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precious-little-scoundrel · 6 months

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My Mother’s Child

Fandom: House of the Dragon, GRRM’s Fire and Blood

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: im a sucker for any GRRM universe and setting but after the recent release of the trailer for House of the Dragon’s second season I can’t quite contain the muses. So here is my self indulgent spillage of thoughts i entertained while watching the first. Perhaps growing up obsessed with Greek Myths, Shakespeare Anti-heroes and Renaissance families took its toll on my moral fascinations but the minute I see a codependent dynamic in a brutally restricted society I go a little nutty on the psycho-analysis and then it turns to feelings and then it turns to fiction.

Timeline: I’ve entirely had my wicked way with events and outcomes, nothing is critically pertinent but Aemond’s time in the Riverlands is changed, the time of Maelor’s birth is fudged, Aemond doesn’t die but is recalled to be regent again after Aegon’s demise, I’ve really no clue which of the Blacks are alive but the gist of it is the war has gone in favor of the Greens for the most part and now Aemond can come into his Crafty Uncle Richard III Regent era while obsessing over his pretty mom. Cheers.

Authors Note: im in no way romanticizing or advocating for the universe typical incest, warped relationships, casual murder, deranged intentions or the dire outcome portrayed of a stunted mother’s dependence on her worrisomely dependable son. Not proof read, have mercy on my tired eyes. Specific warnings below the cut:

Warnings: 18+, dead dove do not eat -thematically disturbing. An exploration of Alicent’s dependence on Aemond during his regency and beyond, undertones of attraction on Aemond’s part and submission to him on Alicent’s, combined with their delusional domesticity by coparenting little Maelor may disturb some. There is some physical touch that Aemond makes weird, his impure thoughts that are blamed on Targaryen tendencies, his recollections of sleeping in her bed as a child, him fucking Alys Rivers and imagining his mom sorta? along with sending Alicent his cum stained letters, calling Maelor “their boy” as if they are his parents, open ending suggesting a potential escalation in the dynamic. I tried to keep this as in character as possible so these warnings sound far more stark and crass than I hope the actual fic reads

It was Aemond sent to fetch his wayward brother, it was Aemond relied upon to soothe his sister, it was Aemond who absorbed Ser Criston Cole’s teaching, it was Aemond who stood any chance of gaining Otto Hightower’s commendation and through it some crumb of praise for the produce of poor, weary, teary eyed Alicent Hightower.

It was little more responsibility for Aemond Targaryen to quickly become the closest thing his mother had to a bosom friend by the time of his maturity, easily adding so weighty a role to those he already held as Lord Regent, terror of the realm, kinslayer and learned heir. It came as naturally to him as had filling each of its predecessors.

Whatever hopeless compulsion, dragon bound and magic made, to be loyal to his family that already ran in his poisoned blood, it was only ever magnified by the sight of his mother’s dutiful martyrdom, year after year bleeding herself out -and all the while not a soul to staunch the wound but him. Surely her husband the King only made it larger with each neglect or attention he paid her, and Aegon had long since been the sour fruit of a painful initiation. Helaena for reasons as gentle as they were cruel could not bear her own mother’s company -nor was the realm that sweet daughter lived in that of the Seven Kingdoms, where Alicent spent her every waking moment dwelling on and maneuvering for her boy King. Helaena lived in dreams and lived to avoid dreams and all Alicent had were harsh realities and dreams so trodden under the march of time that they resembled very little to their former selves by the retelling.

Aemond lived in the bridge between the two women of his house. There were dear to him the cherished traditions of Old Valyria and also, there were crucial to him the pressing matters of harvest and uprising and famine and the throne of Westeros.

He too lived in the Seven Kingdoms, he was practically their king, and like the manner in which he had long led this family by innate authority, such a role came naturally to him, as did sitting by the hearth in his mother's antechamber each evening, a recreation of the way he had stayed with her night after night in the wake of Driftmark, and discussing with her the petitions of the day, outcomes whose decisions needed making before dawn and hopes for the future.

Aemond felt close to her then, and dismal though the Kingdom’s prospects often felt, between the two of them there was calm in these moments. For once in his life Aemond did not find himself chafing under its soothing influence, but instead he would match her in her reclining, legs spread wide in his chair and silver head tilted to rest on the gilt chair, their hands near to brushing and let the connection grow until he wondered if he too were a dreamer and could know her inner thoughts, know her bewilderment and also her relief when he took from her the weight of the day with his sober companionship.

It felt odd parting in the evenings after these talks, what had once been a ritual of her comforting his painful wound in his youth and holding him close through the nighttime terror now felt necessary to be repeated as cure from her own dejection. Only her last remaining grandson Maelor provided some support to Alicent, she herself a child grown old using her own children to soothe herself.

Aemond saw to it that Maelor was brought often to their evening chats, a docile boy with an intense interest in blocks, he was no distraction from their more weighty discussions but when the evening grew late and the moon high and Aemond’s better judgment waned at the soft sight of his mother’s tender form and unguarded appreciation for his presence by her side, there was Maelor to place in her arms in instead of himself, and there was Maelor to pat her arms and lay upon her breast and enjoy the uncomplicated devotion of a mother that Aemond had never known.

Perhaps if his father the King had even once played the role of father, Aemond would not have spent his childhood clasped to that soft bosom while pretending he were the one being comforted by it and not her. He was older now and he had read of such dynamics, he had read of myths and scandals, Maester’s studies of the codependent phenomenon that blurs the line between each familial role. Childlike herself, his mother deserved not another man to have designs on her but a child, a true child she could dote upon and cuddle at night and a good son to tell her,

“You are weary, come, I’ll walk you to bed. Nevermind his blanket, I have it.”

and so it was Maelor who lay with her, Maelor who delighted her, Maelor who took up the space that had last been Aemond’s under her left arm. Only Aemond now allowed himself the task of tucking the furs about them both and stroking the tear tracks off her cheek, leaning down to kiss her forehead as she had dreamed of her own father doing. And then, Aemond betook himself to his own chambers laden with her burdens and his own and fell into the bedding with pleasure in his heart at having been entrusted with the wearisome load.

It continued thus in a pleasurable routine until the Riverlands called for his attention. Aegon was propped up, scarred and dim, on his neglected throne and Alicent was made Protector of the Realm and immediately thereafter Aemond found himself in the courtyard, Vhaegar waiting for him to mount and lead the reinforcements.

As Aemond pressed his thin lips to mother’s forehead in farewell for the duration of a long campaign, little Maelor who was in her arms laid hold of Aemond’s silver locks and seized them tightly during the moment between mother and son, holding the prince hostage a bit longer, for a moment nearer,

“dada.” -the infant nephew babbled to his uncle Aemond for a kiss of his own and to judge by Alicent’s alarmed expression, Aemond’s enforced separation from this little family they had made of a year’s evenings could not have come a moment too soon.

It haunted him, that flash of horror on his mother’s face at an infant’s small confusion. It brought back a seething reproach against her for all the times she’d never understood him, all the times she had raged against his very nature as a Dragon, holding him up with disgust and pride all at once until his head spun with it and he had learned to dance to her every whim, now the devout follower of Old Town and now the noble Dragon whose rights were being denied.

But woe to him should he be one or the other when it did not suit her. She thought his innate longing for a dragon to be imbecilic when he was young and yet she glowed with pride when he called out those Strong bastards for being anything but pure blooded dragons themselves.

As always with her duty, she hated herself for its outcome yet chose to cloak herself in pride for her sacrifices. His very existence, those of his siblings too, was sacrifice, his very bloodline and nature was an abomination against her faith, his impulses were beastly however much he took her principles to heart, and his tastes remained strange no matter how stifled her own had long remained.

But she had made him. How dare she be repulsed by her own creation.

Prince Aemond’s ire burned through him and suited the needs of war far better than kinder feelings of pining for hearth and home, so he stayed angry with his mother at each hack and hewing of his blade, each swath of farmland he burnt and every ill organized column of traitor levys he annihilated.

Capable, he is the capable son and his mother writes to him thanking him for it and he crushes the missive in his hand before regret surges after and he strokes the parchment flat again on his desk with all the revernace of a lover for his beloved’s skin.

He is kinder the parchment than he is to Alys Rivers.

Alys who is older and smart and wicked, who never once flinches at his nature, who accepts the ruthless pace of his hips and the mauling of his mouth with her own vigor, Alys who he swears to himself is a wartime necessity, the humors most flow somewhere and if he is to bleed he must also spill and she is there and trustworthy and her aura reminds in the moments after pain, warm arms holding him tight on his right side lest he roll on his wounded eye in sleep. The eye does not throb in that raw way any longer, it is a dull and perpetual ache he can expect to remain with him for all time, but the longing for such comfort remains and he lays atop Alys’ matronly breast often for longer than his daylight-sobered self can countenance.

He writes of her to his mother, to grieve her with his sin as much as not to withhold anything from her, he has not before and why should he now? Her reply is stifled and terse in regards to his admission, barely even a line and he must squint to decipher wether it pertains to the subject he is most anxious to hear from her about. But as he thumbs the well familiar scrawl of her pen he can imagine the set of her mouth and the pleading of her eyes, so different from true distress, no, instead it is the girlish patheticness she plays at, despite its lack of success all these years and how the same years have robbed her of the youthful vulnerability that once made men take notice of it.

Only Aemond remains affected by it, and he finds it so deliciously false that he teases it out of her as a treat for himself on occasion. Aegon may have it whenever he sees fit, though being a fool he thinks every crease to her forehead is that of genuine concern. Aemond’s knows her better than that, and sees her pouting eyes come through the written admonition to “keep himself in good company”.

He smirks at Alys when she enters his tent and finds him rolling up the motherly advice. He ploughs her atop the volumes of communication his dear mother has sent him during this campaign and the parchment he sends back to her with his report next morning is stained.

Aemond doesn’t need to hope that she smells his letters for sweat and smoke the same way he smells hers for rosewater and thyme. He knows she does, he has caught them under her pillow and in her pockets when returning to the Keep, time and again, without warning. He knows she prays for him to outlive them all and he knows she will kiss the stains she mistakes for tears. A holy horror fills him at the satisfaction that thought brings, and after it has taken root he cannot find it in himself to enjoy Alys’ cheerful vigor any longer or the dark appetites they once shared. She is too eager, she is too unabashed, there is too little shame for his taste.

Alys is a whore and Aemond longs for the droopy eyed piety of his mother’s face when he tucks her abed, the melancholy contentment of his dutiful care for her and the mislaid trust that she has domesticated her little dragonling to the faith of the seven, her plaint limbed trust that the Warrior and Mother would never meet in the throes of burning want that consume him.

When his task is done, or near to done in these rebellious lands, and a call comes of his brother’s failing health, Aegon mounts Vheagar a disillusioned man, flying high and away above the wreckage he has committed and leaving behind the last Strong bastard dead as promised.

Alicent’s son is a man fully grown when he alights in the courtyard, long limbed and toned from his wartime deprivations, the set of his jaw remains firm but his gait is looser, there is a confidence in bloom now that was only budding before he left. Alicent cannot hide her joy at seeing him again, her pace is faster than is strictly proper as she breaks ranks of the welcoming party to greet him -it is her right as reigning regent.

As his mother.

She clasps his hands and feels his strong fingers engulf her forearms, tugging her nearer in an almost playful fashion -the action suits his new demeanor of confidence but it hardly suits the action of a son greeting his mother.

“Muña,” his rich voice murmurs to her as he stares down at her with not a bit of the usual softening in his sharp features, his lips quirk and his eyes sharply plumb through the depths of her own, “I am come home, as you asked.”

Unnerved by his intensity, Alicent gives him a trembling smile, watery eyes darting from one dear feature in that ethereal face to the next -it is the war terrors, perhaps, that have him so ardent in his tone and grip, men often come back from battle strung taut.

“Then we are safe.” she sighs, meaning it for their family even as her own heart quickens in vague misgiving.

“Maelor?” he questions, not even bothering to ask after the current king, his blood brother, it is the infant he has already fashioned into a surrogate son that interests him now.

“Is well.” his mother glows at the mention of the babe, “Growing and talking more each week.”

“And his mother?” Aemond asks with a soft light in his face as he ducks to meet her eye to eye, and Alicent knows he does not mean the poor Helaena gone mad in the tower, he means Alicent.

“Well enough.” She insists with all the age-old weariness that suggests, and is meant to inform him, otherwise.

Aemond’s jaw ticks in recognition of the old habit, his mother lies often for so pious a woman and she manipulates even more frequently for so devout a defender of the truth. It is a child’s tactic and he knows it, and that fury over it that had filled him in his days in the Riverlands surges back in another form, he feels a superiority in that moment even as he is being played by her weary pout and soft hands.

It is a woman’s way of asking a man to carry her load, to disarm her of her duties, to take from her the pretense of capability and taste for ruling.

