#also there was some other lady staying there too idk who she was

[azsazz]

Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

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“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.” 

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

[dani-says-stuff]

Weak Point

❥ Back to the Control Center

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Davos Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

Summary: It was a well known fact that the Blackwoods and the Brackens hated one another, the houses would die before agreeing on anything. And it stayed that way until Davos Blackwood realized he might share one thing with the Brackens after all, his weak point.

Warnings: possible ooc davos?, i also made him Willem's nephew idk if thats accurate but whatever, allusions to smut but no actual smut, men being creepy, gross, and objectifying to reader (not Davos), mild violence, Daemon Targaryen, probably more stuff I don't remember... just tread carefully. its no worse than the stuff in the show. this is also very very unedited.

A/N: so, yeah, this is my first time ever writing for got/hotd so i hope i didnt screw it all up too bad. i started this just wanting to jot down this thought i had while watching the show and ended up getting SUPER carried away. i haven't read literally any of the books though so this could be completely messed up for all i know and i apologize for any lore butchering i may have done. i hope you enjoy !

Word Count: 6.2k

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

He was running.

His feet pounding against the ground as he wove throughout the trees under the cover of the black night sky. He hoped the torches carried in the hands of some of the other men didn't betray him, the dim yellow-orange glow casting light upon his face and showing off the panic he'd been trying his best to conceal, hidden poorly behind a half-hearted snear since Willem had returned to Raventree hall. 

Willem Blackwood had announced to the room, bursting at the seams with leagues of angry Blackwood men, that their King consort had granted them leave to do whatever necessary to bring the Brackens to their knees. To destroy their alliance with the Greens and join the right side of history, pledge their allegiance to the true Queen Rhaenyra. 

At first, like all the other men and boys in the room, Davos was excited. He was practically shaking in elation, itching with adrenaline, ready to storm Stone Hedge.

To make the Brackens pay once and for all. 

He imagined some sort of battle would come from the ordeal. They would go head to head once more, fight like they always had with the other house, bring them to their knees for their Queen. It would be bloody, but the potential violence against their long-time rivals was customary, expected at this point. Or maybe they'd ransack some houses along the border. Burn a sept or two, destroy some of the more important harvest fields the Bracken's relied more heavily on.  

That is what he expected to come from Daemon Targaryen's indirect orders.

But no, there would be no fighting this time. Not exactly. 

They were to exploit the Brackens weak points.

To poke repeatedly at their sore spots until they finally admitted defeat, desperate to have returned what was stolen from them. 

Davos Blackwood did not expect to have his weak point threatened as well. 

But alas, it was. His weakest point, by the name of Miss Lady Y/N Bracken, was in grave danger, and she had no idea.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

It was an unlikely friendship that bloomed when the two were young, still green and ignorant to the centuries of history between the houses they came from.

A young Davos was practicing archery down by the border stones, unaware the large rocks were truly meant for something other than the simple job of being large rocks in the middle of the open field. He was only told never to cross them by his father... who had also told him never to wander near to them unaccompanied. 

Nevertheless, here the young Blackwood stood, a crudely made target propped up against one of the stones, alone.

He pulled back the string, one eye closed, preparing to loose the arrow. His last arrow.

Maybe this one would actually hit the target. Every shot had found purchase on the fabric at least, just out along the outer border. 

He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he let go. 

The boys eyes flew open at the sound of a high pitched squeal and the frantic rustling of leaves, like an animal caught in a bush. He soon realized that his last arrow hadn't hit the target at all, but instead flew over the stone entirely and landed somewhere in the woods on the opposite side of the border.

Had he hit an animal? Had he been such a nuisance at archery, but his luck so spectacular, he managed to miss the target by a mile yet make his first kill?

Davos was still for a moment, if he crossed the border to find the animal, his father would surly be angry with him for his disobedience, but would he be proud enough his young son managed to strike an animal that the punishment would be forgotten? 

Surely his father would be more angry when he found his son's quiver one arrow short, and even angrier when it was explained how and where it was lost. 

But just as the toe of his boot made it across the border, the rustling of the leaves returned. 

What if he hadn't killed the beast with his misfire at all? What if he had only awoken it from it's slumber, and the beast he now wished he had paid more attention to when his father and uncle spoke of the miscreants on the other side of the border was angry and on the hunt for him. 

But, rather than some large hairy creature lumbering out from the bushes, eyes glowing and drooling with bloodlust for the one who dared disturb it, he was met with a young girl. A child of his age, if not a year or two younger--it was hard to tell with the distance which still separated the two children. The baby fat, still stubbornly hanging onto the girls cheeks, didn't help either. 

She emerged slowly, eyes curious and cautious as she scanned the area before her. Back and forth, left and right, eyes hungrily eating up each and every inch of the grass, hoping to find where the wayward arrow had come from. 

Finally her gaze found his own and he found himself calling his father a liar for the first time in his life. 

She was no beast, surely there couldn't be evil creatures over there as he had said. She was far too pretty for his father's claims to be true. She looked like something divined straight from the gods themselves. 

Her hair was tangled and sweaty where the strands had fallen loose around her face, released from the intricate braided style on the back of her head. The courtly dress draped over her figure, torn and dirty at the sleeves and rips along the bottom of the skirt with mud caked in the lower fabric as if she had been running wild through the trees. A wooden practice sword lay loosely in her hand, his lost arrow held in the other. 

She may not have been perfect to everyone, but she was to him. 

She moved forward, walking slowly, making sure to glance from side to side every few steps, ensuring the two of them were the only ones in sight. She finally stopped a couple of paces before him, she raised the arrow playfully, "I believe you may've missed your target."

"Did not." he shot back immediately, kicking himself for a little for his hastiness, but too proud to let a pretty girl think he had messed up that horribly. 

She smirked, shifting slightly on her feet, "Really?" 

"Really."

"So this is not your arrow?"

"Nope."

She hummed, looking down to the obviously hand-made and well-used projectile. The body bent in a continuous curve from over use and harsh slices in the wood from where a dull knife had been used to widdle it down. She played with the feathers on the end, running the soft material between her fingers, "You sure?" 

"Positive."

She looked up, catching the gaze of the boy just an inch or two shorter than herself, "You know I can see your bow right?" she lulled, unimpressed, "No matter how hard you attempt to shift yourself in front of it, I can still see it peeking over your shoulder." she slid around the stone separating the two, leaning down to compare the arrow with the ones firmly lodged in his target, "Not to mention the arrows are from the same bunch."

Davos stayed silent, eyes narrowed at the beautiful and strange girl before him, determined not to give in.

Perhaps if he was stubborn enough, she would forget the accusation like the maids that walked the halls at Raventree did. They always gave up before too long, scurrying off back to their duties when they'd catch him doing something he wasn't meant to. 

"Well alright then," the girl shrugged carelessly, returning to her full height, no longer crouched down on her knees, "Its probably for the best these aren't yours anyway. Shoddy craftsmanship," she spoke, caressing the wood once again, "I fear a blind man may have done a better job-"

"Hey!" he cut her off, stomping forward and ripping the arrow from her gentle grip, "I spent an entire moon on these!" 

"So it is yours then?" she questioned softly, a winning smirk pulled across her face. 

Davos could feel heat rush to his cheeks, quickly causing him to hang his head, eyes focused on the pebbles sown between the blades of grass below his feet. He already embarrassed himself enough in front of this girl, he didn't need her to see his skin flush a deep crimson as well. "No."

The two children stood before each other in an awkward silence. Both not sure what exactly to say, but neither wanting to leave just yet. 

She made the first move, stepping forward and coming to a stop beside him. No longer facing the boy head-on, but rather positioned so both were looking in the direction of the target. 

"So," she began, "how'd you manage to shoot so far off anyway?" 

"'m not good at it yet" he mumbled, face still stubbornly pointed down, "'S why I'm practicin'."

"Well, try again." 

He looked up at her confused, the flush finally fading from his skin, "What?" 

"Try again" she shrugged. "You have your arrow back, so try again." 

He sputtered, about to tell the girl off for telling him what to do, but the look in her eyes made him think twice. She was so sure of herself, so determined. He couldn't leave her there like a coward, he'd already made a fool of himself, it's not like it could be any worse. 

But he was wrong.

It could be worse.

The second he let the arrow loose, it failed to hit the target again, stopping about a foot short of the stone, stuck in the grass. 

She snorted, a hand flying up to her face to conceal the noise to the best of her ability, "Do you even know how to shoot?" 

He scoffed, turning to fix her with a nasty glare, "Of course I do."

"'Ya sure?" she smiled, "Doesn't really look like it from where I'm standing" 

His glare hardened, "And what do you know of it? You're just a girl." 

She nodded once, stepping forward to retrieve the arrow from the grass as well as the one from the target, "Maybe, but my older brother has been teaching me for years." she spoke returning to his side with a grin, "And I like to think I'm quite good." 

Davos only laughed. Like a girl would ever be allowed near a weapon, there was even less of a chance one would know how to use it. 

"I'm not jesting" she insisted, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "I do know how!"

"Sure," he laughed again, shoving the bow into her hands, "Give it a shot then, why don't you." 

"Fine." she dropped one of the arrows to the floor, shoulder-checking the shorter boy as she lined herself up with the target. 

It took her all of five seconds to load the arrow, align the point, and shoot.

And she hit the fucking center of the target too. 

She turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest, the bow held in the crook of her elbow, with a smug smirk, "Believe me now?" 

"Whatever."

"Ok," she shuffled back to him, offering the bow back, "Your turn." 

He picked the arrow up and aimed, he was about to let go when-

"Stop!" she shouted, quickly moving behind him. "Don't be so tense" she scolded, poking him in the back, "Your elbow is too high," she moved it down slightly "You use it to help aim, it doesn't always need to be completely level." She kicked the inside of his feet next, "Widen your posture, your feet are too close. It'll mess up your balance and aim." 

"Are you done?" he gritted out, teeth clenching hard against each other. His arm began to ache, straining from the tension while she twirled in circles around him, giving him a whole explanation for each detail he had wrong. 

"Almost" She laughed softly, moving to stand over his left shoulder, "Just two more things" He groaned again, but she only giggled soft at his impatience, "Keep your eyes open. It doesn't have to be both if that's uncomfortable but keep at least one. Shooting blind is practically a death sentence. Lastly, just remember to breathe." she stated simply, "Holding your breath will lock up your muscles. Be fluid, not rigid." he nodded once, relatively relaxed bar the shaking of his tired arm on the string. "Good. Now shoot." 

He let go, and watched the whole way as the arrow soared through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying 'thunk'. It didn't hit the center like hers, but it was the closest he'd come thus far, landing on the inside of the ring just off-center. 

She jumped in excitement, clapping happily as she did so, "See! You did it!" 

"I didn't." he grumbled, "It still didn't hit the center."

"No, but it's closer" she spoke, excitement for the boy still heavy on her tongue, "All you need is some practice."  She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly, "You'll get there one day." 

He hummed unconvinced, he'd been practicing for almost a year at this point, and only now was he told what he was doing wrong. He doubted he'd ever master the art of archery but that was alright with him. He'd become more skilled with the sword during his training and found he enjoyed the blade over long-range anyway. 

Feeling her job complete, the arrow returned and an impromptu lesson to keep more from disturbing her peace, the girl nodded once and smiled at the boy, turning to cross back over the boundary and lift the practice sword she had abandoned on the other side. 

She was about to walk away, disappearing back into the thicket when Davos finally shook himself from his thoughts. "Wait!" he ran after her, quickly catching up to her and grabbing her wrist, "I'm Davos. Davos Blackwood." he introduced himself, annoyed he'd forgotten to do so earlier. 

She smiled, "Y/N Bracken." 

The two explored the underbrush for hours that day, picking through the bushes for berries and telling stories to one another. He soon found out her strange state of dress, was because Y/N had fled from the hall halfway through their meal. She ran, quickly escaping after overhearing her father and some lord discussing her betrothal. It would never go through of course, the Lord too upsettened by the girl's wild display to continue the conversation. 

She had fled through the hall, one of her brother's practice swords in hand and clumsily hitting the trees with it, hoping she could somehow teach herself to use the weapon so that her future would never need to be in the hands of another again. 

Upon hearing the story, he quickly offered his guidance to her, promising to bring two swords to the clearing the next day as long as she would bring better archery equipment. She would teach him the art of the bow, and he would show her the ways of the blade. 

Through their lessons with one another, they would ultimately come to the conclusion she preferred archery and he preferred steel, but both became skilled in the two practices nonetheless. 

Lessons slowly turned to practice, and practice turned to sparring until sparring gradually turned to something more over the years. 

Stolen kisses were shared in the shade of the branches. Words of affection whispered along the tall grass. Purple bruises and love bites exchanged under the cover of night and the watchful eye of the stars, easily concealed under the collars of their shirts. 

They hadn't begun knowing how divided they were due to their names, but even when they discovered it, they found the years of hatred between the houses hardly held a candle to the feelings they harbored for one another.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Fear flooded his veins when the words changed from those of violence against the men and soldiers, to violence against the women. Violence against the children. Violence against her.

"It is clear that our forces no longer intimidate them," a man decorated in silver plated armor called from the crowd, "how are we to persuade them, as you say, if they no longer listen?" 

"We shall change our tactics" a dark smirk slowly formed across Willem's face as he spoke to his men, "The crown allows us grace to do what is necessary to gain the allegiance of the Brackens." the name left his lips with a sneer, as if saying the name itself caused him pain, "So, perhaps we move our gaze from those who've come to expect us." 

The excitement of the room changed from one of violent delight, to one of lustful rage. All men in the room, old and young alike, seemed to understand what was implied from the words of both their Lord and their King. All bets were off tonight, they were to take whatever—and whoever—they wished, just as long as it pushed the Brackens to surrender by morning light.

Davos stayed frozen upon the stairs while his Uncle spoke, and the men cheered before them. Many of which, boasting clearly of the prize they wished to gain. The prize that would give them pleasure that night, as well as potential favor with their Lord and Crown. The bargaining chip above all else, the very soul that would surely break the camel's back. 

For if Y/N, Lord Bracken's most favored and precious daughter, were to be stolen and sullied, the Bracken people would surely be broken as well. Surrender would be all but guaranteed. 

That's how he found himself sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, subtly kicking rocks and twigs under the feet of his bannermen. Anything to slow them down. Anything that would allow him to get in front of them. Anything that would allow him to be the one that would reach her first. 

He'd heard the way they spoke about her. The things they wished to do to her. It all but made his blood boil, the urge to remove their tongues—or perhaps their manhood—was strong. It was what they deserved for speaking about his lady in such a matter. 

Yet he couldn't. He didn't care for his own safety, if he were to be hanged for defending his lady love's honor, he would do it a million times over. But the fact that the outcome on her could be worse if he were to confess, is what held him back.

He couldn't do anything in the bright lights of Raventree Hall, but if anyone were to come between his blade and his lady now, he cared not for what would become of them.

He'd kill a thousand Blackwoods if he must tonight. No one was going to touch her. 

When finally made it into the halls of Stone Hedge, he was out of breath and his lungs were burning. His breaths quick and labored as he gulped for air, but he couldn't stop until he knew she was safe. 

The words they levied against her echoed in his ears, filling him with a blinding rage that powered him forward, allowing the pain in his bones to evaporate from his mind. 

They spoke of her as if she were a piece of meat and nothing more. The beautiful Bracken girl ripe for the taking. The forbidden apple that was all but theirs for tonight. They spoke of how they wished to deflower her. To take her maidenhead, rip it away from her and claim it for themselves. "it's what we deserve after all the Brackens have done." he remembered hearing one say, "We deserve this." 

They didn't deserve shit. Hell, there were days Davos himself didn't believe he deserved her, if he didn't, then there was no way in hell they did. 

He tore through the halls, the anger in his soul bright enough to light the way. He abandoned his torch once he made it inside so none of the other men would be able to follow his trial. 

The screams began soon after he reached the second floor. The hushed symphony of horrific melodies carrying up the stairs and echoing down the stone halls, ebbing in on the wind through the windows of the keep, tempting Davos’ heart to beat faster in it's rhythm. 

The Blackwoods had begun their raid. He was running out of time. 

He cursed her in his mind, his beautiful girl more cautious than he, convincing him that their escapades should be confined to the secrecy the fields and forests provided. He had tried to persuade her to sneak into one of their homes, claiming she deserved the luxury and privacy of one of their bedrooms over his cloak on the harsh terrain. So she could feel the soft feather bed and furs beneath her back rather than the rough sticks and stones scratching her bare skin through the thin fabric. She always declined, arguing the need to keep their love in a place that matched that of which it was sewn from. Somewhere wild, free, and pure. 

He always laughed along with her, choosing to ignore the fear that gathered in the corners of her eyes. He knew the real reason, she was afraid they’d lose one another if they were to enter the enemy's halls, that they’d be caught and torn apart forever. So, he just laughed along and agreed full heartedly, dropping the idea so his girl could return to her usual carefree spirit. So her worries would be carried off on the chilled evening breeze, set ablaze in the light of the setting sun.

