#excuse me I want to go on about how much I love Dragon Attack and The Prophet's Song and Was It All Worth It and March Of The Black Queen

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

Post-JTTW Stone Egged Au asks: Bad Ichor

Amassing some Post-Jttw egg asks with similar vibes of "reject gods. stay monke".

Hehehe many questions - main ref post here. Btw in future try sending one sentence questions/comment as replies to the specfic posts. sometimes I find asks referencing a post and I can't remember which one they're talking about.

Wukong in the au makes a concious effort to inform his cubs and his people of what his mother sacrificed to bring him into the world. Her statue and the paintings on the walls of Waterfall Curtain a tapestry of a ruler more fair and far grander that any celestial in the monkeys minds.

And when their little chaotic Eclipse twins found the Consort's resting place, more of Wukong's parent's sacrifice was uncovered. Along with the King's delayed twin brother Luzhen. The little prince grows up being taught how him and the "larger him" share parents, but they aren't here in person anymore but they love him very much. Luzhen has met his and Wukong's parents during the holidays that allow it and gladly runs up to Yē Lín and Shíhuā calling them "Baba" and "Mama" let he's known them all his life. He misses them a lot. But older Brother/Mama and Bama/Baba are really good to him so he isn't sad for long.

Wukong never lets Heaven realise that Luzhen isn't his biological child, as he fears the Emperor or Queen Mother attempting to sieze custody of Luzhen out of spite. The few higher up that know agree that baby monkeys need to be with monkeys.

Pigsy is still uber confused when Luzhen refers to Wukong as "mama" and "gege" in the same sentence tho.

Mac and Wukong are still super petty tho. They call upon their ancestors during the cubs' naming ceremonies to give their little one's blessings. And along with Shíhuā, Yē Lín and Guanyin making an appearance, the royal couple are invoked to send divine blessings of protection down onto earth. They know who's calling them. They aren't happy about it but they won't hurt the little ones.

MK is still a huge JTTW fan, even more so since to him it's like learning about all this cool stuff his family did back in the Before times! And he was there for a lot it! (even if he wasn't born yet). Him and his childhood besties deduced early on that they have *some* kind of family in the Celestial realm, just not sure who.

As for the Dragons:

Going by Ao Guang still being upset by the theft (barely, in Jttw his wife let Wukong have it), of the Staff, I imagine that dragon can be super petty. Ao Guang doesn't like Sun Wukong at all for the theft and the havoc in heaven, even if he was cordial to him during the Journey.

When the youngest son of the Ao Run/Ji is fatally wounded by the Samadhi Fire, basically every royal dragon had an attack of pstd to when they lost Ao Bing. They started to hate Sun Wukong for his recklessness.

Then DBK, Wukong's older sworn brother and godfather to his young twins, suddenly goes on a rampage forcing Heaven's hands.

The royal dragons basically took DBK's imprisionment as an excuse to bail out. Dragons don't like the gods, and they don't like Sun Wukong.

Mei's parents hadn't wanted to cut ties with the monkeys, but Mei was a super sickly dragon pup and Ao Yi simply couldn't emotionally deal with cutting off her family with that happening... her and Long Chen continue to send Wukong's family birthday presents, card, and the occasional letter - all covert like a spy mission. Other dragons who disagreed with the royals continue this practice as well.

And ofc S4:

:)

Nezha: "Jade Emperor, there's a message for you from Sun Qi Xiaotian." Jade Emperor & Queen Mother: (*super intrigued! Did he find out about their connection?*) JE: "Send him in." Nezha, peaks head out of window: "Yeah he's in." MK: (*busts through wall like a Looney tunes character, shaking with anxiety*) MK, like he's on fast-forward: "Mister Jade Emperor sir I'm so sorry but Azure Lion's got this memory scroll and he trapped my family in it. He tricked me and my friends into freeing his old buddies from the Brotherhood but he wont let my mom loose and NOW he has my baby sister and little bro (it's complicated) and they're on their way here right now to kill you and my powers are glitching out and I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!" JE: "Uhhh..." Queen Mother, rolls her eyes and turns to her entourage: "Prepare the safehouse. Contact all the bodhisattvas and the Kings of Hell, and tell our armies to be ready for a big game hunt. And get this child some peaches." MK: (*heavily breathing/mid-panic attack. gives thumbs up*) Mei, peaking her head in: "Wow. Girl bossing!" Nezha: "And Sun Wukong my lady?" Queen Mother: (*looks over MK like he's the most precious thing in the universe. like she doesn't want to let him leave*) Queen Mother: "For the sake of my daughter... find Sun Wukong's mate the Six Eared Macaque. He knows those Brotherhood brutes well. It's the least he can do for giving my grandson such distress with that disappearing act." Rumble & Savage, appear from the Queen Mother's shadow: "Do we gets peaches too?" "I like melon better." Queen Mother: "Who are these?" MK, calming down: "My older little siblings. They're twins. Azure didn't take them. Probably because he couldn't catch them." Rumble & Savage, proudly flexing: "We're too fast!" "And we got our bama's powers!" Queen Mother: (*notices little red tiger-stripe-like markings on the twins' bodies*) "OH!!!! He had twins! My love! More wàizēngsūnérnǚ! Twins too!!" JE: (*frozen stiff on his throne, completely shocked*) "Can the brown one repeat what he said about celestial beasts coming to kill me?" MK, blanking at QM's use of chinese: "Did the Queen just say-" Orchard Maidens, quickly shuffling the Noodle Gang out of the Throne Room: "SO! How about those peaches?" "You'll learn soon enough." "Sorry, but we're going into lockdown." "He's taller than didi!" "Must be mother's genes that did that."

Basically MK is calling in the big guns early cus he's panicking, abd accidentally uncovers the fact that he's somehow the great-grandchild (by reincarnation nonsense) of the two rulers of Heaven!?

All he wanted when all this Scroll nonsense happened was a day off!

[persephone1700]

Can we please talk about the magnificent and sorrowful 4th episode of House of the Dragon?

No friends of mine are interested in HOTD and I found myself with so much to say, so here it goes. (English is not my first language so please excuse me if there are any garamtical horrors!)

The bond between dragons and their riders it's exquisite.

In the books Rhaenyra refuses to send Jace and Vermax, still haunted by the death of Luke she doesn't want to sacrifice another son, and instead sent Rhaenys.

Now it's the queen who never was, who volunteers to go, on service of her queen, knowing what must be done, and with full love and confidence of her mighty Meleys.

I believe that dragons choose their riders based on their personalities and the affinity they have.

We saw Vhagar, ridden previously by the bravest and mighty Targaryens, accept the bond with Aemond, a little boy too eager to prove himself worthy, a boy who was bullied and found a escape route on books and trainings, hardening himself.

But in Aegon... we see a boy who, much like his brothers and sister, has been neglected and doesn't understand much about love.

We saw him at first be mean, laughing and teasing others, prone to mischief and swinging ale. A boy who doesn't know what to do in certain occasions and seeks the refugee of his mother, never quite finding it.

What does it say about a boy like Aegon forming a strong lasting bond with the most beautiful dragon? A question that haunted me for a while.

On yesterday's episode, we saw how beautiful and magnificent Sunfyre is, going towards his rider, playfully nudging Aegon's chest for a pat, the resemblance of a smile appearing on its face when Aegon strokes him.

For the first time we see Aegon truthfully smile. The first display of love we see him feel is from his dragon!

At Rooks Rest, we see an inexperienced dragon flew to battle with his rider, willingly, because of this bond.

Sunfyre's cry was extremely painful to hear, and we saw them fall rapidly, both dragon and rider in pain. When Cole finds Aegon, Sunfyre still broken, creates a nest for his rider.

Yes, at first we are led to see everything he has done wrong, some of his actions cannot be forgiven (diana for example).

But in Tom's Aegon we see the boy who's neglected, seeking guidance, seeking love and comfort, quite funny even, a boy who doesn't wish for the throne or to rule, who questions himself what kind of a brother would he be if he stole his sister's birthright?

I'd like to believe that when Sunfyre chose Aegon, he saw all that hurt in him, all the love that he needed and was denied. The beautiful golden beast, saw something good on Aegon.

Leaving behind the greens, because I refuse to talk about Aemonds betrayal now, otherwise I'll spend hours and hours talking about it and I'm still shocked.

I'll just say that Ewans performance never dissapoints, makes you absolutely understand his ambition and motives, you found yourself even rooting for him after everything he has done.

On an even sadder subject, let's focus again on the blacks and Rhaenys.

Absolutely devastated by that last sequence. Meleys and Rhaenys off to battle again, the dragon always trusting it's rider, attacking ferociously even though they were doomed the moment Vhagar appeared, and Rhaenys facing her destiny with grace.

A woman who deserved to be queen, we saw her defend Rhaenyras claim constantly, from Corlys, from Daemon, from Rhaenyras small council... every time loyal to the cause that she believed in, til the last. Dying side by side with his old friend.

Eve Best as Rhaenys Targaryen was just phenomenal.

-CG/ persephone1700

Let me hear your opinions please!

[gulnarsultan]

I have a scenario or script that I wanted to share, but it’s really big and I apologise for it.

I know that many people were afraid of the Conquerors. But there was one person that wasn’t afraid of them. One that the Conquerors couldn’t control and tame. One day Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys were in castle of some House and when they were about to leave, they noticed a beautiful and young woman. Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys become obsessed with her and want to take her with them. “Don’t even try” some commoner said, “Excuse me?” Yandere Rhaenys replied. The commoner later explains to Conquerors that Reader (young and beautiful woman) is someone you shouldn’t mess with. Reader is a very strong warrior and prefers to be alone, she can go to anywhere and fight and kill any creature, even dragons weren’t safe from her. Not to mention Reader has magic like healing wounds and self healing as well.

Commoner: “In other words, she’s very powerful, so powerful that she can kill with the snap of her fingers and it would be difficult for you to get close to her.”

Yandere Conquerors are just standing there for a moment and then Yandere Visenya asked “Why should we believe you?” And Commoner replied “Because I know my best friend very well.” Still that didn’t stop Yandere Conquerors. And so Rhaenys, Aegon and Visenya spend time with Reader, which was difficult, but still they managed. And then they asked Reader to go with them, saying that she would love that place. Reader replies “Fine, I’ll go with you.” When they get to Dragonstone, the Conquerors spend more time with her, but start isolating her and (you know) overbearing and so, one time Reader wanted to leave, “Sorry, dear but you’re not going anywhere.” Yandere Aegon replied and his sisters standing next to him.

Reader: “Huh? Why not? You can’t just keep me here locked in the chambers.”

Yandere Visenya: “We can and we will, if you disobey.”

Yandere Rhaenys: “And we have decided to marry you.”

Reader is quite and stares at them for a few minutes. “Yea well, that won’t happen. And I’m going out.” Before Yandere Conquerors do or say something, Reader snaps her fingers and disappears right in front of them (teleports herself). This action made Targaryens worried as hell, then they remember the Commoner’s words and realise that everything what he said was true. And that means Reader can kill dragons, no matter how big and old they are. But they have to deal with Dorne. And do you remember that Rhaenys would die, during conquering the Dorne? Welp, that won’t happen. When she was falling with Meraxes, Reader saved her by teleporting her in air, grabbing her body and teleporting with her on the ground not far from where Meraxes fell.

Reader: “Phew, that was close. Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere? Sorry I didn’t save your dragon.” Yandere Rhaenys was holding Reader close, saying “thank you” for saving her life. Meanwhile dornish soldiers were coming to attack. “Stay right behind me, I need to deal with them.” And Reader was fighting with the whole army alone, which scared Rhaenys. Luckily Aegon and Visenya were close by on top of their dragons only to see as Reader snapped her fingers and dornish army was turned to ashes. “There, it’s done.”- Reader replied, going back to Rhaenys, making sure she was okay, only for both of them to see dragons and Visenya and Aegon. “What are you?” Yandere Aegon asked. “Someone you shouldn’t mess with.” Reader replies.

Man, this script is too long. Sorry for that, I just wanted to write in details. The reason why I wrote it is because I wondered what if Reader was much stronger than Yandere Targaryens. Targaryens have dragons and they’re unstoppable, but what if there was someone who could stop them and their dragons.

So, what do you think about it? I’d like to hear it. Also how would Yandere Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys react to witness the scene, when Reader snapped fingers and dornish army turned into ashes? Separately if you can. And how would they react when Reader agrees to marry them? Not only Conquerors have a wife but also someone powerful. The reason why Reader left, because she didn’t want to get attached to them, also because she can outlive them all.(All Targaryens) The Commoner has told Reader about Rhaenys’s death, that’s how Reader managed to get just in time.

