#but a bit more insight to the courts

[game-weaver]

Headcanon: The Courts

The fae realm is separated into nine courts with a focus on balance and order.

The seasonals, which reside and rule over the seasonal changes, their power grows and fades with the flow of the year and each court has specialty magic they tend to be strongest in. For instance magic regarding growth and nature tends to be a specialty of Spring and Summer while frost and illusionary magic is specific to Autumn and Winter.

Spring- Queen (currently unnamed) Summer/Seelie- King Oberon Autumn- Erlking Winter/Unseelie- Queen Mab

((this ended up being far too long so I’m putting the rest under read more to keep the dash tidy))

Then there are the Celestial courts with keep balance with the passage of time. These courts are older than the seasons, older than many of the already long-lived fae remember, including the current ruling Royals. Their power is much stronger as they are ancient and draw strength from what they are connected to. Day to the sun, Night to the moon, etc.

Day Night Dawn Dusk

Lastly there is the youngest of the courts. It is not held by the same need for balance and order as the others. Indeed, it manifested with the rise of humans and the fading out of many magical beings. 

Clockwork- Queen Lorelei 

Once iron and humans became a larger threat than they anticipated to the lives of the fae, the Clockwork court came into being. These fae are unnatural as they don’t have a weakness to iron like the traditional old fae do, they seem to be an amalgamation of organic and brassy contraptions. Their only duty is to protect the other courts from humans and other threats that pose a risk. 

Creatures:

Many creatures that once were abundant and have now faded to myth and legend also left the human realm and sought safety in the fae realm. Many creatures also fall under one specific court that they call home. For example, the Wulver fae which inspired a lot of werewolf myths stay in Winters kingdom and are the main guards there, while Centaurs are main border guards for Summers kingdom. Likewise, Night is a ruler of dragons, so dragons tend to stay in his kingdom, and so on and so forth. 

TLDR: There are nine fae courts, each with specifics to them and many creatures, not just fae, now call the fae realm their home. It has become a mixing pot of magical creatures all with the purpose of being protected from humans. It’s its own entire world parallel to and separated from humans so they can survive.

[britneyshakespeare]

It seems hard to me when I look at her sometimes, and think how many without one tithe of her genius or greatness of spirit have granted them abundant health and opportunity to labour through the little they can do or will do, while perhaps her soul is never to bloom nor her bright hair to fade, but after hardly escaping from degradation and corruption, all she might have been must sink out again unprofitably in that dark house where she was born. How truly she may say, 'No man may care for my soul.' I do not mean to make myself an exception, for how long I have known her, and not thought of this till so late—perhaps too late. But it is no use writing more about this subject; and I fear, too, my writing at all about it must prevent your easily believing it to be, as it is, by far the nearest thing to my own heart.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti writing of Lizzie Siddal's health in a letter dated 23 July, 1854

[mortalityplays]

"how do you just know this" is a question I get asked a lot, because I tend to be someone who can contribute unusual facts or insight on whatever topic a casual conversation turns to, and I never know how to answer because "I pay attention" sounds rude and isn't super actionable. but that is really it, I just take an active interest when I encounter something curious or unusual.

like recently one of my friends linked me a funny paragraph from a very badly written erotic novel. it was so bad that I thought "I wonder if this is real", so we looked up the book it was from and learned it was a vintage horny housewife type story by someone who wrote a lot of shitty cheap porn back in the 80s, all of which now seems to be completely out of print.

in the course of googling the author, I discovered that one of their works had been cited in a 2004 court case over a prisoner's right to keep erotic novels in his personal library after the prison confiscated them. a bit more googling turned up the case details in a legal database. the guy had received the books by mail and kept them, among others, in his cell. the prison seized them, citing a policy against prisoners having pornography. his lawyers argued that 1. erotic novels are distinct from pornography because they have artistic and expressive content beyond the depiction of sex acts, and 2. since he received them by mail they are therefore protected under his constitutional right to freely access non-disruptive information from outside the prison. I don't know if he got his books back, but he won his case.

then we googled the defendant and found out he was in prison for helping a woman to drug and murder his boss (who she lived with), mutilate the body with acid and dump him in a ravine.

anyway my point is, take an interest. that's how you learn weird stuff.

[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[anithesunshineoutlaw]

The Van der Linde Boys Romantic Headcanons

( Realistic, Includes: Dutch Van der Linde, Javier Escuella, Bill Williamson, Charles Smith, Lenny Summers, Micah Bell, Kieran Duffy )

Trigger Warning: Manipulation on Micah's part

Dutch Van der Linde - Words of Affirmation/ Physical touch

• Dutch is one smooth man. He knows exactly how to hit right into your heart. And he does it well. But his honeyed words aren't the only thing charming about him. He does it unexpectedly most times, you never know when you'll have him take your hand and hold it like he's holding diamonds in his grasp. When he'll come from behind and hold you to him like you are everything he has ever wanted. When he will pull you into a slow dance and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You never know.

He is patient though, he knows when to give you space and wait.

Javier Escuella - Words of Affirmation/ Physical touch, Acts of service

• Javier can basically be described as golden. While he is far from perfect, he emphasizes his good qualities so much, it's hard to see him as anything but the best. If he loves you, he will show it. He will shower you in compliments and treat you like the most precious gem on the Earth. While he would love showering you in affectionate nicknames and all that, he wouldn't go too fast. He takes things slow, takes his time winning you over. There are times he acts completely casual with you and then suddenly, he's treating you like royalty and placing a kiss on your hand as he rambles about how wonderful you are. It's a bit confusing sometimes.

Anyways, when he's calmer, he has other ways to show his love for you. Like sharing your work, he takes the hard part, you get the easy one. And for every mission he can, it's always like that. It's his way of showing his will to care for you and the ability to mutually grow together in the future.

Bill Williamson - Acts of service/ Quality time

• Bill is a little confused when it comes to romance. Frankly, he doesn't know how to act. He's trying, he really is but he's not good at it. He believes he has to proof himself to you so the only way he knows how to woo you is by taking care of things for you. He constantly works and does your job in order to get your attention. He will never admit he is searching for it and even if he receives your attention, he'll act as if he doesn't want it. But he does, if you acknowledge his efforts, it would keep him awake at night for the whole week.

He's very reclusive in a way but he tries to spend time with you without being obvious, he acts like it's all casual and friendly hangout but it means a lot more to him than that.

Charles Smith - Physical touch/ Acts of service

• Charles isn't very open about his affection. Not that he denies it but he doesn't talk about it often. So besides admiring you from afar, his way of revealing his care is by subtle touches. Holding your waist when passing by you, brushing his hand slightly against yours while you walk together, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, you name it. He doesn't comment on his actions but it's often you see him smile slightly when he gets to interact with you. He's of course very careful and he would immediately stop if he notices it bothers you.

Another way he likes to show his love for you is by taking care of your work for you. He'll often take on your chores, help you with a mission or even offer to take your place for a task so you get to rest. It's his way of showing he values you.

Lenny Summers - Quality time

• Lenny's way of courting is most out of all spending time together. He would take every chance to see you and get into a conversation with you. He's a good listener and an even better charmer. His confidence and intelligent insight show off what he could offer to you but he also makes sure to express tenderness and vulnerability as to present himself the way he fully is and the way he hopes for you to accept him in the future. He wants to show he's always going to be upfront with you and that if it comes to it, he wouldn't shy away from fixing his flaws and working on himself. For you both.

He doesn't overwhelm you with compliments but he doesn't miss the chance to share his thoughts on everything he admires about you either. He would share what he sees in you but there's never pressure for you to reciprocate those feelings. You could brush him off and he would respect it just as he respects you.

Micah Bell - Words of affirmation/ "Acts of service"

• Micah as terrible as he is, knows how to play his cards right. He is manipulative and observant, if he wants you, he will use your deepest desire to get to you. So, of course his main love language would be words of affirmation. Lying is practically his second nature, he can easily envelope flattery with qualities you like and by the end of it, he would hope he'll have you wrapped around his finger.

However if that doesn't work, he has other ways. Such as acts of service. Make no mistake though, he won't actually help you. Not with anything important. He'll either do something himself and expect a reward from it because he did it for you or he'll actually help you with a minor inconvenience and expect to be treated as your hero. Nothing in between.

Kieran Duffy - Quality time/ Words of affirmation

• Kieran isn't exactly the most bold with his approach yet at the same time he wants to express his love for you somehow. So as nervous as he may feel, he would share just how perfect you are to him. In a slightly childish way, but he means well. He would trust you so he would hang around you the most. Sometimes it's like you are being followed by a lost puppy but really, he just likes your company and he wants to enjoy it as long as possible.

He would admittedly be a little awkward sometimes as he would try to probably impress you in some way. He seems the type to get into his crush's interests so he would most definitely try a hobby you enjoy for himself. He may not like it but he would still show interest towards your feelings about it. He likes listening to you ramble so he often ends up staying quiet and staring at you with a certain lovestruck gaze. Before of course hurriedly replaying once it's his turn to speak.

[saphronethaleph]

“I never wanted you dead,” Sheev said, smiling in a grandfatherly sort of way, which he was terrible at. “I wanted you here… Empress Palpatine.”

He gestured. “You will take the throne. It is your birthright to rule here. It is in your blood. Our blood.”

“I haven’t come to lead the Sith,” Rey replied, then there was a loud doom doom doom sound of someone knocking on a door.

“Who is that?” Palpatine asked.

Then Luke Skywalker entered the room, limned with blue light.

So did his father, Anakin Skywalker, and Leia Organa Solo. And Yoda, hovering along on a spectral hoverchair, and Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Count Dooku.

“...um,” Rey began. “Master…s?”

“Rey,” Luke replied, with a nod. “You were right, by the way.”

“What is this?” Palpatine asked, his voice hushed and touched with fear. “What are you doing?”

