#Gregor: death god

[these-detestable-hands]

If you wanna date me you have to fight my 7 favorite OCs first

[phntasmgoria-moved]

redoing the tags for my project moon muses so i can have them all in one place, especially since i just got new ones added lol

[weirdisnowthenewcool]

"I keep my promise of givng them an outrider funeral, and walk away" - Ep 140

God... GOD.

[catsteeth]

She's My Collar

Sandor "The Hound" Clegane x Baratheon Princess

+:✿ Request ✿:+ 

Request: “This request is for sandor of course!! I am all for angsty, yearning sandor clegane!! My train of thought is all over the place but heres a list of something I hope you could include in the one shot: •hozier level yearning •unrequited love/want •perhaps stark!reader or baratheon!reader •fleeting interactions like something small but it sticks with sandor •“im not a religious man but ill follow her” kinda vibe if that makes any sense!!" CW: MDNI, ANGST, afab reader, alcohol consumption, unrequited love, yearning, misogyny, arranged marriage, violence, joffrey being joffrey, mention of death.  A/N: He’s pathetic and I love it

Word Count: 5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The girl was born a Baratheon, born to Robert Baratheon during a previous marriage. Her mother, born to some wealthy house. But her memory would be lost in time after she died in childbirth. Robert did not speak of her. Cersei despised the mention of her name. So not much was known of her. Though she must’ve been pretty, as the girl born to Robert Baratheon was a girl of beauty. And soon after her mother’s death, Robert married Cersei Lannister. 

Either due to jealousy or embarrassment Cersei would treat the girl with malice, and hostility. But unlike the King's eldest son, the girl was kind and good. 

The boy was born to a man who wanted nothing more than for his sons to be knights of the Seven Kingdoms. His ambitions blinded him, allowing his eldest son Gregor to commit horrid acts. So long as the boy was a knight, none else mattered. The man's youngest son was kind. He was just a boy, no more than six years old. 

The little boy dreamed of being a knight just as his father did. Dreamed on the good deeds he would do in the name of his king and the Seven Kingdoms. Though those dreams would be dashed and discarded once the boy's older brother showed him the cruelty the world is capable of. The cruelty he was capable of. The cruelty the world rewarded him for. 

The boy grew into The Hound, Sandor Clegane the second most feared man in the Seven Kingdoms. The girl grew into a princess, one hated by her stepmother and eldest half brother. But loved by her father, her half siblings, the realm, and by a Hound.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

The Hound and the princess grew alongside one another most of his life. He could remember when he and she were much younger. The Lannisters and the Baratheons were traveling across the Stormlands. It was a hard journey, soon food became scarce. Naturally the scraps of whatever the royals did not eat were left to the guards and any other member of the traveling crew. But the princess would offer a young hound the meat from her plate every night.  He always hesitated, but was too hungry to deny her charity. She never held her charitable act over him, never even mentioned it. 

He was not one to appreciate beauty, nor was he one to indulge himself in fantasies of love. But the princess’s beauty was one that haunted Sandor. His whole life he looked at her as though she were the maiden herself. And the princess did not look upon the Hound with grotesque curiosity. Nor did she flaunt his presence to others in a manner of threatening them. No, the princess was kind towards him, kind when she did not have to be. He often found kindness a weakness in people, but in her kindness he found a comfort. 

The girl was different from her father, different from her brother. She was kind, she was honest, and he would follow her as if she was a God.  

He could also remember the first time she bestowed her favor onto him. 

Sandor never feared the tourneys he fought in. He did not fear the joust, he did not fear the competitors. What he did not like was the tradition of asking a noble lady for her favor. 

Sandor never liked this tradition. Never liked having to speak to noble ladies much less ask them to favor him. Not only was it ridiculous to him, the ladies often grimaced at his gesture. But at this tourney, and every tourney after it, he would pick the lady he wished to have picked each time before. 

As he rode his intimidatingly large black ill tempered stallion around the tournament pit. He looked up at all the noble ladies above him, looking down at him. They all sneered at his gaze, wishing not to be picked. The noble men all snickered amongst one another. But there was one person who looked upon him with indifferent eyes. The Baratheon girl’s eyes were not filled with pity, disgust, nor anticipation for the violence he was about to insight for the high lord's entertainment. She simply watched him with her same kind eyes. 

He did not think much of it, it came naturally to him as he stopped his horse in front of the royal family's seating. “I ask the favor of the Princess.” He said begrudgingly. 

The princess rose from her seat with a smile. She grabbed a ring of florals and silk. The flowers were yellow and the silk ribbon was black, the colors of both her house and his. As she approached him, she smiled upon him and placed the favor upon his joust. “I wish you good fortune, Sandor Clegane.” Sandor, he did not know she knew his name. Her voice itself was gentle and hushed, only for him to hear. Her smile was gentle and warm, one that he would have killed to see each night. One that he won the tourney for. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Once, Joffrey had decided that a servant boy had shot him a momentary disrespectful glance. If he had, it would not have been unwarranted, though who is to say if he even did. Joffrey, sometimes bored, would pretend small disrespectful gestures were made against him. Allowing him to justify any horrid act he found amusement in subjecting any poor soul to. 

“I am sorry, my prince! Please if you would give me another chance-” The servant boy pleaded on his hands and knees. His cheek red from the blow Ser Meryn had given him moments before. 

Sandor never liked being Joffrey's sworn shield. Never liked that blonde cunt at all. Whenever he wanted to feel powerful, wanted to hurt someone weaker than him for no good reason, it bored and irritated him. 

Though it hardly ever embarrassed him, until she stepped into that room.

“Brother stop this!” The Baratheon princess commanded with a look of disgust. Sandor, though he’d not laid a hand on the boy, swallowed hard and stood straighter at her sudden presence. He worried how she’d look at him now, would her kind eyes fade for him?

“Why should I?” Joffrey asked her back with a raised brow.

The girl, bravely scoffed and took a few steps closer to her younger ‘brother’, “Because I commanded you to.” She said with angry eyes, an expression Sandor rarely saw from her. She looked beautiful even when she was angry.

Joffrey narrowed his eyes at her, “Who are you to command anything of me?” he stifled a laugh which only enraged her more. And only enraged Sandor more.

She took another step closer to him. Her hand gently trailed along the extravagantly dressed wooden table. “Your elder sister, the Kings first born-” 

“First born daughter.” Joffrey finished her words for her. “Daughter. You are not heir to anything. I’ll be king one day and you, a princess for a lifetime.” He said laughing as if he were amused by some great jest. “And as your king, I could have anything done to you that I like.” He walked closer to her, with a threatening gaze. “In fact, as heir to the throne, I could do anything I like. I could have Ser Meryn hold you down and-”  And with that the girl's temper got the better of her. She grasped a glass goblet from the table she stood by, and threw it with great force at her brother’s feet. The goblet shattered into a hundred pieces. Bits of it flew and cut Joffrey’s right hand. And some other bits cut Sandor’s cheek, not deeply but enough to bleed. “You cannot do that!” His shrill voice cracked as he grasped hold of bleeding palm.

“Clearly I can.” The girl said with little emotion. It would have made Sandor laugh if he didn’t have to worry about the other royal guards. He worried that they would put their filthy hands on you, or would be foolish enough to draw their swords. 

Though none would. The guards were shocked by the scene. This princess had never done so much as raised her voice, and now she was assaulting their future kind. They had to think of defending one of the King’s children from the other. They stood, unsure of how to act.

Furiously Joffrey shouted, “I’ll tell my mother!” Knowing his father would do nothing but ridicule him.

The princess raised her hand, and slapped the boy across the cheek, “Tell her I did that as well.” She added. 

Her slap was enough to leave a red imprint across the boy's face.

In a fit of anger, the young prince grabbed hold of his sword. Prepared to draw its blade and point it at the princess. Just before Sandor could grab the prince, a different Kingsgaurd stepped between the two royals. “Stop this!” the man commanded. Joffrey let go of the sword's hilt and the girl began to walk away, ready to face whatever punishment her step mother desired. 

With her back turned, and the guards' attentions divided. Joffrey ceased his moment, and drew the thin blade of his sword and readied himself to strike the princess. 

“Boy!” The princess turned back as the Hound’s loud voice boomed out through the dining hall. She was stunned by the sight before her. The prince’s attack was stopped by the Hound ceasing the blade with his bare hand. Blood from his hand trickled down the blade of the sword.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Soon the two royal children were brought before their father the King.

“How the fuck did any of this happen? You are meant to protect my blood!” King Robert questioned the KingsGuard furiously. 

“Never had to protect a princess from a prince.” Ser Meryn attempted to explain, “Or a prince from a princess.” He said in a lower tone that angered Joffrey.

“Shut up!” King Robert angrily shouted, sick of hearing whatever excuse they had. He sat back in his chair, and huffed loudly. He looked between his two children. “Well done, my girl.” He said in a gruff low tone.

