#Childe was fun just throwing him into the narrative I get it now

[grapejuicefilledpools]

✨End of Fontaine’s(SPOILERS FOR THAT)✨

It’s in the notes I’m tired. I liked the story hurray to past intuition being correct. Will visit the lore Reddit l8r.

[rynnthefangirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/very-straight-blog/760265762145452032/i-decided-to-summarize-all-the-statements-about?source=share

I didn't read the book, so all these things were really just rumors?

Yes, this post is accurate. Aegon is a rapist in the show, but in the book we don’t know. A strange thing about this fandom is the way that the book and show canon are blended together, with some things from the show being taken as defining aspects of a character despite them not being explicitly true in the book (or even being directly contradictory to the book). Other examples include Alicent being a child bride and Aemond being a bully victim. That being said, Aegon being a rapist is a pretty reasonable jump to make, given that he was known to sexually harass serving girls. So Team Black will frequently call Aegon a rapist because it is canon in the show and consistent with both his show and book characterizations. The other points are all accurate, there are some nasty rumors about Aegon, but nothing confirmed.

*Getting into spoilers now if you don’t know the later events of the book*

No worries though, Aegon is still very much a piece of shit in the book! In truth, him being a rapist is pretty far down on my list of reasons why I hate him. There are plenty of other things in the book to despise Aegon for! Usurping the throne, celebrating Luke’s murder by throwing a feast, murdering all the rat catchers in the red keep, traumatizing his 10 year old nephew and then ordering him to be mutilated, etc). I think the death of Maester Gerardys is a good demonstration of book!Aegons cruelty:

Mind you, this was not an enemy combatant or Lord, this was a maester who was only doing his job (and seemed to have been a pretty good dude, he defended Addam and Nettles from Rhaenyra’s suspicions and offered Aegon II milk of the poppy to ease his pain after Moondancer burned him). Aegon could have simply had him imprisoned or beheaded. Instead he gave him a sadistic and torturous death for really no other reason than just to be cruel. Idk to me that is as bad an act as raping Dyanna was in the show.

Despite being accurate, the original post just rubs me the wrong way. Pointing out that Dyanna was the only known instance of show Aegon raping someone? 1. As if him being a rapist isn’t so bad if he only did it once. 2. Aegon doesn’t even seem to see his actions as wrong in the show, to him it was just harmless fun. Am I really expected to believe that is the one and only time a spoiled and lustful Prince like Aegon decided to have “fun” with one of the serving girls?

Also framing this as a “Team Black” issue, as if Team Green isn’t constantly misrepresenting stuff from the book to fit their narrative. There are many of examples of this, but my two favorites:

1. “Rhaenyra saw herself as the exception to women ruling and robbed other women of their inheritance to give to their brothers”

- In reference to the Rosby and Stokeworth situation. This is blatantly false, Rosby and Stokeworth’s daughters were never their fathers’ heirs. It was Corlys who called Rhaenyra’s situation an exception, not because she is special and different than other women, but because her father named her heir. Rhaenyra’s whole succession ideology is based on the right of lords to choose their successors, and she upheld exactly that, refusing to usurp others’ inheritance against their lord fathers’ will as the Greens had done to her.

2. “Aegon II showed Rhaenyra’s son mercy and named him heir because he cared more about preserving House Targaryen’s future than he did the Greens vs Blacks conflict”

-Egregiously false and disingenuous. Aegon’s “mercy” to his nephew was wanting to give him a choice between castration and spending his life at the Wall. It was Corlys who insisted Aegon the Younger be named heir and engaged to Jaehaera. Aegon II did not want this, he specifically said “my sisters line must end”, but he couldn’t afford to lose Corlys’ support. It was Larys who convinced him to agree to Corlys’ demands. How did he convince him? Why by telling him that Aegon the Younger would never actually marry Jaehaera or become king, they’d just lie to Corlys and when their position was strong enough they could betray and kill him, and then castrate or exile Rhaenyra’s 10 year old son as Aegon II originally wanted to. Aegon’s “mercy” for his nephew was of the same flavor as Cersei and Joffrey’s “mercy” for Sansa.

Sorry lol, this was a long response for what was a simple ask, I just love trash talking that POS usurper.😅

TLDR; yes these are only rumors in the book and Aegon being a rapist is only strictly canon in the show. But it is not inconsistent with his book characterization, and book!Aegon is in fact still an incredibly despicable person even if you assume none of these rumors are true.

[morganeris83]

Someone asked me what I think over a message, wondering if it's PR or not. So, to me, there are two options: 1. PR Relationship: This whole thing feels orchestrated from the jump. Remember when the backlash about him traveling during the pandemic hit hard? Fans were pissed, tabloids were eating it up. Cue AW swooping in, and suddenly we’ve got a new "couple" plastered everywhere. Classic damage control move. I wouldn’t be surprised if CAA cooked this up to salvage his public image and soften the blow from the pandemic debacle. Plus, it’s not just about who AW is, but what she represents: a distraction, something to shift the narrative back to him being "desirable" or “in demand.” Now, as for his behavior—like the whole “I’ve got two dogs right now” comment—doesn’t that sound like someone who knows there’s an expiration date? It’s like he’s counting down until he’s contractually free. He’s probably walking on eggshells because of the legalities. Contracts like these aren’t just for fun; there’s serious money, reputation, and even penalties tied up in them. Ending things too soon? That could come with a major financial hit or even worse—scandal that he just doesn’t want to deal with. 2. Real Relationship: If this is legit, it’s toxic as hell. I mean, AW constantly tries to make herself part of his public narrative, even when he’s clearly trying to stay private. From the DeuxMoi debacle (the whole liking posts without being tagged) to the weird moments like sharing pics of his shoes during his big Sundance premiere… that’s not something a truly “private” person would do. It’s almost like she’s trying to tether herself to him, no matter how much distance he tries to put between them in public. And then there’s his hypocrisy. Let’s not pretend he’s innocent here. He shades people who are obsessed with social media, fillers, and the external validation they seek—but AW is literally the poster child for that lifestyle. He’s walking contradictions at this point. If they’re genuinely in love, why does he seem to be throwing so much passive-aggressive shade? No loving relationship looks like this. Real couples don’t pull this kind of weird public bait-and-switch, especially when one partner claims to be so intensely private. The constant pap walks scream "staged." Real private celebs avoid this kind of attention like the plague, and the fact that he’s participating in these pap strolls makes his whole “I value my privacy” mantra feel hollow. And don’t even get me started on the family pap strolls—those just ooze with PR stench. We’ve seen legit private celebs, and trust me, you don’t see their every move in glossy magazines or gossip columns. In conclusion: whether it's PR or real, neither option paints them in a good light. Either it’s a strategic ploy for buzz, or it’s a genuine, messy, hypocritical relationship with no real respect on either side.

Reposted my post from @notafunkiller and @littlemissidontcare so the person who asked can check it out. ✌️📢

This is everything I've been saying, basically. I'm still Team PR, not because I refuse to believe that he is a 100% perfect innocent angel, no one is perfect and I'll die before I center myself around any man, even Sebastian. He's still a man and I have low expectations of men as a whole. But also a lot of his behaviors do not add up with his exhibited history. It's felt off from the first image of them.

[tributary]

I think what you've been saying on Minhaj has been really interesting: something that came to mind as I read the New Yorker piece was another article I'd read a couple years ago - "The Limits of the Lunchbox Moment" by Jaya Saxena.

Obviously someone doxxing a previous partner and re-examining childhood cafeteria memories are not the same, but both (imo) deal with the pressure for individual members of a minority group to reinforce a narrative about their oppression. Like when a broad swath of life stories get boiled down to a few popular experiences, to shirk those experiences can be to deny the total oppression you've faced in your own life.

Also to be clear I think this isn't something most people consciously do, and something that probably rings true for marginalized groups outside of USA racial minorities!

(re: this and this)

this is a great article to bring in conversation with the hasan minhaj discourse. you’re absolutely right; there’s pressure to fit a narrative so that your experiences can be seen at all.

from the article:

The expectation that being brown or an immigrant in America inherently meant suffering and shame was frustrating to both Ren and Subramanian. “[It was alienating] as a kid because I just thought that’s how I was supposed to be and feel, because activists [and] progressives were positioned as good and insightful, and if I didn’t agree, it meant I was a bad and clueless person about my own experiences,” said Ren.

Others confronted feelings of shame about their family’s food derived from media and culture, even if they found support (or indifference) among their peers. Food writer Karon Liu, whose parents moved to Toronto from Hong Kong when he was a baby, said he can’t remember anyone getting teased for their lunch in his school full of Chinese and other immigrant kids. But it didn’t take bullying to make him feel ashamed of Chinese cuisine anyway. “So much of my feelings toward food were shaped by television and pop culture,” he said. The movies and TV shows he watched positioned Chinese food as “weird,” full of “gross” ingredients and prone to making people sick. He began throwing out the lunches his parents packed him, even though many of the kids at school ate the same things, and asked them to cook him more Western food. But he still enjoyed himself at Chinese restaurants. Even with the discomfort, his relationship with Chinese food wasn’t black and white.

Stories about white people finding unfamiliar food off-putting, like the scene in A Christmas Story where the family is shocked and disgusted at the head on a Peking duck, and immigrants feeling shame about their food resonated with Liu as a child, but he thinks they may have limited his understanding of the breadth of the immigrant experience. During an interview, he recalls asking Elaine Lui, of Lainey Gossip, if she felt ashamed of Chinese food growing up. “I was expecting the answer where it’s like, ‘Oh, yeah, I was made fun of all the time, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.’ And then Lainey was like, ‘No, I never resented Chinese food — it’s delicious and my family made me proud of it, so no.’” Shocked, Liu realized that while his feelings of shame were very real, they were also enforced by cultural narratives implying that mortification and bullying are the only experiences an immigrant can have. “Now I’m kind of wondering if I rebuilt my childhood memories in order to fit that narrative.”

it’s a flattening of The Experience into shame and suffering. it’s not the same thing, but i’ve spoken about this in the context of being a woman without some of what are assumed to be Universal Female Experiences—it makes you feel that you are not real, that you do not matter. the incentive is to reshape your memories to fit the popular narrative so that you can belong.

if you want a seat at the table, you learn that you have to bring something for others to consume. that is the lesson of the lunchbox moment, packaged for readers hungry for accounts of alienation and suffering.

[codenamesazanka]

There was that joke in the fandom about Horikoshi looking through fanfics to see what theories to make canon like the "Dabi being Touya" or "the UA traitor" (even tho most of those were just stuff hinted at in the canon before hand). Since we're doing the whole "sharing memories" bit, the one fanfic trope he can definitely throw in the manga right now is the "Spinner tells Shigaraki he used to have a tail that got cut off by bullies"

Is that a popular trope? Enough to be a thing Horikoshi would pick up on. I don't think it's anywhere near the same level as 'Dabi is the lost Todoroki son' and 'UA Traitor is _____'… but it would be interesting if Spinner Tail Trauma is made canon.

Though at this late stage, I don't know if I want it, to be honest! If it's a memory, it's angst fuel to develop characters other than Spinner - guy wouldn't even be there for it. It would a real iffy choice to show something deeply personal and traumatic that happened to Spinner, something so unjust, without Spinner there—and really only for the benefit of the contrived connection between Shigaraki and Deku.

I guess because Spinner is still unaccounted for, he can still show up so it doesn't have to be just a memory, but. Still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. HeroAca resolutions are less about the victims and what they're owed, and more about how cool and merciful the Heroes are for saving them. This would be that, but even more so, and infinitely worse.

Plus, it would make the heteromorph riot mini-arc even more of a mess. Not to say there's levels of suffering that can be compared, but in-universe and in story, Shoji is kinda framed as having been worst off - his parents weren't heteromorphic like him, he got bashed in the face with a rake and was heavily scarred for life after he saved a girl from drowning, then he even has to wear a mask to prevent people from thinking he's resentful for being the victim of a hate crime. All that, but he came out of it with a strong and golden moral core, ready to be a great and inspirational Hero who protects the status quo.

Shoji's positioned as being in the right: here was a kid who suffered terribly, but he still managed to overcome the odds and be a Good Person, who thought deeply about the Right Way to end discrimination and is putting it into action (which is being a model minority). So what's everyone else's excuse?

Meanwhile, Spinner's backstory is that he only gets sprayed with pesticides, succumbs to being a NEET hikikomori, and goes running off to join terrorists without a single original thought in his head. For the narrative to work, he needs to be the selfish, hypocritical loser who didn't try hard enough to overcome his hardships that were comparatively mild.

If Spinner was revealed to have a tail cut off by bullies, the bnha balance of heteromorphic good and evil would collapse. A young boy's classmates mutilates him as the apex of heteromorphobic bullying, and the victim was left to languish as a high school dropout shut-in? That's not something that can be fixed by waiting out generations (just wait for the adults to die! their mindset would go with them—oh, but the perpetrators are the new generation…) or having the victim change their behavior (there's just no excuse for chopping off a child's body part). That reveals something much darker in the fabric of society that Heroes' plucky 'work-harder! plus ultra!' optimism are unequiped to handle.

At the very least, it's something that "Stop holding a grudge" and "Sorry for not realizing earlier" (as the rando hero tells the PLF guy in Chapter 373) and "Shine bright until your torments feel ashamed" are utterly insufficient and unconvincing in resolving. Not quite as inspirational, you know?

I'm sorry anon! I know you were asking as a joke, offering a fun idea. And I do like it! I'm still not opposed to Spinner having that canon backstory if the writing around it was to suddenly radically change the story and expand it by 300 more chapters to fix everything. I still love the idea that Spinner had a tail. I just took it too seriously and overthought it. My apologies. Thanks for the ask.

[abysskeeper]

What is that draws you to Ruby x Oscar? (I mean it on a 'pls infodump me' vibe.)

I enjoy committing to the bit of less popular ships in RWBY and suffering the consequences

@flytehwire Ok, seriously, to answer this properly I need to explain something about myself. When I am looking for character pairings, I am looking for, in order of importance: 1. Harmonious themes and rhetoric, 2. Character interactions, and 3. Other, extenuating factors. While other factors can sometimes determine how I view a pairing (romantic/platonic/friend/familial/etc) and character interactions can override the thematic element, I am primarily looking for those sweet, sweet story beats.