“You never heard the story of Master Qui-Gon the Insightful?” Anakin asked.

“I’m insightful?” Qui-Gon said, sounding pleased.

“You are certainly something,” Dooku said, as Yoda chuckled.

Palpatine looked like he might be about to have an aneurysm.

“It’s not a story the Sith would have told you,” Anakin went on, with a terrible glee in his tone. “You see, the Light Side is a path to many abilities some would consider to be… supernatural.”

“Got that out of your system?” Obi-Wan asked.

“For now,” Anakin shrugged.

“What-” Palpatine sputtered. “What are you – this isn’t possible! You are dead! It is the Sith who can defy death!”

“The evidence suggests otherwise,” Leia smiled, then cleared her throat. “Sheev Palpatine. We are formally accusing you of-”

“Um,” Rey said, a bit hesitantly. “Sorry to interrupt… I recognize most of you as Jedi, but what is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Probation,” Yoda stated. “Very nicely, he has asked.”

“We are formally,” Leia stressed, “accusing you of, among other assorted crimes, thirty-seven thousand, eight hundred and twenty-seven counts of murder by use of a blunt instrument – to whit, a Clone Army – counting only those who were members of the Jedi Order in good standing at the time of their respective deaths, though we acknowledge that the number murdered on your orders is beyond easy counting. You are accused of treason in times of war and peace alike, of enforced disappearances, of enslavement, of wilful torture, of assorted Crimes Against Sapience, and of Consorting With Ye Powers Of Darknesse, which to my surprise was still on the books of the Old Republic.”

“There are, as the Princess says, many other crimes,” Dooku added. “But we believe those should be enough to be getting on with. For a start.”

Palpatine stared, then laughed.

“You – you are trying me?” he asked. “In what court? By what authority? I am authority! I reject your powerless, toothless threats! I am above punishment!”

“I think we’ll consider that a plea of ‘guilty’, then,” Obi-Wan said. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“That sounds reasonable enough to me,” Qui-Gon agreed. “All right. Grandmaster, if you would do the honours?”

Yoda raised his gimmer stick, and a bolt of lightning hit Palpatine on the head.

The Sith half-stood half-fell out of his chair, trying to hide behind it, then scowled at his own reaction and shot lightning at one of the Force Ghosts.

It passed right through Leia without doing anything at all.

Rey raised her hand.

“Am I still needed here?” she asked.

“You know, I think we can handle this ourselves?” Count Dooku said, courteously, then turned to Palpatine. “Know this, Sidious. You destroyed the Jedi Order, and now the Order will destroy you. If you return, you will be destroyed again. And again. Forty thousand angry ghosts cry out for vengeance.”

Qui-Gon coughed.

“Terminology, Master,” he said.

“Forty thousand annoyed ghosts seek justice,” Count Dooku corrected, as more Force Ghosts began to enter the chamber – walking through the walls in ranks, their ghostly lightsabers held high. “Is that better?”

“It’ll do,” Obi-Wan decided. “We appreciate you making the effort.”

Palpatine did not appreciate him making the effort.

[starkjoy]

Freddie Fox On Gwayne

I just listened to Freddie Fox's latest interview on the Pilot TV Podcast—it's full of great insight into Gwayne's character, including a potential hint at where he's headed. I highly recommend listening yourself, especially because Freddie is so lovely, but I've included my favorite bits below (including him calling Fabien "Fabs" and "Fabby").

On Gwayne and Alicent in Episode 6

"I loved that conversation he has with Alicent. In fact, it was a scene we ended up reshooting...I was glad to have another shot at it, actually, because I wanted to give it a couple more extra beats in there that I think really show what their relationship was, which is one that's been very distant. But one that is quite loving, even if only in sort of theory, rather than practice...I did a lot of backstory on him and I feel he was very much raised by his mother who he lost very young. He's sort of been an abandoned child. And so consequently, reaching out—as well as he knows how—to his sister in that scene I thought was very touching."

On Fabien, and Gwayne and Criston

"[Fabien] is amazing fun...Fabs and I get to spend a lot of our time together, and I really, I can't put it more frankly by saying I felt like I'd known him for 20 years after having met him for 24 hours. And that's really lucky, because we do have to spend a lot of time together.

And you do need to feel, over time, that these people—who are really on opposite ends politically in the court do end up, sort of, skirting each other, and then finding common ground. So it was lovely to feel like we could do that quite easily because we had a good friendship straight away."

More under the cut:

On Gwayne's Relationship With Otto

"I'm such a fan of Rhys Ifans' work generally anyway, but he has such poise and command as a performer...I watched him quite carefully thinking, is there a way I can take some of his body language into my own and see if I could, you know, sort of trace the familial kind of thing between us through body language.

That being said, it sort of then dawned on me really that we'd not really spent much time together as father and son. He's always been preoccupied with the work at Court, being this sort of Rasputin, really, character, and I'd been brought up by my mother in a completely different place."

Hints for a Gwayne Finale Arc...

"There's a mercurial element to him which is quite smart, and rational, whilst also sometimes being loaded with preconceptions as well. He really humanizes over the course of the series. I won't spoil what happens in the final episode, but it made me really endeared to him as a person going, look, you know, he's someone who perhaps was raised with a bit of a silver spoon in his mouth and was a little quick to judge initially, but as time goes on and the battle completely breaks him down, he becomes a very human, kind person."

...And potentially a return for Season 3?

"I will watch Season 2 in anticipation of prepping Season 3, but I'm not watching any of it as it comes out. It's sort of on principle, I suppose, not wanting to get too caught up in it when I'm doing other work. But I couldn't resist watching that episode [Rooks Rest, I think] and I text Fabby afterwards, and just said 'Wow, we were part of the whole thing there, that was really cool.'"

[writeriguess]

hi hello !!

could you write an ushijima x reader: where reader is a known sports interviewer and she interviews ushijima after every game - but he slowly falls in love with her every time and then finally after winning a big game he looks into the camera and announces that they're engaged.

(P.S. your write so beautifully) 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi was never one for unnecessary words, and it was part of what made him one of the most focused and driven volleyball players on the court. Every game, he led his team to victory with an intensity that was both admirable and intimidating. And every game, there was you—the sharp, insightful interviewer who always managed to draw a few words from him, even when he would rather let his actions speak.

You’d been interviewing Ushijima after his games for nearly a year now. The first time, it had been just another job, and you had approached him like any other player: professional, polite, and to the point. But as time went on, there was something about the quiet determination in his eyes and the way he answered your questions with careful precision that intrigued you. It became a sort of ritual—after every match, you’d wait for him by the sidelines, microphone in hand, and he’d offer his succinct answers to your probing questions.

At first, Ushijima found your presence just part of the routine. But soon, he started looking forward to it. The way you listened so intently, the slight smile that tugged at your lips when he gave a particularly dry response—it was subtle, but he noticed. Your energy was a stark contrast to his stoic nature, but there was something comforting in it.

You never pushed too hard, never forced him to say more than he wanted to, but your questions were thoughtful, and you always showed genuine interest. Over time, he realized he was lingering in the interviews longer than necessary, his normally curt answers becoming just a bit more detailed, just for you.

Today was a huge game. Ushijima had led his team to the national finals, and the stadium was electric with excitement. The moment the final whistle blew, signaling their victory, the crowd erupted in cheers. As usual, you waited at the edge of the court, microphone ready, watching as Ushijima and his team celebrated.

When he finally walked over to you, his expression was serious, as always, but there was something different in his eyes—an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You were about to start your routine questions, but before you could even speak, he took the microphone from your hand.

The camera zoomed in on him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

"I’ve been doing these interviews for a long time now," Ushijima began, his deep voice reverberating through the stadium. "But today is different."

You blinked in confusion, not understanding what was happening. He wasn't supposed to deviate from the usual script. You glanced around nervously, wondering if you should say something, but Ushijima’s gaze was locked onto the camera, focused and determined as always.

He took a step closer to you, his large frame towering over you as he spoke, "For months, I’ve come to these interviews and answered every question. But there's one question no one has asked yet. And I think it's time to answer it."

The crowd had fallen silent, sensing something monumental was about to happen. Your heart was racing, unsure of what he meant. He turned to look at you, and for the first time, there was something warm and tender in his usually stoic expression.

“I’m not just here to play volleyball,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m here because… I’ve fallen in love.”

The words hit you like a spike to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You stared at him, wide-eyed, trying to process what he was saying. The crowd was buzzing with whispers, but Ushijima ignored it all.

Without breaking eye contact, he lifted the microphone again. "And I want the world to know… we’re engaged."

The stadium erupted in gasps and cheers, the cameras zooming in on your shocked expression. You felt heat rush to your face, your heart pounding in your ears. You hadn’t expected this—how could you have? He had never shown any signs, at least not that you had noticed.

Ushijima gently took your hand, and the weight of the situation finally sank in. This wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment declaration. He had been planning this. You looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper as you managed to speak, “Are you serious…?”

He nodded, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly into a rare, soft smile. “I’ve been serious about you for a long time.”

The crowd’s cheers grew louder, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his hand in yours and the intensity of his gaze. You weren’t sure how it had come to this, but standing there in front of thousands of people, with Ushijima Wakatoshi announcing your engagement to the world… it felt right.

Later, after the initial shock wore off and the cameras had stopped rolling, you stood together in the quiet hallway outside the locker room. It was just the two of you now, and everything felt a little more real.

“You really planned this?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around what had happened.

He nodded, his usual serious expression softening as he looked at you. “I didn’t want to wait any longer. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you kept that a secret.”

Ushijima shrugged, his hand still holding yours. “I didn’t see a reason to tell anyone until now.”

There was something so undeniably Ushijima about that statement, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess I’m engaged now,” you teased, glancing down at your hand where an imaginary ring would one day sit.

“Engaged,” he repeated, as if testing the word out himself. His serious demeanor cracked just a little as he added, “And I don’t plan on losing you. Ever.”

