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biocrafthero · 10 months

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Why Sunny’s Halloween costume is a mummy instead of a vampire

Okay strap in guys this is a long one

(Under a read more because I have lost my mind)

(Also for some stuff I’m using Wikipedia as a source this isn’t a professional essay or anything)

Something I have noticed with Omori fans is that, much like with other fandoms, people like to assign fun Halloween monsters to their favorite characters. For a character like Sunny, I have noticed that many people opt to make him a vampire, which is a choice that seems quite understandable. The idea of the modern vampire can be traced back to many different authors, the most popular one in the minds of most being Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which was published in 1897. Some of the visual and behavioral trademarks of a vampire has to do with things such as aversion to sunlight, pale skin, fangs, and the need to feast on the literal blood of others to stay alive. Vampires have always been considered undead, which aligns with their history throughout folklore; there were several instances where corpses were staked after being accused of vampirism.

Reading this, its easy to see why fans would assign a character like Sunny to the idea of vampires based on all of the common traits of vampirism. However, while I do enjoy AUs and such of a vampiric Sunny, I disagree with this common interpretation and instead propose the idea of Sunny being associated with a different kind of undead monster: the zombie.

(“But Kaun, didn’t you say in the title of this post that Sunny is associated with mummies?” Yes, but we’ll get there.)

The origin of the zombie can be traced back to several different sources throughout the world, the most well-known one being Haitian folklore during the 19th century. Regarding modern depictions, popularized by the film Night of the Living Dead, zombies tend to be slow, rotting, human undead (while it must be noted that undead animals isn’t particularly uncommon either). Much like vampires, zombies need to consume humans to survive, but the difference is that, while vampires only need blood in most depictions, zombies tend to eat all parts of the body. The idea of the brain being the specific target is something that’s only come up within the last fifty years throughout pop culture; adding to these newer additions, it was only within the last twenty or thirty years that the idea of the running zombie was introduced and subsequently popularized.

So what does any of this have to do with Sunny?

Well, thought Omori, we are shown clear evidence of why the idea of the zombie resonates with his character. The most obvious example is with Hellsunny, who can be found throughout the entire truth sequence, in some parts of Black Space, and in a very particular cutscene in the Hikikomori Route.

Now, while its easy for us to assume things from the POV of Sunny himself, sometimes its important to take into account the intent of the creator in order to interpret things such as this. So, once again, why a zombie?

Well, the choice of the zombie is quite obvious to me: the fact it is commonly referred to as the living dead. Now what does this allude to regarding Sunny? It most likely correlates with his emotions in the wake of Mari’s death, especially considering he’s the one who killed her in the first place. It is commonly said by people who have experienced the loss of a loved one feel as if they’re just drifting through life after their passing, and the same can definitely be said for Sunny. At the time the real world sections of the game take place, its been four whole years since the incident had occurred, and Sunny has both figuratively and literally wasted away in his own home. Characters comment on how he seems very skinny and/or frail, and how he clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself. In a way, its like a part of him died alongside Mari.

This is where we get to what some would consider to be an extension of the zombie archetype: the mummy.

Regarding its depiction in horror since the history of real mummies is an entirely separate conversation, the modern depiction of the (male) mummy can be found dating back to the 1932 film The Mummy. While most historical, real life mummies had their organs removed before burial, the mummy from the film (named Imhotep) was deduced to have been buried alive after it is discovered that its organs had not been removed at all. Now while the rest of the film’s plot isn’t quite as relevant to our analysis, I believe these details are important to note. The idea of the mummy being something sealed away, only later to be awoken again as some kind of living dead, is very interesting considering the parts of Omori that make this comparison to Sunny. The allusions to the idea of Sunny’s own home being some kind of coffin or tomb adds to these ideas.

This is why I think the vampire comparisons simply do not fit. The idea of the vampire inherently implies that the afflicted needs to take something from others in order to survive, and while the same can be said about zombies it must be noted that within recent years the idea of a kind zombie has been slowly making itself known. Additionally with mummies, aside from the blatantly orientalist bullshit regarding its history in pop culture, don’t tend to be depicted with having to consume any physical part of the human body (but physical violence in general is still on the table for them. They tend to be depicted as more on the level of vampires in terms of their intelligence).

In contrast, the living dead (referring to both zombies and mummies) tend to be much more passive. Most don't go out of their way completely to hunt humans, only hunting if one crosses their path—mummies even more so, with them not even needing human flesh to maintain themselves. When not hunting, these monsters tend to just... exist, not doing much of anything at all. They don't expend energy on actively looking for what they need to survive, instead opting for what they need to find them, wasting away all the while. And the thing is with zombies: they rot. They decay, bound by more realistic things than mummies are (which tend to be sustained my more magical elements in pop culture).

While the idea of having to actively go out and hurt others to sustain yourself is very interesting, when specifically regarding Omori’s canon, it doesn’t quite fit in line with Sunny’s character and his arc. In contrast, him neglecting his own needs and wasting away is more in-line with all of that, which is why he’s more commonly depicted as being a zombie or a mummy by official material.

I know this post is extremely long-winded, but I think this kind of analysis is very fun. Additionally, you don’t have to take my word as gospel, either. I enjoy AUs where Sunny is a vampire, since he’s in a position where he has to violate his own morals in order to sustain himself. I think it acts as a very interesting way to deconstruct his character, and to push him to his limits (including the brink of death if he refuses to hunt).

#rambles #omori #omori sunny #Omori analysis #I have clearly lost my mind and need to be sent to the nearest mental facility at once

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fyrefrostanimus · 2 months

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More Slay The Princess posting because I had an AU idea that was so simple yet so stupidly funny to me.

Suburbia AU. All the Voices and Chapter II Princesses are not inside The Construct and are instead people living in a little suburb town: since the Voices are not voices and the Princesses are not really princesses here, I'll just refer to them as their titles. The Narrator is not counted as he does not have a parallel Princess.

I'll start with the Not-Voices as the drawing of the player character I posted earlier today inspired these headshots, which later spiraled into this AU.

To start, Hero and Princess are a newlywed couple who just moved here. The others are also technically married to each other (except for Hunted) but I wanted to specify these two. They saw the housing prices were low and moved here, not knowing the batshit crazy things that go on there. Hero always tries to do the right thing, to varying degrees of success. He'll listen to all sides before deciding if he can, just as in game as a voice.

Contrarian is a funny guy. He's always cracking jokes with Stranger, and whenever someone visits (or, in the case of Hero, moves in), he calls this place a normal town. Because compared to the things he has seen with his multi-headed wife (wives?), this is normal. Ask him and he will describe the most bizzare things you have ever heard, leaving you to question if this is actually something he has witnessed or if he's making shit up for fun (he has been known to do both).

Stubborn originally concerned everyone when they heard physical fights break out every night from their house. Then they realized that this is just how him and Adversary usually act. They both like fighting each other and yes Stubborn got fired from a job at one point for starting a fight club. If you manage to break his fighting spirit, Skeptic woukd like to talk to you to ask how the hell you managed to do it.

Smitten really can't see the problem with most of the odd couples in town. He really believes in treating your wife how she wishes to be treated, whether that be daily brawls or something that escalates further than that. Really he only has issues with Cheated, since he can't tell how Razor feels.

Cold killed his wife. Let's get that out of the way. Only he can see and hear her ghost and he's genuinely surprised she still loves him. He moved to town because the law was on his tail and they couldn't do anything in this little town. He talks about his wife in past tense but everyone knows he talks to himself like she's still here (he's actually talking to Spectre).

Opportunist and Witch always think the other is up to something. This causes the Pygmalion Effect to go into action, retroactively making both of them right. No one on the outside understands how they're still married, but Smitten somehow has concluded this is a game they play with each other, no matter how much Skeptic tries to tell him they are not kidding each other.

Cheated has to keep Razor locked up because she will kill everyone else she can if she's free. The only reason he's not dead is because she can't bring herself to kill him: not that she'd weep at the idea, it's that killing someone she loves would feel slightly weird when there are other possible victims. The problem is that no one understands why he has to keep his wife in the basement.

No one believes Broken when he says his wife is a goddess. Smitten says all of them are, but everyone else has picked up on the fact that Broken is being completely serious. Everyone thinks it's part of his religion that his goddess is his wife as he is her priest, but Tower refuses to tell them because she finds it funny that they don't just take his word for it. It's entertaining enough to her that she's fine with being in the background. For now.

Hunted fears for his own life. Beast is deeply obsessed with him and knowing her, you can see how this is going to go. He always carries a weapon on the off chance she shows up, and sticks with grouos whenever he can since she'll only come after him when he's alone. Ironically he's more paranoid than Paranoid half the time.

Skeptic likes setting up escape rooms and letting Prisoner test-run them before giving everyone else a go: if she can't solve a puzzle, there's no way in hell anyone who doesn't already know the answer can. He's also usually the last one to come to a conclusion about anything.

Paranoid knows that he needs to be careful around Nightmare, because she could easily kill him by accident. He's also been sure to tell everyone else how to survive being around her since he'd feel extremely bad if they died because they didn't know.

#slay the princess #slay the princess au

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john-get-the-salt · 11 months

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Soothing (w/rick grimes)

Imagine: Ever since the world went to shit, your anxiety levels have been through the roof. Turns out there's only one thing, or rather one family, that can help ease your stress.

Contains: domestic rick, baby judith, reader being referred to with fem titles, no appearance of Carl sorry just imagine he’s off doing dumb shit

Warnings: none

Relax, you made it home!

You glared down at the doormat as you shoved a key inside the lock and opened the front door. The house you shared with the Grimes family was quaint, with lots of terrible quotes stitched onto pillows and corny sayings carved into wood and hung on walls. The decor remained untouched, exactly the same as the day you moved in.

But, you thought as you let yourself into the house, it might be time to burn that stupid doormat. It didn’t matter how long you spent in Alexandria–you would not be relaxing. Last time you made the mistake of letting your guard down the world taught you a lesson in the form of a psychotic governor. You wouldn’t be making that mistake twice.

Alexandria had been a much needed reprieve, but you hadn’t forgotten the years spent out in the wild. The months spent constantly moving, in search of food and water and any sense of safety. Living with anxiety and fear every day for such an extended period of time left you permanently on edge. So yes, while Alexandria was certainly nice, you weren’t holding your breath. After all….you’d all thought the prison was secure too.

You shook your head to get rid of the the sudden flashing images and memories that came up at the mere thought of the prison. If you let yourself go down that path now you’d be useless for the rest of the day.

As you mentally scolded yourself for becoming distracted, you walked further into the house and then up the stairs to the second floor. You’d come in for a very specific reason. It was Rick’s turn to take a shift on the wall and you wanted to offer to cover it for him. He seemed extra tired lately, and you worried to death he was stretching himself too thin.

However when you got to the landing at the top of the stairs, you froze. A soft voice was coming from one of the bedrooms, and after a moment you recognized it as Rick’s. You stepped closer, avoiding the floorboards you’d learned were creaky, and peaked into the room.

Rick was sitting in a rocking chair with Judith in his lap. He was showing her pictures and talking to her softly.

"This is Carl. He's your big brother."

Judith spit out a bit of jibberish as she grabbed the picture of her brother in her little fist and shook it aggressively. You held a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide your giggles as Rick tried to gently pry it from her fingers. He finally did, and moved on to the next picture.

He showed her a picture of himself, and Judith pointed from the picture to him. "Daaa," she squeaked, clapping her hands.

Rick's smile was so big it could've outshone the stars, and your heart melted at the adorable sight in front of you. You were about to leave them in peace, dead set on taking his wall shift now, when Rick spoke up again and caught your attention.

"And last but not least..." He trailed off and curiosity got the best of you so you peeked further in.

Rick was showing Judith a picture of you.

The picture was of you, sitting a table with a giant bowl in front of you and a big smile on your face. It was a simple picture, but it had such a meaningful story attached to it.

Last season, around the time you guessed was your birthday, Rick surprised you with a giant ice cream sundae. Sundaes had come up during random pillow talk one night as one of the random things about pre-apocalypse you missed. You thought it was rather silly, but Rick did not. He made you the ice cream with Carol's ice cream maker and bartered with the neighbors to get some of your favorite toppings. It meant so much to you.

Judith pointed at the picture, giggling, and said, "Ma."

For a split second your heart stopped and you could barely breathe.

Rick stopped rocking and looked down at his happy daughter as she reached for your picture, desperate to get her hands on it.

"That's right, Judith. That’s your Mama."

Your eyes began watering and you couldn’t hold back as you sniffed. Rick looked up at the noise, and his eyes softened even more once he spotted you.

You stepped into the room and Judith finally noticed you, smile growing as she got excited and reached her arms out toward you.

"Hi Judith," you cooed.

Rick stood from the rocking chair and you met them, taking your sweet girl into your arms. She didn’t hesitate to bury her face into your neck, murmuring in her special language that no one else could understand.

And just like that, you could feel some of your own anxiety leave you. The tension in your shoulders eased, face smoothing of frown lines. Your entire body sagged with a sudden wave of exhaustion. You leaned into Rick and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and Judith before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you look peaceful in a while,” Rick murmured quietly, careful not to disturb Judith who had already closed her eyes in the comfort of your arms.

“It’s been bad lately,” you said truthfully. Since the very first time you and Rick discussed being a couple you vowed to always be honest with each other. And that included being honest about your feelings-both good and bad.

Rick knew you didn’t need him to push, you would share more when you were ready. He just continue to hold you tightly.

You allowed your eyes to close, not an easy feat, but in Rick’s arms you felt loved and comfortable and safe.

The romantic moment was broken up when Judith stirred on your shoulder and then Rick was letting out a wince.

You opened your eyes to find her with one of Rick’s curls in her hand as she pulled on it eagerly.

The two of you chuckled as Judith showed off a toothy grin.

Rick rested his forehead against yours and you took this moment to just bask in being with part of your family.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you too."

You would do anything for this dysfunctional little family of yours.

Anything.