So, when you give me two kids carrying the weight of massive legacies they feel they have to fulfill, stepping into leadership roles neither were prepared for, and throw in a smattering of identity issues to boot? Yeah, I'm hooked 100%. These two are important to each other on a base narrative level, before even considering we see they're important to each other in their interactions throughout the show. Their arcs mirror each other, but are different enough that they compliment each other and are not going through the exact same thing.

By which I mean, both are struggling with the very same things listed above, but slightly to the left of each other to make them different enough that it makes them both unique and interesting in their own rights. For sake of time and ease of answering, I'm not going to fully cite my sources, but it became increasingly apparent (especially through v9) that Ruby's whole issue is attempting to follow the legacies of those from before her, starting with the general, Hunter/Huntress ideal and the heroes of stories in the early volumes, and then moving over to the SEWs and her mother in the later volumes. A lot of untangling in this personal arc for her revolves around reconciling the fairy tales she believed in and what is being asked of her in reality, and then determining who she is and what she stands for when it becomes apparent those ideals are more lofty dreams and reality is much more complicated. In essence, Ruby's arc is finding who she was when stripped of everything she believed as a child, and we saw that exactly throughout v9 ("What are you?" // "What is a Huntress?" ultimately boil down to "Who is Ruby Rose?")

Oscar, conversely, I would argue, already had some sense of who he was at the start. Sure, he may have wanted more and was unable to voice exactly what "more" was, but he's young...who honestly knew what they wanted to do with their life when they were 14? Regardless, his arc is less about asking who he is and is more about the fear of losing himself entirely now that he's part of the Ozcarnation line--and thus, it's also more about proving who he is to the world around him as everyone else assumes he's just another copy/paste of Oz. Oscar had to have a strong handle of his own identity at the start simply in order to beat the "he's just Ozpin" allegations, which he eventually did do (with some help from Oz's disappearing act).

And that isn't to say that there aren't echoes of each other's themes as well. Ruby very much does lose herself and must reassert who she is at her core (most evident in v9, but definitely starting in v7). Oscar very much does have to figure out who he is in the Ozcarnation line and how he specifically wants to handle situations (most prominent in the "Her name...is Jinn" decision in v6 and his actions through v7, but also metatextually hinted at when he talks to Ironwood at the end of v7 holding himself and acting like Ozpin, and then getting shot, and then in v8 when he tries to act like Ozma and Salem directly calls him out. It's almost like fate is punishing him because he's supposed to think and act like Oscar, and not try to be those who came before him...). And I think ultimately that's what makes them fun for me, they revolve around this overarching theme of identity in the face of legacies and destinies and leadership and each take a piece to compliment the other.

Of course, that doesn't mean they have to be romantic. And that's correct, they don't! Full transparency, I honestly wasn't fully onboard with Rosegarden until the end of v7/start of v8. Oscar's blush at getting rescued was the first time I felt fully vindicated over a ship, but the ending of v7 is really the beginning for the end of me I think. It was at that point where it became apparent their themes were merging and then splitting off again into the projected trajectories they're on now. And, in terms of interaction, throughout v7 and v8, Ruby and Oscar are shown repeatedly to be in sync with each other and trusting each other (even when they don't necessarily agree with each other!) All of those moments for me boiled down to one single, striking fact: because of what they're going through and how similar each struggle was, Ruby and Oscar to me are the only two characters in the show who could understand each other on a deeper level.

(And as an aside, the release of 'Until the End' and 'Fear' being the last two songs of that volume, and clearly being a Ruby song and an Oscar song respectively, completely altered my brain chemistry. That's a separate 3k essay, but the call and response between 'Fear's' "Who will you see there in the darkness? // When no one is watching who will you be? When you're afraid and everything changes will you see a stranger? // Feel proud or betrayed?" vs 'Until the End's' "I promise I’ll be here until...Our story has been told // 'Til our bodies break down every door // 'Til we find what we’ve been looking for // And stare with pride into the face of fear // In our finest hour, I’ll be standing here // And should we fall to darkness // This power, I will harness // I promise I’ll be here until the end" just does things to me on a personal level).

Others come close. Jaune and Weiss both have similar arcs about breaking legacies as well (Weiss with her family and Jaune with...presumably his family, if not his personal views on what he should be and on his promises to Pyrrha), but they're both on a far more personal and less world-shaping level than Ruby and Oscar. Blake as well, with reclaiming her identity, but that as well is a little more personal and also more about regaining what was "stolen" by Adam, so to speak, than finding herself altogether. And Penny is more about learning everything altogether and learning about who she can and cannot trust more than about who she is at her core. And, as an aside, I am a multi-shipper. I do like several of these pairings with Ruby, and Oscar and Penny is an utterly fascinating concept to me.

The reason why Ruby and Oscar come out on top for me is because at the end of the day, they're still the only two who can understand and empathize with each other on the deepest level. They're the two that appear to be entirely in sync with each other. And they're also the two currently slated to be running the show in the next generation. And if there's one thing I love more than seeing my power couple ships completely in love, it's seeing those two characters entirely and implicitly understanding and trusting each other.

This is of course glossing over a lot too. Their scenes together are often pretty striking: the dojo scene in v5 (Oscar admitting he's scared, Ruby for the first time really opening up about Penny and Pyrrha at The Fall of Beacon), the cane scene in v6 (Ruby being the only one to comfort Oscar and reaffirm that he isn't Oz), Oscar's panic during the fight with Cordo, like...every scene they had in v7, Oscar's blush in v8 and the almost hug that wasn't, and of course, THE scene in v9 (and another 3k essay could be written on why that had to be Oscar, though most of the starting points on my opinion for that are above). They also have some other dichotomies going on in their rhetoric, with the silver/gold symbolism and the sun/moon symbolism; and the extra info in the show with the "Warrior in the Woods" fairy tale and Oscar's allusion to the Little Prince. But several other people have written far better analyses on those than I could ever do currently, and this is getting long enough as is.

But yeah, tl;dr thematically and rhetorically complimentary kids just trying to do their best, figure themselves out, and save the world? Yeah, I wanna see them cuddle and comfort and rely on each other in the way they only can with the other.

[nerdstify]

I'm writing a Death Note story and need help with the middle. Send your ideas via DMs, comments, or asks. If I like them, I might even draw them! Also open to Death Note art requests. Share any Death Note-related ideas and I'll see what I can do.

(and in this case comments too!)

Start and end of the fic under the cut:

God, the rain was gorgeous. L wasn’t usually one to remark or note on the beauty of people; people did things and said things that he couldn’t understand. They hurt and killed and lied; and for what? For only themselves. But the world- the non-people part of the world- was utterly beautiful. L knew why the rain fell. It brought the plants to life. And even though sometimes it felt like nature didn’t have a purpose- like destructive typhoons and hurricanes- he at least understood that these catastrophes weren’t self-serving. The rain had no greed or selfishness; nothing to gain, and so the chaos was out of its control. The rain was always his favourite, grey and rhythmic and cool. Any beauty he saw in a human was simply a reflection of the beauty of the rain. Watari, cool and graceful and methodical as himself, nurturing lost children like they were plants below his sky. Soichiro, stoic and sturdy, creating a calm and intentional rhythm for L to think to. These people and others he had admired for sharing the qualities of the rain he loved, but there was one more. A conundrum that L couldn’t quite place.

Start:

Light Yagami. Not just the rain, but a monsoon. He was endless and unrelenting. No matter how many challenges you gave him, he dodged and weaved until the rainwater had flooded every crack in the moulding and invaded your basement. L wasn’t fond of people getting into his basement. He wasn’t cool and stoic and calm, but he came with a surging heat and a blinding sun and a furious intensity. L was almost sure he was Kira, because like Light, like the monsoon, Kira barely seemed human to him. He didn’t seem to be killing for personal or even corporate gain. Kira had convinced himself and the world that he killed for righteous reasons; for saving the good in humanity, but L couldn’t believe that. Kira killed because like Light, like the monsoon, he simply couldn’t stop.

He had never before been so attracted to a person, yet so repelled. If Light contained a duality and, say, Kira was a north magnet, and Light was a south– then L was north. There was nothing his heart, mind, and the deepest parts of his very soul craved more than a friend- or so he told himself- like Light.

But Light was Kira.

Wasn’t he?

Ending:

He knew it. Of course Light was Kira. There was no way around it. L was doomed by this narrative of friendship he had written for himself. Light was so perfect that L couldn’t have beared to lose him. So charming that the barely human, hardly affectionate, happily lonely L had warmed to him. Welcomed him. Shown him the smallest, quietest parts of himself. But Light was barely human too; becoming less and less by the day. And as L grew more and more attached, Light grew further away. A part of him had known from the very beginning how he would die. It wasn’t a slip-up in safety or privacy, it wasn’t a miscalculation, or a misjudgement of character- in fact he had judged Light perfectly from the very beginning. It was trust that had killed him.

His first, his best and worst friend, using him even now. No doubt faking his grief towards the task force. Or perhaps the grief was real. Despite it all, L couldn’t help but clutch onto the glimmer of hope he kept locked tightly in his ribcage, as the light faded from his eyes, that he could still mean something to Light, despite using him and throwing him aside.

Like he did Misa. Like he would his father and Sayu. Like he did his own soul. Like he did everyone once they stopped being fun to play with. L laughed weakly. Kira really was a child.

He had always known he would die right here, in task force headquarters, where he was supposed to be safe, and at Light’s hand, who was supposed to be his equal. He had imagined dying with a subtle smirk, Light finally incriminated, and a successor lined up to catch him. But in his ideations of death, not once had it occurred to him that it might hurt so much.

The grief, the guilt, the regret, and most of all the gaping wound that Light created, ripping into him with his bare hands and clawing at the insides of his chest, twisting a knife right into his gut as he pretended to care that he was gone.

[tanejineri]

HEADS UP!!!

This drawing contains mild gore and limb dislocation on a victim of a fall accident. It is not intended for children or those who are queasy about that sort of thing. There's a dove inside, don't eat it!

Now that those who don't wish to consume this are gone, ahem.

If you wish to make this experience better (or worse for yourself), have some background music! This is what I listened to as I drew all this. If I lose my reputation or people unfollow me IDC this shit was fun even if I myself wanted to throw up.

Anyway, good luck in there soldier.

"The General is Dead"

or is he? [cue moon men by jake chudnow]

did you know im ambitious? im sure you guys could tell by this point im a man with high ego big plans that never get done. welcome to big plan i will never get done number 20 million, a mixed media ao3 creative writing fanfiction that'd probably kill a small animal if it were to try and break it down using its brain

this is just a snippet of a scene i want to have executed possibly. switches from a chaotic writing style to this very solid moment to let you just like. sit in silence and stillness for just a mere moment before it devolves back into the oddities that is this childs mind

obviously if you played the game this scene is for the aftermath of the thunder tower incident, where his ass slipped on a banana peel. the events in this story play out a bit differently, so things arent exactly as you would expect. this is a major turning point in the narrative for cl

in general i dont think people fully process how horrible a fall accident really is, and i wanted to encapsulate that in this drawing. the trauma behind witnessing it, the way the blood slowly pools out of the skull, i wanted to really encapsulate the trauma behind it by mixing a sort of realistic style with the planned generic style of the work

you'll also notice that cl's design is different here. i change his design whenever im writing him for specific concepts or such, if i consider it derivative off of my canon then it gets its own design

the speech bubble is empty because im gonna be using this for testing more css+html tricks in ao3 bcs thats genuinely so fun i highly recommend getting into html + css its an interesting experience

ok thats all the rambling uh sorry you had to see this sorry i have the balls to post this, and if you ignored the warnings and really werent considering your own sanity then thats on you bud LOL ok ciao

[littlemissidontcare]

Someone asked me what I think over a message, wondering if it's PR or not. So, to me, there are two options: 1. PR Relationship: This whole thing feels orchestrated from the jump. Remember when the backlash about him traveling during the pandemic hit hard? Fans were pissed, tabloids were eating it up. Cue AW swooping in, and suddenly we’ve got a new "couple" plastered everywhere. Classic damage control move. I wouldn’t be surprised if CAA cooked this up to salvage his public image and soften the blow from the pandemic debacle with Ale. Plus, it’s not just about who AW is, but what she represents: a distraction, something to shift the narrative back to him being "desirable" or “in demand.” Now, as for his behavior—like the whole “I’ve got two dogs right now” comment—doesn’t that sound like someone who knows there’s an expiration date? It’s like he’s counting down until he’s contractually free. He’s probably walking on eggshells because of the legalities. Contracts like these aren’t just for fun; there’s serious money, reputation, and even penalties tied up in them. Ending things too soon? That could come with a major financial hit or even worse—scandal that he just doesn’t want to deal with. 2. Real Relationship: If this is legit, it’s toxic as hell. I mean, AW constantly tries to make herself part of his public narrative, even when he’s saying he's private. From the DeuxMoi debacle (the whole liking posts without being tagged) to the weird moments like sharing pics of his shoes during his big Sundance premiere… that’s not something a truly “private” person would do. It’s almost like she’s trying to tether herself to him, no matter how much distance he tries to put between them in public. And then there’s his hypocrisy. Let’s not pretend he’s an innocent angel here. He shades people who are obsessed with social media, fillers, botox, Ozempic, and the external validation they seek—but AW is literally the poster child for that lifestyle. He’s walking contradictions at this point. If they’re genuinely in love, why does he seem to be throwing so much passive-aggressive shade? No loving relationship looks like this. Real couples don’t pull this kind of weird public bait-and-switch, especially when one partner claims to be so intensely private. The constant pap walks scream "staged." Real private celebs avoid this kind of attention like the plague, and the fact that he’s participating in these pap strolls makes his whole “I value my privacy” mantra feel hollow. And don’t even get me started on the family pap strolls—those just ooze with PR stench. We’ve seen legit private celebs, and trust me, you don’t see their every move in glossy magazines or gossip columns. In conclusion: whether it's PR or real, neither option paints them in a good light. Either it’s a strategic ploy for buzz, or it’s a genuine, messy, hypocritical relationship with no real respect on either side.

