#thing wot i wrote
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Fic: gemtho [NC-17]
Inspired by the "game" from Gem's S10E03 (aka I found an excuse to write filth).
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“You said I could take anything,” Gem reminds Etho, who stares up at her, eyes wide and skin flushed above the line of his mask.
“Yeah, but I meant — ”
Her hands work at his belt and then his pants, getting both of them open, pushing and shoving for what she wants.
“I made my choice,” she says, managing to slip his pants far enough down his hips that she can see he’s half-hard already. “I’m gonna take you.”
His hands are tight on her waist and his mask shifts in time with his breathing, but he doesn’t argue. Not even about the fact that she has him flat on his back in the grass just outside of his home, where anyone might see.
“You could’ve just asked,” Etho groans when Gem spits into her palm and reaches down to stroke him.
“It’s about the game,” she reminds him, and it feels good to have the weight of him in her hand again.
They haven’t done this since they moved, swept up in the chaos of starting over, but she’s missed it — missed him.
And it’s clear Etho feels the same, because it hardly takes any effort to get him the rest of the way hard, the curve of his cock and the wet tip of it making Gem ache inside.
Etho’s hands slide higher, groping at her in a way he doesn’t usually, not unless she really gets him worked up, and she finds out quickly that it’s what she needs.
Part of her wishes she was wearing her skirt still, because if she was, all she’d have to do is tug her underwear to the side and she could take him. Instead, she has to pull back, away from everything she wants.
Etho grunts, but it doesn’t take Gem long to kick off her boots and slip out of her pants and underwear, and Etho stares like he can’t get enough, even after seeing her bare so many times before.
Briefly, he reaches down as though wanting to get her fingers on her — or maybe in her — but she bats his hand away, too impatient for anything that’ll slow her down.
“Gem,” he tries, voice tight, but Gem’s already holding his dick steady, guiding him into her as she slowly sinks down.
Etho’s head tips back, his throat bared, which makes it easy for Gem to fold forward and get her mouth on it.
He feels so good filling her up and he doesn’t move, letting her set the pace she wants, even as she works a bruise onto his skin. The fact that he doesn’t tell her not to makes her even wetter, knowing he wants to walk around with it, that he’s okay with anyone seeing it.
She digs her teeth in, just enough to make him moan as she finally settles on his hips, his cock as deep as she can get it. It’s been long enough that the stretch of it stings a little and she knows she’ll feel it later.
She gives the line of his jaw a final kiss before pulling away, sitting back and looking down at him.
His headband has shifted, his hair a little tangled and flyaway, but he’s breathing hard and staring back at her with dark eyes.
“Still wish I’d taken something else from your base?” Gem asks and Etho exhales forcefully.
“No.”
She smiles at the fact that he answers, like he knows she’d force him to if he didn’t, and then rolls her hips, giving him what he clearly wants.
He lets out another breath and Gem continues, enjoying the feeling of him nudging so deep inside, and she keeps at it for a long moment, reaching between her legs to rub at her clit to help adjust to him.
She could come like that, given enough time, but she doesn’t think she has the patience for it. After so many weeks with nothing but her own hand, she wants Etho to make her come hard and fast.
“Y’know, I never said you couldn’t move,” she muses, watching Etho’s expression shift. “You’re doing that voluntarily.”
His gaze tracks her and she sees the moment he understands, and she feels the moment he understands when he brings his hands up to her back and the world starts to tilt.
Somehow he manages to roll them, slipping out of her only long enough to untangle his pants from around legs, before he pushes her thighs open again and shoves back inside.
She laughs, throwing her arms out and enjoying the softness of grass beneath them.
Etho fucks her with a strength she still hasn’t grown accustomed to, still takes her by surprise, and it’s exactly what she needs.
“God,” she groans, curling her legs around his waist, trying to pull him even deeper with every thrust. “I missed this.”
The frantic snap of Etho’s hips wordlessly says he feels the same, but she can see it in his expression, too. The way he stares at her as though he’d try to find her in any universe they fell into.
She shuts her eyes and turns her hands palms-down, clutching at the ground beneath her, breathing hard and chasing the feeling growing inside her.
Etho moves against her, though his thrusts never stop, and Gem startles as his mouth finds her own, mask no longer in the way. She pushes a moan between his lips alongside her tongue and he kisses back with a fierceness she’s never felt from him before.
It’s like it’s the only way he knows to tell her he never wants them to be apart again.
“Yeah,” she says against his mouth when he finally breaks away to catch his breath, and she hopes he knows it’s the answer to his unspoken question.
Their bodies are loud in the silence around them, but she can hear and feel how Etho is already beginning to lose rhythm, the way he trembles trying to keep up the pace.
“Want me to pull out?” he asks, lips grazing her cheek and Gem shakes her head.
“Don’t care,” she pants, because either way she’ll have to wander down to the river to wash. She’s so wet, she’s a mess already.
Etho adjusts, just enough that every thrust manages to rub her clit at the same time, and she doesn’t stand a chance.
“Etho,” she begs, and in no time at all, he has her coming the exact way she’s needed — deep and devastating.
She’s still shaking from it when Etho gets a hand under one of her knees and pushes it up, fucking her faster but with none of the precision, and when he follows her over the edge, it’s with a loud groan that she can feel through his chest.
He keeps moving — maybe to push his come a little deeper, though probably just because it feels good — and with how wound up she feels, she knows she should take advantage.
“Keep going,” she tells him. “Just a little bit more.”
He’s probably sore and oversensitive, but he still obeys, and Gem reaches between them, circling her clit with two fingers just long enough to make herself come again, the second orgasm hitting sharper, but just as hard.
“Gem,” Etho says, sounding a little astonished, a little broken, but Gem lets herself go boneless with a laugh, her legs dropping from around Etho’s waist.
“God, I needed that,” she sighs, and Etho carefully pulls out before dropping into the grass beside her.
She stays there, eyes closed, catching her breath, a gentle tugging at her hair that suggests Etho’s playing with it as he rests next to her.
She can feel his come dripping out of her, cooling quickly, and yet can’t bring herself to care.
When she opens her eyes, Etho’s watching her, but when he notices, he smiles — a rarity for her to see.
Carefully, she rolls toward him, throwing one leg over his own and bringing a hand up to his face, thumb nestling in the dimple of his cheek.
“I’m glad we’re neighbors,” he tells her, and happiness bubbles up through her chest and escapes as a laugh.
“I’m glad, too, Etho.”
When she leans in to kiss him, he meets her halfway.
#thing wot i wrote#fic#dont read at work#gemtho#hermitshipping#also i know i said i wasn't writing anything until i finished my gridoc fic but i can explain#i mean i can't actually explain but like...the worms#they got me#they keep interacting and what am i meant to do??? ignore it???#anyway i'm already working on another gemtho ficlet bye
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Taken and Paid - A Moiraine & Anvaere Fic
Title: Taken and Paid
Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4 of season 2! And canon-typical continuation of the themes of abuse, manipulation, suicidal ideation, coping very badly with trauma, depression - the usual Moiraine stuff for this season, in a nutshell.
Summary:
A continuation of the scene between Anvaere and Moiraine where her sister reveals that she knows the information Moiraine seeks, and that if Moiraine wants it, she must subject herself to the invitation she refused that morning, and sit and have tea.
Teaser: So Moiraine took what she wanted, and paid the price that was owed.
She got down on her knees and lowered herself into the chair opposite her sister. She raised her hands in supplication and reached out to accept the extended cup. She tied a noose around the last remaining shreds of her dignity and pride and took a small sip. She let herself go as a tribute to the Dragon, who could never claim she was unfaithful, as she smiled in apparent enjoyment of sharing a warm drink on a cold night with a beloved family member.
Link: AO3 or Read Below:
“If you want to know about that redheaded boy from the inn you’re going to have to ask me very nicely… over tea.”
Looking into Anvaere’s quietly triumphant face as she delivered her final line, this little play that she had planned and set the stage for having just been performed to perfection in her eyes, given the ever-so subtle satisfaction that placed that perfect emphasis on the word ‘tea’; Moiraine felt for a moment as though she was at the Eye of the world once more. Trembling as Ishamael stared down upon her in exaltation of his power and his control as she lay stripped and vulnerable at his feet.
The stench of the Blight, fetid and inescapable as the twisted heart within her own chest, was thick in her mouth again. For a fleeting moment the room shifted, and the dark furniture became dark stone, the twisting patterns of the carved window frames the twisting patterns of Ishamael’s seal, the flickering fire-light the glow of her power before it was snuffed thoughtlessly like an insignificant candle.
She was powerless again. She was on her knees again. She was backed into a corner, walls all around. She was convulsing with pain and violation as Ishamael lorded over her powerless form again.