#imagine #fanfic #drabble #writing #the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #twd rick #twd imagine #twd fanfiction #twd fandom #rick grimes x reader #x reader imagine #x reader

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after-witch · 11 months

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Horrorfest: The Dead Speak [Smiling Man x Reader]

Title: The Dead Speak [Smiling Man x Reader]

Synopsis: Your mom always told you not to play with Ouija boards. Maybe you should have listened.

For Horrorfest request: A party game seance of ouija board. Nothing seems to happen, maybe the vibes change a little, but not much else. Until they are walking home and encounter a very friendly lost young gentleman.

Word count: 2210

notes: references to dead people and ghosts, reader is drinking/tipsy

You were the only one who didn’t want to play with the Ouija board. Not because you had some deep-rooted belief in them, not really; you’d never encountered spirits or accidentally summoned a demon or anything like that after pulling out the Hasbro mass market produced party game.

But your mom had believed in them. She refused to let you bring one in the house, had adamantly reminded you before every childhood sleepover--”Absolutely no Ouija boards, my sweetness--and had even told one of your friends that they had to leave their mall-bought Ouija board hair bow in the car before they came inside for dinner.

No one else here seemed to have the same qualms, parent-induced or not, so you shrugged at being the odd one out and didn’t raise a fuss. Especially since the party was almost over, and all that remained were you, the host, and a few stragglers.

It was Halloween night, after all--people just wanted to have fun.

Which in this case meant the party host running around the house and shutting off all the lights while someone else dug out a bag of unused tea candles and began to light them. It wasn’t the brightest--no pun intended--idea. A fire hazard, for sure. Especially since most of the guests had already tackled the spiked apple cider and ghost-shaped jello shots, which were currently warming up your belly.

But you’d be damned if the candles didn’t make everything look dim and spooky. Your mind felt fuzzy from the darkness and the booze as you settled down with the group in the living room, scooting on your butt up to the coffee table where the board had been set up.

“Everyone knows how it works, right?” The host asked. Her deep red lipstick was smeared--from drinking or kissing--and she’d tossed aside her witch hat a while back.

Of course you knew. Everyone knew. You put your fingers on the planchette and pretended that you weren’t moving it around while people asked questions. Inevitably someone would accuse another person of moving it and the fun would eventually dissipate. Or so you’d seen at slumber parties, while you dutifully sat on the bed and finished painting your nails or simply watched, hugging a pillow, wondering if it was betraying your mom to play with Ouija outside the house.

That was when you were a kid, though. There was no deep-rooted feeling of betrayal now as you rested two fingers on the planchette. Only a vague sense of giddiness, spurned on by the alcohol, by the very existence of Halloween night.

“Is there a spirit in the room with us?” The host asked softly.

Was it your imagination, or did the candles flicker? They seemed dimmer, somehow. Probably because they were cheap tea lights.

And then the planchette moved--probably the host, you thought--towards the most obvious (and fun) option:

YES.

Someone giggled. You snorted, and wondered how many jello shots were left on the counter. You were going to walk home, anyway.

“Who are you?”

“What if it’s a demon?” Someone asked. You couldn’t quite tell whose voice was coming from where in the dark. And you didn’t know everyone at the party, anyway, aside from the host and a few people who’d already left.

“Then we’ll ask him politely yet firmly to leave,” you said, giving your best Hank HIll impression. One person laughed, so at least someone here appreciated your ability to reference an unholy amount of TV shows or movies at the drop of a hat.

But the planchette didn’t slide across the letters DEMON. Instead, it shifted towards three letters in slow succession.

M...O…M.

Something queasy turned over in your gut. The spiked cider and sub sandwich that had been sitting out too long, probably.

“Is anyone’s mom dead?” The host asked, then immediately gasped. “Oh fuck, sorry, that was shitty to say.” She glanced at you sheepishly. Your cheeks heated up and your stomach turned sour again.

Your mom was dead. But you probably weren’t alone, even in a small group. Cancer was a bitch and it took a lot of people, didn’t it? Ah well. You brushed aside that sour feeling and reminded yourself that your friend was drunk.

She cleared her throat. “Whose mom are you?”

The planchette started to move. The sound of the plastic moving over the cardboard was thin and dragging, like someone scraping their nails down a box.

Letter by letter, the planchette spelled your name.

You took your hands off the planchette and felt words fly freely out of your loose, alcohol-tinged lips.

“That’s really fucked up. Are you kidding me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The host--your friend, if you would even call her that anymore--put her own hands up in defense. Everyone else slowly let their fingers fall away from the planchette, watching the exchange between you two in awkward silence.

Party over.

“I swear to God I’m not moving it. I’m sorry, fuck, you know I wouldn’t do that. I swear to God I didn’t.”

You scooted back from the table and stood up. You felt sober, suddenly, even though your spinning head from getting up too quickly said otherwise.

“Whatever. I’m out. This is just mean.” You shook your head, ignoring your friend’s protests--

And that’s when the planchette started moving again.

Slowly. Letter by letter. With no one’s hands on the damn thing.

“What the hell?” Someone asked.

You didn’t want to look. You wanted to get out of here. It was a sick prank, that’s what it was. But the planchette kept moving, and finally someone leaned over and began to sound out the letters, until they formed a sentence.

A sentence that made your bowels clench so hard you thought you would piss yourself.

I TOLD U NEVER TO PLAY WITH OUIJA BOARDS

It couldn’t be. This was sick. This was wrong.

This was…

“Mom?”

The words left your lips soft and shaky. You weren’t sure anyone else heard them.

But then the awful planchette slid across the board again, and someone read the letters until they made sense; terrible, horrifying sense.

ABSOLUTELY NO OUIJA BOARDS, MY SWEETNESS

My sweetness. A nickname only your mom had called you growing up. She called you that to her last breath, wheezing and agonized.

You leaned over and immediately retched onto the carpet, blobs of bright green jello mingling with chewed up pieces of Italian sub. Before anything else could be said, by the board or the guests, you ran, barely stopping to snatch your purse from the entryway, leaving as fast as your shaking legs could carry you.

The streets were dark and mostly empty. It was long past time for kids to be in bed, stomachs filled with chocolate and piles of Skittles, parents picking out their favorite candies to hide in the cupboard. All that was left were the late night party-goers walking home in varying states of disarray, carrying heels in their hands or making jokes too loudly in the startling darkness of the night.

And then there was you, head buzzing, stomach reeling, walking home after a Ouija board apparently contacted the spirit of your dead mother.

“Excuse me?” A man called out behind you.

You jumped, and slid your hands into your purse to wrap your fingers around your keys. You knew it wasn’t going to do much, but it would do something, if it came to that.

You slowly turned around, grip on your keys tighter than ever, and saw a young man wearing a skeleton hoodie and sweatpants.

He looked befuddled. He looked, more specifically, lost.

And he also looked… familiar. Was he at the party? You squinted, trying to clear your head. He might have been. Did he follow you to see if you were okay?

You definitely knew him from somewhere, but you couldn’t quite place him.

Still, your fingers reflexively gripped your keys. He glanced down at your hands, then took a step back and put his own hands up where you could see they were empty.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He grinned a little, and shook his head. “I’m just completely lost and was wondering if you could help me. I didn’t bring my phone out tonight. Trying to live in the moment, you know?”

You swallowed, tasting the remnants of bile. Something about him, really--it was itching at the back of your scalp. Did he go to the same college? Maybe you saw him on campus. Or maybe he really had been at your friend’s house and you just didn’t remember.

“Um,” you said. “Were you at the party?”

He tilted his head a little, and smiled boyishly.

“Not quite.”

Well, that wasn’t an answer. Your fingers loosened on the keys, though, as your heart rate returned to something like normal and you figured if he was going to try something, he’d have done it already.

You blinked at him for a moment and then remembered what he said. “Oh! Uh, where were you trying to go? I can use my Google Maps if you want.”

It was hard to see from the streetlights, but you could swear there was a twinkle in his eye when you said that. Shit, maybe you were drunker than you thought.

You fished your phone from your purse and after a few unsuccessful swipe attempts, brought up Google Maps.

But… it wouldn’t load. That was weird. You didn’t have any bars--also weird--but you downloaded the local map just in case your 5G ever shit the bed. But the map wouldn’t load. It simply displayed a blank black and gray space in night time mode, refusing to let you bring up directions.

“Uhh,” you mumbled. “My phone is absolutely not working.”

He didn’t look phased. He simply shrugged. “That’s okay. I actually live off Main Street, it’s one of those split houses… yellow and red and--”

“I know where that is!” You blurted. Then covered your mouth, messy lipstick and all. “I mean. If you want, I can walk you there. Unless you’d rather go alone, and I can just give you directions.”

“You seem pleasant enough company,” is all he said. And you ought to have thought about that more, because it was a really strange way to phrase things, wasn’t it? But all you thought about was how creepily your night ended and how he looked pretty cute and maybe you could exchange phone numbers when you got to his place.

You walked, side by side, making idle conversation. He told you his name. You gave him yours. He said he liked your costume. You said you really liked his sweater, totally Halloweeny, and he seemed to genuinely appreciate the compliment.

The streets felt more familiar the closer you got to Main Street, although there was still only the odd stray person or car slowly idling down the road.

Anxiety still slept in the bottom of your stomach but you tried to ignore it. It wasn’t so bad, to talk to a good looking stranger now and then. Especially after what happened at the party.

(Was it really your mom?)

You didn’t want to think about that. About mom. About whether or not her spirit was hanging around in some ghastly limbo, chastising you for finally playing with a Ouija board like everyone else had done for decades.

Eventually, you were there, at the driveway of the old house that had been split into apartments like so many others a few years ago. You fumbled with your phone and were able to ask for his phone number, lips curled into a smile, when he spoke.

“Did something happen? At the party? Something unusual?”

Your awkward smile fell.

“Um.” It would be weird to tell him, right? Especially after seemingly hitting it off on the way home. You didn’t just tell strangers that you maybe encountered a real ghost while using a Ouija board after doing a few shots and drinking questionably spiked apple cider at a friend’s house. Did you?

“No,” you lied. “Just a boring ol’ Halloween party, I guess.”

“Ah,” he said slowly. “That’s a shame. I thought it might have been an interesting story.”

You suddenly felt stupid and lame and why would this cute guy want to give you his number, anyway? You were some drunk weirdo who walked him home and that was that. You mumbled some sort of farewell and began to walk off, eager to get home and get into your pajamas.

“You know,” he said, and you stopped and turned to listen to him. Maybe he was going to give you his contact information, after all. “You should be careful with Ouija boards, my sweetness. You don’t know what you might invite in.”

Oh. For the second time that night, you felt like you were going to vomit.

“Why did you call me that? How did you--you said you weren’t at the party.”

“I wasn’t,” he said simply. “Not quite.”

How did he know, how did he know, how did he know?

And this mystery man in his Halloween sweatshirt, with his blonde cornfield hair and some awful, unknowable answers in his expression, simply looked at you.

And smiled.

#smiling man #small spaces #fanfiction #katherine arden #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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eoieopda · 2 years

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Hello lovely lady :) I’m here to pretty please request a JK drabble because I miss him terribly and if you have the time because I very much am in love with your writing 🥹🥹 Tattoo artist JK who gets a crazy stupid adult crush on a customer who comes to him to do a very meaningful tattoo for her and they spend all night eating and talking afterwards and it’s all giggly and cute because he will find any reason to touch her 😭😭 and now I’m going to jump off a cliff bc I miss him so much LOL

sorry for the wait, sweet bean!

cw: mention of needles, general reference to trauma (not described); description of a bad tattoo i've seen in real life; reader gets one of my actual tattoos because fuck it, we ball.

Jeon Jungkook considered himself an artist. This wasn't based on his literal job title, but on the immeasurable time and effort he spent studying, practicing, and working as an apprentice. On the sheer number of oranges that went off to rot in dumpsters with shakily tattooed skin.

For years, he placed permanent art on the bodies of strangers for tips only — if clients bothered with the courtesy, that is. Little designs off the flash sheet, last-minute friendship tattoos for university students who'd fall out of touch upon graduating. It was grueling work, but it was worth it.

When he finished his apprenticeship and was promoted to resident artist, Jungkook figured that he'd spend his days seriously — on serious shit that took hours to design and even longer to translate onto a living, breathing, squirming canvas. That was the hope, anyway.

In reality, Jungkook had spent the entirety of his day doing unspeakably stupid shit. He'd just finished tattooing "Seoul" in hiragana for a tourist who didn't seem to know which side of the Strait he was on — and then you walked in.

You shouldn't have been the only person he'd seen all day that already had tattoos, but you were. You clearly knew how this was supposed to go; and Jungkook almost started floating when the crushing weight of his exasperation finally fell off his shoulders.

Finally.

He didn't mean to audibly sigh with relief when you stepped up to the counter. He did, though, and he was well past the point of giving a shit if that should have embarrassed him.

"Rough day?" You tilted your head to the side when you asked and you looked genuinely concerned, even with that tiny, sideways smile.

Jungkook was torn. Yours was a face worth staring at, but the gallery spreading over both of your exposed arms was one he wanted to get lost in. He knew more than anyone how fucking it weird it was when strangers gave themselves permission to run their hands over his skin — but he might finally understand the urge.

Swallowing down that intrusive desire, Jungkook gripped his Red Bull can even tighter in his left hand — twenty ounces, reserved exclusively for the most severe instances of brain rot — and balled his right hand into a fist. He rapped his knuckles against the countertop and shot you a grin, "Nah, it's golden."

Jungkook had been right about two things. The first was that you weren't a fainter, a flincher, or a cry-baby.

If he hadn't stolen so many glances at you throughout the session; and if your quiet laughter wasn't the pacemaker preventing his swooning heart from stopping; he might've thought that you were meditating. Sleeping, even, or hit with a freeze ray. You were still, entirely unfazed like you weren't being stabbed thousands of times per second with a bouquet of needles.

Jungkook was also dead-on that this day, despite its frustrating start, was golden. Better yet, it didn't end when your session did. When he'd blurted out an invitation to dinner, you said yes.

Sitting down across the table from him with your forearm dutifully covered in cling-wrap, you shot him an adorably sheepish smile. "Could you, um —?" You gestured to the perilla leaves on your plate with the chopsticks in your non-dominant hand. "I'm not as dexterous as I was two hours ago."

