#we literally all come on here to escape and create our own little worlds

[elliesflower]

okay literally i’m gonna need everyone to shut the fuck up for a second like ???? do some of y’all even hear the shit that comes out of y’all’s mouths?

the block button is right there.

the filter content button is in your settings.

it costs zero dollars to shut your fucking mouth and not be fucking disrespectful to people who have done literally nothing to you.

there is so much content on tumblr, the entire fucking internet even. not all of it is going to be your cup of tea, hell i’ve read things that have personally made me uncomfortable but does that mean i’m gonna hop into that poor persons inbox and tell them they’re worthless and they should go die? absolutely fucking not, because i can simply scroll away.

some of you need to get it through your thick skulls, be a decent fucking human being. it’s like y’all get off on being evil or something, jesus christ.

[cluz1babe]

"Open My Eyes..." Chapter Seven

11.2K Words

Thank you for reading!

If you didn’t already know, Chapter Seven will have House of the Dragon season 2+ spoilers)

PLOT

You were a Belaerys, with the Blood of Old Valyria in your veins, future Queen of Sothoryos. Up until eight years before the Dance of Dragons, everyone thought the Belaerys family was gone after the Doom. You were well-respected by everyone except most of the greens. Despite that, you were officially given a seat on the new High Council. The Hand, Otto Hightower, was trying to bring more countries to their aid, but his excuse was to bring peace between countries. Planning to wed you to Daeron, the Small Council of the Greens are shocked when Aemond refuses to offer you Daeron in order to take you for himself.

TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 129-133+ AC (a mix of show & book timeline & canon, plus my own)

Beta Read and co-written by my husband.  Representations of reader are the lightest and darkest skin colours available. Disclaimer : ASOIAF Wiki is my best friend and we got a little too close on this project (copy-paste about specific parts of the war, sometimes with edits). We still have the Epilogue.

Very limited use of ‘Y/N’.

From what I can remember about how to pronounce Nahuatl, you pronounce ‘X’ as ‘SH’, and pronounce every letter except ‘H’.

SERIES MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNINGS (full story) : Talk of Abortion, Emotionally Abusive Relationships (Aegon / Criston / Otto x Everyone), Alcohol, Blood, Blowjob, Branding, Bullying, Childbirth, Mentions of Rape (no rape of reader), Death, Drugs, Fire, Hallucinations, Incest, Marriage, Misogyny, Pregnancy, Profanity, Sexism, Slut Shaming, Smut, Violence, War, P in V, Sex, Fingering, No Cheating, MDNI, 18+ , ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy), Slight Breeding Kink, Dub-Con (in the Aegon Bonus Chapter) if you squint

Archive of Our Own

You were restless since the leaders from Essos had quite literally come to the table of the High Council. Your unease didn’t escape Aemond’s notice. When he asked, you told him that you had received word that there was tension between Zugrya and Bruedal and both Offia and Wewhyae were stuck in the middle. More than that, The Summer Islands and Naath needed protection and here you were, feeling useless, on a council with slavers, and it was all making you question your place in things.

“Mm. Tell me what I can do.”

“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

“You will.” He kissed your forehead and slightly changed the subject. “Your country refuses slavery, but your brother and father wanted you on the council?”

“We trade with anyone unless they practice slavery. That makes a lot of Essos off limits. The problem is that my father joined the rest of the world before we were ready. Some of our current alliances are already on shaky ground because they are afraid that, by traveling the world in search of trade and dragons, it leaves us open to attack. It invites conflict, especially between the islands. They believe we survived by being isolated and avoiding slavers.”

“Why doesn’t your father feel that way?”

“We Can, We Will, We Did”

“Your house words?”

You nodded. “If our family doesn’t live by our words, what are we? We can find dragons, even wild ones. We can learn, and create alliances & peace, but we can’t do it all alone. If Essos decides to invade Sothoryos…” You trailed off, trying not to think of the worst things. “We have dragons, but they have scorpions. I’ve been to Naath and the Summer Islands and came back with an alliance, but shortly after I left, Naath was raided again.”

“What happened?”

“We were able to get some of the people back.” You sighed, “But, while some of my best warriors were retrieving them, a different place was invaded. Every moment that I’m away from my country, leaves them open to attack.”

“Are you going to fight them all yourself?” You raised your brows at him, clearly not realizing what you had said. “You told me everyone can fight.”

“Almost everyone.”

“Do you protect them all by yourself?”

You smiled. Of course not.

“It seems to me, that you put too much pressure on yourself.” He kissed your cheek and lingered there. “You’re not to blame for what happened in Naath any more than you’re responsible for the Doom.” He squeezed your hand a bit, “We’ll figure something out.”

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You had told Aemond about Luke being alive, but only Arrax’s wing had been found. He breathed a sigh of relief that he was not the Kinslayer that they were calling him, but he knew that it didn’t matter. It was his title now. And it didn’t matter that Luke was alive. He had chased Lucerys down that day above Shipbreaker Bay. Yes, to scare him and bully him, but Aemond had not intended to kill him. Even though Luke was alive, the war had been set in motion with the attempted murder of Jaehaerys, and all of the evidence that it was Daemon’s doing. They were unsuccessful with the murder, because the dogs you gave as gifts, Mors and Lyonel, defended them all. This made the Greens trust you even more, which put you on good terms with them, but was it enough?

Aemond had taken his bath and he was still in the tub. He thought about everything that had happened since his father died. It wasn’t until the water was chilly that he finally got out and dried himself off. He walked into his chamber and you were right where he left you, studying dragon breeding some more. You were determined to memorize the book as well as Aemond had, even if you had to read it ten times.

He watched as you turned the page, picked up your wine goblet, and took a sip. It was peaceful moments like this that he hated lately. Not because of you, but because he had failed you. He had well and truly fucked up. Lucerys’s near-death still set things in motion that made Aemond feel guilt like none he ever had before. It was his fault Luke almost died. His fault that a male dragon was dead — a huge loss to your cause. His fault that Helaena’s three children were put in danger, furthering an insatiable need to see blood spilled in the name of the greens and Aegon II. There was a long time where Aemond wondered what to do, then he finally spoke after what seemed like forever. “I’ve changed my mind.” He almost whispered it.

You sat down your goblet. “Changed your mind?” 

“I want to serve the Blacks.”

You shook your head. “You are a Green Prince, Aemond.”

“I support your claim to your throne. I have to support my sister’s.” 

As usual, you looked at him like he was mad. After the initial shock, you told him what you thought of his idea. “That’s treason, Aemond. Not even the King’s brother is safe from what happens to traitors.”

“I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. More than Vhagar.”

You raised your brows at him.

“Don’t tell her I told you that, or she will surely burn us both alive.”

His comment made you laugh.

“And I can’t choose to be with you, the future Queen of Sothoryos, who is not even the first-born, let alone male, and not support my sister’s claim to the throne.” He kneeled down in front of you and held your hands. “I am so sorry for what I’ve done.”

You were confused by his words. “What have you done?”

“Arrax.”

You kissed his forehead. “It was an accident, my love.”

“I shouldn’t have chased them.”

You kissed his lips the second time. “I forgive you.” You needed to calm his mind and it worked. He laid his head on your shoulder and looked up at you in admiration. You saying you forgave him took a huge weight off of his shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you.

“I will think of a reason to leave and convince my brother to allow it. Then you and I can leave, help my sister claim her throne, and I can take you home.”

There was a pang in your chest at the mention of your country. “Home?”

He nodded. He knew you were homesick and wanted to take you there, as well as see it for himself — the place you loved so much. “But first, I need to convince my brother that it’s a good idea that Daeron marry Floris or one of the other Baratheon girls.” He softly pushed your robe off of your shoulder and kissed you again. You had taken a bath in your own chamber and it had practically become custom for him to defile you afterward, especially when you smelled of bath oils. In addition to that, without your clothes, Aemond could see your growing belly. And, though he did not wish to keep you in a constant state of being pregnant, the thought turned him on, nonetheless. 

He started kissing your shoulder and down your swollen breasts. He eagerly sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardening bud while you stroked his head. He wasn’t rough with you, but he wasn’t gentle either, he was following your lead. He usually did, and that how he knew you liked it in every way : soft, hard, somewhere in between. At that moment, it was somewhere in between rough and gentle. He put your ankles on his shoulders and he entered you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

You both laid there in silence as you slowly stroked Aemond’s hair and back. Eventually, you heard his breathing even out and knew he had finally fallen to sleep.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You and Helaena were watching the children and practicing embroidery while Aemond tried to convince the small council to allow him to marry you. 

Criston sighed, “No.”

Aemond tilted his head at the only father figure he truly had. He thought he could trust Cole. “No?”

“You’re now engaged to Floris Baratheon. You can’t take more than one wife.”

Aegon scoffed, “Why not? That’s what they do where she’s from.”

Criston seethed, turning to Aemond, “Are you so in love with your heathen temptress that you would commit polygamy?” 

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He avoided looking at his mother. “I know what you and my mother do. I put it in the back of my mind for too long and I will not stand here and listen to hypocrisy fall out of your mouth.”

“You would take up her traditions and disregard your responsibilities here?“ Alicent asked him. Surprisingly, there was no sign Aegon had heard about what his mother was up to.

“Have you forgotten?” Aemond asked his mother. “Targaryens also used to multiple marriages at once. I never asked her if she was open to marrying Daeron because I love her. Father knew and that’s why he betrothed us. He had already given his blessing, but now you want to play me like some piece in a game. I never agreed to marry Floris, but you sent me there with a scroll offering me in marriage.”

“That’s true, but Aemond, what about her age?” Alicent begged, “Producing heirs doesn’t happen overnight and her change will be upon her before you know it. Are you willing to risk that? Floris is younger than you are and the Belaerys Princess is now three and twenty.”

“Her mother’s side easily produces heirs well into their 40s. If you want evidence, I’ll tell you all of their names and information about some of them.”

Criston practically rolled his eyes, “Be that as it may, you are now officially promised in marriage to the Baratheon girl.”

“Not anymore.” Larys, now master of whispers and still guilty of trying to kill Jaehaerys, interrupted. He pulled out an official looking scroll and read it, “‘After much thought on the matter and a proposal offered by the Blacks to marry their youngest prince, Viserys to Borros Baratheon’s first granddaughter’.” 

“We all know what that means.” Aegon laughed. “‘After the ‘untimely death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon’, the Baratheons have decided to ‘disaffiliate themselves with the Greens’.”

Aemond smirked at Criston.

Cole looked at Aemond with anger, “It’s your fault that boy is dead and our only chance at peace has ended. You only lost one eye, how could you be so blind? You will not marry that woman. She was supposed to marry Daeron. He’s the third son, so he will be perfect for securing that enormous country and all of their resources. But she is not appropriate for you.”

Aemond walked away from the table, trying not to show his true feelings as he had always managed, but it was too much this time. He knew for sure now that they weren’t just looking for allies, they were looking for weaknesses and ways to ‘secure the country and all of their resources’, just as you had told him. Aemond knew what that really meant. His father figure was going to betray the woman he loved as soon as he could. “This is coming from a place of hate and malice. You all seethe with spleen like a suppurating ulcer.” He whipped around and stared at Criston and his mother. “I have given everything to this family, and I have asked for nothing in return!“ He turned his attention to Aegon, “You owe me, brother.” 

Aegon was in his cups and set against the Belaerys family just as much as Cristin and Alicent, though he pretended otherwise. Aemond couldn’t understand connecting their family to the Belaerys family at all if they were going to be so prejudiced. The politics of the situation didn’t matter, as far as he was concerned. “My King, does your prince not deserve his own happiness? A family? Something that he chose for himself? Has the Princess not proven herself loyal? Would joining your kingdom with Sothoryos, a people no less advanced than our own, not be advantageous, even if it is me she marries?” He looked around the room.

“He’s right, Aegon.” Alicent interjected. She remembered what you did for Helaena both times. “She has proven herself loyal to this family. She defended Queen Helaena after a handmaid said something unkind. She provided the trained guard dogs that kept your children, and wife, alive.”

Aegon’s hard look softened, but only enough to barely relieve the tension. “You’re right, mother. Of course you deserve those things, Aemond, and it would be beneficial to join our kingdoms. It doesn’t matter who she marries. We can use all of the dragons and fighters that we can get.” He exhaled loudly, “If you really wish to wed and breed with this Belaerys whore—” Aemond, who’d been angered by the word, took a step forward, but a guard put himself between them. Aegon laughed, “You may have her.” He let Aemond take in the information and relax, then Aegon went stern, “But if either of you leave us before the war is over, without my orders to do so, you will both be considered traitors to the crown.” Aemond’s eye went wide for a moment. “You may send any children you may have to Sothoryos to keep them out of harm’s way, in case the war comes here. Though you never know how long the war will last.”

Aemond clenched his jaw, but he was finally happy to get blessings from the King, regardless the circumstances. Everything else would have to wait. He bowed, tensely. When he straightened, Aegon sort of waved him off and Aemond turned to leave.

“Aemond.” Aemond stopped as the current king made him do so. “Don’t think you’re getting away with that outburst with no consequences.”

Aemond continued out of the small council room. Once he made it to his quarters, he knocked over one of his tables in anger. His plan to send you back home, where you could wait out the war and he would join you after… It was finished. You would both be forced to fight in this war. You hadn’t agreed to take a side so that you wouldn’t have to fight your brother, who had pledged for Rhaenyra. Aemond would do anything for you, his beloved, even keep your brother alive in battle. He was convinced that he could make it look like an accident if he got caught. Now, he didn’t know what would happen.

At first, you were angry with Aemond for planning to send you away without him by your side, but you quickly forgave him. 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

The assault on Harrenhal was led by Daemon Targaryen, who conquered Harrenhal for Rhaenyra Targaryen. It marked the opening of hostilities in the Dance of the Dragons.

Prince Daemon Targaryen, suggested Harrenhal as a rallying point for potential supporters in the riverlands. Larys Strong, Lord of Harrenhal, was a supporter of Aegon, so Rhaenyra allowed her husband to command the assault on Harrenhal.

Because Lord Larys Clubfoot served as Aegon II's master of whisperers in King's Landing, his great-uncle the elderly Ser Simon Strong served as Larys's castellan at Harrenhal. Prince Daemon flew on his dragon, Caraxes, to the top of Harrenhal's Kingspyre Tower, where Harren the Black had died. Recalling the burning of Harrenhal by Aegon I Targaryen and Balerion the Black Dread, which had extinguished House Hoare, Simon decided to strike his banners and surrender the great ruined castle to Daemon. Simon and his grandsons were among a dozen hostages taken by Daemon, and the blacks requisitioned the wealth of House Strong. The loss of Harrenhal shocked Aegon II and encouraged the blacks. 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

There were rumours that you and Aemond had secretly been married for weeks, so you were summoned to the King. 

“Remember what I told you.” Aemond urged. “Whether in secret or in front of the court, never let my brother see that he unsettles you.”

“I’m from Sothoryos. Not much can unsettle me.”

“He will do or say anything to get a rise out of you. He may try to intimidate, taunt, embarrass, or shame you. Maybe all four.”

You gave Aemond a reassuring look. “It will be okay, husband.”

King Aegon II was sitting in his throne, ignoring whatever complaint or well-regard the person in front of him spoke about, as he’d finally realized that it didn’t matter what the smallfolk wanted. He couldn’t give them any resources. Not that he wanted to at this point. The smallfolk had betrayed him once, they would do it again if they could. He didn’t look interested or pleased at all. In fact, he looked the least pleased when he looked in your or Aemond’s direction. He waved off the smallfolk once the current one finished, “Thank you for letting me know. I will take that into account.” He bid you & Aemond come forward. Aegon’s false sincerity toward the smallfolk disappeared as you & Aemond stepped forward.

Aegon sat there staring for so long that it made your skin go cold. “Not three moons ago, we spoke and I told you we would soon discuss when the two of you should be wed. Yet here you are. And I’m told that the Belaerys Princess is already your wife, Aemond.”

“You Grace, may we speak privately?” Aemond’s request was granted with a nod from Aegon and everyone except the guards, The Hand, Alicent, you, Aegon, and Aemond were left in the Great Hall.

The expression on Aegon’s face was full of annoyance and hate.  “We decided on your wedding day, three moons from now, and yet I hear you call each other husband and wife already. Skoros kostos nykeā udir hoskas? (What could inspire such a rumour?)” Aegon gave both of you exactly six seconds before he continued. “Maybe it is because you are with child, Princess?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried not to sound small, but now that you were being confronted, you wished to be back in the privacy of your apartments. For the first time in a long time, you felt as small as they wanted you to feel. All of your previous confidence waned in front of the Hightowers.

“Come, Princess. There’s no point in lying.” Alicent interrupted your thoughts. “You haven’t bled for four moons, and your dresses are tighter around your belly. It’s a difficult condition to hide.” You wish you knew how she knew. “One which will be impossible to hide once you have a screaming babe in your arms. It is of great concern for my family. If everyone knew my son took you to bed before your wedding—“

Aemond grumbled. “We are married.” Everyone looked at Aemond as he spoke and revealed his brand. “The Princess is my wife, by our own ceremony — a Sothoryi ceremony. And she will have my child soon.”