Blinking, the memory cleared. It was something Moiriane had become rather well-practised at in the last few months. Everything, no matter how small, no matter how innocent, no matter how obviously well-intentioned, sent her back to that place. At times she had even wondered if the Forsaken was capable of haunting and shaping waking nightmares, as he had haunted the sleeping dreams of Rand and the others. But no. It was not the Forsaken. Moiraine did not matter enough to him for him to waste his time with her. It had only ever been her own weakness. A weakness she would overcome. Every day for the rest of her life, if that was what it took. The stubborn defiance faded to a shiver at the prospect, but she had control again.
Moiraine looked at Anvaere, looked at her, and truly saw her. So pleased with the success of her little scheme, so jubilant in her exaltant victory. The deliverance of her just punishment to the sister who had done the most unthinkable and unforgivable thing a Cairhien noble could ever do to rest of their pit of vipers: escaped.
It struck her then, the reality of the situation, that while she had struggled, and fought, and desperately sought to find, and train, and save the Dragon Reborn so that he might save all of them in turn; Anvaere had sat and schemed and sought to forced Moiraine to accept her invitation to tea after scorning it that morning.
She wanted to laugh. To laugh, without humour, until she could not breathe, because of the absurdity, of the near hysterical way the Wheel seemed to be forcing her to confront what she might have become had she stayed here.
She wanted to scream. Scream until her throat was raw and the pretty little porcelain of Anvaere’s neat little tea-set, and the vile glass in the judgemental mirror shattered and revealed how empty and pointless they all truly were. The Forsaken were being released, released because of her, because of the choices she had made, the plans that she had set in motion. Now this. This game she had always despised and now, more than ever, had no desire, and no damn time to play.
She wanted to fall to her knees and weep. Weep for the cruelty of the Wheel. For, time and again, when she was quite sure that she had lost everything a single person could lose, when she had nothing left to sacrifice, and nothing left to pledge to prove her loyalty, and her devotion: it asked for yet more. It took every last fragment of strength she had not to sink down the ground and sob because nothing was ever easy. Nothing was ever given. Everything had to be taken. Everything had to be paid for.
What she took was always the same: something to advance her mission. A scrap of knowledge, a prophecy, a scrap of lore, an artefact that may hold answers, a secret that may prove vital. The price changed with whom she needed to purchase from. Some wanted coin, some wanted information, some wanted secrets, or favours, or power. Today Anvaere wanted her pride. Served up to her on a silver platter, raw and bloody, as the prime cut of a kill should be.
Pride was all Moiraine had clung to after the Eye. It was all that had kept her from taking the dagger she had tempted Logain with and using it to cut free the last tether she had keeping her in place. Like snipping free the final tendon holding a severed and useless limb in place, too stubborn to let go, too stupid to realise that such stubbornness was utterly pointless.
Pride was what had driven her, day by day, to wake up, to force herself to rise from bed with nothing to do and no purpose to strive towards, to put one foot in front of the other, even when the result was more a shamble or a stagger than a walk, to carry her water and try to clean off the feeling of being dirty and contaminated that she knew could not be scrubbed from her skin when it had sunk in and settled like scum on her bones and on her very soul, but that she did anyway.
Pride was what had stopped her from ever being able to let another person see her weakness, never willingly handing a vulnerability to a potential enemy, never being able to admit that it was sometimes agony just to breathe.
Pride was Anvaere’s price. And she knew there would be no negotiation, no haggling, no bargaining, no escape. For they both knew that Moiraine needed what her sister held, and that she had no other way of getting it, as her futile, exhausting efforts in the city that day had only served to underline.
So Moiraine took what she wanted, and paid the price that was owed.
She got down on her knees and lowered herself into the chair opposite her sister. She raised her hands in supplication and reached out to accept the extended cup. She tied a noose around the last remaining shreds of her dignity and pride and took a small sip. She let herself go, hanged as a tribute to the Dragon, who could never claim she was unfaithful, as she smiled in apparent enjoyment of sharing a warm drink on a cold night with a beloved family member.
“You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” Moiraine said, with the expected courtly perfection of a refined polite, slightly self-depreciating tone, as was appropriate when falsely humbling oneself to thank their host for providing the poison they now sipped on together, “just to have a cup of tea with your sister,” she said, with a smile she was sure was uncannily like the one she had practised in the mirror that morning, revolted and slightly chilled to realise that, after all this time, the mask they’d held her down and sewn onto her face still slipped seamlessly and easily back over her features.
“Well,” Anvaere began, responding with the appropriate level of graciousness and deference to their honoured guest whom they hosted in their home with around the same level of reluctance they would hand over their jewels to an uncouth man with a dirty dagger at their neck, “I wouldn’t have been forced to do so had you not made me,” she crooned condescendingly, smiling as though Moiriane was a child she’d just had to slap for putting her hand too close to a fire.
And there it was. The dark undercurrent of drive that had shadowed her entire life and shaped her entire person: she had been made to be hurt. If she had not been foolish and cried at court when the maid she’d loved had been sentenced to death for stealing kitchen scraps from the noble’s meals, her Uncle would not have needed to punish her for it.
If she had simply done as was expected of her, had perfected her steps at the first instance, as she should have done so, her dance instructor would not have been forced to snap at her bare feet with a cane until they were raw and bloody, for if she had done it right, she would have missed the blows, and would have pristine, perfect feet - as a Damodred should have.
If she had not been blocked in her channeling, she would not have needed her mentor to assault and beat her with the One Power until she finally broke through the pain to embrace the Source herself and fight back.
If she had not been so foolish, and so stupid, and so wrong she would not have let herself be Cut off from the Source at the Eye of the World.
Every failure was her fault, and was a reason for pain; every triumph was a result of that pain, and therefore ultimately attributable to those who had caused it, not to her.
Swallowing down the unseemly surge of bitterness that had threatened to mar her courtly poise, so like the expected Aes Sedai serenity, simply with its own purposes and quirks to suit the Cairhien society, rather than the Tower one, Moiraine took another drink of tea to force down the sour thoughts and smiled blandly over the rim at Anvaere.
“Are you enjoying your tea?” her sister asked, in a tone so sweet it had to be poisonous, and told Moiraine quite clearly that she had not been as swift in hiding her distasteful thoughts as she wished she had.
“It is a very pleasant blend,” Moiraine returned a little stiffly, forcing herself to take another grudging drink.
Anvaere’s eyes glinted at that, and she opened her mouth to say something else–
“So, sister,” Moiraine cut-in, breaking the formal flow of their conversation in a misstep that would have been considered near scandalous, had she actually cared, the pretence slipping, as did her patience. Sitting up a little straighter, she barreled forth before Anvaere could say something else and draw out this agony any further, “you clearly wished to take tea with me very much,” Moiraine noted, as though Anvaere’s obsessive dedication and aggressive reassertion of control over Moiraine’s slightest perceived flouting of that was an admirable trait, “was there something you wished to discuss with me in particular?”
“Well typically,” Anvaere replied, with a very mildly wounded inflection in her voice, almost playful in its insincerity, “when a beloved family member, especially one as close as a sister, is away for an extended period of time, as you have been,” she said, each little addition a perfectly shaped and sharpened knife designed to slide efficiently and ruthlessly between Moiraine’s ribs to stab directly into her heart, “it’s customary for them catch up as it were,” she said with a smile that would have been genuinely warm and full of sisterly affection had both of them not known very plainly that Moiraine despised doing this in all of its forms, “you’ve been gone so long,” she said with a mournful cast to her eyes, though the sharpness and shrewdness never left them for a moment, “I would so like to hear how you’re doing.”
“Of course you would,” Moiraine said, and her tone and expression, too, mirrored that expected sisterly warmth, as though they were at a table full of dinner guests they could not embarrass with the explosive fight they’d been having moments before walking through the doors to the banquet hall and now had to keep up appearances, and not sitting alone together in Moiraine’s old bedroom. “It’s only natural, after all,” she smiled, even though she now knew, having learned from Siuan and Lan, that the relationship and dynamic she had grown up with in her family was about as natural as a shark scenting the fresh blood of a wounded seal and choosing to to nurse the poor creature back to health rather than simply ripping it apart to feast as was its nature.
“I do still know you, sweet Moiraine,” Anvaere simpered, leaning forward to pat Moiraine’s hand. It took more self-control than she would ever admit not to instinctively pull back from the unwanted touch. “I know that doing things like this can make you feel a little awkward and uncomfortable,” she gave an entirely humourless little laugh, with a subtle undercurrent of mockery, audible only to her as she added, with false fondness, “our Moiraine, so humble, with such humility, never wanting to flaunt her accomplishments or her talents,” she side with a smile.