He lived for her, and if it was her wishes to stay confined in the bugs and dirt, he’d happily oblige without a complaint, even if he ended up with cuts along his palms, skin pierced by the rocks his cloak couldn’t cover as he hovered over her body in the foliage. 

But now, he was running through the large keeps halls, throwing open the doors of guestroom after guestroom in the residency hall. Panic increasing for each empty room revealed.

If she just let him come in once, if she allowed him to climb up the wall and through the window like he’d joked one evening, he’d know exactly where to go. 

Davos finally approached the last room in the hall, still no luck in finding her room. The voices of his men had increased, finally making their way to the level he stood.

And for the first time in years, Davos found himself praying. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man and he hadn't been since his mother had ceased dragging him out weekly to worship the gods. He found himself finding solace in the heart trees for their beauty rather than religion and becoming more devout to the sword than the gods. But now, outside the heavy wooden door, he found himself praying quietly under his breath. To both the God’s he’d turned his back on and the ones she treasured. He prayed to both the Old gods and the new, that his own goddess would be sound and safe behind this very door.  

“Please” he whispered, “I know I haven’t been the most… pious over the years. I know I haven’t followed the rules you have set for the people” he laughed bitterly, “In fact, there were times I blatantly went against you just because I could. But please” he begged, feeling a burning form in the corners of his eyes, “please, I beg you, have her be behind this door. She doesn't deserve what's coming if I don't find her first. I may not believe you exist, but she does. Please don’t fail her now.” 

He rammed his shoulder into the door, the lock giving way after two sturdy blows, swinging open to reveal yet another dark, empty room. 

His heart stopped, split between the feeling of devastation and unadulterated rage. The emotions clawing their way up his throat, threatening to drown him if he didn’t release them soon. 

There had to be a mistake, she had to be here. Was he already too late? Had someone somehow managed to get ahead of him and steal her away before he arrived? It couldn’t be, he was the one to break the lock and sneak around the watch in the front of the keep. 

He wanted to scream. To curse the Gods, curse his uncle, curse himself.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he punched the door frame, knuckles slamming into the stones and splitting open the thin skin from the force. A muffled curse left his lips, not loud enough to reveal himself to the men beginning their descent on the hall, but loud enough to reveal a sliver of the emotions pent up and burning its way through his veins. 

He was yanking at the strands of his tousled and sweaty black hair, pacing the area outside the open door. Mind racing as he contemplated what exactly he was meant to do next. 

But then he heard it. His saving grace. A muffled sound, a soft mumble coming from inside the bedroom followed by the quiet ruffling of sheets.

Davos whipped around, neck straining under the speed of which he snapped to face the inside of the chamber. There, he found it, shrouded in the shadows and tucked beneath the covers was a lump, with her beautiful, wild hair peeking out and laid upon the pillowcases.

He rushed into the room, slamming the door and bolting it behind him. 

It was the heavy slam that finally roused her from her sleep. She sat up in her bed, the white sheets falling down and resting over her legs as she did. She squinted into the darkness, unable to make out who it was but able to see the figure posted inside her room, the moonlight catching on the metal armor adorning the man before her. 

It was normal for a maid to come into her room, accidentally wake her in the later hours as they entered her chambers to gather things they had unknowingly left behind earlier in the day. It was strange for a knight or watchman to enter, on the eve of a gathering or a feast at the keep where her father had invited many guests a guard may be placed outside her rooms but never inside. 

“Sir?” she spoke, voice soft and confused, roughed slightly by sleep, “What is—” 

She wasn’t able to finish her question in full before the man hurtled himself at her. In a panicked haste she reached to her bedside, reaching for the heavy silver candle holder on the table, whacking the man repeatedly when he became close enough. 

“Fuck!” the man yelled, stepping back when she jumped up from the bed, swinging the candle holder before her. He reached up, one hand poorly acting as a shield before him while the other went to his brow, touching the now split skin from where she managed to strike him.

“Damn you woman” he yelled half playful and half serious, a proud smirk resting on his lips despite himself. Maybe his love didn’t need him to protect her after all. “I’m just tryin’ to help you!”

Y/N dropped the candlestick in an instant, immediately recognizing the voice that often found its way into her dreams and day to day thoughts, “Davos?” she whispered, now rushing forward, pulling him down by the neck to get a better look at the gash she’d made. “Gods, I’m so so sorry” she muttered, delicate fingers running over his brow bone and assessing the damage in the dim light provided by the moon, so focused on Davos’ injury, she failed to notice the soft smile tugging at his lips, “you–you just startled me. I’m not exactly expecting visitors in the middle of the night.” her brow crinkled in confusion, wiping away a streak of mud on his forehead and brushing through the sweat-soaked hair falling over his forehead, “And why on Earth do you look like you crawled through the riverbeds to get here?” 

He laughed, exhausted and relieved to see her standing before him. Davos reached out, grasping her elbows softly, proving to himself she was real. That he did make it in time after all. “I mean, not exactly, but that's close enough.”

She stepped back, eyes wide as saucers. Her sleep muddled mind, finally beginning to catch up with what was going on. Part of her thought it was all part of some strange dream, getting attacked in the late hours and suddenly her forbidden lover is standing before her in her bedroom. 

But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. So what in the seven hells is he doing here?

“You can’t be here!” she whispered harshly, “I–What? Davos, you need to go.” she sputtered rushing to open the door and shove him out, ushering him back off to raventree, “My father could–” 

He reached out, catching her wrist and yanking her back away from the door harsh enough her back crashed into his chest. 

“What–” 

“Stop.” he cut her off, spinning Y/N around so they faced one another, “You can’t open the door.” 

Her eyes grew even wider at his words, fear slipping into her gaze and he hated himself for being the one to put it there, “Why not?” a crash erupted not far down the hall, the sound of one of the vases clattering and shattering down onto the floor followed by a group of men, maybe three or four at least, cackling. She jumped, clinging onto his arms, her grip tight and nails cutting into his skin, “Davos? What’s happening? What’s going on?”

He looked anxiously up at the door as the footsteps grew louder, shifting Y/N and holding onto her with one arm while the other drifted to hold the pommel of his sword, “It’s a long story.” 

“Care to share the summary then?” she bit out at him, but her words were less harsh than she intended, the fear coating the statement making it far less intimidating than she’d prefer. 

“You’re in danger.” 

“Well, yeah, I kinda gathered that.” 

“This is the only one we haven’t checked,” they heard a deep voice say from through the wooden door. “Ya’ think its this one?”

“It’s gotta be” another spoke, tone giddy in a horrific kind of excitement, “It’s the last on the hall, surely the Bracken Brat is in here.” 

Davos spun on his heel, looking into her eyes with such intensity Y/N was unsure if she wanted to run or drop to her knees, “I have an idea. I need you to play along.” she nodded immediately, she trusted him with her life. Davos smiled softly, leaning down to place a long, tender kiss on her forehead, “Just remember I love you, ok? I’ll explain later, I promise.” she nodded once more, lifting on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. 

His gaze hardened a harsh sneer screwing up his features, the grip he held on her wrist tightening, “Stop struggling! I already told you, you can’t worm your way out of this one Bracken.” 

Y/N turned, swiping her arm across her vanity, a collection of glass jars and pots tumbling from the surface and crashing to the floor, “No!” she screamed, “I won’t! You can’t make me!”

The noise from the hall silenced, and both Y/N and Davos smiled. It was working. 

“Oh,” he laughed darkly, walking her closer to the door, both of them taking turns at shoving the furniture to fake the struggle, “I most definitely can–”

“My father–”

“Fuck your father” he sneered, reaching up and helping her mess up her hair further than the slight bedhead she still had, and stretching out the neck of her pale nightgown. He then grabbed her robe, throwing it haphazardly over one of her shoulders, “He can’t help you now, the Blackwoods are taking our revenge. The Brackens will finally fall once and for all.” and with that he swung open the door, tightening his grip on her wrists to drag her through the door frame. 

“What’s this?” Y/N laughed, overexaggerating her breathing to further fake the strain of the struggle as she faced the four men outside her door, “Is Willem Blackwood's little nephew so incompetent they needed to send four men just to make sure he could get the job done?” she snarked, trying to pull herself out of Davos’ grip. 

He growled, spinning her around and yanking her back against his chest, caging the girl in with his arms tight around her waist and arms. “What do you want?” he spoke, ignoring Y/N and looking directly at the men. 

“We were coming to get her,” One spoke up, gesturing at the girl with his sword, “but it seems we missed all the fun.” 

“Nah,” another added, stepping forward gleefully and running a hand over Y/N’s hair, “he just caught her, we can still get a turn later boys.” he smirked cruelly, dirty fingers dropping down to caress her soft skin. 

Y/N shifted at the Blackwood soldier's words, glancing up and seeing the expressions of sick joy on the other’s faces at his statement.

So this is why Davos had broken into her room. She could hear the sounds of what could be happening to her from the maids down the stairs, but no, Davos had reached her first. 

She moved slightly, subtly pushing more of her weight against his chest, seeking comfort in the small gestures, that he wouldn’t let that happen to her. He gripped her tighter when she did, to both assure her she would always be safe with him, and to keep him from relieving the men before them of their heads. 

“It’s just a shame young Davos beat us,” the youngest of them, a man looking to be in his late thirties, whined, “I had plans of all the ways I wanted to take her and ruin her for the first time. See her scream as I–”

“No.” Davos grit out, cutting the man off swiftly, clenching his jaw harshly between his words and a glare that could cut through iron shifting among the four men “None of that will be happening. She is mine. She is my prize for tonight.” 

“But–”

“No!” he yelled, sneering at the men, “I am the nephew of Lord Blackwood, you will not disobey me and my claim. I fought and won her. I claimed her. She is mine. My prisoner and I am not keen on sharing.” 

Y/n did her best to keep up the act. To keep the look of fear and anger on her face and struggle to get out of his grip. But something about those words and his tone of voice made her melt inside. She knew they weren’t all true, she wasn't a prisoner, but something about the way he proclaimed her as his made her think it wasn’t far from his true feelings. 

“I will be the one taking her back to Raventree. Go find something else. You will not be laying a single finger on her, am I clear?” The four men begrudgingly nodded their heads, walking back down the hall with wounded egos.

Davos “dragged” Y/n all the way through Stone Hedge and back out the main door. He found an abandoned horse not far from the gate and quickly helped her up on the saddle. 

“You’re really taking me to Raventree?” Y/n whispered as he too, hauled himself on the horse, settling behind her. His arms wrapped around her to grasp the reins. 

“Well I kinda have to” he responded playfully, words hushed into her ear, his breaths tickling her skin, “Wouldn’t make much sense for me to take a prisoner and release her that quickly now would it?” 

“So that’s all I am to you huh?” she hummed as they made their way through the trees, the cold night air pebbling her skin through the sheer nightwear, “just a prisoner?” 

He leaned down, kissing her shoulder, “Nah, you're much more than that.” 

“You sure?” 

Davos bit at her ear, watching with a smirk as she shivered, one she’d surely claim was from the cold, “I’m Positive.” 

They reveled in the moment of relief and playful joy that encompassed them on the journey back. They both knew it wouldn’t be before long when the reality of the situation would set in. The fear would return to her bones and he would need to fully explain in detail what was going on. They would need to come up with a plan on how to move forward. 

But for now, it was just the two of them riding through their forest on horseback. 

Davos swore he would be there for her when it came time for her to shatter. When she would feel safe enough to cry for the fate of her people who couldn’t be saved as she had once they found their way to his chambers for the night, and however many after Y/N Bracken was to be a “prisoner” at Raventree.

He swore that when she broke into millions of tiny pieces, he would be there with hands ready to bleed as he held her tight and helped put all the shards back together in the intricate puzzle that was her soul. 

He would always be there for her. He would always protect her.

He swore it upon the old gods and the new.

[sapphiresandferrari]

Heaven on dirt (1/?)

Summary: When lady y/n Lannister moves to King's landing to be Queen Haelena lady in waiting, she didn't think she could catch the attention of a certain one-eye prince

During her stay, the two of them grow more and more fond of each other, but what happen when they both get betrothed to other people?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister reader

Warnings: fluff, smut in the next chapters, perv Tyland Lannister, Plotto Otto Hightower being the usual controlling freak, kind of slow burn

A/N: here we are with my second fic

This time it will be a series, but idk how long it will be yet

English is NOT my first language, so apologies if there are any mistakes

Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, feel free to give me advices or suggestions, just remember to be polite

Hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻

The carriage stopped with a harsh movement, making y/n jumping in her seat.

The trip to king’s landing was a bit rough, she wasn’t used to travel this far and for all these days, but this was a good occasion for her, and while she was scared about such a big changing, it was also exciting, in some ways.

The only reason why her parents agreed for her to go to the capital and be queen Haelena’s lady in waiting was because her uncle, Tyland, had a chair at the small council.

They knew he was going to keep an eye on her and since she came from a noble house, this was also a perfect way to find a suitor for her hand, a match worthy of her status.

She stepped out of the carriage, holding her burgundy skirt, with her father, while her uncle was waiting for them in front of the gates of the castle with his arms open.

“Brother, niece, you made it, I’m glad you’re both safe and the trip was agreeable”

“It was fine brother, some bumps here and there along the road but that’s fine”

Y/n observed the banners in front of her, it was weird to see all that green associated with the three heads dragon, she knew the colours of house Targaryen were black and red, yet she liked that shade of green, it reminded her of the garden at casterly rock, her favourite spot in her house.

“Come child, let me see you” her uncle asked her, distracting her from the banners and making her look at him.

She wasn’t too fond of Tyland, he started to look at her in a weird way since she had her first course and started developing into a grown woman, his stare made feel uncomfortable and she wasn’t too pleased with the idea of staying away from her home with him.

She took a step forward, letting him look at her form, before telling her father how well she’d grown and how easy it would’ve been for him to find her a suitable husband in no time, the idea made her stomach twist.

As she walked through the aisles of the red keep, she kept thinking that she wasn’t too ready for marriage, but that if she had to get a husband, that she wanted a kind man, who could’ve try at least to know her for real and not just being interested in keep her barefoot and pregnant.

She didn’t even realise that they stopped until she bumped into her uncle’s shoulder and saw queen Haelena and her mother, along with the hand sir Otto and prince Aemond.

“Excuse her my queen, she’s always with her head in the clouds” her uncle said, quietly laughing, trying to justify her clumsy self to the royals in front of her.

She bowed her head slightly, trying to not embarrass herself further.

“It’s fine, Lord Lannister, I’m sure lady y/n must be a bit overwhelmed, the travel must’ve exhausted her, and this will be her new home for a while” she smiled hearing the queen dowager speaking, thank gods at least one was being nice to her, understanding that it was indeed a long day, and she needed a moment to recollect herself.

She smiled at both women gratefully before her uncle and father asked to escort her to her new room to refresh a bit before dinner.

Dinner was different from what she expected, she mostly stayed silent, listening to her uncle and father talking with the hand, while King Aegon looked at her with a weird smirk on his face, making her feel uncomfortable, knowing the rumours about the king.

At some point, queen Alicent asked her about her interests and likings, trying to know her better, mostly to check that she was going to be a good company for her daughter Haelena.

“I like embroidery, your grace, taking long walks in the garden, and riding my horse, but what I love the most is reading, especially history books, I’m highly fascinated by” as she was speaking, a laugh rudely interrupted her “oh yes, reading is her passion, she could go on and on about what she read on those books she so adore, let’s hope she won’t bore her husband to death, no one wants a girl who reads this much, am I right?”

She wanted to die from embarrassment, the king and the hand both laughing at his uncle rude comment, praying the gods that this dinner ended soon, so she could seek refuges under her sheets, but then something, better, someone, saved her from the awkwardness of that moment

“Speak for yourself Tyland, I wouldn’t mind a wife who reads a lot, at least I know there’s something in her head, but I recognise not everyone can handle a smart woman, it takes a lot, is definitely not for everyone”

And in that moment, y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, her staying in king’s landing wouldn’t be as bad as she thought.

That morning started as usual for Aemond, he woke up early, got dress, broke fast with his mother and sister and the headed to the small council for the daily update about the war.

He noticed Tyland’s absence and remembered that his niece was moving to the red keep that day, to be his sister’s lady in waiting.

He heard rumours about her beauty, but if her traits were to be like Tyland’s and the other Lannisters, then she wasn’t anything special, a very basic and plain girl, pretty for sure, but nothing more.

Exiting the small council room, he headed to the library, wanting to study a bit more about the Riverlands, since they were planning to take them, as they were the key for the war, until he saw her mother with his sister and grandsire, waiting in the hallway.

Aemond stopped, joining them, mostly for the sake of his sister: she was nervous about this, Haelena was well aware of her oddness, and it happened before that her ladies in waiting made some mean comments about her, so he wanted to check personally this new lady before leaving her for his daily duties.

She entered the room few minutes after, and how thought, she wasn’t as beautiful as people said, yes, she was pretty but that was it, her eyes were the only thing that captured his eye, they seemed to be of a deep shade of green, yet a second after they seemed blue.