Reposted my ask from @notafunkiller so the person who asked me can read my take :)

[swallowtail-ageha]

Now Miquella for the character meme:)

Super late LOL but yesterday i was so exhausted that i had been forced to go to sleep at a normalish hour

Favorite thing about them his in game arc. I was always in the party of "he was a well intentioned person who is gonna go thru a damnation arc" in the dlc and did it deliciously deliver. I am absolutely obsessed with how his crosses imply what he was feeling like during his whole journey in the lands of shadow (ex the i throw away my fears bit)

Least favorite thing about them the promised consort radahn stuff it just makes him BORING i get yadda yadda parallels w marika n godfrey but also. Sometimes parallels arent enough especially when you're retconning established lore

Favorite line "here i abandon my love" its just so aaaagh. Thats the moment where he became doomed! Like. Aaagh. That's his Despair Event Horizon. He threw away what he never should have thrown because he thought it was the only way to make things work

brOTP if seen in a non-incestuous way, with malenia. Otherwise as i've already said wasnt a father figure but he did Care. And miquella cared back with the whole eclypse plan. Recently i really also like the idea of possible messmer and miquella interactions. He'd 100% be disgusted at him as a person but also i feel like he'd leverage his little brother status against him. Fun dynamic heh. Maybe also miquella and leda i dont think he was particularly close to her but also he did take pity on her and tried to Help in his way

OTP malmiq obv for the same reasons listed in the malenia answer i am soo normal about them (lying). Partial to mohgmiq

nOTP i.. surprisingly enough? Don't have them with him? Like yeah promised consort radahn pisses me off fundamentally on a narrative level but the dynamic in a vacuum is interesting and i actually like fanarts of it lol. I think in general he's a character who can bounce off really well with several different dynamics so i am not against any type of ship involving him

Random headcanon he's actually a really skilled gardener! It's a hobby he had since he was a really small child. His favourite plant is foxglove

Unpopular opinion i really really dislike the idea that he charmed mohg before getting coccooned. It just. Really doesnt make sense to me? Timeline and character wise? I also hate when people say that he was evil all along and call him a griffith refefence no. Learn to read something outside of berserk which btw you're also grossly misinterpreting

Song i associate with them Notos by the oh hellos! Something something abandoning all of your important things in order to become Something Greater and then feeling desolated in the aftermath

Favorite picture of them uuuh the statue with him and malenia getting hugged by godwyn. The fact that there are so many of them up in the haligtree is. Sobs

[ezrabridgerwrites]

[charlie/ripley] “you’ll always regret it if you don’t.”

“That’s so much pressure!” Ripley whined, as if she hadn’t dragged Charlie into her apartment as soon as she heard the buzzer with the sole demand that he help her come to a decision. Fortunately for Ripley, Charlie was patient with her. While he might have thought that their night would end up with her sweat-slick and writhing against him, he’d instead been condemned to an evening of Ripley pacing back and forth across her apartment and occasionally propping her chin on her arms to stare at Jonesy through his tank as if her axolotl held all the answers she needed.

The invitation had come yesterday morning, throwing Ripley into nearly forty-eight hours of turmoil. As a child, horror conventions had been fun and exciting and another excuse for her to ransack the kitchen for all the corn syrup she needed to perfect her Carrie White cosplay. She’d wander around the booths, hand enveloped by her father’s much larger one as he was stopped time and time again by yet another fan who wanted to take a photograph with him. It would give Ripley time to look at all the vintage and hand-made memorabilia on display, although sometimes a fan would recognise her and request her to be in the picture as well.

She hadn’t been to a convention in years though, and certainly not as a speaker. But Daniel Mendoza had a legacy that she was supposed to inherit and yet she couldn’t bring herself to accept that she was the right person to carry it on.

“It sounds so stupid but…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious as she eventually sat down opposite Charlie, perching on the edge of the coffee table while he lazed on the sofa and polished off the remaining pizza she hadn’t been able to touch.

The man in front of her had stripped her bare more times than she could count by now. He’d made her feel things no other man had ever been able to and there were little boundaries that she had with him now, but this was the most naked she’d ever felt in front of him, and the closest she thought she’d ever been to presenting an uglier side of herself.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to share my dad with them?” she said eventually.

The cult of Daniel Mendoza, as that was what the internet and various Reddit rabbit holes she’d fallen down had called it, had loved her father with a ferocity that Ripley had been able to pick up on from the get-go. But sometimes she had to wonder if they loved him the way consumers loved a product. She’d seen the forum threads, knew that when the mourning period had passed, fans had swooped in and began theorising on his unfinished movie and how they could find the answers. And that’s when her name had started cropping up. Perhaps Daniel Mendoza’s daughter held the key to all their unanswered questions.

Ripley had slowly been piecing the movie together, decoding her father’s manic scribblings and letting the narrative unfold before her, but why did everyone else think that they were entitled to it as well?

But her father had wanted to share that story with the world, he’d just never had the chance to. Ripley would be selfish if she kept it to herself, all because she felt it was the only part of her dad she still got to keep.

Sighing to herself, she leaned forward and unthinkingly swiped her thumb against the corner of Charlie’s mouth, cleaning off the smudge of tomato sauce that had been left there. Slowly dropping her hand, she felt herself reach a new level of nervous that she had never felt with Charlie before. Charlie, who grinned like he knew the world had to see it to feel better. Charlie, who had sat with the cap of a highlighter clenched between his teeth as he read over her college applications. Charlie, who’d allowed her to take from him way more than she could give and still stuck around anyway. It would be miserable of her to ask for another thing from him, but she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d feel more comfortable with.

“Would you come with me? Maybe?” she asked, timidness taking over as she displayed that first-day shyness Charlie had probably assumed would be long gone by now. Pressing her palms together and sandwiching them between her knees, she blushed as she admitted, “It’d make me feel calmer if you were there.”

After all, her father was never going to get the chance to meet Charlie and acknowledging why that devastated her so much would prompt a conversation she wasn’t ready to have with herself just yet. But this? Asking Charlie to step into her dad’s world for a bit? It felt close enough.

[azuresins]

I found your blog by the ppl answering to the poison theory, and I gotta say I actually like it a lot.

I admit the moment we saw R!Ciel I immediately didn't trust him, so I appreciate I wasn't the only one to narrow his eyes at him lmfao.

On the other side, I do find ridiculous that ppl get so upset about a theory, like is not canon and we all just having fun, why are ppl so upset? It's just a drawing, calm down

Thank you so much, for saying this. 💙 Forgive this ramble, I think some people just...got really emotional about this, and I do understand. I do. I was prepared for the possibility, but some people also reacted very... very strange, and said things that they thought would be some big 'own' or 'slam dunk' kind of 'gotcha!!' and I was just. .... Okay???? And some of the things that were brought up only convinced me further and did the opposite for me, like... One of them being that "young children would never ever do that, period!" And I'm like... yes... yes the fuck, they would, they have, and they do! Weren't children eating tidepods for fun, five years ago? They do it on purpose and on accident all the time for a variety of reasons. They disobey and ignore warnings, all the time. There's 'choking hazards' and 'poison warning' and 'toxic hazard! keep out of reach of children!' labels absolutely... Everywhere?... For a reason. Now throw in the fact he's an extremely intelligent child with mysterious (possibly non-human) lineage and has been taught how to cook and measure, and has been known to sneak cough-drops and food in the middle of the night completely undetected, and can operate a victorian stove. Nothing definitive, has been confirmed in canon but to me, that is behavior that is worth paying attention to, narratively??? I think some people are going to naturally feel very emotional about the subject matters, but I have to say it's very, very weird... How quick people immediately assumed the worst possible things about me, why should I have to disclose any experiences I may-or-may-not have, mental illnesses I myself may or may not have.... Why should I have to disclose personal information in order to justify a theory I wrote (I don't, the answer is I don't. No one does! It's a very weird 😵‍💫 thing to assume and ask of a stranger). Ah thank you again! 💙

[memorydragon]

Po Yun characters rated by swag

Yan Xie: 0/10 He thinks he's a natural 20, but actually has none. As one of the characters said, "Don't listen to him. He's a dumbass." This is magnified after cohabitation with Jiang Ting, because he becomes a domesticated dumbass who is completely whipped. The narrative goes on about how he's a stereotypical alpha male, but this man can't survive a blind date to save his life. The author very correctly decided criminal investigators have no swag at all and wrote a novel about it. He grows on you like a fungus, but still has zero swag. That said, do not get in a fight with him. He will win.

Jiang Ting: Could have swag. He's intelligent, able to analyze details in moments, and elegant. Then he starts to eat and any swag he might have had evaporates. He was married to his work and highly stressed and traumatized from being a triple agent and it shows. 3/10, though I'm tempted to bump it to four for the way he straight up murders both Yan Xie and Bu Chonghua via text message. Professor Jiang is growing into swag by virtue of finally having free time and accepting his moronsexuality in the second book. That might be generous though considering he's still terrorized by his mother-in-law. I adore him, but his swag will always be low.

Jin Jie: He's a professional assassin and it shows. That said, he's also a professional lackey. 6/10, defeated by the protag plot halo, and it was honestly hilarious how Jiang Ting was constantly throwing him under the bus.

Qin Chuan: *extremely grudgingly* He has swag. That said, I'm 100% with Jiang Ting on this. Do not listen to Yan Xie. He has swag, but he's also a little bitch (no sexual connotation on this phrase btw, that's entirely directed at his personality). 7/10, someone please punch him in the face.

Wen Shao: Now here we have a man with swag. He oozes swag that Yan Xie wishes he had. He has opinions on ballet, plays Lana Del Ray songs on the violin like an emo child, and murders teenagers to recreate an important childhood memory with Jiang Ting. He grew up a drug lord with money and poker card code names, and kisses the bloody knuckles of his Red Queen reverently. 12/10, probably would be 14 if the manhua had been able to continue and we got more of him with long hair.

Han Xiaomei: Our favorite baby intern has absolutely no swag. She's an intern at the criminal investigation unit. She's the lowest on the totem pole, barely showers and sleeps when there's a case just like the rest of the team, and cowers when superiors yell at her. I watched her grow up to a young police woman who could sass back at Yan Xie in the final arc with tears in my eyes. The character growth was incredibly moving. 1/10, because she still has no swag.

Yang Mei: In front of Jiang Ting, she is a meek and breedable. When Jiang Ting isn't looking at her, she's a police informant who runs her own ktv, is perfectly put together and her wardrobe costs more than a cop could make in their career. She has swag. She can and will bitch Yan Xie out, fight like a hell cat, save her love rival's life (only because it was Jiang Ting asking though, otherwise she'd still probably save Yan Xie, but she'd never let him forget it), and turn the love rival into the greatest brotp of the novel. 9/10, because Jiang Ting canonly swears to never take both her and Yan Xie on errands together again. Unfortunately for her, no amount of swag will make the man she's in love with less gay or moronosexual.

Ma Xiang: Good at his job, comfortable in his masculinity. Is willing to be gay for 10 minutes if Yan Xie shares his dinner. No real swag on his own, but he's a fun comedic aside most times. 1/10, because he throws up at gruesome murder scenes and thought a curling iron was a sex toy.

Bu Chonghua: Now here we finally have a main protagonist with swag. Someone had to have swag in the novel, and he pulls it off. As Yan Xie's straight-laced little cousin, he's got a temper and authority to match. He may be a trauma kitten, but he is very good at his job and earned his position. He will literally walk through fire and water to show his devotion to Wu Yu. 6/10, because he's also a menace (absolutely related to Yan Xie, no doubt) and a bit bitchy at times. I love him, your honor.

Wu Yu: here's where the swag gets complicated. As Wu Yu, he is meek and mild mannered, no ambition, and very little confidence. This trauma kitten has no swag. He throws up at the mere taste of meat. He just wants to earn enough money to run away from life and never be bothered again. He loves reading and just wants books. People want to feed him, he looks that pathetic. 0/10 but he gets a point or two when he enters the illegal boxing ring for extra money.

As Painter, his swag jumps to 7/10. He's in prison, he's inflitrating various drug rings, he's the pretty boy, and if you try to take advantage he will cut your arm off with a machete. He has no nickname, just a number. Do not cross him. Jin Jie even calls him ge.

As REDACTED, this trauma kitten will end you. He will fight you with his bare hands and tear you apart. He can only be calmed and turned back into Wu Yu by a person he has marked as 'safe'. If you see him jump from any story higher than one, you're not the one who will survive the encounter. When not in murder form, he pretends to be slow and meek. He's a lackey, and he just wants to live someplace poppies don't grow. Yes, I'm Normal about that. 4/10, please just wrap this trauma kitten up in a blanket and feed him fish and chocolates.

Shark: After my glowing review of the first book's main villain, you would think Shark has swag. He has negative swag, however. He's a crypto bro who wants to drag Painter into life and death situations but won't commit to the homoerotism of it. The fact his web handle is shark and his dark web site is the Mariana trench is an insult to both. He acts cool and edgy but nothing can change the fact he'd be all over nfts if the book was written today. -5/10, he's got absolutely nothing on the King of Spades.

Liao Gang: like, he tries. He's decent at his job, but he's not amazing. Will need Wu Yu to back him up to solve major cases, which stresses Wu Yu out because that means he has to speak up. 1/10

Meng Zheng: This is a woman with brass balls. She's the only female police officer in the unit, is late 30s, early 40s, and is called their police beauty because she's the only one. Also, because she would totally win if you say she looks over thirty and she decides to take you out. 7/10, very valid for wanting to be a honey pot because the police would fund her looking sexy, even if she twists her ankle because she hasn't worn heels since before she was pregnant. She's a milf and will forcibly drag poor interns to her level.

Song Hui: No swag. She's interning because of her crush and is a terrified kitten. She just wants to marry rich and be cute. Meng-jie forces feminism on her. After REDACTED, she grows to 1/10 because she doesn't want to let Meng-jie down. Saves the protags, the entire operation, and sees at the blood on her hands that has already been washed away. Great character development, but currently still no swag. She might get some eventually, because she has potential, which, honestly, is more than Han Xiaomei can say.

