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batboyblog · 1 year

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"My Name is Harvey Milk and I'm Here To Recruit You!"

If you don't know Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office, to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. To this day Harvey remains the most famous queer person elected to office maybe in the world. His short and tumultuous time in office was dominated by the fight for gay rights. In the late 1970s there was a huge backlash against the rise of gay rights spearheaded by a group called "Save Our Children". Across the country they organized elections to revoke local gay rights ordinances in Miami, Saint Paul, Wichita and Eugene in the summer and fall of 1977. In 1978 a California state Senator John Briggs brought forward a citizens referendum, Proposition 6, which would ban gay people and supporters of gay rights from being teachers any where in the state of California. The last year of Harvey's life was consumed with the struggle against Briggs who he debated across the state. In the end the Briggs Initiative was defeated 58-41% with Harvey's home of San Francisco turning out over 70% against. The national anti-gay fever broke and "Save Our Children" never recovered.

Harvey opened every speech he ever gave with "My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you" In the 1970s rather than accusing gay people of "grooming" children (an idea that didn't exist then) they were accused of "recruiting" them. "Recruiting our children to the homosexual lifestyle". So Harvey used it as a joke but also a battle cry

Today it feels like every day there's more bad news. Across the country state legislatures are trying to ban trans health care for minors and even adults. Local school boards are banning books about LGBT people (and others). States are trying to ban drag. violence and the threat of violence are trying to stop companies from doing Pride and attacking Queer events. The internet is flooded with "groomer" attacks on our humanity. There are days it does feel like the 1970s all over again.

BUT! we won then, and there are many lessons we can take from Harvey and his struggle and use to win the fight against the current wave of hate plunging American in darkness. Harvey's been gone a very long time so... My name is Max and I'm here to recruit you, here are some things I want everyone to do.

VOTE BITCH!

Are you an American citizen 18 years of age or older? Are you registered to vote? if the answer is no, register to fucking vote bitch, here check out what you need. If you want registered, click the link any ways and double check. If you're 16 or 17 years old good news more than half the states in America allow you to "preregister" so you're all signed up and become a registered vote right on your 18th birthday. Whats more ask every vaguely left of center person in your life, everyone who supports LGBT rights, if they're registered to vote and if any one says "no" bug the shit out of them till that changes.

But more than just registering to vote you have to go and vote, yes every election. Right now across America conservative queerphobes are using local elections that get little to no attention and are often very low turn out to take over and push wildly extreme and hateful agendas. Local school boards across America are banning books that have LGBT characters or themes. They pushing policies that refuse students the right to their correct names and pronouns. They want to require schools to out students to their parents against their wishes. Check Vote411 or ballotpedia to find what elections are happening around you.

Candidates on a local level, school board, town/city council, county government, even up to state Rep and state Senate candidates are almost always very responsive to questions. Email everyone running and ask them where they stand, you will get answers I PROMISE you will get answers. Its the easiest thing to do and everyone who has the right to vote in this country should do it, vote in every election.

"But I live in a super blue area my vote doesn't matter" SHUT UP! SHUT UP! even if every local election is Democratic it can be more progressive, ask local candidates what they're gonna do to push LGBT rights forward. Will your local school board push teaching LGBT history? respect trans students pronouns? will your local library board host a drag queen story hour and put together programs for pride? ask! push them! let local candidates know!

"but I live in a super red area my vote doesn't count" BULLSHIT! where ever you are there's a local election that can swing to the non-shitty side if people show up, you can be the difference in a school board election. No matter what stand up and be counted.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are.

Since the earliest days of the movement in the 1950s and 1960s before Stonewall, through Harvey Milk's time in the 1970s through to right now, the most powerful tool we have is to come out. It is easy to hate the homosexual, the transgender as an abstraction, as a stereotype as an unrefuted lie. It is so much harder to hate a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, your lawyer, your doctor, the mailman, your 8th grade English teacher. In 1978 Harvey said:

"Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start."

Thats what they're scared of, thats why they're freaking out in Target, why they're trying to shut down Drag Queen story hours and take away the books. Ignorance and hate lives in darkness and dies in the light. In 1978 gay men and lesbians went door to door in California and introduced themselves to strangers to explain the harm Briggs would do to them. They vote for us 3 to 1 if they know they know one of us.

It shouldn't be like this, it should be when you're ready when you have all the words, but they're coming for us all so come out come out wherever you are. If you know your parents will love you but you've been holding off because it's scary or stressful, nows the moment. If you're a grown ass adult who lives on your own and don't need mom and dad's money to pay your rent, tell them, no matter how much it hurts, call them on the phone, write them a letter if you have to. Does your family know but they asked you not to tell grandma, grandma, great-aunt Marge because they're old or whatever, or your aunt and uncle who are born again Christians. Listen if they still vote they could be hurting you and if they really love you they shouldn't want to do that, tell them! tell them who you really are, and it might be the work of years to bring that person around, but you never know till you try it.

Are there family members you have who know and love you but you know they're conservative and still vote Republican and you've been avoiding talking to them about it because it's awkward? Stop avoiding it, explain it to them, explain that it's not "just politics" explain to your loved ones that they ARE hurting you. If they don't hear it the first time, don't stop, if they love you they shouldn't hurt you.

Come Out at Work, Come out at your bowling league, come out to that friend of a friend you see sometimes, wear a pin, rainbow shoes, a shirt in public, tell your co-workers, your clients, your Church, your Synagogue. Wear that rainbow pin, that pronoun t-shirt, put a sticker on your car, your bag, your phone. If it's safe for you to be out in a space, claim it, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.

COMING OUT AS TRANS OR NON-BINARY

COMING OUT AS LESBIAN, GAY, OR BISEXUAL

Go To Pride This Year.

Conservatives are trying harder than any time in my lifetime to shut down Pride. Florida and Tennessee have passed laws that will limit pride events. Terrorists are threatening and attacking brands that are doing Pride themed events and products. These events and products go back at least 20 years but the violence of attacks against them is really new. So the only answer is to GO TO PRIDE. I don't care if crowds are not your thing, I don't care if its 97 degrees out the day your city does it, I don't care if your local pride is small and embarrassing, I don't care you might see that one ex, I DON'T CARE. If you physically can go to a pride event this June DO IT. If you're scared to be seen, wear a mask, go in drag, put make or body pant over your tattoos whatever you need to do. If we want to have Pride again next year in many areas this year needs to be a show of force. If you've never been and you never go again this is the year, do it, go, find the Pride event closest to you and do it.

Get Involved Whore!

So far I've offered you pretty easy asks for things you can do, voting, coming out, going to Pride. Now comes the harder ones, get involved. In 1978 gay men and lesbians knocked on doors and told voters across the state of California how an anti-gay measure would affect them personally. If they had the nerve less than 10 years after Stonewall to go to strangers houses and come out to them, I believe you can do it too. Get out there, knock doors, make phone calls, mail postcards, wave signs. Talk to Voters from anywhere, find your local Democratic Party, check out LGBT Democrats in your state, check out groups like the HRC and PFLAG

if you've got money give to HRC, give to GLAD, Give to The National Center for Lesbian Rights all 3 of whom have been the tip of the spear fighting the insane anti-LGBT laws coming out of the states.

If you don't have money, check out The Victory Fund thats supports LGBT candidates and find one close to you and sign up to help. Can't find anyone? try Run for Something that supports young progressives. If you live in a Blue area of a blue state, you can check the Sister District Project which links up volunteers with swingy districts across the country. Swing Left does much the same on a more federal level

crazy right wing extremists can count on organized support from Churches and far right groups. You, yes you, talking to you Glenn! HAVE TO be the support network, the volunteer base for LGBT candidates and their allies and supporters. You have to HAVE to get out there, give if you have money, knock on doors, call, text, write letters go to a protest, sit at a booth, register people to vote, hand out literature, WHATEVER whatever. You can do it, please give at least one weekend over the next two years to a political campaign, be it a local school board candidate, town council, working for the Democrats or volunteering through the HRC or a progressive group, the people who want to destroy you are out working to win elections, you have to be too.

Fucking Run, why not?

This is the last thing, the hardest thing and the thing I don't expect everyone to do. Run, yes really, run for office, yes you, yes I mean it. If the crazed insane conservative who thinks Hillary Clinton drinks child blood out of kids like a juice box is qualified for School Board to ban all the books with queer people or black folks, you are MORE than qualified. I don't care if you're a high school drop out with face tats, you're more qualified than these people, so do it, if you've ever thought of it, do it. Frustratingly dozens of dozens of offices across this country are filled every day but uncontested elections only one person signed up, hell that person can be you why not? Look into it Last year 41% of the seats in the Florida Legislature went uncontested, 37% of the seats in Texas, 53% in Tennessee, 58% in South Carolina. It's not for everyone, but if you've ever wanted to, ever thought about it, take this as your sign, do it. Do you have a friend who's so smart, cool, involved and just better than you in every way and you think they should run the world? Nominate them, give them a push to run

I think Harvey put the importance of electing queer people better than I ever could so

Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there’s a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that she or he is gay. Knows that if the parents find out, they’ll be tossed out of the house. The classmates will taunt the child and the Anita Bryants and John Briggs’ are doing their bit on TV, and that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide, and then one day that child might open a paper, and it says “Homosexual elected in San Francisco,” and there are two new options. An option is to go to California or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call, and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the person said, “Thanks.” And you’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there’s hope for a better world. There’s hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those Blacks, and the Asians, and disabled, and seniors. The us’s. The us’s without hope, the us’s give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you have got to give them hope. Thank you very much.

If you read all this thanks, I can't make anyone do anything of course, but whatever you choose to do, I'll be out there knocking doors. I wish I did not live in such dark times but as Gandalf The Gray said "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Finally to all my Queer brothers, sisters, and siblings, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

#Pride #Pride Month #lgbt pride #Queer #LGBT #Gay #Trans #Harvey Milk #Voting #protest #coming out #lgbt community #Hope

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shesjustanothergeek · 9 months

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His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Four

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I hope y'all like this chapter. It's an interesting one. Just remember to stay with me and that everything will be alright. Well, as okay as an ending within this fandom can be. xD Just a quick FYI, this chapter takes place over a few months. Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter Warnings: violence, blood, technically SA but it's very blurry, the reader is in her revenge era.

"You remember too much, my mother said to me recently.

Why hold onto all that? And I said,

where can I put it down?

She said,

When you see these horrible images, why do you stay with them?

Why keep watching? Why not

go away? I was amazed.

Go away where? I said.

This seems to me a good question." - Anne Carson, The Glass Essay.

You fastened the last button of your gown, having already dismissed your maids for the day after your midday meal. It was an easy slip-on dress that didn't require assistance, and they bid you "good day" after nodding their heads once you assured them you would summon them for supper.

The council had adjourned for the day, the meeting ending with your ideas redirected and brushed aside. The Lords only cared for thoughts of war, taxes, and whether the scheduled shipments of Dornish wine had made it unharmed. It was not your first time bringing the impoverished inhabitants of Kings Landing to the table. More than once, you had suggested diverting the crown's frivolous spending habits toward a food program for those in need or gathering an entourage of the castle Maesters to provide medical care for the sick.

Ser Otto hadn't shot your ideas down per se; he did not see them worthy enough of a thought to decline. His priorities lay elsewhere, ensuring his lordlings and courtly allies were well satisfied. He did not need the support of the small folk, for when he supplanted Aegon on the throne, only those willing to die and sacrifice themselves for the inevitable war of succession.

You debated, bringing Viserys to the chambers again, but his health was finally on the mend, and you needn't put more stress on him than he was in.

With the passing of Grand Maester Mellos in the winter, Orwyle took his place. You had nothing against the deceased man other than his treatments. They were popular in the older generations of the Citadel, Orwyle told you, but the younger Maester explained different techniques, herbs, and potions brought over from Essos that he had seen work on Lepers. However, he refused to say the disease out loud. Lepers were only found in the slums of the poorest sections of Westeros, not within the land's nobility, let alone the King himself.

You observed your reflection in the vanity mirror, inhaling a calming breath that deliciously stretched the muscles of your abdomen. Your outfit was simple and purposely so. No pearls sewn into the fabric, no gemstones decorating the bodice. You need not be dripping in opulence as you typically were. For once, you wanted to avoid being seen, or at least not attract any more attention than you would already gather with your presence.

Slipping two golden hoop earrings into your ears, you stood, grabbing the embroidery loom you had asked your maids to get a few days prior. You knew how to sew before it was engrained into your head by your Septa. It was expensive to take the whores dresses to a sewist when you could barely even afford food, so you learned the essential art out of necessity rather than as a hobby like all the other noble women. However, you last picked up a needle and thread nearly three years ago. There were more important things than sewing.

You traveled along the carpeted halls of the Red Keep, your buckled shoes softly thudding over the imported rugs. Your noiseless footfalls soon turned into a light rapping on the red rock steps to the training yard, stopping your movements on the last landing to rest on a chiseled sandstone bench, the circlet and thread placed in your lap.

All that was left now was to wait and be patient, which came naturally. You were a lion flattened within the tall grass, lean muscles rippling as it crept closer and stalked lower, learning the patterns and movements of its prey to know the right moment to pounce.

***

The royal library was something unfrequented by the inhabitants of the Keep save for a few Maesters and Lords. You immensely enjoyed the silence of it. The only sounds heard were occasional deep inhaleings when you realized you hadn't taken a breath and the flipping of pages. Ser Arryk sat at a simple carved wooden table between the aisles of tomes, polishing his longsword as you rested against a cushioned window seat with a book.

It was just past high noon, and your stomach was full of soft cheeses, meats, and pastries after your luncheon with Helaena. It was an excellent start to your day and left an elated feeling in your stomach as you finished your chapter on Constitutional Laws of The Crown, your mind thoroughly bored with the plain prose of the text.

Your sworn shield turned to face you at the light sound of your book closing, doing one last swipe of cloth to metal as he put his sword in its sheath.

"You are dismissed for the day, Ser Arryk," you announced in silence. He stared, his hazelnut brows furrowed in confusion. "Ser Cargyll, I am giving you the afternoon to yourself. Take it."

The knight was unsure what to do, stunned by his unusual dismissal. He had nothing else planned. His days were filled endlessly with protecting the Princess, forever by her side and only away when it was time to rest. Arryk was her sworn protector and was required to be in her presence to do that. She couldn't dismiss him... Could she?

"If it will ease your conscious, Ser, I will be in the training yard with countless Gold Cloaks and Kingsguard. Should anything happen to me I am certain a dozen men could handle it," you offered with a crooked smile, hoping to appease his overprotective nature.

Arryk felt his heart skip in his chest, your perfect lips sending him a grin he had seen reserved for familial letters and Princess Helaena. He knew he should protest. Explain that men at arms can be just as dangerous as those with lower morals and values, but his will soften at your sweet expression. Ser Arryk would do anything for you if he saw that same look.

"As you wish, Princess," he acquiesced, standing from his seat with a bow and slight flush hidden under his facial hair.

You hid your smirk until he was no longer in eyesight, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

That was easier than you expected. Usually, the kingsguardmen would put up a resistance to your desire to be alone. It annoyed you to no end, but you understood it was Arryk's duty, which you felt was unnecessary when you already knew how to defend yourself, but he didn't know. No one did in King's Landing beside the Queen and Ser Criston, and they only heard it when you brought the Prince back. Aegon was the only one who knew the true extent of your capabilities, having regularly attended your late-night training sessions.

A sudden stabbing struck through your chest, your fingers white-knuckling the window seat as your palm began to rub the affected area. You shook your head as if that would rid you of the sting, letting a sharp breath through your nose as you stood. You needed to focus on the task, grunting and ignoring the ache within your ribcage as you trekked to the training grounds.

***

Today, you decided to move from your usual spot on the landing, ensuring your presence was known to all who spared on the packed dirt of the yard. There was another bench of sandstone resting against the wall of the high steps, far enough away that you wouldn't be intruding but close enough to be seen.

Your fingers busied themselves with your current project of a dragon black as coal and piercing green eyes. You were sure the Cannibal would be proud of how you portrayed his likeness once you were finished, holding the taught square of fabric to the blazing sun.

"The training yard is no place for a Lady such as yourself, your Grace," a voice sneered from above.

You finished your last stitch, pulling the dark thread with a harsh tug and placing the circle in your lap. Looking up at the tall Dornish man, you smiled, though it was strained and did not meet your eyes.

"I am not training, Ser Cole. Simply observing. It gets rather boring sitting in council meetings all day." He hummed, glancing at your work before returning to your snarky expression.

