think he could handle producing a child of his own that he would then have to watch die someday even though no parent should ever outlive their child.

Mozart — This man is obsessive about cleanliness and absolutely cannot tolerate noise. There’s no way in hell he’s ever having a kid.

Arthur — He had five children in his life and so I feel like, for him, he’s already done that and sufficiently fulfilled that desire, so now he doesn’t feel the need to do it over again in this second life. I think he’d be willing to give it a go if that’s what his partner wanted, but I also think he’d be just as content not to.

Vincent — I get that in ikevamp he’s a sweet boy, but he has a past full of tremendous mental health struggles, and I think he’d be afraid of passing that to any potential children. I also think he would be worried about his ability to care for a child.

Isaac — Dude’s already worried he’s going to snack on Comte’s ferret or something, like being in a relationship with a human is PLENTY for him to worry about. Also, he’s a good person who views himself as a dangerous monster, which means he definitely won’t be having kids any time soon. Plus, like Napoleon, he has their little gaggle that they teach and that is genuinely plenty for him. Yeah, I think he’d be perfectly happy to have his partner tell him that there is no desire for children on their part.

Theo — I think he’d be more apathetic about children, where he doesn’t really have a desire for them but he would be willing to have kids if that’s what his partner wanted. He already has his partner, his bother, and his career, and that is more than enough for him to be happy.

Jean — First off, Jean is 19. Secondly, he hates himself and what he is, like Carlisle from Twilight. Maybe he would’ve wanted kids in life, but there is no way in hell he’d want to create half vampire spawn.

Will — Given that he was always running away from his wife and kids in his life, I think it’s safe to assume he never wanted them, even before he died. I think, given the context of his real marriage with Anne, he would be grateful to discover that his partner doesn’t want to have kids with him and it would be another indicator to him that this relationship is actually a good match.

Comte — I think he has no desire of his own for children and I also think he is hella devoted to whoever he chooses to be in a relationship with and will do anything to make them happy, so even if he did want kids he still would 100% fold to a childfree partner. There’s also that element of tragedy like with Leonardo that we’ll also see with Vlad.

Dazai — He’s either actively suicidal or very recently got better and definitely does not feel like he has the capacity to care for a child. Also, someone who hates themselves so much they’d choose to become a vampire solely so they could live long enough to kill their infant self is definitely not going to want to reproduce. Like Isaac, he sees himself as dangerous and I don’t think he would trust himself with something like having kids and I think that being in a relationship is already massively stressful for him.

Sebastian — He has a terminal illness, so there could be concern about passing whatever it is to any future children. He also probably would just not want to have to subject children to dealing with his inevitable, premature death. Even without all that, like if he can get magically cured by Faust or something, I don’t really see him actively wanting to have children, like I think he’d be more of a “travel the world with your partner in a delightfully comfortable DINK arrangement” kind of guy.

Vlad  — Yeah I think he’d 100% just be a “whatever you want” guy who values his partner above all else, including potential people who don’t exist yet.

Faust  — He’s kinda weird with kids tbh in a way that reminds me of myself — uncomfortable but kind of nice and gives in easily to whatever they want — which makes me think he doesn’t really like them and doesn’t really want them. I could see him kind of wanting to reproduce with a human as an experiment, but I really don’t see him genuinely desiring to have children.

Charles  — I get the vibe that he’ll be a very possessive yandere once he’s in a relationship and won’t want to share his partner with anyone at all, including potential children of their own. He actually gives me the impression that even if his partner came to him and shared that they genuinely wanted to have children with him, he might insist they not because of this trait of his.

[cevansbrat0007]

I'm obsessed with this series. I'm such a sucker for love that's given often and shown so freely. Andy and Reader are each other's world. I feel like they're the type of (one day) elderly couple who if one passes, the other is following right behind in a few days to months.

I can't wait to one day read a little drabble about them when they're old and retired, maybe having their kids and grandkids over for christmas and their kids' POV watching Andy and Reader sway and canoodle under a mistletoe.

At Last...

Summary: True love stories never end...

Warning: the following answer contains talk of death as well as celebrations of love and life. Read at your own risk. Takes place in my ongoing Growing Pains Series. __

Thank you. It makes me so happy that you've fallen in love with Growing Pains as well as Andy and Reader's love story. Those two are so incredibly and irrevocably devoted to one another - they really are each other's entire world.

If I'm being honest, I have thought about what the end of their time on this planet would look like. And Baby Girl always outlives Andy. Not just because she's a few years younger than him, but because there is just no other way.

He could never live without her. Not even for a month, or a couple of days. So, when the time comes and life finds him on his deathbed, they make a plan.

They're both such stubborn people, you know? So damned headstrong even up until the very end. Andrew Barber doesn't want to go.

Not yet.

But while his spirit remains young, his body is old. After all, fighting your way into your nineties is no easy feat. But he's also got four children right here in this realm to take care of, and an errant wife to look after who is just as much of a brat as she's always been.

And the doctors, well, they don't understand how he's made it so long. From everything indicated on his chart, he should've left this world days ago. But somehow Andrew Barber continues to defy the odds.

That stubborn ass ogre.

But he's also in pain. Even as he's fighting, refusing to give in. However, it's not sustainable. And Reader knows that her Big Man needs to rest. She spends every day by his bedside, rarely leaving for more than a few minutes at a time. It's been a few days since she's been able to catch a glimpse of his beautiful blue eyes, every once in a while, she's treated to a gentle squeeze of her hand.

Baby Girl knows her husband better than any other person on the planet. She knows that in order to leave her behind, even for just a little bit, she has to give him a purpose. So she crawls into bed with him, bad hip and all, and tells him her plan.

It's just between them - this task that she gives him.

She tells him to go on ahead and get their home ready - their dream home. And start decorating it the way he knows she'll like. She even promises not to get mad if the color schemes aren't quite right, because she'll just fix it all when she gets there.

Simple as that.

And while he's taking care of the house, the next thing she wants him to do is find Jacob. Wherever he is. Because she expects him to be at the dinner table sharing a meal with them for her first night in their new home.

And in return for doing all of that, she'll handle everything else with BiBi, KitCat, RoRo, and A.J. and all of their precious grandbabies. She swears that she will make sure that every single little detail is taken care of, and when it's all done...

She'll come find him. And when she does, they'll share a dance in their kitchen to the tune of their favorite song - At Last by Etta James. Baby Girl goes on to assure him that it will be the first of many.

Some time later that night, her sweet Andy Bear takes her up on her offer. But not before opening his eyes one last time to see her sleeping in the chair at his bedside. Now that makes him crack a smile.

Because in the last dream he had he could've sworn he told her fine ass to get to bed. A real bed. Not a chair.

His sweet, beautiful girl never fucking listens.

Reader knows when he leaves. She later describes it to their children as feeling his lips brush her skin, right behind her ear. His favorite place to kiss her.

She and the kids keep the actual ceremony small, but then they throw a party - a celebration of Andy's life. And after that, Reader spends the next two years making sure everything is in order.

Just like she promised.

Andy comes to her in her dreams every now and again. And in those dreams he always looks like he did when they first met - her handsome man.

And when it's finally her time, Reader passes on surrounded by their babies. But she tells them not to worry, because their father has been sitting by her bedside for the last few days. She knows they can't see him...

But she swears he's right there. And he's brought along Jacob. She tells her sweet babies that she's finally ready to join the love of her life. They even share a little laugh when she tells them how their father keeps pestering her all because she owes him a dance.

And when she takes her last breath, the sweet sound of Etta James is playing softly in the background. Bianca and her siblings sit there quietly for a few minutes after her passing holding hands and reveling in the fact that they know their Mama went home.

She's finally back in the arms of the man that she loves. They have no doubt that their Mama and Daddy are finally sharing that dance. And wouldn't you know it...

Somewhere in the great beyond, they were right. Their Mama made it home at last. And she left the light on for them too. Just like she told them she would.

[baatarthefirst]

💔

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

No, but there are a couple of chapters of my fic Origins of Koko that kinda/sorta fit the bill. The first was Chapter 2, which did have some heartbreaking themes but with a happy ending, and the second was Chapter 5, which I reworked because I...I just couldn't.

If you're unfamiliar with Rangshi, it is a ship in the Atla universe consisting of Avatar Kyoshi and her bodyguard, Rangi; first seen in the prequal novel, The Rise of Kyoshi.

Now before the novels came out, it was revealed that Kyoshi had a daughter named Koko. The homophobes used Koko as evidence that this wlw relationship could never be endgame (which really made me angry, because they read a book in which the hero herself was adopted and could NOT fathom how two women could possibly have a child together???). So I wrote a chapter against each homophobic argument I'd seen (and a few possibilities that were suggested in the comments.

First chapter 2, natural insemination (the time period of this story would not allow for artificial insemination). Why it hurts? Kyoshi is canonically bi, but Rangi is presumed lesbian. So while she wholeheartedly consents to sleeping with a man, even more so than her bi wife, to have their children (and an heir for her clan) it is a little hard to deal with. It is fairly toned down, but it is present. I absolutely refused to write Rangi having a good time with a man and fall into that 'lesbians secretly still want the D' homophobic kind of thinking; but again, it wasn't noncon or even dubcon. Rangi accepted that she wanted to have a child, and needed an heir, and this was the way to do it. And some people were understandably uncomfortable reading it.