Moiraine reflected, with a twist of something that might have been true regret for the state of this relationship and what their world had forced them to become to one another, that if Anvaere were to ever learn about what had happened to Moiraine at the Eye, about how she could no more channel than her teapot could, while outwardly she might be able to put on a decent show of sorrow and pity, deep down she would feel nothing but satisfaction and vindication that the prized apple at the very peak of House Damodred’s family tree had toppled from her great heights and proved rotten and weak to the core.
“So to make it a little easier for you,” Anvaere was saying now, and Moiraine forced her focus back to her, even as her exhausted and already strained and stretched mind longed for nothing more than to swipe the cup from Anvaere’s hand against the wall and order her to get out and leave her be. “I thought we might make a little game out of it,” she said with a nostalgic little smile, glancing very pointedly at the large portrait that loomed above them, in pride of place above the mantle.
It had been a gift, a request of Moiraine’s, actually, for a nameday when she had been twelve, or perhaps thirteen. They had been close, once. There had been a true fondness and love between them at one time. When they had been children, and had still been sweet and blind enough to believe that they could be different, that they could be the siblings in Cairhien who never worried about backstabbing, or betrayal, or even assassination from the other. As they had grown, and their Uncle, more and more, had Moiraine groomed as heir, while Anvaere was groomed as little more than a broodmare had started to strain that relationship. Moiraine revealing she could channel had utterly broken it beyond repair. Yet she had kept the portrait, as a memory of things that, while they were not, and would never be again, had still been a small source of comfort, and joy; a reminder of better, happier times, short lived though they had been.
Now Moiraine would have happily torn the portrait from its place on the wall and cast it, and the judgemental eyes of its naive, foolish occupants into the fire until it was nothing but smoke and memory.
“You remember how we used to love games when we were girls?” Anvaere said, as though following Moiraine’s own path of thoughts, likely thinking very similarly to her, ironically.
“How could I forget?” Moiraine replied with a false little laugh that made the self-loathing lurking within her rise up and hiss its own cruel, malicious laughter in the back of her mind, knowing it would replay over and over again when sleep refused to claim her because the monsters in her mind had not yet had their say.
“Indeed,” Anvaere returned, not missing a beat in this little dance they did together now. “Well I thought that it could something like this,” she began, meaning, it will work exactly like this, or you won’t see so much as a scrap of information from me, “but I will ask you a question, likely about what you’ve been up to while you’ve been away from us,” she smiled, as though this was an exciting adventure she longed to hear about, and not the bitterest truth that had stirred hate in her heart for Moiraine as nothing else could have: the fact that she had escaped this world, while Anvaere had been chained to it so long she’d been forced to truly become it, not merely to live in it, “and then, if I’m happy with your answer,” she added, a slightly harder note entering as if to remind Moiraine that, in spite of all these niceties and politeness and pleasantries, Anvaere was still firmly in control of this interaction, “you can ask me a question in turn,” she smiled, “about anything at all that you wish to know.”
“That sounds like a very fair arrangement,” Moiraine said, hesitating just a fraction too long, long enough that they both knew Anvaere had seen her briefly falter and slip on a step, “and I believe that you should go first, as you were the one to propose it,” Moiraine said, graciously inclining her head and saluting her with a slight raise of her teacup, before bringing it to her mouth and swigging down too much of the still scalding liquid at once, feeling a strange satisfaction as it burned her throat and left it raw as it went down.
“How sweet of you,” Anvaere returned. Then she shifted in her chair, sitting up a little straighter, and Moiraine mentally braced herself for what was to come. “Truly, I have to confess, that what I have been simply dying to hear about more than anything at all simply has to be your husband,” she beamed, sitting with her chin propped on the hand that wore her wedding ring, which caught the firelight and gleamed almost threateningly between them.
Moiraine’s heart went tight. Well, at least she could say for Anvaere that, once she decided to finally get right down for it, she wasted no time in simply going straight for the killing blow. They both knew that this was a particularly sore point. As they both knew that, more than politics, or betrayals, poisoning or parties, assassinations or assaults, what Moiraine most feared and dreaded as a fact of her life was the idea of having to marry a man, to be forced to his bed, to bear his children, to become chained and beholden to him. They both knew that was a fate that she had escaped, fleeing from an arranged marriage to instead go to the White Tower and train. Anvaere had not been so lucky. Her husband had passed only a few years ago, with no love between them, and enough children that the mere thought made Moiraine feel slightly sick.
Moiraine took another sip of tea, to give herself time to regain her poise, but most of the liquid dribbled down her chin instead because of how her hand was shaking, and she had to duck to wipe it away, utterly ruining the intended effect.
“My husband?” she repeated with feigned confusion, frowning politely at her sister, quite sure that this little farce would not be believed, but that wasn’t really the point.
The point was she needed a moment to gather her wits and curse her sister. Why in the Light did it have to be about Lan? Why wouldn’t she have asked about almost anything else? But of course that was not the Cairhien way, was it? When one identified what was undoubtedly the best weapon to use for a current fight, one did not choose a less effective tool simply because it would have shown a hint of mercy. That might result in a loss, and a loss was unacceptable. It did not matter if something was gained by the purest and most noble methods, or the dirtiest and vilest of tricks that many a cutpurse would have flinched at. All that mattered was that you came out better than your opponent. By whatever means necessary.
“Oh, are you not married to him?” Anvaere said, continuing this painful little charade of pretence, just to draw it out, twist the knife and force it a little deeper before she withdrew it and allowed it to bleed freely for her own amusement, “I apologise for making the assumption,” she replied, very clearly slighting Moiraine by implying that it would have been wrong to assume she would be a decent, upstanding woman and marry the man she was bedding, as she would be expected to.
Waving her fingers idly, Anvaere added carelessly, “but I’m sure you know well the one I mean,” and though this comment was only a stepping stone in passing for her, unseen and unknown, the damage it caused was deeper and more lasting than Anvaere could ever know.
Yes. She had known him well, had known him better than anyone, in fact. Moiraine swallowed down tightly past the tight knot of emotion forming in her throat. She had not thought of Lan, had deliberately kept her thoughts on anything else, since leaving him, for every time she remembered his face, or heard his voice chide her for not eating or sleeping as much as she should be, it almost made her wish that she was back at the Eye with Ishamael, as that would have been far less painful to endure. She could not lose her composure now, could not reveal to Anvaere just how much of a weakness Lan was for her. Anvaere had told her that she saw Moiraine as a threat. And Moiraine well knew how threats were to be dealt with in Cairhien. Any weapon that could be used against an enemy would be, and any potential weapon would be found so that it could be held in reserve and used to threaten as needed. She would not allow Lan to suffer the consequences of her weakness and failures yet again.
Returning her full attention to her sister, she heard, with a clarity as sharp and cutting as freshly broken glass, as Anvaere said casually, “that brooding man who is always at your side,” she raised an eyebrow very slightly as she added pointedly, “well, usually at your side, in any case.” When Moiraine, jaw clenched, remaining silent and missing yet another beat of the dance, unable to trust herself with speaking when she was not sure she could open her mouth without screaming, Anvaere continued mercilessly, “he had eyes so hard and cold I would have bet they would chill the very fires of Dragonomount,” she said with a contemptuous twist to her mouth, “let alone a woman,” she added with an affected little shudder.
Moiraine’s hand, the one not currently strangling her teacup, clenched tightly on the arm of her chair, and she was quite sure, given Anvaere’s slight flicker as her own mask slipped, that she had not concealed the anger at this insult well at all.
“Regardless,” Anvaere said, licking her lips as though almost thinking better of this, side-stepping her rudeness as if it was as insignificant and beneath her notice as a dirty puddle in her way on the street, “do tell me all,” she pressed with a seemingly warm and inviting smile.
Her mouth did not say ‘or I will tell you nothing of what you want to know’ but her eyes could not have made it plainer where they peered expectantly at Moiraine over the rim of her own cup.
“Lan is not, and has never been,” Moiraine clarified swiftly, before Anvaere decided to twist the knife any further and force her to go over this again, “my husband. Nor were we ever involved that way,” she added, unable to stop a little of the exhaustion she felt bleed into her words.
It was not the tiredness of her body that was unbearable to her, though it was certainly beginning to weigh on her, but how simply exhausted she was by this entire culture and way of life in Cairhien. Where every phrase in a conversation with her sister had to be examined for loopholes to swiftly close lest they be taken advantage, as though she was eternally stuck making endless bargains with the Sea Folk. Every word out of her mouth was weighed, and judged, and measured, every breath was critiqued, every step taken drawing raised eyebrows and whispers behind hands. It had been less than a day and she felt strung up, skinned and gutted. How had she survived here for so long as a child?