Aegon sat up straight. “So you admit it?”

“I do. I didn’t want my child born a bastard, and I will always be proud of the Princess & our life together.”

Aegon’s nose flared in anger. He looked back and forth between the two of you. Aemond’s declaration brought back some of your confidence and he hated seeing it. At the same time, he knew that he would lose his biggest asset for the war if he upset Aemond. So he conceded through gritted teeth, “In that case, you shall be married in front of the court as soon as possible to make sure. No niece or nephew of mine is going to grow up a bastard. We all know how important it is to look the part. Right, Princess?”

“Yes, your Grace.” You weren’t eager to please him, but you also couldn’t afford to upset him right now, no matter how much veiled animosity remained between you and Aegon. So you ignored his insult against your Sothoryi ceremony.

.................................................................................................

To Aegon, as soon as possible was only a few days. You and Aemond were married in the tradition of the Faith of the Seven, at the sept, in front of the green’s court. The ones who could make it on time. What was strangest to everyone wasn’t the foreign princess. It was that the ill-tempered Beast of the Red Keep wasn't wearing his eye patch, and he was wearing colour. Añil blue & green, and he had even dyed the ends of his hair like yours. It was his way of telling them that this day belonged to the two of you and no one else. After your official ceremony to Aemond, the two of you snuck away to have some alone time before the feast. He fucked you against the wall of your chambers while you were still wearing your wedding dress. Then you quickly rejoined the feast and it was as though nobody noticed you had been gone for the better part of ten minutes while the two of you got your quick tryst in private.

.................................................................................................

During the end of the feast, Aegon stood up. “A toast to the newlyweds. M” everyone cheered. “May they have many years together.” The smile on his face was not friendly. “I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities, but it’s time for the Bedding Ceremony!”

Everyone cheered and music played as you were carried on top of shoulders to get to your shared chambers. Aemond was dragged, too. Both of you being undressed on the way there. Aemomd hated every second of it and Aegon knew he would. This was part of his punishment. A consequence of standing out of line.

.................................................................................................

You made it to your shared chambers and retrieved your ritual paints. That night, you planned to connect with Aemond on every level. You started with the blue paint, for blessing your union. You painted Aemond’s body with your sacred blue paint. You were so skilled with your hands that every light stroke left him wanting more. He wanted to feel your body pressed against his. He wanted to be inside you, as he had expected to be by now, but you were insistent that you make it official by your standards, and he had accepted. The look of concentration on your face made Aemond want to kiss you. Touch you. Have you again and again. The entire process felt like a way to prevent him from having his fun straight away. 

You cut Aemond’s finger and held it over the bowl with various ingredients already inside, dripping blood into it, then doing the same with your own finger. You said something in a language he didn’t recognize while holding the bowl over an open flame. Then you lit it on fire and breathed in the smoke. You handed it to Aemond, “Breathe it in.” 

He did as you told him and quickly felt himself feel off-kilter, so he sat next to you. You both waited for the buzzing in your heads to stop, holding hands and giving gentle kisses. Once you were both clear-headed again, you performed the Soul Ritual. You painted orange on your and Aemond’s bodies. The first one was just a formality, but the last would connect your souls. The two of you would became one. You saw each other’s true nature and past; felt each other’s pain and pleasure. The process worked you both up as you took your time teasing Aemond with your slow strokes and kisses here & there. Once you were finished, you each gave your thanks to any gods listening and you drank wine together, waiting for your paint to dry a little before you could join each other in bed. You weren’t in any hurry. The effects of the ritual would last at least two more hours. However, after ten minutes, you couldn’t wait anymore. You got on the bed and coaxed him over. It didn’t take much before he was on top of you.

You were so wet that you didn’t need him to prepare you much. His fingers easily slid into you to test before his cock entered you. He groaned at your waiting hole and the way you keened at his touch. He couldn’t resist paying you back for the teasing earlier and removed his fingers. He smirked as you whined. He slowly kissed down your neck, to your chest. That was when he felt it. The way his own body was responding to the kisses as if he were kissing his own chest. 

You had been quiet in the beginning, so Aemond encouraged you to be as loud as you want. Now that you were wed, it was no longer bad to be together. He made you orgasm on his tongue, causing him to enjaculate on the sheets. He groaned, partially because of how good it felt and partially because he was disappointed he couldn’t hold off. He looked up at you, totally cunt-drunk off of you. 

Aemond finally got to be inside of you. That second time of the night was slow at first, slowly building to the two of you going at it fast and hard until you both found release. The paint smeared on your bodies and the sheets, leaving behind the orange and blue paint; impressions of your entwined bodies rutting against each other. Something for the servants to deal with the next day.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

BONUS SMUT CHAPTER WITH AEGON

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Months later.

You were lying in bed sobbing. The pain had barely abated in the previous two hours and the maesters said they were going to attempt to turn the baby. That’s when Aemond came back to join you.

“I understand now why they say women are weak.”

“Why?” He almost looked amused by your statement. 

“Because I can’t control my emotions right now and I can’t stop thinking of home. I don’t know if I’ll ever see it again.”

“You will see it again, I promise.” He held your head in his hands, one hand on each cheek. “You are not weak. You are going to be a queen. It’s just exhaustion from bringing our babe into the world.” He kissed you, then wiped your tears away. “The maester and the midwives all said that it’s normal to feel overwhelmed.” Aemond gently held your hands. “I’m very sorry that I can’t do anything about your homesickness, my love, or the pain.”

“How’s Molca?”

“Irritated, to say the least.”

“She wouldn’t let you ride her?”

Aemond shook his head. “Do you wish to be a widow so soon?” You both laughed at his joke. Then he added, “I think she may lay eggs soon. She’s showing all of the signs. Perhaps she and Caraxes had an encounter that no one knows about.”

……………………………………….. 

You labored a day and a half to bring your first child into the world. Aemond stayed with you almost the entire labour and refused to leave your side, even when the midwives urged him to leave when the baby had a hard time coming out. Alicent even came to check in on you, having given birth four times, she thought she could be of help to you, especially without your mothers who were still in Sothoryos.

Hours after the contractions started, it got more and more intense, causing you to groan and cry. But Aemond was there and his presence was comforting, even when Grand Maester Orwyle and the midwives had to press on your belly in order to push the baby in the right position. You were lucky that it wasn’t too difficult. 

There was a while when you tried to sleep, but the pains only got worse. You started cursing in Loicato when the pain returned.

“I can’t understand you, Princess.” One of the midwives said. “I don’t speak your language.”

“She’s saying… Well, she’s using coarse language.”

The midwife gave a slight smile. “Yes, mothers usually say lots of things when the labour pains start. If you’d rather leave until the baby comes, I’ll take care of—“

“No. I want to stay.”

She curtseyed, “My Prince.” Then she left for a few moments and came back with more rags and sheets.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Aemond held your baby daughter first after the maester. He looked at her with the widest smile on his face and a tear in his eye. “My little princess.” After a moment of reflection and the realization that he was now a father to a beautiful baby girl with wisps of silver hair, he handed her over to you. He kissed your forehead as you took in the sight of her. “What do you want to name her?”

You stroked her head and laughed at the face she made. “Let’s name her… Jaenara Meztli.”

Aemond kneeled next to you. “Princess Jaenara Meztli Belaerys.”

“Targaryen.”

He looked at you, confused.

“She’s a Targaryen. Like her father.”

He took your hand and kissed it. Giving a child a man’s last name was a high honour in your culture.

………………………………………………………………..

It was only a short while after your daughter’s birth that Aemond walked into your shared quarters with dragon keepers following behind him with a smoky brazier. You were nursing Jaenara, as you had refused to let anyone take her from you in the three days since you had given birth. You sat up straighter than usual, not completely understanding what was going on or why strangers were coming into your bedchamber. “Aemond, is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect.” He smiled and motioned for the dragonkeepers to open the brazier, which they did. Inside, was a dragon egg. It was lavender with blue markings.

You gasped, “Aemond—“

“It seems our daughter’s birth triggered something in Molcajete. She’s given us a clutch of eggs.” He took the egg and placed it in Jaenara’s crib, next to your bed. You touched the egg and closed your eyes, concentrating on the energy flowing through the egg. It brought a you chuckled with joy. Not only had Molcajete laid eggs, but you could tell for certain that the one in the crib was alive. Perhaps Aemond was correct and Molca had mated. Your baby would have her own dragon. You opened your eyes and held Aemond’s hand.

He bent over to kiss you, then he pressed his forehead to yours. “Prūmī lanti sēteksi.” (‘Forged in fourteen fires.’) He kissed your baby daughter on the head. “You shall have everything you deserve, Ñuha Prūmia.” (‘My Heart.’)

…………………………………………………….

It was only a few days since you’d given birth and you finally slept. Though you had nightmares of the worst kind about things happening to your daughter. You would wake, feed her, then sleep again, only to have another nightmare. The last one was the worst. Someone was at Jaenara’s crib, hovering. You felt like you couldn’t move your body. You watched as the figure stood up, the silhouette had a crown. The Conquerer’s Crown. When he turned, he was covered in blood— You woke to sounds of Jaenara crying. “‘Nara?” Your voice was hoarse. When you sat up int bed you saw someone bending over her crib.

Aemond was on his way to your bedchamber when he heard you screaming.

“Get him away from my baby! Please! Get him out! Give her to me!”

Aemond ran through the doorway and continued to your post-birthing bed. Seeing how upset you were turned his stomach into knots. “Issa jorrāelagon?” He looked in the direction of the crib and saw the back of the maester as though he were inspecting Jaenara. “It’s okay. The maester is just doing his job.”

“No.” You pointed to the figure now visible behind the maester as he left. There stood Aegon, holding Jaenara. From the moment she was born, 67 hours ago, your chest filled with dread. You loved her more than anything, and that’s why you immediately worried about what her life would be and how you could keep her safe. All of the excitement, even through Aegon’s treatment of you, ended in an instant. Your newborn daughter in your arms, eyes just like yours, light wisps of silver hair - too soon to tell if it would be dark like yours or light like Aemond’s - everything came crashing down. Then you had a nightmare that Aegon had murdered Jaenara. Her crib was sitting on the Iron Throne and Aegon burned her using Sunfyre. His eyes were wild with anger, hatred, and fear.  After that, you refused to sleep, preferring to keep watch over your baby. You had just fallen asleep for probably ten minutes after hours of being awake. That’s when Aegon finally came to visit.

At first, Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. You had told him about your nightmares, but he was assured they would go away once you finally stopped nursing. However, as Aegon made his way to the foot of your bed, Aemond realized his brother would not hurt his daughter. Jaenara started crying and you reached for her, but Aegon turned away, making you whimper. Aegon only smirked at your distress. Aegon and Aemond had a staring match, but when your nipples started leaking, Aegon giggled. “Have you had a taste, yet, brother?” Aemond was obviously confused, so Aegon tilted his head in your direction.

Aemond looked, but he wasn’t amused. Wet patches were appearing on your shift. Aemond held out his hand to his brother. “Give her to me.”

Aegon sighed and looked at his niece, “Your father is such a bore.” Aegon handed her to Aemond who turned her over to you.

Aegon snorted, “You should give your precious daughter to a wet-nurse and ask your husband to alleviate the pain in your breasts. It’s better for all of you.”

Aemond stood in front of his brother as you began nursing baby Jaenara. “You are incredibly lucky that she has barely slept in three days and before that, she was in labour for fifteen hours. She is a new mother. You should be ashamed of yourself. If she were in her right mind—”

“What?” Aegon squared his shoulders. “What would your traitorous wife do, I wonder?”

Aemond mirrored his brother. “What are you talking about?”

Aegon gave a smile and patted Aemond on the arm. “I’m only joking, brother. She has only once ever stepped out of line, and changed my mind through doing so. And with her married to you, Prince Aemond Targaryen, the King’s brother, she secures us the vast country of Sothoryos and every dragon they have. Not to mention everything else she’s done for me.”

You spoke through gritted teeth, “Stop talking about me as though I’m not here.”

Aemond clenched his jaw. “Hmm. And Jaenara, Aegon? What of my daughter?”

“I would never hurt your babe. You’re both much too paranoid. I’ll tell the maester to send milk of the poppy so you can get some rest.”

You clutched Jaenara to your body. “No.”

Aegon only rolled his eyes. “As you wish.” He quietly strutted out of your bedchamber.

Aemond sat next to you in the bed and took your hand. “Maybe he’s right, my love. You need to sleep.”

“No, Aemond, please.”

“It was only a dream. Sweetling, what use are you to her if you’re exhausted?” You hated to admit that he was right, but you squeezed his hand in response. He kissed your temple. “I promise I will watch her every second you rest. I won’t take my eye off of her. I’ll even stay with the wet-nurse while she eats.” 

You shifted your body, unsure. 

“I swear on Vhagar.”

You bit your bottom lip and looked into his eye. You saw nothing but love, adoration, and worry. There was a circle under his eye. Maybe not as bad as yours, but you knew the stress was already getting to him and he was still offering to watch Jaenara while you slept. “When she’s finished.”

“Of course.” 

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

As soon as Jaenara transitioned to a wetnurse and you got your strength back, you took the most amazing bath in preparation for a ritual with the two fertile eggs from the clutch Molca laid. 

One was Jaenara’s and one would be your future child’s. The ritual was to offer thanks and begin the bonding process to your bloodline. It would prevent the eggs from hatching for anyone other than you or your children, unless it was given to someone else by you. You had done similar rituals with Molcajete and even Gaelithox, to deepen your bond with them. It was also how you communicated when a battle was coming. 

Though it was usually done in private, Aemond was allowed to watch so he could learn it for himself.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

As the preceding fall of Harrenhal had been bloodless, the Battle of the Burning Mill was the first true battle in the civil war between opposing armies in the field.

House Blackwood declared for Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen when war broke out, while House Bracken supported her half-brother, King Aegon II Targaryen. Lord Samwell Blackwood sent raiders into Bracken lands, causing Ser Amos Bracken to march on Blackwood territory in response. The Blackwoods surprised the Brackens while they were camped by a mill near the Red Fork.

Amos slew Lord Blackwood in single combat during the ensuing battle. The Bracken knight was himself slain by a weirwood arrow said to have been fired by Samwell's sister, Alysanne. The mill was put to the torch during the hours of fighting. Ser Raylon Rivers eventually led the Bracken survivors in retreat to Stone Hedge, but the Bracken castle had been taken in the meantime by Prince Daemon Targaryen.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Mere months after the birth of your first daughter, you conceived your second daughter, Nymeria. Right around the time of the Taking of Stone Hedge. It wasn’t planned, but you preferred it over fighting with the enemy.

You were walking into your chamber, anticipating a pleasant evening later on, after a sundown ride on Molca. You were never allowed to go far from King’s Landing, but you made the best of the situation.

You were having a day without the responsibility of looking after Jaenara for an evening. You watched Aemond train for a while, as he did almost daily, then you retired to your apartments. You thought about how he started with unarmed combat, then switched to the blade. You knew how his fingers felt and could imagine the grip he used with the sword. The calluses he had built on his hands during this training were the same you feel when he caresses you. Yours weren’t as prominent as his. You looked through one of your windows, into the distance. At nothing, really. You loved how his hands’ grip feels strong and secure, whether they were playfully wrapped around your wrists or neck, or grasping your hips as he took you from behind. You remembered the way they felt when they teased your folds and your clit. Your core throbbed and you whimpered at the thought. While you were daydreaming at your window, Aemond had walked in behind you. He’d heard you whimper and decided to announce his presence by putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to turn. 

He was still sweaty from the yard, but you didn’t really care about that. He still had that confident look he got from a particularly good fight. You decided to tease him, running your hands down his chest, sliding them to his belt. You felt him stiffen in his clothes, and you went to your knees. All you could think about was having him in your mouth. You loosened his trousers and fished out his cock. It was proudly standing tall, already waiting for you.

You started by licking around the crown, taking his head slowly into your mouth. You could feel it throb with his desire, it almost felt like you could tell how much he was holding back so that he could enjoy the feeling of being inside of your mouth. You slowly slid the rest in, and spent some time kneeling in front of him, playing with his stones and caressing his cock with your tongue. He hummed his appreciation at the pleasure you were giving him while he finished undressing. He pulled back and your mouth felt empty, it’s not really what you wanted to be feeling at that particular moment. You wanted his spend in your mouth.

Aemond pulled you up and lead you to the bed, undressing you as he did so. He pushed you forward up onto the bed but held you back so you wouldn’t get too far away from him, as you were then kneeling on the bed. He slid behind you and ran his hands up to your neck. It was as though he had read what was on your mind earlier. He lightly grasped your neck while you leaned back into his chest. Aemond could smell your hair and the scent you put on that morning, he could feel your hair down his chest. He turned his head to kiss you as his hand slid down to your tits.

You felt his callouses as he teased your nipples. They were as erect as he was. You love having them teased. His rough skin on yours made you tingle in anticipation of what he was about to do. He ran them lower to your seam, and found your clit. He knew exactly where to touch you to make you come undone. You could feel him press against your ass the whole time, and he moved down to get a better angle with your pussy. 