But the true tension within the story was Kyoshi's reaction to the man. Like Rangi, I stayed as true as possible to Kyoshi's sexuality. She's bi and marrying a woman will not erase the attraction. So while Rangi tolerates the man like a chore, Kyoshi...well, she enjoys her time with him. This creates some tension between the wives that does get resolved and makes them stronger. This chapter did get some (understandable) hate, but I did get just as many comments/pm's from bi people saying that they felt seen, they were glad I showed that Kyoshi didn't become a lesbian because she married a woman. The only regret I have in writing it was not thinking to put a trigger warning at the beginning. (and I did end up adding an artificial insemination chapter with a disclaimer that it could never happen within Kyoshi's era) Chapter 5, The Shadow of Kyoshi: A Poem by Roku. Another little fun fact about Kyoshi is she lived an unnaturally long time, 230 years. So another, very simple, explanation for Koko's existence was simply that Kyoshi outlived her wife and later had a child with a man. Now while I do NOT like romanticizing the idea that someone would spend the rest of their life alone after loosing their spose, the point of the fic was proving Rangshi as endgame, so I decided that Kyoshi would never love again. Instead I decided she would spent some nights with other widows/widowers and they would each take temporary comfort in each other. Well one one-nighter left her with a daughter, and Kyoshi couldn't stand to watch her grow old. [no trigger warning, she just let herself age] Now I spared everyone the heartbreak of going through all that by having this explained in a poem by her incarnation, Roku. A poem where DEATH is trying to claim Kyoshi for years, but she constantly just refuses to die because she made a promise to her wife until LIFE turns the tides by giving her a daughter. The poem ends on an inside joke between Kyoshi and her wife implying that either Kyoshi (or Kyoshi's and Roku's past life, Kuruk) possessed Roku into speaking the poem. I skipped over SO much angst in this chapter and I have no regrets.  

[halfbakedspuds]

Thanks to @illarian-rambling for the tag!

OC interaction tag

Katie's OC: Mashal Darezsho is a towering robot man with bronze plating, a human looking face, and baggy clothes. He is incredibly strong and fights with a sword. As a person, he's kind and honorable, even knightly, and enjoys nothing more than helping people in need. He loves listening to folk talk and takes pleasure in the simple beauty of the world, translating this to sketch art. He is quite orderly. His main issue is that he has a strong sense of right and wrong, but he also extends his morality to others, making choices for them whether they asked for it or not. In addition, he tends to be rather naive due to his inclination towards seeing the best in people. Sometimes, this works out and he helps people to become a better version of themselves. Other times, not so much. However, beneath all this is a hidden violent streak. Mashal doesn't remember his past. He doesn't remember how he came to be broken on the side of the road. All he knows is that there is someone out there he must kill, and that anything magic-adjacent causes something deep within him to freeze with horror and rage. He tries not to give in to this dark current, to remain honorable and helpful, but every so often, he slips up.

My OC: Archmagos Lifvinja (Lif) Ravenscar was a Norse Viking in the 11th century CE, during a period known as the sixty years' night that would eventually be wiped from human memory and history. When she ascended to become a hunter, she contracted what is called the puppet's curse, which slowly calcified her muscles and caused organ failure, with her not expected to survive into her 20s. However, she was gifted with the use of draconic runes and began to slowly replace parts of her body as they failed, seeking to just slightly prolong her own life. This had the unintended consequence of making her virtually immortal; a brain preserved in a vat piloting a magitech war chassis. Lif values knowledge and strength in equal capacity, however she does not tolerate incompetence. She's slow to bond with anyone and often needs to be reminded that although everyone is a child from her perspective, she can be trusted to do their jobs unsupervised. With age, she has grown almost unbearably cynical, however there are several entire fields of magical expertise in her mind, and thus the high council keeps her around. She's morally grey, serving her city and the wellbeing of humanity in whatever way she thinks is best, however her main reason for even bothering anymore after a millennium of life is her daughter- a demihuman that she adopted. She fights with a mixture of draconic magic and a body that was engineered from the ground up to kill monsters. However, beneath her tough exterior, she just misses her wife and day after day wishes that she could've just lived a regular life with a body that could grow old or adhere to the passage of time.

How they'd interact: Mashal would probably immediately feel an instinctive drive to kill her because of the amount of magic she performs constantly, and if a fight did break out, I think they would probably be evenly matched in a physical sense. Lif would not trust Mashal's naivete at all, believing he has an ulterior motive. Once she realises that he's genuinely just like that, though, she'd just be disappointed. Mashal might think that her willingly making herself into a machine was a fools errand before realising that she's really as much a victim as he was. Lif would definitely respect his drive and discipline, especially his skill with a blade. Another reason that Mashal might not enjoy meeting her is that she shows evidence of the very real possibility that he'll outlive everything he cares about. Overall, though, I think they'd have a very neutral interaction, and if he asked I think she'd likely try to help him find who he's hunting down. Hunters help people, it's their job after all.

Open tag for whomever wants it

[dwellordream]

The Chariot - Upright, Aemma (Fem!Aemon) and Alysanne, requested by Skysong

Aemma has always done her duty. She was the first child to live past the age of six of all her mother’s brood. 

To her fell all the responsibilities of an eldest daughter. It was her job to stay healthy and strong, so her parents would not lose another child to illness. It was her job to look after Baela, with her wild ways and love for swords and jousts. 

It was her job to claim a dragon, so she tamed Caraxes, the Wild Wyrm. It was her job to marry well, so she accepted her betrothal to Boremund, though his brusque manners and belligerence irritated her. 

Hells, she even came to love him, in her way, and she thinks he does love her. She gave him a daughter, her beloved Rhaenys, though all her sons died in her belly or in the cradle.

It was her job to defend the realm on dragonback, so she fought against the Dornish when they attempted to invade the Stormlands, despite her father’s discomfort with permitting his daughters to fight alongside him and Aelyx. 

She would have done so again when Myrish pirates captured half of Dorne, but she was pregnant with her last child, and so she remained at Storm’s End, and Aelyx took a crossbow bolt through the throat and died, her mischievous little brother, only two-and-thirty. Baela died nine years later, of a burst belly after a hunt in the Kingswood. 

Still, Aemma did her duty. She sat her father’s Small Council alongside her mother, though he never deigned to grant either an official role. She went on countless tours of Westeros with her father. She mediated argument after argument between her parents, alongside her brother Maegel. 

Sober, sweet Maegel, who refused to relinquish his vows to the Faith, even after Aelyx died and her father turned to his second son and demanded he give up his crystal pendant and robes for a crown. Maegel died four years after Aelyx, of greyscale, after he spent months tending to children dying of the disease.

Her father passed over Daelon, who even Aemma could acknowledge would never be able to sit the Iron Throne, much as she loved him. They called her baby brother simple but he loved them all dearly, even when his siblings mocked him behind his back. 

Saeron, though he craved power above all else, got himself exiled after angering their father one time too many. Viserion died in a drunken horse race. Gael was seduced by a singer who discarded him like trash and drowned himself in shame and agony. 

Now her mother is dying. Her father is ailing as well; Aemma does not think he will long outlive his wife. All their sons are dead. All their children are dead, save Aemma and Vaella, who has been with the Faith since the tender age of twelve. She heads a motherhouse in Oldtown, where they say she dabbles in alchemy and the arcane. 

Aelyx and Baela were survived by their sons, while Aemma is a grandmother through Rhaenys. It seems likely that her father will choose either her own grandson Laenor, a child of seven, or Viserys, now a young man of four-and-twenty. He once rode Balerion, for less than a year, before the old drake died.

She does not have to ponder who her father would choose, though he may put it to a Great Council. But her mother-

“Promise me,” Alysanne says weakly, “there will be no strife, after your father and I are gone. Promise me, Aemma. Viserys is your nephew. Your brother’s firstborn son. I know you have never been fond of him-,”

“I love Viserys,” Aemma says, stiff and unmoving, holding her mother’s soft, cool hands. “I would never seek to hurt him, Mother.”

“But you must know,” Alysanne whispers, “you must know that your father-,”

“Will not countenance being succeeded by a woman, so he will put it to the lords of the realm?” 

Her mother blinks at her, slowly, and says, “The lords of the realm may surprise you.”

Aemma does not intend to give them the option. She wants no surprises. No luck of the draw. She wants what she is owed. Viserys has no real desire to be king. If he believes he does, it is a fantasy of an overactive imagination. 

He will be quite happy with some fertile lands and a few dozen flocks of sheep and cattle. She has waited and wept and lost more in her life than he can fathom. She will not lose this, too. 

“Or,” Aemma says, to her mother, who dearly loves her, but who has oft disappointed her, “The lords of the realm may be surprised by me.”

Her mother’s smile is tremulous and half-incredulous. Aemma squeezes her hands, then lets them go.

[outeremissary]

How about Fire Emblem Awakening for the fandom ask game? 👀

Favorite Male Character

Easy! That's Henry, my most beloved favorite guy, my first video game wife, my silly rabbit, etc. I love that little dude! Obviously he has an absolutely S tier character design, which I shall include for the convenience of everyone who hasn't seen him before and so everyone can have a good chuckle at how absolutely predictable I am. I don't even have coherent Henry thoughts it's just like. Turning that guy around in my head like a doner kebab, y'know? But also I love that he's so cheerful, I love that he smiles even when it isn't genuine at all, I love his absolute detachment from social norms (and morality), I think it rules that he's always drenched in blood and hanging out with the dead... I just think he has a wonderful innocence that's greatly enhanced by that dash of darkness. The crow puns are also 11/10!!! And of course. A man wearing a skirt with a cape covered in eyes. AND it's all purple and gold. And also has those big loose sleeves- look, it's like he was made specifically for me!! And then the little hand thing at the end of the sleeves... Godddd he's perfect. I'm sorry Ash like I said this is INCOHERENT

[Image ID: A white haired young man in a grey shirt and dark leggings. He wears a short purple wrap skirt around the leggings. A wide purple lined black cloak billows behind him, six golden eyes adorning the collar. He smiles cheerfully and extends a hand above his head to a crow.]

Honorable mentions are Owain (I love chuuni characters...), Ricken (who has the cutest little wizard outfit), and Libra (no one say anything. I already know.)