In that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just some spontaneous declaration—Ushijima had fallen for you, slowly and steadily, the same way he approached everything in his life. And now, standing there with him, you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[gghostwriter]

I feel terrible for asking when your requests are closed bur Holy shit this is my real life and I need some loving.

I have a court case soon about putting a p*do in jail that I dobbed in, I'd live to have the team with me in court. I don't have to talk on the stand since he's already pled guilty but if we don't have a hang judge he'll most likely get home detention and on the Registry. My friends and I are hoping for jail bur yeah, I'd love to have the team soothing my anxieties as he doesn't know it was me that dobbed him in (I met him once) I need some loving and reassurance. Like I'm glad I got him done in but still seeing it go down I'm just messed up

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Established Relationship; Fluff and comfort Word Count: 0.9k A/N: Anon, I hope this brings you comfort! I also want to personally say that you did the right thing and I know it took a lot of courage to report that sick sick man to the authorities and I’m so proud of you. Do let me know the outcome of the trial and I’m hoping the case was assigned to a hang judge for harsh punishment. Main masterlist

Sentencing. // Spencer Reid

You dreaded to be here. Here being standing outside the judiciary building as the reason why burdened your chest like a twenty tonne weight making it hard to breathe. The anxiety was wafting out of you in waves—you wanted to vomit or pass out or both from the idea that there’s a fifty percent chance of justice not being serve. The numbers were wrong, you knew, but you were not your genius boyfriend who can chatter off the correct statistics based on government reports. You were just you—a regular civilian who took the courage to report a crime and do stand up for the victim. Spencer was proud of you and the grit it took to stand up for another specially for the young but here, right now, you felt anything but brave. 

A hand slid into yours, making you jump in fright.

“Spence?” You questioned your sanity then. It was a weekend and although that meant no work for him, his phone had rang and the both of you parted ways at the subway, him going to Quantico and you going to the court trial. So the idea that he was here, standing beside you seemed too ludicrous. A figment of your strained imagination possibly before his cedar wood perfume registered in your mind. “Are you real—I mean, what are you doing here?” 

He squeezed your hand. “I called back Hotch and he convinced Strauss to give the case to the other team. You’ve been nervous for the past few days, picking on your nails—” bringing up your hand to see the nail beds dry and pink “—biting on your lips—” touching them as he observed the faint teeth marks “—and not being able to focus—” pushing away a stray lock of hair that escaped your haphazardly tied bun. “—I want to be here for you and remind you that you did the right thing.”

“I know that. It’s just—what if the judge assigned to the case doesn’t give a harsh sentence? What if he just gets registered as a sex offender and walks?” 

“According to the statistics, 87% of convicted rapists are incarcerated while 13% receive a probation sentence. Pedophilia is also widely considered as one of the most egregious crimes by the system and the fact that he has already pled guilty gives a higher chance of imprisonment,” he rattled off as his own way of comfort. 

For some, the daunting two digit number minority seemed big, and it is, but you trusted his insight especially knowing his own experiences in the field of protecting the weak and capturing the sick.

The numbers had it’s desired effect, lifting a bit off the weight dragging you down. You pressed your lips together and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.” 

He squeezed your hand three more times—a silent communication between you two that meant I love you as he pulled you in the assigned court room. 

You occupied the last few rows, noting the family members of the victim also in attendance and although Spencer had calmed a bit of your nerves, each tick of the clock mixed with the palpable tension in the confined space had you shaking your knee in agitation. All of this combined made you unaware of the multiple presences that slid behind your bench. It took Spencer letting go of your hand and turning his head to bring you back to the present.

You swiveled, curious as to what had caught his attention, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the rest of the team.

Hotch reached out to squeeze your shoulder while Dave did the same on the other. Derek and Emily gave you a nod of encouragement and sweet smiles from JJ and Penelope.  It made you want to tear up to feel such love, support, and reassurance from Spencer’s chosen family. 

Unsure on how to put your gratitude into words, you gave a brief smile before turning back to the front as the judge entered the bench.

Bang.

Bang. 

The gavel echoed, effectively silencing any chatter of the audience.

Court was officially in session. 

———

The twenty tonne weight that sat on your chest lifted as the judge sentenced the accused to fourteen years in prison with no chance of parole. The scene of each family members of the victim crying and hugging each other in elation and relief made the steps you took worth it. Children deserved to hold on to their innocence for as long as they could and they warrant the protection from any concerned adult and the system.

Stray tears escaped the confines of your eyes as Spencer placed a kiss on your forehead before leading you out of the building, all decorated agents in tow.

“Hey Rossi, we should have dinner at your house to celebrate,” Emily cheekily suggested once everyone was out on the steps. The same steps you were hyperventilating on a few hours ago.

Dave scoffed. “Fist of all, it’s a mansion and second of all, what is it with this team inviting themselves over?” 

Derek laughed. “Aw c’mon man, we know you’d love to host us. JJ can bring Will and the kids and Hotch can bring Jack. It’ll be fun plus Y/N—” nodding in your direction “—deserves a good Italian dinner after all of this, don’t you think?”

Dave took note off all the members nodding their heads in agreement before sighing. “Fine, I’ll whip us up some Bolognese pasta, our Bambina’s favorite over here. Come by at 7pm sharp or else I’m locking the gates.” 

Everyone cheered and soon parted ways, promising to see each other later on, leaving you and Spencer leisurely walking to the subway station.

He squeezed your hand again three times and smiled. “You make me so proud of you. So so proud.” 

“Thank you for being there with me Spencer,” you squeeze in return. “I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for you, love. Anything at all.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[eleyras]

About narratives: the story of Sarcean, Anharion and the Collar.

Ok soooooo I finished Dark Heir and I have THOUGHTS.

This could be my delusional mind speaking BUT I firmly believe that the whole thing about the Collar and the relationship between Sarcy and Anharion depicted in the story written and established by the winners (the Lady's faction) and Gauthier is far from the truth and a lot more complex and fascinating.

More ramblings under the cut!

Putting all the hints given in DH aside for the moment (I will discuss them later) for me the biggest red flag about these narratives is the way Anharion is depicted in both.

This is a little twisted but it’s something I’ve been thinking about since DR, so let me elaborate.

In DR, the Stewards DON’T know about the Collar. James himself admits that he found out about it from Sinclair, and so the Stewards are convinced that James/Anharion had willingly betrayed the Lady’s side, becoming willingly Sarcean’s lieutenant and his lover.

Gauthier instead reveals a more twisted version of the story.

It’s clear that the two narratives are in contradiction with each other: the one told by the Lady’s faction and echoed throughout the centuries among the Stewards doesn’t include the knowledge of the Collar, and it entirely blames Anharion for his deeds and his betrayal; Gauthier’s version instead, serving for the readers as an introduction to the existence of the Collar, specifies that Anharion didn’t have any agency.

So, which version is the true one? Neither of them, because both, as it often happens in history, took the truth, and twisted it to serve its own purpose.

Let’s start with the narrative ‘written’ by the Lady.

My biggest doubt about it is why the f*ck it seems that A LOT of people outside the Hall know about the Collar. Gauthier knows about it because his ancestor was the one who stole it, but Sinclair? Let’s hypothesize that he knew about it from Kettering. Kettering knows about it because he is a Returner, so someone who was THERE, in the Old World. It’s not a stretch then to theorize that the existence of the Collar and its power was somehow known in the past.

And in DH, the presence of the chain attached to the throne in the Sun Court, where EVERYONE could see it, hypothetically ( and I underline this because I don’t trust ANYTHING of what we saw in the Undahar for it was the Sun King’s court before Sarcean’s) linked to the Collar around Anharion’s neck, makes me think that the Collar and its power weren’t such a well-kept secret.

So, the whole “the Lady’s side didn’t absolutely know about the Collar” narrative is a bit sketchy at this point. I believe someone knew at some point, so why would they iterate this version of the story, instead of depicting Anharion as a victim and blaming Sarcean for it?

Well, the answer is simple: damnatio memoriae. The version of the story known at this point had been written by the Lady’s faction, so of course her enemies are painted in the worst light possible. Anharion’s memory is, in my opinion, even more tainted by this narrative than Sarcean’s one; we don’t even know his true name. It didn’t matter that he could have had reasons for his actions: he went against the "good side" and chose the dark, the end.

This narrative is not interested in reporting the truth. Its purpose is to celebrate the Lady as a Saint figure and vilify her opponents, disregarding their reasons, their feelings, their insight of the events entirely.

So, it’s not so difficult to believe that underneath all the twists and the lies, in this version of the story there is a grain of truth; that, in a way, Anharion did betray willingly the Lady. Maybe he understood that the so righteous Lady was, in fact, not that pure and good. Maybe, at the culmination of the fight, he somehow hesitated to kill Sarcean, because he was a human being, not just a cold hearted betrayer. All factors that would of course be excluded from this narrative, for they would expose the Lady’s true face.

At this point this is all but speculations, but one thing is certain, and this takes us to the second point: it’s canon that Anharion had feelings for Sarcy. Before the Collar.

I would not call it ‘undying love’ at this point of the story, but the affection is there. Palpable, visible, corporeal in glances and words. This is, like, a HUGE revelation.

Because this proves that the narrative told by Gauthier is not the truth either!

While I believe that the Collar has some kind of power (I’ll explain this too), in the Gauthier’s version of the story, it’s clear that the emphasis on the submitting part of this power comes from the desire to possess Anharion, from the (false) conviction passed on for generations that whoever put it around his neck would master him. I suspect it consumed not only Gauthier himself, but also every member of his family who owned the Collar before him.

In the end both narratives, pushing for their own agenda, give an insight on the relationship between Sarcean and Anharion not only false but also humiliating for Anharion, for he is depicted as a selfish, cold hearted betrayer where his own agency is totally dismissed (and not even mentioned) in one, and a plaything slave of the Collar in the other.