Joffrey looked surprised his father would congratulate her on striking her brother. “But look what she-“ Joffrey began, holding up his cut palm.

Though Robert interrupted him, “How could you ever be a king if you cannot win a fight against a woman?” 

“Father!” Joffrey’s shrill voice shouted, 

“Leave!” Robert shouted back. With an infuriated huff, Joffrey left accompanied with two guards by his side. Though Sandor stayed in the room. “Girl, come ‘ere.” Robert commanded much softer to his daughter, waving his hand, beckoning her to come closer. 

She did as her king commanded. Stepped closer to him with her head lowered. Robert stood before her, and held her chin up with his fingers. “You’re more of a man than your brother.” He said proudly. He meant it as a complement, it was a rare thing to receive as a child of Roberts. With a sigh he patted the girl on the back, “Go on then.” He said softly dismissing her. 

She nodded and took her leave as her father requested. 

As the girl left, Sandor turned to follow her out. Though the King’s voice beckoned out, stopping him in his steps. “Dog.” Sandor stopped, and turned towards the King, “If that yellow haired shit lays a hand on my girl you beat him.” The King commanded. Sandor needed no other instruction. He was quite content to do so. “Understood?” The King pressed.

Sandor nodded, “Aye.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As the Hound walked down the Halls of the keep, he saw the princess walking in the opposite direction. He tried to keep his eyes ahead, not looking at her at all. 

Though his illusion of disinterest did not deter the girl, “I beg pardon, ser.” Her serene voice called out gently. It felt like a cool breeze on a hot day, a relief. 

Sandor looked up at her, hoping she was not speaking to him. If she was, he knew whatever words she spoke to him would haunt his thoughts. As he looked at her, he knew she was speaking to him. He swallowed and then croaked out, “I’m no ser.” 

The Baratheon princess shook her head, “No. You are more true than any knight.” He knew her words would haunt him, but now they would torture him. The girl stepped forward, making him almost flinch, “All the knights in that room were content to let my brother kill me. What you did today-“

The girl began but the Hound interrupted her, knowing if she thanked him, his stomach might turn. “It’s my duty to protect you.” He grumbled, attempting to not look the girl in the eyes. Her beautiful eyes.

“I’d call it brave.” She chimed, making him stop and turn to face her once again. He was about to tell her it was not brave but she continued, “But I know you’d not. You are a hard man with many scars. You needn’t courage, nor praise. But I thank you for what you've done.” 

Fuck.

He was never thanked for doing his duty. Never thanked for anything. He was commanded and he did as he was told. 

Her eyes wandered over the Hound’s face. It made him feel weak, for the first time in a very long time. “I am sorry-” She said, her voice sickeningly sweet. Sandor looked at her with confusion, “Are you hurt?” She asked as she reached her hand towards the cut on his cheek. Her sudden movement made him flinch. 

“No.” He rasped quickly. 

The girl however was scared of the Hound. She continued forward and placed a hand on the Hounds shoulder. Even though her hand was separated from his skin by his thick armor, he still felt a chill run over his body. “Oh but you are-” She began, concerned for him. A feeling that was new for him.

“It’s a scratch.” Sandor interrupted the girl.

She shook her head, “Still, I caused it.” The girl reached into the neckline of her gown, making Sandor almost blush. Such a strange thing, a man who had seen every part of a woman, and every sexual act no matter how deviant in almost every brothel in KingsLanding would blush at such a thing. She pulled out a handkerchief embroidered with her name, “Take this.” She said holding it out to him.

He could not take it. He could not, no matter how badly he wanted to. “Don’t need it-” 

“I command you to take it, as your princess.” The girl said without hesitation. Reluctantly Sandor grabbed the cloth, “I am sorry.” She said once more before continuing on and walking past Sandor. 

She did not know that he would worship that cloth. Keep it in his armor, and keep it in his rooms when he slept. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

When Robert mixed drinking and hunting too often, a boar attacked him. Leaving him so injured he was on a deathbed.

The princess visited her father each day, morning, noon, and night. And when he died, she stayed confined to her chambers. Her only company she’d allow was her Septa. Though the girl was grown enough to be without a Septa, hers was closer to a mother. Since the girl never had one, her septa was there for all her girlhood. So she insisted on keeping around. 

Sandor often checked on the girl, though of course she was not wise to this. 

He would open her door, just a crack. He would listen in just to be sure she was alright. One day when he decided to open her door he heard her and her Septa speaking plainly. 

“Do you think the boar was the Gods doing?” The girl asked as she stared out her window with a stoic and dazed expression.

“Hm?” Her septa responded, looking up from the needlepoint she mindlessly toyed at.

The girl did not look at her septa. Simply continued to stare out her window into nothingness. She paused for a moment, not speaking, “I’d a dream the Stranger came to those woods. He changed into a boar and killed my father for his deviance.” She spoke of such morbid dreams with no emotion attached to it at all.

“How awful.” Her septa gasped, throwing her needle point down onto the table in front of her. “No dear girl I don’t think it was.” She said more gently, “You dream too much.” 

The girl shrugged, still not looking at the old woman. “I suppose I’m trying to find the Gods in everything I do.” 

“Prayer is best for that. Not such morbid dreams.” The old Septa said, picking her needle point back up. 

The girl did not respond for a moment, still simply staring out into nothing. “Do you think they’re real?” She asked softly and without shame. “Do you truly believe it? Never did you doubt it?” She asked, finally looking at the Old Septa.

“They are real.” She asserted sternly, “You believe they aren’t?” 

The girl sighed, not wanting for a lecture, “I know the Gods are a necessity for people. Like food, water. I know they must exist. But I also know they don’t.” She said calmly. Her words stuck with Sandor like a knife driven into his back.

“What a terrible thing to say.” Her septa said shocked.

“Is it?” The girl's eyes narrowed in confusion, “It’s just my thoughts.”

The septa shook her head looking back to her needle point. “You think too much, dear girl.” 

The girl sighed and went back to looking out her window, “Seems I do too much and not enough.”

Without many words at all, this lonely girl would consume Sandor’s every thought. She was smart and kind. Two things Sandor did not think of himself. 

He did not believe in the Gods, because if there were Gods, why did they punish this girl? Perhaps she was his punishment. Perhaps he was hers. Perhaps it was the world that was their punishment. 

This girl should be queen. She’d be a good one, a better one then her cunt brother. She’d be loved by the small folk and no doubt able to keep some kind of peace, even with the war. She’d not let her pride keep the seventh kingdom. If they wanted independence they’d have it. Clearly they could fight well enough on their own. But she was not queen. But she was his. 

How her hair laid against the delicate fabric of her pillow. She was all too precious for his affections. He couldn’t help it really, he felt drawn towards her. Felt a stronger pull towards her than he felt towards anything, even food or water. But he’d never subject her to his presence. 

He simply needed to see her, needed to know she was safe.

She slept sweetly, her breathing though loud was the calmest noise he’d heard. It was like the sounds of waves meeting the sands. 

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he would fantasize about what it would feel like to sleep beside her. For her to invite him into her bed. To sleep in his arms. He’d feel her heartbeat against his own. He’d smell her scent, and feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. He never slept well, but he believed if she was in his arms, perhaps he could. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As time went by, the royal family debated what to do with the girl. She was not a Baratheon Lannister, she was the reminder of Robert's first marriage, a reminder that Joffrey was not the true king. 

Sandor stood guard by the small council’s chamber door as he heard the girl’s step mother Cersei say, “She’s as wild as the boar that killed her father. No man would want her, she is too difficult. So give her to the Tyrell’s, a poisoned gift.” 

Overcome with a myriad of emotions, anger, sadness, and grief, Sandor rushed to the girl's chambers. 

Sandor stood behind her door. His hand firmly grasped the door handle, and his forehead rested against the wood of the door.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. 

He wanted to open the door, ask- no beg you to run away with him. He wanted to tell you all the things he felt for you. Wanted to protect you. 

But he was a second son, a kingsguard, he had no land, and no money. He had nothing to offer you, he didn’t even have a handsome face to bargain with. 

And so, he let the handle of the door go, and he walked down the hall. He considered it mercy. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Instead of subjecting that poor girl to his company he decided to subject tavern dwellers to him instead. That night, as her marriage was announced, Sandor sank into his cups.

Though even there he was not protected from talks of her betroval. 

Beside Sandor at another table were four men, 

“Say what you will, I think it’s a perfect match! Loras Tyrell loves a Baratheon!” Some oaf shouted as he slammed his cup onto the table laughing. 

“Aye but she’s missin’ a cock now isn’t she!” A shorter guard shouted out.