Favorite Female Character

I made the mistake of cracking open the artbook to help me choose when writing this up and immediately had a list of like a dozen ladies who I think are all the best. This game is hell for that. Henry is so easy but the female characters... jeez. I think I'm going to commit to Maribelle! For one thing Maribelle canon sapphic IntSys can fight me. I know the truth. But also, I like that Maribelle is very assertive despite being a person who isn't a fighter, and her commitment to justice is admirable. She's got a strong spirit and always stands up for what she believes in. I'm very fond of her! She and Lissa should have been able to marry. Why can't they get married, IntSys? Why is that, why are you keeping her down

Honorable mentions: Cynthia (chuuni!!!), Tiki (ancient dragon lady who has outlived all her friends gives me many thoughts. also hot), Say'ri (another great story character), Cherche (pretty lady with big axe and dragon makes brain go brrr), Flavia (another cool fighter lady. wow), Anna (the goddess of random numbers), and of course Lissa (Lissa)

Least Favorite Character

Tharja. It's Tharja. This is easy. My least favorite is Tharja. She does have some funny supports, but I just thinks she's overall uncomfortable to be around and I dislike her overtly sexual design, which kind of presaged a lot of things in Fates I dislike. I find her a very uncompelling yandere and everything with Noire is also uncomfortable. I think it's a damn shame that she was one of the most popular female characters in the game and thus she got carried through so much other stuff.

Honorable mention: Cordelia. I don't find her pining for Chrom forever thing or her being literally perfect thing interesting. Also a vaguely uncomfortable character in some ways, but not at all as bad and Severa rules so hey. Makes up for it.

Favorite Ship

Well, when I was in high school I was a serious Henricken guy! I don't really know why, honestly. I think it was just a "these are my two favorite characters, I want to see them together." As a mature adult, allow me to say: Libra and Lon'qu is the pinnacle. I mean. All Libra ships are 11/10, that's Libra's nature, but I feel like that's something that I've seen so much compelling stuff about for years.

On the sapphic side of things, Say'ri and Tiki are obviously just married and I love that for them. The devoted warrior and the immortal dragon she protects... it's amazing. I also really love Severa and Lucina! Severa is just a fantastic character in general, and I love the initial tension between Lucina as the principled warrior and Severa, who's committed to spurning her duties (but is devoted deep down). I feel like these are like, two of the most typical possible picks. But like. They're amazing, you know?

And if you asked me to pick an m/f, since I am seeing that I've not done that, Cynthia and Morgan. It's cute :)

There are so many characters with good chemistry, I know that I cheated badly here ^^;; But like. It's all so good!!!

Favorite Friendship

The Justice Cabal!!! Which is to say, everything between Owain, Morgan, and Cynthia. I love that they're all just little weirdos and I love the idea of them hanging out being little weirdos together. Morgan isn't a chuuni but they're chuuni adjacent... the weirdgirl energy in a room containing all three of them must be off the charts. I love it.

I'm also a huge fan of platonic Chrom and female Robin. QPR Chrobin is the way... And I think there's also something really beautiful about Chrom doing so much for a woman he loved and valued as a friend, and that being as powerful as if she was a romantic paramour.

Favorite Quote

Uh besides everything that comes out of Owain's mouth? Or Henry's... Well, I'd say that because I'm incredibly cheesy, it's that "Welcome back." at the very end.

Worst Character Death (if any)

It's been a looooong time since I last played Awakening so obviously I'm going to give you the most absolutely basic answer ever: Emmeryn's death. I just think it's a really good dramatic moment, and it's a place where that false choice works. It's good characterization for Robin and it's also so fitting that it doesn't do anything at all. Emmeryn's sacrifice is only in her own hands. It's painful to watch. I like the way it echoes through the rest of the pre-time skip stuff, and it's such a heart breaking touch to see sage Lissa's clothing.

Of course, it's also the worst death because the paralogue that brings her back cheapens the hell out of it for no real narrative reason and there really isn't anything the story has to do with her, unlike the enemies that can be rescued or Robin. If any one character should have stayed dead, it should have been Emmeryn.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

Okay time to come out and say I'm one of the five people who actually loves the end of Awakening. I KNOW people say it makes the sacrifice feel cheap. And it does, objectively. But ALSO. Do you know how happy it made me at fifteen?! You have no idea. I actually cried seeing that mirrored scene at the ending. I'm a sucker for when it all comes around. And like... the hope of that ending is also really great. It may have been a graver and more real game if those consequences really had been what they seemed, but I do love the miracle of breaking the cycle.

Saddest Moment

I've already touched on Emmeryn's sacrifice and Robin's sacrifice... hmm. I'd say that it's learning about the choice between sealing Grima temporarily and destroying him forever. When the hero learns they need to die for the greater good, that's something that always sends a pang through my heart. And the buildup to either saving themself (what Chrom wants and is so willing to support!) or becoming a martyr is, well, really good. I'm remembering it through the eyes of someone who found it very fresh, I suppose. Along with that is Lucina's assassination attempt. I mean, that's just tragic. She's right to want to kill you, but she'll never be able to do it.

Favorite Location

Either the Mila Tree or Mount Prism- I love verdant places filled with light and water. Both maps feel so soothing. They also feel so far apart from the ordinary world... it's humbling, in a way. Wonderful.

(buuuuut also Grima's back. I love that dragon man)

[1864-66readingproject]

Okay, queer reading Our Mutual Friend chapter 2. The characters most of interest to me here are Eugene and Mortimer (n.b. I'm not necessarily saying that any of these things are telling in their own right, but cumulatively they are potentially interesting) (also I ramble on unrelated points for a bit):

Eugene is introduced as "Eugene, friend of Mortimer", i.e. in his relation to Mortimer (n.b. Mortimer is, in his introductory sentence, mentioned in his relation to Lady Tippins "(a friend of his boyhood)". On my first read I assumed that Mortimer was roughly the same age as Lady Tippins, but in becomes clear at some point that he is younger; presumably she was an adult friend when he was a boy. Anyway I think this 'so-and-so is a friend of so-and-so who is a friend of so-and-so sort of shows the networking nature of the Veneering dinners, as well as sheds light on the relationships of the characters)

Eugene only speaks in response to Mortimer

We see for the first time Eugene's tendancy to speak in rhyme when he (presumably deliberately, to annoy Lady Tippins) twists the "there was an old man from Tabago" limerick (which according to google was by Edward Lear) (I don't necessarily think Eugene's tendancy towards rhyme makes him particularly queer, I just think it's a neat part of his personality and wanted to mention it)

Both Mortimer and Eugene have (but suppress) some sort of emotion (sympathy? affinity for suffering?) to the idea of someone dying for love:

"However, he married the young lady, and they lived in a humble dwelling, probably possessing a porch ornamented with honeysuckle and woodbine twining, until she died. I must refer you to the Registrar of the District in which the humble dwelling was situated, for the certified cause of death; but early sorrow and anxiety may have had to do with it, though they may not appear in the ruled pages and printed forms. Indisputably this was the case with Another, for he was so cut up by the loss of his young wife that if he outlived her a year it was as much as he did."

There is that in the indolent Mortimer, which seems to hint that if good society might on any account allow itself to be impressible, he, one of good society, might have the weakness to be impressed by what he here relates. It is hidden with great pains, but it is in him. The gloomy Eugene too, is not without some kindred touch;

Mortimer is "unable to report" on the "personal charms" of the intended bride of young Harmon:

Mrs Podsnap inquires whether the young person is a young person of personal charms? Mortimer is unable to report.

Is this because he doesn't know the young woman in question? (If he doesn't, who has spoken to her about her role in the will? EDIT: In chapter 4 it's revealed that he wrote to her.) Or does he have another reason for being "unable to report" on her personal charms? Keep an eye out for the relationship between Mortimer and this young woman...

This isn't really related to queer reading, but I suppose on a reading-for-sexuality note: Lady Tippins' "grisly little fiction concerning her lovers" is arguably sexual harassment towards Eugene, Mortimer, and any other young men involved

Also on a reading-for-sexuality note: Lady Tippins describes Eugene as "a rough Cymon at present"; see this link for an explanation of Cymon (this reference to Cymon, if anything, suggests an anti-queer reading of Eugene here)

So there's not much to sink your teeth into in terms of queer reading in this chapter, just the beginnings of hints at things: some sort of slightly unusual friendship between two young men, the responsiveness of one of those young men to the other, and the other's possible lack of interest in women.

[voxiiferous]

if (vox & niffty) had a kid...?

Niffty and Vincent meet in late 1942, at the dance halls he frequents all through the war. They're friends: laughing, drinking, smoking together. The war is going on, what feels like just outside their doors some days, and everyone is sort of subtly aware that the men coming back from the front aren't coming back the same, some of them have European wives, and some have eyes that belie darker traumas underneath.

They sleep together in 1943, partially because he's curious if he really does only only men, and well, one things turns to another and suddenly she's pregnant! He marries her, because that's the proper thing to do. While he might not love her like that, he doesn't want to ruin her reputation either. He cares about her, and does, legitimately, love his children even if he's not always certain how to raise them. It's a good thing that Niffty can cook, and clean because he can't.

He still dies in 1955, his wife within the same few years, and the children move from New York to Pennsylvania in the inverse of what Vincent did, to be raised by their grandmother.

Name: Rosalie Price

Gender: female

General Appearance: Like her brother, Rosalie looks quite a lot like Vincent, especially in her colouring, though a lot of her actual features are from her mother! Her grandmother dotes on her, and Rosalie is often dressed quite a lot like Niffty.

Personality: Rosalie has done a lot, across decades. During the war, she was an outspoken protestor (it didn't help that her brother was fighting), she was in university for math/biology/physics/computer science for two years before dropping out. She pursues acting for a brief stint. She ends up in culinary school, and realizes she has a soft spot for patisseries. She moves around a lot, especially after Eugene's death, and while a touch indecisive, she's got a good head on her shoulders, and no shortage of stories to tell!

Special Talents: Rosalie does inherit Vincent's mind for the sciences, just not his drive and dedication in the same way, though a lot of the logic applies well to her baking, and she's especially good at coming up wit new recipes.

Who they like better: Vincent

Who they take after more: Vincent

Personal Head canon: Rosalie outlives the rest of her family by years. She's not dead yet, though she is, as a result of being almost 80, slowing down! She has children, and grandchildren she passes her family's names onto, and while she doesn't settle in New York, the city her father loved so much, she still comes back to an urban setting, though she finds herself far more comfortable in Paris.