"I see. Enjoy your observations. I hope the men are to your liking," Ser Criston said stiffly, bowing his head in farewell.

Your smile dropped as soon as he turned, unable to hide your exasperation for the man. You knew Cole would be here, but you hadn't thought the man brazen to approach you in front of his fellow men. He should've learned you were a woman, not so easily scared. However, the knight's little display did show to be advantageous. Every man had turned to see where he went, each countenance staring at the only person wearing a dress in a sea of trousers.

Your eyes danced across as many as you could, halting as you spotted one you would never forget. Withholding a searing gaze, you smiled slightly at the man, your brown and violet orbs flitting away as you fluttered your lashes. The man whose name you had yet to find out looked back, a smirk on his face as the whites of his teeth showed, bowing before resuming his tasks.

Unable to find the other one, you returned to your sewing. Initially, it was supposed to be your dragon, a love portrait for your sweet Cannibal, but an idea struck you. It would be much more fitting to display Cannibal's prowess. All were beneath him, even his fellow species, and showcasing his strength in the art felt right. Mentally, you mapped out the type of stitching you would use, the colors silver, cream, black, and gold, and the amount of space it would take up on your canvas.

The embroidery would be your finest work, and once finished, you would display it for all to admire.

***

You returned to the same spot you had yesterday, with all your supplies in tow, but today, you would only spend a little time on your craft. You observed silently as men in varying states of dress fought each other. Some sparring with thin silver breastplates and shin guards, others wrestling their brethren into the dirt.

It was chaos from the outside perspective, but you knew the complexities and talent it took to defeat an opponent. You had to keep your mind sharp, vision dancing across your rivals' forms, plan your moves, anticipate theirs, and ensure each limb was out of striking distance, all while trying to win. Despite what many arrogant Lords believed, swordplay and hand-to-hand combat took time to learn.

Ser Criston was nowhere to be seen today, a welcomed absence. Your plan worked around the knight's presence; it was a given he would be with his fellow men, so it was a relief that today he was not.

You stood from the chiseled bench, walking across the training yard to one of the weapons racks. Your fingers danced over each of them, admiring the dull practice blades, daggers, and flails. It had been some time since you saw the weapons in daylight, having been forced by the Queen to train at the hour of the bat. Unable to have a sparing partner, you had neglected swordplay, focusing more on the sharpened cutlass and archery.

It was so dull to be your only opponent, competing with yourself to see how many bullseyes you could get in a row. At one point, you had resorted to running endless laps around the training yard to at least feel some challenge.

"May I help you, your Grace?" A voice rang above the sounds of clashing swords and grunting men.

You traced the peaked line of a blade with the pad of your finger, slowly turning your head to them. Your expression of indifferent self-satisfaction quickly morphed into surprise, seeing the face of the man who held your Aunt's chains. You swiftly schooled your presentation into a practiced, polite one.

"If you would be so kind," you prompted coyly. The flush of anger on your cheeks was easily mistaken as one of abashment as the Gold Cloak took the sword you were admiring. "What is it?" you asked, feigning ignorance.

"It's called a spatha. 'Tis the most common doubled-edged sword among warriors. Swords have different uses, but this one is perfect for thrusting and slashing." The Watchmen punctuated each word with its respective motion, causing you to jump back and clutch your hands to your breasts.

He explained each weapon as if speaking to a tot, showing the intricate contrasts between a flamberge, a claymore, a seax, and a shamshir and then onto daggers. You hung onto every word like a young squire speaking to its higher-ranking knight, smiling, nodding, and giving small gasps and squeals when necessary. You felt like a fool from smiling so hard, your cheeks burning from the strain until you could no longer bear it.

"I never got your name, Ser." Your feminine voice was like the toll of the city bells in the mass of masculine sounds.

"My apologies, my lady," he said, placing the flail in his grasp onto the wooden rack. "Edder Dalt is what my mother named me, but you may call me Ed, your Grace. "

You plastered on your signature smile, looking up at the man as you repeated his name. "It's nice to meet you, ser. You've been such a pleasure speaking to me about weapons, though I fear your knowledge is far greater than my mind is capable of understanding." You dipped your head sheepishly, hiding the pink on your cheekbones.

"Oh, nonsense, Princess, the pleasure is all mine. Not many ladies desire to learn swordsmanship, and that alone is proof enough that you're brighter than you believe." Your lips turned into a grateful pout as you peered at him from under your thick lashes, taking a step closer to him as you saw his eyes flicker downwards.

"You are too kind, Ser Edder." You placed your fist delicately on his bicep, feeling the muscles ripple underneath your touch. "If it would not be trouble, could I hold one of them?" Your hand slid down to his elbow as you took another step closer, gaze wide and pleading.

Edder swallowed, his throat bobbing as he stared with fidgeting eyes, looking as if he was about to flee at any moment. You knew what you were doing. Touching a man who lacked the caress of a woman, a noble one at that, you let your fist slide just out of his reach, your warmth a whisper without your skin.

"Of course, Princess," he answered shakily, focusing on the armaments beside him.

He picked the lightest sword, the type Daemon made you use at the beginning of your training, and you had to bite back a laugh at the thought. Edder gently placed the feather-like hilt in your fist as if it were still in the process of being cast, supporting it underneath. Flashing him with an exultant grin whenever he relinquished his assistance, he stood back, observing with his fists on his waist as you held the instrument he believed would be too heavy.

As if on queue, your arms shook, and the blade nearly fell to the ground but was stopped by Edder's firm grasp.

"Easy there, my Lady. I fear your Father would have my head if you lost a toe," he jested, though his voice had some worry.

You giggled in what you hoped was a delightful sound, not the forced way you felt, the Gold Cloak shuffling behind you to help distribute the weapon's weight.

"Thank you, Ser Edder. Perhaps I overestimated my strength. I am grateful you are here to help me," you chortled bashfully, adjusting the hilt in your palm. "What is this one for again? There are so many," you questioned airily, turning your head to meet his regard.

His nose was mere centimeters away from yours, and the startled gasp you let out was not deceitful, promptly spinning your face away to look forward. You felt the rumble of his laugh against your back, your breath slightly hitching before you crushed your unease like an insect beneath your pretty boot. You would let him think you were just some hoydenish maiden, wide-eyed and in awe of his masculine knowledge, as you released a nervous giggle.

"This is a rapier, Princess. 'Tis the lightest blade one can carry, and even the common person can use it, especially for dueling." You tilted your crown upward in recognition as he continued. "It's used for fast reactions, slicing and thrusting your opponent down before they can reach their weapon."

Edder punctuated each word with a movement, causing diminutive gasps to leave your mouth as he moved forward with it. Though you were toward the back of the training yard, near the enormous stalwart oak doors, you felt like you were being watched like one of the many butterflies Helaena kept within a glass frame, their wings pinned with needles and on display for all to see. You hastily glanced around, trying to find the source of your tension but seeing the men still within their worlds, punching and swinging at one another.

It did not feel right to let someone watch you freely, their gaze penetrating your skull like a pick, and you decided, partially due to pride and the other apprehension, that you would find who they were and give them the same treatment. Hopefully, you scanned the shadows to spot the specific clubbed foot culprit known for this situation. Still, you did not see him, Ser Edder, continuing his monologue about the history of the rapier.

A glint caught your eyesight, the flash of an ornate metal in the afternoon sun as it moved. Aegon stood above you on the steps to the Keep, staring down his nose at the people before him as he nursed a goblet that seemed to be permanently attached to his hand. You felt your heart stop, your stomach falling to your feet, and momentarily forgetting the act you were putting on. Your bright, carefree expression slipped, a scowl taking place as you clenched the sword's hilt.

It had been nearly a fortnight since you last saw the Prince, and it was only in passing as you witnessed him lead a scullery maid into a secluded alcove. You still had to return to that part of the castle since then, even if it meant taking a longer route to your destinations. You would at least expect him to approach you and attempt to make some feeble apology that you wouldn't accept, but he didn't. He won't, you told yourself. Aegon went back to his old ways of drinking, gambling, and whoring without much thought, like it was his second nature, and perhaps it was.

Aegon was a pathetic excuse of a man, and you loathed yourself for feeling an ounce of anything but hatred for him. He didn't deserve your kindness or your love.

Edder noticed your abrupt shift in mood, following your line of sight to see where it was. You felt the man's grip stiffen over your fists, pulling you closer to his body as if it were a means to protect you. You nearly vomited onto the packed dirt below as if you needed his protection-- as if he needed to protect you. You could kill the Gold Cloak here and now if you choose to. You mentally grimaced.

"You needn't pay him mind, Princess," Ser Edder declared into your hair, causing your eye to twitch unconsciously. "He is a lecher, but his tastes tend to lead more toward the Silk Lanes and poor folk of Flea Bottom." This time, you did not hide how you bristled at his words.

"I am from Flea Bottom," you screamed, but your mouth did not move.

Aegon downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, wiping the remnants that escaped from his lips before throwing his brass goblet to the ground. Your mind lurched to go after him, to rub his brow that creased whenever he was upset, to smooth his sheared hair down his head as you held him close to your chest and whispered nothing but praises to him. You shook the thought, replacing your glare with a delicate gaze as you looked at Ser Edder.

***

Ser Edder introduced you to a few of his fellow men at arms in days past, one so happening to be the man that had given you a wolfish grin the day Ser Criston spoke to you. His name was Lorgan Sunderly, and judging by the fleeting moments you spent with him and the others, you could tell he had an appetite similar to Aegon's but knew better than to act on it. Despite being a bastard, you held a title above him, and if he wanted to keep his cock, he would have to think with his head.

You asked them to show some fighting stances since you 'admired their talents,' and each man was delighted to display them for you. Ser Lorgan was more skilled than Edder between the two City Watchmen, but his ego and brash movements blinded him. Lorgan was the Gold Cloak you would run from in the markets, the one your fellow inhabitants at Flea Bottom would fear, while Edder was fair, the one people would pray to be caught by if they were stealing.

Edder suddenly landed a harsh punch to Lorgan's gut that caused all the men around you to leer. They had removed their breastplates and were left only in their underclothes as they sparred in hand-to-hand combat. It seemed to be more of a pissing contest than training, and if your Father knew this was how his former soldiers acted, you were confident he would whip them literally and figuratively.

There was a break within the two grunting men where Lorgan began to taunt Edder, slightly hunched over as he spouted insults about his mother before shifting to you. You waved an ornate fan to the side of your face; your thin, lilac Myrish lace dress cut just above your ankles to release the trapped summer heat.

"Let's say whoever wins this bout gets a kiss from the Princess," Ser Lorgan announced.

You hid your offense at the unconsented offer behind the raising of your surprised brows, looking between the men. Edder glanced back at you, uncertainty written into the hard lines of his pale face.

"If the Princess agrees, then, yes."

You tilt your head to the side, unable to bite back the snarky remark before it forms. "You think yourself worthy of my kiss?"

Ser Lorgan barks a laugh as he circles his opponent, Edder's cheeks a flaming red.

"I do not need to be a champion to know I am worthy of your lips," Lorgan states, a marauding grin on his face. "Though, I do not believe Ed to be the same." You hum in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"I will decide at the end whether one of you shall receive my affections. A lady's kiss is a thing to be treasured, sers, something not to be taken lightly." The arrogant knight guffaws, pretending to lunge forward to tackle Edder.

In the end, Ser Lorgan is victorious, and you press a chaste kiss to his damp cheek, much to Edder's chagrin. You tell the sulking man that he may have lost to Lorgan today, but there is always a possibility he may earn your lips, a mischievous glint in your eyes, as your nails dug crescents into your palms. He brightened exponentially at the prospect before you bid them a good day, heading to your rooms within the heart of the Red Keep.

***

This morning is like any other, waking to the blinding sun through green curtains and the smell of food. You groan at the sudden brightness louder than necessary, catching the attention of Jeyne and Fiorra. They exchange glances but continue with their early-day tasks until one of the maids pulls a chair, its wooden legs screeching across the stone floor.

"Please, my Ladies," you strain out in what you hope is convincing, "my head aches, and noise only worsens it."

Before you know it, Jeyne is perched on the side of your bed, raising the back of her hand to her forehead. "You do not have a fever, Princess. Is it something you ate?"

"Jeyne, please," you beg like a sickly child, wiggling further into the covers.

The oldest maid sighs, brushing the stands of hair that came loose from your sleep style, her touch as gentle as a mother's. "She's having one of her bouts again. Rain must be coming soon," she said to her counterpart, voice much softer. Jeyne rose from the mattress, the quiet rappings of her footfalls becoming near silent as she reached Fiorra. "You know what we must do. Go to the Maester and gather peppermint oil, lemon oil, and her tea. I'll be sure she eats something."

You don't hear a response from Fiorra, assuming she answered wordlessly as the door to your chambers creaks open and takes longer to shut than usual.

"Come now, Princess, you must eat to regain your strength." Jeyns assists you in leaving the bed, putting more weight on her than required as she plops you down at the wooden table to break your fast.

Once your maids ensure you have everything you need to battle what they believe to be a headache, they leave you with a large pitcher of cool water and a matching basin sitting next to it, promising to return at midday to bring you a light repast. You lay underneath the warm blankets of your bed, enjoying their comfort until you're sure the maids won't suddenly be returning. Seeing you dressed in your black attire, dagger strapped to your shin, and hair plaited to the best of your ability would shock them as you peeked through your chamber doors.

It was too premature for Ser Arryk to be at his post, though you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the silver and white figure would stand guard. You had to be swift. It was the first rotation in daylight, and you needed to take advantage of the momentary disarray of men walking to different parts of the Keep, some finally going to rest after the night's watch, which Ser Lorgan so happened to be coming off of.

The court had yet to rise, leaving the halls nearly barren except for the few servants adorned in red as they bustled about with their duties. You were still on edge, ducking around every corner, looking left, right, and behind in case you caught a pair of unwanted eyes as you made your way to the White Sword Tower.

You knew Lorgan would be exhausted when he returned to his quarters. On more than one occasion when he had the nightwatch, the man complained relentlessly of how tired he was, how he would be unable to sleep properly for the rest of the sennight because of it. At the time, you answered his gripes with comforting words and hands, soothing the brute's unease as you provided an ear to confide in. It was hard not to roll your eyes as the rant continued throughout your time in the training yard, but you kept your annoyance at bay, beaming and nodding like the good little maiden they believed you to be.

Briefly, you glanced down the halls once more before knocking twice on the crudely carved door of the Gold Cloak's barracks. You could hear scuffling, the unhappy timber of a baritone voice through the wooden door, and the click of a lock unturning as you greeted with a scowling Ser Lorgan Sunderly in only his underclothes. His expression soon changed when he realized it was you, brows shooting to his hairline.

"Princess," he said breathlessly, "what brings you to my door?"

You smiled sheepishly, showing him the tiny bundle of cheese, bread, fruit, and boiled eggs in a large cloth. "I thought I might accompany you in breaking your fast. I know you had the night watch and how you detest it."

He gazed down at you with pleasant surprise, his green eyes widening before he stepped away from the door, wordlessly bidding you to enter. You took in the modest surroundings. For some reason, you envisioned a much more chaotic state of living for Lorgan, but nothing was out of place.

There was a small bookshelf on one end of his room, but no tomes lined it, and instead filled with small trinkets, one would collect over time. A small cot on the other end with wrinkled, scratchy woolen sheets tucked underneath the straw mattress, his sword and shield resting at the end of it.

Lorgan pulled out your chair as you placed the food on his small square table, organizing it on the cloth.

"Princess," he started, tentatively pulling a piece of bread from the loaf. "I must confess, I'm surprised to see you here. I considered you a pious maiden who would not venture to these parts of the Keep unchaperoned. Take no offense, my Lady."

You giggled, following his actions by peeling an egg. "Ser Lorgan, you know I am a bastard, correct? My mere existence is a contradiction of piety."

The Gold Cloak hollered a laugh too loud for the small space, causing you to dig into the delicate shell harder than intended, taking a chunk of the white with it. Lorgan pulled a trunk from the side of his room, having only one seat as he grabbed more food from the cloth. A neutral silence blanketed the knight's quarters, the only sound being his loud chewing.

You swallowed the last bit of the yellow-green yolk, the dry, almost powdery contents getting stuck in your throat. Lorgan looked up at you, concerned, wrinkling his brow as you sputtered and coughed.

"Water," you managed to speak, bringing your fist to your chest.