That’s it, sorry for my rambling.

Hello. Don't worry. It doesn't matter how long the script is. On the contrary, I like that you share your ideas and scenarios with me. It is possible to have a strong readership among the Targaryens. Honestly, before you sent this script, I was always thinking about this change.

"The Targaryen's dragon won't be a problem if it is destroyed without giving orders."

Maybe the reader is a powerful witch or wizard. Maybe it's another powerful race. In fact, one of the three reasons for the reader to flee from Fatih is that he does not want to experience heartbreak. However, there are other reasons. The reader refuses to be restricted and take orders. The reader does not see himself as the fragile Princess to be locked in the tower. Visenya and Aegon are now indebted to the reader. Moreover, they understood how strong he was. Rhaenys looks at the reader as her hero. So now the reader is his superhero. I think she's getting married because they accept the reader's rules. Your article is not nonsense at all. It's great.

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Okay so I honestly haven’t been active on tumblr in forever. But if I’m ever thinking of star wars, I like to take a peek at your blog because I feel like you are one of the few who loves Luke as much as I do. But what I want rn is to give my two cents on this whole acolyte thing. And I hope you don’t think I am trying to come at/attack you or anything of the sort. This is just my (somewhat complicated?) take on things. Sorry if this gets super long. I have many thoughts. And I hope I don’t confuse at all while trying to explain! Unfortunately, I’m not very eloquent lol. Anyway:

Personally? I’m kinda intrigued by the Osha/Qimir dynamic. And this is coming from someone who honestly severely disliked the sequels—especially kylo and reylo (but a lot of it was due to fandom bs as well). I mean, I’ll admit some of it is due to my own bias because this time around I’m glad both of the actors are hot and they are both absolutely acting their asses off. And maybe there hasn’t been enough for you in the show (I get it tbh, the episodes are short and there’s only so much you can do with 8 episodes and this is honestly a problem with D+ and a lot of streaming services now), but I can see what Leslye was aiming for with the dynamic. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is one of my fave movies so I definitely see the influence. But Headland did also point out that a lot of enemies to lovers is about one character going “I know there’s good in you!” or what the hell ever—and Osha didn’t do that. That’s something I can appreciate whereas in TLJ it seemed like Rey was all about freaking Kylo and was convinced there was still good in him even though the literal day before he had nearly killed both her and Finn.

I do disagree about there being no manipulation, though. Qimir IS being honest and vulnerable, but clearly he hopes to gain something with Osha from that. But whereas I didn’t buy any of it with Rey and Kylo, I can see how and why Osha might fall to the dark side. She is clearly conflicted about everything from her emotions to her very own identity. But Qimir is offering her a sense of clarity about that AND on her past. Osha loves and admires Sol deeply of course, but he has obviously been keeping something huge from her. And if it turns out he was majorly involved with whatever happened to her coven, it makes sense that Osha would then embrace whatever negative emotions that are brewing within her (even if Sol was slightly less involved the fact that he knew and never told her should rightfully make her angry). It will obviously destroy whatever faith she had left in the Jedi, but imo she might begin to question how it makes the Jedi any different from Qimir.

And now that I’ve explained that, I also wanted to say how I felt about some of the discourse. Fandom feuds are always annoying, but now that I’m essentially on the other side...? I’ve gotta say I am low-key offended and high-key pissed over it. I mean, if ppl don’t like Qimir or the relationship between him and Osha—fine. But I’ve seen some absolutely disgusting comments over this. Like someone on twitter (who ss a post of yours too) who was calling Leslye Headland’s lesbianism into question. Like idc if you don’t like the ship but there is literally no need for discussing her sexuality like that just because she likes a problematic ship you hate (which she literally created so idk what ppl expected anyways)!!! And then there are the “fans” (I use that term lightly) insulting Manny Jacinto’s looks (which is ridiculous cause the man is hot idgaf). And I honestly think that shit is hypocritical af since a lot of these ppl are fans who were rightfully upset at reylo/kylo stans for saying similar disgusting things about actual people.

I like quite a few villains in multiple fandoms, so to me it seems like the same ridiculous arguments. There’s nothing wrong with liking a fictional character who happens to be a villain. As long as no one’s trying to make excuses for their heinous actions (jokes are another thing) I don’t think it matters. It’s literally not that deep imo. And liking said problematic characters does not have anything to do with people’s real life morals. That’s just bullshit.

And again, it’s actually INCREDIBLY fucking hypocritical, ESPECIALLY coming from star wars fans who have been sexualizing villains like Darth Maul, Thrawn, and a young freaking Darth Vader for YEARS. But now it’s a problem with Qimir????? Not to mention the romanticization of other literal problematic ships like anidala or reylo. And I’ll be honest—as a Filipina????? I do feel like some of this is racially motivated because literally WHAT is the difference with Qimir and Osha/Qimir versus all of these other characters and ships?????? I think that’s what gets me heated is the hypocrisy of it all. And of course the fact that it’s all fictional anyway so I don’t know why it should fucking matter to some people if fans like a character or ship that they don’t.

Anyways...I think this is essentially all of my thoughts on the matter. Again, I hope I didn’t come across as rude or like I was attacking you. Like I said, it IS a bit complicated for me. Because as someone who hardly liked anything from the sequels, I was definitely cringing at the multiple mentions of reylo and kylo in Leslye’s recent interview. And yet....I see the vision.

hey!! so, there's a lot here and I do actually want to talk about all of it! I really appreciate you approaching this with nuance and being open to have a conversation. I'm gonna number my responses just so I know I covered everything I wanted to talk about and everything you mentioned.

One: I don't think there's anything wrong with being intrigued by a character dynamic like Osha and Qimir's, in fact I actually do find it very interesting from a psychological standpoint myself. I also don't think there's anything wrong with depicting a character dynamic like Osha and Qimir's, with one caveat, which is that you have to recognize it for what it is. I truly would LOVE star wars to approach it with the angle of "hey, this is how people can weaponize your own emotions against you, especially how a man may try (and even succeed) in manipulating a woman this way," and particularly what that looks like with the Force, because a LOT of Jedi and Sith principles are based around the acceptance (or aggravation!) of emotions. I think that's a totally interesting plot line that would actually be super fascinating to see. I also find it believable that Osha could, theoretically, be convinced by Qimir and turn (in fact I think your entire third paragraph is a very valid interpretation of what has happened so far). It's not that I don't think these are fascinating possibilities to explore. It's not that I don't think Osha joining the dark side is out of the question or even unreasonable, whatever the reason.

In fact, pre-interview, almost all of my criticism was pointed at the way the fandom immediately jumps to believing everything Qimir is saying without thinking critically about how he could be lying to Osha to get her to act the way that he wants her to. This comes from an intense place of frustration dealing with fandom in general who excuse the violent actions of men towards women (which is the reason why that one post doesn't actually even name Qimir or Osha, even though I did tag their names, since it applies to like a half dozen ships I can think of off the top of my head). In fact, I praised the writing of the acolyte in my breakdown post, assuming that Headland was purposefully creating all the cunning ways Qimir talks to Osha and all the tactics he appears to be using to manipulate her, and that this would be plot relevant. Whether Osha realized she was being manipulated and snapped out of it, or whether she never realized it, and fell to the dark side, and what that would mean for her, etc.

However, post-interview, things are different. No more am I simply dealing with a fandom that is willfully misinterpreting a toxic relationship as romantic, I am now dealing with the showrunner herself saying lots of things that disturb me. I can give her credit for not pulling the "there's good in him" card, but that's about as good as I can do. Headland may say that she does not intend the relationship to be manipulative, that she intends for Osha and Qimir to be equals, but if what she has presented to us onscreen does not read that way, then she has failed to accurately convey her message as the showrunner. You and I agree that Qimir is manipulating Osha, yet Headland says the opposite. I now have a showrunner for Star Wars, a massive franchise viewed by thousands, giving interviews saying that there is nothing wrong with this man's relationship with this young woman, but continuing to show the opposite. She can't have it both ways. The statement "Osha and Qimir are equals," is simply so far removed from the reality of what Headland has presented Qimir to be (a conniving man who is strong enough in the Force to eliminate a dozen Jedi at a time, and is so callus that he calls a girl an "it" after he's murdered her) that it's such an unbelievable statement I actually can't even believe people are buying it. I'm not saying that to be mean; what makes Qimir and Osha equals? Genuinely? That he cooks soup sometimes? That he disrobed in front of her? What about this relationship is equal?

Here's my bottom line when it comes to this discourse: I am sick of seeing young women getting treated like shit by men, and it getting romanticized as hot and desirable instead of what it is. I am sick of it whether the fandom does it, I am sick of it whether the showrunner does it, I am sick of it whether people in real life or in fiction do it, and I am allowed to feel that way.

Two: I won't be insulting Manny Jacinto in any capacity. He's doing a good job as an actor. I have acknowledged in past posts that he is obviously an attractive man.

If you think Qimir is hot, please, by all means, feel free to sexualize him in the manner that others sexualize Thrawn or Maul or anyone else. I'm an advocate of self insert fanfiction and of course (within reason), would find nothing wrong with that.

I am generally not a villain-lover, but there is nothing wrong with finding villains attractive or compelling! I haven't said there is. I have said that there's a problem within fandom and now literally within the media itself, with recognizing when a young woman is being mistreated by someone, sometimes because a lot of you are far more lenient on attractive men. The reylo fandom took this about twenty steps too far from 2015-2019 to the point where if you ask some of them, they still don't think Kylo even WAS the villain, and Headland is rapidly encouraging fans to take that angle with Qimir though I have given evidence to the contrary in spades.

There is a lot to be said about whether or not fiction affects reality. I believe it does, but I obviously do not believe that liking an evil character makes you evil. That being said, while not all fiction has a moral, all fiction has a theme, and you as the audience do take lessons from themes, whether you realize it or not; it sticks with you and may help you form your opinion on a similar set of circumstances you may come face-to-face with later. Fiction affects our feelings on a situation. A disturbing theme I'm seeing a LOT of in Star Wars lately is men being cruel to women in one way or another and the women finding it attractive and acceptable. Of course, depiction is not automatically endorsement... until we have now literally seen this type of relationship fully endorsed by Lucasfilm showrunners and directors twice in a row. Tweens and teenage girls *will* watch the sequel trilogy and the acolyte... what are they taking away from it? From what the director or showrunner has said about it? Honestly, this is much less about fandom to me now, and more about how official creators are treating these dynamics.

Three and finally and most important: I'm sorry that you've been seeing things like that being said about Headland, I think that's bizarre, rude, and uncalled for. I often do not go looking in fandom spaces anymore so I have not seen this, but that doesn't mean it's not out there. I generally do not trust Headland's creative input anymore, nor do I necessarily even like her, HOWEVER, I have not and will not make any such comment on her sexuality as it has nothing to do with any of this. I don't know which post of mine they screenshot, and I'd like more information actually, if they are using my post to say I think those things too, but regardless, I would not say this about her, or about anyone, and I don't condone it.

This is absolutely not racially motivated from me and I want to make that absolutely clear. I have been vehemently anti-reylo since the day I learned it existed, so I hope that you do not feel as though I am speaking out against the way that the Osha and Qimir storyline has been handled out of such a place, and I would never want anything to come across that way in any of my analysis or critiques. You will find I usually have less to say about anidala, seeing as the majority of the fandom does not depict Anakin as "doing nothing wrong" in that relationship, nor does the source material, so I feel I do not have to explain as much as I do with reylo and now Osha/Qimir. I want to make that absolutely clear that this type of relationship being presented in this type of way is a huge red flag for me regardless of the races of the characters involved. If you refer to the fandom at large, I don't want to invalidate your experiences, and don't know what other people are saying or what their reasons are. Unfortunately the acolyte fandom has been riddled with homophobia and racism since before the first episode even aired, and I want to make it clear that I think all of that is entirely unacceptable and that my critiques have nothing to do with either of those hateful ideologies.