Face Claim: Emily Browning

Name: Eugene Price

Gender: male

General Appearance: Eugene, like Rosalie, physically take most after Vincent. He has the same hair, same mouth, same eyes, same complexion. His grandmother always says how much he looks like Vincent did when he was young, though he’s a little sharper.

Personality: Eugene is everything Vincent isn’t. He’s brash where his father is reserved, brave and foolhardy where Vincent was cautious. As a child he always had a split or bruised knees from scrapes and falls, or the occasional school yard fight, wherein usually, he was defending someone else. The sort of person, that, had he been born a few decades earlier, would have earned a commendation in World War 2, and that made him a poorer fit for Vietnam.

Special Talents: Eugene, whilst more like his mother, does take after Vox in his dancing, even if instead of swing it's things like The Twist, Watusi, and Mashed Potato!

Who they like better: Niffty

Who they take after more: Niffty

Personal Head canon: Eugene is a legitimately good man, but he ends up in Hell because he was a soldier, and whether you do it for country or for self, murder’s still a sin that sees you damned. He died pulling the wounded back towards the far lines for treatment. Vox doesn’t know his son’s in Hell, Eugene doesn’t realize who his father is. He's not sure if his sister is down here, in Heaven or still on Earth, but he's eked out a bit of a living down here.

Face Claim: Kit Butler

[isaacathom]

all that to say that i have some thoughts to ramble about my boy :)

the context, in brief, is that a while back the party escorted this family for a few towns. They were very nice, got the party to open up a bit emotionally, and were good people. On a bridge before the last town, we got ambushed by bandit and simultaneously attacked by monsters in the river, and in the ensuing chaos the wife was gravely injured. Florian helped the man pull her from the water, and saw her die.

We parted ways with the man and his daughter at the next town, turning down a bonus for the contract we were technically owed (the bonus was for if we took them to that last town, versus an earlier drop off point).

Something like two months later in game, we arrive in a small town, and find out the father and his daughter (and another woman) are staying there and being haunted by some fucked up horse. We try to help, finding out that the two adults independently made deals with a demon for a family (the dad wanted someone to be able to look after his daughter when he died, since shes half-elf, will outlive him, and hes an older man anyway. the woman wanted a child), and that the demon is coming for what it is owed - what it is owed is the dad.

We try to get them out of the situation, but it all goes tits up. the father surrenders to the demon to protect his family and to stop the demon from killing the party (it had uh. dismembered someones arm already). We see the demon bite out his heart.

Florian helped someone from the village tend to the body, someone who had insulted him on arrival. But it's not about that guy, is it? it's about the principle, and its about the dead man. He attempts to explain what happened, while omitting 90% of the details, which understandably goes poorly. He does not really succeed in conveying his meaning that, tragic though it is, the man cannot be blamed. Because, he has to concede, yes he can.

He talks to the woman about how she and the daughter will have to leave town. He offers to take them, for a time - it's the least he could do, having failed (in his mind) to save the man. The next morning, as she struggles to pack all their things and find something for breakfast, he offers the two of them his travel rations.

He helps her to bury the mans body in the forest.

The future isn't clear at this stage. The vague agreement Florian and her reached is that we'll escort her and the kid to a decent size city, where they'll be able to access the things they need to keep travelling further south. We aren't sure when exactly that will be, as it also depends on the situation (an unrelated war, its the witcher 3 in here so)

But while Florian doesn't know the immediate future, he DOES know what he'll do when the two make their exit.

He's gonna try and give them his money.

He'll insist. It's payment for the dinner she served the first night, it's payment for the roof over their head, its to ensure his peace of mind that the two of them are well fed and dry as they travel through a country at war. But it's not about the woman. It's about the daughter.

His logic goes something like this. He might not know what it's like to lose family. But he does know how to feels when the people in your life fail you, and fail to apologise for it. He's not brave enough to try and apologise to the daughter directly - that's an emotional experience far above his paygrade - but he has to do SOMETHING, because he will not be as bad to her as the people in his life were. The money may not last, but it will help ensure she has a warm and comfortable place to cry.

Because he does really feel for the kid. His heart aches. He might not have lost his parents, but he lost his childhood, same as she has, because of the decisions made by people who aren't her. She has not had any agency in whats happened to her. It wasn't her fault that her family was forced to flee their home for fear of being killed because they're elves. It wasn't her fault bandits laid an ambush that got her mother killed. It's not her fault her father made a foolish deal with a demon to try and keep her safe, and that he's dead for it.

There's no singular person at fault for the loss of a good childhood, same as Florian cannot point to a single person who ruined his. was it the man who accused him of defiling his daughter? was it the girl for not stopping her father's wild rumours? was it his own father for failing to stand up for him and believe him? was it the multitude of people who refused to so much as hear him out for the interminable years to follow?

None of those people ever apologised to Florian for their failing him. And the people who caused the immediate harms to the young girl will never apologise.

But Florian can.

He was there for the deaths of both her parents. He can, and will, consider it a personal failure of his that he wasn't able to save them. He should have stayed in the water and helped the wife out first. He should have tried harder to stop the demon. He should have been able to do more.

And so he has to apologise. He has to try. It almost doesn't matter if she accepts it or not - he doesn't expect her to. He wants to be better to her than the people in his life were to him, and he'll do it in the language he understands best. Money. It doesn't last, but it keeps you safe in some quantities. It's the least he could do.

He won't make the family take the money if the woman is adamant. He'll insist once, he'll try to make her understand why, it's not JUST guilt. it's not just guilt. it's about making things right. Trying to be better than others were.

[ultralightpoe]

Salt the Earth Behind You- Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: I’m back with another Aemond fic.  MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND THE AEMOND TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN SO LET ME KNOW! ENJOY!

Warnings: heavy language, angst, reader is engaged to an old man sadly. 

Word Count: 4052 (Yeahhhh. Buckle in Bitches)

Description: Friendships ruined in moments of anger. 

Part Two : And Let The Blood Bind You 

Salt the earth behind you: To poison any future 

            The soft mud of the earth below the carriage swallows your shoe as you step down from the exit, using your betrothed’s hand as leverage to not fall. This would already be embarrassing enough, you did not need to walk into the throne room caked in mud. 

          Verlain Stark, cousin to Cregan Stark, flashed you a wide smile as he helped you. His hand gripped yours for a second too long before you felt yourself snatching it back, doing your best to keep the easy smile you had glued to your face since the start of the engagement. 

            The man was well over the age of suitor you wanted, three times your own age, but it had been set up by your father. A way to unite his land with the Starks and a way to get rid of his plain daughter all in one go. Who was anyone kidding? Verlain was the only man who would want your hand and you were lucky he could barely see. 

           “I must say, I find it odd that my betrothed and I have to come all the way down here just for the queens approval.” He smiles, leaning in so that you may smell the fresh stench of overly boozed vomit on his breath. “Never had to do that with my first 3 wives.”

              That’s right, Verlain Stark had outlived 3 wives, a surprising feat considering each time he married the younger they got. The first died in childbirth, the babe a stillborn. The second wife jumped from her window. The third…. Well the third had her throat split open in the dead of night. She too was pregnant. 

               “Lady Alicent was very protective of me in my time here, I am very thankful for her care.” You say softly, the collar of your dress digging into your throat. The dresses in Winterfell were far from comfortable and refused to show any skin. 

               It was true, you were thankful for your time at the Red Keep, you just wished it hadn’t ended in such heartbreak for you. 

                      You had been taken in as Queen Alicents ward, out of the kindness of her heart after your dear mother passed away in childbirth, your father having no idea what to do with you. 

                The day you landed in Kings Landing you had been so nervous, clinging to your fathers hand as he pushed you off. You were scared and everyone was staring at you like you were a freak. 

             “Aw. This must be the dearest Y/n….” The Queen gushes, reaching for you softly. “Come little one, you must meet my children. I have a son a year older than you.”

              Within an instant you were surrounded by a group of gorgeous white haired children, all circling you.  “Children, this is Lady Y/n. She is to be taken in as my ward. Aegon! Hands off!”

             The tallest of the three snatches his hand back with an eye roll, sauntering off. The girl barely says a word before going back to her insects. That left the shorter boy, standing there with his hands behind his back, waiting for his mother to introduce him patiently. 

             “Y/n, this is my youngest…. Aemond.” She smiles, leaving to discuss some matters with your father. You stood as straight as possible, afraid to make the wrong move and anger someone.  

             “You can breathe you know,” The boy chuckles, imitating a deep breath in to make you imitate it. 

                “You’re a Targaryen.” You say softly, desperate to start a conversation only to feel like a fool the second the words fall from your lips. “I mean, that was blatant, everyone knows that. I apologize for stating the obvious, my prince.” 

               “I don’t have a dragon if that is what you meant.” He sneers, eyes narrowing. 

             “What does it matter if you have a dragon?” You ask, hands clenched together in anxiety. “I…I apologize if I have offended you..” 

               You picked up your skirts and rush to your maid as quick as possible, desperate for the comfort of someone you knew. 

               “Come, Lady Y/n.” Verlain calls, getting one of his men to shove you forward as you had been stuck in your head. “Your father is quite persistent on seeing you before our meeting with the King and Queen.” 

              You nod and turn to your maid, who had been glaring at the soldier that shoved you forward in your honor, she instantly grabs your arm and leads you to where your old rooms had been while you stayed here some time ago. 

               “You must stop biting your lip Lady Y/n,” She whispers as you blush. “It is unseemly for a lady to bleed. The lord should think you disgusting.” 

               You fight the urge to roll your eyes at that, heavens above you seem disgusting to that old man. 

               You’re caught off guard by a feeling on the back of your neck, your spine going tense. “He’s here….”

                It had been an odd gift, the ability to sense whenever Aemond Targaryen was near you, but it had come in handy. 

                “Who is, my lady?” Your maid leans forward as you snatch her hand and drag her away from the courtyard, desperate to escape him. 

               Aemond seemed to not care that you offended him on your first meeting, for he soon became your best friend. 

