#i think there's netty courts there

[fazcinatingblog]

the 8th netball team is apparently going to be based in south east melbourne, awesome!!!! i know a great place they can play home games ((((dales park))))

[princesssszzzz]

Northern Heat

Word count: 6.4K

Warnings: Fire/Ice Smuttiness

Pairing: Baegan ~ Baela x Cregan

Summary:

A flirty Baela spends a night with her tennis coach Cregan Stark after an unexpected encounter at a bar. Modern!AU

Read on AO3

Baela leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh as she sipped her iced latte. The sun streamed through the large windows of the campus coffee shop, warming her, the wooden tables, and the scattered groups of students enjoying their break. The place was lively but not too crowded, with the hum of conversation mixing with the sound of the espresso machine hissing in the background.

Aly took a bite of her toast, smirking at Baela. “So, you’re telling me you’re spending extra hours at tennis practice just to stare at his muscles?”

Baela laughed, trying to hide her grin. “I mean, have you seen them? The guy’s sculpted. And the way his shirt clings to him when he serves. It’s hard to focus on my backhand when I’ve got that in front of me.”

Netty sipped her cold brew, raising an eyebrow. “You know, you could just ask him out. It’s not like he’s your professor.”

Baela rolled her eyes, shaking her head, letting her growing curls fan her face. “It’s not that simple. Cregan is different. He’s not like the boys around here. He’s all about honor and doing the right thing. I think if I even hinted at something, he’d probably run the other way.”

“Or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Aly said, winking. “You’re the best player he’s coached. Maybe he’s more interested in improving your game than anything else.”

“Yeah, right,” Baela scoffed. “I’m there every other day pretending I need more practice just to spend time with him. He’s so serious about it too, like ‘Baela, you need to work on your footwork’ or ‘Baela, you’re getting too aggressive on your returns.’ Meanwhile, I’m just trying not to drool.”

Netty giggled at her ridiculous deep-voiced impressions of their coach. “You could always just stop pretending, and show him how good you actually are. Then maybe he’ll take you seriously as more than just a student.”

“Maybe,” Baela mused, stirring her drink. “But I don’t want to scare him off. He’s kind of old-fashioned, you know? And I like the way things are right now, even if he’s all ‘Coach Stark’ and nothing else.”

They let their conversation drift to other topics. The class assignments and weekend plans but Baela’s thoughts kept circling back to Cregan. She pictured him at the tennis courts, his focus entirely on her form and technique, those deep blue eyes watching her every move. He was always so composed, so controlled, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface, something he wasn’t letting show.

As they finished up their lunch, Baela’s phone buzzed with a message from her sister, Rhaena, who was off on some exotic beach vacation with Garmund in her gap year. *Wish you were here, B! Sun, sand, and no worries.* Baela smiled at the thought, but she was content with where she was for now. She was right in the middle of her own little game, where every day with Cregan was another serve in a match that had only just begun.

“Ready to head out?” Aly asked, gathering her things.

“Yeah,” Baela said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You’re not seriously going back to the courts again, are you?” Netty teased her, speaking loudly so Aly wouldn't miss her calling out Baela.

Baela just grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

As they left the coffee shop, Baela’s thoughts were already on tomorrow’s practice, wondering if maybe Cregan would notice that she wasn’t struggling with her backhand after all.

Baela’s silver curls bounced as she sent the tennis ball flying over the net, her lilac eyes focused on the game. The afternoon sun just barely lit up the courts, contrasting her Targaryen features and the rest of the world even more pronounced. She was used to standing out. No one else on this campus had her ethereal look, and she always noticed how it drew attention. But today, her mind was less on her appearance and more on the man standing on the other side of the net.

Cregan Stark watched her with his usual calm focus, brown eyes steady and unreadable as he returned her shot. His brown hair was slightly tousled from their practice, and Baela found herself studying him in a way she never used to with others. His features were common enough. The typical brown hair and brown eyes. On Coach Stark though, it looked different, more intriguing. She’d never paid attention to those details in anyone else until she met him.

As they rallied back and forth, Baela decided to break the silence between the loud ball smacking. “You know, I’ve always liked your accent,” she said casually, before sending another ball his way.

Cregan paused mid-swing, nearly missing the ball as it flew past him. A faint blush crept up his neck, and he shook his head with a half-smile. “I don’t have an accent,” he protested, even though his deep voice tinged with that unmistakable northern lilt.

“Oh, but you do,” Baela teased, stepping closer to the net. “It’s that northern charm. Makes everything you say sound so rugged.”

Cregan chuckled at her, trying to mask his embarrassment as he retrieved the ball. “I never noticed.”

Baela twirled her racket in her hand, enjoying the way she could get under his skin. “I’m sure the girls back home notice. You must’ve broken a few hearts with that voice.”

Cregan leaned, shaking his head again but this time with a playful glint in his eye. “You’ve been watching too many romantic dramas. I’m just a guy who talks about tennis too much.” He respectfully lowered his head while wiping his sweat, thinking Baela would move on to talk about something else.

“Well, speaking of,” Baela said, trying to keep the conversation going, “how much do you lift at the gym? You’ve got some serious muscles, Coach.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I don’t keep track. Just enough to stay fit, I guess.” She grinned at his obvious lie and attempts to remain humble.

“Come on,” Baela pressed, moving closer to him as if she could coax the information out of him with her proximity. “And what about outside of tennis and working out? Do you live alone, or do you have someone waiting for you after practice?”

Cregan’s expression softened, and he let out a small sigh, recognizing the direction she was steering the conversation. “I live alone,” he said simply, his tone still guarded. “And most of my time outside of coaching is pretty quiet. Not much to tell.”

Baela tilted her head, studying him with those lilac eyes that always seemed to see more than people wanted to reveal. “Quiet’s not so bad,” she said softly, letting the moment linger between them.

Cregan cleared his throat, sensing the need to bring the conversation back to safer ground. “So, about your backhand,” he began, but Baela just laughed, cutting him off.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” her smile making it clear she wasn’t offended.

“It’s my job to make sure you’re ready for your next match,” Cregan replied, a hint of his smile forming. “And you’ve been slacking on your right footwork.” Baela rolled her eyes, but there was warmth in her voice as she said, “Alright, Coach. But one of these days, you’re going to have to stop hiding behind the tennis court.”

Cregan’s gaze met hers before she moved, and for a brief moment, the professionalism he clung to wavered, revealing a flicker of something more. But just as quickly, he composed himself, nodding toward the baseline. “Let’s see that backhand, Targaryen.”

Baela smiled, turning to take her position. “Whatever you say, Stark,” she called over her shoulder already planning her next move, both on and off the court. -

The drive out to the small, off-the-beaten-path bar had been filled with laughter and loud music as Baela, Aly, and Netty left their school and annoying classmates far behind. They were in the middle of nowhere now, hours away surrounded by fields and old farmhouses that looked nothing like the sleek buildings they were used to in the city.

“This place is so different,” Netty said, leaning forward from the back seat. “It’s like we’ve stepped back in time or something.”

Baela grinned, her lilac eyes scanning the quaint, almost hick-town vibe of the area. “Yeah, it’s kind of nice not having to deal with any of those idiots from school, though.”

“True,” Aly added as she navigated the narrow road slowly, trying not to crash. “I swear, if I have to hear another guy try to impress me by talking about his car, I’m going to scream.”

They all laughed, the kind of carefree giggle that only comes when you’re far enough from your usual world that it feels like nothing can touch you.

When they finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of the bar, the place looked like something out of an old movie. Wooden beams, dim lighting, and a jukebox playing some country song in the corner. It was perfect for a night of just being themselves.

As they grabbed a booth and ordered drinks, the conversation turned to family. A topic that was always full of drama for Baela.

“So, what’s the latest with your mom?” Aly asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Baela shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “She’s good. She spent so long raising me and Rhaena, so we’ve been telling her to ignore my dad and go be a model, do whatever makes her happy. I even told her to cheat on him if she bumps into hot actor or something.”

Netty snorted into her coke. “Goddamn, Baela. That’s cold.”

“Why not?” Baela said with a laugh. “It’s not like he’s ever around. He’s too busy doing whatever dirty work my uncle has him wrapped up in. Pretty sure he’s a criminal, honestly.”

“At least you’ve got money,” Netty said, half-joking. “I mean, I grew up broke. Had to hustle for a scholarship just to get into our school. Now I steal food for fun, even though you keep offering to pay for everything with your dad’s credit card.”

She giggled at her kleptomaniac tendencies, almost getting her and Aly arrested once at a mall.

Baela rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know I don’t care about the money.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Netty waved her off with a grin. “But where’s the fun in swiping a card?”

They all laughed again. It was nice to let loose, especially with the chaos of their lives. As they settled into the vibe of the bar, they listened to Aly rant about bailing her cousin out of jail before Baela spoke again. She decided to share something that had been gnawing at her.

“Speaking of cousin drama,” she began, lowering her voice a little, “Aegon’s been following me around again, trying to.” She widened her eyes. “Well, you know.”

Aly and Netty exchanged looks of disgust. “That’s messed up,” Aly said, shaking her head. “He’s so disgusting.”

“Yeah, tell him to back off,” Netty added. “Or better yet, just smack him.”

Baela sighed. “I know, it’s just yuck.”

Before they could dive further into that conversation, Baela’s attention was suddenly caught by a loud burst of deep laughter from the bar. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Cregan, clearly drunk and surrounded by a group of guys. He was louder than she’d ever heard him, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by something much rowdier.

“What?” Baela started, blinking in surprise.

Aly followed her gaze and grinned. “Well, well, if it isn’t Coach Stark letting loose.”

Netty peered, trying not to look too hard. “He’s hot even when he’s a mess. Bless him.”

Baela felt her heart skip a beat. She had a crush on Cregan, sure, but seeing him like this was a shock. She’d never imagined him as anything other than the serious, honorable guy he was on the tennis court. This side of him, drunk and loud, was completely new.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Baela muttered, still trying to wrap her head around it.

Aly nudged her with a smirk. “Maybe now’s your chance to see what he’s really like.”

Baela hesitated, watching as Cregan laughed with his friends, his brown hair looking disheveled and his usually sharp eyes completely relaxed. It was weird seeing him so unguarded, but part of her was curious, maybe even excited, to see this side of him.

“Go on,” Netty urged, "Go say hi.”

Baela took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay, but if this is a disaster, I’m blaming you two.”

With that, she slid out of the booth and made her way over to the bar, her heart racing. As she got closer, Cregan looked up and noticed her, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer.

“Baela?” he said, his voice a little slurred but still familiar. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, trying to sound casual as she leaned against the bar.

Cregan chuckled, though it was rougher than usual. “Just, having a night out, I guess.”

Baela smiled, but she could feel the awkwardness in the air. He was shocked to see her there. This wasn’t the Cregan she was used to, and it threw her off. “Well, it’s good to see you, Coach. Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking into his drink. “Didn’t think you’d see me like this, either.”

There was a beat of silence before Cregan looked back up at her, his usual guarded expression slipping away for just a moment. “You having a good time with your friends?” He peered over at the two girls failing to hide that they’d been watching him.

Baela nodded, sensing a vulnerability in him that she hadn’t noticed before. “Yeah, we needed to get away from school for a bit and get a drink.”

Cregan smiled faintly, then gestured to his drink. “Want a round? My treat.”

Baela was about to say no to be polite, but then she saw the way his eyes held a glint of something. Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself nodding. “Sure, why not?”

As they stood at the bar, drinks in hand, Baela couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing a new side of Cregan.

-

Baela twirled on the dance floor, her silver curls catching the light as she moved to the beat of the tenth unfamiliar country song. She didn’t care that she didn’t know the words. All she cared about was the feeling of freedom that came from being miles away from campus, far from the prying eyes of their annoying classmates.

Aly and Netty danced alongside her, laughing as they tried to keep up with the rhythm. The bar was small and a bit rundown, but it had a certain charm that made it perfect for a night like this. It was just the three of them, letting loose and enjoying the night without a care in the world. No cousins. No school.

As Baela spun around again, she caught a glimpse of Cregan at the bar. He was alone now and was watching her, his brown eyes fixed on her every move. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race. It was a look she wasn’t used to from him, one that was far from the usual stern and professional expression he wore during practice.