Song Ping: He's the older gen cop who you still don't want to mess with. Not related to Bu Chonghua by blood, but you can tell exactly who raised the trauma kitten after his parents were killed. 8/10, though you won't know why until the very end.

Lin Zheng: So weirdly, he probably has swag in his usual work. Considering 90% of the time we see him is with Wu Yu, however, he has none. He thinks Painter killed his friend and all he did was complain to the higher ups about it. 2/10, if he'd been a bit more proactive half of his plot line could have been avoided. Also, Jiang Ting says he has Chuan vibes, which makes me want to punch him in the face on principle. I trust Jiang Ting's judgment.

Cai Lin: Fills the same comedic relief in Tun Hai as Ma Xiang did in Po Yun. We love him, but 1/10, he's terrified of maggots and eats ice cream that's from the forensic department freezer.

And finally, the old and beautiful Zeng Cui Cui: If you couldn't tell by her title, Mother Yan has swag. When she feels threatened by Wu Yu's swag, her response is to bling like no one has blinged before and terrifies him with how much money she spent. Jiang Ting knows better than to argue with her. She bought "A Study of the Legal Aspects of Gay Marriage" after her son turned 30 and still couldn't find a girl willing to marry him. She also locked Bu Chonghua out and essentially kidnapped Wu Yu in the back of her trunk when she thought Wu Yu was being forced into the relationship. 10/10, because she sends her sons-in-laws long underwear and they better wear it in the winter or they will regret it.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Wtf

Your honor she's the best girl

The maids pick a pretty green dress, that looks like a miniature of the ones your mother wears. You feel really pretty in it, so you give a few spins, shrieking with laughter at how the silk skirt opens up like a flower in full bloom.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and pretend you are a Queen, too. You puff up your small chest, and push your shoulders back.

“The maiden will be taken.” Helaena mutters, a chubby fist coming to grasp your skirt. You pull away.

“Of course.” She gives her blessing, carefully tracing the Seven Pointed Star on your forehead. “Aemond and you are just like your uncle Gwayne and I used to be.”

GIRLLLL ALICENT SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

Alicent pulling her hair fr PLS LISTEN TO HELAENA also she so cutie with her chubby fist

The trips outside the nursery are novelties for you. As you grow old, you will come to realize your mother was frightened by Helaena’s odd behavior, and didn’t want to let you out of her sight for very long in case you turned out like her. But unlike your siblings, you are no dreamer and you are no dragonrider.

Alicent: let me shelter my child to keep her safe. This will be ok. Kekeoksksksk doomed by the narrative

“Run off!” Your mother orders. “Before I regret it.”

Famous last words

You will build wings of your own, one day. But you do not yet know that, do you?

ICARUS DONT

Your own protector is Aemond. He says one day he will grow into a knight and slay all those that mock you for not having a dragon. You love your brother. He has kind eyes, and steady hands. He never minds playing dolls with you.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 WAIT I LOVE AEMOND I STARTED THINKING THIS WAS AN AEMOND FIC

You take pride in imitating mother. You wear her slippers, sometimes, and practice your curtsies until they look just like the graceful drop she does when you see the King. One day, you will perfect them, but for now, your tiny knees and short legs don’t quite allow it.

😭😭😭 THE POISON DRIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS

You stare at the boy with interest. So this is Aegon.

It makes so much sense that she doesn't know aegon 😔😭

“Is Helaena coming too?” Aegon drawls. He doesn’t seem much enthused by the prospect. Probably because he thinks girls are icky. Aemond has told you so, especially when you want to cuddle.

You get the feeling he might be one of the boys that Aemond intends to slay when you are older. You are not too sure why Aegon would mock him for not having a dragon. No one mocks you, and you don’t have one either.

She is so precious I fucking love stories in childrens pov. me writing a fic like this when (spoiler: no)

“Oh, Cole, let the boys have their fun.” The tallest, hugest man you have ever seen, says. He appears to have just entered the courtyard, and you watch, amazed, as he squats next to you. “Aren’t you going to be a little heartbreaker when you grow up?”

HARWIN STRONG MENTIONED RAAHHHH THEY SHOULD HAVE GIVEN US MORE OF HARWIN AND RHAENYRA AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE THEM FOR IT

“Here.” The giant says, and very delicately cuts a strip off your sleeve. You watch in amazement as he twists it and turns it into a ribbon. He presents it to you with a flourish.

🤨🤨🤨😱😱😱😰😰😰 FUCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE RIPPPPP HER FUCKING DRESS HARWIN HELLO???????? POOKIE THAT IS A CHILD'S TOP HELLO THAT IS NOT OK SO WHAT YOURE STRONG I WILL BREAK *YOUR" BONES

“One for me, too. Wish me luck, sweet sister.”

🙄✋🙅‍♀️🤽‍♀️

She had always thought she was sparing you, by keeping you unmarried. After seeing Helaena’s misery in her marriage to Aegon, and her own torture at Viserys’ hands, she had hoped to save you from that same fate. Things would have been so different if she had married you off.

THE POISON DRIPS OR WHATEVER THE FUCK or actually idk lol

You would be safe. Either in a castle far away from King’s Landing, or under your twin’s watchful eye. Aemond had grown into a violent man, a terrifying one, but remained loving towards his sisters. Aegon would have had better luck stealing you from the Cannibal than from under his vigilance.

DAMN.

But Viserys is dead. Alicent won’t be silent any longer. She grasps a lantern, and her sturdiest boots, and begins to patrol King’s Landing herself.

Alicent they could never make me hate you

They will say later that the Queen dowager walked a thousand days and a thousand nights, searching for her daughter. And that she never stopped lighting the candles on your windowsill, not even when Queen Rhaenyra took the Red Keep, not even when the Prince Aemond was vanished after telling her upsetting news. When asked why, her words were simple.

MSKIEKEDKKSMSKKSOEKEKKE GIRLLLLLL NAUR THIS ALONE COULD BE AN INCREDIBLE FIC WHY DOES ALICENT LIGHT A CANDLE KEKSMMSMSMSM HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAIIIIT I HAVE AN IDEA 😭😭😭

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

AEMOND IS TASKED with finding you, a task that enrages him and fills him with pride in equal parts. He is torn between the hash feeling of your betrayal, of your abandonment, and the fact that he has been tasked with something of such importance. Finally, time for him to prove his worth.

I understand him actually but also take it down 10 notches this aint about you

All the time, sweet sister.

I.m f1n3

With Aegon dead, he would force you to wed him, saving you from dishonor. It would be your punishment for leaving. Aemond would enjoy your enraged face as you were forced to sit with him on the Iron Throne. Unlike Aegon, he didn’t want to bed you, but he enjoyed annoying you for sport. Nothing would annoy you more than being forced to be Queen.

💀💀💀💀💀💀🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️🤽‍♀️ AEMOND???????

You had gotten up so you could pass the bread to your mother, when Aegon glanced at your prone form, and gave you a hearty slap on the arse.

The dress had elicited mixed reactions. Your father and grandfather had both stumbled, as they were seeing a ghost. But Aegon? Aegon loved it.

I LOVE THIS FOR THEM A REMINDER THAT ALICENT WAS ONCE A GIRL WHO HAD A MOTHER AND THEY BOTH TAINTED HER FUCK THEM

🧍‍♀️ I just know that shit echoed when the room went silent

The rest of the guests watched, before laughter rang across the silent hall. It was Daemon, lifting a cup to Aegon. The other guests followed in the merriment, laughing at the fondling you had just received.

Daemon shut the fuck up challenge failed fuck you white ass rat dafaq

Your newest game consists on slipping him notes during the day, exchanging them in the corridors as you bump shoulders and pretend not to know each other, or tucking them in the pockets of his doublets. Aegon even slips you some back, into the pockets of your cloaks.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭✋✋✋✋✋ that's so fucking cute of both of them what the fuck 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 rip aegon you would have loved doing this fr fr

It's wrong. Aegon is a married man. And yet… Yet. You have always been the perfect daughter, mirror to Aemond in your dutifulness. A pious lady, respectful of the Seven and her elders. You can have this small thing, surely.

Even now only women suffer fuck that shit helaena I'm sorry

“Does father? Grandsire?” You challenge.

🤨☝️ viserys said him and daemon went through all the brothels at like 16 or whatever the fuck

The eve before Queen Alicent’s death, something compels her to get out of her bed and search your old rooms. The pain doesn’t let her sleep, tortures her at night. Her own mind is a labyrinth that traps her, filled with monsters that will kill her.

“And I swear, your sister has the prettiest teats in the Seven Kingdoms!” He bellows, before burping.

I am once again asking men to gouge their eyes out

😀 she died. She died of a broken heart. 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ Wow so this is what it feels to be at the receiving end of angst... 😫🤣👍 NICE DELICIOUS HAHAHHAHA SLAYEDDDD

Daedalus (Aegon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: On the eve of Aegon’s coronation, both of you disappear. Your mother imagines a thousand scenarios. But were you really abducted by him or is it a simple coincidence?

Warnings: Pretty mild. Aegon. Some mentions of marital rape (Viserys, we are looking at you) Mature language. Infidelity (Poor Helaena) Fluff.

A/N: My first Aegon fic! Whoever manages to catch all my Greek mythology references will get a gift ;) Try to claim it in the asks, replies or reblogs.

“THE INVENTOR IS trapped.” Helaena says, sitting down by your side with her doll. She drops it to the floor as if it means nothing, and you hurry to pick the babe up. You cradle the doll in your arms and give it a toothy smile.

Your Lady Mother sighs. It’s a long-suffering sound. You are too young to understand the why, but she is looking at Helaena in a weird way.

“Why don’t you go get dressed and ask your maids to take you to the courtyard?” She asks, tapping your head with a gentle finger. You jump up, overjoyed. You have been begging your Lady Mother to go out for ages! Your twin, Aemond, is always allowed out of the nursery, but for you, it’s a rare luxury.

In your excitement about finally going to see what he does when he is not visiting, you forget about Helaena’s words.

The maids pick a pretty green dress, that looks like a miniature of the ones your mother wears. You feel really pretty in it, so you give a few spins, shrieking with laughter at how the silk skirt opens up like a flower in full bloom.

Helaena blinks from her place on the floor.

“I am scared.” She says, tugging on your mother’s skirts. “There is a beast beneath the floorboards.”

Your mother’s gaze shift from you towards Helaena. Her face twists.

“It’s fine. There is nothing there.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror, and pretend you are a Queen, too. You puff up your small chest, and push your shoulders back.

“I want to see my knight.” You say, placing your hand inside one of the hand of the maid. The woman smiles, indulgently.

Your mother laughs.

“Of course.” She gives her blessing, carefully tracing the Seven Pointed Star on your forehead. “Aemond and you are just like your uncle Gwayne and I used to be.”

“Why is he not here?” You ask her, full of youthful impertinence. You cannot fathom why your Uncle Gwayne is apart from Mother, if they are like you and Aemond. Your twin and you can never be parted, for you are two halves of a whole.

“Because, sometimes, girls are sent away from their families, to start a family of their own.” She explains, brushing your hair back.

“I will not! I will stay with Aemond.”

Your mother sighs. She looks between Helaena and you.

“The maiden will be taken.” Helaena mutters, a chubby fist coming to grasp your skirt. You pull away.

“Run off!” Your mother orders. “Before I regret it.”

So you do. Your maid takes you to the courtyard, where Aemond is training. She gestures to Ser Cole, to notify him of your arrival, and the knight bows his head in acknowledgement. You change hands as fluidly as silver dragons do.

Ser Criston is careful to prop you up a set of stairs, from where you can safely observe what your twin is doing. At eight summers, you are a quiet but cheerful girl, who doesn’t dare stray from what she knows.

The trips outside the nursery are novelties for you. As you grow old, you will come to realize your mother was frightened by Helaena’s odd behavior, and didn’t want to let you out of her sight for very long in case you turned out like her. But unlike your siblings, you are no dreamer and you are no dragonrider.

You will build wings of your own, one day. But you do not yet know that, do you?

Currently, you do not dare stray away from the perch the ever watchful Ser Criston has placed you in. You like Ser Criston. He is a knight, and wears your mother’s favor each time there is a tournament. You find him very handsome, and like the idea of your mother having a protector on him.

Your own protector is Aemond. He says one day he will grow into a knight and slay all those that mock you for not having a dragon. You love your brother. He has kind eyes, and steady hands. He never minds playing dolls with you.

He is now busy playing with his own dolls, though. You feel a bit confused because you would never treat yours like that. He hacks at them with his sword, whacking them so hard some straw starts to come out of them. You frown.

Aemond will later tell you these are not dolls, but rather practice opponents, filled with the righteous fury boys get when accused of acting like girls. You do not know what is so shameful about it.

As you watch him, oblivious to the rest of the world, a heavy hand falls on your shoulder, making you jump.

“So mother finally left you out of the nursery, huh?” A boy, older than you and Aemond, ruffles your hair. You squeak, trying to get away. You had sat still for nearly an hour for the maids to braid you a crown like the ones your mother wore. He isn’t going to ruin it.

You take pride in imitating mother. You wear her slippers, sometimes, and practice your curtsies until they look just like the graceful drop she does when you see the King. One day, you will perfect them, but for now, your tiny knees and short legs don’t quite allow it.

“Prince Aegon!” Ser Criston interrupts, rescuing you from the older boy. “Leave the Princess alone! Come, you and the other… Princes are late.”

You stare at the boy with interest. So this is Aegon. Your older brother, the one that never bothers with visiting the nursery. Your mother and grandsire speak of him in hushed tones, and Aemond is much more open about his disdain. He is meant to be a rowdy boy, forever teasing him.

You get the feeling he might be one of the boys that Aemond intends to slay when you are older. You are not too sure why Aegon would mock him for not having a dragon. No one mocks you, and you don’t have one either.

“Is Helaena coming too?” Aegon drawls. He doesn’t seem much enthused by the prospect. Probably because he thinks girls are icky. Aemond has told you so, especially when you want to cuddle.

You pout. No one is paying attention to you, Aemond too focused on his exercises and Aegon and Ser Criston carrying a whole conversation over your head.

“No, Princess Helaena is…” But whatever Ser Criston is about to say is interrupted because two brown haired boys are running in, carrying their swords. His face sours, twisting in the same way mother’s does when Helaena says something strange. “You are late.”