[glacierbash]

transfem ysayle headcanons?? 👀

hi bestie hi you're absolutely fueling me today thank you so very much. okokok. so. i've been trying to compile my thoughts in a way that reads as mostly understandable but I just physically cannot, so please excuse my entirely disconnected rambles, I'm GOING to try and make a point in the end (and also i know that anything you specifically may know about ysayle is probably through Post Osmosis so if you have any questions about her ask me I will talk about her for actual HOURS) also final "disclaimer" that's actually just "haha funny story:" this headcanon first came to me in a DREAM months ago, and i couldn't remember what point I had made in my dream until like 2 days ago while talking with my partner, which is why I'm so eager to talk about it now. Literally came to me in a dream. ok with that all out of the wayyyyy

Generally, this hc comes from two different places: Symbolism in the story, and actual, factual, "wow this makes sense and I can point to pieces in the story that make me believe this." With regards to the first half, I point to Ysayle's overarching story: Desperation for change. So much of Ysayle's character motivation comes from this genuine need to see the world changed for the better, to the point of being willing to do anything that she deems necessary. She's extreme, but it comes from desperation (for you specifically, the best way I could think to describe Ysayle is Anders, if blowing up the Chantry was the wrong decision). Furthermore, all of Ysayle's ice theming--ice is something that can change, and remarkably easily, too. There is something to be said that in embodying the cold that defines her, Ysayle allows herself to live a more genuine life. She's change encompassed within a woman, for better and for worse. When she sees the white dragon from her visions as a child after everybody she knew is killed, she is almost reborn in a way--perhaps in this rebirth, she decides to live a life more authentic to herself.

and then, there's her deep connection with Shiva within the story. In FF14, Shiva is a figure from loooong ago who fell in love with the white dragon previously mentioned, Hraesvelgr, and chose to have him consume her so that their souls may never part. Big story about love, and Shiva's influence upon him is the reason Hraesvelgr remained a peaceful figure as much as he REALLY wanted to start blowing shit up. Ever since she was a child, Ysayle saw visions of Shiva and Hraesvelgr, and my idea was that she very much attached her identity to Shiva, even before she had the words to describe how she was feeling about her gender. As she grew older, she related more and more to Shiva, even as the visions scared her--this longing to be like her, even if she didn't know why. Of course, after Ysayle survives the avalanche that kills everybody she knows, what does she have if not her visions to cling to more? As Ysayle decides to rally the heretics to fight against the Holy See and try to end the war, she hails Shiva as a saint, truly claiming her as part of herself.

This connection to Shiva, this claiming of her, goes hand in hand with Ysayle fully embracing her gender identity, going so far as to conjure up a false god that is meant to be Shiva, this completely idolized being that is everything Ysayle needs to be. And then, when Hraesvelgr denies Ysayle's creation, claiming it to be a mockery of his beloved Shiva, is that not ripping apart Ysayle's identity? She has spent so long attaching to this woman from her visions, this figure she idolizes, to the point of, again, creating a false god to embody, only to be told by the one living being that knew her, you will never be her. It's beyond devastating--it is no wonder that it sends Ysayle into an absolute spiral.

Of course, what of when she shows of to stop the heretics attacking Ishgard? Saying "there is no more war. There is no more reason to keep fighting." it's almost as though Ysayle is peeling herself away from Shiva, trying to stand on her own as her own woman, being her own figure not dictated by this dream she wanted to attain. And then, come the First Flight of the Excelsior, wherein Ysayle rides upon dragon's back to save us? It is as herself. There is no Lady Iceheart, and the Shiva she conjures is not defined by her idolizing dreams--it is Ysayle, as she longs to be, desperate to save us all.

(And of course x2, this makes me even more feral for "Ysayle lived" aus, where ysayle is given not just a second but a third chance at life, and she doesn't feel like she has to earn it. Her life isn't dictated by war, or by loss, or by violence, or by dreams from her youth. She's finally given a future to decide what she wants to do. She's fought for her future and won. her old child-like self who dreamed of a better world, who wanted to know why she felt so connected to the white-haired woman from her terrifying visions, doesn't know it--but one day they'll be happy. one day, they'll be free. One day, it'll all be worth it. One day.)

[bohemian-nights]

You want to self-insert to Netty so badly you want to put a brown teen girl to be groomed and be placed in between an ongoing marital dispute. It's disgusting how you talk about her. You want her to "save" some evil man from evil "dumbnyra" liek your misogyny is so transparent. You sound like every delusional 'i can fix him' stan. You hate this character so much you weaponize another woman for it. If you don't see the racial and social undertones in the way daemon grooms her (e.g. teaching her about hygiene and manners) there is something wrong with you for you to want this pairing. Some of us netty enjoyers like her because she's an underdog claiming a wild dragon. We don't want to see her as a prop to some man's "redemption" like you so want here.

One, you won’t even acknowledge that Netty is Black. Why am I going to take your claims of misogyny seriously when you and yours perpetuate Black erasure and misogynoir?

Two, Nettles is an adult by Westeros standards.

Three, I have stated numerous times I don’t believe someone who could tame a wild dragon didn’t know how to bathe herself(and if you believe she could not bathe herself yet she could claim Sheepstealer that’s a reflection on your perception of a character like Netty. You can drop the I’m a fan of Netty act).

Nettles was a homeless young woman. She didn’t have access to bathing facilities, but she definitely knew how soap and water worked 🙃Daemon more than likely taught her etiquette for court life and he gifted her things that she didn’t have because again she was freaking homeless 🤦🏽‍♀️ He did what he did because he loved her and wanted to make sure that she’d be able to navigate in her new life. Not because he was grooming her.

Daemon isn’t a good person. He’s selfish and he commits some of the most heinous acts during the Dance. However, he isn’t a total monster. He has his moments and Netty is one of them.

If he had actually groomed her and didn’t genuinely love her he would've let Rhaenyra’s orders be carried out(or he would’ve gone back “home”) because she had become an inconvenience.

Four, Netty more than likely will be aged up on the show. So since you won’t be able to say but but 17 isn’t legal in our world, you guys will need to come up with a better excuse not to ship Dettles than “OMG you want her to be groomed.”

Five, do I have to quote myself again🙃 You want to talk about racial undertones yet you won’t acknowledge that the one who abused/tried to abuse Nettles was Rhaenyra. She’s the one who tries to commit a racially motivated hate crime after saying her husband can sleep around(see Mysaria whose white in the books), but just not with Black women and he most certainly can’t fall in love with them. I don’t have to make Rhaenyra into a villain. She is one when it comes to Netty 🤷🏽‍♀️

White women can be just as harmful to Black women as men(Rhaenyra shows that). The sisterhood often doesn't extend to us so miss me with the misogyny crap when there is a white woman calling a Black woman a “low creature” and trying to murder a her(when she’s possibly pregnant) in her sleep all over sleeping with her husband who she has an open relationship with.

So let’s not get it twisted, I’m not weaponizing my fave to attack yours. I’m pointing out the wrongdoings of your fave to mine. Wrongdoings which you ignore because pointing out even a fictional white woman’s racism makes you uncomfortable.

Lastly, I care about Nettles as a whole. I’m constantly talking about her, creating gifs and moodboards for her, and speculating on her casting(which is a whole other fiasco), but you people always zero in on me shipping her with her Daemon (which is canon, but you people want to ignore it cause it makes your self-insert look like she’s not the end all be all).

Nettles story is more than just her relationship with Daemon(and I don’t think she “fixes him,” he comes to realize a lot of stuff himself of what is and isn’t important during the Dance), but he’s very much a part of that story, and as I’ve said before, showing Black women in romantic relationships in media is important.

We don’t need any more strong independent Black women who don’t need a man stereotypes perpetuated. So if you want to ignore that to try and make their relationship abusive(when it isn’t), or make her into a sexless Mammy who only lives to serve Rhaenyra because that’s the position you are comfortable with Black women being in, that’s a you and your inherent biases issue.

You guys refuse to acknowledge the importance of her relationship with Daemon because you don’t and never will identify with or self-insert into Black characters. You’re never forced to see Black character's humanity. You just see them as accessories to your actual self-inserts and since Nettles isn’t a stereotype(she’s objectively one of the more interesting characters in the Dance and she's the girl getting rescued) you want to make her into one.

Don’t get mad at me for recognizing and calling out you people on your crap. Do better.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 24: Scouting and Discoveries

Spoilers. Unending spoilers. Don't look.

We have the dice icon here because it's a Mat chapter. Not a lot going on luckwise, except a particularly chance encounter.

Two serving women came bustling with hot water and a tray heavy with food, laughing and telling him how much better he looked already, and how soon he would be back on his feet if he did what the Aes Sedai told him.

Mat is a rather compulsively defiant guy at times, so I don't think he'd like hearing this about any group, let alone one that he's naturally suspicious of.

Opening the door, he peeked out. More doors paneled in pale, golden wood lined the hall, with colorful tapestries between, and a runner of blue carpet ran down the white-tiled floor. But there was no one out there. No guard.

Probably best for Mat to learn now that just because there's no one around doesn't mean there's no guard.

She’s a pretty one, even if she does have her nose in the air half the time.

Thus was born both the more straightforward fandom polycule where the various canonical romances take place but also Mat and Elayne hook up, and the gayer one where Mat joins the polycule (often outright replacing Min, since I guess his losing an eye makes him a better fit for the crone). I'm not a shipping type but I could see it I guess.

As they worked they talked and laughed among themselves like men after the harvest. Now and again one of them looked curiously at Mat as he strolled among them, but none challenged his right to be there.

Mat does not clue into the fact that he's interesting to them because they all know who he is and how unusual his circumstances are.

“Whitecloaks do be poking their noses into every village for ten miles. They have no hurt anyone yet, but them just being there do upset the folk. Fortune prick me if I do no think they wish to provoke us, for they do look as if they would attack if they could. No good for anyone who do want to travel.”

This guard almost certainly has the right of it. The Whitecloaks would love an excuse to scream about Aes Sedai brutality.

But you do have the look of the fellow who did try to sell me the Horn of Valere three days gone. So he did claim it did be, all bent and battered as it did be. Do you have a Horn of Valere to sell?

If Mat could sell off his connection to the Horn, he absolutely would.

He had simply meant to find out how well his description had been passed around. If only the officers among the bridge guards had had it, he might have been able to slip by. He had always been good at slipping into places unseen. And out. It was a talent you developed when your mother always suspected you were up to some mischief and you had two sisters to tell on you.

If you think this is oddly bad luck on Mat's part, it isn't! It's good luck that he didn't have a chance to try and sneak out across the bridge or he would have missed Thom altogether and would never have made it to Caemlyn or Tear in time.

A girl in novice white appeared ahead on the path, striding purposefully toward him. Wrapped in her own thoughts, she did not see him at first.

No, it's Lanfear who's having bad luck, because this is her in disguise.

Her manner was not as he remembered, either; he thought she could give Elayne lessons now. “I have . . . work to be about. Let me by.”

Lanfear's surprisingly bad at this. Of course, she probably picked Else on the grounds that no one would know her all that well or care if they saw her.

He was not the only audience. Not ten paces from him, half a dozen women with ageless Aes Sedai faces and as many more in the banded white dresses of the Accepted stood watching one pair of students, bare to the waist and slick with sweat, under the guidance of a Warder shaped much like a block of stone.

Get a grip ladies! It's just two sexy and half-naked twenty-something dudes beating the shit out of each other- Excuse me. I need five minutes.

The golden-haired man met every lightning attack, turning it away before the bound strips could strike him, and even launched an occasional attack of his own. But the handsome fellow countered those attacks and flowed back into his own in the space of a heartbeat.

This ends up being foreshadowing for who survives the Demandred duels and who doesn't, I suppose.

“You can rest till I finish my pipe. But rest fast; I am almost in the dottle.”

"Dottle" is the stuff left over in the pipe after you've smoked; the ashes and anything that didn't fully burn.

Egwene blushed whenever Galad was mentioned, though she seemed to think no one noticed.

Another orphaned reference to the intended man Egwene would end up with.

“I do have a sense of humor, Gawyn,” Galad said with a frown. “You only think I do not because I do not care to mock people.”

I wonder who it is that Gawyn tried to mock with Galad. Of course, since the answer is ultimately, "the palace staff or the people", it doesn't paint a great picture of Gawyn regardless.

Perhaps it was that they both clearly thought he was making a wild boast. Perhaps it was because he had mishandled questioning the guardsman. Perhaps it was because Else, who had such an eye for the boys, wanted nothing to do with him, and all those women were staring at Galad like cats watching a jug of cream. Aes Sedai and Accepted or not, they were still women. All these explanations ran through Mat’s head, but he rejected them angrily, especially the last. He was going to do it because it would be fun.

They're all true. Mat does want to have fun because he's feeling so thwarted and cooped up, he's jealous of the positive attention the boys are getting, and he wants to show off.

The Warder eyed Mat up and down doubtfully. “Are you sure you’re up to this, lad? Now I take a close look at you, you ought to be in a sickbed.”

Hammar might be down to shame the fuck out of these princes, but he's a good enough guy that he doesn't want to send Mat back in for more Healing if it can be helped.

