#althea human

[miralines]

One thing I think is interesting/useful to note about the Rose Red book is that it is a book that was published in the OUATIS galaxy a little under ten years after the war, and that it has an in-story author— and, crucially, that author is not necessarily an entirely reliable narrator.

More rambling about this under the cut

The author, Althea, is a normcivilian with an unusual amount of sympathy for the now-decommissioned Rose Reds. This is not a popular position, and between:

A) her rhetorical goal of changing the minds of people actively against the Rose Reds being allowed to survive

B) the constraints of mainstream publishers, who are under social/political pressure to not threaten the new government, requiring her to be both neutral and not too challenging,

C) her own corresponding bias in believing that neutrality is both possible and desirable,

and D) her limited viewpoint as a normcivilian (not a Rose Red) from a privileged background,

There are quite a lot of places where events, people, and viewpoints are presented in ways that are somewhat misleading. Althea has a degree in journalism, but she does not live in an entirely free society, and both external forces and her own biases do color the narrative she presents throughout the book.

In short, she’s the equivalent of a left-leaning ally to a marginalized group who’s a bit more centrist than one might hope and is presenting herself as even more centrist in order to be published at all through mainstream channels and taken seriously by people who are biased against her cause.

[zorphie]

doodle page of these guys bc im insane hello🤭

[phantasmalduelist]

A Red Crane Poem in Your Veins

[ascalonianlightbringer]

It's been a long time since I first fell in love with pre-Searing Ascalon in Guild Wars: Prophecies. But I'm still nostalgic enough that I periodically visit Ebonhawke just to go home to human Ascalon, and I loved this view of it :)

[anghraine]

There’s a post taking shape in my head about the complicated relationship between large-scale systems of oppression and the nature of suffering, and I know Tumblr is generally a pretty terrible place to talk about it at all (third only to Twitter and TikTok, perhaps!), and also that it’s very Handle With Care because there are a lot of gradations between “but what about meeee” hyper-individualism and being incredibly dehumanizing in how we talk about basic human suffering.

I’m still figuring out exactly how I want to put it, but it’s been percolating in my head after a conversation with a friend who is so enmeshed in discourse about systems that he doesn’t recognize when individual people are being astoundingly callous. (I’ve been thinking about some particular aspects for much longer, though.)

Anyway, the idea of actually writing it was exhausting, so I went and worked on my mother’s legendary in GW2 instead.

[madebysimblr]

Cordy: I’m surprised you can just walk out of the palace. Lemme guess there are some invisi-guards following us.

Raina: [laughs] You would be correct.

Raina: But c’mon, you’ll love it here- I used to spend as much time as I could here when I was a kid. Have you ever been around chickens before?

Cordy: Uh no.

Raina: Altheaaaa!

Althea: Hmm?

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

We're probably not getting the puppy

My parents wanted to get a pair of siblings the next time they got dogs

If I had a job I would take him for myself but I do not and harley hasn't had her shots in almost 2 years so thats kind of a priority

Its sad boi hours tho

[tarubunart]

The Veiled Haven

dnd campaign

Various art I’ve done for the dnd campaign I’ve been in for several years now (we only get to play once or twice a month) with my second ever DND character, Rowan a human fighter delinquent! His design is still pretty outdated, it desperately needs an overhaul.  Things have been super fun and juicy lately~ My boy’s not-dad is set to be executed HOW WILL WE SAVE HIM

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello author. I hope your having a splendid day

May I request a reader x batfamily ( a year younger than Damian)

They are a Demi god of lightning and electricity.

He has been having a hard time with cases and failing and stuff like that, too much pressure. And he’s kind of hitting his breaking point.

So during a fight with a villain, alone. The villain corrupts the reader and makes him evil.

For a few months he became a villain and barely anyone could stop him. The batfamily at first didn’t know it was him but during a mission that was orders by the villain that corrupted him, to kill Althea (your oc) but Althea got away with injures but saw his face and told her mom and her mom told bats.

So with this new information the batfamily were more devastated .

With the help of the justice league the batfamily are in a show down with the reader, somewhere near a cliff and they fight and while also talking about their memories together. Reader was too powerful though and restrains everyone with use his electricity. His eyes are red and with dead eyes he walks towards any batfamily member of your choice and was about to deliver the final blow before the bat member looks at them and says ‘ I love you, my son/little brother’ reader hesitates and his eyes widens and filled with tears, the red disappearing.

He’s of course confused and disoriented, he steps back and not notices the cliff. His mind coming back to me as he slowly lets his restaions of the others disappear. He steps back near the cliff and looks back into the abyss and back at his family and friends. With regret and a messed up mind right now thinking he won’t be forgiven, he purposely steps back and fall down the cliff. No one was fast enough to stop his fall and he dies.

They retrieve his body and they’re just depressed and stuff for a while hut Damian won’t allow his only little sibling to die and takes his body to talia and he gets revived back.  when he brings unconscious reader back, the batfamily are upset at him for doing a dangerous act but happy that it went well.

Sorry it’s too long.

Hi anon, I hope you have have a splendid day too. Also, don't worry about the length. Lets go.

Summary: (Y/N) gets taken and is broken. The family has to save him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SUICIDE- read at your own risk everyone!, near death of another character, the fam is suffering...

(Y/N) Wayne, the youngest child in the family and the only child who isn't really human. He is a demigod you see, a demigod of lighting and electricity. I think you can guess that his biological dad is Zeus. Because of it, he got close to Wonder Woman her daughter, Althea. He liked them both and he didn't mind hanging out with them.

He was a good detective too. Bruce was happy and proud, but made sure he wasn't over working himself and neglecting himself like, ahem, Tim. He was different from the rest of the family too. He didn't really have a traumatic past. His mom left him, but the Justice League and Bruce took care of him.

He was really close with his brothers too. Jason and Dick made sure he didn't overwork himself, Tim was fascinated with his powers and how they worked and Damian liked to just hang out with him in general. (Y/N) is the only person he liked and tolerated.

But times have shifted a little bit. (Y/N) was overworked and he was just dead inside. The pressure to solve the cases was piling and piling on and while (Y/N) knew that Bruce wouldn't mind if he took a break, he knew it wouldn't fit his own image. He would be disappointed in him, although not outwardly, inwardly.

He was nearing his breaking his point. He hid it well from the others, not wanting to disappoint them or worry them. He worked himself to the bone, closing in and refusing to open up. He knew he needed to do this and solve this. These cases need to be solved one way or another.

One way or another. It was time to get this shit over with and to do this as best as he can. He needs to get as far away from this pressure and from this breaking point as soon as possible. ASAP. Bruce explained to him that whenever he is nearing that point, he should take a break, but there are people depending him to solve this shit.

(Y/N) hated this shit more than anything else in the world. He really wanted to get this over with. Frustration, anger, sadness... He really wants to feel happy...

Is that so wrong to feel and wish for.

(Y/N) knew that he had to tell someone. Maybe Wonder Woman and Althea would be a better option to talk to, but those two were raised as warriors and they probably don't put emotions on the first place. Mental health is a difficult area to navigate. (Y/N) didn't even sleep from time to time, for a few days, school also being a big overwhelming factor in this stuff. He had good grades, not a straight A student, but still a good student. That was more than enough for Bruce who simply says to do your best in school.

If (Y/N)'s grades dropped, then Bruce would've caught on. Really caught on and he would force (Y/N) to stop with the cases and patrol.

(Y/N) knew it was a bad idea to do this. But there was nobody to help him in this fight. It's said that every single batkid has his own villains. Well, (Y/N) could fricking confirm it. This bastard was a pain in his ass for him and for the rest of the family. (Y/N) was thrown into the wall and he grunted as he tried to get up.

It was difficult, but he managed to do it.

He glared at the villain, clenching his fist. He could feel electricity coursing through his veins, out right refusing to back down. He could feel his eyes turning electric blue. The villain used his powers to disappear into the shadows, making (Y/N) scowl.

" Did you really come here alone? " The villain said from the shadows, making (Y/N) look around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. He really didn't like this at all.

" That is brave. Coming here alone to face me. " (Y/N) scowled more as he heard mocking tone in his voice, knowing that facing alone this type of villain is not good and not advisable. (Y/N) threw some electricity at the villain.

He didn't know whether or not he has hit him, but he moved, not wanting to stay somewhere where he could be a sitting duck and more so an easy target for the villain. Shadow and darkness is a scary place and although his family could often be found in it, (Y/N) thought of them as some sort of beacons of light. Sure, they were dark figures, but they were bringing hope and justice.