The Gold Cloak jumped from his lower position, running to the pitcher on his bedside table and pouring you a cup. You down the contents quickly, rubbing your throat as the liquid fell from the sides of your lips, unable to swallow all of it.

"Princess? Princess!" Lorgan called, crouching next to you and placing a comforting hand on your upper back. "Breathe. Do not die on me, my Lady, I could not handle the loss of such a beauty within my chambers."

Gods. Now, you were choking, but this time on your vomit at his nauseating words. You sputtered a few more moments as you held down your bile, clearing your throat and wiping at your chin.

"Thank you, Ser Lorgan. I'm unsure what I would've done if you hadn't been here," you blushed, rubbing at the front of your throat in mock pain.

"No need to thank me, my Lady. It is my duty as a member of the City Watch to protect its inhabitants." You graciously smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder as you faced him.

"But please, ser. Had you not acted as swiftly as you did, I would most certainly be meeting the Stranger." Your legs flushed with his, your palm slowly gliding up his neck and onto his cheek. Lorgan stayed crouched below you, a light dusting of pink blooming on his ears as they brushed against his stubble. "You are most worthy of my kisses," you offered timidly, your lashes fluttering as you leaned closer. "If you'll allow me."

The soldier below you grinned rapaciously, his teeth wet and shining in the candlelight. You took his expression as consent, closing the distance with your lips pressed against his. Unable to hold any longer, you ducked away, only for Lorgan to bring his fist to the back of your head, pulling against him again. Your free hand clenched your skirt, your nails nearly piercing through the fabric as you attempted to ground yourself. This is what you wanted. This is what you planned. It was all a means to an end, and it didn't matter how you went about it, but it did not make things more painless.

Ser Lorgan Sunderly was a horrible kisser, his mouth nearly engulfing your own as he moved his tongue against yours. It was nothing like before, and though you would never admit it to him or yourself, you were glad Aegon was your first kiss. You felt no desire churning in your belly with the Watchmen, no heat and insatiable yearning between your legs as you had with the Prince many times before. And so you proceeded into the recesses of your mind, becoming a spectator to your actions as you rose from your seat and to the small cot, Lorgan following your lead.

You placed the burley man onto the straw mattress and straddled his waist, having met no resistance. His hands went to your waist, and you had to refrain from the instinctual reflex to pry them off as he moved your clothed core along his hardening length. You could see yourself above him, your braids still neatly pinned back as Lorgan began to paw at your breasts. You couldn't stop the way you immediately went to move them but quickly disguised your disgust by placing them back on your hips, leaning down to kiss him again.

"I have never done this before," you whispered against his lips, your arm slowly slinking down your curves. "Will you be gentle with me?"

Lorgan's stomach tensed at your words, nodding feverishly as he chased your mouth with his. "Of course, my Lady." He could feel how your hand hiked up your skirt, his soon following along.

"Thank you."

You smiled against his lips, unsheathing your dagger as you plunged it into his chest. You didn't see the blade break through his skin before you stuck it in again, again, and again. The Gold Cloak watched in horror, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he released involuntary grunts, the air leaking from his punctured lungs. Unable to move and protect himself, you quickly removed the knife from his sternum, his blood flinging from the blade and onto his cheek before it found home in his

throat.

Red sprayed onto your face and dress, darkening the fabric further as you yanked it out. Lorgan's hand immediately pressed on the wound, his mouth opening and closing as words fought to break free. You didn't see his face before you, leaking the crimson liquid from his lips as you sliced through the side of his neck, his essence further showering your exposed skin like fresh spring rain.

The flesh easily split for your dagger as you sawed through muscle and tendons, the sound of your labored breathing covering that of slicing meat. You met resistance when you reached his bones, the tiny circular columns attaching his tissue to the rest of his body. Letting out a displeased grunt, you repeated your actions on the other side, snapping his neck from the nerves with your hands.

You stared at the Gold Cloak's lifeless face, his brown hair tangled between your white and crimson knuckled, his once lively green orbs glassy and looking upwards as blood still leaked from his mouth onto the flat pillow. The desire to place his head atop the same battlements Lyra's and Sara's were crossed your mind. A poetic justice, you thought. But that would be too risky, and it was already dangerous enough being within the apartments of the White Sword Tower. Kingsguard lurked around every corner and slept in every bed, and you wouldn't doubt their loyalty to their ruler outweighed any fear a bastard of Daemon Targaryen could inspire.

Surprisingly, guilt did not consume you as you worried it would at your immoral actions. A vindicated sense of triumph welled in its place as you stared at the decapitated corpse of Ser Lorgan Sunderly, smearing the excess blood from your hands onto his tunic.

You knew Lyra and Sara would not be proud of what you did if they were still here, but they weren't. They couldn't feel or think anything; Otto Hightower and the Queen's inaction ensured that. Lorgan's death was on their hands, and if they had not sentenced two innocents to a cruel fate, the Gold Cloaks would still have their brother.

Walking over to the small table, you sat at the same seat as before, pouring water and popping a slice of cheese into your mouth. You needed to use the cloth the food sat on to clean yourself, and there was no chance that you would place the snacks on a dirty, unvarnished table where a man had put god knows what on it. Besides, you needed to wait until the following guard change. Being caught was not an option, so you stayed, ate, made sure not a speck of blood dusted your skin, and cleaned your dagger while the lifeless pile of man soaked his sheets with red.

Masterlist of Series

I hope you guys liked this chapter. We're getting to the parts of the story where you will either love or hate it. I'm very worked up about this chapter and the next, and that's partially why I had a hard time writing for a little bit. You have no idea how worked up I am about whether y'all will like this, so if you do, pretty please let me know. I live for praise. xD

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry4, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @merovingianprincess, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe, @im-sidney, @aurorathi, @marihoneywk

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ichoosechoasandbeingqueer · 2 years

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Stolen Away

This is Day 20 of Fili whumptober!

Warnings: a headache?

Word count: 740

After a long and grueling council session, Fili’s one saves him.

Please refer to the warnings of this story. If you go past this point you are consenting to reading this content.

Hours. It had been hours of screaming, yelling, threats and general disagreement, and the dwarven council of Erebor still had not come to an agreement. Fili could already feel the headache pulsing behind his eyes as he sat at the end of the table of aggravated darrow and dams each set on their own desires and caring not for any adjustments to help settle the arguments. Now, Fili loved being King. He loved his people, his home and what the dwarven empire at his fingertips stood for. But meetings like this made him want to run away and hide. He had already glanced at the door a few times debating on doing just that.

Ever since Thorin retired his title and ran away to the shire with his consort, Fili had been at wits end trying to appease his disciples. His brother helped as much as he could from his position, never have the elves and dwarves had such good relations and trade in their history allowing both civilizations to thrive in each other’s allyship, but on days like these, not even his brothers comforting smile could wash away Fili’s woes. He did know who could however.

“Ok, time for a break,” the dark haired Durin mutter to Fili’s right, his own frustrations showing in the bend of his brown and the slight snarl on his lips, “this meeting has officially been brought to a respite. Everyone is to report in an hour with their new points of topic suggestions. Go,”

There were grumbles and whines but Kili sent them a look of fire and strutted out the door, urging the rest to do the same. Soon enough the chamber was brought to quiet as Fili remained seated alone.

The King rubbed his face slowly and groaned into his hands, ignoring the mountains of paper work piled around him.

“So the echoes ring true, the King is in need of saving?” a light and tender voice called out, the sound alone bringing a smile to Fili’s lips. He peaked through his fingers with a pleading look, his heart calming at the sight of his beloved watching him in a mixture of concern and amusement. She came to sit on the table in front of him and held out a glass of orange coloured liquid, “Kili said the meeting was a rough one,”

A small ‘mmh’ sound was all he could muster as he accepted the glass, his headache lessening the moment it touched his tongue. He closed his eyes once more and leaned against his wife with a sigh.

“Oh my poor gem,” she chuckled, and Fili felt her hands taking away the crown on his head. She replaced it with her fingers running through his long golden locks. The feeling made him purr in delight, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, not willing to let her go anytime soon.

“I’m better now that you’re here my jewel,” he grinned up at her from were he sat. As cheesy as it was, he was delighted to see the flush of red across her cheeks.

“Silly dwarf,” she muttered leaning down to kiss the top of his head, “did you get anything done at least?”

“Not a thing,” he moaned back, “Everyone’s at each other’s throats, no one wants to do anything differently, even if it gets them to same results at the end, and I’m sure half on them only put up their ideas to annoy the other half,”

“And how long do you have until the meeting is interval is finished?”

“An hour or so,”

“Plenty of time to steal you away then?”

Fili caught the mischievous flint in her eyes as she spoke and sent her a knowing look.

“To were love? I’m tired,”

“To nap then, somewhere quiet and soft?”

“Then save me and steal me away jewel,”

He stood to take her hand but gasped as she lifted him from the ground, her strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him to her chest like he weighed nothing.

“Now what on middle earth are you doing?” he spluttered, the burning of his cheeks apparent.

“What does it look like?” she grinned, nuzzling into his cheek, “I’m stealing you away,”

And that’s what she did, and Fili couldn’t have cared less about the stares and strange looks he received being carried back to the safety of his chambers in his wife’s arms.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

See full 31 day whumptober 2022 Master List here

#whumptober2022 #no.20 #carried to safety #altprompt #the hobb #fili #fili durin #writing #headaches #my writing #kili #kili Durin #fili x reader #fili x oc #fili x you #comfort whump #dwarfs #King!Fili

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insextras · 9 months

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Imagine a krakoan podcast

~ Exodus and Apocalypse are on (for some reason) and they barely say anything the entire time. It's a short episode.

~ The X-terminators are on. Allison tries to take it seriously. Laura is only halfway interested and would honestly rather be doing something else. Tabby and Jubilee keep fooling around with each other and won't stop interrupting. At some point, they kiss "for the fans". Tabby blows her own mic up and part of the table. Luckily, it's krakoa so it grows back. By the end of the episode, half the room is charred and smoking. It's a fan favorite episode.

~ Shaw is on one episode. He spends nearly the entire time sipping brandy and talking business (some of it unethical). Unusually well received episode.

~ Generation X (90's) reunites for an episode. Monet acts like she doesn't want to be there. She's lying and Paige can tell. Angelo and Everett are carrying the conversation. Jubilee won't stop talking. Jono sits watching it all. It's a nice little high school reunion.

~ The O5 comes together. Unfortunately, Hank couldn't be there. They reminisce about their teenage shenanigans. They wonder what things would have been like were they not brought together. They express grief over the challenges they've faced and the trauma of being a mutant, but also celebrate all the good that came from it as well. They make plans to hang out some time. Kinda somber but overall good vibes on this one.

~ Deadpool is on. How did he get here? No one knows. He's already here though, so let's hear what he has to say. He rambles, bouncing from topic to topic with seemingly no end in sight. Occasionally, he'll drop an almost conspiracy theory level fun fact in the conversation. "Hey, did you know that weapon x is one of a handful of top-secret super soldier programs started by the US? And that a bunch of superheroes are superheroes because of it? And that they're still doing experiments like the one that made me like this?" He removes his mask. "It's like one big freaky web of lies!" How does he know that? No one knows. No one's inclined to believe him anyway. In fact, all anyone DOES know is that this episode will probably be thrown out.

~ Selene is on the show. She claims to want to build a fanbase. She probably just wants people to eat. She spends the whole episode explaining the occult and trying to recruit people. She isn't allowed back but the episode is highly rated amongst the audience (particularly female viewers).

~ The New Mutants are on. Everyone shows up, save for Amara. Doug was there but had to leave for council duties. Illyana won't take her feet off the table. She also has a half-finished jar of what is probably coffee. Dani warns her to slow down on that stuff, but Illyana shrugs her off. They look back on their days of fighting demons occasionally and watching TV shows together. They joke on Magneto's sleeveless purple onesie from when he was their headmaster. Rahne says she kinda liked it. None of them believe her and they all laugh. Berto keeps getting in the camera to check himself out. Dani yells at him to sit down. When he finally decides to sit, he jumps in Sam's lap. Sam, of course, plays along and clutches Berto tighter while he dramatically throws his arms round Sam's neck. The ladies find their silliness hysterical. Highly rated episode and people want them back.

~ It's X-Factor this time around. Lorna, Terry, Jamie, and Guido show up. Lorna and Terry are actually trying to engage and have conversation. Guido keeps turning everything into a joke. Either that or telling a story about "this one time". Jamie is irritated he keeps doing it. Despite that, Lorna and Terry try to stay on topic. At some point, Guido asks Jamie if he would ever fuck one of his dupes. Jamie declines (though he's had this thought before) saying that he's not gay so he wouldn't. Guido counters asking if sex with yourself is gay sex or just masturbation. This debate continues for at least 30 mins. In the end it's revealed that Jamie (prime) was never there, just one of his dupes. To everyone's surprise, the people want Guido back for another one.

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trulybetty · 6 months

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dec' 06 - snowflakes

Prompt: snowflakes Pairing: joel miller x ofc!charlotte Word Count: 702 Warnings: just a little bit of angst Summary: playing fast and loose with the timeline of Gold Rush and events that I haven't even written about yet. But here are my OG's Joel & Charlotte adapting to life back in one another's lives in Jackson. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

The snow had been coming down heavily the past few days. Silent sheets, blanketing the town in a hush that seemed to quiet everyone as they braced for a rough winter. Jackson, a place usually buzzing with the sounds of life, now lay under a serene white cover, transforming it into a landscape of muted colours and softened edges.

Charlotte trudged through the newly fallen snow, her boots sinking with each step. She pulled her coat tighter around her, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to seep into her bones. It would be the last winter this coat could serve any purpose, she wasn’t sure where she’d find a replacement, but that was the least of her problems for now. She sighed, her breath formed small clouds of mist in the cold air, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.

Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of that evening's council meeting. The heavy snowfall had brought with it a slew of problems – from the need for increased patrols to the disruption of their supply lines. Charlotte knew that the meeting would be long and tedious, filled with discussions and debates fuelled by a justified fear.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the figure coming her way until it was too late. Joel, equally distracted with his head bowed to keep the snow from his eyes, collided with her, sending her tumbling into the thankfully soft snowdrift below her.

“Shit, Charlie, I’m sorry!” Joel exclaimed, quickly extending a hand to help her up.

Charlotte accepted his hand, brushing the snow off her coat as she stood. “It’s okay, Joel,” she said, forcing a smile. The awkwardness between them was tangible, an unmistakable reminder of the distance that had grown between them, one that pre-dated her departure from the Boston QZ.

They stood there for a moment, neither of them quite sure what to say.

Joel broke the silence first. “You heading to the meeting?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” she replied with a raised brow at the question, “Kinda a requirement for me.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hands together and let out an awkward laugh, “I guess so, being a part of the council and all.”

Charlotte nodded, “You?” she asked, only to keep the civilness between them and a lack of anything better to say.

He shrugged. “Figured I might as well.”

They started walking together, their steps crunching in the snow. The rhythm of their walk off, a physical manifestation of their disjointed relationship.

“So, how have you been?” Joel ventured, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

Charlotte considered the question. How had she been? The truth was, she wasn’t sure. “I’ve been okay,” she finally said. “Keeping busy with council work. You?”

“Same,” Joel replied. “Helping where I can. Keeping Ellie out of trouble mostly.”

Charlotte smiled at the mention of Ellie. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel a fondness for her. “She’s a good kid,” she said.

“Yeah, she is,” Joel agreed, his voice softening.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound was their footsteps and the soft patter of snowflakes against their coats.

Charlotte looked up at the sky, watching the snowflakes fall. Each one was unique, a tiny work of art. It would be a beautiful sight if it weren’t for the circumstances that had brought her and the rest of the commune to Wyoming, yet it filled her with a sense of melancholy.

The rest of the walk passed in a comfortable silence, a truce of sorts between them. They reached the town hall, where the meeting would take place, and paused outside the door.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Joel said, his hand on the door handle.

“Yeah,” Charlotte replied, not quite ready to step inside.

Joel looked at her, his eyes searching her face for something – what, she wasn’t sure. “Charlotte, I–”

But whatever he was going to say was lost as the door opened, and they were swept into the warmth and noise of the meeting.

Joel could only watch on as Charlotte was ushered to the front of the hall, the rest of the council members sat waiting for her attendance.

#december x 500 #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x oc #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x original female character #joel x charlotte

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savage-rhi · 1 year

Note

Friends to Lovers prompt with who other than the Beloved Ardyn!

Sharing clothes in a friendly way.

If you Ardyn lovers say you haven't thought about stealing his coat and wearing it, you're lying. I have had so many people come to the same consensus. We all think about it, HA!

