#page 452

[pesterloglog]

Sollux Captor, John Egbert

Page 447-454

SOLLUX: eating a sandwich.

JOHN: what? no, i mean, what are you doing HERE in the meteor?

SOLLUX: i live here.

SOLLUX: its like im fated t0 wind up back at this idi0tic r0ck every c0uple 0f sweeps.

JOHN: i’m... sorry?

JOHN: ...

SOLLUX: real mess y0uve made 0f things 0ut there.

JOHN: yeah, well... we’re trying to fix that now! which is why I need to find my friends!

SOLLUX: kind 0f fucked up y0u guys let this happen t0 begin with.

JOHN: soooo anyway, on the topic of you living here...

JOHN: does roxy know about this???

SOLLUX: why w0uldnt she?

JOHN: huh.

JOHN: umm... how do you know her?

SOLLUX: wh0 d0 y0u think h00ked me up with these sick ass shades and gave me all these ape games.

JOHN: okay, that kind of makes sense, i guess.

JOHN: ...

JOHN: are you guys... close?

SOLLUX: wh0. me and r0xy? i guess. we squad up a c0uple times a week.

SOLLUX: why d0 y0u care?

SOLLUX: y0u w0rried im m0ving in 0n y0ur ex?

JOHN: ...hmm.

SOLLUX: ...

JOHN: hm. hmm. hm.

JOHN: hm? HMMMM.

SOLLUX: what is g0ing 0n here.

JOHN: sorry, i had an answer but then i started actually considering it.

JOHN: am i jealous?

JOHN: hmmm...

SOLLUX: if i tell y0u straight up n0 we arent h00king up will y0u st0p?

JOHN: ...maybe?

SOLLUX: g0ddammit.

SOLLUX: listen.

SOLLUX: c0ming fr0m s0me0ne wh0 has shared breathing space with y0u 0nly 0n 0ccasi0n.

SOLLUX: its 0bvi0us t0 me y0u're n0t supp0sed t0 be the thinking guy.

JOHN: we’ve met before?

SOLLUX: ...

JOHN: ??????

SOLLUX: sigh.

SOLLUX: pirate ship. d0uble eye-patches. girlfriend ascensi0n.

JOHN: :0!

JOHN: double eye patches!

JOHN: i remember you now, you were at mystery jade’s funeral too!

SOLLUX: sure.

JOHN: sorry for not recognizing you.

JOHN: the eye patches are pretty distracting!

JOHN: like every time i see them i have to stop and think...

JOHN: wow... that looks really really stupid!

SOLLUX: yeah.

JOHN: are you still hanging out with that creepy alive girl?

SOLLUX:

SOLLUX: 0n a spiritual level.

JOHN: cool!

JOHN: is ... she also dating roxy?

SOLLUX: what?

SOLLUX: idk.

SOLLUX: i d0nt make it my business t0 keep tabs 0n that.

SOLLUX: im busy.

JOHN: you’re gaming!

SOLLUX: im fucking gaming.

SOLLUX: speaking 0f which...

JOHN: so what were you guys up to before this?

SOLLUX: (what the fuck)

SOLLUX: is there a prer0gative here.

SOLLUX: are y0u spades baiting me right n0w?

JOHN: honestly i don’t know what that means.

JOHN: i suppose...

JOHN: how do i say this...

JOHN: contextually!

JOHN: i always find myself going to a lot of places and meeting all these people but.

JOHN: most of it never matters to me until i’m not doing anything at all.

JOHN: last time that happened it was for ten years!

JOHN: and it only changed because i started talking to people again.

SOLLUX: (i did this t0 myself why did i ask)

JOHN: i guess in gamer terms it's the same as screwing yourself over by not checking every non playable character dialogue box.

JOHN: any one of them could have the clues you need.

SOLLUX:

JOHN: sooooo...

SOLLUX:

JOHN: come on!

SOLLUX: c0me 0n! :B

SOLLUX: die.

JOHN: aw, don’t be like that dude.

JOHN: i promise no more questions after this.

JOHN: do you not want to because it just ...isn't important?

SOLLUX: excuse me.

SOLLUX: my vestigial digits get m0re imp0rtant shit d0ne 0n wednesday nights than y0ur ill dressed b0dy has d0ne y0ur entire life cycle.

SOLLUX: but im n0t g0ing t0 g0 int0 all that because 1. i d0nt kn0w y0u and 2. i d0 n0t respect y0u.

SOLLUX: itll 0nly make y0u feel bad anyways.

JOHN: why would it make me feel bad?

SOLLUX: i can smell it 0n y0u man.

SOLLUX: y0u stink.

JOHN: i stink?

SOLLUX: yeah.

SOLLUX: y0u smell like a guy.

SOLLUX: wh0se never had any bitches.

JOHN: what!

JOHN: i have a son! i have a house full of pictures with him!

JOHN: that is physical proof i have had “bitches” thank you!

SOLLUX: as s0me0ne wh0 has been friends with every w0man y0u are attempting t0 categ0rize int0 this

SOLLUX: i can assure y0u, they were n0t y0ur bitches.

SOLLUX: y0u were theirs.

JOHN: i

JOHN: i was the bitches?

SOLLUX: this was the missing puzzle piece r0xys ex.

SOLLUX: y0ur arc is 0ver.

SOLLUX: y0u can g0 h0me n0w.

JOHN: my home burned down.

SOLLUX: sad.

SOLLUX: y0u kn0w what is tragic th0ugh?

SOLLUX: i have n0t been able t0 play this game the wh0le time because s0me0ne was talking 0ver the s0und.

JOHN: oh!

JOHN: sorry : (

SOLLUX: w0rds d0nt mean much.

SOLLUX: 0nly acti0ns.

JOHN: well, i suppose i left the vriskas waiting long enough...

JOHN: see you eye patches...

SOLLUX: n0t wearing them.

JOHN: or not who knows!

SOLLUX: WAIT.

JOHN: !

SOLLUX: change my game f0r me.

[camelspit]

How did prentice and tiergans relationship somehow get gayer

[saucetail-hasanewblog]

guess who gets to read count of monte cristo for a uni work!!!!!

[ikissjude]

one round? 🎮 lhs

in which you and gamer!heeseung name aspects of your relationship | tiktok series

gamer bf!heeseung x fem!reader, warnings: cursing, dialogue heavy, suggestive at the end, fluff, crack-ish (idk i think i’m funny), kinda short, wc: 452

“now stand right here and act like you’re walking to your desk,” you directed your boyfriend, heeseung, for the tiktok that you wanted to make.

to start gaining traction on your couple’s page, you decided to participate in a trend that details your lives as a gamer couple. it only made sense considering the page would be the two of you streaming together and uploading highlights.

“now when i say go, start walking, and say whatever comes to mind,” heeseung couldn’t help the smile on his face, seeing how serious you were about directing your little video.

“alright, and go.”

“we’re a gamer couple; of course we obviously met on league.” heeseung walked to his set-up, pretending to open up the game.

“oh baby, you’re a natural! actors around the world should be scared,” you beamed. heeseung chuckled at your compliment. “alright, now for my turn, i’m gonna do the same thing, but we’re gonna cut to us both playing a round. sound good?”

“of course, miss boss lady. tell me what to do.”

after setting up the tripod, you got into position.

“we’re a gamer couple; of course we get super competitive with each other.”

the two of you then played a round against each other, with you winning, of course. you figured you got a good clip with the two of you shittalking each other. it was like that the entire time, the two of you taking turns back and forth with you directing. heeseung found you the cutest, getting so into this 15-second clip.

“we’re a gamer couple; of course our set-ups are side by side.” heeseung’s idea naturally, he wanted to keep you by his side at all times, even when he gamed.

“we’re a gamer couple; of course i spend all of his money on games and dlcs.” you said with a smirk on your face.

“hey!” heeseung giggled. “you can’t say that, the guys are gonna call me a simp.”

“you are a simp, hee. and weak-willed."  you laughed.

“alright then, i have something for your ass.” heeseung walked over to his chair and sat with his legs spread wide. tilting your head, you decided to just go with it.

“we’re a gamer couple; of course she asks to sit on my dick while i game.”

“oh my god, heeseung!” you screamed, face heating up in embarrassment. “you really can’t say that.”

“why not?” he laughed before reaching out to grab your hands. he slowly pulled you into his lap, your legs connected to his hips. he knew just how to fluster you. you kept your head down to avoid further embarrassment, but he lifted your chin to meet his gaze.

“it’s true, is it not?”

© ikissjude 2024

[damn-stark]

Chapter 21 Icarus

Chapter 21 of Moonlight

A/N- Someone makes a special appearance in this chapter!

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, violence and blood, ANGST!!, fluff, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 449-452

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

As if kept apart for years with just distorted words repeating in his mind, and only able to cling onto the ghost of your scent to try and keep your memory alive, when night falls and you’re laying in bed, Aemond holds onto your waist with a tight grip as if he faltered even a bit you would slip from existence. He buries his face in your lap and occasionally you feel wet kisses pressed against your flesh.

His demand to be clinging when you returned from scouting is not something that bothers you, you quite enjoy him not being able to be without you. You find solace in the warmth of his hand when you navigate through corridors, and feel giddy when you catch his lingering stares that burrow deep within you as if he’s trying to grasp the fact that you’re by his side.

It’s all so sweet and you love it when Aemond is sweet. Yet you can’t help but start to wonder why he hardly let you out of his sight since you returned from scouting.

“Is something wrong?” You finally break the peaceful silence and stroke his hair.

Aemond remains as he is for a moment before he just slightly tilts his head up to look at you between the strands of his hair that stick to his face. “Does there have to be something wrong for me to be this way with you? It’s not uncommon for us to lie like this.”

“I know,” you say softly as you gently tuck his hair behind his ear. “It’s just…I don’t know…I feel like something’s wrong with you. Are you okay?”

Aemond holds onto your gaze and tries to brush you off, but those three words seem to cause him to fight an inner conflict that makes his eye soften and then harden before a swift conclusion brings tears to his eye, causing your eyebrows to immediately furrow out concern while your breath hitches out of surprise because he’s being so expressive.