That sounds like a paradox or oxymoron, but it was true. But being a person in the darkness and shadows and being evil... Yeah... Not good. Really not good.

(Y/N) turned his head when he heard something behind him, but that was a distraction. The real blow came from the front, leaving (Y/N) no time to react as he was thrown into the darkness and into the shadows. (Y/N) couldn't get his bearings together and he was panicking now. He had to get out of this cloud of darkness. He really had to.

He had to.

He started walking, hands reaching out to try and feel where a wall is. Everything was dark and he had no idea where he was going. One guess would be hell, one would be the exit for this stupid building. (Y/N) hoped that he was on his way to the exit, but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

(Y/N) pushed on, but screamed only a few moments later when the shadows pulled him in, invading his mind, breaking through his defenses easily. NO! Fighting was futile though, (Y/N) knew it. (Y/N) knew that very well.

" Just surrender. It will be easier. " The voice said and (Y/N) knew that he couldn't fight and with the last bit of resistance, (Y/N) allowed the darkness to take over his mind.

For now, it was over.

The entire family was loosing their collective minds and their shit. Each in their own way. Some were silent, but some were more emotional and taking it out on criminals. Ahem, Jason. Bruce was quiet and worked non stop to to find his youngest son, his child. Alfred was on the verge of killing someone.

It was difficult to even function normally without their family member. Also, there is another problem on the horizon. A new villain was on the prowl and he was good. Bruce saw he had a lot of training that was far too good for some amateur.

What the hell is going on here?

Bruce was overworked and asked Wonder Woman and Superman to try to locate this new villain because his son was a far more bigger priority than some stupid villain coming to their scene so to speak. Bruce had no time or patience for it.

If only Bruce knew.

Wonder Woman and Superman were doing a good job at tracking the new villain, making sure to communicate with Batman and offer comfort whenever they could. They would often see their nephews, trying to bring some comfort to the poor boys who lost their brother.

For a few months, there were no clues, nothing. Not about a new villain, not about (Y/N) either. Bruce was on the edge of an abyss and he can't do anything to stop himself from going over the edge. A little push was needed and then he would be long gone in that aspect.

The entire batfamily was at the Justice League HQ, looking through intel. Wonder Woman and Superman were in the middle of presenting the intel they managed to obtain when Althea burst through the doors, falling down on her knees, making Wonder Woman gasp before running towards her daughter.

" Althea! " She said, clearly worried and Bruce walked up to the duo, trying to see if Althea is okay.

" Mom, it's (Y/N)... " She said before coughing up more blood, making the inside of her mouth red.

" What about (Y/N)? " Bruce asked quickly, hoping she would stay awake and conscience long enough for him to know. Everyone was waiting patiently for Althea to start.

" (Y/N) is the villain. " She said, coughing even more and Wonder Woman picked her up and ran towards the medical wing of the HQ.

When Wonder Woman left, the room was shrouded in silence. Tense and palpable. Bruce had to sit down. No. No. (Y/N) couldn't have... Dick wiped his eyes as he started crying softly. Bruce broke out of his trance and quickly hugged his sons in a big group hug.

" I know... " Bruce said, pausing to compose himself. " But now we know that (Y/N) is alive. He is somewhat okay. " Bruce said as he swallowed with a bit of difficulty.

(Y/N) was alive. (Y/N) IS alive. They will bring their brother and son home. No matter what.

Well, (Y/N) got stronger during his kidnapping. His eyes were red and nobody could even get close to him. Tim and Dick were unable to move from being restrained by electricity and the other three members were trying everything they could fricking think of. Everything. They have tried to awake his memories. From when he was little, from when they did stupid pranks... Anything they could think of.

Nothing worked.

Soon enough, everyone was restrained with electricity and (Y/N) looked like he was going to kill them. Bruce watched his son as he walked over to him, ready to finish him. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was ready to kill him. But there was one thing that they didn't try just yet.

Bruce watched as his son raised his fist up, ready to strike. Ready to kill.

" I love you son. " Bruce said as he smile and (Y/N) stopped.

The red was gone. The red was gone! Bruce smiled even more and the boys were waiting with a baited breath as to what would (Y/N) do. They didn't expect the tears. But by God, it was a sight they were hoping.

The shadow chains were getting broken.

(Y/N) was slowly moving backwards, going to the edge of the cliff, hands gripping his hair and head. Everything was coming back to him... What he did to Althea... His brothers... His dad, father.... What he did when he was under the villain's control...

(Y/N) looked back at the edge of a cliff, seeing the waves crash at the hard stone... Usually, (Y/N) would love to watch it, just to relax. But now, (Y/N) only sees the dark abyss. Everyone at one point is just standing at the edge of that abyss and then, sometimes, the abyss blinks back at you.

He glanced back at his family, who were out of the restraints, just waiting for (Y/N) to say something. (Y/N) couldn't really see their faces due to tears, but he did wonder one single thing.

Would they forgive him? Would Althea forgive him?

(Y/N) shook his head as he took another backwards, he could feel the edge, right at his heels. His mind was in shambles, ruins... He wouldn't be forgiven...

He knew that his family wouldn't forgive him. But Althea might kill him... (Y/N) looked back at his family once more, one last time. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

" I'm sorry. "

Bruce's eyes widened and he knew exactly what he was going to do and he got up and ran towards (Y/N), but it was too late. (Y/N) took a step over the edge, falling backwards into the waves and onto the hard rocks. Bruce leapt forward, hands grabbing the edge, but it was too late.

Bruce watched his son laying down there, waves washing over him. Bruce closed his eyes as he heard a scream behind him and then there was sobbing. Bruce looked up towards the sky, which opened up and Bruce for a moment thought that the sky was crying over their son.

The boys were destroyed and Bruce was destroyed with them... Oh God... Alfred will be destroyed too... Bruce allowed his tears to fall, and those tears were mixed with the rain.

Bruce swore that someone came in and took a part of soul. Just took it and ripped it out of his chest. A part of his heart was also taken and shattered. He look back at his sons, quickly grouping them into a hug, wanting to give them as much comfort as he can.

" Why? " Damian asked, shaken to his core.

" He said he was sorry... He thought we wouldn't forgive him... " Bruce said, burying his face into Damian's hair.

The boys all cried, crying out for their brother. Their souls and hearts were shattered too.

The world seemed to cry for (Y/N) Wayne.

Unfortunately, they couldn't bury (Y/N) just yet. They had to make sure that there were no restraints on his mind and body... And maybe they weren't ready to bury him just yet. They all hoped for a miracle to happen. Maybe (Y/N) would wake up and just be hey guys... But they all knew that wouldn't happen.

They were all grieving for (Y/N) in their own ways, but Damian was hurting the most. He was thinking about (Y/N) all the time and he cried alone in his room, thinking about his brother. The house was silent and there was no way it could ever be the same.

Damian thought about his grandfather and the Lazarus pit... Maybe... Just maybe...

The way back was easier than the way to Lazarus pit. Talia didn't expect him to come, especially not with his younger brother, well, half brother but still. Talia met (Y/N) and she did like him. She didn't know what happened, but she felt bad for the poor boy. She also didn't expect that Damian would want to use the pit, but she wasn't going to stop him.

She helped him put (Y/N) in the pit, waiting and watching. The color was coming back to his cheeks. There was that infamous white streak in his hair... Damian watched with a bated breath, hoping it would work.

After a few minutes, they checked for a pulse. Damian sighed in relief as he felt a pulse. His brother was alive... He is alive.... Talia watched as Damian took (Y/N) into his arms, lifting him out of the water, hugging him tightly.

She left the two brothers alone, allowing Damian to have a moment to get himself ready. He had to go back home...

As said before, the way back was easier and oddly enough, he made it just in time for dinner. He didn't question it and walked through, carrying his now alive brother.

Bruce spat out his water and the rest paled. There was (Y/N), but he looked like he was sleeping. He had more color than he had...

" Damian, " Bruce started as he stood up, not sure what more to say. The rest was quiet. " What did you do? "

" I used the Lazarus pit. "

That sentence... Bruce's eyes widened as he walked closer to his now alive son... He took (Y/N) into his arms, trying not to cry. (Y/N) was alive... He is alive.

" Lets put him to bed. " Bruce said with a strain in his voice. The other 3 boys jumped from their seats to really see if their brother is really alive.

(Y/N) was alive... They all cried softly as they realized that (Y/N) was alive... (Y/N) is alive!

They were happy, but mad at the same time since Damian didn't tell anyone of them what the hell he was planning. But they were happy and maybe their family could be whole again, once more.