Aemond’s conflict for such a role died somewhere with Alys in the Riverlands, by his own hand, in his own bed, his mother’s last letter dancing before his sightless eye. It is with confidence and entitlement that he glides his hands down her shapely arms and takes her hands in his, weighing them between them as she watches in surprise. He thumbs over the knuckles before splaying them out in his much larger palms and running a forefinger over the mangled cuticles.

“Mmm, not well enough for my liking, judging by this.” he remarks and when she goes to snatch the evidence of her worry away he clasps them stronger until it is an undeniable struggle for her to take them back -one he denies with an iron grip and a patronizing smile that she has only ever seen Aegon receive from him. “Those days are over, munta, we will have peace and plenty now.” he drags her stiff arm through his own and turns them towards the entrance of the Keep, patting the sore fingers laying on his arm, “And I’ll have no more of…this.”

Dazed, Alicent allows him to lead her through the great doors and into the colossal tomb that has been her children's home, she stares up at the familiar face of her third born in the light of the grand hall’s torches and marvels at the comfort one existence can bring another. Just as she fears the firm hold on her hand and heeds the temptation she feels to obey a man child she should be governing. These thoughts are put to flight when Aemond halts and turns to her warmly, no sneer remaining and no cold authority left when he whispers excitedly,

“Will you take me to our boy?”

The instant awareness of his meaning, that he means his nephew, that he means her grandson, that he means the future king, that he means Maelor -it sickens her how natural her impulse is to smile back at Aemond’s oddly paternal expression, to lead him back to her antechambers and reunite the little family they made before the war called him and that witch possessed the son Alicent had so lovingly made pure and noble in her belly. It is balm to hear him grown and saying that they are one again, that she is paramount in his life once more, that together they have made something gentler and better than any bastard lovechild conceived in wartime.

“Come.” Alicent urges her son, taking his scarred hand in her soft one as she had a million times before to lead him to the Sept. Yet this time, Alicent leads Aemond to her rooms and the cradle of their future King.

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tallymonster · 1 month

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Memories of Us Chapter 19

Nothingness, but shining.

AO3 || Masterlist

A/N: sooo im being a little ambitious and adding a whole other subplot now lol. Let's see where this whole thing goes lolololol

Thanks as always to @cheesy-cryptid for blessing this story that came from me seeing their art ❤️

Also wanna thank my besties @micropoe10 @mj-bites and @tragedybunny for letting me pick their brains, for soothing me when the insecurities crop up, and for adding their flavor to my brain soup. I love you guys so much.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus

@davenswitcher @wayward-hel

@hereliesblackdragon @misscrissfemmefatale

(lemme know if you wanna be added!)

Octavia easily slid back into her role at work after coming back from Wyvern Hills; it had been difficult to concentrate lately with everything that she had come to learn. She sat at her desk, drifting in and out of the current conversation.

The black ink from Octavia’s pen danced around the piece of paper in front of her, mindlessly circling the notes Gale had given her.

It had been about a week that she had been back, and it was difficult to take herself out of the turmoil brewing inside her. On one hand, she started to know Astarion as a sweet man, reserved and private, but kind; and on the other, her eyes were opened to some of the struggles he had gone through. She couldn't imagine the horrors he endured, the loneliness he brought into himself, and the things that brought him to where he is now.

He was a mystery she hoped to uncover on her own terms, but whether or not he would let her in was a different situation altogether. She blankly stared at the ink spot on the page that grew with each pass of her hand.

“Octavia?...hellooo???? OCTAVIA!” Gale’s voice cut through her empty thoughts.

Octavia snaps out of her mind, immediately reminded that she's at work right now, and Gale doesn't look too pleased with her at this moment. “Did you hear anything I just said? Look, this is important, and I need you to pay attention. Now, as I was saying…”

Gale’s voice trails off as Octavia loses herself in her thoughts yet again. She tried to get a hold of herself, but with the heaviness of the information swirling in her head, it was beginning to get harder and harder to keep everything to herself.

“Anyway, my sister is getting married and she wants to have her entire wedding HERE! I don't think I can convince Astarion to do that, he's too precious about the museum. It's his raison d’etre, you know? It would be like asking him to trust us with his first born child.”

Gale drops his head to his desk, his fingers intertwined in his hair in a frustrated grip. “My sister Athena is not the kind to take no for an answer, and I know her and her fiance” Gale spits out the word with seething disdain, “are going to make my life a bigger nightmare than they already have! Could you help me talk to him? He’ll listen to you more than anyone else, and he's been a HUGE pain since you’ve been away, please Octavia? I'm begging you!”

Gale lifted up his head, his brows furrowed in a worried way, his eyes were heavy and tired, and his lip was in a little pout. Octavia stared at him with a puzzled look, she quietly asks “He has? Wait a minute, you have a sister? Does Astarion know her too?”

Gale sits up with a quick movement, he rolls his eyes and he frowns deeply. “YES! He’s been so insufferable, it's as if everything I suggest is poison in his ears.” He pouts and slumps back down in his chair, “And no, I didn't think it was a good idea to introduce them before talking to him. Shes…uh..well..” he hesitates, his eyes nervously glanced left and right, he brings his hands together and fidgets with his fingers.

“Gale, she can't be that bad right?” Octavia says calmly. Gale stares at her, the lines on his forehead sinking deeper. “Right?” she asks again. Gale’s frown grows as he swallows, “Well, she's not not an asshole…..” Octavia grimaces, “Oh no, they're going to rip each other apart aren't they?”

Gale groans loudly, placing his head back on his desk. “The worst part is, she's marrying my academy rival, Sirilus Szerban Amarzian.” his voice was full of irritation. “You know he always says it like that too, all smugly and condescending. Of course she had to marry him, we both come from wizarding families so they had to keep it traditional or whatever. He's Rolan’s grandson. You know, Rolan, Master of Razamith’s Tower? Let's just say our grandfathers were not too fond of each other. ”

“Oh yeah?” Octavia tried to hide her intrigue, but when Gale glared back up at her, she had a feeling she failed.

“Yes, Octavia. It's an old family misunderstanding over my grandfather stealing The Annals of Karsus from the vault underneath the tower. Also, allegedly something else about Gale suggesting a fix to Roland when a flashing lights cantrip wasn't working the way Rolan wanted at a party the tieflings had thrown. Gale was apparently already somewhat drunk and went up to Rolan and said something like ‘You call that a cantrip? Step aside and let a chosen of Mystra show you how it's done!’ but I call bullshit!”

Gale bristled a bit and continued, “I'm pretty sure it was when Tav and Gale helped save some people who got captured in Moonrise Towers and it just so happened that Rolan’s siblings were part of that crew. Rolan said some pretty mean things to Tav and Gale stepped in to calm things down, Rolan said something like ‘Oh and Mystra’s ex boy toy finally speaks!’ and well, Gale took that personally of course. I mean who wouldn't?”

“Uh huh…and how does that concern you and Sirilius? I mean they were old men when the two of you were in school.” Octavia responds, she knows she may be opening a floodgate, but she was glad to have something to take her mind off her own family drama.

Gale takes a deep breath, he holds it in for a couple of seconds before exhaling out slowly. “Sirilius and I used to be really good friends, I would even say we were best friends, or at least I thought we were. He and I knew about the stupid fight our ancestors had and still got along so well. Until we had a disagreement about something, I don't even remember what, but what I will never forget what he said to me. ‘Maybe Rolan was right about you, you're just as much of an arrogant know it all prick like your grandfather was.’”

He sighs, “That was the last time I had spoken to him… Athena knew how hurt I was about the whole thing, I mean we were friends until the last couple of years in our studies. That's when he got extremely competitive against me, vowed to prove that he came from stronger magics than I. Even though he knew I wanted to go into artifact preservation, he wanted to make me know that I was beneath him.” Gale frowns, his body drops and his shoulders slump down.

“All I ever wanted was a friend who understood the uniqueness of being from a well known lineage. To have that kind of comradery with someone who has a similar experience. It wasn't until I met you that I got that, Octavia. So you see, it felt like a kind of betrayal from my sister, picking him and our familial expectations over me. I know she didn't, obviously, but it felt like it.” Gale placed his hands on his face, Octavia rolled her chair over to his side of their desks and gave him a hug.

She could feel Gale’s body tense up, slowly recover, and return the hug. “It's okay, Gale. I will gladly help you. It's the least I can do for you.” Octavia patted Gale’s back, a small sigh followed by him pulling away from her, she could see the wave of relief flood over him. “Thank you. I owe you. Uh…I was actually going to go speak to Astarion after the museum closed, do you mind staying back so we could meet with him together?”

Octavia blinks in shock, she didn't feel quite ready to go speak to Astarion, but with Gale in tow he would have to be professional and subdued. She nods to Gale, who smiled wide in return. “Okay, I have to prepare for it. I have to get hold of Athena so she can send me her pictures and inspiration board, food, flowers…”

Gale turns to his desk and scribbles something onto a piece of paper. Then, he walks up to the window and opens it, he speaks some words and moves his hands around, conjuring up a white and gray spotted bird. He ties the little note to its leg along with a small pouch he ties around its body.

“Okay, Ellie, can you bring this to Athena and come back to me before the end of operating hours? I left very specific instructions for her, so if she tries to have you come back with a ton of stuff, don't let her unless she reduces it and puts it in the little pouch. Be good with Archie, alright? Safe flight, kid.”

Ellie takes off as Gale waves them away, he turns around and laughs as he notices Octavia’s wide eyed stare. “You can make a bird? And it listens to you? That's pretty cool!” she exclaims. Gale smiles with a proud beam, he nods and closes the window halfway.

“Yeah! Ellie is a sea osprey, they're captivating and quite abundant in Waterdeep! Athena and I both had familiars we conjured as children. Ellie’s mine and Athena had Archie, who is a fish owl. We would send Ellie and Archie out to hunt when we would practice our spells. I couldn't bring her around my grandfather's tower because of Tara, they never got along.”

Gale hugs Octavia one more time before walking up to the door of their office. “Thank you again, I need to take a walk and gather my thoughts for a bit before Athena responds. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

Octavia nods, “Yeah, good idea, I might go on a little break too. Lots of stuff to think about, you know?”

Gale perks up, “Oh! Do you want to join me? Maybe we can think of some ideas?”

Octavia hesitates a little before shaking her head “No thank you. I wanted to get some time to walk the halls again, I missed being here while I was in Wyvern Hills. See you later?”

“Yeah, have a nice walk in the halls.” Gale says as he slips out of the room, leaving Octavia alone in silence. She slides into her chair and stares at the ceiling. How would she be able to face Astarion and convince him that a wedding is a good idea to have in the museum??

Octavia closes her eyes and puts herself in Tav’s shoes. How was she able to not only deal with all the enemies coming her way, but now Octavia knows she also had to deal with Astarion as well.

Maybe she’d take that walk after all.

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

Octavia rounded the hallway with various statues.

She stops at the gallery full of beautifully carved marble. The lines of their forms were distracting her, reminding her of the night she and Astarion shared a couple of months ago.

His hands run up her stomach, the rough edges of his nails scrape along the peaks and valleys of her body. His own taught muscles glint with the glow of the firelight softly illuminating them as he dips his head between her legs. She gasps as she feels his other hand lower itself slowly between the slick of her core.

She felt herself flush, her body reacting with a low drop of her belly. Octavia gasps with a sharp inhale, and begins to walk a bit more briskly past the gallery towards the end of the hall.

You gotta get a hold of yourself, not only are you working, but Gale needs you to be there for him.

Octavia briskly walks up to the next gallery with the painting of Astarion. She takes a moment, standing in front of the opening leading to it. Her legs suddenly feel like they have a mind of their own, making her approach slowly towards its direction.

She takes a seat on the bench that is placed in front of it, and looks up at the wall. His sad eyes look down at her and she wonders how she kept telling herself that it wasn't him when it so clearly was. “How could I not see it?” She whispers to herself, eyes firmly stuck to his painted visage.

Octavia sat there, wondering what Astarion had gone through for all those years, how Tav must have felt when he left, so many memories forgotten and lost after she went through with the Unburdening. If Tav hadn't gone through with it, would Octavia even be here right now?

She leans back, feeling the cool stone of the bench underneath her. Octavia closes her eyes and lingers in the dull hushed murmurs of the museum. In her mind, she conjures up images of what she had read in the old, tattered journal.

Tav wrote about walking hand in hand with someone after fighting a spectator in the Underdark. She mentioned how fanciful their footwork was, how they shimmered like the star they were, obviously, Octavia knows now that Tav was speaking of Astarion. Octavia wishes she could see him like that. Covered in blood and grime but so beautiful.

“Having a rough day, my dear?”

Octavia’s eyes shoot open, she turns and faces the silky voice that came from behind her. “Astarion..hello..sorry I hadn't returned your notes when I came back. I’ve been, uh, catching up with a lot of things…Gale left me a lot of stuff..I should probably get back to it, actually.” She begins to stand, but he stops her, taking a seat next to her.