“Aemond?” You whisper and slide your hand down to cradle his cheek.

Said man slowly pulls his hands off your waist to grab your hand on his cheek and press a lingering kiss on the heel of your hand, making you grow even more concerned.

“Can I just look at you for a moment?” He asks and your eyebrows knit together before you lean toward him and probe.

“Aemond what is it?” You have to keep probing before your concern kills you, but your dearest husband just sighs deeply and continues with silence while he makes your hands slip off his face as he sits up with his head hanging low.

You want to keep pressing him with words, but you use a more desperate plea by brushing his hair back with your hands before you grab his face and find his gaze to plead that way. Desperately and deeply concerned.

Albeit Aemond presses his forehead against yours and draws in a deep breath with his eye closed.

“My love,” you coo, and he keeps quiet for a moment longer before he pulls back to face you and finally speak about what's troubling him so.

“You are…” he trails off in a whisper and his gaze slowly slides off you.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

Said man’s gaze slowly drifts to the corner of the room and remains in the shadows before he blinks and looks back at you with a more determined gaze.

“You are to remain out of war councils,” he speaks in a voice slowly lacing with a coldness so you know that this is no jest. “You are to stop dueling and scouting. And most importantly you will not under any circumstance take part in any battle be it in the sky, on the sea, or the ground.”

Your concern falls as you’re struck with disbelief. “This,” you stammer. “This is some jest.” You shake your head. “It has to be because—it’s not funny, Aemond.”

He clenches his jaw and averts his gaze as he shakes his head. “No, it is not some jest. It’s how things will be from now on.”

Your eyes widen with that same disbelief still running its course within you as it doesn’t fully hit you just yet that what he speaks of is real.

“You…” you trail off to slide off the bed. Aemond quickly mirrors you and follows after you as you stride away from the bed. When he captures your arm you turn around with a look of hurt painted on your face—“Am I not good enough? I can try harder, I can. Just…don’t make me stop.”

Aemond’s gaze softens again and he grabs you with both hands now.

“No,” he rebuttals right away. “It’s not that. You are great, but—”

“Is it what Ser Criston said in the corridor?” You cut him off in a sudden burst of anger. “Because if it is, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s just some low-life knight who doesn’t know anything about Targaryens.”

Aemond shakes his head and swallows thickly before he interjects to finally give reason to his decision. “It’s a decision I made myself because I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out there while you’re with child. It’s a war, not some game. I can’t put you at risk. I won’t.”

A flicker of hurt passes through you, threatening you towards using sorrow to argue back, but the anger and frustration burst through, drowning out the sadness that built up at his words since he knows that being cast aside is something that wounds you deeply.

“You,” you mutter before you yank your arms out of his grasp and push him back over and over again with each word that leaves past your lips. “It’s always you. You. You. You! What about me?!” You bark and push him back one more time before you stand up straight with your chest puffed out, your lips parted as you heave, and your gaze spewing rage and disbelief that still lingers within you. “What about what I want, huh?! What about what I want, Aemond!”

“I just want to protect you!” He counters back but not in the same anger you display, he just feels frustrated because you’re not understanding. “I’m protecting you, don’t you see that?!”

“I can protect myself!” You hit your chest. “You've seen that! You can’t make me stand idly by your side! I will not be gawked at! I can fight,” you cry. “I can do it! I am something, I am someone! I have,” you exhale. “I have proved it. I have.” You nod gently as you lose that rage and agony returns.

“I won’t lose you,” Aemond’s voice breaks whilst his gaze is pointed at you as he’s feeling nothing but determination to defend his decision even if you keep arguing. “I won’t. I cannot lose you!”

You take a moment to catch your breath and process the agony behind his own words. When you have somewhat calmed down you step toward him and look at him softly. “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I will always be here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Aemond drops his head and draws in a deep breath. “You won’t. That’s right,” he whispers before he brings his head up and looks at you with a narrowed look. “I already told you. You will not take part in any fighting of any kind, or any war councils. You will remain Princess Regent, but that’s all you’ll be, no more Blood Dragon or Fire Demon. I’m sure you can do a lot of Regent duties even from here.”

You nod gently and slowly lower your gaze to try and find your thoughts on the ground. Anywhere really. Yet all that you can come across is more disbelief that leaves you saying only one single word that holds no meaning. “Alright.”

You then shove past him and as you grab your robe he questions your actions that you hardly give any thought to. “Where are you going?”

You stride to the doors and give your answer to the moist air. “The Godswood. Can I do that?”

Aemond calls out your name to retort your sassy remark, but you just leave your quarters in a huff. When you’re in the corridor you take a torch from the wall and pace down the corridors like a ghost haunting the castle with your mind still focused on your argument, and don’t snap out of your stupor until you’re outside with your feet in the cold lakes shore.

The cold water forces you to take in your surroundings and wonder what changed and why so suddenly.

Is it really because of what he mentioned? Or is it something else? Something far more complicated like him not thinking you’re good enough.

Why?

You don’t—you can’t just sit by with a plastered smile watching as the world goes on living around you like you’re some caged bird. You have to be more than that right?

Or maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re forever destined just to be unremarked and not amount to a thing. Just a forgotten name with a forgettable face.

Is that all you are to this world? To everyone you cherish?

You are more than that…

Cregan would think so. But would he have done the same thing as Aemond? You have to wonder as you look across the lake with just the stars as your company, unbeknownst to the fact that on a small hill that overlooks the Gods Eye, the soul you think of has you in his mind and wonders when he’ll have to stop depending on just his memories to see you again. He wonders how you are after the death of your beloved brother, and if you’re okay; that one is heavy in his mind because there’s only so much he hears about you and it's never what he truly desires to know. And it’s not like you can send each other letters anymore.

Even if you are so close to one another during this tragic war, it still feels like the same distance between Winterfell and King’s Landing stands between you since letters can’t be exchanged, and neither of you can see face to face even if you are so close.

Memories are all you have, and it’s why you realize that Cregan wouldn’t be much different than Aemond. Cregan is protective too, more stubbornly so. Which is why it’s not like you can go to him either, you would be stuck in the same predicament.

And the same goes for your mother, so there’s truly nowhere you belong now—

Maybe at the bottom of that lake…

Nevertheless, because of the silence that surrounds you at night, it’s easy to catch the sound of footsteps approaching, and recognize that they’re lighter than Aemond’s would be, so it’s not him. It can only be a select few, so you turn around and your curiosity is answered when you see Alys approaching.

“It’s late, why are you not abed?” You break through the sound of crickets singing in the distance.

“I wonder the same thing about you,” she redirects and then falls by your side before she continues. “Troubles with your husband?”

You draw in a sharp breath and turn around before you exhale slowly and walk over to a large rock to sit on it. “Tell me why you’re still here Alys. You’re a witch, I imagine it’s easy finding ways to leave these wetlands.”

Alys mingles by the lake for a moment before she turns around and drags her feet toward you to sit on a lower rock next to you. “This is my home,” she puts it simply. “Where would I go?”

You glance across the lake with a longing look and sigh deeply before sharing the first place that comes to mind. A place you haven’t dreamt of going to in some time. “Yi-Ti. I heard it's beautiful there, full of wonderful and bad people alike. It’s somewhere far, where you can be something...”

Alys steals a look at you before she sits up and keeps her eyes on the horizon. “Have you considered it? You have a dragon and money that a lot of people only dream about. I imagine it would be easy for you too.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and nod slowly as you look up at the endless sky now. “I could go to King’s Landing and take my son and leave to never return. It would be easy, I could be something there that I’m not allowed to be here.”

Alys nods gently in comprehension. “But it would be selfish,” she says words that go against her nod, words that cut you deeply. “Leaving it all behind because of what? A disagreement.”

You scoff as you drop your head. “No,” you mutter. “It’s…you wouldn’t get it.”

“Perhaps so. Then leave.”

You don’t know her so you can’t take apart her words and understand if she’s leading you on or being serious. Thus you slowly raise your head to look at her, catching her gaze already on you with nothing but sincerity. She’s serious, she’s pushing you to do what you want and that slight pressure is what makes you falter. Just enough for her to pick you apart.

“Why is it that you’re so dedicated to your Prince?” She asks and looks with a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Your dragon is not chained and you’re not chained, you may leave whenever you desire. Yet even with your mother on that throne you still stick by him, why?”

It’s simple. The answer is quick to come to mind and slip past your tongue. “Because he loves me selfishly. All of me, the dark part of me. Because loving him is consuming in the best way possible. Because he understands the inner workings of my conflicted soul and to let him go…would be like losing a part of my soul.”

Alys sighs deeply and doesn't fret to speak boldly. “And what about the Wolf of the North?”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief, and there in the depths of your chest, where your heart used to be is a faint jolt. Be it nerves or some reconnection to what you thought was lost, you don’t know. All you know is that you feel it.

“He,” you whisper with no control of your words, it’s easy to speak to her. Even if you don’t know her you know for some reason that nothing you say will be spread like a disease. “He has this way that he looks at me…like no matter how dark, how far, or how many people may be swarming him he only has eyes for me. He will always find me. He looks at me like he’s found salivation, hope. Loving him is exciting,” your words come easy, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Maybe it was because it was a secret, but…I don’t believe that to be true.” You sigh shakily and drop your head once again.

Alys hums and gently hits the side of her thigh before she quips. “I don’t envy you. Loving two people sounds exhausting.”

You shake your head to contradict her and try to say it’s the farthest thing from the truth, but you don’t want her to ask you to pick one so you stay quiet. Not because it’s hard, it’s easy. You truly, honestly, and deeply love them both.

You do. It’s selfish, yes, but it’s true.

“You can’t leave,” Alys returns your conversation to what you were initially speaking of before she sidetracked you. “Not to Yi-Ti, and not to King’s Landing. Not yet.”

You drag your leg up to prop your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on your hand as you look at her with confusion. “Why is that?” You probe. “At least in King’s Landing, I can be with my son.”

Alys draws out deeply and slowly meets your gaze. “Because then all of that wisdom that I let you see will be for nothing…”

You blink slowly in disbelief and sit up as your face goes hard. “What do you mean?” You ask in a threatening manner.