His right hand still played with you but his left guided in his cock. He knelt behind you to gently fuck into you. You leaned forward almost into a proper dog position so he had a better angle for thrusting. His right hand held on to your hips, his left brushed around your shoulders and he took you that way until you both found release.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

Amos Bracken was slain in the Battle of the Burning Mill, and Ser Raylon Rivers led the green survivors back to Bracken territory.

They returned to Stone Hedge only to find that it had been captured in their absence by Prince Daemon Targaryen, riding his dragon Caraxes, and Prince Baelor Belaerys on Coatlicue had led a strong host of Darrys, Freys, Pipers, and Rootes to the Brackens' castle. The blacks quickly stormed the castle. Humfrey was captured, along with his remaining children, his third wife, and his lowborn paramour. When Raylon returned to Stone Hedge, he yielded to Daemon, ending any green strength in the riverlands.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

A month after the birth of your second daughter, Nymeria, you received word from your father that he was abdicating. No one knew it at the time, but it was only a plan to allow you to leave King’s Landing. The real plan was to go to Essos for a while, then come back.

Aegon stared at his brother. “You want me to allow you to leave, but not to fight? Why?” 

Aemond handed the scroll to Criston. He looked at the Belaerys sigil on the wax seal and broke it open. “‘King & Maegor Coatl Belaerys will abdicate his throne…’” He finished reading. “‘To spend time with his grandchildren’? What kind of King chooses to give up the crown before he dies?”

“He was injured. Perhaps the thought of dying made him aware he didn’t spend much time with his children and he wants to spend time with his younger children and his children’s children with what time he has left.” Aemond only hoped Aegon would buy the story. 

“It’s only natural,” Aemond said to Aegon. Focusing his words only on his brother, it was only his approval he needed.

He hoped any of the sober people there didn’t question this too deeply. Criston eyed Aemond suspiciously.

“So we now have another Queen in our court.” Aegon didn’t seem to understand as he had been drunk since breakfast.

“Your Grace,” Criston started. “It wouldn’t be wise to keep a Queen away from her people. It would be best to send her back home. We can send escorts.”

“Leave. Everyone except The Hand.”

Everyone left, though Aemond was last.

“If we send her home, who will take her spot on the HIgh Council?”

Criston sighed, “She can send someone to take her place, but we cannot risk starting a second war with a much bigger country when we are in the midst of a war in your own kingdom. Send her away and be done with it.”

“And Aemond?”

“He is her husband. He will have to go with her.”

“We can’t lose one of our best fighters and the biggest dragon during this war with the Blacks.”

“It’s not worth the fight, my King.”

Aegon looked back at Cole through his drunken haze, looking like he wished to protest that last comment.

The King swallowed his words, and stood quickly. He started walking out of the room, swaying as he did so.

“Fine.” Aegon said in a quiet voice. “Let them go.”

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

You had only just arrived back in Westeros for a week and traveling with a newborn was tiresome, but necessary. You flew Molcajete above Dragonstone, close enough to be spotted. You knew your brother, Baelor, would recognize it was Molca based on her description. That would be enough to prevent an attack. Then you flew your dragon northwest to The Mountains of the Moon. You had a secret messenger send word to Dragonstone, addressed to Queen Rhaenyra, that you wish to meet with someone and help to put and end to the war. When you were able to meet with Rhaenyra, you informed her Aemond was also coming. The court took this news and spread it like wildfire.

When you passed word you and Aemond were coming to Dragonstone, the first thing someone said to you was “Are you sure he’s not spying for Aegon?” You knew he would never betray you. Those claims of Aemond possibly being a spy were repeated all day around Dragonstone, you never heard the Queen or the Prince Consort participating in this gossip but you hoped it would at least give everyone no need to panic when they saw Vhagar.

You flew over the mountains looking for a sign that someone was coming. You didn’t expect to see Caraxes flying toward you. You readied yourself for a fight, then Daemon landed Caraxes on a nearby cliff, which was too small for your dragon. Probably on purpose. Once Daemon’s dragon flew away, you dismounted from your dragon with the purple rope, while she held her spot the best she could. Daemon didn’t look impressed, but you weren’t impressed by him either. He met you at the cliff.

You greeted him. “Prince Consort.”

“Why haven’t you proclaimed Rhaenyra as your Queen? In fact, it seems you feel quite the opposite when you marry our enemies.”

“I, myself, will be a queen some day. I can make treaties and create allies, but I cannot call anyone my Queen or King, save for my father, the King of Sothoryos.” You considered your situation, though. “Regardless if King Viserys did change his mind at the end, I don’t believe that words on the deathbed or while partially conscious should be considered as truth. He repeatedly said the opposite for years - even the day of his death - while of clear mind. Rhaenyra deserves her crown.”

“And what of her sons?”

“The ones with dark hair and eyes?” Daemon clenched his teeth, expecting you to say something offensive, but he didn’t know you. “Neither I, nor would my people, care about who the father was. Rhaenyra is the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the heir, and she brought them into the world. And even if they are bastards, they aren’t treated like bastards where I’m from. I am a bastard, myself.”

“Why didn’t your parents simply marry before you were born?”

“They were fighting a war. My father, physically. My mother physically, until the fourth month of her pregnancy. There wasn’t time.”

“Where are your daughters?”

“With four guards.”

Daemon “Rhaenyra doesn’t want you or your children dead. Just Aemond. Perhaps, if she kills him, I can take up the old traditions and wed you, too.”

“Perhaps, if there were no enmity between us, you could take up Loicato traditions and I could wed you both.” Daemon tilted his head at you, to which you replied, “We could build an empire on our joined family and the dragons we create.”

“Are you offering to bear my child? Because I know for a fact that Rhaenyra will never bed Aemond.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “Is that something you dream of, often?”

You walked towards him as you talked, “Not the empire part. I’d rather go home to Sothoryos and keep to myself, but if it keeps my beloved husband alive, I will do anything.”

“Like become a whore?”

It was your turn to laugh. “Every day, I find it more and more curious that you Westerosi are so obsessed with what goes on between a woman’s legs.” You stopped when you were a few feet away. “I haven’t been a maid for a long time and, even then, it wasn’t against my will. I will be a queen. I don’t need to be whore.” You started circling him. “Where I’m from, if a person is not consenting, they are given the opportunity to castrate the person who violated them in front of as many people as possible. To show what the punishment is for rape.” You stepped as close to him as possible without touching him. “Eight lovers later, I’ve yet to be paid for it.”

Daemon grabbed your throat, but he didn’t put much force behind it, “So you’re an… Ilībio.” (‘Slut’.)  His other hand grazed your face. “And you consider yourself safe with me?”

“Molca isn’t far.” The distant sound of your dragon’s roar could he heard.

Daemon poked his knife into your ribs. “I could probably gut you before she got here.”

You touched his armour. Your fingers glowed orange and heated the metal. “And Valyrians are known for their magic.” When he grunted from the pain, you stopped. “You wouldn’t have wasted time talking to me if you were going to kill me. You know I’m not a threat.” Your thumb, now back to normal, traced his bottom lip. “I believe you have other things on your mind.”

“Are you trying to bewitch me?”

“I don’t know any magic that can make someone do something against their will. It is against our Sothoryi ways.” Daemon pulled you flush to his body and you felt his hardened bulge. “You definitely have something else on your mind.”

Daemon kissed you, hand moving to the back of your neck, and you indulged for a few seconds. You knew that if he were present, Aemond would probably just roll his eye. You pulled away, then you smirked at him and sat in your own area to read a book. ‘A game.’ Daemon thought. That made him more interested than ever. Perhaps, as a princess, you needed to have your own fun sometimes. 

You ignored him the rest of the wait for Aemond to arrive. A short while later, you heard the beat of a massive dragon’s wings on the wind. It can only be Vhagar finally approaching you. Aemond didn’t have a dismounting rope as you did. He would have to land Vhagar somewhere and walk. He wouldn’t be happy.

…………………………………………..

Once Aemond arrived, he immediately felt the playful tension between you and Daemon. That playfulness  quickly changed when you saw Aemond. You stood from your spot and walked to him. Daemon watched as Aemond kissed your temple in greeting. You hadn’t been apart for long, but he felt the need to kiss you. It seemed you would all be arriving separately and you he could tell you were on edge.

…………………………………………..

“I deeply apologize for that day above Shipbreaker Bay.” Aemond said. “I do regret it.”

“Be that as it may, my son almost lost his life.” Rhaenyra stated. “He lost his dragon.”

“It was a regrettable mistake.”

You were standing in front of Rhaenyra, too and you interrupted. “If you need to see it, in order to understand what happened, I can show you.”

“I am not going to let you fill my head with magic. You could show me anything and call it true.” 

You responded, “Your Grace, I have no inclination to show you falsehoods or mislead you now.” You knelt in front of her, “As my brother before me, I pledge House Belaerys and, as many fighters as volunteer to fight in this war, to Queen Rhaenyra I Targaryen. She smiled at you, a gentle smile that you had not seen from her yet, using a small gesture to invite you to rise from your knee. 

“Thank you.” She followed up by asking what led you to take this step to fight with the Blacks.

“It’s a very long answer, though not a complicated one.”

“Tell me the core of it.”

“The Greens are using everything they can to turn the people against you. I know you did not send those murderers after a Jaehaerys. Even if Lucerys was killed, it would be Aemond you go after. We knew Luke wasn’t dead. Even if he was, it wouldn’t serve you any purpose to kill Jaehaerys. And, with what little I know of you, I don’t believe that you do anything without a clear purpose in mind. I’ve only had a taste of what you must have suffered your whole life and I can tell that many hours have been spoken only with your sex in mind. You are the rightful Queen. I am not going home without ensuring the true heir sits on the throne.”

“Thank you, Princess. It means a great deal that you would pledge yourself me, if only for this war. I am very grateful.”

“It’s not entirely why. I know what they have planned for my people and my home. I will not sit back and allow them to take our dragons & exploit our resources so they can become the next great empire.”

Everyone around the table looked at each other. They had heard about the High Council, but not what they had planned.

“And Lucerys is welcome to any dragon egg or wild dragon that he can claim.”

…………………………………………………

Daemon later offered to see what happened between Lucerys and Aemond. 

You performed the ritual. Involving mixing your blood and his in wine blessed by a red priestess.

“Teomeh…” You took out your obsidian blade. “Xitlapouki in kauitlaxotlalli.” 

“What are you saying?”

Aemond answered for you, “She’s asking the gods for help…”

You cut your hand and bled into the cup & on top of one candle. “Nik noittalis.”

When you held out your hand, Daemon hesitated, but eventually gave you his own hand. You sliced his palm and bled him into the goblet and over the second candle. “Nechmaka in uelilistli. Nik itta in nelli.”

“She’s asking to see the truth of the past.”

You lit each candle and poured the wine into the goblet. “Iuan kipano ipan.”

“And to pass it on.”

You picked up the goblet and drank half of the contents, then you handed it to Daemon. “Drink the rest.” He did as you bid him. When he sat the cup down, you blew out the candles.

Flashes of light danced in front of Daemon’s eyes. He saw everything as it happened, and that led to you joining their fight.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

The Sack of Duskendale took place at Duskendale in the crownlands.

Following the assault on Harrenhal, the Battle of the Burning Mill, and the taking of Stone Hedge, Criston advised moving against the "traitors" that had bent the knee to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. While House Velaryon and House Celtigar were unreachable, the "black" lords whose land were on the mainland had no protection against Aegon's loyalists.

First they reached Rosby and Stokeworth, whose lords were blacks but had been captured in King's Landing during the initial coup, and agreed to bend the knee in order to spare their own lives. Having secured their submission, Aegon II's host passed bloodlessly through both castles and even added their strength to his own. In addition to dragons (Sunfyre & Tessarion), Aegon II and Criston Cole marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sellswords: thus about 2,400 in total. The forced addition of men from Rosby and Stokeworth would have increased this to slightly under 3,000 men by the time they reached Duskendale.

While Duskendale was a walled port town, it was caught completely by surprise and unprepared. It quickly fell to Aegon II's forces and was sacked, while the ships at the harbor were set afire. Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded for treason. Most of his household knights submitted to Aegon, although a few decided to follow Gunthor in death.

After the sack was complete, Criston moved the loyalist forces to Rook's Rest, seat of House Staunton. Unlike Duskendale, by this time they had forewarning of Aegon II's advance and barred the castle gates, leading to a siege while the greens despoiled the surrounding lands. This climaxed in the large Battle of Rook's Rest.

////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\////\\\\

3 months after the birth of your second daughter Nymeria was Rook’s Rest.

After you and Aemond left King’s Landing, Aegon never expected to see you again. He had no clue that Molcajete and Vhagar were hidden away. He had no idea that you had been training almost nonstop to get your strength back after two childbirths. Not that you ever stopped training completely, but you had slowed significantly. 

Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the new Hand of the King to Aegon II Targaryen, devised a more aggressive strategy for the greens than his predecessor as Hand, Ser Otto Hightower. Criston planned a trap for the blacks at Rook's Rest, while also forcing the submission of the nearby crownlands houses that were allied with Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. But Aemond was also planning a trap.

Criston Cole marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sellswords: thus about 2,400 in total. Lord Rosby and Lord Stokeworth had recently submitted to Aegon to avoid execution in King's Landing, and Criston forced them to prove their loyalty by adding the strength of Rosby and Stokeworth to the green host. The army was thus slightly under 3,000 men in strength by the time they reached Duskendale. 

Lord Staunton had been forewarned of the approach of Ser Criston's army. He closed the gates of Rook's Rest, but was unable to prevent Criston from burning his fields or killing his smallfolk and livestock. When supplies in Rook's Rest began to run low, Lord Staunton asked for assistance from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, sending a raven to Dragonstone. 

You knew you had to fight against the greens, with the blacks and your brother, Baelor. But you believed that Aemond would never fight against his family and you didn’t ask him to. Instead, you asked him to make sure Jaenara and Nymeria were safe. You didn’t know it at the time, but Aemond decided he couldn’t stand the thought of sitting out of this fight when you would be out there risking your life. He left the girls with Jaera and readied himself. You had already left, but Aemond had a plan. He would retrieve both of your dragons and show up after the fight began.

Queen Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys & Joffrey Velaryon, were eager to join the fight atop their dragons, Vermax and Tyraxes. However, Rhaenyra only allowed Jacaerys to go. Nine days after Staunton's message, You, Rhaenys Targaryen, and Jace, along with their dragons arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton. You were riding with Rhaenys.

You and your bannermen, as well as some of those from the Blacks, blew your death whistles (ehecachichtli). They were medium sized skull-shaped objects made from ceramic. Hundreds of them all at once sounded like terrified screaming. It wasn’t a dragon roar, but it was disturbing. Your people called it the ‘Shriek of Death’. 

Aemond could hear the sounds from his position. He didn’t know what they were and it scared him. It sounded like thousands of people screaming, but it was so loud and he tried not to focus on the sound. As soon as you left, he readied himself for the battle. He felt so alone in that moment. Worried about his wife and daughters. Worried of what would become of his family. He had left the dogs, too. They couldn’t fight anyway. So he waited until he heard the battle begin. Then he did as you taught him. He closed his eye and focused on calling Vhagar. He knew Molcajete would follow, as they were practically inseparable now. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he hoped he would make it before anyone on the battlefield recognized your fighting style. Aegon would kill you for joining the blacks. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Criston was prepared for dragons, and had his archers and scorpions fire at them. The dragons were largely unharmed by these attacks, and they responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragonfire. While you dismounted from Meleys, you prepared for battle on foot.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Criston Cole then sprung his trap. King Aegon II Targaryen appeared in the sky atop their dragons, Sunfyre, and attacked. The four dragons fought a thousand feet above the field. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

You were fighting on the battlefield, dressed in the new armour given to you by Rhaenyra. Aemond saw you earlier that morning, with your purple war paint, and teeth dyed cochineal red — an intimidating sight — with your macuahuitl and another weapon at your side. 

Aegon saw you fighting and he saw red. He immediately swooped down on Sunfyre. You were attacked again by another green knight. After you killed him, you tripped and hurt your ankle. When you got up, you grabbed your macuahuitl and started limping away to continue the fight. Just before Sunfyre released his flame on you, Coatlicue, your brother’s dragon, wrapped her jaws around Sunfyre’s neck. You heard Sunfyre cry out as Coatlicue connected her teeth to his flesh and you looked up. Seeing your brother’s armour atop his dragon alerted you to how close they were. You were almost run through with a sword, but you jumped back just in time and ended the man’s life. Aemond saw it all happen, but he was too far away. Then Molca flew overhead and when she landed, you ran to her and climbed her ladder.

Aemond flew around the battlefield. He was happy you were safe, but he was also worried about his brother, Aegon. Regardless what they had planned for Sothoryos, they were still his family.

You knew you had to get in between Baelor and Aegon. You waited for an opening and made your move. Your brother’s bigger dragon was about to deal a fatal blow to Aegon when you got in between them. “No!”