Hammar gave him an odd look. “You speak the Old Tongue, lad?”

Mat's subconscious Old Tongue usage treats this practice fight as exactly as serious as a pitched battle against Trollocs and that's fucking hilarious. Also I'm pretty sure that this is the first usage of Mat's catchphrase, "Dovie'andi se tovya sagain," except of course we only get the translated version this time.

Galad hesitated a moment more before growling, “Done, then. Let us put an end to this farce.”

Even Galad has a point where he won't stick to his niceties.

But he could feel it creeping back in, the wobbly feeling, the hunger as if he had not eaten for days.

The Wheel's pretty clearly trying to teach Mat not to be the hesitant type, considering how many circumstances he's going to end up in later on.

With a groan, Galad folded over, fighting not to fall. The staff quivered in Mat’s hands, on the point of a final crushing thrust to the throat. Galad sank to the ground.

Again, Mat is taking this fight far more seriously than he really should be. Normally he's not the guy who has trouble restraining himself against opponents he shouldn't be killing.

“During his lifetime, Jearom fought over ten thousand times, in battle and single combat. He was defeated once. By a farmer with a quarterstaff! Remember that. Remember what you just saw.”

This theme that nothing and no one is truly unbeatable comes up a bit in Jordan's work - Rand might be the Dragon Reborn and the savior, but that doesn't mean he'll win all his campaigns, the Seanchan's Ever-Victorious Army runs into its own problems, everyone who gets into combat runs into someone who can kick their ass.

“Not as good as my da. He’s won the quarterstaff at Bel Tine every year as long as I can remember, except once or twice when Rand’s da did.” That interested look came back into Gawyn’s eyes, and Mat wished he had never mentioned Tam al’Thor.

Mat will never learn to control his tongue, even though this is a great object lesson in why he should. I don't think the Wheel was trying to prep him otherwise though, more like giving him a foreshadowing of the problems that will haunt him all his launt.

“It doesn’t matter. Just rest assured that the worst Galad has to worry about is finding himself Warder to a Green Aes Sedai before his head clears.” He laughed. “No, they would not do that. But I will wager you those two marks of mine in your hand that some of them wish they could.”

This sets up how messed up it's going to be when Alanna takes Rand as a Warder, though Gawyn is rather flippant about it. He's in the right demographic to be flippant about sexual assault though, so that's just in-character.

“Manetheren.” Mat froze when he heard the name come out of his mouth. “I mean, I’m from the Two Rivers. I have heard too many old stories.”

Considering that Mat probably recently had a different life in Manetheren... Ah well. Boy couldn't even control his mouth if he wanted to.

[chainofmoon]

In the Shadows of Our Disoriented Love - Chapter One

A Sebastian x Ominis x Reader story originally published on my AO3 under the same pseudonym. If found elsewhere, it’s not posted by me. This work will only be found on my Tumblr and AO3. Do not repost, but reblogging is welcomed.

“Most people are lucky to have even one great love in their life. You have found two.” -Clockwork Princess

one || two

What a very peculiar situation you’ve gotten yourself into. First and foremost, you were attacked by a dragon that caused your delay to Hogwarts. Thus, you made a bit of an entrance to the sorting ceremony (being the last student, and possibly the oldest, to get sorted).

The other students bombarded you with questions about your whereabouts once the Head Wizard and Witch settled everyone down to the common room. You kept the explanation veg as Professor Fig – the man that brought you to Hogwarts and the one who taught you the basics to prepare you for starting the school term so late – had requested.

It was a simple story; you were immediately knocked out upon impact from the dragon biting the carriage in half, so you don’t remember much. Although, you did recall catching a quick glimpse of the Thestrals – your permanent reminder that you have witnessed the death of the Ministry wizard and the poor, innocent driver. Professor Fig had rescued you and safely brought you to the castle grounds. Most were satisfied with that story whilst the rest had expected something along the lines of fighting off spiders and poachers.

Now, your current situation; you are to sneak into the Restricted Section of the school’s library along with your fellow Slytherin classmate, Sebastian Sallow.

You first met Sebastian during your Defense Against the Dark Arts class. You both dueled each other and to everyone’s surprise, you had the upper hand. He was rather impressed with how you easily took him down and you admitted that it wasn’t your first duel. It’s sort of true if you count fighting off those armored guards at that strange place you and Professor Fig somehow stumbled upon. There, you discover you possess the sight to see some sort of “Ancient Magic”.

You invited Sebastian to accompany you to Hogsmeade to replace your lost school supplies – sadly, your books and robes could not be saved, but you're happy your owl found its way back to you.

“You’re the only one who’s ever bested me in a duel. The way I see it, I’d be wise to keep an eye on you.”

True to his Slytherin nature, he would want to keep his competition nearby. It was the perfect opportunity to discover your secrets whilst being an excuse to get out of detention.

Of course, your trip wouldn’t end on a good note and you both had a run in with a troll and Victor Rickwood. You later explained your story, not the made up one, and asked him to sneak you into the Restricted Section.

“See there? That’s the door we need to reach”.

Sebastian didn’t need to point to which door since it was obvious to tell by the two prefects in front, standing guard.

“And those annoying prefects would love nothing more than to rat on us to Scribner”, he informs with slight annoyance in his voice. “So don’t let them see us – understood?”

“I can be sneaky. Let’s go.” You say a bit too eagerly as you immediately head for the last flight of stairs.

“Hold on now,” Sebastian pulls your sleeve a bit to stop you before you could go anywhere. “There’s a spell you should know – The Disillusionment Charm. Good for getting you’re not supposed to be.”

He quickly goes over the incantation and you successfully cast it on your first try. Thankfully, it’s a simple charm. To your disappointment, it doesn’t turn you fully invisible, only camouflage with your surroundings.

Sebastian leads you down the stairs and around the Gryffindor prefect that was standing guard at the bottom. Luckily, it was easier to get through the library entrance since the prefects were distracted with chatting about their weekend plans.

“Blast, the librarian is still here.” Sebastian says and grabs your arm to pull you behind a bookcase.

“You told me the librarian would be gone by now.” You whisper to him.

“I said “usually”,” he whispers back. “Alright, new plan; I’ll distract her and you grab the key from her desk. We’ll meet at the Restricted Section.”

“Wait, why do we need a key? Isn’t there a spell for it?”

“Alohomora? That’s how I always used to get in, but the librarian twigged that I knew the spell and cast an Anti-Alohomora charm on the lock.”

“And now we would need the key, right?”

“Right, but don’t worry. I said I’d get you in, and I always keep my word. Trust me.” He winks before swiftly making his way towards a stack of books to knock them over. Taking advantage of the librarian investigating the source of the sound, you crawl to the desk and fish in the drawer for the key.

You notice that Sebastian was already at the Restricted Section – which wasn’t too far from the front desk. You hold up the key and he nods, indicating that it was the right one.

As the librarian approaches her desk, you practically sprint to Sebastian and hand him the gold key to finally open the lock.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we have ghosts.” He mentions as you were ready to remove the Disillusionment Charm.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was – now, silent as a grave.”

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you should’ve waited until Professor Fig and Headmaster Black were finished with their business, so Fig could easily let you in and you wouldn’t need to do all this sneaking around. But alas, you need that book as soon as possible and you don’t have time to wait.

Sebastian was an expert at this type of situation and you were both able to make it safely around the ghosts. He then gives the signal to remove the charm once you’re out of sight.

“So, what is it you’ve been looking for?” You ask. You take notice that Sebastian is already digging through a stack of books, hidden on the lower shelf. You wonder if he left it there to continue searching for whatever he was looking for. You took this as a sign to explore the room a bit while keeping an eye out for the book.

“I’ve been looking for a cure to help my sister, Anne – so she can return to Hogwarts.” He answers while flipping through the pages of the book he has laying on his lap.

“Why do you think you’ll find a cure in the Restricted Section? Does the Hogwarts matron have nothing that can help Anne?” You didn’t mean to pry, but curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but ask questions.

“No! We’ve tried everyone from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s.” He sounds frustrated and fed up, but it wasn’t directed towards you. It was the memory of going through countless nurses and all were unsuccessful. “But, I can research on my own. Let’s focus on what you’re after – which is what, precisely?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“You’re being awfully cryptic.”

------

After nearly an hour of searching, and going through every nook and cranny of the Restricted Section, you weren’t even close to finding that damn book. Eventually, you reached the attic – which was mainly used to supply outdated textbooks and storage.

You wonder if you missed it somewhere while you and Sebastian were laughing at some of the ridiculous titles of the muggle novels or you simply weren’t looking hard enough.

An all too familiar, annoying voice announces; “Who have we here?”

Damnit. Not now, it can’t be–

“Damnit, Peeves.” You utter under your breath as the poltergeist ghost appears above you and Sebastian. It was obvious Sebastian is annoyed by his furred brows and him groaning, “Fucking Peeves.”

“Sebastian Sallows and his new little friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be!” Peeves the Poltergeist laughs as he starts chanting, “I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell.”

“I’ve got to stop him or at least have a good excuse for all of this.” Sebastian says as he starts to chase after Peeves.

“Wait!” You stop him before he could get too far. “I don’t want you getting into trouble for me.”

“I have a way with the faculty when it comes to disciplinary matters. Besides –” He grins. You don’t like that look; that mischievous grin that all Slytherins seem to possess when they appear to be scheming something. “I like having friends who are in my debt.”

You were going to question what he meant, but he already applied his Disillusionment Charm and darts towards Peeve’s direction.

------

It felt like you had been in that strange Antechamber for hours. You did not expect to be led to a hidden room and you also did not anticipate to fight off more of those enchanted armored guards. But it was good practice for the new Incendio spell you recently learned from Professor Hecat.

When you returned back to Hogwarts, it seemed as if time didn’t even move – like it picked up right where you left off.

You hurry to the front desk and you hope you can catch up to Sebastian, but it appears Peeves got to him first. You scurry under a table when you see the librarian approach Sebastian.

“Sneaking in the Restricted Section – again!” Scribner scolds and there’s no indication she is going to stop any time soon. “That being said, Peeves informs me that you didn’t come alone tonight.”

Her expression softens and she leans to whisper, “If someone has coerced you, I would have you tell me. You’re a bright boy, don’t waste this.”

Sebastian looks in your direction and instantly makes eye contact with you. You cower back a bit, ready for him to point at you and rat you out.

He looks back at Scribner. “There was nobody else. I came alone.”

“Oh, Sebastian. What will your uncle say?” Scribner shakes her head and walks to her desk to write an Owl to Headmaster Black and Sebastian another detention slip.

You crawl out from under the desk and quickly leave the library. You are ready to retire to your dormitory for tonight. You don’t remember the last time you got proper sleep due to the stress of discovering your new capability while balancing school work on top of it.

As you walk to your common, the lingering question of “Why?” played in your head. Why would he jump in and easily take the blame for you even though he barely knew you? He knew you were hiding under the desk and he could’ve easily ratted you.

Perhaps in true Slytherin fashion, he saw some sort of potential in you, thus needing a reason to keep you around.

End Note: i just finished reading The Atlas Six and my brain is fried but i feel so studious :))

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT 29

✨GT Stands For Gimmicks Three✨

I cannot express how much I despise Gohan’s GT design.  His blazer has a zipper. He looks like such a tool, and the perma-sneer imposed upon him by his Tuffle master isn’t helping things.

Okay, so last time, Goku and Pan learned that Baby took over world while they were off collecting the Black Star Dragon Balls.  Gohan and Goten attacked them, and now Baby (in Vegeta’s body) is here to step in.  He’s surprised to discover that Majin Buu and Mister Satan managed to escape his infestation, but Buu seems to be immune to Baby’s eggs, and Satan can seek shelter inside Buu’s body whenever he’s threatened.  Baby could just kill them and be done with it, but instead he decides to let them go, along with the unconscious Pan.  Goku’s the one Baby wants. 

Goku promises to beat all of Baby’s cells out of the Earth’s population, but Baby insists that the process can’t be reversed so easily.  So Goku decides to drive Baby out of Vegeta’s body, kill Baby, and worry about the rest later.  So they fight, and this is some of the shittiest fight chroeography I’ve seen.  Seriously, look at this crap:

Seriously, this is garbage. People give Yukio Ebisawa a hard time for the episodes of Dragon Ball and DBZ where he served as animation supervisor.  The characters were off-model, but you know what?  They looked a lot more appealing than whatever lukewarm mush we’re seeing here.  Also, one of the strengths of Ebisawa’s exaggerated figures was that he could do bigger, wilder movements.   For example:

I picked this one because it resembles the Goku/Baby one above, with a smaller figure struggling against a larger opponent.  Tien looks like he ate several of his other opponents, but this exaggeration amplifies the size difference between them.  You can follow his hands as he blocks, even while Goku’s arms are a constant blur.  The movements are simple, but the precision and speed are not.  Tien seems to have Goku scouted completely.  Meanwhile, look how hard Goku is hammering away.  He’s not getting anywhere, but he damn sure isn’t giving up.  He’s going to keep punching at Tien until he chops that big oak down. 