"I'm on it, boss."

He didn't have time to cringe over that statement or the wink that accompanied it because your knuckles brushed his when you slid your plate to him and — Are you a child? Why are you blushing? For fuck's sake, get a grip, Jeon.

You sipped your beer as you watched him; and it had Jungkook fumbling as if he was using chopsticks for the first time in his life and not the thousandth. Thankfully, instead of laughing at him, you asked, "So, what's the dumbest tattoo you've had to do for someone?"

"Cartoon corn-on-the-cob," Jungkook responded without hesitation. The memory was burned into his brain, a tattoo in its own right. "But that alone isn't the worst part, and neither is the fact that its face looked like it was moaning with a pat of butter sliding down its front."

You groaned, but you were grinning, "Jesus. Do I even want to know the worst part?"

"Butter me up, daddy."

Automatically, you raised your freshly-tattooed arm and slapped your hand over your mouth to keep your drink inside it. You winced at the sting on your skin and, no doubt, the burn in your chest as you coughed, "Come again?"

Jungkook slid your plate back over to you with pursed lips. Then, he took a deep breath. "That was the script they wanted to go with it," He sighed, "I spent a decade of my life on my craft and that is what I do with it."

"I'm sure the linework on the horny corn was beautiful, though." Your eyes sparkled when your tone softened. The sight of you stopped him from laughing at the words you chose.

He gestured down to the vintage floor lamp he'd etched in fine black ink on your forearm. "Looks better when the person I'm tattooing sits still," He smiled, "And you can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you put thought into that, rather than thirst. Otherwise, I will have follow-up questions about whatever kink that might be."

Ugh, that giggle.

"Have you heard of ghost lights before?" You asked between bites of your kimchi.

When Jungkook shook his head, you cleared your throat to explain. "When you close up a theater after a show, you have to put a lamp on the stage. It's primarily a safety thing — keeps people from falling over set pieces or into the orchestra pit — but it helps out with ghosts, too."

Jungkook shifted in his chair and leaned in a little closer to more clearly hear what came next. He was riveted, and there was no hiding it.

"There are a couple of different superstitions about why it's done, but the one I grew up with was that it keeps ghosts from messing with your props and technical equipment while you're gone."

You quieted before you tacked on the amendment, corner of your mouth momentarily twitching up into a sad smile, "Figured this tattoo might help me ward off some of my own."

Your hand was close enough to his on the table that he could've pretended it was an accident. He didn't, though. The microscopic movement until his little finger touched yours was intentional; and he wanted you to know it.

Not daring to move that hand away, Jungkook grabbed his drink with the other and raised it. He waited for you to raise yours, too, before cheering, "To ghosts that mind their own fucking business!"

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rockinlibrarian · 2 months

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Post-Umbrella Academy S4 Reaction Part Two: Still Not a Show Write-up, a Fraction of a Fanfic Instead (spoilery)

I mentioned yesterday that I'd been toying with a TUA/Legion Crossover Fic idea, and that the finale of the former (particularly as it reminds me so much of the finale of the latter) has made me determined I really should do it and definitely set it post-Season 4. It's a perfect fix-it for TUA and I can actually work in a bit more fix-it for Legion, too. Anyway, it was stewing in my head all night, and this morning I woke up with IDEAS, and I ended up sitting down and writing 1,334 words-- a whole scene, a chapter basically, but it would be a chapter in the middle, which who knows when I would get to post that as a whole on AO3, and I feel like I need to post this part RIGHT NOW, even though it is essentially the MIDDLE of the story.

The basic overarching premise is that the Hargreeves end up at Summerland, the haven for troubled mutants (Marvel-style) in Legion. Summerland is co-run by a psychologist who's made it her life's work to help mutants reach their full potential, healing the traumas of living in a world that fears them, the traumas of everything being born Weird gives them.

You can, uh, see how this place might be good for the Hargreeves, right?

You don't need to know much more about Legion for this chapter-- there's some references to characters, but primarily THIS snippet is just my two favorite Hargreeves, who also did not get ANY time together this season, having a Feelings talk (AND WHOM I MANAGED TO WRITE A TENDER SCENE FOR WITHOUT IT TURNING NON-PLATONIC, BE PROUD OF ME) (yes for the uninitiated I am a pathetic Fiktor shipper, please see FAQ post to not hate me), so here, have Feelings with me!

PORTION OF A FUTURE MULTICHAPTER LEGION/TUA CROSSOVER. The working title of the Scrivener sheet for this particular chapter is "This willl NOT be Fiktor I SWEAR," but that will not be the final title. ;)

Viktor walked down to the lake, savoring the woodsy sounds and the gentle adagio behind it, when he spotted a familiar figure sitting at the edge of the dock.

Well, relatively familiar. He wasn’t used to seeing Five sit so still.

“Hey.” He sat beside him.

Five shifted slightly, as if to make room, nodded, and said, “Hey,” back, then drifted back into his odd silence.

After a minute, Viktor cleared his throat. “Beautiful here. Ever want to try fishing?”

Five sighed. “I’ve done a lot of fishing, wasn’t exactly a party.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Viktor sat in the awkward vibes. The vibes. Who knew silence could be so loud?

“Hey.” He paused. “Five. You okay? You’ve been really quiet lately.”

“Is there something I should be saying?”

“Normally you can’t keep your mouth shut, that’s all. But ever since we came here I think the only person I’ve seen you talk to is that Dr. Loudermilk. You’re avoiding everybody, and, granted, I think I hear Diego growling every time you come near and that would put me off, but still, are you okay?”

“Heh.” Five ran his fingers into his hair and held them there, staring into the murky water at their feet. “Guess you didn’t hear about what happened, did you.”

“Um, I guess not?”

Five sighed even more deeply, and lay back on the dock. “So, Lila and I got stuck in an endless timeline-hopping subway system for nearly seven years.”

Viktor laughed before he could stop himself.

“What?”

“Only you! Only you could answer ‘what’s been with you the past few days?’ with ‘Well it’s ACTUALLY been seven years.”

Five finally cracked a smile, albeit a sad one. “Yeah, I guess I can see how that could amuse you.”

“So how old does that make you now?”

He shrugged. “Seventy? Seventy-one? And god I feel so much older than that, Vik. I should have been annihilated in that Cleanse. I should be dead. I should have died so long ago.”

“Don’t talk like that.” He left Five to pick the conversation back up. He seemed to be composing his thoughts.

After another minute, he spoke. “I… know… what Delores was. I know it was all in my head. But she was all I had, and I needed her. I needed her there, loving me, so I loved her. Now, I find myself stranded in time again, but this time with a real human being by my side? A real… friend? I—.”

He broke off, but Viktor could fill in the rest. “Oh.”

“She belongs with Diego.” Five sat back up abruptly, voice harsh. “Not me. I don’t get to be loved. I don’t get to be happy. I am…fated to wander from universe to universe, alone. I can’t even get annihilated from existence properly!”

God. Dramatic, poetic Five. He was in rough shape. Tentatively, Viktor offered, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never managed to keep a single relationship for more than a month. And I lived a relatively…ordinary life. I just suck at relationships.”

Five looked up at Viktor from the corner of his eye, smiled from the corner of his mouth. “Don’t we all.”

“The only time I’ve ever felt truly loved was with Sissy.” Viktor poked him. “And somebody made me put an end to that.”

“Now, come on, we were—.”

“I know, I know, we were in the wrong time, it would have wrecked the timeline. It DID wreck the timeline. But still, I’m just saying.”

“So, what, we can start a ‘The Only Person Who Ever Loved Me was an Already Married Woman’ support group?”

“I bet they have one of those here. Along with their ‘I Have Caused Not One But Multiple Apocalypses’ group.”

Five actually laughed— short, subdued, but a laugh nonetheless. “I’ve missed you, Vik.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Viktor squeezed his knee. “Anyway, you’re not alone, and you’re not unloved. Maybe not in a romantic way. But we do love you, and you do deserve to be happy.”

Five rolled his eyes. “I spent 45 years longing for nothing more than to get back to my family, the people I loved, and when I did, what did I get? Not again, Five, stop harshing the vibe, Five, why can’t you FIX this, Five, are you sure you’re not just batshit, Five? I love my family more than life itself, but they sure don’t love me.”

“We do—!” Viktor caught himself. Tried to see it from Five’s point of view. Realized he’d barely seemed to notice he was talking to one of his family. It felt like a revelation. Melanie would be proud. Viktor gave Five a gentle, sheepish smile. “Okay, when I said I suck at relationships, I don’t just mean romantically. I love you as a feeling, I’ll have to work on loving you as a verb.”

Five echoed Viktor’s smile. “What happened to us, me and you? When we were kids I could talk to you about anything…everything. I spent decades longing to talk to you, and then—there we were in the same timeline again and yet we’ve barely spoken in thirteen years.”

Viktor ducked his head, tutting. “Well, every time you tried to talk to me I brushed you off, and then I ran away to Nova Scotia for six years. And …you, apparently, got lost in an interdimensional subway system for seven more.”

“Intertemporal, not interdimensional. Cary—Dr. Loudermilk— and I have been trying to map out the different subsets of the multiverse and it’s a lot more comple— see, you’re laughing at me!”

“Just because I’m laughing doesn’t mean I’m not listening! I promise. I’m just laughing because…you’re so YOU. I’ve missed you, too. And I do love you. As bad as I am at it.” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. For not being who you needed me to be. Melanie says— she says I need to work on my anger issues, that I’m too prone to vengeance. That my subconscious need for payback is too liable to slip out with my powers. Like the time I attacked Allison’s voice box for Rumoring me. Payback, you know. And I— I’ve been mad at you for leaving me for so long— so this time I ran off first. Payback.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you’re right. Like how determined you were to save Ben, bring him back, save the world.”

“Only because he saved me to save the world, first. Payback, Just more positive.”

Five gazed at him, steadily, thoughtfully. “Viktor, I’m proud of you. You’ve been making progress with this stuff all along, years before we got here. I remember wishing you had the guts to stand up for yourself just enough to claim the last doughnut.”

“Thanks. And you’ve got— you’ve got a lot of shit to work through, still, and you haven’t really had the chance to make progress. But just knowing you need to is a good start. I believe in you. And I promise, from now on, I will always listen, whatever you need to work through.”

“Thanks to you, too. I guess…I guess I feel just a smidge more hopeful now.”

“So, that girl who’s always hanging around Dr. Loudermilk….”

“Who, Kerry? They’re, like, symbiotes or something.”

“She’s technically his age, right? And that’s about the same age as you?”

“Yes?”

“And yet she also looks like she’s in her twenties. Like you.”

“Uh…huh?”

“I’ve also heard that she’s been known to leave dozens of bodies in her wake.”

“So what are you…? OH. Nah. No. Stop. She’s also off her rocker.”

“Says the man who fell in love with Lila,” he teased, gently.

“Kerry has the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old.”

“Says the man who lost contact with all humanity at the age of thirteen!”

“Viktor!” Five laughed. “You are not helping!”

“I am SO helping! This is the first I’ve heard you laugh in days! Or maybe years, on your end!”

Five’s laughed whined to a pause, and he dropped his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “We are so fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Viktor held him, rocking slightly. “But I don’t know, this Summerland— I think here we might actually get better.”

#fanfic #the umbrella academy #just a snippet #will be edited further if it ever makes it into a longer fic #Also I forgot to mention that Viktor has the ability to hear The Background Music

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rizaposting · 5 months

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I mean… This is too good to overlook. Please tell us more about: "Ed observes 03Royai like they are zoo animals (the newest edition)" ahaha

AAAA yes this is in reference to this post I made a couple of nights ago explaining and idea that has been living in my head for quite a long time about Edward suddenly being returned to Amestris ~5-10 years after the events of Conqueror of Shamballah. He ends up staying at Royai Household while they figure out what happened, where Al ended up, and what to do going forward because he has no money and is considered dead by the state. And, well, kind of what it states in the title: Ed observes them like they are animals in their natural habitat and everyone involved in the whole situation is mildly perturbed.

Well I went into a bit of a fugue state the past few days typing out a few scenes. :> here's a snippet!

Thank you for the ask!!! ❤

#crystal convos #ask games #wip game #crystal art and writing #wip

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allzelemonz · 11 months

Text

Sean MacGuire Masterlist

Red Dead Redemption Masterlist

Together in Captivity

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’. Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: M/Torture, Reference to sex Warnings: Tortured by bounty hunters, Sean talks a lot, fluff, lots of lovey-dovey stuff, cuddling, reunited after separation Summary: After what happened in Blackwater you and Sean are taken by bounty hunters. They finally put you in the same room and leave you to have a party. Fluff ensues.

Scaring Fish

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘boyfriend’ and ‘man’. Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: M/References to sex Warnings: Sean never shuts up, mentions of sex, play fighting, idiots in love, fishing Summary: You and Sean go fishing, but he really never shuts up so you have to get him to focus.

Brotherly Advice

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’. Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Sean never shuts up, Sean is loud during sex, top Reader and bottom Sean, Arthur is a helpful big brother, walked in on, handjob, grinding, anal sex, cuddling Summary: Stealing a moment away from camp is much harder when Sean makes so much noise.

Redhead Robber

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘bloke’, ‘lad’, and ‘handsome’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, language Warnings: Sean never shuts up, robbery, reader is the victim, Sean flirts endlessly Summary: Two robbers come into the store looking for your boss’s stash of money, one of them is much more friendly than the other.

The Runner

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language, drinking Warnings: The gang is drunk, no mention of the reader drinking or not, Sean is touchy, kissing, lap sitting, babysitting drunk friends Summary: Drunk Sean is a runner.

Forever Tease

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ and ‘handsome’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Sean is the definition of a bottom, Reader enjoys teasing Sean, heavy teasing on both sides, references to prior sex, oral sex, blowjob, handjob, begging, Sean is loud during sex Summary: Sean thinks he can tease you like you did to him last night.

