just1alien

[just1alien]

[just1alien]

FATE: THE WINX SAGA S01E04 "Some Wrecked Angel"

[just1alien]

In the source link you will find #122 gifs of Kate Fleetwood as Liandrin Guirale in The Wheel of Time (2021) as requested by myself. She is currently 52 years of age and was around 48 at time of filming. All gifs were made by me. They are 268px by 151px.

I do not approve of the +5/-5 age rule and do not want my gif used in places that enforce this rule

Please don’t put into other gif hunts but feel free to turn into gif icons and other edits as long as you tag me/link this post!

Trigger Warnings: flashing lights, magic,

[just1alien]

In the source link you will find #248 gifs of Kate Fleetwood as Liandrin Guirale in The Wheel of Time Season 2 (2023) as requested by myself. She is currently 52 years of age and was around 50 at time of filming. All gifs were made by me. They are 268px by 151px.

I do not approve of the +5/-5 age rule and do not want my gif used in places that enforce this rule

Please don’t put into other gif hunts but feel free to turn into gif icons and other edits as long as you tag me/link this post!

Trigger Warnings: flashing lights, magic,

[just1alien]

In the source link you will find #85 gifs of Kate Fleetwood as Nancy Birch in Harlots Season 1 (2017) as requested by myself. She is currently 52 years of age and was around 43 at time of filming. All gifs were made by me. They are 268px by 151px.

I do not approve of the +5/-5 age rule and do not want my gif used in places that enforce this rule

Please don’t put into other gif hunts but feel free to turn into gif icons and other edits as long as you tag me/link this post!

Trigger Warnings: drinking, smoking, blood,

[just1alien]

In the source link you will find #129 gifs of Kate Fleetwood as Liandrin Guirale in The Wheel of Time Season 3 (2025) as requested by myself. She is currently 52 years of age and was around 51 at time of filming. All gifs were made by me. They are 268px by 151px.

I do not approve of the +5/-5 age rule and do not want my gif used in places that enforce this rule

Please don’t put into other gif hunts but feel free to turn into gif icons and other edits as long as you tag me/link this post!

Trigger Warnings: flashing lights, magic,

[just1alien]

Sinéad O'Connor, from her book titled "Rememberings," originally published in June 2021

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[just1alien]

Fractured

Words: 1,267

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Set after the Black Ajah’s assault on the White Tower, Liandrin survives Siuan’s vengeance and Alanna’s wrath—but her body is a tapestry of ruin. A one-shot where devotion and danger bleed together in the shadows.

The abandoned waypoint was little more than a crumbling stone vault, its walls slick with moss and its air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. You’d dragged her here by the scruff of her collar, her breath a wet rasp, blood frothing at her lips with every step. Liandrin’s body was a tapestry of ruin, her once-impeccable red robes now a tattered shroud clinging to her broken form.

The others were coming from different directions, Liandrin had insisted it would be reckless to regroup too soon. Smart, as always. Even half-dead, she was calculating, her mind sharp as a blade.

Alanna’s warders had speared her clean through the chest, a precise strike meant to kill. But it was Siuan Sanche’s retaliation that had nearly finished her—a fist of saidar to the gut, crushing organs like overripe fruit.

Liandrin slumped against the makeshift bed, her pallor ghostly, her chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. Still, she sneered as you approached.

“Come to… document my demise?” she choked, blood staining her teeth. “Or to… finally thank me… for ridding the Tower of that… self-righteous woman?”

You ignored her, slicing open the upper half of her dress with a dagger. Her collarbones jutted out like blades, and her chest, though pale and blood-streaked, bore the marks of a warrior—scars from decades of Red Ajah vendettas. Beneath the thin linen shift, her small, firm breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath.

Your breath hitched, but you forced your attention to her wounds. She narrowed her eyes, noticing your gaze, but remained silent.

The injuries were grotesque—two deep cuts where the warder’s blades had twisted, and beneath them, her abdomen was a swollen, bruised mess. Siuan’s handiwork.

“Poultice first,” you muttered, more to yourself than her, crushing petals into a paste. Their sharp scent cut through the stench of decay.

She flinched as you smeared the mixture over her chest, her breath catching in a hiss of pain.

“You’ll need… to channel… for the internal bleeding,” she gasped, her voice fraying. “Unless you… plan to let me drown… in my own fluids.”

“Since when do Red Ajah dabble in healing?” you asked, your tone edged with annoyance.

Her laugh was a wet gurgle. “Since your Yellow sisters… proved incompetent… at keeping allies alive.”

Insufferable. Even on the brink of death, she couldn’t resist a jab.