“Yet you spent such time together,” Anvaere pressed, her eyes wide, as though Moiraine was sharing a juicy piece of scandalous gossip, “travelling alone together with only a man, sharing rooms at inns, if the rumours are to be believed.”
“He– He was my Warder,"Moiraine broke in, speaking too swiftly, wishing to simply shut Anvaere’s perfectly painted mouth.
Only Anvaere could do this to her, get under her skin this way, provoke a temper she’d not had in years. And in doing so she had also forced Moiraine to stumble once more. She’d felt the slip herself as her Oath caught and gagged her when she'd briefly tried to say 'he is my Warder', for that was no longer true. Not after what she'd done.
“Was?” Anvaere said, pouncing immediately upon the word like a rabid street dog upon an injured mouse attempting to scurry past it, “Did something happen?” she asked, with a very appropriate level of expected concern. ‘Did something happen?’ Light. What a question. With so many answers, and so much pain attached to it. Moiraine blinked and forced herself to take another too large gulp of tea, letting the blistering in her throat distract her, letting her draw herself back to the room, away from the Eye, so that she could hear Anvaere conclude with saccharine sweetness, “nothing too terrible, I hope?”
"No,” Moiraine answered mechanically, “not at all.” Quite the opposite, in fact. Terrible would have been bringing him here, subjecting him to this vile place, wasting more of his life with her, until it was ultimately, pointlessly, cut short attempting to prolong the miserable excuse for existence hers had become. “I suppose you could say that he has…moved on to greener pastures,” she said with a forced smile, betraying nothing of the raging tempest of emotions within her.
"Ah," Anvaere sighed, with a look that would almost have been pitying, had Moiraine not caught the glint of satisfaction as she watched her sister come to her own conclusions about what exactly that meant. "A lesson for you, then," she said, "always marry them when they're still addled with lust for you and pliant. Uncle, for all his faults, was right about the fact that, when presented with the opportunity to make a killing blow, you should never hesitate."
Moiraine noted Anvaere’s assumption, in spite of her attempting to kill any possibility of thoughts in that direction, that Lan had only agreed to follow her initially because he’d wished to bed her, and decided it was not worth trying to scrape together more energy she frankly didn’t have to argue the point. Naturally she assumed that. It was how they were taught, and how the game was played. A woman’s sexuality is one of her only weapons, and hse must wield it accordingly to gain whatever power she can while she still has it at her disposal. She knew it would be almost impossible to explain the relationship she and Lan had to Anvaere, who simply came from such a different world that she could not even begin to imagine it, let alone accept it.
More impossible for her, still, was the sentiment behind why Moiraine had pushed Lan away. There was no greater sin in Cairhien than to not use every advantage you had. The idea of actively pushing away someone that you loved, worse, someone who was useful to you, simply for their sake? Unthinkable. Moiraine would likely not have been able to conceive of it, either, not before Lan. For this had been his influence upon her, she knew. Ironic, given how hard he’d fought against accepting it. Sacrifice had been a language she spoke fluently and well, but letting someone go, letting them be free of the burden of duty or love so that they might be happier for it? That was a lesson that Lan had helped her to learn. Along with so many others on their journey together. And now–
“You seem to miss him,” Anvaere observed, giving voice to the very thoughts Moiraine had been working so hard to push down and ignore, lest they break her.
Her sister also betrayed a flicker of surprise in her expression for the first time, as she apparently uncovered something she had not already known was there, and was as such not expecting it. Learning things about Moiraine had never been the purpose of this little interrogation. Hurting her with things already known had been. Punishing her, in the most Cairhien of ways, showing her the consequences that came with refusing a polite invitation. Had she taken tea that morning perhaps they might have had a pleasant chat with one another. Since Moiraine had forced her to go to all of this trouble, well, now she had to pay the price.
Moiraine swallowed hard, drank her tea to give herself thinking time, for the simple truth was that she did. She had not expected it to be so much sharper and keener for the loss of his physical presence in her space. She had been missing the bond, and the emotional connection she had delivered held off, for months now, why should this have made it so much worse. Yet it had.
In the end she could come up with no way to talk around her First Oath and was forced to say, very quietly, throat painfully tight, “I do.”
Anvaere, at last, looked satisfied, and Moiraine decided not to let the opportunity presented to strike go to waste.
“Now,” she said firmly, leaning forward with clear intent, “about that redheaded boy at the inn,” she prompted and Anvaere raised an eyebrow slightly to indicate that, as hoped, she would permit Moiraine her first question, “how long has he been staying here in Cairhien?”
An hour later, Moiraine had what she needed, though she felt as though she’d been forced to let Anvaere flay her very soul until it was raw and bloody and exposed before her. Nothing she had asked had been dreadfully invasive, really, but that had not been the point. The act itself had been the price, and the punishment, of her earlier transgressions. As she moved from the room, she did so feeling hollow and empty. Like the old dollhouse, or the books untouched for years, or the dust that had lain thick upon the space, Moiraine was now but another old, unloved ghost, cold and despairing, and never able to find peace.
***
I'm friendly please feel free to yell thoughts/comments at me!! They fuel my angst and pain!!!!
#moiraine damodred#moiraine sedai#anvaere damodred#wheel of time#wheel of time spoilers#wheel of time on prime#wot spoilers#wot show spoilers#moiraine/anvaere#mine#my fic#LOOK AT THIS. I WROTE SOMETHING FOR THE NEW SEASON AND THEN I PUBLISHED IT#BEFORE THE NEXT EPISODE AIRS#wow. so talent. much wonderful. go me.#cairhien really said: we're going to show you exactly why moiraine is Like That#and make you wonder why she's not: so much worse#moiraine really is just doing her utmost to punish herself huh?#not enough she goes back to cairhien: the abusive pit of all the worst things ever#no no#that's not enough for little lady dramadred#gotta go stay in her old childhood bedroom#bc she's just THAT fuckin extra#goddammit Mo why do i love u so much#IM SO BEHIND AT POSTING FIC TO TUMBLR BTW PLS FORGIVE ME#and also pls comment - that too#and reblogs. share the pain. spread the suffering. my ideal form in life is as a virus
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relationship: mat/rand/elayne/aviendha
rating: T
length: 9.7k, complete
summary: Rand made a tearful little noise and drew his knees up into his chest, burying his face in them. “Two soulmates. And neither of them is Egwene,” he said. “What am I going to do?”
Mat was reaching to pat him on the back, and his hand froze when he caught sight of the very edge of a black letter, almost completely hidden by the curls at the nape of his neck; he was in need of a haircut. Mat seized a fistful of hair and pushed it out of the way, making Rand yelp. “What are you doing?”
“Blood and ashes, Rand,” Mat said in amazement. “You have three.”
Written for Polyship Week 2023, day 4. Prompt: soulmates
#i wrote half of this a year ago and abandoned it so i was glad to dig it up and finish it when i saw this prompt!#(seriously the og draft was long enough ago that min was included in it lmao snipping her out was the first thing i did to update it)#polyshipweek23#wot#wot book spoilers#the wheel of time#rand al'thor#mat cauthon#elayne trakand#aviendha#avimatrandlayne#my fic
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Finished 'A Dance with Dragons' today & now I think that the seasons who had not book content anymore are just some sort of fanfiction
#I know they talked wot grrm#But... I still want to think like that...#A group of people sitting in a room & they all have lists with cool things that could happen#Or everyone wrote a fic for a different character & than they just put all together...#Anyway... I hope the last two books will come out at some point...#a song of ice and fire#a dance with dragons#a game of thrones
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wingweaver anon here again XD.
i come back with silly brainrots. what if the reader has those hormonal shifts during spring and summer time and starts nesting, gathering pillows and blankets and little trinkets and comfort items close by. and she WANTS to let jing yuan in...perhaps she's grown used to the intimacy they share, perhaps not.
...but...she can't help but feel...unimpressed with him.
yes he's very impressive and yes he's sweet but...he's not really DONE much to woo her now has he? instinct dictates she push him away and find a more suitable mate, one with a better song, who will present better food and shiny items to you.
aka reader is going through her mating season and is very deprived and needy and fully expects jing yuan to show the proper etiquette before even DARING to set foot into her nest he gets scratched otherwise.
jing yuan : no let me in?
reader : you're cute, but you have no shiny. you don't sing. you haven't offered to preen me, or get me berries. what kind of man are you?
jing yuan : :000000 wait wot-
in the end, he does impress reader enough to be let in, and the first thing he does is grab her by the leg, pull her close and give her the fucking of a lifetime. surely the idea of starting a family wouldn't be too far off? look, she's even prepared a nest tp hold them, and he'll be a good father, providing for his little bird and their young ones.