“This is a man who has kept you in King’s Landing, against your will. A traitor and usurper!”

Behind you, while you were arguing with your brother, Aegon was about to attack you again, Sunfyre reared back, about to burn both you and your brother, but Molcajete turned her head toward Aegon & Sunfyre and roared. You looked at him, completely unbothered by his presence. Molca could easily do to Aegon & Sunfyre what everyone thought Aemond did to Lucerys. “Leave or I’ll let her kill you.”

Aemond watched as you allowed his brother to leave. Sunfyre rose into the sky again. 

Meleys caught up to Sunfyre, who was clearly struggling, maybe panicked, if a dragon can be. Aegon looked equally panicked atop the dragon. He was attempting to get the dragon under control to get away from the battle, and even with your mercy, battles are chaotic. Rhaenys didn’t see what had happened. She didn’t see you let Aegon go. She only saw the enemy in an exposed position. Her dragon took the opportunity to approach Sunfyre from above. You heard from the distance, “Dracarys!”

The attacking dragon let out a stream of flame until Sunfyre abruptly attempted to pull up. Sunfyre’s wing caught in the other’s mouth and tore. The screams of pain from Sunfyre would echo for decades after in the nightmares of every witness. Sunfyre had one wing half torn from his body. Aegon suffered severe burns and fell to his death. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Aemond saw his brother’s last fall. He knew this would tear out his mother’s heart. He didn’t want to spend any more time than he had to here any longer.

The Green army almost entirely ceased hostilities when they saw their king fall. You knew it would have been a quick enough death, no lingering in the halfway point for weeks on end as you’ve seen before. You found Aemond on the field and held him tightly.

Ser Criston Cole lost almost all of his soldiers to dragonfire and fighting. Rhaenyra took the iron throne. Sunfyre, was flightless and it was decided that they would take him to Sothoryos for as long as his life was full. Eventually, Alicent understood that it was only a miscommunication about Aegon’s flight, it wasn’t your intent to get him killed. 

ONE

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THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EPILOGUE

TAGLIST

@ilikechocolatemilkh

SERIES MASTERLIST

[thescentofrainonstone]

It's the voice. It's what He says YOU and only YOU directly into your ears.

Or "fanfics, audios and self esteem building"

Let me explain.

There's an addendum to be had on the matter of where we go for escapism, when it's stories or fanfics that then become books if that experience of disappointment in current life, frustration and longing is shared enough (like in the case of twilight and fifth shades).

I seem the only one vocally noticing when one writes a self insert is because of their need ultimately to feel special, chosen by the character for whatever reason is desirable to them (usually tall, dark, handsome, immortal or thereabout and wealthy but not ostentatiously because money exists as preventative from problems).

But what hit me recently, and admitedly late, relates to audio. And the baldur's gate 3 people who fell hook line and sinker for Astarion might probably back me up on this because from what I understand, as someone who hasn't played and doesn't even know the game but got still hit by the way the pale elf got into the zeitgeist (at least of nerdy people whl play d&d old fashionably around a table monthly) is that most of the heavy lifting and heart throbbing is due to the work of Astarion's voice actor Neil Newbon.

Now, audio is a peculiar thing, go check out GoneWildAudio on Reddit and see for yourself the quite literal mind🦆it can be to have someone, speaking in your ear, addressing YOU and then go convince your brain that is *not* an actual human referring, adoring, and talking to YOU.

First: audio recordings have been around a little over 150 years. So in a way you'd think we haven't evolved to understand the difference between a recording and someone there who really whispers in your own ear.

But then again, film shocked the first time they saw the locomotive but nowadays no one would dream what's in their TV is actually part of their surroundings. And to that I argue: audio has no frame. Nothing physically breaks the illusion like the screen and its separation from your actual surroundings.

Audio doesn't have that. Put on headphones, close your eyes and with a good quality equipment (or binaural) it's freaky what audio can give the impression to your brain that's going on.

Now personal vulnerability moment: years ago I went into a rabbit hole that led me to the work of a certain GWA Voice Artist. I was writing a paper and supposedly "researching and studying" like a good observer of the human condition when I suddenly found myself nothing short of addicted to sound in the form of their very unique specific voice. to the point I took it upon myself to try and understand what kind of ton of bricks hit a performer when they share something seemingly personal and vulnerable... Via audio. Which as said above, doesn't have a defined frame that separates it from how our brains differentiate everything else that affects any of our other senses in reality. Let's just say that I realised the experience of someone whose voice presented male is vastly different from someone like me whose voice was coded femme. And that's because cishet men don't know how to respectfully interact with the subject of their porn. At least that's what I saw in my brief but intense experience as a virtual sex worker, basically.

But beside the point: voice and sound create such a good illusion because of how many more human facets come through with timbre, every breath intake, every exhale, all those imperfection that communicate "human".

Now here's where it gets tricky: there is an agreement on the swoon-worthiness of words spoken to YOU about YOU in Your ear. How "unique, amazing, exceptional, beyond whatever he dared to imagine You are, how You affect his entire world and way to see at every human after you who doesn't hold a candle to your being". Which reflects in the popularity of audio and I suspect justifies the success of Astarion beyond the video game world like, to my knowledge, no character had breached before.

But.

What struck me is one specific effect Audio has on people, and I mean beyond the physical effect of the rightfully horniness. I refer to:

self-confidence.

Please consider this an invitation to confirm or deny, but after spending days, listening to a voice telling you how amazing, and special, and sexy you are, how crazy you drive him/her/them and how they only have eyes for you, don't you start to walk a little bit taller? Head a little bit higher? Hips a little bit swayer?

And this is to say: I don't think most people have the ability to do that for themselves, to write themselves into self inserts and yet being able to praise themselves like they clearly yearn to. And audio then becomes I guess like you're masturbating with someone else's hand voice?

Btw: again kudos to fanfic writers in the Astarion realm because at least they are a step ahead the last fandom I checked and if not praising their self insert enough (ever for me, but maybe I'm just a praise slut) they definitely spend more time in the pale elf's head than I ever witnessed in the last twenty or so years I've read (and occasionally written but I will forever deny under torture) Fanfiction

In this air, if you are looking to disconnect from reality with amazing heartfelt smut go check our @again-please and @fangswbenefits ❤️❤️❤️

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Young Avengers 🦅 | Marvel Headcanon

Takes place during Phase 4 of the MCU

Link to my marvel Masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no

Being a young former Black Widow and forming a team with Shuri, Kate, Elijah, Joaquin, and Kid Loki would look like:

To be honest you weren’t to fazed with the idea of forming a team with the younger crowd of up and coming superheroes. Sure you had been friends with Shuri since 2018 and met the others through Sam, Clint, and Thor, but the idea of creating a team like the Avengers never crossed your mind until Shuri proposed the idea. “Ain’t that Val lady forming her own team? Or Secretary Ross is, they’re calling them the Thunderbolts? Yelena was telling me about it—anyway, point is if there’s already a new team of heroes then why make our own?” “Calling them heroes is a little…far fetched if we’re being honest. They are more like the Dark Avengers—and no I was not trying to make a joke. You look at who she’s recruiting and it’s literally that. Think of us as their antithesis.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that with you literally going, “Fuck it. Let’s do it—might actually give me shit to do now that the world has gone to shit trying to get back to the way it was.” Within the hour you were pulling up to a hangar to meet the others. They all looked excited except Kid Loki. He looked rather annoyed being there—really it was Thor’s idea to have him join to keep him out of trouble. “It was either this or join him in his adventures across space. Frankly I’d rather stay in one place after escaping the Void.”

Considering you all are some of the most powerful and intelligent kids on the planet, there is bound to be some restrictions. Likely y’all would be staying at Avengers compound or create your own base camp but there would still be oversight. If Fury is not dealing with the Kree then he and Maria are who y’all report to. Other than them, the veteran Avengers tend to look after you guys—like Sam and Clint. “So since you’re now Captain America and you’re technically retired, does that make Torres the Falcon and Bishop Hawkeye?” “If that’s what they want to go by. You’re still called Black Widow aren’t ya?” “Touché”

So there you have it. Shuri: The Black Panther, Joaquin: the Flacon, You: the Black Widow, Kate: Hawkeye, Kid Loki, & Elijah: The Patriot.

As expected you’re a rambunctious group of heroes. Sometimes y’all find yourselves in trouble when you weren’t planning on it. Trouble just finds you guys 90% of the time. Agent Everett Ross has a whole supply of advil because keeping track of you all gives him a headache. “You’re job was to get it, get the intel, and get the hell out of there. What went wrong?” “Well…….as you can see um….yeah I have no explanation. Shuri you got anything?” “Nope. Torres, you?” “I can’t even remember what we were doing there.”

One time on a mission you guys actually ran into the Thunderbolts and it was quite the scene. First of all you and Yelena were like, “Hey sis! What are you doing here?” Meanwhile Bucky was scolding Elijah & Torres and Walker was getting annoyed with Kid Loki’s tricks. Kate just looked out of place while Shuri was trying to calm everyone down, “It seems there has been a misunderstanding. Unless….it was the plan for all of us to be here.” “What are you saying, Shuri?” “I believe our teams were set up, white wolf. Why else would both of us be called to the same place, for the same exact thing, on the same day?”

Having a genius like Shuri on your team meant you guys were equipped with some of the best technological advances than anyone else. Even the Thunderbolts were envious of y’all’s artillery. Not only did Joaquin get an upgrade on his falcon wings, but Kate got high tech trick arrows, Elijah a vibranium shield, kid Loki with a scepter and you got some additions to your Widow’s bite and suit. “Shit, I feel like I could take down even Thanos with these.” “Try not to show them off to much, Widow. Secretary Ross is still trying to get me to develop stuff for the Thunderbolts and i’ve given him the impression I’m not even advancing our weaponry. So..keep it on the down low.”

After some time as a team, you guys would recruit Kamala Khan, RiRi Williams and Cassie Lang as y’all’s Ms. Marvel, IronHeart & Stinger. Peter Parker would eventually join, bringing in his buddy Ned and America Chavez who were Masters of The Mystic Arts. The team grew so large y’all could actually split you guys up when multiple missions came in. With their initiation, Dr. Strange, Captain Marvel, and Scott Lang joined Sam, Clint, Fury, Ross, and Hill as ‘chaperones’.

“So what do we call ourselves?” “The Young Avengers.” “Isn’t that a derivative?” “Yeah, but it sounds less menacing than Dark Avengers or the Thunderbolts. I mean we are Avengers…just we’re young so it fits.” “True…”

[jasper-pagan-witch]

As far as pcp goes, how would you go about creating and worshipping your own deity, if thats possible?

Hello hello!

As requested, I am tagging @alter-altars and @janhasnoplan in this answer. For convenience, I'm breaking this down into three headers - Don't Get Caught In A Cult, DIY Gods, and Religions From A Writing Perspective.

Don't Get Caught In A Cult

Cults are fucking terrible. And the worst part is, the more immune you THINK you are to them, the more likely you'll be to fall for their tricks.

The New Age to Alt-Right pipeline is a big example of this in metaphysical spaces, but many people have also drawn parallels between Jehovah's Witnesses, the Amish, or Mormons and cults - not because the model is wrong, but because groups that are cults often get away with it in many parts of the United States.

You may not be trying to start a cult for your DIY divinity, but it's important to be aware of the warning signs. People much smarter than I (or at least have the PhDs for it) have written many things about how to identify and escape cults, which brings us to:

Important Links

Steven Hassan’s BITE Model of Authoritarian Control on the Freedom Of Mind Resource Center

Mind Control - The BITE Model on the ex-cult Resource Center

The BITE Model of Cult Mind Control Explained by Joseph Sherwood on A Little Bit Human

How to Recognise a Cult; How to Avoid Cults That May Try to Convert You; and How to Leave a Cult on WikiHow

What To Do When You Realize You Accidentally Joined A Cult ​by Carrie Saum on Ravishly

How To Help A Loved One Who Joined A Cult by Stephanie Gomulka on Oxygen: True Crime

@pondering-the-kaiju's entire pinned post

DIY Gods

People have been making up gods for their needs for as long as we've had gods. Aradia (the creation of Charles Leland, fuck that dude) has one book as her source. Cernunnos appears on maybe one cauldron. People make up Greek gods all the time because there were just so many of those guys, what's one more? (Good examples of this are Mesperyian and, arguably, Makaria.) And, of course, we can't get through this without mentioning Robert Graves (fuck Robert Graves) creating the White Goddess as his wife's self-insert.

So yes, creating your own god is possible and has precedent. You could even argue that every god was created by someone at some point, because that's just how humans work. We see an idea (often because we're introduced to it by someone else), we go "Oh, that's neat!", and then we take the bits that work for us and we add new stuff that helps flesh out the divine in question. It's how Aphrodite evolved from Astarte, it's how Dionysus got developed and changed over time, and it's how we have the two Wiccan divines.

I recommend studying other religions and how they came to be, because that will also help you learn about how the gods in question came to be. Who moved where? What gods got brought along and turned into other gods? I particularly recommend looking at the Romans and how they went "Wow, everyone worships our gods but with different names! Neat!"

Important Links

Literally anything by Overly Sarcastic Productions that goes into detail about the origin of various deities (which is mostly on Red's end) - namely these ones about Aphrodite, Dionysus, Hades and Persephone and Demeter, Hermes, and Loki

Anything broadly about deity work and religion, frankly, because in the course of developing your divine figure, you'll have to come up with their offerings and portfolio and what they may help you with

Wolf Of Antimony Occultism - aka @wolfofantimonyoccultism here on Tumblr, they're creating their own religion that's really cool to see

Religions From A Writing Perspective

At heart, I am a worldbuilder. I build worlds. That's what I DO. My Kephea project is a great example of this, though I have others as well. In particular, I love building magic systems and religions.

I will accept any chance to talk about my Kephea project, but this is about building a religion. Generally speaking, religions like to talk about the following three things:

How did the world come to be?

How should we act towards one another?

What happens when we die?

Not every religion (real-world or in media) talks about all of these. Hell, some don't touch on any of them. Here's a fictional example of a religion that has some things to say: the Church of Avacyn (the plane of Innistrad in Magic: The Gathering):

Doesn't discuss how the world came to be.

Says that humans should help and protect each other from the monsters of Innistrad, which include vampires, werewolves, zombies, geists, and even other humans. Later says that humans are inherently sinful during the height of Avacyn's madness and they should be slain to save them from themselves. One archangel and her flight took that second part personally and caused a schism in the church.

Promises a Blessed Sleep that won't be bothered by undeath in either zombie or geist form. This isn't going well now that the archangel and her flight who oversees it are destroyed.

It's important to sit and think about how your religion addresses or doesn't address these questions. Is it more of a henotheistic approach, where any number of gods exist but you only worship some? Is it a monotheistic approach, where there's only a single deity? Is it a polytheistic approach, where there are many deities with a strong connecting thread? Is it an entirely different approach, like archetypes (the Mother, the Child, the Himbo), natural forces (the sun and moon, the forest, the potty pond), or something else? That's up to you.

A lot of my links here will be about polytheistic religions, because those are the ones I build the most. Yes, I have a lot of these links, because this is one of my special interests.

Important Links

On Worldbuilding: Religions [ polytheistic l Avatar TLA l Game of Thrones l Cthulhu ] by Hello Future Me/Timothy Hickson on YouTube (a written version of this video is also Part 12 in his book, On Writing And Worldbuilding volume 1)

So You Want To / Create a Mythopoeia; Fantasy Pantheon; and Stock Gods on TV Tropes

Creating a Religion Guide part 1, part 2, and part 3 on Roll For Fantasy

Common Misconceptions About Old Mythologies & Religions; Basic Tips To Create More Believable Sci-Fi & Fantasy Religions & Belief Systems; How To Create Fictional Structured Religions; and Things That Show Up In Christianity-Inspired Fiction That Aren't In The Bible on Springhole

List of religious ideas in fantasy fiction on Wikipedia

8 Tips for Creating a Pantheon for Your Novel by Jill Williamson on Go Teen Writers

How to Create God Characters for Your Fantasy World by Kathy Edens on ProWritingAid

In Summary

I didn't actually give advice, did I? I just kind of dumped a lot of my resources here. Oh well, hopefully you all get something useful out of this!

~Jasper

[avatar-of-the-web]

This was going to be a response but Tumblr has the best timing with making me lose a post forever, so the context is TMA "Are there loving God's?" Gerry said, he doesn't believe so.

They appear to all be fear-based.

He specifies, “At least not that I've seen” [they are not anything else]

Smart boy, the information tugs at the edge of the subconscious where you can barely see it. You know it's wrong without the means to prove it.

You know they're beyond your imagination but you still yet cannot help being trapped in a world of fear; this was true before they literally consumed the world. They already had. So caught up in fear that it had practically swallowed it all to begin with. All Elias had really done was make it official, to cut everything else out of the picture.

So there was nothing left to balance, it slides on an incline downward; but this is an ecosystem and the balance is off. They can't feed forever if even they can die—this world was finite.