             You spent every afternoon together after that first day. You would listen about his day at the dragonpit, listen to him talk about all the different sorts of dragons. He would bring you books, stolen from the royal library and would ask you about them constantly. 

           Within weeks you found yourself craving his attention, always looking for him in a crowd of people and always searching for him at parties. 

          “Lady Y/n!” He calls, running down the hall covered in black smoke. “I came close to a dragon today. A FULLY GROWN DRAGON!”

              Your entire body was locked up with dread as Aemond barged between you and the male you had been introduced to that morning. “Prince Aem-”

              You tried to stop the prince as the older man stared down at you with a glare. “Prince Aemond, this is Lord Henric….. He is meeting me as a suitor today.”

               “This old man?” He snaps, eyes so wide you have to stop yourself from laughing. “No. Come on. We will be talking with my mother.”

             He left no room for argument, grabbing your arm and storming off. Your maid, who had been there as a chaperone, follows closely with a shocked expression. 

                  Once you escape the hall you tear your arm away, tears pouring from your eyes. “You fool!”

                He looks taken aback for a moment before reaching for your arm once more, you take two steps back. “Aemond! I have been here for 2 years! Your mother, kind as she is, will not take me as a ward much longer.”

                 “What are you talking about?”

                   “I’m plain!” You snap. “My father says it, everyone else knows it. I am a plain and boring girl with no redeemable qualities that would help me score a match. Your mother is doing her best to obtain me a match before any of these men realize just how ugly I am and here you come ruining it!”

              The anger written on his face is actually terrifying as steps closer. “You are not plain! Your father has no idea what he is speaking about! And if he were here I would carve out his tongue.”

                You don’t respond, sobbing as you turn to walk away from him, hands shaking as you think on how disappointed the Queen will be once she realizes the suitor would not propose. 

               “Y/n.” Aemond calls desperately, chasing after you. “We will find you a suitor. Once that isn’t two steps from death. I swear it. I swear it on my grave and any future dragon I might claim.” 

                “Your betrothed is quite…….” You try not to laugh as your maid tries to come up with the proper term for the older man. 

              He had talked the entire journey, and whereas you had to pretend to be interested in an effort to keep his attention your maid was miserable. The poor chaperone. 

                “He is…. Talkative.” You nod, heat traveling your body as you tug at the overly warm dress. “But I can't risk another suitor mishap. This is my last chance. My father has run out of patience.”

             Not that he ever had patience to begin with, he was constantly angered by his ‘plain daughter’.  

               “Would you like to change into a more comfortable dress, my lady?”

                “No. I have none. I must wear Winterfell dresses, to show my allegiance.” You sigh, walking away from her to prepare to see your father before you face the queen. 

                 “Aegon says you love me.” Aemond blurts one day, walking with you in the gardens. You freeze, whipping to look at him, having just been caught. 

“W-what?” 

              “He says you look at me with a fucked out puppy eyed look.” Aemond sighs, turning to see where you had stopped walking.  “What’s wrong? He only said it to me, I would never let him spill such vile accusations to another.”

                 You wanted to laugh at his answer, as if that was the biggest problem right now. “Prince Aemond-”

             “Please don’t.” He stops you.  “I cannot suffer that today Lady Y/n….”

              You are embarrassed, truly. Of course he didn’t want to hear your stupid confession. He was a Targaryen and you were a plain ward. “I’m sorry, my prince.”

             He nods, moving to keep walking with you through the gardens some more. 

                Your dress was far too tight, and the headpiece braided into your hair was way too heavy on your head, the veil swinging back and forth with every movement. 

               A black veil, and a grey dress. You looked like the lady death, most people would laugh but you were trying to seem interested in the Stark world. Even if the thought of living in the land of winter sounded absolutely miserable. 

               “You look…..decent, daughter” Your father greets, avoiding your gaze as me moves to greet your betrothed, a smile spreading onto his features. 

                Bile rises in your throat as embarrassment fills you. How plain and disappointing were you really?

            You held onto Aemonds hand on the boat, watching Aegon and Helaena ride above you on their dragons. He grasps your hand tightly as you flinch at a wave of wind that hit you when Aegon flew too close. 

             “When I get a dragon you’ll have to get used to them.” He laughs, watching you swallow in worry. “You’ll be riding the dragon with me.” 

            “I don’t think that would be allowed, My prince.” You blush, fighting the smile threatening to unfold.  

           “I’m the prince. I would make it allowed.” He argues, bringing you closer. “Now read to me, take my attention off the death of my cousin.”

             You opened your book once more, reading to him softly as you made your way to the funeral of Laena Velayron. 

                  Your hands shook as you made your way to the throne room, sweat covering every inch of your body while you looked dead ahead, following your betrothed. 

                  You felt like you were about to throw up, which would for sure ruin any chance at marriage with the Lord. 

               “Keep it together” You whisper to yourself, tears threatening to spill the closer you get to the throne room. “You musn’t mess this up.”

            You awoke to the heavy sound of a dragon taking off, larger than Aegons or Helaenas. Jumping off your bed and running to the window, expecting to see Syrax or Caraxes you see Vhagar taking off into the clouds. 

            Your heart jumps through your throat, excitement to go find Aemond and tell him you had just witnessed the biggest dragon in the world take off. Slipping on your sleeping shoes and taking off through the halls of Driftmark, desperate to find Aemond. 

                  You find him in the tunnels of Driftmark, air a mess and tunic distorted, a wild look in his eyes. It took you a moment to realize what had happened, panic clawing at your throat. 

“Y/n! You will never believe -”

“Aemond….. What have you done?” You whisper, watching as his face falls. 

          “It’s you!” Baela snaps from behind you, the group of them shoving you aside as they face Aemond. 

           He watched you fall to the ground before turning to the four of them. “It’s me.”

             “Vhagar is my mothers dragon!”

             “Your mother’s dead.” Aemond states calmly. “And Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!” 

             “Then you should have claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. It would suit you.” He smirks, not bothering to make sure you got up. 

              Within moments the girl was running up, hitting him, to which your bestfriends snaps back harshly. Then the brawl insued. 

                  All four of them against him, but Aemond held his own for a moment, as you tried pushing through to help. When Jace pulled the knife he slashed your hand and wrist to move you out of the way, a scream tearing through your throat as he slashed up Aemonds face. 

              Aemond bellowed in pain, hands flying up to his face as his blood flew. You instantly reach to help him, the blood from your hand mixing with his own as you cling to him. 

             Screaming for help as he tried to pull away from you. 

               The scar on your arm, left from the night Vhagar had been claimed, itched terribly under the fur of the dress you now wore. You fought the urge to fidget as your father introduced the courtship to the Queen, who had taken to sit on the throne instead of standing by it. 

                  To the left of the throne stood her three children, all older in age and all still exceptionally beautiful. Aemond, now with an eyepatch and death glare, had not taken his eyes off your figure upon entering. Not that it mattered, he couldn’t see your face with the veil over it, a proper respect to your betrothed. 

               Alicent seemed hesitant upon looking at you, a twist in her eyebrows told her she was doing her best to see through the veil to look upon you. 

               “We are very grateful that Lord Verlain had asked for my daughters hand in marriage, and hope that the crown will permit it-” Your father states, kneeling with his head bowed. You were kneeling behind him, right next to the old man who seemed to have struggled getting into his knees for the Queen. 

            “As they permitted his first…. How many was it?” Aemond starts, a dark tone to his voice. “Three marriages?” 

              “Aemond.” The queen corrects him, casting a look to where he stood. 

              “I’ve never actually had to come and get permission.” Verlain laughs, still struggling in the position he was in. “I found it quite odd myself, considering my first wives weren’t so……plain. Yet this one drew the attention of the crown.”

           Plain. There that word was again.   The only word you’ve ever really heard to describe you…. That and the ones Aemond screamed at you that night. 

             “YOU DID NOTHING!” Aemond screams, shoving you slightly as your eyes well up in tears. 

                 You had come to check on him, desperate to make sure he was okay. You hadn’t been allowed into the room as he got his stitches, sent to your rooms immediately so the family may deal with their private matters. 

                “Aemond….they didn’t let me in with you. I swear it.” You defend, taking a step closer, desperate to touch him. His face was swollen and red.

                “That is not what I am talking about and you know it! You insufferable bitch!” He shouts and you rear back. “You let them do this to me! You are against me!”

“I’m not! Aemond I swear it!”

“I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID WHEN I WENT TO TELL YOU ABOUT VHAGAR!”

“I was shocked-”

“Then you let them do this to me!”

“I tried to stop it-”

“WHO WILL WANT ME NOW?!”

“What do you mean?”

                “Who will want to marry me now?! No one is able to look at me!” He sobs and you try to contain your sobs. 

                   “I…… I would.” You whisper, the sudden braveness shocking you. 

             “I’m sorry?” 

              “I…. I would marry you Aemond.” You say, a little louder. 

            He stares at you for a moment, shock written on his features before his face molds into anger, a dry laugh escaping him. “You?......YOU?”

              You take a step back, throat tightening as the tears fall freely now. Aemond is quick to notice the weakness, taking advantage. 

                 “Is that what I’m stuck with now? The plain cunt that let them maim me?” He steps forward and you take another step back. “I’m ugly…. But even then you would not be of my standard. A lowborn, boring, fucktoy.” 

              You can’t hear anymore, rushing past him to run back to your rooms, sobbing aggressively. 

                  Your maid cleans the wound, humming softly to ease your sobs as she does so. The next morning you sit by yourself on the ship, the queen and king hidden in the alcove as you are exposed to the wind of the sea surrounded by the crewman. 

                   Aemond flies over the ship, followed by his two siblings. All the dragons roar loudly as you turn away, tears falling as you stifle the sobs. 

            “What a charming way to describe your future wife-” Aemond snaps, taking a quick step forward only to be stopped by the hand, who also happened to be his grandfather. 

             You tried not to scoff at the comment, as if he hadn’t said worse to you. 