This intrigued him, never seeing such eye colour before, it gave her a sweet look and he was hoping for her to be as kind as she looked, his sister was already miserable, she didn’t need another lady making her feel weirder than she already felt.

He stared at her for a while, studying her figure, the discomfort in her eyes after her uncle’s comment, clearly embarrassed by the way he was talking about her.

In that moment he thought that maybe she was going to be a good company for his sister, they seemed to share the same shyness, and hopefully the same interests, even if he doubts any noble woman was interested in bugs like his sister was.

Through his way to the library he kept thinking about lady Lannister, she seemed out of place in the capital, part of him wanted to know her better, but the other was trying to suppress his thoughts, repeating himself that she was just another boring and plain noble woman whose only goal was to marry the wealthiest man.

He couldn’t concentrate at all that day, both in the library and during his training with Sir Criston, and gods how much he hated it.

Why was he thinking about her so much? She wasn’t special, yet his mind couldn’t stop thinking about her, her figure intoxicating his thoughts, craving to know more about the Lannister girl.

That evening he joined the dining hall with a certain anxiety, excited to see her again.

He thought he was a loser, simping like this over a girl he just met, a girl who was just like others, damn Aegon would have a field if he could read his thoughts, he would’ve mock him till his last day, and rightfully so.

He was acting like a little kid, and what was enraging him the most was that he didn’t want to stop thinking about her, he wanted to give in, maybe she would’ve stop being so intoxicating if he simply allow himself to know her better.

His mind would realise that she wasn’t worth the effort and would let it go on its own.

Boy how wrong he was, so so wrong.

The moment she entered the room, dressed in her dark gown with emerald jewels, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful and graceful she looked, and he wasn’t the only one who thought that: his brother was eyeing her, didn’t even try to hide it.

His eyes were scanning her figure head to toe, and he kept doing that during the duration of the dinner, making her feel uncomfortable.

He could see it, and it was clearer the moment her uncle rudely interrupted her, subtly mocking her for her interest in books.

Such a simple man her uncle was, no wonder he thought a girl who reads is not a good thing, he would never handle a smart woman, but Aemond would.

He was different, he didn’t want a lifeless puppet for a wife, someone who didn’t have a single thought in her head besides staying still and being pretty.

No, Aemond wanted more, and that’s why he couldn’t let it slide, he couldn’t let her uncle disrespect her this way, let him mock her for simply being different.

And the grateful look in her eyes after he spoke, was all Aemond needed to sleep peacefully that night.

Next chapter ->

[pinkchaosnight]

so here is my adar request. basically in which the fem!reader is taken in ep 5 instead of galadriel. once in adar's tent (during ep 6) they talk and get into a heated discussion about sauron and eregion. their banter gets so intense that glûg walks inside to see if everything is okay and then they both snap at them in union and then glûg whispers something like "oh no, dad and mom are fighting" idk something humorous lol. (excuse my grammar mistakes - English is not my native language). i need tension like air.

omg , tysm for this ask. its absolutely flawless. i enjoyed this ep so much! i have initially thought of doing a small imagine but somehow it turned it into this long, also i diverged from the ask slightly too🥹. i have changed some dialouges and scenarios. i hope you enjoy them!

pull of threads - (adar × fem!reader)

summary: dinner with adar is never straightforward is it? when especially you are captured and essentially sort of a prisoner?

(reimagined rings of power ep 6 where reader gets captured instead of Galadriel)

pairing : adar x female!reader

notes : english is not my first language, so i apologize in advance for the errors you might encounter. i have not properly edited, so please let me know if you find any error.

the uruk leader seated across you is poking his food with a vigour, as he regards you with suspicion. humiliation might be the nicest thing you can describe about what you are feeling right now, (along with some other feelings too but you blatantly ignore them) being captured as a prisoner. you were Lady Galadriel's friend and the her aide, until a few months ago when you retired from your post. everything that was going on was so overwhelming that you had to step away from your duties and that's exactly what you did. you travelled around, mostly staying in woods and forests and praying orcs don't chase you. you almost succeeded too until you recieved a letter from Lady Galadriel stating she needed your help, now that they are going to warn Celebrimbor about Halbrand being Sauron. you were reading her letter without a care for your surrounding that unfortunately resulted in you being captured and brought to the uruk camp. and thats why you were currently in this situation, being seated in front the uruk leader. Adar, he is called, as you recall from the days Lady Galadriel captured him many months ago.

the tent which was made up of dirty rags, was surprisingly warm, with a fireplace and a huge table laden with food. combinations of food that seems almost a disgrace to the plates it hold ; with berries, onions and meat. whoever did the dinner should be tossed into the cliff. the said uruk leader was now biting into a piece of meat from god knows what, as he watches you. if he is hoping to catch something from your expression he has another thing coming for him, as you keep your face as emotionless as you can, although Eru knows for how long.

" from my brief time in your Commander's capture, I guessed she was intent on finding Sauron. almost consumed by the thought of it, one might say." his words sliced the depth of silence that hanged between you and him.

" former Commander. and it is none of your concern what her intentions are. who are you to know her mind? you who could not even resist the allure of Sauron's words?" you reply in a monotonous way, hoping he doesn't find anything there.

Adar stops as he hears those words, as he slowly puts down the piece of food he is chewing. he remembers the first time he saw you; being chained up after being captured by Galadriel. all around him was dark but you came with a jar of water and a loaf of bread for him, when everybody was kind of neglecting him, except for when they needed information and torturing. that simple act of kindess and the conversions that ranged from 'hello' to a simple 'have a good day' that followed from your side warmed what little was left of his beating heart. he remember you being firercely loyal to Galadriel yet having a mind of your own to speak if necessary. he remembers how you disagreed when your commander spoke of his children as slaves. and above all, he remembers how you exuded a sense of warmth in that cold space.

now he looks at you in surprise as he leans forward "former?"

you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. after all, how could you let him know that one of the reasons why you left the army and being her secondin command, was his words? the converstion between him, Lady Galadriel and you, when he was captured really messed up your perceptive. other elves could not see but you saw what he was trying to say; that the uruks were just as worthy of lives and living as other creations of Eru, as each had a heart. you remember disagreeing with Lady Galadriel when she mentioned them as slaves, and Adar's eyes flashing in you direction, with ambiguous emotions.

shaking out of your reverie you say "yes, i am no longer her second in command, so its really useless to have me captured in here. i can offer you nothing. "

adar chuckles at your statement, as he rises from his seat and strides towards you. he stops infront of your chair, as he looks at you with an intense stare. and you couldn't help but stare back at him. those eyes, surrounded by scars and years of mutilation, made your heart ache with pain. you wonder what he was thinking, what he was plotting behind those somber eyes of his. you always wondered what happened to him after you ran away from the campsite that day. you retired and wandered in woods after that incident, with nothing to keep you company but fragments of him in your memory. love and hatred have a fine line separating them; you often heard from your friends and in those lonely nights on the woods you wandered if that is true. if you can cross that line with bravery. something that you are afraid to reveal to anyone. he was the one in your mind and on the other side of that fine line, as swirls of feeling wound up in your heart. a dangerous feeling to have for man who is going to kill you......one day.

"who says you can offer me nothing?" he says as he strides close to your face and tucks a strand of hair back. funny he did that because you had the same thought too, of brushing the loose hair of his and tucking it back. "my children found this in your bag" he says as he pulls out the scroll from a table behind you. "we know the elven army is approaching to find Sauron, in Eregion. And that has all the confirmation i want. and i know Halbrand is Sauron"

desperation washes over you as you see the scroll of paper Lady Galadriel wrote and gave you to read before she parted ways. you never got a chance to read the rest of paper as she and you went seprate ways, before you got caught by his minions.

" whatever your plan is, it is not going to work " you say with venom, as you stand up in anger (or so you thought stubbornly), coming face to face with him.

"do you know what Sauron promised me? " Adar asks you as he studies your expression flits from anger to confusion "children, he promised me children. and he made that promise into weapons of wars, my children mere tools for his gratifications, something which can be eradicated at his whims" he says, his voice a tad quite and flushed with sadness. it took all my willpower to keep my hands from reaching his and comforting him.

" you are going to kill him Eregion, aren't you?" i ask as realisation hits me a few seconds later. he moves back a few paces, widening the tantalizing distance betweeen us and doesn't reply as he keeps his back to me.

" you cannot, i think it is his plan too. i just have feeling in my heart this is exactly what he wants. for you to lead your army to him. we must ask Lady Galadriel's advice" i say as he turns and shoots me a look of disbelief.

"why should i listen to the words of someone whose race is hellbent on eradicating us from the face of this plane?" he shouts as he paces towards you, shaking with anger. "i did not capture you to hear your advice. Eregion will fall and Sauron with it" he says as closes the distance between us, trapping me between the chair and him.

"i want Sauron to fall too, i want to kill him and make sure he is permanently wiped off from this earth. but not in this way." i shriek in his face, which was merely inches apart from mine.

"i do not know why you care if i lead my army or not " he hisses as he moves back from me again, his eyes capturing my own ones in anger and perhaps sadness.

there is a tipping point for everyone's anger and you could feel his words pushing you to yours. you could no longer hold the feelings erupting inside you as you shouts." i care because this will all be ending in blooshed. i care because all my loved ones are going there and i don't want them to die. i care for the lives that will be sacrificed if you chose to follow this foolish plan of yours. and i care that something will happen to you and you will not make it out alive"

reality of the words registers in your brain as soon as the words escape your mouth. you have opened your heart and mouth and let all the dam of emotions you kept inside to turn into a river. and now you are going to suffer the consequences, preferably being submerged in those same waters, which you so kept in binds inside your now erratically beating organ.

Adar was stunned, staring at you in utter silence. his heart tingled, with the same warmth he felt months ago in your presence. his ears has always been the receiver of abuse and bad news, never the object to receive the sentiment with which you uttered the words quite a few seconds ago; words with care...and love. he slowly steps forward you, his hands unclenching from the remnant of his anger and reaching towards your face "you ....care about me.....?" his voice is a mere whisper, tinged with something you couldn't place. this goddess, this beacon of kindness care about him?

you wanted to melt into those eyes of his, that is oh so mysterious and perhaps you would have, if the tents did not flap open suddenly.

" lord father, glûg here. i heard shouts coming from outside. i was worried and just came inside to check if you are okay and if nan--" glûg stops as he sees you standing closely to his lord father. you notice his surprise being replaced with a slight smirk in your direction.

"get out" adar and you both says in unison, as you turn towards the orc in annoyance.

"certainly lord father" glûg says as turns away to exit "just lover's quarrel, lord father and naneth better make up". he exits as quickly as he can, muttering to himself.

you turn your head towards him, only to catch his eyes searching your face "yes i do care about you...." your voice is shaking but not in anger and with some other emotions you tried so hard to bury.

a flicker of emotions passes over his eyes as he glazes his vision over you "you think you are the only one who cares? why did you even think i captured you instead of your Commander, when i could have easily caught her and gotten the information too? why did you think you never encountered any orcs while you were sauntering through the woods? never have you escaped from my mind for a moment from the day we met. i tried so hard to keep every emotions i am feeling, hidden from you. but tonight i can't and i won't. i know i am a monster, an abomination for someone so kind as you. but tonight i am baring the one thing that has not been tainted by the evil , to your hands."

he places your hand on his chest, as you your eyes brim with tears. you feel his heart beating erratically, mirroring yours. "from the day you pulled me from that dark abyss, i decided that this heart will only belong to one person, to the one person this heart wholeheartedly loves."

time stops as you hears his words, it is like honey being poured into your ears. "so does mine too" you reciprocate, as you places his hands on your chest. "you are neither a monster nor an abomination. you are beautiful as Eru's any other creation. i even left the army because of you. because you keep on invading my everyday thoughts. and i kept thinking of how you are my enemy and i how i should hate you. but my heart never responded to any negative emotions, for all it had was love for you."

fianlly you can let this emotion run free, this plaguing need for him that you tried so hard to conceal. you would have stood there for eternity, for all of your immortal life, with his warm hands pressing yours into his chest. no words are exchanged betweeen you two in these seconds; no words are needed as the beating of your heart and the measure of your breath are enough to convey the feelings pouring off from both of you. he slowly closes the already miniscule distance betweeen you, as you step forward at the same time too, the tantalizing distance between your lips almost unbearable. you can feel his breath near your mouth, as your lips part with breathlessness and need. you just need to lean forward and place your mouth. you slowly reach forward, just enough to press the lips against his----

" lord father, i got a sudden report that---what is happening here?" glûg's voice rang across the tent as you and adar both turned to his direction.

" GET OUT GLÛG" you both cries in unison as poor glûg scurries off, being banished from the tent second time. but not before he catches a warm smile passing over his lord father. glûg catches from his peripheral vision, of his lord father pressing a chaste kiss in your cheek before placing his forehead against yours and smiling a genuine smile, which he has never seen.

'things will be good from now on' glûg thinks as he passes over to the next tent, thinking of the elf that thawed the ice of his lord father's heart. the one his lord father told him about months; the one lord father instructed him to call naneth in the future. and the one who made his lord father whole again after eons.

extra notes - all the asks i got, i will update them by this week itself, tysm for requesting! please leave a like and reblog and if you enjoyed reading them. hope everyone have an amazing day :)

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

[lodeddiperactivate]

How to survive a horror movie / OBX x Scream Crossover

Word count: 2k

Warnings: drugs, alcoholism

Summary: You're the new kid in town, and simply trying to adapt to your new life in the Outer Banks when serial killer Ghostface starts their murder spree. Now, you can't really trust anyone, right?

Author’s note: I've had this idea in my head for so long now but I was just really lazy up until I started reading Ghostface smuts, and now, here we are! Depending on how well this goes, I might do several chapters of this where the reader has encounters with Ghostface but she also suspects a lot of people to be Ghostface. Idk I'll make it up as I go along. Also, I haven't decided what pairing to do. I'll make it up as I go along (but probably Barry or Rafe, maybe JJ?)

Your parents could not have chosen the worst time to move to this new town called the Outer Banks. The weather was definitely not something you were used to. You would do anything to trade this humidity for a nice crisp autumn weather back in New York. You groaned at the idea of having to leave the best city in the world to live here. Your parents were both in real estate, and you were an only child, which for them, means having the freedom to travel wherever their jobs take them because that would mean they only have one child to worry about. Once you've arrived at your new home, you think at least you'll have a nice big house with a huge garden and front yard, something you're not quite used to back in New York. As soon as you all stepped out of the car, it was business, business, business! You had moved in next to the Camerons who were also in real estate, and you quickly became friends with Sarah who was about the same age as you are. And for the next couple of months, you will find yourself adapting to the OBX lifestyle. You'd learn all about the kooks and the pogues, and John B and his friends. John B whose Sarah is so in love with, it was so obvious, you smirked whenever she would claim there's nothing between them. And then, there's Topper who scares the shit out of you, not to mention Rafe. That boy is bad news and you try to stay away from them as much as possible. During family gatherings or events at the country club, you'd stick with Sarah or Wheezie. There's an awful lot of stuff going on as well as if moving to the OBX was like getting sucked into some action-filled story with treasure maps and gold and all of that. Hearing Sarah tell you all kinds of stuff makes you wonder how long before you'll get roped into all of this. The truth is that you still miss New York, even after spending a few months in OBX. But you couldn't quite deny that there's something very exciting about being here.

That Friday was the first Friday both your parents and Ward and Rose Cameron were out of town, most likely sealing a business deal of some kind. And so naturally, Sarah wanted to throw a pool party. It was a couple of friends, no big deal. Rafe, on the other hand, wanted it to be a full-blown party with enough alcohol to make you go into a coma and of course, drugs. You like to think of yourself as someone who has lived a balanced life, you know how to have fun but you also know when it's too much. Whatever the hell Rafe is planning was definitely too much. You shared your concerns with Sarah just as people were starting to arrive but after seeing John B arrive, all she said was that you worry too much and that whatever Rafe plans on doing, it'll be on him.

"What if someone gets hurt?" You asked, worry is evident in your voice.

"No one is going to get hurt," Sarah replied. Wheezie was in the other room, looking at you and Sarah. She can tell you were not used to Rafe's antics. She added, "Even though it may not look like it, there is some common sense left in Rafe."

You looked at Wheezie then back at Sarah then back at Wheezie before letting out an exasperated "Okay. Fine!"

"Good! Now if you will excuse me, ladies," Sarah trails off to wherever she and John B would meet up. Wheezie rolled her eyes, you asked, "Does Topper know about this, do you think?"

"Nope. That dude is blindly in love with Sarah. Although, I assume it would not go well if he finds out," she said and shrugged before closing her bedroom door behind her.

You made your way down as more and more people arrived. You recognized some of them from school and said a few Hi's and Hello's here and there before you wandered into the kitchen where Topper and Rafe were laying out some food and drinks.

"Hey Y/N, have you seen Sarah?" Topper asked.

"Uhmm no, I haven't actually," you lied. Rafe grinned. He knew his sister well enough and so he knew you were lying.