“Just that. I let you see the truth about your father and your mother's plan. It was me,” she reveals, and it clicks. That’s why she was so familiar. That’s why it feels like you know her, because of that vision in the fire that she gave you.

“Why?” You deadpan without blaming her for anything. You’re honestly thankful that she let you see the truth.

“Because you would have died otherwise,” she shares, making you scoff—“And that can’t happen yet. I needed you to go down a different path in life.”

“You know,” you interject and get up to look at the stars with an inkling of frustration. “I am getting sick of people telling me I am going to die, and trying to save me from it.”

Alys follows you to your feet and takes a step forward to grab your attention and make sure you’re meeting her eyes and not lost in the stars as she reaches deep within her to share what you need to hear. So you know that you don’t need to exhaust yourself to prove yourself. So you can see clearly what you are, what people like Aemond and your mother see, but you don’t. She wants you to know who you have been all along.

“Listen to me, I know how you feel. I have lived a long time, I have gone through the trials you are facing in life, and it’s why I’m telling you that you need to stop thinking that you’re lesser than you are. It’s not true. I saw it, everyone that resides in this castle saw it, and you know it.”

Your eyes water and for the first time since Jacaerys died those tears break out and roll down your cheeks. “How do you know?” Your voice quivers.

Alys’ eyes dig deeper in your watery gaze to connect deeper with you so you know that every word that is going to come out of her is the truth. “I know because there’s already whispers about you traveling throughout the Kingdoms. They whisper about the Fire Demon born to the Queen. The Fire Demon who damned the Triarchy. Fear is gripping onto them because of you. Because of what you are and what you were gifted with. The Princess who rose from the ashes. A warrior and so much more.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smirk, but that pride that starts to rummage within you doesn’t get a secure hold of you yet. Disbelief and confusion still linger.

“That’s who you are,” she presses confidently. “But not all you will be.”

You tilt your head up as you start to grow smug.

“You need only keep walking down that path, if you steer away because of your own doubt and insecurity you will lose and everything that you fear will come true.”

Self-doubt whispers in your ear to not trust her, it sinks its claws deep in your flesh and wants to sabotage you. It threatens to. “How do you know? How do you know I won’t steer? Hope?” Your doubt speaks for you, making Alys raise her head and scoff.

“Hope is folly. Hope doesn’t make change, we do.” She speaks with confidence laced in every single word, reassuring you, and fighting off that doubt that gripped onto you until you don’t even feel it linger. You trust her completely and get rid of that doubt you carried about yourself and that tormented you after your argument with Aemond.

Alys sees that with a glimmer in your eyes and her own smugness only heightens. And it’s also because you choose to trust her blindly that she steps back and points to the Godswood in the distance. “Come, I need you to see something.”

She walks ahead while you linger behind and look back at the lake with a flicker of longing to see those grey eyes that paid your mind a visit.

Yet you don’t linger behind too long, you catch up to Alys and she leads you right to the base of the Weirwood tree where you’re face to face with the weeping face, and hear it again. The whispers from before. And like the other times, they are incoherent, but louder and louder, urging you to reach for the white-wooded tree. Yet no matter how inclined you are to come in touch with the dripping sap your eyes are the only thing you keep on the tree.

That is until Alys’ cold hand wraps around yours and she lifts it for you.

“Are you sure?” You ask as you drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes, and all she does is hum her response before she connects the tip of your fingers to the crimson sap that falls down the white bark.

Right away the whispering is silenced and a soft humming fills your ears with a melody you recognize as a haunting one from the book of songs and ballads Aemond gifted you. It slowly grows louder and goosebumps slowly grow along your skin while the red sap that runs down the bark grows thicker and flows down faster, covering your hand completely before it drops on the ground.

You follow the substance down with your eyes and there reflected on the surface of the thick sap is a pair of eyes that are not yours. This pair of eyes are sharper, they carry a venom in the blue of their eyes.

You want to identify who it is. You want to narrow your gaze to see if the answer will become clear, but then the gaze turns away and disappears from the puddle of red sap. You quickly look up to try and catch who it is you saw, but suddenly you’re transported to a battlefield stained with splotches of thick blood, littered with bodies both cut up and burnt and lively with bodies still alive and fighting. Night is turned to evening, and the sun is a raging red with all the smoke that pollutes the sky.

The pair of eyes you saw reflected in that puddle of sap now has a womanly body with gold-silver hair gathered in a long braid. She carries the Valyrian sword, Blackfyre, in one hand that’s stained with blood, and carries another object in the other, but that’s something you don’t see, all you know is that it’s leaking blood and that you grow insatiably curious to the point that you follow the woman in a stomping stride.

However, when you reach a large boulder right in the center of the battlefield and catch up to the woman, she slowly starts to peer back, but you can't stop storming forward. You can’t stop. There’s a certain ferocity that fuels your blood, one so hot that you burn but don’t hurt. The burning is delicious and enthralling. When you get to the point that you go through the woman you were following, the woman that was guiding you to that boulder in the middle of the bloody battlefield, you can see in a pool of blood around your feet that who you see looking back at you now is yourself.

You can see yourself clearly in that pool of blood, donning a black chainmail gown with a gold chest plate slathered in blood. Meanwhile, your head is covered with gold chainmail, and over your face are blood-soaked chains that fall down your face like a bleeding veil, and don’t hide the venom in your eyes that matches the woman you can now identify as Queen Visenya Targaryen. She was the one guiding you here, through the thick of the battle, and now you took her place. Now you hold the blood-soaked sword and…a head.

It’s you. All you. It’s your future. It’s not something that’s said, but it is something you know for certain. This is you. You stand on the battlefield and you climb up the boulder dragging the tip of Blackfyre against the stone. When you reach the top you stand over a battlefield that’s a lot thicker and bloody, filled with large men with grey beards, and others that all fight under the same banner as you; the banner that belongs to your mother, the Queen.

Once again nothing is outright spoken to you, but you know the context deep within and you grow proud, just like you grow proud of the head you carry. Albeit unlike the knowledge just given to you, this time you can’t identify the head you carry. They have manly features so you know they’re a man, young too, with blond-silver hair, and one brown eye that stares off at the ground because the other has an arrow punctured through it. Which only feeds your curiosity, but you don’t grow ravenous to put a name to the face, you grow enthusiastic and malicious as you tilt your head up and face the army of men.

“The Daring is dead!” Your voice booms, and when the attention of your men is given to you, you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy and all the men cry out cheers.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” Is scattered around the field and more goosebumps grow along your skin.

“FOR—“ you cut yourself off as a large shadow is cast over you, and when you roll your head back to look up, you catch a small dragon torpedoing to you with its mouth open. Yet even if you see the dark she-dragon filling her mouth with fire as she comes at you, you don't run because you know Astraea is behind you and flying directly toward the threat to protect you. And you especially don’t try to take cover or shield yourself from the fire because you know you won’t burn. You welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile.

Nevertheless, as the dragon fire bathes you, suddenly the hot blazing flames are not what hits you. Suddenly you’re smacked with a sharp and bitter coldness that forces you to turn your face away to shield your eyes.

After the breeze passes you slowly drop your hand, open your eyes, and get greeted with a fresh blanket of snow in every perimeter your eyes can see. When you fulfill your need to lift your head, you’re now hit with a wave of emotions that is not laced with venom; all the emotions are warm and blissful which make your heart swoon rather than race with malicious excitement because what you see is joy.

There’s no question about it. You’re overfilled with joy as you see a young man with dark brown curly hair wearing thick and warm winter clothes, and a thick grey fur cloak clasped over his back.

“Mother,” a soft voice speaks and you can’t help but gasp at the sound of his voice that you know deep in your bones does not belong to Aerion. This young man is different, younger than your Aerion, but he is still your…son. Your youngest boy. You know that, you feel that deep inside you. He calls out to you from where he stands in front of a large Weirwood tree in a familiar Godswood up North.

“My boy,” you whisper softly and he drops his clasped hands before slowly turning to you, causing your breath to catch in your throat when you meet his big soldem grey eyes.

“You…” he trails off and flashes you a charming smile. “Look at you.”

Tears fill your eyes and before you know it you march over to him and the first you do is grab his face. “Look at you,” you redirect and caress his cheeks, making him drop his head to hide his timid smile.

“<Please stop crying>,” he whispers in High Valyrian. “<We’ll meet again. When our time comes.>”

He lifts his head and his eyebrows furrow as his gaze grows just as serious as a man you know.

“<You look like your father>,” you comment as you study his face.

The young man scoffs and grabs your hands you keep on his face. “<Listen>,” he says and makes you find his gaze.

“<Let me look at you>,” you plead, making a warm smile melt that ice-cold expression. “<How can I see you again? How can I be certain that our paths will cross?>”

The same serious expression returns to his features as he gives you an answer. “<You must go home, mother. You will come across a crossroads again. You’ll know it when you get there, and when you do, you need to go home…back to her. That’s where you belong, she’s never forsaken you. Neither of them ever did.>”

You nod even if deep inside you don’t know if you mean it. How can you with the shattered heart that she took part in breaking?

“<After that you must deliver them to victory. Lead them. Be the great fire, for Winter is coming, Mother, and we need to light the way for The Prince that was Promised.>”

He then points his finger to the side and as you follow the direction he points to you don’t come across the thick of the forest that fills the Godswood, you see an endless dryland horizon that is cast by a blazing sun and there sitting in the midst of the drylands is a woman sat with no clothes, she’s nude, and giving her back to you.

Yet even if her back is to you, making her unidentifiable there’s a sense of familiarity—no, that’s wrong, you have seen her before in another vision. You know her. And this time she carries with her three hatchlings; a black, a green, and a cream-colored hatchling that all cling to her.

There she is, The Prince that was Promised. And then she isn’t. All of sudden you’re back in the cover of night at the Godswood of Harrenhal, feeling an emptiness, and a deep aching longing to be returned to your youngest son.

“Let me see him again,” you break the silence and spin around, coming face to face with Alys. “Please. One more time.”

Alys shakes her head stiffly. “No. You will meet again.”