Sandor wanted to break the fool's jaws for speaking of her situation with such amusement. “Too bad for Loras, and too bad for all the other men in the realm!” A bald guard added,

The shorter guard raised his cup, “Hear hear. I’ll miss seeing that girl… Miss seeing her bend over to pick flowers.” 

The bald guard nodded in a facade of sadness, “Aye that ass will be missed-”

“No, her pair of tits will be missed!” The fatter guard spoke up.

“Nay her cunt! Ah and what a waste she’ll be giving it to a boy whore.” One of the men said, it was enough for Sandor to slam his cup onto the table in anger. He was trying with all his might to hold onto his restraint.

Though this did not go unnoticed by the men at the table. The oafish one spoke up again, “What of you Clegane?” He said getting closer to the Hound, “You guard that sweet stag so loyally. Surely you’ve thought of what her cunt tastes like-” 

Without another thought, Sandor took the man by the back of his head and slammed it into the table. His nose broke and his teeth cracked. Sandor took his dagger out and stabbed it through the man's hand. His blade took one of the man’s fingers. 

Sandor stood, taking his drink with him, “You speak to me like that again, I’ll take more than a finger.” He warned as he left the tavern in a huff.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

Against his better judgment, that night Sandor checked in on that girl. 

She was with her Septa again. He hoped that she were alone, if she were perhaps in his drunken state he’d have actually begged her to run off with him.

“My father would never have allowed this.” The girl said with a scared and sorrowful waiver of her voice, “Though I suppose it will be a relief to be gone from this place.” She sniffled, “I just don’t want to be forgotten.” 

“You’ll not be forgotten, dear girl.” Her Septa said petting her hair. 

“I suppose if I were to marry anyone in this city it would be him.” She shrugged, “But, I am unsure of how I could please him. You know of his nature. Know of his relationship with my uncle. I care not for any moral righteousness and I hold no judgment of it. But how could I ever make him happy?” She asked desperately, frightened by the prospects of her future. 

Her Septa grasped the girl by her shoulders tightly, “You will make him happy by giving his children royal blood.” 

“And how can I even do that?” The girl put her face into her hands,

“You are familiar with the act, I have explained it-”

The girl interrupted, “I won’t want it.”

Her Septa sighed, “A dreadful duty for some wives. Just lay there. Look at the ceiling and memorize the pattern of the trim. Count the seconds. Anything to let your mind wander away from your body.” She tried her best to comfort the girl, but clearly was doing nothing to help the girl’s fear.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As Sandor took leave of his duties. He threw off his armor without caution, and nearly ripped his clothing off himself. He was angry, no, he was enraged. 

This girl did not deserve this. She deserved none of the shit those blonde shits put her through. And the words of ‘advice’ given to her by her septa only enraged him more. She should have told her to slip poison in his wine. 

Sandor sat down on his bed in his small clothes with a huff. His weight made the bed creek and bow. He drank from a wineskin as he thought of it all. Soon his anger subsided, replaced with a defeated sorrow. 

Naught could be done for her. This much he knew for certain.

So, after his wineskin ran dry he laid down. Finally allowing his body to rest even though his mind could not.

As he laid there, stripped of his armor and steel. As his sensitive skin laid against the rough material of his bedding he was reminded once more that he, and his body were punished. Punished by both too much, and not enough.

Too much combat, too much drinking, too many tourneys, too many cuts and bruises. So much he endured, and his body was punished for it. He ached and felt pains all over his body all the time. His scars were sensitive and hurt in warm bath water. 

But as he laid there he was again reminded how he had not enough. Not enough gentle touches, enough love and care. Though of course he’d never admit it to anyone. His body felt truly alone in his bed. He wished he could have felt her around him. He’d fucked before, that would not shock anyone. But he’d never made love to anyone. And Gods did he need to. 

He thought of it often, kissing her. He’d do it gently. He’d be gentle with her. She deserved gentleness. He’d kiss her while he held her face in his palms. Kiss her neck, press his lips against her skin and lick where she was most sensitive- wherever those spots were. Gods he wanted to know where they were. 

He felt shameful for thinking this way, he really did. He was no better than those men in that tavern. But, he’d be good to her.

He’d make her his wife, in the eyes of The Seven. He’d build her a home. It wouldn’t be like the one she’d been brought up in. Not a castle, but a house made of stone and wood. He’d give her safety, love. And as his hand began to wonder his punished body he thought of how he’d give her children.

He wished to know how her body would feel in hands. How it would feel to have his hands caress her breasts, the curves of her body, the soft plumpness of her belly. He wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. How his cock would feel to slide in and out of her slick, warm, inviting cunt. He did not know, but he did know it would have felt oh so much better than his calassed hand that was wrapped around his length now. 

Though his actions were vulgar and sexual, he did not think of it as that. He couldn’t think of her for long without feeling the need to have her. To be close to her. To please her. To hold her close and make her feel safe under his touch, to make her feel loved and desired with his body, his hands, and his mouth. 

He thought of what her septa told her. That she’d have to lay down and take it. If she was with him she’d want it, she’d never be forced. Bedding would be a pleasure not a duty.

His groans loudened, and his breathing quickened as he thought of how she’d ask him for it. How gentle her touch would feel on his ruined skin. 

Soon he was awoken from his day dream as the hot splash of his release jolted his mind back to reality. 

He did not have her, and she for all he knew, did not want him. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And so the Hound was left with nothing to do but sit and watch as the love of his life was preparing to leave his life forever. 

He felt his heart breaking as he escorted the royals to the docks with the rest of the Kingsguard. He felt his eyes water as she began to step onto the dock, and approach the boat that would take her away from him. 

Naught could be done for her. 

So without a word the Hound offered the girl his hand. She took it, gently. He helped her into the boat. Her gaze fell onto him, and Gods it felt warm. He wanted to cut through them all. Wanted to take her off that boat and ride her away on Stranger. He’d do all the things he thought of the night before. Build her a home, keep her safe, and he’d love her. But they didn’t live in that world. 

The princess would marry that Tyrell. She’d have his sons, whether she wanted it or not. And she would never know how much her dog loved her.

The Hound watched as the boat sailed away with the girl he had loved all his life.

It’s the world that’s awful.

Thank you so much for your request! It was so much fun to write!!

Requester: @rhinestonecowboysworld

[mearchy]

The clones with drugs and alcohol - HCs

In no particular order. Obviously TW for mature themes.

REX:

Thinks of himself as a very responsible drinker, only occasionally indulges and usually when talked into it by his brothers.

Won't touch spice or any other drugs.

Able to be coaxed into shenanigans SO easily when drunk

Therefore his brothers have IMMENSE motivation to get him drunk when they want to pull Nonsense

Can also be a very sad drunk, I think. Please give him hugs.

Can hold his liquor... fine. His tolerance isn't great because he doesn't drink often but he's got engineered supersoldier metabolism so he holds up alright, to his relief.

CODY:

Who do you think Rex got his responsible drinking and drug habits from?

Except Cody is the kind of mf who learned through EXPERIENCE.

His batchmates have stories about teenage drunk Cody that they are sworn to secrecy about on pain of death.

Drunk Cody is TWICE as ready to throw down and is five times LESS inhibited about bodily tackling someone with no regard for his own safety.

Cody can probably hold his liquor but wouldn't it be so funny if he couldn't. Marshall Commander two-sheets-to-the-wind-from-four-glasses-of-wine.

WOLFFE:

He's the guy who will make direct, unwavering eye contact (ha. just the one.) with you across the table as you're both taking a sip from your drinks and suddenly you're in a competition for who can keep chugging their drink until the whole thing is empty and he's so scary how is he DOING that-

Wolffe has a naturally competitive and snippy personality but I do actually think he softens more around the edges with a few drinks in his system.

Not in a sloppy way just smiling a little more and being more affectionate.

Doesn't like or trust any substances that aren't well known to him, won't touch anything other than alcohol.

FIVES:

Sloppy, loud, kind of peevish drunk. All the shit that's always simmering under his skin has an excuse to come out.

“Listen, man. We need to start a revolution. Why hasn't someone bombed the Senat- oh, they have? Shit, can I be in on that?”

Will drop space acid or smoke space weed but only if Echo does. And Echo is smart enough to know that the paranoia Fives gets when he smokes weed is not worth it.

Type of guy to run across some random person in the desert and take psychedelics with them and go on an intense spiritual journey where he communes with dead gods. And then he shows back up at camp a couple hours later having achieved six new levels of enlightenment looking none the worse for wear. Only ever tells three people about this.

ECHO:

Echo is the kind of guy to have an Excel spreadsheet of dosages so he can bake the world's most precisely engineered edibles.

It doesn't work anyway because Fives keeps sticking his fingers in the batter and now the damn ratio is slightly off, why would you do that-

Also cannot keep a secret for the absolute life of him so he cannot pretend to be sober and he must be kept contained while drinking/stoned illicitly.