"It's fine, man," Rafe said to Topper. "She's probably just getting ready for the party."

"Yeah, I should go look for her," and with that, Topper dropped the can of beers at the kitchen island and stormed out without looking back.

"Toph! You said you'd help me with this!" Rafe called out but Topper could no longer hear him. Rafe lets out a sigh, both his hands were on the counter as he gazed at the can of beers Topper had left. You always knew that Rafe had a temper, and having hanged out with the Camerons, you can almost always tell when he's about to lose it. You find it ridiculous how short his temper was.

"I'll help you. What do I need to do?"

Rafe snapped out of it and looked at you blinking before responding, "Uh yeah, sure. You can maybe start spreading out the snacks on the table outside?"

"Sure!"

"Okay then," Rafe said as you moved past him to grab the snacks he just brought in from the car. "Thanks, Y/N."

You looked back at him as you walked out of the kitchen, giving him a soft smile.

Outside, you started laying out the snacks as instructed. You came back to the kitchen and Rafe was nowhere to be found. He's probably unloading the car with the rest of the booze and snacks, you thought. You noticed that there were a few more snacks so you decided to spread them out on the kitchen island so it's a lot easier to grab when the ones outside were gone.

You started placing the bag of chips when all of a sudden, you noticed a presence with you in the kitchen. When did he arrive? Was he here the whole time? This man, probably a few years older than the rest of you, sat quietly on a stool near the sink by the window. He was dressed differently than the kooks so you thought maybe he isn't? He was watching you, and it appears he was waiting for someone. Probably Rafe? But you didn't think Rafe was someone who'd be friends with a pogue. You thought, what weirdo goes to a house party and sits all by himself in the kitchen. You thought that you were hallucinating. You know he already saw you but he wasn't speaking.

"Don't stop on my account, dollface," he said when he noticed you had stopped placing the chips on the island. "I'm just waiting for Rafe," he continued.

"Oh, I think Rafe's unloading the car for more drinks and snacks," you said trying to sound friendly. He looked serious, and scary, but you were intrigued.

"Nah, he ain't there," was all he said.

You placed the last bag of chips on the island, and opened one of the can of beers. Then, after some thought, you grabbed another one.

"Want one?" You make an attempt to start a conversation with this person. He looked at you and at the beer you're holding, you can tell he was getting agitated waiting for Rafe for whatever reason so maybe a cold one will take his mind off of it for awhile.

"Yeah, sure," he finally replied. He stood up from where he was sitting and walked towards you, grabbing the can from your hand. You noticed he smells really nice.

After both of you took a few sips, you asked him why he's waiting for Rafe. You were standing side by side, perched on the edge of the table. He looked at you from the corners of his eye as he took another sip and smirked.

"A pretty face like you don't need to worry about that."

You felt something flutter inside your stomach whenever he would call you "dollface" or "pretty face", you definitely were intrigued by this person. You leaned a bit towards him trying to smell him or achieve some kind of physical contact when you heard Rafe's voice.

"Barry, my man. Sorry for making you wait," he said.

"No worries, country club," he said eyeing me, "she was just keeping me company."

"Oh, I see you've met Y/N," Rafe said and looked at you. Actually, both of them were looking at you and it took awhile for it to register that they probably needed the room to themselves to talk about whatever Barry (you flushed at the thought of his name) and Rafe needs to talk about. So you excused yourself and quickly made your way upstairs.

As you make your way upstairs, you sneak a quick peek at both of them in the kitchen, and saw that Barry was eyeing you. You feel something flutter again in your stomach, butterflies?

Upstairs, Sarah was nowhere to be found so you knocked on Wheezie's room. She opened the door and waited for you to walk in but you stayed where you were, contemplating on how you're gonna ask Wheezie a question.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Oh no nothing happened, I was just wondering..."

"About what?"

"About...this guy named Barry.." you trailed off.

"Why are you asking about Rafe's drug dealer?

Your heart sank at the words "drug dealer", is he really? You asked the question in your head. Wheezie saw your expression changed and she's caught on quickly.

"Don't tell me you like him? You like Barry?"

"What?! No way!" Your response was too much, she can tell you wreak of lies.

"Yes, you do! You like him!" Wheezie said.

"Who likes who?" Sarah, who came from downstairs, asked as she walked towards you and Wheezie.

"Y/N has a little crush on Rafe's drug dealer," Wheezie said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Nooooo?" Sarah was shocked and looked at you with utter disbelief but she was also laughing.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing! Who knew that Barry was your type?" Sarah said and her and Wheezie started laughing.

You rolled your eyes at them and walked away, "You guys are bullies!" You said but you couldn't help but laugh as well as you bury your face in your hands.

"Awww no no, come here, it's okay!" Sarah said trying to comfort you. "Hey hey, Barry's a businessman so that's good, right?" You laughed alongside Sarah and Wheezie, and thought that yeah, maybe it was for the best that you do not fall in love with a drug dealer.

Besides, even if you didn't mean it then, you sure would've meant it in the coming weeks when news of a couple of teenagers were stabbed to death within your neighborhood. Luckily, there were a few Friday night parties at the time and the Cameron residence was not a target. You thought, the last thing you need was to start seeing someone who could be the Ghostface killer.

The Ghostface killer was the name given to the serial killer responsible for murdering 3 teenagers last Friday night.

"This Ghostface routine started in Woodsboro, California," JJ said to Pope and Kie as he shared a bunch of photos on his phone. You overheard them talking on the street as you were on your way to the country club.

"Yeah but what is that dude doing here?" Kie asked.

"Maybe he's looking for his next victims, wooooooh," JJ tried his best attempt at a ghost sound which was rewarded with a slap on his shoulder by Pope.

"Maybe it's a different guy," John B replied. "Or maybe it's some crazy guy in a mask who will soon be caught and apprehended so let's not worry too much about this?"

You couldn't have agreed more with John B.

part 2

[atopvisenyashill]

Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went “wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

[in-my-feels-probably]

Can we get a Daenerys x reader where r can shift into a wolf, and is like from the north? 

A Dragon In The North

Request: Can we get a Daenerys x reader where r can shift into a wolf, and is like from the north?

Hi! Thank you for the request! I’ve written a Stark!Reader before for other characters, but it’s so fitting for this that I’m gonna do it again, hope that’s alright. Reader isn’t technically a Stark, but was raised as one. Also, I made the reader a direwolf. 

This is only my second time writing for Daenerys, so I apologize if it’s a little rusty. Hopefully, this is what you were looking for. If not, let me know and I'm happy to alter this or write you something else. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

(Warnings: none? idk, mentions of the Night King, mentions of Catelyn being cruel to Jon, and mentions of the deaths in the Stark family, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You didn’t know how it happened. 

Nobody in Winterfell was sure exactly how you could do it, but you had been able to shift into a direwolf at will since you were a small child. 

You had no parents to explain to you the cause. You didn’t even know who your parents were. You had been left at the gates of Winterfell when you were four years old, in the dead of winter. You would have froze to death if a guard hadn’t found you, and brought you to Lord Stark. 

At the time, his and Lady Stark’s children only consisted of Robb and Jon. 

Ned asked around the families of Winterfell to see if anyone knew who you belonged to, but nobody had an answer And nobody wanted you, slightly afraid of your abilities. 

Sansa had not been born yet, and Catelyn had always wanted a daughter. With a little convincing from Ned, they took you in as their own. After all, the direwolf was the sigil of House Stark. It was only fitting. 

As House Stark grew, so did your relationship with its children. You got along well with the rest of the family, and they always treated you like a sister. For some of them, you were all they had ever known, it was only natural for them to think of you as such. For others, like Robb, he was too young to remember you as anything else but his sister, even if you weren’t in actuality. 

Despite the acceptance from your family, you were not given the name Stark like the other children, just as Jon wasn’t. Catelyn treated you as her own, more so than she ever treated Jon, but she never referred to you as a Stark.

You took on the name Snow, just as he did. 

It was no secret that you two were the closest amongst the Stark children. Even after the rest of them were born, you remained closest to Jon. 

As children, his favorite trick in the world was seeing you shift. 

You could remember the night he had finally awoken from his sickness when he was but a mere child, still too weak to stand. You stayed by his side the entire time. Catelyn had watched over his bed for days as well, praying to the Gods to keep him alive. She promised them that if they let him live, she would love him as her own, just as she did you. 

They granted her wish, and he lived. And she couldn’t fulfill her promise. 

The second he awoke, a hate filled her eyes like none you had ever seen. She didn’t say a word to him. She only patted your hand, unable to stop her hateful glare towards Jon as she left the room. 

Jon had nearly burst into tears, knowing the only Mother figure he had ever known had no real love for him. 

But you did. 

He was your brother, blood or not. And you refused to see him upset. You had immediately shifted, curling up into his side, nudging your snout into his ribs. 

It pulled a laugh from him, and he shooed you away from his side. 

“You shed way worse as a wolf than you do as a human, you know. You’re getting fur all over my bed.”

You shifted back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Your blanket is made of fur, idiot. It’s quite literally covered in it. And to think I felt bad for you. I was trying to cheer you up.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “I didn’t say you had to shift back. I was simply letting you know that you were getting fur on my bed.”

“And I am simply letting you know that I have literal claws. Would you like a demonstration on how to use them?”

Despite how often you teased him, you never let anyone else tease him, especially if it was for something as cliche as harassing him about his parentage. 

You never understood why people looked down on him for it and not you. Maybe it was because you were a Lady, and it was easier to be nice to you. Maybe it was because everyone knew you didn’t actually have any Stark blood in you, and so you weren’t technically a Stark or a Snow. 

You weren’t anything. 

That didn’t matter to you. Jon was your brother. And you weren’t afraid to show people that while he may only be half wolf, you were full blooded. Teeth, claws, and all. And you weren’t afraid to use them. 

—

Direwolves hadn’t been seen beyond the Wall in hundreds of years. They were thought to be extinct. 

That is, until one had shown up on the outskirts of Winterfell. She was dead, with five pups huddled into her side. 

Jon convinced Ned to let his children keep the direwolves. Five pups, one for each child. And of course, the sixth pup, the runt of the litter. 

He was given to Jon, and named Ghost, for his all white fur. 

You nearly smacked Jon when he complained to you about it. “Are you kidding? You have a literal direwolf, and you’re complaining about getting the runt of the litter? Have you forgotten that I am quite literally the only direwolf you or anyone in this castle has seen for hundreds of years?”

“He’s smaller than the rest, all white, with red eyes, Y/N. At least you look scary.”

That was true enough. In direwolf form, your coat was completely black, so dark that you looked like a shadow. You stood tall, much larger than any wolf you had ever seen. Your eyes shone a brilliant green, a color most unusual for a wolf. 

The green was all that physically connected you between your human form and your wolf form. In your human form, you easily passed as human. Except for your eyes. They shone that brilliant green all the time. 

You scoffed at his words. 

“A direwolf, Jon. You have a direwolf. I happen to think he’s very handsome,” you said, running a hand through the fur of the little pup in your lap. 

“I think he likes you better than me,” Jon mused, placing Ghost back in his lap. 

“Maybe because I don’t make fun of him directly to his face.”

—

Jon grew to love Ghost nearly as much as he loved you and his siblings. 

His previous words were the words of an immature boy, too young to appreciate what had been given to him. 

Ghost accompanied Jon to the Wall, to war, and everywhere in between and beyond. He was always by his side, loyal like no other. Over the years, he became one of the closest companions Jon had left. 

House Stark dissipated as the years went by, victim to the tragedies of conflict and war. 

By the time you met Danaerys Targaryen, half of your family and their direwolves were dead. 

Once Jon left for the Wall, and your sisters left for King’s Landing, you decided to travel as well. After all, you were a Snow. Bastard or not, your future didn’t matter as much to your House. So you left Winterfell. 

It was a decision you had come to regret. All of you came to regret leaving home. But how could you have known? 

One of the few perks of leaving was getting the chance to meet the Targaryen Queen you had heard so much about. 

In truth, you wanted to see a dragon in person for the first time. It had always been a dream of yours, ever since you learned the histories of Vhagar and her rider Visenya, a tale that was one of yours and Arya’s favorites. 

Your travels brought you to Meereen, a city that had recently been freed from slavery. Under the guise of an independent soldier, a rogue knight much like your sister Arya, or Brienne of Tarth, you came into Daenaerys’s services. You started as an envoy of Westeros, knowledgeable in both the Westerosi Houses, as well as the allies and enemies amongst the realm. You later joined her ranks as a soldier, and also an advisor, much like Missandei. 

You grew close to Danaerys, coming to love her as more than your Queen. She loved you back, at least as much as she could allow herself. 

In spite of this, you never told her about your true form. She knew vaguely of your childhood with the Starks, but only that you had been brought up with them. She knew nothing of your abilities. 

You considered telling her, when you heard word of Jon’s death. 

The news broke you, shattering you to your very core. Just as you thought you would never have a reason to return to the North again, you heard whispers that he was alive, back from the dead. 

You guarded your secret once more.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Daenerys. You did, with your life itself. But dragons and wolves amongst your families never got along, and you both knew this. The history between the Targaryens and the Starks was a rocky one, and neither one of you wanted to be the one to topple that tower. 

When you heard news of Sansa returning to Winterfell, having been married to Ramsay Bolton, you knew it was time to leave for good. 

You had to help her. 

Danaerys allowed you to go. She admired your loyalty, and she knew she would see you again one day. You promised to return to her when you could. The Iron Throne would be hers, if you had anything to say about it. 

The Lannisters responsible for decimating your family would be destroyed, if it was the last thing you ever did. 

—

By the time you made it back to the North, Sansa had already fled. You somehow made your way to the wall, reuniting with her and Jon. 

You fought with them in the Battle of the Bastards, far more useful to them in your wolf form. You were there when Jon was named King in the North, so happy for him it brought you to tears. He didn’t want it, you knew that. But your House was slowly reforming together, the North was beginning to accept you again, Stark or not. It was more than you could ever ask for. 

Jon and Sansa couldn’t quite believe you when you finally told them where you had been all that time. 

When you learned of the Night King and his army of the dead, it was you that had convinced Jon to go to Daenerys. You weren’t asking him or Sansa to bend the knee, you knew it was too much to ask of them after all they had been through. 

But you truly believed in Daenerys’s claim. She wanted to break the wheel, and you intended to do it with her. 

And you couldn’t very well do it if the army of the dead killed you all before she could back the throne. 

So it was decided. You needed dragon glass. Dragonstone, Daenerys’s familial seat, had tons and tons of it, waiting to be mined. You knew Jon wouldn’t be able to convince her to let the North mine it on his own, so you accompanied him. You knew she’d listen to you, and believe you, even if she had not seen the monsters for herself. 

—

When you arrived at Dragonstone, the Unsullied, Dothraki, and Tyrion Lannister greeted you on the shores. 

“It is good to see you, My Lady,” Tyrion said, warily looking between you and Jon. “Our Queen has missed you.”

“I was one of her best soldiers,” you replied, grinning over at Grey Worm, who was taking the Northmen’s weapons. “I’m sure my lack of presence was felt.”

Grey Worm smirked at your words, letting you keep your blades on you. “Was it? I did not notice.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, letting him and the rest of the Queensguard guide you across the long bridge perched in the clouds that let to the castle. 

“Get up to much while you were gone, then?” Jon asked you once he reached your side, humor evident in his voice. 

“Not much,” you shrugged your shoulders, grinning when he gave you an incredulous look. 

All of a sudden, Drogon broke through the clouds, letting out a shrill roar. 

Your brother and his men dived for the ground, shielding their heads with their hands. You remained standing, laughing at Jon’s reaction as he shakily stood, a look of shock and potential terror etched upon his face. You waited till Drogon disappeared over to the other side of the castle before you kept walking. 

“I forgot to warn you,” Tyrion called over his shoulder, grinning at the Northmen. “You never get used to it.”

Once inside, you followed behind Jon, Ser Davos, and the guards who accompanied you as everyone made their way to the Throne Room. Once you arrived, Jon stopped you before the guards pushed open the doors. 

“Wait here,” he ordered, and you reluctantly obeyed. “I am asking her to believe in quite a lot, all from a man she has never met. For all she knows, I am just like the men that tore apart her family.” 

“You’re not—“ You started, but he cut you off. 

“I know that. But she doesn’t. She’s never met me, she has no reason to believe that anything I say is true. But she has met you. I’m hoping you’re enough to sway her. If this doesn’t go how we need it to, I need you to be the solution. She trusts you, she’ll listen to you. She’ll be happy to see you. But we may need the wolf to persuade her. Wait here until I call you in. Please.” 

You sighed, but nodded. “Alright. I trust you. Be quick about it, then. I did actually miss her and am eager to see her, you know. I think you’re going to really like her, once you get to know her.”

Jon smiled at your words, happy to see you talk so highly of Daenerys. Love was not an easy thing to come by. He was glad you had known the feeling at least once in your lifetime. 

“I hope so. Now wait here.”

The guards guided him and Ser Davos in, shutting the door behind him.

—

After what seemed like forever, the door to the Throne room finally reopened. Jon stepped out, a grim look on his face. 