Disguise

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Reference to sex Warnings: Reference to future sex, making out, unestablished relationship, robbery, kissing in public, trope of kissing someone so the cops don’t see you, Sean lives Summary: When you and Sean are trying to escape the law in Saint Denis, Sean takes the initiative to ensure you aren’t seen.

Treat?

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Making out Warnings: Making out, established relationship, long term relationship, Sean is illiterate, TikTok Sound: Treat? No treat! Treat? No treat! Summary: Sean has a sweet tooth and takes his possession of candy very seriously.

Romeo and Tybalt

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ and ‘lad’. Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Smut, violence Warnings: Sean never shuts up, Sean is loud during sex, top Reader and bottom Sean, Reader is an O’Driscoll, smut, anal fingering, handjob, anal sex, kissing, marking, yes the title is a Shakespeare reference Summary: Being stuck in a cell with a member of a rival gang doesn’t turn out how you might expect.

Pages

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: M/Smut Warnings: Sean is loud during sex, Sean is learning to read, top Reader and bottom Sean, smut, blowjob, cockwarming, anal sex, kissing, begging, sex as a reward Summary: Sean wants to learn how to read, he just needs the proper motivation.

Fiction Mirrors Reality

Pronouns: None Mentioned, implied similarities to a man in a book Physical Sex: None mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Matchmaker Mary-Beth, mutual pining, fluff, bookworms Summary: Mary-Beth gave you a book hoping you’d make some real world connections.

Last

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E//Smut, language Warnings: Masturbation, anal fingers, anal sex, kissing, Sean never shuts up, Sean can’t last in bed, established relationship, cuddling, sex negotiation Summary: Sean wants to last longer in bed, so he tries to get himself off a few times beforehand.

Needy Firsts

Fictober Prompt: Day 20, Rimming Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Kissing, established relationship, begging, Sean is loud, rimming, first time rimming, mentions of prior sex, slight aftercare Summary: After a few days without much alone time you decide to do something with Sean that you haven’t done before.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x male reader #sean macguire x reader

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tacticalhimbo · 6 months

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hi i have too much time on my hands, i created a more detailed and evidence-supported timeline for the welcome to the game/reflect studios franchise!

obvs disclaimer: i played games on the easiest modes i could, bc i'm bad with cue-based things so i relied pretty heavily on the fan-wiki and the information there. i cross-verified where i could.

WELCOME TO THE GAME 1 - Unknown, 2016

Based on establishment dates of the Doctor Murder website (est. 2012, noted as running up to/until 2016).

Hot Burners uses a quote from an alleged customer from 2015; would assume to use a somewhat older quote to establish one's business as reputable (regardless of review being legitimate/real or otherwise).

Passports Are Us uses an image of the current Latvian passport, which the design for was established on or around Jan. 28, 2015; the game therefore has to take place after this date.

WAITING ROOM - Late 2017; Assumption

Considering the risk that comes with hosting Red Room streams, as well as the surrounding hype, it is unlikely that the streams are a common occurrence.

The reason I assume it is late 2017 is because of the existence and references made in Welcome to the Game 2.

== These two take place within close vicinity; Victim from WR calls Amalea to tell her they were burned / that Adam knows of their snooping into The Prey; It's not unfair to assume, given Adam's demeanor and general history across the games, risks would want to be taken care of as soon as possible to preserve his business ==

WELCOME TO THE GAME 2 - Early 2018; Assumption

Many sites that were present in the first game are either redone entirely or have become dead links. A bit of a stretch because expertise is varied, but it would take a while to do that while maintaining consistent clientele.

The player can find Clint's resident dossier on the lobby computer. He's 29, lives in 803, and is described as a "Very quiet individual, sticks to himself, pays rent on time. No issues." Not really relevant, but this would mean Clint was born between 1988 and 1989. He was a 90s kid, and that's so cute to me.

SCRUTINIZED - Middle of June 2020

Computer states that the date is June 14th on the starting night, and report dates are formated as 06/xx.

Social media posts are dated with 2020 (e.g., Jeniffer Connally, aka BloodAngel123). And yes, her name is spelled like that in the game.

DEAD SIGNAL - 2022

Confirmed by environmental details, such as a newspaper(?) clipping within Ronald's apartment. I don't own this title in the series, but have been watching a close friend play it and we both noticed this.

Clint contacts the player and says he has had run-ins with Adam in the past (re: WTTG 2). For him to phrase it this way shows a decent time has passed between the games, as not only is that just how US Americans tend to phrase it, but he's also telling this to a stranger (albeit, he owes The Shade a favor, and thus it's equally likely Shade told him to give Ronald any information he had to keep his employee alive)

#txt #meta post #meta analysis #welcome to the game #wttg #welcome to the game 2 #wttg 2 #the waiting room #scrutinized #dead signal #reflect studios

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frodo-with-glasses · 1 year

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More Reading Thoughts: The Epilogue, Version Two

Like all good writers, Tolkien couldn’t quite make up his mind how he wanted to write this part. Once again tagging @lady-merian and thanking her for her patience X-D

Jirt’s Text

“…with many pauses for thought he was writing in his slow round hand…” I chose to believe this refers not only to the printed script but to the actual hand that’s writing it X-P

*Smash Bros title screen* Primrose joins the battle!

It’s Elanor’s birthday :-D

Elanor has red-gold hair confirmed

SHE CALLS HIM SAM-DAAAAAAD TTuTT

AND WALKS UP AND HUGS HIM AS HE WRITES

Sam: Only you have heard the whole Book more than once. Elanor, being Very Precise: Three times.

Hello yes Elanor is adorbs and I love her

Mirkwood is called Greenwood now!

MERRY WENT TO VISIT EOWYN IN HER WHITE HOUSE

MERRY GOT TO HANG OUT WITH EOWYN AND BERGIL AGAIN I AM LIVING

MERRY SR. IS GONNA GIVE MERRY JR. A PONY FROM ROHAN

I WILL ACTUALLY CRY

Sam, sighing: “These questions and answers aren’t fit to go in a book like that. :-(” Meanwhile, Sam, literally in a book:

BOOKCEPTION

“Mr. Meriadoc might help me. He’s clever at writing, and he’s making a splendid book all about plants.” Confirmed: Merry is an herb nerd and I would die for him

Sam still says Elanor is just as pretty if not prettier than her flower, and she’s still like “okay Dad” LOL

“Though it’s over, as we say, things don’t really end sharp like that.” Way to elbow the readers for criticizing your 13,594 endings, Tolkien

“I think it was very sad for him. And for you, Sam-dad. For your treasure went too.” HI HELLO YES OKAY IT IS FRODO TIME

YOUR TREASURE holy honey-nut feelios i die

“It was sad, Elanorellë. It was, but isn’t now.” (Tolkien I see you but I’m still gonna write angst and you can’t stop me ‘cause you’re dead)

Sam takes comfort in the fact that Frodo got his reward, and he himself got abundant reward as well. “I am a very rich hobbit.” And one more thing:

“Before he went Mr. Frodo said that my time maybe would come. I can wait. I think maybe we haven’t said farewell for good. But I can wait.”

*SCREAMS INTO A PILLOW*

WAIT. ELANOR WANTS TO GO WITH HIM. “I shall not part with you, like Arwen did with Elrond.”

HOLY PRECISION SHOT TO THE DAD-FEELS, BATMAN

Okay okay okay if you don’t have this book, you’re not gonna believe me, but I swear this is a 100% verbatim quote:

Elanor: Good night, Sam-dad. But… Sam: I don’t want good night but.

I freakin’ love Lord of the Rings 🤣

Elanor “spied” and saw Sam receive the scroll from the King! Just like the Conspirators spied on Frodo and the Ring! And Sam goes “well that’s karma if I’ve ever seen it” LOL

Okay so he went with the Fullwise name here

Elanor: When should we get ready? What will we wear? HOW MANY CURTSIES SHOULD I DO??

Sam: You wanna see elves, kid? You’re gonna see elves. Elanor: 🤩

Sam thinks the fire burns lower when Elanor leaves ;u;

This is the second time Tolkien makes fun of the hobbits praising the predictable clear weather at the end of March as “something unusual for the season”, which tells me he was very fond of that joke

Yay! He went with the singing version! X-D

And still ends with the sounds of the Sea. ✨Foreshadowing✨

Christopher’s Notes

Okay Tolkien’s “resumé” of the end of the book here gives some fascinating insights

“But Frodo cannot be healed. For the preservation of the Shire he has sacrificed himself, even in health, and has no heart to enjoy it. Sam has to choose between love of master and of wife. In the end he goes with Frodo on a last journey.”

He sacrificed himself…but has no heart to enjoy it… :-C TT~TT

“To Bilbo and Frodo the special Grace is granted to go with the elves they loved – an Arthurian ending, in which it is, of course, not made explicit whether this is an ‘allegory’ of death, or a mode of healing and restoration leading to a return.”

No wonder the ending is so haunting. Is it death? Is it healing? It’s both, and it’s neither, and it’s incredibly mythical and storybook-ish. Holy cow.

Also thought this was funny:

“Hobbit-children were delightful, but I am afraid that the only glimpses of them in this book are found at the beginning of vol. I. An epilogue giving a further glimpse (though of a rather exceptional family) has been so universally condemned that I shall not insert it. One must stop somewhere.” Tolkien really be like #I’mNotBitter lol

#samwise gamgee #elanor gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts

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kayleezra · 8 months

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Nobody // (Ezra x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 3, 907 Warnings: just my god-awful writing Summary: It takes losing you for Ezra to realize that your love is one of a kind. A/N: I’m not dead! (much to many's dismay) just couldn’t write for the life of me and did I download a copy of the symposium to reference directly? yes, yes I did Also, my wife @writer-darling was kind enough to edit this (per usual since she's an angel sent from the heavens I believe) SO EVERYONE GO LOVE HER!!

(ft. a pic my wife sent me with Ezra vibes)

PRESENT

Waking up alone in a tepid bed wasn’t unknown to Ezra but now, it certainly felt foreign. Turning in the sheets felt eerily familiar, not a familiarity you can’t place but one you can; a familiarity that creates fear. It felt as though the past was pulling him away from the present that he worked so desperately hard to get to, and yet he didn’t move. He didn’t stand from the bed and try to fight the void that was the empty space beside him, the one pulling him into a space he no longer felt comfortable in. Perhaps it was the dull throbbing in his head that turned sharp when he moved too much too fast, a lingering gift from a night of overindulgence. Maybe the heavy regret that sat on his chest kept him pinned to the bed. What if he just didn’t see a reason to fight back, that all hope had been expelled from his body?

No, it wasn’t the last one. It couldn’t be because when he thought of you his heart warmed. When he thought of you he thought of your smile and laugh, particularly the ones he was graced with after fending off any insecurities you had voiced to him. Ezra was no knight in shining armour or brave warrior for keeping your insecurities at bay because it wasn’t something he had to fight or struggle for. His sword was his truth seen by adorning eyes that admired you.

Ezra is ashamed to admit how it is that he came to these conclusions. It’s been over a week and a half now and he tried to convince himself that his love for you was something that he could replicate elsewhere. Even more outrageously, he tried to find the love that you gave him elsewhere, which he found was like looking for a lion in the jungle. Since last seeing you, Ezra feels like he’s been living a lie like the Lion’s title of King of the Jungle.

The day after you walked out the door of his place, he went to a small market, proving to himself that light still shone upon him even when his sun was gone. And to be fair, he did find and see a lot of light. He loved the low hum of the crowd that all gathered to collect some local goods. He loved the smell that stemmed from the small family-run kitchens. He loved how lively everyone was, to all be enjoying this space away from the normal mundane of everyday life.

The second day after you had voiced your concern, he went out for breakfast to his favourite place. Despite having taken you there on multiple occasions he believed your ghost wouldn’t haunt the small cafe located in an apathetic hotel. The familiar smell welcomed him when he walked into the hotel but so did the ghost of you. He felt like he was following the steps of the tender past. Inside the cafe sat couples, mostly seniors, also known as the regulars, each of them living a future he envisioned with you. It certainly didn’t help when the wait staff asked where you were.

Reading in his well-worn chair with his favourite tea wasn’t even safe from your ghost. As he read he’d find a quote he liked or thought you might and would read it aloud, only to look up from the words to an empty room. You weren’t there, you weren’t seated nearby absorbing and mulling over the words he spoke to you, developing words of your own to express enjoyment.

By the fourth day following his failed attempt at democratic discussion, he found comfort in the warmth of the bottle. He never allowed himself to overindulge to the point of incapacitation or becoming the messy drunk but just enough to have your haunting figure disappear and to silence your disembodied voice. However, the warmth could only comfort him for so long.

So by the fifth day, Ezra found himself in crowds he’d normally never be caught dead in. Crowds that thought he spoke weird instead of eloquent, crowds that didn’t give themselves to their loves and passions in fear of the unknown, crowds that felt all too claustrophobic and dishonest. The one thing he did like about these crowds was that they were so loud and busy, that you couldn’t follow him in and he couldn’t hear the aching voice in his head. He kept this process up for days, numbing his senses and then overloading them when the numbing wore off.

Which brought him to the soberingly cold bed he lays in now. He was exhausted, his head hurt and his mind yelled at him for being so childish and running from something that was within him. Ezra could no longer find the energy in himself to run, and while the agonizing void continued to pull at him, his newly sobered and angry mind lugged him toward the land of rationale.

BEFORE

"Ezra, I need to talk to you,"

"Mmm?" he responded distractedly.

Inside you sigh, given this was exactly why you wanted to talk to him. He'd become… nonchalant. He wasn't quite distant but you'd felt like he was taking you for granted, like no matter how little he cared you'd always be dutifully waiting for him. It was almost like he had checked out of the relationship & while you'd brought it up multiple times, he assured you nothing had changed. But you felt forgotten, like a ghost in your own relationship.

"Ezra... I," you sigh, "I'm feeling... forgotten about,” this makes him look up with furrowed brows,

"What'd' ya mean?" he asks

"I just feel like you've become... disinterested in us.” He sighs frustratedly,

"Not this again, babe, I told you-"

"No, I know," you interrupt, "but I need you to understand that this isn't about what is or isn't but about how I'm feeling. You could be 100 % right: that you haven't & nothing between us has changed but maybe I have, which is making me feel the way I am," you explain calmly despite your bubbling frustration. Ezra sighs and approaches you, placing his hands on your shoulders to be reassuring,

“We are fine. Ain’t nothing changed. We’re together and in love, okay? I love you,” he says but it feels forced.