Astarion instinctively takes Octavia’s hand, kissing it before asking, “Wait, I'm sure you can take a bit of a break to catch up,right? How was your trip? I missed you terribly, you know.” he looked down at her with those gemlike eyes, voice softened to a low murmur. She couldn't help the way it made her knees weak and her heartbeat a little faster.

Octavia gasps softly, then clears her throat. She feels Astarion’s fingers intertwined in hers, the coolness of his touch a welcome contrast to her heated skin. “Darling? Are you okay?” Astarion leans in, whispering his inquiry to not draw attention towards them.

“Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking about things. I…uh…” Octavia hesitates for a moment, before deciding to continue on, “ I found a lot of my mom's personal stuff at my dad’s and there were some things in there that kind of shifted my reality about my family. A lot of things have changed for me, and I’m having trouble coming to terms with it all.”

Astarion scoots closer to her, pressing his shoulder against hers. His whole demeanor shifted to that of a giddy schoolgirl, “Oooh family drama? Sounds delightful! Anything interesting?” He glanced up at Octavia, who returns a mildly annoyed look. Astarion pulls back some, defensively sitting up straight. “From the sudden cloud of darkness cast over us, I would assume not. Do you want to talk about it? Or is this one of those instances where it would be best to forget?”

Octavia couldn't help the nervous laugh that came out of her mouth, she quickly turns away from Astarion, unlacing their hands and hides behind her hair. “Sorry, I..” she trips over her words, unsure of what she should say “I mean..I guess you could say that…part of me wants to keep digging into it all, find out more about why things happened in the past the way they did, but on the other hand…”

She trails off, her hands on her lap, looking at the painting again.

“It’s like that painting, I know I could spend my time figuring out who that is, but what would be the benefit at this point? They're either dead or don't want to be found. I feel like I should leave well enough alone. Maybe some things aren't meant to be uncovered. ‘Not every mystery needs to be solved’, as Gale repeated from you once. Good advice, I should follow it.”

Octavia keeps her eyes on the wall, fingers twitching, unsure of what to tell him. She wants nothing more than to be open and honest with him, but how could she?

“We aren't talking about Gale, Octavia.” Astarion replies. He reaches back out and grabs her hands, steadying them. “You can trust me, but I understand if you don't want to or aren't yet ready to talk about this. Some things take time to come to terms with before you can fully talk about it.” Astarion stands and holds a hand out for Octavia, she takes it and stands beside him.

“Gale asked to speak with me after hours tonight, would you like to go to dinner with me afterwards? Call it an impromptu outing? Although that does mean you'd have to hang back a bit, I understand if you say no, it was a bit last minute.” Astarion seemed a little nervous himself, as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. It was as if he was trying to comfort her as he comforted himself.

Octavia gives a small mischievous smile, “Well…” she teased, “I did have a pressing matter to attend to after work. Maybe I could fit you in afterwards, I'm a very busy woman, you know.”

Astarion’s eyebrows raise and he chuckles warmly, “Oh do forgive me, I had no idea I was in the presence of high importance.” He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close, “Can’t you spare some of your time for me?” with his other hand he cups her cheek, kissing her softly before pulling back. “I missed you. Terribly so.”

Octavia giggles and sighs, she can't help the spell he has crafted into her heart. Her inner thoughts are in a torment, was this genuine or was it part of a centuries long practice? As much as she was scared to confront him, she couldn't deny that she missed him as well.

"I missed you too,” she confessed, turning her head away in bashfulness like a youth with a schoolyard crush.

“Will you wait for me then? I don't think it will be too long, unless he's going to explain something to me, then we could be here all night.” Astarion chuckles, lifting her free hand to give it a quick kiss.

Octavia rolls her eyes playfully and pulls away from him. “Okay, I can't keep it up. I know what he wants to talk to you about, and I swear it's not bad. If anything, I think it's a great idea.”

Astarion’s head quirks back, a curious sound hummed from his throat. “Really? You and Gale agreeing on something again? This should be good.” He crosses his arms and smirks, “Go ahead, fill me in on this idea of his.”

Octavia smiles, this is Gale’s idea so he should be the one to stake his claim. “No.” she sweetly states, backing away slowly, “You can wait a little while longer." She turns and walks toward her office, leaving Astarion in front of himself.

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

“Alright, Gale. Just remember what we went over, stick to the main points. This is a good PR move, Athena and Sirilius are big names in the wizarding community so that comes with good patronage, people from all over Faerun will see it, the press will love it…all of that. If you need me to cut in, just say so.” Octavia hands Gale the folder he prepared to show Astarion his sister's notes.

“I’ll be fine, Octavia. I’ve done these kinds of project proposals many times before, Astarion may look intimidating, but he's not. As long as I explain things succinctly, he’ll absolutely agree.” Gale puffs out his chest as he knocks on Astarion’s office door.

They hear Astarion’s response and Gale opens the door.

“Alright, Gale, what are you two planning that was so important that I meet with you after hours?” he asks from behind his massive wooden desk.

Gale and Octavia sit down across from him, Gale places the folder on top of the desk and shakily opens it. He clears his throat and begins to speak.

“As our busy season comes to an end, the amount of patrons we're expected to have is going to dip significantly. I was thinking about ways we could have some sort of capital to keep the museum in the black until the next fundraiser.” Gale wavered a bit, before continuing on.

“I was talking to my older sister Athena, and she's getting married-”

“No.” Astarion cuts Gale off immediately. “Gale, I will not have my museum with very delicate and priceless items be put in harm's way just so your sister can have a party and brag about it.” He waves a hand and looks over to Octavia. “And you! You knew about this? Why didn't you say something earlier?”

Octavia frowns, she couldn't believe the audacity of Astarion to disregard Gale so quickly. “Excuse me? This is a wonderful idea! If you didn't know, Gale’s sister is marrying into a prestigious wizarding family. They're loaded, and that means all their guests will be as well. This could be a huge opportunity for us to not only do this massive favor for Gale, but to raise the reputation and the possibility of potential donors for the museum! Think about it, Astarion. Think of the money.”

Astarion folds his arms, leaning back into his chair. “Octavia, do you really think-”

“No, you don't get to cut Gale off, shoot him down, and then think you can do the same to me. Hear him out, it's a good idea. I won't let you deny him this one favor. Not when he's done so much for the museum. This place wouldn't run half as smoothly as it doesn't if it wasn't for Gale. I’ll help and so will you, don't think you're getting out of this just because you're the boss.” Octavia passionately argues. She wants to help Gale and nothing, not even a patronizing vampire, can get in her way.

Astarion sighs, “Fine, go on, Gale. Convince me it's not a giant mistake.”

Gale looks between Astarion and Octavia, he stutters a bit before resuming, “Uh..Athena and Sirilius, her fiance and my..ahem..former friend, were wanting to get married and have their reception here.” He passed Astarion the folder, it was full of pictures, fabric samples, ideas, and countless notes about his sister's preferences and wants.

Astarion’s forehead wrinkled as he went through the massive file, his face changed in expression as he flipped through it.

“Your sister has questionable style, Gale. These dresses look like a bard that took up dressmaking and kept adding bells to everything. Gods, some of these are gaudy as hell.” Astarion remarks, eliciting a quiet giggle from Octavia and an irritated protest from Gale.

“I will have you know, that her style is very much the same as every other woman in my family. Waterdhavian culture is a little more showy than some others in Faerun..my own mother had a cathedral style wedding veil that was covered in black pearls that were sourced from the seas of Waterdeep. We show our pride in our family by having heirlooms pinned to our clothing and having family help us prepare for the wedding. That's why Athena is asking me to do this, why it means so much to me, Astarion, please allow this. I’ll work seven days a week even though the museum is only open six. I’ll do your laundry. I’ll get you one of Grandfather Gale’s spell books from his time adventuring, whatever you want!” Gale was almost begging, he spoke quickly and desperately.

Astarion could feel the love and obligation coming from Gale’s pleas. He may not like the request, but Gale is one of his most trusted friends. Besides, Gale doesn't ask for much. In the 8 years he's worked with Astarion, Gale has only taken a break once much to Astarion’s chagrin.

Astarion sighs and relents, “Fine.”

Gale’s jaw drops and Octavia’s eyes grow wide, both of them reply “What?!”

“Astarion, are you serious??” Gale breathes out, his eyes show the shock and relief build and crash, the tears begin to form behind them. “I can't believe this. I…I don't know what to say.”

“Start with thank you.” Octavia squeezes his shoulder, in a supportive and comforting touch.

“Yes, of course…thank you, Astarion. I'm so relieved that I can tell Athena that you approved of this! She's going to be so excited!” Gale was practically bouncing in his seat. Octavia and Astarion laughed at his giddiness. Gale inhaled sharply and laughed embarrassingly.

“Sorry, I’ve been worried about this for a minute. Thanks again, Astarion. Oh, and to you as well Octavia. Thank you for having my back.” He smiles, grabbing her hand, giving it an affirmative squeeze. He turns to Astarion and grabs the folder, but before he can pull it away, Astarion grabs his hand, staring him down.

“Hold on Gale. I have some conditions of my own. Go ahead and take your seat, please.” Astarion lets go of Gale’s hand and motions for him to take his seat.

Gale and Octavia shoot each other worried looks and then look back at Astarion. Who has his hands pressed together in front of his face. His eyes shift between Gale and Octavia, before he closes them and takes a sharp inhale.

“Condition one: I want to meet the couple. I need to know who they are, and why they insist on having their entire event here. We shall have dinner at the restaurant we had our last meeting, Gale. Let me know what date works for them.

Condition two: I want to join you and work on this together. Three people would be suitable for this type of event and while I trust the both of you, I feel like this will make things even and less stressful.

Condition three: I want to attend the wedding if I'm putting all this work into it. It's not fair that I'm letting you all use what I consider my home for a little party and not expect me to attend.

Condition four: I get final approval on what they wish to-”

“Absolutely not. You get to consult, but you don't have final say. Athena and Sirilius do. You are not the one getting married, Astarion.” Octavia sternly cuts him off, waving an angry finger in front of his face.

Astarion sulks, he didn't like giving up control, and this was going to be the ultimate test of that. He grumbles and lets out a low growl from the back of his throat. “Fine. But no one goes into the offices, basement, archives or galleries with delicate items or statues. No drinks near the paintings. Food outside ONLY.”

“Fine, you can put up ANY AND ALL safeguards to prevent people from going into places you don't want, Gale and I can assist you with that.” Octavia states firmly. She has had it with Astarion’s aggressive negotiations, if his plan was to barrel over Gale and pull some demeaning power play, he definitely underestimated Octavia’s tenacity.

The air between them felt heavy and electrified with Astarion and Octavia’s back and forth. “If I may cut in?” Gale’s soft voice called out from between the two.

Astarion and Octavia turn to Gale, both of their faces flushed and visibly irritated. “Go ahead, Gale, let's just finish this for tonight.” Astarion huffs, arms crossed defensively.

“My sister did write a note to me in the folder. May I read it to you both? I think this might ” Gale asks, unfolding a small piece of paper.

Astarion nods, motioning Gale to continue. Gale smiles and reads aloud.

“Hello little brother!!

I'm so excited that you actually want to help! Siri and I were just talking about how much we were hoping that you could assist us with this whole venue situation. To be honest with you, I can't think of a more perfect place for us to get married. Not only did Siri and I have our first real date there, but the gardens dedicated to the heroes would be the most fitting place for he and I to recite our vows. Right in front of Grandfather, as if he were giving us his blessing and favor for our new lives together. Write back as soon as you're done with your meeting. I’ve sent Archie along with Ellie, so you have no excuses.

Toodles, little bro!”

Gale folds the note and looks up, smiling with a giant grin. “She's going to be incredibly grateful for this, Astarion. You won't regret it. Now, if you two will excuse me, I have a very anxious bride to be to write back to. I will let you both know when she and Sirilius can meet up.” He gathers the folder once more, quickly exiting and leaving Astarion and Octavia alone.

The silence is awkward, they both stay in their seats not looking in each other's direction. Finally, Astarion is the one to break the moment.

“Well, if I say no now, I'll look like a heartless bastard won't I?” He produced a low groan as he laid back in his chair, draping his arms on either side of the armrests.

“Gale has been by your side for almost a decade. He’s given up so much of himself for this place. What he's asking for is not that much in comparison to what he's done for you and the museum.” Octavia flatly replies.

“Are you upset with me?” Astarion asks, his voice a mix of worry and slight annoyance, “Is it because I didn't say yes right away?”

Octavia stiffened a bit and looked away from Astarion, she fought every instinct to interrogate him about what she knew. She settles on a reasonable lie. Shaking her head, she begins to speak in a terse tone. “I can't believe you would question Gale, as if he wouldn't treat this place with the utmost respect?” she folds her arms and turns away from him.