You swallow back the lump that grows in your throat and even if you want to argue you just keep your head down and accept it, letting a silence seep in.

“You know what you must do. You know your place now,” Alys interjects as she reaches over and grabs your shoulder to make you slowly find her gaze.

“I’m a woman. How can I lead anyone?” You place doubt in yourself and your place.

“I already told you why you can lead. You know who you are at this point of our story,” she reassures you as she holds your gaze intently. “Don’t underestimate faith, Princess. They see you, the Princess unscathed by fire, and they see all their prayers answered.”

Without speaking a word you ask with your eyes alone if she’s sure, and without saying a word in return she looks at you with a hint of smugness mingling in her smirk.

You hold her gaze as you draw out a deep breath and push out all the lingering doubt with it to mirror her smirk in the darkness of the Godswood.

——

*4 MONTHS LATER*

It’s been four months of being in the Riverlands, at Harrenhal, which has not turned out to be so bad with Alys becoming your best friend. You’ve been inseparable since that night at the Godswood, much to Aemond’s dismay. And the only thing you can say since those four months is how much you hate about being away from Aerion for so long.

It’s been four months since you’ve seen his little face and his little smile, and it’s been four long months since you’ve heard a single word of him. All you know is that he’s 9 months old now and probably spoiled rotten by your mother. Vanessa hasn’t been able to send anything on any matter, nor can you send a raven asking for an update because of the tension between the fractions. You’re left in the dark with only Alys’ reassuring word as an offer.

She says you’ll see Aerion soon, and you believe her. You wish she could say more, you want to know more, but she can only tell you so much because she says that knowing too much of the future is a burden you don’t want. And you don’t argue about it either, you know Helaena, and you know how her dreams weigh down on her. And with everything already going on, you don’t want to carry that on your shoulders, so you don’t bother to ask about the future, it’s already changed you as it is.

You can’t say it hasn’t, because it has. It’s changed your fight. Once you fought for your own selfish desire to stay alive; and yes even now that instinct still resides within you, but there’s also something else that lives within you; a need to fight for something grander.

You must light the way and so you shall. That’s what you’re meant to do. That guarantees that the future of your house, your bloodline, and that of your family's bloodline, flourishes. That guarantees the birth of the Prince that was Promised. But how can you leave Aemond?

You could leave on top of Astraea any time you wanted, Aemond can’t chain her and he wouldn’t follow you to the Red Keep, but…you can’t find the need to leave him. You can’t part from him, and you can’t fathom the thought even if he’s changed as well.

Being at Harrenhal seems to have made Aemond paranoid, and more protective, and has him lost in thought a lot of the time which only leaves him more erratic. He’s more violent and prone to bursts of anger. Have you made it easier? You can’t say you have. You admit it. You’re still upset about what he forbade you from doing, of keeping you like a caged bird unable to be part of any war councils. You’re not riddled with those insecurities that once took a hold of you before, but he still has you trapped and estranged from anyone who wanders too close. You’re like his shadow, or some tapestry only good to admire. That’s what you are to him. All he lets you be to everyone accompanying you.

Yet that’s why it’s easier to hide in the shadows with Alys. No one bothers you there, only each other.

“You were right,” you tell her as you come to a stop on the balcony that overlooks that massive grande hall and see Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne preparing to leave with the army of men, but without Aemond and you.

It seems last night they had an argument about what it is that needs to be done. Food is starting to run short, horses and men are dying to sickness and hunger, and forging parties have to go past burnt fields and burnt towns alike to try and get what is needed.

Yet no matter how many forging parties leave, none return. And those Western men, well, Cregan and the Northman have really made a name for themselves when they joined forces with the Rivermen because they demolished the Western army. They took heavy losses, but at the end of the battle that the men call the Fishfeed, banners for the Queen are all that were seen.

You wish you could see the glory, but the best you could do was hear about the glory through the mouths of people who weren’t there, and Alys who paints a much more gloomy picture. Yet it’s through those words that you can say the Battle by the Lakeshore impacted your stance at Harrenhal; the glory that Aemond wanted to take from Daemon did not even grow twice the size, it was just a sad attempt that failed miserably.

And even then he refuses to leave, you can assume that’s why Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne are taking the army. There’s no need for you to be here anymore so you can only imagine they’re going to join the Hightower army now. If the Rivermen and the Northmen allow them to that is.

“You should bid your farewells,” Alys suggests as she stands by you and watches over the same scene below.

“Should I really?” You quip and press your hand on your swollen belly as you drift your gaze to focus solely on Aemond. And even if tension lies between you that has turned you both distant, you still look at him like he’s the brightest star in a sky littered with smaller and duller stars. You admire the way he stands so poised and has his jaw clenched, flexing his sharp features. You admire the way he silently damns the men with his pointed glare. And you smile softly like you do when you admire the brightest star; the morning and evening star.

“You know how much I detest Ser Criston,” you grumble to Alys. “I’m actually thrilled he’s finally leaving.”

“What of Ser Gwayne?” She then brings up. “He’s quite charming.”

You drift your gaze to her and slowly but surely realize she’s right so you push yourself away from the balcony and turn away, at that moment missing the way Aemond lifts his gaze and catches the way your gown twirls as you turn away. When you’re in the corridors and know that no soldiers are lurking in the shadows you interject. “Will it bode them well to leave?”

Alys’ gaze falls on you and she responds but with a question. “What do you think?”

You draw out a deep breath and share your running thoughts. “With the Northmen and Rivermen now standing triumphant, I’ll say they will be walking into a field of fire they won’t be able to evade.”

Alys stays quiet so you continue sharing your piece of mind. “If I had been at that council I would have advised them to do as Daemon did, take the host around the enemy and evade a fight to be able to join forces with the Hightower army. Lands there aren’t destroyed, there’s food and more horses for the taking.”

Alys turns her head as you do and you catch a proud smirk on her face, showing that she praises your response.

“Alas, you were not there. Don’t worry yourself of their struggles anymore,” she says as you both continue to look ahead.

Once you reach the great hall where Ser Criston, Ser Gwayne, and Aemond are, they all stop what they’re doing to give you their attention.

“I have come to bid my farewells,” you tell the pair of men ready to march. “Good luck in your battles to come, Ser Criston. I hope we see each other again,” you lie straight through your teeth and offer him a sweet smile before you glance at Alys to flash her sly smirk.

In return, she offers you a slight nod that you alone catch before you slide your eyes back to the knight and lift your hand to offer it to Ser Criston Cole.

The second the knight catches what you seek from him, his eyes find Aemond to speechlessly ask for an excuse to not do what you want from him and what will make him bow to you, but Aemond only backs up your request by lifting his chin and expecting the Knight to go ahead.

And thus, the Knight lowers his head from its ever so prideful hold, letting his gaze fall on your face for a second, and in doing so making you lift your nose in the air to show off your power over him because no matter if he’s a forced to be reckoned with and a legendary swordsman, all that amounts to nothing compared to you. You will always be above him in every way, and he hates that you are, he hates knowing it, and he hates seeing it on your face as you look down on him with the thick gold circlet around your head gleaming against the ray of sun that shines over you at that moment. As if the gods themselves approved of you’re holier than thou status in this world.

Then again, nothing outshines the wicked mischievousness that plays in your eyes as his gaze falls on your hand decorated with expensive rings. When he takes your hand he does so with the most delicate touch, not because he thinks you’re delicate, but because it’s eating at his pride. That’s why he's hesitant and slow as he bends down and presses his lips on your knuckles. All while you lower your head, making the chains attached to your circlet lightly clink against each other whilst your eyes show off the smugness you can’t show off with a smirk.

Once Ser Criston has done his part he pulls his hand away and stands to his given height. Yet you’re not done tormenting him yet. You proceed to step forward and press a light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Princess,” he’s forced to say.

You pull away and offer him a teasing smile you manage to play off as sincere.

“Farewell, Ser,” you offer him one last time before you roll your eyes away and face Ser Gwayne with an actual sweet smile. “Good luck to you Ser. I hope you see many victories.”

Ser Gwayne offers you a warm smile and he willingly takes your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles before you offer him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Please tell Daeron we send our greetings,” you tell him before you go. “And that we’re looking forward to joining forces with him and Tessarion soon.”

“I will,” he assures you and presses his hand on your belly. “You take care, and learn a new song so I may hear it when we reunite.”

You flash him a grin and nod in agreement before you reach over to give his arm a squeeze and then step away. After you offer both men one last look you then turn with the intention to leave, but first steal a glance at Aemond, catching his gaze on you so you let your own gaze linger on him.

“Come find me at the Godswood later,” you break the silence that was between you. “Okay?”

A flicker of relief and shock flickers in his gaze as he’s not hesitant to nod in agreement, letting you offer him a genuine and sweet smile that he doesn’t take for advantage. He cherishes the smile you offer him, the smile now rare to see directed at him. A smile so captivating he can’t help but admire you and almost leave it all behind to follow your lead at that moment as you finally walk away.

Yet even if his body turns towards you as you get further and further away, he doesn’t follow after you, he stays put and keeps in mind your invitation to go find you later.

“Has there been a sighting of Sunfyre?” You ask Alys as you make your way to the Godswood while the men that occupied the castle slowly file out. “The Golden Dragon?” You clarify.

“No, not beside the time he flew away from Rook’s Rest.” She says news you already knew but still welcome to let an idea form in your mind.

“He lived by miracle, which is great, but we’ll have to kill him,” you mention your idea. “Or his rider. Whichever it is, we can't let them reunite. The Blacks may have the numbers, but a dragon with a dragonrider is still a threat. And with the crown having the people against them, regaining Sunfyre is an advantage we can’t have.”

“What do you suppose you can do from here?” Alys remarks, making you slowly look at her with an annoyed look before you scoff and retort.

“You want me to leave you alone?”

Alys tilts her head and her lips turn to a slight smile. “I could never forget you for as long as I live.”

“Memories don’t make you laugh. I make you laugh, me,” you quip and she scoffs before she leans towards you and bumps into your side.

“I already told you…”

“We’ll never be out of each other's lives,” you finish for her since she’s already assured you of that piece of the future. “I know, but…”

“You can’t avoid your mother forever,” she adds for you, making you drop your gaze as you keep walking—“it’s not possible with the state of things.”