He was still sitting at the bar, his drink in hand, but he hadn’t taken a sip in a while. Instead, his attention was entirely on her, as if she was the only other person in the room. Baela’s stomach fluttered at the thought. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it was throwing her off balance in the best way possible.

When the song ended, Aly and Netty finally decided to take a break, leaving the dance floor and giving Baela a knowing look as they headed toward a booth in the corner. “Go talk to him,” Netty whispered with a grin before she and Aly retreated to the bathroom to give Baela and Cregan some privacy.

Baela hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, summoning her courage, she made her way back over and slid onto the stool next to Cregan. His eyes followed her every move, and the heat of his gaze was almost palpable.

“You guys sure know how to make a statement.”

She blushed at his comment, feeling a little more emboldened by the alcohol coursing through her veins. “Well, it’s not every day we end up in a place like this. We figured we’d go big or go home.”

He gave her a lazy smile that sent another shiver down her spine. “You certainly did that.”

Baela bit her lip, noticing the way his gaze lingered on her mouth before he finally took a sip of his drink. “You're different tonight,” she observed, her tone curious. “Looser, I guess.”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Maybe that’s because I’m not on the clock. No reason to be uptight when I’m off-duty.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, still not entirely convinced. “Or maybe you’re just drunk.”

He shook his head, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’m of sound mind, I promise. This is just what we do in the North. We drink, we let loose, we have a good time. That doesn’t mean I’m not in control.”

Baela felt her pulse quicken at his words, the flirtatious edge in his voice catching her off guard. “You’re not worried about getting too carried away?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Depends on what you mean by ‘carried away.’”

Baela swallowed hard, her mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift in their conversation. This wasn’t the careful, measured Cregan she was used to.

“So,” she began, trying to keep her voice steady, “what would you do if I told you I wanted to get carried away?”

Cregan’s smirk faded into something more serious, more intense. “I’d ask you if you were sure that’s what you really wanted.”

Baela’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or if she was really feeling this way, but suddenly, the idea of getting carried away with Cregan didn’t seem so crazy.

Before she could respond, though, he leaned back slightly, giving her a moment to think. “No one knows you’re my student here,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just you and me.”

The realization hit Baela like a ton of bricks. No one in this bar had any idea who they were or what their relationship was supposed to be. They were just two people in a bar, sharing a moment that could go anywhere.

“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Baela admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan reached out, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time you got used to it.”

Baela’s heart skipped a beat at his touch, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words. She’d never seen this side of him before, but now that she had, she wasn’t sure she could go back to pretending he was just her coach. Not when he was looking at her like this.

Around them, the bar continued to buzz with activity, but for Baela, the only thing that mattered was the man sitting beside her. The man who, in this moment, wasn’t just her coach but something much more.

As the night wore on, the bar began to empty out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. Netty and Aly finished their dancing, cheeks flushed and smiles wide, before grabbing their things and heading toward the exit. They waved at Baela on their way out, giving her one last teasing grin before disappearing into the night.

Baela watched them leave, then turned back to Cregan, who was still sitting beside her. He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks, a mischievous grin on his face. “You might be a tough girl, Baela, but you’re still a city girl through and through,” he teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Baela shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You said you wanted a cocktail or martini earlier. But this place? It’s all about the beer.”

Baela rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine, but only because you’re buying.”

Cregan grinned as the bartender set down two new frosty mugs of beer in front of them. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.”

They clinked their heavy mugs together, the cool beer a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar. The conversation flowed easily between them, and before they knew it, hours had passed, and they were the last ones left inside.

Eventually, Cregan tossed some cash on the counter, and they made their way outside into the cool night air. Baela couldn’t help but notice the old, beat-up truck parked in the lot, its paint chipped and rusted in places. She smirked, pointing at it. “That yours?”

Cregan glanced at the truck, then back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

Baela laughed, shaking her head. “Nothing, just… it’s a little different from my new BMW, that’s all.”

Cregan smirked, leaning against the truck. “Your family’s got more money than mine for sure, but we’ve been around here longer. This old boy’s been through a lot.” He patted the creaky frame.

Baela grinned, appreciating his honesty. “Well, let’s see if it still runs.”

Cregan opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in, the worn leather seats creaking beneath her. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t resist making one last jab. “You sure this thing’s gonna make it out of the parking lot?”

Cregan shot her a sideways glance, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s got a few more miles in it, just like me.”

He started the engine, the truck rumbling to life with a low growl. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Baela turned to him, her expression softening.

“Hey you don’t have to drive me home, you know,” she said, her voice teasing, trying to sound seductive.

Cregan glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? Where am I taking you, then?”

Baela leaned back in her creaky seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked him in the eye. “Your place.”

Cregan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, and the flirtatious banter between them suddenly charged with yet another tension. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept his eyes on the gravel road as they drove through the dark streets.

Finally, he nodded, his voice low and steady. “Alright, Baela. My place it is.”

Cregan’s truck rumbled down a winding, tree-lined road, the headlights cutting through the darkness as they made their way to his place. Baela stared out the cracked window, the cool night air streaming in slowly. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened that night. The sudden shift from playful banter to something far more intense and intimate was throwing her off but in the best way possible. She was finally getting what she wanted.

When they finally pulled up in front of a large but modest weather-worn house, Baela couldn’t help but smirk. The place had a certain rustic charm, but it was clear it had seen better days. The paint was peeling in places, and the porch looked like it could use some work. “Wow, Coach,” Baela teased, stepping out of the truck. “Ever think about renovating? You know, joining us in the 21st century?”

"It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s home,” he replied, his tone still playful. “It’s got character.”

Baela followed him up the loudly creaking steps, her eyes flicking to the worn wood beneath her feet. “Yeah, it’s got...something. Might want to start with replacing these steps before they collapse.”

He unlocked the door, shaking his head with a grin at her comments. “I’ll get right on that, Princess.”

Inside, the house was just as she’d imagined. Cozy and dated, with an old-fashioned feel that spoke to the house’s long history. The furniture was sturdy but clearly well-worn, and the decor was simple, with no frills or unnecessary luxuries. Her parents would hate to live in a place like this. It was a far cry from the sleek, modern interiors she was used to, but there was something undeniably charming about it.

Baela took it all in, walking around the small living room as she shrugged out of her jacket. “This place is definitely you, Cregan. Rugged, a little rough around the edges, but solid.”

Cregan appreciated the flattery, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you?”

Baela turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just calling it like I see it.”

He shook his head, grinning while staring at her. “Make yourself at home, then.”

She walked over to the old couch, running her hand along the worn fabric before turning back to him with a teasing smile. “May I?”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s sturdier than it looks.”

Baela didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her every move, the tension between them thickening with each passing moment. She bit her lip, feeling a thrill at the way he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. With a playful glint in her eye, she slowly reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion.

Cregan’s breath hitched as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her in just her bra and low-rise jeans. “Baela.”

She smiled, reclining on the old couch as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. “You said to make myself at home.”

His eyes darkened, the air between them sparking up as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step toward her. “Baela.” He repeated her name.

She leaned back, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she looked up at him, her voice soft and teasing. “Yes?”

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance between them, the space shrinking until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her body.

Baela’s heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze, the banter between them fading into something far more serious, far more sensual.

Baela watched as Cregan stood over her, his usually guarded expression replaced with something raw and intense. The tension that had been simmering between them finally reached a boiling point, and she could feel the electricity crackling in the air.

She tilted her head back, her silver curls spilling over the arm of the couch as she gazed up at him, a soft, teasing smile playing on her lips. “Are you just going to stand there, Coach? Or are you going to join me?”

Cregan’s eyes darkened, the usual restraint he showed around her nowhere to be found. He slowly knelt beside the couch, his hands resting on her knees as he gently pushed them apart. His touch was careful, almost reverent, but there was a hunger in his eyes that made Baela’s heart race.

“You’re something else, Baela,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

She laughed softly, the sound light and breathless. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

Without another word, Cregan leaned down, his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed a slow path along her inner thigh. Baela’s breath caught in her throat, her teasing demeanor slipping as a shiver of anticipation ran through her.

The scruff of his beard grazed her skin, the sensation both ticklish and incredibly intimate. She let out a surprised giggle, the unexpected feeling breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Your beard,” she whispered, her voice full of laughter. “It tickles.”

Cregan paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked up at her. “You like it?”

She nodded, biting her lip to stifle another giggle. “It’s different. Good different.”

With a low chuckle, he returned to his slow exploration, his hands firm and sure as they guided her hips closer to him. Baela’s laughter faded into soft gasps as the sensation of his mouth on her skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. The playful banter between them melted away, replaced by something deeper, more intimate.

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in the moment, the connection between them intensifying with each passing second. When Cregan finally moved to kiss her, his lips claiming hers with a fierce passion, Baela responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

She moaned into his mouth, tasting him. He tasted like mint and the faint traces of cinnamon, a mix that uniquely seemed like him. It made her crave more and when his hands trailed down her back to remove their clothes, she let out a small sigh of satisfaction, arching into him unconsciously. She felt him smirk against her mouth before he deepened the kiss.

Cregan lifted her effortlessly, guiding her onto his lap as he settled back against the worn couch. Baela straddled him, her hands bracing against his shoulders as she gazed down at him, her silver curls framing her face. She could feel the heat of his body beneath her palms, his breath warm against her lips as he looked up at her with so much desire.

His dark gaze traveled down her body, making her blush slightly, but he quickly caught her eye again. He smirked as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “You’re beautiful, Baela,” he breathed. “Everything about you is gorgeous.”

Baela flushed even darker as she bit her lip, moving in to kiss him again. She kissed him long and deep, feeling him respond hungrily as one hand came up to cup her breast, her hips grinding lightly into him. Her breathing quickened as he began to caress her, rubbing against her intimately. His erection pressed firmly against her stomach, which elicited a soft whimper from her. He smiled against her lips. “What do you want?"

He whispered huskily again when she didn't answer, too preoccupied with nipping him with kisses. "Tell me, baby."

Baela shook her head against his lips. She couldn't breathe properly, her chest heaving with the need for air as he continued kissing her senselessly. She ran one hand up his chiseled arm as he held her against him, his fingers digging into her hip bone.

He pulled away just enough to say, “Come on, you're always so brave. Don’t be shy now, tell me what you want.” His voice sounded hoarse and it took everything in her not to squirm in pleasure, her arousal flaring even more. “Please tell me what you want.” His tone was pleading and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You know what I want Stark.” The words were barely audible as she fought to stay sane.

“I want to hear you say it, Baela. Please.”

Her breath hitched as his fingers slipped in between them, finding the opening between her legs. The cool air made her shudder as his fingers brushed against her sensitive skin. “Oh, god.”

She sighed before speaking again. "Fuck me."

“Yes,” he said immediately, pressing his lips hard against hers to emphasize his agreement as he licked his way around her breasts, kissing every inch of her exposed skin until his mouth found her nipple and lined himself up to her opening.

Baela cried out, arching upwards into him as she arched against him. His fingers teased her, teasing her until she begged him to thrust inside her. He complied instantly, sliding deep inside her. They both gasped and then moaned together, panting with the intensity of their pleasure. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as they moved together.

Cregan’s grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved with her, their bodies perfectly in sync. Baela’s breath hitched as the intensity of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to look away, wanting to capture every detail of this moment between them.

They rocked slowly, building up the speed as they rode the waves of their passion. His hands gripped her bottom as he pulled her in tighter, driving into her relentlessly, his cock stretching her further as they continued their erotic dance. She groaned softly, the pleasure unbearable as her climax peaked. She buried her face in his shoulder as she trembled and convulsed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes from the force of her release. She only wanted this, to make sure this wasn't fleeting.

He groaned as well, his entire body trembling as his climax crashed over him. After a few minutes, he leaned back, resting his weight against her as he struggled for breath. His face glistened with sweat, his chest rising rapidly as he tried to calm himself. Baela smiled fondly as she smoothed the damp strands of his dark brown hair off his forehead.