@sillylittlevulpine Okay...I indulged A LOT on this one (in my defense, I needed it as much as it was requested). Hope you like it!

Y/N had been staring at Ardyn’s long coat for what seemed like an eternity, debating with themself. The article should’ve been put up a while ago. Instead, the coat was laid out on the floor along with other garments that had been cleaned and mended.

Curiosity and resentment had built up in Y/N ever since they were assigned to this task. Folding and tidying up the Chancellors' wardrobe was not what they signed up for. Come to think of it, Y/N believed Ardyn didn’t make the request in the first place. From previous conversations, he seemed to pride himself on taking care of most of his personal items. The only time Y/N had encountered behavior to the contrary, was when Ardyn wanted to indulge in food and wine, especially when he wasn’t in the mood to make anything himself.

This had to be the Imperial Keepers' idea…Y/N thought bitterly to themself. It made sense the longer Y/N thought it through. If Y/N didn’t know better, the Imperial Keeper probably did it to add further insult to injury them, on account they had come down with a nasty cold during the week and had been slow with duties. There was also the spat that happened between Ardyn and the Keeper. The latter having been slighted, purposefully by Ardyn to prove a rather crude point to his colleagues. In all honesty, with the rotten attitude the Imperial Keeper had that day, Y/N thought he deserved it.

“The jerk weaponized me as a biohazard to the Chancellor,” Y/N muttered to themself, letting their conclusion sink in. It made sense. Why else send an obviously sick attendant to take care of a higher-ups personal items even though it was out of character for those services to be requested?

“I should leave. Have someone else do it. Screw points getting docked.” Y/N said aloud, but then they found themself back in the conundrum that had them stuck on Ardyn’s living room floor in the first place. The resentment had come and gone, now curiosity came flooding back.

Y/N’s tired eyes combed over the material of the jacket, admiring the stitchwork and the different textures complimenting each other. They recalled Ardyn telling them long ago that it was customized just for him. He certainly wasn’t lying. The tiny details here and there was evidence that whoever made it had very careful hands and machine-like focus.

The coat wasn’t the most expensive thing Y/N had come across while being in service to the empire, but the reputation it got from its owner was enough to make Y/N scared of ruining it by touch, even though the poor garment had seen better days. Y/N lost count of how many times Ardyn had to get the coat mended because he got into an altercation, or didn’t bother to take it off when going into hostile land. One would think he didn’t care much for it, but Y/N remembered Ardyn’s wrath when someone tried to pawn it off for gil after stealing it. He was stuck in his chambers for two whole days while people searched for the thief. It was quite the tantrum over a material good, however, Y/N figured it held some strong sentimental value. Plus, it looked warm and inviting. Something Y/N desperately needed at the moment.

Y/N’s body shuddered from the fever they had been enduring. They hated this. How one moment their body would feel boiling hot, then would feel so cold it was as if Shiva herself resurrected and brought another age of ice upon Eos. The goosebumps down their arms felt like tiny mosquito bites, and they coughed into their arm horribly as their temps began to cool off once more.

Ardyn and the rest of the Imperial Council were currently in session. Those meetings tended to last several hours. There were still two hours left before Y/N’s next assignment would be put in place by the Imperial Keeper, so they had plenty of downtime. Maybe…Y/N thought to themself. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything if they put it on for a bit, just to get warm again.

“Gods be damned,” Y/N sighed, closing their eyes and bitterly huffed before grabbing the coat.

Ardyn let out a deep breath when he approached the doors to his chambers, rubbing his eyes for a moment. After enduring a half hour of old men fighting over scraps when it came to the war budget, he promptly conjured a tall tale to get out of staying put. Somehow Aldercapt approved and he made a beeline for the doors.

“You are not leaving me alone with senile degenerates,” Verstael whispered with contention as Ardyn walked past his chair. The infighting was so loud, that no one paid the side conversation any mind.

“My dear friend, you're an old-timer among the flock yourself!” Ardyn mused, putting a hand on his peer’s shoulder, earning a raised brow from Verstael as he looked up to meet Ardyn’s mischievous grin. “You might as well be insulting the years of wisdom that show decadently upon your wrinkled face!”

“Hmpf,” Verstael narrowed his eyes, shaking his head and he slapped Ardyn’s hand away. His right eye twitched from the chuckle that escaped his colleague. “Funny you call me such a thing when you should be dust at this rate.”

“True as that may be,” Ardyn began. “Between the two of us old men, I’m the better-looking one.”

“You better leave before we not only have a mutiny among the council, but a homicide as well.”

“And I’m off!” Ardyn chuckled, giving a sarcastic wave with his right hand before departing.

The memory had Ardyn amused for a time in the present. It was enough to pull him out of his negative thoughts from before, now focusing on things that gave him pleasure. Taking a nap after nursing a bottle of wine was starting to become more enthralling by the second, and he wasted no time venturing into his abode.

Ardyn had done this so many times, that he didn’t initially know he wasn’t by himself. He started going through his routine; taking off his vest and discarding it followed by his red scarf. He hung them up on a hook nearby, then started thinking about his jacket; wondering if it had been returned from the cleaners yet. That’s when Ardyn stopped midway taking off his hat, hearing a noise coming from his television set in his living room. He put his hat back on, and cautiously began to tiptoe toward the noise, bracing himself for the possibility of a fight.

To Ardyn’s surprise and shock, he saw Y/N sitting on the couch, leaning forward toward the TV. His coat snugged around their body like an oversized blanket, as if he had never been its proper owner. To say he was speechless was an understatement. No one ever had the gall to get this comfortable in his personal quarters and he became greatly amused at the sight.

Ardyn decided to let the silence play out for a little while, making observations while he ventured close without making a sound up until he cleared his throat.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” Ardyn sarcastically stated, making his presence known upon arriving at the back of the couch.

“Shit!” Y/N exclaimed. They attempted to scramble off the couch, only to fall over themselves in a clumsy fashion, while quickly grabbing for the remote and turning the television off. Panting heavily, they quickly spun and looked up at Ardyn. Y/N watched him raise a brow, smiling like he caught someone red-handed while he crossed his arms.

“I--can explain this,” Y/N gestured at the coat. “I promise I wasn’t going to steal--”

“My attire looks rather fetching on you,” Ardyn interrupted. His eyes scanned Y/N over and his smile grew. “I’m almost jealous you’re outperforming me.”

“What?” Y/N flatly blurted and furrowed their brows. “You’re not upset?”

“Far from it,” Ardyn smirked. “Of all the things I could’ve come home to, I’d rather deal with an Imperial Help trying on my clothes for kicks than an assassin wanting to present my head to the King of Lucis. Although I’ve grown fond of our conversations, Y/N, I don’t recall requiring your services for the day. Come to think of it, I don’t believe we were to see one another until the weekend. Did you miss me that much?”

"You wish..." Y/N rolled their eyes playfully and sighed, feeling relief wash over them at the fact he wasn’t enraged. Had this been Verstael, or anyone else, the consequences would’ve been costly.

“The Imperial Keeper said you needed help with your laundry today. I figured he was lying, but I came out of obligation.” Y/N shrugged.

“How dutiful of you,” Ardyn quipped. He briefly glared, making a mental note to have a word with the Keeper at a later date. Ardyn focused suddenly on Y/N’s features, noting their color looked more dull than usual, followed by their body tremoring under his coat.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, breaking Ardyn out of his observations.

“You’re unwell.”

“Am I that obvious?” Y/N teased, then sniffled and almost felt themself sneeze.

“You’d certainly give a fresh corpse a run for its gil.” Ardyn chuckled darkly, enjoying the brief glare Y/N shot at him before they began coughing, and instinctively he took a step forward. Ardyn only stopped when Y/N gestured with their free hand for him to halt.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” Y/N said in between fits. “I can take your coat to the cleaning center, and get it decontaminated.”

“There’s no need for such hysterics,” Ardyn waved them off and approached Y/N’s personal space. He didn’t give them any time to react before he felt their forehead and then checked their pulse. “I don’t get sick easily like most. However, I am curious as to why the Imperial Keeper would send someone of your ailment my way. Feeling hot and cold?”

“Uh huh,” Y/N nodded, recoiling a little from Ardyn’s touch due to sensitivity. “I think he wanted me to get you sick if I’m being honest. He didn't take too kindly to being thrown under a bus at the emperor's reception.”

“Well, he’s going to be in for a rude awakening,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. His tone was bordering between sinister and playful. He took note of Y/N’s fear, and his expression softened after he finished assessing. “Do you have other obligations today?”

“I have a councilmen’s filing cabinet to clean out, and a few beds to make.” Y/N breathed. “Why do you ask?”

“I must implore you to stay and rest here.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You seemed to be getting on quite well making use of my home for your own enjoyment.” Ardyn said playfully with a shrug.

“The Imperial Keeper--”

“Can kiss both our asses for all I care,” Ardyn finished, leaving Y/N speechless at his bold proclamation. “I’m not sending you away when you clearly have a fever. That wouldn’t sit well on my conscience.”

“I thought you didn’t like people. You said so yourself a few days ago that company drains you.”

“That remains true as ever, alas,” Ardyn paused and he smiled while his right hand cupped Y/N’s face. His thumb carefully stroked over their cold skin and his eyes sadly glanced over their features. “You are in no such category.”

“Oh…”

Dumbfounded didn’t quite capture how Y/N felt at the moment, but it was close. The only thing Y/N could really focus on was how warm his touch was, and how their pulse seemed to skyrocket at the act. As soon as it began, Ardyn retreated his hand away and took a step back, and Y/N foolishly found themself missing the contact.

Their eyes focused on Ardyn as his right hand began rubbing at his chin. His gaze became scrutinizing as if he was judging a piece of art. Y/N didn’t know if they should’ve felt flattered or scared. Maybe both.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, it’s nothing too drastic I assure you, but I am finding that although my coat suits you well, it’s missing something that ties it all together,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. He wasted no effort in taking off his hat, and with care, he placed it on top of Y/N’s head.

“There we go! The wardrobe crisis has been averted!”

The hat sunk a little on Y/N initially, and they used their left thumb to prop it back up. They laughed, feeling their face turning red at Ardyn’s action. He too chortled, looking impressed with himself up until Y/N appeared to be frightened.

“You look as if the Gods will smite you at any second.” Ardyn pointed out.

“You're more open minded to classes mingling than others. I think we both know had this been any other councilmen or the emperor, I wouldn’t be standing. Especially if I was caught trying on their clothes.”

“True,” Ardyn nodded. “Yet here you are.”

“Here I am.”

A calm silence fell between Y/N and Ardyn as they fondly looked upon the other. It was only when Ardyn guided Y/N to the couch did both break away from the spell. He lay down and got comfortable, and calmly guided Y/N to lie against him. He could sense their apprehension and spoke up.

“I can run cold unlike most people,” Ardyn paused, reminding himself not to get too comfortable revealing his secrets. “Between the coat and myself, you’ll have an easier time resting.”

“Isn’t this overstepping several boundaries?” Y/N murmured against his chest. Sure enough, he was true to his word: it was as if on cue, Ardyn had gone from feeling like a warm furnace to a cold sheet that had been left to dry in the bitter wind. It was eerie, the whole thing, but their mind and body were too tired and miserable to think any deeper about it. The exhaustion from the long day, on top of the excitement from earlier, had Y/N feeling drowsy.

“Yes as a matter of fact,” Ardyn murmured and closed his eyes. “Alas, no one’s here to bear witness so it doesn’t matter. What happens in my chambers, stays in my chambers. However, if you’re uncomfortable, you can retreat to my room. I won’t disturb you while I remain here. I was planning to take a nap anyway.”

“I can’t hog your bed,” Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and closed. Their mind was being lulled to rest by how cool Ardyn felt, and how cozy his jacket felt against them. “What about the Imperial Keeper?”

“I’ll deal with it. You won’t receive consequence, I assure you.”

“What about--”

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“Be a dear and hush. You're not the only one who had a long and dreary day dealing with men who are vultures.” He commanded bluntly.

Y/N’s eyes finally gave into the weight and shut, all the while their lips smiled so big from his remark it began to hurt for a time. The last thing they could recall before drifting off into unconsciousness, was the rumbling of Ardyn’s chest when he laughed at their weak chuckle.

As soon as Ardyn felt Y/N fall asleep, he opened his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Frustration graced his amber hues while his right arm wrapped around Y/N’s body. This little friendship wasn’t supposed to get to this point. Ardyn had a feeling Y/N thought the same thing. He wondered how much longer it would be before someone in court caught onto the special treatment he freely gave to them. He also wondered how long it would be before Y/N would discover what he really was. That made Ardyn more uneasy than the former and his mind began to travel. All it would take is one slip-up, one mistake to undo his mask.

It became clear that Ardyn wouldn’t get that nap he yearned for after all, and he resided himself to his fate.

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mugentakeda · 3 months

Text

"if uncle is sending gifts and stuff, then lu ten must be alright," zuko says into the silence.

the two siblings are sitting side by side beneath a tree in the garden. the palace is only ever quiet lately, unless azula has her friends brought over.

azula sneers, but it's halfhearted. "i don't know why he wouldn't be. he was holding back from going all this time for no reason. what's the point of reaching your peak and breaking bending records if you're not gonna go out and use your bending?" she mutters. her cousin frustrated her sometimes with his grown up weirdness. training and sparring, but not wanting to actually go and fight? is it just a little hobby or game to him?

you know that's not it, she thinks. lu ten is dedicated. his thing just... isn't fighting. she's seen him debating with fire lord azulon's council of old nutcases from behind the drapes. she's seen the exhaustion on his face after an all nighter in the library.

the pearl dagger is light and cool in zuko's hands. he wonders why lu ten didn't send any gifts or write a letter yet.

"i know he hasn't been gone very long, but... i don't know. i think he didn't wanna go for a reason, don't you think?" he cranes his head.

azula's rolling a sharp pebble between her fingers and glaring at the turtleducks as if they personally offended her. "he told me that uncle wasn't gonna make him. it's just not my style, crabcake," she mimicks his deeper voice and jerks her head side to side in mockery, then deflates. "it's not gonna make a difference, so it's gonna be forever until he gets to come back. lu ten has no war experience. uncle iroh just wanted him there as- as a show pony. someone to make his tea for him because nobody else makes his stupid tea right."

zuko wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. the resentment for their uncle hasn't always been in her tone when she spoke of him, has it? "you thought the letter was funny."

"of course i thought it was funny. i just wish he'd put his money where the mouth is already and finish up out there. almost 600 days and barely any progress," she drawls, gesturing her hands in an exaggerated circle. "i want lu ten back home before our birthdays. we can go down to the city markets and get tanghulu with chili powder and lime."

the two siblings sigh at the thought of all the street food they aren't allowed to eat unless lu ten is at home to sneak it in for them. soon, zuko will get sneaky enough to be able to do that for himself. so when lu ten comes back, he'll get twice as much street food. unless azula finds out and snitches on him. which, she probably will.

it's only a matter of time until he comes back. its just like what lu ten said to zuko about his fire bending.

there's another end to every tunnel in life, squirt. as long as you keep on living and staying strong, time will deliver you to the end of it.

fighting shouldn't have to be lu ten's thing, azula muses next to her brother. she thinks to the future, where lu ten is fire lord and azula is his top general and strategist. her cousin hates the council so much, he'll probably fire all of them. he might hire a new bunch, or maybe he wouldn't, because he'd realize that he has a whole war council of generals wrapped in one person and twice as good in azula alone.

it'll still be decades before lu ten gets the crown, which is a shame. in azula's opinion, the nation would be better off if the crown went to anyone else except the guy that takes almost 600 days to crush a city that's so pitiful it's rationing water. either lu ten or father would be ideal. lu ten has dedication and thinks outside the box all the time. father has willpower and strong authority. both are stubborn as mules but know how to get the job done efficiently.

as far as azula is concerned, uncle has none of those qualities. dedication and stubborness, maybe, but that's only because he even knows how lazy and slow he is, so he has to cut himself some slack.

anger curls in her chest at the thought of the doll. her uncle had no real reason to want her cousin to join, he just wanted him to be there. he's probably stuck in uncle's tent making him tea while uncle is out there genuinely thinking azula would like a stupid toy as a gift. if lu ten was by uncle's side like uncle said he would be, he would've slapped the doll right out of his dad's hands, because he knew better.

a light knock on the door startles her. she's been so wrapped up in her studies the past two hours, reality had fallen away.

lu ten peaks his head in and smiles. there's a tray with tea and a big bowl of azula's favorites- purple sweet potatoes, mooncake, strawberry mochi, a variety of cut up fruit.