( i'm sorry, you really don't have to write this out. i just think it would be hilarious just...watching jing yuan flounder because his darling???? is being fussy???? she wants him to sing for her?????? she wants berries and shinies????????? and then he just...sits down and gets cracking on general bird mating behaviors while reader is sitting in the corner like "well??? are you going to make a move or should i find someone else????" )
-CW: yandere, dub-con, breeding
part 1
This brainrot is too adorable!! Jing Yuan’s most precious little bird is going through her estrus… Although you didn’t ask for it, I wrote a little bit🫢🤗💖
Even General Xianzhou couldn't expect this, you just have wings after all. He didn't expect you to be in heat like a bird. It’s really interesting to see this hundreds of years old man overwhelmed 🤭
Jing Yuan immediately searched for the keywords "birds + estrus + wingweaver" in the database, and those holographic data blocks immediately swam around him. His eyes were darting around and reading the information he needed, and you were already… squirming on the nest? It was actually a bed with cozy blankets on it. You pouted and puffed out your cheeks, glaring at him angrily. The instinct in your head is calling you to find a better mate, one who will pursue you appropriately. Maybe your confused mind thinks he is a savage bird kidnapping you back to his nest…
Bird courtship behavior:
Singing
Display beautiful feathers
Bring delicious food and shiny stones as gifts
Decorate the love nest together
Dancing
Demonstrate hunting ability
…
There won't be enough time to order berries or collect trinkets for you. You're already questioning him. So… Jing Yuan took off his armor and robe… showing off his burly and well-trained chest and shoulders. He smiled leisurely at you. Your distracted eyes focused, and you felt heat radiating from your neck, your legs began to lose strength, and your wings trembled and fluttered. "you- you……"
"Shhh, come to me. Here's your preen." Jing Yuan opened his arms and simulated the sound of people teasing their pet birds.
You snuggled into his comforting arms. The sensitive wings are carefully groomed. You were about to assume a position that would allow for mating, but the general had already caught you and started breeding. You rocked on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and moaning softly. After a round of breeding, your legs were once again pinned as high as they could by his hands. His fat cock is thrusting upwards, thrusting inside your throbbing needy cunt.
It was finally burned into your head - no one could pursue you like he could, no one could mate with you like he could. Jing Yuan is the only spouse you need💖
divider @/cafekitsune
#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail#yandere jing yuan#yandere hsr x reader#yandere jing yuan x reader#honkai x reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#jing yuan x female reader
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Dating Legolas Headcanons
Oh no, people are actually interacting with my content?? Here, have some Legolas Headcanons that I wrote a while ago and don't really like
Warnings: None except for very brief mentions of insecurity
Word Count: 0.5k
- Okay, yes, we know he's a prince and whatever but
- Boy is actually feral
- He's always sweaty lmao
- Like he doesn't just sweat but he's always running around doing something and/or getting into heated arguments with his dad
- Speaking of which, Thranduil doesn't necessarily despise you, he's just...
- Cautious
- He doesn't think it's a good idea for elves to get involved with humans, especially with the whole death by heartbreak thing
- He just doesn't want his son to go through that again and have the possibility of not recovering
- Anyway back to Legolas
- If anyone tries to tease him about you or mock you directly, he will be foaming at the mouth
- You'd think a few thousand years of life would instill patience, but this man
- *deep inhale*
- THIS MAN IS SO IMPULSIVE GOOD LORD
- Like as a young human, why are you the one stopping him from jumping off cliffs/getting into fistfights/literally running away from home forever?
- Somehow he makes up for the stress he causes you by being very goofily sweet and loving
- He manages to channel some of his impulsiveness into going out and picking flowers for a bouquet for you
- Or plotting a spontaneous date/picnic/romantic training session
- He only jokes around you, which can pose a bit of an issue when you tell others "he's so funny and witty" and you just get blank stares that say, "you alright there or wot?"
- But he actually is really funny and it makes you feel special that he only lets that side out around you, the side that isn't either serious or super dramatic all the time
- He is also very disrespectful when it comes to PDA lol
- You once hugged him in front of a few of his friends (okay) and kissed him on the cheek (less okay) before you knew the "rules" and he took that to mean that you were completely fine with flying in the face of elven tradition
- and a license to kiss you whenever wherever
- Not that you necessarily mind
- But you're definitely embarrassed
- He has a lot of elven maidens chasing him that do NOT like you
- He doesn't find it funny because it hurts you, however he does find it funny that they think they have a chance with him
- In his words, "Especially when they act like that."
- As soon as you got self-conscious about not being as skilled of a warrior as he or his familiars, he took the excuse to be super close to you took it upon himself to teach you
- Which leads to a few unnecessarily funny incidents and some never to be spoken of again
- In short, he's semi-immortal and semi-eternally a teenager at heart
- And that heart is all yours
#legolas greenleaf#legolas#lotr fanfic#lotr fandom#lotr headcanons#lotr#lotr movies#legolas x reader#legolas x y/n#legolas x oc#legolas fanfiction#legolas drabble#mae writes
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i've been thinking about this a little recently, and i've decided i'm fully over these white centrist conceptualizations of what "violent revolutionaries who Went Too Far 🥺" are. bioware wrote themselves into such ridiculous convolutions because they're unable to see any violent resistance to an authority as justified, regardless of how brutal the authority itself is.
It's never too late for them to change that; they've made progress in other areas since Origins released in 2009, so we'll see!
All I know is, if I can't choose to free these slaves in DA4, if they pull a 'theyre all just being manipulated omg they are sooo stupid and violent' like what happened with the mage rebellion, I don't want it.
Maybe silly to throw out an entire project over one thing, but this particular One Thing is my limit.
I'll do my part by picking up WOT Vol. III or another giclee instead. And drop in on you guys' streams to check out the new codex entries.😅
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Part 5. Heart Break of the Century
The family starts to realize that the reader and Noah make a good match. Tommy and the reader begin to realize she has PTSD and start to notice how that impacts her relationships.
Thanks to everyone who wrote in about this series! I really hope that you guys enjoy! <3
Previous parts
Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault/abuse, panic attacks, and anxiety about that experience. Nothing is actually described with detail, PTSD, general peaky chaos
Tommy was acutely aware that his daughter had some emotional problems. She didnt run, she wouldn't fight, she would crumple. Exposing something so broken it made his head swim with anger. He wanted to take the coward’s way out and tell Lizzie to speak to her about it. However, not even he knew the extent of how many awful things had happened to Lizzie, he knew it wasn't a topic she handled well. Having her stressed made him extremely anxious about the baby.
He lay there in bed, thankful beyond belief that you agreed to sleep in their room. That you got into bed with them, that you hadn't changed your view on the two of them. He would need to speak with John and Arthur about how they go about things.
The look that crossed your face flashed through his mind once more and flinched.
“Dad” She whispered and startled him slightly.
“Wot” He whispered back.
“I don’t hate you for what you and Lizzie went through.”
“That’s - good.” He said unsure of how to respond.
“I - I love you both.” She stuttered and his heart broke a little more if possible.
He sighed. “I love you too.”
“I’m sorry I collapsed on the floor the other day.”
“What happened to-”
“Just a lot of beatings. I don’t exactly hold back what I’m thinking, doesn't make for the best student or daughter.”
“Just beatings?” He said trying to remain calm, his fingers balled into fists at his side.
“One particular priest, he – ah” Her voice was thick and he waited to see what she wanted to say. He wouldn't push her, he would make sure no one ever pushed her for anything ever again. “He used to run his hands on me - while punishing me. Could have been a lot worse. He was, as Polly would say, touched by demons.”
Tommy lay there biting the inside of his cheek. He wasn't a good man, he didnt have words of comfort for her. He felt her move next to him. Her arms wrapped around his right arm and she pressed her face into his shoulder.
“It doesn't bother me, I just get overwhelmed when men sort of get really angry.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Don’t- I know it’s only because you love me.”
“Still, don't let men yell at you like that. Not even me.” The thought of Noah bossing her around, shouting at her was enough to make him light a cigarette. It’s a great example he had been setting for her. She was already confused and now-
“I won’t.”
He felt her relax and eventually listened to the both of them breathing softly. He relaxed accepting the fact that his mind would not allow him to rest tonight.
______________________________
Waking up you were relieved to feel both parents still in place beside you. Opening your eyes you found yourself still pressed against Tommy's arm, and you could feel Lizzie’s hand in your hair.
“Morning” You whispered knowing that Tommy was awake.
“Morning.” He whispered back.