                 “I must say…. It has been so so long since I’ve gotten to see your face my dearest Y/n….”Alicent says softly, leaning forward. “Might you bless us by lifting your veil?”

                      Your shoulders tense as you nod slowly, moving to lift the veil up. Your hands shook as you pulled it back, finally coming face to face with the royal family. 

              You hear a soft gasp and turn to see Aemond staring at you, eye wide as his back straightens. 

               You whip your head away, turning back to the queen who is already staring at you. 

                    “Y/n…..” She says softly, staring at you as you shake in fear in front of her. 

                     “I’M SO SORRY YOUR MAJESTY!” You sob, falling to the rug beneath you, shaking from fear. 

               Things had been different since you got back, especially with the queen. She had been silent for 3 weeks, constantly biting at her nails and muttering about fairness. 

             You had avoided Aemond like the plague, every time you catch sight of him you would turn the opposite direction.His siblings would take his side so they were out of the question and everyone else at the court treated you like you were a peasant. 

You were lonely, and tired. 

                  You hadn’t spoken to anyone but your maid in awhile. Which led you to go to the queen, begging for her to let you go home. Begging. 

               She smiles at you, standing from the throne and coming down the steps, grabbing both sides of your face lovingly. “There you are….”

              “It is an honor to see you again, your majesty.” You whisper, trying not to bite at your lip. 

        “It is quite a pain to have to say bye to my old ward, I’m sure you understand Lord Verlain.” She chuckles, turning to the man. “You must give me time to see more of the union before I give my blessings.”

              “I understand completely, your majesty.” He snipes, his entire posture telling that he was lying. 

                “We shall feast with you tonight! It is settled.” She claps, walking away. 

             You move to help your betrothed stand, avoiding a look to the royal children as he shoves you back the second he stands.  “I’m beginning to debate if you are worth it, child.”

               He storms off, your father hissing at you as he chases after the man to ease the tension. You move to follow, hands clenching in fear as you imagine him calling off the engagement.

               “Wait! Lady Y/n!” You hear from behind you, the sound of steps quickly following your own.  “Please wait.”

                  You don’t turn, but you do wait, standing still as he walks up. The prince stands behind you for a moment before realizing that you would not be turning or looking up. 

                     He bends down to meet your gaze, walking around until he was in front of you. “I must say, you have grown.”

              “So have you, my prince.” You say softly, avoiding his gaze as he struggles to find it. “If you would excuse me, I should really go check on my-”

               “May I escort you through a walk in the gardens?” He interrupts, jaw clenched as he holds his elbow out. 

               You really have no choice, to refuse the prince would be an insult. So instead of speaking, you simply nod and grab his extended elbow for him to lead you to the gardens. 

                  You don’t say a word as you fix your veil, so that you wouldn’t have to look at him, following his lead. 

                 “D-do….do you remember all our times in the gardens?” He asks, a nervous tone filling the air as he clears his throat. 

                  “I do indeed, My Prince.” You state simply, jumping a little when his other hand reaches up to hold yours where it was placed in his elbow. When you go to pull away his hand grips onto yours a little tighter, interlocking your fingers with his.

              “Tell me about all the books you’ve been reading.” He demands, sounding excited for a moment, waiting patiently. 

                       “I….. I actually….. I haven’t read in some time.” You admit. “It is not suitable for a young women to waste her time-”

          “Says. Who.” He snaps, stopping you from walking. 

                   “I’m a woman now, Prince Aemond. I must, to procure a future, focus on things that would help that future.” Your voice is tense, fighting the urge to cry as you struggle to pull your hand away. But he doesn’t let you, instead pulling your hand to sit flat on his chest.  “Aemond please…. Someone could think this unseemly.”

                   “Finally, my fucking name without that stupid title.” He laughs, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding yours up to snatch the veil off of you. “And there she is… finally.”

                  You stay quiet as you move to walk away, trying to escape, but he pulls you back aggressively.

               “What do I have to do?” He snaps, jaw tensing. “To get you to speak to me-”

“I am speaking to you-”

                    “Y/n please!” He tugs you to the side, away from the chance of anyone seeing you both argue. “Please.. I haven’t seen you in years-”

“I needed to go home-”

                       “You avoided me after that night, I tried to talk to you but you always disappeared out of my sight-” 

              “I WONDER WHY AEMOND!” You scream, shoving him away. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

                 “Ruin what? You would have to have something to actually ruin.”

              “You know what I mean.”

               “Don’t do this. This is not….. He. Will. Kill. You.”

               You scoff, turning to rush away but he is quick to dive in front of you. “I have known you since we were children and I know that you are not foolish enough to marry a man with THREE DEAD WIVES!”

“Stop.”

                “You don’t read. You haven’t smiled. You…… You look two steps away from jumping out a tower like his second wife. And I refuse to let that happen.” He snarls, eye wild as he leans in. “I refuse to lose you like that.”

              “Leave me alone Aemond.” You seethe, shoving him back. “This is my job. Remember? To be the boring little fucktoy? So. Let. Me. Be.” 

                You rush away from him, breathing heavy as the tears fall again, the scar on your arm burning. 

                  Aemond watches you go, the veil he had torn away from you clutched tightly in his hand.

Should I do another part?

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[questing-wulfstan]

Listen, I can't blame y'all when His Excellence Neil Gaiman hisself compared it to Dream walking out on his date with Hob to hit it off with Shaxberd upon learning about Eleanor and Robyn, but I feel like fixating on this interpretation only of the scene is a disservice to Morpheus' overall characterisation over the season.

Have you noticed how Hob calls "his friend" over to his table and that doesn't phase Morpheus at all then Dream doesn't even ask him whether he still wants to live before putting an end to their meeting ? It's unexpected from someone otherwise so strict and set on protocols ー even when he storms out in 1889, he already had Hob's answer to that question. Yet he leaves 1589 Hob without having formally asked the one question that justifies their centennial meetings.

That is because Dream knows, oh he knows what Hob's Heaven is like. He's had a wife and a son of his own once, and he knew what eternity by their side would be like, once. And he knows Hob has everything but Death on his mind then. He also knows ー or so he thinks ー what Hob's answer will be the next century. For Hob Gadling alone was granted immortality, not Eleanor, nor Robyn. And Morpheus knows what outliving one's son is like.

Morpheus' work in this tavern of the White Horse is done, but he's also taken back to the most traumatic event of his existence, one he won't recover from in two millennia and he can't look Hob in the eyes anymore, he needs a distraction, something, anything but having to confront his revenant grief. And there's that playwright loudly willing to strike a bargain with higher entities for the ability to create timeless dreams for humanity and there's his distraction, there's an escape ...

Comes 1689, Morpheus is certain of the outcome of this meeting. Sure, it will have taken the bugger three time the hundred years Dream had predicted Death, but no matter because it is true : nobody can bear an endless existence.

Then Morpheus learns about not only the expected death of Hob's son, but that it happened much earlier than it should have, devoid of a fulfilling lifetime for Robyn and of psychological preparation for Hob. Scythed in the prime of life, much like Orpheus. And within a close time frame to his wife's departure, too. Hob is holding up a mirror to Morpheus' own misery and the King of Dreams finds himself on the verge of tears. He is no longer smug as he offers Hob what he thinks of as an eventual relief.

Yet ... Hob doesn't take it. Somehow, somewhere, Hob Gadling finds it in himself to resist the tragedy of his life, to chose tomorrow, to decide that whatever the future holds, it is worth being there to see it.

And that is really when something kindles within Morpheus. No longer mere curiosity but a devouring fascination for Hob Gadling, his hopefulness and his resilience. He latches onto that man who shares his misery yet seem to have overcome it, or anyhow accommodated himself to it.

And when they meet again in 1789, and fortune has smiled upon Hob Gadling once again, Morpheus is much more open, much more attentive, much more interested. Who knows if he might not have given Hob his name even, hadn't lady Johanna Constantine interrupted him ?

By all means, Morpheus doesn't process their blooming bond. He's the anthropomorphic incarnation of the human or really, the living unconscious : there are numerous things passing through his mind at all time that he does not process. To him, he's merely monitoring the puzzling glitch that is Robert Gadling's will to live still, and waiting for him to eventually, inevitably renounce his immortality.

So when another century has passed and Hob asserts that their meetings are unnecessary for he won't ever renounce being alive but proposes his friendship, Morpheus is left reeling, faced with how much he has in common with this 'mortal' and his envy for Hob's resilience and capacity to forge ahead.

Naturally he takes flight and makes for an escape, lest he finds himself ensnared by his own grief ...

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Cersei V (Chapter 24)

The king was pouting. "I want to sit on the Iron Throne," he told her. "You always let Joff sit up there."

"Joffrey was twelve."

"But I'm the king. The throne belongs to me."

"Who told you that?" Cersei took a deep breath, so Dorcas could lace her up more tightly. She was a big girl, much stronger than Senelle, though clumsier as well.

Are you having difficulty with your clothing, Robert? Try the breastplate stretcher.

I'm sorry, that was a low bow.

+.+.+

Tommen's face turned red. "No one told me."

"No one? Is that what you call your lady wife?" The queen could smell Margaery Tyrell all over this rebellion.

Holy shit, Tommen and Arya are endgame.

You gotta love Cersei being annoyed by this little display from Tommen.

Tommen did as he was bid. His meekness troubled her. A king had to be strong. Joffrey would have argued. He was never easy to cow. - Cersei II, AFFC

+.+.+

"If you lie to me, I will have no choice but to send for Pate and have him beaten till he bleeds." Pate was Tommen's whipping boy, as he had been Joffrey's.

This is horrifying, but the Joffrey part takes it to another level. Way to encourage him.

+.+.+

The Grand Maester had been especially querulous in council of late. At the last session he had complained bitterly about the men that Aurane Waters had chosen to captain her new dromonds. Waters meant to give the ships to younger men, whilst Pycelle argued for experience, insisting that the commands should go to those captains who had survived the fires of the Blackwater. "Seasoned men of proven loyalty," he called them. Cersei called them old, and sided with Lord Waters. 