The tension that had built up between them over the past weeks finally found its release, their connection had deepened with every touch, every kiss, every shared breath. The playful banter, the unspoken longing, the undeniable chemistry. All of it came together in a perfect storm of emotions that left them both breathless.

Baela let out a soft, contented sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder, her silver curls brushing against his cheek. Cregan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they sat there in the quiet aftermath, the tension between them finally giving way to a comfortable, shared silence.

After a long moment, Baela lifted her head, her lilac eyes meeting his with a playful smile. “I guess your old couch isn’t so bad after all.”

Cregan chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Told you it was sturdier than it looks.”

Baela laughed, the sound light and carefree as she nestled against him, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains of Cregan’s bedroom, casting a waking Baela up. She stirred, a lazy smile stretching across her face as the events of the previous night came flooding back. She felt the warmth of the blankets against her skin and the comfort of the old, worn-in bed beneath her. It was surprisingly cozy for such a rugged place, though she had a feeling that might have had more to do with the man than the bed itself.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned her head just in time to see Cregan walk in, still naked, carrying a tray with breakfast. Baela couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sight of him so casual and at ease making the moment feel both surreal and ridiculously charming.

“Well, good morning to you too,” she teased, her lilac eyes sparkling with amusement. “You always serve breakfast like this, Coach?”

Cregan grinned, setting the tray down on the bed before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Only for special guests.”

Baela rolled her eyes playfully, sitting up and taking in the spread before her. Eggs, toast, and a few slices of bacon. Simple, but it smelled delicious. She grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on it as she looked up at him, curiosity getting the better of her.

“So,” she started her voice light and teasing. “How does a guy like you end up being a tennis coach? I mean, you don’t exactly fit the stereotype.”

Cregan chuckled, sliding back into the bed beside her and leaning against the headboard. “Honestly? I don’t know. It just happened. I played a lot of sports growing up, and was pretty good at it. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was coaching.”

Baela raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his vague answer. “That’s it? No secret passion for tennis? No dramatic backstory?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. Just a guy who’s good at sports and wanted a job.”

Baela was about to press him further when something suddenly dawned on her. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the toast onto the tray, sitting up straight. “Oh my gods, I left my phone at the bar! Netty and Aly have probably been calling this entire time.”

Cregan smirked, clearly not as concerned as she was. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry about it’? I need my phone! What if someone took it?”

He leaned in, his grin widening as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Baela, it’s fine. I own the bar.”

She blinked, her mind trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”

Cregan nodded, clearly enjoying her confusion. “And most of the northern part of town, too. It’s a family thing.”

Baela stared at him, utterly shocked. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, still grinning as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers. “Afraid not, Princess.”

Baela’s mind reeled as she tried to wrap her head around this new revelation. Cregan wasn’t just a coach. He was practically the king of this small town. And here she was, sitting naked in his bed, having spent the night in his arms.

Before she could ask any more questions, the older man kissed her, his lips warm and insistent against hers. The shock of his revelation melted away, replaced by the familiar heat of their connection. Baela kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his chest as she pulled him closer.

As their lips parted, Baela couldn’t help but smile, the surprise still lingering in her eyes. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Cregan chuckled, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her lilac eyes. “Stick around, Baela. You might find there’s a lot more to discover.”

Baela smiled softly, shaking her head in disbelief as she pulled him in for another kiss, the rest of the world fading away as she lost herself in the moment.

[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.

[lighthouseborn]

What did your muse's family look like? Parents, grandparents? Big or small? Who was around the house when your muse was a kid?

Childhood HCs

Henry's family is more network than blood ties, though both factor in, and it's like. Big. But also... small.

When it comes to specific wordage there are things I would say that probably wouldn't be said IC by many of them because there's just soooo much family trauma in various shapes all around him. It means these claims don't always get so directly addressed, but it's like this: Elizabeth and Will are his parents, but so is Jack — Bootstrap (to whatever degree is quite manageable for a dead man working on a spirit ship) is Henry's grandfather, and so is Teague, and by some accounts you can throw Mr. Gibbs into some kind of family category around this level too (though I suspect that's more like. when you have Grandparents you don't know that well and don't see that often. I'm not so sure he saw a lot of Gibbs when he was younger but there's still a thread there.) I also think Anamaria was around enough that Henry considers her family, if not necessarily the other way around. Then there's Hetty, whom Henry has known since they were too little to quite remember how they met and to him she's family, too (and by extension, her family — parents, two younger sisters.) This is Henry's close circle. (Which, of course, includes Carina and their girls later. But this is childhood-centric.)

You can take a step out from this and start getting people like the community on the lighthouse island, Thyra and the other villagers, and in Shipwreck Cove, Lucia and Auntie Nettie+her charges as well as the Pirate Lords Hector Barbossa (whom, by all evidence, was a confidant of Elizabeth's) Mistress Ching and Gentleman Jocard, and Elizabeth's contacts. This is also, in a way, family, it's just the next level out, and gets very complicated very quickly. This is part of Henry's... openness? His lines aren't always the clearest, or most defined, and it's only when he's taxed and stretched thin and pulled apart at his very core that the lines begin to show at all. In a certain way, all of Shipwreck is family (community) — in an even more complicated way, all of the Brethren Court's many extending enterprises outside of the cover are family. Or at least something he belongs to. The ripples roll out and out.

Many of these people were around when he was younger — in particular, Teague, Autie Nettie, Hetty's family, and Jebat and Teretai (Shabira's parents) are all people who looked after Henry when Elizabeth had to leave him behind for one reason or another. That's how his family-shaped list got so large to begin with, there was a real... it-takes-a-village kind of bond and building ground. All these people who made it possible for him to grow up to be the way he is -- for him to grow up at all, a boy born into a community fighting for their right to live, his mother a primary target of that fight. But the thing about that is I think... it was something Elizabeth had to learn, that necessity pushed her into discovering this net of people around her who can and could and would and wanted to help and see her succeed. And I really do think that it's that whole net and yet also. I think it was also very much a little nest of two.

I have this feeling like Elizabeth was initially really protective of Henry in almost a hide-him-from-the-world way. At least while he was very very little, anyway. And then as things shifted it became necessary for her to trust other people and etc., hence the net. Henry's ever-growing tangle of threads and ribbons and anchors and bowlines. But when you really really really start pulling it apart (which he Hates btw, he Hates when you start asking him to make things a hierarchy, when you start stripping away at it — that that's something you can even do-) I do think, with enough dedicated dismantling and callous cutting-away, when you get to the middle it's Henry and Elizabeth. And if you cut any more, you kill him outright, not just unmoor him.

And so there's ripples and strings and he hates when you ask but really, the thing is, it's him and mum. Him and Mum at the end of every day, with whatever bedtime rituals. Him and Mum inventing games and having hard conversations. Him and Mum with their idealism. Their tempers. Him and Mum with a key to a chest holding a heart that only still beats for them. Him and Mum, ten years, fifteen years, twenty years waiting in their roost at the top of the world.

[slusheeduck]

Fictober 2023 Day 6 - Prompt: "Are you with me?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

“I say it’s time for a celebration. Are you with me?”

Falerin’s attention, drifting aimlessly as he sat on the rocks by the water, was abruptly caught by a bottle, shoved right in front of his face.

“Arkhen’s Hoard. Well, I think it is. The thing about found liquor is that the labels always seem to go missing.” The bottle gets pushed into Falerin’s hands, and Gale settled down on the rock beside him with a long sigh. “Tell you what: you get the honor of the first drink.”

“So you can be sure it’s good?” Falerin asked with a wry smile. He pops open the cork—seems like it’s already been opened and examined—and takes a drink. He pulls it away, squinting as he looked over it.

“Well?”

“…I have no idea what Arkhen’s Hoard tastes like.” Falerin passed it back, a little smile on his face. “But it’s good.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. In these circumstances, anyway.” Gale took a long drink, then passed the bottle back as he looked up overhead.

“So…what are we celebrating, exactly?” Falerin asked, tapping a nail against the bottle.

“Well, it’s another day past without sprouting tentacles! That’s good enough cause for celebration for me. Especially because we should have long since been reduced to a life of cephalopodic horrors.” He wiggled his fingers in front of his mouth for emphasis, making the half-drow laugh.

“All right, all right. I’ll drink to that,” Falerin said, and so he did. He grew thoughtful, though, as he passed the bottle back. He often did, really; seemed his head was in the clouds more often than not. Not a bad trait, as far as companions went. If anything, it made Gale’s conversations with him all the more valuable.

“Copper for your thoughts?” he chanced.

Falerin’s eyes fixed on him: one dark, and one a bright, nearly luminescent purple. The latter wasn’t an unusual color for drow, but there was something…strange in it. Otherworldly. Like someone else—well, a non-tadpole someone—was looking at him through it. Warlocks often bore marks from their patrons, but that didn’t make them any less unsettling…or fascinating, depending on who you asked.

“You were really upset when Nettie poisoned me,” he said after a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask why.”

“Is that…not what friends do?” Gale asked, brows furrowing as he held the bottle to his lips. “Do let me know. It may be hard to believe with my charm and wit, but I’m a bit out of practice.”

“So am I,” Falerin said with a laugh.

“Ah, see, I knew you were a kindred spirit.” The wizard let out a sigh, looking up. “Do you ever just…click with someone? Where you meet, and chat, and it’s like you’ve known each other all your life? Granted, maybe it’s some form of…trauma bonding, but…” He held the bottle out to Falerin, who took a quick drink before passing it back. “In that moment, when that druid poisoned you, I realized just how devastating it’d be to lose a friend like you so soon after meeting.” He shook his head. “But that’s likely just the ramblings of a very lonely, very stressed man. Change the subject, would you?”

Falerin gave a little smile, warm and understanding, then rubbed his knee. “Guess how old I am.”

“If you’re having me guess, my answer’s not going to be right,” Gale shot back, passing the bottle.

Falerin smiled, swirling the wine. “I’m sick, too,” he said quietly. “My heart doesn’t work properly; I wasn’t supposed to make it to twenty-five. I did, I think through sheer spite, and I wanted to keep living. Initially, I turned to magic, but ultimately, I went to the fey.” He shrugged. “My patron…liked me, for whatever reason. Took me to her court and kept me there. I don’t know if she thought of me as a…a pet or a plaything or what, but I was comfortable, and my illness was halted.”

Gale regarded him for a moment. “So why leave?”

Falerin chewed his lip. “My illness was halted. I wasn’t cured.” He looked up at Gale. “I don’t expect you to know what it’s like, but…being in a place of such beauty, full of immortals who don’t know what it’s like to be sick, and feeling the…rot, the poison of your own mortality in your veins—it’s maddening.”

Gale’s eyes darted away. “I might know that better than you think,” he said quietly.

Falerin took a long drink, then passed it back. “So I asked to leave. My patron agreed—a lot more easily than I thought she would. She offered to give me power, to give me enough fey magic to not only survive, but thrive—for a time, anyway—in exchange for my right eye.” He tapped just below it, purple blazing in the dying light. “She wanted to see my adventures, because she knew I’d have them.” He shook his head, puffing out a laugh. “Obviously, she was right.” He dragged his heel through the dirt. “I thought I’d just been away for ten years. Turns out it was a hundred. My mother, my friends, my mentor…all gone. I was just trying to get my bearings when the nautiloid picked me up.”

Gale was quiet, looking off somewhere very distant. “For a time, you said. Do you know how long?”

Falerin shrugged. “With the fey magic in me? I’d guess about a decade.” His brow furrowed. “I feel…stronger, with the tadpole. Even more than I did in the Feywild. But it seems a shitty deal to keep living just to end up a Mind Flayer.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gale said, tipping the bottle in a one-sided toast. “Tell you what. You’re already helping me with my condition. I’ll do whatever I can to help with yours.” He gave a grim smile. “If we both survive, obviously. But…I hope we do.”

Falerin gave him a wide smile, taking the bottle from him. “I’ll drink to that.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 53

Cw: grooming, murder, child abuse, fertility issues, magic, description of injuries, body horror, ableism

Gif by @daenerys-tarrgaryen

Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9

Rhaena ---despite Jeyne putting her foot down saying it was too dangerous--- was packed along with her stepbrother and their dragons and escorted to her father by the army Jeyne promised father and her half-sister, Nettles.