'one large order of tooth-achers for my studious little princess,' lu ten chirps.

azula snorts and pushes the scroll away. 'i didn't order anything. you must be going senile in your old age,' she replies. as she comes closer, the scent of mangosteen tea and freshly baked sweet potato eases the tension out of her body.

'that's a big word, i'm proud of you,' her cousin replies dryly, and sits the tray down on her bed. then yelps, as azula pounces and jabs his side at the joke. 'i don't need orders. it's all this cousin's intuiton, you see. i hear these strange voices that tell me when one of my needy little monsters is in dire need to be served and pampered.'

azula rolls her eyes and replies by gracefully jamming an entire ball of mochi in her mouth. the mercy is temporary- once she's done chewing, she'll get right back to hurting his feelings.

#alicias writing stuff #this doesnt even have to be an au this can be canon compliant #all this stuff is technically supposed to be for the dai li lu ten au #cus of the light implications that lu ten isnt working side by side with iroh #(hes busy committing treason) but you can ignore that lol

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

Note

hi! thank you for your wonderful writing <3 i love reading ur otto hightower fics - and i was wondering if you could drop some fluffy family hcs with the tyrell!reader? i'd love to hear more about how they get along with the rest of the family (alicent; aemond; helaena; etc) and things about cedric!

Ooooh, funny that I actually considered writing this! I have so many little things. I might add some details about Rosebud!reader too for funsies Thank you 😊

***

Alicent:

Let's get one thing straight: you're not her mother. In fact, she's older than you by at least a few years. You were twenty-five when you married Otto, and she was approaching thirty. On top of that, she is your queen, so you respect her immensely. Neither of you dared to discuss any sort of ‘mother/daughter’ relationship.

She didn't like the fact her father married someone so much younger than himself. It reminded her of her own marriage: she’d married Viserys when she was a child, had his children as a child, and remained one in his eyes. She didn’t like her father doing the same, even if said bride was an adult. He'd done his time as a married man and father. What was her cousin thinking?

But, she sees how you truly love and care for her father. She’d seen this when he’d become ill, feeling weak and feverish. Every morning, noon and night she found you sitting by his side, weaving a wreath of The Seven, doing needlework or reading out loud to him. You oversaw the maesters when they gave him his medicine, and smiled happily when his fever finally broke. You’re his greatest comfort in The Red Keep, a support system outside of his daughter and circle. She sees how he seeks you out after heated debates in the small council; how he spends his “reflective hours” with you in the gardens, in the godswood or the royal sept. He seems happier since marrying you, and she does adore her half-brother, Cedric. So, she slowly began opening herself to you.

You're the only other woman at court whom she can talk to about matters outside of politics. Since their relationship soured, Alicent didn't talk to Rhaenyra like she once did; being "The Queen" left her with few friends. Having a person who doesn't have ulterior motives or isn't trying to scheme against her felt refreshing.

She enjoys the talks you two have. You two relate on a level your husband never understood. You listen to her rough days, try cheering her up by bringing your favorite fool or piper. Often, you're usually the one asking her for advice. When you and her father have a quarrel, you vent to her and ask if you'd perhaps been in the wrong after all. Nine times out of ten, both of you are wrong, so she ends up telling you two to make up. How you make up, she will NEVER ask.

You're often the neutral party in the house. You have ties to The Greens through Otto, but you like to see things from both sides. It brings a lot of prospective that Alicent might not have seen otherwise.

You're not her mother, but you are a good, loyal friend.

Helaena:

Helaena was only thirteen when you married Otto, so she spent most of her teen years around you. Shy and quiet, she often stayed in her own world; having difficulty socializing with new people, it took her a while getting used to you in general. She found it odd that her grandsire married such a young woman, but she didn't think much of it.

You might not like bugs, but you started the friendship by gifting her a framed rare, exotic beetle for her nameday. You read up on different species and showed her some of the ones you'd seen at home and the flowers you found them around.

A shared interest in nature brought you even closer. You grew up around fields of flowers, vines of grapes, and groves of fruitful trees. You felt at home in nature, and so did Helaena.

In some ways, she reminds you of your younger sister, Elise. Particularly when she is excited about something. The way her eyes light up brings out the sentimental sisterly feelings. You told Otto this once, and it made him smile.

You found her strange riddles interesting. Of course, they’re only little things she sees in her dreams, but you liked trying to guess their meaning. She told you she didn’t really know herself; she’d had them her entire life. Otto told you not to listen to Helaena’s strange ramblings, since he felt it’d only encourage the behavior. You replied by saying there is nothing wrong with having dreams. Dreams were good.

You do everything in your power to encourage and support her. Helaena is never good at speaking in large crowds; she often becomes overwhelmed and stammers a bit. You don’t touch her, since she doesn’t like being touched in those moments, but you do stay by her side as Alicent does. This comforts her greatly.

You also adore her twins, whom you dote on whenever possible.

Aegon:

As much as Aegon loves the ladies, he doesn't understand the hype around you. You're like any other noblewoman from The Reach. You like flowers 🙄 you play music 🙄 you are ✨️ pretty ✨️. Aegon liked his girls to be a bit wild, and you were far from that to him.

Don't worry. You didn't lose sleep over the fact that Prince Aegon didn't like you. In fact, the distaste went both ways. You thought he was a drunken fool who screwed up all the time. You often told Otto that you didn’t blame the king for not naming Aegon his heir. If Cedric ever became a shameful person, you’d make sure your next child inherited everything instead.

Calls you “Grandmother” when he wants insult you, though you throw it back in his face and tell him that you are, so he should listen to you and stop being a prat.

You find him to be vile, especially when you heard about what he does to his serving girls. It disgusted you beyond belief.

When you two get into it, you GET INTO IT. Shade IS thrown. Faces ARE made, and Otto has to remind you exactly who you are and that sinking to Aegon’s level does nothing for anybody.

Though, you do sympathize with him in his more vulnerable moments. After catching him crying in a darkened stairwell, having no energy to climb up it due to the copious amounts of ale in his system, you took pity on him. A boy doesn't behave that way by default. Having no real father figure, believing his mother doesn't care about him, and being told how to live his life has led to his self-destructive behavior. Yet, Aegon has chosen to live his reckless way and you knew nothing you said changed that.

After that day, you two began this strange sibling energy relationship. You called each other names, occasionally smacked one another without really hurting each other, and continued the banter back and forth, but much more affectionately.

This only pleased Otto because it resulted in less headaches.

Aemond:

Heyyyy, we all know Aemond loves the older ladies. He'd been only fourteen when he met you, the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He could barely speak around you for a long time. Aegon often teased him by mocking how he stuttered or froze up in your presence. He’d gulped thickly when his mother told him you were his step-grandmother now. You were going to live with them? In the Red Keep? The Gods truly were cruel.

It grew worse when, during their visit to Highgarden, he stumbled upon you in one of the cool wading ponds...in nothing but a linen dress that clung to your body. You didn't mind he'd caught you; he didn't know his way around the castle and got turned around. No harm, no foul. Covering yourself in the water, you told him how to get back to the main castle, smiling at his red cheeks and stuttering sentences. *side note: you’d originally hoped Otto would find you, and he did, you just didn’t see him*

You both laugh about it now that he's older.

He's your constant library companion. You each take up chairs in the large library and read quietly. Sometimes, you read out loud, but mostly you sit in silence. Having him sitting nearby felt comforting to you while you read; like having a protective shadow watching over you.

Aemond will never forget how understanding and patient you'd been with him after he lost his eye. Your treatment of him never changed. You helped him when he clearly had difficulty seeing or adjusting to his new condition. You’d sewn an eye patch for him, a leather one with black dragon heads sewn into the straps, which he wears on special occasions.

He took you riding on his dragon as a nameday gift. You’d shown interest in the Targaryen dragons, and he knew you'd be delighted to meet the ancient Vhagar, the largest in the world. It remained entirely platonic; a young man and woman enjoying the skies together. But, he had enjoyed your arms around his middle as he flew Vhagar through the skies and how you clung onto him so tightly.

Perhaps....Nah, that's dumb. You love his grandfather, and he respected that.

Besides, he had Helaena, who'd taken him heart and soul.

Daeron: (you didn’t think I’d forget MIA Daeron Targaryen, did you? Daeron the Daring??)

You didn’t meet Daeron until Otto took you to Oldtown where he’s Ormund’s cupbearer and squire.

He was a sweet boy, clever and witty. He took to calling you ‘Grandmother’, though he said this with a hint of affection in it that was always followed by a laugh.

He proudly told you about his ambitions to be a knight one day, and said that he’d gladly name you Queen of Love and Beauty when he won his first tourney...if you’d go, my lady.

Sadly, you didn’t spend much time with Daeron, but you did get to see the beautiful she-dragon Tessarion.

Cedric Hightower:

You had Cedric a year into your marriage. It was a normal pregnancy for the most part. You listened to the maester’s instructions, took care of yourself, and delivered with no complications. Cedric had your coloring, but had Otto’s nose and chin. You never felt happier than when you held him in your arms, swaddled in a blue and green blanket you’d made for him.

Sleeps. Like. A. Rock. You and Otto still remain quiet around him when he’s sleeping, and he does wake up on his own at least once a night, but otherwise, he sleeps well.

He has a wet nurse who attends to him when you cannot or are unable to for whatever reason, but otherwise, you care for him. You feed him, bathe him, clothe him, read to him, sing him to sleep at night, and play with him. You always imagined yourself becoming a mother, like any noblewoman did, and hoped you’d be like your own.

He definitely likes moving around once he learns to walk. You and his nurse have to keep your eyes on him once he starts moving about, because then you easily lose track of him. You learn he’s pretty quick on his feet. Otto says he’ll make a great swordsman one day, and other men agree so you hope it’ll be true.

He loves horses. You often take him to the stables to pet and feed them hay. He likes watching them walk around mostly since he’s still too young to ride one on his own. He particularly likes your mare, Daisy, a chestnut and black horse with a long mane. Much like the Targaryens with their dragons, you’d chosen Daisy’s most recent foal to be his horse when he grows.

Everyone adores him.

No, really. Everyone.

Well, yeah, he’s a baby and babies can be cute.

Fun Rosebud facts:

I know it’s really a ‘reader’ fic, but I tend to make my ‘reader’ characters sort of their own thing at the same time. I like to give them names, so tyrell!reader is always ‘Rosebud’ to me lol. You’re always free to picture her however you want, but that’s me personally. So much easier to write ‘Rosebud’ than ‘tyrell!reader’ every time in my notes.

The drabbles I’ve posted are not in any chronological order, so if you guys want like a timeline or something, just let me know because I’m going to be writing actual one shots for them soon.

Here are just some fun things I made up for backstory:

You are the third child of Lord Gareth and Lady Jalissa Tyrell, and are their first born daughter. (fun fact, I learned that Margaery’s mother was actually a Hightower too, so that was a cool connection. It was totally by coincidence.)

It took you so long to be properly betrothed because your father usually disapproved of every suitor who came forward for your hand. It didn’t bother you because you didn’t like them anyways, and you got to stay home with your family.

You love music. You can play the harp, lyre, and flute. You played the harp for the king’s party when they arrived at Highgarden for the Harvest Moon Festival. Otto loves to hear you sing Cedric to sleep; he says it soothes him also in a sense.

You enjoy reading the different histories of the world, and learning new things. Like stated above, you love nature too. Expect to always read about Rosebud wearing something floral/nature related in her hair accessories, jewelry or clothes.

You immediately roll your eyes whenever a man starts going on about your ‘beauty and grace’...except Otto, because he means it when he says it <3

You have a very close relationship with your younger sister, Elise, who was born some time after you. But, you also have good relationships with your other siblings: Matthos is your eldest brother and heir to Highgarden, a well known jouster in the region and very handsome besides; your twin brothers Loras and Horas who might as well be the same person with how they do almost everything together. Your youngest sister, Adeline, was an infant when you left home, but you shower her with kisses and presents whenever you see her.

You definitely are not the shy, virginal flower Otto expected on your wedding night. You’ve always had a sensual, sexual nature about you that drove your libido. You kept it hidden by shy smiles and giggles, but only true pervs can see right through it. Before your wedding night, you purposefully put yourself in positions where Otto might happen to come upon you alone. The only time he gave in was when he kissed you the last night of the festival.

You have daddy issues because you’re a daddy’s girl.

The only person who knows about your ‘type’ is your mother, who was actually the one who pushed for a marriage to Otto. Jalissa is a close friend of Otto’s, and knew if anyone would respect and protect her daughter, it’d be him.

A/N: Aaaand that’s a wrap! I hope you liked these little fun headcanons. I’m having a lot of fun writing this series, so expect more from it soon. I get to write out my dilf fantasies through Otto. Oooh, if you’d like me to do her relationships to Team Black (Daemon in particular), I might add that too. Love you guys <3

#otto hightower #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd headcanon #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fluff

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lake-archive · 2 months

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Chapter 4 - Misunderstandings

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Series: Ein schlafender Ritter und die Liebe

Characters: Ritsu Sakuma, Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC), Mao Isara

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Honestly, the sight Mao had witnessed just now was something he had not expected, even with Ritsu involved. Now, his childhood friend was never too shy to get very close to people, especially if he really, really liked them. After all, it was not a rarity for Ritsu to demand special treatment from time to time, even towards Mao himself.

“Maa–Kun, I’m tired… Carry me~”

“Maa–Kun, can you buy me some juices? My throat is all dry.”

“I’m cold… Warm me up Maa–Kun, please~”

“I did good just now, didn’t I? You should praise me Maa–Kun.”

Things like these were all too common. And despite Ritsu trying to slow down these days as Mao himself had become more busy with the student council it never truly stopped. That was just who Ritsu was and he was all too used to it. Though secretly he would wish that his friend would try to become a little more independent. It’s not like Ritsu had not improved over time but it was still a little too often maybe. Then again, change comes slow all the same so maybe he couldn’t really help it.

Anyway, the point was that being clingy towards someone he really likes was nothing too out of the ordinary. And it seems that the young man had found another person of interest recently, given how often he brought said person up. Maybe it was also a result of seeing her often due to both taking care of the same cat–like being. At least that was Mao’s guess. But if Ritsu really didn’t care about this woman, he wouldn’t bring her up at all. There was always something about this ‘Ann–Chan’ he wanted to mention. May it be talking about what happened the other day or him complaining about her work antics and not paying enough attention to him… Ritsu would certainly find something at any given time. So they had to be close, very in fact. And honestly, Mao had gotten curious at the end of the day, not knowing much about this woman to begin with.

A new employee at Ensemble Square as well as her last name, that was as many facts as he knew about her. Asking anyone else about her would result in no responses. In fact, some didn’t even know who he was talking about to begin with. At first Mao assumed it may be due to her position but others were sometimes looking as if he was talking nonsense, about a ghost in fact. For a short moment he debated if Ritsu made it all up but knew all too well that this was not the case. Why would he lie like that? ‘It’d be a waste of energy’, or so he would say. And besides, maybe he was a little worried about his childhood friend next to being curious. It was not very common to hear this but who knows who Ritsu is getting involved with. Then again, Mao had no doubts all the same that it would be someone decent.

It didn’t help that she seemed all flustered, not too sure how to even react to his constant whining and begging. Mao could somewhat relate in that regard but… Wasn’t this still a little too close!? He wasn’t sure what to say, what to think. This was Ritsu on one hand but on the other…

So on his next best time off he had decided to just pay a visit, disguising it as ‘getting to know a fellow coworker’. Well, it wasn’t exactly wrong either but still. Mao had not thought much of it, even as his knocks were not answered. Maybe she had been too caught up in some work so he helped himself, opening the door yet would stare in shock the moment after.

He had spotted two, a male and a female: Ritsu with presumably ‘Ann–Chan’. No, it had to be her, this office was occupied by her. But that was not the shocker, The shocking part was the position they were in: Ritsu had his hands wrapped around the young woman, leaning as closely as possible against her, his facial cheek rubbing right against hers, He had even leaned in so much that the chair started to move slightly, about to make them both fall over in fact. They were close. Very close. Awfully close. Anyone would get the wrong idea at that very moment and if Mao was completely honest, he was getting all sorts of wrong ideas in his head at that time. They weren’t that close… Right? No, that can’t be it. That wouldn’t be possible! After all, Ritsu and he were active as idols! He wasn’t that careless, was he?