This can't possibly backfire.

+.+.+

"The only thing these captains proved was that they know how to swim," she'd said. "No mother should outlive her children, and no captain should outlive his ship." Pycelle had taken the rebuke with ill grace.

Heh.

+.+.+

"Your Grace, glad tidings," he announced. "Wyman Manderly has done as you commanded, and beheaded Lord Stannis's onion knight."

"We know this for a certainty?"

"The man's head and hands have been mounted above the walls of White Harbor. Lord Wyman avows this, and the Freys confirm. They have seen the head there, with an onion in its mouth. And the hands, one marked by his shortened fingers."

I don't know about you guys, but I totally believe a POV character just died off screen.

+.+.+

Noho Dimittis, the Braavosi named himself. An irritating name for an irritating man. His voice was irritating too. Cersei shifted in her seat as he went on, wondering how long she must endure his hectoring. Behind her loomed the Iron Throne, its barbs and blades throwing twisted shadows across the floor. 

Was it a shadow or the Iron Throne??

+.+.+

When the Braavosi paused for breath, she saw her chance. "This is more properly a matter for our lord treasurer."

That answer did not please the noble Noho, it would seem. "I have spoken with Lord Gyles six times. He coughs at me and makes excuses, Your Grace, but the gold is not forthcoming."

"Speak to him a seventh time," Cersei suggested pleasantly. "The number seven is sacred to our gods."

[...]

"The Iron Bank will have its gold when this rebellion has been put down."

He had the insolence to scowl at her. "Your Grace—"

"This audience is at an end." Cersei had suffered quite enough for one day. 

Of all the silly things she does, this is by far the worst.

+.+.+

"I must confess, I am running short of patience with dear Osney. It is past time he broke in that little filly. I named him Tommen's sworn shield so he could spend part of every day in Margaery's company. He should have plucked the rose by now. Is the little queen blind to his charms?"

It seems as if lots of roses are ready to be plucked.

+.+.+

"She likes his face. She touched his scars two days ago, he told me. 'What woman gave you these?' she asked. Osney never said it was a woman, but she knew. Might be someone told her. She's always touching him when they talk, he says. Straightening the clasp on his cloak, brushing back his hair, and like that. One time at the archery butts she had him show her how to hold a longbow, so he had to put his arms around her. Osney tells her bawdy jests, and she laughs and comes back with ones that are even bawdier. No, she wants him, that's plain, but . . ."

I wonder who told her?

Cersei Lannister, asleep at the wheel.

+.+.+

"They are never alone. The king's with them most all the time, and when he's not, there's someone else. Two of her ladies share her bed, different ones every night. Two others bring her breakfast and help her dress. She prays with her septa, reads with her cousin Elinor, sings with her cousin Alla, sews with her cousin Megga. When she's not off hawking with Janna Fossoway and Merry Crane, she's playing come-into-my-castle with that little Bulwer girl. She never goes riding but she takes a tail, four or five companions and a dozen guards at least. And there's always men about her, even in the Maidenvault."

Wow, it's almost as if Margaery always has an alibi! What good fortune.

+.+.+

"Men." That was something. That had possibilities. "What men are these, pray tell?"

Ser Osmund shrugged. "Singers. She's a fool for singers and jugglers and such.

But that doesn't mean Cersei is about to give up, lol.

+.+.+

"I'll tell him, Your Grace. He's eager for that ride, don't think he ain't. She's a pretty little thing, that filly."

It is me he's eager for, fool, the queen thought. All he wants of Margaery is the lordship between her legs. As fond as she was of Osmund, at times he seemed as slow as Robert. I hope his sword is quicker than his wits. The day may come that Tommen has some need of it.

Duly noted.

+.+.+

"You were glorious." Margaery went to one knee, kissed the king upon his cheek, and put an arm around him. "Brother, take care," she warned Loras. "My gallant husband will be unhorsing you in a few more years, I think." [...]

"When he is a man grown," said Cersei.

Their smiles withered like roses kissed by frost.

I badly want to believe this is something.

+.+.+

"I was watching from across the yard. You did very well, Tommen. I would expect no less of you. Jousting is in your blood. One day you shall rule the lists, as your father did."

"No man will stand before him." Margaery Tyrell gave the queen a coy smile. "But I never knew that King Robert was so accomplished at the joust. Pray tell us, Your Grace, what tourneys did he win? What great knights did he unseat? I know the king should like to hear about his father's victories."

A flush crept up Cersei's neck. The girl had caught her out. Robert Baratheon had been an indifferent jouster, in truth. During tourneys he had much preferred the mêlée, where he could beat men bloody with blunted axe or hammer. It had been Jaime she had been thinking of when she spoke. It is not like me to forget myself. 

Bwahahaha. Well done, Margaery.

"Jaime told me once that he only feels truly alive in battle and in bed." She lifted her cup and took a long swallow. - Sansa VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"I helped His Grace to don his armor and showed him how to couch his lance," he answered.

"That horse was much too large for him. What if he had fallen off? What if the sandbag had smashed his head in?"

"Bruises and bloody lips are all part of being a knight."

"I begin to understand why your brother is a cripple." That wiped the smile off his pretty face, she was pleased to see. 

Oof.

+.+.+

"Yes, I thought as much." Cersei had seen how tight the bonds grew between squires and the knights they served. She did not want Tommen growing close to Loras Tyrell. The Knight of Flowers was no sort of man for any boy to emulate. "I have been remiss. With a realm to rule, a war to fight, and a father to mourn, somehow I overlooked the crucial matter of naming a new master-at-arms. I shall rectify that error at once."

Ser Loras pushed back a brown curl that had fallen across his forehead. "Your Grace will not find any man half so skilled with sword and lance as I."

Humble, aren't we? 

Good thinking Cersei, we don't want Tommen catching the gay.

I lost it at that humble line.

+.+.+

She left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor's Holdfast alone. 

I may be slow, but I eventually put it together.

She paused upon the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat, gazing down at the spikes below. - Cersei I, AFFC

x

"Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard," Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked moat that girded Maegor's Holdfast. - Cersei VII, AFFC

Ahem.

Yet all these were as naught against the tragedy that descended on the court and king. On the twenty-second day of the ninth moon of 133 AC, Jaehaera of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the last surviving child of King Aegon II, perished at the age of ten. The little queen died just as her mother, Queen Helaena, had, throwing herself from a window in Maegor's Holdfast onto the iron spikes that lined the dry moat below. Impaled through breast and belly, she twisted in agony for half an hour before she could be lifted free, whereupon she passed from this life at once. - Fire & Blood

I take back everything I ever said about Tommen and poison.

I'm staying firm on Myrcella though.

+.+.+

Where am I to find a master-at-arms? she wondered as she climbed to her apartments. 

[...]

It was rather a pity that the Hound had gone rabid. Tommen had always been frightened of Sandor Clegane's harsh voice and burned face, and Clegane's scorn would have been the perfect antidote to Loras Tyrell's simpering chivalry.

Aron Santagar was Dornish, Cersei recalled. I could send to Dorne. Centuries of blood and war lay between Sunspear and Highgarden. Yes, a Dornishman might suit my needs admirably. There must be some good swords in Dorne.

Do you want to know how I know the Hound is a worthless piece of shit? Cersei wants to employ him.

No word yet on who the Dornish master-at-arms will be. Developing story?

+.+.+

He [Qyburn] smiled sympathetically. "As you wish. There is talk that the Archon of Tyrosh has offered terms to Lys, to end their present trade war. It had been rumored that Myr was about to enter the war on the Tyroshi side, but without the Golden Company the Myrish did not believe they . . ."

"What the Myrish believe does not concern me." The Free Cities were always fighting one another. Their endless betrayals and alliances meant little and less to Westeros. "Do you have any news of more import?"

You get the sense that this is bigger than just the Golden Company.

+.+.+

"The slave revolt in Astapor has spread to Meereen, it would seem. Sailors off a dozen ships speak of dragons . . ."

"Harpies. It is harpies in Meereen."

Go ahead and make fun of her for ignoring this, but never forget Tywin did the exact same thing.

+.+.+

"There is some news from Dorne that Your Grace may find of more interest. Prince Doran has imprisoned Ser Daemon Sand, a bastard who once squired for the Red Viper."

[...]

"Also," Lord Qyburn said, "the daughter of the Knight of Spottswood [Sylva Santagar] was betrothed quite unexpectedly to Lord Estermont, our friends in Dorne inform us. She was sent to Greenstone that very night, and it is said she and Estermont have already wed."

[...]

"Eldon Estermont has taken a wife fifty years his junior," she said to Qyburn. "Why should that concern me?"

He shrugged. "I do not say it should . . . but Daemon Sand and this Santagar girl were both close to Prince Doran's own daughter, Arianne, or so the Dornishmen would have us believe. Perhaps it means little or less, but I thought Your Grace should know."

Perhaps it means little or less, but I thought Your Grace should know aka George would like the reader to know.

Sylva Santagar, active participant in the Queenmaker plot, is sent home by Doran. She is then quickly sent to Estermont by her father, and married off to a corpse.

The Golden Company take the island of Estermont when they arrive in Westeros.

+.+.+

Robert had later insisted on returning the courtesy with a visit to Estermont, a mountainous little island off Cape Wrath. The dank and dismal fortnight Cersei spent at Greenstone, the seat of House Estermont, was the longest of her young life. Jaime dubbed the castle "Greenshit" at first sight, and soon had Cersei doing it too. Elsewise she passed her days watching her royal husband hawk, hunt, and drink with his uncles, and bludgeon various male cousins senseless in Greenshit's yard.

There had been a female cousin too, a chunky little widow with breasts as big as melons whose husband and father had both died at Storm's End during the siege. "Her father was good to me," Robert told her, "and she and I would play together when the two of us were small." It did not take him long to start playing with her again. 

Try not to laugh challenge.