“I can’t leave Aemond,” you mutter and look back at her with a conflicted gaze. “He needs me too. I need him.”

“What of your son?” She counters with a comment that makes you go quiet and sorrowful all the way to the Godswood, and when you’re sitting on a boulder a few feet away from the Weirwood tree.

You can't seem to break the solemn silence that Alys cast over you as all that occupies your mind is guilt for the little one who hasn’t felt his mother’s warmth in 4 months because you can’t stop being petty, and have all your attention centered on your husband.

Aerion deserves better than that. He deserves a mother who’s there for all his needs, for all his firsts as he nears one years old, but instead, you’re here still trapped and foolishly dedicated to a man you have a strain with. You’re being selfish and meanwhile, he’s growing up without you.

“Here.”

You lift your eyes off your hands and look up to see Ser Jason approaching you with a beautifully decorated cord in his hand—“So when you miss your son you have this to remember him by when you’re apart,” he continues sharing as he comes to a stop in front of you and shows off a beautiful cord decorated with beads, shells, and an orange pearl.

“I just know how much you long to see him again, and well I thought it would be nice,” he begins to ramble nervously. “My own mother made one for me so I could remember her when I was away. Of course, I was young but it was reassuring.”

You blink repeatedly as your cheeks begin to burn out of heartwarming disbelief. “Oh,” you gasp and carefully take the cord. “Thank you, Ser. How sweet,” you coo and gently brush your thumb over the enchanting orange pearl. “How beautiful. Are you sure? This pearl…it looks rare.”

Ser Jason nods rapidly and then takes a seat next to you. “Yes, I’m sure, and it is rare, but who better to have it than you?”

A smile creeps on your lips. “Thank you, Ser, you’re sweet. And,” you pause and swallow thickly, feeling that smile fall all too fast. “I’m sorry for having you stay here,” you finally address the guilt that you carry about him. “I know it’s not ideal, it's always so gloomy here, and resources are running scarce.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he lets the word slip, making you giggle which in turn causes him to catch what slipped out of his mouth—“Forgive me that’s no way to speak. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Do not worry, Ser. It’s alright.”

Ser Jason keeps his eyes on you for a second longer as he quietly scolds you for not really correcting him the way you should, but since you don’t add on the matter he leaves it be and instead continues with what he was going to say. “I’m your sworn protector, my place is by your side even in the darkest of days.”

Your eyes soften and a smile slowly reappears on your face.

Yet like before the smile is all too short-lived when suddenly a booming voice rips through the Godswood. “YOU!”

Your eyes snap up and there stomping over is Aemond with rage twisting his face and keeping his focus locked on the man sitting next to you.

“Who do you think you are?!” He barks out. “Leave her alone!”

You stand to your feet and as you reach out to try and stop his blinding rage, Alys grabs your arm and pulls you towards her whilst Aemond reaches Ser Jason and rips him off his seat to drag him back against a wall.

“Aemond!” You bellow out. “Stop it!”

Said man wraps his hands around Ser Jason’s throat and slams his head against the stone wall, making your eyes widen with horror and confusion as to what brought this on. Ser Jason was only being nice, he wasn’t even touching you, he was just sitting next to you. That’s all!

“Aemond, leave him alone!” You try to get him away from your sworn protector, but it’s like he can’t even hear you, like once again he’s lost in a completely different world than yours.

“You’re nothing more than a bastard,” you hear Aemond sneer at your sworn protector. “You are nothing. You will never be anything, do you hear me? Do you?!”

Ser Jason manages to bring his hands up and tries to pull Aemond’s hands away, but your husband only tightens his hold, making the knight start to gasp for air.

“Do you think I’d let you get away with it?! Do you think I would let you hurt her?! Kill her?!” He keeps exclaiming and once again slams him against the wall so hard Ser Jason groans at the impact. “She’s mine,” Aemond growls. “I won’t let you hurt her!”

“Aemond!” You cry out and rip away from Alys to run over and try to pull Aemond off Ser Jason, but when Aemond feels your hands wrap around his hand he doesn’t even turn his rageful glare toward you. It’s locked on the man before him so he doesn’t see that it’s you, he just swings his arm back so hard that you lose balance and hit the floor on your side, feeling a flash of fear when you’re on the cold ground.

“Alys,” your whisper trembles and it’s at that moment when your voice hits his ears that Aemond snaps out of his blinding rage and finally sees you frozen on the ground, whilst the woman you called for rushes to your side and is quick with her efforts to help you.

“Here let’s get you up,” she insists in a hushed tone as she grabs your arm to help you to your feet. When she starts to be overbearing and examines your side, your fear slowly fades away and you’re left with a stinging pain on your side and palms.

Even then you try to play it off as you’re in disbelief as to what just happened. “I’m fine,” you try to assure her. “I think I just scraped my side.”

Alys doesn’t see any blood coming out from your sides, nor does she notice any coming out from between your legs so she then grabs your hands and yanks them towards her, noticing at that moment that your palms are the only ones that are bleeding.

“Not fine,” she quips.

You pull your hands away from her grasp and insist otherwise. “I am fine, just tend to Ser Jason. Please,” you press with both your words and your eyes.

Alys seems hesitant, but when she glances back at the man behind her standing in horrified disbelief as to what he caused, she gets the hint of what you want to do and does as you said.

However, even when she walks away with Ser Jason, you fail to face Aemond. Your mind is running wildly, bouncing from thought to thought and feeling to feeling as it’s all in shambles not knowing what to do or what to think next.

All that’s clear is that Aemond hurt you. He might have not meant it, but he hurt you. He did. And it might not hurt, it may not scar like when he accidentally slashed your cheek, but the scrapes sting and you remember the short-lived fear that you had because of the twins you’re carrying.

“I…” Aemond trails off and you hear him stepping toward you. “Are you okay?”

Those words. Those damn words always work to bring out your emotions and this time it’s no different. Yet rather than feeling cared for when he asks, you instead feel…anger. Anger that only heightens when you finally look up and meet his gaze filled to the brink with tears, worry, and guilt.

“I…” he trails off again and once again he steps towards you, but this time without stopping. He reaches you and his eyes wander your body for any blood. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know…I,” his words quiver and he finds your gaze, finding nothing more than anger in your eyes. There’s no warmth that lets him feel reassured, that lets him know you’re truly unaffected by the accident. All your anger is accumulated in your eyes at this very moment and it all stares right back at him in the face. There's not even angry words that escape you that help him work this out, which actually tells him a lot more than words ever could.

At this moment, as you glare at him, and he looks at you, he sees a decision. He sees the path that you both walked down hand in hand coming to a crossroads and breaking you apart by your choice alone. If it was up to him he would always choose to walk down the same path hand in hand, but he sees as clear as day that you’re drifting down a different path.

“I’m returning to Aerion,” is all that your anger lets you say, and it’s all that you actually want and need to say to express your resolve.

There’s no more confusion or disbelief. Only anger and resolve. Where there was once hesitance to leave Aemond, now there’s an urgency to leave. Which is why you swiftly spin around and storm away toward your quarters to try and get the belongings you can carry. You’ll have Ser Jason bring the rest by horse. You just can’t and won’t stay. No matter how much he starts pleading and spewing out apologies.

“You cannot go, your place is here with me,” Aemond says after you, but you don’t respond, you just pick up your pace.

“Are you listening?” Aemond calls out in response to your silence. “Where will you go?!”

“To my mother,” you snap back, making him lunge forward to grab your arm and turn you around to face him.

“You will be a traitor,” he sneers with his anger returning but faltering all in the same while.

“Then kill me. You can’t burn me, so you will have to kill me, Aemond,” you counter spitefully before you tilt your head and become bold. “Because I am a traitor. Before I found out my mother lied I was sending her letters about the plans you and your Green council made.” You snicker and feel a smirk twitch on your lips. While Aemond blinks in disbelief and lets you go as he tries to search in your eyes if you’re lying just to have him let you go, but all he sees is sincerity. You’re speaking the truth and when he realizes that his lips part and a breath escapes him.

And even if the sadness in his eye makes you falter, and aches your own soul, you don’t let it take over. You can’t stay a moment longer, this is not your place anymore. Not after what he did, so after a deep breath you slip away from his hold and return to your raging path.

Once you reach your chambers you don’t hear him after you so it’s easy to collect your immediate belongings and stuff them in a bag. He’s not trying to stop you like before, he’s not snatching your things out of your hands so it’s all easy.

However, as surprised and relieved as you are that there’s no fight. It was too easy indeed because the moment you turn around with the intention to walk out, the door is slammed shut and you hear a key turn before you hear something blocking the door. And since only one person was after you trying to stop you from leaving, you realize your revelation didn’t affect Aemond the way you wanted it to. He didn’t care in the grand scheme of things.

“Aemond,” you call out with confusion and drop the bag to run to the door and try to open it, but it’s locked and you’re met by an overpowering force. “Aemond?” You call out again desperately.

“I…had an inkling you were never loyal to our side. Not until you found out the truth,” his voice travels through the wooden door. “You always detested Aegon, and I always knew you had a blinding loyalty toward your mother, so as shocking as it is to hear you admit it, I expected it.”

You try to open the door again but when you’re met by the same force you tap the door with your palms. “Then just let me go. Aemond, please.”

Something presses against the surface on the other side before he speaks softer. “That was in the past, It doesn’t bother me all that much. What bothers me…what I cannot stand is you leaving, because if you leave and something…happens when I’m not there to help you I’ll lose you…” he trails off and a thump hits the door. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Aemond,” you whimper and drop your forehead against the door. “Please, my love. Please don’t lock me in here.”

“I will leave men here to make sure that nothing happens to you and make sure that you stay here. They will also guarantee that the witch brings you food and cleans what it is that needs cleaning while I’m out okay?” He says through the door. “I’ll return soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Where are you going?” You query.

Silence follows for a moment before he responds. “We’re surrounded by traitors. It’s time they pay the price, and once word reaches Rhaenyra of what is happening, Daemon will come to meet me so I stop burning their allies' lands. That’s when I’ll finally rid this world of my uncle's existence. We can win after that.”