“Get in here.”

“It’s not going well, I take it?” You asked, suddenly beginning to worry.

“I fear I may have upset her.”

“Shocking,” you retorted. “You’ve always had such a way with words.”

Jon rolled his eyes, brushing past your comment. “That’s why you’re here. I need you to help me talk to her. She knows you’re kin to me, but that’s not enough. We have to give her a reason to trust us both, not just you. She needs to see we have nothing to hide, that our intentions are true. Our lives depend on her saying yes, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded your head, taking a shaky breath. 

“Wolf it is, then.”

You quickly transformed, shrinking down to half Jon’s height. He gave you a nod, opening the door to the Throne Room, letting you in.

Daenerys stood from her throne, slowly making her way down the steps to stand in front of you both. Her guards followed her down, but she held a hand up, stopping them from continuing. She looked at you wide eyed, glancing between you and Jon. 

“You brought a wolf into my home? Have you gone mad?”

Jon shook his head, lightly correcting her. 

“A direwolf, actually. But no, Your Grace. I brought my sister.”

Slowly, you transformed next to him, coming to stand at Jon’s side once again. 

Daenerys let out a small gasp as you appeared before her, her eyes softening on your frame. The wolf was foreign to her. But she should have recognized those eyes. They were unmistakable. 

“Y/N?” She asked, wavering to approach you. 

“My Queen,” you said, bowing your head. 

It took a lot for the wolf in you to bend the knee. It was a constant struggle within yourself, making decisions with your mind and not just your heart. All your life, it was a challenge to get the two to align. The wolf was stubborn, unrelenting. 

But it kneeled for Daenerys Targaryen, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to the Iron Throne. You had no problem getting it to relent. 

And Daenerys understood that. 

She approached you with soft eyes, laying her hand on your cheek. “Y/N?”

You nodded, pressing your cheek into her palm. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I figured my brother would need some help convincing you to help us. And it just so happens that I already know the Queen he’s asking.” 

“How did you…how long have you—why didn’t you tell me?”

“I know. I know I should have. There’s just never been the right time to. I promise you, I was going to tell you. But then we got word of Sansa, and I left before I had the time to.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see Jon, warily looking between the two of you. You took a step back, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“I heard my brother was alive. I had to go see him, I had to fight.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, and she took another step towards you. “I heard news about a direwolf in battle. Fighting for the King in the North. Not a white one, I already know of Ghost. But a black one, with bright green eyes.”

“Aye, that was her,” Jon said, finally piping in. “Y/N fought for us.”

“Then you believe his words?” She asked, turning to you. “An army of the dead. You’ve seen it?”

“I haven’t, Your Grace,” you admitted. “But I trust my brother with my life. And if he says he’s seen it, then it’s real. And we have to do something about it. Right now.”

Jon laid a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back. He gave you a look that said, be nice. This is our only shot. You relented, letting him speak.

“I am not asking you to believe me, Your Grace. But believe her. The dragon glass on Dragonstone can be mined in order to make weapons capable of fighting them. We’re asking that you let us mine it, if nothing else. We’ll be quick, I promise. We won’t stand in your way. And then we’ll be gone.”

“Let the King in the North mine dragon glass? What will my enemies think of me when they hear word of it?”

“They’ll think you’re smart to listen to a man who’s seen the North. The real North. They’re a fool if they think otherwise, and they’ll get what’s coming to them,” you said, giving her a look of pleading. 

“Please, Your Grace,” Jon asked. “I am not only doing this for the North. They named me King, but I did not ask for it. All I want is to keep my people safe.”

“It would be keeping you safe,” you added.

Daenerys raised a brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Winter is coming. The dead will come after us all, not just my House. If you let us do this, you’re saving yourself and your people as well.”

It was quiet a moment. You could practically hear your own heart beating. Finally, she nodded.

“I will allow it. I’m not saying I believe you…but I don’t think you’re lying, either. Take what you must. The rest can be discussed later.”

You felt relief flood your chest, looking over at Jon to see he felt it as well. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, giving her a grateful nod.

She nodded in return, before turning to you. “Y/N? Come with me.”

With that, she turned for the hall at the back of the room. You gave Jon a look that said you’d be alright, and followed after her. She waved her guards away, leaving the two of you alone. You finally caught up to her around the corner, stifling a gasp when she threw her arms around your neck. 

“I should have known it was you. I’ve missed those eyes.”

You melted into her embrace, holding her tight. “I’ve missed you, Dany. I wish I could have returned sooner.”

“It seems you’ve kept yourself busy,” she mused, cupping your jaw once more.

“I supposed I have,” you said, leaning into her touch. “But I’ve come back to you…if you’ll have me.”

Her eyes softened on you, and you felt her swipe her thumb across your cheekbone. She leaned in, resting her forehead against hers. 

“Of course I’ll have you.”

—

You couldn’t have anticipated the events that occurred in the following weeks. 

Daenerys returned to the North with you, bringing her army and her dragons. When you approached Winterfell, Jon led the front on horseback. Daenerys followed close behind on horseback as well, except she had a black direwolf leading the way in front of her. 

The people of the North lined up to see you come in, eyes wide as the Dothraki and Unsullied marched through the gates. Screams of terror could be heard as the three dragons passed overhead. You wished you were able to laugh as a wolf, amused by their reaction. Tyrion was right. You never get used to it. 

As plans were made, the North slowly adjusted to a Targaryen Queen sleeping beneath their skies. After all, the skies were normally occupied by her in the day. 

One evening, you found her sitting in front of the fire in the empty meeting hall. 

“Cold, Your Grace?” You mused, knowing that the blood of the dragon runs hot. She barely mustered a laugh, making you frown. You sat opposite of her, taking her hand. 

“What is it?” 

“Your sister doesn’t like me,” she finally answered. 

You smiled at the thought of Sansa, squeezing her hand tight. “My sister doesn’t like anyone. The North don’t take too kindly to strangers. There’s too much history there. Do you need her to like you?”

“I don’t need to be liked to rule. But I would like to be respected.”

You nodded, pondering her words for a moment. 

“You’re a lot alike, you know. I think Sansa does respect you, and that bothers her. The last time a Targaryen and a Stark were in a room together, the Stark ended up dead. I think she’s struggling with the fact that you’ve made her look past that.”

Daenerys didn’t answer, making you frown. You continued. 

“She’s been through a lot, love. It’ll take time, both for her and for the North. But they’ll come to see you just as I see you. It didn’t take Jon long, did it? They’ll follow him, which means they’ll follow you, eventually. I promise.”

“And you follow me?” She asked, turning to you. The look of vulnerability in her eyes broke your heart.

“I’d follow you anywhere. You know I would.”

She smiled at your words, relaxing a bit. If she could get a direwolf to follow her, a creature of the true North, then the rest of the North would follow. Everything would be alright. 

“That’s enough for me,” she grinned, squeezing your hand tight. “You’re enough for me.”

—

A/N - Hi! Hope this is what you were looking for, and I hope you enjoyed it!

[carmillas-vampiric-rage]

Who the Fuck is Erzebet?!?!? (the vampire not the murderer)

I don't know.... there's something off about her. i mean clearly, erzebet is a genocidal-torturing-murdering madwoman who wants all to worship her bc she's a "goddess". but is she tho?

like- stay with me on this. her entire story just seems.. off. it just feels so weird and contrived and strange. like she obviously succeeded in blotting out the sun and transforming into a creepy lion lady but- why is this the first time we're ever hearing of her? if she's been alive since Sekhmet- why the fuck hasn't she decided "oh hey i'm a god- i'm gonna take over the world in 410 instead of 1746 (or whatever the year is in nocturne)"

like why didn't she challenge dracula to a du-du-duel to show the world she is a goddess? why didn't the belmonts or alucard or fucking dracula or carmilla herself ever mention that one vampire who's also kind of a god and wants everyone to know.

idk.. like obviously most of this can be chocked up to they probably didn't have nocturne even in their minds at the time of castlevania or they just had very few ideas. and fair enough, that's totally fine, i can absolutely look past that...

what i CAN'T look past is the fact that every seen erzebet is in, every character who talks about her in adoration, every chance she mentions she's a god and drank Sekment's blood- just feels suspicious. i feel like she's lying. i feel like there's something even more dark and disturbing and creepy about who she is that we'll find out about later.

I just don't believe erzebet. I don't believe what the show is telling us. I don't think she's a god. I think everyone else thinks she's a god. I think she's convinced herself she's a god after so many years. but i think there's something else there. something creepier. something more unnerving.

if i had to guess- i think she took some sort of old magic to get the powers she has. or made some deal with a demon or something to be able to literally blot out the sun. but one way or the other, i think erzsebet has clearly and utterly lost her mind and any sense of reality. she's beautifully and dangerously unhinged.

I'm genuinely so excited to see what happens next with erzsebet. she's a fascinating character and one of the first villains i can remember genuinely unnerving me. she's horrifying but i also can't stop looking at her. like lowkey I'd probably worship the devourer of light too.

[saylor-twift]

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people…”

genshin characters i feel would be swifties!!

if you think i’m wrong, i do not care. 🩷

warnings: none (idk how this tag stuff works)

#1: Navia (obviously)

• One of my favorite parts of Fontaine’s release is how everyone went nuts when she came out especially on tiktok bc she gives such Taylor vibes. Navia Swift fr.

• The type of girlie who stays up till midnight whenever a new album is released so she can listen the second it comes out

• She def gives fearless and 1989 vibes, i firmly believe they are her favorite

• Her favorite songs are Style and You Belong With Me. You cannot tell me she doesn’t freak tf out whenever they play on the radio.

• She would absolutely have a taylor baking playlist for while she makes her signature macarons

#2: Nilou

• Listen to me when I say all dancers are inherently swifties (i’m joking plz calm down)

• As a former competitive dancer:

taylor swift across the floor is >>>

• She absolutely loves dancing to taylor!!

• I feel like she’s be a speak now and 1989 girlie. also definitely appreciates midnights! (i might only feel this way because she was released roughly the same time as midnights was and i just associate two and two together?? anyways..)

• If they went, I just know her and Navia would have the most gorgeous fits for the eras tour

• the type of girl to stay in the studio after rehearsal is over, just practicing and dancing for fun. she loves to improv and make combos, especially to taylor. (imagine her dancing to epiphany??? like?? absolutely stunning)

#3: Xingqiu

• just stay with me now- i don’t feel like he listens to her a ton, but since he’s such a little bookworm i feel like he loves her songs and lyrics with deeper meaning to them

• 100% a folklore/evermore/tortured poets kinda guy

• he’s the type of person who hyper analyzes the lyrics and deciphers all of the hidden meanings.

• he is no singer, but he has definitely tried his hand at writing taylor-esque lyrics in his free time.

• HUUUUGE fan of the folklore teenage love triangle

• #1 john mayer hater

• also definitely stans any songs that make fun of her exes

#4: Barbara

• now i would just be crazy if i didn’t put her here

• taylor was definitely one of her big inspirations for starting to sing

• makes covers of her favorite songs and likes to perform them along with her own originals

• i feel like she’d really be a fan of taylor’s older albums, specifically fearless and red (her fav song is 100% all too well 10 minute version)

• imagine jean and barbara sister bonding time while they do each others hair and listen to their favorite songs together! ughhhh so cute

• i also feel like jean is a taylor appreciator, but doesn’t talk about it much because she feels as the acting grand master she doesn’t really have the time for things like that

#5: Ayaka

• Similar to Xingqiu, I don’t feel like she’s an avid listener, but we know that Ayaka also enjoys poetry so i feel like she would really enjoy taylor’s lyricism

• loves songs like the archer and this is me trying (probably doesn’t tell anyone because sweetie is embarrassed, but i think she really likes some of the songs that are a little more sultry or flirtatious like dress and false god)

• after a long day of wearing her mask and presenting herself as inazuma’s noble lady like everyone expects, she loves to just relax in her room and listen to her faves :)

• yk those tiktok’s that are like: you’re pretty, pretty like (insert song)? she gives me that vibe but wildest dreams

Bonus: Itto

hard to say if he’s actually a swiftie or not, but i just think it’s funny because he reminds me of those videos of post malone dancing on stage with guilty as sin? in the background and he would totally do that 💀 i have a whole collection saved they are so funny to me

[luffyvace]

what the Strawhats would watch on YT 🏴‍☠️

Cuz I think it’d be funny

(No gifs but they’re a decent length since it’s only one crew—may or may not do a WBP version 🤗..)

Luffy:

watches boxing

He just likes it idk why- ik it’s oddly specific but I feel like he’d be into the adrenaline rush of it yk?

OF COURSE has a crap ton of food on his feed 😭 (he follows Sanji’s cooking channel 💞)

some music but not really, mostly party music for when he throws parties yk? 🤪 (I feel like modern Luffy would throw random house parties for no reason- and invite his friends)

super impatient with ads (he doesn’t like it interrupting his stuuuuuff 😩)

occasionally watches soccer as well

I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned this but he also likes video games! Watches gameplays and skips over the storyline for the action

would watch random animated shows but not necessarily for little kids yk? Just funny animated skits (but they have to be fast paced and actually funny or he’s not interested 😁)

watches yt shorts a lot, feeds into his short attention span (likes it better than TikTok)

Zoro:

work out vids.

debates in the comments on what strengthens/creates more muscle

always wins the arguments (has a lot of knowledge abt working out)

prob watched one motorcycle vid and now they won’t stop showing up on his home page

he’s tired of the motorcycle vids 😭

wants his gym work out hardcore routine home page back 🫤

would run his own yt page about gaining muscle n’ such but doesn’t care enough + doesn’t have time for the trolls and know it all’s (bro you ARE ONE..? 🤨🤦‍♀️)

blocked Sanji’s cooking channel after disliking all his videos

Nami:

fashion tips n tricks

”this or that” outfit edition on yt shorts

heavily criticizes each outfit and scrunches her face at the ugly ones (they’re not ugly just not to her taste)

doesn’t ever actually comment, even if she likes it

rarely likes too- actually, 😀 mostly just watches it and moves on, and there’s like nothing other than a few fashion haul and “where to shop for cute clothes” vids in her “watch later”

only watches them once, then deletes them, it pretty much stays empty

usually the vids she watches are around 5 mins, she doesn’t have a short attention span but she feels like vids that are hours long are a waste of time if it isn’t a music playlist

speaking of which she has a lot of light/catchy music playlists saved (Tyler the creator, kali uchis, laufey sometimes)

Usopp:

lots of inventions and creations, etc

used to watch life hacks/diy vids til it came out everyone found them cringe 😆👊💥

now he watches how to make stuff out of random car parts/tables- wtv! yk?

also some gamers :)

likes Minecraft a lot. He watches the “pro builders” thinks: I can do that easy! Tries, miserably fails, then rages quits (to continue watching the pros again). In that order.

watches prank vids

him and Nami share playlists/recommends each other songs so he has a whole bunch of music playlists she created for him (she forces him to watch and give opinions on the playlist right when she sends them. And if he takes over an hour she’ll charge him for making her wait)

He’s the one who got Nami into Tyler the creator

loves supporting Sanji’s cooking channel and likes/comments on all his vids. Actually takes his advice and has tried cooking a few of his dishes as his dinner and it actually worked out?! 😲

Sanji:

Has a cooking channel with 34.5k subscribers and an average of 50k views named ‘Cooking with Crap Cook’

Tries to Makes himself look like a “seductive waiter” in yt shorts (for the ladies)

does really good replying to questions/comments, open to suggestions/requests of what to make a cooking tut on and has actually traveled a bit with the money yt gives him! Takes the opportunity to cook in different places :)

cooks in public sometimes, occasionally someone recognizes him! ‘Wait are you the crap cook?!’

spoils Nami and Robin with the money he makes

Responds to women a little more happily than he does men (but realistically what else are we expecting?-)

his vids usually have a lot of cuts (Luffy, Usopp and Chopper came over uninvited for food and are TOTALLY trying to keep quiet while playing as Sanji makes a video) and are typically around 7-10 minutes

swoons whenever he sees Nami or Robin liked his video (has a nosebleed when they comment 😅⁉️)

has Zoro blocked despite the fact that he doesn’t post

Chopper:

has thought about posting health/medicine tips but is a bit insecure about what other will think + he’s camera shy

Zoro and Sanji try to encourage him by saying things like “just hurry up and do it already so I can incorporate your tips in my work out routine” and “there’s no need to be scared, I’ll help you out if you need”

still hasn’t pulled the trigger yet

for now he just follows other doctors and some gamers too

Luffy and Usopp put him on gaming

likes “Octodad” (LOL 😂💖)

doesn’t actually watch yt all that much, mostly when Usopp and Luffy do- but on they’re iPads instead of his

they mostly go on his when theirs runs out of battery, but they don’t stay on long since it just has a lot of medial advice on there 😀😅

prefers playing with Usopp and Luffy over his ipad

Robin:

(Long) informational vids and documentaries (mostly abt history)

also likes animal documentaries

follows other archaeologists

corrects anyone who’s wrong in any video she watches and is always right + wins the argument (has the most unintentionally funny comebacks ever 😂)

Follows Sanji and is pretty supportive, likes his vids and occasionally comments (more than Nami anyway..) whenever she sees his videos on her homepage

also encourages Chopper to start his channel and made him promise she would be the first follower/to know if he decided to finally do it

doesn’t spend much time on yt unless she has a lot of free time, and even then she prefers to read or spend time with friends

Always snuggled up in a blanket, drinking tea, watching animal planet’s yt channel on the tv when she does watch

has contemplated starting a informational channel but has never told anyone. Ultimately decided not to since she’s not on yt much and she’s too busy anyway.