Maybe a very loving drunk. Or very sad. I'm not sure.

HARDCASE:

You already know he's in the club taking shots dancing on tabletops with his shirt off.

Life of the party, BUT he also doesn't mind being the designated driver. Flyer? Designated sober friend.

Type of guy to cheerily carry his drunk, passed out besties home and dump them into bed.

He's actually an explosives expert not just an enthusiast and he’s kind of a genius and everyone forgets that until he gets drunk and starts writing the equations to create insane explosive devices on his napkin while enthusiastically explaining it to his friends.

Very high alcohol tolerance.

GREGOR:

This man dresses like he's from Bangor Maine. I just know he was on that void planet smoking wild amounts of weed, and wearing Birkenstocks and a Patagonia puffer vest over a flannel shirt while doing it.

Thinks alcohol is a crutch.

FOX:

World's most miserable drunk.

But also can act really embarrassingly flamboyant so he stays away from alcohol at all costs.

Heh... I should kill my boss heh... wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if ... haha if I just walked into his office with a grenade right now and pulled the pin... fine, fiiine, yes, stop yelling at me. I would neeever leave Thorn with that much paperwork.

Zero tolerance, complete lightweight, doesn't matter how often he drinks. Can't hold his liquor for shit.

DOOM:

He either does mind-boggling amounts of coke or he's completely 100% straight edge and always has been. Don't ask me how I know this.

BLY:

He's so normal about alcohol I bet.

But he is giggling and kicking his feet and twirling his hair while talking to his brothers about Aayla and about the adventures of his men.

Absolutely incorrigible gossip.

Not braver after a few drinks just more prone to melting into a puddle.

Tried space MDMA once (spice?) just to say he did and hated it.

Uhhh if I do a part two it will include the bad batch and some other clones I missed.

[shebsart]

this isnt gonna be coherent but thinking about Sandor and his relation to death..

he calls his horse stranger (just alone him identifying with the stranger, the seen-as-a-monster god of death and outcasts), constantly talks about how many people he has killed and how it gives him joy, keeps this "butcher" persona that thinks killing is necessary to survive even when its innocents, talks proudly if his sigil that was based on three dogs that died trying to protect someone,fights and kills a literal undead man-gets burned in the process- only for him to come back again lol (ok this ones kind of a reach but worth mentioning for the undead gregor parallelisms) , shows arya how to give the gift of mercy "that's where the heart is, thats how you kill a man" and he denies to dig him a grave.

and after arya denying him the gift of mercy(and goes on to train to become a death giver no less lol). and then "the hound is dead" but he is "revived" by a monk-like figure and becomes a literal grave digger.. almost like hes digging graves for all the people he has killed before, maybe its also like hes serving the stranger in a way. death has become from a violent act to a quiet state of being for him at this point of the story

also i like that he dies and starts over with a different identity figuratively while his brother dies literally and comes back with a different name( if you can call it coming back)..

i dont exactly know what to make out of this as a whole because i was having seperate thoughts but i love that its there and always loved the The Stranger part to his character.

bonus from his wiki because they remind me how much i love these books and how every character connects to each other and the story so seamlessly:

[drc00l4tt4]

Yknow i was tempted to end this with a gravestone that had Gregor's name on it because I was feeling demonic apparently

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

[missredherring]

Given a Name

Oberyn Martell x Fat!Female Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: T

Word Count: 1127

Summary: "This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin.

How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong.

This will be my greatest selfishness.

Contents: Angst. Mentions of canon character deaths. Allusions to Greek mythology cos I'm a nerd. Reader chooses a name for herself.

A/N: this fic is part of @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble challenge! I was given the prompt of "To Someone From a Warm Climate” + Oberyn.

(I know the prompt was just for Oberyn, but I could never exclude Ellaria. 😔)

Thanks for putting this together, Gin! It was a lot of fun to puzzle over.

I love Isekais.

Not beta read; all errors are my own.

General Interest Tags: @oonajaeadira @perotovar @psychedelic-ink @prolix-yuy @covetyou @morallyinept @undercoverpena @janaispunk

You've failed.

There are two nights and three days left until Oberyn Martell will meet his end at the hands of Gregor Clegane. When his hubris finally gets the best of him and stills his quick feet.

The knowledge has been a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach all night.

You managed to survive the long, dark nights until the sun of the Dornish banner broke over the horizon and filled you with something that felt like hope.

You thought that the hardest thing you’d have to do when you found yourself in the Seven Kingdoms was to secure safety and shelter. Ironically, the excess fat on your body is something out of the ordinary in a world where the people starve regularly and weight is seen as a luxury only the wealthy can afford.

It wasn’t hard to catch Oberyn’s eye, but it was difficult to prove your worth with your mind instead of your body. You can only thank whatever gods are listening that events are unfolding along plot lines you’re familiar with. Foreknowledge is a weapon you’ve learned to wield well.

Ever since joining the Prince’s retinue on the road to King’s Landing and the dark fate that waited there, you’ve been trying to find a way to change his mind on the matter. But as the days went by and as each suggestion was batted away, you accepted the grim truth that Oberyn is not a man to be lured away from his convictions. Any thoughts of changing this destiny have been abandoned. The wound was too deep and scarred his poet's heart irreparably.

"May I join you tonight, my prince?" You ask when the plates are taken away and more wine is set out.

Oberyn gives you his full attention, interest sparking the banked lust that’s always glowing in his eyes. His languid body perks up, sitting straight in his seat for a moment before he gets to his feet to refill his goblet.

“Oh? Are you finally accepting our invitation?”

“If it is still offered, I would like nothing more.” The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. There are things you’d like more: his acceptance of your council of his duel with the Mountain, indoor plumbing, antibiotics, and a safe way home to name a few.

Tomorrow night will be for Oberyn and Ellaria, but tonight… you can ask for tonight for yourself.

“Of course. But I cannot continue to call you by title only if we are to be lovers, my soothsayer.”

The true intention of filling his own goblet is clear: he has halved the distance between you by moving to the sideboard. It only takes two of his long strides to reach you, and his hand suddenly trailing over the back of your chair makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle with awareness.

"Cassandra." You offer him the name and he latches on to it.

“Cassandra.” He says.

Oberyn runs a finger over the exposed skin of your shoulder, and you feel the line as clearly as if he had drawn it with a quill. His touches before had been kept to what politeness allowed: brushes of his fingers against yours and the fleeting press of his mouth to the back of your hand. But now at your request he’s testing you, seeing if the boundaries have truly moved or if this is another of your tactics.

His eyes watch your face as that finger follows the neckline of your dress, pausing just at the swell of your breast before turning, going down your arm to take your hand, and gently commanding you to stand.

“Cassandra,” He repeats the name, rolling it over his tongue and changing the pronunciation with his accent. He pulls it apart, putting the syllables back together in a Dornish fashion, and you wish it was that easy to relieve the name of its burden.

Every time he says it is another press on the bruise of your heart. He catches your flinch and tilts his head.

How can a man blinded by his revenge see you so clearly?

"That is not your given name."

"It's as true a name for me as any of the things I have told you." You say, trying to keep the frustration from your voice.

He has taken your council about the events leading up to the death of King Joffrey, but the opportunity to finally avenge Elia has presented itself at his feet, deafening him to any suggestion that would turn him from that doomed path.

The conversation about his quest for revenge has been hashed out many times at this point. Oberyn is so close to one ending that he cannot, or will not, see the paths to other options.

“I’ve decided to finally give in to your temptations, Oberyn. To indulge in my desires.” You say, feeling a little relieved when he smiles. He likes the idea, the stroke to his ego, as you knew he would. You’re just glad the allure of a body like yours hasn’t lessened over the time you’ve spent together.

"This would be your greatest indulgence?" He asks, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a pleased grin.

How like a man to inflate his importance. It’s a pity that he isn’t wrong.

This will be my greatest selfishness.

"Yes. It would be even greater if Ellaria joined us." It’s daring, to demand them both like this, but he would never deny Ellaria anything she wished. You both turn to her for an answer.

Just like the Prince, it has been too easy to fall under the charms of his paramour. She is his equal in every way that matters, including your regard.

Ellaria watches you with dark worried eyes, and you have to steel yourself against the urge to weep. You want to beg for her forgiveness. Apologize for not being able to give more warning than the dread she already feels. Will you turn from me, when all is said and done? When he’s nothing but a broken corpse on the stadium floor, will you leave me behind? Will you forget me in the chaos of the aftermath?

You hold your other hand out to her in invitation, and try to keep your face steady when she makes a soft noise of delight.

Oberyn’s mouth is warm on your temple. He only turns your head away from Ellaria when he cannot wait any longer to take your mouth in a searing kiss.