“Aemond,” you cry out as you shake your head against the door. “Please, please don’t do this. Please.”

You hear him sigh before he speaks quietly. “I love you. There’s no one I love or could ever love more than you. It’s why I’m doing this. It’s for your own good.”

Tears slip out of your eyes while your chest clenches as you start to realize that nothing you say will change his mind. All the pleading will amount to nothing at this moment in time because he believes that what he’s saying is right. He believes that he is doing right by you.

But he’s only hurt you more, doesn’t he see that? Doesn’t he hear it in your desperate pleas?

“Aemond,” you whimper.

Said man doesn’t respond with words, his shadow lingers under the door frame before it departs as you hear his footsteps recede.

“Aemond?!” You call out louder and pull your head away from the door. “Aemond?!” You cry out with tears streaming down your cheeks. “Aemond! Let me out! Let me out! Please! Let me out damn it!”

Yet no amount of shouts or desperation changes his mind. He leaves you trapped in your chambers. He leaves you alone in Harrenhal as he mounts Vhagar and ascends the skies without you.

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens

[khawla-gfm2]

🫂🙏❗Help Khawla's Family In Gaza ❗🙏🫂

I'm organizing and running this fundraiser on behalf of Khawla's family in Gaza. I'm in direct contact with Mohiy, Khawla's brother. [who has his own campaign @/mohiy-gaza2].

The goal of $20,000 is in place for caring for Khawla's family while they save money to register to evacuate together as soon as possible. The campaign has been officially open since August 12th and hasn't yet met it's halfway mark.

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help the fundraiser along to reaching it's goal!

Currently $452 away from $4,500 as a short term goal!

last donation was 11hrs ago

[for more information about the campaign, check out my pinned post; the campaign page itself; or dm me directly if you like. feel free to follow this blog for daily posts and updates.]

[radiant-reid]

pov: your Instagram but you're married to Spencer Reid

Liked by babygirlpg, mommyjareau and 263 others

y/n.reid: the way spencer eats cupcakes gives me the ick

view all 23 comments

badass_em: grounds for divorce -> y/n.reid: i think so -> doctorreid: :( -> y/n.reid: sorry baby

Liked by davidrossiofficial, mommyjareau and 326 others

y/n.reid: happy birthday to my Halloween baby. I love you more and more every day <333 looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you

view all 35 comments

doctorreid: I love you more

d.morgan: i remember very little of that night -> y/n.reid: you did a lot of talking about how much you love spencer, called him your little brother a ton

Liked by ablake, babygirlpg and 334 others

y/n.reid: he's a 10, but he's a scorpio...

view all 36 comments

d.morgan: bet he's pouting about this rn -> y/n.reid: can confirm -> doctorreid: she's so mean to me

beth.clemmons: @/aarhotch is an 11

Liked by badass_em, d.morgan, and 253 others

y/n.reid: he deserves two cakes

view all 29 comments

doctorreid: lewd but delicious -> y/n.reid: so was what we did after -> davidrossiofficial: kids, this is a public comment section

mommyjareau: where did you get this... asking for a friend -> y/n.reid: no, there can only be one

Liked by greenaway.elle, aarhotch and 211 others

y/n.reid: the only founding father i'd let hit it

view all 32 comments

mommyjareau: liar! we heard about the Alexander Hamilton dream -> y/n.reid: JENNIFER!! STOP -> doctorreid: no wait, I want to hear this -> babygirlpg: it was pretty descriptive

Liked by a.blake, mommyjareau, and 357 others

y/n.reid: a rare look at Spencer on vacation

view all 29 comments

d.morgan: in a suit? who is this kid? -> doctorreid: it's comfy -> y/n.reid: don't be mean, he's so cute

Liked by babygirlpg, aarhotch and 239 others

y/n.reid: on today's chaotic Spencer chronicle, baby boy fell in a pond

view all 31 comments

doctorreid: i was pushed!! -> d.morgan: sorry that I thought you were strong enough to be punched in the shoulder

Liked by babygirlpg, mommyjareau and 327 others

y/n.reid: 'genius' Doctor Spencer Reid

view all 38 comments

babygirlpg: his sweater matches Henry's!!

doctorrreid: do you need to hear the science behind fireworks again? -> d.morgan: god, no -> badass_em: and i was just thinking about how much i miss you guys, nevermind

Liked by thecallahanclan, davidrossiofficial and 452 others

y/n.reid: happy birthday to my favorite person ever @/mommyjareau, sorry there's always a random photobombing you

view all 51 comments

mommyjareau: love you!! i'd leave Will for you any day -> y/n.reid: @/doctorreid, we're getting divorced now, photobomber -> doctorreid: :(

Liked by davidrossiofficial, greenaway.elle and 319 others

y/n.reid: sexiest looking cowboy

view all 27 comments

d.morgan: sometimes I come to your page just because I want to see Spencer being violated -> y/n.reid: it's my life's work -> doctorreid: mean

doctorreid: cowgirl? -> y/n.reid: yes, right now

[interstellarlyinlove]

Love Confession (May 3rd)

Word count: 452

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus has a speech full of metaphors and dusty pink prose (‘Sirius, there is a specific spot in my heart that you occupy that is my favorite one. It looks like how taking a boat ride in Venice at night must feel like and smells of summer and youth and friendship that lasts forever. It’s full of blinding stars and overflowing sweet periwinkle love that–’), flowers and dried mangos stacked under his bed (dried mangos are Sirius’ favorite snack because he’s a bastard), and he’s acted out the entire thing before with Regulus (who wore a Gryffindor tie and tried not to scowl the entire time) two and a half times in this exact spot in the Astronomy tower. 

He’s looking at Sirius looking at him expectedly after he dragged him to the same place Regulus stood the day before, and he feels so out of his element he might as well be walking on a tightrope with an elephant wearing a party hat on his back, and there’s shark-infested water right under him, and he’s losing his balance and–

“Re, are you okay?” Sirius asks, smiling warmly. There are about three pages in Remus’ love essay detailing how Sirius’ smile equals the sun, and what a horrible thing Icarus never got to see it because if he had he would still be alive, but it’s also a good thing because Remus doesn’t think he’d want to compete with Icarus over Sirius’ affections. Hell, he can barely compete with Sirius’ seven hundred and thirteen Hogwarts admirers as it is–

“Remus?”

Remus mentally slaps himself and he tries to smile back. “I’m okay. I just have something to get off my chest, I think.” Sirius nods and Remus takes a deep breath. “Sirius, there is a specific spot in–” Remus trails off and looks into Sirius’ endlessly gray eyes and he thinks that nothing in life is fair. Because telling Siirus how much Remus adores him really won’t make Sirius adore him in return. If the outcome of that would just be Remus’ wounded pride he would’ve said everything a hundred times over already, because keeping it in is cement drying in Remus’ lungs. But Sirius is Remus’ friend, above all else. The thought of Remus screwing the best thing in his life up over some unrequited fantasy is worse than how trying to breathe with cement lungs feels like. 

So Remus smiles and comes up with something or another to complete his sentence. He crumples the papers (papers! As in more than one) the deepest secrets of his heart are written on and he tries to convince himself that he’ll eventually get over Sirius Black because he simply has to. 

(He won’t.)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Identification in the Wizarding World

I don't remember how I got to thinking about it, but wizards in Harry Potter don't seem to really have IDs... like no license cards or social security numbers, and that kind of begs the question of how you prove you are who you are. So I went to the books to see if it was ever answered, and to my surprise — it was.

Wands are their IDs

I'm gonna explain where in the books it's written and how it seems to work since I just didn't really see anyone mention it, and I found it curious. I'm not sure if it was just me who was a bit dumb and didn't notice it or what, but I do want to write about it.

“Madam Lestrange!” said the goblin, evidently startled. “Dear me! How- how may I help you today?” “I wish to enter my vault,” said Hermione. The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. Harry glanced around. Not only was Travers hanging back, watching, but several other goblins had looked up from their work to stare at Hermione. “You have . . . identification?” asked the goblin. “Identification? I-I have never been asked for identification before!” said Hermione. “They know!” whispered Griphook in Harry’s ear, “They must have been warned there might be an imposter!” “Your wand will do, madam,” said the goblin. He held out a slightly trembling hand, and in a dreadful blast of realization Harry knew that the goblins of Gringotts were aware that Bellatrix’s wand had been stolen.

(Deathly Hollows, page 452)

So, I'll start with this scene in Deathly Hollows, in which a Gringott's Goblin outright says a wand can be used for identification. The Golden Trio here shows the disadvantage of such an identification method, as wands can be stolen. And besides, how would a wand even work for identification? Like, how does it prove you are who you say you are?

Well, I think I know how wands are supposed to function as identification, and it's not as bad and easily fakable as it may seem. I'm not saying it's perfect, but if implemented correctly it isn't the worst they could come up with.

After all, everyone has a wand (at least in the Western Wizarding World) and everyone carries their wand with them everywhere and at all times. Not only that, but wands are unique enough to work as an ID. Wand description is broken into 6 components of its making: wood, core, flexibility, length, the wandmaker, and how long it's been in use, making each wand unique to the specific individual wielding it. Therefore a wand is something reasonable to use to identify individuals.

So, how is it supposed to work?

“Wand weighing?” Harry repeated nervously. “We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they’re your most important tools in the tasks ahead,”

(Goblet of Fire, page 303)

Wand weighing.

In GOF, the wand weighing is shown to tell the characteristics of each wand, and if we jump ahead to Arthur Weasley's and Harry's arrival in the ministry for Harry's trial in OOTP:

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

(Order of the Phoenix, page 126)

“Wand,” grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand. Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it. “Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?” “Yes,” said Harry nervously. “I keep this,” said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “You get this back,” he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

(Order of the Phoenix, page 128)

We see exactly how wand weighing (the brass scale Harry describes) is meant to identify. This device prints out the makings of the wand when it was sold, and probably more information than Eric at the security desk reads out. He then asks Harry if it's correct because wands don't have their making and when they were bought written on them. This means only the wand's owner would supposedly remember all the details of the wandmaker, make, and when it was bought, then by asking about it, it can be revealed if the wand was stolen or not.