Why, she isn’t sure, but Nettles thinks it’s to show off their dragons and make the Greens shit themselves.

“I do not like him.” Her eight and ten year old half-sister made her displeasure known after Ser Corwyn, a man of eight and twenty, helps her onto her horse.

“But I do, Nettie.” The girl said playing with the red ribbon he gave her back in the Eyrie. He was handsome, and great at jousting, and if Nettles was into boys, she’d find it very attractive when he takes off his tunic when he spars.

Rhaena had scarcely turned five and ten ---two weeks ago--- when the lords and knights in Lady Jeyne’s court begin to fight for her attention. She supposed it was her turn since everyone’s getting betrothed.

Baela is betrothed to the heir of House Rowan who Lady Jeyne claims is part of a conspiracy to kill Aegon and make Aemma queen. Aegon was led to believe by his councilors he had truly become loyal to him, and the Usurper believed them.

Joanna Westerling has sent a raven to father offering herself or his choice of her four daughters in exchange for ridding her of the Red Kraken. Father had ---according to Nettles--- chosen the widow as her bravery had him rooting for her despite her allegiance.

Rhaena has plenty of offers, but the choice is up to father, unfortunately.

Kermit Tully offers himself as a groom for Rhaena, as does three- and ten-year-old Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, Jason Lannister, Lord Manderley’s heir, Lord Tarly and Ser Corwyn Corbray.

Rhaena would gladly choose Ser Corwyn if it were up to her. It wasn’t fair mama married papa out of love, she tells her sister when she says he is too old for her.

“Your mother was two and twenty, and he killed the Sealord’s annoying son for her. If Ser Corwyn cares for you an ounce of what Daemon cared for his two late wives, he will wait until you are of age and know your own mind, little sister.” Nettles points out and changed the topic. “Do you think Vhagar knows Morning is hers?”

“Yes, when Aemond was Aemma’s hostage Vhagar would let her curl up beside her, she even let us get on her saddle. Unless you try to command your parent’s dragon, they don’t harm you. When Baela trained Moondancer for fighting, Vhagar refused to hurt her. Caraxes has no such problem, but that is because Caraxes is a jerk.” Rhaena explained wondering why she’d ask that.

Morning was as large as a colt now; the freedom of the mountain helped her grow as if she were a wild dragon like Nettles’ Sheepstealer. She was not a fighter, she needed training for it, but if she were to be around and hurt, Vhagar would have no other choice than to rescue her hatchling.

“Why does father want me there?”

“Baela’s escaping Kingslanding as we speak, Daemon wants Vhagar out of the fight and the only way to do it is if her hatchlings lead her away from the battle.”

Prince Aenys suckles at Alys’ teat as if she hadn’t bound his life to hers. The babe would live as long as she did while he was still at her breast.

It served as insurance, and the only way the babe lives. Had he been handed off to an ordinary woman, the babe would have been blue by morning.

Alys had done this before. With Ida’s first boy, Simon’s eldest grandson and the housekeeper’s bastard girl. They all lived long and healthy lives, save for little Simon who she felt Daemon bring down Dark Sister on him.

Every dying child she nurses becomes tied to her.

She cannot give life, but she may nurture it. A small consolation for when your gods take away your chance to be an ordinary woman with an ordinary man and give birth to perfectly ordinary children.

Her husband had been killed by the same demon he sired on her; Larys’ horrible mama had been killed by the demon Alys gave birth to when she gave King Viserys her maidenhead.

She had prayed for a chance to get away from her stepmother who believed her to be the reason Larys was born the way he was.

The gods answered, just not the way she had hoped.

Her mother, a witch from Oldtown, had been proud, her father toyed with the valyrian steel link in his old chain as she tearfully explained her situation when three- and ten-year-old Harwin found her cradling Willam’s body in her bloody bed.

After that Alys honed her skills while father and Harwin helped erase any evidence of her …experiments out of love for her.

Her sisters remained blissfully unaware of it all, Larys loathed her for she knew his true nature, but Harwin adored her as all little brothers adore their big sisters.

As thanks for keeping her secrets, Alys kept the curse of Harren the Black at bay. The curse that plagued Harwin since Lady Beatrice Rowan gave birth to him on an unlucky day.

He had nightmares of fires, of being locked in his rooms and Larys laughing as he beats the door bloody until he burns alive.

Alys used all her arts to keep her brother alive, as long as she never left the castle it would not claim sweet Harwin who was so much more than just the Breakbones.

Then one night, Larys drugged her with sweetsleep and locked her in a cottage in the woods just outside the grounds to kill their father and brother.

Same brother Larys envied for being everything he wasn’t.

He wants her dead, now that he has lost everything for betting on the wrong horse. He killed his kin for a cursed castle, so she let it all fall on his frail shoulders.

Once he is dead, Ida’s sons with Lord Whent will inherit the title and lands that come with Harrenhal. Osbert Whent, a boy of four who would need a regent. Someone Ida knows would die and kill for him.

And that someone is his beloved auntie, Alys.

“The babe dies if I die.” She tells him as she continues to care for the baby prince.

“The babe is a bastard, he has as much value as you do, sweet sister.” Her brother said with a smile. “The little queen will have others. She doesn’t even love the babe, perhaps she may thank me for ridding her of it.”

“You do not know the rage of a mother, Larys. Even if she claims not to love her son, her blood will not let her rest until he is avenged.” The witch chided him for thinking all mothers were as cruel as his.

Lara Strong had made it loud and clear that she’d been disappointed in her son. She wanted a son better than Harwin who had always seemed uncannily perfect.

Larys, while loved by his father and siblings, loathed them for believing in the venom his mother raised him on. Hated them so much he became a kinslayer thinking he could fill that void in him with wealth and a title.

Nothing more terrible in this world than to live without ever knowing love.

“So you say, sweet sister, so you say.”

“The Silent Sisters’ said it was beyond their ability to embalm her, the most they could was wrap her as tightly as they could.” He murmured squeezing his eye shut as if trying to will the memory of it away.

Usually, he is the one holding her, and tonight Aemma returns the favor. She braids his hair, helps him remove his false eye and when he asks her to comfort him in the way he had assumed, she turns him down as she has not fully recovered from the birth.

“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Aemma whispered tucking him under her chin as he is fond of doing with her.

Alicent’s death had been so gruesome she was wrapped in linen drenched in fragrant oils like a Valyrian instead of having her body embalmed as it was typical for Andal funerals. The spikes had torn through too much, even now some pieces of her clothes were stuck under the worst ones she fell on.

Whether she took her own life or was murdered was an entirely different beast. The only one in the room was Alys who swore on the Seven-pointed star she was burping Aenys on the other side of the nursery when it happened.

Not that they believed her, but they can’t change Aenys’ wetnurse without risking the babe becoming ill or worse, dying.

Even if grandfather’s and Aemond’s theory that she used her dark arts to kill her mother were true, they would have to postpone any trial and execution after Aenys has been weaned.

That would mean Daemon must wait another year to avenge her mother as he vowed that day she died.

“What are you thinking?” he asks turning so he could rest his head on her breast. If you saw him like this, you wouldn’t believe he was the same haughty prick you see in public.

“The same woman who killed your mother and mine is the same who nurses our son. We’ll have to wait until he is weaned to kill her.” She answered and he quietly chuckled.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll kill him?”

A good question. One her grandfather and Baela and Jena and even Aegon had asked her since Alicent’s murder.

“No, self-preservation trumps all, she knows the moment anyone gets a whiff ---real or imagined--- of her mistreating the Prince of Dragonstone she is dragon food. Why do you think all your brother’s supporters are flocking to me now that the end is nigh, dear husband?”

Most courtiers had turned Green to keep themselves alive and with all their wealth, now they switch their cloaks for black to do the same. While Aemma will spare them, she will still punish them for their treachery.

They didn’t learn anything from when Jaehaerys spared their forefathers, this time Aemma intends to make the lesson stick.

They must learn the world cannot have a second Otto Hightower.

[ride-thedragon]

I've come to the realization that I've been talking about the theory that Rhaenyra wanted Nettles dead by the end of the war without actually talking about it. That changes now.

Why Rhaenyra Targaryen Wanted Nettles the Dragonseed Dead. (A theory).

First things first this is not my theory, I've just thought about the justification on it, I believe the original poster is on Reddit.

1. Nettles does not look Valyrian: this is the most obvious case for the theory. Nettles existence is in direct opposition to the Doctrine of Targaryen Exceptionalism. The idea that they 'control the dragons' as stated by Viserys in episode one of the show is an illusion, he says this to Rhaenyra and she then says everyone thinks Targaryens are closer to Gods than men, but they say that because of our dragons. Netty isn't just a common-looking dragon rider, we have absolutely no proof that she was a descendant of any person from Old Valyria. She also uses the most unconventional means to claim her dragon. One only referenced to be used before the Dragons were claimed by the people of Old Valyria, a direct connection to the Targaryen history to dragonriding, using the closest ancestor to the wild dragons they would've claimed. That's an issue for Rhaenyra and the future of House Targaryen.

2. Alyn's Part: She also visibly does this where more notable bastards fail, Silver Denys and Alyn of Hull being the bastards that die and are burned, almost killed respectively. That doesn't aid Nettles' case with the strange way she claims her dragon, Sheepstealer ensures the death of every other potential rider, most of who would most likely look more Valyrian.

3. A smaller part: In the few descriptions we have for Nettles, It's said her loyalties were never clear and that's part of the reason she was mistrusted. I think that part is a bit overlooked because from all her actions described she fought loyally for Rhaenyra and her cause.

Moving on from the incentive, Daemon's part in Nettles's story is important but not in the ways usually discussed. These are the ways in which his part in this would’ve played out.

1. He doesn't know: Plain and Simple, Rhaenyra had this plan and didn't tell him, expecting his loyalty and understanding. In this scenario, she takes her father's words to heart after she realizes Daemon doesn't understand. He'd be more impressed by Netty than the other Dragonriders because she doesn't look like them, doesn't claim her dragon conventionally, and by all accounts is filthy, and foul-mouthed. Rhaenyra is trying to run a country, Daemon is getting to know Nettles and because Rhaenyra would be occupied she wouldn't realize how close they are becoming, Mysaria, Lady of Whispers in all but the name makes it a priority to know. Rhaenyra sends Nettles away from court at Daemon's side to prolong the issue and he gets close to Nettles and loves her in whatever way he does. The betrayers betray, Addam is now Corlys' Heir so he's questioned not executed. Mysaria informs Rhaenyra about this relationship between Daemon and Nettles and she realizes she can't depend on him as she thought, but she still expects him to understand. Rhaenyra writes to lord Mooten, to kill Nettles and send Daemon her way, but he knows better and has seen their relationship firsthand, Daemon would burn them himself if that happens and believes it would curse his house so he does his little plan, and succeeds, without breaking guest right and because it seems like the Queen is a Mad, Guest Right breaker, descending into grief and Jealousy, he changes factions, Daemon gets himself killed after securing Nettles safety because he doesn't think much, cite. "That whore of a queen killed my brother".

2. He does know: Basically, everything that was just described but he is aware of Rhaenyra’s goal, and probably petitions for Nettles to join him as a way to get Rhaenyra to seemingly not be viewed as crazy for killing Nettles, especially if she dies fighting Vhagar or Daemon kills her after. But then months go by and with the aid of Mysaria she realizes that Daemon loves Nettles and won't kill her, she then writes to lord Mooten who doesn't want to be burnt or cursed so he tells Daemon who realizes there is no sense in going back and sends Nettles away for her protection.

All in all, it's my preferred theory because HBO doesn't have the best history with Asoiaf women and depicting their grief or complexities. Making Rhaenyra have a reason for killing Nettles not just a jealous, hurt, and betrayed woman succumbing to the madness of her grief is, in my opinion, a beautiful depiction of Rhaenyra being a capable ruler but being undermined and reduced to stereotypical characterizations based solely on her gender. The people who wrote this part also notably hate her for no reason.

A note would be that Rhaenyra could just as easily put on this performance for her declaration of this decree to save face, she uses the same justification people use for her first three kids against Nettles and uses witchcraft as a justification, a practice said to be used by Queen Visenya Targaryen, an idol for Rhaenyra. It seems more like a justification for her actions rather than a belief she would hold. Especially for the child who grieved her son at her side.