In a sense, ours isn't. Of course, the flesh disagrees and the clumsy host produces waste without thinking of solutions will disagree; “it's all finite to me” but this energy is never created nor destroyed only moved, only changed.

They'd be different sides of the same entity, not completely different entity's; they're ELDRITCH, or incredibly difficult, dense to comprehend; Different faces, same beast—a different man sees their own unique version of each god as unique as their relationship with it.

To a vast avatar, the vast is a loving god, She changed you for the better; Gave you what you Needed, though She may still ask for payment in an exchange. That's not unreasonable.

Of course how we draw the lines in the sand are circumstantial. One calls it the Eye because they believe this section of the beast is worth separating as its own; and for good reason. In every head, the witness of life observes and fed and fed and fed She changes too. Different forms of course; some continually feeding without consideration, some drink the sea to know to apply, some cannot help this obsession spurred by terror what will happen if I don't see it all? And more.

The Eye is a dominant entity for Her presence is nearly guaranteed. The Web us a dominant entity because it is or lays in the connection of everything.

We section these things to better understand them. The total of it all— it's too overwhelming to process all at once.

But it comes down to this.

You make a relationship with your slice of The Gods.

“In exchange for being my vessel, here is a prize; but you must be calibrated. Not just anybody can be a vessel for # you must fulfill the needs, be capable of performing My actions of thinking My thoughts.

You are My Vessel the embodiment of Me and you must Become to Be.”

Gerry is biased by WHAT HE COULD SEE, the patterns that trapped him, and what he could see was ultimately dictated by the people that insisted on controlling his life; so when he escaped he could only make how he viewed the world his own, so he saved people from fear instead of creating it.

He fought limitation though limitation still lay as it were, he could only go so far but even so

If that's not love, I don't know what is.

So he did not See it for he could not understand it but he could Feel it still; it drove his actions though he separated them.

He only knew these things could hurt people because he Saw what they could do. He only saved them because he Knew. Otherwise, there is no reason to Fear.

Of course, doubt and denial and misunderstanding, misaligning information leads to blindness; one could ask "how could god do that?" thinking of a god as something akin to a man making decisions; but they're far more complex than that.

The human brain does not dictate every little thing the stomach does, and goes through, though it certainly influences decisions we typically don't understand every single thing going on and don't control every single muscle and behaviour inside. A god on a greater scale—as a given consciousness could be a god to it's cells whom practice their devotion by serving their own respective purposes for the greater good of the whole and the individual—this is no different.

In our complicated dimension we have more of a choice.

We get to be privvy, get to know, get to share that know, if we so choose, if we find ourselves capable.

But I can only choose how I'd choose as I am with my life and my knowledge.

I become what I can reach.

And I believe there is every side to them, and an infinite number of ways to slice them. They are only reduced to Fears in a world of Fear.

I make no predication to the angle the podcast will take; but I see the seeds of reality that bloomed to creative ideas in TMA. And I see what cannot be avoided; I see what is being depicted.

In it's full complexity, from the eye of the beholder, from the centre of fear is our vantage point as the audience as it is the writers.

The Witness of Life, The Eye, The Evil Eye. All the same. Whatever angle it takes.

So we will See.

[tobiasdrake]

Deeper into Mesa Island, we go.

Uhhh.... Can we help you?

Should we be stopping this? I feel like we should be stopping this.

And they're gone.

Great. They expect me to do all the work of springing the deadly trap on myself. Typical.

This is the Elder Mist all over again. Fucking lazy-ass ambushers.

Fine, I did your yardwork and raised your lunar sigil. Let's go, up and at 'em. Come bite my face off. I don't have all night.

There we go, that's more like it. Consider this hedge pruned! See, the problem with making me set up my own ambush is that it gives me time to prepare for it.

In any case, that happened. Remind me next time we see Dickface Minstrel that I owe them a flute shoved down their throat.

And I pay my debts. Just ask the Numerology Cult.

Oh, I guess it's flashback time. Sure, why not. It's a bit of a hike to Peach's Castle, so now's as good a time as any to reminisce.

Oh, shit. Is this....

It is. This is the Strife cleansing. This is when Momo died. Along with many of her colleagues.

Oh, that confidence. >.< Oh, Moraine. Time will not be kind to you.

Another reminder that Erlina is stronger than Brugaves. She took to the magic more naturally than he did.

No, you don't. Not this battle, you don't.

People keep mentioning the twins. I don't think they're anyone we know. Probably died in the Strife battle.

They have to be important, though. The way they keep coming up implies that the plot wants us to be aware of them.

The sole survivor. I think this is where everything fell apart for our timeline. If Solstice Warriors are Resh'an's pieces and Dwellers are Aeophorul's pieces, then the near-total annihilation of all Solstice Warriors in exchange for a single Dweller, no matter how strong, was a cataclysmic loss for our team.

All that was left of the entire order was one traumatized Lunar warrior and two kids who didn't even really want to be here. This was where the ball began to roll downhill.

The friction was there from the beginning. Erlina never liked Moraine. I can't blame her. I hated his guts too. Sole survivor with PTSD Moraine is not well-suited to teaching the new generations, but he's literally the only option there is.

We didn't survive the Strife battle. We only thought we did. But the Dweller had mortally wounded the order. A wound whose lethality would only become clear twenty years later.

Shades of our own childhood plan to go sail the world with Garl instead. Every kid can feel how suffocating Mooncradle truly is.

I said before that Moraine is not very good at indoctrinating children into the order's belief system. Erlina and Bugraves turned full-on traitor, while Zale and I were out of Moraine's sight for five seconds before we recruited our non-Solstice bro that he explicitly forbid us from recruiting. Nobody cares about what Moraine thinks.

I stand by that remark now, but it's accented with a heavy dose of tragedy. He was never qualified to be a teacher. But who else was there?

Unfortunately, Evermist Island is a fucking prison colony of a place, so it's not exactly easy to escape from. These two had to become Solstice Warriors because there were no other options available. In Mooncradle, you're either born to become a Solstice Warrior or born to serve Solstice Warriors.

That's it. Solstice kids and non-Solstice kids alike, your path is set in stone from birth. Because this isn't a village; It's a factory for mass-producing Resh'an's chess pieces as efficiently as possible.

...oh, the vials that created Mooncradle were TIA's potions. I just got that. Yeah, he probably is the Great Eagle. Or controls it. Or something.

Aww, it's me! I'm so precious. I am the cutest baby that's ever been dropped off by the Great Eagle, and I will bite the shins of anyone who disagrees.

Confirmation that I am, in fact, the older sibling. Chew on that, little brother.

[canary0]

June 29th - Dracula 2023

Today is the day of my last letter. Time is up.

The Count went down the wall again like a lizard wearing my clothing. A disturbing image, like seeing into the future if I don’t escape. I wish I’d had a gun or something on that I could shoot him right off the wall. Honestly, though, I’m not sure it would even affect him. I didn’t wait for him to come back – after the hypnotism incident the other day, I didn’t want to risk it.

I went back tot he library and read until I fell asleep, instead. I swear, this is the most reading not for work I’ve done in years. Normally that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but it’s just a reminder of how isolated from the world I am. I want nothing more than to take out my phone and check up on everyone’s lives. I think I dreamt about them for a little bit before the Count awoke me, expression grim as a coffin nail.

He said, “To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never meet. Your letter home has been dispatched; to-morrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the bus from Bukovina to Bistrita. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.” Was that the movers I’d seen outside? Either way, the events of the last few days and our interactions absolutely screamed that that was nonsense. Hope springs eternal, though, so I decided to test his sincerity. What an insult to the term.

“Why can’t I leave tonight?” I asked, blunt and to the point.

“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission."

“Hiking would be good for my health, and I’d like to get home as soon as possible,” I returned evenly. I at least knew the general direction because of the GPS before it was destroyed.

His smile in response was the softest, smoothest expression I’d ever seen, with an edge of evil to it. The whole effect sent a chill down my spine as he spoke. “And your baggage?”

“It’s not that important.” Half of it was missing or destroyed during the course of my stay in this nightmare anyway.

The Count stood up and put on a show of courtesy that would have made him a shoo-in for an Oscar. “You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is that which rules our boyars: 'Welcome the coming; speed the parting guest.' Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!" With that, we were on our way down to the door with the lamp. Halfway down the stairs he stopped, looked up, and said, “Hark!”

Practically right outside the doors the howling of wolves rose in time with the movement of his hand. Seeing how he commanded them before, I don’t doubt is the exact case. As if he hadn’t just down that, he went down and threw open the bolts and the door itself. The door, it seemed, wasn’t at all locked. Perhaps it was too heavy for me, or perhaps it’s some other effect of his. I don’t know what to believe about what he can do anymore.

The howling and growling of the wolves became louder and angrier, and they leapt at the door, all fangs and claws. I knew that just leaving then would be a certain death sentence. Some part of me felt sorry for the wolves – this is certainly not how they naturally behave, so they were just victims under his control. Like myself, the movers, everyone in his orbit except maybe those weird sisters.

The door kept opening, with only the Count between them and me… literally and figuratively, since he commanded them to come at me as much as he created a barrier between myself and them. I had tried to end the game early, and so it would be valid to end my life with it. Knowing that, I finally shouted, “Shut the door! I’ll wait until morning, it’s fine!” I clenched my fists and looked down as tears stung my eyes.

We returned to the library in silence – his triumphant, I’m sure, though he went ahead of me so I couldn’t see his face. Eventually I returned to my own room. He kissed his hand toward me like someone blowing me a kiss, and that was the last I saw of him. He stared intently with those red eyes as his did, as triumphant as I’d imagined before. He was enjoying this entirely too much. The final act of his little play.

I didn’t know if I could sleep, but I was at least determined to lie down. I needed rest. But I heard whispering at the door. Whispering I knew well.

“Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!" There was a soft laugh – the women from before – and I threw open the door. There they were, licking their lips. At my appearance, they laughed and ran away.

I slammed the door shut, but was left only with emptiness and horror. Tomorrow is the end. I knew that, in a way, after what he said. There was naturally a purpose in keeping me here.

Tonight is his, though, and I have something to fear in the mean time. Whatever he plans to do, I’ll likely be left alive for them in whatever state I’m in.

My eyes went to where I had hung the crucifix from the bed frame. Somehow it was gone. Where, I don’t know.

So I am here. Waiting in silence. All I have is my diary that I should hide before he gets here, and the lamp to comfort me.

Tonight is his, whatever that means. And tomorrow, one way or the other, it ends.

(A/N: It always struck me as weird that Jonathan wasn't freaking out about more stuff in that scene. So... yeah.

I honestly had a lot of fun adapting this section.

Also, hey, check me out getting a post out in a reasonable time frame!)

[cdyssey]

Ninth Doctor Era Rewatch Rankings:

1. “Father’s Day” → I think script wise, #2 on my list might be a little bit higher, but when it comes to the emotional impact that Series One episodes had on me, there can be no other entry at the top. It has to be “Father’s Day,” through and through—a story about intimate, personal grief and the utter importance that even an “ordinary” man has on an entire world. I love this story for plainly talking about how a person’s life is elevated after their death; Jackie built up Pete to be a perfect man for her young, fatherless child, someone to be absolutely proud of. And I equally love this story for briefly deconstructing that fantasy by showing us the rocky reality of Jackie and Pete’s marriage and some of his less-than-admirable traits, and yet, still coming to a similar conclusion at the end of the day. Yes, Pete wasn’t perfect—far from it, in fact—but he was still someone to be proud of. He was human, and he was good. He loved his family. He died to save them—save the entire world. It’s all so beautiful and poignantly done. Billie and Shaun Dingwell put in wrenching performances. I cry every single time.

2. “The Empty Child” / “The Doctor Dances” → Oh, these episodes will forever fuck me up in the best of ways. I STILL remember being in middle school when I first watched them and being terrified of the masked people and their insistent refrain. But this episode is so much more than the terror, or really, it’s about the terror. The terror of war. The terror of not having a future. The terror of intimacy. The terror of never being able to heal from what has been done to you—or perhaps even, from what you yourself did. The Doctor sees his own trauma echoed back at him all over these episodes—in brave, selfless Nancy, in the bombs that are slow-cooking London, in Rose’s desire to know him at a new level. And it’d be so easy to offer the conclusion that there’s no escaping the terror; there’s no healing from a critical wound; there’s no hope at the end of a long day. After all, in Nine’s adventures that we’ve seen so far, nothing has exactly contradicted that. Someone has always died despite his best efforts. But, oh, man, in this fucking episode, just this once, everybody lives, and it’s a triumph that is absolutely the defining moment of Nine for me. As he laughs in that sea of golden lights, we see the exact moment that he finds his inner joy again. We see him begin to heal. Fucking fantastic.

3. “Dalek” → Genuinely my favorite Dalek episode of all time. Christopher Eccleston’s stellar fucking acting alone sells the horror of the species—what they are and what they have done, what even a single one can accomplish if it’s let loose in the world. And as we witness the carnage, both within our terrified Doctor and in that facility full of bodies, we also immediately see the idea of a pure Dalek turned on its head through Rose, whose influence turns a literal hate machine into something else. Something entirely new. God, “Dalek” is just a brilliant episode all around, one that interrogates the effects of war in so many ways. War only creates lonely, broken creatures. Like the Doctor. Like the Dalek. The corrective is purposefully choosing not to perpetuate that violence, so it doesn’t change you into becoming something that you can’t stand to look in the mirror.

4. “The End of the World” → Okay, I don’t have the deepest things to say here, except that it’s just an iconic fucking episode of television ALAKDJAKKS. LIKE, on one hand, you have moments of just outrageous camp—“Toxic” and Cassandra the “bitchy trampoline”—but in the same space, you have existential musings about how even though the world will one day be gone, the connections that we thread with our loved ones will always be meaningful and profound. Brilliant and funny and touching. A second episode that’s already firing on all cylinders.

5. “Aliens of London” / “World War III” → Didn’t think that these two would be so high on the list, but god, if the opening of “Aliens” and the close of “WWIII” didn’t absolutely spear right through me on this rewatch. I think these episodes do the best job (in Series One, at least) of showing exactly what the personal consequences of time-traveling can be. It’s something Jackie and Mickey had to agonizingly experience when Rose was gone from them an entire year. And it was something that Rose and the Doctor have to grapple with as well upon their return and in the subsequent battle with the Slitheen. The Doctor gets it better than Rose (understandably so). He can never guarantee her safety, and that’s a fact that perpetually haunts his entire companionship with her.

6. “Bad Wolf” / “The Parting of Ways” → URGHSHDHDJDHS, I like RTD finales because they’re balls off the walls crazy, but also, it drives me crazy that the series-long lead-up to his big twists tends to be minimal. I think I would have enjoyed the Bad Wolf ex-machina far better if we could have gotten consistent references (beyond unremarked upon appearances of the phrase) to it throughout the series. I’m also never the biggest fan of when legions of Daleks are the big enemy™️ because I’m still in awe of how perfect the episode “Dalek” is in showing how just one Dalek is a considerable foe. When they’re innumerable, the threat just sort of dulls to me. BUT for all this, there is so, so, so much to love about the finale episodes. I love the game show pastiches in “Bad Wolf.” Nine sending Rose away and her theme playing over his goodbye message is a top tier moment for me. And his regeneration is just pitch perfect. Nine was my first Doctor, and he’ll always be so special to me.

7. “Rose” → God, the iconic pilot. Really, just a pitch perfect introduction to the world of Doctor Who through the eyes of someone who is inexorably pulled into the Doctor’s mad, dangerous, and fantastic orbit. “Rose” does what a good pilot is supposed to do. Get us involved with the characters and make us want to know more. And Christopher Eccleston really sets the tone of this specific series in the climax of the episode, hinting at the devastation of the Time War and his utter guilt at playing a part in it.

8. “Boomtown” → SEE, OKAY, here’s the thing. “Boomtown” has all of the elements of the things that I typically love in an episode of a TV show. It’s got camp. It’s got banter. It’s got deep philosophical examinations of the characters and their moral motivations. And I REALLY loved Annette Badland’s performance of Margaret… but I think my ultimate qualm with “Boomtown” always ends up being that you can see the seams of the finale set-up just a little too clearly. I wish the Bad Wolf climax had been introduced more gradually throughout the series. And some of the dialogue here was just a wee bit too on the nose.

9. “The Unquiet Dead” → Honestly, there really wasn’t a bad episode in Series 1 for me. Just ones that were a bit more interesting than others. I still liked this episode. The guy who played Charles Dickens was incredibly convincing, and I loved the bittersweetness of the Gwyneth storyline. Her bonding moment with Rose was so lovely and human.

10. “The Long Game” → Simon Pegg was great as the antagonist is this one. The worldbuilding was fun, too—it was cool that the Satellite V plot came back in the finale! I think I just disliked Adam that much djsjfjjsjs. Watching his subplot gave me secondhand embarrassment—though that was definitely the intent.