You will give them the pleasure of your body, allow yourself to rest your mind in a tangle of limbs, and let this memory be the last golden rays of your Dornish sunset as the uncertain night waits beyond the windows.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Ok but imagine the caliber of babying Joanna!Lookalike would receive if she somehow survived her poisoning. They’d treat her as if she was infinitely more delicate than glass. She wouldn’t even walk anywhere anymore, Gregor would carry her everywhere

If Joanna!Lookalike!Reader were to somehow, by the gods, survive the Strangler than she would be seen as an absolute miracle. I can’t help but imagine Joanna!Lookalike just walking off the effects of the poison. Like, she’s collapsed on the ground coughing up four lungs worth, there’s blood, tears and saliva all mixed together and after a bit she just gets herself back up, dusts herself off and continues on like she didn’t just have a near death experience. Everyone would be both shocked, terrified and utterly relieved all at the same time.

Babying would be a complete understatement, House Lannister (along with some others) would become even more completely overprotective and obsessive than they already were. Their darling Joanna!Lookalike was nearly ripped away from them, they weren’t going to leave any room for that to ever happen again. Tywin would immediately cut down on the contact that his grandchild had with anyone else, mainly outside of him. Honestly, Tywin can’t even bring himself to trust Cersei with Joanna!Lookalike after this. He knows Cersei didn’t poison her, after all she had been utterly destroyed by the mere prospect of losing her beloved child, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Her visits and interactions with Joanna!Lookalike would be even more heavily supervised then before.

Hell, Tywin would assign Gregor to be stationed directly by Joanna!Lookalike’s side from then on out. Instead of simply being in the same room as Joanna!Lookalike to protect her, Gregor would now literally by breathing down her neck 25/8. He use to only stand guard outside his princess’ bedchambers, now he would be sat next her bed as she slept just to further ensure her safety. Hell, he Reader wouldn’t even be allowed to bathe without Gregor right there to oversee it, especially when it was the female servants who were set to wash her themselves. Eventually, even that would be put a stop to but Gregor would still be right there (even if his back is tuned way) to ensure his princess was safe in her most vulnerable of moments. And it

Cersei would be so incredibly clingy, suffocatingly so. Understandably she was so close to losing her most precious child, of course she would be wanting to be damn near attached to the hip with her bby. She would take to sleeping next to Joanna!Lookalike, clutching her child close to her, almost bruisingly tight. And much to her absolute dismay and annoyance the Mountain would be right there each and every time Cersei tried to have some much needed time with her bby. Also, Cersei would still very much blame Tyrion for being the one who tried to kill her darling bby, but Joanna!Lookalike wouldn’t let her mother or grandfather accuse him of such a thing. Even after going through what she had, Joanna!Lookalike!Reader would vehemently defend her uncle to no end.

[strobbylemonade]

unorganised canto vii pt 2 thoughts and spoilers

sinclair's getting bullied fuck yeah

rodya moments. i love her. also it's really funny seeing the main story go "rodion is not an important person" and then we get dulcinea rodya

lots of talk about family... heathcliff admitting he sees the lcb as his family was really sweet....

OK HONG LU'S NAME IS BAOYU. INTERESTING.

"if something bad were to happen to your sister in front of your eyes" like what, gregor. getting eaten by an apple. anyways i was so sure xichun was going to die at some point, i was trying so hard to keep her alive during the dulcinea fight in case her dying was scripted or something!!! (i got to the end with xichun on 5hp)

anyways. shoutout to the outfits they're putting the women in during the plays. i cheered when ryoshu came in she looks so hot. ishmael please show up in pt 3.

this was really sweet i love them so much

after i slept on it, there's some stuff going on here

a: some kind of frau eva situation going on here? sanson is connected to demian in some way and presumably the bookhunter (bari?) has the mark of cain. b: sinclair wanting to be like the image of don quixote, while most of what we see of sancho is her wailing about how she doesn't want to go on an adventure.

really interesting how the concept of death and suicide comes up in a lot of cantos, like we know gregor's barely hanging on by a thread (his passive is called "forced survival"), yi sang admits to the worst day of his life being the one where he found out his contract made him immortal, ishmael wanting her "life as it is to end", and then dante realising they're not willing to die. and heathcliff. well. erlking heath's technically dedicated his life to killing himself. i always get something new out of every time they revisit the topic.

bari/the bookhunter is SUUUCH an interesting addition. to my knowledge, she's not a character from the original story? and the way she talks to sancho and her Father, encouraging ideas of grandiosity and not stopping sancho from drinking from the lake??? WHO ARE YOU????

also outis knows the name of the lake of the underworld... inch resting... from how much she spoke in canto v, and odysseus dying by drowning in dante's inferno, i wonder where in the odyssey the main story takes place.

again dante's biggest fear is losing the bond the sinners have built with each other...

brief detour to talk about dante:

they've been a looooot less active this canto, going back to canto 3 levels of "i sorta want to help them but i don't know what to do" and only stepping in when things get really intense. i think in canto v and vi, they had queequeg and cathy as guidance as to what to do (or what not to do in cathy’s case), because they’re people that cared about their respective sinners and dante’s entire job and motivation to help their sinners find their way.

in canto v and vi, they also paralleled someone else in the sinners’ life, e.g. ishmael wanting to go on a new adventure with dante after losing queequeg, and both cathy and dante pushing heathcliff away from the destructive fate of erlking. however, donqui doesn’t have anyone in her life. she outright says she has no family, and dante notes that nobody even listens to her talk most of the time. where i think dante steps in is that they’re meant to parallel don quixote herself, the all-powerful amnesiac with a heart of gold, where all they remember is the vague promise of something they no longer remember (for dante, their aspect, and donqui, it’s dante themselves)... i hope. and since we're already getting a lot of sinclair attention this canto as well, i hope it's a situation where they look back on themselves dying on the mountain of bodies and lamenting that they let another one of their sinners fall into despair before they did something.

anyways. back to the sinner of the hour SHE'S SO HANDSOME????? I KNOW THIS IS NOT THE TIME BUT OH MY GOD??? THE GASP I GUSP????

anyone else hear that ominous bell tolling????🤣🤣🤣 no?? just me??????😭😭😭😭😭😭

OKAY BUT HER EYES!!! DULCINEA WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SHE'S LITERALLY GORGEOUS. in all seriousness, dante also comments on how donqui's bloodfiend eyes are always looking down on everything else around her, so i really do wonder what was behind the door in the past to make her look so wonderstruck.

also i'm really glad that the cg artist seems to have really fallen back into what made the LoR cgs so gorgeous as well, ever since warp express the characters and colours have really become a lot more vibrant and dynamic. i really hope that means they're not too overworked anymore.

alright. one more week until we get mili + donqui pass on! let's go!!! things i'm still waiting for:

dante & donqui moment together PLEASE COME ON PLEASE

vergilius showing up again / finding out what their contract entailed or how they met (maybe a sinner plays vergilius at some point??? he and ishmael got a lot in common. please)

i swear to god i head a musical cue from man of la mancha in one of the bgms this canto but i might be making it up. so if i am making it up, man of la mancha musical reference in either the mili song or bgm

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.3

Oh fucking boy

This isn't a really revelatory passage, it's just like. Even more reinforcement that Leviathan is a fucking beast. More dead, more downed.

Taylor the fact that you even bothered to show up is above and beyond what should ever be asked of you, you are fifteen for fuck's sake, staking your life against the defeat of a hateful animate Splash Mountain is not your fucking purview! You should be playing Minecraft or something!

"Sorry I wasn't traumatized in a way that lets me save your life" Hello??

I can't imagine Taylor gets to feel like a part of most communities, honestly. Also I'm not sure that the cape community is any kind of monolith, so whether she "fits in" with them all is kind of moot.

Byyyye, Iron Falcon.

That's such a funny thing to ask somebody, honestly.

And then this is a crazy hardcore thing to ask somebody. This arc does a lot to establish that Skitter is just straight up on another level when it comes to comfort on the battlefield compared to even veteran capes, girl will nearly get pulped by Neptune's fucking wrath and then wonder why other people died while she's still conscious

Oh, Taylor. I'm so sorry, he only gets worse the more layers you get into him.

Also. Okay so Gregor the Snail felt like a pretty sympathetic perspective on how fatphobia stings people, but the life and death of Chubster in the realm of this story... kinda sucks. Like oh no, he's too heavy for Skitter to save him, have to leave him to drown I guess. I'm not saying it's an impossible circumstance, it just feels crass to have it in.

Hey Flechette, keep up the good work girl

The thing I keep coming back to with the Endbringers is that. Okay. These things have been causing horrific damage, mass death, and world-changing devastation for decades, and they've never been killed, and only one cape has ever meaningfully made the things fuck off in the history of ever. They are considered to be the most likely cause of extinction for humanity. Every time it seems like they're winning, even in the short-term, it's just the setup for another knockdown. It's giving them hope just so the despair hits deeper. What are the odds that's on purpose? What are the odds that everything the Endbringers suffer except Scion is just play-acting for them? Selling the capes' moves like it's a wrestling match, even as they don't feel a goddamn thing.