The truth is far more complex than this, of course, and the one million dollar question about it is then: how much influence did have the Collar on the true nature of their relationship?

In these days I have read a lot of theories about this. One of my favourites is the one depicting the Collar as a mere object of fashion without any power and Anharion not only conscious but also willing the whole time and the fact that this may be hinted in the text makes me feel unhinged (if this is true, you will hear me screaming about it for years)

In my opinion, and I will believe this until I read the third book, the Collar has some kind of power on James/Anharion but not in the way it has been described so far. This is but a mere speculation for the moment, but maybe this power leans more on binding Anharion’s magic to Sarcean’s than controlling his free will or feelings. (this bit in DH is soooo interesting!!!)

I’m convinced that the Collar cannot create something that is not there and that underneath its power, it’s clear that Anharion had conflicted feelings for Sarcean, he always had, because James REMEMBERS feeling this even with the Collar:

This means those conflicted feelings are still there and are not magically morphed by the Collar into pure and simple obedience and that whatever Anharion felt was real, whatever James feels is real, contradictions and all.

We still know so little about this two at this point, and since Pacat really loves plot twists, I believe that their real story will come out in the end and that Will and James will achieve what their past selves couldn’t had, unravelling the conflicts and the misunderstandings between them, and conquering the freedom they search in each other’s arms to be just Will and James.

I had fun writing this, please feel free to give me your opinion on this!

(PS. I think I needed to specify that this whole rambling is focused on Anharion’s feelings. What about Sarcy? I believe his feelings were a deadly cocktail of desire, affection, possessiveness, admiration and horny thoughts, like the disaster babygirl he was, thanks for your attention)

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter II - We Shall Find Our Answers

Summary: You and your family return to King’s Landing after several years, and you are dreading having to face your uncle again. While you cannot change the past, maybe the lines on his palm can show some insight into your future. And maybe, just maybe, the future might be bright for the two of you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Pssst. Hey, you. I’m back. And I bring thee the continuation of this story, which I had a lot of fun writing. I intend on writing more for this little universe, so if you've liked this story so far, please consider staying tuned for more parts to come!

Just for clarification, I don’t understand much about the rules and laws of monarchy, but since this is my story and I’m already saying ‘screw canon’, we’re also gonna say ‘fuck tradition’ (and if any of the characters, especially Aemond, seem a bit ooc I deeply apologize, I’m just trying very hard to Bob-The-Builder the events of the show)

Also, I have purposefully left the question of the reader’s father somewhat ambiguous so there can be more leeway for the reader’s appearance to be undescribed.

Thank you so so much for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this story! <3

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It had been several years since you had last stepped foot in King’s Landing. Not since the death of your aunt and father. Or fathers. Which meant you hadn’t seen Aemond since that fateful night in Driftmark. You’d been by his side in an instant once Luke had shaken you awake wailing like a babe that he had done something terrible. You had held his hand as the maester tended to his wound, much to his mother’s grief. She had even tried pushing you away from her son, but his hand held tightly around yours prevented you from going too far. He had wanted, no, needed the comfort of your presence. But that all changed when Jace explained what had transpired, what he had called your younger brothers and, by extension, yourself. You had dropped his hand as if it burned, feeling more betrayed than ever, not missing the way your hurt was reflected in his own eyes. Well, eye. He had tried to talk to you after everyone had been excused but you fled from him, not wanting to face him just yet. Perhaps never again, you had thought at the time.

Now a grown woman, you returned to King’s Landing once more, summoned by the court for a hearing in which Ser Vaemond Velaryon intended to question Lucerys legitimacy as heir to Driftmark (which he was in for a surprise as your mother did not intend to pass Driftmark down to Luke, but to Jacaerys instead, as previously discussed and agreed with your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, while she would name you, her firstborn,   as heir to the Iron Throne after her). So it’s no surprise you were not looking forward to this visit at all. 

While you had kept in contact with Helaena through exchanged ravens, you hadn’t once written to Aemond, nor had he done so to you. You were dreading the moment you had to see him again, as you didn’t know how he would react to seeing you after the way you left things off in the past. In reality… you missed him. You missed having someone to talk to, someone who truly cared about what you had to say, who shared similar interests to you and enjoyed the diverging ones all the same. You missed your study partner, as Jace’s high valyrian was incredibly subpar, leaving him far behind you in his studies. You simply missed having him. 

The first moment you had laid eyes on him had been, unsurprisingly, in the courtyard. You’d been following after your brothers as they explored what had changed and what hadn’t around the Keep, trying to ensure they didn’t get into any trouble, when you noticed a small crowd forming around two men engaged in a heated training match. One was none other than Ser Criston Cole, who hadn’t aged a single day but looked like the stick up his ass had slipped even further in, and the other… 

You couldn’t help but stare, oblivious to anything else around you. He had grown quite a lot in the years you’d been apart. He was taller, his shoulders pulled back and his head held high, no longer the timid, self-conscious boy you’d once known. Where Ser Criston was strong Aemond was fast, his tall frame and lithe shape allowing for a more fast paced combat, his movements sharp yet swift and even somewhat… graceful. 

“You should clean up, right there.” you snapped out of your reverie, brought back to focus by your brother Jace, who motioned to the corner of his own mouth with a smirk hanging from his lips “You’re drooling.”

Feeling a warm flush on your cheeks you swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, finding nothing there, as Jace chuckled at your naivety and moved to join the crowd along with Luke.

Little cunt.

You followed after your brothers just as Aemond had his sword pointed right at Ser Criston’s neck. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, only catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Have you come to train?” he had been saying, his eye trained on Luke, some underlying darkness swirling in it, before his gaze finally met you and something shifted in it almost imperceptibly “Little niece.” 

The way he said it, the use of the once mocking title, left you reeling. The tone he used made it so you couldn’t quite tell if he had been sneering at you or in awe at your presence, if he was jesting or quite serious, mocking or sincere.

But your musings were interrupted by the gates opening, Ser Vaemond walking in as if he owned the place. Or like he was owed something from this place. It seemed your dreaded reunion with your uncle would have to wait.

As much as you hated being back in King’s Landing you couldn’t deny this place did manage to keep you entertained. The hearing had gone as well as one could expect, with Ser Vaemond hurling one insult after another at both you, your brothers and your mother and ultimately losing his head for it. All was well with your family, Jace’s claim to Driftmark and his status as future Lord of the Tides and your own as heir to the Iron Throne after your mother had been reaffirmed by the King himself, backed by your grandmother. 

During the whole hearing you couldn’t help but glance at Aemond from the corner of your eye every once in a while. He had a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face all throughout Vaemond’s speech, the bastard, but once your mother mentioned her desire to establish you as her heir to the Throne something changed. His gaze met yours and his face softened, the smugness disappearing all together from his features. 

It was the last you saw of him, having taken off to the courtyard to relish in the diminishing sun as it lowered in the sky by sitting under the weirwood tree. Jace and Luke were enjoying a stroll around the Keep with their respective betrotheds, occasionally passing by your peripheral vision.

“I thought I’d find you here.” a voice cut through the air, souring your mood.

“Have you come to question my legitimacy as well, uncle?” you asked Aemond, who stood in front of you with his hands behind his back, before nodding in your brother’s direction as they skirted the edge of the courtyard “Be careful not to speak too loudly, we wouldn’t want you to lose yet another eye, now, would we?”

The smallest twitch of his eye was the only indication that he was bothered by what you said. You knew it was low, and you did feel a twinge of guilt about it, but the hurt you’d been cultivating for him since that night was festering in your heart.

“Always the jester, little niece.” he smirked, taking a seat next to you, keeping you on his good eye’s side.

“Only for you.” 

You both fell silent, the air around charged with years of tension built between the two of you.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages.” he spoke softly, facing forward.

“You didn’t write.” you jabbed.

“You didn’t either.” 

He had you there. 

“Helaena’s told me of your travels.” he tried again “You’ve visited quite a lot of places.”

“I wanted to see the realm.” you explained, feeling some of the tension dissipating as he extended an opportunity for you opened up “To learn the ways of the people we are to rule.”

He only hummed in response.

“And what about you?” you turned to him, noticing how his body seemed to instinctively turn towards you as well “How have you been faring?”

“Oh, you know.” he shrugged, nonchalantly “I have been busy, studying, training with a sword, as you’ve very well seen,” the smirk that formed on his face was enough to bring heat to your cheeks “and trying to stop Aegon from drowning in his cups every night.”

A giggle escaped from your lips, which in turn prompted a small grin from him. This moment, right here with him, felt like before; it felt freeing. The full weight of how much you had missed him hit you like a Vhagar-sized carriage. 

A moment of silence passed before he turned somber again.

“My mother has deemed it time for me to find a wife.” he spoke slowly, his words making something twist painfully in your chest “She’s been trying to find matches for me in some of the noble houses. But none of the ladies in court will even look at me.”

He cast his gaze down and away from you, his stoic demeanor cracking for a moment and giving way to a forlorn expression. It seemed… awfully familiar to you.

“I frighten them. Not just them, the maids too.” his voice was soft, resignation dripping from his words, the prideful man you saw earlier in the yard taking a step back to allow the shy and insecure boy you once knew to make a reappearance “I think your lines have lied to you. No lady would ever want a one-eyed husband.”

“Aemond-”

“I told you once before, I don’t appreciate your pity, niece.” his tone hardened, but it lacked venom, meaning he wasn’t angry with you, rather upset at himself.

You could only wonder how much the events of that night had changed him, for better and worse. He might argue that he had claimed a dragon, the biggest in the world, so that made things even but you could only imagine the kind of pain, both physical and emotional, he had gone through since then.