[skippyv20]

What people fail to recognise is that brexit was marketed as something that it never became. People aren’t anti immigration as such, but more anti illegal immigration where showing up gets you a hotel room, bumped to the top of the council housing list, benefits, and virtually no accountability whereas people who’ve emigrated here legally (like mine and many others parents/grand/greats etc.) and worked for everything being entitled to nothing and still facing genuine discrimination (no dogs/blacks/Irish, my mother was paid less than her white colleagues for the same job, my father when promoted in his work was told “I’m not going to be managed by a black man” and yes this was in the 70&80s), feel a reasonable sense of betrayal as do those born here who are repeatedly overlooked by the system, living in coastal towns and cathedral cities with a sudden influx of men in particular who have a dim and predatory view of western culture and treat young women like meat, why isn’t there more outrage about the rapes happening? There seems to be some fear of calling this BS out, and Brexit was sadly poorly marketed, messy, and should’ve been more provisional for those who aren’t part of the criminal underworld. I’m a remainer for my own reasons but I can see and understand why some voted to leave (don’t get me wrong there’s a lot of racism embedded in some leave voting perspectives however they aren’t the only perspective). Our government has for some reason allowed this country to become the worlds safe haven…there are many other safe countries but we’ve been betrayed by a greedy government and misguided social justice types who want to save all the “innocent fleeing persecution” from the Middle East and Europe which simply isn’t the case. Brexit and Megzit have no correlation, this was about Europe and her unwavering influx of a very negatively impactful minority of people (drugs, money laundering, people trafficking, etc.) who unfortunately have tarnished the reputation of decent normal Europeans who just want to work and live and likely escape poverty in their own country because the infrastructure simply isn’t there, makes you wonder why so many left and continue to leave their countries in droves for a better life because there’s simply nothing at home for them which is sad, and the sign of a larger problem. Brexit was poorly designed and badly executed and has nothing to do with RMM, it’s pathetic to watch every little thing now be seen as anti this or that or somehow prejudice. We have racism in this country, and intolerance, always have and likely always will. However it’s not from the majority of citizens, and for some people their intolerance comes from a place of deep resentment for being overlooked, underfunded, and sidelined by their government, it’s bound to create resentment and feelings of anti immigration when you see the massive problems arising from a small number of people and our government is literally funding it. Why? That’s the key question here. Because our politicians and wealthy elite will never have to live amongst the people they are blindly giving a privileged life to, it just doesn’t make sense. Again, why? And lastly, Rachel, brexit never was and never will be about you. Change the record.

Thank you! Excellent post!❤️

[artisticbunny]

Hello Bun! I have magically manifested within your inbox to ask you about…

Your OCs!

One of my anon subordinates (totally not me telling my friends about you no way) previously asked about your number of them, but I want to know who they are!! >:3c Any like, story or interaction or certain universe or specific aesthetics? Feel free to infodump Bun I’m all ears!!

(Sorry if this seems a little too pushy I just saw your reblog and was like ‘why don’t I be a good lad and prance on over eh?’ So here we are! :3 I hope you don’t mind!)

AAAAA HI MOOG!!! THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THIS EXCUSE ILY DJDBDHE

IM SO EXCITED TO INFODUMP ABOUT MY CHARACTERS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!

I ACTUALLY HAVE THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THEIR STORY UPLOADED TO AO3 AND IM WORKING ON THE SECOND!!!

Buckle in cuz this is gonna be a long post lol

I’m not gonna reveal everything cuz there have to be some tricks up my sleeves, but I’m gonna be talking about major plot stuff that isn’t in the first chapter so, uh, spoiler warning also X3

OK!!!! SO MY MAIN CHARACTER BROOK IS BABEY AND I LOVE HER!!!! ABUSE TW THO CUZ BOY HOWDY THIS BABY TRAUMATIZED.

Basically the start of the story happens as she’s running away and escaping from her abusive household, this story takes place in a fantasy world so it’s more of a tower than a house but yk.

Her “mother” is this kind of just,,, awful person that basically just was using Brook as free labor. Like, she found Brook as a toddler literally abandoned by this little brook river thing and called her “Brook Child” because she couldn’t be assed to give her a proper name. There isn’t any actual physical hitting or anything to the abuse but god, if there isn’t just a buttload of neglect and verbal/psychological abuse going on. It’s not uncommon for Brook to have been locked in the basement for days on end without food because she did something wrong.

Brook physically is super scrawny because of this, like you can easily see her bones. She has CONSTANT, DEEP dark circles under her eyes that will probably never go away, and is often fatigued. She has a long scar going down one side of her face (her left, our right), caused by an incident with setting up chicken wire. Between her not knowing how to really deal with that kind of wound at the time and the fact that she’s constantly malnourished, it left a pretty noticeable scar

ALSO FUN FACT BROOK IS AROACE CUZ YIPPEE REPRESENTATION!!!!

After she runs away her plan is to get a few supplies so she can go live on her own because the only real experience she has with other people is her “mother” and just really wants to not be around people who she thinks are going to hurt her… uuunfortunately for her she ends up being peer pressured by a merchant into buying an enchanted dagger that uses up basically ALL OF HER MONEY SHE SAVED UP.

Said dagger comes with a prophecy and is, surprise! Sentient! Yeah so now basically she’s forced to go on this quest now! No living alone in the woods in peace for her! She ends up naming the dagger Willow because of a beautiful willow tree engraving at its base and for the fact that it’s handle is modeled after a winding tree trunk (with THOUSANDS of engraved TINY little symbols and glyphs and spells and the like that looks a lot like tree bark!)

Willow uses she/it pronouns because yes! The engravings that are so tiny you can barely see and make them out is what makes Willow sentient! It’s VERY complex spellwork and may have taken even over a lifetime to create! She is very well crafted :)

She is also VERY blunt. Willow doesn’t understand the complexities of like… softening the blow of its words, so it doesn’t even really try lol. Basically it’s like “ah yeah, you are my wielder so you ARE the one from the prophecy, there’s not any getting out of it, let’s go!”

Willow’s one purpose is to complete the prophecy and is ultimately loyal to Brook till the end because of this. Unfortunately, Willow will sometimes bend the rules Brook set for the greater good of completing the quest. (During their first meeting Brook set the ground rules of no killing, and no hurting people unless absolutely necessary.)

During like, the first few hours after she leaves the trade town she fled to to go get this quest over with she gets jumped by this like 7 foot dude in black armor. This is Quincy.

I love him because there are… a lot of complexities with him lol

Without getting into huge spoiler territories, basically, where he comes from, the prophecy is told differently to the point of where Brook is made out to be the villain of the story. He is trying to protect his family and his home. When scouting her out, he is surprised to see that she’s basically just a kid, but decides to go through with the attack anyways as an attempt to stop the prophecy from being fulfilled.

Brook doesn’t know about this rendition of the prophecy.

So basically he attacks Brook, and Brook tries to reason with him to the absolute best of her ability. Quincy, however, is not open to conversation at that point. With willow’s guidance, she ends up killing him.

She is stunned by this. She watches as he bleeds out on the ground and turns to Willow.

She’s like “we agreed on no killing, this guy looks pretty dead to me!!!” (She’s obviously more panicked than this in the actual story lol)

Willow is like “ok ok fine hold me near him give me a second.”

A fun fact about Willow is that she can act as a channel for magic, and use her wielder’s supply. So when Willow uses a spell, the spell treats Brook as the caster even though Willow is effectively the one to have cast the spell.

This is important because, well, Willow uses NECROMANCY. A FORBIDDEN SPELL. ONE THAT IS FORBIDDEN FOR A GOOD REASON.

In this world, when someone is brought back through the use of necromancy they get revived, yes. BUT THEY ALSO BECOME TRAPPED INSIDE THEIR OWN BODIES AS THEYRE PUPPETED AROUND BY THE CASTER. This tactic was used a LOT in wars before it was outlawed btw, just some world building dont mind me :)

Yeah so basically when under the effects of Necromancy you just have to watch as your body has to follow whatever orders the caster gives you, whether you like it or not. Because it’s the spellcaster’s life force that’s inside of you.

(I have a WHOLE magic system thought out btw, magic is part of living being’s life force. Without it you basically starve. It’s like air and food and water, you NEED it to live, which is why Brook going on a quest to save it is such a big deal)

Obviously Willow is like “here, he should fight with us now :)” and brooks just there like “…” =n= because she knows something is off but she can’t put her finger on it yet but this guy is acting REALLY weird now.

Even being cooped up her hole life as she was, KNOWS THIS SPELL IS FORBIDDEN. So when she finds out it was used, she is rightly upset. She doesn’t know the FULL extent of the spell, she doesn’t know if he’s still THERE or if it’s just his corpse or WHAT, but she feels horrible about the situation and tries to give him as much kindness and freedom as she possibly can. Quincy cannot speak, but is later able to communicate better as he’s given more and more agency. (Given the right circumstances, he MAY be able to regain speech in the future ;) )

Over the course of this situation he kinda goes from absolutely despising Brook, to like “ok… this really is just a kid, I kinda feel really bad now” to “oh my god wait this kid is actually really sweet” to “this is my kid now”

He basically adopts Brook towards the end lol

Brook doesn’t really realize this is happening until about mid-way through the story when she goes to get firewood and says if anyone else in the group wants to they can come with her and he goes with her and she realizes she was addressing the whole group and that they can come if they WANT to. And then she just looks up at him and is like… “did you WANT to come with me?” And he just nods at her and she almost cries lol

I just love them, your honor. Quincy = dad of the year (iiif you get past the bit where he tried to kill Brook but yk lol)

OK NEXT WE HAVE SAM AND JOE!!! MY BOYS!!! THEY ARE BOYFRIENDS!!!!! THEY LOVE EACHOTHER!!!! RELATIONSHIP GOALS!!!

Sam is a wizard and Joe is a werewolf, they’re trying to find Joe’s tether (what will let him stay sane when transformed) they met with Joe in a dumpster and Sam trying to throw out that week’s trash from his apprenticeship <3

Joe comes from a loving family of werewolves and was born as one, his biggest fear is hurting his loved ones, which is why he was so desperate to find his tether. It’s also why he was rooting through wizard’s trashcans when Sam found him lol

They made a deal that Joe would stay out of trashcans (because of the dangerous chemicals and broken glass and stuff) if Sam would help him find his tether.

Sam didn’t actually like his apprenticeship. He was forced into it by his parents because he was “talented” and showed signs of developing into a talented wizard. He once loved performing magic, but being an apprentice stripped it of all of its fun. He neglected his work, causing him to fall behind, he is now self conscious and does not like it when people watch him cast spells.

Sam and Joe bonded over researching to find Joe’s tether and eventually fell in love. They both ran away not long after on a search for any more information they didn’t already have.

Also Joe is afraid of sheep :)

(“I don’t like it when they stare at you with those beady little eyes-“)

Kat is a ghost. She doesn’t remember her past, but she does remember waking up in the middle of the woods one day and never being able to find a way out. She had been alone for god knows how long before someone passed through (that being Brook, Willow, Quincy, Sam, And Joe) so obviously, she had to play a prank on them. GOLDEN opportunity for some entertainment.

Kat has claustrophobia (and because it’s never being revealed in the book I’ll reveal it here: she was buried alive. Framed for a crime she didn’t commit by someone in her adventuring group. The group’s agreed on punishment was for her to be buried alive and abandoned.) often getting flashbacks of suffocating, of cool dirt sticking to her face, muffling her screams and pleas for help.

Kat is very laid back and likes to make light of heavier situations with humor. She is a LOT smarter than she lets on, and has a very strong sense of moral justice. She also has a talent of apperating knives from her ghostly fog. She is very skilled at knife throwing.

Terra (Full name Terra Delah Etang) is a siren originating from Ckorplek, an underwater city found in the mesa reefs. She was a mighty warrior (arguably the strongest and most skilled with her voice) tasked with protecting her people’s most prized possession during an invasion. She dragged herself across the red sand, lake hopping for days before settling in a far off small pond-sized salt water body of water with a small island in the center. She would stay there for years protecting the item with her life. Unfortunately, Brook needs that item for her quest and Terra isn’t exactly willing to give it up.

Yeah they basically kidnap and gag her so she can’t make them kill themselves with her voice lol

They’re not just gonna leave her to die but they’re ALSO not gonna risk their lives letting her go free.

She is a reluctant party member, but as long as she’s with her people’s treasure and she’s able to make sure it’s safe, she isn’t super like… against it? Also they’re her only ticket back to her pond since they are basically wheeling her around in a red wagon full of water lol she still kinda hates them tho

Terra is super hotheaded and isn’t that forgiving of a person so it takes a while before she opens up lol

(She’s kind of like the boblin the goblin of the group in a way if you think about it lol)

Corey is half dead.

During his life, he took care of his mother and younger sister by going on quests and bringing back money. He would often ally with other adventurers to do this, and had a habit of only taking what his family needed of the rewards.

One day, on a quest to Dread Caverns- a cave system known for making your worst fears come to life- as they neared the center, where their prize was, he was betrayed.

Busted up in the fight, and with his head cracked open, he fell to the ground, left for dead, as the team he allied with ran off without him.

Fortunately for him, he landed on a healing potion he kept strapped to himself. Just in case. In the moments just after his heart stopped beating but just before his brain activity died, the glass pierced his skin, and the potion flowed into his body.

Because of this one in a billion timing, Corey was able to survive, subsisting mostly off of the world’s magic. He no longer has a heartbeat, and his left arm and leg no longer work, but he was alive, and stuck in dread caverns for about three years before Brook found him.

Corey has killed before in self defense. During his time In Dread Caverns many would come with the goal of killing him in mind, as rumors would spread of him being the reason the caverns were so dangerous.

Next is a reoccurring antagonist: Zeki.

They use She/They pronouns ;)

Zeki first appears after Dread Caverns in the story and is a well known infamous robber. She is known for kidnapping a member of her target group, and hypnotizing them to give her information and or infiltrate the group in order to easily incapacitate them. She smells of metal and is always followed by the sound of ticking clocks. She has multiple pocket watches hidden on her person at all times.

Zeki was originally the daughter of a prestigious family. They were expected to be perfect every second of every day, and were forced to learn parlor tricks to entertain guests. She would often sneak off into the middle of the night in order to destress and indulge in their true passion, whittling wood into beautiful sculptures. This went on for a long time before they were found out. All of her work was burned and destroyed, and she was cast out of the family with just the clothes on her back, and her grandfather’s pocket watch.

She almost starved before out of pure desperation they attempted one of the parlor tricks they learned. Light hypnosis. She managed to convince a passer by to give her some of their bread, and that was the beginning of their new life. Zeki would get more and more powerful every time they practiced.

Hypnosis only ever lasts from 3-5 days, but varies between that from person to person. Even after recovery, a person may relapse.

FINALLY!!! MY BOI!!!! CORVUS!!!

My lil plague doctor guy!!! I love him!!!

He never takes off his mask, he just doesn’t feel comfortable with it. The only reason he would take it off ever would be to clean it (even then, he makes sure nobody is around) or during a medical emergency.

Corvus is an actual, trained doctor! Which is part of the reason that Zeki decided to keep him as a part of their hypnotized entourage.

He is a sweet and caring guy, and just wants what’s best for everyone! No dark backstory for him other than being a part of Zeki’s crew for a bit, he’s just a lil guy! :3

I’m so sorry this is so long and I’m also sorry about the decrease in writing quality as it goes on lol this took me hours to type out XD

THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY TO INFODUMP IF YOU HAVE ANY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS ABOUT ANYTHING LET ME KNOW ID BE HAPPY TO ANSWER!!!!

[kyogre-blue]

And here's the second half: lore, Shambhala, and Nemesis:

Blue Sea Moon, the 7th month...

The Agarthans were unable to drop nukes on Garreg Mach. They tried before, but their nuke got redirected onto Aillel, the lava valley. This is because the Holy Tomb is not just a grave but also a "sacred vessel for a power that repels evil." Sothis built it herself to protect her children from "the evil light."

The dragons gathered in Zanado because it's close to the Holy Tomb.

Additionally, using the nuke was what let Hubert figure out Shambhala's location. Since they presumably didn't want Edelgard to know that, they likely held off on this trump card until our advancement forced their hand.

It's only thanks to the Death Knight warning us that we escaped.

They might be holding off on sending any more in order to avoid giving us any further chances to trace them. We're not on Hubbie's level, so they are correct to guess we couldn't track them from the one instance.

Rhea is coming with us... she wants to "learn the truth" about the Agarthans, which is... interesting.

Ignatz points out that Solon called us beasts and himself the Savior. Who was he saving?

Dedue left off screen :(

Edelgard was the last heir of her family. She said whoever takes the throne next should take it by virtue of merit and not blood, and totally meant it.

The military minister surrendered, but Cornelia ran off. Bye, we don't know who you are.

Yup, Shambhala is across the Airmid river, so it's in Imperial territory. For what it's worth, the nuke drop on it shows a forest, and it seems to not be that deep down, even.

It's also just... a giant tron city. There are mecha (Titanus) and also magictech turrets (Viskam?). The turrets are apparently "incomplete."

Thales is willing to let Shambhala be destroyed as long as they get their vengeance, presumably by killing Rhea?

This missions is actually really complicated, and I lost a bunch of units. Speaking of this, I wish there was a mode between casual and classic, something that puts a penalty on a unit you lost but doesn't outright remove them. Casual is a little... TOO casual.