Franky:

random inventions n such, like Usopp

still watches life hacks without any shame—genuinely uses some

also watches random vids, usually funny stuff- sends it to Robin (who always responds with ‘👍’ ……..(🗿😂)

Already knows how to build a lot of things from Tom- still goes to yt anyway and learns to build random stuff for fun

not on here often either, mostly when he’s bored

has a few gamers on his homepage because Luffy, Usopp and Chopper got him to watch a few vids he found funny (+ they steal his iPad to watch his yt when all 3 of theirs run out of battery)

always forgets to charge his iPad because he’s hardly on there and the one time he needed it for a yt vid to remind him how build smth it was dead 🙂

Follows Sanji’s cooking channel- always forgets to like his vids when he sends them to the group chat (also follows Robin even tho she doesn’t post)

Brook:

women..

not exactly inappropriate stuff but he does follow a lot of girl content creators so it looks like he’s just into fashion but he’s actually just following for them 😭 (the disappointment)

At least he also follows Sanji! (🤦‍♀️) forgets to like his vids tho- there’s so many women on his homepage that Sanji’s vids don’t even come down his feed

Also follows Nami and Robin

hardly on yt, prefers to play his instruments 🤷‍♀️

speaking of which he also follows a lot of music artists, mostly older ones from his time (HAHAHAHA)

Usopp and Nami force him to listen to today’s artists and he likes a few- but grandpa sticks to what he’s knows for the most part 😊

(Nami has Brook blocked)

Jinbei:

Follows Sanji but is Vegetarian so he doesn’t like any of his meat/fish recipes- same w chopper I forgot to mention that (😀)

Follows everyone (idek why)

mostly watches vegetarian cooking shows/recipes

Requests for Sanji to do a lot of vegetarian recipes (sometimes Sanji does them if enough women are backing him- 🤦‍♀️🗿 other times he ignores him……🙂👊💥)

also follows karate channels/masters n stuff

doesn’t criticize per say but does cringe a bit when they give bad advice

has better things to do then waste his life away on yt so he’s another one that’s not on here much..

would make a (fishman) karate channel if he cared enough- but he doesn’t :P 🤷‍♀️ (Zoro would’ve followed him)

[targaryennumberonelover]

Betrothed.

Summary: In which reader is from the north (house Glover), but is betrothed to Daemon, and is annoyed of the southron ladies at court, and gets very excited to see Cregan Stark when he visits from the North as it reminds her of home. Reader spends a great deal of time with Cregan, who is a very pleased guest, almost completely ignoring her betrothed. This prompts Daemon's jealousy, because who else can have you but him?

Notes: This wound up being fairly vanilla. Also my first proper, non-crack fic. Also my first time on this app + first time writing Daemon; so yay! Big milestone. Saw some other stories on this app and got inspired (+love the font). Idk how to write short stories, so girl is long + very loosely spell/grammar checked (should be ok but some parts might be odd). I personally love the northern reader concept lol, hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: swearing, canon-typical misogyny, Daemon Targaryen (man needs a whole warning, bffr)

In Deepwood Motte you detested late summer snows, they ate away the summer of your early childhood. You always envied Winterfell for the boiling water that runs through the castle walls; and rejoiced each time your house stayed as guests there. What you had envied most, as a babe, was warmth of the south. Now, however, that you had arrived in the southron lands, you missed those late summer snows terribly.

The south was unbearably hot, you'd have servants delivering you iced milk each day, and too often would you remind them to keep it unsweetened. The heat was not half as over bearing as the ladies of court and all their gossip. Back home, there was scarcely any gossip or other wasteful activities. You spent your youth being educated by the septa, learning the lady ways, and once you came of age, you spent your time putting those ways into practice.

The southron ladies always bragged of their luxuries, which were considered nonsensical in the north, their sweets and silks and careless grandeur. It was draining, sickening, even. Even ever modest Queen Alicent, soon to be your sister by law, would agree with the court ladies when they offered you a sweet as though it was an thing utterly unknown to your northern self, and on occasion would ask you to try a tart or cake she enjoyed.

The only person's company you could find peace in this blasted place was your betrothed, Daemon Targaryen. He was not overbearing, was not mocking of your northernness, but rather found common aspects in your values. Often, you two would walk together, and when there was a moment of respite from both of your busy schedules, he would take you to the skies on the back of Caraxes. You'd even visited Dragonstone, once, but most briefly.

Today was no different. The summer sun bore down over King's Landing, and despite the lush shade provided by the garden plants and sandy canopies that were stretched over head, you were hot. Despite the thick honey, you sipped on the iced milk gratefully, and made a mental reminder to gift the poor servants who fanned you generously later.

"These cakes are quite nice," one of the southron ladies said, sliding over a plate full of thick, layered cakes that smelt so strongly of sugar you might've smelt them when Daemon offered you a ride on Caraxes, leagues in the sky. You'd much rather be on Caraxes, with Daemon holding you close, leagues in the sky rather than here. You wished he would come and save you, but alas, you were stuck between a rock and several smothering southerners.

You smiled politely and took the smallest bite of one. "You're right, my lady, these are quite... tasty." You lick your lips, and are momentarily forlorn when there's nothing unsweet to remove the thick taste from your mouth.

Another southron lady seems to remember something, and rushes to finish her bite, fanning her hand in the air to invite our attention to her. "Have you heard?" She asks once she has swallowed, "lady [name], this would be of great interest to you, the good northfolk, like yourself, are coming to the Keep for a visit."

Despite the almost taunting way she says 'northfolk,' you find yourself intrigued. "Which house?" You ask, and your curiosity is not unheard. They seem to hold back snickers as another one of the ladies reply.

"The House Stark, and their party." She says, smugly, though you are lost as to why. It baffles you further how they regard the Starks, the wardens of the north, so casually. Did they not realise that every northern house beyond the neck swore their fealty to the Starks? The negative thoughts do not linger long, for you can't help but be excited at the thought of seeing Cregan Stark once more. In your childhood you had become acquainted with him, and his lord father offered your father a place on his table on several occasions, and later on he did the same.

You smile, widely, and ask, "do you know when they are to arrive?"

The southron ladies seem to look amongst each other for a moment, and it is Queen Alicent who replies from behind us. "They are to arrive on the morrow, Lady [Name]." You did not notice her arrival, and all seem to turn and stand to greet her.

"Queen Alicent," you exclaim, rising to bow to her. "I must excuse myself, I'm afraid I must prepare to see my fellow northfolk. I must catch you at court later, your grace." You give the ladies of court a small nod, before slipping away the way Alicent had came, glad to find respite from the suffocation of court.

-

The following morning you had dressed more northernly than you had in your entire stay here. You wore a gown with grey over white, with slim fur trimming, little enough that you wouldn't boil. It felt pleasant to be wearing northern colours once more, over the golds and silvers and silky things the south fashioned themselves in. You even found an old pin with the gauntlet of Glover on it, and wore it most proudly as you broke your fast with the court ladies. It was boring and tiresome, as it usually was, but you braved on without complaint and with a smile until, finally, the word came the Starks had arrived.

It took you little time to find yourself in the vast throne room, standing happily by Daemon, your sweet betrothed, awaiting Cregan Stark and his party. It had been nearly two years since you had last seen the Lord of Winterfell, never finding cause to visit before your betrothal, and finding it impossible to do so after.

"Eager, are we?" Daemon hums, noting your excitement. You do not make it difficult. You're practically jumping up and down in anticipation.

You look up at him with a small chuckle, "yes, I'm afraid so." You say, looking down the length of the throne room, a tad disappointed when there are no northerners marching down the hall. "Whilst the south has it's certain... qualities, it has been difficult not to miss the north."

Daemon only chuckles, seemingly amused by both your enthusiasm and desire not to offend any southerners by your distaste for their society.

When the Starks arrive, murmurs flutter around the hall for a moment, then spread madly like wildfire. They come down the hallway, proud and honourable as the Starks are, and bow down to their king and his new queen. There are compliments exchanged, and brief conversation, all the while you're teetering away, waiting for a moment to greet Cregan Stark; when it finally comes, it feels like you are back home.

"It is good of you to make the trip, Lord Stark," you smile as you speak, "not only for the court, but for myself. It may be selfish, but I've been missing the north terribly."

Cregan laughs, lightly so, at my comment. "And the north as been missing you, Lady Glover. Your house is morose without you, and Deepwood Motte emptier than ever. It is a shame you are not to return, you'd make a fine lady for the north."

You let out a laugh at his words, and speak, almost bashfully, "you are too kind, my lord. I am sure my family is doing fine with out me. I would love to return, alas, my place is in the south now."

Cregan lets out a long sigh, and rests a sympathetic touch on your arm. "Alas indeed, but if you ever feel inclined to visit, both Deepwood Motte and Winterfell would be more than glad to take you." He offers, and you smile warmly up at him. You have missed the north grievously, and it brings you deep comfort to speak with a northerner, and to see the direwolf of House Stark, the embodiment of the north, in plenty now.

"It would be good to have another northerner to keep me company, show me the ways of the south... if you would be so kind, my lady?" Cregan asks after a moment of respite, and you are to kind to decline, too glad to have another north soul to save you from the court ladies to say no.

So, you give him your prettiest smile and say, "of course, my lord. I'd be honoured."

-

Perhaps it was the way he spoke to you, how he called you a lady for the north, never of the north, the sly remarks he would make about the south, of how utterly glad and honoured he would be to take you in the north. Perhaps it was the light touches he placed on your arm, your back, and the way you returned them so innocently. Or, perhaps it was the fact that for the last two day's he had been in King's Landing you had utterly ignored him that made Cregan Stark not sit right with Daemon Targaryen.

More than once he'd clenched his fists and gritted his jaw and ignored the way you two laughed together, the obscene amount of time you spent together. How interested you had been in his gnarly, overgrown dog that slobbered after him everywhere he went. Daemon was left baffled, why would you want a dog when you could have a dragon? He couldn't understand your obsession with the Stark boy, and watching you ignore him and give into the flirtatious prick made him angrier than words could explain.

He didn't know how often his hand strained around his cup until his knuckles went white, or how often he took long sips of his wine to keep himself from saying something that would ruin your happiness. It was the only reason he put up with the ugly cunt as he flirted with you, took advantage of your innocence. He'd longed to kill him, but seeing you more content at court than ever before had prompted him not to.

His patience was wavering thin now, as the two of you sat together, ate together, practically glued at the hip as you laughed over something trivial. Jealousy burned in his stomach, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And when the feasting was over, and it came time to dance, he wanted to slam his fist down when the bastard stood up before you. "Your hand, my lady?" He asked, with a gross smirk he was sure you'd perceive as a kind smile. "For a dance." He adds, and it is like a cruel taunt directed to him. Did the boy not know you were betrothed to him? That you were happy with a prince? That you didn't want a little lordling instead?

"Yes, of course," you agree, ever glad to indulge in his northernness. Daemon feels his nails dig roughly into his palms as he clenches his fist, and he doesn't care if he draws blood. All he can feel is horrible, terrible jealousy. You were his betrothed, his and his alone. Who did this winter cunt think he was?

He might've ripped off the bard's head for playing such a jovial tune. He watched as Cregan's hands gripped your waist and twirl you around the room. He reached for his goblet and tilted it it back into mouth, and when it emptied, he jerked over a serving girl and had her fill it to the brim. He'd drank overmuch already, but it was all he could do to not knock that poor boy to his feet like the dog he was.

His eyes remained fixed on you like a predator to prey. He watched as the bastard spun you into the crowd, as he lifted you by your waist, at the wide grin on flashing on your lips. Your pretty lips that were meant to be his, and his alone. He took another long sip from his cup. Through the gowns and the jewels he watched you with the ugly winter dog.

And, when Cregan Stark dipped his head down and whispered something to you, too close to your ear for his liking, making you through your head back in laughter, Daemon had enough. He stood up, his movements too sharp, sending his chair scraping behind him. He navigated his way through the heart of lords and ladies, past some drunken fool lifting a serving girl and spinning her in the air whilst the tray she carried clattered onto the ground.

Soon enough his hand found it's way to your shoulder, and held onto you a little too tight as he yanked you away from your dance with the winter boy. "You don't mind if I share a dance with my betrothed, do you, lordling?" He asked, his tone curt; he saw no reason to give this bastard any respect. Trying to steal his own betrothed from right under his nose. No, he would not have it.

His eyes seemed to squeeze with delight and his smirk widen as he watched Cregan's face twitch. "Of course, my prince," he says with a smile, and a short bout of laughter so fake Daemon might've puked. "I do hope you enjoy your time together." The winter dog says, and lift's up his betrothed's hand and gives it a disgusting kiss. The nerve.

"Thank you," you murmur, ever the sweetheart, as Cregan Stark finally takes his leave. You watch after him as he disappears into the crowd, as Daemon's grip on your shoulder holds you tight against him. Once the Stark boy is well and truely gone into the mass, he releases you momentarily.

When you dance again, it is him gripping your hips, it is him picking you up and twirling you around the room. Exactly the way it should be. "You seemed to be enjoying your time together," Daemon croons, looking down at your face with devilish eyes. There is anger in his voice, but it is swallowed up by his affection for you.

"Yes, I suppose I was." You say, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "IT is nice to have a break from the southron ladies, to have a friend who doesn't mock my northernness."

Daemon's eyes narrow, and he lets out a short hum, his head tilting to a side as he watches you. "I think the little lordling wanted to be more than just your friend, sweet thing." He murmurs.

Your soft expression furrows into one of confusion, and you let out a slight scoff. It's almost amusing how disbelieving you are that pissy lord of the north took an interest in you. "Lord Cregan is merely a friend, I assure you," you say, ever innocent in your ways.

"Oh, my sweet thing, you can not be so naive. Surely you've seen the way that dog eyes you," he says, shaking his head, "it's disgusting, frankly."

You laugh nervously, your head swishing back and forth in denial. "He would never, he knows I am betrothed. I haven't shown any interest in him, regardless." You argue. It's almost frustrating how you jump to defend the boy's actions, but he can not blame you. The ladies of Westeros are often too sheltered, made to think every lord is a gentleman. Sure, you knew of whores and cunts, but Daemon found there was much your sweet, trusting nature kept from your grasp.

He runs a hand gently down your cheek and offers you a kind smile. "Oh, my princess, your betrothal only makes you want him more. Do you not see the strays that sniff under the tables for food just beyond their reach? It matters not if you'll have him or not, he wants you the same." He coos, tilting your chin up to look at him. "The mutt wants something nice to warm his tiny little cock, and what better than a prince's wife?"

"Even if what you say is true," you pause for a moment, perhaps you're contemplating the truth of his words, or uneasy by his vulgar language. With a weak smile but a firm gaze, you finish, "I would never entertain his desire."

Daemon smirks at that, "of course not." He says, proudly so. "Why walk a bitch when you can ride a dragon?"

[stem-sister-scuffle]

STEM SISTER SCUFFLE: ROUND 1 MASHUP 5

Dr. Olivia Octavius (Spider-Man Into The Spiderverse) vs Ms. Frizzle (The Magic School Bus)

Dr. Olivia Octavius is a Quantum Physicist and Roboticist!

Ms. Frizzle is a Science Teacher!

Why you should vote for each contestant:

Dr. Olivia Octavius:

""If you stay in this dimension too long, your body’s going to disintegrate. Do you know how painful that would be, Peter Parker? You can’t imagine. And I, for one, can’t wait to watch." I love deranged evil women she is the character of all time to me"

"Dr. Olivia Octavius, also known as Doctor Octopus, is the secondary antagonist of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. She's also known as 'Liz' by her friends, one of them being Peter Parker's aunt May. She is an evil scientist, CEO of the science research & development company known as Alchemax. She's the scientific advisor for The Kingpin's inventions to open up portals to other dimensions. She's an evil woman in STEM girlboss."

"feral :)"

"Oh I heard you like mad scientist girlies???"

"I know she’s evil but I love her shes so cool. Have you seen her. I support womens wrongs <3"

"MILF. Evil. What more does she need? wowza"

"shes not the best shes the worst and she owns it. milf i mean. who said that"

"I mean. just look at her. she has the robo arms, the awesome hair. also if I recall, she's also been in science educational videos for kids"

"Proves herself as a competent fighter able to take on multiple spider-men at once, plus rocks the mad scientist look"

"Successfully works as a kids' science show presenter while also being a supervillain and working on sketchy projects. Is an absolute dork about her work and about cool phenomena in a way that's really endearing right up until she threatens to lock someone up to slowly die so she can study the phenomenon that's killing them. Probably put bugs in the microwave as a kid to see what happens.