“If it's allowed can I go get dressed and see if Noah’s up?”
“Fine.” He said getting up and stretching. You moved out of the room and quickly got washed and dressed in your room. You fussed over what to wear but decided that a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved top with a wool jumper would be best. Better to be practical when the enemy was afoot. You dashed to the kitchen to make some tea.
You knocked on his door and heard a muffled grumble on the other side. You slowly pushed the door open while holding two mugs of hot tea.
“Morning” You whispered before your voice got caught in your throat. He was a crumpled masterpiece. He was sprawled across the bed, sheets a mess. He was topless, and you felt your face get hot. “Oh, I have tea.”
He quickly got up and grabbed the shirt hanging on the bedpost. He pulled in on and then ran a hand through his hair. His cheeks were pink and suddenly you forgot how to breathe.
You handed him the mug and sat on the end of the bed realizing you probably should have waited for him to come downstairs.
“How did you sleep? Was everything comfortable?” You resorted to being a good host for lack of better things to say.
“Oh erm - ya, it was great.” He said taking a sip of tea. You both caught each other's eye and laughed.
“Sorry for waking you.” You mumbled into the rim of your mug.
“Not a bad way to wake up, really.” His eyes were so warm and inviting. “So what are we up to today.”
“I’m not sure, thought maybe we could go for a walk outside. Play in the snow.” Once you said it you realized how childish it was.
“They have some important meeting on today so being outside sounds nice.”
You both drank your tea and Noha put his arm around you. You leaned into his side and watched as more snow fell outside his window.
__________________
The morning was chaotic and you were grateful you had a half hour of quiet up in Noah’s room before Esme found you. You had to help with breakfast, and then everyone ate together before going in different directions.
John and Arthur were given a task in the kitchen making calls, Esme and Polly were helping Lizzie while she rested. The kids were to play downstairs for the day, and Tommy and Alfie would be in his office making more calls and strategizing.
You and Noah weren't given any instruction. You both sat quietly as everyone left the dining room.
“Guess they forgot us then,” Noah whispered and it was nice not to be the center of attention for once.
The rest of the morning passed you by sitting with Noah in front of the fireplace in your room. You both chatted and played cards, pretended to be mad when you caught the other cheating.
Eventually, you got your walk, observing the groups surrounding the house. You were looking at the various fires and wondering if everyone was warm enough when something hard hit your shoulder. Snow flicked up and landed on your cheeks making you jump.
You whirled around and Noah threw another one at you. This, much like the card games, became a brutal competition. You were both hurling snow at each other at a vicious pace. You could feel the adults looking at the both of you probably judging you but you didnt let it distract you.
You wanted this boy to surrender.
A bunch of shouting caused you to turn your head. A snowball caught your cheek and you brushed off the painful sting, eyes still focused on the commotion breaking out at one of the camps.
“Are you-”
You didnt let him finish what he was going to say, you ran towards the camp with a feeling of panic rising through you. What if the Changrettas were here? Running towards it wasn’t smart.
Noah’s arms caught you preventing you from getting any closer. You stopped and he mouthed to be quiet, you gave a nod and he let you go.
You both moved closer to the camp to see what the commotion was about. Various slurs and swears were being exchanged between the men. No real threat. Just a squabble between the Solomons and Shelbys.
Relief flooded you and you walked up to the men at the center of it. You heard Noah swear before rushing to your side.
“What’s the problem?” You looked to Johnny Dogs because you knew him the best. He answered in Romani, which seemed a bit rude but soon Noah was speaking to his men in Hebrew.
You listened carefully, wanting to make sure you could come up with a reasonable solution.
______________________________________________
“Tommy - the men are fighting. Think she’s got it under control but it’s not really her place.” Finn was hanging out of the door to his study and the anger was quickly replaced with anxiety.
Why the fuck were you outside? That was the one thing he told- ah, he didn’t actually remember giving you your tasks for the day at breakfast. Fuck. He apologized and ended the phone call he was having. He and Alfie moved out of the study.
“She’s a real trouble maker you know that - Noah never sticks his nose where he’s not supposed to. Then she comes around and suddenly he’s always-”
“Fuck off Alfie.” But they both shut up when they saw the two of them negotiating with each other. Negotiating on behalf of their people, if it was anyone else Tommy would have had to beat the living daylights out of them for overstepping.
“Now, on our end, we would like to formally apologize for any words of disrespect spoken about anyone's mother.” You spoke clearly.
“Accepted,” Noah said nodding.
“Anything else to clear up?”
“Nah,” Johnny Dogs said with a shrug.
“Well, in the future, if you insult each other make it more entertaining.” You quipped causing both sides to laugh. “No one likes being cooped up here, try to make the best of it.” Your voice was still light but it had an edge of warning everyone seemed to take seriously.
Eyes started to land on him and Alfie and they all hummed loudly in agreement. When you looked up at him your mask seemed to falter slightly. You knew it wasn’t your place to do such things, but he knew that you were just trying to be helpful.
He didnt have to tell you to go inside, you could tell what the look meant. You trudged through the snow back up to the house.
“Any problems here?” Alfie boomed his voice bouncing off of the snow.
“No.” then men mumbled or shook their heads.
“Good.” He responded before walking back up to the house with Noah.
Tommy stood outside for a long moment. Letting the adrenaline wear off. As much as he hated the boy, the two of them worked well together. If this was anyone else's daughter in the family, he would have gotten them married. Strengthened the alliance a lot more than shipping passageways to New York.
He shook the idea out of his head. You were 17, and he didnt want you to get married - ever.
___________________________________________
“Not a bad tactic down there. Very clever” Alfie gave you a pat on the back and your whole shoulder shook from the force of it. You were sat next to him at the dinner table tonight.
“Erm - Thanks.”
“Surprisingly the two of you make a pretty decent team,” He said quietly.
“Oh, yeah I think so.” You said with a blush on your cheeks. Having someone's approval made you happy.
The next few days everyone kept themselves in check. No drama or nonsense. Tommy had placed you and Noah on kid duty. Meaning there were at least five little kids between the two of you at any given movement. You were happy that Noah didnt seem to mind. He enjoyed spending time with the little ones.
You felt the tension deep in your stomach, you never got a moment alone with him. Tommy, despite being overworked and overwhelmed seemed to always have something for you to do. Then before you knew it the day had flashed by and you were back in bed with your parents. You missed your room, but you knew that both of them were at their limits.
Lizzie was in bed all day now, she moved around the room and took baths, but didnt join the family for meals. No one could figure out what was wrong with her, just kept insisting she needed to rest.
While getting ready for bed you noticed a white shirt on folded on the edge of your bed. It was a soft cotton shirt of Noah's. You breathed in his scent and hated how your body felt alive and pained at the same time. You changed into a pair of bottoms and wore his shirt hoping no one would notice. You went into your parent's room and settled in under the heavy blankets. Lizzie smiled at you with a knowing look in her eye.
You felt both far away from her having been busy all day, yet closer to her as you slept next to her.
“What’s causing these wrinklers hm?” She said running a thumb between your brow.
“Do you like Noah?” You asked. She studied your features with a type of sadness you didn't understand.
“I haven't had a chance to see much of him. Polly adores him, Esme says it will either work out or be the heartbreak of the century. She read his tea leaves though.” You let out a groan of embarrassment. “Says things look promising.”
“Great.” You whispered feeling her thumb trying to sooth over the wrinkles on your brow again.
“That’s the risk everyone has to take.” She said softly.
“I really like him.” You sighed. “I don’t want the heartbreak of the century."
“No one does, but maybe that’s not a part of your story.” She shrugged. You nodded feeling your eyes getting heavy. She continued to run her thumb across your forehead.
“Will you be alright?” You mumbled.
“Yes, I think most of this is just stress.” You nodded and quietly agreed before falling asleep.
________________
The tension only got worse as more snow piled onto Arrow house. Anxiety as your father negotiated trade deals and other nefarious things to ensure allies against the Changretta family. The stress of knowing that any of the men he makes a deal with could sell him out.
The radio says the rain was only a few days away, and a sadness filled you at the thought of Noah leaving. You loved having him and Alfie around.
Things really came to a head when you both were forgotten again. You sneaked up to your bedroom and played cards by the fire. This time it was harder to notice the way his hands brushed yours. How warm his skin was, how his features shone in the firelight.
He was losing the round and decided to switch tactics by grabbing your face and kissing you. This kiss was as heated as the one at the top of the ferris wheel. Your body hummed with life and a burning sensation that suffocated you. His hands were in your hair and you wanted to drown in him.
When his hand slipped lower to your throat you nearly jumped out of your skin. The feeling washed over you leaving you stiff as a board. Memories came in and wrapped around your mind like a vice.