[thephantomcasebook]

I think you're right about netty getting axed. I saw some anon saying addam gets the part of not looking valyrian, but rhaena gets the bulk of her arc. The leaked photos already show addam having dark hair and we know that the show's way of showing valyrian lineage. He's already corlys' bastard anyways too so this could provide some conflict and some parallels with jace.

Rhaena was strongly hinted since s1 that she'll be claiming a dragon. Let's be honest, she does nothing throughout the duration of the dance except to be courted and sang to in the vale. It isn't even political bec the arryns are allies and jace had joffrey and rhaena stay in the vale to protect them. This is good for rhaena's arc. The reason rhaenyra could be mad with her is because she becomes friends with addam, who is marked as a betrayer, and not some weird incest thing with daemon like some people are saying.

I mean ...

[horizon-verizon]

▪︎Mastre Norren, present in Harrenhal, tells us that Daemon was crazy about Nettles, as a man would be about his daughter.

▪︎Nettles was 17 years old, the same age as Baela and Rhaena, Daemon's own daughters.

▪︎Daemon affectionately nicknamed Nettles: Nettie.

▪︎Mushroom, dwarf of the court of Rhaenyra, known for his unreliable, often sexual and where sordid testimonies, is the very first source to declare that Daemon would have fallen in love with Nettles and would have taken her as a lover, when he did not wasn't even present at Harrenhal.

▪︎4 / 5 other sources also maintain that Nettles & Daemon were lovers, these written after Mushroom's testimony, therefore relying on the latter as well as other rumors, having in fact not been present either Harrenhal.

▪︎Glyadyn meanwhile, the maester who wrote Fire and Blood, supports Mushroom's version as the most likely to change his habit. Except that Glyadyn writes the book at least 1 century later, when all the characters of the dance are nothing more than dust, therefore not having even attended the events, based on biased testimonies of 1st 2nd 3rd and 4th hand . Without forgetting that Glyadyn is a maester, not very "for" the Targaryens in general (like most maesters) a pure product of his time, himself a misogine with his own prejudices which would necessarily lead him to lean more towards the simple history of lovers, even if, as the book says, there is no concrete proof of this. The only thing we can be sure of between Nettles and Daemon is that they spent their days hunting down Aemond on Rhaenyra's behalf.

Some people: Let's conveniently ignore those CRUCIAL elements and information of this relationship, and that completely changes the context of the interactions/relationship between the two characters! It doesn't matter that all the sources recounting Nettles and Daemon as lovers have in fact never seen them interact, relying mainly on word of mouth, and that the only maester who has actually seen them interact supports a platonic relationship! He is necessarily the one who is wrong since he is the only one to say it!

Sorry, but that Daemon:

▪︎taught Nettles how to eat, stand, and dress properly.

▪︎gave Nettles gifts: A hairbrush, mirror, coat and boots.

▪︎had adjoining rooms with Nettles.

▪︎ always had dinner and lunch with Nettles.

▪︎would be able to go after the people of Harrenhal if Nettles was ever killed.

▪︎loses his smile/joy reading Nettles' execution letter.

▪︎chooses to go against Rhaenyra's order to free Nettles.

▪︎ sees his emotions expressed through the cries of Caraxes when Nettles leaves.

Absolutely NONE of these things basically indicate a relationship of a romantic and/or sexual nature. All of this can easily pass within the framework of an affectionate platonic father & daughter / mentor & student relationship. Some Daemon reactions may not even be completely related / relate to Nettles, such as the reactions to the letter and the shouting of Caraxes.

The only things that can really look suspicious, to our modern eyes, are possibly already; the baths and the possible bed sharing, which is actually not even safe. However, you and many others had dealt with these aspects in depth. I will just say that for the baths, they are described in a learning context, where Daemon teaches Nettles, a girl who has always lived alone in the street, with no one to really educate her, how to wash properly/have a healthy lifestyle. It's the people who romanticize and or sexualize the baths, because the text itself never does that. And yes, platonic baths, it fucking exists, no offense to some who think they are smarter by claiming the opposite. Nudity = sex is a concept that bothers me so much...

I didn't even know Nettles & Daemon was a thing until I came to tumblr to say. Never when reading the book did I interpret them as lovers and I'm amazed at how many people do?! How is that even possible?! It seems to be totally at odds with the way GRRM writes their romances, especially because of the specific age difference between the characters. Some even say that Daemon was living out his fantasy with Nettles, leaving Rhaenyra to fend for herself, which is essentially untrue. Where the hell is this bullshit coming from too?

I think the ASOIAF fandom is one of the worst I've seen. The Sansa, Arya and Daenerys stuff alone is crazy, but the Fire and Blood character takes are even worse!The stuff I saw on Aemond?! Enough to make me nauseous for weeks.

Overall I only liked the series for Daemyra (although I hated episode 10) and sometimes Viserys. The rest was crap. Alicent, one of my favorite villains ever was ruined and I'm not even talking about the rest of the adaptation massacre, of certain sets and especially the fucking costumes.

I agree with you anon. And relate. I also didn’t even know people shipped them or even thought they could have had sex until I created a Tumblr account back in Oct ‘22.

And I argued/proved against DaemonxNettles through these posts:

Execution Letter/Sleeping Patterns/the Persons Deciding What to Do w/D and N after the Letter

Credibility of Gyldayn, Nettles, the Maidservants, and Readers Looking back at the “Lessons” Mushrooms says Daemon gave Rhaenyra

On Oberyn Martell being a Credible Source

The Strangeness of Shipping DaemonxNEttles to Spite Daemyra/Rhaenyra/Targs (la-pheacienne)

It is both Misogynist and Hypocritical of DxN shippers/green stans to Believe in DaemonxNettles

An example of a green stan/DaemonxNettles shipper shooting themsleves in the Logical foot

One correction: Norren and the lord he works for are at Maidenpool, east of Harrenhal. Daemon and Nettles were at Maidenpool, not Harrenhal.

[reignends]

presenting:    annette,   grand duchess of macklenberg-strelitz.  may i hate  &  hurt with all my love.  may i fury.  may i burn.  may i burn.  may you see it.

full name   maisha annette charlize  ( formerly titled princess of monaco ) moniker(s)   nettie,  mae. age    thirty-five. place of birth   zürich,  switzerland. gender / pronouns   cis woman,  she/her. orientation   bisexual,  with a female lean. fc    gugu mbatha-raw.

paralells    kristina  ( the girl king )   /   lady sarah  ( the favourite )   /   jo march  ( little  women )   /   georgiana  ( the duchess )  

TIMELINE

a girl in place of a promised son,  what is it to be damned since the very start?  you are born as maisha:  moon child  &  as desirable as such.  a darling babe with empire whispered as your last name.  so,  as the first daughter of quaint european dominion,  you reside on the edge of infinity.  cradling both everything  &  nothing at all with the promise of opportunity on either side.  as your parents had it,  this playground kingdom was never truly yours to rule;  for you were merely their sweet disciple.  to be worshiped darling girl,  one must first conquer.

you learn swiftly that if you are to inherit what you are owed,  you must carve out the past of ascension with your teeth.  so you bare your sharp ivories and bite down,  snagging down on anything  &  anyone within reach if it meant feeding your insatiability.  

when your brother arrives you immediately lapse from your succession to the thrown.  the children of the crown,  so akin in likeness that one would be mistaken to think that the pair were twins when they were only cut from the same cloth:  both unravelling at the seams.  you’re both rotten  &  but you flay yourselves for very different reasons.  while he yearned for the appeasment of the court,  you wager to be found so unsightly that your father could no longer deny you of what you are:  a true progeny of the crown.

some are quick to brand your family warmongers;  if only they knew just how much you all liked that title.  or perhaps how much your father liked it.  war is your birthright,  of that you are certain and it shall become the very thing you wager upon your own kin when you were still but a girl.  a heavy rush comes from knowing that you are near untouchable,  arrogance nurtured from a young age.  you are still a feather-weight,  saccherine thing but this mock sugariness is something that ensnares and coaxes;  you may be virtuous at your root but even that cannot rid you of that glint of mischief that suits you so.  even so,  you’re not all corrosion. 

you were still young when your mind had finally lapsed and inverted itself.  all the more reason to be secluded from that thing your father called love:  all those attempts to temper you and you were still wrong.  as the glimmering shell of your family,  you are hollow enough to float  &  empty enough to harbor everything else.  even enraptured in all the trappings of the european court,  a fox in a silk bow is still a fox.  and when your brother dies in battle,  your white flag is raised.  wearing black reminds you of how much color had drained from your life.  the big cold house you lived in as a child had lost its vibrant color,  saccharine pink bedroom walls were long painted over,  even the judgmental family portraits lining the stairwell lost their vigor.  

before your brother is cold in the ground,  you are swiftly endowed upon a foreign court;  unsure of whether it was a claim of kindred love or if those who bore you were merely that eager to rid themselves of the issue you had proven to be.  you’ve revoked your title as princess,  and rumors begin to stir.  nonetheless,  you are crafted anew fore you set foot on the grassroot belonging to your husband.  baring a certain personage akin to that of which you had always yearned for,  you become increasingly sumptuous;  a true gem whose gleam only flickers morsels of your true nature.

HEADCANONS

very girlson coded.  always beckoning her father’s approval,  even seas away.  has mostly outgrown her capacity for true wretchedness but hasn’t been completely wrung out of her mischief.  quick to lean into hearsay if it favors her own personal endeavors.

has had many daliances with women,  which was likely part of the reason of her being wed so suddenly after her brother passed. it was much less about the security of title than it was setting her onto the straight and narrow;  or rather, leaving the task to someone else.

is not all bad!! she has the capacity for kindness  &  has been know to display it in intimate relationships / it’s much more of an armour worn in protection of self rather than true spirit these days.  maybe the foreign court has softened her.

though there are murmurs of upset within her own marriage,  annette is not yet with child on account of not wanting to end up like her mother:  complacent and unshowing of the love she was hardly taught.  if she must have a girl annette hopes she’ll be a fool.

cluster of brittle bird bones in chainmail.  strong willed but also feeble and honestly dangling on a thread keeping her from being entirely undone.  would like to be more than what her father made her but does she really??  idk

[the-normal-connaisseuse]

Chapter 4: Special Catch

Delcatty and I sit on the deck of the boat, huddled together and eyes shut as the vast ocean surrounds us. Honestly, I’d lie down if I could, but I know that Delcatty would take it as an opportunity to curl up on my face and suffocate me for comfort. At least I’m not nauseous.

“Didn’t expect you to be afraid of the ocean,” Neil shouts over the sounds of the motor and the waves. “It’s so beautiful out here, too. Blue skies, calm waters, lots of sun—”

“Yeah, and an endless abyss below us,” I manage to say. “When you said we were going to get a Pokémon for a someone, you said nothing about a boat or the ocean. What’s even out here?”

“A special school. Most of its campus is underwater, and it’s the closest place where we can find the Pokémon we’re looking for. Otherwise, we’d be up to our necks in paperwork and out a few thousand to get a breeder to send one to us or go somewhere else to catch one.”

I guess I can’t argue with that. “Just let me know when we get there. I’ll be here, imagining I’m somewhere else.”

The ride continues in relative silence. Neil must’ve gone to speak to the captain, since I can’t hear him anymore. All I can really think about is where we’re going. What benefit could a school have to be in the middle of the ocean? I mean, I’m sure it’s cool for the kids who go there, but it’s got to be a hassle to get to and from campus when you want to see people. And what kind of Pokémon could an underwater school even have? I can’t imagine the selection being that diverse. What’s out here that we can’t find along the coast?

The motor quiets, and the wind that’s blown past my ears dies down. Delcatty and I peek over the boat and see a long path leading to a building arching out of the water. Students in blue and white uniforms mill around alongside their Pokémon, all of various types and environments. I guess there might be more than water-types at this school.

“Come on, you two,” Neil says as he walks down the boat’s ramp. “This is it.”