“For what is worth” you started, raising a hand to his face very slowly, giving him more than enough time to halt your movements. He flinched at first but eventually relaxed, allowing you to lay your hand on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly against the end of his scar “I am truly sorry for what happened that night. You didn’t deserve any of it.”  

His hand raised, grasping your wrist and running his own thumb on the skin at the edge of your sleeve.

“What I said that night,” he closed his eye for a moment then looked at you again “it was unbefitting. I never meant to hurt you.” he paused, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly, as if he was letting go of a lifetime of weight he’d been carrying “No more than I believe Lucerys meant to hurt me as badly as he did.”

It was an olive branch, you realized. Given how he now carried himself it was the closest thing to an apology you’d get. While he might not simply ever forgive your brother, he was willing to try and put it behind him, to let go of the pain, for you. And for that you’d forever be grateful to him. He tilted his head to the side, letting his lips linger on your palm for just a moment, before pulling your hand away from his face and carefully placing it on your lap again, both of you facing forward once more.

The silence that fell was not an uncomfortable one. It reminisced of the days you’d sit together in this same spot and wait for the servants to come fetch you when it was time for supper. But every nice moment had to be broken at some point.

“My grandsire and mother believe Aegon should be named my father’s heir.” he spoke after a moment, your head quickly snapping to look at him.

“What?”

“They believe that, as his firstborn son, he would have a better claim to the throne.” he glanced at you “That most lords would support him if it came to it.”

You were baffled by this revelation, even though you shouldn’t really be all that surprised. Otto Hightower was a cunt who would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne. As much as your mother resented her former friend you’d come to the conclusion that Otto had been the one responsible to sway Alicent against her. It shouldn’t come as a surprise he would be plotting against her. That’s why the man was smug about today’s hearing, and why his face promptly fell once Rhaenys made her support of Jacaerys, and by extension your mother, known. But…

“Why are you telling me this?” you questioned, confused as to why Aemond, the dutiful son, would tell on his family like that.

An amused grin, almost resembling a smirk, took over his features, his eye turned away from you.

“New information has come to light regarding the line of succession.”

Your heart clenched, a smile of your own appearing on your face. He recognized you as heir to the Throne, as a future queen. 

His smile, however, slowly slipped from his face, leaving a sad look in its wake.

“What troubles you, uncle?” you asked.

“I just-” he sighed, almost exasperated “I just do not understand how they could possibly believe Aegon of all people fit to be king. He, who disappears every fortnight for the Street of Silk, who’s barely ever sober during the day. He, who has his way with the servants while his own wife exists silently, he who, dare I say, barely understands a word of high valyrian and the importance of our family to the realm.”

His rant left him slightly breathless, as if he had been suppressing those feelings for a very long time. And although he had not dared say it, you heard the hidden meaning behind his words. If he, now a grown man, was anything like he was as a boy, he was much more suited to be king than his brother was. He was probably well studied in both history and philosophy, he knew his way quite well around a sword, as you’d seen, and he’d kept up with his lessons in high valyrian, like you had. He would make for a fine king, if it weren’t for your mother and, eventually, you.

And then it hit you.

Otto Hightower would do anything in his power to have his own blood sit on the Iron Throne.

“Give me your hand.” you spoke firmly. 

Aemond looked at you quizzically, taking too slow to comply so you forcefully grabbed his hand in yours, his palm facing upwards.

“Not this again.” he said, bemused.

As you ran your finger delicately over his palm, you took your time noticing the way calluses adorned the skin, once soft under your touch, probably from years of dragon riding and intense sword training. 

“Your line of life is still quite long, good.” you heard his scoff, although it sounded quite like a barely contained laugh “It means the Stranger will not come for you for quite a while still.”

His eye was trained on you as traced another line on his hand.

“And your line of heart still tilts upwards, so you will marry a woman who loves you dearly.”

You spoke with so much conviction, squeezing his hand, your eyes finally glancing up, locked firmly onto his own as you said it. 

“She’ll love and cherish you for everything that you are, unwaveringly and unapologetically. You’ll be hers as much as she’ll be yours.”

His eyes shone with barely contained hope, before you averted your gaze back to his palm.  

“And here,” you pointed to a small line near the bottom of his palm “is the line of the king. It appears only on the hands of those who are destined to rule over the realm.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t falter.

“You are jesting again, niece.” 

“I am not.” you shook your head, determined “The lines have never lied before, remember?” you mentioned, and he couldn’t argue with that, as the prediction you’d spoke of last time you found yourselves in this exact situation came true barely a few weeks afterwards “You will be king, Aemond.” 

You stood up quickly, barely brushing the skirts of your dress as you did.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

You took off before he could question you, rushing out of the courtyard in search of your mother. You had a matter most important you needed to discuss with her, one you’d already brought up with her many moons ago, but which at the time felt more like a distant childish dream.

Aemond hadn’t spoken to you again until it was time for supper. He had caught a quick glimpse of you sometime after you left the courtyard, speaking in hushed whispers with your mother while Daemon looked thoroughly vexed. But before he could approach you and inquire about your sudden departure earlier, both you and your mother took off to one of your chambers, he assumed, leaving his uncle to stare murderously at him. While Aemond wasn’t frightened by Daemon, he would even go as far as to say he admired the man, something about the way he was staring at him deeply unsettled him, so he decided to leave and wait for a better opportunity to speak to you, alone.

Now, during what surely was to be one awkward meal, he could see you from the other side of the table where you sat next to Baela. You looked positively radiant, smiling with your step-sisters and occasionally jesting with your brothers. From time to time you’d catch his eye, your smile turning mirthful, as if you knew something he didn’t. More than once throughout the night he caught you and Rhaenyra sharing a small, quick nod to one another, and Daemon rolling his eyes whenever he also noticed it.

After King Viserys congratulated Jacaerys and Lucerys on their betrothals, Jace leaned over Baela and whispered something to you. While he looked sullen, Baela had a small understanding smile as you tried to sooth him. His face softened as you grasped his hands, trying to reassure him of something, Baela supporting you quietly. The overjoyed smile that took over your features as Jace nodded lit something in Aemond’s chest, his heart skipping a beat.

At a certain point, after the King’s speech and Rhaenyra and Alicent’s toasts, Aegon got up and leaned over to “whisper” something to Baela, catching the attention of all those around her. Aemond couldn’t hear what his brother said all the way from his side of the table, but whatever it was Jacaerys looked like he was about to drive a dagger through him. But you and your sharp words were quicker.

“At least he can stay sober long enough to get it up.” you spoke, your voice loud enough for the entire room to hear “Can Helaena say the same about you, uncle?”

Several reactions could be heard around the table. Helaena herself snorted into the wine she had been sipping, Daemon laughed loudly from his place at Rhaenyra’s side and even a small, tired chuckle could be heard leaving the King’s mouth. Aemond couldn’t help but smirk as his brother all but crumbled back in his seat, a frown unveiling his embarrassment. 

Jace took his time toasting both his uncles but there was something… different in the way he addressed each of them. Whereas Aegon’s name was said with mocking admiration and contempt, Jace’s tone as he said Aemond’s name was laced with quiet resignation. And the tiny grin he directed at Aemond took him by surprise.

Helaena, a little bit tipsy at this hour, also took the opportunity to congratulate Rhaena and Baela in their betrothals, also taking a jab at Aegon’s already wounded pride. While he felt his chest fill with pride for his sister, Aemond couldn’t help but notice the moment you shared with your mother once again, the questioning look on her face and the determined nod you gave as answer to whatever question you found in the depth of her eyes.

“Speaking of marriage,” Rhaenyra started as she stood up and turned to face the seats of his father, mother and grandsire “my only daughter is now of marrying age as well.”

Aemond felt something twist painfully in his chest at the thought, turning his eye to glance at you and was surprised to find you already looking at him, the corners of your lips turned up in a soft grin.

“I would like to make a proposition.” your mother continued, turning to look at him, bringing his attention back to her. He felt his heartbeat increase as she stared at him for a moment longer, some heat climbing to his cheeks, before she turned to address his family once again, her eyes locked onto Alicent “I would like to propose we wed her to your second son, Prince Aemond.”

He barely registered anything else over the thunderous flow of blood against his eardrums, reflecting on the speed at which his traitorous heart was beating in his chest. He glanced back at you, watching as you smiled warmly at him. Something in him just felt right. He felt as if everything was falling into place within his life.

Aemond had never let himself want. He realized quite early in his life that he would only ever be the second son, and considering how much his father favored Rhaenyra over any other of his other children, he didn’t really matter much in comparison to his siblings. So he had learned never to wish for anything for himself, he had never dared hope that good things would come to him. And now here you were, the only one who has ever truly cared for him, offering something he never allowed himself to dream of.  

“And” Rhaenyra continued, drawing his attention back to her. There was more? What else could she possibly offer that could be worth more than that? He allowed himself a quick glimpse at Daemon, who once again looked bothered by what she was about to say “once I have come to pass and it is time for her to take over as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he would be crowned king alongside with her. He would be not a prince, nor king consort, but a true king. They would rule as equals, and eventually their children would sit in the Iron Throne after them.”

What?

As soon as the words were out of her mouth his mind simply ceased to work. They were thinking of… what? His head quickly snapped to look at his family, wanting to gauge their reactions as well and assess if they were just as confused as he felt.

His father was positively delighted at the prospect of uniting his fractured family once more. His mother, on the other hand, looked irked at Rhaenyra for having sprung this proposition in front of Viserys, as he’d obviously agree, and she wasn’t looking forward to having a possible bastard as her son’s wife (even if she knew he once cared deeply for you). And his grandsire… he looked conflicted. Otto Hightower wasn’t an easy man to read, but he had been so caught by surprise that he was wearing all his emotions on his sleeve. While he, like Alicent, seemed bothered by the timing of this proposal, he also looked… intrigued?