Mao had been staring for a little while longer, just watching the two interact: Ritsu teasing while Ann is trying to reason with him to some degree.. Yet he couldn’t hold it in eventually, just shouting from one moment to the next:”What are you two doing over there!?” after having been greeted by Ritsu all carefreely. He didn’t even seem to think anything about that scene could give anyone the wrong idea. Especially if they didn’t know any better. It might be why the male was ready to continue talking all the same, tone never changing.

“What are we doing? Oh, right. Perfect timing~ Help me out here, Ann–Chan is refusing to keep me warm.”

“Because work!” She protested quickly, “Finishing!”

“I… I agreed kinda now!” The brunette protested, her face being redder than red. At least someone else in this room seems to be embarrassed.

“You took too long.” He pouted however, not getting off of her.

“You say that everyday… I’m getting lonely~”

“Nyeli? Him?”

“I meant when he is taking his drawing lessons from Mikarin.”

“Your own work?”

“I’ll be fine~ Anyway Maa–Kun, set an example and teach Ann–Chan some things~”

Mao started to no longer be certain how to react to this scene altogether. On one hand he pitied the young woman, on the other… What type of quarrel was this. They may as well be a— No, nevermind.

He sighed in the end, shaking his head and forcing himself to calm down. This was just Ritsu being Ritsu, right. Nothing more. “I think that’s enough Ritsu. How about you let go of her for now?” He suggested, trying to remain calm. He expected this to be met with protest and… He wasn’t wrong about that.

“Why? We’re friends, it’s fine. Right?” Ritsu tried to reason. Emphasis on try.

“Eh!? Uhm… Yeah but—”

“Look, if someone else might see you two like this it could cause quite the commotion. I know you mean nothing by it but others might not think the same.” The youngest one in the room tried to reason, praying that Ritsu would understand. Though that may as well have been a useless prayer in the end.

“It’s fine~ It’s Maa–Kun who saw us after all.”

“That doesn’t make it any better…”

“Yes it does. Maa–Kun wouldn’t spread any weird rumors after all.”

“That— Hah, don’t mind that. Just get off please. You’re almost squeezing her.”

It seems that had gotten Ritsu’s attention all of a sudden, him shifting his gaze towards the woman who was only nodding slightly. He then turned his gaze a little down, noticing that they were at the brink of falling over perhaps. And thus he sighed, getting off her and letting go. It made the chair fall back into place and her sigh in relief. “Thank you.” She even added under her breath. Though the only end result this had was a pouty Ritsu crossing his arms.

“You’re no fun…”

“Yes yes, sorry. We’ll make it up to you later.” Mao sighed. He honestly should have seen this one coming. Either way, he shifted his focus for a moment to her and she towards him, her finally registering and blinking in confusion.

“Wait, an idol?” She even let out questioning before her face turned into utter shock, about to run into a panic. “I…Isara—San from Trickstar!? I— Erm… Do you… Help… Anything.. Uhm…”

“Don’t be so tense, it’s just Maa–Kun.” Ritsu would throw in very casually which made her slightly turn, repeating the ‘It’s just Maa–Kun’ part, though more shocking of course. Perhaps Mao knew where this was going, thus smiling a little nervously.

“Haha, are we that well known?” He tried to put her at ease, somewhat, though not too sure how to approach this. He had rarely dealt with such a situation before after all.

“I mean… The posters and… Stuff. I heard in Japan… So…” She responded slowly, her voie still trembling.

“Ah, really? Don’t worry though, we’re pretty much equals here, aren’t we?”

“E… Equals? But idols and—”

“We’re coworkers, aren’t we? How about you look at it that way.” He suggested, making her think from the looks of it.

“Coworkers?” It seems to work somewhat, her expression lightening up a little. “Yeah but—”

“Then there’s no need to be so tense!” He responded with a grin, trying not to lose her during all of this. Not while she was calming down. “My name is Isara Mao. And who are you?” He kind of knew but it was only polite to ask her as well.

“Ah—Ri… Right. Uhm… Anja–Sophia Wolff. B…But just Ann’s ok!” It nearly shot out of her mouth from one moment to the next as she got up, bowing politely even. “Nice to meet you Isara–San!”

Ann lifted her body back up, standing somewhat straight to face him. “I… It’s fine! There was not even… Welcome needed!”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He responded right away, grin still remaining. “And welcome. Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier, I was a little busy the past few weeks.”

Somewhat of an excuse but not an entire lie. School work, student council and idol work all piled up by itself.

“As expected of Maa–Kun. As responsible as ever.” Ritsu dared to point out with his signature smirk, though none of the other two dared to comment on it, not really at least. Instead they stayed silent for a moment before Mao decided to finally speak up again.

“A… Anyway… I’ll look forward to working with you1”

“Y… Yes! Likewise.”

“Oi, don’t just leave me out like that. Mean~” And another pout, making the two sigh in sync.

“Uhm… Isara–San… About Ritsu–San…”

“I deeply apologize if he caused you any problems.” He interrupted for a moment yet the response following shortly after was not necessarily something he expected, not really at least.

“Ah– N… Not that! He can be a bit much but… I wonder if—”

“Yeees, we know each other. Maa–Kun takes care of me too~“ The one in question of course pointed out in no shame, smiling as shamelessly as ever, making Mao his head drop in an instant.

“Oi Ritsu… I’m not your caretaker…”

“I wasn’t saying that. But if you want to be—”

“And I wasn’t saying that!”

“Yeah. pretty much…”

Oh the chaos, of course it would be like this. But that is just Ritsu for you. If it weren’t for the three of them who knew what others might think.

“I guess Ritsu–San is… always that way?”

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

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cleave-and-plough · 11 months

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episodes 4 and 5 constitute a satisfying mini-arc that explores miki's character and widens the duels' dynamic range outside of utena's good vs. saionji's evil. until now, miki has only been seen briefly alongside the rest of the student council, but these episodes complicate his place in the story, especially in regard to his charged, developing relationship with anthy and utena, as shown in episode 4's in medias res opening.

a piano and fencing prodigy, miki is another beloved idol of the school (yet again shown through his fans' abuse of anthy) who has withdrawn from a piano competition. he cites a loss of his creative spark, his "shining thing," as he and touga describe it. another member of the council, juri, seems to serve as a mentor figure to him - she fences with him, analyzing and praising his form, and she checks on him in the library as he corrects anthy's homework. so far, the council has had a cold atmosphere, their conversations strictly functional and often combative as they reflect on and debate their mission. juri's tenderness here towards miki feels surprisingly touching - perhaps the council's most humanizing moment so far.

miki certainly seems to be the most approachable member, and he quickly ingratiates himself with utena and anthy after he begins to identify anthy as his "shining thing." just as saionji made an opposing foil to utena, miki makes an intriguing analogue for her as well - like utena, he is brought back to the past by a sensory experience with anthy (her voice conjuring memories of his piano sessions in the garden, an echo of utena's memory of the prince being triggered by the scent of roses). in contrast to utena, though, he does not turn to look forward and imagine what might happen next - he turns longingly backwards, pining for that lost golden time, and he comes to see anthy as his pathway back there.

this development is the compelling core of the arc - why does miki, who seems so affable and benevolent, happily tutoring and befriending anthy and utena, turn and twist backwards to the point of challenging utena for anthy's hand? pushed by forces both internal and external, he at first struggles valiantly to free anthy from the duels, then succumbs to fear and guilt due to touga's influence. his attempt to dissolve the council is notably chivalrous, inspired by utena's rejection of the council's "game," but juri and touga resist, citing miki's youth and implying his judgment has been clouded due to his feelings for anthy. touga goes a step further, taking his first overtly despicable act and disproving my theory that he might truly be honorable in spite of his allegiance to the council - now, it seems clear that all his actions are either in service of end of the world or to satisfy his personal desires through any means necessary. though it's not clear if anything actually takes place between him and miki's sister, he uses miki's childhood guilt and sorrow over her as a prod, stoking miki's fears that the things he cares about will be taken away if he doesn't act. touga's manipulation, set behind closed doors, is expertly crafted to let miki's imagination run wild, producing images much more upsetting than anything real. thus, miki's love, which had been largely innocent and even admired by touga and juri, is poisoned - he begins to fear its loss, and he projects his past trauma onto anthy as a sort of prophecy that he can only prevent by seizing control of her. in this, he turns away from utena's path toward that of saionji, who dueled for superiority and power over anthy.

and so, miki fails. the decisive moment, anthy's unexpected support of utena, exemplifies his struggle. when he looks at anthy, he sees her as he wants to see her: the doorway to his musical halcyon days, afraid and in need of saving. yet, she cheers for utena, and his faith is shaken. meanwhile, utena, who had largely served a supporting role in these two episodes, remains steadfast. she may not believe in the duels, but that may be her strength - she fights not for power over the rose bride, but for honor and the sanctity of love. at the same time, i wonder if miki isn't totally wrong in his interpretation - there may yet be some part of anthy that longs to be free of the role of rose bride, and her cheers for utena may simply be her continuing to play the part. she remains the most mysterious character, and i hope to learn more about her. watching from a distance, juri mourns miki's straying and defeat, commenting that he is best suited to the piano - as she said earlier, his "sword is not for battle."

throughout, i was thinking of how the show explores the idea of performance - at first casually, as wakaba and utena compare their math scores and bemoan the divide between their hopes and their reality, and later more seriously as miki seeks to redefine his relationship to performance both at the piano and in fencing. in many of these areas, the underlying tension is between skill and ambition - what is the individual capable of, what do they hope to achieve, and how do they prove it? while fencing with juri, miki claims to have perfected his technique, but juri contradicts him. his technique isn't perfect, she says, but that imperfection - its purity, she calls it - is its strength. in this, there's a disconnect between miki's vision and reality - he isn't always able to see his own strength, as shown by his sister's recollection of the garden scenes that have defined this arc. her brother was the genius, she says, enough to cover all of my mistakes. love suffuses both of their playing - his love for her, and her love for her letter-writing admirer. touga isn't entirely wrong to say that miki's youth has prevented him from seeing reality - he still sees things more as he wants them to be than as they are, and in its best form, this can give him a healthy ambition and passion.

still, juri's words linger - "your sword is not for battle." what miki loved about the days in the garden weren't his sister's skills, or even his own - he loved the playing itself. his fault, in his youthful joy, was wanting to prove that love to the world, rather than let it be for its own sake, and though he hasn't forgiven himself for his innocent mistake, he reawakens his drive to reclaim that harmony and purpose through honing his ability. for where can one prove their skill and satisfy their ambition by performing for their peers and audience? the arena.

stray thoughts:

amidst all this, the tertiary antagonist returns - nanami remains jealous of anthy's inexplicable popularity and again seeks to humiliate her through a series of increasingly ludicrous, animal-based pranks. the show's penchant for repetition occurs again, though it's a comic delight to hear nanami's noblewoman laugh as she imagines utena and miki forswearing their friendship with anthy three times in a row.

a rare moment of anthy showing emotion outside of her role as rose bride: she laughs freely at her own flipbook drawing of an elephant, to utena and miki's confusion. perhaps being in a secure social setting allows her some some sense of comfort (compared to the intensity of the dance).

anthy and miki's sister share a social anxiety around crowds and strangers. given that miki's sister is introduced with the rose framing, i wonder if she'll return, along with this theme.

#revolutionary girl utena #shoujo kakumei utena #utena project #my writing #duel 04 #duel 05

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

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Spiders (Fruits Basket)

Heyo everyone! I hope y’all are having a good day so far! So: long story short I was cleaning my house when the sudden headcanon: “Yuki hates spiders” entered the chat and now it’s a fic. That’s all I really have to say about it, really. I hope you like it! :D

CW: Spiders, Arachnophobia

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

@baby-tickles2022

Summary: Kakeru discovers a new thing about the student council president.

It was quiet in the classroom until it wasn’t.

“GAH!” A short but terror filled scream rang out from the student council room- the sound of something hitting the wall following shortly. Kakeru, who had been making his way over- blinked, his head shooting upwards towards the noise. Was that...

“Yun Yun? What happened?” He called as he ran towards the classroom. It was after school- everyone must have gone home by now. That scream wasn’t one to ignore- especially when it came from such a reserved person such as Yuki. Bolting, he threw the door open. “Yuki-”

“Kill it!” Yuki cried, standing on his chair as he threw another book at the wall. “Oh my god please kill it!”

Kakeru blinked, following his gaze. When his eyes landed on the problem, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“A spider? Really?” Kakeru cackled, shaking his head at the bug. “And here I thought someone broke in.”

“Someone did! And it has eight legs and wants to eat us!” Yuki glared, ready to throw another book. “It’s massive!”

It really wasn’t that big, but Kakeru suspected if he brought that up, the next book would come for his head.

“Relax, it’s only a bug.” Kakeru snickered with an eye roll as he walked up to the spider, looking around for something to grab it with. Surely there was something left over from the day. “Don’t you have a garden? How are you so scared of these things?”

“Bugs are one thing- gross as they are. Spiders are on a whole different level!” Yuki hopped down from his chair, backing up against the wall and holding his book out like a shield. “Just get rid of it!”

“Ooo...it’s kinda cool looking though!” Kakeru took a closer look, grinning as he watched it walk along the wall. “I wonder if it’s poisonous?”

“Kakeru!”

“Relax, Princess, I’m getting it.” Kakeru laughed as he reached up, encasing it gently. Before long, it was cupped safely in his hands, ready to leave.

“Got it.” He turned to the boy, deciding on whether or not he should be amused or concerned for how shaky he looked. “You might want to move, I’m tossing it out the window.”

“What? No way, put it out a different window! If you use this one it’ll only make a web and stay!” Yuki declared, shaking his head in frantic disagreement.

“Come on, Yun Yun! I’ll have to walk all the way to the first floor to release it then!” He looked at his hands. Then he held them out. “Wanna see it?”

“No!” Yuki looked mortified. “Just get rid of it!”

“Ugh, so delicate. Fine.” Kakeru shook his head before turning out the door, searching for a nearby window. “If I turn into spider man, are you gonna be my MJ?”