Flash forward to GT Episode 29, and it looks like Goku isn’t even trying very hard.  I mean, neither does Baby, but at least he has an excuse, since he’s so much stronger than Goku right now. 

Then Trunks and Bulla show up, and Goku tries to warn them about Baby, except he’s too late.  Trunks was doomed from the start, and Bulla’s been Tuffleized for weeks already.  Baby declares that he’d rather kill Goku than convert him, which suits Goku just fine, since he’d rather die than join Baby anyway. 

So Goku finally decides it’s time to get serious and he pulls out the big gun: Super Saiyan 3.  Fuck yeah!  I loves me some Super Saiyan 3!  It never works, but it’s still fun watching him run wild with it.  Baby isn’t impressed, but Goku manages to land a decent hit and--

What happened to his head?  lol

Anyway, Baby’s a tough customer, and he seems to be outperforming Goku, even at Super Saiyan 3, but Goku’s not done yet.  No sir.  He’s in it to win it, and we’ve only just begun to see what he can do as a Super Saiy--

Wait, what? 

Dammit, he changed back.  Yeah, so just like the Instant Transmission, Goku’s kid body can’t maintain Super Saiyan 3.   This show just keeps refusing to let us have any fun.

✨Is this episode worse than “The Roaming Lake”?✨

Yes. This episode fucking sucks.  Roaming Lake doesn’t have any Super Saiyan 3 in it either, but it wasn’t invented back then.  And I’d rather watch “The Roaming Lake” than a show that cockteases me with Super Saiyan 3 mayhem only to peter out.  At least the Roaming Lake doesn’t vanish just as Goku leans in to take a drink of life restoring water. 

So where does Goku go from here?   Nowhere, that’s where.  He refuses to give up, so Baby just starts teeing off on him.  This is so damn dumb. 

Despite having Goku completely outclassed, Baby decides to power up even further, and has the kids all gather ‘round in a prayer circle and give him their energy. 

This gives Vegeta’s body some weird appendage around his shoulders, and his eyes are covered with the opaque lenses that Baby and Dr. Mu have. 

But that’s not enough, so he calls out to all of his slaves to give him the power of their hatred for the Saiyans, which will power him up even further.  Wait, aren’t they just giving him back the hatred he gave them? 

This completes the “Baby Vegeta” look and gives him a black leotard.  Baby then launches a black energy ball called “Revenge Death Ball.”  This is just an evil version of Goku’s Spirit Bomb, so yeah, whatever. 

Baby fires the thing and Goku can’t even move at this point, and then Gohan and Majin Buu separately confirm that Goku’s ki has vanished.   Baby declares victory and prepares for the next phase of his plan: Restoring the Tuffle homeworld.  Hoo-boy.

✨Positivity Page✨

I’m finding it harder and harder to find anything good to say about these episodes, so I’ll go with this shot of Goku biting Baby in desperation.  

✨ “Good” “Ideas”, Poorly Executed✨

This episode su-diddly-ucks, Flanders, and the cheap use of Super Saiyan 3 has a lot to do with it.  Past and future uses of SSJ3 were handled much more correctly, with Goku looking like a million dollars, but getting his ass handed to him anyway, in order to set up a bigger spectacle like fusion or the super Spirit Bomb, or Super Saiyan God.  This episode makes Goku look like a counterfeit two-dollar bill, and someone drew a dick over John Adams’ portrait.  And this was done to set up...... jack shit. 

Yeah, I know we’re getting Super Saiyan 4 later, but it’s going to be several more episodes before we get there, and before that happens, Goku will use SSJ3 all over again, which just makes this episode that much more pointless.  Here, it feels more like an item on Toei’s “to-do” list.   In case anyone was wondering why Goku didn’t try to fight Baby at full power, well, here you go.  They weren’t going to make it look special, or enjoyable.  They just did it to say they did it. 

Which highlights the terrible job Toei has done with handling the Super Saiyan concept in this series.  Trunks has only used Super Saiyan three times.  Once against Mutchy, once against Luud, and then once to purge Baby from his body.  Gohan, Goten, and Vegeta used it, but it made no difference. Goku used it against Ledgic, Mutchy, Luud, and Rildo, but only briefly, and it never seemed to matter much.  He beat Ledgic with it, but the other three fights showed Goku seemed to do better without it.

And Super Saiyan 2 never gets used at all, unless one of the five whipped it out during an episode and I just couldn’t tell.  You’d think they would have at least let Goku do it once just to set up the use of SSJ3 in this episode.   The fact that he can use SSJ3 at all means that he can probably maintain SSJ2 without any trouble.  He just never did. 

That’s really what makes this SSJ3 battle so weak.  Up to now, GT had seemed determined to make the Super Saiyan forms as meaningless and cosmetic as possible.  It’s like Goku just whips it out for a story beat, or because he feels like glowing yellow for a while.  It feels like they’re trying to train the audience to stop caring about the Super Saiyan forms, which seems like a terrible idea for the brand.  But the alternative is that the people writing the show just have no clue what the transformations mean, or how to use them in their scripts.  This episode basically told the audience that they were fools for wanting Super Saiyan 3, because it sucks and Goku can’t even do it anymore. 

Oh, but they made sure to jam pack this episode with whatever the fuck this boring nonsense is.  If you can write a scene where characters stand still, Dragon Ball GT will be all over it. 

✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨

The Revenge Death Ball:

Kills Gokus dead. Next time?  Try

Makankosappo.

[angstyaches]

WIP Ask Game

I was tagged by @tiny-loves-rubs, thank you, Tiny! I love an excuse to talk about my WIPs because I have an inconceivable number of them.

Tagging @tomato-sickfics / anyone else who feels like it!

Post the names of the files of your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you asks with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. If you want, tag as many people as you have WIPs.

You’re all about to see how much of a mess my head is. Proceed at your own risk.

Here goes! I’m just going to pop them down in alphabetical order. There are a few more on my other laptop, but this is basically every word document I’ve ever opened to start writing something for my blog OCs (impulse control? I don’t know her), most of which are either abandoned, retconned, or condemned to some future storyline that I’ll eventually reach.

I’m censoring titles that are either too spoiler-y or which contain triggering topics.

___

after we*****

a**** f*** charlie reaction

a**** f*** charlie shayne fight

a***** f*** lilith shayne elliott

a***** f*** memories

autumn hunger

autumn sleepy

back there

beach shayne and charlie

beauty

call

captivity

captured au

casual caretaking shayne

chaarlie and patrick

charlie and jon

charlie and mikey kiss

charlie and shayne kiss in the garden

charlie bug again

charlie bug next day

charlie drunk angst

charlie goes to visit jon

charlie headaches early days

charlie homoph****

charlie kink

charlie migraine

charlie panic belle

charlie runs into mikey

charlie shayne k***** arc

charlie sick

charlie sickkk

charlie soft

Charlie talks while kissing

charlie whumper

Charlie work panic attack aquarium

Charlie’s fears

Christmas 2021 henry bug

claudette a*******

claudette sad

d and h reading

danette

Dani sickfic

demon hunting

demon research and shayne hunger

demon school AU 2

demon school AU

Did you study for this

Donnacha comfort

donnacha first date with josh

donnacha 

dragged back

dream

early days elliott wants to help felix

eliott first meets shayne

elliott beach

elliott first meets shayne (?)

Elliott hand of orion

elliott steals little shayne

exam results

fee and shayne in the car

fee elli meet (AutoRecovered)

feel elli meet

felix and elliott dance drabble

felix and shayne talk about patricia

felix crying

felix grief

felix origin

felix over indulges on blood

felix sleepy

felix transformation

felix transformation2

first date

frost bite 2

go to him part 4

grave

henry agoraphobia

henry donnacha fluff

henry donnacha hunger

henry donnacha whump

henry drunk

henry panic attack

henry trauma

Hi

homoph****

i don’t even know

idk

ingrid mentions the boxes

ingrid picks up shayne

jealous felix

kazu hunger

kazu origin

k***** arc part one

kissing

little mnster

look at me

lucy and henry rewrite 2

lucy and henry rewrite

Lucy asks Henry to live with her

madame a’s stuff

Mikey and CHarlie

mikey

mitch and shayne

mitch bastian first date

mitch bastian meet

mitch ed

mitch hunger

mitch sick

more shayne angst

more shayne x charlie random

morning after lovely

mothers day

name change and keys

nancy and ryan

nancy ryan meet

nancy

Oranges

pancakes

Payton angst hunger

payton dragon

photo

pillow

PLOT the devines take *******

post-grad hangover

pplate food

praise

radioactive butterflies

random  payton x autumn early days

random sad shayne

recaptured au

rescue

rin and charlie talk at school

rin college exhaustion

rin secret santa

Rin visits shayne and three

rin visits shayne

sacrifice au

shayen and ingrid

shayen remembers dahlia didn’t eat

shayen teases charlie (*i can’t believe how often I mistype his name, good lord)

shayne ace

shayne aldridge au

shayne aldridge

shayne and charlie angst

Shayne and charlie both sick

shayne and charlie christmas 2021 notes

shayne and charlie demon world

shayne and charlie talk in the training room

shayne and felix plot

Shayne and Lilith

Shayne and Ryan bad news

shayne and three

shayne and trish

shayne angst storyline

shayne anniversary birthday

shayne anniversary grave

shayne anniversary tree

shayne arrives at townhouse

shayne beach

shayne car

shayne charlie early days

shayne charlie first date

shayne charlie funeral

shayne charlie lucy meet up

shayne cherry coke

shayne college

shayne ed2

shayne ed

shayne elli fee car

shayne elliott and fee

shayne elliott

shayne exhaustion college au

shayne falling asleep at charlie’s

shayne falling asleep on charlie’s bed

shayne felix walk

Shayne first week with aldridges

shayne gazes at charlie

Shayne grief redrafting

shayne grief

shayne hunger

shayne hungerr

shayne ingrid

shayne maybe

shayne misses charlie

shayne mulberry

shayne nausea in bed

shayne nervous

shayne nightmare alone

shayne not feeling good

shayne one of the worst follow up

shayne overeats

shayne panic at aldridges

shayne plans on k****** m***

shayne prepares to see charlie again

shayne random opening up and pr*******

shayne randoms

shayne recovering

shayne runs into Lucy

shayne sick alone

shayne sick in sleep

shayne sick school

shayne sit ups

shayne stays the night

shayne stomach ache

shayne stress

shayne talks about loving charlie

Shayne talks to Three about his anxiet1

Shayne talks to Three about his anxiet2

Shayne talks to Three about his anxiety

shayne teasing charlie

shayne trish f****** mads

shayne waits for felix and elliott

shayne with charlie’s parents

shayne’s breakdown a year before repeating

shayne’s first week

silas meets shayne

sleep

sleepy charlie

SMOL

some random bits

start maybe

stay

supermarket

therapy

three (AutoRecovered)

three

townhouse sleepover

trying

vincent

wallis and nancy

wallis boat

wedding

wtf

Edit: wait, sorry, there’s more, in other folder. This one, I named “New September 2022″

charlie migraine anon inspired

shayne fear when charlie g*** c*******

lilith complains about nadya

lilith comforts blake

meet shayne and charlie rewrite

shayne in the mask

beach drabbles:

beach seashell

beach shayne and charlie2

shayne charlie drinking game

shayne charlie drinking game2

summer Elliott

requested WIPs:

charlie drunk angst part two rowan request

shayne recovering from chest infection

Madame A’s

astrophel comes out to nancy

astrophel overworked

blake and lilith f**** k***

blake and rex and lilith

blake confesses to lilith

Blake couldn

blake curse

blake fire

blake leaves for summer magic school

blake panic attack

Blake

Lilith brushed their hair to one side

Lilith

performance evaluation

Rex and Oli announce their engagement

rex angst

rex hungover

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 40 DAENERYS III (pages 519-530)

Dany updates Xaro and Jorah (seperately) on the failed chat with Qarth's big wigs, and gets some cryptic dialogue from Quaithe telling her to gtfo Qarth.