“We were thinking of passing Dragonstone down to Aegon and keeping both Aemond and my daughter here in King’s Landing so they can learn with me and the council the ways of ruling, so they are well prepared when it comes their time to rule.” 

“And what of Lucerys?” Alicent questioned warily.

“He would live in Driftmark with Jace, learning the ways of salt and sea, in hopes of one day becoming my, and later his sister’s, Master of Ships.” Rhaenyra completed.

Silence ruled over the room for a moment, nobody daring to utter a word. Not even the servants, watching from the corners, made a single sound.

“And who was the one” Viserys spoke slowly, getting more tired as the night progressed “behind such a wonderful idea?” 

“I-” your mother started, but Daemon quickly cut her off.

“The girl did.” he nodded his head towards you, a smug smile growing on his lips at the prospect of possibly throwing you under the carriage. 

Aemond’s head snapped towards you, your smile never wavering. So that’s what you had been speaking to Rhaenyra all day. After your talk in the courtyard, you’d gone off to find your mother, to express your wishes not only to marry Aemond, but to also make him king. Just like the lines on his palm told you. But… why?

“And just what” Otto questioned, as if reading his grandson’s mind “has led the princess to decide to break hundreds of centuries of tradition and wish to share the Throne?”

Rhaenyra turned back to you, sending a silent question in your direction yet again. You shook your head and stood up, as if deciding to face the judgment of the Hightowers all by yourself.

“While my family has resided in Dragonstone for the past few years, my lord,” you started, an eloquence that indicated you’d been preparing, and maybe even rehearsing, this speech in your mind for a while “I have taken to flying around the realm on dragonback, visiting all of the Seven Kingdoms. I’d wished to see for myself and understand the people I’d one day rule over. However, being away from King’s Landing for so long also means I am not versed in the matters of court. Prince Aemond, on the other hand,” oh, how sweet your voice sounded when you said his name accompanied by his title “has lived his entire life here in the Red Keep. He’s been in these halls, around the lords and ladies of court, for quite a while and knows how such matters are supposed to work. I believe our knowledge combined will give us the strength, as a unity, required to rule over the realm together and establish a peaceful and prosperous reign.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you paused, your expression souring.

“And” you chuckled mirthlessly, your previously warm smile falling to a resigned one “I am a woman. The lords of the noble houses of Westeros may support my mother’s claim as they have sworn an oath to his grace, the King, but many of them are already of advanced age and may soon come to perish, some have already died even. While most of these houses are righteous and their sons and grandsons will likely honor their ancestors' wishes and support me as my mothers heir, there is no telling what will happen. They might not take kindly to yet another woman ruling over the realm, and especially one they didn’t technically agree on. So as much as I loathe to admit it, having a man by my side, supporting me as an equal, would strengthen my claim and prevent anyone from questioning me as queen.”

It made sense, all of it. Change as impactful as this tends to happen over time, not all at once, and it was known the men of the realm would not so easily accept a woman on the Iron Throne, something Aemond knew his grandsire was counting on to bring Aegon to power eventually, so it was a smart move to have a husband at your side. Your arguing was solid, and Otto Hightower seemed to agree as he reclined back on his seat, somewhat impressed.

Alicent, however, looked like she still wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“And why would you wish to marry my son?” she questioned, her tone stern.

Your smile faltered briefly, betraying your confusion.

“Why, your grace, I believe I have already explained-”

“No,” she cut you off “you’ve explained why this union would be beneficial for you as a representative of the Crown. I want to know why you wish to marry him. You could have any man in the realm, hells, there have been rumors that Cregan Stark himself has requested an audience in Dragonstone, possibly to request a courtship for your hand.” That was before anyone knew Rhaenyra planned on making you her heir and it was believed you’d inherit nothing at all, Aemond caught himself thinking “So why do you want to marry Aemond?”

That had him leaning forward in his seat. He knew, logically, this marriage stemmed from convenience. He knew he, and you as well, were mere pawns in your family’s schemes. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind your proposal. Even if it was just a political move, he would have accepted in a heartbeat but he dared to wish, no, hope that you actually wanted this, that you wanted him.

“I…” you fumbled for a moment, averting your gaze before steeling yourself, eyes locking with his mother’s once more “My uncle and I were close once, many years ago. We used to share a connection that has since been lost to time.” 

You took a deep breath, as if preparing to reveal your deepest secrets to the whole family.

“I would like for us to get to know one another once more and go back to the way things were. Maybe even strengthen our bond.” you then turned to him, your eyes soft and warm and with the slightest of glimmer to them, as if you were willing yourself not to shed any tears “And I believe, with time, I could learn to love him dearly. I would love and cherish him for everything that he is, unwaveringly and unapologetically.” your lips trembled almost imperceptibly, so much so that had he not been paying close attention to you he’d have missed it “I’d be his as much as he’d be mine.”

Aemond felt his breath hitch, his heart hammering in his chest once more. He didn’t know what to think. This, right here, seemed so unreal. Deep down he knew this might just be the solution to everyone’s problems, it could be the very thing that mended the divide that had been growing inside of House Targaryen, but… could it be possible? Would his family agree?

“I believe this to be an amazing occasion.” the King spoke, looking happier than he’d been in a long while, before turning to his wife “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Alicent in turn looked to her father for answers and Aemond waited with bated breath for his response. Otto’s word was law in her eyes, Aemond  knew, so he was the one who had final say in the matter. His answer came as a tiny nod and in that moment, as Aemond barely registered his mother’s next words, he had never been more grateful for his grandsire.  

“I am inclined to agree that this will be a most blessed union.” Alicent said, her smile, always cold when it came to you, warming considerably.

“It’s settled then. Looks like we’ll have a wedding even sooner than expected.” Viserys then tapped his cane on the ground “Let us have some music.” 

As the musicians started playing an animated melody, Aemond felt lighter than he had in years. He could hardly care for everyone around him, not even noticing anyone’s reaction to the news other than your own. With his eye focused solely on you he could see the relief settling in at his mother’s words as you beamed at him, more radiant than ever.

“Aemond, dear, why don’t you take your betrothed for a dance?” 

He was out of his seat before Alicent could even finish her sentence, crossing the space between you in wide strides and extending a hand to you. You accepted gracefully. As you positioned yourselves to dance, you smiled bashfully at him, looking down at your feet, slightly embarrassed.

“I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for bringing this up all of a sudden, uncle.” you explained, looking back at him “I didn’t want to waste another moment and risk losing my chance.” 

It was his turn to smile, not a smirk or a smug grin, a genuine smile. 

“There is nothing to forgive, little niece.” the way he said the moniker this time, once used to mock you, was so filled with only affection and care that it almost brought tears to your eyes once again.

You danced for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Then you leaned closer to him, as if wanting to share something privy to his ears alone.

“I told you once before, Aemond.” your smile turned into the tiniest of smirks “The lines don’t lie.” 

His heart clenched at the memory, which seemed so distant yet so fresh in his mind. He tightened his grip around you, bringing your body even closer to his own, wanting to feel you close to him, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

“Indeed,” he whispered softly back to you, leaning his head against your own “I guess they truly don’t.”

And then everyone is happy, Rhaenyra and her family don’t leave for Dragonstone before dawn, meaning she’s there when Viserys goes to sleep forever, meaning she’s crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, meaning the Greens don’t usurp the Throne, meaning the Dance never happened, meaning no one dies and everyone lives happily ever after, hurray!

(About Daemon's behavior, he’s not mad at reader or Rhaenyra, nor does he dislike reader in any way. He’s just resentful Rhaenyra hasn’t thought nor has she offered to what she does to Aemond in this story. And as we know, when these Targaryen boys are frustrated, they tend to lash out. Hope this clarifies some things!)

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

[operationslipperypuppet]

hi! i recently subscribed to the pateron, and im a little intimidated by all of the extra content available, lol. in your opinion, what are some of the funniest short rest / dungeon court / mixed bag episodes to start with? (if anyone else also has their fave eps to share please do)

oh wonderful! welcome to the best stupid show(s) money can buy.

i’m gonna operate under the assumption you’re caught up on main feed eps but if i suggest a short rest for an episode you haven’t listened to, definitely hit the episode first.

these are just off the top of my head with ones i can remember what they are, i may come up with more later lol

short rests:

i think short rests 99 and 100 should actually be required listening for everyone, they’re fucking earth shattering. start there.

the one for 70 is stupid and reveals how they almost lost the episode so that’s a good one.

c3e22 has one of the most insane short rests in retrospect. and c3e41 also has a bonkers short rest. they talk about santa manscaping in your bathroom. the episode came out in august. i wept.

c2e41’s campaign wrap up short rest also is a good time and gives good insights on the campaign.

the short rest for the can they kill it is the origin of crabster. 77 has a rose before noon. 91 ends with jake saying something so insane it ruins me.

the short rest for caldwells frooze your own adventure also slaps. the wilson brothers are there.

the brussels hookup is another 8bbc short rest that’s so dumb and beautiful.

c3e54 has them all hyped up on too much caffeine after a mixed bag and talking about jumping off decks onto frozen lakes and landing on one boob and one butt cheek. i wish i was kidding. it’s incredible.

dungeon courts:

i’m mostly gonna highlight patreon dungeon courts with the assumption you’ve listened to the corresponding main feed eps.

king robert can klump ft. ally beardsley. the flintstones costume fun around the house. you don’t know what that means but it’s. something.

a little place called mangia’s. murph breaks down. caldwell loses it. jake turns to google.

yuncle ft. jasper william cartwright. rats ride loose and your yuncle is power hungry.

the video dungeon courts are great, you can see murph lose it.

bird jail ft. zac oyama. actually anything with zac oyama. it’s great.

table rattlers ft. jeremy cobb. i don’t remember what happens exactly but it’s great.

the dm’s judge ft. lou wilson and zac oyama. absolutely iconic bench on this one.

mixed bags:

mixed bag tier my beloved!! so many are so good!