[devourable]

drunk cuddly darling + sober yan

vs

sober darling + drunk yan

do yans have any preference on either scenario or is it just no bueno either way

im just gonna simplify this ask down a bit. m!yanderes + f!yanderes x cuddly drunk gn darling 🫶 (no poly/non humans for the sake of my sanity)

⛪️ ;; abe is not the type to drink, never has been and never will be, even if you pressure him to drink more, so while he doesn’t exactly approve of you getting drunk either, he just cant bring himself to be mad at you. not when you’re being so sweet to him! he’s happy that you’re content to just be held by him until you fall asleep rather than get into any trouble that he’s not prepared to deal with. be ready to wake up to a scolding by him though, you could get sick if you go overboard! even if he kind of likes it when you do.

[cw dubcon] 🖥️ ;; god bless any darling who gets drunk around gene because if he can tell you’re inebriated he’s either trying to fuck you or is equally as hammered (if not more). so when you get drunk and start getting all touchy with him he sees it as an invitation to take things further. you wanted the attention, you can’t get mad at how he chooses to give it! it isn’t his fault, you just make really cute faces when you’re wasted. he’ll give you a little apology gift for your sore insides when you’re up the next day — one most likely made up of painkillers and your favorite takeout.

🪶;; it irritates sterling to no end that you got drunk. don’t you know you have an image to uphold? he’s prattling on and on about how he’s sick of your disgraceful behavior and how unbecoming it is for you to waste your time fucking up your brain, until your arms are around him and you’re snuggling up against him. then his words are all caught in his throat and hes tripping through his sentences, half heartedly trying to reprimand you still, but he eventually settles down and (begrudgingly) holds you until you’re asleep. he’ll swear to himself its only this one time; if you remember the next day and try to tease him about it he literally wont talk to you for a week.

💪 ;; valentina had already planned to simply cuddle you till you went to sleep, so the fact that you initiated it makes her elated. she likes how it feels when you squirm in her arms, too out of it to be able to do anything but what she wants. it’s like she’s handling a living doll! she carries you around like one, too, going about her day with one hand and holding you you with the other. yes, it makes doing things way more difficult and yes, the arm she carried you with will be sore for days, but it’s well worth it to her.

[cw dubcon, again] 👑 ;; althea ordered you to go to bed the moment you stumbled into her presence in your inebriated state. when you instead clung to her and insisted on cozying up instead, while it annoyed her, she took it upon herself to make sure you got to bed and couldn’t get into any trouble. but you insisted on her staying with you! and the way you tangled her body up with yours and dragged your hands across her form in a move that couldn’t have been entirely innocent (to her, at least), allie couldn’t help but help herself to your body. you practically owed it to her, anyway; and the way you whimpered and sighed for her proved that you didn’t seem to mind too much anyway.

🥩 ;; rhodes doesn’t particularly care for drunks, they’re used to them being loud and obnoxious. so they’re not exactly happy when they find you after having a bit too much to drink. they’e expecting a tedious night of making sure you don’t hurt yourself or others, so it’s a pleasant surprise when you seek them out for comfort instead. they still would prefer you being sober so you’d be able to better appreciated them taking the day off to be with you, but they’re satisfied with the time you spend with them regardless.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 3: Hermes, God Of Thieves]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

They say it’s the most dangerous job in Vietnam. That’s why I wanted to do it.

Chinooks transport men and equipment, Cobras are gunships, Jolly Green Giants are used in search-and-rescue missions. But the Loach—Light Observation Helicopter—is a scout. We have to fly low enough to spot fresh footprints in mud, glints of sunlit metal, blooms of firelight from smoldering cigarettes in the primordial maze of the jungle. And when you go looking for the enemy, sometimes that’s exactly who you find. U.S. Army regulations decree that each Loach must be inspected after 300 hours of flight time, but they rarely make it that long. I’ve been shot down twice already. You roll out of the wreckage, grab your buddies, and book it out of the area before the Vietcong kill you, or worse: drag you back to the Hanoi Hilton so you can die slow.

Currently we’re just north of Pleiku, coasting close enough to the treetops that I could reach out and touch them. I’m in the back seat with my M16, no door between me and the outside world, my hair tied back with a green bandana, the wind hot and sticky. It’s so fucking humid here. Why can’t the communists be trying to take over Malta or Sweden or Monterey Bay, California?

It was the old men who suggested I might be of greatest service to the family by enlisting. I was 25, newly graduated from Columbia Law—a family tradition—and dreading the desk job that awaited me at the Department of Justice. Some people are born to type their lives away in some leather-upholstered office with a view of Pennsylvania Avenue, but not me, and I know this like I know the sun or the stars, ancient truths that can never be changed. And so when Otto and Viserys sat me down—my father had only had one stroke by that point, and was still relatively involved in the day-to-day minutia of putting a Targaryen in the White House—and said Aemond having a brother in Vietnam would make him more relatable, more sympathetic, more noble, not an observer to the carnage of the war but a fellow victim of it…I told them I’d go.

Everyone needs a project. If you don’t have something to distract you from the futility of human existence, it’ll break you in half. I have the Loach. Otto and Viserys, both immigrants ineligible to serve as president of the United States, have their shared ambition of getting their bloodlines in the Oval Office. Aemond has his legacy. My mother has her children, and Criston has my mother. Helaena has her gardens, her bugs, quiet gentle things that she tends with her own thorn-pricked hands. Aegon doesn’t have a project, he never really has, and it’s driven him to the cliff’s edge of insanity. See what I mean?

Anyway, let me tell you something about Vietnam. The Army gives us all the steak, beer, and cigarettes we can handle, but I’d kill for a lemon-lime Mr. Misty—

“Daeron, get down!” the guy to my left screams over the noise of the rotors. His name is Richie Swindell, and he’s from Omaha, Nebraska, and now he’s plummeting out of the helicopter as bullets riddle his chest. I duck low and cover my head as we spiral sideways into the trees, snapping branches, shredding leaves like confetti. I can hear the pilot yelling something, but I can’t tell what. When we hit the earth, the lightweight aluminum skin of the Loach does exactly what it’s supposed to, crumpling to absorb the shock of the collision and reduce trauma to us mortals inside. I scramble out of the rubble on my hands and knees and go to check on the pilot, but it’s too late. He’s already being hauled out by the Vietcong and gets a bullet to the brain. I reach back into the ruins of the Loach to grab my M16, but there are hands around my ankles yanking me out. And now I’m next, and there’s nowhere left to run, and I’m hoping Criston will be there to hold my mother when she gets the Western Union telegram.

One of the soldiers shouts and stops the others, shoving them aside to get a better look at me. With the barrel of his AK-47, supplied by either China or the Russians, he prods at the patch displaying my last name: Targaryen. His compatriots don’t seem impressed. Again, he batters my nametag, speaking to them in Vietnamese.

He knows who I am, I realize. He knows Aemond is running for president.

Now there is a hell of a lot of excitement. The men are talking rapidly amongst themselves, marveling at me, poking and examining me. Then two of them grab me by the arms. I look to the soldier who knows English, at least enough of it to read those nine fated letters. He smiles at me, not like a friend. Like a wolf baring its teeth.

He says: “It is okay, Targaryen boy. We just have some questions for you.”

Guess I’ll be checking into the Hanoi Hilton after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to Aegon strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Johnny Cash. The guitar must be new. The one he left at Asteria is plain maple wood and covered in stickers; this unfamiliar instrument is a vivid, Caribbean blue and has Gibson written across the headstock.

“I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when

I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin’ on…”

“Let me die. I’m ready to go.”

Aegon laughs, setting his new guitar aside.

“Is Ari okay?”

“Yeah, he’s doing great. And I got the stuff you asked for.”

Sure enough, there are three roomy sundresses hanging from the coatrack—you wanted to have options in case you had trouble finding one that fit correctly, though you gave Aegon a general neighborhood for sizes—as well as an array of cosmetics on the nightstand, including a bottle of shimmering champagne-colored nail polish. “I’m really impressed. You barely forgot anything. Though I will look odd with blush but no foundation.”

“Ohhhhh. Fuck.”

“And this isn’t human shampoo. It’s for dogs. That’s why it has a mastiff on the label.”

“I thought it looked like you,” Aegon says, smirking mischievously.

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“And I found this at the gift shop.” He tosses a card at you like a frisbee. You open the envelope to see a cartoon cow on the front, black and white and wearing a huge copper bell and a party hat. Inside is printed: May your graduation be legenDAIRY! Aegon has crossed it out and written instead I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! followed by his illegible scribble of a signature.