-

"A dream delayed, no more." Dany's tight silver was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside.

If I had a penny for every time a young female character wore a silver neck ornament labelled as something that calls to mind slavery and being imprisonment while they're attempting to appeal to higher powers only to have their needs and pleas dismissed in situations where there was never anything the young female character could have said to get a better outcome, I'd now have 2 pennies, which isn't a lot, but it's odd that it happened twice.

The trickle he started soon turned into a flood. Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai.

dragonglass = 🥛

"Viserys sold my mother's crown, and men called him a beggar. I shall keep this one, so men will call me a queen." And so she did, though the weight of it made her neck ache. ... He must have known how they mocked him. Small wonder he turned so angry and bitter. In the end it had driven him mad. It will do the same to me if I let it. Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat.

Oh but this sounds like foreshadowing re: the weight of the crown (metaphorical) It's kind of sad though, part of her does want to go back to Vaes Tolorro, but the call of the Iron Throne is so much stronger. It's kind of a metaphor itself, given the context of what's going on in Westeros, all those moments when someone could have said "enough is enough, let's go home and prepare for winter" but they all kept heading for war. It will be interesting to see, with the book version, if there's any moments in Dany's story arc where this thematically repeats, where she chooses the pursuit of the growing and rebuilding. But then as I said a few chapters ago, GRRM and dire consequences, the 13 are right there next to Vaes Tolorro, and way too interested in the dragons, if Dany went back right now and planned to settle in, Qarth would probably attack to steal the dragons and force Dany onward to conquest anyway. Curse you narrative, trapping all my girls in shitty situations and making them walk the hard roads.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos: I love and adore you, I will give all your heart desires! also Xaro Xhaon Daxos: here's my list of excuses reasons I can't give you anything but the next bit of twine to string you along with, alphabetized and categorized. I might have given you more if your desires were actually my desire, but alas! excuses reasons!

It's okay Xaro, you don't need to be so overtly sus, we all know we can trust you about as far as Joffrey's little limp noodle arms could throw you.

"Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets."

dragonglass = 🥛 Also where did he learn that? Was that just magic tricks like the real world street magicians and illusionists, or actual small time fire magic? (The stuff he could do 'half a year gone' not the fire ladder, but I do also wonder where he learned that/how he figured that out.)

"I am their rightful queen," Dany protested. "You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. you must win them over before you sail. A few at least."

He might be a creeper, but Jorah has a point. Well, bridges are crossed when you get to them, for now, supplies for your people and getting the hell out of Qarth is the focus... as soon as you're done with the sorcerers.

[alpimerealmsystem]

It doesn't have to be bad! (Therianthropy short story PT.1)

THIS IS PART ONE, TUMBLR IS STUPID AND WONT LET ME POST THE ENTIRE THING 😭 So @waterinyourears gave me some ideas! (I know you said I don't have to credit you but seriously this is so important, you deserve it) something they'd talked about is how so much stuff, including stories is about otherkin/alterhumans having negative experiences! Something they'd pointed out is how we should start focusing on more positive aspects of this community and be able to escape into a story where someone like us isn't suffering. This is so important in our community so thank you so much, and I hope I do you idea justice :D (seriously, I'm going to do a lot more like this)

I feel so lucky to be part of this kingdom, and being able to find the others like me. I found them a few years ago, the first one I found, Alex, was at the library. We were both doing research on animals, we didn't know why, but we were researching the ones we felt weirdly connected to. In my kingdom, snow leopards show up sometimes. Our kingdom is next to a huge mountain range, and it's amazing to see the snow leopards running through. Alex was researching griffins, another animal we see sometimes perched up on the mountain peaks or hunting near the kingdom. Alex and me were just curious why the other one wanted to research these things. We both made an excuse, she said it was for a school project, I said it was for fun and because I want to be able to study snow leopards more. I stayed true to my word, always climbing up the mountains to find them and observe. It was so weird to me that I could almost... relate to them. I'd always had some of their behaviors, and thought it was just a coincidence. A lot of people are similar to animals.Alex kept researching griffins, and eventually did the same thing I did. We both just said we loved animals, and bonded over that love. After at least a year of of obsessing over them, and talking about how we could relate to them, she'd suddenly begged me to come over when her parents weren't home. She told me that she had suddenly felt almost animal-like earlier that day. She didn't understand it, but she could feel a tail, and feathers rubbing up against her skin. After well over an hour of trying to convince myself that I hadn't felt this too, I continued to comfort her. She was terrified of the sudden feeling, feeling so out of place. The next couple days were rough, I started noticing it happening with myself. It'd always happened to me, but I never wanted to acknowledge it. I'd finally told Alex this and she just promised me we'd always stick together, and we wouldn't have to tell anyone else.After months of keeping this secret, and finding more out about this weird feeling our kingdom was suddenly attacked. In some of the mountains apparently a dragon had decided to lay her eggs, and one was taken. No one had any idea who stole a dragon's egg, and knew it wasn't a human, but the dragon was persistent it was us.

One day she finally attacked, scorching our kingdom, and trying to find her egg. Suddenly it was almost like animal instincts took over, I ran up the entire mountain, climbing the steeper parts without any struggle for once. I ran towards her, grabbing the knife I'd stashed with the rest of my research supplies but suddenly was pinned under her claw. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Alex running up. She seemed to have the same thing going on and her eyes were bright green, just like the griffins. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Alex running up. She seemed to have the same thing going on and her eyes were bright green, just like the griffins. She lifted the dragon's giant claws with ease, before speaking to it. It wasn't even English, the dragons knew languages from other animals but never got close enough to us to learn our own. She was speaking in what seemed like a mix between a roar and a chirp from a bird, but the dragon seemed to understand.

[wonderlightdaydreams]

Dear Fellow Magic Seeker

I always wanted to believe in magic. I believed in Santa Claus way longer than I should have (especially as a Jew), any outing to walk my dog would be considered  a magical adventure, and I would take anything as an excuse to use my imagination. I remember when I was in elementary school, role playing Skylanders on the playground, and believing deep down that they were showing me the way to Skyland. I’m 21 now, and since elementary school, I learned a lot about the world. After all, no one really believed in magic, and anyone who I thought believed alongside me just did it to entertain a child who didn't know any better. How else would you explain the support of those delusions? Now, this is not to say the magic they do believe in isn't real. Science is extraordinarily beautiful, wondrous, and fascinating,  every word you would use to describe any fantasy world. However, I always found something off about science. While yes, it is all those things I described, it is also un-fantastical in a way, for lack of a better word. This apathetic nature of science, while hard to describe, is easy to feel. It carries a sort of terran monotony that this whole plane of existence is suffering under. Perhaps its simply the aesthetic of science, or the need to ensure everything is proven, but science (as it is very happy to admit, from my lack of knowledge), does have its fair share of gaps. Gaps that are filled by children with overactive imaginations…out of all people. I am no child psychologist (I would love some input for those who know better about this field than I do), however when kids play dinosaurs, there is a level of..well play. They know it is a game, and they know that they are six year olds  stomping around and roaring at each other. But there is also an unspoken contract, a rule to suspend their disbelief and believe wholeheartedly that they are dinosaurs. For those 15 minutes of recess, they were not human. In those 15 minutes, magic was real. 

TTRPGs are a space that I do not know much about. I know that people sit around a table, telling a story with their friends, and that story often involves a lot of dice rolling, playing cards, writing, and everything in between. And many parts of this space do intrigue me. Specifically the RP (role play)  part. At first glance, those who partake in this hobby are those kids on the playground playing dinosaurs, each consenting to play in this world of fantasy. And although I do hold a place of reverence for TTRPGS, like science, something is missing. Although they do play in this fantasy world, they don't see themselves as full acting participants. Like watching a movie in a theater, they enter the game, play for 3 hours, and then return to their normal lives. In a relatively short timespan, they go from being the main character, to being NPCs. Furthermore, of course this is just pretend, they don't really believe they are orcs, elves, and dragons, that would be unscientific! These games are just vehicles to hang out with your friends with, after all. This is not an attack on TTRPG players, not at all! In fact, they are getting somewhere in the quest to replicate the magic that I am seeking, but once again, something is missing.  

 I first heard about the otherkin community at the age of around 16. I remember watching a “This Exists' ' video (a now-defunct series about the weird and wonderful sides of the internet) on it, and while I don't remember specifically how I felt, I did feel a sense of yearning. A sense that these individuals hold the answers to what I am seeking, what I truly am. After doing some digging, I found the therian subreddit. After seeing people do tarot readings for what theriotype they were, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. I asked if I was a dolphin or a red panda, two of my favorite animals. The result itself was irrelevant, as I was inadvertently excluded from many therian spaces. I do not wish to play the blame game, or point fingers at any one person or group of individuals, after all this exclusion could be a simple misunderstanding of the customs. However, from my understanding, you can't choose to be therian. I fully expected Sir Ian McKellen himself to enter my room, scream at me “YOU ARE INDEED A DRAGON YOUNG MAN” and leave in a puff of smoke. While I did hear stories of divine intervention, I also heard tales of everything from dehumanization to LSD trips. I also do not personally vibe with the whole “creature of the forest, living away from technology” thing they had going on, an aesthetic I do indeed respect, while not being my own. In short, they had a wonderful community, that was just not my community.  They had a wonderful community, but something was missing. 

I am an A-list actor, producer, writer and director. I starred in multiple movies that were hits in the box office, a 12 season action-adventure-comedy tv show, and I live in a mansion with an arcade, waterslides, a mario-esque pipe for transport, and doors that could take you anywhere in the multiverse. Sooner or later, I became a protogen (what, you didn't see the furry thing coming from a mile away?), and after that, I became a guardian of imagination, a red panda dragon fursona thing. I could hear the keyboards of 1000 neurotypicals typing now, saying truly insightful comments such as: “this is what people died in wars for” “Jesus will save you” (again, im Jewish) and my personal favorite, the snowflake emoji. However, I could practically see 1000 kids just like me, their faces beaming with excitement and joy, with a million questions, chief among which being “can I do that too?”. After recess ended, I kept my non-normal non-human beliefs. Same with after I graduated, after high school, and even after University. While its easy to say that this is a game for me (to some level, it truly is), it is also something much more. Like those kids on the playground, these beliefs turn mundane existence into a game. A once boring test now becomes a perilous boss fight, family drama becomes unimportant exposition, and my purpose is beyond the capitalist cycle of education, work, retire, die. To those who argue otherwise, a proposition; at what age do you stop believing, what time period do you stop pretending, what phase of life makes you done with believing in your imagination?  Simply put, for those questioning if they are beyond human, if they are something greater, if their identity is that of imagination and art,  the answer is a simple “do you want to be?”.

[miaposa]

alterhuman thoughts!

I always wanted to believe in magic. I believed in Santa Claus way longer than I should have (especially as a Jew), any outing to walk my dog would be considered  a magical adventure, and I would take anything as an excuse to use my imagination. I remember when I was in elementary school, playing Skylanders with some kids, and believing deep down that they were showing me the way to Skyland. I’m 21 now, and since elementary school, I learned a lot about the world. After all, no one really believed in magic, and anyone who I thought believed alongside me just did it to entertain a child who didn't know any better. How else would you explain the support of those delusions? No, this is not to say the magic they do believe in isn't real. Science is extraordinarily beautiful, wondrous, and fascinating,  every word you would use to describe any fantasy world. However, I always found something off about science. While yes, it is all those things I described, it is also un-fantastical in a way, for lack of a better word. This nature of science, while hard to describe, is easy to feel. It carries a sort of terran monotony that this whole plane of existence is suffering under. Perhaps its simply the aesthetic of science, or the need to ensure everything is proven, but science (as it is very happy to admit, from my lack of knowledge), does have its fair share of gaps. Gaps that are filled by children with overactive imaginations…out of all people. I am no child psychologist (I would love some input for those who know better about this field than I do), however when kids play dinosaurs, there is a level of..well play. They know it is a game, and they know that they are six year olds  stomping around and roaring at each other. But there is also an unspoken contract, a rule to suspend their disbelief and believe wholeheartedly that they are dinosaurs. For those 15 minutes of recess, they were not human. In those 15 minutes, magic was real. 