It was inescapable and you moved your body with just enough urgency to just make it to the toilet. You puked hating the way your head was spinning. Noah was there apologizing looking frightened. His hands fluttered around you but you could tell he didnt want to touch you.
Embarrassment hit you and it was almost as bad as the initial panic.
“I’m sorry I just.”
“It’s alright. Can I” He motioned towards you with his hands and you gave him a nod. He flushed the toilet and sat down close to you.
“I’m sorry-” You started.
“It’s alright, I’m nervous too. I haven't done any of this before.” So he was a virgin. Your mind flashed back to Nancy Wellington in math class going off about how he’d banged a lot of older girls.
“Nancy Wellington told me you’d gotten the clap from a uni girl.” You were desperate for a distraction and blurted it out without thinking. Noah let out a laugh that calmed you down slightly.
“That’s because I turned her down, she wanted me to take her to the spring dance.” He ran his hand up and down your spine.
“What happened to you? Is it something I did or-” He deserved an answer as the boy looked tortured over the situation.
“Well, as you know I came from an orphanage. And I used to get a lot of beatings.” You looked back into the toilet and took a shuttering breath.
“People used to hit you?” His voice was riddled with anger.
“My dad also used to hit me a lot.” You added weakly avoiding the next part of the story.
“That’s - just come home with me then. Dad loves you, he won’t care. You can take Lizzie with us if she’s also getting -” His face set into a hard mask, his voice was cold and demanding.
“No! Not Tommy, my biological father.”
“You sure?" His eyes narrowed in on you and thankfully you didnt get the usual bout of anxiety.
“Positive. He looks grumpy, but he’s not with me - he’s never.” You whispered.
“Right, so the orphanage. How bad was it?” He challenged you keeping your eyes there. Telling him about this made you afraid but his reaction so far had done nothing more than make you fall for him even harder.
“He just used to choke me -run his hands all over me.” His eyes didn’t move from yours. He didn’t change his expression. He shouldered it like it was business- like he was in the trenches with you. “Still a virgin and everything.”
“Not what I’m worried about,” Noah said dismissively, his brown eyes still boring into yours.
“What are you worried about.” You said breathlessly considering throwing up again. You broke your staring contest to look back at the toilet. Your stomach was cramped up into knots.
“That you're alright, how to help you. What you need. That type of stuff.” Noah ran his hand down your back again. His hands slowly came up avoiding your neck and pulled your hair up.
“Thanks.” You said weakly.
He was so comforting that tears formed in your eyes. He made a soothing sound.
“You're just so nice to me - all the time.” He let out a little chuckle then the door opened further. Your dad’s eyes narrowed in on the situation. He left the room quickly and the panic washed up over you again. You puked again and Noah helped keep you upright. Then Esme was there fussing over the both of you.
“Was it something you ate, love?” She untied a ribbon from her wrist and tied your hair up.
“Noah.” Tommy pointed out of the room. You could tell by the boy’s body language this was going to be a fight. “Need to talk to you out here for a moment.” Tommy added quickly. Noah looked at you and you nodded hoping that it wouldnt be a mess. The anxiety from the situaton only made your stomach roll again.
Noah moved out of the bathroom and you felt Esme press a cold cloth to your forehead.
______________________
Already have the first bit written for the next part. Let me know what you guys think <3 Thanks again for all the love.
Tags: @sorrygojo @dreamy-caramel @pet1t3
#closing walls and ticking clocks#peaky blinders#Peaky blinders fic#Thomas Shelby#Tommy Shelby#Lizzie Shelby#Alfie Solomons#noah solomons#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fan fiction
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Episode 49 - The Jellivision (part 1)
"JELE TV"
Hm.
This is the best translation I can give you. Also, that courier's parents must have hated him.
Yeah,,, this explains... everything.
This is my vision of what Kerubim would post if he had twitter. Anyway.
You're welcome.
"BOB DE BONTA", self-explanatory, really.
Aaand of course it's Bontarian supremacy propaganda.
Kerubim owning items like these is pretty interesting, considering he does know Goultard.
The cover says: "Keke"; the back says: "FFJGIJO D DNVODIJ DFIDVOV V".
I don't know what I expected, but I do wonder why the fuck he's reading a book about himself.
....Maybe during one of his many adventures, he became a self-published author? He probably wrote "she breasted boobily down the stairs" type literature. People probably hated it.
Kerubim confirmed to pay Simone. Kerubim confirmed to pay Simone even though she's doing shitfuck right now, because he's kind like that. This explains why she hasn't killed him yet.
Totally not concerning.
Considering homophobia seems to be real in this universe, there is a yet another one problematic thing this shitty Bontarian series is doing — the predatory lesbian trope. I bet this lesbian is not just a dark witch, but also a Brakmarian woman.
We need to cancel Bob from Bonta for this.
As funny as it would be, I am not translating this shit.
If it makes you feel better, I tried reading a few of these, (well, the ones not too obscured by jelly) and it seemed to be gibberish.
I bet the trope of an evil, predatory dark magic-practising huppermage woman who's lies involve love has been a popular way to demonize Brakmarian people in Bonta for like, ten years.
YET ANOTHER instance of Bob from Bonta saying problematic things.
I think that the Quadramental Breeze and Huppermagic are like Buddhism and Kabbalah, to other races of the World of Twelve:
They don't know shit about it, or the culture surrounding it, but it's totally "THE lifestyle". You need to "balance your spiritual energies," and "believe in the light balance path and quadramentalized meditation" for success. Or something.
If Joris were older and understood anything about television he would be so fucking mad I think.
This episode is such an evil and insane look into the World of Twelve. Class-based make up culture, misogyny, and ads...
I need to make more "tumblr if it was in the World of Twelve" posts on my main. I don't know why thinking about WoT's insane society makes me so giddy.
"CASQUE" (HELMET)
This did everything for the Silly Joris economy.
He's never beating the "that second guy who was using a straw to drink tea in the OVA" allegations.
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Gemtho Fortnight Masterpost
Thank you everyone for your support during my Gemtho fortnight from April 1st to April 14th! I appreciate all the love and also the prompts you guys sent in! Please know that even if I didn't have time to fill all of them, they all made me so happy!!
As promised, here is the masterpost to keep track of all the fills. I'm not including content warnings for each one here, but they'll be listed at the top of the page once you click a link!
gem wears a remote controlled sex toy in public (rpf)
etho gets pegged
gem is a lighthouse keeper
hermits talk about rpf (rpf)
gem pays for an IOU
gem sends mail to etho's PO box (rpf)
gem and etho spar for a prize
gem and etho meet irl for the first time (rpf)
etho sexually assaults gem
etho likes feet and dominant!Gem
etho wets his pants
gem uses a gloryhole (rpf)
etho dominates gem
gem runs into etho irl unexpectedly (rpf)
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~*~I'M HAVING A BOOK SALE!~*~
Looking for some fun reads to pass the long hours of the chilly season? Do you enjoy any of the following -- Our Flag Means Death, Supernatural, The X-Files, Constantine, Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe noir, Westerns, Greek mythology, soap operas -- and wish there were more POC, queer characters, and ladies with agency?
I GOTCHU, BABES. And by ordering direct from me, I'll sign/personalize your copy!
The Hazeldines (normally $13 + S&H), are $10 + S&H ($3 in the US).
Sink or Swim and Weird, USA (normally $17), are $13 + S&H.
Sorry, We're Dead and The Lito (normally $20), are $15 + S&H.
I accept PayPal or mailed check/cash. Order in the comments/send me a DM, and I'll follow up for shipping info!
(And if you already have the full Angie Bee backlog, TELL YOUR FRIENDS! And for those who prefer ebooks: All 5 volumes of Hazeldine are currently available on both Kindle and the Nook, with the rest of my books to follow!)
Full list of books + descriptions can be found here.
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good omens thread while i rewatch season 1 because i was slacking and also had no wifi for 4 days
bro the grip this show had on me when i was 15 was crazy you dont understand
the earth is a libra and her birthday is october 10th how could i forget
I GAVE IT AWAY you WOT this is the momeny crowley fell in love
the WING IN THE RAIN
god this intro feels like coming home
imma keep it a buck fifty i never could never follow the card trick baby swap
all the queen makes me so happy. i could appreciate it then. the various queen merch i have scattered around my room now says otherwise
"call aziraphale" "all the phone lines are currently busy" "grr" is a classic god i love this idiot
why does he walk like that. kinda gay.
why does he eat like that. kinda gay.
why do they sit like that. kinda gay.
god i fucking hate gabriel. cant wait for my whole opinion of him to change
"little temptation i ask you to cover for me" i forgot this was a thing they did god i fucking love them. i cant tell you how much i love them
the grip they have on me is insane you dont fucking understand
i was 15 and had just suffered a breakup (my first major one) and i thought i would never see the sun again and there they were. and then i made art and i wrote fanfic and i consumed THOUSANDS of fics and art and i talked and dressed like crowley and i was so depressed and i was lonely and to fight it i watched good omens no less then once a week for that whole summer. it changed my life
gods the dolphins conversation is so dumb i love them bubububub
i love them so fucking much
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relationship: rand/aviendha, past rand/lanfear
rating: M
length: 1.8k
summary: Aviendha was a very forceful kisser, in a good way. Sloppy enough that he thought it possible this was her first kiss, but confident. Much more confident than Rand had been during his first kiss, with Egwene years ago.