“Hello!” The bigger boy says, stopping in front of you. He has dark eyes and hair, so different from your siblings and Ser Criston. He looks a bit like mother, actually, and it makes you jealous. “You are Aemond’s twin?”

The mention of your beloved brother brings you out of your sulk.

“I am!” You are proud of your older brother. So much, you do not even mind being known as his twin. He is an accomplished prince, and very nice to you.

“She does have a name.” Aemond steps in, setting down his sword. Always your protector. “And it should be Princess to you.”

“I am a Prince too!” The boy is very cheerful. The notion makes you frown. You do not know a Prince or King with dark hair, but you have heard in Dorne there is a royal family who has it, so maybe he is from there. “Will you stay to watch us train?”

“I came to see Aemond.” You explain, meeting his eyes over this other prince's head. Your brother gives a smug little smile. “I’ll stay if he does.”

“In that case, can I have your favor, my Princess?” The other prince asks you, face serious. Ser Criston looks like he is tasting something bitter. You aren’t too sure why.

“This is not a tournament. Now, if we may begin…”

“Oh, Cole, let the boys have their fun.” The tallest, hugest man you have ever seen, says. He appears to have just entered the courtyard, and you watch, amazed, as he squats next to you. “Aren’t you going to be a little heartbreaker when you grow up?”

He boops your nose, making you giggle. You find you like his eyes.

“Of course you are here, Strong. Late, too.” Ser Criston looks even more annoyed. Aegon giggles. Aemond continues hacking at the doll. You wonder if you asked, they would let you try. “I am not bringing the Princess to practice again if the boys can’t focus.”

That makes you sad. You wish to come back, especially because you had never thought the world outside your nursery could be so fascinating. There are foreign princes, and giants, and knights, and Aemond. You have to know more.

“It’s not her fault.” The giant defends you. You decide that you like him already. “Prince Jacaerys is just curious. Let’s indulge him. You favor, little lady, to your knight?”

You giggle. The thought of giving your favor is an exciting one. You will be just like mother with Ser Criston, even if this is no real tourney!

“Are you serious?” Aegon asks, to no one in particular. “This is foolish.”

You check your pockets, but you have nothing beyond a few dust bunnies.

“I don’t have a ribbon. Or a handkerchief.”

“Here.” The giant says, and very delicately cuts a strip off your sleeve. You watch in amazement as he twists it and turns it into a ribbon. He presents it to you with a flourish.

“You cannot do that to the Princess!” Ser Criston intercedes, picking you up. He places you against the wall. His face is angry. “Enough!”

Suddenly, a guilty thought strikes you. Aemond is still hacking at his doll, shoulders set in a tense line. You came to watch him, not this boy. You have to support your twin.

“Ser Criston?” Your voice is small. You fear upsetting the knight further. “Can we give half my favor to Aemond?”

Aegon looks at you. He steps closer, and examines your face as if you are a particularly interesting creature.

“Why would you want to give your favor to him?” He complains. “He doesn’t even have a dragon, and he is at most four feet. Not much for a knight, is he?”

It angers you, how he dares make fun of your twin. Aemond suffers deeply the lack of a dragon, just as you do. Your jaw clenches, baby teeth clanking together with how hard you grit them.

“He is mine.” You turn towards Aegon, words failing you to convey exactly how much you support and root for your brother. “I am sure he will win.”

Something passes in Aegon’s eyes. Something like the look Aemond gets when there are talks of dragons, or the one you used to get when thinking of spending time outside the nursery and lessons. But it only lasts a second, and then he is tugging on the strip of cloth that has been cut from your dress.

“One for me, too. Wish me luck, sweet sister.”

“THE CITY HAS been turned upside down, my Queen.” Ser Criston says, frowning. “There is no sign of them.”

Alicent collapses in her loveseat, her knees falling to hold her. Her poor, precious girl. The one more like her, the kindest one. The perfect half and companion to Aemond.

Aegon had taken you, in an unexpected show of wickedness. Oh, that devious Aegon. She would say the crown had gone to his head, but he had barely had time to learn of his father’s death before fleeing the Red Keep.

It was all her fault. If Alicent had been firmer, if she had put a stop to his transgression earlier, he would not have dared abduct you. But she had been too lenient, excusing his deviance in his Targaryen blood, and refused to act when she found him touching himself in windows, or fondling the serving girls.

Oh, but to take such liberties with one’s sister! Oh! He would have never dared, had she not encouraged the match with Helaena. It was no wonder he had turned towards you, and thought himself with the right to take. Alicent herself was to blame. She should have never allowed it.

She lifts her hands to her temples, massaging them.

“Good Gods, what will we do?”

Where are you? Where has he taken you? Some coin is missing, and so are some of your cloaks and dresses. Your wretched brother, impulsive as he was, had planned this to the detail.

The clothes suggested something long term. Permanent. Alicent can’t bear the thought. What depravities does he plan to subject you to? Is he beating you? Threatening you? Keeping you bound? Her mind is driving her mad, imagining scenarios upon scenarios, each worse than the last.

“I think we should inform the Lord Hand.” Ser Criston hesitates. Alicent understands it all too well. Her first instinct had been running to her father. With his resources, he was bound to find you faster than the ragtag team of Ser Criston, Aemond and her. But then, she had thought of what he would do when he had his hands on you.

What is a Princess to a King? What is a girl to the Iron Throne? Her father had already answered that question once, and Alicent had suffered greatly for it. He had been willing to risk her honor to place her sons on the throne. He would torch yours if it meant sitting Aegon in that ugly chair.

She had always thought she was sparing you, by keeping you unmarried. After seeing Helaena’s misery in her marriage to Aegon, and her own torture at Viserys’ hands, she had hoped to save you from that same fate. Things would have been so different if she had married you off.

You would be safe. Either in a castle far away from King’s Landing, or under your twin’s watchful eye. Aemond had grown into a violent man, a terrifying one, but remained loving towards his sisters. Aegon would have had better luck stealing you from the Cannibal than from under his vigilance.

It was all her fault. If she had married you to him, you would be here, with her. If she closes her eyes, Alicent can see you still. Sitting on the windowsill, humming a catchy tune from Volantis. Mending your brother’s shirts alongside her. Laying with your head on her lap, talking about the latest developments of the Citadel.

But instead, you are the Seven know where, being brutalized by your older brother. On your hands and knees, or with your head shoved in a pillow, crying as he does as he pleases with your body and unable to run back home.

“Has Aemond found out anything?” Alicent asks Criston, as he offers her a handkerchief. She had not realized tears were leaking down her cheeks. Embarrassed by her display, she wipes them angrily.

“The Prince… The King is not at his usual haunts. Prince Aemond offered to scour Essos, but I fear…” The knight looks clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Alicent understands. If Vhagar is seen over Essos, both continents will know something is amiss. Not to mention, the essosi won’t take kindly to dragons in their sky. Some wounds are too fresh to be truly forgotten.

“We won’t be able to keep it concealed if we do.” Alicent purses her lips, trying to find a suitable solution. When she comes up blank, she decides she has no other choice. They are wasting precious hours already, precious hours Aegon might be using to brutalize you, or to take you further away from House Targaryen’s influence. “Inform the Lord Hand. Tell him the King has taken his sister, and that both Prince Aemond and Princess Helaena will scour Essos.”

“But that means leaving the Red Keep unprotected!” Ser Criston protests. Alicent stares at him. She had known that the succession issue might turn into war for quite some time, but she cannot bring herself to care about it now. The threat of Rhaenyra seems far away, not quite real. A villain from a storybook. It’s much different from the actual threat on your life. Aegon.

Alicent had never thought she would have to fight her son to spare the rest of you. You, from dishonor. Helaena, from the embarrassment and shame. Her grandsons, from the rumors that will sure surface.

But it has come to this. And let it be known that when Alicent Hightower goes to war, she does so in bright-green flames. There is no hiding, no pretense. She will send her best soldier, and sniff Aegon out like the dog he is.

“If Dreamfyre is left behind, it’s the same as if she goes. My daughter is no warrior.” She is referring to Helaena, but deep in her heart, she knows neither of you are. Alicent is frightened by the thought of you breaking and her finding you too late to stop it. “Perhaps, both dragons will find them faster.”

“The Lord Hand will not…” Ser Criston says, uncomfortable. Alicent shakes her head. Despite his help all these years, he is no parent. If he were, he would realize that it doesn’t matter, whether Rhaenyra decides to burn Westeros to the ground or take the Red Keep. Alicent only cares about her children’s safety.

“I do not care. We will bring them back.”

Ser Criston makes a face.

“Perhaps it would be unwise to say that the King took his sister. We do not know if she…”

Alicent sees red. Does he dare deny it? Does he dare place the blame on your shoulders?

“The King took his sister. My daughter is a dutiful young woman, just like her twin. I will not have you drag her name through the mud!” She shrieks, slamming her hand down on the table. “How dare you!”

It’s a universal truth. Kings are born with grasping hands, and the thought that everything is theirs to take. And when you are a woman, no matter how modest, you cannot escape their attention once you are set in their sights. Alicent had tried once, to escape a King’s notice. But his hands had been too big, and she so small, and he had grasped at her, squeezing until she was unable to move.

Ser Criston looks concerned. He takes the verbal lashing without complaint, even if his eyes tell her he disagrees. But Alicent knows the truth, and it is enough. He is not a woman. He is not a mother. His opinion doesn’t matter.

“Of course.” Ser Criston bows his head, and begins to exit the rooms. “I’ll inform the Lord Hand, my Queen.”

The platitude sounds empty in her ears. Man that he is, he is no longer concerned with your honor but Aegon’s. Your grandfather will be the same. They will destroy your reputation only to save his.

It won’t happen again. Alicent thinks of Viserys’ hands, grasping her hips. Of how she had cried, forced to engage in acts no maiden should be exposed to. Of how she had to keep quiet, carry this great shame of hers because it was her King who ordered it.

But Viserys is dead. Alicent won’t be silent any longer. She grasps a lantern, and her sturdiest boots, and begins to patrol King’s Landing herself.

They will say later that the Queen dowager walked a thousand days and a thousand nights, searching for her daughter. And that she never stopped lighting the candles on your windowsill, not even when Queen Rhaenyra took the Red Keep, not even when the Prince Aemond was vanished after telling her upsetting news. When asked why, her words were simple.

“So she can always know her path home.”

THE WEDDING FEAST is not as grand as the one celebrated when your older sister married, but it is to be expected. Aegon is not heir to anything, regardless of your mother and grandsire say.

You had watched the whole ceremony from one of the benches inside the City’s Sept. Aemond had sat by you, tenderly holding a few handkerchiefs, just in case you started bawling. Most of them have been used by your mother, but you thank his gesture regardless.

There is not much to cry about, truly. Aegon and Helaena are nothing like the pictures of happiness mother described to you when talking of newlyweds. In fact, as Aegon changed Helaena’s cloak, she looked ready to bolt. And he looked miserable.

“Do you think we will marry too?” You ask Aemond, quietly. Ever since he has claimed Vhagar, he has grown more serious and brooding, shedding the last of his childhood innocence. He is a bit terrifying, now, which you think is wicked.

Your Strong nephews no longer mock him so easily. You are all the more glad for it. He would make a worthy husband, capable of protecting you. Or so mother says.

“If we are ordered to.” He answers, squeezing your hand. His face contorts into a strange mix of unbearable fondness and disgust. “Is it such a bad prospect? I heard talk of betrothing you to a Lannister.”

That had been your grandsire’s suggestion. Pawning you off for gold. Literally. At ten and two years of age, you were considered a comely maiden, with the regal Targaryen hair and none of the strange habits of your older sisters. It made you quite a commodity.

“Better a dragon riding husband than a lion of the Rock.” You smirk at Aemond, voice pitched low enough no one can hear you. “We could ride on Vhagar and find out if the world is flat or a sphere, as some Maesters say.”

The thought is enticing to you. A life spent learning the mysteries and secrets of the world that surrounds you. Getting to see far beyond the walls of the Red Keep.

Once, your prison had been a nursery. Now, it was a labyrinth made from red stone.

“I want more glory for my life than being a traveler. I want to leave fame and memory when I die.” Aemond complains. “Besides, the Lannister marriage may do you some good. You would be a Queen in everything but name. A much more secure….”

You shush him before he can say it. Your mother sits on his other side, absorbed by the wedding taking place, and ridding Aemond of the handkerchiefs he had brought for you. It would do no good to point out her failures when she is already that emotional.

Still, Aemond’s words linger around the two of you, silence charged. Marrying a Lannister would be a more secure position than the one afforded to Helaena.

“I like you better.” You finally say, before your mother can notice the lapse in conversation between the two of you.

“I suppose, if I had to… I rather it be you.” Aemond sounds still a bit disgusted by the notion. You know it has less to do with you, and much more to do with his inability to admit he has emotions. Knowing that trying to wrangle an admission of fondness out of him is useless, you decide to focus on the new couple.

“They don’t seem as comforted.” You point out, watching them exit the Sept hand in hand. Helaena is deadly pale, probably at the thought of consummation. You think if it were you marrying Aemond, you wouldn’t be as worried as she is. Being a twin means your built is pretty similar, so he cannot make cruel jokes about your appearance without insulting himself.

Aegon, though, seems much more cruel.

“Yet again, they are not us. We are closer.” Aemond takes your hand and helps you get up from the bench. The two of you wait patiently for the Sept to empty a bit before trying to make your exit. If you have one thing in common, it is that you both despise crowds.

“Wouldn’t that make it harder?” Because you think of having to muster up arousal to bed Aemond, and suddenly, the thought of marrying him doesn’t seem as palatable.

But before Aemond can answer you, probably making a mockery of your sentimentality and your inattention to your lessons, your grandsire interrupts you. He waves a hand to both of you, enthusiastically, as if you were about to run off.

Aemond and you exchange a glance. Your mother stops sniffling.

“What are you two youngsters up to?” He asks, as he reaches you. He gives each a little shove, and you grit your teeth not to let your annoyance show. “Come, to the carriages. You must attend the feast.”

“We know, grandfather. Aemond was escorting me.”