The book came soaring through the door, Kakeru just narrowly missing it as he ran.

~~~

When the spider had been removed, Kakeru walked back to the classroom, finding Yuki curled up against the wall, a new book in hand. “At ease, Yun Yun. The dreaded spider has been vanquished from the land.” He bowed dramatically, waving his hand in flourish. “You are safe once more. I’ll take my praises in a feast.”

“Consider it done.” Yuki visibly relaxed, still remaining seated. “…thank you.” He bowed his head, ears tinting pink in embarrassment. “God…I just hate those things so much.”

“Hm.” Kakeru nodded, walking up and kneeling in front the shaky man. “Hey…was it something big that happened when you were a kid? That makes you scared of them?”

Yuki hummed, drawing his knees up as he debated on how much he should share. “When I was younger..I don’t remember how old…someone threw spiders at me a lot. They thought me screaming in terror was funny. I think one time they tried to make me eat one.”

Kakeru gaped, appalled. “Gross! That’s awful.”

“Yeah…” Yuki nodded, growing dim. “It really was.”

A silence fall over them. Then Kakeru asked. “Did it taste funny?”

“What?” Yuki blinked.

“The spider. Did it taste funny?”

“I never ate one, I just said someone tried to make me eat it!”

“Yeah but if you did, do you think it would taste funny? I heard they taste like chicken.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting!” Yuki kicked him lightly, starting to laugh. “Why would it taste like chicken?”

“Why not? Most things do, right?” Kakeru grinned, sitting back on his hands. “I bet someone out there who took the plunge and tried it. Wrote a whole paper on it. Maybe that’s where that one thing comes from? We eat seven spiders in our sleep or something?”

“Gah! Gross, stop!” Yuki shook his head, disgusted. “Don’t make me think of that!”

“Heh, I’m sure that’s fake.” Kyo laughed, reaching up and wiggling his fingers. “I’d bet they tickle like crazy inside us! We’d be laughing for days!”

“Or make us ill- which the idea of them does already.” Yuki raised his head, eyeing Kakeru’s hands wearily. “I don’t like that look in your eyes…”

“What look? I’m just sitting here. You on the other hand,” Kakeru grinned, darting his hands out and squeezing Yuki’s knees, making the gray haired teen yelp. “You’re looking like the world just ended. We should fix that, Yun Yun.”

“What the hehehehehell! Dohoohohn’t!” Yuki snickered, reaching out and grabbing the other’s wrists, trying in vain to pull them off. “Cuuhuhuhuhut it ohohohohohut!”

“Tsk. I saved you from a spider and this is the thanks I get?” Kakeru kept one hand on Yuki’s knee, the other reaching out to prod at his ribs, making him double over in a string of giggles. “You should show some more gratitude to me! Speaking of; for my feast? I want ribs! Lots of them!”

“Ihihihihiihihi cahhaahhahan’t cohoohohohk thohohohohouh!” Yuki snorted, wriggling away from Kakeru’s persistent tickles. “Fiihihihihind someone else to doohohohoh it!”

“Promising me a feast and backing out in the same hour?” Kakeru tsked, bringing both hands up to tickle his friend now. “Not so prince like, Yun Yun.”

“Screhehehhhhew yoohohohohu- GAH! Ahehahahaha! Stahhahahahap ihihihit! Dohohohohn’t tihihihihickle mehehehehe!”

“I’m not tickling you- I’m getting the spiders off!” Kakeru responded, drilling into his sides. “Here’s one. Oh, and here! Here as well- can’t forget about this one!” His hands flew along the other’s sides, pinching his ribs and scribbling gently along his belly. All while Yuki was a mess of laughter, attempting to curl up in a tight ball as all his tickle spots were attacked. “Gotta make sure no more nasty bugs are attacking you!”

Yuki could only curl up on himself, weakly grabbing Kakeru’s hands as the brunette attacked his torso and legs relentlessly. It was completely embarrassing- he’d probably die if anyone besides them were in the room.

But in a sense, it was kinda fun too. It was nice being able to laugh so freely, even at the expense of Kakeru picking off “all these spiders.” He supposed there was no real hiding his true self around the other.

Maybe...maybe he really didn’t mind it afterall.

“Oh, there’s something here,” Kakeru dived his fingers up to Yuki’s armpits, making him let out a mouse like squeak. “Hah! You squeaked! That’s so cute! Do it again!”

Nevermind- he was going to kill Kakeru.

“Gahhehahahhaha! Cohohohohohome ohohohohoon!”

“Come on what? Keep tickling you?” Kakeru cooed, dropping his hands down to Yuki’s waist and squeezing, making him squeal.

“KAHAHAHAHHAKERU STAHHAHAHAP!!”

“Pfft, okay okay!” The brunette snickered, finally pulling his hands away as Yuki slumped back, arms tightly around himself as he gasped for air. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were misted over. “I got them all.”

“Ahhehehe…hehehe…yohohou suck!” Yuki groaned, trying to glare. Any effects were immediately thwarted when Kakeru started laughing once more, making Yuki smile. “Whahahat the hell was thahahat for anyway?”

“Eh, I just felt like it.” Kakeru shrugged, sitting back on his hands. “You were upset, and I decided to make you not upset.” When Yuki blushed, Kakeru grinned, reaching out and squeezing his cheeks. “Aww, look at the little Yun Yun blushing~”

“Gah! Get off!” Yuki swatted at him, unable to fight down the laughs as he shoved Kakeru away. “Thank you...for everything. I appreciate it.”

Kakeru nodded, staring up at the ceiling. “Heh, anytime. So, about my feast...”

“I already told you I can’t cook.”

“Can’t be worse then Machi’s. Have you seen her in home ec?” Kakeru shuttered as he retold the story of his sister’s disaster dishes, emphasizing on various parts.

Yuki laughed so hard his ribs hurt. Kakeru soon followed.

Thanks for reading!

#fruits basket #tickle #tickle fic #tw: spiders #tw: arachnophobia #kakeru manabe #Yuki Sohma #the boys being goofballs #Yuki is afraid of spiders change my mind #Kakeru wants his feast #fluff

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alolanrain · 1 year

Note

How would Professor Rowan and Ingo meet?

When? Post Sinnoh-Crisis, pre-Hisui? Or maybe Post-Hisui with Professor Rowan questioning him about what Ancient Sinnoh was like? How the Pokémon developed into today’s typing.

The Alphas would probably be a heavy debate piece. (In general or you could assume the Alphas featured in Ingo’s Paths are caught.)

Has Rowan had any relationships before this one? Were they merely flings or serious?

this is gonna be a long post so it's gonna be under the read more.

so technically they've met before. was in the past when Ingo and Emmet first started their Subway/battle combo thing. it was at a charity gala and Emmet was sick so Drayden, good old uncle Drayden, took Ingo with him as a plus one. they were were friendly when socializing but that's it. they know of each other over the passing years because of how popular Rowan gets not just in Sinnoh but around the entire world for his research of Pokémon Evolutions and Rowan and Drayden are old friends as well since Drayden is an Army Veteran in the TA!Au.

Ash meets Ingo, this is where he's really starting to figure out what he wants to continue doing with his life because it seems being a successful trainer wasn't being acknowledge by Delia, and realizes this man is an INL member as well. mostly just data and research gathering like I've mentioned in a past post but he's really good at the job. Ingo and Ash meld really well and Ash gets the thought in his head that he'd be a perfect fit for Rowan. Obviously Ash gets way over his head but thankfully calls Gary first for his opinion, since he's technically the older sibling by six measly months, who talks him down but that doesn't stop Ash from info dumping about the Marine Corp turned Professor.

*Ingo dissapears shortly before the Virtress Conference starts. so he's gone for about 6 years give or take some months.

Rowan and Ingo officially meet for the second time Post-Hisui. it's not a very good meeting as Ash basically begged on his hands and knees for the Sinnoh Professor to take the Unovian in. due to the increasingly mental and physical strain on Ingo as he's now surrounded by a lot of loud noises such as his train and his brother who's clinging onto him for what seems like every second of every day. Rowan hears Ash out and he's well aware of Hisui as both Ash and Dawn had come back together and it was all over the news as a rift over Mount. Coronet had opened in their time to spit the trio out.

it's a bit of a strain between Sinnoh and Unova because of this as Drayden and Emmet both insist that Ingo would be better with his family while the majority of the army of therapists the INL offers up, Ash, and Dawn return fire and say that Ingo would be better in a place where he can heal without anyone pressuring him. The INL makes the final decision for everyone after Ingo comes to the headquarters of both the Unova and Sinnoh council members to speak up about his own wants and needs. in the end taking up Ash's offer, only after Rowan officially extends it on his own after learning about everything that's going on. stating that it would be good to be more near Ash and Dawn since those two were the ones who were dropped into Hisui, helped him regain his memory, and bring Ingo back to the present time in the first place.

Rowan and Gary are a fresh of breath air and for once they willingly give Ingo the space he needs and the attention he requires when the silence gets to much. it's also really nice that Rowan is extremally careful with his wording and questions as he can't help himself but probe Ingo for information about the past since he's been gone for six bloody fucking years. it's far better then his entire family back in Unova avoiding the whole situation almost at all cost. it helps Ingo work through his trauma and the sudden walls he built around himself during the time.

I have yet to decide if Ingo's Hisui team gets brought into the future and I'm even debating if I should bringing Lady Sneasler into the future as well. if I do then Rowan and Ingo would bond over his team as Rowan and his team are absolutely floored by staunch difference between the past Pokémon and the now Pokémon. If not then Ingo and Rowan bond over the Pokémon under the Professor's care as it seems Ingo has gotten pretty good at caring for the Sinnoh native 'Mon's. They also share stories of Ash, even if Ingo only has so few, and it soon develops in them sharing a glass of scotch at night or coffee in the wee hours of the morning before the sun rises about Rowans 'kids'.

"It feel's like every time a turn my back I gain a new damn kid."

"I get the feeling."

Gary finally admits Ash is right and that both Rowan and Ingo fit almost unnaturally good. having almost the same taste in coffee, music, clothing brand, and most importantly dry and dark humor. it doesn't help that Ash and convinced Dawn while in Hisui after Ingo regained his memories before making the hike to the Cobalt Coastlands. so it's two against one.

*I've mentioned this also in a previous post but Irida brings Ingo around them much earlier on in the story since there's two of them and its not just Ash and Pikachu that fell from the rift.

Rowan's had unofficially two major relationships and a couple of flings. one of them being with a girl after a few years of him being a Trainer, so around 14-16, they break up and it's what cause Rowan to enroll into the marines. during the time he had flings and then had a HR-inducing headache relationship with the then Sinnoh Champion that originally held the title for the longest Sinnoh Champion before Cynthia took it. He play's an important part in Rowan's history that I also touched upon. where he takes Rowan after the Dragalge Hyper beam attack to get almost fully healed by the last few fully fledged Aura users. He actually uses that vulnerable moment to strengthen his bond with Ingo, letting him know that he's not alone and that PTSD is a fucking bitch and it sucks but he can survive.

the dude is still alive, bitter that Cynthia knocked him off his throne when she was just thirteen and even more bitter since Rowan's plate got increasingly full to the point that Rowan couldn't even find time to speak with his mentor. he still lives in Sinnoh and pretty close to Sandgem Town as well.

#rowan/ingo #hisui #ta!au #ash ketchum #gary oak #pokemon dawn #subway boss ingo #professor rowan #gym leader drayden #subway boss emmet #i love these old men so much ;a;

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ofloveandmedea · 6 months

Note

the UN isn't "bogged down in diplomacy", they're making the choice to not do anything. get a grip, learn a couple things, etc

(Edit to add context: this is in response to my tags on this post.)

Anon, I'm choosing to take you in good faith. I'm going to assume that you're even more upset about this catastrophe than I am (sincerely: are you sleeping alright? Are you looking after yourself? Please try to keep your own oxygen mask on). I'm also going to assume that, like most people - including me until last week! - you aren't entirely clear on how the UN works and what it can do.

So let's talk about the United Nations and the fucky way it functions.

Some facts before we get into the details: the UN has 193 member nations total. Of those, 15 (including the US) are on the Security Council.

The 5 permanent member nations on the Security Council (France, US, UK, Russia, and China) all have veto power. If one of them says "nah" on something, it doesn't happen. This is exactly what's happening right now.

On top of this, the UN is not a military body. It's a diplomatic one. Most of the resolutions it passes depends on member states enforcing it between themselves, not the UN coming in with guns and tanks. There are exceptions - any passed by the Security Council, for example (UN discusses it here, with sources). They can't stop a war. We all wish they could.

Are there UN peacekeeping forces? Yes - but they need the Security Council's okay. I think you can see the problem here.

A note as well: there are UN forces in Palestine right now, just not armed ones. The UNWRA has been there for decades, and has been feeding and sheltering people to the best of their ability the entire time. A December 6 report says 1.2 million people sheltered in North Gaza, and 1 million more in the south. This is after a lot of their operations have been compromised by Israeli action. UNFIL is on the Israeli/Lebanon border, dealing with the tensions there as well.

The Secretary-General made a statement this morning, December 8 2023, calling everything happening a "spiralling humanitarian nightmare," invoking Article 99, and demanding an immediate ceasefire (Reuters) He has also been vocal about the entire clusterfuck not happening in a vacuum since it kicked off; see this article from AP from October 25 about his statement in defense of civilians on both sides, but especially Palestinians.

What exactly is Article 99, and why does it matter? I'm so glad you asked! So the Secretary-General only has so much power; they're supposed to be more mediator and administrator than leader (more information here from the Council of Foreign Relations), and cannot override the General Assembly or the Security Council. With that said, Article 99 of the UN charter explicitly gives them the ability to call the Security Council's immediate attention to, "any matter which in his opinion may threaten the maintenance of international peace."

Exactly how serious is using this power? It's only been invoked 5 times in the last 75 years; the last one was 34 years ago, in 1989. That's longer than I've been alive; I'm assuming the same for you, anon. I'll let you do your own research into the previous times and why it was called, it's fascinating and upsetting and irrelevant to this post.

Because of that invocation and the resolution he brought with it, the Security Council voted this afternoon on an immediate ceasefire for humanitarian reasons, and UN involvement. They needed 9 votes to adopt the motion. The final vote tally was 13 votes in favor, the UK abstaining, and surprise surprise the US vetoing (straight from the UN). This is, again, how the system is set up; we can talk about how to fix it some other time.

Here's the thing: in April 2022 the General Assembly passed a motion that requires any veto on the Security Council to be debated and justified. In the next 10 days, that veto is going to the General Assembly. There are going to be more steps and more opportunities to improve things; the US can only slow it down so much. Personally, I'm expecting another resolution on a ceasefire and humanitarian crisis aid out of that debate, much like the one we had in late October (which passed with 120 votes out of 193) if not even stronger. Unfortunately, that resolution isn't binding the same way a Security Council one would be. Whether it's enough (by which I mean "actually capable of stopping Israel and protecting Palestinians") is up for debate. But it's something.

TL;DR the US has more power than they should in the UN and there's no way around it right now without breaking international law and custom. Yes, this includes when protecting people from international law being broken. That doesn't mean people aren't trying. Please remember that 120 out of 193 nations voted for a ceasefire in October. Saying that the entire body is "choosing" not to do anything is untrue and a disservice to all the people trying to do their best in the system we have right now.

Is the UN moving fast enough for my (and your) liking? Absolutely it isn't! I want them intervening seriously in Palestine last year, six months ago, three months ago, last week, yesterday.

Is the US stopping things all on their own by refusing to vote against Israel? Absolutely! I'm pissed about it too! The official US stance of "Israel has the right to do this, but they really need to prevent civilian casualties" (Blinken's exact words being "There does remain a gap between…the intent to protect civilians and the actual results that we're seeing on the ground.") is ridiculously tame compared to what I feel we should be doing.

An additional note, and one I'm not daring to draw conclusions on right now: as of December 5, the US has started issuing visa bans on people "believed to have been involved in undermining peace, security, or stability in the West Bank, including through committing acts of violence or taking other actions that unduly restrict civilians’ access to essential services and basic necessities." This includes Israelis, and they're pressuring Israel towards prosecutions. Is it enough? Absolutely not. But it's a step in the right direction, and better than silence.

Please don't mistake me trying to stay hopeful as stupidity or obliviousness. This situation (war crimes, genocide, and all) is fucked on a scale I don't have words for. Believe me, I'm staying very well informed. I hope you're doing the same, as much as looking after yourself allows.

Have a good night, anon.

#palestine 2023 #united nations #us politics #do not come at me this is an informational post against doomposting #we LOVE (sarcasm) how this system works. it doesn't change that it's what we have to work with at the moment

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nirikeehan · 2 years

Note

For the DADWC: experiential docet - experience teaches, for Thalia Trevelyan.

Okay, so for this one I went for pure softness – here is a bit of a meet cute for Thalia and Cullen.

@dadrunkwriting

WC: 1692

---

The Herald snuck up on him sometimes. Cullen would turn around and there she’d be, watching him while his soldiers drilled around them. She always seemed a bit unsure, peppering him with questions about the Inquisition and his place within it. He was happy to answer, though some questions made him worry that this young woman had not seen much of the world beyond the confines of her Circle. That was hardly her fault, of course, but it was a concern all the same.

Thalia had barely heard a thing about Kirkwall, for instance. Cullen explained the broad strokes to her, and then later brought it up to Cassandra — that whatever else was going on in Ostwick, the leadership kept a tight lid on the flow of information.

“That’s a good thing, I suppose,” Cassandra mused. “That way she won’t be tainted by propaganda.”

That she wasn’t, and not by much else either. Whenever Thalia returned from a field mission, she wandered about Haven, stark blue eyes huge as an owl’s, taking in her surroundings like she still couldn’t believe it was real. In the war council room, she demonstrated impressive intellect, but that rarely translated to the dazed girl he often caught watching him from a safe distance.