TTRPGs are a space that I do not know much about. I know that people sit around a table, telling a story with their friends, and that story often involves a lot of dice rolling, playing cards, writing, and everything in between. And many parts of this space do intrigue me. Specifically the RP (role play)  part. At first glance, those who partake in this hobby are those kids on the playground playing dinosaurs, each consenting to play in this world of fantasy. And although I do hold a place of reverence for TTRPGS, like science, something is missing. Although they do play in this fantasy world, they don't see themselves as full acting participants. Like watching a movie in a theater, they enter the game, play for 3 hours, and then return to their normal lives. In a relatively short timespan, they go from being the main character, to being NPCs. Furthermore, of course this is just pretend, they don't really believe they are orcs, elves, and dragons, that would be unscientific! These games are just vehicles to hang out with your friends with, after all. This is not an attack on TTRPG players, not at all! In fact, they are getting somewhere in the quest to replicate the magic that I am seeking, but once again, something is missing.  

 I first heard about the otherkin community at the age of around 16. I remember watching a “This Exists' ' video (a now-defunct series about the weird and wonderful sides of the internet) on it, and while I don't remember specifically how I felt, I did feel a sense of yearning. A sense that these individuals hold the answers to what I am seeking, what I truly am. After doing some digging, I found the therian subreddit. After seeing people do tarot readings for what theriotype they were, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. I asked if I was a dolphin or a red panda, two of my favorite animals. The result itself was irrelevant, as I was inadvertently excluded from many therian spaces. I do not wish to play the blame game, or point fingers at any one person or group of individuals, after all this exclusion could be a simple misunderstanding of the customs. However, from my understanding, you can't choose to be therian. I fully expected Sir Ian McKellen himself to enter my room, scream at me “YOU ARE INDEED A DRAGON YOUNG MAN” and leave in a puff of smoke. While I did hear stories of divine intervention, I also heard tales of everything from dehumanization to LSD trips. I also do not personally vibe with the whole “creature of the forest, living away from technology” thing they had going on, an aesthetic I do indeed respect, while not being my own. In short, they had a wonderful community, that was just not my community.  They had a wonderful community, but something was missing. 

I am an A-list actor, producer, writer and director. I starred in multiple movies that were hits in the box office, a 12 season action-adventure-comedy tv show, and I live in a mansion with an arcade, waterslides, a mario-esque pipe for transport, and doors that could take you anywhere in the multiverse. Sooner or later, I became a protogen (what, you didn't see the furry thing coming from a mile away?), and after that, I became a guardian of imagination, a red panda dragon fursona thing. I could hear the keyboards of 1000 neurotypicals typing now, saying truly insightful comments such as: “this is what people died in wars for” “Jesus will save you” (again, im Jewish) and my personal favorite, the snowflake emoji. However, I could practically see 1000 kids just like me, their faces beaming with excitement and joy, with a million questions, chief among which being “can I do that too?”. After recess ended, I kept my non-normal non-human beliefs. Same with after I graduated, after high school, and even after University. While its easy to say that this is a game for me (to some level, it truly is), it is also something much more. Like those kids on the playground, these beliefs turn mundane existence into a game. A once boring test now becomes a perilous boss fight, family drama becomes unimportant exposition, and my purpose is beyond the capitalist cycle of education, work, retire, die. To those who argue otherwise, a proposition; at what age do you stop believing, what time period do you stop pretending, what phase of life makes you done with believing in your imagination?  Simply put, for those questioning if they are beyond human, if they are something greater, if their identity is that of imagination and art,  the answer is a simple “do you want to be?”.

[hirokiro]

prt 4 Princesses, Dragons and Elves oh my!

Gill awoke to a familiar scene, two faces peering anxiously down at him. What was different was the sun blazing into his eyes.

“Hey,” Lana waved, looking worried, Glen hanging over her shoulder “You doin’ alright?”

Gill closed his eyes again and sighed.

“Just give me a minute.”

He took his time gathering himself, but eventually sat up. He saw it was high noon at this point.

“What happened?” Lana asked, although he imagined Glen had already informed her.

Gill took in a deep breath, noticing for the first time that she was in a riding outfit. It had been too dark in the cave to take in such details. Must have been hunting or something, caught outside the walls by the dragon. 

“I am beyond terrified of flying. Not heights.” he clarified, pointing upwards, “Flying. I can’t do flying. I just can’t. And…” He glanced up at Glen, “I didn’t have the time to explain before we were already up. So… I had…” he looked down, feeling his ears burn again.

“I had a panic attack.”

Lana put a hand on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze, “That must have been awful.”

“I’m deeply sorry,” Glen apologized, “I know it can be scary, but I’ve never… seen a panic attack before. That was… a whole different kind of scary.”

“I was pretty freaked out, first time flying,” Lana commented comfortingly, “Of course,” She smirked up at the dragon, “Being kidnapped without much explanation didn’t help.”

Glen grumbled, but apologized again. “I did bring, ah, some meat,” he added.

“I brought your pack!” Lana piped up, “With your knife!”

Gill smiled weakly, “Ah, good. Certainly going to need that.

“Now,” he stood carefully, “Let’s not talk about what happened anymore. I don’t want to keep remaining in negative emotions. Show me the kill and I’ll make a meal, and we’ll go from there.”

The deer carcass wasn’t far off. Gill got to work, saying nothing more and not engaging in any kind of conversation, aside from asking Lana to gather firewood and Glenn to clear a patch of earth so as to avoid catching the field on fire.

The silence was awkward but Gill was too out of it to feel the vibes as the other two made some small talk with each other quietly.

But the meat was at last ready and cooking. Gill foraged, finding useful herbs to flavor the meat and even a root vegetable.

As the mouth watering scents drifted over them he noticed Lana watching with a hungry look in her eyes.

“Have you eaten recently, Lana?” he asked, “I think you mentioned being tired of someone else’s cooking, so you can have some.”

She grinned, “Please!”

“Well excuse me for not knowing the culinary arts.” Glen grumbled, looking elsewhere.

“It’s not for everyone,” Lana reassured him sympathetically. Glen continued to act sulky.

Gill chuckled a little, turning the meat over, “Alright then. As long as I’m here I’ll see to the little people’s cooking needs if the big guy doesn’t mind supplying.”

“It’s not a problem.”

There was again little conversation until the food was ready and they were eating.

Lana was ecstatic.

“Even this vegetable tastes good, oh my god thank you for being here!” she exclaimed, “I was so sick of Glen’s charred sorry excuse for food and only berries now and then.”

Gill smiled, “You’re welcome.” He himself felt a lot better after eating, and more able to tackle the rest of the day. He didn’t let himself think about how they were getting back to the dragon’s cave.

“Tell me about yourself,” Lana asked.

“Hm? Oh.” Gill contemplated, taking a bite of food to stave off a reply, “Well, there’s not much to talk about. I’m a wanderer, a rolling stone. I don’t stay in any one place too long. I love the open air.”

“I wish I could travel more,” Lana commented, pausing in her enthusiastic munching, “But, you know how it is, being a girl, being royalty, you got your duties.”

“It’s noble to stick to them,” Gill nodded, “I’m rather aimless myself with no real goals in life.” He took another bite, “I’ve had the wanderlust since forever, so that’s what I do. Roughing it in the wilds and on the road, never in one place for long. I sometimes want to settle,” he tilted his head as he thought, “But… well, “He smiled ruefully, “Sooner or later I get the itch and I have to follow more of that horizon, see where it leads.” Gill thought about how perhaps he was painting too rosy a picture and only making it more appealing to the princess. “But it’s incredibly tough.” he cautioned, “I trained for years to develop expert tracking and survival skills. It’s just me against the land. It’s a lonely existence if you’re used to the company of people.”

Lana still looked fascinated, “Could you teach me?” she asked.

Gill raised an eyebrow, “Well, no, there’s not really time. Which brings me back to what I keep wanting to 

discuss with the two of you.” as Glen and Lana pricked their ears to listen, he continued, “In a week or so I think, if people took up the call as quickly as I did, there’s going to be less friendly company finding this place soon if they’re decent at understanding how to track a dragon. So.” He steepled his fingers and looked from one to the other, “We have to stop the pleasantries and talk seriously about this.”

“I suppose…” Lana pouted a little. Glen gave a similarly displeased growl.

A little exasperated, Gill said more forcefully, “I’m serious. Lana, I’m not sugar-coating it but you’re just of 

marriageable age and your hand’s been promised to whoever rescues you.”

Lana started slightly, eyes widening, but then they narrowed and she looked at the elf suspiciously, “You’re here to rescue me.” she commented, almost accusingly.

Sighing in more exasperation, Gill replied, “I’ve got a very different relationship with you going forward and I’m not interested in marrying anybody, let alone a human too young for me,” He paused and decided to add for emphasis, “And even more let alone someone I just met.”

She still looked annoyed. Glenn snickered a little, knowing his and the elf’s first conversation.

Gill got up and walked around distractedly, not knowing how to even continue anymore, “I have to take you home, Lana.”

“No!” came the unified reply. Glen and Lana looked at each other and laughed. Gill covered his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face.

Glen snorted, “I need Lana.”

“I don’t want to go back.” The princess added on to the argument, “This is the most fun and freedom I’ve ever had in my life!”

“What did you just say about duties?” Gill shot back at Lana.

Annoyance was all over her face, “I said I had them, not that I wanted to do them. I hate living with all those rules. Out here I have a friend and get to do interesting things, with no responsibilities.”

“You have to return to those responsibilities sooner or later!” Gill replied with frustration.

“No she doesn’t!” Glen snapped.

“Yeah!”

“HHhrrrrrrrglmrffff…!” Came an undefined noise from the elf as he pivoted in a circle, looking for the best argument, for the general nature around him to lend its support. But his temper was getting the better of him, 

“How old are you two? Just think about things!” he threw up his hands at the two of them.

“Look,” Lana snapped back, also standing, wiping her slightly dirty fingers off on her dress, “I don’t need 

rescuing right? I’m safe and happy, and want to be here! Just go back and tell the others they can give up 

because I don’t need to be rescued, I’ll go back when I want to!”

The elf looked meaningfully up at the dragon, who didn’t immediately back the princess up. Both knew a 

dragon didn’t easily let go of the things they took.

“Are you sure about that?” Gill asked.

A warning rumble came from the dragon. Gill realized he was pushing Glen’s patience with him and he took a half step back, glaring up.

“What do you mean?” Lana’s confidence wavered.

Gill turned and walked away, giving himself a minute to cool off and maybe Glen a minute to decide of he 

would explain to Lana how dragons functioned and viewed people they happened to like.

He walked several yards, then ran a hand through his hair, making sure to breathe slow.

Alright, next argument. He thought out what he would say. But even giving a minute he could tell Glen had not opened communication with Lana about what the elf said.

He came back, steepled his fingers together, and looked from one to the other.

“Let’s be realistic,” he said, “I know a lot of healers and herbalists from my extensive travels, some of the best live rather remotely and may be able to make something. Glen,” He looked up, letting his hands open, “Whether you two like it or not, people aren’t going to care if Lana’s content to be here, she’s still a princess and everyone has their duties in life-.”

“What about yours?” Lana interjected, taking him off guard.

“That’s beside the point,” Gill tried to evade and continue.

“No it’s not,” she replied snippily, “If everyone has their duties, what are yours? Huh? Getting to wander where you want.”

Glen grinned nastily, “Yeah, Gill, what’s your duty?”

Gill snapped, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think twice, “I fucking told you, Asshole!” he shouted.

Glen blinked and Lana was shocked into silence by the language, hands going to her mouth, eyes wide.

Realizing he had let his temper boil over, Gill closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeping his fingers together again then dropping his head to touch his forehead to them. Maybe he just had to be open about all of it, right here, right now, break it to her first.

“I’m sorry.” he bowed slightly to Lana, “That was uncalled for in your presence. But… well… Let’s just sit down and I’ll tell you the whole reason I’m here and what my responsibilities are right now. I didn’t want to explain until you were safely home and with your family… but…”

He returned to his pack and took a knee, opening it.

Lana hesitantly sat herself down, a little pouty, but also curious.

Glen gave an uncomfortable rumble, “I should leave you two alone.”

Gill looked up, “If you would please give us a little space.” he said gratefully.

The dragon thumped off step by step to the opposite side of the field, but kept them in sight.

There was an awkward silence for a bit. Lana watching, eyes wide, still taken aback at Gill’s having lost his temper.

“I don’t normally swear, Lana,” he said quietly, “But I’ve been under an immense amount of pressure and 

stress. I thought I was going to die yesterday, or you would already be dead by the time I got here. And now you’re both united against me when I just…” he wavered a little, emotions rising, “Just need some sanity and understanding.

“So…” He fished into the pack and brought out the parcel and the letter, “I came all the way to your home to give you something. Even though we’ve never met, I had an obligation I put on myself when my dear friend was no longer able to have these sent to you himself. I chose to bring them personally.”