He walks onto the school’s pier and salutes the ship’s captain, while Delcatty and I carefully shuffle down. As the boat takes off, a man in a white suit waves at us near the base of the pier. We walk towards him, and the battle court comes into full view, although none of the students are using it at the moment.

“Good to see you, Neil!” The man says, tipping his brimmed hat and shaking Neil’s hand. “How long has it been since I last saw you? Six or seven months?”

“Not that long, Cyrano,” Neil laughs. “I was here only a month ago.”

“Hm, I suppose you’re right. Can’t say I pay too much attention to calendars. Far too busy these days.” He nods thoughtfully, then catches sight of me. “And who is this young lady? I guess you took an apprentice after all.”

“Yeah, I did. This is Nettie.” Neil turns to me. “This is Cyrano, the founder and headmaster of Blueberry Academy.”

“Hello.” I take a good look at his light, which zips around him in electric blue. I turn it off before I get a headache.

“Pleasure to meet you, miss. Tell me: what do you think of our school so far? Isn’t the view up here breathtaking?”

I keep my eyes on him, to avoid the view. “Terrifying, actually, but the students seem to like it well enough.”

Cyrano looks from me to Neil. “Now don’t tell me you’re afraid of the water, miss? But don’t worry too much about that. The underwater section of the school has screens that block out the ocean view.”

“This is only the entrance to the school,” Neil explains. “Like I said, most of the school is underwater. The school is connected to an underwater plant that develops resources for this place, so the majority of the school has to be underwater to reach it.”

Despite Cyrano and Neil’s explanations, my stomach still flips at the thought of being underwater. I may not want to look out over the vast ocean, but at least there’s light and fresh air up here. I doubt being below the water’s surface would be any better.

Cheering starts on the battle court. Two trainers stand opposite from each other with their Pokémon, an Oranguru and Cinccino on one side, and an Excadrill and Galvantula on the other. The other students, who had been standing around and talking, cheer for either side from the bleachers circling the court. I catch Cyrano smiling as the battle begins.

“This is what Blueberry Academy is all about,” he says, as the Excadrill uses Protect to block Cinccino’s Triple Axel. “This is a school for battlers, Miss, a place like no other in the region, maybe in the world. We specialize in double battles, building capable trainers who go out and make a difference.”

Galvantula fires off a Discharge, hitting the other Pokémon except his ground-type partner. Oranguru and Cinccino are both paralyzed, but the latter pulls out and eats a lum berry to cure itself. The battle continues with a Rock Blast from Cinccino. Oranguru—surprisingly fast for its species, and in spite of the paralysis—uses Instruct on her partner, knocking the Focus-Sashed Galvantula out with another Rock Blast.

“Do the students bring their own Pokémon?” I ask.

“Some do,” Cyrano says. “That student’s from… Well, I don’t remember where he’s from, but I know he brought his Oranguru. She stole my hat the first day of school. As for the other Pokémon, they can be found here at the school.”

I turn to look at Cyrano—just catching Excadrill’s Rock Slide flinch his opponents. “But how? We’re in the ocean.”

Cyrano smiles like a kid with a big secret. “Perhaps the inside of the school will shed some light on the subject.”

--

I can’t do anything but gape at the Terarium. Who would’ve thought that such a massive facility would be attached to a school in the ocean? A savanna stretches out before us, golden grass swaying in a manmade breeze. A group of Doduo run through the field, and a pride of Pyroar lay huddled in the light. Further out, mountains and icebergs reach for the domed roof, which displays a sunny sky, rather than the water that I know surrounds us. I guess that’s the work of the screens Cyrano was talking about.

“Quite the place, isn’t it?” Cyrano asks. “Took a fortune to build it, but I think it’s the star of the school. Over two hundred Pokémon can be found here, spread out across the four biomes.”

I’ve said this before, Cyrano, and I’ll say it again: this is an amazing achievement. How do the kids like it? I know the school has made some updates since I last visited.” Neil nudges me, pulling me out of my awe.

“The students, as far as I know, enjoy it. The Terarium is home to their own League, and it’s a better classroom than the traditional rooms we have on the upper floors. Much more interactive.”

A little flock of Rufflet flies over our heads, calling out towards a grouping of large nests in the distance. While looking up, a large ball gleams at the center of the dome. I point at it.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“That, Miss, is the key to terastilization here at the school,” Cyrano explains. “Perhaps your mentor would be willing to explain.”

“Putting all the work on me, I see,” Neil smirks. “Do you know what terastilization is, Nettie?”

“I know that the phenomenon is found in Paldea,” I reply. “I also know that it changes the typing of Pokémon when in battle, and sometimes outside of it.”

“Those are the basics. You see, Blueberry Academy has a sister school in Paldea, so there’s been a healthy collaboration between there and Unova. One of the teachers here used soil gathered during a visit to Paldea to bring terastilization to the Terarium.”

“Ms. Briar’s also gone and strengthened the phenomenon here,” Cyrano jumps in. “She recently went to…now, what’s that place called? Ah, it’s slipped my mind, but she’s been going all over learning about terastilization. Our tera core’s even stronger than it was the last time you visited, Neil. There’s even a new type, but it’ll probably be better to speak to Briar herself at some point.”

“We can always come back to talk to her. We’re on a mission, after all. “Neil looks back over the savanna, then around our feet. “Where’s Delcatty? I thought he was right here.”

I look around. “Maybe he walked off while we weren’t looking. He could be hiding out in the grass or over with those students.”

Neil and Cyrano’s eyes follow mine to the modular hangout spot, not far from the Terarium’s entrance. A group of students stand huddled together. We head over to them, but our hope drops just as we reach them when we see the Happiny they’re cooing over. As Neil looks back over the area, I feel someone tugging at my waistcoat. A Smeargle—a good foot shorter than the average—stares up at me.

“Hi there,” I say, crouching down to be level with the little Pokémon. A familiar lilac color outlines her head. I sit up straighter as the image of a large nest flashes in my mind. The Smeargle flinches along with me, then shakes herself.

“Did you see that, too?” I ask, lowering my voice to make sure Neil and Cyrano can’t hear.

Smeargle nods, then tugs at my waistcoat and points further into the Terarium.

“Looks like this Smeargle knows something,” Neil says. “We should follow it and see if Delcatty’s around.”

“I have a meeting to attend, unfortunately,” Cyrano jumps in as he taps at his Rotom Phone, “or I’d join you three. I’m going to reach out to the BB League Elite Four and let them know of the problem. The closest member, Crispin, will hopefully join you soon. He’s a capable trainer, and he should be able to take on any dangers you find. Despite the fact that we brought these Pokémon to Blueberry Academy, they’re still wild and will act accordingly. Good luck, my friend. I hope your partner is found safe and sound.”

As Cyrano heads up the ramp to the school above, Neil and I follow Smeargle through the tall yellow grass. I try to stay focused on the task at hand, to keep an eye out for purple ears, but the deeper into the biome we get, the more my mind wanders across the hills and dips in the ground, the Scythers hovering along the shores of shallow ponds where Sobbles and Totodiles play in the muddy waters. Rhyhorn walk the plateaus in small herds, and in the distance, A pride of Pyroars dot the horizon of the biome. As I wonder what it’s like to go to school in a place like this, Neil calling me snaps me out of my question and makes me turn—just in time to avoid walking face-first into a tree. The sounds of screeching and yowling above me catch my attention.

At the top of the tree is a large nest, and two Mandibuzz circle and swoop towards it, climbing back into the sky as the yowling continues. I take a look at their lights, burning fuchsia and radiating rage. The nest faintly glows the same color. This is their nest, but a deep purple leaks out between the branches.

“Delcatty’s in the nest!” I call to Neil. Smeargle yanks my arm and pulls me out of the way before one of the Mandibuzz hits me with a Sky Attack, barreling into the ground where I was standing only seconds before. A deep crater takes my place.

“Look alive out there, Nettie!” Neil yells. “You and Smeargle are too close to the action to get distracted. Delcatty, use Protect!”

Delcatty stops yowling and puts up a bubble around himself. It won’t last forever, though. The Mandibuzz who attacked lays dazed on the ground from the impact, but the other one climbs higher in the sky, preparing herself to use the same move as her partner. Before I can come up with a plan, Smeargle scrambles up to the nest. Looking down at the dazed Mandibuzz, she holds out the brush-like tip of her tail and swishes it around. As it glows, I notice that there’s no paint dripping from her tail.

“Hey, Smeargle,” Neil shouts, before throwing something at her.

She grabs hold of the item—a Choice Band—and takes off into the sky, passing the Mandibuzz at the peak of her ascent. As she turns to watch Smeargle, the Bone Vulture flails in the air, realizing what’s going to happen next. Smeargle dives straight into her, and the two come crashing down amongst the swaying savanna grass in the distance. I steady myself on the tree as a crater three times the size the other Mandibuzz made forms in the distance.

“Delcatty!” Neil shouts. Before I can stand up straight, I feel a set of paws on my shoulders as Delcatty hops down from the nest, knocking me back into the tree. Other than a wounded ego and a few scrapes, he isn’t hurt too badly. Neil bends down to comfort his partner. I sigh in relief.

A distant bark catches my attention. The little Smeargle pops up from the grass and shakes herself off, a cloud of dust forming around her. The lilac light that mingles with it reminds me of my own light. I open my backpack and leave a Revive for the dazed Mandibuzz at my feet, then cross the field to Smeargle. The little Pokémon wags her tail as I get closer.

“That was Sketch, wasn’t it?” I ask. “That’s how you were able to copy the Mandibuzz’s Sky Attack. I’ve seen videos, but seeing it up close is a much better way to examine it. Thank you for your help, Smeargle? If you hadn’t come along, we really would’ve been in trouble.”

 Smeargle barks proudly. Delcatty rubs himself on my legs, purring before going to sniff at our new friend.

“That was a close one,” Neil says as he joins us. “Being in the city nowadays, I almost forgot how much trouble he gets into when out in wilder areas—well, as wild as this place can be. Thanks for all the hard work, Smeargle.”

She barks again. I find myself smiling at her.

“Why don’t you catch her, Nettie?”

The question startles me. I turn to see Neil holding out a Premier Ball, waiting for me to take it.

“Is that something I should do right now?” I ask. “You said that we’re here to catch a special Pokémon for a client. Wouldn’t it be better to hold onto our Poké Balls until after we catch that one?”

“You’re right, we’re here to catch a Pokémon. I didn’t say that it was for a client, though.” Neil reaches out again with the Premier Ball.

I turn from him to Smeargle. “Would that be okay? Would you like to come with me?”

Smeargle barks and wags her tail. I nod, feeling my heart race. I’m going to be a Pokémon trainer! I take the Premier Ball from Neil and toss it at Smeargle, who disappears inside of it. The ball only shakes for a second before going still. I pick up the ball, a big smile spreading across my face.

“Congrats, Nettie,” Neil says.

I let Smeargle back out, and as she scampers around my feet, a red-haired kid in a chef’s jacket runs up to us. A Blaziken follows after him.

“Aw, don’t tell me I missed all the excitement already!”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Hi, all! Chapter 4 is finally out! It took longer than I originally planned, and that's because I left my first full-time job after three years there. It was my time to go out and find something else, something that I had a real passion for. With luck, that means that the next chapter will be out sooner while I look for a new job. Until then, let me know what you think about this chapter. I'm thinking about putting together a master poster where all of the chapters are kept together in chronological order, but I think that'll happen after the next chapter. So long for now!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

The Bones in the Orchard by Patricia Rice

Graveside Pryory Mystery #3

Love, LOVE, L O V E this author and everything I have read that she has written. This series is brilliantly crafted and filled with wonderful characters that I feel would be good friends if we could meet in real time. Sadly, book friends are on a plane we can only reach through reading. That said, they are always available to spend time with us by opening the book they reside in and rejoining them in their stories.

What I liked: * Patience Upton: curate’s daughter, prefers not to be in the limelight, quiet – till she’s not, has a beautiful voice, loves gardening, capable, good with children, rather taken with Henri

* Henri Lavigne: younger son of a French count, peddler, grew up part of his life in England, glib, sees what people need, good at arbitration, might be ready to settle down…with Patience?