Astarion frowns and gets up from his seat behind the desk. He walks over to Octavia’s side, and sits on the edge of the desk. This position was very reminiscent of their last argument. Octavia’s heart flutters a bit with anxiety, her knees buckle a bit with anticipation.

Astarion leans on the desk, placing his hands at his sides. He gazes down at Octavia with a softened look. “You’re right, but you have to understand. I’m not a terrible person. No matter what my standoffish attitude might tell you. I’m very protective of this place, it’s my home after all, so I hope that you understand if I get defensive.”

Octavia sighs. She couldn't mask her disappointment, but she understood. She quietly asks, “Can we raincheck the dinner tonight? I'm a bit tired from coming back after being away, I think I’d rather go home and turn in.” She turns her head down and looks away.

Astarion places his left hand on her chin and guides her head back. “Has something changed?” Octavia’s eyes meet his, he looks worried. She shifts a little in the chair. “No. Everything is fine.” Octavia replies with a small smile.

Astarion releases his hand from her chin, brings it down to her hand, pulling it close to his lips, and kisses it. “Glad to hear it. You had me worried, dear. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Octavia bit her lip. I bet you said that to her too.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us #gale of waterdeep #bg3 au #bg3 au headcanon

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a-libra-writes · 1 year

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Ok you did rocky and nico but what about Mordecai with widow reader with three kittens? (bonus if you include aunty Serafine and uncle nico)ps I love your writing!

This one is a bit different from the other widow-with-kiddo asks but I hope its still to ur liking ~

Firstly! Regardless if you're working the Marigold Room as a bartender or musician, or you're in the gang directly, the kittens are often at the hotel. The staff knows them, the managers don't mind because they stay away from guests, other gang members are familiar with them and make sure they stay outta trouble. The hotel's back rooms and staff quarters are like an endless maze to the kiddos, and they know the whole place like the back of their hands. ... Kinda.

Not to mention how they're doted on by everyone - Asa gives them candies, Nico tosses them high in the air, Serafine is kind of scary but she gave them these funny bracelets (made of bones??? but theyre funny and she's pretty so it's okay!), various hotel staff cooing over how cute and well-behaved they are.

And then there's Mordecai. He's pretty scary to adults, let alone kids. When he sees them skittering around in the peripheral of his vision, he has to frown even more. Who let these wayward children in here? He hears them running about the halls and empty offices while he's trying to do accounting. And as much as Mordecai wants nothing to do with them, he's a figure of great interest to your kittens. Someone who isn't cooing over them? Whose in an office way in the back, only one light on? The one who follows Mr. Sweet and dresses in all black? Their little imaginations run wild, even if you've plainly told them that "Mr. Heller" is your colleague and to leave him be.

The oldest one approaches him first. Which is to say, she lingers behind the doorway, peeking in and thinking he can't see her tail and ears sticking out. He hears the younger ones shushing each other. As much as Mordecai wants to be annoyed, instead, a painful deja vu comes over him. Your oldest finally patters in with a nervous "Mr. Heller?". Before he can ask what she wants, she plops a candy on his desk and runs off, the other kittens right behind her.

As much as the shadowy cat doesn't want the trio bothering him, he's torn about them being so fearful of him. All three of them stir up painful familiar memories of his sisters, but the youngest especially reminds Mordecai of Rose. He tries not to think of how old she and Eshter are now, if they miss him the way your kittens miss you when you're away. It's hard for him to keep up his cold exterior when those painful memories bubble up to the surface.

So when the oldest comes by his desk, he finally sighs and says with a frown, "All three of you, just come in and show me what it is." And the other two shuffle in, with their big eyes and hand-me-down clothes and it's just. Very difficult not to dismiss them.

The two youngest have decided he's their "secret friend", even if you were well aware of how they liked to pester your overly serious colleague. You'll watch your girls draw him alongside other people they know (why does he always look so shadowy and sketchy, even in crayon form?) but you don't know they like sneaking their drawings into his satchel or desk drawers. They'll leave wrapped candies and pretty strings and buttons too, to his exasperation. Eventually Mordecai walks over to you and drops a handful of the little treasures at your table.

"Gee, Mordecai, I'm flattered. You know what a guy/gal likes."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm returning what your snooping progeny keep leaving me. Tell them to stay out of my things."

"Looks to me like they're trying to add some color to that depressing office you hole up in."

And so on, and so forth, you two really like to bicker, don't you?

(Oh, and Mordecai starts keeping the door shut and locking it, but then he hears giggles and sees them shoving the pictures and little things under the doorway.)

Now they aren't afraid of him at all, which means they want to run about Mordecai and get his attention. They'll giggle as they dart between his legs or "hide" under his coat. Their fur gets all over his black clothes. When they inevitably tumble and fall, he picks them up by the collar or under the arms and scolds them for running indoors. And he yanks them down when they get too rowdy and climb up furniture, or sometimes he finds the youngest one crying because she got lost and takes her back. If he catches any of the kittens with an unlaced boot or messy face, he stops them immediately.

"Stop! Lace up your boots immediately. You'll trip and crack your skull open. Don't run in the hotel lobby, either. This is an establishment, not a wild jungle you can traipse about in - keep still, what is on your face? Is that - syrup? Did you not think to wash your hands and face after - no, there will be no giggling about breaches of hygiene -"

(A few people are staring as Mordecai fusses over her, which he doesn't notice until a woman walks by and says, "oh, it's so hard at this age, isn't it? Don't worry, you're doing great." And he dies a little a lot inside).

He tried doing these things in secret, but inevitably one of the Savoys or Asa or you would spot him, and the youngest one loves prattling on about him. Asa, Nico and Serafine find "Nanny Heller" to be hysterical. He's going to throttle someone or plan a murder swear to god-

There's been several moments when you hear a high-pitched squeal that sounds like a scream, and you run over in a panic ... and oh, it's just Nico dangling one of the kittens upside down and pretending to lose his grip. False alarm - wait, why is Mordecai here too?

If you're a triggerman with the gang, it means you're keeping all sorts of odd hours. You've been with them for years and you're more than useful, so having the children set up in an empty office isn't looked twice at. They've got their bedding, some books and toys, and ... sometimes they're sleeping there more than they sleep at home, which you aren't proud of. It's not just the cost of childcare, but the odd hours and questions being asked about your job, especially if you're a woman.

The first time Mordecai came across this office was by accident, but he knew the children had to be staying somewhere. He walked up very quietly, and looking through the open doorway, saw the oldest doing her homework at the big desk while her two siblings slept under it, curled up with their pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. He didn't think he'd be affected so strongly, but it was painful. A very, very painful reminder, and maybe he saw himself a little too much in that girl, furrowing her brow and making sense of numbers.

You and Mordecai have had strange arguments about the the children, which was odd at first. You wondered why the so-called unfeeling triggerman cared at all. If he felt you were being too reckless during a job, he'd tell you as much, but there was more bite in his voice. He never outright said 'you have others depending on you', but it was in his tone. Many times you felt judged, or looked down upon - but a lot of these fights weren't about you specifically. It was the situation that upset him, the lengths one had to go to keep their family fed and safe in a clean environment. He was definitively projecting, and not always aware of it, or just in denial about it. Mordecai tried not to dwell on his own mother and sisters: what they felt when he didn't come home one day, when they read that letter explaining where all the money was hidden, when the realization sunk in for Eshter and Rose that their brother wasn't coming back. If they were sad, or angry, or resigned, or didn't think of him at all anymore. Or maybe they'd resent him forever.

Look he really doesnt want to be thinking about these things -

After long jobs, you'd wash the blood off and change shirts and tiredly walk all the way to the back rooms where your kittens were sleeping. Sometimes you stir the oldest awake so she can help you carry the other two to the car, but honestly, the only apartment a single parent with three children can get is pretty shit. So most times you just curl up on the floor with them, catching a few hours of sleep before you need to wake up the oldest for school.

You hold her hand as you walk through the back rooms and out the staff exit. Sometimes Mordecai sees you. You wear the same tired but persevering expression as his mother did, looking a mess compared to your well-put together daughter. He knows she washed up and dressed herself, and packed her own bookbag. She has that look of responsibility and eyes that are a little too old, and it's too familiar, so he looks away.

(Sometimes the oldest finds an extra sandwich in her bookbag, or new pencils and one time, a new pair of mittens. She feels like it's magic, so she doesn't want to tell anyone, otherwise the magic will 'break'.)

You and Mordecai already have a very strange relationship (can you call each other friends yet? You'd consider him that, or something more, but his feelings are something else entirely), and your kiddos would certainly add another layer of strangeness onto it. You might actually get to know him a little faster and closer than most do, or at least see a side that most people have never seen or even considered him capable of.

#mordecai heller x reader #lackadaisy x reader #also i hope it's not too OOC but i enjoy putting this emotionally repressed murdercat into Situations #yall know how He Is

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audreyscribes · 9 months

Text

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD CHILD [PART 3]

Ω PJO IMAGINE Ω

PROMPT: When a dream makes the reader unable to settle, they decide to take a walk, converting their dream to reality.

Reader encounters Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth on the run when they have a dream that makes them go out and see a sick Annabeth with a tired, injured Luke and Thalia. They take them in, saving them, and encounters them years later when they remembered a kind stranger.

a/n: Reader is neutral; no specific pronouns or descriptions used. Referred to as Y/N. Roughly college/university age. [AO3 LINK] | [1] [2] [3] [4] ___________________________________________________

Rationalizing that you had definitely lived in your aunt’s house for way too long to start thinking about gods and goddesses, and demigods, you decided to push the thought the kids you brought into your house were demigods.

They were just kids who you so happened to find in the place you dreamed about and that you decided to be a respectable person and keep these kids safe in your house, and you were going to be a good host until they decided to slip away to run to their haven from whatever they were running from.

‘whatever they were running from? To their haven’ you thought oddly, as you swept up the shards and dropped food. ‘How the hell did I know that?’

Your brain stalled once more as you stood up with the swept up contents, and almost dropped it again in fright as you saw the three kids staring at you wide-eyed from the threshold of the living room.

“OH GEEZE” you yelled, hand shaking to not drop the dustpan and scatter more, but you did drop the broom to place a hand on your beating heart.

“Ah, sorry!” said Luke as he held up his hands, “We just...we heard the plate crash and then we really didn’t hear anything so we just wanted to see what was wrong-”

You took a deep breath to continue but before you could dismiss their worry, you heard Annabeth gasp as she was standing in front of the weapon that brought you your latest revelation.

“Wait, why do you have that?” asked Thalia, giving you a curious look.

“Well...I did mention my aunt was pagan. I think she used that for some rituals on very special circumstances” you explained, dumping the dustpan contents into a nearby trashcan.

“But it looks like its made out of celestial bronze! Like our own weapons-” muttered Annabeth intrigued before Luke shushed her.

“Celestial bronze? Wait hold up, you guys really have weapons-” you felt the air in your lung leave you. The ringing in your ears were going off as you felt a heavy feeling in your gut.

Like a storm that was brewing and the pressure was building, waiting to snap-

“Y’know what, I just remembered. I need to check on your sister’s temperature to see if her fever has gotten any better” you said, changing the subject. You didn’t miss the three kids look at each other with a silent communication but you ignored it to get the thermometer.

You found the kids hadn’t moved from the living room, looking at all the stuff your aunt had collected over the years. As you began to Annabeth’s temperature, you found your eyes staring at her gray eyes, that seemed to study you. Deconstructing you and made you feel vulnerable and on edge.

You looked from the corner of your eyes to see Thalia watching you steely with her electric blue eyes. There was something in her eyes that radiated warmth and longing but you recognized those eyes as something as weariness. She was a teenager if you had to ballpark it, but you also know she was tired yet guarded, as if she had to grow up in more ways then one.

You then glanced back at Luke who was also watching you but was doing his best not to make it obvious. You saw something akin to envy and relief in his eyes, watching as you looked over at Annabeth, but you also saw him looking all possible exit points; as if any moment they needed to bolt.

The thermometer beeped and you withdrew it, checking her temperature. You grinned, “A bit on the high side by a couple of points, but you’re better then before! Just got to be careful, get some more medicine, food in you and rest, then you’re good to go.”

You took the alcohol wipe to clean the thermometer and busied yourself cleaning, but you smiled privately as Luke and Thalia physically relaxed at your news.

“Uh,” you turned and saw Thalia looking sheepish. “Thanks, for...everything and sorry too.”

You blinked in surprise but you gave a smirk, and shrugged. “Hey don’t worry about it. I swore on the river styx didn’t I?” you looked away to put away the medicine kit to the side, though aware of Thalia rubbing her arm in embarrassment.