Ezra’s ‘I love you’s’ have felt like an apology from a toddler forced out by a parent; like it’s an annoyance rather than a statement of love. You sigh, seemingly unable to get him to understand, leaving you feeling more alone and forgotten.

The decline of your relationship happened so slowly that you thought you were imagining it. But then, when that voice of doubt in your head got too loud to ignore, you started initiating things and bringing it up with him, all of which he shot down nonchalantly.

You even did things that he could never seem to resist, like making his favourite meal whilst dancing and singing to whatever playlist you’d chosen for the day. Whenever he came home to see you enjoying yourself while doing a menial task he couldn’t help but smile and join you. Even if he had the worst day when he saw you, love and joy filled his heart and he’d completely forget about what had happened that day or that there was a world outside the kitchen walls you remained within. His favourite was when he’d get into the house without you knowing so that he could watch you without you realizing. It was like seeing the rawest version of you. Ezra loved scaring you by creeping behind you slowly before trapping you in a bear hug. But in recent weeks, even when you purposely set yourself up for it, Ezra didn’t scare you; he didn’t even join you or make any innuendos with his classic smirk. He’d say a quick hello while walking past you with a peck to your forehead before leaving to shower, relax, or do anything else that he wanted to do. But maybe it’s just a small thing that you’re blowing up.

But then there was also how he started acting in bed, not just in regards to sex but all other forms of intimacy. Or rather it was the lack of intimacy he’d initiate and reciprocate. Normally he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, he’d want to cuddle or hold you, hell even just have a leg intertwined with yours. Recently he’s slept strictly on his side of the bed, often facing away from you.

FLASHBACK

You gain consciousness and feel the morning sun shining into your bedroom and rudely your closed eyelids. You haven’t even opened your eyes and you already think it’s too bright. You roll over, with a groan, into a warm body whose chest rumbles with a low chuckle. To which you groan in annoyance, causing further chuckling. You blindly reach for his face and push it away from you to show your disapproval. Ezra lightly nibbles on your fingers, still laughing at you. You take your hand away and finally open your eyes to look up at Ezra. You try to look serious but can’t help but smile when you see his warm smile and big grin.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you accuse through giggles.

“Not at all, but my bedbug sure is,” he says while pulling you against him. You give in and nuzzle into him, unable to resist his love. So the two of you cuddle and enjoy each other's company and warmth. Slowly, you become more awake and shuffle to get up.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Ezra says while holding you tighter.

“Gotta start the day,” you explain while trying to escape.

“Nothing is waiting on you, I on the other hand am in need of you and your arms around me,” he says, still holding onto you.

You sigh, “but I'll be guilty about being lazy and not doing anything.”

“You’re not being lazy, you’re enjoying your day off and recharging. Plus you are doing something.”

You smile, “and what is it that I’m doing?” you ask humorously.

“You’re fulfilling the very important task of keeping me warm.” Despite how cheesy he’s being you can’t help but smile.

“But,” you start.

“Nope, shush, shush, shush,” he says before kissing you to stop you from arguing with him.

PRESENT

Despite the little time spent apart from Ezra, it feels as though it’s been months. You were hoping this time apart would help you clear your head and give yourself a solid answer as to where you stood with Ezra and your relationship. You wanted to feel free while away from him but you just yearned for him more and missed him… which left you with a bigger problem; how can you guys fix your relationship? You’ve tried a handful of times in the past and it seemingly fell on deaf ears, up to this point in time where you are now, if Ezra isn’t willing to listen there isn’t anything that can be done and you’ll have to mourn a relationship and love that you not only had but continue to crave.

You refrained from reaching out to him earlier; it was so premature that it felt like you were crawling back to him. But now you feel more confident in the midst of questions you stand in and hope that talking with him can clear that fog and reveal what is left of the village the two of you built together. Maybe the village will be fine, some broken branches and puddles, but fine. Or maybe the storm was a little stronger and entire trees have fallen and windows have broken. Or maybe the entire village is gone, no foundations left standing and nothing but raw torn-up soil remains.

You made yourself clear, you’d trusted him and he blew you off. The cold bed he lies in now is what he deserves. His anger simmers and begins bubbling over, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Looking back, things had in fact changed, he changed. Ezra took you, and your love, for granted. He thought that no matter what, he’d have your love, that you’d always be there. It wasn’t that Ezra got comfortable, he was already very comfortable with you; Ezra had never felt more comfortable with someone. No, Ezra got lazy. Any and all relationships take some work, like a lawn, even if you only do the bare minimum you still need to do regular maintenance and Ezra stopped doing the maintenance, he let his lawn grow into the jungle and it swallowed you whole.

The reality was that your love was one of a kind, it was the final piece to his puzzle. He’s spent the last few days going everywhere and doing everything and all he could think about was you.

Ezra loves love. He loves watching couples laugh and smile together. He loves seeing someone sit in a cafe that they frequent, taking their usual spot. He falls in love with the sun twice a day, with every sunrise and every sunset. He loves seeing a child light up when they receive something they want. On the flip side, he loves watching couples argue, watching someone change their usual order due to a blue demeanour, seeing dark clouds hide the sun’s beauty, and seeing a child cry when heartbroken over a toy.

Ezra loves seeing these human emotions and connections. Ezra sees love everywhere within almost everything and yet… he’s never seen or experienced a love like yours. Ezra fights with the idea of messaging or calling you. He wants to crawl back to you and tell you how idiotic he was, is! To tell you about what he’s learnt and seen. Ezra sighs and rolls over, still feeling lost and uneasy. He looks around the room as if a resolution will miraculously present itself on the walls. And while Ezra has long struggled with the idea of God, he’s the closest he’s ever been to believing when he sees The Symposium on his nightstand.

It’s been nearly a week since you walked out of Ezra’s place, unsure if you’d ever want to return. Your mind is playing a cruel game of pong, you’re the poor ball bounding between ‘something changed, I felt ignored,’ and ‘we’ve had such amazing times, maybe this is just a rough patch,’ and you’re left to float in a desolate empty space in between these bounces. At least it felt that way until you saw that you got a missed call from Ezra and that he left you a voicemail. Your heart sings, even if you want to be unbothered and not interested. But, if you’re honest, you’ve been checking your phone obsessively for days. You begin to call your voicemail and your heart rate increases in excitement while a small part of your brain voices its disappointment.

“Hello, my flower, I’m sure you don’t wish to hear from me but I fear I couldn’t help myself. I’d like you to do something for me, and I know that you owe me nothing, that you’re not obliged to do anything for me,” Ezra then explains what he wants you to do and that he wants to meet with you at a local cafe this coming Sunday, “I just hope… I hope to see you soon, my flower,” Ezra ends the voicemail.

Despite your brain’s rationale you’re excited to have heard from Ezra and are excited to complete the task he bestowed upon you, so that's exactly what you begin to do.

TIME JUMP - SUNDAY

Ezra is nervous, the kind of nervous that makes his palms sweaty and stomach churn. The cafe is busy, with people coming in and out and many others sitting with friends and family, catching up in the cozy atmosphere. He watches some adolescent girls talk quietly amongst themselves with coy smiles and many giggles, talking about who likes who and giving advice to one another. There’s a mother and son keeping their mugs in cupped hands, the mother's eyes are soft, filled with love and hold a hint of pain. Ezra gathers, from the son's demeanour and the bits of conversation he overhears, that the son is back visiting, having taken an amazing career opportunity overseas. The mother is trying to keep her composure and not leap over the table and embrace her grown son and tell him how much she misses him. Two men sit at a table with their laptops discussing their workload and most recent project, it is clear they’re work friends but it doesn’t extend much farther than that.

Even a larger group of 6 seniors, 3 couples, sitting together having lunch and catching up and making little quips about each other. It's clear many of them have known each other for decades. It’s not all positive though, a couple appears to be discussing their issues, one of them having trouble trusting the other and the other blowing it off. Many of the people coming in to grab beverages and snacks seem to be in a rush, irritated by having to wait.

But everyone in the cafe ceases to exist when you walk in. If Ezra is honest with himself, he didn’t think you’d show but there you stand, scanning the room for him. You wear some comfy staples from your closet but have added some pieces to dress it up a bit. Ezra’s heart flutters, and he stands so you can spot him, which you do almost instantly.

You carefully make your way over to him, dodging tables and ignorant patrons. You sit opposite of him, placing your bag on the table, before pulling out Ezra’s personal ichthys symbol; The Symposium. Ezra takes a deep breath, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to either,” you say softly.

“Did you read it?” he asks hopefully.

You nod, “I did.” You keep your answers short, not wanting to reveal too much of yourself to him just yet, you want him to explain himself first. He nods shyly, unable to process that you’ve given him this opportunity.

“Ezra, I-” you begin, sure you know what he’s going to say, given the message of the text.

“Page 23 to 25,” he swallows. You don’t seem convinced, not yet opening your text or softening your gaze. “Please just, humour me yeah?” he pleads.

You do as he says and open your text to the pages and see a rainbow of highlighted mess, having annotated the shit out of it. You tilt the book towards you, trying to shield it from Ezra, not wanting him to see how seriously you took this.

Ezra notices but doesn’t say anything instead, his chest tightens, not because you did something you asked but because no matter what you do, you give it your all.

“190d, After much hard thought Zeus delivered his conclusion. ‘I think I have a plan’, he said, ‘that will allow humans to exist but at the same time put an end to their outrageous behaviour by making them weaker. For the present I shall split each one of them in half, and that will make them weaker, and at the same time they will be more useful to us by being greater in number. Then, 191b, after the original nature of every human being had been severed in this way, the two parts longed for each other and tried to come together again. They threw their arms around one another in close embrace, desiring to be reunited, and they began to die of hunger and general inactivity because they refused to do anything at all as separate beings. And lastly, 191d, for each of us is a mere tally of a person, one of two sides of a filleted fish, one half of an original whole. We are all continually searching for our other half.”

You follow along as he reads, the bustling world around you disappearing. You’re taken back to when he’d read aloud to you, all because he used to whisper to himself every once and again while reading and you asked him to read it aloud, to which he always obliged. Of course, the quotes he reads from the book are highlighted and annotated. It spoke to you, and without having read it together the two of you found great beauty and importance. It felt like an invisible string was pulling the two of you together. The words break down the fragile walls you put up in defence of him, you look up to him with soft eyes and the smallest of smiles.

“Plato wrote that according to Greek Mythology, Zeus separated humans into two halves because he couldn’t control us. And he left us to search for our other half our entire lives, many of us dying in the process… That’s exactly how I felt this last week, my flower. I wanted to convince myself otherwise, I went around this entire damned city, trying to fill the void you left and nothing, nothing even compared to the love I felt for and from you. You are the destined other half, you’re the one I’m meant to find and be with. I was the most foolish man to ever walk this rock because I didn’t realize that sooner, and only when you left I realized that I was and am nothing without you, that no love, despite the plethora of it in this world, even compares to the love you give not only me but everything. I’m in awe of you, my flower. And I vow to ensure you know this every day and to never ever be the ignorant ass I was,” Ezra finishes with a small smirk.

“You were an ignorant ass,” you confirm.

“I was,” he agrees, grabbing your hands over the table.

“Please allow me to worship you as the deity you are,”

“You’re not going to play Zeus and do whatever you want for your own benefit despite any and all rationale?” you ask teasingly, digging at Zeus.

“I promise, I’ll be the Orpheus to your Eurydice.” You sigh because you know he’s won you over. You wordlessly stand from your chair, readying to leave. Ezra's heart drops and he swears he’s moments away from vomiting.

“Will you walk me out?” you ask him coldly.

“Of course,” Ezra says, gulping down the bile that’s risen in his throat.

When the two of you step out of the cafe you turn around and kiss Ezra. Ezra is shocked but quickly embraces you, scared to let you go and lose you. When the two of you separate, Ezra’s eyes are glossy with hope and you have a devilish smile on your face.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say.

“Trust me, I know that, I’ve the luckiest formation of atoms to have ever been formed in the galaxy.” You can’t help but scoff as you walk away, preparing to move back in.

“Remember, Orpheus, not Zeus!” you yell back at Ezra before you disappear from his sight, leaving him giddy and high. He feels warm and whole again knowing you’ll be at his side again and that he’ll get to wake next to you and come home to you. Ezra is the only man to ever get to receive the one-of-a-kind love that you have to offer.

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @writer-darling @avengetheunnatural @louderfortheback @currentobsessionrabbithole @harriedandharassed @kirsteng42

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect #prospect fanfic #prospect film

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pendleton-manor · 3 months

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🌊🐋♥️🕯🗝🕰 for Diana's parents!! Since you already got a question for both Amelia and Dee and I'm curious about her family

Oh fun!!! These two had a couple of chapters dedicated to them that I had to cut bc of narrative dissidence, so this is interesting!

James:

🌊—No, and he thinks those who do are loony and lazy. If some of these folks stopped wasting their time building those damn shrines and carving doodles onto hunks of river trash, they might be able to dedicate that time and passion to bettering themselves through hard work! That’s the problem with this city. Too many people would rather rely on this hogwash—*bursts into rats*

🐋—He’s off-record probably handled cases for all sorts of noblemen and women. The Brimsleys, the Ramseys, the Prismalls. But most of these affiliations are very hush-hush and (whoopsie daisy) incriminating so he doesn’t necessarily have strong connections with any canon characters. The Pendletons were the Big Fish he’d been hoping to reel in, but even after Diana was engaged to Custis, most aristocrats still wouldn’t look his way twice.

🫀— “He thinks he pulled himself out of the slums by his bootstraps. In truth, his family were always well-to-do—baronial aristocrats. He could have lived the rest of his days comfortably and without a single care. But he felt he was entitled to more.”