* Getting to see how couples Hunt & Claire, Walker & Meera, and Jake & Elsa are doing

* Wondering if and/or when the others will have their stories told – so many that I won’t name them all but I am curious.

* Paul Upton and his mother Nettie – both learned much about their pasts

* The murder mystery and how it was unraveled – so glad that two of the potential murderers were exonerated

* The plot, pacing, setting, character development, and writing

* That I cared about the characters and the outcome – I am almost as eager for the nuptials to be said as I believe the characters might be!

* Thinking about where the treasure might be and when it will be found

* Knowing that there is another book to look forward to

What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* Having to wait for the next book

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely

Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

Award-winning author Patricia Rice brings you another light-hearted Regency romantic mystery set in Wycliffe Manor... At Gravesyde Priory, each new arrival is either a blessing—or a threat. . . Wycliffe Manor has been neglected for decades. Its new heirs are determined to create a welcoming home. Yet soon after the latest family moves into the nearby parsonage, bones are uncovered in the orchard. . . and odd strangers arrive. When her curate father returns his family to Gravesyde for the marriages of the manor's heirs, gawky spinster Patience Upton has high expectations—until her father is murdered. Shock at learning her father had a mysterious past, leads to alarm that the killer may have been after his notebook, which she now possesses. After the chapel is ransacked and a witness killed, it's clear the murderer isn't done. Desperate to find the truth, Patience accepts the aid of Henri Lavigne, Wycliffe Manor's smooth-talking rake. Intent on saving his new home and family from danger, Henri is drawn to the clergyman's guileless daughter but wonders if she hasn't reason to conceal the killer's identity. Before there will be any courting, much less marrying, the inhabitants of the manor realize if they want a chance at a future, they must hunt the killer themselves. But are they hunting one murderer. . . or more? GRAVESYDE PRIORY MYSTERY BOOKS Book #1 The Secrets of Wycliffe Manor Book #2 The Mystery of the Missing Heiress Book #3 The Bones in the Orchard Book #4 The Question of the Wedding Pearls Book #5 The Case of the Purloined Pages

[bohemian-nights]

Why would Nettles love Daemon?

I don’t think it gets stated enough, or at all, why Nettles might love Daemon. I mean most people(myself included) focus on how or why Daemon loves Nettles. This emphasis is for good reason given how you have to practically pull teeth to get people to acknowledge that he even loves her, but Nettles own feelings for him are lost in the shuffle.

I will not sugarcoat things, Daemon is a pretty problematic character who titters on the very edge of being morally gray.

Basically his only redeeming moments in the books are during his marriage with Laena(where he’s behaving normal for once) :

And his time with Nettles at Maidenpool(where he is acting in a completely altruistic fashion, going so far as being willing to give his life so she can escape and live):

Any other time and he’s behaving the way you’d expect someone with the moniker the Rogue Prince to behave. He’s a murderer. He’s committed Kinslaying(several times over). He is a groomer. He’s a rapist(those young maidens he deflowered couldn’t exactly consent).

He’s pretty awful, though entertaining in my humble opinion, and one of my faves, for most of the books. So why would a character like Nettles, who despite everything she has gone through in life is described, from the little that we do get on her character, as being an empathetic person(see her crying over Jace a boy she barely knew as well as the home she lost during the Battle of the Gullet)?

Well, Nettles can see past what is there. What is beyond the surface. She’s more observant than most(She’s had to be living on the street). We see those deduction skills at work when she claims Sheepstealer:

She’s the only one to use Sheepstealer’s love for sheep to successfully tame and claim him where even those with certain Valyrian blood died in the process of trying to claim him. She can see something more. Even where others can’t or rather won’t look.

So with Daemon, who is a hot-tempered man, she as well sees past the bravado. Past the rebellious younger brother of Viserys Targaryen. Sees past the Rogue Prince label. She sees Daemon Targaryen. She can see something more in people. She sees a yearning.

Daemon Targaryen is at the end of the day just a man. He yearns for acceptance. He wants to be recognized. You have to keep in mind that Daemon is a second son. He will never inherit the throne. He will never be king, but he still has will and passion. He wants to make a name for himself. He wants his brother's love. He wants to be recognized.

He wants to be his brother's heir, but he’s never accepted as such by his brother or his brothers court:

As a result of this partial rejection by this man who he loves, he’s always yearning to prove himself. He’s yearning for love, acceptance, and recognition.

Now with Nettles, she’s someone who lives on the very margins of society. She’s a bastard girl born to a whore. She doesn’t know who her father is. She has no place to call home. She grew up on the streets of Driftmark. She’s an unlikely dragonrider.

She’s had to fend for herself because of the circumstances which she was born into. She hardly ever can get a kind word said about her. Compliments are riddled with snide comments, and yet oddly enough, Nettles sees a kindred spirit in Daemon Targaryen.

Yes, he’s a Targaryen prince and she’s a lowborn bastard girl, but they have a commonality at their cores. They are both outsiders in a way.

They’ve both never had someone accept them for what they are. Loving and truly caring for them. They’ve had anyone see the actual person within. Past the title of being the Rogue Prince. Past the “stench” of being a brown-skinned bastard girl. They’ve never had that except with each other. Out of everyone they see each other.

Nettles isn’t this dirty unworthy lowborn girl who used her wiles or a spell to claim something she shouldn’t have been able to. She’s not a whore or a common thief. She’s just Netty to Daemon.

She’s an incredibly brilliant and courageous young woman. She’s ingenious. She’s someone who despite it all manages to show compassion to others. She hasn’t let the world break her. She’s learned how to live without love, but she's a still a girl. She’s a girl who is young with so much life in her. Who is deserving of love and affection just as much as any other

Nettles loves Daemon for Daemon. Not because he is a Targaryen, a charming prince, or the Royal consort of a queen. He’s not just a murderer or a rapist who only takes pleasure in chaos. He is Daemon Targaryen and he is just a man.

A man who is capable of great cruelty, but also acts of great kindness. He can be patient and benevolent. He can be loving, generous, and he can be gentle:

He also a man of rage. Of great intensity and passion. Of fire and blood. He would kill for those he loves:

Daemon Targaryen is a man of duality and Nettles sees the good and the bad. She sees the impatient man. The rogue. The man who wants to be loved. To love in return. She recognizes that longing because she longs to.

She longs for something more and she finds that in Daemon. Their souls find a place with each other despite their stations. They see past the surface because that is what love is.

[liquid-luck-00]

When Two Coffee Addicts Unite

Part 1

@maribatmarch-2k21 Day 8: Texting

Ao3 *** Part 2

Okay so this can either be a continuation of Internet Friends or the beginning of something new. But if you want to read this as a continuation of Internet friends then you should know:

The police department is almost as bad as Damocles when dealing with powerful figures. They take the video and audio footage and simply put it in the file. Because at the time Lila still had most or in fact all of the class under her thumb, they all supported Lila’s claim that it was an accident. Lila claims that a sudden dizzy spell struck her, and she fell forwards towards Marinette. And as Mari was already on the edge of the balcony it was an accident. The fact that the file sat in the police department until well after any claim could be valid it wasn’t looked into more. Mari, her friends, and Tim did have backups of the footage, complete records for every interaction with the police, and recorded calls and interactions when dealing with the police. But as they didn’t want to involve the embassy as this would become an international affair they didn’t bother with the case.

That said the police don’t bother with the Miracle Court to avoid work. However, with the Mayor, Medical responders, and the Fire Department all aid the heroes, the police only do the bare minimum.

Marinette’s class has begun to watch Lila, but they didn’t look into her lies because except for this incident it’s just she said she said with occasional ‘injuries’ on Lila. Most of them are wary of Lila but they aren’t converted to Marinette’s side, but there is an increased tolerance between them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette had just sat back at her seat after eating lunch, while the classroom was still empty. There was still half an hour left. Alix, Kim, Nino, Sabrina, and Max walked in as she sat down.

"Marinette you got the time?" Alix called out. They were on somewhat okay terms since Lila’s claims were a total 180 from the Marinette that they have known for forever.

"30 minutes left." she announced looking of her phone and in turn her missed messages.

Tim:

       Mari

       Mari

       Mari

       Nettie

       Marin

       Bean

       Bug

       Marinette

Marinette:

       What's wrong.

Tim:

       I have back to back meetings starting in 3 hrs. until 5.

       and

Marinette:

       Let me guess haven't slept.

Tim:

       Exactly

       Help me please

Marinette:

       How many reports can you send me?

Tim:

       Quite a few

Marinette:

       Send me what you can.

       Review the rest.

       Take a nap!

       And I'll be a little voice during your meeting.

Tim:

       Thanks, I owe you Bean.

Marinette:

I'II hold you to that.

Tim:

       Sent

Marinette:

       Just make sure you wake up.

Tim:

       I make no promises.

       On second thought I don't want to find out how you are mad

She made it through the 15 minutes of class because Lila was akumatized. Lila had burst into the class followed by Alya, Nino, and Adrien. She claimed Mari cornered her in the bathroom and beat her a few minutes ago, showing everyone the 'bruises' on her arms. Chloe handed something to Sabrina who walked up to Lila.

"Oh, you poor thing," Sabrina consoled, Lila only whimpered. "Here this has a salve that helps bruises." She gently took Lila's wrist and wiped a 'bruise' which disappeared instantly.

"That's amazing what is it called?" Alya commented. "I should get some for Nora."

"Make-up remover." Sabrina and Chloe spoke together.

"Besides." Alix butt in. "Marinette's been here the past half hour and hasn't left."

"What?! How do you know?" Lila cried.

"Cause we've been here the whole time with her." Sabrina commented.

Marinette for her part didn't know or hear the conversation around her.

"Marinette. Marinette. Earth to Marinette," Kim shouted.

"Present!" She jolted practically standing. "Wait," she looked around, "class hasn't started."

"What are you hyper fixated on?" Adrien asked innocently.

"Just some reports, don't think you'd like them too much Kit-Kat."

"Fair," he shrugged sitting next to her. "So how were you in two places at once?"

"I can't," her head tilted to the side confusion clear on her face.

"So, if Mari hasn't left, can't be in two places at once, and your 'bruises' came off with make-up remover. How do you explain that Lila?" Adrien around, the class slowly draining their conclusions. However, Marinette spoke up. "She lied, obviously..." she stated having gone back to the reports.

"Um you said that out loud, Cake Pop, and loud at that."

"Huh?" sure enough when she looked around some were shock still, others typed furiously into their phones.

That was when Mrs. Bustier walked in, fifteen minutes late to the class. Which was also when the bandy contained restraint ended. Lila was akumatized, school let out, and the rest of her night went smoothly.

Tim woke up, and with her help survived his meetings. Some while on patrol she would constantly mute and unmute herself. Luckily, it wasn't more than twice, and they didn't run into anyone. Chat didn’t ask questions, figured it out since she was pouring over Wayne documents earlier. Tim would call her back after the private meetings and ended around 10.

At around 11 Tim text her back.

Tim:

      Thanks Bug you saved me today.

Marinette:

      No problem Draco

      You owe me though.

Tim:

      I remember.

      Go to bed it's like midnight over there!

Marinette:

      Yeah Yeah

Tim:

      Ooh

      Congratulations 2x!

Marinette:

      What???

      Please explain.

      Tim

      Tim

      Timothy

      Timothy Drake-Wayne answer me.

      Dragon please

      Ugh fine I'll sleep.

Which is what she did when he wouldn’t answer her.

She woke up the next morning to two emails from W. E.. The first was for a collaboration between W.E. and MDC for a show featuring Wayne Tech accessories and their new climate fabrics. She immediately responded and accepted. The second was that her class was one of two to be accepted as transfer students to Gotham Academy and intern slots at WE, she forwarded that to her teacher and the school.

Marinette:

      You Gremlin

Tim:

      Like I said congrats

      Oh, I need you to give me three names.

Marinette:

      What for?

Her mind was racing at the possibilities.

Tim:

      You'll find out.

Marinette:

      What’s the other school?

Tim:

      Some Prep school in the UK.

Marinette:

      Give me a Sec.

She opened another contact and typed.

Marinette:

      Hey, did you get a spot in the Wayne/GA internship?

Mystery:

      Yes.

      Why?

Marinette:

      Tell the others we are hitting Gotham with style.