Light, their first kiss, that quiet summer’s afternoon in Emond’s Field—it felt like another lifetime. So did their last kiss, at Fal Dara before Rand had left for the Eye of the World. And after that, there had only been—
No. He wasn’t going to think about her right now.
#i wrote this right after 2x04 but kept forgetting to post it bc More Things Kept Happening#what a ride this stretch of episodes has been#wot#rand al'thor#aviendha#avirand#the wheel of time#my fic#wot book spoilers
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What I want from season three is for the showrunners to show Rand trying to prove he is the dragon, very similar to book three. I saw this interesting argument on Tumblr about how, by Jordan's rules for wot, Moiraine has made Rand a fake dragon. He did not declare himself; she declared him. This is why it's so important they stick to the rules Jordan has written. Because the moment they deviate, it falls apart because they're not doing it intelligently.
The man wrote a great magic system, a great world - why feel the need to deviate? It was probably born from the fact that Moiraine doesn't have much to do in book two, so they felt the need to add stuff for the actress. Earlier, I had written a post about how many show-only fans don't think Rand is the dragon; this might be why. Rand should have proclaimed himself as the dragon.
Moiraine being involved looked cool visually but made it so the prophecy was not really fulfilled (not even by the show's standard.) It's why the showrunners need to fully think through things before they do them - or think about the consequences of deviating in such a way. When you deviate from an airtight world, you're left with question after question in your wake, and that's shoddy fantasy writing to me.
Season three needs to make clear Rand is the dragon and also have him prove it to the audience. It needs to be him, who proves it not everyone else around him.
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wot rewatch 1x3: a place of safety
Onto episode three, where we get to have some new dynamics and some relationship building for the future.
spoilers for the first season and the new s2 teaser scene that we got and for book spoilers... through The Dragon Reborn due to an identity reveal, I guess.
Nynaeve! I think it was a really good idea for the show to make sure to show us that Nynaeve was still alive at the end of episode two rather than trying to draw it out any further.
We do get some useful info here. We see the Trolloc's willingness to kill their own. We get to see Nynaeve being both brave and clever in how she dispatches the Trolloc. And then she tracks down Lan & Moiraine afterwards. We get shown on screen how impressive Nynaeve is.
Lan is also very impressed by Nynaeve, even so that he's very honest with her here. And he also needs her help, of course.
I'm going to be watching for our mirrors and parallels between Rand and Egwene while they're separated.
Rand is still calling out for Egwene and Perrin, and Mat is the one thinking clearly - he reassures Rand that they'll find the others but that they need to keep themselves alive first.
Mat wants to go home, but Rand is now picking up the responsibility baton, both to protect their home and because he knows Egwene will want to continue to the White Tower. I love Rand and Mat's banter in this episode a lot.
Perrin and Egwene are being followed (by wolves) and make a fire - Perrin tries with a flint but Egwene succeeds with the Power. Perrin takes her using the Power pretty well -- I do wonder if he jumps on board the "Egwene is the Dragon Reborn" train here.
Now they get to have their parallel discussion about what to do next. Rand knew Egwene would continue to the White Tower but Egwene thinks that Rand will go home. Perrin says that they won't, and he's right. Rand wants to go home -- Egwene's correct there -- but both responsibility and wanting to reunite with Egwene and Perrin prevents him from turning back even though Mat was on the side of "let's go home".
But that gap between Egwene and Rand loving each vs maybe not always knowing each other is something that continues from the first episode. They know parts of each other but they both also have gaps of knowledge - Rand makes assumptions about Egwene in episode 1 because he doesn't know about her offer from Nynaeve and Egwene makes assumptions here because she doesn't know that Rand has reason to believe that he's the Dragon Reborn. Rand accepting being the Dragon Reborn means accepting that he "can't go home", which is a big thing that he struggles with over the season but deflects onto first Egwene and then Mat once it starts looking like Mat might be the Dragon (exhibiting the 'signs' that Thom told him about).
Lan is developing a big crush and Nynaeve has no clue. <3 also I like Nynaeve's little healer's kit. We get some hints about the Warder bond here but we'll be getting much more next episode.
The set-up of the give-and-take between the three pairs being explored in this episode is a lot of fun.
Perrin's dream... Ishy trying to suss out if Perrin is The One, I assume. I wonder if he was trying to trigger Perrin into a memory of "his" past life and guilt over his dead wife. Which isn't going to work because it isn't his past life, of course. But it does make me wonder if he thought Perrin was TDR. We know from the finale that he appeared to be genuinely surprised it was Rand until they got a bit of quality time alone.
So Perrin and Egwene start out having a rougher and scarier journey -- howling wind, howling wolves, and being chased. While Mat and Rand appear to have found a touch of luck by running across a town. But the town is not a genuine "place of safety" while the wolves are actually doing their best to help out and lead Perrin to people who can help him.
Thom's coat does have colorful patches on the inside. I do understand why they toned Thom down, for sure. I wonder who wrote this song - given the subject matter. But we know why Thom would feel so sympathetic to Lews Therin.
Dana was such a great introduction to Darkfriends. It really feels like the show put a lot of thought into why someone would decide to become a Darkfriend and are putting it into practice early on. Lots of thought into all the various world philosophies that we've seen so far.
Go to a slighter large village than the one you grew up in, immediately get pickpocketed. No safety here for Rand and Mat. And poor Rand is so grossed out by how Dana just dumps all the leftovers back into the stewpot.
Mat Tries To Set Up A Porn, take one: offering to work for their stay.
Mat Tries To Set Up A Porn, take two: threesome edition.
On a more serious note, lol, this is also where Mat and Rand first get into a genuine bit of conflict, when Mat blames Rand for them being here and tells him that Egwene and Perrin are likely dead and, even if they aren't, that Egwene wouldn't go through any of this effort for Rand's sake and so he shouldn't do it for her. Basically, taking all that emotional sensitivity that Mat has shown previously and using as a weapon against Rand to try to get Rand to do what Mat wants to do (go home).
He successfully hurts Rand's feelings, clearly regrets it, but instead of apologizing, he goes with Mat Tries To Set Up A Porn, take three, which ends in him serving drinks.
Dana is pretty honest with Mat and Rand. Except for the big thing she's lying about, of course.
Honestly, I'm finding Perrin's guilt and grief over Laila to be pretty touching in this rewatch.
Rand trying to talk himself out of a room for the night, lol. Rand burns Mat so hard and he's not even there to hear it. Dana, of course, already knows about Egwene so it feels like her trying to "help" Rand and Mat's, uh, relationship woes was her angling to get some kind of in with Rand (which worked). From what we see in S1, Ishamael does have a fair amount of knowledge about their current lives (likely from Fain) but just doesn't know how that tracks into them potentially being the Dragon Reborn.
Mat is starting to get pretty twitchy and quick to draw his fancy new dagger. But he's still willing to calm down and realize Thom isn't a threat. We also get some tiny bits of Aiel lore.
"Mat says a lot of things" yeah, so true. But both of these scenes -- the Mat & Thom one and the Rand & Dana one -- are so good.
At this point, Thom was willing to give some advice and then walk out, because the two boys might need a life lesson but there's no indication they're in trouble they can't get out of. And then he hears that a Fade is after them, and everything changes for him.
"All five of you... but only one matters, only one of you can be it." Ishamael hasn't ruled Nynaeve out yet, because he doesn't know the exact wording of the prophecy.
I love how passionate and sincere they had Dana be here. And now that we've seen the teaser, we get a look at how Ishamael acts around prospective marks so I feel like Dana probably got started with the 'soft sell' just like the little girl did.
And now Lan leads his group to a hopeful place of safety. And we get to explore Aes Sedai politics in the next episode. <3
Logain! Talk about you soon. <3 <3
#wot#wheel of time#wot on prime#wot rewatch#wot book spoilers#the dragon reborn#wot s2 spoilers#wheel of time s2 spoilers
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