“A cow,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Because I’m Io.”

“You’ve got about a million of those pouring in from all over the country. Congratulations cards, get well soon cards, we really hope your husband gets elected so we aren’t consumed by nuclear Armageddon cards. And then Richard Nixon sent a pipe bomb.”

You set Aegon’s card on your nightstand, half-open so it will stay standing upright. Then you drink the apple juice from the tray the nurses left for you. “Aemond’s not here yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aegon says vaguely, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. He’s been shopping for himself too. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black The Kinks t-shirt, ripped jeans, moccasins. He uses the remote to turn on the television: The Dating Game. “So, what did you study in college? You went to Manhattanville, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“Yes, I went to Manhattanville. And I studied math.”

“No way. You didn’t major in math.”

“Women can’t do math?” you tease. “That’s sexist.”

“I didn’t say women can’t do math. I’m saying there’s no way your parents sent you to a housewife factory like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart to get a math degree.”

“They didn’t, which is why my bachelor’s is in math education. So half-math, half-kid stuff. Makes it a little more…domestic.”

“Cool. Teach me math.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He digs around in the pockets of his jeans until he finds a receipt, then locates a pen in the nightstand drawer. He hands both to you and then stands so he can watch over your shoulder as you work. You can smell him: cigarette smoke, rum, the cool grey rain that is falling outside. It drips off his hair, carelessly slicked back from his face.

“What’s something you don’t know how to do?” you ask, expecting to get an answer like exponents or calculating the volume of a pyramid.

“Uh. Long division.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Going all the way back to 4th grade. Alright then.” You begin writing. “So let’s take a large number—this year, 1968—and divide it by…hm…how many kids you have. So five.”

Aegon whistles. “Five kids. Goddamn.”

“Yes, and you probably couldn’t name them, but there are indeed five. Trust me, I’ve counted.”

“Okay, this is the part I don’t get. Five goes into 19 almost four times. But there’s no way to say almost four.”

“There certainly is not. Five goes into 19 three times, so we put a three up top and then subtract 15 from 19. We get four, drop down the six from 1968, and now we’re dividing 46 by five.”

“Nine.”

“Right. Five times nine is 45. So the nine goes up top and we subtract 45 from 46.”

“45 is basically 46. Let’s call it a day. Close enough.”

“No,” you insist. “We get one, then drop down the eight from 1968, which makes 18.”

“And five goes into 18 three times.”

“Where’s the three go?”

“Up top,” Aegon says, observing fixedly.

“And then we subtract…”

“15 from 18, which is three. So the answer is 393.3.”

“Wrong. Loser.”

“What! How am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just put the three after the decimal,” you say. “You drop down a zero—”

“A zero?! Where the fuck did a zero come from?”

“From the fact that 1968 is a whole number, so it’s actually 1968.0.”

“Oh.” Aegon blinks a few times. “Gotcha.”

“Add the zero after the three to get 30—”

“And 30 divided by five is six. So the answer is 393.6.”

“I am so proud. You are officially as smart as an average nine-year-old.”

He takes the receipt from you and studies it. “This was super enlightening.”

“You want to try calculus now?”

He cackles and sinks back into his plush salmon pink armchair, his miniature dominion in your hospital room kingdom. “You like teaching?”

“I love it,” you admit. “I had to do a semester of student teaching the spring before I graduated, and at first I was kind of petrified. But the kids are so hilarious and interesting and full of excitement about everything, and they’re sweet in totally unexpected ways. They’d chatter all through a lesson and make me want to jump out a five-story window, and then bring me some of their Easter candy. That’s when I realized they weren’t trying to torture me. They’re just kids.”

Aegon is meditative. “Yeah, kids are fun.”

“I wasn’t aware you had much interest in them.”

“No, I do.” And something about the way he says it makes you feel bad for taking the shot. He runs his fingers through his hair, perhaps debating how much he wants to share. “You know Viserys made us all do these little missions after college so we could learn about the real world, right?”

“Right.” Daeron spent his on lobster boats up in Maine, Helaena learned horticulture in France, Aemond helped register voters in Mississippi and Alabama. You can’t recall ever hearing about Aegon’s.

“I got sent to Yuma, Arizona to teach on the reservation there. When I stepped off the bus, I thought it was hell on earth. And then when my time was up I didn’t want to leave.”

“What did you teach?” And then you add: “Hopefully not math.”

“No, definitely not math,” he says, smiling but distant, remembering. “English. Books, poems, all that. But my favorite thing to do was take a song and break it down line by line, really get them curious about what the author was thinking. And then of course we’d all sing it together. I’d play guitar, they’d run around jumping on the furniture, it was a good time.”

“But you couldn’t stay.”

“No,” he sighs. “I had to come back here so I could get dragged kicking and screaming through law school and then married off.”

“And elected mayor of Trenton,” you say, trying to make him laugh. It works.

“Oh God, we are not talking about that. Most miserable two years of my life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. If Aemond wins and makes me the attorney general, that might be worse.”

“Knock knock!” comes a cheerful trill from the doorway, and then Alicent and Mimi rush in. They descend upon your hospital bed, cooing and soothing, squeezing your hands and trying to smooth your untamed hair.

“What did it feel like?” Mimi is morbidly fascinated, swaying a little, eyes bleary with gin. “When they were digging around in there?”

“Well, obviously she was sedated, hon,” Aegon says, a bit impatiently. He and Mimi share a nod in greeting, no warmth, no depth. You wonder what it must be like for someone you spent so much time tangled up with to become a stranger.

“Oh, darling, I barely recognize you!” Alicent says. “You poor thing, you must be in such awful pain. I’ve never seen you like this before. Your face, your hair…”

Aegon gives her a quick, disapproving look and then lights a cigarette of the traditional variety. He puffs on it as he gazes at the window, like he’s counting the raindrops on the glass.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” you assure Alicent.

Her eyes flick down to your belly, still swollen beneath your blankets. “Will it scar terribly, do you think?”

You shrug; you haven’t thought much about that part yet. “It’s a battle scar. Aemond gets them in the real world, I get them in here. Same war, different arenas.” You peek out into the hallway. “Is Aemond…is he with you…?”

“He wanted to be,” Alicent says, like it’s a consolation. “But, Washington, you know…the primary there is so close. So, so close. He kept saying that he and Humphrey were neck and neck, and they still are, I believe. Every vote counts, and he’s campaigning all over the Puget Sound.”

“He’s still in Washington?” Your voice is flat with disbelief, with disapproval.

“He wishes he could be here with you and the baby,” Alicent insists, stroking your hair. “I’m sure he’ll fly back as soon as he’s able. But he’s thinking of you so, so much. That’s why he let me and Mimi leave this morning.”

“Right,” you reply numbly. And then you remember what you’re supposed to say. “The election is important. It affects everyone, our son included. For the greater good, personal sacrifices are necessary.”

“We saw him,” Alicent tells you, radiant with joy. “Aristos Apollo.”

“So precious,” Mimi says. “But so small! And trapped in that hideous machine! We could only see him through those little round windows.”

Aegon casts her a violent glare. You are alarmed. “He’s not in an incubator?”

“They have him in a…what was it called, Mimi?” Alicent asks. Mimi has nothing useful to contribute. “A hyperbaric chamber, I think. To help him get more oxygen.”

“But he’s fine,” Aegon says firmly, giving his wife and mother a warning. “Didn’t the doctor say it was a precaution?”

“He did, he did,” Alicent promises you. “Yes, just a precaution, that’s what we were told. The doctor has been trying to reach Aemond, apparently, but since he landed in Washington, he’s never in one place for long…”

“We should buy gifts for the baby,” Mimi says excitedly. “Adorable hats and shirts and trousers. Although even the tiniest clothes might be too big for him right now.”

“Yes, gifts! We must shop for gifts. Oh, it’s all been such a whirlwind. We hurried off the plane to come straight here, love,” Alicent tells you. “Can Mimi and I get you something for dinner?”

“Sure, sure.” You are distracted, still thinking of Ari. “Anything is fine. Wherever you end up.”

“Would you like me to bring a priest to pray with you? Saint Nicholas Church is right around the corner.”

You smile. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer some books.”

“Baby clothes, dinner, and books. We can do that. Can’t we, Mimi?”

“We absolutely can,” Mimi agrees with tipsy, girlish enthusiasm.

As an afterthought, Alicent says: “Aegon, have you been here all this time? You must be exhausted. We’re going to book a suite at the Plaza, there will be plenty of room for you too. We can drop you off there on our way to go shopping, if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay,” he says softly, watching the rain again.