the whole blazing babe chronicles. not enough people know there was a second hot boy summer campaign that’s available on the mixed bag. caldwell spills half a corona on his character sheet. it’s a dry july and the boys are Not on the same page about it. love is love is love returns.

the biggest loreser is new but damn if it isn’t impeccable. warning: the fred flintstone noise is fucking LOUD

all the taste tests (energy drinks, m&ms, and gamer energy drinks). jake tries an expired products. jake later forgets to buy peanut m&ms while emily decides she can taste what color an m&m is. murph gets hyped on caffeine and has to take a break resulting in one of the most insane short rests to date. listen to the short rest first, it’s funnier that way.

if you can listen to live shows, (the sound is sometimes challenging) i recommend those. great starting point is the melbourne one from last year, i laughed so much the first time i heard it. “i was a lurking actor. that’s a union job!” also the boston dungeon court did hit the main feed but started as a mixed bag and i was there so i want to shout it out.

emily’s winter solstice one shot!! brennan and siobhan are there and it’s creepy and truly so fun.

both dungeons and dragons movies. jake and emily gaslight murph. they talk about a truly terrible set of films. there’s someone called grape lady that is a highlight.

both spilltaculars. at times a bit cringe, but it’s fun to hear other people’s failures sometimes because then you feel better about yourself. plus they make up a judgement scale that is different every time.

spellcheck! the game show that’s kinda sweeping the nation. or was. it’s fun.

that’s long (oops) and all i can think of off the top of my head. if people have other faves, share them for new patreon people!

also, my last bit of advice is to join the streams if you can. jake’s stream is for the short rest tier and above and caldwells is for the mixed bag tier and above. they’re wild. we had caldwell drawing everyone in crocs for like 6 months (it’s arguably why we’re getting the jibbitz). sometimes you get tucker lore. (tucker, the fictional man jake’s wife is cucking him with.) they’re grand.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Siren reader getting courted by Thor, Loki, Posaiden, Hades, Buddha, Hermes, Jack, Lu Bu, Raiden, Kojiro, and Chen Gong

Siren courting rituals are, gifting scales and shells, catching prey and showing off your catch, biting and head butting, wrestling 

Sirens have incredibly sharp teeth

-You were absolutely stunning, long flowing H/C hair, large and inquisitive E/C eyes, and a voice that could enchant anyone, even when you weren’t singing.

-He remembers the day he found you down by the ocean, you were just sunning yourself, enjoying the warm sunshine when you heard footsteps and you turned, seeing this unknown man there.

-You were ready to bolt, leaping back into the sea, but you didn’t, something told you to pause, that he wasn’t a threat, at least to you as he greeted you, waving his hand at you lightly. You looked down at your own hand, confused at what he was doing before you mimicked him, waving back.

-That was the start of your odd relationship with (Love), who came to see you almost every day and you would wait until he’s sitting on your sunning rock before your head would pop out from the ocean, making sure it was safe before you greeted him, and he returned it.

-He was very gentle with you, carefully holding your hand, inspecting your webbed fingers or playing with your long hair, braiding for you (if he had long enough hair you did the same for him), and just sitting and talking with you.

-However, recently, you’ve been acting a bit odd, bumping your head against his shoulder and head, not hurting him, more like you were nudging him, and giving him beautiful shells that you found.

-He was initially confused by your actions, but accepted your gifts with a warm smile, thanking you warmly which elated you.

-You would bring him fish that you caught and if he allowed you to hold onto his hand, you would nibble on his wrist, not hurting him, but confusing him once again.

-It wasn’t until Triton approached him with a friendly grin, “So you’re the one that Y/N has been courting!” (Love) was stunned to learn that all of your actions were courting actions, showing your affections to him!

-Triton was amused by his reaction but offered some insight, that (Love) would either need to respond himself with a gift of his own or reject your gifts to reject you as a mate, which would stop the behavior.

-(Love) realized that rejecting you might result in you leaving and never coming back, and he didn’t want that. He thanked Triton for the insight before heading off.

-He arrived back the following day with a gift box for you, holding his answer and when he gave you the box, you were confused, “What is this?” he just smiled and told you to open it.

-Inside was a bracelet, made of silver metal with a sparkling lapis lazuli stone in the center, making your eyes instantly go wide, seeing the gift.

-He wasn’t prepared for your screechy squeal, leaping up and into his arms, knocking him back, your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly which made him chuckle warmly, hugging you back. He stroked your long hair before speaking, “You know, if you’re courting me, you should let me know, I don’t know all of your customs.” You paused, pulling back and realizing this, your cheeks instantly warmly as you laughed off your embarrassment. You were so cute.

            -Chen Gon, Kojiro, Buddha, Raiden, Loki, and Hermes

-Your hug sent you both into the shallow water, drenching the both of you but he didn’t mind, hugging you back as you were practically vibrating with joy, “I’m so happy!!” He smiled softly, leaning back into the sand, holding you to him, “I am too, just let me know next time you’re courting me, I don’t know much about the customs of sirens.” You blinked lightly, leaning up before you realized that he wasn’t a siren, he wouldn’t know about your customs. He thought your embarrassment was cute as he pulled you back down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

            -Thor, Hades, Jack, and Poseidon

[anneapocalypse]

On Cullen's Earnestness

In my current playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition, this one early war table quest caught my eye that I think offers a good bit of insight into Cullen’s character.

In “Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court,” Vivienne alerts Josephine to a letter she’s received from an acquaintance, purporting to “warn” Vivienne of the suspect company she has taken up in joining the Inquisition. The letter reads thus:

My dearest Vivienne,

You cannot have heard the shocking allegations against the Inquisition, or surely you would never have been seen with them. Allow me, as a friend, to open your eyes. People are saying that Divine Justinia is, indeed, alive, but that the Inquisition—her closest advisors and most trusted servants—have orchestrated all this chaos on her orders. That it was Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Nightingale who sabotaged the Conclave in order to eliminate the opposition within the Chantry, and cut off the heads of the mage rebellion and templars in a single stroke. To save your own reputation, you must escape this acquaintance immediately.

With deepest concern, Vicomtesse Elodie de Morreau

In the context of the Game, we may understand that this Vicomtesse, while she may call Vivienne a friend, likely has no great concern for her reputation.

The Inquisition is the horse on which Vivienne is betting in order to better her own position (which is considerably shakier than she lets on, but that’s another post); Vicomtesse Elodie is simply making a different bet. If Vivienne heeds her warnings, and the Inquisition never achieves public favor, then Elodie’s advice was correct and Vivienne is indebted to her. If Vivienne heeds her warnings and the Inquisition does gain public acclaim, then Elodie has disrupted Vivienne’s opportunity for advancement, and she also wins. And if Vivienne does not heed her advice and the Inquisition remains a pariah, Elodie gets to watch Vivienne go down with it, smugly saying “I told you so.” Only if the Inquisition thrives and Vivienne with it does Elodie lose this bet—and Vivienne is clearly interested in seeing that outcome, and helping it come about.

The important thing is that the specifics of the accusations against the Inquisition are absolutely irrelevant here. This conspiracy theory about Justinia being secretly alive and the Left and Right Hand doing a sabotage to secure Chantry power—it’s all nonsense, and I doubt the Vicomtesse truly believes it. More critically, she likely does not care whether it is true. Repeating this rumor is just a means to a desired outcome.

If you’ve ever argued with a conspiracy theorist who seemed to simply change their position every time you backed them into a rhetorical corner, you may have realized that facts are largely ineffective at combating this sort of thing.

And of the three advisors, Cullen is the only one to get hung up on the content of the rumor, rather than its source and its purpose. Josephine and Leliana, seasoned players of the Game, both recognize this stupid rumor for what it is. Both of them ignore the substance of it and instead focus on its purpose: turning public opinion against the Inquisition. Josephine proposes to combat it by seeking noble favor elsewhere and leaving it to those allies to do the work of actually arguing against the rumors. Leliana is more interested in finding out with whom the rumor originated.

Leliana also makes the particularly savvy observation that if they were to combat the rumor by attempting to prove Justinia’s death, they would simply be providing their opponents more ammunition to use against them later. Leliana recognizes that “The Divine is alive, and you’re hiding her!” isn’t an earnest accusation, it’s bait. And if you take the bait, if you say, “Actually the Divine did die; here’s her remains to prove it,” then your enemies can say, “Aha! And how do you know she’s dead? It’s because you people killed her!” Or, best case scenario is they just bait you into wasting a lot of your time proving the accusation false, which is exactly what happens if you let Cullen take the bait.

Again, you might have had a similar experience if you’ve ever tried to “debate” a person whose strategy is making outrageous claims, letting you waste a lot of time earnestly debunking them, and then ignoring all your arguments and simply making another, equally outrageous claim.

In Cullen’s case, what happens is poor Knight-Captain Rylen is tasked with leading a field trip of Orlesian nobles through the grisly ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, while asking them to please not touch the red lyrium, and no, you cannot take a charred corpse home as a souvenir, please milord I must ask you not to touch the red lyrium. I’m sure that was an excellent use of everyone’s time and resources.

But it’s easy to understand why Cullen responds this way! It’s a very instinctual and human response! “Well, you’ve just said a thing that is very obviously untrue. I’ll prove to you that it’s untrue! And this will solve the problem of you being wrong, and then we can all move forward together. Right?”

It’s an eminently reasonable response, so long as you assume that the other party is being reasonable and engaging with you in good faith.

Cullen assumes they are. Josephine and Leliana know they’re not. (Vivienne also knew this; hence her handing the letter over to Josephine to deal with instead of bothering to reply herself.)

And you can probably see how Cullen’s earnestness, his desire to believe that other people are also operating earnestly and in good faith, could lead him down some dangerous paths.