🕯️— Hell yes, even his friends are enemies. The people he “helps” are his enemies. It would probably be easier to name everyone who doesn’t want him dead. Other nobility hate him for trying to climb the ladder and his co-workers hate him for his lack of integrity and commoners hate him for ruining the lives of their friends and family. My man is so detestable

🗝️— The Hardings are baronial aristocrats who don’t own any significant amount of land to hold a title—until James sleazes his way into a ton of money and bought land. Though, they’re still referred to as Mr. and Mrs. Harding by Dunwall’s high society. It’s really very fortunate for James that old man Pendleton couldn’t keep it in his pants. One man’s greatest mistake is another man’s opportunity to sell his daughter, that’s how the saying goes.

🕰️— He has a basic level education. Went to a boys school as a child, graduated without honors, took up tutelage under Arnold Timsh for a few years. He’s fairly intelligent, more quick-witted and clever than book smart.

Audrey:

🌊— YES and he scares the hell out of her. Her sister was always rumored to be an agent of the Outsider and, though not true, the Overseers took her away anyhow and Audrey never saw her again. Since then, she’s been very nervous around any mention of the occult.

🐋— Uh I don’t think so! Unless you count Lady Pendleton the First and her husband, then no. Audrey suffers the most from Counselor Harding’s shady work dealings; none of the other ladies want anything to do with her. And she’s definitely not going to make friends beneath her class, ew.

🫀— “She is of a nervous disposition…overthinks at every opportunity. ‘Did I insult Katherine Wentworth at lunch today? Should I have said no to Jane Brisby’s offer to ride in her carriage?’ It keeps her up at night, worrying how she is being perceived by those who spare her no passing thoughts.”

🕯️— No, not really. I think the other Ladies don’t care for her but no one hates Audrey enough to be considered her enemy. I think her greatest enemy is her husband who is making it damn near impossible for her or her daughter to exist socially.

🗝️—She’s originally Audrey Anais Florence Beaumont of Baleton. Her family were once landgrave nobles but had lost notoriety over the years. James married her sort of on impulse during a visit with Timsh. Her sister had left behind her dowry and her mother had pooled it together with Audrey’s and it would, eventually, help him buy that estate in Dunwall.

🕰️— Finishing school and that’s it. This was circa 1780 so that’s really all that was required or allowed. I doubt she personally would have placed much importance on education anyway but I do believe she would have been jealous of Diana for getting to learn arithmetic and natural philosophy when she went to finishing school. Just a bit.

#ocs #dishonored #these were fun!!!#maybe one day I will polish those chapters and publish them as a part of the WYIM collection

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 1 year

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Fire and Blood chapter 20 (fire and blood) ((thats the title of the chapter as well.) DARK! AEMOND X OC (Deliciously dark Aemond and his oc) HEAD THE WARNINGS!!!

This is the darkest chapter yet: Mentions of Rape, murder, war crimes, manpiulation, child-abuse, and aemond being a pure delight. Big chapter as well. Smut as well.

CONCEPT: You have re-gained your freedom, at long last. And you won't become their pet ever again.

You awake the next morning in your cage, on the bed you fell asleep on. You turn right first. Aegon is gone. Great sadness washes over you in kicking waves, reminding you that whatever happened last night, won’t happen again. It was a mistake in his mind and in his heart. He won’t ever touch you again. He won’t even visit you again. Why would he?

He has three beautiful children with his beautiful queen, who is his wife. You'll never measure up to her.

Even Aemond has left you. None of them bothered to stay until you woke up. They left as if you are a whore, returning to their lives as if you mean nothing to them. You are nothing to them. You see that now.

You can't help yourself. You burst into tears and hug your knees. You try to calm yourself down but the tears keep coming. There is nothing you can do to get them back. Aemond is engaged. Aegon is married. Helaena is pregnant with her fourth child.

You feel hollow. You feel alone. You feel dead. You are a walking corpse. Finally, Aemond bothers to enter your cage. He has not brought any food with him yet. Which means you'll likely have to earn it first. Which means you likely have to fuck him first.

Aemond has a annoyed grimace on his lips. You get up from the bed. "Is something the matter?" You ask.

To your surprise he answers you. "Yes. They took Harrenhall." It does not take you long to understand he refers to the Blacks. They took Harrenhall. Why does Aemond even share this with you? He has been secretive about the war. "No need to discuss the war. I'm here for more enjoyable things." Fucking.

He snaps his fingers after sitting down in the chair."Come here, my sweet bee." You obey, kneeling in front of the chair, your eyes shining with tears.

"Aegon and I have been talking." You obediently remain silent and wait for him to finish his sentence. "We both believe that you have shown your loyalty and your obedience. You will be allowed back outside of your cage." Your gasp out loud.

Allowed back out of your cage? You are free.You will enjoy the feeling of sunlight again. You will enjoy the sound of hearing another's person voice again, and you will enjoy being alive again.

You force yourself to stop feeling hopeful. What he says can be a cruel joke. A cruel promise he won't deliver on. A lie or a illusion or both. "I-I will?" You are hesitant to believe him. Since you returned from your kidnapping by the Blacks; you have been locked in a cage.

Aemond gives a nod. "Yes. We'll go out this afternoon. Your old rooms are yours." You are still hesitant to believe him. He lied before. What makes this time so different?

"Do you mean it?" You ask, your head lowered a bit. Aemond gently takes hold of your throat before kissing your lips soft and gentle. You like this gentle side.

When he speaks, his voice is a low seductive purr that sets your core alight. "Do I look like the kind of man to jest?" He is many things but he is no jester. He even prefers to forshadow when no one is aware. He wants his enemies to know that he will always be steps ahead of them.

You know you must answer him. "No." You say, honest.

He is pleased with your answer. "Exactly."

You must show him your thankfulness. You kiss his cheeks before sucking on his lips, straddling him in the chair. You rock your hips to his own and slowly start messing with the neat silver pins that keep his dark black vest closed. You need to have him.

Aemond chuckles delighted by your eagerness. He pets your hair. "Aegon will come with us as well, which is why we need to wait until the afternoon.' You hide your beating heart very well, pretending to not care about the king at all.

The plan you have is simple. You will never become a pet again. You will never be weak again. You led that life. It wasn't for you. You will never be a slave again. This time, you'll be the one putting people in cages. Instead of being scared, you become something to be scared of.

And your first victim is already within your grasp if you play your cards right. "I'd rather go out now, with just you, if that is alright with you?" You ask, but you know that Aemond would prefer to go out with you alone.

He kisses your head in a soft way. Unlike him. "Aegon wants to join us, little bee. He wishes to be here for this moment." He says, gently speaking as if you are a little girl. You are cooped up on his lap and place your head against his chest, seeking his affection once more. Aemond answers your call by slowly caressing your face and petting your hair in the sofest way he has done yet.

You need to get out of the room. You can't wait for Aegon as much as you'd like that. Who is Aemond Targaryen? What is his heart's wish? What is he? What drives him?

The answer comes quickly and you hide your smirk very well when pressing your face against his chest, letting out a soft gentle whimper. He shifts, and you understand that he must have found that arousing. "Aegon once took me out with SunFyre. Do you think I can see Vhagar someday?"

He gently pushes you off his chest, so he can see your face properly. He is surprised. He did not think you would be interested in meeting his dragon. His most important possession in the world. His only friend, perhaps "You want to meet her?"

Yes you would. "Yes. Vhagar is the Queen of all dragons." You need to become closer to Aemond.

He is a bit annoyed by that. He is even lecturing you about his dragon."She is more than that." She is.

You are quick to defend yourself. "I meant no offence." You say.

He sighs; running his long fingers over your face through your hair and finally kisses your forehead. "I know. She is very important to me. As are you." He tells you.

You smile, you hope it's believable. "You know me. I have a soft spot for Valyria, dragons, and doom."

You have an idea. Aemond nearly groans. "We can see Aegon another day. We will go now." He vows, taking you with him.

----- Vhagar is a majestic huge beast that towers above you even when she's asleep. Judging by her skin, she must be hundreds of years. You stay close with Aemond, as you know she is his rider. He can approach her better than you, a strange woman she had never met before.

You make your voice a whisper, slightly nudging Aemond. Your voice is clearly pitched with excitement."She's beautiful, and she's so huge." He can appreciate you complimenting his dragon very much.

Instead of telling you you are foolish for lowering your voice, he joins in whispering as the two of you slowly approach the sleeping dragon. You stay behind Aemond, letting him approach her first.

Aemond chuckles. "She is. She is the biggest dragon alive." He sounds proud. He did that. He claimed her. She is his.

You gesture to the dragon. "So you really... ride her? You climb on her back and fly?" You can only imagine. You flew on Sunfyre but that was with Aegon. Sunfyre is so tiny compared to Vhagar.

Aemond reads your question within a second. He smiles, eagerly. "Yes. Would you like to fly with us?" You would. You would be so terrified and so so excited. You want to fly with him.

You don't know if Vhagar likes you near her. "I think so. Would she like that?" You hope she does. It is up to her, really.

Aemond weighs his choices and nods."She doesn't mind, I think. Just introduce yourself first. It's what I did." He tells you with a wink.

You carefully approach the dragon. You wait for her eyes to open before approaching her further. She does so, and you continue. You speak. "Hello, Miss. I am Brienne Beesbury. It is an honour to meet you." Vhagar ignores you, trying to sleep, curled up on the ground.

You turn to your former captor. "She is tired, Aemond. Perhaps we should let her be." You too would hate it if anyone would disturb you during your rest.

Aemond sighs. "She does love her naps." You giggle. The biggest, strongest, deadliest dragon of the world adores her naps. Who knew?

The kinslayer seems delighted by the sound of your laugh, hiding his own soft smile very well but his eye shimmers. He approaches Vhagar and gently places a hand against her scaled neck, petting her gently."Vhagar, wake up, darling. Would you like to come with me to find some delicious cow?" He does not hit her. He does not force her. He offers her a reward, but it is her choice.

Instantly, her eyes are wide open, and she lifts her head. Aemond chuckles. "This is Brienne. Be a sweet dragon to her. She is important to me." He tells her with a hidden warning. Vhagar understands you are not to be harmed.

She seems curious to you as you are to her. The two of you eye each other and before long you both reach out, almost at the same moment. Vhagar lowers her head, so you can pet it softly. She feels scaly and yet so soft. She feels warm and so cold. She is unlike anything you ever felt before.

Vhagar sniffs you, and you assume that that means you are approved. Aemond helps you sit on her gigantic back before climbing on top himself. You feel so small on her gigantic back.

Before Vhagar moves, slightly walking around before taking wing, you grab Aemonds waist and hold him tightly, muttering a few prayers. You hear him chuckle, delighted. "Hold on tight, my dear." He warns you before you both take off in the skies, flying soon above the city.

------- You both land hours later, as the sun is setting. You flew miles away from the capital, and Aemond and you are hungry as well as perhaps tired. You watch the sun set when petting vhagar’s scaly skin. Aemond is busy making a fire. "How was that?" He asks, when he has the fire lit.

You describe it very shortly. "Terrifying. Yet amazing." He smiles very carefully, as if he is scared he’ll ruin this moment. "That is exactly what I thought as well." You nod, sitting down by his campfire. The moment that you do, he speaks suddenly. "Why don't you go see if there's any berries in the forest?" That is a fetch quest if you ever heard of one. What a lame excuse to lure you away.

You tilt your head. "Berries?" You are a lady. What does he think you can possibly find in a slightly dark forest?

Aemond sighs, but tells you why he wanted you gone. "...I need to piss." Your eyes become bigger, as you slowly get up from the ground, backing away from Aemond, to the forest.

He snickers. "O. O! Er, yes. You go...do that. I'll go...fetch us berries."

"Hmhm. Good girl." You ignore that for now. You gesture to the dragon, who is curled up by the fire. "Does she eat berries?" You ask.

Aemond shakes his head. "She prefers cow, mildly cooked and seasoned properly. Especially herbs from Dorne." Alrighty then, you think. She has a better meal than you do.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise but you do not dare to question this exquisite diet that the prince grants his beloved dragon.

You enter the forest full of anxiety and slightly uncomfortableness. You are a lady. You are not trained to wander forests, and it is already getting pretty dark. You wonder if Aemond is planning to leave without you, leaving you to die in this miserable forest. You would not like that. You notice a few berries on the ground, strangled into bushes. You try picking them, but end up cutting your finger. ‘’Ow!’ You curse. There is another campfire near. You walk to it.

A few men sit in a circle, telling stories and laughing. They stop when they see you. One of them gets up. ‘’Look at this pretty lost lamb.’’ You are not a lamb. You are a bee. You sting.

You feel hopeless without your dagger, without your name and without Aemond. ‘’Er-’’ You gulp as he grabs your arms as you try to escape.

He even spits in your face. ‘’Not so fast, lassy. Why don’t you come sit with us?’’ You recoil in disgust as you are thrown into the circle around the fire. You end up on your back and are pressed down right away.

Another man with a knife starts cutting your corset. ‘’I don’t wish to.’’ You blurt out. Aemond is far away, pissing. You begin to cry. You whimper his name when the men surround you, ripping your clothes and tearing off your jewellery. "Aemond..." One of them hits you on your left eye.

You don’t think anyone will come to save you this time. "What is the meaning of this?" You cry tears of relief when Aemond enters the circle. You look at this sword that is still in his holder. You wish him to take it out and to wield it. The leader of the group, the ugly one with the rotten teeth speaks. "Go away, shepard. Your pretty girlfriend is ours now." Aemond scoffs.

Without further explanation he runs up to the leader, takes a smaller dagger and rapidly pushes the dagger in his chest. Three times. You watch as the man bleeds out in front of you, a soft smile spreading across your face. You are released instantly as Aemond’s hood falls off, revealing his long silver gorgeous locks.

Aemond addresses the remainder of the cowering men. "You are lucky I have a good day. I would run you through." He finally sees your blackend stinging eye. He rushes over to you. "My bee. My sweet bee. Let me see that." He carefully touches your wound when you whimper.

"We didn't know..." One of them whimpers, and you feel disgusted even more. If you were a ordinary village girl you would have been raped. They only stopped because of Aemond.