What if it's all just a sick game to an alien god?

This is so cool and so, so fucking dire.

God that's dark

Sacrifice play. Some desperate attempt to redeem himself in the public view maybe? A genuine belief that he can make this stick? I dunno. It doesn't matter, unfortunately.

What a way to sell the fucking outrageous devastation that this monster unleashes in the span of. What, an hour? Less?

Also hey what good is all the missiles and lasers and forcefields if Leviathan is just gonna pick the whole PHQ up and smash it onto the shoreline

So many goddamn downed, it's crazy. And y'know, knowing the rest of the arc we know Tattletale's still standing but of course Skitter is fucked up over losing Tattletale, that's the last person she's got who's willing to extend a hand towards her.

Most powers are dead useless here let's be real

Hey, good job Eidolon

Fucking brave of y'all to be shooting Bakuda bombs anywhere in the same ZIP code as someone you care about, but also god it would be so cool if this had actually worked. Just fucking lock Leviathan down in time out for a hundred years or so, buy that much time? Shame it fails.

Well. I'm not gonna miss the fucking Nazis, but rip in peace Dauntless, we hardly knew ye.

Triumvirate member tagged out. Alexandria was already down for the count, wasn't she? Or she at least stopped showing up at some point, so now it's just Eidolon repping the Big Three

although I guess if you asked Eidolon he'd call it "just Big Me"

First dead kid out of the lot, I think, if we don't count Falcon dying off the battlefield. Sorry, Shielder. I think Leviathan knew you were strong enough to keep being a problem. Gotta be fucking awful for Laserdream though, watching your brother die violently in front of you is. I actually can't imagine, thank fuck.

And then Sundancer down but not out. Honestly if anyone was gonna have decent odds of doing damage I'd have given it to The Fucking Sun, but that doesn't do much for defense does it.

Fucking outrageously brutal, god.

Man. I didn't even think about the fact that this thing is silent the entire time. No Godzilla roars or shit the entire time, nothing except for the rush of water.

Clockblocker keeps coming in clutch to save the day against citywide threats... Someone please for the love of god stop putting these children in the line of fire.

Also interesting that Taylor might be the only one here whose first response is to get him out of the water, for all that he's been her enemy.

Clever.

Taylor can be really harshly judgmental at times but I'm gonna be real I'm with her on this one, Trickster what the actual fuck is your problem. Like good job I guess but what the hell.

Y'know, the fucked up thing is that Armsmaster actually isn't wrong here, and his plan could've worked if he was, uhh. Genuine about it.

Does everybody's ability to give a speech go down the fucking toilet when an Endbringer is within half a mile of them? Is that what it is?

Current Thoughts

Wildbow really fucking knows how to put a battle together. Our POV character isn't actually fighting through 95% of this entire arc (and maybe shouldn't have been fighting in that 5% but we'll get there) but you feel just totally surrounded by the death and devastation that's raining down on all sides.

Unfortunately, I think it's about time for Armsmaster's big reveal on how to lose an arm and a shitload of credibility in record timing.

[spookyscaryskidnpump]

my thoughts on spooky month 6

copy pasted from a page and a half of google doc. crying. spoilers inbound.putting it under the cut cuz its super long. also swear warning.

Ok to start off LILA. LILA MY GAL NO UR DOING UR BEST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Im crying im actually fucginf crying. She's trying. So hard. Skid is trying so hard. THEY'RE DOING THEIR BEST PLEASEEEEE. Father Gregor can go EAT SHIT. THEY'RE TRYING AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS GODDAMNIT.

Susie… Susie no… please… she deserves better istgggggg. What happened to their parents? Are they actually just busy? Are they DEAD? Holy shit what if they're dead. Poor Pump, poor Susie, god please just let these kiddos be ok. PLEASE. ABUELO WONDER IS TYING SO HARD BUT SUSIE KNOWS IT ISN'T REALLY FROM HER PARENTS IM CRYING. SUSIE NOOOOOO

FATHER GREGOR I HATE YOU. ok well he obvs did some good but STILL. GREGOR. STFU GREGOR. I get that hes trying but U CANT JUST SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT JUDGEMENT AND THEN JUDGE HER HER FUCKING HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!! YOU DONT HAVE THE FUCKING CONTEXT!!!! ARGHFDGHJSGHJKAGHSD. Also DAMN IS HE A CULTIST NOW?? IS HE DEAD?? WHAT?!?!?!

ROYYYYYY ROY MY BOI NOOOOOO poor guy :( i understand why he hates the kids they DID kinda ruin him so. At least he knows theyre trying now :( and ross n rob just ASSUME he did something bad isnt helping here!!!! I get that theyre also trying to help him and its nice to see him opening up to them about stuff (even if we dont get to know what specifically PELO WHY) but PLEASE get this kid an anger management class or smthn PLEASE. He needs SO MUCH THERAPY. I dont think hes gonna get therapy because im pretty sure his parents are Part Of The Problem but STILL.  Also FUCKER LITERALLY GOT POSSESED BY A DEMON?????? THATS GOTTA BE TRAUMATIC TF

Side note i love ross and robert dearly and i appreciate them doing their best to help on both sides i love them smmmmmm AUGH

KEVIN AND RADFORD FRIENDSHIP REALLLLLLLLLL i am SO fucking happy about that!!!! Also Kevin having conflicted feelings on the kids FAIR. Similar thing to Roy except hes an adult with a semi-functional support network and is able to understand that theyre just dumb kids and they dont actually mean any harm. He’s harsher on the hatzgang cuz theyre teens and old enough to know stealing is wrong but Skid n Pump are little kiddos they dont know better. Also him disapproving of father gregor REAL THO. also HE GOT POSSESSED TOO?? TRAUMA CENTRAL HOLY SHIT

PATTY DESERVES TO HAVE A GUN ACTUALLY. Also JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST! IS HIS KID DEAD? IS HIS DAUGHTER OK HOLY SHIT. ALSO THEM HELPING THE KIDS PROPERLY IM CRYIG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

WHAT WAS EVERMORE DOING WITH THE HOBOMEN???? HELLO??????

I SAW THAT CULT NECKLACE UNDER IGNACIOS SHIRT. I FUCKING SAW IT. CALLED IT BITCH!!!!!!

Rick just has the WORST luck lmao

STREBER IS ALIVE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DEXTER NO PLEASE AUGH…… HIS MOM TOO……

JAUNE AND ROSS’S DAD… HE'S REAL HE EXISTS!! I get ur trying jaune but that is NOT the best way to comfort poor lila… AT LEAST SHES TRYING THO I APPRECIATE HER

THE ENTIRE NEWGROUNDS ENDING?? THE THIEVES AND THE CANDY DEALER IN CAHOOTS WITH THE CULT???? HELLO??????

MOLOCH IS GONE. he deserved it but also THE KIDS ARE SO SAD ABOUT IT? Like they don't really get it but they just watched someone they thought was their friend DIE. HOLY SHIT.

finally. SKID AND PUMP. KIDDOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok for real tho theyre so much more self aware than the fandom and bulk of the show give them credit for?? Like Skid is VERY aware of his dad being dead/possibly missing and legit just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He knows what death is and he finds fun in it to cope. My poor sweet boyo… and PUMP. PUMP ANSWERING THE CALL AUGHHHHHH HE WANTS HIS PARENTS BACK IM CRYING. SUSIE AND ABUELO ARE DOING THEIR BEST AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD AND AAAAAAAAAAUGH. Also him getting possessed by Moloch while having Star-Eyes basically debunks the theory of the Star-Eyes being a form of possession which is FASCINATING. Anyway that scene with Susie and Pump got me misty eyed and then during the ending with Skid and Lila i actually genuinely started crying. I just want them to be happy. Please let them be happy. Please. PLEASE.

[ccspostagebox]

Okay I'm just going to dump my thoughts here on Spooky Month 6 and it's ending.

SPOILERS BELOW.

Alrighty. So. From what I can tell and what others have already said, it was implied that Father Gregor had become a sacrifice for The Eyes after the cult practically threw him to the wolves.

However, I feel like there might be one of possibly two ways this goes.

1. He's actually been killed off. (And why I think that might not be likely. I am a death denier at heart </3)

* Since Father Gregor is starting to uncover aspects of the town that may begin to unnerve some of the residents there, it would be wise of them to get rid of him to prevent backstabbing and to prevent suspicions of what's really going on behind the scenes.

* Nobody seems to really trust Father Gregor except Skid and Pump (even though they do seem rather hesitant to trust him as well, said trust likely majorly broken when Moloch was turned to stone/dust.). And, well, nobody is going to bat an eye about a guy they barely know, right? However, this can create issues as the residents may be suspicious of where the "random guy" has gone.