Thales went down to an accidental crit from Leonie. I was just trying to soften him up from outside his little bunker, and yet... Oh well.

Claude finally makes the connection that the children of the goddess are dragons (shock) and that Rhea is the Immaculate One (we literally saw her transform five years ago).

Rhea tanked 3 nukes, but let 3 through. We're all fine tho. Interesting that the nukes seem to launch from elsewhere.

"With the destruction of Shambhala, the ambitions of the Agarthans are over." Cool. I guess Cornelia can't do much on her own or something.

btw, I like how Nemesis's coffin had chains around it.

Rhea says she's the last of the goddess's children.

She explains how Sothis came from far away long ago. She used her blood to create her children and they shared knowledge with humans to create an advanced civilization. But the humans turned away from her and began to wage wars. Eventually they began to consider themselves as gods and challenged Sothis herself. The world was scorched and most humans were wiped out. The Agarthans are the survivors of that time who retreated underground.

Sothis took a long time to restore the world, and then fell into slumber at the Holy Tomb. Her children settled nearby in Zanado. Until Nemesis murdered all of them.

Rhea called herself Seiros and wandered the land looking for revenge. She gathered the "remaining children" and they killed Nemesis at Tailtean Plains.

Suddenly, cities in the east report that they're being attacked by an unknown force. This is affecting the East Gronder Thoroughfare in the old Hrym territory. Then they cross the Great Bridge of Myrddin. Holst tried to fight them and got injured.

The children of the goddess can't match Sothis's power, or the power in her blood, which Nemesis possess. But this seems to imply that the Agarthans got hold of his body after he was killed?

Because it's hard to imagine they could recreate him from scratch otherwise.

We finally spell out that the Elites took the blood of dragons by force and made weapons out of their bodies.

Rhea explains that she placed Sothis's heart (crest stone) into Byleth, and that's why Byleth can use the "full power" of the Sword of the Creator.

Which is like.... did they make an artificial crest stone for the artificial Nemesis's artificial relic? These dudes got real good at counterfeiting, which makes me wonder why they kept needing to kill people and grave rob.

I forgot to check where this swamp even is. Also, disappointed that the "Agartha loyalists" aren't bone white like their leaders.

Claude literally gives a friendship speech. Tbh he also had the best damage against Nemesis and critted too. Lone combat might have been too much, but maybe if I used all those stat boosters I was sitting on... Oh well.

51:12 playtime

I also forgot to check what was the last month. I just wanted to get through it as quickly as possible lol

Oh, right. I proposed to Flayn. Byleth tells her the truth, and she asks if you're a dude or a female goddess. Why is that a concern, Flayn... This is disappointingly unromantic. I wish I could have banged your dad or your aunt, don't hold it against me.

Battle data wasn't very interesting. Most of the later chapters were finished in single digit turns. The black tower took the longest at 21 turns. I had to walk all that way...

Claude's endcard with Hilda mentions that he went home to be king, but tbh I don't even remember when, if ever, he explained that part of his background.

THE END

[thetruthbehindtheemotions]

Death

Who am I? Well, I am the most complex secret of humanity. The most feared being. The most tragic. The cause of countless unanswered questions, tears, laments, and sufferings. But also the only certainty you have in your life journey... nice to meet you, I am Death.

I keep some secrets, just as destiny keeps everything. One of my biggest secrets is also one of my greatest bitterness. Why am I not loved?

I, like every other eternal being, will stay here until everything ends. Not even Hope will escape me on some fateful day. I will be the last to finish. I am the one who will close the show of Life after applauding it standing ovation. Some see in me a way to end their own suffering and torture. Their final venture against my youngest son, Despair. But things cannot be that way. You should not hate me, curse me, and certainly not fear me, just as you should not take your own lives simply because you can no longer tolerate Despair. He was born out of a need of yours, just like me, just like Life and all other things. Life is too fragile for the burden it carries. A stake, a knife, a gun, a rope... Things created by man are capable of taking away what you hold most valuable, what allows you to be in all physical and literal forms. Taking someone's life, or even one's own life, is very simple in practice, sometimes it even brings relief.

Because that's exactly what death does, it takes away the pain, ends the problems, and puts an end to all the agony that seems to have no end. But for those who remain, death is an endless pain that can never be repaired or replaced. It is a black hole, something irreversible.

It is so sad to see how life has been trivialized. Drugs, thieves, murderers, man-made plagues, hunger, prejudices, diseases infecting the world and claiming more than I would like them to claim. It was so much easier when these evils - not as great as they are today - did not exist. It was really much easier. Don't you understand that when you die, you will fall into the river of eternal oblivion? And that river is called time, where its waters are red, murky, and impossible to swim in. They sink you and drown you, they make you nothing but memories that only I will remember one day. But you know what really annoys me? It's that Destiny knows who will die and who will live even before they are born. Isn't that unfair? Yes, it is, both for me and for Life. But there is nothing we can do, we were created specifically for this. While one generates life, the other takes it away. However, that doesn't make our task any less painful. But I'm not here to talk about my pain, much less about Life's pain. I'm here to reveal a little more of my essence, so unknown to you mere mortals. And you want to know something? Here's a piece of advice for you. Don't come into my arms looking for all the answers because I won't give you all of them, I will only show you the path you will have to follow to conquer them. Hold on to your dreams and try to fulfill them in some way. Don't let yourself be carried away by the destruction that the world has become, much less get lost in its despair, but I won't deceive you by saying that it will be easy because it won't be. This is called living, and living is difficult, especially if you do what you love. So don't stop at the first obstacle on the way, don't immerse yourself in the delirium of chaos when you can live beautifully and simply. Live each moment as if it were the last because it really can be!

It may seem surreal how time passes so quickly, how people constantly enter and leave your lives. It's all so delicate, resembling that little flower called dandelion. It only takes a random puff, in any direction, and everything falls apart. That's why you should never miss the opportunity to tell those you love how much they mean to you because in a single second everything can change, and then it's too late. Sad? Yes, but it's reality. It's what I am.

I always catch you off guard. One moment you're with someone, playing, talking, making plans for the future, and seconds, minutes, or even hours later you find yourself on top of a coffin lamenting the departure of someone who meant so much to you, and on another occasion, you are the body inside the coffin. Flowers, candles, cotton stuffed in the nose, and the body pressed against a piece of wood to turn into dust months later. Just dust buried in dust. It's torturous to think of death this way because it is always seen as the end of everything, as the great villain who is always ready to snatch away what you hold dear. But perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye.

Death, in its essence, is a natural part of the cycle of life. It is the inevitable conclusion to the journey that begins with birth. Death, in a way, gives meaning to life. It reminds us of the preciousness and fragility of our existence. It pushes us to cherish the moments we have, to love deeply, and to pursue our dreams passionately.

While death may bring grief and sorrow, it also has the power to inspire and transform. It reminds us to live fully, to appreciate the beauty around us, and to make a positive impact on the world while we can. Death teaches us the value of time and encourages us to make the most of every fleeting moment.

In the face of death, we often ponder the mysteries of life and the universe. We seek answers to profound questions about the meaning of our existence, the nature of consciousness, and what lies beyond the threshold of this reality. Death invites contemplation and introspection, urging us to explore the depths of our souls and discover our true selves.

While death may seem like an end, it can also be seen as a transition. Many cultures and belief systems hold the notion of an afterlife, where the soul continues its journey beyond the physical realm. Whether it is a heavenly paradise, reincarnation, or merging with a universal consciousness, the concept of an afterlife offers solace and hope in the face of mortality.

Ultimately, death remains a mystery that eludes our complete understanding. It is a reminder of the vastness of existence and the limits of human knowledge. It humbles us, reminding us of our place in the grand tapestry of the cosmos.

So, while death may bring fear and sorrow, it is also an integral part of the human experience. It is a teacher, urging us to live with purpose, to love fiercely, and to embrace the beauty of life. In the end, it is up to us to make our lives meaningful and leave a lasting legacy that transcends our mortal existence.

*************************

Morte

Quem sou eu? Oras, eu sou o segredo mais complexo da humanidade. O ser mais temido. O mais trágico. O causador de inúmeras perguntas sem respostas, de muitas lágrimas, lamentos e sofrimentos. Mas também a única certeza que você tem em sua jornada de vida...prazer, eu sou a Morte.

Eu guardo alguns segredos, assim como o destino guarda tudo. Um dos meus maiores segredos é também uma de minhas maiores amarguras. Porque não me amam?

Eu, assim como todo e qualquer perpétuo, vou ficar aqui até que tudo termine, nem mesmo a Esperança escapará de mim em algum fatídico dia. Eu serei a última a terminar. Sou eu quem fechará o show da Vida depois de aplaudi-la de pé. Alguns poucos veem em mim uma saida para acabar com o próprio sofrimento e tortura. Sua última empreitada contra o meu filho mais novo, o Desespero. Mas as coisas não podem ser assim. Vocês não devem me odiar, me xingar, e muito menos me temer, assim como não devem tirar suas próprias vidas somente por não tolerarem mais o Desespero. Ele nasceu por uma necessidade de vocês, assim como eu, assim como a Vida e todas as outras coisas. A vida é algo frágil demais para o peso que possui. Uma estaca, uma faca, uma arma, uma corda... Coisas criadas pelo próprio homem são capazes de tirar aquilo que vocês possuem de mais valioso, o que vos permite ser, de todas as formas físicas e literais. Tirar a vida de alguém, ou até mesmo a própria vida é algo muito simples na prática, às vezes, gera até alivio.

Porque é exatamente isso o que a morte faz, ela tira as dores, acaba com os problemas e finaliza toda a agonia que parece não ter mais fim. Mas para aqueles que ficam, a morte é uma dor inacabável, que nunca poderá ser reparada ou substituída. É um buraco negro, algo irreversivel.

É tão triste ver como a vida foi banalizada. Drogas, assaltantes, assassinos, pragas criadas pelo homem, fome, preconceitos, doenças impregnando o mundo e ceifando mais do que eu gostaria que ceifassem. Era tudo tão mais fácil quando esses males - não tão grandes quanto hoje em dia - não existiam. Era realmente muito mais fácil. Será que vocês não entendem que, quando morrerem, cairão no rio do eterno esquecimento? E esse rio se chama tempo, onde suas águas são vermelhas, turvas e impossíveis de se nadar. Elas te afundam e te afogam, te tornam apenas memórias das quais um dia somente eu me recordarei. Mas sabe o que me deixa realmente irritada? É que o Destino sabe quem morrerá e quem viverá antes mesmo de elas nascerem. Isso não é injusto? É, é sim, tanto comigo quanto com a Vida. Mas não há nada que possamos fazer, fomos criadas especificamente para isso. Enquanto uma gera a vida, a outra a tira. Entretanto, isso não faz nossa tarefa ser menos dolorosa. Mas não estou aqui para falar das minhas dores e muito menos as da Vida. Estou aqui para revelar um pouco mais da minha essência tão desconhecida por vocês meros mortais. E querem saber de uma coisa? Aqui vai um conselho a vocês. Não venham para os meus braços a procura de todas as respostas, pois eu não lhes darei todas elas, apenas lhes mostrarei o caminho que terão que seguir para conquistá-las. Agarrem-se aos seus sonhos e tentem de algum modo realizá-los. Não se deixem levar pela destruição em que o mundo acabou se tornando, muito menos se percam no desespero do mesmo, mas também não irei enganá-los dizendo que será fácil, pois não será. Isso se chama viver, e viver é difícil, principalmente se você faz aquilo que gosta. Por isso não parem perante a primeira pedra no caminho, não mergulhem no delírio do caos quando podem viver de forma bela e simples. Vivam cada momento como se fosse o último, pois ele pode realmente ser!

Pode parecer surreal a forma como o tempo passa tão rápido, em como pessoas entravam e saem constantemente de suas vidas. É tudo tão delicado, semelhando-se a aquela florzinha do mato chamada de dente-de-leão. Basta um soprinho à toa, em qualquer direção, e tudo se desmancha. Por isso vocês nunca devem perder a oportunidade de dizer para aqueles que amam o quanto significam para vocês, pois em um único segundo tudo pode mudar, e então ser tarde demais. Triste? Sim, mas é a realidade. É o que eu sou.

Estou sempre vos pegando desprevenidos. Uma hora você está com a pessoa, brincando, conversando, fazendo planos para o futuro e segundos, minutos, ou até mesmo horas depois você se encontra em cima de um caixão lamentando pela partida daquele que tanto significou para você, já em outra ocasião, você é o próprio corpo dentro do caixão. Flores, velas, algodões enfiados no nariz e o corpo sendo pressionado em um pedaço de madeira para meses depois virar pó. Apenas pó enterrado no pó. É torturante pensar na morte desse jeito, porque ela é enxergada sempre como sendo o fim de tudo, como a grande vilã que esta sempre disposta a acabar com a vida. Mas a verdade não é essa. É importante que vocês saibam que, diferente do que muitos pensam, a Vida e eu não somos opostas, quem dirá rivais, na verdade somos irmãs, amigas, quase que a mesma coisa. Andamos por aí de mãos dadas, uma completando a outra. Enquanto ela é o início de tudo, eu sou o fim, ou quase isso. Na verdade eu sou aquela que dará inicio a um novo começo, o começo da eternidade. Não a um final, não a uma linha de chegada, a apenas um caminho diferente. A Morte— no caso eu - nada mais é do que o prólogo de uma vida sem dores, sem medos, sem destruição, sem ódio, sem crueldade. Eu sou a porta para o tão sonhado paraíso. Por isso vocês devem aproveitar ao máximo cada segundo, minuto e hora de seus meros dias.

Sorriam! Vivam! Amem! Sonhem! Delirem! Desfrutem! Desesperem-se! Desejem! Destinem-se! E em um dia inevitável, mas não menos fatídico, morram com a alegria de saber que seus momentos cairão juntos a ti no rio do esquecimento. Alegrem-se ao saber que irão deixar alguém para trás que os amem; que se preocupam e que irão querer vê-los novamente algum dia. Então, quando chegar a sua imprescindível hora de partir, não tenham medo, apenas me acolham como uma velha amiga.

"A morte é apenas o ponto final da primeira frase do primeiro livro de uma enorme biblioteca."

[renatedagmarmilada]

a rocket for a satelite

This tale is about guilt and evil!

Anna of Human Research St Barths would have got a rocket if their deeds of past and present had been discovered then they even put me on a satellite to the Big Apple a little housewife caring for her family setting off the alarms at Santa Monika!

Aggressive, intrusive and all the other evil ‘ives

Interruptions into lives, over tv, music and the rest Interventions into lives, over tv, music and the rest Intervening into lives, over tv, music and the rest Interjections into lives, over tv, music and the rest even causing deaths! and not even intermittently Internationally now called globally, into lives, over tv, music and the rest Interpolating lies into lives, over tv, music and the rest Interposing reality with their crazed virtual reality Interpreting with their nasty, evil minds all things pure and impure allowing no interventions by the good and helpful Interweaving their rubbish with our solid good

destroying the fabric of so many lives destroying so many lives!

caught red handed beaming looped all over the place everyone viewed so the blacking began none of us knew with Royal Prerogative to boot sadistic as never before war by the most powerful against a tiny family living quiet lives and the population at large.

“Give me all you’ve got,” said Steven from Kaspar and Kissinger lying even to them! Anna is sadistic enough the quacks corrupt enough our girls sadistic enough our health workers evil enough for the ‘phase-out’ to work to turn life into a living hell for this one tiny family (called British style pressure we didn’t know) who aren’t even aware can’t even imagine such crap from a professional body, supposedly and only just grasping how evil Brits can be after two decades (an Arab business man escaped to Dublin they did some of this to him too and others)

Use this little family for all illegal physical experiments totally outlawed in the States.

Ring round the worst practitioners ask them to come and practice using our whole system globally using the family totally everyone use them!

cripple,  maime, manslaughter, raise havoc isolate, alienate, rob, cheat and all the rest all at once, gang bang, go!

Involving Ministries the lovers of Anna will destroy life’s fabric and their careful little savings leaving them nothing after we’ve done. (the family still don’t know while she tries to think what have we done wrong?)

Using their professional status every company on the isle to cheat, syphon and allow robbery by all the students and lab workers closing all loopholes some old codger at the Lords allowed cheating on the little family give prison sentences and massive fines low and no marks for academic work then give the work to one of ours and they wonder why the country runs wild nothing ever returned or sorted not even nostalgia and paintings robbed by protected pilfering or the post not allowed!

Just a mum, kids, and scared grandparents stateless refugees of before kids born over here, british father don’t know where to flee in this closed off bordered world The liberation wasn’t worse allow no recompense

All for compensation which the jewish Health Minister feared would be a job of millions the family knew nothing about!