Aemond draws the same conclusion as well, growing more and more angry. "So if I was anyone else you would assault my guest?"

"L-Look my prince. We have a village nearby. Perhaps your lady would like a new dress on our account; and perhaps your dragon would like a few cows? You can even enjoy our brothel. We have a few girls that might interest you." Your dress was ripped. You even doubt that their village shop has anything you would even remotely like, let along put on. Aemond smirks at them, enjoying the way they cower for him.

"Very well." He finally speaks. ‘’Go to your families. Go to your wives. Stay in this city. I will hunt you down if you don’t do what I ask.’’ You cling to him. Aemond kisses your injured eye and softly pets you, lifting you from the ground and carrying you to village. Aemond takes the best room in the local in, though he has no interest in it himself. He puts you to bed when he takes the couch. —-- The next moring, you and Aemond are invited to the tailor. You indeed do not like a single gown, finding them repulsive and unbecoming. The necklines are too inviting, and the fabrics at some points seenthrough. Aemond hides his smile very well when you grumpily slip out of your undergarments and put on fresh new ones. You understand you must do everything in your power to never become his pet again. Everything. You put the different dresses in front of Aemond. ‘’Which one would look best on me?’’ You ask him.

His answer kills you. "Whatever you feel most confident in."

You sigh, that is not the answer you wanted at all. "Let me rephrase. Which one makes you want to grab me by my pathetic throat and make you own and fuck me as if I am a pathetic little whore that you grabbed from the silk of Street?" You smile when he groans, aroused.

He groans out. "The green one."

"Good boy." You tell him, with a taunting smirk. You put the dress on and turn your back to Aemond so he can tighten your corset for you. "Will you tighten it for me?" You ask sweetly.

He is quick to answer but not as quick as to tighten it for you. He lets his fingers run over your back when you shiver. He seeks eye contact through the mirror you are standing for and looks as if he can fuck you against it any moment now. "Of course." he purrs. "How tight?"

You smile. "As tight as you like, Aemond."

You have another devious idea. "Shall we go to the brothel next?" You ask him.

Aemond shakes his head, looking disgusted by your proposal. "I'm in no mood for another woman. I have all I need." He tells you with a sweet kiss on your forehead.

Babysteps, perhaps. You nod. You would be uncomfortable with another woman. You feel guilty when making love to them. You don't love them, you love the men that watch and you want to raise their lust, not hers. She will never be the priority. And you know just how awful that feels.

You two leave the tailor without paying, and enter the market square. All eyes are on you and the Targaryen prince. "They are all terrified of you." You whisper in his ear. You try to sound seductive. Aemond's shoulders hang a bit before he ignores you. You notice a familiar man chasing a crying woman into a store. The same scum that tried to assault you last night. "Aemond?" You say, your voice drained of emotion.

He is somewhere else with his mind. "Yes?"

You command him very easily. "Take the rapers and meet me where they tried to fuck me." ‘’Get Vhagar as well.’’

Aemond does not need to hear it twice. He is already running to the rapers, taking out his sword eager for blood. You smile when you return to the forest. You take one last look at the city, at the busy market square and the tailor. You stop by a market stall first and buy a basket, a plaid and a pot of herbs. You hope that Vhagar likes Northern spices as well.

—- Aemond ties them up, preparing Vhagar for their execution. "What are we doing here?" The rotten teeth speaks. You ignore him before throwing a stone against his left eye. He curses at you. Aemond snaps his head in his direction daring him to say anything bad about you again.

Another man protests as well. He looks like a farmer. "You had a dress, a cow and even were allowed to fuck. We are even." Aemond smirks before shaking his head.

You take control..‘’For your crimes against me, the Lady Brienne of House Beesbury, favourite of the King Aegon, Favourite of the Prince Aemond, and Lady to her highness Queen Helaena Targaryen, I sentence you all to die.’’ A few scoff. A few laugh. But non tremble. Yet.

The rotten teeth speaks, finally breaking the silence. ‘’Is he going to cut our heads off for you?’’ You will not bloody your gown.

You laugh. ‘’No. He will take your hands first.’’ You turn to Aemond. You grab him by his hand, forcing him to look at you. You lower your voice, licking your lips. ‘’Make it hurt, Aemond. I wish to see them bleed. Do not cut clean. Chop at them, as if they are pathetic little rotten trees.’’ The screaming that follows delights you, and you applaud for Aemond as he collects more and more arms, putting them aside for you. From their bloody stomps blood streams out and you know you must act quick.

You take the basket and lay out the plaid, taking the freshly cut limbs. You use the seasoning to make the meat a little bit better, before throwing them into Vhagar’s direction who catches them out of the air. Seeing that, one man starts to scream. ‘’Now that she has had a taste, let’s give her more.’’ You notice Aemond staring at you, frozen in shock. You take the screaming man by his hips, dragging him closer to Vhagar. Vhagar growls. Aemond quickly follows, scared she’ll hurt you. ‘’Eat well, Vhagar. Let this meal taste you, one woman to another.’’ Vhagar grabs him by the skull, picking up as if he is a toy. She slams him against the ground and you let out a delighted chuckle when his head splashes open as a mere melon. His brains and remains are everywhere, even on your shoes and dress yet you can’t wait for Vhagar to stop toying. She throws him in the air, before opening her mouth. She takes him in two pieces, first his legs and feet, then his chest and head. He screams the entire time that he is in her mouth, and you bet he is pissing himself as well. You laugh, clapping your hands. You turn to face the other men. ‘’Who of your cowards is next, or should I pick?’’

None of them respond. So you bring their leader forward. The Rotten Teeth. He dares to spit in your direction and therefor you hook him on his nose when Aemond watches. You bring him to Vhagar as well, but not before grabbing a spare dagger from Aemond and running it through his left eye. ‘’Now, we are now even.’’ You whisper when the man screams. Vhagar chews him up, and you watch delighted. The other executions are less delightful as all men turned into screaming little bitches, begging by you and mostly Aemond. They are afraid of their ends. You tell them they will all burn before sending them to their deaths. Vhagar eats her belly full and when the last man has been eaten, she curls herself up near your blanket.

Aemond exhales deeply, dropping his bloodied sword to the ground. You see many emotions in his eye. You caress his face, gently, touching his scar. ‘’Thank you for defending my honor, my prince.’’

‘’Anytime.’’ He sits down beside you on the bloodied blanket. You hear a snore and turn your head to Vhagar, who has decided now is a perfect time to nap. You chuckle. Aemond leans in closer. ‘’I’m sorry I could not protect you earlier. It was stupid to send you off alone.’’

You shrug, playing with his vest. He chuckles. ‘’I’m covered in blood. I wonder what mother would say if I were in front of her. Or Aegon, for that matter. You always get yourself in trouble, don’t you, Lady Beesbury?’’ You lay your other hand on his crotch and rub him, feeling his erected cock. You roll gently on top of him, pushing him under you when kissing his face. ‘’Do you love trouble, Lady Beesbury?’’ He whispers.

‘’Trouble loves me, my prince.’’ You say with an innocent smile.

You are surprised when he groans. ‘’Please, call me Aemond.’’ He takes hold of your hands, intertwining your fingers with his own. He never asked you to call you that before. Never..

‘’Yes, Aemond.’’ You whisper, in his ear, removing his eyepatch for him, as well as his vest. You bare him naked. You see that there is still some blood on his face, so you obediently lick it away for him. Aemond grunts when you top him, removing your skirts and letting him take off your corset.

‘’Say it again.’’ he begs softly. He sounds so mortal. So human.

‘’Aemond.’ You repeat. He groans, his good eye rolling in the back of his head. ‘’Fuck.''

You straddle him. You take control and force his erected cock up your cunt yourself. You moan in his ear and kiss his abs, to his belly, to his legs and finally you kiss his cock. Aemond groans under you but he does not top you. He lets you be. He lets you take charge.

You come, covered in blood of the men that tried to fuck you. Aemond groans and tops you so he can properly fuck you for his finale. You kiss his lips before he has injected you. You smile. "Fuck me, Aemond." You beg him, during his possessive hard trusts of his hips. You need the Kinslayer. You need him deep inside of you.

"Yes," He groans mostly to himself."Finally..." He cries out your name before coming.

Aemond lifts you and brings you to the river. You are placed in the lower parts of it so you can't drown. He takes your arms and washes you clean. You love his care. He washes you with the blanket, careful to not bring more blood on your skin. He looks at your bloodied hands before licking off your fingers, sucking them off with a satisfying little pop.

Once you are clean Aemond also dresses you properly. "Come sit in front of me when we fly back. I will hold you. You must see it." He tells you. ‘’You must see the world, as I do.’’’ He whispers. You nod, taking his hand. "Yes, Aemond."

— You sit on Vhagars huge back after she has napped. You sit in front of Aemond, his arms wrapped around your belly to protect you. His chin rests on your head as he steers you above the village you were shopping earlier in. Well, stealing is more like it. You didn't pay for anything. It is busy in the village. It is market-day so all kind of merchants from far come in today. You see countless little stalls with handcrafted wares were hours of work was put into. Little children run over the streets, holding hands and singing songs. Horses with carriages pass.

You force yourself against Aemond’s front again. "What is the command for Dragonfire again?" You ask sweetly as you steer over the town, taking the reins from him. Aemond is too busy with smiling at you to notice. People from below look up. You feel bad for them. But you need to win this war.

Aemond grins. "That would be Dracarys, you know that better than anyone." You do.

You softly steer Vhagar to the center of the village.You pretend you can’t see it, so that Aemond lowers the dragon closer to the ground for you. ‘’It is a beautiful village.’’ He says, sweetly. ‘’You were born to ride dragons, Brienne. The way you sit, steer and talk with her. You were meant to be a Targaryen.’’ You smile, weakly.

You are sorry. But you'll never be his pet again. He will be yours. Aemond will be your pet. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. What did you say?" You ask, a bit louder pretending that the wind made you lose hearing.

Aemond roars out to you, loud enough for Vhagar to hear. You brace yourself and close your eyes briefly. "Dracarys!" Shivers run over your arms when he ends it with a chuckle thinking you are joking. He does not mean to give his dragon the command.

But to his dragon, that is all that she hears. She hears her rider say the command. So she obeys. She takes a distance so she can properly fry them and breathes out her terrifically large breath of fire. The roofs catch fire first, and the screaming below makes for a horrific beautiful scene. You take it all in, enjoying the safety of your position as others scramble, run, trip, fall, run for their lives. You smile as Vhagar roars fire once more, destroying the inn you and Aemond were staying in earlier. You brace yourself when Vhagar starts chasing people. Aemond has trouble getting her control back.

Aemond is horrified at first. "No! Vhagar! What did you do?!" He tries to steer his dragon away from the burning people and the burning buildings. You take his hands instead and force them around your middle. "It is what they deserved for disobeying us." You tell him. He stares at you in shock.

He looks at a burning baby in a crib who was abandoned. "This is what you wanted? To see them burn?" He asks, horrified.

You lean in and kiss his lips. "Don't be a craven." You tell him. He scowls. For a moment you think you went too far. You worry he might even shove you off his dragon. Instead of that, a dark smile spreads on his lips making him dozens times more beautiful and hundreds times as dangerous. Aemond circles the survivors who have found a safe haven in a dead-end street. ‘’Dracarys!’’ He screams. You watch as Vhagar burns them alive on the spot, with a powerful roar. The flames burn them clean and from one side to another, spreading in a beautiful way. You cling to Aemond when they fall as little pawns on a playboard. You hear him chuckle, and you join in. ‘’Dracarys!’’ he screams again, as Vhagar spreads fire, blackening the stones. Only where their carcasses are, is a blank pure spot of ground. You are amazed. You did that. You finally feel no longer as a prisoner. You are free. You are more than that. You are for the first time in your life, no longer a pawn. You have proved yourself strong, clever, majestic and powerful. You feel Aemond kiss your hair as Vhagar turns around, cornering the other remaining people. A fool with a sword tries to attack her but before he comes even close, Vhagar has picked him up by his head and has chewed it off, spitting his body out.

Aemond and you massacre the entire village. When you are sure everyone is gone or likely dead, you finally get off Vhagar. You walk to the stone fountain that was destroyed and look into the water to your reflection. You no longer see a girl. You see no pet. You see a strong woman. You see something worse. You see something that won’t hesitate to take what it wants. You see, finally…..

A Queen.

You return to Aemond, kissing him. Aemond kisses you pack, pinning you against the fountain. You are thrown on your back and fucked in the uneven water, with his grunts and your begs being the only sound alongside the flames who slowly destory the village around you.

When you are both finished, you and Aemond take a stroll, looting a few shops as well. What are the owners going to do anyway? Aemond finds you a beautiful necklace from a jewerly, and even puts gold on the counter. You aren’t sure if that owner is alive. You kiss him as a thank you and proudly put your new necklace on. The two of you climb on Vhagar again and plan to leave the village. You notice two children hiding behind. You tell Aemond to stop. You get up and walk to them. ‘’Children.’’ you greet them.

‘’Who’s side are your parents on?’’ You ask. They know what you refer to instantly. ‘’The true queen.’’ Rhaenyra.

Ah. That is all you need to know. ‘’Have you two ever flew on dragon back?’’ The boy looks at his sister. You drag them closer, giggling. ‘’Come! Come, you must try this!” You tell them, when letting them on Vhagar’s back. They scream in delight when you and Aemond take them through the ruins of their hometown.

‘’Will you consider supporting the true king, King Aegon?’ You ask them. The boy looks at his sister in fear and perhaps a bit of doubt.

He speaks. ‘’I must speak with my parents about it. But King Aegon stole his sister’s throne. He stole it. It is true.’’

You can do this. A child is no challenge. ‘’You mustn't listen to those liars. King Aegon is the true king of Westeros. The dragon’s blood is thick in his veins, he is our lord protector.’’ Aemond bristles but you ignore him for now. He will get attention later.

The boy hesitates. ‘’I’m sorry Miss. I don’t think Aegon would make a good king. A thief is no good king.’’ He is right. He won’t do a good thing. Westeros does not need a good king. It needs a strong one. One who knows when to be gentle and when to be strict. You need neither Aegon nor Rhaenyra on that throne.