Alicent’s brow furrows; her dark doe-like eyes are puzzled. “Alright, dear.” Then she and Mimi disappear into the hall.

“Is he really okay?” you ask Aegon when they’re gone.

“Yes. That’s exactly what the doctor told me, just a precaution. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Aegon,” you say, and don’t continue until he meets your eyes. “Why are you still here?”

He lights a fresh cigarette. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore. Alicent visits me, Mimi visits me.”

“Yeah, but you feel like you have to put on a show for them. Play the perfect Targaryen wife with all that stoic, dignified, unshakable faith. You hate me, so there isn’t as much pressure.”

“I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

“Yes you do. You always have. You don’t have to be polite about it.”

“Well…I have valid reasons to hate you.”

He smiles, exhaling smoke. “Right.”

“And you hate me too.”

Now he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Everybody worships you, everybody thinks I’m a waste of chromosomes, is it really that hard to psychoanalyze?”

“No one worships me. They worship Aemond.”

“But you’re a package deal. Jack and Jackie, Franklin and Eleanor.”

You trace the lines in your palm with a fingertip, not knowing what to say. You’re so close to Aemond, so inseparable, and yet so vastly far. “Will you wheel me downstairs to see Ari after dinner?” It’s best to go at night when there are less staff around to try to stop you.

“Sure. You want a Mr. Misty?”

“Yeah. Lemon-lime.” That’s what he brought you last time, and it wasn’t bad for a cardboard cup of florescent green sugar water.

“Got it,” Aegon says, and leaves you alone.

You look at the phone on your nightstand. You’ve tried to call Aemond to no avail, though you spoke to Criston twice; on both occasions he said Aemond was in the middle of an interview. It’s understandable that you would have difficulty getting ahold of your husband while he’s off campaigning, leaping from town to town like an electric current. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. But Aemond could call you anytime he likes. You haven’t moved; he knows exactly where you are.

You keep staring at the phone. It doesn’t ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night again, and you swim up from morphine-soft dreams into your hospital room, dark except for the flashing color of the television, low volume, NBC news. Aegon is curled up in the chair he’s claimed, snoring and half-covered with a cheap, pale blue hospital blanket. And it’s a strange feeling—a foreign language, a new religion—to realize that you’re relieved to see he’s still here, that there’s a comfort in it, a safety.

Suddenly, Aemond is on the television screen. You sit up in bed as gingerly as you can, leaning in, listening close. He’s rarely looked better: blue suit, prosthetic eye, rested and measured and sharp. He’s giving a speech at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle, three hours behind the time you’re living in on the East Coast. Flanking him on the stage are Criston, Otto, Helaena, Fosco, the eight charming children. Five-year-old Cosmo keeps waving at the camera.

“Right now, my wife and newborn son are at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City,” Aemond says, beaming, and the audience whistles and cheers. You should smile, but you can’t. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be on his way home. “But tonight I’m here with all of you, fighting with everything I’m made of to win the great state of Washington. And I won’t leave until the job is done, because I know the greatest act of devotion that any of us can show our children is to ensure they grow up in a better America than the one we find ourselves in today…”

You look over at Aegon and see that his glassy eyes are open, watching the television just like you are. You don’t know how long he’s been awake. The two of you exchange a glance, and there is a silent, shared recognition of what won’t be said. You can’t criticize your husband. Aegon isn’t going to kick you while you’re down. You are grateful for this. It is a conviction he has only recently acquired.

Aegon pulls his blanket up to his chin and rolls over, turning away from you. You close your eyes and dream of being a child back in Tarpon Springs, mesmerized as you watch Greek sponge divers emerge from the bubbling depths in their suits of rubber armor.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the afternoon of the 13th. The Washington State Democratic Convention is being held tonight, and so win or lose Aemond will be walking into Mount Sinai Hospital tomorrow. He has to, he doesn’t have a choice. He’ll have no excuse to be anywhere else, and journalists will be swarming at the entranceway like bull sharks in the Gulf of Mexico.

It’s raining again. You’re reading one of the books that Alicent brought you, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care. You had been meaning to get a copy before you were consumed by Aemond’s campaign and then his near-assassination, his maiming, his fleeting brush with oblivion. Aegon is cross-legged in the salmon pink armchair and plucking lazily at his guitar, singing so low no one outside the room would be able to hear him. It’s a Rolling Stones song, slow and mournful.

“You don’t know what’s going on

You’ve been away for far too long

You can’t come back and think you are still mine.”

As you flip a page and raindrops patter gently against the window, you find yourself thinking how easy this is, your hair undone and your feet bare, no photos to take or lines to remember, no practiced smiles, no overwrought itineraries, only compassion that is quiet and small and real.

“Well, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time

I said, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time…”

Aegon abruptly stops playing, cutting off with a twang. You look up at him. He’s gazing back with eyes that are filling up his face, glistening with horror. You turn to find out what he’s seen. There’s a doctor standing in the doorway, but he’s not alone. There’s a Greek Orthodox priest with him.

“Mrs. Targaryen,” the doctor begins, then glances to the priest. The holy man—black robes, gold chains, clasping a komboskini like the one Aemond keeps in a box on his writing desk at Asteria, stained with his own blood—gives an encouraging nod. “We’ve tried to reach your husband. We’ve called his hotel in Tacoma several times, but the senator must be out campaigning, and…” Again, he looks to the priest. Aegon is setting his guitar on the floor, covering his mouth with his hands.

Ari. Too early, too fragile, too defenseless in a world full of wolves.

Your words come out in a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“We must remember, child,” the priest tells you, vague patronizing pity. “That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but what is lost to us in this life is never truly gone. Those we love wait for us on the other side in paradise—”

“Please leave. I don’t want to talk to a priest. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

I just gave birth to him. I just started to believe he was mine.

The doctor begins: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to deliver this news—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone, I want to be alone. So please leave,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone.”

The doctor looks to Aegon. A man’s permission is sought. “Go,” Aegon manages, raspy and strangled, and the doctor obeys.

“God bless you and your husband, Mrs. Targaryen,” the priest says as he departs with a swift bow. You can’t reply. You’re biting back sobs as the tears begin to slither down your cheeks, scalding and furious, not just grief but the bottomless rage of Nemesis.

Aegon is watching you, not knowing what to do, not knowing what you need.

Aemond would want you to be stoic. Aemond would want you to have faith, forbearance, grace. “It is God’s will.”

“Hey.” Aegon reaches across the space between you, grabs your hand, holds it so tightly your bones ache. Still, you wouldn’t want him to let go. “You’re allowed to be fucked up about this. I am too.”

When your eyes drift to him, they are glaring and heartsick and poisonous. “Where’s Aemond?” Why isn’t he here?

Aegon sighs deeply and picks up the phone with his free hand. He spins the rotary dial with his index finger and then holds the handset to his ear. He waits as it rings. “Pantages Theater, Tacoma, Washington,” he tells the operator. A minute or more crawls by. “I need to speak to Senator Targaryen immediately. Yes, I know there’s a convention underway there, that’s why I’m calling you. Go get him.” More minutes, eternal, terrible beyond description. “What do you mean you can’t find him?!” Aegon snaps. “Okay, give me someone else. Anyone travelling with him. Criston Cole, Fosco Viviani, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen. Hurry up. Let’s go.”

Outside the rain grows heavy and loud; it falls in sheets against the misty windows. In the distance, thunder growls.

“Hi, Criston, it’s me. He needs to come home now. Right now.”

Aegon closes his eyes. Criston must be arguing with him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Aegon says, forcing the words to leave his lips and ride the wires to the West Coast, to where the sun sets, to where the future is dawning. He’s still holding your hand. “Aemond doesn’t have a son anymore.”