It's not a great method, but it's something.

It's not any dramatic revelation about the Wizarding World, I just didn't really see wands being used as IDs in the fandom and I found it interesting. I just really am interested in the Wizarding World as a culture and how it works. IDs are just part of it.

[atthebell]

Updated QSMP AO3 Work Language Stats-- as of April 1st, 2024 (no, this is not an april fools' joke)

June 6 2023 stats, July 9 2023 stats, August 13 2023 stats, December 3 2023 stats

Hello! I meant to get this done around the year anniversary of the server, but that ultimately didn't end up happening, so we have it now about a week late-- considering the growth rate for the fandom, this shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Before we get into it, I want to say that the last year of QSMP fandom has been amazing. There's been a lot to deal with, but there's also been plenty of amazing fanworks, and I really do want to celebrate that along with the multilingual nature of the fandom.

Fun tidbits/disclaimers to start:

QSMP has 8739 works as of today!! That's about 6x as many works as it had in June of 2023, when I started doing these stats.

AO3 has 12,750,000 total works as of today (this is a rough estimate that displays on the front page when you're logged out, not an exact number).

There's a few more languages since my last update, including new languages on the server!

I've mentioned my methodology on previous stats posts, but just as a reminder, I gather this data manually by filtering by language within the QSMP tag. On occasion I miss a new language, but on the whole the significant numbers should be accurate.

QSMP Numbers:

[Image Description: A table with three columns; the first lists languages, the second the number of works, and the third the percentage of total works. For the languages column, each language is listed first in that language and then in English in parentheses, and English, Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, French, Korean, and German are all color-coded to indicate that they are spoken on the server. End ID.]

English has 7305 works and 83.71% of total works in QSMP.

Spanish has 893 works and 10.22% of total works.

Brazilian Portuguese has 452 works and 5.17% of total works.

French has 47 works and 0.54% of total works.

Korean has 0 works and 0% of total works.

German has 2 works and 0.02% of total works.

Russian has 7 works and 0.08% of total works.

European Portuguese has 5 works and 0.06% of total works.

Mandarin has 4 works and 0.05% of total works.

Polish has 2 works and 0.02% of total works.

The last nine languages, Latin, Esperanto, Malaysian Malay, Filipino, Vietnamese, Turkish, Danish, Finnish, and Swedish, all have 1 work and 0.01% of total works respectively.

Observations:

English has maintained 80% or above for the last year; the current percentage (83.71%) is the highest it's been at that I've observed. Spanish has been at a slight decline since the start of the server, with its high happening in June (again, from my observations) at 17.73% and the current percentage (10.22%) being the lowest. This could be attributed in part to a steady decrease of active Spanish speaking members over the course of the server but I wouldn't want to assign causation. Brazilian Portuguese works have stayed around 5% since December, French is at 0.5%. Korean is at 0, which isn't surprising to me; Korean has low numbers on AO3, and I assume most Korean speakers use other fanfiction websites. German is at 2 works, which I believe have been there for a bit (as in, since before Hugo was added).

European Portuguese obviously makes sense to be on here, as do Russian and Chinese (two of the most used languages on AO3 aside from English), and their numbers don't surprise me-- they haven't changed much over the course of the server's history. The other one-work languages are interesting, and to me demonstrate the growth of the server & fandom along with the way the fandom incentivizes and encourages creating fanworks in one's native language(s).

AO3 Numbers Across the Site:

[Image Description: The same table as above, with AO3's site-wide stats inserted into the latter two columns. End ID.]

To repeat, AO3 has 12,750,000 total works across the site as of today.

English has 11,180,000 works and 87.69% of total works in QSMP.

Spanish has 154,900 works and 1.21% of total works.

Brazilian Portuguese has 35,980 works and 0.28% of total works.

French has 61,620 works and 0.48% of total works.

Korean has 2,957 works and 0.02% of total works.

German has 26,170 works and 0.21% of total works.

Russian has 266,200 works and 2.09% of total works.

European Portuguese has 1,150 works and 0.01 % of total works.

Mandarin has 766,200 works and 6.01% of total works.

Polish has 18,270 works and 0.14% of total works.

Latin, Esperanto, Malaysian Malay, and Danish have 95, 125, 116, and 344 works respectively and 0.00% of total works.

Filipino has 9,665 works and 0.08% of total works.

Vietnamese has 8,354 works and 0.07% of total works.

Turkish has 3,400 works and 0.03% of total works.

Finnish has 2386 works and 0.02% of total works.

Swedish has 1,039 works and 0.01% of total works.

All these numbers come from AO3's Languages page.

Observations:

The only changes I see here from June that I find interesting are that English has gone down over a percentage since last year-- I'm not a statistician, so I'm not sure if it's a super significant amount of change, but since English is by far the most tagged language on the site, I think any notable change is interesting. Mandarin is up slightly, but again, I'm not sure how to go about measuring what is a significant amount of change. Otherwise there's not a ton of changes I've seen over the last year, at least not in regards to the languages I've been tracking.

QSMP Changes Since June 2023:

[Image Descriptions: Two tables like the ones above; one is the QSMP numbers from June, as linked at the top of the post. One is the QSMP numbers for this month, as displayed above. End ID.

Biggest thing of note here is just the amount of languages-- we've gone from eight tagged languages to 19 tagged languages, more than doubling the number of languages from June. Super impressive! I hope we continue to see more and more languages used in fanworks.

Brief personal opinions time

In previous stats posts, I talked about reasons as to why these languages break down like this and what makes people interested in various characters. I think those points are all still pretty true, particularly the ones about interest in certain characters because of roleplay skill and centrality to the narrative, along with the usual reasons people like certain MCRP characters (hot creator, existing fondness from prior series, etc.) but I think the ways the server has changed and the characters people have latched onto as time has gone on have shifted somewhat, which is interesting to me.

This is less related to AO3 numbers and more the general fandom, but it's interesting to me to experience the fandom on Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3, where the language usages and focus on certain characters differs so much across platforms. We've all talked about this before, but the lack of an autotranslation feature on here really prevents a lot of multilingualism, whereas I've noticed a decent amount of people reading fic in various languages, probably bc the level of interactivity is very different on AO3 versus here.

If I have any more interesting analysis/theories/opinions/etc. I'll rb with those.

Final disclaimers:

Fics often get deleted from the archive for a myriad of reasons, and in the last several months there have been a lot of things that could and have led to works being deleted. This means both the growth rate for the fandom (which I'm not numerically tracking but do keep an eye on more casually) as well as these specific stats are impacted by these deletions. Not to get on my soapbox, but as someone who finds fandom history and archiving really important, I want to encourage people to orphan works rather than delete them. Here is the AO3 FAQ section on orphaning.

Languages are manually tagged by users; they are not double checked by the archive nor by me (I am not looking through almost nine thousand fics to check if the language tagged is actually accurate). Sometimes people tag the wrong language for various reasons, I can't do anything about this and on the whole most works are tagged correctly.

People sometimes tag for the wrong fandom, either on purpose or by accident, or works are wrangled into QSMP even though they don't necessarily involve the server. Wranglers make decisions based off usage, but if you genuinely feel there is some error in how something is wrangled, you can make a polite request for it to be fixed with Support and Feedback.

I am a volunteer tag wrangler for AO3; this does not give me any extra data-gathering capabilities nor do I agree with all actions/statements the org makes. I am disclosing this, and always disclose this, to make sure people are aware of any bias I may have. This is not free reign to harass me or any other wranglers who disclose their volunteer work.

If I did any math wrong, please politely let me know and I will fix the data. Again, I am not a statistician nor particularly talented at math, I'm just a nerd about languages and I enjoy looking at stats. Also sometimes people post or delete works while I'm in the middle of doing stats (this has happened, without fail, every time I've done these), so the numbers are inevitably a little off. I've learned to live with it.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

Can I request a Jaehyun fict where m/n is jealous on how every girls wants to date Jaehyun but Jaehyun only had eyes for m/n

Only You and Me

Pairing: uni!student!Jaehyun x uni!student!male!reader

Words: 452

Warnings: none! Just kinda angst but not really. Also non!idol au

A/N: hello!! Thanks for requesting again. I really enjoyed writing this one!! Hope you like it as well🫶

Amidst the lively atmosphere of the university courtyard, m/n found himself sitting on a bench, engrossed in his textbook. The warm breeze rustled the pages as he focused on the intricate details of his studies. Nearby, a group of students chatted and laughed, the hum of conversation providing a backdrop to his concentration. As m/n's eyes moved across the pages, a subtle shift in the nearby chatter caught his attention. A group of girls had gathered around someone, and their giggles seemed to grow in volume. Curiosity piqued, m/n discreetly glanced up from his book, only to find Jaehyun at the center of the gathering.

A flush of unease tinged with jealousy surged through m/n's chest. He watched as one of the girls playfully touched Jaehyun's arm, her laughter tinkling in the air. The knot in m/n's stomach tightened, and he couldn't help but wonder if Jaehyun noticed their interaction.

Just as m/n's thoughts began to spin, Jaehyun's warm gaze met his from across the courtyard. He held his gaze for a moment, a gentle smile curving his lips, before he subtly shifted his attention away from the group of girls. With a barely noticeable gesture, he raised his hand and pointed it towards m/n, as if to say, "Look, that's my boy." The simple act caused m/n's heart to skip a beat. It was as if Jaehyun had sensed his unease and wanted to reassure him in the most understated yet powerful way. M/n felt a sense of comfort wash over him, a reminder of the deep connection they shared.

As Jaehyun continued to converse with the group of girls, m/n couldn't help but admire the ease with which he navigated social interactions. His charismatic charm was undeniable, yet his gaze never lingered for too long on anyone but m/n. Even amidst the light-hearted banter and laughter, there was an underlying sincerity that set Jaehyun apart.