Yes she did get hit by a truck in the fight and disappear but I fully believe she lived and ended up in some other universe.

1. She's a supervillain, she's definitely been hit by a truck before. 2. Out of everyone fighting in there she's had the most experience with this sorr of thing. While missteps are possible she would be going into it with some idea of what the risks are and how to deal with them. 3. Isekai truck trope 4. If she did end up in another universe she would totally find a way to keep herself stable there. She's got science knowledge and robotic limbs built for crime. 5. I like her and I think it would be really funny.

Why did I make this part mostly ""no she isn't dead"". It'd still be funny even if she was dead tbh.

I cosplayed her once and that is irrelevant to the poll but idk. She's fun."

"it's so rare to have female mad scientists in media like her, she's a role model to girls who want to commit crimes against the spacetime continuum everywhere. she's very important"

"She's really cute, too bad about all the murder and stuff :/ Women's wrongs, amirite?👍"

"She has a "For Science!" attitude that makes most male mad scientist look sane and safety minded. I would gladly be her intern/minion. <3"

"is only here to do science for Nefarious Purposes. science without any regard for moral cost. idk i love that this character type gets to be a milf for once. we love to see an evilgirl winning"

"mad scientist lady. cool as hell hair. evil girlboss."

"She's evil. She's evil and I love her"

"Evil milf with giant robot arms that loves chaos."

"Mastered multiple disciplines, managed to break barriers between dimensions, which even in superhero realms is a bit impressive. STEM girlies should be allowed to go a little evil/feral/unhinged. as a treat."

"She is evil! She is sexy! She employs usage of soft robotics into her prosthetic tentacles, is the head scientist at Alchemax, and quite literally built a machine that creates a portal to alternate dimensions! Get you a girl that can both make educational science videos and also rip open a portal to alternate dimensions under dubious moral conditions."

"she's sooooooo cool"

"She is a girlboss she tried to make a portal and while she’s a villain she isn’t the Evillest out there… babygirl head scientist Her glasses are shaped like octagons :3"

Ms. Frizzle:

"*gestures at entire magic school bus series*"

"Embodies the true spirit of scientific discovery: barely-contained chaos."

"She is very knowledgeable about a wide variety of sciences, and uses that knowledge to further the educations of many people. Teachers deserve the world; they do so much for so little in return. (shout out to Mrs. Goates)"

"She loves science and loves teaching kids about science. I love her. Idk I saw she only had one submission and that made me sad so now im here submitting her"

"She is an icon and has cool earrings"

"SHE'S SO COOL!!! She's so smart and so fun and genuinely just an icon. ALSO she has a little lizard on her shoulder. I saw an ask abt the submissions for Ms. Frizzle and the sender was the only person who submitted her.. I couldn't let this go. ALSO one of my professors irl called herself the irl Frizzle and she's a doctor of biology so make of that what you will"

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

#me going ‘hot new neighbor older ian and smitten flirty mickey / is that anything’ and just thinking about it a lot -> 🤲 right here pls

oh boy cross. oh boy cross.

(age difference - 22/32)

mickey and mandy live together and are really close to the handful of neighbors on their street (all ages/personalities/occupations). like they've formed this family and spend a lot of time together. it's so normal for them to eat dinner together during the week that they have a rotation on who hosts and cooks. lil commune, almost.

this new guy moves into the empty house next to mickey and mandy and everyone's kinda ehhh about it until they start introducing themselves one by one. mandy gets a call from Joan two houses down and is on for a LONG time. when she gets off and comes into the living room it's with some scalding gossip for mickey. the new neighbor is apparently a total dreamboat and the kindest mf on the planet and mandy declares that she's going over to welcome him IMMEDIATELY.

when she comes back she is BUZZING with how charming and funny and down to earth this guy is and mickey is all uh huh...yup...etc. because surely this is just female hysteria (mickey you can't say that). but then he actually meets ian. idk how. idk when. running into him coming home from work? idk. and like.......wow, god damn the ladies were not kidding. dude may have a decade on him but he's all built and strong and has a beard and glasses and possibly worst of all, he's very nice. very charming. but all the fawning behind the scenes is really getting on mickey's nerves, so it kind of taints it a little.

yada yada yada oh my god ian is coming to dinner. Joan has invited him into their little circle. it goes really well and everyone gets along really good and mickey's just sitting there wondering how one man can look so impossibly hot while sheepishly dodging stray compliments. eventually theyre cleaning up and it's somehow just mickey and ian and it's nice. it's really comfortable. ian is really cool and has good advice from that extra decade.

time jump. lots of dinners and hanging out with the group. one night mickey hits up his other gay friend and they secretly go to the gay bar a little past the city limit. mickey's still in the closet, even to mandy, so he needs these nights to just like...exist. him and the friend are getting drunk as fuck. mickey is laughing and goes to wobble his way to the bathroom and accidentally runs into this tall dude who turns around and ope! guess who it is! uh oh! but is it uh oh? because mickey may be getting outted, but ian's also here for the same reason. and they're kinda just standing there for a second, their smiles falling and their brains turning with this new information, and then ian gets pulled back along track by someone.

next dinner. everyone is very normal and fine but ian and mickey are chomping at the bit. when dinner's over, mickey practically drags ian into another room and goes through the whole "you can't tell anybody, alright? nobody knows" song and dance. and ian is like "yeah no of course not. and i hope that would extend to me too." and they make a pact that this knowledge will stay between them.

which is very easy. except for the fact that mickey comes to the realization that oh fuck, they are compatible. oh fuck, he really likes ian as a person. oh fuck, he knows there's that decade between them but he would drop to his knees for him in a heartbeat if ian asked him to. which he doesn't. and doesn't. and doesn't. but mickey's getting more and more attracted to him and actually, the whole beard/glasses/life experience thing is really fucking hot to him.

so he starts trying to flirt. starts laying the groundwork. mowing the lawn with his shirt off. asking ian if he wants to work out in the garage together. keeping his bedroom light on while he undresses in front of the window. he even opens it one night when he sees ian's window open too and lets just say...puts on a show, not truly knowing if ian can hear him, but hoping so.

idk how it ends. idk how far it goes. all i know is ian is Very cognizant of the age difference and makes great strides to keep everything at an arm's length. SEXUAL TENSION (bass boosted). but mickey is mickey. and mickey has a lot of fun trying to get ian to fuck him.

[custardcrazy]

Hi there! Idk if you're taking requests but here's one for now:

Ted Logan x reader

Reader works at a music shop (they bond over a love for music or a specific band). Reader doesnt play the guitar. They ask Ted for some pointers and hes all flustered trying to teach her.

you're so wild (and wonderful)

summary: It's not every day that a cute near-stranger offers to teach you guitar. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 5.2k

A/N: uhhh little to no beta so again. correct me if i terrifically fucked up some grammar thing or spelling and i'll be SO SO grateful

tagged: @kurt-nightcrawler

You'd worked at the mom-and-pop record store long enough to get a good feel for the place. 

It wasn't small, but it also wasn't big and shiny like other popular outlets; tucked into a street corner in downtown San Dimas, it wasn't exactly noticeable if you didn't know where to look. Because of that, you mostly encountered the same people -- the lady always wearing cable-knit sweaters, the teenage punk with a pretty gnarly mohawk, and last but not least the middle-aged guy who came in every so often to check if you had any new Beatles records.

(You usually didn't, but it was nice to hear him talk about how his various fishing trips went instead.) 

Sometimes, someone new wandered in now and then, drawn in by the faded sign and various music posters plastered around or on the door. Of course, not all stayed; some just found what they were looking for and left, others got overwhelmed and did the same. It didn't really matter, because most of what you did anyway was sit behind the counter and wait. 

But it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest. The hours were excellent, the pay was good, and you got a discount if you wanted to buy a record for yourself. All in all, it was totally worth the occasional music snob who ranted to you about the newer generation "ruining music" or whatever. You didn't get paid to listen to that. 

Today wasn't too different from any other -- you checked all the deliveries, made sure everything was in order, and double-checked the new arrivals. Then, you found your familiar post by the register, pulling up the familiar battered stool. It did nothing for your poor back, but it was better than standing for sure. 

Your coworker, Alice, arrived a couple minutes after you. She was slight in build with more than a few piercings, always sporting an oversized band tee. You were generally friendly to each other, but since she usually killed time by looking through all the various records and other things on sale, or just straight-up vanished into the back; you didn't get many opportunities to speak to her. Which kind of sucked, because she was ridiculously funny. In a sort-of sarcastic, biting way. 

An hour went by with nothing out of the ordinary. A couple of teenagers came in, and you watched somewhat amusedly as they attempted to pool their money to buy a Pixies record. 

Unfortunately, they had to leave empty-handed. 

You were staring at the wall when the tinny chime of the bell announced a new customer. 

Abruptly, your attention snapped up, and you got a good look at the new arrivals. 

One was around average height, with blonde curls in what looked to be a halfway-mullet and downturned eyes that made him look permanently sleepy. He looked around the store with unconcealed reverence, and it was a little funny -- but you respected it all the same. But it wasn't him that really drew your attention. 

It was the other guy he came in with.

Tall, dark-haired, rather easy on the eyes and dare you say handsome, he carried himself with an easy, loping gait that immediately stuck out to you. It wasn't often you found someone attractive quite like this, and even rarer that you had to pause what you were doing to look. (Even though the fact remained that in this case you were doing pretty much nothing, it still counted.) 

It took all of your effort to remain seated and wait for him -- well, them, to approach. 

Thankfully, it didn't take too long. After maybe a minute or two, the newcomers looked at each other. For whatever reason, you waited with extreme anticipation. 

Then they grinned. "Excellent." 

You were a bit taken aback at the way they said it in perfect unison, but didn't get the chance to dwell on it; they were heading towards you, and you had to put on your customer-ready smile. 

Though it didn't escape your notice that it came easier than usual. 

"Hey," you said, hoping you didn't sound strained, "can I help you with anything?" 

"Hi," replied Blond Guy. "Yeah, me and my esteemed colleague here would like to know if that two-for-one sign that is looking most ragged still applies." He gestured to the back, where all the various memorabilia and tee shirts were -- stuff that usually wasn't popular amongst customers, and were mostly things that the owners found in the depths of their attic. His "colleague" nodded in agreement, hair flopping around a little. 

You mirrored the nod, but with less shoulder movement. "Yeah, it goes for basically anything, since everything over there is under ten bucks." Pausing briefly, you added, "unless you try to get a tee shirt for the price of a guitar pick. Then, no." 

That earned another nod from Tall Guy. "OK, that makes sense. Thanks, dude." 

He grinned, and his smile was bright enough to rival the sun; you were momentarily blinded, but were able to smile back. "No problem. Just ask me if you need anything else." 

When the two boys turned away to inspect the goods, you heaved an internal sigh of relief. 

And for once, it wasn't because the customers were being annoying. 

You put in the bare minimum in pretending to not be staring; only glancing for a split second at the pages of your battered magazine that served as time-killing material before looking back up. But, seriously, even if you were doing a poor job, neither of the guys seemed to notice. They were pretty engrossed in examining a couple Garfield mugs. 

After that, they actually moved on to the records -- lingering near Hendrix but not dwelling long on Herb Albert, and then making their way through the racks from there. It was a personal hobby of yours to guess what a customer would buy from their appearance and demeanor alone. But you'd been too …  preoccupied to think of it, and you assumed it'd be considered cheating to take a stab at it now. 

Eventually, they returned to your counter, and you looked up at their approach. As if you hadn't been watching intently out of your peripherals. 

A single record was set in front of you, and you put down your magazine. 

"Just this one?" Peering down at it, you quickly recognized the album cover: More Songs About Buildings and Food, by Talking Heads. "Oh, good choice." 

"You really think so?" Asked the taller boy, and it was a little overwhelming with how much he was focused on you. It didn't seem like he was doing it on purpose, though. "I liked '77 a lot, but I'm not sure if David Byrne's delivery'll go well in this album. His voice is pretty distinctive, dude." 

"Trust me," you grinned, "it's good. You won't regret giving it a listen." 

Flipping the record over to peer briefly at the back, you put it back down. "That'll be $6.95." 

It took a bit of frantic searching on their part, but eventually, you slid a couple crumpled bills into the register and gave them back a nickel in change. 

For a moment, your hand just hovered awkwardly in the air, the coin in your palm. The boys exchanged glances, as if daring the other to take it. But, finally, the shorter of the two grabbed it, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. 

"What're you gonna use that for? A Tootsie Roll?" Grinning, the dark-haired guy looked proud of his joke. 

You didn't miss how he glanced over at you, to check your reaction; completely unphased by how his friend shot him a near-murderous look. 

"Shut up, Ted, you wanted it too!" 

Unfortunately, you didn't catch the blonde's name, as they were already walking away from you, record in tow. The small bell chimed once more. For a moment, you just looked at the door, the store feeling empty again. 

At least you had a name to attach to his face. 

… But it was kind of embarrassing, how you didn't even think of asking him. Maybe you wouldn't even see him again. 

Sighing, you picked back up your extremely entertaining reading material, attempting to bury your shame with a poorly-written article about a celebrity's affair. 

The rest of the day was pretty boring, to say the least. Only a couple more customers came in, but at least you made a decent amount of sales. Alice emerged from the back a couple times to put a couple ancient-looking movie posters on the walls -- you recognized Barbarella and Yellow Submarine. 

"Don't get run over," was Alice's way of saying goodbye to you, as you grabbed your stuff and headed home just after six. 

You stayed up a bit later than usual, but it didn't matter, since you had to be at the record store at around eleven or so. And it wasn't like you got lunch rushes or anything that you absolutely had to be there to handle. 

To be honest, it was barely annoying when that Ted kept popping into your mind; nobody could blame you, after all. It was rare that anybody you encountered at work was someone who legitimately had the power to capture your attention. So you entertained the feeling, right up until you arrived back at work the next day. 

Sitting down at the counter with a purpose after doing the usual routine, you rummaged around for another crappy magazine.  Now you were going to be professional and level-headed. 

And that was what you did for an hour or so. Professional stuff, like helping out a confused-looking older woman find an Elvis record, or shooing away a group of what looked to be ten-to-eleven-year-olds who tried in vain to barter for the junk that was already considerably cheaper than everything else in the store.

Everything was going well. 

Until, of course, the bell dinged again, and you just had to look up on instinct. 

They were back. 

This time, the shorter guy was wearing a backwards cap (bright red) with his blonde curls poking out the front. You appreciated that for a moment, and then, of course, your gaze slid over to him. Worn-out Megadeth shirt and all. 

To your mild surprise, he met your gaze almost instantaneously. And then he was jogging -- well, practically bounding over. 

"Dude!" He exclaimed, once he was directly in front of you. "You were so right. That album was truly heart-stirring." 

It took you a moment to recall which album he was talking about. When you did, though, you didn't hesitate to return his once-again blinding smile. "Yeah, told you so. You should totally listen to more Talking Heads, if you liked the album that much." Unlike last time, Ted's friend was hanging back, but you were curious anyway, and gestured in the blonde's direction. "Did he listen to it, too?" 

"Oh, Bill?" Nodding vigorously, Ted's grin didn't fade. "Yeah, he thought it was pretty good. But he didn't like it as much as I did." 

"At least he still liked it." You shrugged. "I mean, you were the one who bought it, right?" 

Ted glanced off to the side. "Well, I was the one who decided to buy it." He ducked his head a little. "Uh, we pooled our money, though." 

"Oh, okay." 

There was a bit of an awkward silence, before you spoke up again. "... Is there anything specific you're looking for today?" 

"Oh!" At that, Ted perked up. "Yeah, actually. I was gonna ask if there were any other Talking Heads albums here, besides, y'know, the ones I've already listened to." Quickly, he added, "uh, and by that I mean '77 and More Songs About Buildings and Food." 

"Sure, I remember." You put down your reading material, before getting off the stool and coming out from behind the counter. "Let's take a look." 

He followed behind you as you made your way to the T shelf, and stood next to you as you thumbed through the records. 

(If you concentrated just hard enough, you could feel how he was only inches away.) 

It didn't take long to find what you were looking for, thankfully. Feeling victorious, you pulled out Remain in Light. And right behind that was Fear of Music. It kind of sucked that Speaking in Tongues wasn't nearby, but if you got lucky, maybe you could find it in the countless decaying cardboard boxes in the back. 

"There," you announced, "here. This is good stuff, I think." You showed the album to Ted, and he leaned a little closer in order to get a better look. 

"It might be kind of a weird listen for some people, but it's good in my opinion. Some of the songs are kind of similar to hip-hop, and they even use elements of African music -- it's pretty cool." When you offered it to him, he took it; he handled it as if it was a delicate piece of treasure, flipping it over to read over the song titles. 

"Rad," he said, after a few moments of deep concentration. "Thanks." 

"No problem." 

You found yourself smiling along with him. "Need anything else?" 