“Of course, young Aemond, ever the dutiful brother.” Your grandsire claps his hand on Aemond’s shoulder. “And you, my dear, the spitting image of your mother. Some could learn from you.”

He gives a glance to the entrance of the Sept, but the couple has already departed. You eye him in suspicion. Otto Hightower never says things without a reason. He must want something.

“Well, it is no matter. You should sit at the newlyweds' side tonight. Perhaps you might curb your siblings' impulses.” And there it is. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. It would be unladylike.

“It shall be done as you say.” Aemond says, and begins leading you to a carriage. He helps you up, careful not to let your puffy green skirts track into the mud. You are wearing a new dress, cut similarly to the ones your mother wears. You have recently flowered, and are enjoying the novelty of wearing grown up styles. The two of you settle across your mother and grandsire.

The night goes downhill from there. Aemond ends up seated next to Helaena, his intimidating figure helping ensure she doesn’t run and no one tries anything funny during the bedding. You end up next to Aegon, with the difficult task of stopping him from getting drunk.

You had heard once a story about a man condemned to roll a giant rock up a mountain, only for it to fall back down when he was reaching the top. The memory feels fitting. You imagine he must have been as miserable as you are. As soon as you snatch a goblet from Aegon’s hand, he is reaching for another.

The mummers are boring, the same old spectacle seen in all Westerosi weddings. A play about the Conquest, with a man who looks nothing like the Conqueror as the male lead. With how loud the musical parts are, you cannot even converse with Aegon.

So when you are at the edge of your wits when it comes to methods to stop him, you gesture for a servant to bring you parchment and a quill. Aegon pauses his drinking, if only to observe what are you trying to write during a wedding.

The note is simple, and prompts a scowl out of him.

Stop drinking. You are embarrassing Helaena.

For a second, it seems like he is going to ignore you. Then, he yanks the quill out of your hand, and messily scribbles.

Mother, you mean.

You have to lean in to write on the parchment, since he is childishly refusing to let go of it. Your eyes meet his. It strikes you, then, how young he looks, despite being the eldest. He has one of those faces, round and sweet, just like your mother’s. When he smiles, half drunk, he reminds you of a deviant cherub.

In a year’s time, you could be welcoming your first nephew. Aegon looks barely out of childhood himself. Even Aemond looks more grown up.

Her, too.

Aegon notices you are studying him, and looks away, uncomfortable. He still replies.

Why do you think I do it?

There is no longer any space in the parchment, so you take out a fresh one. You pen with careful letters, trying not to waste as much space as you did with the previous one.

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

All the time, sweet sister.

You stare at the words, feeling like you have discovered something you cannot yet name. But before you can match the intuition to an actual concept, someone is calling for the bedding, and Aegon stands up, mask firmly on. He makes a show of it, leering and hooting, much to Helaena’s discomfort.

The moment of vulnerability is lost, and all that is left is the note you hold inside your clenched fist.

AEMOND IS TASKED with finding you, a task that enrages him and fills him with pride in equal parts. He is torn between the hash feeling of your betrayal, of your abandonment, and the fact that he has been tasked with something of such importance. Finally, time for him to prove his worth.

But oh, your betrayal stings. It’s not like he is surprised, having known that you intended to travel the known world, but he is bothered that you didn’t seem fit to inform him. Aemond is the other half of your soul, after all.

At least you had taken Aegon with you, removing an obstacle for his path to the Iron Throne. When he caught up with you, he might forgive you only for that. He had the best motive, after all. Protecting his sister was an honorable excuse to save him from the title of Kinslayer.

With Aegon dead, he would force you to wed him, saving you from dishonor. It would be your punishment for leaving. Aemond would enjoy your enraged face as you were forced to sit with him on the Iron Throne. Unlike Aegon, he didn’t want to bed you, but he enjoyed annoying you for sport. Nothing would annoy you more than being forced to be Queen.

His sweet sister. His milk and cream sister. Aemond had been so worried at first. He had bought on Mother’s crazy theories, thinking you were abducted against your will or whisked to a pillow house in Lys, like it had happened to that Swann lady a few years back.

Then, he realized the absurdity of it all. He had checked the dragonpit first when sent to pursue you. Sunfyre was gone, and Aemond had known this had been your plan all along.

Truly. How foolish Mother was, to think you, Aemond’s other half, could be subdued by Aegon. You were not Helaena. You were made of sterner stuff. Pure Valyrian steel.

Besides, he had heard all about how you needed a dragonrider to take you around the world during your childhood. You had proposed it to Aemond plenty of times. If anyone was abducted, it was probably Aegon. In a strike of brilliance, you had strengthened your beloved twin position and got to take the vacation you had been moaning about ever since you knew how to talk.

His biggest clue about it had been the lack of clues left in your wake. The escape had been too well planned to be born out of Aegon’s head. No dragonkeeper recalled unchaining Sunfyre, yet it was clear someone did because dragons don’t take flight on their own while chained.

No key was missing. No one saw anything the night the two of you vanished. Aemond decides to check Flea Bottom, but he already knows that no trace of you will be found there. This has your fingertips all over it, and even if it didn’t, Aegon was too devoted to you to take you there. He was no Daemon Targaryen, no matter what your mother thought.

This is how he knows it: A secret he has kept for years because it had suited him to do so.

When both of you had been four and ten, your mother had taken you to visit Daeron in Oldtown. Since neither you nor her were dragonriders, Vhagar had been left behind. The journey had taken weeks, almost an entire moon. And there was, of course, the three moons you had spent there, exploring your mother’s childhood home.

The months of the road had changed both of you. During that time, Aemond had actually needed to begin shaving, if he didn’t want to walk around with three miserable hairs on his chin. He had also hit a growth spurt, shooting up like a weed, and his shoulders filled.

In contrast, your changes had been much more dignified. You had stayed the same height, a fact he had used to mock you for ages. Your hips had filled, and you had suddenly grown teats.

The night of your arrival, you had been upset. There had been a mix-up, and the dress commissioned for you to wear on the welcome feast had been made to your old measurements. You had not been able to squeeze into it, and had cried ugly tears in Aemond’s bedroom, refusing to leave because you had gotten fat.

Your mother had solved the problem, of course. She had dug out one of her old dresses, belonging to her mother before her. It was a black one, sequined and embroidered in such a manner it emulated the flames of Hightower. You were enchanted. Called it a priceless heirloom, and danced the night away.

The dress had elicited mixed reactions. Your father and grandfather had both stumbled, as they were seeing a ghost. But Aegon? Aegon loved it.

You had turned into a woman, and looked and behaved so much like mother….

He had been unable to keep his eyes from you during dinner, salivating over you despite having his lady wife next to him. Helaena had been uncaring, not particularly interested in what Aegon did. She had done her duty, having birthed him babes already.

Helaena had been happy to see you, and told you all about the collection of bug-embroidered napkins she had been making for you in the meanwhile. Perhaps your excitement over getting a gift from your sister, prompting you to chatter endlessly with the couple, had been what confused Aegon.

Aemond had kept a careful watch on his brother, noticing that for once, he seemed to be drinking little. A measly two goblets, when usually, he took four. Instead of gorging himself on the drink, he had been gorging himself in you.

His eyes wandered all night. Drinking in your new teats, still blossoming for you were just a girl. Your pretty arse, thanks to the days spent riding horses to get back home. And he had thought himself entitled enough to do the unspeakable.

You had gotten up so you could pass the bread to your mother, when Aegon glanced at your prone form, and gave you a hearty slap on the arse.

The noise had resonated in the hall, making everyone freeze. You had started crying immediately, embarrassed, while Mother berated Aegon. Helaena and Aemond had exchanged a look, both too stunned by the display to speak.

The rest of the guests watched, before laughter rang across the silent hall. It was Daemon, lifting a cup to Aegon. The other guests followed in the merriment, laughing at the fondling you had just received.

Your face had crumpled. More tears fell, face red from public humiliation. It was a feeling Aemond was intimately familiar with, and couldn’t stand to see in his beloved twin’s face. You gathered your skirts and fled the hall, your perfect night ruined.

Aemond had lunged then, grabbing his brother by the collar.

“How dare you dishonor our sisters so!”

But Aegon was standing already, and running after you. He was a tad uncoordinated from the wine, but managed to catch up, Aemond hot on his heels.

Oh, when he got his hands on him, he was going to kill him, Aemond had thought. Daring to pursue you to humiliate you further!

You were huddled in an alcove, hands pressed to your mouth to muffle your cries. At the sight of you, Aegon had looked like someone had struck him.

“I… Apologies, sweet sister… I…” Aemond had never heard him stammer such, much less apologizing for his deviant behavior. He had even leered at Helaena during his own bedding, by the Seven! “I confused you with a serving girl and I…”

You had looked at him, eyes full of betrayal. It was how Aemond imagined he must have looked just before he had lost his eye. You had not spoken a word, shoving both of them in favor of running off again.

Aegon had never touched another girl after that. No longer servants were being dismissed from the Red Keep, with small cups of Moon Tea. No longer Helaena cried because he had visited her drunk. Even the whoring had gone down to reasonable levels.

It was why Aemond doubted you were in as much danger as your mother thought.

YOU BEGIN TO spend more time around Aegon. After that upsetting night, you had chosen to believe in his apology. It hadn’t been as bad, really. Just a spank, that had blown out of proportion when your uncle had laughed.

Your mother had noticed that Aegon had reacted to your consternation in a manner he had not to her scoldings over the years, so she had asked you to keep an eye on him. You find out it is no hardship. He cannot anticipate your every thought like Aemond, but it is expected. He is not your twin.

He is much more fun, willing to engage in any silly games you come up with. Aemond no longer has the patience for them, but Aegon does. Or perhaps he is just feeling guilty. You do not particularly care, as long as you get a companion.

You sit next to him at meals, and ask him to join you for tea in the gardens daily. He stops complaining about there not being any wine after the first moon of your routine. Exercise and sunlight do wonders for his mood, too.

Your newest game consists on slipping him notes during the day, exchanging them in the corridors as you bump shoulders and pretend not to know each other, or tucking them in the pockets of his doublets. Aegon even slips you some back, into the pockets of your cloaks.

You love it. You feel like you are partaking in some sort of courtly intrigue. Exchanging secrets while no one looks, carrying a conversation no one is privy to. You should burn them afterwards, Aegon says, to make it more real, but you find yourself holding on to the notes and saving them.

You will show them to Jaehera and Jaehaerys when they are older. Perhaps the twins will develop a secret language of their own, like Aegon and you. Or perhaps they will become more like Aemond and you, twisted mirrors of each other. Whichever they are, you are sure they will be great. The coin flipped right with them, you can feel it.

Aegon waits patiently for you to tire of playing spies, like you do from all else. You do not have a good track record, with a short attention span and an overeager imagination. You have ceased in your attempts to learn to play Cyvasse, invent a card game, and implement a new communication method using kittens. You had even attempted once to train a bird, but had grown frightened when it started bringing you rats as presents. This, too, shall pass.

He is mistaken. Three moons go by, and you are still at it.

“Isn’t it a bit silly?” He asks you, when it's clear you weren’t going to tire of the game soon. “Passing me messages as if we are spies, when you could just speak to me?”

You cannot explain to him the secret thrill you get every time you see him, the swooping feeling in your stomach when he appears in the hallways and calls you his sweet sister. Much less, how at night you lay in bed, and hold the notes tight against your chest, close to your heart.

How you reread the jokes and the compliments, and imagine him next to you, speaking them into your ear.

It's wrong. Aegon is a married man. And yet… Yet. You have always been the perfect daughter, mirror to Aemond in your dutifulness. A pious lady, respectful of the Seven and her elders. You can have this small thing, surely.

You cannot voice it. He would find it odd, he would no longer want your company. So instead, you give him a secret, coquettish smile. It’s an expression you have seen on your half sister’s lovely mouth, when she bends men to her will. You have stolen it, sharpened, made it deadly.

“Indulge me, brother.”

And Aegon looks at you, and his breath catches. It’s only for a second, but it feels like an eternity. You hear it, the pause of his even breaths, his pulse quickening. You would know him by heartbeat alone, this brother of yours.

“You are a child.” Aegon complains, after clearing his throat.

“Yes. And so are you.” You poke him in the ribs, forcing him to jump to avoid you. It makes you laugh.

“I am a man grown.” Aegon argues, trying to sound dignified.

You pause. You remember your mother’s words, asking you to guide him onto the right path. He is just a boy, underneath it all. Young, foolish and hurting. No one has ever paid him attention, so he acts out to obtain it.

Aemond and you resort to other, more unconventional methods. Both of you do everything right, and pretend not to need anyone.

To this day, your father hasn’t noticed either of you.

But perhaps, you can help him. Give him what he requires and help your mother too.

“I will believe you when I see it. Whoring, drinking. That is not what men do.” You scold, softly.

“Daemon does.” Aegon’s brows furrow, as if sensing a reprimand. You can tell that if you do not hurry, he will sour to you as he has to your mother.

“Does father? Grandsire?” You challenge.

“I do not want to be like them.” He confesses. You take his hands in yours.

“Neither do I. But if we wish to be different, we need to be sober.” And while Aegon looks unhappy, he still squeezes your hands back. “I need you to be.”

He has to do it for himself one day, but for now, he can do it for you.

HELAENA AND AEMOND give chase for days. Their mother sends them in the same direction, but with opposite instructions. While Helaena is not supposed to venture too deep into Essos, Aemond is supposed to scour the farthest Free Cities.

Their meeting date is two weeks into their travels, in the last of Helaena’s destinations. Volantis is as colorful as it is beautiful, and Aemond finds himself fascinated by the sights. He has to agree with you, the world is full of wonderful places just begging to be seen.

Helaena has stationed Dreamfyre at the edge of the city. She comes with a few trusted guards, while Aemond travels alone. He doesn’t need protection when he has Vhagar.

“No success?” He asks her, as he dismounts. They do not dare go further on dragonback, as to not upset the citizens. Starting a war with the Free Cities is the last thing they need right now.

“I heard a rumor.” Helaena says, sliding off Dreamfyre’s back as if it were nothing. Aemond marvels at it. Despite being so ungraceful on land, Helaena looks like a true queen on dragonback. Like she belongs here, and not like she walks a path between realms that would be unfathomable for any man. “About a silver girl and her gold dragon.”