Finally, the group began to disperse, leaving Jaehyun standing alone. With a casual grace, he strolled over to where m/n sat, his steps purposeful and confident. As he approached, m/n closed his textbook and looked up, his heart fluttering at the sight of him. Jaehyun's eyes held a soft, affectionate gleam as he took a seat beside m/n. He reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind m/n’s ear, his touch tender. "Hey there," he greeted, his voice a soothing melody.

"Hey," m/n replied, his voice laced with a mixture of emotions. Jaehyun's fingers trailed along the back of m/n's hand, his touch reassuring. "I saw you watching," he admitted, his gaze never wavering. M/n's cheeks warmed as he averted his gaze momentarily. "I couldn't help it," he confessed softly. "It's just... seeing you with those girls..."

Jaehyun's thumb brushed gently over m/n's knuckles, his expression understanding. "I understand why you might feel that way, but please know that you're the one who has my heart. No one else." M/n's eyes met Jaehyun's once more, the intensity of his gaze sending a rush of warmth through his veins. "I trust you, Jaehyun," he whispered, he fingers intertwining with his.

A genuine smile curved Jaehyun's lips as he leaned in, his forehead resting against m/n's. "And I trust you. Our love is real, and it's stronger than any doubts."

.

.

.

[the-exiled-comic]

page 452

previous < > next

[aqua-dan]

hello!! Do you have any Garth comic recommendations for someone (me) who has never read a Garth comic outside of a handful of TT issues before?

Hi!! I definitely have some recommendations! This definitely isn't a comprehensive reading list by ANY means (although I do want to make one eventually!), but rather a small smattering of Garth centric comics that I think are fun or noteworthy! (These are also not in any particular order, just written out as they come into my brain lol)

Tempest (1996) - Obviously the Garth holy grail! There is no better Garth comic than this. It is peak and honestly one of the best books DC has ever put out. It's short, too (only 4 issues), so it's not too intensive of a read.

Adventure Comics #269 - "The Kid from Atlantis" - Garth's first appearance! Don't get too hung up on the lore here, as it changes later on, but it's a sweet issue and obviously important!

Adventure Comics #270 - "The Menace of Aqualad" - I love this issue for a multitude of reasons-- including the fully unintentional foreshadowing,-- but mainly I love it because it showcases what a sweet person Garth is and always has been.

World's Finest Comics #133 - "Aquaman's New Partner -- Aqua-girl" - Again, the lore needs to be disregarded, but this issue fascinates me as an early iteration of Garth's insecurity about where he stands with Arthur/feeling useful.

I probably shouldn't list everything individually so this post doesn't end up being a mile long, haha! So I'll start putting some groupings together:

Aquaman vol 1 #14, 18, 23, and #33

The Brave and the Bold #54

Teen Titans vol 1 #11 (not particularly Garth centric but just especially fun to me lol), #17, #19, #28, #29, #44-end of series. (Side note that @ttwasteland has a really good podcast covering volume 1 of Teen Titans! Actually, they have a lot of Teen Titans podcasts! Which is really useful for those who struggle to read Silver Age comics + I am immensely pleased with Hub's Aqualad enthusiasm!)

The Brave and the Bold (vol 3) #10

Death of a Prince (Technically, I recommend reading all of it, since it'll help you understand how things got to this point. But especially Adventure Comics #452 and the Aqualad stories in #453-455.)

Tales of the Teen Titans #85 & #86 + Teen Titans Spotlight #10

Teen Titans Spotlight #18

Teen Titans Spotlight #21

Aquaman vol 5 (Yes, all of it lol)

Showcase '96 #1

Teen Titans (Vol 3) #12-16

JLA/Titans

Titans (vol 1) At least the Devin Grayson portion, but I don't dislike the later stuff either!

There are also storylines that I think are fun or important that happen in across various books/stories (Obsidian Age, Aquaman vol 6, other (Teen) Titans stories, Blackest Night, CoIE, dare I even say Sword of Atlantis...), but I'll save those for a more in-depth reading list some other time! These ones are just popping up in my head rn.

If you want N52/Rebirth stuff, there are also a few stories that are pretty good. Sadly, they're pretty few and far between since canon changes and DC tossing their character bibles have left poor Garth in an odd, largely OoC limbo for years. Although I don't /love/ these stories as much as others, they still manage to vaguely pass the vibe check:

Nightwing & the Titans in Team Building (Robin 80th Anniversary 100 Page Super Spectacular) It's not super Garth centric, but it's fun!

Aquaman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 - “It’s a Family Affair”

Aquaman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1 - “Lady in the Lake”

World's Finest: Teen Titans & DC's Spring Breakout "Relay for your Life" Garth's characterization in these... isn't right, but I feel like it has the spirit more than the vast majority of things published in recent years.

Titans (2023-) I... don't totally feel right putting this here, but I feel like slowly... extremely slowly... they are starting to fix Garth's characterization. We're not quite there yet-- and it is sadly written by Tom Taylor,-- but I feel like it's going to lead to something that's actually good for Garth again. (Aka so many hints towards a potential new Tempest mini-series or one-shot have been dropped lately, and I feel like this series will be context important.)

Ok, to try to finish this out: Also consider watching some stuff with Garth in it like Aquaman (1967) TV show / DC Super Hero Girls (2019), or reading some cute, non-canon series such as Tiny Titans! It's just good fun!!

Anyways, thank you so much for the ask!! I hope this helps!!! (And thank you for allowing me a chance to ramble lol!)

[finalfrontierpublishing]

undefined

Vaster Than Empires by Ayezur - bound by myself. 

Bookbinding spammage under the cut.

So I fell in love with japanese stab binding and decided to do a faux stab pattern atop a case binding for this particular bind! 

I love Rurouni Kenshin, and i love how timeless the story is. This fic is very dear and close to my heart, and I am so proud to have an opportunity to hold this fic in my hands. 

Statistics:

163848 words || 452 pages 

Body text: Garamond

Chapter headers: Nipponica

This typeset was made fairly early in my binding journey hence my adherence (and passion) for Garamond font. What i was insistent on was sticking to the sakura border that surrounded the body of text, despite my printer telling me there would definitely be a white border around that. It was rather unsightly, so i decided to try to use a guillotine to remove it. Oh boy. One textblock was sacrificed to the bookbinding gods because the guillotine hates me and doesn’t like cutting square. this particular textblock is not square but i am pretending it is, for reasons. As you can see - it is also my virgin rounding attempt and it is mostly acceptable. 

I changed cover design at least 3 times - vacillating between using a shiny HTV design, using chiyogami paper and ultimately i committed to the stitchery after great indecision (and realizing my chiyogami paper wouldn’t match my bookcloth). i owe muchly to @teleportbooks​ for showing me it could be done, who did a lovely faux stab binding and i was very envious and decided i had to try to make one of my own. 

 my first try was rather ghastly - the bookcloth i chose from a mystery bookcloth pack was this awful brown that just looked hella washed out with the burgundy thread under lights (see below). I like browns but this is just --- eugh. 

i am easily convinced to redo something from scratch (I hate cutting boards with a passion) when i find something absolutely hideous. 

Moved on to using Burgundy Italian bookcloth from Hollanders with gold linen thread and voila. I am not that much of a fan of bright red and gold (it just feels FESTIVE AF to me, being an Asian in Asia) but i won’t fight what works. Endpapers came from a Mineral-themed paper pack - the endpaper is rather lumpy from the threads of the stitching but i have zero regret. 

I also applied HTV (Siser Metallic) for the title - thought about putting the title on the spine (decided against it as was trying to keep the theme of stab binding), and did the title on the front instead. Lack of foresight while i was designing - if given half a chance i would have done the title right to left instead. i also overcooked the HTV a little because it didn’t want to adhere right off the bat (this is odd, because ??? duo cloth usually hates htv more than anything, and this hated HTV more than duo). 

Completed with simple white (due to indecision, stuck to neutral colour) ribbon bookmark and cherry blossom charm. 

How much do i like doing some form of stitchery? Very much. Would like to try some embroidered spines - i’ve seen some fucking exquisite examples and i’m in an aspirational mood. 

Resources: https://beccamakingfaces.com/2013/10/05/japanese-stab-binding-tutorial-maple-leaves/ was an excellent reference for a stab binding tutorial for this pattern which i modified a little along the way. 

[harvardfineartslib]

“I have no place to take myself except painting.” – Miyoko Ito, 1978.

Miyoko Ito (1918–1983) was a Japanese American painter, born in Berkeley, California, and was active in Chicago where she studied at the Art Institute of Chicago.

When the World War II began in 1941 in the United States with the attack on Pearl Harbor, Ito was studying art at University of California, Berkeley. She was a senior scheduled to graduate in May 1942. In April 1942, Ito married Harry Ichiyasu to avoid being separated during the wartime incarceration of Japanese Americans. Her husband was president of the senior class of the Japanese constituency at UC Berkeley. They were married on April 11th, but by the end of April they were sent to Tanforan internment camp near San Francisco, and later sent to Topaz under an Executive Order signed by Franklin D. Roosevelt. Ito received her diploma while she was in the internment camp, then received a grant to attend a graduate program at Smith College. She stayed there for one year before going on to study at the Art Institute of Chicago. Ito said she cried when she opened her diploma. She graduated with highest honors.

Miyoko Ito was hardly unknown during her lifetime, though she gained some attention and was granted residency fellowships at MacDowell in New Hampshire. It was there that she experienced “the meaning of full expression in the conductive environment,” she wrote in her “Plan of Work” in 1983. She continued, “I would like to escape the heretofore stifling condition of low ceiling, dim daylight, and inadequate floor space” of her bedroom studio in her house.

This publication, “Miyoko Ito: Heart of Hearts” is the first book dedicated to the life and work of Miyoko Ito, long overdue for this artist.

Image 1: Front cover featuring “Island in the Sun”, 1978, Oil on canvas, 38”x 33”

Image 2: Portrait of Miyoko Ito by Mary Baber, 1975

Image 3: “Aura”, 1966, Oil on canvas, 50”x 45”

Miyoko Ito : heart of hearts Pre-Echo, 2023. 452 pages : illustrations (chiefly color), portraits ; 30 cm English HOLLIS number: 99157645381703941

[bettie-may-page]

Bettie Page Standing #452 Photo Retouch: Craig Stewart