“Besides, putting aside of being a good host, I’m doing what needs to be done. Don’t worry about it.” you nodded your head to her other siblings, “I’ll take of you guys, and you’ll be able to take care of each other right?”

Thalia looked at you with something akin to understanding and nodded. “Yeah, we take care of each other.”

You grinned but somewhere in the back of your mind, you could feel someone, or something, peering at you from the corner of the darkness.

After that day, things seemed to progress. You let the kids have more free reign in the house seeing as they would be around for a bit longer. You showed them where the books, toys, and board games were to keep themselves entertained while you still had to face your reality as an adult.

Which was the damn paper and your college classes.

It was nice, having them around. It made the house less lonely and it seemed to motivate you. But when you got absorbed in your class work and your classes, in between, you started to notice somethings. While on the outside, they seemed to relax and finally settle back into being kids, there was just something off.

That was something wasn’t right.

The first time you were conscious of it was when you were coming back from one of your college classes. You had to attend an evening class that lasted 4 hours straight, followed by a post-lecture class, and you had to stay behind with your fellow classmates to get some stuff done. So by the time you returned home, you were dragging your legs numbly through the barely illuminated street, carrying your book bag and some cold, leftover take out.

As you got closer to your home with its fenced off barriers, you placed your hand on the gate when you felt that preying look. It made your skin crawl, becoming clammy yet numb. You turned your head to look and you could see a figure across the street, standing there, facing your home. It was dark but even if you wanted to chalk it up to the midnight hour, you suspected it was inhuman.

You walked through the gate, making sure the latch was closed. You felt eyes on the back of your head, but it wasn’t dangerous. You turned and saw one of the kids, taking position at the window, staring across the street towards the figure…

Your spine shivered, with your hair rising at the realization. You speedwalked up to your home, stabbed your key inside and swung the door open, before promptly closing it in one smooth motion, before you stalked to the living room where one of the kids were.

You reached for the window curtain, closing it shut before the kid could question you as you turned to see whichever the kid it was.

It was Luke and he was clutching the dagger.

He looked wide-eyed up at you as you spoke with a shaky grin. “Came down for some late night snack? Want some leftover takeout?” you asked, holding up the very cold takeout.

The boy nodded numbly at you and the next thing you knew, the two of your were in the kitchen, eating some microwaved takeout.

It was a bit awkward eating the takeout but it was something. You felt safer that the kid was in the kitchen, away from whatever was making your senses go off. Somehow you knew, in this hearth, you had some power.

“So…” you started, taking a sip of your drink. “...Why are you really up?”

His hand stopped midway through and you politely took another sip to give him a second to gather his words.

“I...well, we...we’ve been taking turns keeping watch” admitted Luke, glancing at his dagger that was on the counter.

“Huh?”

There was a bite to the lip, his eyes dimmed before he gave a sigh. “We’re really thankful that you’re letting us stay here (y/n), even when Annabeth’s fever is long gone. To the tell truth, we should’ve been on our way a while ago but...we wanted to see how long we could stay here.”

You paused, finding the words that you once prepared gone. You mulled over his words as you spoke softly. “It’s not me is it?”

“No, but….we’ve been followed, in a way, but since you let us stay in your house, we’ve been safe in a way we haven’t been in a very long time. And we haven’t been safe...before.”

You took another moment to gather your words. This wasn’t the first time you’ve caught the kids taking watch. Between your odd hours and working between your work at home, you’ve caught the kids making what was perimeter watches. As if someone or something was going to break through to hurt them.

You then remember another memory that took place in this very house.

“Why keeps you awake, little one?” asked your aunt as she sat by your bed.

You squeezed yourself under the safety of the covers, glancing up at your aunt with scared eyes.

“I’m scared” you whispered finally.

“Scared of what?”

“The monsters...” you rasped, feeling your limbs turn heavy and cold. “The ones that hide underneath the bed and in the closet.”

Your aunt stared at you before cackling. She didn’t laugh in a way that was at you or the notion, but it was at the monsters themselves.

“You worry over nothing little one” reassured your aunt as she tucked you into bed. “There are charms and protections everywhere on my home and hearth. No monsters or any harm will fall on you or any of us.”

“Really?” you whispered as if you breathed out of the water.

“Yes. Long ago, our ancestors knew the way of the gods. We passed our knowledge down and we even use it to protect ourselves. We may be mortals, but we may never know. Especially in the way of the gods and monsters.”

Somehow you felt comforted and the relief begun to lull you to sleep. Your aunt smiled as she patted the top of the blanket and hummed a lullaby. “Just for tonight, I will watch over you sleep. Rest little one.”

Your eyes begun to close and darkness took over. You were lulled in it and the lullaby and warmth before you slept-

You smiled as you felt a burst of warmth spread from your chest. Luke stared at you oddly as you chuckled.

“Well, if you’re afraid of monsters like the ones under your bed or the boogeyman, I used to have the same worries too,” you started to say and you knew the way Luke was going to say by the way he opened his mouth, “But, you don’t have to worry any harm coming to you. As my aunt once said a long time ago, our ancestors knew the way of the gods and monsters. As long you are my guests, you are guaranteed safety.”

Luke gave you a look of doubt and worry as you smiled. “You might not believe it, but what’s wrong in believing something good, even if it’s just for a moment?”

And for just a moment, Luke gave you a soft smile.

After that night, it wasn’t as if they stopped taking nightly watches but they tapered out to every once in a while. You sometimes found one of them taking watch but they didn’t protest when you guided them back to bed. But there were nights that seemed to keep one of them awake anyways, then you would do what you could.

You were going to put whatever they were doing as a symptom of being on the run but it wasn’t until one night, you saw Thalia holding her canister tightly as something came close to the fence of your home. It didn’t touch the fence (as if it couldn’t) but you did notice something edging the parameters, as if waiting for an opening.

Something dreadful sat in your stomach but then it turned into fire. “You stay here, and watch your siblings. There’s a backdoor into a forest if anything happens, it’ll give you some time” you said to Thalia as you went to the front door.

You heard Thalia sputtering out some excuse to prevent you from going out, but you got distracted by something glinting in the corner of your eye. With what little light you were carrying, your eyes fell upon the greek tool that hung on the wall.

The Kopis.

You paused and then you grabbed your fingers around the handle, and lifted it. You weighed it and it brought a sense of strength in you. You found yourself out of the door and stalked towards the open gate towards the mysterious figure and pointed the Kopis at the being.

Your heart was beating wildly and while anger was fueling you, you weren’t sure what your next steps were. Words seemed to filtered from your mind to your mouth.

“Take my warning and do not approach any closer to my home and hearth. You will not harm me or those under my care.”

The being paused and you saw its inhuman mouth grin. “You know not what you house mortal”

The voice made your skin crawl, “They are my guests and as their host, I will not let harm befall on them. Lest even children.”

It tilted its head to contemplate. “Perhaps, you will not let any harm befall on them, but what about you?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I can’t but someone else will” it grinned. It begun to mutter something that sounded like another language, in a way that sounded familiar. It was You heard bells ringing in your ear as you realized it sounded like what your aunt chanted, and you felt your hand swing the kopis. The being disappeared into nothingness before the blade could even touch.

You stared at where the being...no monster disappeared to and felt something ominous looming over you.

And when you turned back? You saw the cool and tough facade that Thalia always carried replaced with fear.

That same night you encouraged Thalia to go back, reassuring her that everything was going to fine. She didn’t believe it. You didn’t believe it. You both knew it wasn’t going to be fine. As you checked the other kids, tucking them into bed for good measure, you kept your eye on them as you closed the door.

When the door clicked shut, you took a few steps before you slid your back down on the nearest surface. Fingers clutched the kopis close to your chest while your eyes looked back at the windows to see if the monster was lurking outside. There was the quiet reassurance that whatever protection your aunt reassured you with, if it was even real, would hold but you didn’t like how the thing seemed to know a loophole.

While the children slept, you didn’t.

As you continued to find yourself awake still, you begun doing god knows what in the mean time. The previous events still replayed in your mind as you went through the events to have an idea what may have transpired.

Every time you blinked as you looked towards the windows, the sky changed until it was early morning. Routine kicked in as you haphazardly made your bed and made your way out of your room, down the stairway-You just smiled as the kids came down and for a moment, you let them believe it was going to be another regular day.

Then it came the nightmares.

Thalia begun to get nightmares to the point Luke and Annabeth weren’t able to sleep. Luke couldn’t stop doing night watches, seemingly taking them every night to not only cover his but also Thalia. Annabeth went back and forth between Luke and Thalia, who seemed to deeply trapped in her dreams. And when you all did manage to wake her up, she stayed up awake and kept nodding off.

The sleepless nights were all getting to you, until it’s final night.

That night, Thalia seemed tossing and turning. You got up from your desk at midnight to check on the kids and saw Luke and Annabeth tiredly and sadly watching over Thalia.

You had enough.

“Hey,” you called out to them as the two kids turned to you, long acquainted with your presence. “Come on, let’s go downstairs” you said.

Reluctantly, they followed you, trudging behind you. You went to the living room and got them to sit down on the couch. They looked at you confused as you went to the fireplace, feeling a greater chill seep into the house.

You started the fire, watching it roar to life and provide warmth and light to the room. You watched the fire dance for a moment before getting up to go to the kitchen.

It wasn’t long till you broke out the hot chocolate, marshmallows, and other goodies. Annabeth hummed with giggles at the hot chocolate and floating marshmallows as Luke carefully sipped his, wrapping his hands around the cup while the two of them were bundled in the thick fluffy blankets. You entertained them with stories from books and your own, watching them nod off as they listened to your voice.

You smiled as they nodded had finally gotten to sleep on the couch, as you stood with your back to the fire. The crackling of the fire and the warmth it emitted comforted you, as you lazily looked at all the lanterns from the fire litter across the room. You sipped your drink and let out a sigh, and was about to do a victory dance at the fact you got 2/3 kids to sleep-

A scream pierced the air and in shock, you dropped the cup. It shattered across the floor but upon instinct, Luke was already vaulting over the couch to their room as you ran after him. Annabeth’s smaller footsteps behind you. She pushed past you to go into the room as you saw Thalia thrashing more violently then before on the bed, screaming. Luke was shouting and shaking Thalia awake but was also keeping her down.

Annabeth was on the verge of tears and was also trying to get Thalia to wake up but there was little progress.

Luke turned to you and you saw the vulnerability on his face. How scared he was and how helpless he turned to you. “Y/N, help” he said with a broken voice, more lost then ever.

You pushed past as Thalia was scratching at herself and you wrapped your arms around her, blankets and all, and hugged her to yourself.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, everything is going to be okay! Your safe, everyone’s safe. It’s just a dream, you have to wake up-” you said in a mantra as you kept her tight.

The chill was getting stronger and then suddenly, Thalia’s eyes snapped open crackling energy before you felt something shock you immensely. You let out a yell of pain and your limbs went numb at the shock as you fell off the bed.

You let out a hiss and swore, as the pain went through your arms and body. You could feel your skin also burning like you just touched a hot pan by accident and you looked at your hands, seeing they were slightly red and were trembling. You couldn’t control your nerves, as you saw electricity sparking off Thalia who looked at you with terrorized eyes.

Realization was in her eyes and then regret. “I...I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t-” she stammered.

Your fingers and arms twitched at the electric pulse but you pushed yourself off, as you went to reassure her. “It’s okay, it’s fine. You’re safe, it’s not your fault-”

your words got caught short when a piercing howl went through the air. All three kids stiffened with wide eyes as you turned to the source of the sound.

“No” you whispered as you sped down to the foyer, and you could see from the window the mysterious figure from before grinning at you with its inhuman feature and the other monsters surrounding him. You heard the kids chasing after you and gasped as you all watched the figure take a step forward through the threshold and the monsters were coming.

You could feel the house pulsing with an energy that was growing weaker. Your stomach dropped like it was plummeting into a pit, the speed making you queasy.

You turned to the kids, seeing Annabeth weakly holding up and onto Thalia who seemed utterly lost. Luke looked wide eyed, betrayed but also lost as well. Your mind was racing-

“Luke, get your stuff! Now-”

“But-”

“NOW!”

The barrier was weakening.

You turned to Thalia and Annabeth for a moment before you went to the living room. You grabbed the kopis, weighing it in your hand for a moment. As you did, you saw a glint and saw the fire roaring to life and the lanterns.

You barely stopped to think what you were doing before you slid your knees towards the fireplace, grabbing one of the metal laterns. If you were thinking clearly, you would’ve noticed your hand thrusting into the fire, barely feeling anything as you grabbed a flaming coal to put into the lantern.

Words came to you easily as you whispered to the flame. “Flame of the hearth, let the flames of Hestia bless and watch over those who carry the flame to those weary souls” you prayed as the fire grew brighter.

“I got them!” said Luke as he rushed down the stairs just as the banging on the door grew more and more intense, with a nail being bounced off.