“What do you make of it?” Aemond asks her, hoping she will speak plainly. He also hopes she is not hurt by the news. He was never good at comforting people.

Helaena isn’t the most affectionate of his siblings, but she loves in her own way. Aegon is the father of her children. Some love might be there. Any woman would be furious to hear her husband has run off with her sister. It’s an insult so low, Aemond wonders how she is keeping herself together.

“The rats won’t come for us now.” She answers him, cryptically. Her expression is calm. If she is bothered by what her siblings have done, Helaena doesn’t show it. “Best to keep them there. They can’t touch them there.”

“Who is they, Helaena?” He prods, gently. His sister doesn’t answer. She pets Dreamfyre and gets that faraway look she sometimes wears, when a picture it’s forming in her mind and she can’t quite express it.

Aemond remembers a story about a seer, cursed to walk the earth sprouting prophecies no one believed in but that always ran true. He wonders if dragon dreams are a curse of their own, making those who see the future unable to communicate it.

“I want to find them.” He pleads, holding her by the shoulders. “Please, Hel, this is important.”

Helaena looks at him. Or through him. Aemond doesn’t know. What does she see when she stares at his features? What threads of fate do the Seven weave for him? Helaena can probably read his tapestry, but she would never tell him.

She takes her time, examining his features in search of something. Her shoulders slump under his hold.

“Spare them their chains, Aemond.”

So Helaena knows where you are. They. Aegon and you. But this time, it is not that she cannot tell him. It’s that she won’t.

“Just to see them.” He lets go of her shoulders to grab her hands instead. Helaena’s hands are cold and clammy under his. Aemond knows physical contact bothers her, but he cannot help himself. He needs to know. There is a hunger in him, gnawing at his bones, consuming his flesh. It might devour him alive, if he doesn’t make sure you left willingly. “Will I succeed?”

“The maiden no longer walks alone. The King has taken her. Now she is a Queen, and feasts in a garden full of delights.” Helaena squeezes his hands. Do you understand? Her eyes seem to say, do you understand what I am telling you?

Solve my riddle. Figure it out. For I cannot, I will not tell you more.

Aemond knows this story too. About an older man, who nobody loved, who takes a younger woman and makes her his Queen.

“Did she go willingly?” Aemond asks her because the versions of the story vary, and he doesn’t exactly know which one she is referencing.

Helaena smiles at him, full of pity. Poor man, who understands nothing.

“You may walk out of the Seven Hells, after seeing the one you love. But you will turn back.”

Aemond stares. Helaena climbs back up on Dreamfyre and departs, leaving him standing there.

YOU LAY IN the gardens, feeling sun drunk. Your cheeks are red from the heat. The grass is staining your dress, but you do not care. The warmth feels so good against you, so nice and inviting. Your eyelids drop. Resting your eyes for a few minutes can’t hurt, right?

“Again?” An amused voice says. You open your eyes to look at Aegon. He carries two goblets in his hands.

“It’s so warm.” You mutter. You don’t question how he has found you. Earlier this morning, when you slipped him a note, you mentioned you would be in the gardens. In the Red Keep, immense as it is, that could mean anywhere. But you always find yourself under the same trees.

Your spot, as Aegon calls it. You like it because the trees are positioned just so as to protect your eyes from sunlight, but not the rest of your body. You can read without being blinded, but also nap in the sun.

“Mother says princesses shouldn’t tan.” He sits beside you, handing you a goblet. It’s full of cold water. “You are not some commoner working the fields.”

“Mm.” You mutter, still sleepy. You understand cats so well, sleeping under the sun rays. You wish you were a cat to nap all day in a windowsill and be hand-fed morsels. That sounds like a great life.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Aegon sounds amused, and it’s then you realize you didn’t share those thoughts with him. Did you spoke them aloud? “Yes, you did. Get up, you are getting heat stroke. Drink your water.”

You obey him, sipping at your goblet. The coldness from the water helps you clear your head, and notice that your face feels hot, and your chest is red.

“Not again.” You complain, tucking yourself more into the shadow the tree produces. Aegon simply watches you, a smirk on his lips. “Mother will murder me.”

“I warned you.” He laughs at your expression, a petulant mix of a pout and a scowl. “Drink. I want to teach you a card game while you cool down enough to be presentable.”

Aegon aids you drink from your goblet, careful to not let the water spill. He tucks your sweaty hair behind your ears. Meanwhile, you marvel at how much he has changed, during these years.

He is still undeniably fun, much more than Aemond or you. But he is no longer drunk all the time, and spends his time trying to get you to lighten up and learn new diversions. You like this version of Aegon, who calls you his sweet sister still, but whose face has lost the bloated look alcoholics have. He looks healthier, hair thicker, dark circles less pronounced.

You have been trying to make him work on his tan. He refuses. Your serious nature has not rubbed on him, but he is healthier and treats you with the utmost kindness.

“I would like to learn how to bet.” You tell him, confidently. Truth is, you want to go for another ride on Sunfyre. He has grown just enough to carry two riders, and you miss flying. Aemond no longer takes you in Vhagar, more focused on martial exercises.

If you manage to win a bet, perhaps you can claim a ride on Sunfyre as your prize. Aegon is wary of taking you again because last time, mother had caught you and scolded you until your ears were ringing.

“Betting, sweet sister…” Aegon sips from his goblet, giving you a half smile. “It’s an art one cannot learn in one afternoon. Depends on the game you are playing.”

“An art? By the Seven, I never knew Flea Bottom was full of artists! Someone should tell Daemon, for he has been a real patron of the arts and never knew.” You say, tone flat.

Aegon snorts so hard, the water comes out through his nose. You laugh.

“As I was saying, depends on the game. With cards, you look at them, but if there are cocks involved…” His tone turns lecherous. You gasp, outraged. You are not a prude, but dirty jokes still embarrass you. Were it not by how sunburned you are, you are sure a blush would already be present on your face.

“Um, hello, as in the animal!” Aegon tells you, as if it were obvious. There is a telling little dimple in his face, though, one he gets when he is fighting laughter. “Get your mind off the gutter. What would mother say?”

“Oh.” You say, eloquently. Is he being serious? He has not burst out laughing yet, so he might be, and his amusement could be out of your dirty thoughts. You feel even worse. Perhaps your mind is really in the gutter.

“Those, you choose carefully. Look for the bigger. The girthier…” You shriek in indignation, not allowing him to keep speaking. You hate being so gullible. He always gets you.

“Shut up! I thought you were being serious!” You tackle him, beginning to tickle his sides. When the two of you stop laughing, Aegon places his arm for you to use as a pillow and you curl into him. The two of you nap under the trees the rest of the day.

He has found out a better way to get drunk by the end of the afternoon.

ALICENT IS AT the end of her tether. She hasn’t slept in days. Every time she lays down, she imagines the terrible violations you must be being subjected to. Her poor girl, forced to submit to her deviant brother’s whims.

The pictures in her head won’t let her sleep. They remind her of another young girl, barely of age, taken by a Targaryen King. Being summoned, asked to lay still and spread her legs. To bear it with a grin. To sacrifice herself for the good of the realm, for her family.

Her honor, broken. Her sister believing her a whore. Warming the bed where another bleed.

A dutiful daughter. A dutiful wife. A dutiful whore. Nursing him by day, working over him at night, until her thighs hurt, and she thought, is this what being a Queen is like? She had not felt Queen of anything, except the Seven Hells.

Whore, mother, daughter, wife. It makes no difference. Girls, all over the world, were just vessels for men. Even Princesses, even Queens.

Despite Aemond’s reassurances that you are probably fine, and that Aegon would never hurt you, Alicent cannot stop herself from worrying. Aemond doesn’t know what she does, after all.

Deep within her heart, to take to her grave, she carries a secret. A dark secret. One Aemond is not privy to. Alicent doesn’t dare tell him, either. It would mean further stain on your honor, and more anguish to your twin.

It’s better only she knows. This way, it’s her burden alone. It will not drag you down, or worry your siblings. Safe within the confines of her mind, the secret cannot hurt anyone.

Inside Oldtown, there is the Hightower. In the highest tower there is, next to the powder used to change the color of the flames atop the beacon, is another box. The box has three locks, and a chain wrapped around it, for good measure. It’s made of pure valyrian steel.

Inside the box, Alicent keeps the secret: She had caught Aegon kissing you once.

It had been shortly before your father’s death. You had been helping with the preparations for receiving Rhaenyra and her sons, overseeing the cleaning of the locked rooms. Alicent had tasked you with the responsibility, and you, her brilliant, dutiful girl, had not disappointed.

She doesn’t remember why she had been looking for you. Perhaps, to ask you about where you intended to place the babes, if in the old nursery or in the rooms set aside for their parents. She does remember it had been early afternoon.

The door had been open, so Alicent had not knocked. Alicent had entered Rhaenyra’s old chambers to find your brother crowding you against a wall. Aegon held you in a passionate embrace, his hands helping themselves to your hips and buttocks.

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, and your hips darted nervously from side to side, surely trying to avoid his touch. You were yowling like a kitten, hands pushing on his shoulders.

Alicent heard your distressed cries, your twitchy little movements, and saw red.

“How dare you!” She screamed, uncaring if someone else heard her. Aegon jumped away from you as if your touch burned you.

You had wiped your mouth, face red.

“Mother… I… I am so sorry…” You were so ashamed, so small, and you had reminded her so much of herself it hurt her. The nights where her father ordered her to go to the King, and she couldn’t refuse. How she had been told fighting wasn’t ladylike, that she had to submit to men, let them throw her around as if she were a thing and not a person.

It filled her with rage. It made her want to scratch Aegon’s eyes off with her own nails. Throw herself to the floor, and scream loud and never stop.

“Don’t say a word, my love! Aegon, how could you!”

It was anger, and pain, but also guilt. Guilt, because she knew what Aegon had been up to with the serving girls. Because Alicent had encouraged him to see his sister as a woman, and not a simple sibling. Because she had taught you the same things that she had been taught, that you weren’t to resist or fight, that you were to bear it all with a grin.

Her poor, poor girl. If she had given you a sword, would you have defended yourself? Screamed? Pushed him off?

But instead of a shield and a sword against the world, she had handed you a mirror and forced to make your peace with it. Only Alicent was to blame.

“Mother…” You tried again, tears coming to your eyes.

“Go to Aemond. Now.” Alicent had ordered. She had then berated Aegon until he confessed everything was his fault, and slapped him for his attempt on his sister’s virtue.

She wished she had gelded him, then. A King with no heirs would have been one of the usual tragedies, just like girls being hurt were. None would have merited more than a footnote in the history of Westeros.

YOU ARE COMING of age, and the whole realm is celebrating. Twins are unusual, and the royal family being blessed with two pairs in two generations merits some celebration.

Both Aemond and you have managed to survive until adulthood, a marvel on itself. Sometimes, it felt as if you wouldn’t make it. Especially Aemond, after claiming the biggest dragon in Westeros and losing his eye. You worried about your twin, sometimes.

As always, you embrace the frivolity with gusto. You commission a gown for the occasion, and dance with every single person attending the feast. Not even your father had been spared, holding you close and swaying to the music before growing too weak.

Your grandsire, despite his objections, had been dragged into the merriment too. As had Daemon, your nephews, your twin, your brothers, your friends, and your sister. Twirling in the makeshift dance floor, you had been the life of the feast, allowing Aemond to quietly brood.

Everyone was enchanted by the beautiful princess, and her joyful manners. There was already talk of how lovely a bride you would make, and how happy your future Lord Husband would be with you by his side.

But you wanted none of it. You had started to develop conflicting feelings for Aegon, and wished to untangle them first, before thinking of marriage.

In truth, you didn’t imagine a life outside the Red Keep, one where you had children and stayed in the same place forever, even in death.

When you dared to dream, you always saw yourself on dragonback.

When Ser Martyn Reyne asks you for a dance, you do not hesitate. You agree to let him twirl you between the tables because he is a friend of Aegon. Even if you do not like the way he smiles at you, like he wants to eat you whole.

It is then you hear it and your smile freezes.

After you dance, you go get a refreshment, and noticing you haven’t danced with Aegon yet, you approach the group he is with. Ser Martyn is also there, well on the way to being drunk.

“And I swear, your sister has the prettiest teats in the Seven Kingdoms!” He bellows, before burping.

You cannot see Aegon’s expression from where you stand. His back is turned to you. The other men have not noticed you yet, so you creep closer. Has he gone back to his old ways? Your heart feels like it’s breaking, but you need to know. Especially if these new feelings are what you think they are.

He had started kissing you, recently. But you cannot tell if this is just a game to him or if it is more. You cannot risk it. You have to know. Your childhood infatuation with him has grown teeth, nails, and become a monster that threatens to devour you. He is a married man, but the heart doesn’t know of vows or Septons. It only knows of want.

“Bet she is a little freak, just like your brother. I know her cunt must be so sweet, too. Princesses are meant to be.” This is Eddard Waters. You know he is one of your brother’s friends, and even more boisterous than the others.

“And you intend to sample her, then?” Ser Martyn asks him. You make a face. As if you would let any of these fools between your legs.

“You know what they say… The wettest the cunt, the…” But whatever rude thing Water was going to say is lost because Aegon punches him in the face.

It’s glorious. It’s ridiculous. Your brother fights like a commoner, slamming the wine jug on his friend’s head. A brawl breaks out around you, more people jumping in trying to separate the Prince from the knights, as he screams, bites and trashes.

“My sister is off limits!” He screams, fiercely. Aemond materializes by your side, tugging you away from the fight that has ruined your nameday feast, but you stay there.

Even as he throws you over his shoulder, and gets you out, not hesitating to unsheat his sword to get you to safety, you stay there.

Looking at Aegon holding his knuckles, probably having broken them. He has never been good at fighting.

Looking at Aegon, standing up to his friends for the first time in years. For you.

It strikes you then, standing in the middle of the Hall, as if it were lighting. You love him. You love him.

Love. You love him, and it changes everything.