[scuderlia]

Deer Theory

WORDS: ‘The Deer’ by Terrance Hayes / ‘I’m Not Calling You a Liar’ (Florence + the Machine) / Aaron O’Hanlon /  The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos / ‘The Stag and the Quiver’ by Richard Siken / mine / ‘Salvage’ by Hedgie Choi / ‘A Letter to My Mother That She Will Never Read’ by Ocean Vuong / ‘Little Deer’ (SPELLLING) / ‘Grendel’ by Roger Reeves / ‘Herd of ‘panicked’ deer filmed jumping to their deaths from motorway’ by Tanveer Mann (Metro UK) / ‘Kinder Than Man’ by Althea Davis / ‘Anecdote of the Pig’ by T. Adkisson / ‘Ferrari Drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz Are Racing Back to the Top of F1’ by Tom Lamont (GQ Sports) / Deuteronomy 12:23 / ‘‘It’s a kind of religion’ - Ferrari’s popularity and following in Italy dissected’ by Akshat Kabra (Sportskeeda) / ‘Abstract (Psychopomp)’ (Hozier) / ‘Not Strong Enough’ (boygenius) / The Favourite (2018) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos / Enzo Ferrari / ‘Killer’ (Phoebe Bridgers) / CL for ‘Charles Leclerc talks about his “Red Passion”’ by Roberto Croci (L’Officiel Ibiza) / ‘The fragility of a predestined | FormulaPassion.it’ by admin_l6ma5gus (Pledge Times) / ‘Kinder Than Man’ by Althea Davis / Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House / ‘Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)’ (Florence + the Machine) / ‘Ferrari Needs to Sign Charles Leclerc for the 2018 Formula One Season’ by Gabriel Loewenberg (The Drive) IMAGERY: Styrian GP (2020) / ? (antlers) / ? (crown of thorns) / Scuderia Ferrari Press Office (2023) / @velvetbambi (x) / Saint Maud (2019) dir. Rose Glass / white-tailed buck shedding its antlers (via Deer & Deer Hunting) / Azerbaijan GP (Baku, 2019) / post-French GP (2022) / Jules Bianchi (via F1 TV) / George Shiras III for National Geographic (1906) / ? (young CL) / ‘Driver-Deer Collisions On The Rise: State Farm’ (WSLM RADIO) / Male Red Deer (antlers) / post-Bahrain GP (2019) (CL looking up from hands) / ‘roadkill’ by Loso (via Flickr) (x) / Saturn Devouring His Son (1819-23) Francisco Goya / post-Belgian GP (Spa, 2019) (CL pointing upwards) / The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) dir. Martin McDonagh / Italian GP (Monza, 2020) / Nathan Sandwell @cuchulainn-4 (x) / ? (camcorder) / ‘Deer Caught Gnawing on Human Bones’ by Jason Daley (Smithsonian Magazine) / A Fragment of Ourselves Returning (2018) Beatrice Wanjiku / @nightcorp-archive (x) / Brazilian GP (2023) (CL figure walking) / Singapore GP (2022) / post-Qatar GP (2021) / The Deer Hunter (1978) dir. Michael Cimino / ? (dogmouth doe) / Brazilian GP (2023) / French GP (2022)

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 5

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 5: protect and defend

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alastor, sweetheart, you did the exact opposite of what I told you to do." Rosie planted her hands on her hips. Alastor was staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

"She stepped out of line. I've been overlooking her abrasive behavior for too long."

"That's the whole point of a soulmate. Respect has to go both ways. You can't just tell her you're in charge. Where's the respect for her?"

"Providing everything she needs. Giving her the most freedom I could possibly allow."

"Ya know, for such a gentleman, you're really bad at this."

"I didn't pick her," each word was sticky like glue, "I got stuck with her." He stared at his own reflection, no longer interested in the busy streets of Hell.

"You're digging your own grave, my friend." Her tone dropped to a more somber one. "As your soulmate, she's the only one who can speak to you differently than others. And if you respect and care for her, she'll probably pay it back ten fold."

He looked down at the window ledge. His teeth were hidden behind his lips this time and his eyebrows were furrowed. He let out a short sigh through his nose.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Alastor?" She stood from her chair and slowly went over to him, stopping an arms length away and watching his reflection in the window.

For awhile he was silent. Rosie wondered if he was looking for the words or deciding not to answer. Though she kept quiet and waited for him to decide.

"I suppose..." His voice was low and the radio filter gone. "I don't feel ready."

"Ready for what?" she asked softly.

"For...I don't want her in my mind."

"That's what your soulmate is for. The one and only person to ever be allowed there."

"I don't know if she would even be able to handle it all." He turned to look at Rosie.

"This is a process my friend," she laid a light touch on his arm, "and it'll take some time. Don't rush this."

"I do not want to care about her." He sounded like a petty toddler.

"I think it's about time you find someone to care for. And hey," she leaned her head down so he'd make eye contact, "we've already seen how quick she learns. You two can handle it. Together."

"I don't know if I'm ready," he said again.

"You may never feel ready, sweetheart. And that's okay."

****

I sat on the roof of a building with Reagan beside me. Althea had told me that she was having a lot of mental trouble, and Vivian had noticed the teenagers outcasting her and her friend. So I brought Regan with me to the next execution rescue. We came early enough so that the two of us could chat and she could focus on something other than the haven.

The sun was setting and the main street was gradually growing less crowded. I was using an illusion to keep us hidden from any onlookers, keeping us warm from the late fall wind, and staying in my Human form. It was the most magic I had used simultaneously. She and I had been talking for an hour already.

"I feel so useless." She leaned her head on my shoulder. I tried to stay as still as possible. "At least in the rings I was good at something."

"You're fourteen," I replied, "And it hasn't even been a year since you were free. You don't have to be good at anything right now."

"But the others at least have magic or a Demon form. I'm just a useless...magicless...human."

I put an arm around her shoulders and she leaned further against me. I felt warmth spread through my chest at how comfortable she felt with me. "I think you ought to talk to Ms. Vivian more. She doesn't usually show her Demon form and I know for a fact she hardly uses magic. You don't need any of that stuff to be useful or have worth."

She wrapped her arm around my torso to squeeze me in a hug. She leaned her head further into my chest and I felt like she was trying to merge with me. I tightened my grip in response and gently rubbed my hand over her arm. I could remember my mother doing this from visiting my memories.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said. A heavy aura fell over us and I could guess she was close to or already crying. Did she actually care about me like that? Was I having a good influence on her?

My thoughts were interrupted by a quiet conversation. I strained to hear the snippets that sounded geared towards me and Reagan.

"She's on a different continent...do deals this far...come here to see for yourself...teleport her? She's not alone..."

Reagan felt me tense. She sat up and asked me what was wrong. I motioned for her to be quiet as my magic sense stretched out further. I was bracing for something to happen soon. This person was trying to get to me. From where, though? I couldn't pinpoint them.

The roof gave way. Reagan and I fell backwards and landed hard on our backs. We both rolled on your stomachs and jumped up. My Demon side came through as a man stood in front of us with a phone to his ear.

"Yeah, see you soon." He ended the call and slid his phone in his back pocket. "It's nice to finally meet the famous Snake Demon. Though you look more like a dragon if I say so myself."

"What do you want?" I demanded. I side stepped so Reagan was against my hip. I had my wings extended behind me and my claws in front of both of us. My lips were pulled back in a snarl.

"Oh I want nothing to do with you. It's someone else that wants you. I'm just the deliverer." He was wearing black dress pants and a blue vest. His brown hair was slicked back and a wide, charming smile glinted in the red light.

We were in Hell. I didn't know where exactly but this wasn't a good place to be with Reagan. I could feel magic flowing through my veins much easier here, almost as if there had been a blockage of some kind that I hadn't noticed before.

At the very least I knew we were outside. We were in some kind of courtyard surrounded by vastly tall buildings. There were lines of clothes spiderwebbing overhead.

"Have you really been kidnapping ring fighters?" the man asked. "That's quite an impressive feat."

"What's it to you?" My eyes were looking all over for an escape. There was an easy alley behind him or the spiderweb of clothes above. Though I could run through the buildings to make it confusing for both of us.

"Who is he?" Reagan asked quietly.

The man heard and put a hand proudly on his chest. "Finn Hartley, at your service." He gave a short bow before snapping back up. "So tell me, are you really the Radio Demon's soulmate?"

I was trying to get a read on this man. He was obviously a Demon and has enough power to teleport from the surface to Hell. I needed him to do something other than talk so I could figure out how strong and skilled he was with magic.

"I think we'll be leaving." I stood up and moved Reagan to my other side so I was between them.

"Am I asking too many questions? I'm sorry, I just heard a lot about you. If I had known you'd be in town I would've tried to schedule coffee with you."

"I don't drink that stuff." I took a few steps towards him, eager to push him out of the way and run. His calmness was unnerving. At least Alastor was calm and terrifying. I had something to work with when it came to him, unlike this man.

"But you haven't met my boss. Well, 'a boss'. At least for now until he pays me for bringing you here." He put both hands on his hips and I felt him drawing up energy to use magic.

"Who is it?"

"That would take away the impact of his arrival would it not?"