You rushed towards the kids, holding the bright flame in the lantern as you pointed to the back of the house. “Go to the back! There’s an exit!” you said as you pushed them out. You looked back as the door was almost being torn out of the hinges from the force of impact.

You pushed the kids out and grabbed the emergency pack that you left in the kitchen on the way out, before taking them to the back of the house. You opened the door and pointed to the backyard, where there was a small hidden gate behind an overgrown bush that would take them to a line of trees, hopefully it would be enough.

You gave the emergency pack to them as you took a quick glance back to see how much time you have.

“Alright, make a break straight forward. There’s a gate hidden by that mistletoe bush and it’ll lead you straight to those line of trees that hopefully delay them. Whatever happens, just keep running and don’t look back” you instructed as you pushed the kids out.

“But, Y/N what about you?” stammered Luke, looking at you for answers.

You looked at them all and saw that they were just kids. Your eyes softened as you looked at each one of them. You held out the metal lantern to Annabeth who took it carefully.

“Take this lantern. May the coal of this flame protect you all and light your way. Never forget there is light and warmth in times of darkness” you said as you reached out and patted Annabeth’s head. You turned to the other two, pressing a hand onto each of them.

“You’ll all be fine” you said before you heard the door crack in the distance. You readied your kopis, heart thudding against your chest as you pointed the way forward.

“Go! I’ll hold them off as long as you can” you said, before any of them could protest you turned towards the inside of the house, your back to them. You heard more protests before you heard Luke tell them they had to go now and their disappearing footsteps. You took a glance back and saw the light of the lantern growing smaller and smaller.

When you turned back, you saw the mysterious figure from before standing before you with monsters backing it. You held up your weapon as you shuffled to cover the door as much as you could.

The mysterious, definitely a monster, tilted its head at you. “Step aside mortal, we have no qualms against you.”

“No, not when you’re about to definitely go after these kids and hurt them” you said, raising your weapon.

“Yes, but they are demigods and we are monsters. It is their destiny to be chased after and be killed by us.” then it grinned, “Besides, why protect those who have harmed you?”

You heard the gloating tone in its words as you cursed. “That’s how you guys broke in” you said.

It hummed. “Well for a mere mortal, you’ve managed to protect them long enough, I’ll give you that. But yes, we can’t harm you directly but once those demigods have, then the rule of hospitality no longer applies to them.”

You could smell ozone and you were reminded of Thalia.

“It was an honest mistake” you said.

“Nonetheless, the rules were broken. Your protections are strong, but not unbreakable. Step aside mortal or you’ll be another nameless figure sacrificed for these heroes.”

You felt your limbs go weak for a moment. Your resolve wavering. You could feel yourself wanting to protect yourself in pure instinct, and your fingers loosened on your weapon.

But as you were about to step aside, you remembered the kids. How happy and relived they were to finally have a safe place to rest. How scared and broken they looked at their safety ripped away. You licked your lips and the faint taste of the hot chocolate you just had with them reminded you of them.

They may be heroes. They may be demigods. They may die an unnatural death but-

they were just kids and just because it was their fate, doesn’t mean they deserved to suffer unfortunately at every turn.

You gripped your kopis, feeling strength well up in you as you raised your kopis and growled.

“No, over my dead body” you said.

“Well, if you say so” said the figure and charged.

You slashed your kopis and swiped the first monsters appeared from the back. It disappeared in powder of gold at the merest touch and you moved, as if someone was taking over your body to fight for you.

You heard the mysterious figure yell out commands but you could see faintly something working in the background covering your bases but it was being tested.

Words filtered to you as you remember the flames around the home.

“Flames of the hearth, ruled over by Hestia, heed my call. Flames of the hearth, may your flames burn away the evil in my home and purify thy space-”

You heard a curse among them but everywhere went alight as flames took over through the hallways, sweeping through every space. You heard the monsters yowling before the flames burn them away, their golden dust mixing with the flames and disappearing. You felt the flame wash over you like a warm blanket, not harming you in the slightest as you closed your eyes and hoped the kids got away.

As you watch through the open doorway, watching the sky turn its hues from dusk to dawn, your mind and body seemingly at peace. The world around you was quiet. The house was quiet, almost hauntingly as the echoes of inhabitants you shared with were now gone.

The sun peaked through as you sat on the stairs, with one dumb thought.

‘Well shit, they still have my ID’

[Ao3 LINK]| [PART 4]

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians imagines #riodanverse #thalia grace #thalia grace imagine #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #annabeth chase #annabeth chase imagine #fanfic #pjo fanfic #pjo x you #pjo reader insert

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destieltropecollection · 1 year

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 4 | Mutual Pining

Open Mic Night | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: General Word Count: 1,357 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe Summary: Cas works at a bookstore. Dean wants to impress him.

Ladies' Night | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,519 Main Tags/Warnings: Wayward Sisters, Truth Spells, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, First Kiss Summary: Dean comes to Ladies' Night at Jody's, and the ladies put him through the ringer.

The Rainbow Confection | @brainfuzz

Rating: General Word Count: 3,231 Main Tags/Warnings: Homophobic language, no warnings apply Summary: Where Dean owns a LGBT+ friendly coffee shop/café and Castiel is oblivious.

Thy Name is Dumbassery | @spnisthewayoflife

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,314 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Implied Meg Masters/Castiel - Freeform, Dean is JEALOUS, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Idiots in Love, Dumbasses, the pair of them, Sassy Meg Masters, Meg Masters Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Pining, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean and Castiel aren't aware that they have been pining after each other for years and that their mutual feelings have remained unspoken. Until Castiel starts avoiding Dean and Dean realizes that he can't imagine his life without Castiel in it. Will they ever tell each other that they are head over heels in love?

Grumpy Angel and the cat (feat.Dean) | @destiel-pirate-in-middleearth

Rating: General Word Count: 6,130 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Sam ships it, Love confession Summary: Dean is getting silent treatment from Castiel because he won't allow Castiel to take a poor abandoned cat home with them because that's the hunter's rule. No pets in the bunkers and for starters Dean hates cats. It's not that he's jealous of that cat getting all of Castiel's affection which he longs for but he hates that monster cat with a stupid face. Or The one where Sam is just done with everyday’s bullshit because his brother is getting a silent treatment from the angel again.

Wings to Dancs | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12,621 Main Tags/Warnings: Normal Human AU, Dancer Cas, past homelessness, minor internally homophobia, implied top Dean/bottom Cas (no smut) Summary: A night of awkward conversations, humiliating moments, and halfhearted attempts at trying to learn to dance for his brother's wedding take a surprising turn for the better for Dean when he realizes he accidentally locked himself out of his car. He and Castiel, the dance instructor he's admired from afar for so long, end up bonding over buried memories of past pain and find themselves dancing towards a brighter future together.

Why did the chicken cross the road? | @whichstiel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 15,007 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate universe - canon divergence, Chickens, South Dakota Summary: Castiel raises show chickens on a small farm, alone after the death of his benefactor and friend. A runaway chicken leads him across the road to Winchester Auto Repair where he must contend with the easy charm of Dean Winchester. A canon divergent story set in rural South Dakota.

Scent-Blind | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,194 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Strangers to Lovers, Paramedic Dean, Temporary Anosmia, Slight Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: An accident has left Castiel without a sense of smell. In order to test whether his ability to scent is coming back, he has to regularly (try to) scent an alpha. Just like anything else, paramedic Dean Winchester doesn’t smell like anything to him. Until...

Proverbs 13:12 | @angelcasendgame

Rating: General Word Count: 16,298 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends deancas, stuck in a net, angel cas Summary: “A human and his angel get caught in a net,” Dean says dryly, not seeming to notice how completely still Castiel has gone. “Sounds like a set up to a bad joke. Or a Bible story.” “I can assure you, Dean,” he manages to say, trying desperately not to fixate on Dean's words. “This has never happened in the Bible.” (feat. autumn longing and hope, a game of I spy, hozier and led zepplin, mentions of the mixtape, and most importantly, dean and cas being best friends and helplessly in love with each other)

A Mature Student | @startswitheff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,939 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel is Seriously Depraved, College | University Student Dean Winchester, Dirty Thoughts, Masturbation in Shower, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Date, Castiel is a hot mess, First Date, sex on the first date, silver foxes, top!Castiel, bottom!Dean Winchester Summary: Prof. Castiel Novak does not know how to handle the smokin' hot silver fox in his Intro to American History class.

Maybe Next Time | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 37,134 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern!AU, Musician Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel, Meet-Cute, Idiots in Love Summary: Dean Winchester agreed to sing at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding for the sole purpose of getting revenge on her for cheating on him. He never expected that he would meet anyone, let alone a man with beautiful blue eyes that Dean can’t stop thinking about. Castiel Novak agreed to attend his colleague’s wedding solely for the networking opportunities. He never expected that he would be instantly captivated by the beautiful singer of the wedding band. Despite being inexplicably drawn together, every time they run into each other they’re interrupted by Dean’s phone. Or Dean’s ex. If she even is his ex. Maybe next time they meet, Dean and Castiel will finally overcome the obstacles that the universe keeps throwing in their path, and find the happiness they didn’t even know they were looking for.

The Very Touch of You Corrupts (WIP) | @labgeek2002

Rating: Mature Word Count: 78,707 Main Tags/Warnings: AU, Detective!Cas, Criminal!Dean, internalized homophobia, implied child abuse Summary: While closing up the biggest career in Detective Castiel Novak's life, bringing down Chicago's notorious Lunguino crime family, everything gets put on hold when he catches Dean Winchester, his childhood crush, breaking the law. Soon after he snaps the cuffs on Dean, Cas' world is turned inside out as he's led down the dark path of organized crime and police corruption. With no one he can trust, will Cas learn to rely on the man who once brought comfort and protection, or will he find betrayal around every corner?

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: coffee shop au, flower shop au, language of flowers, Deaf!Castiel, American Sign Language, Deaf Characters, bottom Dean/top Castiel, bottom Castiel/top Dean, mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, hurt Dean, hurt and comfort, miscommunication Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #mutual pining #day 4

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goobieboobie · 9 months

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ultraviolence 0.1

| 70s pornstar! joel miller x preachers daughter! reader

Your prayers aren't enough to keep big, bad Joel away...

Warnings (for this chap!): abortion references and allusions, child/domestic abuse, prostitution allusions, kind of dubcon allusions (reader is misled by Jeremiah abt getting pregnant???), mentions of guns, young reader (roughly 19-20), barely legal sex work (person referenced is a senior is highschool, she's 18 but not explicitly stated), extreme dubcon for sex work (reader rlly doesn't want to do it, but is convinced), creepy scary man MDNI!!

“How’d you end up here, baby?”

You’d been asked the question about a hundred times a day since you arrived in LA, church dress tattered and knee-high socks torn. Carmen had taken you in, dragging you away from the bus stop the second you’d stepped foot off of the Grey Rabbit, exhausted from a night-long drive from Texas.

She picked you up after her shift on the street corner, so delirious from her night that she thought she’d imagined you. “You looked straight outta the gospel, kid, thought you might be my guardian angel.”

She turned out to be more of a guardian angel to you than anything else, setting you up in her overcrowded three-bedroom near Venice. Even though you’d had to share a bed with her for the first weeks of your arrival, you were happy to not be destitute.

She was the first one to ask the question, her roommate, Laura, a high school senior only a year or two younger than you, right by her side. “So, how’d you end up here, honey?” Carmen had a sugary sweet Southern lilt to her voice, different from the rural Texan accent you’d developed over the years.

You’d rehashed the night of your escape to her and Laura, from getting caught with Jeremiah in the barn to running barefoot to the cross-country bus station three miles away from the farm, lantern guiding your path.

“Dontcha think California’s a bit overkill? What is it, two thousand miles away from yer Daddy?” Carmen clearly didn’t understand the will her father possessed. He would tear apart every town within a thousand miles to find his wayward daughter, to save the child in her womb.

It had happened weeks ago, the life inside you was probably only the size of a pea; that didn’t matter to Daddy. It wasn’t easy to get condoms in a small town like yours, and even harder to get your pediatrician (an avid member of your church) to prescribe you birth control. Jeremiah had insisted it was fine, there was no risk of getting pregnant your first time, the odds were against you.

Daddy had found out the night you left, so angry he shook your body around like a ragdoll and slapped you around the living room in front of your sisters and mother. He had already chased Jeremiah away, shotgun in hand, your pleas of “But Daddy, I love him!” falling on deaf ears.

You cried and cried while he asked you to give him one good reason to not chase him down and shoot him dead. You had panicked, shouted that you were pregnant, needed him to help you raise the baby, but that had just spurred him on, made him angrier.

He was so blind with rage, yelling like a drunkard, that you managed to make it out through the front door, running nimbly through the dark woods near the house before he could catch up.