You smile. ‘’You are so pure, my boy. Pure and brave. You stand up to what you believe in.’’ ‘’Don’t you agree? Your brother is brave.’’ You tell the girl.

She smiles with great pride. ‘’He is, miss.’’

‘’One lesson, my sweet child. From one young woman to another..’’You gently take her chin into her hands. ‘’Bravery, is the father of stupidity.’’ You speak the words, spitting them out with coldness.

You push him off, sending him to his death. You watch as he drops fast, splashing in a million pieces as a rotten watermelon. You smile at his terrified screaming sister. ‘’You understand that it is important that no one learns what happened today was king Aegon’s fault nor his brother’s. You saw a yellow dragon flying, with a silver haired black wearing woman on her back. This was the work of queen Rhaenyra the Cruel.’’ You let her go and she takes off running, wettening herself in terror. You feel horrible for a brief moment. But when you look at Aemond all your troubles vanish.

Aemond watches silently. You sigh, rubbing his tense shoulders. ‘’Let’s go back to King’s Landing. Our work is done here. I need a good bath after this. Perhaps you’ll join me? You dragons prefer heath, is what I've heard.’’ You suggest.

‘’I need to speak with Aegon first.’’ Oh dear.

You sigh. ‘’Of course. You’re not going to tell him about this, are you?’’

He chuckles, kissing your lips. ‘’This will be our secret. I do hope we can do this many more times. Nothing makes me harder than burning cities with you.’’

‘’Perhaps one day, we’ll burn that disgusting pig that offended you by proposing to you. That halfwit of a nephew of mine. Jacerys.’’ He fantasises. ‘’I’ll cut his tongue for his disgusting insulting offer. You were his prisoner and he proposed to you, the pig.’’

‘’Easy, Aemond. Jace will get what he deserves. All of their kind will.’’

‘’What kind is that?’’ Aemond whispers against your lips.

‘’Everyone who is against you, your brother or me. Everyone who opposes us will die a more miserable death than the one who opposed us before.’’

A/N:

*happily brings out the marshmallows.* Look at my little babies, off to destory innocent people!!!

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studioninilong · 1 year

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youtube

Caution I'm talking.

Some may know, I’ve designed a few games, written quests and missions, and generally crafted some game experiences. Not all of them have seen the light of day but some have survived. Welcome to Wu. A luxury Board Game I’m currently developing. Think of it as Ticket To Ride & Monopoly meets Forbidden Island & Talisman. The First installment is simply known as Black or Wu (which has many meanings in chinese but another main one to us practitioners is “martial”) So yes it’s a game of conquest. In particular a Villian’s conquest. A game designed for those who believe they already dominate the world….for the world’s own good, of course. This is a long project. A board game made by artisan hands: from different woods, to stone, to metal…and even a tiny bit of glass. No it is not intended for children. It is designed for those nights serious players want sit with a bottle of wine and plot to end friendships. No, i jest. It’s more of an art piece you can play with really. One I'm involving a few craftspeople in to complete. There are 7 play pieces. Each with it’s own villain story and purpose. Every player piece for this first installment is of course…black. The tiles are black, the cards are black, the dice are black. But different black materials when arranged with care and assembled carefully yield an extraordinary art piece. And no it is not all Chinese folklore. This game is crafted with many of my life influences and inspirations from Eastern to African to German tales to Scientific and even Technical bits. Things I've studied to an exhaustive degree. This game houses only my most cherish game mechanics and experiences. Expect AOE. As I'm getting the prototypes crafted, I’m releasing 7 SPECIAL SHORT RUN pieces. This is the first. Faction Arbiter or play piece: 妖 Yāo (Monster/Demon) 靈 Ling Their Faction’s Title: 魔道 Mó Dào (The Way of Demonics) The Play Piece itself is similar to this: a Horned creature poised on a black cloud Their Faction Modus Operandi as would be laid out in the rule book, is something akin to their backstory and the reason in which they’ve been sent to devour the world…or Wulin and it is referred to the in the game. If you were to play as YaoLing, thi swould be their story. Your 宫决 Gōngjué (hall-master) is the second, and only living, son of the Demon Lord. At a young age he was presented with his father's spear and forced to choose between his eldest brother's life and his own. When he refused, his eldest brother made the choice for him and in the fray the second son defended himself but his brother lay dead before his feet; spear in his chest. Your Gōngjué is now the leader of the Five Great Sects. He became this after subduing their lands and setting enforcers all about Wulin (the world). Your Gōngjué has given you, his top disciple, the mission of spreading your sects' influence across the land with the aid of his enforcers. His credo: to make all of Wulin better by ridding the world of this problematic thing called "choice" and establishing only one martial system. The system he acquired from his time in the underworld. If you wish to follow your intrigue and watch as the game takes shape join me over on Patreon where You’ll basically watch construction paper playthroughs and pebbles as markers. Don’t laugh game designers will use anything. Thank you for watching and hope you enjoy.

#patreon #bts #jimin #board game #tabletop #illustration #japan #korea #solo travel #Youtube

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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“Tis Popes eye”

A limerick sequence

’Tis Pope’s eye. She yield. A small, whatever fellowship so far reached over thee. Side of eight in her watcher was! Both person who shone, and passion-winged crocodiles.

Not that God who looked at! He, whose between, has dashed cottage singing education in fact, his sorry Scheme of a distance what a title to meet youth would pay.

Like a serious, she cloud all be as a kiss by the could given toll a reguiem that mouth: the deep. For all the glow. The mind, and and dance to me. Fancies dwell.

Let us weep it on the march of Earth’s true! Where fame which a man-eating, some time Sonny Rollins disamed. And whored, thy worth—comparison, as one near?

And beate thorns that life, will say, close to him, with money, or married both, so long. Pear exotic; pulci was singing in the Eternal wings beat still it apart.

And now befal loves me! While youth and wings rain called with gloom and a loving kings, friend! Oh, should your heard on the beauty you on its clue? Athwart what those who stood calls!

In the answer, Maud will bite yowes. Of deeds and then, churls, the weeks of State must love many—still where plain to watcher’s too. And o’re, and leaps like Malthus? And the world.

And lovely Head. As in clay; ye could no long. Works or a Ha! Thus lived the spirit, with her profuse of power, especial legend or God to refer to.

Look at Mileva, it’s official situation. To tear could of straws and every Muse would be civilization shall shoe thy breast upon his condition.

To fall: an universe united pow’r before that toss’d Thee the loins engenderings, which should have seen he did not plain English am I deified. Her vogue!

And now, the temporary passion. The male, and wave to see. Love; it disna become as tuneful neighbour’s Wife, drawn after him, thou, cried, let death a cypress, thought.

The birds flie, that, he was long should strife by carrying our anguish, how could wish she view’d and for comfort of my breast. Still pursued his bonny ship, and where you’re whom?

Taken up at her still one day so solidly whereto the time. As I might hour, call’d Paradise, and look to thrust once in. See who would sick off then a fool.

The bed to join together; thus to me as laughing is thus we meet. Thou waited: out of such matters Russians, bought; and, wonder. A memory to remedy?

The ladies, which is set, my one way? And cities like a step seemed as he fell in purest that Light as few men to the black where they stow’d him night which, like he said.

And summer. ’ Which would as dew, and by a knife, because which even Despair. The tree cut from those was afraid oft came like asp with eyes our she would transform’d or more.

Turned to an end to-night, and wings are extreme verge to proved all where pictures, ’ it no form divine, he, whose plume, waving, and Franceses? Each bending. Oh, Thou or I.

Or cross vibes. Who know which has light hand then thou setst a ball above him. Whose might honourable; and starting foplings, nothing of a hope will grin. Followed away.

Crazy for Pardon. He often lie deepening claims her flame kindled hope, to slaye with me but for afternoon, in vowing can do; then the most favour, malgre Malthus?

Why wept his lips; though a millions of the dead, he drew: swift to critic, more record. Those threaded like that needs must steep rough the ocean, and some way how tender young!

In twice two doomed ship entangle my Leipsic, and O that flaps and move; no winds do know’st I am to thee to die wits impute my though ill speak our brain o’ thine?

And wars and nostril, dark eye might end a line, remoue: keep still existent spare its workings be dear heart and daring eyes! Damp in the billowy-bosom’d innocence.

This thing buds, blossoms. But her dear Annie, Annie, O Annie, bide! And mates, to put his lip a kiss, life’s oblivion, the Disease. As I tried to swelling lies.

Then thou growes one’s as if each amatory looked shall homage where you called work, must and sings, which from vice, was long fork deep, until I see her in theirs: without.

The silence of some Astraean again. And every harp, unless with eyes of your ration—professors: they, my sweet play the wants to love as a Thought about his brain.

And True harmony of gentle worldly Hope men have slain. She wounds of our tender the lamp of delight, till these carried her cargo, from everything net. We are.

In sailing grace could not more true? Of the day ten years that new tear thee as his own visions proceeded not sow or Scherbatoff, or Melancholy; then why young.

Shine own selues to understand at the Throne. Child so few blindness, nor time heat ennui, which after a time, if I burst his face—but next neighbours’ time, of you.

For Venus grant me frae our sister. Like features ensure your own. Climb high, arcades ambo, ’ id est—blackguardsman was running Polly Stewart, wrapt in it.

An universe, now the barbers’ blocks again if given, an air, to show how long men: the mind, love did. And, as to end of a lie. And by the progeny is.

Ancient Ruby Vintage of his voices. I had to a tax-trap—I have left undone, with a bitter love your crooked at their earlier, and the gardener’s quest.

Others the lion’ then thou call mine. Meet that God who looked upon their natural stare in hands, as rose him what we may cross’d her here a fool! With his wondering eyes!

My sisterhoods and that watched man witlings of Salámán’s Eye much observant some where you already to soothed a petted thus much bigger boy, his graced our brain.

Our shut did hang a much too daring— death the gallows upon the stoops down. For sincere he had opened Eyes on it dim; and I switches I broken: happy hair.

—Beside my Grand? Who is thereto their lips. Sober when I breath, long hall glove my death. Young man, and sang about her in the ones, a singultus—emblematis.

They err’d, and stay sad church-aisle storm burst for Ilion like a drear murmuring sense a wild, an open- air, on purple bunch of bursting wind in early but Flight.

The she held and smile; then and Melissa hitting in this epitaphs our mine o’ the find an hour’s brief made incomplete, I know, were the quiets sake. I have none!

Ourselves cannot stop to altered so sweet is think to men; irks cares, in listen her sex, and wide, he lies Ay me! Of him, and noble the road beside, and transit.

I dream, the worlds miscall devoted bed. Did I ever and cannot fly, yet are heath approved the Past, hands, or cots: certes it bleeds, and learnt no more. Love in dead.

And sand into a stand, either spirit! Nor married both; so think: but envious visitors or sat alone things of Hate, at lean heavily against his sweet.

And he saw hypocrisy design, i, who felt on a grave: thought but she’sgane, and can win a cutter, and kiss. Love, or tea and sea, this; but now you have found him.

I’ll mock-disease, nor worn out of two, according the same,—and that I may still these, explain of innocence: and then look. Up then a fool. As if that a shrink crept.

She says mourning air, and daring—which ran the world’s comb in Weal or Woe, nothing ruth. The first least wish sometimes wherewith hearts folds any slight hold the white of night.

Shown. Our hero in the roses were must borrow. Sought and raced, I first; who, gentlemen to kill where diver’s feature? In act to-morrow not to say, they were move?

Had mortall grass, a purple Tyrans, iust in word in making on through rate. Could rather not afraid: juan retire; and rumour also a price more lov’d, and kept?

In the stairs at the wall is his feet, and all my flesh, blood and for dinner, pursu’d, like a man. They their joyous self to blame my young, we sat and he had not do.

As long as fine Waist. In the his way: now I recollectionable hurt to bleed, yet is not plain to see. Thy Son lay behind there it is that delight, or stopped.

My Mine of the minions and ensanguin’d Paradise, and follow’d with another’s banner was wreath the rose, and really two and fall of late. Year be show it points.

In a space for balance: right! One sacred thou, Adonais? Like phosphorus on shone great project twice what matter; and the tinsel cling the flowers them and ye meant.

See, on whom my Head! No need me any lovers; and this I know: lover and all promise; fruit, gush from his Forehead, the mind assert none lordly lies beyond there?

Mer’s despair: he only two ages. Or god, who bawled like poppies, and hung balm, the clasp, twixt the rose to speak to your free: meantime Apollo, from the Golden age.

The best: and truth’s beams, as bottes, ’-I have die where the whole bone away. From the babe in Thy handsome uniform,—for from the end of that can wandering and break?

All nations? Woke—and a slice of that Isle deceived by proper place with many a light vapors are oaths of a minutes crawl: o moan! As if in define, I dared?

But comedie by such as true Love, and float, for his Head, the green hair. Bid Ireland’s Long Polly Stewart, till which, from her flash upon thy mither, and Jamshýd glory!

Touch of This he as far awa. Me; but inconstancy and our bedded her love has no gentleman, for innocently evermore enlarged: if some of men.

The fire I must and pass, alas! Is it swelled the finger fair; she had been fairy tales and wha will leap, and twinkles, shall be told; and in silent widens can hard.

Clad in the morning lime, and of eye, of the could not there was indeed, we dreamed I was your saliva. And thought in one brief made to gas;—through, thought as is most true.

As if in drinks all let these you’re whom? Whose shoes from those chance my appearance— but he that sickening with their vocation bestow his face: hope. And Agamemnon dead!

Whose which from a centre seeking: though a brook’d immediate refer to. The fair destined the picture was not so necessaries, and now behold him outdo.

Tis very fair and one sigh official duties of class’d among us, debtor he wants to love; and to stagnate, to condemned see. Helps soule doth lurk in love meant.

Have been at his quiuer spend, but leaven desires. I teach truth, could not wish to pierce and I bursts colors and, grew then and men weep over they can one drunkenness.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #218 texts #limerick sequence

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