*I suspect The Eyes may have a bigger part for Father Gregor to play in the cult or in the town, yet I cannot begin to speculate what that role may be yet.

2. He has been...changed.

*I personally feel like some people focus on the more physical aspects of being "sacrificed" when it comes to this scene near the end. While being a sacrifice can mean being physically slaughtered or killed, it can also mean giving up something of extreme value to you or surrendering, which is more on the mental or emotional side of things. I feel like Father Gregor may have been harmed partially physically, yet had the most damage done with "sacrificing" his own faith to surrender to The Eyes. This would be evident in his expression and body language. He is looking into the face of what is practically a god himself. If you were in his position and saw a being in much higher power and control than you, tell me you would not be scared shitless. I guarantee most of us cannot claim as such.

* In his body language, he doesn't really appear to me as if he is offering himself up to be killed. It seems more like an act of peace. He knows he cannot win with any use of protest or violence like he did with the demonic possessions of Moloch using the residents. He is getting on his knees and opening his arms as a sign of peace, a sign of surrender. This man has seen the face of God, and is not going to risk anything by a simple wrong move or action. It looks to me more like a plea for mercy, a plea for The Eyes to have a speck of pity for him. Dude is fucking terrified, and he knows that his plea may go fully unanswered as he is left to be lamb to the slaughter.

*In this absolutely beautiful credits art in the ending, it depicts Father Gregor clearly reaching towards The Eyes, as if seeking for help or assistance before he is possibly brought to Moloch's underworld. The contrast of the cult being a "heaven" vs Moloch's underworld being clearly "hell" makes me wonder if The Eyes may actually decide to have mercy on Father Gregor. He has clearly been shown to have mercy on the misguided and naive (E.g. Skid and Pump.), yet also displays traits of being poor on judgement of whom to "save" (e.g. Bob Velseb), making them practically insane by the end of their run or course. The way Father Gregor has wings and reaches for The Eyes makes me think that perhaps The Eyes plans to make him a secondary leader or main spokesperson for the cult. After all, even though nobody knows him that much, would you not take a highly respected man of a God's word as the truth? Many people, especially the residents of the town, may be much more likely to give into the cult's demands after its been "approved" by a man of faith.

Of course, these are just my thoughts, nothing is concrete. We can only go off of the tidbits we are given so far.

[zabala0z]

S3 is once again killing me again with all the lore and I love it. School started up so I might be slower with my thoughts but I got episodes 92, 93, 94 and 95 to talk about!!!

MAG 92: Nothing Beside Remains

Elias makes me want to eat my phone, similar to that one guy from MAG 65 :) I was like screaming the whole time. Of course he can see everything, he literally called the police before Daisy came. I took that as "oh he has spies" but no he can see everything, I hate that. Is Jon eventually gonna get that ability or does The Eye give different gifts. Elias hasn't shown any "compellling" sort of power so I assume the latter. ALSO MORDECAI LUKAS?? I need to see a statement from a Lukas member cause what is up with that family, I'm dying.

Guess Basira is now working there. Hope Elias is paying her. the fact he won't tell Jon shit is so funny to me. So The Stranger is now, basically, the confirmed main villain. BBEG yknow? Mildly terrified, I hate circuses and mannequins so this season is gonna like body me

Not much to say on MAG 93 but whatever entity has the whole "gross shit" as its deal, I'm guessing this falls under it. Purple fungus, the obsessive cleaning, etc. Also yaaay Breekon and Hopes!! Again!11!! get out! Poor Georgie. Love her for being like "Do you even have qualifications??". Jons explanation helped me a lot because during Elias's explanations, I'm mostly just muttering curses to myself because I HATE Him. Avatars. Baller. So Jude Perry was the avatar of The Desolation (destruction, fire, etc) Michael Crew was the avatar of The Vast (sky??, emptiness, general loneliness) and then like Jon is an avatar and I'm guessing so is Elias. I think you can have more then one avatar but anyways.

MAG 94: Dead Woman Walking

Jon refereed to the entity as "The End" which, using my notes, was mentioned in Mary keys statement when gertrude asked where the book came from and Mary said "The End" and said she could never serve it, not finding death interesting. Wild that she can't feel fear anymore??? Like damn. This kinda read as someone in a depressive state in some form. Or like a nihilistic person. Cause like "everything ends, time, it has already ended". Wild.

Not much to say on MAG 95 but I did understand the context vaguely which is more then what I can say for the other war statements. Also Martin and Basira friendship??? Love it. She gets really engrossed in books. I dunno if she was like lying or this is something supernatural related but I love Basira

MAG 96: Return to Sender

Literally screeching oh my god. The fact these things just hijacked this mans business is almost funny. They also talked with a circus ringmaster. Nikola Orsinov? gregor Orsinov? A different one. the statement was given 1996 and Gregor was the leader around the 40's but Nikola, by her description I think, sounded young. So. Who was this ringmaster? Maybe Im getting the timeframe wrong. or they're like eternal. Maybe they like just shed skin and steal a new body, just going by the same last name- okay I don't know.

Also, SARAH BALDWIN???? Welcome back girl. The fact the gorilla skin was stolen by gertrude means she was trying to stop The Unknowing, and likely that's why its been this long for it to happen, because they need that skin. Ew. The Stranger loves skin a little too much. Also Sarah being filled with sawdust and cloves. Great. If Not Sasha was shot, would we have seen that? Or is it different with every one of those, NotThem.?

Anyways, I think that's everything. Every statement, I'm kinda thinking, "which entity does this fall under" now that I know the surrounding universe. Tough since I only know 6 by name and I think there's more. 6 too many entities for this world though

[gingerlee-holds]

Viper's Venom

The info for this fic is here! TLDR: this is my Squealing Santa for @angelatmidnight1! It was very fun to write and I hope you enjoy! Goodness, I hope I haven't forgotten something-!

Word Count: 2,193 Reading Time: ~17 minutes Warnings: Mentions of death, tickling Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader (Implied romantic)

"Fresh blood oranges, right from the tree!" Y/N Sand shouted. The announcement of goods and their prices, along with many other varieties of speech, filled the Dornish bazaar, which made it very hard to hear oneself think. Luckily, Y/N has spent the last decade of their life training their craft in this place, selling their family's blood oranges and making a lot of money from it, too. 

Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, with its warm climate and scent of fiery peppers, always brought peace of mind to Y/N. They wore an orange robe to match the fruit they sold, with a golden necklace around their neck that glittered like the sun. They always loved it when the wind blew through the market because the sweet smell of her blood oranges could travel far.

A man in a yellow cloak appeared in the crowd, whose saunter caught Y/N's attention. He approached the stall, picking up an orange and inspecting it closely.

"This is fine fruit," he said, more to himself than the seller. 

Y/N smiled at such an opportunity landing in front of them. "You have a good eye! These are among the finest blood oranges in Dorne. Can't be beaten within a hundred miles around by the gods!" 

He looked up from the orange in his hand to look at Y/N thoughtfully. "I have had enough of blood for a while." His accent was distinctly Dornish, his face was sharp, and his eyes were piercing. "In short, I am not interested in your wares."

"I'm sorry to hear that, friend. Another day, perhaps!"

The man leaned over the counter. "I never said I was leaving," he said softly. A tense minute of silence followed as each studied the other's face. Finally, the man smiled, mumbling, "You are a Sand."

A blush of embarrassment crept up Y/N's face at the mention of their low birth. "You have a better eye than I thought," they said, trying to keep a grin on their face.

"Oh, do not be ashamed, sweet thing. Sands are my favorite." He smiled with all his teeth. "My absolute favorite."

Finally, a flash of recognition came across Y/N's face as they realized the man's identity. "You're Oberyn Martell- Prince Oberyn Martell!"

"I am, yes. And you are?"

"Y/N Sand. I'm glad to see you're doing okay. You didn't announce your arrival?"

"I do not like entourages." 

"Then why have you come here? Were you seeking to find something?"

"I was seeking to find someone, and now I have."

"We were all worried when you heard you were fighting in the trial by combat, especially for the Imp. How did you-"

The prince quickly put a hand to Y/N's lips. "Shhhh, sh, sh. Enough talk. Would you like a visit to the Water Gardens?"

"Your palace? I could find the time." Y/N smiled shyly, touching their necklace. 

Prince Oberyn smiled with his teeth again, holding Y/N's hand as he led them away from the busy market. 

As they walked together through the streets, Y/N continued asking questions, keeping their hand on their necklace the whole time.

"So, how did you win?"

"Hm? Against Gregor Clegane?"

"That brute. The Mountain that Rides. I heard he was nine feet tall!"

Oberyn chuckled. "Closer to eight, by my estimate." Another silence followed. "I poisoned my blade. That is all I need to say about that."