Carmen took you to the clinic the next morning, holding your hand as you walked past the bus stop from the morning before.“Poor lil’ thing, can’t go raisin’ a baby when yer just one yerself.”

You cried in the waiting room, cried in the doctor’s office, cried as it happened, cried when it was done and over with. You only stopped when the doctor asked that damned question.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he pushed his glasses up his crooked nose, you imagined it was bent from a punch years ago, maybe a patient with more gut than you, “How’d you end up here?”

When you walked back to the house, legs achy and stomach twisting, Carmen stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk, putting her hands down hard on your shoulders, making you look up at her. “Don’t answer to nosy assholes like him.” She took her hands off of you. “Ever.” She sniffed. “You don’t owe ‘em shit.”

Two weeks into your stay, Laura set up a meeting with a friend of hers to talk about a job he had for you. It was already cramped in the little house, there were five other girls staying in the other rooms, even worse in the room you were staying in.

“I don’t know what kinda job he’s got for me, he ain’t even met me yet. Don’t know a thing about me.” Laura made sure to dress you up real nice for the meeting, styling you in the best of Carmen’s clothes, the more scandalous ones you hadn’t been stealing from her closet.

“Don’t you worry about it, doll.” She stuck out her tongue in concentration as she fixed your hair. “Harry’s not bad, you’ll get used to him. He’ll be totally into your whole farmer’s daughter thing.”

“Not a farmer’s daughter.” You grumbled back, annoyed at the prospect of meeting this Harry. Anyone who wanted to meet this late at night was surely up to no good.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Laura walked you down to the club you were meeting at, skipping the line and heading right to the bouncer. He took one look at you and the young girl next to you and lifted the velvet rope. Laura squealed at you.

Harry was easy to pick out in a crowd. He looked sleazy, like the type of guy to make wayward deals with newly legal girls. He wore gold aviators, despite the night around you and the darkness of the club. He took them off when he saw Laura, his eyes were distinctly red.

“My little Laura Lee!” He exclaimed when he saw her, reaching his arms out to pull her down on his lap and plant a deep kiss on her lips. You could see his tongue move into her mouth.

“You must be the sweet kid little Laurie was tellin’ me about.” He smiled at you, pulled you close. You could smell the liquor on his break, could see the white on his nose.

“Oh, she’s real good, Harry!” Laura hung on his arm, looking deep in his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her; he was sizing you up.

“Could lean into that whole innocence thing, I guess. If that’s your cuppa tea.” His eyes raked down your body, lingering at the short hem of Carmen’s white dress, one of her only semi-modest pieces. “You a virgin, babydoll?”

Your face heated, so angry you’re sure your ears were turning red. You stuttered at him for a second before Laura took over. “Don’t be silly, Harry! You think I’d bring you some blushing virgin?” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “She’s got loads of experience!”

“I don’t know, Laur, some’ll pay a pretty penny for an untouched one.” He took your’s and Laura’s arms, dragging you to the booth he was previously sat at.

“No, no, I didn’t bring her here to work a corner like me and Carm! She’s nowhere near ready for that typa shit!” Laura burst into a fit of giggles. “I thought you could help her out like you did Meg, maybe produce some for her, get her in with the directors, y’know.” Harry weighed his options.

“I dunno know, Laurie…”

“What the hell is goin’ on.” You gained sense of yourself again, tired of being talked about but not talked to. You should’ve laid Harry out for the question he asked you before, wished you did like Carmen had told you. You were still thinking about doing it.

Harry looked at your face for the first time that evening, eyes focused on yours, not anywhere else, even as he asked Laura, “Did you tell her? You naughty little thing…”

Maybe you were wrong, maybe the being talked about was worse than the talked to. Staring into his eyes felt like staring into a bottomless pit, felt like you were looking the Devil right in the face.

“Well, damn! I thought you figured it out! Didn’t know I needed to spell it out for a smarty pants like you!” Laura giggled again. You were getting real tired of that.

Harry spoke up for her. “It’s porn, honey.” You blinked at him, sputtered again. “No big deal. Won’t make you do nothin’ crazy.” He winked. “Not yet, at least.”

“I-I don’t, I’m not that kinda- Who would even-”

“Honey, you don’t gotta do it if you don’t wanna. Nobody’s makin’ you do nothin’.” He leaned forward on the table between y’all, forearms on the sticky wood soaked from past drunks. “It would be a real shame if you said no, though. After all the work little Laura went through to set this up for you. Betcha could make it real big too.” He scooted around the edge of the booth, saddled himself up next to you.

“You’re real pretty, y’know. Bet a lotta people would want to see you like that. I know I would.” He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned close to you. “Wouldn’t have to put Laura and Carm out any more, could get a place of your own. ‘M sure you’d be famous, you’d be a star.” His words were sounding more and more like gospel; the ideas he was laying out made your head spin.

“Really, I’m not that kinda girl. I’m a Christian.”

He groaned loud in your ear, knocking his head back in frustration. “Aren’t we all?” He grabbed the back of your neck, forcing your face centimeters away from his. You could see the cap in his front tooth. “Baby, you want this. I know you do, otherwise why would you have come. You knew all along what this meeting was for, even if you don’t think you did.” “I-I really didn’t-”

“Yes, you did. Subconsciously, you knew that the only reason I would meet a shy little thing like you was for somethin’ like this. Especially given the crowd you’ve taken to.” Maybe he was right, you knew that there would be some kind of bad business at this kinda place, this late at night.

Your eyes met Laura’s, almost having forgotten she was there. She had a big, bright smile on her face. She had taken you in off the street, had given you everything she had. She wouldn’t lead you astray.

“So,” Harry started, turning your gaze back to his, “Will you do me the honors of representin’ you. I would love to have your name attached to mine.” You nodded your head, earning a yellowed smile from the man in front of you. “But, I have some questions, some things I need to know before-” “We’ll get to that babydoll, just let me worry about all that.” He leaned back, put his arms around you and Laura. “Now, tell me, how’d you end up here, baby?”

A/N: promise we'll meet joel in next chap i'm just trying to lay the groundwork!!!! also if anyone is interested in me sharing the playlist pls lemme know i'll do it i've been listening to it to inspire me!!! also this is not beta read, if anyone would like to beta read for me i would be so honored and grateful bless it

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #f!reader #fanfic #tlou au #pornstar!joel

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chibsandchill · 5 months

Text

A turn of events

Fandom: HOTD (House of the Dragon)

Summary: What if Alicent was not the only one to defend Aemond the night he lost his eye? Would justice be served?

Pairing: None

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, brief mentions of injury, grammatical and spelling errors

Italics = Valyrian

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Aemond had never known such pain before. While cruel, Aegon’s torment took the form of barbed jibes and constant humiliation, and his father’s neglect had started to lose the sting it once had.

No, the pain of losing an eye was wholly unfamiliar to him.

The whole of Viserys’ court regarded him with their breaths held as the maester tried to salvage what he could. His skin was stretched, patched together by a ragged thread in an uneven line across the plains of his face. Still, he could barely feel the needle plunging through the blooded flaps for the aching gap in his soul was at last filled.

The Queen of Dragons lingered in the edges of his mind. Warm, flickering flames of affection so unfamiliar to him that he had flinched away from her touch.

So focused on his dragon as he was, he could almost forget about the pack of bastards whimpering for their mother at the front of the enemy lines. Lucerys, the youngest, hadn’t stopped sniveling once. Red blotchy cheeks and snot dripping down the collar of his tunic, he cried for Rhaenyra, but where amusement would have once filled him at such a sight he felt only hatred. He would never be whole again, but Lucerys would be swept up and cradled into his half-sister’s bosom, his pitiful cries muffled and wayward hairs smoothed by an affectionate hand.

Aemond turned his one remaining eye to the fire to his left. His own lady mother stood frozen by the maester’s side. She had gasped with horror when he had been carried into the hall and the wide frenzied look had not left her eyes since.

Eyes.

Eye.

One-eyed.

How strange that he would now have to make such a distinction. Had the maester not pulled at his skin with reckless abandon he would have scoffed. But as such, a low whimper was pulled from the back of his throat though he tried to hide it from the onlookers.

Vultures searching for any sign of weakness in him. Any advantage with which they could claw their way up the ladder. Even in his state he was worth more than any two-eyed lord of a lesser house.

He thought of the sweet maid who often brought him an extra sweet roll when word of Aegon’s pranks reached even that corner of the Keep. He imagined that luxury was a thing of the past for he could not imagine she would look at him with anything but fear, horror and pity.

Pity.

Perhaps he would receive two extra sweets instead so that she would not have to look at him. A fair deal, he thought, for he imagined he would not be able to look at her either and see that the previous softness had been replaced with something so familiar.

“A shame.” A velvety voice cooed from the shadows of the hall. “It seems that in my absence your guards have grown… incompetent, brother.”

“Sister.” His father sighed. “I-”

“Let me look.” The voice was much closer now.

Soft, calloused hands cupped his jaw before she turned his face. He wanted to avert his eye, to hide the shame that now marred his face.

“Hm.” She hummed. Eyes the same color as his regarded him carefully. “How does it feel, zaldritsos, to be the bonded of one such as she.”

“Beyond words,” he muttered in the common tongue so that his mother might also be included. He felt her eyes burning into the side of his head, the one not sullied by his blood. He had not seen her move.

“Speak to me in the language of dragons or speak not at all.” She said. “With Vhagar there shall be no half-measures. You are either a dragon or not. So decide, sweet one.”

“Mother-”

“Will never understand. Is it not with coldness that she has regarded our heritage. All symbols torn from our home to be replaced with lies. She does not possess the fire it takes to raise a dragon. Is it not I who have taught you all you know?” His aunt got up from her kneeled position. “Is it not I who taught you history? Our language? Our philosophy? Is it not I who have dried your tears and soothed your worries?”

Even though his mother could not understand the hissed words, he ducked his head to avoid looking at her as he forced out a soft “it is”. The softness he found on her face chased away some of the shame that hung heavy in him.

It was true that all that which he excelled in, the very things he had found himself in– defined himself by – were subjects she had taught him. Her knowledge was the pillars of his entire being. He found comfort in the books she gifted him from whatever corner of the world she and Daemon had found themselves in, and in her absence he would sleep on one of the blankets from her room; one he would return when whispers of her return reached him so that she may leave her scent on it again to carry him over when her brother inevitably whisked her away again.

What of him was his Mother?

His faith. The Seven. That was her. When Aemond thought of it his mother his mind conjured the image of the seven pointed star. Where did the faith end and his mother start? Time had blurred them together. She would beam at him when he recited a verse or prayer right, and scowl before leaving him to the mercy of the cruel Septa when he got it wrong.

But she was warm, his mother, and she stayed, whereas his aunt did not. His aunt could not protect him from Aegon’s cruelty, but his mother would kiss his wounds and hold his face against her as he sobbed.

His aunt gave him a smile as she smoothed his hair back from his bruised face.

She did not shy away from looking at him, but fire burned in her eyes as she did. A small part of him wanted her to turn back to him when she turned away to speak to her twin, one that still cared for his nephews. But Lucerys had cut out that small part of him along with his eye – carved out the pieces of him that were not dragon, the part of him that was Hightower. And so he turned his eye to look at his tormentor with a kind of bravery he had never shown them before.

“Rhaenyra,” she called out to his sister whilst ignoring his father’s harsh whisper of her name, “niece.”

“Aunt.” Rhaenyra's voice shook as she brought Lucerys further into the folds of her skirt, if that was even possible, Aemond mused, for the pup’s face had long since disappeared in the black.

“Hm. I had not thought you to raise cowards,” his aunt raised a brow, “will Lucerys not look me in the eye when we discuss his punishment?”

“Punishment?” Echoed Rhaenyra with a scowl. “They were defending themselves against vile slanders.”

“Perhaps.”

“It is treason-”

“To attack a member of the royal family. Yes. Though what is one to do when one member of the family attacks another? An eye for an eye will leave us all blind, and tis a small comfort to a suffering soul.”

Rhaenyra’s beautiful face twisted into an ugly scowl. “Father, this is ludicrous. He levied vile insults against my sons.”

His aunt was not deterred by her niece dragging his father, the king, back into the conversation he so desperately sought to avoid. Coward.

“Yes, Viserys,” she put an emphasis on his name, “the pup cut out your son’s eye. Have you nothing to say? I have insulted you many times and yet here I stand with two eyes. Is it not a greater crime to call the king a bastard? Bastard. Will you take my eye? Come, come, brother, there is a knife right there.”

“This is insanity!” Viserys barked, an angry blush crawling up his neck.

Aemond had plenty of heroes growing up, a new one for every book he read, but he had never admired them (or anyone else) as he did his aunt in that moment. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have someone defy the king for him, though he wished she did not offer her eye to him. He would not have her suffer.

“Yes! Yes it is! And yet you sat and said nothing. Look at him. I said look at him! Damnit, Viserys, look!”