Now you understand Burnt ground and guilt effects and that old saying lie once lie thrice… That evil crew got away with it all made themselves rich with it and trained semi literates to cruelty with the States blessings. any one who helped them has been sent on the ladder up by them regardless of talent or suitability even copying all academic and creative works for all the lab, (jews copying our jewish memories from little Slovakia as their own! ugh…) quacks families and friends new artists they have created none with any talent all at the top and a few famous they’ve used these Stars for safety told them odd tales about me and mine (‘I wish you to rob my work, I am a retarded person who has gone to University’ eh?) now have to silence me and shun so their shame should never be known!

Thank God for American poetry sites which still allow free speech.

[vaspider]

'only tenet of TERFism is transmisogyny' EXCUSE ME NO ITS ALL TRANS PEOPLE. They don't want any trans person to exist. What the hell.

Some people just gotta center their own suffering always, even when they're hurting other people by doing so. I've seen this a lot in younger queer folx of all stripes, this need to be the one that hurts the most, you know?

There's a reason the phrase Oppression Olympics exists, and it's because it's a common behavior or phenomenon in oppressed communities. I see it in the disability community, too.

What I think is important to understand when we talk about how trans people suffer under transphobia is that different groups are targeted differently. I'm not the first person to say this, of course.

Now, like, this is very rough sketchy stuff, and each person's individual experiences will vary, but in my general experience, the rough breakdown of the way in which transphobia lands on trans people kind of breaks down like this:

Binary trans women tend to suffer under a lens of hypervisibility. Everything they do is seen, analyzed, and torn apart. Their struggles are generally the ones centered in the arguments of allies, "allies," and transphobes. Even when trans women are the focus of helpful attention, that hypervisibility can cause exhaustion, because they need to perform perform perform, and be perfect, all the time. It's hard for trans women to just be without feeling like they're on camera, all the time. A lot of the time, they are on camera, because trans women's bodily autonomy and right to privacy are just never respected by transphobes (and often by supposed "allies" who feel free to ask the most invasive questions and get upset when trans women won't answer them), and even if they're not literally on camera, they're supposed to perform as the best examples of transfemininity, because if they don't, then they become the next 'look at this bad trans, all trans are this bad trans' example that TERFs point at and use as a broad brush to paint all trans women. If they're not perfect all the time and have a day where they snap at someone while someone is recording, or make a mistake, or anything, it has a horrible tendency to go viral. You can think of at least three instances right now off the top of your head, right? Right.

Binary trans men tend to suffer from hyperinvisibility. This comes from inside and outside the community -- a lot of trans men talk about being told they can't lead in community because they've 'got male privilege,' that their struggles are discarded, that they're talked over and unable to discuss the things they face, which means they don't get the support they need. Now, there are TERFs and transphobes who absolutely do focus their attention on trans men to the exclusion of or to the deprioritization of the oppression of trans women -- that's where we get Tavistock and Irreversible Damage and Fourth Wave Now and all the other bullshit which focuses on the idea that trans men are "transing the gay away," specifically "transing our butch lesbians" and "stealing butches." But again, generally speaking, trans men face harmful levels of invisibility where trans women face harmful levels of visibility. That's why transmascs in general have issues like lack of understanding even by supposedly trans-competent doctors as to how HRT affects our bodies, why trans men (and transmascs in general) report things like transphobes attacking them with transmisogynistic comments and assuming that every trans person online is a trans woman, etc.

Non-binary (here used as an umbrella term for all identities outside of binary man/woman, to include agender, genderfluid, non-binary, and infinite other identities) AFAB people tend to suffer from a different, very specific form of hypervisibility, unless they start to appear too masculine, and then they slip into hyperinvisibility. This is where we get things like "women and non-binary people" that codes all non-binary people as "AFAB people I can sort of squint and view as women," and people who fall into this category tend to get a lot of attention, a lot of derision from all sides of the spectrum. This is the "blue-haired tenderqueer" sneering that we get from both within and without the queer community, where there's an assumption that these people are just cosplaying an identity, that they're not really trans, etc. Having been in the visibility category and slipped into the invisibility category within the last, oh, year or so, and having two binary trans women in my family to compare notes with, the experiences are unnervingly similar. The difference between the experience that those women have had and the experience that I have had is that according to transphobes, I'm a traitor to my womanhood and performing femininity wrong and taking on a fake identity to escape female oppression because I'm not strong enough to bear up under it, but too cowardly to become a trans man, or... something, whereas they're taking on a fake identity to sneak into women's spaces because they're perverts.

Non-binary (umbrella identity etc) AMAB people tend to suffer from their own very specific form of hyperinvisibility, unless they start to present "too feminine", and then they slip into the hypervisibility which affects binary trans women, but with a little different fuckery in which everyone just assumes they're a trans woman, and therefore they get misgendered by everyone across the spectrum of queer/non-queer/etc. Non-binary AMAB people are generally treated like they don't exist, and when they are spoken about, are often discussed in the context of 'they should just admit they're trans women or gay men,' or if they present 'too feminine,' are subjected to the same sort of horrific attention that trans women get.

Again, a lot of this is very simplistic, and doesn't add in a lot of other complicating factors like race, disability, class, etc. Trans men of color, for example, can run into a different sort of hypervisibility because as they move further through their transition, they begin to be seen in the world as a man of color. It's not really mine to speak on beyond that, but I don't want to neglect saying 'this is really really simplistic and there's more to it than that' over and over.

I really hate breaking it down this simply because it feels like creating another binary (our society does like a binary!) for non-binary people, but like, I can't really talk about my shared experiences with other trans people without putting some framework around it. Someday, I'll be able to do that without categories. Wouldn't that be awesome?

I think we do our entire community a huge disservice when we talk about transphobia as if it's a single snake trying to take bites out of only one part of the community, and not a many-headed hydra, able to attack us from multiple different directions. I also think that focusing on one form of oppression keeps us from forming meaningful solidary and coalitions; the more divided we are, the easier it is for the people who literally want us all to stop existing to pick us off one by one. We see this all across the queer community and it's only ramping up as the attacks on our community escalate from without; people tend to turn on the ones closest to them when they get really scared, and to blame the person standing next to them for the pain they're suffering. It's the "close enough to hit" phenomenon, and it's why we see ridiculous things like "bi women make cis men think that lesbians can be won over," rather than acknowledging that bi women aren't the ones causing that: cis men are the ones causing that. The bi women in that case are close enough to hit. Transmascs are close enough to hit. Trans women are close enough to blame for the problems of transmascs, which makes it possible for TERFs to lure transmascs in and attempt to detransition them, subjecting them to gaslighting and manipulation and then using them as sock puppets.

TERFs do focus a lot on transmisogyny. They focus a lot on transmisandry, too. Debating which one is more prevalent and 'worse' not only misses the point, because transmascs and transfems face very different and totally rotten attention from cis society as a whole, including cis queers. We need to like, not do that anymore: we need to give each other the space to talk about our unique circumstances, but we also need to work harder on looking at each other through a lens of solidarity and trying to see that our struggles are different but not unrelated, and that if we keep downing on each other like this, we're not going to get anywhere except in a much more difficult situation as the people who don't want any of us to exist keep picking us off.

[nitewrighter]

for the teen Titans ficlet thing, I don’t suppose you could do “there was only one bed” for robin and starfire?

*slams fist down on table* STARFIRE IS THE BIG SPOON.

----

"I think you are overacting," Starfire said, her arms folded across her garish tye-dyed nightshirt.

"Overreacting," Robin corrected, adjusting the waistband on his sweats as he stepped out of the bathroom, "And--I'm not. I've slept in lean-tos in the Alaskan hinterland and in literal trees in the Virunga mountains. I can handle a hotel floor."

Starfire scoffed. "You are being ridiculous! It is a bed! There is room for two! Plenty of my people sleep in Tesh'li!"

"Er..." Robin gave her a blank look and Starfire seemed to realize that that word hadn't translated over.

"Uhm..." Starfire's brow furrowed for a few seconds as she struggled for the closest english equivalent, "Tesh'li are like... clusters? P-piles? It is very common for families."

"...Tamaraneans sleep in piles?" Robin's brow crinkled at the mental image.

" Tesh'li. 'Piles' implies gravity is a strong factor in the composition of bodies," said Starfire.

"...right, floating..." Robin said quietly.

"The whole team had a big Tesh'li in that cave when we had that mission in Markovia!" Starfire said, clearly frustrated, "Beast Boy turned into a grizzly bear and Cyborg turned off his cooling systems to share body heat! You and Raven even shared your capes! Why is this worse? Am I worse?"

"It's not worse--I mean obviously you're not worse-- it's just---when it's just two people--" Robin drew in a tense breath through his teeth before slumping his shoulders, defeated. "It's like... an earth... thing."

"I am aware that earth has many things," said Starfire, clearly not satisfied with this answer.

Robin sighed.

"Oh!" Starfire perked up, "It is one of your earth intimacy hangups! Because large portions of your population spent several centuries convincing yourselves that your natural instinct to be close and reproduce were affronts to your creator deities! And that still lingers in your cultural practices!"

"Uh..." Robin didn't really have a response to that.

"I have been reading the Earth histories," said Starfire, a little smugly.

"That's great," said Robin, meekly.

“Well it is not like any of ‘the funny business’ will be happening,” said Starfire, using the finger quotes around the words ‘funny business.’ Robin really regretted letting Beast Boy teach her how to make air quotes with her fingers and that she had only been getting better at figuring out when to use them. “But I will respect your cultural practice and let you sleep on the floor, even though that is dumb and a little gross and you will wake up with the aching back.”

"You sure are a diplomat, huh?" said Robin, drily.

“Mm-hmm!” Starfire nodded.

This was supposed to be a victory in the argument for Robin--since Starfire was recognizing the boundaries he was laying out, but who was he laying them out for if she didn’t care about them? Himself? Alfred had made a point of bringing him up to be ‘proper’ and ‘gentlemanly’ (perhaps to make up for some shortcomings with Bruce) but Robin’s own childhood in the Circus was closer to what Starfire was describing--the performers spent so much time traveling and setting up and breaking down the circus that they had to catch sleep when they could, sleeping in piles, often with little regard for gender or age. He remembered sleeping splayed across his parents’ laps when he was small, or with his cheek smushed against Samson the Strongman’s bicep, or even in the pile of poodles, borzois, and border collies that made up the act of ‘Rivka’s Fabulous Tumbling Dogs.’ Sometimes he would even wake up with white greasepaint smudged in his hair from sleeping on one of the clowns’ shoulders. But now here he was, feeling like a bit of an idiot as Starfire pulled some sheets off the bed and the extra pillow and handed them over to him, before plopping down cross-legged on the bed herself and turning on the hotel room TV. 

“Did you want to watch something?” Starfire glanced at him.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch,” Robin shrugged.

Robin took the uncomfortable wooden chair next to the too-small hotel table where their mostly-eaten one-half pepperoni one half pineapple-anchovy pizza sat. Starfire quickly flicked through the channels until reaching a public access channel where a reindeer bellowed on the screen.

“The noble caribou,” the narrator spoke, “A proud fixture of the tundras of the north that have roamed these grass-covered polar deserts for thousands of years.”

Robin gave a glance over to Starfire who was lying on her stomach on the bed and kicking her feet back and forth, her chin in her hands like any preppy teenaged earth girl watching her favorite low-budget cringeworthy high school drama starring 29-year-olds.

“But this is not a story of the caribou, no we will focus on a friend who has been here even longer,” the camera panned down to a caribou gnawing some knotty, netted-looking substance from the ground, “That industrious, unsung hero: The lichen. This is... Life of Lichen.” 

“What happened to ‘World of Fungus?’” Robin tilted his head.

“You remembered?” Starfire perked up.

“I mean it’s your favorite,” Robin shrugged, “Or I guess this is your new favorite?”

“Life of Lichen is the sequel!” Starfire said excitedly, “Technically it is the third sequel. The first was ‘Our Friend the Algae,’ the second was, ‘World of Fungus’ and now it is ‘Life of Lichen!’ Because you need both algae and fungus to create it,” She paused a bit, “I can... change it if you prefer something else though.”

“Nah I kind of like it. It’s calming,” said Robin, “I used to only research stuff for like... missions and investigations... it’s nice to just... be interested in things.” He craned in his seat a little to see better.

“There is room,” said Starfire, scooting herself over, “You can see better here.”

Robin paused for a few seconds, then got up and took a seat on the bed, propping some pillows up against the headboard for himself to lean against. 

“While lichen bears superficial similarity to moss, there are many differences, the first starting with composition. Mosses, of course, are plants, while lichens are composite organisms, there are over 20,000 known species...” The documentary narrator continued talking as the camera panned across a rainbow of lichens on the side of a rock and Robin found his eyelids drooping, 

He could have sworn he only rested his eyes for a few minutes when he suddenly startled awake. Most of the hotel room lights were off, save for the bedside lamp, the credits were running on the TV and the previews were next week’s episode were promising to delve into the exciting world of lichens growing on trees, as opposed to this episode which mainly featured lichens growing on rocks.

“Starfire?” Robin said, his voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“Mm?” Starfire was already turning around and fluffing up her pillow, the faint green glow of her eyes creating a low spooky light in the room.

“The floor’s kinda gross,” said Robin.

“The floor is indeed gross,” said Starfire.

“Is it cool if--”

“It is very cool,” said Starfire. She reached and got the pillow he had on the floor next to the bed and passed it over to him.

“Alright,” Robin got under the sheets. Maybe he would have found more energy to be flustered about the action if he hadn’t been lulled by an hour of a husky British accent talking about lichens. Starfire seemed to be respecting his ‘earth intimacy hangups’ and slept on her side with her back to him.

“G’night,” said Robin.

“Sleep well,” Starfire’s voice was half muffled into her pillow as he turned off the bedside lamp.

It didn’t take too long for Starfire’s breathing to go slow and rhythmic, but Robin was still staring at the ceiling. 

God, I made that weird, he thought, Why did I have to make such a big deal about sleeping on the floor? I mean I literally was repeatedly saying it’s not a big deal and it wasn’t but now it’s a whole thing. What if she thinks I don’t like her? What if she knows I like her but she’s really pushing the alien thing so we don’t have to address it? No that’s awful, she wouldn’t do that--earth means too much to her to do that. That was shitty of me to think. ‘Earth Intimacy hangups.’ I don’t have earth intimacy hangups. I should probably let her know that it’s probably not cool to tell people they have ‘earth intimacy hangups’ right to their face. I’m cool with it though. Because I don’t make big deals of things. I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal to sleep on the floor. Oh god I’m obsessing over this. 

He turned on his side so that he was facing her back in the bed. He stared at her, watching her shoulders slowly shift with her breath. He tried to match the pace of his breath to hers. 

Tesh’li, huh? he thought, and he felt his eyelids get heavy. He imagined a distant world with high-ceilinged palaces, and a family sleeping in a pile on a heap of luxurious cushions and circular futons, one of their two daughters hovering upside-down just above them. His eyelids slowly slid shut, Doesn’t sound so bad...

He woke up at 2 in the morning drowning in hair.

Starfire was hovering about a half foot off the bed, half the blankets hanging off of her, still in that same ‘lying on her side’ position, though now angled so that the majority of her hair was piled directly on Robin’s face. Robin sputtered quietly, pushing hair out of his eyes and mouth and flinching hard as he realized Starfire was floating.

“Star-pft-fire?” he whispered hoarsely, still pushing hair from his face.

“Robinnn... Kan’ah peq lor-faon eshdarm...” Starfire murmured in Tamaranean.

“...What?” Robin said blankly before she dropped back down onto the bed with a bounce and a loud creak of mattress springs, still dead asleep. A cat-like snore escaped her as she readjusted herself in the blankets. Robin breathed in a steadying breath, coming to terms with what he had just seen and how it was all perfectly normal what with Starfire being an alien. Then he repeated that last mental sentence back to himself and wondered how long ago this work had claimed his sanity like it had claimed Bruce’s. He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, however, as Starfire turned over in her sleep, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close, her alien strength moving him with the same ease as she might grab a stuffed animal.

“Star?” Robin whispered again as her arm snaked over his chest. He felt her body pressing into him from behind. His face was burning. 

“Hmm... Wurul tai horqarr, Silkie...” she mumbled, squeezing Robin close.

“Er.. Star--I’m not--Ggk!” Robin winced a little at the tight squeeze, wondering for a few seconds if he was going to get a broken rib,  but then Starfire seemed to nuzzle her cheek against his hair and her grip relaxed with a slight sigh.

Her hair was still enveloping him in a river of orange. She was warm--warmer than any human he could remember, and being in her arms felt like that almost- too-warm that’s perfect for dozing off while reading on summer afternoons. She smelled like ozone, and Lapsang-Souchong tea, and fresh-cut citrus. He wondered how he smelled to her. If he smelled like a memory of another planet. He listened to her breathing for a few minutes longer, as the warmth of her sank into him. He felt the exhaustion he always felt like he was barely outrunning catch up to him again, but here he was willing to let it overtake him.

Maybe I should wake her up? I mean... alien strength... don’t want to get crushed if she has a weird dream or something. Probably the smart thing to do, he thought.

“Zontar-ha peq lor-yuur’vyn...”  Starfire murmured in her sleep and readjusted herself against him again, her body curving around him. 

Eh. There are worse ways to go, he thought as he closed his eyes.