I couldn't figure out whose smile I preferred. His white, clean, smooth smile or Alastor's yellow, sharp, and jagged one. This man sounded like he used his wits but I wondered how skilled he was with magic.

"I don't intend to meet him."

"You already have," a voice came from above.

I covered Reagan with a wing as my head snapped up. The figure jumped down from a pipe by a window and landed between me and the man. I instantly recognized the tail, clothes, and hat of Striker.

My hands were immediately sweating and my legs felt cold. I backed Reagan and I into the wall. He casted a glance over his shoulder before handing Finn a clasp of metal credits.

"Good doing business with you sir." Finn tipped his head.

"Give Blackwater my regards," Striker said. Finn promptly teleported himself away, leaving the three of us alone.

"Run," I whispered to Reagan. "Find the big white palace and run there. Tell him I sent you." I casted a tall wall of fire between us and Striker before shoving her into the closest doorway. I closed it behind her and turned to face my old master.

He came lunging through the fire, the flames avoiding him at all costs. I ducked so his claws sent sparks along the wall. I went on all fours and ran down the alley. My eyes widened as I saw him slipping into the doorway after Reagan.

I flew across the clearing and up the stairs inside. I casted wind like crazy so his body was thrown off balance left and right. I landed on his tail and he whirled with sharp claws extended. He caught my face and the force slammed my shoulder against the wall. I casted fire towards him as I was momentarily blinded.

The pain was pulsing through my face and into my neck. I pressed on the wound to lighten it and fight back. But Striker was running up the stairs again. I morphed into my Dragon form and took the stairs in two strides.

I slammed a claw down on his back. He stabbed my palm with something sharp and lunged at my face again. I went back to my Demon form and watched him fly over me and all the way back down the stairs.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Reagan nowhere in sight. I hoped the palace wasn't far and she could get there alright. Would Demons try to mess with her? She obviously looked human but not all Demons stayed in their true forms here.

Please just run.

Striker casted wind from behind and sent me sliding down the stairs. I stopped halfway and brought two stairs up to the ceiling. I ran back up and whisked around the corner. The ceiling cracked open and debris fell on top of me.

Concrete took my shoulder to the floor. I used wind to shove it all off me, a white lasso falling over my face and snapping tight around my neck. I was bent over backwards as he pulled it hard. He kicked open the nearest door and dragged me through. I grabbed the white rope to resist from my knees.

He opened the window and jumped through. My stomach dropped as the rope stayed tight. I went with the pull and jumped through the window before his force took my head clean off my shoulder. I hit one of the wires and it threw off my landing. I felt a horrendous snap in my knee as I landed awkwardly, screaming from the pain and digging my claws into the pavement.

I put a hand near my knee, too afraid to feel what had happened to it. Striker stalked over and shoved my shoulder with his boot so I was flat on my back. He let out a deep chuckle. "I told you, you may be a champion fighter but you'll never best me."

Tears clouded my eyes as I continued to cry into the concrete. My face and knee were in so much pain. I could dull it but there was only so much I could do with this much pain.

He knelt down and pulled the lasso up so my head came an inch off the ground. "And your dark prince ain't here to save ya either."

I threw my claw up and caught his chin. He reared back up and I used all my strength to dig my claws into his knee. He grabbed my wrist but I casted a huge gust of wind to send him flying back. He hit the wall and I brought the hard stone of the floor up so it covered him like armor.

Rolling over, I casted a huge gust of fog over the courtyard. I used magic to pull myself to the side and into another doorway. I dragged myself up the stairs, still keeping the fog heavy around Striker. I crawled through the hallways as I listened to him scream and curse my name. I got rid of the fog and put an illusion over myself to stay camouflaged against the walls. He ran right past me.

My entire bad leg was tingling and all other limbs were burning from overexertion. I made my way down the stairs and back to the courtyard. Tears were steaming down my face as I half hobbled half crawled down the alley. I heard Striker yell that he was going to find Reagan.

Help. Need help.

I pushed myself to my two feet once I was at the street. I was barely able to take a step before I collapsed on the sidewalk.

"Are you okay?" someone asked. My illusion was gone. "What happened?" They had long black hair surrounding an owl-like face and dressed in basic brown and dark green colors. "Do you need help?"

I didn't want to risk it but Reagan was in trouble. I got up on my elbows and good knee. "Cannibal town. Where?"

"Right down the street. What's wrong with your leg?"

"Help me there." I extended an arm and they immediately took it. They pulled me to my feet and let me lean half my weight on their narrow figure. I hobbled down the street with them until we reached the entrance to Rosie's territory.

"Rosie's Emporium," I said next. They asked the closest cannibal and they directed them the right way. I was dragged all the way until we got to the front door of her store. The door flew open in a frenzy and she helped me through the door. I instantly felt safe as she and her cannibals carried me to the back room.

I gripped the chair arms as pain bolted through my spine. Rosie tried to talk to me but I couldn't think clearly. "Reagan...Human girl...Lucifer's palace. Please."

Rosie sent out a few people in search of her. She came back to me and examined the injury. I continued to cry and yelp at the pain that even the slightest of movement caused.

She put a hand on my forehead, the pain gradually melting away until it became much more bearable. I let out a sigh and leaned back into the chair. She didn't take her hand from my sweaty face.

"You'll need an actual healer, but I can make it easier for you," she explained. I was finally going to be grateful for our tough Healer, Althea. I hoped the cannibals could find Reagan. I was worried another Demon might've gotten to her first.

I waited impatiently for what felt like an hour. I would never forgive myself if her cannibals came back empty handed. I couldn't lose her because I couldn't handle one Demon. I had fought my entire life, so why could I never beat Striker?

My heart dropped in my stomach when her men and women came back with no Reagan. I covered my face with both hands as I let out a cry. She was gone all because of me. She had just told me how grateful she was for me and within the hour I had sent her to her death.

Rosie was instantly at my side. She put a hand on my back and tried to keep my claws from piercing my own head. She tried to reason that she had made it to Lucifer's palace but I didn't believe in good consequences.

"Rosie do you know where-" Alastor took three steps into the room before realizing I was there. "Never mind. What happened?"

"Reagan's gone," I cried. "She's dead because of me."

He cocked his head to the side. "She's back at the Haven."

"What?" My head snapped up.

He moved to stand in front of me, hands resting on his cane. "Lucifer brought her back. He said you had told her to run to him."

"So she's safe?" I clarified, earning a simple nod from him. I leaned back in the chair covering my face again. Now the tears were relief.

"Care to tell me happened?" he asked.

"Her knee is broken. She needs a Healer first," Rosie said.

"Good thing we have one," he reassured her. He moved to me and snaked an arm behind my back. I wanted to protest but I knew I couldn't walk. I was still angry about our last conversation.

I put an arm over his shoulder as he hoisted me out of the chair. I yelped and held on tighter as the pain made its way to my brain. He had his arm under my legs but used his hand to keep my bad leg from bending too much.

"Thank you Rosie." He nodded to the Overlord. She held the door for us and he teleported through the scorched symbol on the ground. He carried me past the house and into the Haven. I hoped he wasn't going to get mad when he found I had gotten blood on his clothes. My face was still bleeding and I had been leaning it on his shoulder.

Althea worked quick as soon as she saw me. Alastor carefully laid me on the 'medical' bed she always had in the common space. My back arched from the pain and I punctured holes in the sheets from gripping them with my claws.

"The hell did you do to your knee?" Althea asked, not looking for a response.

Alastor put a hand on my forehead to help ease the pain. Althea cut the fabric of my pants so she could work. Even with his magic, the pain of healing still made my body contort. She was moving my bones around before actually beginning the healing process. That part hurt worse than moving my bones.

Alastor's hand never left my forehead as he quieted my yells with magic. I was in and out of consciousness, each awakening hoping that was the last time. How was healing taking so long? I felt naesous and tried to roll over to get sick. Althea was quick and pulled a bucket over just in time.

I fell unconscious again after that. This time, when I came to, she was walking away from my normally colored knee. I let out a sigh of relief. It was quickly taken away from me as she went to my face.

Alastor removed his hand and it felt like he was taking part of my soul with him. A shiver ran through my body and I suddenly felt very cold.

She took a damp rag and soaked up the blood on my face. It had dropped down my cheeks, past my chin, down my neck, and soaked the top of my shirt. She wiped my face and neck clean before healing another broken bone. This one wasn't as bad but it still made me wince and cry from the sharp pain. Why was healing so painful?

When she finished, she took a step back and sighed. She announced me healed and wanted to keep me in the bed with a new pair of clothes overnight. I desperately wanted new clothes and a thick sheet to stop me from shivering so much.