Mystery:

      Very well.

Mari then sent three names to him and smiled. This was going to be fun.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha

[sayuricorner]

ML x Batman: Arkham’s princess AU headcanons part 4: Batman and the Batfam

Part 3        Part 5

AU concept

And we’re back with a new headcanons part for the “Arkham’s princess AU”!

This little part will focus on Batman/Bruce Wayne and the Batfam! ^^

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing.

Warning 2: This AU content salt don’t like don’t read!

-------------------------------

-Batman/Bruce Wayne in this AU is the “Batman the animated serie” version.

-His opinion on Bridgette: when Bruce learned what the former warden of Arkham did to the patients, Bruce felt guilty ‘cause he financed the asylum thinking it would help to heal the patients and as Batman he was convinced Arkham was the best solution to help the Rogues so finding out what was actually going on inside the asylum throw him in a big guilt feeling. So when Bridgette became Arkham’s new warden he keep a very good eye on her at first just in case. When he saw she actually help the patients and got good results he grow a respect for her.

-Marinette’s birth: Batman intervened when Arkham got a massive breakout and when the crisis was stopped he witnessed some of the most dangerous Rogues of Arkham protecting Bridgette Cheng’s sister and helping her to give birth to her baby.

-And when after the accident Sabine asked the Rogues become Marinette’s godparents, he was even more shocked but seeing the Rogues acting around the Dupain-Cheng family and Bridgette Cheng and a so human way give him hope for the future.

-The Rogues being way less psychotic despite being still criminals also give Batman hope, it mean they’re progressing which was a good start.

-When Marinette came back to Gotham and the Rogues warned him they would “kidnap” their goddaughter sometimes to teach her classes, he was very septical about it, sure the Rogues made good progress but they’re still criminals.

-So when he was proposed to assit at the classes to keep an eye on the classes he accept and keep a very close eye on the holding of those classes.

-When Batman and the Rogues find out about Marinette’s hero identity, Batman was internally freaking out, why the hell was a teenager was given a powerfull magical artifact and expected to fight some crazy magical terrorist without any proper training? And why the Justice League wasn’t being made aware of the Paris’s situation? He will defenetly had a word with them when the occasion come!

-Well turn out Ladybug did send a message to the Justice League to aks them help against Hawkmoth but someone deleted the messages thinking it was a joke(*cough*Guy Gardner*cough*).

-When Marinette became close with the Wayne, Bruce became fond of her.

-When Alya slander Marinette on the Ladyblog and Marinette’s parents consider to take the matter to court, Bruce proposed them to help them to got a very good lawyer.

-At some point Batman will propose to Marinette his and the Batfam’s assistance against Hawkmoth.

-As for the Batfam, they were surprised by how the Rogues were changing.

-Some like Jason were rather septical Rogues like the Joker would actually became saner and change.

-If one of the Batboys became Marinette’s boyfriend, the others would tease him.

-Jason like to call Marinette “Pixie Pop”.

-Damian defied Marinette to see if she was strong, despite the fight being hard she beat him and Damian get a new respect for her.

-Tim and Marinette are video games buddies.

-Dick like to call Marinette “Nettie”.

TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@maribat-is-lifeblood ,  @moonystars14 ,  @Dragon-of-leaving , @nathleigh , @i-am-fallen-angel , @whyyyyyyyymeeeeee , @swiftie-miraculer13 , @k-poplunardreams , @queen-in-a-flower-crown , @thestressmademedoit , @spottedbug , @ur-beautiful-when-u-smile , @bookssetufree , @fangirlnerd001 , @virgil-is-a-cutie , @starlight-in-a-bottle , @anne-97 , @sandersauce , @jamiepurrfect , @jemyie , @reddragonofemeraldflame , @littleblue5mcdork , @elijahcrevan , @thefullmetalfairy , @asexual-superhuman , @fantastucbaby , @glasswolff , @mcspanner99 , @whitetiger1337 , @neon-writing-pot , @justafanwarrior , @multplelifes , @sam-spectra , @adanigambleweed , @charme-de-malchan , @skydisneylover , @deathwishy , @theunquiet-dead

[handeaux]

Over The Years, Cincinnati Residents Created Some Very Curious Wills

Some of us prepare for the afterlife by pondering the disposition of our worldly goods. Some of us, in fact, entirely over-think this very grave (cough! cough!) matter. On the other hand, some of us give inheritance the merest passing thought. Over the years, Cincinnatians have filed some truly unusual wills at the Probate Court.

Losing His Head

W. Byrd Powell, a titan of the eclectic medical movement and a proponent of phrenology, left a most unusual bequest to his favorite student – his head. Powell, who died in 1866, was a noted phrenologist and therefore much invested in studying how the inner essence of human beings was expressed through the shape of their heads. It was rather common for phrenologists to donate their heads to science. It is not recorded to whom his student, Dr. Temperance Kinsey, one of Cincinnati’s first women doctors, passed the head onto at her death.

Eye Of Newt

John D. Riemeier was a wealthy lumber dealer, who owned a big farm in Colerain Township. He died in 1889 and left an estate valued by the newspapers at around $800,000. He also left a will that satisfied no one and kept the courts busy for a year. Most of the complainants cited Mr. Riemeier’s belief in witches. He had unwisely told several witnesses that he boiled a pig for twelve hours to entice a witch to emerge from behind his barn, foaming at the mouth. It was she, he asserted, who dictated the terms of his will. The Honorable Morris L. Buchwalter of the Court of Common Pleas was in no mood for hoodoo and set the bewitched document aside.

All We Are Is Dust In The Wind

Carl Schumann was a thrifty peddler who had accumulated an estate worth more than $2,000 when he died in 1910 at the Altenheim, Cincinnati’s Home for the German Aged. Herr Schumann bequeathed the bulk of his estate to that venerable institution, but he set aside $50 and an unusual request to the Herwegh Maennerchor (Herwegh Male Chorus). The decedent was to be cremated and he instructed the chorus to sing two German lieder while the flames consumed his earthly remains. The men of the chorus were to receive his ashes, say a few prayers, then toss the ashes into the wind from the crematory hilltop. The $50 would cover “sociability” afterwards.

If These Walls Could Talk

When she died in 1924, Nettie E. Chaffin of Washington Court House, Ohio, left the bulk of her substantial estate, estimated at $50,000, to Hyde Park’s Knox Presbyterian Church. In the fine print of the bequest, the church discovered a somewhat irregular condition attached to this generous gift. The donor demanded to be buried inside a wall of a new church, then under construction. Although her tomb was to be unmarked, she requested a plaque in the nave which would note her gift and her eternal presence “until the day break and the shadows flee away.” The church accepted the terms and immured Mrs. Chaffin as the walls of the new edifice arose.

Inspired By The Muse

Most wills are composed in formulaic legal jargon. Not so the 1946 last will and testament of Louis Henry Ernst Sommerkamp. An inspector for the Cincinnati Milling Machine Company, Louis picked up a yen for poetry, and composed part of his final testament in verse:

"All my earthly goods I've in store.

To my dear wife I leave for evermore,

I freely give - no limit do I fix,

This is my last will and she the executrix."

Legal obligations being what they are, there was a bit more prosaic verbiage to legalize the document, but that quatrain stands unique in Hamilton County’s probate archives.

Check, Please!

Elmer J. Schantz owned an automotive garage on Madison Road in 1946. His doctor’s office was just down the street. One evening, Elmer brought a curious document to his medical appointment. It was a check on which Elmer apparently designated a diamond ring and $5,000 be provided to his girlfriend in the event of his death. Elmer’s doctor advised him that, if the check was intended as a will, it needed to be witnessed. The doctor signed, then called in a patient who knew Elmer from the waiting room, and she signed, too. A few months later, Elmer was dead and his check, although challenged in court, was accepted as a proper will. Unfortunately, on the back of the check, Elmer asked not to be buried in Napoleon, Indiana. By the time all the legal challenges were dismissed, Elmer had already been buried in that Hoosier town.

Translation Required

Wing Yee operated a laundry on McMicken Avenue in Mohawk when he died in 1949. His will was very brief, but presented a challenge to the Hamilton County Probate Court because it was written in Chinese characters. There being no official Chinese interpreter, another laundryman was contacted, who provided a translation. The will was filed and accepted, allowing Mr. Yee to bestow his business upon his cousin.

Walk Like An Egyptian

Among the highlights of any visit to Spring Grove Cemetery is the Groff monument, a modest pyramid located a short walk from the Lawler sphinx, creating a sort of Egyptian neighborhood in the verdant graveyard. “Modest” was not Florence Groff’s intent. When she died in 1949, she decreed through her will and testament that a pyramid 20 feet on a side and approximately 20 feet tall occupy the entirety of the family plot. Spring Grove objected, distant relative contested the will and the compromise is a picturesque yet miniature version of the late Miss Groff’s vision.

Brevity, The Soul Of Wit

C. Britton Austin was 72 years old when he died at General Hospital in 1955. Two days before his demise, Mr. Austin scribbled just eight words on a scrap of paper 2 ¼ inches by 4 inches, “everything to my sister Frances and brother-in-law Ed.” Signed, dated and witnessed by two doctors, this briefest of Hamilton County wills was accepted by the Probate Court.

Testamentary Valentine

Frank R. Gusweiler sat down on Valentine’s Day in 1957 and wrote his entire last will and testament on a standard index card, leaving everything to his wife – and law partner – Katherine, designating her as his executrix and requesting she not be required to post bond. Five months later, Frank was dead and his very brief, handwritten, legal Valentine was filed in court.

Zoological Considerations

It is not uncommon for pets to be mentioned in wills, usually dogs and cats. Edna P. Schopper’s 1958 will is unusual only in that she provides $1,500 for the care of her pet dove, a species not often found in Probate Court. Julia G. Haley’s 1951 will provides for her two pet cats in a most unusual manner: “In the event of my death, there will be no one to care for them and as I would not want them to be turned out homeless upon the streets, it seems to me best to make some provision concerning their disposition. I do, therefore, give, will, devise and bequeath to my friend, Harry O. Porter, the sum of Four Hundred Dollars ($400.00) and request him, as soon after my death as possible, to visit my home and therein, in as humane and painless a way as advisable, put my pets to death and dispose of their remains in the cemetery provided for this purpose.”

Details, Details

Philip H. Goldsmith was only 61 when he succumbed to a heart attack in 1958. Mr. Goldsmith was the chairman of the board of the MacGregor Sports Products Company, and he certainly had some worldly goods to dispose of. His will, in essence, is fairly simple. He gave everything to his wife, with the remainder going to his daughter. However, it took 29 pages to say that, after Mr. Goldsmith outlined every single possible detail in baroque legalese. It is among the longest wills filed in the county.

The Generosity Of The Dead

William Bloom was a professional gambler. He gravitated to the Silver Slipper night club on Monmouth Street in Newport and apparently enjoyed the camaraderie. When he died in 1959, he identified bequests for “each waitress, each bartender, each porter, each shill, each dealer . . . the master of ceremonies, the doorman, and each person employed at the Silver Slipper, except showgirls.” He made a special gift to singer Bobby Linn to promote her career, plus allotments for various relatives. Problem was, Willaim Bloom’s will distributed more than $30,000, but he had less than $15,000 to his name when he died. Poor Probate Judge Chase M. Davies was left to sort out the mathematics.

Nuncupative Yet Valid

John N. Kinney wrote no will at all. A couple of days before he died in 1961, Mr. Kinney was visited by his brother and one of his sisters. He told them that another sister, Claire had visited him daily to make sure that he was fed and cared for and that he wanted her to inherit everything. The disinherited siblings appeared in court and swore to the statement made by their brother. This oral declaration, known as a nuncupative will, was accepted as valid by the court.

He Really Loved His Job

Charles A. Lackner was a teller at the Fifth Third Bank for 43, retiring in 1946. When he died in 1961, his former employer was surprised to discover that Charles had bequeathed $8,000 to the bank “in appreciation for the kindnesses shown by bank officers and employees.” Rather than keep the inheritance (How would a corporation book that?), Fifth Third created the Charles A. Lackner Fund at the Greater Cincinnati Foundation and added another $8,000 to sweeten the pot.