How can people speak of love as a choice, when in reality it is an arrow that strikes you, lighting hitting you in the middle of a storm? When it roots you to a spot, and shatters all your bones? Choice. As if. You do not choose Jaehaerys, you do not choose your Daemon. You do not choose the rain that will soak you to the bone as you leave the hall.

WHEN AEMOND FINALLY finds you, you are holding to Aegon’s hand as the two of you stroll through a market in Braavos. There, your features aren’t as recognizable.

He sees it, then. Not with his eye, but with his heart. Out of all the possibilities, he had been right.

The silver girl, with her golden dragon. Spurring him up, higher, faster, further. And while wax melts, dragons do not burn.

You look happy. There is a playful smile on your face, when you tug on Aegon’s hand and force him to run, Aemond hot on your heels.

He vows to remember you as you are, his fierce, brave twin. Your ferocious grin as you disappeared into an alleyway, twisted towards a gate, whistled loudly.

“Tell mother I chose to run. Not Aegon.”

And then you are running towards Sunfyre, Aegon helping you mount. Aemond, having not dared bring Vhagar inside the city, doesn't follow.

He has to inform his mother. She refuses to believe in his words, thinking he is doing her a kindness, fabricating the story of a couple in love, of a runaway Princess.

But with the clarity of death, she decides to visit your rooms one last time. Despite her aches and pains, and the recommendations of the Maesters.

The eve before Queen Alicent’s death, something compels her to get out of her bed and search your old rooms. The pain doesn’t let her sleep, tortures her at night. Her own mind is a labyrinth that traps her, filled with monsters that will kill her.

The first one reads:

Everything is as you had left it. In this place, no time has passed. And beneath the bed, in a box, she finds it. The tale of your romance.

Do you ever feel like you need to run away from everything?

Underneath your elegant scrawl, Aegon’s chicken-like letters answer,

They say she died of a broken heart, in her old age. But perhaps, and just perhaps, knowing the truth set her free.

All the time, sweet sister.

[thembosupreme]

arcane act 2 blubbering

spoilers ahead

pAINT THE TOWN BLUE

slay forever i hope caitlyn is losing so much sleep

ew more lesbian cops

jinx playing monsters with isha 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 SHES THE BIG SISTER NOW

omg its the rift herald and the scuttle bug

THEYRE PLAYING BUGS!!!

ISHA NONVERBAL JINX HYPERVERBAL

no seriously she’s adorable as a big sister and isha wanting to be just like her i’m gonna cry

THEY HAVE A HANDSHAKE?!?!?!! S t O P

Sevika mom™️

“Jinx is dead.” mhm i’ve said that too lmao

Nooooo goat man! rip dude u looked dope as hell

lmao suffer ambessa idk girl

times like these i miss silco a lot ya know.

blue hair cult blue hair cult blue hair cult

bLUE HAIR BLUE HAIR (we should deffo look closer at that. make the blue hair pronouns thing go crazy.)

YA JINX (ISHA OH MY GOD!)

“I’d know it anywhere” bitch get a grip.

she’s a fascist but she’s not completely stupid (i hate caitlyn) not her now being like “uwu violence bad” bitch u committed WAR CRIMES AND ALMOST MURDERED BUT CERTAINLY ENDANGERED A CHILD

suffer pilties *patooie*

lmao viktor jesus rumors real

SEVIKAAAAAAA and her butch fuck ass bob ✨✨✨

HAHA FINGER JOKE HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA Im CACKLING

isha powder lemmie fix it eyes oh nooooo

not her talking to his chair i’m actually gonna throw up. “maybe that’s what i was like for you” stop sobbing crying im so sorry jinxie id did have to happen tho ur the best thing to happen to Zaun and him 💖😭 i need to hug her.

mohawk you better not i stg. shut up. SHUT UP.

Isha!

MOHAWK NO!

omg hi doc.

Jinxers!!

let’s go!!!!!!! Sevika one handing!!!oh- oh shit NO!

Doc….. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

awe the fort JINX U GOTTA RUN!

“they got her.” EXACTLY

it’s on.

AH- hi silco mwah kisses- NOT NOW!

go gettem Jinx.

awe signed weird smelly uncle :3

WARWICK TIME BABEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YESSS!!!!!!

Every time sevika and jinx duo i get so excited lmao

LMAO GIRL JINX BITCH ME TOO THE FUCK it’s okay they don’t understand fashion. ur clown pants are slay

AH- Shes so slay

JINX IN DISGUISE! ITS THE LORE!! THE LORE!!!! she’s an actor

Oh. OH oh shit that’s CRAZY!

ZAPPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HERE WE GOOOOOOO!!!!!

how tf are the braids in the helmet as someone who has that wig there is no way in hell it’s all fitting under there.

jinx and her own lil gang she got by doing what had to be done i hope this helps her feel a lil better

NICE TOUCH!!! THEYRE NOT MAD!! THEY SEE U BABY GIRL!! THE WAY SILCO DID TOO!!!! wether he knew it or not at the time. you’re the blue flare! a wrench in the works and - ah- oh we’re fighting ambessa

YES WARWICK V AMBESSA LETS GO!

and i’m crying again

lmao singed going “i’m good. yall have fun tho. my dogs gonna come pick me up.”

AH-

AH!! JINX NO!

AAHHHHHH JINX MODE!!!!

silco would be so fucking proud of u jinx im so serious holy fucking shit.

yAY THE BIG GUARD DIED!! by ah- unstoppable killing machine

JINX NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO GET SLIPNSLIDAL AGAIN!

oh- oh shit he knows…. he can see powder holy fuck! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

Blisters and Bedrock

wow cait u look like garbage. i hope that keeps up and you keep suffering 🖤✨

walk em around uncle doctor singed

oh hi! mel! things have gone crazy! ur moms nuts balls. she’s manipulating the narrative girl u gotta get o u t!!

mmm the mirroring marcus and silco makes me not trust this man.

OH! It’s ur brother! Yay! Still don’t know if i trust him.

great now let’s “what the fuck is mom into????”

oh my god the mural 🥺

get a grip vi.

seriously stop. do u need a shot or a bottle or something stop.

JINX DO NOT. Girl! this is NOT HOW SILCO RAISED YOU. DO NOT LICK CAVE WALLS

oh yes! this is good! fight! yes! talk it out!

BITCH MITTENS! Get her ass! Yay!!!! smack her!!

lmao me and my siblings fr lmaooooooooo- oh oh no.

“still got all your insides?” i can see silco saying it bro STOP!

i still think jinx should get to break vi’s nose again. but i’m glad we got that out of our systems in a safer environment without an audience (isha doesn’t count she’s the baby sibling)

WOAH YOUNG SILCO HOLY SHIT JUMPSCARW I WILL Cry

holy FUCK AAAAAA those gifs are gonna be great. vander knew silco was alive the whole time. how else would he have that image im just sayin.

mel u have a touch of the arcane baby. we been done knew but still

oh did she give u up kino? lol

ah still don’t trust him. i think this might be an interrogation. mel u and him have different dads look at yourself. you’re magic and probably the next chosen of the wolf.

CAITLYN EAT SHIT! I’m sorry. i hate her so much.

he tried to bring back his daughter huh…

Dr. Reveik!!! I’m still sayin Jinx and Sico called him “doc” and “the doctor” respectively

oriana????!?!? ORIANNA!!!???????!! ooo almost Orianna 👀

MEL WILD RUNES READER!

he isn’t real! knew it.

WOAH-

LE BLANC

SISTER!!!! SHES A LE BLANC!? AAAAAAAA

THE OLD HIDEOUT HOLY SHIt! Silco’s first coat 🥺🖤 and it’s stupid buttons 🥹 i miss my wife tails.

“when she died”? sir?????

BLISTERS AND BEDROCK IM GONNA THROW UP.

silco never looked back…. vander knew he was alive somewhere and didn’t look. oh yeah. they broke up for sure. and over a girl. lmao the throuple that killed the lanes

vi learning not to punch is gonna save them

- *gay thoughts*

the gif makers are gonna have a FIELD DAY!! AND I CANT WAIT

he has a MAN BUN!??!????!? I hate him (i’d die for him)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ajsnxkwkdjd

ITS THEIR MOM

hOLY SH I T! im gonna kms he’s so cute stop. THEYRE NOT A THROUPLE? Are we sure????

oh my GOD! I’m GONNA CRY!!!! THEY RAISED HER BABIES AND THEY’RE THE HOPE OF ZAUN!

VANDER NAMED HER??!! AAAAAAAAAA

zaun would always be their inheritance 🖤

i’m actually sobbing oh my god

oh shit lmao and now the gays and their divorce.

it isn’t gay divorce unless there’s a body count once again.

holy shit this show is a roller coaster

viktor is literally magic now??? tbh he deserves it

caitlyn getting noxus 101 and facism 102 at the same time

cult 101: “we’re a family here.” (multi appplicable )

The Herald™️

oh lord this won’t end well.

awe it’s a nice lookin cult at least.

lmao his peekaboo bleach job aight count fagula

VICTOR AND JINX INTERACTION

Metal Fortune Cookie is his name now.

naur destroying is fun ✨🦋

The Machine Herald™️ is nonbinary fact.

i just kept crying for a while

i love therapy ✨✨

i hope sevika uniting zaun or starting glasctech industries is going well i miss her.

this is all alot

did vi get top surgery???

slay is so.

isha no isha be careful isha no no no no baby no no oo baby please

n o

no no no

im sobbing 😭😭

that is so fucked up holy shit.

[seithr]

favorite top 5 of your ocs

Asking this of me who has no less than 10 aus of the same 3 characters is going to kill me... I can't put the same purple eyepatch bastard here five times or the invisible powers that be will come after me. Hard limit of two of the same guy (AND ONLY ONE GUY ALLOWED TO DOUBLE UP) only!! Here we go I finally put some names to the characters I mention in my tags:

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NERO listen years ago I did a silly challenge to throw together a bunch of design notes you like into a single guy and out came bigtits mchimbo over here. I don't know what more to explain besides I made him for myself in a very self indulgent way. Flames and passions god who's just here for a good time and make sure everyone else does too. Specifically I really like his tiny gay little earrings. And his velvety fuzzy body. And his wings good for hiding/setting around his waist like a skirt that hang right over his ass. I like a lot of him. He's like a stressball to me. Sorry ok next guy

NADINE DUVAL otherwise known as why I had to put a au caveat answering this. Yes I love Zinadia, my main girl's, FFXIV iteration—the evil 200 year old viera and her posession/longing subplot—but I am... really attached to FE3H still and still REALLY jive with Nadine's place in the world, and the reinterpretation of the main "noble dad died, get exiled, come back for revenge about it years later" she gets. She's more heroic here!

The devastation of that loss and event gets cranked down since FE3H's plot takes prescendence and character narrative importance—so... It's fun exploring how she turns out in a time where she gets socialized properly, has friends, people to fall back on, to fight for and who look for her not as a symbol to prop up but a friend who had connections and good dreams for the world...

She touches my heart in a really specific way. Fire Emblem Three Houses as a world sucks YES i am sure and know, but it has chances for her to turn things around that most other verses she doesn't get. I love you handsome noble woman

WYRM my big bastard. My "true dragon" among a sea of dragonpeople/elkiir.... Fafnir, Moby Dick, Frankenstein, the devil hiding in the truth, warnings-ignored manifest, will to survive at any cost incarnate. Wyrm is a suit of armour mangled and bloodied and brought to life, fueled by eating magic-drenched flesh, eventually burning up its previous owner inside it too—their bones fused to its organic-metal like a living casket. As that person wanted, they will not die without their revenge. Wyrm will take as long as there is something to take.

The biological anomaly of its "life"—not continuation of its previous one, but still not truly "alive" now either—is an insult itself. You can't pierce him with a lance—a stab doesn't kill metal. You can't take them apart either—they're not made with vital organs and blood, as much as the flames of burning it sustains movement and thought. Weapons of those who fail to kill her are embedded in their body, and where this endlessly-growing beast has outgrown its once human-sized form—leg growth shooting through boots and fresh skin and muscle filling in—those remaining claws and hands and limbs still work, endlessly trying to grow, to "live" as commanded.

Wyrm is far and away one of my favourite creatures. Fucked up dragon eating people alive, and its hunters slowly start to recognize what corpse exactly has sustained it.

CAIA SINNORHA it is known I adore this knight woman. It stings to try and be the best of anyone. And to come so very close to your greatest dreams, only to be thrown back down to the start because the person you love most—who you wonder if you still love—has done the worst thing possible. The eldest daughter, the eldest child, the symbol of the military-nobility's promise to continue serving and fighting, as symbols of a new era.

A shining hero who gets told by those who inspired her that they don't believe in that idea anymore, and she ought to give up rather than keep continuing on that hope she'll make it. Her bird-of-prey motifs in her gold eyes, featherlike wrist decor and her tail's scales, her double-kneed legs... I'm so so fond of her design, the way she carries herself in it... Strange half-dragon people and the minute ways they're different and work around it, like her leg braces and how being neither fully once species or the other impacts her idea of lineage and legacy. She is sooo compressed by the system and trapped in it and needs it to work because she thrived under it once and cannot bear the idea it will never be good as that again. Ms Sinnorha my proper knight crumpling under the weight and expectation of what it means to be what you imagine you need to be... wah

ZINADIA AEDELRIC it is known I am helplessly dedicated to Zinadia. She's the beating heart of this machine and all my ocs. Greasy kicked dog demeanor, kicking and clawing your way back no matter what. She always gets up, no matter how it hurts. Twenty long years it takes for her to have the battle against her traitor king of a brother—twenty years of this hound knight chasing down her dragon. Uuruurgh. Exiled and scapegoated, and taking up that mantle anyway—if she's accused of being a Kingslayer, then her noble brother will see what one really looks like. I'm fighting to not say in every sentence "She is so cool to me."

Electric wolf knight with ambiguous dragonblood in her, hunting down monstrous dragonhounds and biding her time until she gets her hands on her real prize, the man who stole away her life in seat of luxury, safety, love... Everything she's done will be worth it in the end, if her love is awaiting her still, and all it takes is to prove that she deserves to live, and always has, all this time, to the man who condemned her to death.

Zinadia and the story in Thunder—which IS Zinadia—means the world to me. Aaa. Wolfy scarred woman...