His aunt dragged his father over to where he sat and forced him to the floor. The guards who came to help him were held in place by Daemon, a man he had never thought would stand on his side of the line.

“Look at your son.”

His father’s eyes met his,

for the first time in years the two locked eyes.

He waited for the realization to show in his eyes, but he saw nothing but his own reflection in the vast blue of his father’s eyes. He would throw himself in them if that meant he would show him but a sliver of understanding, even a word to acknowledge that he had been wrong. But Aemond knew that he would only drown.

And his father wouldn’t care.

Seconds ticked by and his aunt’s grip on the scarce strands of his father’s hair tightened to the point that some of them remained twisted around her fingers even when she let go.

But his father never spoke.

He looked,

but he didn’t see.

His father had two eyes and yet he was blind.

“Pathetic,” his aunt whispered before letting go of her brother. “I see now where the weakness in them came from. No matter. I will fix this.”

The sight of Viserys forced onto his knees jarred his mother.

“Enough of this.” She protested. “My son has been maimed and her son is responsible. I demand there be justice. Viserys, he’s your son!”

"Your son-"

"Rhaenyra, look at him," Alicent directly acknowledged his sister for the first time that night, pleading with her. "What if it was Lucerys sitting in this chair, would you not demand his attacker be punished?" His mother's hand scratched at the skin over her heart, head shaking. "This isn't right. All this over some training yard insults? Lucerys cut out his eye! He meant to kill my son. This isn't- This is too- Rhaenyra you must see reason, for... for me."

Rhaenyra's face softened but her words did not. "No, step-mother," she spit out the word, malice coating her voice, "what Aemond said is treason. It is a regretful accident, but Lucerys had every right-"

Every right.

The words echoed in his head.

Every right. Every right.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

“This infighting must cease. We are a family-” Viserys groaned, hands clutching his head.

“You are a coward, Viserys.” His aunt shook her head just as his mother found her voice again,

“No amount of goodwill or false apologies will make him whole again. His eye is forever lost. Viserys, please. He’s your son.”

Aemond had not ever heard his mother beg before. She would ask and his father would say no and that would be the end of the matter, but not now. His mother did not back down. Her back straightened and a snarl twisted her face.

He felt unworthy of her protection.

But his father turned away.

Away from him.

Away from his mother.

Alicent wiped at the wetness under her eyes, her shoulders slumped in defeat, but a fire worthy of her husband's name burned inside her. She no longer glanced at his sister with despair, with utter heartbreak, but with contempt, disgust even. “Very well. If the king will not have justice then the Queen will. I will have Lucerys’ eye in return. Ser Criston-”

The Knight moved through the lines of shiny armor, but then,

chaos.

Everyone shouted and crowded together. In waves they shouted with outrage and horror. Aemond closed his one remaining eye with a whimper stuck in his throat. Goblets were being thrown, doors slammed both open and shut until every noise blended together into one.

His father shouted but it was lost in the endless ‘mother!’, ‘no!’, ‘Alicent!’.

Until,

“Shut up!”

Common tongue,

his aunt shouted in the common tongue.

The room fell quiet. Aemond heard a rat scutter across the floor.

“Alicent,” his aunt whispered and placed a… soft hand on his mother’s arm. She leant down and whispered something in the other woman’s ear, to which his mother nodded, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes finally started to fall down her pale cheeks.

Aemond hated seeing her cry.

It was his fault.

If only he had kept his mouth shut.

His aunt had never spoken to Alicent in the common tongue before, but now she looked at his mother with a new… softness in her eyes. Almost as if she was impressed.

It was not only him that saw a different side to his devout mother that night.

He wondered what his aunt said to his mother. Reassurances? Condolences?

He was useless now. He would never be the knight he had dreamt of. He would never be able to protect his family like he had sworn before the gods.

He would be cast out of the light of the gods.

Cursed.

One-eyed.

Ruined.

No maiden would look at him now.

His mother would always be alone.

“When Daemon and I… misbehaved,” a curl of her lips, “we would be sent away from King’s Landing. Banished indefinitely. Alicent is… right. There needs to be a punishment. Aemond has been wronged. Ah, ah, Rhaenyra.” His aunt tutted. “I am showing you kindness, dear niece. Lucerys… Velaryon will be stripped of his titles and is forbidden from leaving Dragonstone until the Queen deems differently, so that he may think about what he has done.”

“Father, surely-”

“Viserys is not in the right of mind to decide such things,” his aunt interjected. “There has to be consequences, Rhaenyra. Lucerys brought a knife and cut out his uncle’s eye. He cannot go unpunished.”

“I see your blood runs green now.”

His aunt snorted. “Dragons do not bleed. Lucerys will not return to King’s Landing.”

“And what of him? Will his crimes be swept under the rug so that the Hightowers can snake even further into the cracks in our house?”

“Hardly.”

Aemond’s blood turned to ice.

He tried to catch her eye, and he wished that his voice would work so that he could protest.

He needed to say something.

She wouldn’t turn against him, would she?

His mother bristled, ready to raise hell.

The King still avoided looking at any of them, surrounded by his entourage of Maesters who fussed over him.

“Aemond will be studying under the tutelage of the Martells so that he may unlearn his… hatred, until the Prince is satisfied with his progress.”

He sunk into his chair.

Is this what justice felt like?

It was a small balm to his wounds, like a cloth swept over a missing limb so as to hide it. Yet he knew his aunt had demanded what she could. She was not to blame for the King's blindness.

It was enough for now.

Rhaenyra’s angry huff, the slamming of a door and his mother’s hurried steps rushing after her childhood friend, fell into the background of the warmth that spread in him. He hardly noticed as the room emptied until it was only he, the Maester and the twins left.

“Hm.” Daemon spoke for the first time that night. His eyes didn’t stray from his stitched up wound. “Perhaps there is more dragon than hightower in you after all.”

Aemond ducked his head. He did not know how to react to his words. Was it praise?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

He may have lost an eye but he gained two more, and together they would learn to unleash fire and blood on their enemies.

#aemond imagine #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryan

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helpitsaskingmequestions · 1 year

Text

Continuing the process of niche petty nitpicks of Wheel of TIme there were some narrative choices for the 7 Ajah that make them (imo) uncertain in a way that I think could have been smoothed out in a way to make more narrative sense in terms of motivation, size and narrative framing.

Reds -

The Reds at least have a clear purpose in and out of the narrative as Aes Sedai that hunt male channelers & an antagonistic force against Moraine (Blue) and Rand (Male channeler). They’re problems largely come in how the text largely frames them as Narrative Heels but for Pevara & to some extent Teslyn and Silviana, all of whom are introduced fairly late. Even then, the Reds are largely characterised as 90s misandrists,n keeping with Alanna’s framing of the Reds as ‘hating men’ because that's what should define a group of women, how they relate to men. Then comes the size of the Reds - it’s been noted that there are less people who can channel being discovered, in part due to the Vileness and the culling of men who can channel by the Reds (and also Cansaune) yet the Reds are the largest Ajah. That the Reds have the strongest numbers is imo a very blunt object solution to 1) making the Blue’s more like an underdog and 2) have a large ground for Black Ajah.

Changes that I think would have made the Reds more palatable from a worldbuild perspective

Expand the purpose - the show did this, effectively making the Reds magic cops, which provides a more concrete cause for Reds to devote themselves to - hunting wayward Aes Sedai, men who can channel and Dark Friends. It would also help explain why there are so many Black Ajah in the Red - what better way to hide from the cops than to Be the cops?

Let them have Warders - there was no reason for them not to have warders, female or male or otherwise.

Shrink their size - have the Reds be in the middle of the pack in terms of numbers, or else have them have a high casualty/fail rate that can be explained by difficult weaves & Black Ajah sisters etc. There is no logical reason for them to be that big.

I mean ⅕ of all Aes Sedai Robert?

Don’t define them by ‘hating men’. Robert I am in your walls

Non-antagonist Reds early on - whether Pevara or Teslyn, just some calmer Reds, who do genuinely want to Hunt Dark-friends. Use the Wonder Girls time in the White Tower not just as a box tick, explore the Ajahs more.

Show - on page - what a male channel who succumbed to the Taint looks like. The books give (imo) hints describing the Breaking but its not seen on page & I feel that this concrete example of why male channellers are cut off from the Source, why the Reds hunt them, and why people fear Rand/male channelers would be important considering we get a lot of on page stuff (Logain, Thom re his nephew) about the pain of gentling male channelers

Browns

Ah the Browns. Clean direct purpose. Narrative letting them fulfil that function. Ajah of Verin, the Best Character in Wheel of Time (no arguments to be taken on this point. I am simply Correct). I find very little to be changed with the Browns, though I do think that there should have been an exploratory division if this is the Ajah of knowledge.

Also not entirely certain why the White/Grey/see Ajah colours post is separate from the Brown beyond the fact RJ was a physics major

Best Ajah - should have had an Indiana Jones Brown/Orange sister finding Age of Legends stuff

That the Browns get warders makes the fact the Reds, a physical division actively fighting people, not having Warders more insane. Robert WHY

Should have schools/ travelling schools as well

Why no Browns in Rand’s nerd school Robert?

Yellow

Much like the Brown, a wonderfully defined Ajah, with a clear purpose in and out of universe.

Let them be nicer to Nynaeve

Black Yellows should have been allowed to go full Dr Moreau

Imagine fresh monsters

Green

The Green Ajah - the Battle Ajah. imo Robert Jordan’s favourite Ajah considering 2 out of 3 of the Wondergirls chose the Green (even though Egg should have been Ajahless its fine I’m calm so Calm) and the Green get to ‘love men’ because as the narrative has made clear, how these groups of women from this administrative magical institution feel about Men is what is important. Also a fun experiment - check to see what colours get positive associations in the books - generally it’s blue, green and white (listed as Lan’s favourite colours for instance). The Greens are also an unfortunate victim of the Gender Stuff in WoT- the Battle Ajah don’t get weapons, but they can have lots of Men who can have weapons. Because they Love Men.

Changes

Let them have weapons Robert ffs

Active preparation for the Last Battle; should have the third most number of advisors/relationships in nations as Greys(Purples) and Blues.

Why are they ignoring the Borderlands? This is their Job

I think the show made a good case for the Greens and the Reds going to nab Logain

So why are the Greens more allied with the Blues than the Reds - other than Author Caveat

Elayne and Egwene shouldn’t have been Green. Neither should Cadsuane.

More Black sisters in the Green - if the Green are going to be fighting in the last battle it should be chock full of enemy agents

Blue

What do the Blue do? They Hunt After Causes - but what does the Mean? No Really what does it mean, apart from being Vague and because RJ couldn’t say ‘they’re the Good ajah’ even though they only ‘like men’. Other than their complete lack of purpose, the Blues get a good history, a good selection of the Good/Great (Moraine) to the bad (Sheriam). The Show made a good change in making the Blue’s the spies of the White Tower, giving them a quasi opposing ideological approach to the head-first reds, and making the Alliance of Greens and Blues make more sense considering how much they would need to work together.

If Egg must have an Ajah she should have been Blue

The fact that blues removed the 2 Red Amyrlin’s, there should have been more arguments amongst the Ajah’s about how justified they were/the justice of that

Lean into the Reds being Cops and Blues being spies/activist/journalists/internal affairs with a habit of exposing/attempting to expose other sister’s misbehaviour

Have Blue sisters attempting to uncover the Vileness in a way that actually sets it up as a mystery to be solved, not another plot thread among thousands

I have a Bee in my Bonnet about the Vileness if you couldn’t tell

Make the Blues less of an protagonist situation - oh they have the second smallest numbers But the Most Amyrlins and a lot of influence because they’re the opposite of the Reds

Grey/Purple Ajah

They have purpose If only the narrative would let them fulfil that purpose. Instead Elaida is a Red so political advisors can be any colour so why?

Also why are they always bad at their jobs

Should have been the largest Ajah change my mind

White/Grey Ajah

I understand they have a purpose

I just don’t understand why/how it is different to the Brown’s search for knowledge

They’re apparently philosophers as well so it's not a STE(M) v Arts situation

Why Robert

You didn’t have the Seven Ajahs have the Seven colours why are they Here?

Because Alviarin being White and the Head Black was a fun twist?

You did that colour twist with Lanfear already

What this Ajah needed was a major character who wasn’t Black

Like Give Rand an advisor who is this Ajah during his spiral

Or Give Egg some prominent sisters of this Ajah?

Have their theoretical magic that they do have an impact

Or give them the prophecies / religious theorisation - aka a reason for them to be in this story at all

Black Ajah

There is no Black Ajah what are you talking about

#wheel of time #wot #the white tower #the seven ajahs #more whinging I guess #for reference the Alana quote defining the Ajahs in how they relate to men is in book 2 or 3 #when the wonder girl are assigned kitchen punishment

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