+.+.+

"One more thing. A trifling matter." He gave her an apologetic smile and told her of a puppet show that had recently become popular amongst the city's smallfolk; a puppet show wherein the kingdom of the beasts was ruled by a pride of haughty lions. "The puppet lions grow greedy and arrogant as this treasonous tale proceeds, until they begin to devour their own subjects. When the noble stag makes objection, the lions devour him as well, and roar that it is their right as the mightiest of beasts."

"And is that the end of it?" Cersei asked, amused. Looked at in the right light, it could be seen as a salutary lesson.

"No, Your Grace. At the end a dragon hatches from an egg and devours all of the lions."

I would bet a lot of money Varys is responsible for this.

+.+.+

The ending took the puppet show from simple insolence to treason. "Witless fools. Only cretins would hazard their heads upon a wooden dragon." 

I agree.

+.+.+

"There are four. Perhaps Your Grace might allow me two of them for mine own purposes. A woman would be especially . . ."

"I gave you Senelle," the queen said sharply.

"Alas. The poor girl is quite . . . exhausted."

The most poetic ending for Qyburn is Frankenstein's monster eating Frankenstein.

+.+.+

"Must I send for Pate? You do not command me. I am your mother."

"Yes, but I'm the king. Margaery says that everyone has to do what the king says. I want my white courser saddled on the morrow so Ser Loras can teach me how to joust. I want a kitten too, and I don't want to eat beets." He crossed his arms.

[...]

Tommen ran along, but before he left he turned back to say, "When I'm king in my own right, I'm going to outlaw beets."

You little shit, beets are fantastic. I hope you enjoy those spi-

I apologize.

+.+.+

"—or what? Will you send me to inspect the city walls again?" He sat and crossed his legs. "Your bloody walls are fine. I've crawled over every inch of them and had a look at all seven of the gates. The hinges on the Iron Gate are rusted, and the King's Gate and Mud Gate need to be replaced after the pounding Stannis gave them with his rams. The walls are as strong as they have ever been . . . but perchance Your Grace has forgotten that our friends of Highgarden are inside the walls?"

I don't believe these gates have been repaired. Developing story?

+.+.+

Dorcas helped the queen into her new gown. It had stripes of shiny green satin alternating with stripes of plush black velvet, and intricate black Myrish lace above the bodice. Myrish lace was costly, but it was necessary for a queen to look her best at all times, and her wretched washerwomen had shrunk several of her old gowns so they no longer fit. She would have whipped them for their carelessness, but Taena had urged her to be merciful. "The smallfolk will love you more if you are kind," she had said, so Cersei had ordered the value of the gowns deducted from the women's wages, a much more elegant solution.

+.+.+

By the time she joined them in the solar, her guests had made a good start on the hippocras. Lady Falyse not only looks like a fish, she drinks like one, she reflected, when she made note of the half-empty flagon.

+.+.+

"I shall add my prayers to your own," said Cersei. "Lord Qyburn tells me that Tanda was thrown from her horse."

"Her saddle girth burst whilst she was riding," said Ser Balman Byrch. "The stableboy should have seen the strap was worn. He has been chastised."

I'm sure Bronn had nothing to do with that.

+.+.+

"How was your journey?"

"Uncomfortable," complained Falyse. "It rained most of the day. We thought to spend the night at Rosby, but that young ward of Lord Gyles refused us hospitality." She sniffed. "Mark my word, when Gyles dies that ill-born wretch will make off with his gold. He may even try and claim the lands and lordship, though by rights Rosby should come to us when Gyles passes. My lady mother was aunt to his second wife, third cousin to Gyles himself."

We don't know who this young ward is, nor do we know who will inherit Rosby. Developing story?

+.+.+

"They call themselves sparrows," said Cersei. "A plague upon the land. Our new High Septon will need to deal with them, once he is crowned. If not, I shall deal with them myself."

Believe her.

+.+.+

Cersei reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. "I . . . I would sleep more easily of a night if I were to hear that Ser Bronn had suffered a . . . a mishap . . . whilst hunting, perhaps."

Ser Balman considered a moment. "A mortal mishap?"

No, I desire you to break his little toe. She had to bite her lip. My enemies are everywhere and my friends are fools. 

Hahahaha.

This won't backfire either. I have faith.

+.+.+

The rest was hippocras and buttered beets, hot-baked bread, herb-crusted pike, and ribs of wild boar. Cersei had become very fond of boar since Robert's death. 

lmfao.

+.+.+

It was past midnight before she could rid herself of them. Ser Balman proved a great one for suggesting yet another flagon, and the queen did not think it prudent to refuse. I could have hired a Faceless Man to kill Bronn for half of what I've spent on hippocras, she reflected when they were gone at last.

No, of course you couldn't.

Faceless Men shoutout!

+.+.+

"Never speak of it, child," he [Tywin] had told her, smiling his secret smile that only Cersei ever saw. "Not until His Grace agrees to the betrothal. It must remain our secret for now." And so it had, though once she had drawn a picture of herself flying behind Rhaegar on a dragon, her arms wrapped tight about his chest. When Jaime had discovered it she told him it was Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys.

Even I know Alysanne had her own dragon. Stupid Jaime.

+.+.+

She was ten when she finally saw her prince in the flesh, at the tourney her lord father had thrown to welcome King Aerys to the west. Viewing stands had been raised beneath the walls of Lannisport, and the cheers of the smallfolk had echoed off Casterly Rock like rolling thunder. 

Including it for reasons.

+.+.+

By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes. 

Lots of fun things happening here.

+.+.+

Later, when Aerys and his son and all his gallant knights had departed for King's Landing, the girl had gone to her aunt in tears, not understanding. "Your father proposed the match," Lady Genna told her, "but Aerys refused to hear of it. 'You are my most able servant, Tywin,' the king said, 'but a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter.' Dry those tears, little one. Have you ever seen a lion weep? Your father will find another man for you, a better man than Rhaegar."

It turns out I'm capable of liking a Targaryen for 30 seconds.

+.+.+

Her aunt had lied, though, and her father had failed her, just as Jaime was failing her now. Father found no better man. Instead he gave me Robert, and Maggy's curse bloomed like some poisonous flower. 

You aren't kidding.

+.+.+

If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons.

Hehehe.

"If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl." -Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

She had never forgiven Robert for killing him.

But then, lions were not good at forgiving. As Ser Bronn of the Blackwater would shortly learn.

That's like the one good thing he ever did!

Final thoughts:

The long chapters are starting to get to me.

-> return to menu <-

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.  

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.  

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

[apinchofm]

coming out

Amanda Sarah Basset is eighteen and getting ready for her coming out in society.

Requested by @ginghampearlsnsweettea

"Darling, where are my pistols?" Simon called out, looking through the cabinet in his office in Hasting's house. He had been searching for the box all morning.

Marina, the Duchess of Hastings, walked in at her husband's call, smiling pleasantly. He closed a drawer and smiled at his wife. She was dressed in deep purple, ready for court.

"I had them sent away to Clyvdale." Marina answered with ease, "We are not at war, are we?"

She knew exactly why he wanted his pistols - their eldest daughter, Amanda was coming out in London society. Eighteen years old. She would also be the most eligible debutante.

But Simon was not ready to let his little girl go. It was up to Marina to let her daughter socialise.

"If I see Anthony or Benedict here or Edmund or William here without their mothers and sisters..."

"Darling..." Simon tried to reason, but Marina tilted her head and gave him the same look she gave their son when he tried asking for anything. He nodded.

"Of course not." Simon lied, leaning forward and kissing her. Marina smiled, satisfied before leaving to check on the children.

"I still have the hunting rifles," Simon mumbled to himself.

"What was that?" Marina asked.

"Nothing!"

...

"Papa, I want to come out! When can I come out?" Their second youngest, Sophia pouted, wrapping her little arms around Simon's waist as he entered the drawing-room. At seven, she still had him wrapped around her fingers and wanted to join the fun.

Their youngest son, Thomas Anthony, was still three and had no idea what was happening, sitting on his playmat, blissfully chewing his teddy bear's ear.

"Never, if I can help it!" Simon playfully lifted her and spun her around, before kissing her on the cheek and putting her down on the couch, sitting with her.

"Does that mean I do not have come out?" Amelia asked, a book in her hand and bored by the whole ordeal. She didn't like the pageantry, preferring her books and lessons. She would marry if a man cared for her opinions and thoughts.

"See? Be like your sister." Simon teased, tickling her.

"You mean judgemental and boring?" Oliver joked. His sister rewarded him with a kick to his side and he winced.

"I think he means thinking my brain and not your-" Amelia began.

"Language!" Simon warned, "And Oliver, you know the rule in this house. The women are always right."

Oliver laughed, "Of course, pa. Always." He had learned the lesson from aunt Agatha and his mother.

...

Marina cooed over her eldest as she went to her room. She had to be ready by now and her ladies' maids bowed to the duchess as she entered.

"Do I look okay, mama?" Amanda asked, smoothing invisible wrinkles. She had always been a fiddler. Her white and gold silks suited her perfectly. Her curly hair was done beautifully. And she was just already so pretty, little more needed to be done.

"You look absolutely beautiful," Marina assured, tears coming to her eyes. Her daughter, all grown up, ready to marry. Amanda sighed and looked in the mirror.

"I miss Aunt Agatha," Amanda said and Marina smiled sadly. The Dowager had passed the year before. She had outlived Queen Charlotte, Violet and Mary. She was that stubborn. Simon theorised that she would be haggling with God and St. Peter.

"I miss her too, but she taught us well." Marina assured, kissing the side of her head, "And you look beautiful. You will be a good wife to a man who loves you and you love him. That is the most important thing to us."

Amanda leaned against her mother, "I hope I am happy like you and Papa."

"And if he doesn't respect or love you, I have many friends who will act as seconds," Simon added, surprising the two. He had been leaning against the doorframe of his daughter's room, wishing she would not grow up.

"My darling girl," Simon whispered, holding her chin, "Are you sure you have to come out this year? Can we just wait another year? Or ten?"

"Papa!" Amanda whined but she was smiling and he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Come, let us go. We do not want to be late." Marina reminded.