Knight-Commander Meredith was also a conspiracy theorist. The difference is that her conspiracy theories were about people she had near-absolute power over, with terrible consequences. And working under the authority of someone he wanted to believe in, someone he absolutely would have taken as entirely earnest (because in many ways she was earnest, at least in her belief that magic was dangerous and must be controlled), it would have been easy for Cullen to assume she must be acting in good faith, even when his misgivings arose. “She needs a spine of iron to survive her position,” he says to Hawke. And like anyone arguing in bad faith, Meredith could move the goalposts when it suited her. No signs of blood magic discovered? That only proves how well they’re hiding it. The tower must be searched top to bottom. The First Enchanter objects? He must be one of them. Dissent among her own templar ranks? Must be the blood magic controlling their minds. As Dan Olson puts it in his video In Search of a Flat Earth, conspiracy theories make facts subservient to outcomes, which is why the "facts" can easily be rearranged and discarded at will—all that matters is the actions those facts justify.

Of course Meredith’s beliefs were, again, quite different—more dangerous, and far more earnestly held than this silly Orlesian rumor about the Inquisition. She was also under the influence of red lyrium at the height of her paranoia. But conspiracy theories often feed on paranoia, and Meredith’s beliefs were still ultimately beliefs that could be bent to justify the outcome she (and her superior, Grand Cleric Elthina) desired: mages must be controlled, whatever the cost.

Cullen has managed to extricate himself from Meredith’s mindset. But he hasn’t yet learned, I think, that conspiracy theories and irrational beliefs can’t be overcome simply by reason. That’s also very understandable for someone in his position. When you’re in the process of overcoming some very wrong beliefs yourself, things you earnestly believed, it’s very natural to want to believe that everyone else is just as earnest and can be persuaded; in fact, you have a personal stake in believing that, because if other people can be redeemed, that means there’s hope for you.

Do I think this justifies the things Cullen was complicit in during his time as a templar, or any misguided opinions he may voice during his time with the Inquisition? No, that’s not why I’m saying all this. But I think it’s an interesting aspect of his character and one worth exploring. Cullen is often characterized as the blunt instrument advisor, his answer to most war table questions being “send troops”; in Josie’s words “the hammer for whom every problem looks like a nail.” But I think some of his offered solutions do offer compelling insights into his character, and this one certainly does—as well as an interesting example of how this approach to the world and other people can go wrong.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Have you gotten any requests abt First? I simply would like to request some general yan hcs if thats fine. But if not, thats alright. I hope things have been lovely for you dearie <33 (ive just been craving for First food)

Ofc ofc!!

TW: Yandarism but i’m tired so it’s fairly tame if i’m going to be honest, tame by my standards

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Yan!First Headcannons

He has fond memories of his guide. How they skillfully protected him with their insight to ensure his success. He clutched those days of tranquillity close to his heart -or what he believes to be left of it- when he was locked up. When you were ripped away from him by a jealous god’s hand. He tries to focus on the softness of your voice and not the shrill of your screams when you were being made to watch his torment. He was free now. But from what he knows, you aren’t. And on your name he is going to maim the soul that did that to you. Even if it’s the goddess that allowed you to meet in the first place.

That said, he didn’t originally know you were his guide. He was shaken from being thrown into a portal and he was so hurt and you were so kind… It was natural for him to latch to the first bit of care given to him since your first absence.

It didn’t take him remembering -or rather realising- you were his guide until he started his spiral. No. He’s been teetering on the edge for years, and if falling into madness ment falling into your arms, then so be it. With that, he doubles down when he remembers you. Brought together by the gods and fate, how could he not keep you to himself after so long of being on his own?

He thrives on whatever it is you want. He’ll talk or listen to you for days, savouring the calmness in your voice. He’d pull you close in front of everyone and remember every freckle on your skin, every scar that lined it, every hair on your head. He’d write you letters of sonnets and prose, watching you read it with concentration, as if to see that you like it. He’d buy you anything, do anything, say anything, so long as it had your approval.

I see him as either very sneaky and courting you so eloquently that his possessiveness and protectiveness is part of the package. Him showing off that you chose him, that he’s good enough. Him showing off that no matter how much his… predecessors think they have you, you’ve always been his from the beginning. This is with an earlier intro to the chain, him trying to fend off competition as more members begin to fall. A strategy, if you will.

Or he’s on you the second he has consent, not caring for standards so long as you are his and he is yours. A scramble for your attention against your many suitors followers. I see this as First with a later intro where everyone’s already not right in the head. He’s bartering for and peice if you at this point. Any attention you give him will be well spent and obsessed over.

100% kidnapping you the second the chance presents itself. You’ll be married properly, he’ll treat you impeccably well, just be sure to play along.

Fav nicknames for you: My dear, Dearest, My love, My Sun, Flower, Darling, essentially anything classy

BONUS: This single handedly had me questioning if i wanted him and the others in ACU

[simvanie]

Fawzia for @thebramblewood's vampire casting call

Always thought vampires from the Victorian era were old? Or maybe Medieval vampires? Then what about an actual ancient vampire? Fawzia, or Princess Fawzia, was the daughter of one of the pharaoh's in ancient Egypt. She was second in line to become pharaoh if something would happen to her brother, who was the direct heir to the throne. (More of her backstory under the cut).

Since Fawzia is a few thousand years old, she's had a lot of time to optimalize her vampire powers and to learn how to exist among humans as a vampire.

She has traveled a lot and has connections all over the world, especially within the higher circles of the vampire community.

Her time and experiences on earth have made her very wise and extremely charismatic. Therefore, it is common for other vampires to ask for her insight or advice if they have a problem or need help with something.

She still uses the sarcophagus she was buried in to sleep in.

There is almost nothing that catches her off guard since she has seen and experienced it all which causes her emotions to be a bit dampenend.

Fawzia is very observant and likes to sit back preferably with a glass that is filled with a drink of choice in her hand. She lets others make their own mistakes even though she already knows it will be a mistake, because she has experienced that it's an inevitable way of learning.

Fortunately for Fawzia, the way people express themselves through fashion has become increasingly individualistic in recent decades. This means she can now incorporate historical pieces from the era she grew up in into her modern look, without looking too much like an outsider.

She currently resides in Forgotten Hollow because a vampire can't live in the same place for too long. It's a relieve for her to live somewhere where the neighbours don't turn their heads when you feel like you want to walk around with red glowing eyes and your fangs on display.

She realized early on that the only person who would take care of her was herself, which made her very independent. She lives with the attitude that she lives for herself and does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. This doesn't mean that she is impulsive, on the contrary, she always has things well thought through.

She gave up on actual romantic relationships a long time ago, but this does not mean that she doesn't occasionally fulfill her need to have a night full of pleasures with a suitor of her choice.

One of the only fears she has, is to get stuck in a room she can't escape. It has happened more than once that she woke up in a panic because she had nightmares about it.

A very long (and very tragic) backstory 😁 For Fawzia's backstory, we have to go all the way back to the 18th Dynasty in Al Simhara, Egypt. She grew up in the pharaoh's palace with her parents, siblings, members of the royal court, and staff. She was a very intelligent kid and had a happy childhood without too much worries. This changed in the years leading up to her brother being crowned as the next pharaoh. There were rumors among the citizens that someone else would have more right to the throne than Fawzia's brother. As Fawzia found out later, these rumours were started by her father's close advisor, the Grand Vizier, who wanted to become ruler of Egypt himself. The unease among the citizens eventually led to a coup by the advisor and his following. Fawzia still remembres that the whole city was on fire the night it happened.

Fawzia lost track of her family in the chaos as they tried to escape the palace. She was convinced that she wouldn't make it to the morning or that she would be captured by the advisor and forced to marry him to legitimize his claim to the throne. With luck on her side, she managed to get away from the center where the uproar was happening. While she could hear the screams in the distance and her heart pounding in her ears, she quickly made her way through one of the empty personnel hallways. She was almost near the door that would lead her to a secret passage when she stopped abruptly as she came face to face with a pair of red eyes that patiently watched her from the shadows blocking her only escape. If there is one thing about vampires, it's that they thrive during moments of chaos and bloodshed. They are cunning and smart while they operate from the shadows. No one thinks twice if another body falls to the ground in an event were dozens have already died. Fawzia had never encountered a vampire in her life, let alone that she knew of their existence. But this all changed during that dreadful night.

After the coup, the bodies of the royal family were quickly collected by the surviving members of the court, staff, and supporters of the king that had made their way to the palace. They were secretly brought to the priest who was also the royal embalmer, to be mummified before they were brought to their final resting place. As the priest began to prepare Fawzia's seemingly lifeless body for mummification, he got a strong feeling that something was wrong. The priest, who was very spiritual, decided to perform some rituals and prayers to to get answeres from the Egyptian gods in the hope to figure out what to do. Ultimately, he decided to follow his instincts and put Fawzia in her sarcophagus without mummification for the time being while he continued working on the rest of her family first. The mummification process normally takes up a very long time, but since the safety of the bodies under the reign of the new pharaoh was not guaranteed, it was decided that it was better to get the royal family to their respective tombs as soon as possible. This was much to the dismay of the priest, because he could no longer check on Fawzia's remains to further inspect her and to see if he maybe had made a mistake in case she still needed to be mummified. Running out of time, the sarcophagi were placed in the royal tombs, which were then carefully sealed.

The stories about the tragic incident at the palace faded into the background as more time passed. Eventually, the throne was reclaimed by a relative of Fawzia a couple of decades later as the Grand Vizier had passed away and his son, who he had named as successor, was legally forced to give up the throne. Meanwhile, the everyday life in Egypt continued. Including that of some grave robbers who one day decided to see if anything of value could be found in Fawzia's tomb. As they finally made their way through the entrance of the burial chamber after a long day of digging through stones and sand, they were terrified when they realized they looked straight into the princess' red glowing eyes, filled with a look of insatiable thirst. It was the moment the grave robbers wished they had never entered her tomb.