"What happened?" Alastor asked, coming back into view.

"Striker found me," I said through a gasp. I was trying to catch my breath. "Someone else did. They...he paid them."

"He's becoming a nuisance."

I wasn't sure how to take that comment. I closed my eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Althea opened the door to let Reagan come sprinting in. She wrapped her arms around me and leaned her weight on my chest. I returned the hug as tears fell down my cheeks.

"You're okay." I put a hand on the back of her head. She was real and in front of me. She was safe.

"I'm so sorry!"

"No. You did exactly what I needed you to do. I'm so glad you're safe." My other hand was rubbing her back. Alastor's presence around my shields turned noticeably warm, replacing the usual cold chill I felt from him. He turned on his heels and walked to the door.

"Alastor," I called. It still felt strange to use his name. He stopped and turned his head to acknowledge me. "I need...I want to learn how to fight with magic. No more discovering other things, I just...I need to be better at it."

I needed to learn how to use magic offensively. I barely managed to get away from Striker. This made it three times I had escaped him. His next move might be more dangerous and deadly. I needed to be able to protect my people from more than a single threat.

"I can work with that." He disappeared into his shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Gosh I missed writing these interactions with Alastor. More are coming, I promise!

Welcome OC Finn! There’s a couple mentions of some other OCs but we’ll get to them soon :)

[anghraine]

I was searching for an unrelated-to-the-Ascalonian-grudgeblogging GW2 thing, but ended up reading a grumpy recap of the core storyline from someone playing a Charr Vigil member. Surprisingly, they were like, "you know, honestly, all these people wondering why Ascalonians still have a grudge against Charr kind of need a slap in the face. Also, why do Krytans have so much say over what happens to Ebonhawke, anyway? Does it have sovereignty or not?"

I do support slapping every person who is like "why don't they just get over a 250-year long attempt to eradicate them? What a silly grudge" but I don't often see actual players saying so!

I also find the sovereignty issue genuinely interesting.

My impression is that Ebonhawke is nominally an independent city-state, but the alliance with Kryta has been critical enough (esp recently) that they weren't in a position for direct conflict over this "regent of Ascalon" business. So the people of Ebonhawke don't accept Jennah as sovereign—there are even Ascalonian residents of Divinity's Reach who don't—but they also can't afford an open break with Kryta and this is where a lot of their resentment is coming from.

Ebonhawke drawing so much of the Charr's attention in the war was pretty beneficial to Kryta, so I suspect their support was not purely altruistic even without the claim to sovereignty. It's made clear in various storylines that Ebonhawke falling would be disastrous for Kryta. Additionally, the Krytan government offered valuable support and supplies to Ebonhawke, but couldn't really spare much direct military support, so Ascalonians are also conscious that they suffered most of the direct casualties of the war, to the benefit of Kryta. So it makes sense that the relationship is complicated and ambiguous!

Honestly, the tensions surrounding the Ebonhawke-Kryta alliance, the various political maneuvers involved, and the effects of all this on the Ascalonian diaspora are some of the most intriguing aspects of the game to me. The writing is definitely skewed towards the Krytan perspective, to be sure—PCs of any background will remark that Kryta is generous(!) to allow Ebonhawke its own representative in the peace negotiations, for instance. But it's not so skewed that you can't see why Ascalonians insist on their independence from Krytan rule.

[hanafubukki]

Hi Hana!

Please tell me you know the song Deliver Us from Prince of Egypt (if you don't, you must go listen to it). That one line slaps so hard and it makes me think of Dawn Knight and Silver and Meleanor with Malleus

The line: ,,My son, I have nothing I can give but this chance that you may live."

Tell me I'm not the only one

Come here Althea, I just want to have a talk ☺️🌻🌸

I haven’t seen the movie in ages, but I remember the story. I listen to the soundtrack occasionally and…argh, the pain!!

Two brothers who loved each other but ultimately couldn’t see eye to eye, and we know that would never happen with Malleus and Silver. They love each other too much and understand the other’s pain for that.

But yes!! That song! That lyric!!

A mother having to give up her son so they can live. The parallel of both Meleanor and the Knight of Dawn.

Meleanor who stood as the final barrier so Lilia can escape with Malleus.

The Knight of Dawn fighting to buy some time for Leia and baby Silver.

And you could even say the lyrics apply to Lilia as well for both Malleus and Silver.

“I have nothing I can give but this chance you may live”

Lilia trying his best to hatch Malleus, giving his life and magic to him. Lilia raising Silver, a human, which is vastly different than raising a fae.

It’s not “nothing to give” but more “everything”

These parents gave their everything, gave their love, to their babies.

There’s also the similarities of the sons being raised by someone else like Silver and Malleus were.

You know what other lyric that fits so well??

“Sleep and remember my last lullaby”

The last lullaby!! Meleanor’s Lullaby!! The song that Lilia sang to Malleus and Silver!! The one that Malleus hummed to baby Silver and when he put everyone to sleep!!! Can you hear my heart shatter?? 💔😭

My favorite song in the move is “when you believe” I love listening to that song 🥹💞

[althea-and-alcestris]

Origins

Imagine an AU where Althea is reborn as Silver's twin sister (biologically) after Alcestris dies as a nearly sick twist of fate (being reborn as the child of your enemy). She too put under the sleeping spell by the fairies, slumbering away along with her brother for 200 years and waiting for someone to love them until the retired General comes by the thorn infested and abandoned castle. Lilia's presence immediately awakens the twin babies from their 'blessing' because there is finally someone who can love them unconditionally after their parents perished in war. He gives his blessing to them, naming them Silver and Althea. Silver's blond hair changes to silver but Thea's hair remains the same ashy blonde..instead it's her right eye that changes. From the soft hazel brown that her left eye is like it becomes a fiery crimson red which hits Lilia too close to home. She looks just like the young half-fae that was so brutally murdered by the humans..but this child is not to blame and neither is Silver.

He raises them in the little cottage near the Zigvolt residence and often visited by Malleus, the twins both wanting to be knights along with little Sebek and so Lilia trains all three of them. Even though the little girl wants to wield a sword as well, she's always playing the role of the princess that the two boys need to save. Silver has the ability to attract small woodland creatures or even one as big as a bear, Althea on the other hand was gifted with a voice so heavenly some might even say it can do wonders.

The envelope of invitation from Night Raven arrives to Silver, meaning he can enroll into the college but Thea is upset about her brother leaving, refusing to accept being left alone in the cottage or in the care of the Zigvolt family so Lilia somehow manages to convince Crowley to let her enroll as well (because he is so kind as we know). Sorted into Diasomnia just like her father, twin brother, older brother figure and later her childhood friend (and crush(?)) .

Despite Silver having a sleeping curse that makes him doze off randomly throughout the day, Thea has the opposite. She's very much an insomniac, having trouble falling asleep even at night. Lilia also couldn't find a cure to this just he couldn't to Silver's condition.

Ashe (Yuu) shows up in the Opening Ceremony of their second year in NRC as the magicless human from another world. Thea quickly befriends the little outsider, making them best friends and her also helping them battle the Overblot incidents. But as time passes she begins to dream about a strange girl in green armor that looks very similar to herself and a man with long blond hair and silver armor. She can't put her finger on who either of them are but she feels that she's supposed to know.

Then inevitably come the time when Lilia announces he will be dropping out of college and move to a far away country because he's losing his magic, ultimately leaving his kids behind which leaves both Silver and Thea upset. This leads to Malleus's Overblot and the nightmare begins (get it?), him putting everyone on the island to sleep. Silver uses his Signature Spell to travel into Lilia's dream along with Sebek, Ashe, Grim and Thea. There they will unravel all the secrets and truth that has been kept hidden from them by the elders.

Silver and Thea discover their true origins, finding out their real parents being the enemy of the faes and thus General Lilia and Thea recognizes Knight of Dawn as the man who always showed up in her dreams. Thea however is hit with a bonus set of bricks. Discovering that she had a past life..as the half-fae girl that she also used to dream about. She finds out what happened to her and the truth is as painful as it gets. Alcestris was murdered by the Men of Steel, more specifically King Hendrick who is non-other than her and Silver's uncle. And she right now is the reincarnation of that unfortunate half-fae soldier, reborn as the child of the enemy who are the reason of her death in the first place. She's just as distraught as Silver is about their origins but Sebek and Ashe are there to pull both of them out of the darkest pit of their life. Life moves on and they're not to blame for the actions of their ancestors, they're still worthy of love..