"I think I'm okay for now." His shoulders bobbed when he nodded, you noticed. "I'm gonna look at the other albums over here for a sec, I think." 

"Sounds good. I'll be over there if you need me." 

After you turned your back to walk back to the counter, you didn't catch how he looked up -- before glancing back at the records. Once you were seated once again, the only thing you saw was how engrossed Ted was in finding what he was after. Or maybe he was just examining the album art; who knew for certain? 

It was a little while later when Bill traipsed over to Ted, and they quietly conferred. Their very hushed discussion ended pretty fast, and before you knew it, they were in front of you, and the album you'd shown Ted was placed in front of you. 

"Just this one?" You wondered if they were going to keep buying singular records. "Same as yesterday. $6.95, please." 

Again, it took a bit for the money to be collected from their pockets, but again, there was a nickel left in change. 

You didn't miss how Ted gave Bill a smug look as he reached over to take the coin from you.

Ted's fingertips were callused as your hands brushed, and 

chocolate brown eyes met yours, and 

"Do you play an instrument?" You blurted, and then winced. "Sorry, that was -- " 

" -- Actually, yeah!" 

But before you could apologize, Ted cut you off. If he was thrown off-guard by your oddly-placed question, he didn't show it; if anything, he actually looked happy that you'd asked. 

"I play guitar!" Proudly, he continued, "so does Bill! Which is great, because we can learn all the tough songs together." The previous brief animosity over the nickel completely disappeared as they exchanged glowing looks. "It is most productive." 

"Oh." Briefly, you were still caught between guilt and embarrassment, but you recovered quickly. "Oh! That's neat, actually. Guitar's a cool instrument."  

Bill seemed to take your praise in stride, but Ted -- he suddenly avoided eye contact. You carried on, though. "I've kind of always wanted to learn, but I've never really committed." Giggling semi-awkwardly, you shrugged. "Oh well, I guess. Maybe someday, right? Actually buying a guitar might be kinda hard, though. I've fooled around on a couple, but never owned one." 

"That is totally understandable," nodded Bill solemnly, "it does take a decent amount of cash and time to be able to learn any instrument." 

"Exactly," you agreed. Smiling, you nodded slightly in return. "Have a nice day, guys." 

Suddenly, Ted's attention was back on you with an intensity. You looked at him -- did he have a question about the album? -- but no, he was practically radiating nervous energy, almost looking like a deer caught in headlights. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed; he seemed to be steeling himself. 

Before you could ask if he was okay, though -- 

"I could -- " he cleared his throat, "I could, uh, teach you a bit of guitar. If you wanna." 

What?

"What?" You and Bill said, at the same time. 

"I mean, I'm not, like, prodigy material, but… " Ted's face was gradually appearing pinker by the second. "I know some stuff, at least." 

Ignoring Bill's extremely concerning look directed at his friend, you genuinely considered his offer. 

This was actually a prime-time opportunity. 

It wasn't every day that cute boys just fell out of the sky (well, walked through the door of the record store) and offered to give you free guitar lessons. Sure, it was true that you barely knew him -- but if you said no, would you even get the chance to get to know him? Probably not. You couldn't tell if he was the type of guy to back off if you said no to something like this; and that was a little scary. 

He was shuffling a little, and looked pretty nervous by the time you came to a conclusion. 

"Yeah," you affirmed. 

"That'd be nice." 

If anything, Bill looked more surprised than Ted; who, after a moment or two, seemingly remembered his ability to speak. 

"Wait, really?" Ted's face displayed open shock, before fading beautifully into joy. 

"Killer, dude." 

-- 

Turns out the bookmark you'd been using also worked pretty well as a means for Ted to scribble down his (and Bill's, apparently) address. His handwriting was a couple steps up from basically illegible, but considering that you'd noticed his hand shaking, you'd take what you could get. You had a sneaking suspicion that, even on a good day, writing wasn't his strong suit. 

The apartment building wasn't too far from your own home, thankfully. 

You were only a bit nervous when standing in front of the door. Waiting for either Bill or Ted to answer it. 

It turned out to be the latter, who looked partially disheveled as he opened the door for you, stepping aside. 

"Sorry. It's a bit of a mess, dude," he said, sounding sheepish, "uh, but trust me, it's usually way worse." 

Stepping inside, you looked around -- it wasn't the worst place you'd seen, to be honest, and it had a sense of familiarity radiating from all the stickers stuck on basically every surface, and posters, pictures, and other memorabilia everywhere. Most of the posters were of bands you recognized. 

"It's fine," you replied, as he shut the door behind you. "Is Bill home?" 

"No, he went out," came Ted's answer. "Dunno where, though. He just gave me a sorta squinty look and left." 

"Oh." 

An awkward beat, before Ted picked up the thread of conversation; thin as it was. 

"C'mon, you can sit down on the couch or wherever. I'll go get the guitars." He smiled at you. "There's probably, like, cereal in the kitchen if you want something." And with that, he practically bolted into the next room. 

Doing as he said, you made a place for yourself on the green couch, trying not to knock off any of the pillow and whatnot piled onto the surface. Not that you thought Ted would mind or anything, judging by the semi-cluttered state of the apartment -- but you didn't want to be a rude houseguest, especially during the first time he'd invited you over. 

Ted returned pretty quickly, though, carrying two guitars. One was beige, the other black and red. 

"You can take Bill's," he said, offering the latter guitar to you. "He won't mind, I think. Unless you break it or something." 

"That's not … really comforting." Taking the guitar, you placed it in your lap. "Now I'm nervous." 

"Oh. Sorry, dude." He sat down next to you, his own instrument placed on his leg in a position that looked much more comfortable. "I mean, if you did break it, it'd be most calamitous." Seeing your expression, he rushed to add, "but I trust you not to! Since you work in a record store and all." 

"That's a good point." Looking at him, you hoped you didn't appear too lost, and you adjusted the way you held your guitar to mimic him. 

"So, uh." Ted didn't seem to notice. "You wanna learn a couple basic chords? It's gonna be a bit weird at first, but you'll get used to it pretty quick." 

"Alright." 

"Stellar." Rolling his shoulders, he grinned. "Here's an A major chord." He demonstrated the finger position, and then strummed his guitar -- it looked easy enough, but still took a couple tries for you to put your hand in the right spot for it to sound right. Eventually, though, you got it, and Ted beamed. 

"That's it. Probably the easiest chord. Wanna move on?" 

"Sure," you said, "how long will it take to get used to the strings? They're a little tough to keep down." 

"Don't press too hard, it'll kill the quality." Ted adjusted himself in his seat, but didn't take his eyes off you. "If you play regularly, you'll get calluses in no time. Don't worry." 

"I hope so." You unconsciously mirrored his movement, but weren't able to hold eye contact for as long as him, and dropped your gaze to the guitar in your hands. There were a couple small scratches here and there, which was comforting; because if it could survive a few dings and scrapes, it could survive your amateurish playing. 

"I know so, dude." Ted was completely relaxed. " 'Kay, moving on -- C major chord, right? Also pretty easy." He repositioned his fingers, and strummed once more. 

Again, after some trial and error, and maybe a little help, you caught on. Ted looked pleased. "See, you got it! You're learning way quicker than I did." 

You weren't sure if it was empty praise or not, but judging from how blunt he'd been so far, you doubted it. And it wasn't like you weren't going to take the compliment -- not with how it brought a supremely light feeling into your chest. 

Ted had you practice going between the chords a couple times, to get used to switching finger positions. It was awkward, to say the least, but not outright difficult or challenging. You supposed that, with enough practice, it'd get way less fiddly. 

"What's next?" You asked, after that. "More chords?" 

"You got it!" He'd been demonstrating how to switch positions efficiently, and you tried not to focus on how his fingers easily reached across the fretboard with little to no effort. "Next, we've got the G major chord. Three fingers again." 

It was the same process as before, you thought. However, this time, you just couldn't get it right; his fingers and hand were positioned in a way that made it difficult to tell which frets he was pressing. A little frustrated, you tried for the fifth time, and yet. No dice. 

Ted didn't seem too bothered, but he sounded empathetic when he spoke up. "Oh. Lemme help, dude." 

If you were expecting anything in particular, it probably wouldn't have been him reaching over to move your ring finger onto the correct fret, and then nudge your index finger over a little. 

Your heart did a traitorous little skip. 

His hands were warm. 

"... There." Even he looked bashful as he pulled back. "Uh. That should be good now." 

It took you a moment to breathe a "thanks." 

Wonderfully, and finally, you got it right. The chord was a little shaky, but you reveled in your triumph. 

There was something thick in the air, 

but it quickly dissipated as Ted cracked another smile. "See? You got it!" 

"Yeah," was all you could muster. 

"Let's go between those three for now," he said, mercifully not picking up on your current state of mind. "I think that's a good spot to kinda review, right?" Flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face, he continued. "I'm not going too fast, right? I'm not, like, a professional music teacher or anything, so…" 

At last, you recovered your ability to find words. "No, you're fine. The chords aren't too hard to remember, anyway." 

"Right," agreed Ted, "then, can you play the A major one again?" 

That was easy enough. You got C major right rather quickly too, much to Ted's delight. And you even remembered how to shift between the two positions in a way that didn't result in uncomfortable finger-twisting. Your fingertips were steadily growing sorer, indented by the strings, but you tried not to focus on it; you'd get used to that later. 

However, when you got back to the G major chord… You tried once. Nope. Once more? Couldn't get it. 

Third time could be the charm. 

No dice. Your guitar emitted a sound similar to that of a severely out-of-tune violin. 

"That one trip you up again, dude?" Ted frowned, but it wasn't in a disappointed way at all. More like the sympathy from earlier -- and he sounded a bit guilty, but you didn't know why. 

"I swear it's not on purpose," you grumbled, "sorry." 

" 'S fine, really." His frown melted into that same easy smile. "I get it. Imagine how long it took for me to get that one right. I didn't have a teacher at all." 

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted, just as frustrated as you were, sitting on the same couch. Struggling to learn the chords you'd gotten in mere minutes. Maybe Bill and him struggled together, when they were both unfamiliar with guitars. Like you were now. 

It was kind of a funny image. You were wondering if it was rude to think so; it probably was, right? 

But your train of thought was quickly interrupted. 

As Ted moved over. 

Closer than the last time. 

"I have a trick that helped when I first learned the G chord," he began, "uh, you just gotta remember that your middle and ring finger are on the same row, right? And the pointer is just up there." He made a couple hand gestures that didn't really help with the explanation. You understood what he meant, however… 

"Where's the pointer finger supposed to go, again?" You asked, a little embarrassed that you'd already forgotten the correct hand position. 

Ted opened his mouth to say something. His brow furrowed as he hesitated, before apparently giving up on trying to detail it with words. Gingerly, he placed his own guitar the side. 

"Just -- here. Hang on." 

Your heart swooped as he reached out again, and -- 

he was so gentle in how he guided your hand to the correct spot, before carefully nudging your fingertips onto the frets, pressing them ever so slightly onto them. 

It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, he hadn't removed his hand from on top of yours yet. He was turned entirely to face you, having been so focused on his task of helping you that he hadn't noticed -- until now. 

"Uh," he said, before clearing his throat. "So, see? Middle and ring on the same row, like I said." 

His voice was quieter. "And … pointer to the side. There." 

You risked a glance up at his face. 

It was a brilliant pink. 

But he still hadn't moved away. 

Every single nerve in your body felt like they were migrating to where your skin met his. 

"... There?" 

You echoed.

Ted finally seemed to snap back to reality -- pulling his hand back, nearly scrambling backwards on the couch, almost bumping his guitar off it in the process, with how he bounced back on the cushions in his rush to get out of your personal space. 

"Yeah!" He blurted as he did so. Face scarlet. Hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"That -- that should be good." 

And now he was avoiding eye contact. 

"Okay," you replied eloquently, mentally kicking yourself afterward. 

You had to admit, there was a little bit of suspense before you finally strummed your guitar. 

And as if from the heavens above, the correct notes finally rang out, just as Ted had demonstrated earlier. 

"There!" You declared, and couldn't help your sigh of relief. "I think I'll remember it next time." 

It took Ted a second to respond, but when he did, he'd recovered, and was grinning; even if he was still a little pink. 

"... See!" He dropped his hand back to his lap to join the other. "The same goes for other tough stuff in music. If you're having trouble, just try to find a pattern." Sagely, he nodded. "Even if it takes you a while to find the pattern, it'll be most gratifying in the end. Makes it way easier to remember stuff." 

"Yeah, thanks." You loosened your grip on your guitar. "Actually, that helps a lot. Should we go back to reviewing all the chords again?" 

Ted reached back to grab his own instrument, before flicking back his head to get his bangs out of his face. 

"Let's do it, dude." 

-- 

It was about an hour and a half later when your fingertips really started to get sore; even after said hour and a half was interspersed with several breaks, in which your very helpful teacher showed you a couple records from his own collection. And played a couple songs from said couple records. 

Most of the songs were from the albums you'd chosen for him. 

However, when it came to continuing to practice guitar, half of you wanted to bravely persist, and the other half wanted to stop. Though it was inevitably Ted that made the decision. 

"I said it'd take time for you to get calluses, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard," he said, after you winced for maybe the third time. "It hurts, right? And that sucks, that was exactly what it felt like for me during the first, like, few weeks or so." Idly, he pushed back a lock of his hair which had migrated into his face. "I think we could stop for now." 

"Yeah, okay." You put down your guitar. "You're right. I should head home to eat, anyway." 

"Right," he replied. 

There was an awkward beat, before you finally stood up. Ted followed suit.

"Yeah," you repeated, not being able to stop the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Thanks. Really, it was really sweet of you to offer to teach me a bit of guitar. I only mentioned it in passing, too." 

His hand was back on the back of his neck as he walked the short distance with you to the entrance. "It's nothing," he deflected, but his expression said it all. "I'm just glad that I didn't turn out to be a horrific teacher, or something." 

"No, you were fine!" Giving him another 'thanks' as he opened the door for you, you stepped out of the apartment. "I'm just glad that I wasn't a horrific student." 

Turning to face him, you inclined your head, speaking before he could object.

"Bye. And thanks -- " 

"-- you wanna do this again?" 

It seemed even he was surprised at the question, taking into account how his face reddened. Once again. "Uh," he added, "I mean, it was fun. To hang out and teach you a couple chords. It'd be nice to hang out again." His tone was wavering. Stilted, almost. "Yeah."

It was cute. 

"Sure," you answered without missing a beat. "Give me your number and I'll call when I get home." 

His answering grin was powerful enough to power a thousand solar panels. 

You probably broke a speed limit heading home, to say the least. 

[bl00dlight]

Lowkey so mad about how dirty they did Mysaria in HOTD?? Like this is NOT directed at the actress, she's great. But the fucken accent is atrocious, like unbearable. I just wanna know who thought THAT was a good idea.

Second of all why is she not even remotely the same character as her book counterpart? I understand that some characters had to have their looks altered, such as the Velaryons being cast as POC because otherwise it may just become too confusing. And Rhaneys needing to have blonde hair as to make Rhaneyra's sons undeniably not of Velaryon blood.

But I cannot justify why they changed Mysaria??? Was it just to validate Daemon's Valyrian supremacist penis arc? Was that legit it? Because Mysaria is already Valyrian? She is from Lys... which is a valryian stronghold? It's why Targaryens have often married Lyseni nobles, because they are of valryian blood like Velaryons? And it's also why Daemon even took her as a paramour to begin with. Also Mysaria looks STARKLY different to the Targaryens, she is a fucken albino. Like I'm sorry but??

(wweskywalker) (Naomimakesart)

It would have been so easy to make her look distinctive, literally just using very light makeup on the actress and giving her pure white hair and brows. I don't care about her eyes staying dark, if anything that would make her look even MORE distinctive to the Targaryen's? That's literally why she is called Lady Misery & the White Worm? Because she looks so ghostly and Ethereal? She also lowkey was a CURVY QUEEN!!! And on top of that her appereance is what gives her this intensely strange mystique because she's not typically beauitful by Westerosi standards. Idk, I just feel like they really erased what could have been a really unique female character design for no reason? And then replaced her with a more convenially attractive actress, which btw the look could have been achieved on the actress? I feel like it's the opposite of diversity to strip away her albinism. That's such a unique feature and it would have BEEN AMAZINGGG to see it done on TV?? Also it does annoy me abit that they chickened out and didn't even cast a curvier actress? Like what was the reason for that? Mysaria is specifically said to have "thickened" as she aged. It just feels wrong having a very thin, non-albino actress take her place. Or not even having the actress embody the character in that way? It just idk, seeing a albino queen okay and HER BODY TEA TOO? SEEING HER wouldve been amazing. But??? This is the only time I've raised my brows as their casting choices. And again, the other actress is gorgeous but she just really isn't giving Mysaria at all.

(chillyravenart)

Like its kinda abit sus. And the accent has made her SOOO hated on as a character, it just seems unfair since there are no other female characters like her in the show? Also they ERASED HER ACTUAL PREGNANCY? It bothers me so much.