---

The One Power illuminated the damage: a lung collapsed like crumpled parchment, a liver split like a rotten melon. You wove threads of Air and Spirit, coaxing tissue to knit, bile to drain. She arched off the pillows, a raw scream tearing from her throat.

“Stop—!”

“You’d rather die?” you snapped.

“I’d rather… not be mended… by a half-trained… apothecary,” she hissed, but her hand clawed at your wrist, anchoring herself as you worked.

It was painful to watch her slender body writhe in agony, her back tense, her eyes clenched shut. When you finished, she lay still, her breath shallow but steady. Her body was a battlefield—the fresh sword wounds, the livid bruising from Siuan’s blow, the older scars that spoke of a lifetime of violence.

And yet, she was striking. Her honey-colored hair, now freed from its braid, cascaded over her bare shoulders, and her blue eyes, though clouded with pain, were as deep and cold as the ocean.

“Admiring your… handiwork?” she taunted, though her voice was weak.

“Admiring your hypocrisy,” you said, pressing a linen pad against her abdomen. “You swore oaths to the Dark One, yet you still flinch at pain.”

Her fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your face to hers. “I flinch… at mediocrity,” she spat.

But her grip faltered, and her hand fell to the bed, trembling. For a moment, you saw it—the flicker of fear, the unspoken plea beneath her venom. It was enough to make your chest tighten.

(...)

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[just1alien]

Isabella Rossellini (circa 1990)

[just1alien]

Love me harder

Words: 1,843

Chapters: 3/3

Summary: “You always were so eager to please,” she murmured, your eyes met her. “Tell me, girl… Do you still follow my every command?”

The air in Liandrin’s chambers was thick with the scent of dried herbs and blood—old blood, the kind that clung to skin no matter how many times you scrubbed.

You found her by the window, her back rigid, her fingers curled around the sill like she wanted to claw through the stone. The fading light of Tanchico’s sunset painted her in gold and shadow, catching the edges of the scars that the Shredding had left behind.

She should be resting.

But Liandrin Guirale is not the one to rest.

“You’re staring,” she said, without turning to face you, eyes still lost over the city below.

You swallowed. “You didn’t come to supper.”

A dry laugh. “And you’ve appointed yourself my keeper, now?”

You stepped closer, the woven rug muffling your footsteps.

“But the others are talking. They say you’re—”

Weak. Broken. A liability.

Her head tilted, just slightly.

“Say it, girl.”

You didn’t. Instead, you gestured to the copper tub in the corner, already filled with water you’d heated with a thread of fire. “Let me tend to you.”

For a long moment, she was silent. Then, with a slow exhale, she turned.

The robe she wore opened a bit, revealing the jagged line of a half-healed wound. Her eyes—sharp as a blade’s edge—raked over you. “Why?”

Because I remember the weight of your hands when you taught me to channel. Because I still dream of the night you brought me to the Dark.

“Because if you keep looking defeated like that, they will feast on you”, you said, avoiding her ocean eyes.

A flicker of something dark crossed her face. Then, with deliberate slowness, she untied her robe and let it slide to the floor.

You felt your heart skip a beat.

She stepped into the tub, the water sloshing as she sank into it with a low sigh. Her skin was flushed from the heat, her muscles taut beneath the surface.

“Well?” she said, leaning back. “Get on with it.”

You took the soap and a cloth, kneeling beside the tub. The first touch of your fingers to her shoulder made her tense—but she didn’t pull away.

The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of water and the occasional hitch in her breath when you found a particularly tender spot.

You worked methodically, as if trying to scrub away all of her pain.

Then your thumb brushed a deep scar at her back.

She turned, faster than the wind. One hand shot out, gripping your wrist hard enough to bruise. “Careful.”

Your pulse pounded where her fingers pressed. “Does it still hurt?”

Her lips curled. “Not the way you think.”

—

The air between you thickened, heavy with steam and something else—something that made your skin prickle. Her grip loosened, but she didn’t let go. Instead, her thumb traced the delicate bones of your wrist.

“You always were so eager to please,” she murmured, your eyes met her. “Tell me, girl… Do you still follow my every command?”

(...)

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June's Year of the OTP fic! Three chapters of Black Ajah, darker Verin, angst, comfort, and smut. Spoilers for Verin's book storyline, and a bit of canon-typical violence.

Summary:

Liandrin swears herself to the Shadow and joins the Black Ajah, but finds herself negotiating a very different path to the one she expected.

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ONE WEIRD TRICK to get your maiden to enjoy having her blood taken from her every month.

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This summer has shot my energy down 900%. urrrhhgh

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Isabelle Huppert by Ren Haihua for Glass China, July 2025

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Story of Women / Une affaire de femmes (1988) | Dir. Claude Chabrol

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