As he spoke he saw fear and wonder creep into the girl’s eyes. Silently she took the proffered items, realization dawning. She put the parcel aside, then began opening the letter.

She hesitated, glancing briefly to him, before opening it fully. Gill looked away as she scanned the lines. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands begin trembling.

When she finished she looked up. “He’s..?” she couldn’t finish. “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” her voice shook.

Gill met her gaze, “I wanted to break it to the whole family, all together.” He then dropped his eyes to his pack, “I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just didn’t know what to do and haven’t been able to organize my thoughts.”

“Did Glen know?” She asked, looking off to where the dragon sat, his tail waving.

“He pried it out of me,” Gill replied guiltily, “I was trying to convince him to let me trade places with you, I had to explain you weren’t just some random person to me, that… you needed to go home.”

Lana’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, “He’s really…? How did it happen?”

Gill clenched his fists. He couldn’t begin to explain to this girl how her brother died. “I… I don’t know how to answer that, so… well, take a look at what he gave you while I try to figure how to even begin.”

She bowed her head, slowly unwrapping the cloth. When she pulled it away she sat with a medium sized music box in her hands. There was glittering filigree and birds all over. She stared at the delicately painted 

wood before opening it. It began to play.

“It doesn’t need to be wound up,” Gill spoke up. The beautiful little tune calmed his emotions, and seemed to 

calm Lana’s as well, the tears drying a little. The two listened quietly.

“‘For my Little Bird’ he wrote,” Lana commented sorrowfully, “I was always his Little Bird.”

“Yes,” Gill smiled sadly, “He spoke so fondly of you, and how he couldn’t wait to return and see how you had grown. I myself didn’t realize how old you were at this point. He wasn’t the best at measuring time.”

Silence fell between them again for a time before Gill finally took a deep breath. He had to begin.

“We met, hunting a monster together. He, his friends, and I teamed up, and somehow I wound up becoming 

part of that group. He had a very magnetic personality, and I liked him a lot, when I normally don’t like people.”

“Everyone loved him,” Lana nodded.

“He was a good man.”

Gill took another breath, “We traveled a… I don’t know, several months together. Adventuring, seeking out evil to crush. I guided them in the wilds. But… well… there was-were-” he corrected, “Several villages being attacked by…”  he almost said “Something.” but… No… he had to be honest.

“...By a dragon.”

He heard Lana’s inhale, but he couldn’t look at her anymore, instead he stared at some undefined point in space, out across the grass.

“I couldn’t reason with this dragon. And… well. We fought and… it was formidable. Adam saved my life, gave me the opportunity to deal the killing blow, but… he… didn’t make it… none of them did…” He bit his lip, closing his eyes, “So… I knew he had just written you a letter, and bought a gift. He was very proud of the find and… so… here I am.”

In the quiet that followed he could hear Lana begin weeping over the music of the little box, and even though he wasn’t a touchy-feely person, Gill shifted over and wrapped her up in a close hug.

Lana wept into his chest for a long time. He didn’t know what to say so he let her cry herself out until eventually she quieted.

“I’m sorry.” he said at last, letting go as she pulled away and straightened. 

Lana took some deep inhales, sniffed loudly and rubbed a corner of her sleeve across her nose.

“I… I see now… why you… You were right.” she said quietly, regaining composure as a princess ought to, “I need to go home, at least… my family has to know. Thank you Gill... for coming all this way.”

Gill scratched his cheek, not sure how to respond, “Of course. Anything for my best friend and his little sister.”

The music box played on, and the two sat and listened. A breeze brushed across the grass, ruffling Gill’s hair and sending wisps of loose strands up from Lana’s braid, the dark hair lighting up in the sun’s rays.

She shifted and closed the box, wrapping it up along with the letter, “Hold onto this for me?”

“Yeah,” Gill put it carefully back in his pack.

With a sigh Lana added, “I was being selfish. I didn’t realize how hard you were having it. My obstinacy was childish. I have to go home and be with my family.” she paused, looking away guiltily, “They must be as worried as you were.” Gill nodded, “But this is going to be difficult. When dragons… If…” he sighed and started over, “When dragons grow attached to people they see them as possessions, little different from treasure, just even more cared for. If Glen’s got a strong attachment to you then it’s going to be difficult to make him understand that he can’t keep you like he keeps his treasure. You understand?”

Lana frowned, “You seem to think you know a lot about Glen.”

Gill blinked, “Fair, I don’t know him as a person. But I know dragons as a species. Extremely well, in fact.” he emphasized, “Maybe Glen will be more open to the idea, but this is also why I offered my life for yours. He still has someone who “belongs” to him so to speak, who is also, like you, wanting to help him with his current problem.”

Lana pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Unconsciously Gill did the same with only one, half-mirroring. But it was his side with the bad shoulder. As he tried to use it, it twinged badly, so he placed it in his lap. 

“I’m sure if we explain he’ll understand.” she said, but she didn’t sound completely convinced.

“I really hope so,” Gill replied, “But… we don’t have to talk to him about it right now. I know I just dropped some heavy information on you, and you need time to process. We’re lucky Glen’s a more reasonable dragon than some I’ve met.”

“You meet a lot of dragons?” Lana queried, looking up.

Gill shrugged, “I’m very widely traveled.” he said evasively, looking away.

Lana’s eyes narrowed, but she did not press. There was yet another long pause.

“I guess we should let him come back,” Lana said at last.

Gill looked towards the dragon, “If you’re ready to.”

Lana crooked an eyebrow, “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked curiously.

Gill started slightly and looked back, “Oh, uh… I dunno. I guess you wouldn’t have said that if you weren’t. My bad.”

The real reason he said that, he realized, was because he wasn’t ready for the dragon to come back. Having the story of Adam dragged out of him once today and then repeated… he didn’t want to deal with Glen.

My emotions aren’t ready for… he started thinking as Lana stood and headed a few yards towards the dragon, calling and waving. Shoot.

He wasn’t ready for this. Gill’s emotions rose and he turned his back to the pair, a hand covering his face for a 

moment, feeling tears of his own welling up. But he fought the emotions down as he heard the dragon drawing closer, and was dry-eyed again by the time they were all back together. Or at least he hoped he was.

“You told her everything?” Glen asked.

When Gill didn’t reply, Lana interjected, “He told me everything.”

Glen crouched down, head low, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lana. Truly. And, Gill?”

Reluctantly, Gill looked up, “Yes?”

The dragon shook his head a little, looking awkward, “I know it’s not like I planned it but I’m sorry about the coincidence. You have much courage and fortitude to come this far, and have been more than…” he reached for words, pausing before continuing, “You’ve really gone above and beyond trying to discuss things and putting your life in my power… rather than just pull a sword out and starting what I'm sure you little people would think was a justified fight.”

Taken aback by the compliment, Gill didn’t know how to respond. Praise from a dragon?

“Uh.. well. I… I’ve met more than one dragon in my life and have come to… well,” he scratched the back of his head and looked elsewhere, too uncomfortable to look anyone in the eye, “I just figured if Lana was alive and well then there was hope we could all talk rationally as adults ought to, and if not then I’d try to avenge her, that seemed the… if not logical… natural way to go about things.”

Glen chuckled as the elf colored a little, “You’re not a very natural person. And I mean that as a compliment. Dragons and little folks are natural… enemies…” He trailed off and Gill had a feeling realization was dawning. Was he figuring things out?

There followed a bit of awkward empty air before Lana piped up, “I think Glen put that well. You’ve come a long way and done so much. More than others would. I’m glad you chose to try for none-violence to deal with the situation.”

Gill felt more awkward than ever, not sure how to take the positive reinforcement, “Thank you both… It’s… I appreciate your words more than you can understand.” He pulled nervously at the grass, wanting this to stop but also happy to feel validated, “It… It’s… yeah. Means a lot. But…”

He took a breath. Where on earth did they go from here? Gill closed his eyes, feeling the mental fatigue pressing down. To have been burdened with heavy news to bring back to his friend’s family, only to find the most important one to him taken… the time getting here, the arguing with both of them against him. All of it.

“...But?’ Lana prompted.

Gill shook his head, “Um, just… I’m just, horribly, horribly burnt out. It’s been a wild time and I think I need to sit under a cold waterfall, drink more, eat more, and maybe not think about this whole mess for a few hours. I’m also all argued out.”

The ground trembled as Glen chuckled, “All worn out ‘eh?”

Gill glared up at him, “We’ll revisit the argument, I promise.”

“Sure, sure,” Glen replied flippantly, “But I agree, you need to take some time to unwind and put off the burden for a little. Just clarify for me, it took you how many weeks to get here?” Annoyed, Gill almost didn’t grace that with an answer. But then he replied, “I got to town in the morning two days after you took Lana and set out that afternoon after getting supplies.” “Mm.. so about two weeks… a couple days over or so. And.” the dragon went on, “What was the short-cut you took?”

Gill blinked a couple times. “Well, if… “ he looked to the ground near the fire where Glen had raked the grass away, upending it and revealing dirt.

Going over on his hands and knees, using his right side gingerly, Gill began drawing, “I’m well traveled as I’ve said a few times. I’ve been in this area before, years ago. I understand different terrain very well, enough to guess what I’m getting into anywhere I go. I…” he drew with the end of one burnt log, the ash helping to mark the large map, and explained, showing the safest routes, marking the marshy terrain he had delved into in order to make up time.

“Mm, yes..” Glen watched with interest. Lana watched with puzzlement, “And that’s honestly insanely well made up time. You expected to get here within two weeks on your horse taking the usual route?”

“No I was going to cut through a couple places. She’s extremely surefooted.” And there was a reason for his confidence in that. Gill showed the route he had planned to take, cutting into places normally hazardous for hooved beasts.

“Ah, yes.”

The “yes”s were feeling patronizing at this point. Was he missing something the dragon saw?

“Yes.” Gill confirmed with slight irritation, “So? Why did you want to know all this?”

“How many people could you confidently say could cut any distance enough to get close to say, getting here in three weeks? Most of those places… well, it is a risk for the average horse.”

“Hm.” Gill looked back down, tracing the full route, “I don’t follow this questioning of yours.” He glanced sidelong at the dragon, “What are you getting at?”

Glen shrugged, “You seem to think people can get here normally within a three week period, since you say people will be showing up around seven days from now.”

He had to blink at that, “Isn’t it a three week ride?”

“Even if you know how to track a dragon, not actually.” Glen said smugly, “Also, this area here.” he poked with his tail tip, “There was a rock slide last year which’ll slow people down more.”

His tired brain spun a few times trying to calculate, then gave up, “I’m sorry, what?” Gill felt he had hit a wall in 

his reasoning.

Lana came over and put a hand on Gill’s forehead, looking into his eyes, “I can’t do the math,” she said, peering searchingly, “But safe to say it’ll be more than a week before people start showing up.”

Gill peered back at her, not sure what she was doing, “Oh… ohhhh,” he got it a little, “Oh. I see... I see, I see.”

“So,” Glen ducked his head low to make eye-contact, “You have plenty of time to take a break and recover before we revisit the reason you’re here. For now, just take a few breaths and-”

“Gill, you feel really clammy.” Lana said suddenly.

Gill could read the alarm in her eyes, but didn’t quite see the issue.

“I…” He what? “Well. I certainly feel like I’m having a mental break.”

“And pale as a ghost. You should lie down.” Lana suggested, half helping, half pushing him onto his side, then his back, “Glen give us some shade, please.”

“Oh, oh my, what’s happening?” Glen did as told, spreading out a wing over them, “Is this like the panic attack?” he asked anxiously, “What’s a mental break?”

“I can rest…” Gill said faintly to no one in particular, “I can stop working and take a break.”

Lana brushed the hair off his forehead, “Yes Gill. You can take a break. It’s okay. We’re going to take care of you and let you rest. Do you want to sleep?”

“I feel sick.”

“Just close your eyes, Gill,” Lana watched anxiously even as she kept her voice calm, “Just let go, it’s going to be alright. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Gill reached up and took her hand, “I’m not okay, Lana. I’m unbelievably not okay.” the strain, stress and grief all squeezed to the surface. His eyes stung and his head hurt from trying to hold it in.

“Just rest, Gill,” Lana assured him, “Just rest. You’ve been wonderful, you’re better than any knight out there and you did so well, just… take a respite…”

She trailed off, then began to gently sing, a simple lullaby. Her voice enveloped Gill in warmth, and quietly he began to cry. The tears leaked out and he threw his arm over his eyes to hide it. Lana ran a comforting hand through his hair, continuing to sing until after he passed out.