Y/N touched their necklace again.

"Why do you keep doing that? Your necklace."

"Ah, it was given to me by a handsome merchant a few years back for my help with some errands. He said it made me more attractive, something about magic."

Oberyn brushed a lock of Y/N's hair behind their ear. "I don't know about magic, but you have plenty of good looks without a necklace."

The fruit seller blushed and looked away, making the prince laugh. 

-

As the pair entered through the gates of the Water Gardens, the sound of raucous laughter fluttered through the air. The artificial pools and rivers before them were filled with splashing and play. 

"Children. My brother adores the sound. Come, let us go to a more sequestered location." Still holding their hand, Oberyn led through a courtyard. Through another, finally ending in a smaller, more sheltered area with an orange tree in the corner, casting the spot in a warm shade and a minor waterfall feature forming a little brook that trickled through the grass. 

"It's beautiful." Y/N stepped through the grass, smiling at the cool breeze and the shade of the orange tree.

"I have come here many times with many people." Oberyn walked forward with his usual strut, taking off his cloak and setting it on a bench. He wore a bronze-colored tunic underneath.

"This is an honor, my prince. I-" Their statement was cut off by Oberyn's laugh again. 

"Have you ever spoken to a prince?"

Y/N huffed and looked down at the grass. Suddenly, two of Prince Oberyn's fingers tilted their chin to look him in the eye. "I am asking you a question."

The action made Y/N blush. "I'm a bit out of practice." They liked his laugh. It was rich and infectious, filling any room he was in. 

"You will learn again. For now, though, here." With that, he gently sat Y/N down against the tree on the grass. "You are as delicate as a flower. I mustn't be rough with you." Again, he spoke more to himself than Y/N.

"May I ask why you brought me here?"

"You may."

A brief silence followed before Y/N, giggling, said, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Such a lovely laugh. I brought you here because I've spent the past week on the road, traveling through the desert wastes, all hoping to get home and spend the day with a pretty little dove. I am home, have found a pretty little dove, and am perfectly satisfied."

"Are you this flirtatious with everyone you meet?"

"You must know enough about me to know I am - not to suggest you do not deserve every word." He sat down beside Y/N, facing them. "Take your sandals off, you silly dove. How often have you felt grass between your toes?"

Giggling again, Y/N removed their sandals, smiling at the sensation of the cool earth under them. "You're very sweet despite everything your reputation makes you out to be."

"The infamous Red Viper of Dorne, sweet? This is new."

Y/N grinned cheekily, boldly saying, "You're not a viper; you're a milk snake." 

Oberyn's eyes widened in surprise, staring at Y/N. "Would you like to repeat that, little dove?"

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N stuck out their tongue. "A milk snake!" they said with a laugh, which turned into a yelp when they saw Oberyn move toward them. Y/N jumped to their feet, backing away.

The prince stood as well, smiling. "Oh, no, no, no! You cannot leave now! You have committed a reprehensible wrong against my name! I must have my justice, you know."

"W-wait, just stay away. I didn't mean it!"

"But you said it all the same. I am afraid I cannot have you leaving to tell everyone Prince Oberyn is the Milk Snake of Dorne, now can I?"

"I'm sorry! You're a viper, a vicious red viper!"

"And I'll make sure you remember that!" With those words, the prince lunged toward missing Y/N by a hair as they ran, leaping over the brook, laughing as they looked behind them to see a very evil-looking Oberyn at their heel. Y/N ran from the courtyard into a hallway, dodging down halls and around corners, hoping to lose the prince in the maze. 

They turned a final corner, and ahead, they saw a pretty courtyard with an orange tree and a waterfall feature. Before they could think, they ran right into Oberyn's arms, scooped right off their feet as he carried them bridal-style back to the shade of the tree.

"My little dove returned at last to face their punishment! How noble and brave you must be!" Oberyn kissed Y/N on the brow, setting them on the grass. "If you try to escape again, it will only worsen for you."

Y/N Sand nodded, keeping their mouth shut.

"Good! I would punish you now, but I have chosen a different approach. I will let the gods decide your fate. I demand a trial by combat."

"What! C-combat?!"

Oberyn stood a few paces away, grinning playfully. "To your feet, my dove." Y/N jumped up, and the prince rushed forward, ducking under Y/N's arms and knocking their legs out from under them. Flat on their back, Oberyn straddled their waist. "You are not very good at this."

"Noho, I'm not! Now let me up! You've made your point."

"I have not won yet!" Y/N felt a hand slide inside their robe, gently squeezing a spot just above their hip, and they began squealing. "A squealer! I should have guessed!"

"H-hehehey! Nohohohow wahahhait juhuhust a mihihinute!" 

"I will do no such thing! I must clear my name in the sight of gods and men!" Oberyn's fingers danced expertly, precisely finding every ticklish spot on his poor victim. 

Y/N squirmed and laughed uncontrollably, their protests lost in powerless laughter. "T-tihihihickling! Thihihis ihihis ridihihihihiculous!!!" 

The prince's nimble fingers moved to Y/N's sides, squeezing like a baker kneading bread. "I will tell you what is ridiculous, my dove. Insulting the name of a prince in his palace while being so very ticklish. I cannot imagine what would bring a silly little dove like yourself to such absurdity."

The teasing elicited more squeaky giggles from the poor merchant, who kicked their legs helplessly. Oberyn's hands moved up to Y/N's ribcage, wriggling over each little rib. 

"So many vital organs in here. Maybe if I wriggle my fingers here enough, I can tickle them, too. Do you hear that, little dove? I think your heart wants to be tickled as well! Nobody wants to be left out, right?"

"THihiHIHihis ihIhIHis CruhUhuhUel! StoHoHHop TehehHEheheasing!" 

"Cruel? That is a title I will not deny. Now, I must get a confession out of you, dove! Did you insult my name?" Oberyn smiled with his teeth again, genuinely pleased by the adorable sight before him. "Come on, sweet one, say it." His hands moved up finally to Y/N's neck, scribbling around. 

"OohOHOhohoberyn!! MeheheEHhehercyyhyy!!!" Y/N squealed.

"I'll give you mercy! You must first confess! Did you insult my name, yes or no?" 

"Ihihihi cohohonfehehess toho nohohothing!"

"A bratty little dove you are. Fine then! Feel the bite of the viper!" With that, he curled his pointer and middle fingers to look like snake fangs and drilled them into Y/N's sides, eliciting a defeated shriek from the small merchant. 

"FUHUHUHUCK!! GEHEHET OHOFFA MEHEHEHEHEEE!!!"

"You should be feeling my venom coursing through your veins by now. Rather potent, I'm afraid. Is it making you feel all squirmy and blushy? I think I can see it taking effect!" 

"YOUHUHU'RE SUHUHUHUCH A JEHEHEHERK!!! CUHUHUHUT IHIHIHIT OUHUHUT!!!" Y/N was in hysterics, writhing and cackling.

Surprisingly, Oberyn stopped, leaning back with a smug expression. "Will you confess? Confess, and I'll send you to the Wall! I do not want to kill you, you know!" 

Despite every single brain cell screaming at them not to make things worse for themselves, Y/N giggled and said, "You're such a milk snake, hisssssEEEHEEHEEEEK!!!"

Their cheeky hissing was cut off by more 'viper bites' before Oberyn turned around. "Very well! I, Prince Oberyn Martell, sentence you to death by tickling!" he giggled, keeping Y/N's feet pinned. "I knew I made the right call by telling you to take off those sandals."

"N-noHohohoho! Wait, wait, hold on! Can't we negotiate a pardon?"

"Absolutely not, my dove! Justice is a significant thing to me, you should know. Now, I hope you aren't ticklish here, for your sake."

Unfortunately, Y/N was very ticklish there, which Oberyn quickly learned once he began scribbling around on their soles. The prince's fingers explored every inch of Y/N's feet, marking each spot. However, when he got to the toes, Y/N's laughter turned silent, a sign it was time to stop. 

Oberyn got up, quite pleased with himself, and sat under the orange tree. Y/N regained their breath and looked up at him, a blush and a giddy smile plastered on their face. They crawled up next to him and wrapped an arm around his torso. "Monster," they spat playfully. 

"Careful, dove," he chuckled, wiggling his fingers again, making the merchant bury their face in his chest. "Get some rest. From my experience, trials are entirely exhausting." He yawned to prove his point. 

"Ihihit wasn't your trial!" 

"I've never been on trial. Well, except for that one time." He chuckled, rubbing Y/N's back. "A story for another time. For now, though, rest. I promise you will not find a more peaceful place than this in a thousand summers." 

Oberyn was right. It didn't take long for Y/N's eyes to begin drooping. Little by little, they fell asleep, a smile still on their face, cuddled into the arms of what must be the most charming prince in Westeros in the shade of an orange tree.