“You don’t have to stand there and wait for me to notice you,” he said one day, lightly to show it was no reprimand. “You can just say hello.”

“Oh.” Thalia blinked in surprise, and looked to her new boots. Josephine had replaced her torn, dirty traveling robes with beige trousers and an embroidered tailcoat, and he thought it suited her better. “I suppose I’m used to Templars making the first move.”

“I’m not a Templar,” Cullen said, a little too emphatically. “Not anymore. You are not required to treat me as such. In fact, I insist upon it.”

“Oh.” A tension in her shoulders eased. “That’s a relief. Many of them have such a high opinion of their own authority.” She paused. “No offense.”

“None taken. Can’t say I much liked that tendency in them, either.”

That drew a smile from her. “Hard to imagine you lasted with them as long as you did.”

“You’ve no idea.”

They shared a chuckle, and she looked away, blushing from the cold. Or perhaps something else. Cullen found himself studying her more closely.

“Might I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?” Thalia looked back to him, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Of course.”

“How long were you at the Circle?”

“Oh.” Her face scrunched up, as if recalling something unpleasant. “A little over a decade. My family— I was sent there when I was nearly fourteen. It was shortly before the Blight.”

Twenty-four, then. Yes, older than Cullen had been thinking. Her naïveté had less to do with her age, and more with the length of her confinement. He felt indignant on her behalf.

“Herald—” he began, struggling to articulate himself.

“Oh, please don’t call me that,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “I’m not the Herald. I’m really not much of anything. My being here is a mistake.”

She spoke with such deprecating certainty that it saddened him. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said, frowning. “Your being here a mistake, I mean. We could debate the theology of the Herald business, of course, but that’s not the point. Whatever brought you here, you’ve risen to the occasion. That’s the important part.”

Thalia stared at him for long enough that Cullen wondered if he ought to apologize. “Thank you,” she said at last. “That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” Cullen felt his cheeks warming. He crossed his arms against his breastplate and cleared his throat, trying to think of something else to say.

Thalia beat him to it. She squinted up at him, an impish grin crossing her face. “If you ever want to debate the theology, though — let me know.”

He let out a surprised laugh. “Truly?”

She shrugged. “I’d be curious to see what a Templar — sorry, former Templar — thinks about the state of such things. And we weren’t exactly encouraged to share our views at the Circle, with them or anyone else.”

“Well, it’s been ages since my last Divinity class, but I might be able to provide decent conversation. Though I’m worried you’ll learn I’m a cretinous bore.”

Thalia’s eyes lit up with laughter. “Somehow I doubt that, Commander.”

That was how, a few nights later, Cullen was leading her into his tent.

“Scandalous,” Thalia commented drily, eliciting a snort from him.

“The tavern is too noisy,” Cullen said. “I can barely hear myself think in there.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Thalia said, taking in the surroundings.

His tent was big enough to hold a small table and chairs, a wood stove for warmth, and a screen that divided the common area from where he slept. Back there was a cot, alongside which he’d stacked the little he’d brought with him from Kirkwall. His whole life fit neatly into a one-person tent, a fact of which he was not proud. The Templar Order owned the rest. This he was reminded of when he opened his trunk for a change of clothes and found himself contemplating the bottle of lyrium he’d stashed there. For “an emergency” only, he’d rationalized — though every time he nearly drank it felt like an emergency.

“This is nice,” Thalia said.

“It’s very nice,” Cullen agreed. “I told Josephine I did not need luxury accommodations, but she said some nonsense about keeping up the correct appearances. Would you like to take a seat?”

“Thank you.” She pulled out one of the chairs and sat. She had a regal bearing — straight back, squared shoulders, the hallmarks of an aristocratic upbringing, no doubt — until she disrupted it by tucking one leg up under the other and leaning over the table to squint at the many books he’d stacked there. “Thedas, a Military History: Volume Seven,” she read off the top spine.

Her gaze rose from the book to him, and Cullen felt his cheeks warming. “It’s interesting, but dense enough to put man to sleep also.”

“Those are the best kind.” Thalia’s voice was light, but she spoke seriously. “You learn a lot, but you also never have insomnia.”

Cullen laughed. “Did you read a lot at the Ostwick Circle?” he asked, taking a seat beside her.

“All the time,” Thalia said, gazing wistfully at the stack of books. “There wasn’t much else to do.”

Something about the way she said it — without complaint or disdain, just a flat resignation — filled him with sadness. This is the cost of the Circles. Of locking people up their whole lives. Cullen thought, not for the first time, that perhaps it was not a travesty that the entire institution was crumbling.

“Do you miss it? Unfortunately Haven doesn’t have much of a library, but the quartermaster always has a way of procuring needed titles, and… I could always lend you something, if you wanted.” Was he rambling, or just giving her homework? Maybe shut up for a change, you dolt.

“That would be nice, yes,” Thalia said, as if he hadn’t just been shooting off at the mouth. “It would be helpful, to learn how to actually win a war.”

“Well, the books can certainly teach you how to start one. Winning one is another story entirely. Everyone seems to have different ideas on how to accomplish that. Contradictory ones, often.”

Thalia was quiet, and Cullen wondered if that was perhaps too blunt of him. But she pressed her palm against the table top, stifling the green glare from the mark on her hand, and straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t come here to debate dogma with you. Well, I mean, I would like to, of course, but that’s not the real reason I said yes.”

“Oh?” Cullen leaned back, giving her space to speak.

“May I tell you a secret, Commander?” She took a deep breath. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing. With any of it. The Breach, the Mage-Templar War, what the Inquisition is even supposed to mean, let alone how it’s supposed to act…” She shrugged helplessly. “I was hoping… I don’t know what I was hoping. But you’re a good listener, so here I am.”

“I’m… well, I’m flattered.” And he was, truly. He’d long prided himself on being the sort of professional others could come to with problems, or when in need of advice. This felt different, however. He’d never felt quite so honored to be sought out for counsel. “There’s a Tevinter phrase I’ve come across in my reading that I think about from time to time: experiential docet.”

He planned to translate for her, but recognition flickered in her eyes before he could. “‘Experience teaches’?”

“It does, you know,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s the greatest of all teachers. I’ve certainly learned much more from being in the field than any of my studies. Real life tends to have a… messiness to it, that no book can account for. I hope that isn’t presumptuous of me to say.”

“It’s not,” Thalia said, holding his gaze. He found himself liking when she did that,

“What I mean is, you’ll learn. You’ve good got strong instincts, a good intellect — and a gentleness. That’s rare in a leader, but absolutely essential, I think, if one is ever to achieve greatness.”

Thalia blinked, stunned. “You— you think I’ll achieve greatness?”

“I think it’s entirely possible,” Cullen said. “But you won’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there to help you.”

“You?” Her eyebrows raised.

“Er— I mean ‘us.’ All of us — Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana…”

“I see.” She looked down, considering his words. “Thank you, Commander. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” he blurted. “Just Cullen is fine.”

A small smile worked its way onto Thalia’s lips. “If you insist.”

She’s beautiful, he thought. Let himself think, for the first time in so long it felt alien, almost unnatural. He looked into her eyes and thought he could drown in them, if he wanted. Did he want that?

“I do.”

#thalia trevelyan #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #meet cute #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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czigonas · 2 years

Text

Turn Rivers Into Reservoirs

Summary:

"So how’d you get here from there?” “It’s kind of a long story,” Obi-wan hedges. Silas just gives him a look, pulls out two more bottles of tihaar, and starts pouring a fresh round.

[This is a direct sequel to This Abjured Land of Bliss and may not make sense without that context.] All Hallows JangObi Week Day 7: Celebrations

Under the cut for length. Also on AO3. Mando'a is in-line translated here, hovertext enabled on AO3.

They’re well on their way back to Manda'yaim [Mandalore], leaving the mess on the unnamed moon to the Jedi and their Shadows, when Jaster invites Jango and Obi-wan to have dinner with his council. They take over the ship’s command centre rather than eating in the mess, covering the low holotable so as to not damage the surface and settling on the small couches and soft chairs that ring it. Jango is more relaxed around others, now, confident in his knowledge of the galaxy since he and Obi-wan had the chance to sort through his returning memories while they were visiting the AgriCorps Chapter House.

The food is good, hearty and filling, and accompanied by thick, black beer and a sweet, fizzy fruit drink Obi-wan had picked up on Garqi. Once they’re sated and Obi-wan has made sure his apprentice is settled in their berth for the night cycle, Jaster hauls out a bottle of some stronger spirits and pours them all a round. The conversation mostly sticks to lighter topics, but invariably it turns towards the years that both Obi-wan and Jango had been gone and, of course, curiosity over their lives on the other side.

Kuuran is the one to actually bring it up, gesturing at the pair of them tucked together on one of the couches. “We got most of Jango’s version already, but not yours, Ob’ika. So how’d you get here from there?”

Obi-wan groans, debating the merits of just physically hiding behind Jango as the man’s family leans forward in interest. Unfortunately, Jango looks like he wants to hear the answer also, so he’ll be no help.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he hedges.

Silas just gives him a look, pulls out two more bottles of tihaar, and starts pouring a fresh round. Obi-wan sighs deeply enough to make Jango chuckle and jostle him with an elbow. Jaster watches them both indulgently and Obi-wan feels a flash of guilt that he and Jango haven’t actually gotten around to telling the Mand'alor [Sole leader] yet that they’re going to get married. He downs his shot and fidgets with the glass, wondering where to start.

“We both ended up in the military over there, which is where we met. We were in the same unit and it was near the end of the cycle. We’d been sent out on patrol but it wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. No one expected any actual contact, though we were, of course, all ready for it if it happened.”

“So of course trouble found you,” Cazne sighs, wiggling his fingers at Obi-wan until he passes over his cup. The twi’lek pours an extra generous measure before handing it back.

“Yes,” Obi-wan agrees, pressing a little further into Jango’s side as he accepts the new drink. “Without going into too much detail, we were captured and the rest of the unit was killed. They had us for…”

“Months,” Jango interrupts roughly.

“Yeah. It wasn’t a vacation, that’s for sure,” Obi-wan laughs unhappily. “But neither of us gave them whatever it was they wanted, and one day they did something new.”

“New?” Tr’sush hums through their vocoder.

“Ah… different from their usual, yeah. They took me down some new hallway; it just felt different, even if I couldn’t see it, you know?” He takes a sip of tihaar, checking on Jango out of the corner of his eye as he savours the light, fruity flavour over the potent burn of the alcohol. “They brought me out into a courtyard and, uh, well. It looked like something out of a bad horror holofilm, to be honest.”

He gestures loosely, nose scrunching as he tries to find the words to describe just how cheesy the whole setup had looked. “There was this big ritual circle? Drawn on the ground in paint, I think, and a weird altar thing at one side like some zerek-grade interpretation of an old Sith ritual. There were also candles everywhere. Why they needed lit candles in the middle of the day, I don’t know. Certainly didn’t add to the ambiance.”

He knows he sounds like he doesn’t quite believe what was there, but it really was just that weird to see. Out of place with the rest of the filthy stone bunker they’d been kept in. Cazne and Silas both crack a laugh, and he can see Jaster and Kuuran hiding smiles as well. Tr’sush tilts their helmet just enough that Obi-wan knows they’re also deeply amused. He takes another drink, waiting until the room settles again.

“So, how did the bad holofilm set get you to us?” Kuuran prompts with a smile.

Obi-wan scrubs a hand through his hair, looking rather embarrassed. “Well, they wanted to sacrifice me, I think, but I had the shiv Jango gave me and I stabbed one of them before they could stab me, and it activated the circle. I landed just outside the Mand'alor [Sole leader]’s camp right as they were being approached by a group of jedi.”

Jaster scoffs, shaking his head good-naturedly and pouring himself another shot. “Pretty sure you gave no few people on that field heart attacks with your appearance, Ob’ika, myself included.”

Obi-wan flushes, glancing at Jango beside him. “Yes, well… they wanted to soften me up before they--”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Silas waves his hands, cutting Obi-wan off. “He gave you a weapon?”

Jango raises an unimpressed eyebrow at them over the glass of tihaar he’s nursing and answers for the jedi. “Elek [Yes].”

“That you made?” Kuuran clarifies, leaning forward intently, interest and mischief warring in her expression. “While you guys were prisoners?”

“Elek [Yes],” Jango drawls again, daring anyone to challenge the claim.

“And you killed at least one person with it?” Silas jumps back in, turning to Obi-wan who is looking between them all, not quite sure where this line of questioning is leading.

“Yes?” He doesn’t mean to sound hesitant, but this feels significant and he seems to be the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Oh, that’s so romantic,” Cazne coos dreamily, looking like he might be blinking back tears.

Jango doesn’t look surprised when the jedi turns to him with furrowed brows. He gives a smirk and blatantly runs his gaze appreciatively over Obi-wan’s body, just to watch the blush stain his cheeks again.

“Do you still have it?” Tr’sush asks before he can get any more flustered.

There’s a loaded silence, everyone staring at Obi-wan in curiosity and Obi-wan staring back blankly. Ever so slowly, he twists his wrist, careful not to spill his drink, and pulls a thin blade from the folds of his arm wraps. It’s nothing special - it was a prison shiv, so of course it wouldn’t be that fancy - but the blade is both curved and tapered and the semi-shaped handle is wrapped neatly in sturdy fabric. Jango shifts forward to inspect it and nods in satisfaction at seeing it well cared for. Silas whistles low as he, too, leans in for a look.

Jaster barks out a laugh and downs his shot. “Congratulations on your engagement, then, and welcome to the family, Ob’ika.”

Obi-wan nearly drops the knife at that. “What?”

Silas starts chuckling again, but Cazne nods seriously even as his lekku twitch with amusement. “Like, I said, it’s very romantic. He gave you a weapon and you used it in defence of both yourself and your future. If you hadn’t fallen through that portal, you would have used the knife to get back to Jango and break yourselves out, right?”

“I probably would have picked up at least one of their guns,” Obi-wan clarifies slowly, watching Jango in his peripheral vision again. “But yes, the end goal was to get us both free and back to base.”

“Traditionally, there is a full exchange,” Tr’sush explained further. “So far, Jango has only proposed, but you have not necessarily accepted.”

“For that, I would offer a weapon in return?” Obi-wan hums, considering.

Kuuran gently waves off his concern. “Or a culturally appropriate equivalent, since you aren’t mando’ade [mandalorian].”

Obi-wan relaxes at that, sparking curiosity all around. Jaster pauses with his glass half-raised and watches them both with weary amusement. “Wayii [Good grief]… did Jan’ika actually propose second?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” the jedi smiles slyly, grinning wider when Jango lets out a noise of protest. “The custom over there, in the places we thought we were from, was to exchange rings. Once for the engagement, and again for the marriage. I had a set waiting for us at base and was going to ask after that last patrol.”

“Only because Supply liked you better,” Jango grumbles goodnaturedly.

Obi-wan pats his knee with mock sympathy, not protesting at all when Jango captures his hand to twine their fingers together. “But no,” he continues, expression softening, “Jango got his proposal in first by the customs of this side.”

“But you have asked, haven’t you,” Jaster observes shrewdly.

It’s Jango’s turn to smirk, but he doesn’t keep them in suspense for long. From his pocket he pulls a coil of thin, braided cord - brilliant blue, deep green, and faintly shimmering white - knotted and capped with a carved bone spike on each end.

“I had the bone already,” Obi-wan explains, reaching over to run a finger along one of the spikes. “Traditionally, it should come from your last kill, but I’m pretty sure she ended up in a sarlacc, so these are juvenile scyk fangs that I was gifted by my apprentice’s tribe, instead. The cords I picked up on Garqi, since I wasn’t exactly carrying the proper supplies around on a whim.”

There are a few snorts of agreement; Jaster stands, circling the holotable to give them both a soft, heartfelt kov’nyn [forehead press]. Silas pours everyone a fresh shot, raising it in salute. “We’ll have a proper celebration when we get back to Keldabe but, for now, oya [cheers]!”

“Oya [Cheers]!”

Kuuran slaps Jaster on his shoulder as he settles back in his seat. “See! You’re gonna get Ob’ika for a kid anyway! You could’ve let one of us try and adopt him before.”

Obi-wan groans and buries his face in his hands as Jango perks up beside him. “How many offers did he get?”

“None,” Tr’sush huffs, exasperation audible even through the vocoder. “Mand'alor [Sole leader] staked a claim and never followed through.”

“I was letting him get comfortable with us before just springing it on him!” Jaster protests. “It’s not my fault he left before I could!”

Cazne leans towards the couple on the couch as the others settle into a good-natured argument. “We still have your beskar’gam [mandalorian armour], Ob’ika,” he murmurs conspiratorially. “Maybe now you’ll wear it for longer than a few hours at a time, hm?”

“Ben, you have armour already and didn’t tell me?” Jango raises his eyebrows, giving Obi-wan another flirtatiously assessing look.

“I didn’t think they’d kept it,” he answers with a frown. “I did leave quite abruptly."

“Mm,” Jango hums sceptically, wrapping his arm around Obi-wan as Cazne politely turns his attention back to the ongoing debate, breaking in to needle whichever of them seems to be winning in the moment. “Well, I’m afraid I’m going to be on their side about you wearing it.”

“I’ve already heard all of their reasons and countered them,” Obi-wan huffs in return, even as he curls into the hold and settles his head on Jango’s shoulder. “But perhaps, for you, I can be persuaded.”

Jango laughs under his breath, pressing a swift kiss to Obi-wan’s temple before they settle back to watch their family cheerfully bicker amongst themselves, contentment woven around them like a warm blanket.

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