#giving children chances to solve their own problems

[desert-anne]

hundreds of people have said this already but I don't agree with the premise that "being raised using modern technology makes people better at technology" in fact it's probably the opposite. modern tablets and chromebooks and whatever have gotten so shiny and hyperoptimized that they implicitly discourage people from learning troubleshooting skills.

[paulyenvol6]

A Dragon's Toy

Daemon Targaryen x Arlis Hightower (oc character) OS

Arlis is taken captive by Daemon's army during the war and can only await the Rogue Prince's next deeds in horror…

Contains: rape, non-con, smut, oral (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, virginity loss, forced orgasms, degrading, angst, crying, choking, gagging, objectification, captivity, dark themes, hotd themes like death and violence

Wordcount: ~6.62k

Masterlist

Daemon inhaled deeply.

He tried not to seem too annoyed but they really made it hard for him right now.

"We need more men by the eastside of the camp." "They are tired, my lord. Give them the chance to rest or they will lose their will to fight." "The Greyjoys could use our ignorance after our victory and surprise us. We need these guards." "They won't attack us tonight. They're weakened as well."

Daemon once again rolled his eyes at this draining atmosphere and hissed out. It was a quiet sound, merely audible and yet the men surrounding him stopped the conversation to turn their attention to the rogue prince.

"My prince.", Ser Rickard Manderly spoke and Daemon tilted his head.

"Gather the men you need by the eastside. But let them celebrate. They can guard the camp in shifts."

A few lords nodded but others looked uncertain while exchanging glances with each other. For some reason it made the blood in his veins boil and he fisted his hands. Gods, why were these men always so tiring and dull. All Daemon wanted after this long fight was a possibility to reduce the adrenaline in his body that always kept him aroused after a battle. Preferable with a whore but as the next whorehouse was tens of miles away he knew that he perhaps had to fall back to his own hand this time. The fact was that he needed quietness, maybe had to spill his seed, get rid of the tension in his center and find some good sleep afterwards.

That was why this conversation with his bannermen and commanders was exhausting him right now because all he wanted was the peace and privacy of his tent in order to act according to his desires.

"Is there anything else?", he therefore asked the group and when they shook their heads Daemon crossed his arms in front of his chest. The had hesitated but it didn't matter to him.

"Good. If you would excuse me now.", he sarcastically smiled and intended to leave the council.

To his tent now. His blood was throbbing, he had the urge to hit something or squeeze something. He just had to do something. Daemon was so close to it when someone called his name. So fucking close that he had almost been able to feel the fabric that served as the door to his tent and that he had been about to shove to the side. But of course not. Of course it was Ser Enies who made him freeze in the motion and Daemon couldn't hide the displeasure on his face.

"My prince. My prince, there is an urgent matter that needs to be discussed."

He inhaled deeply again and bit his buttom lip in fury. "What is it?", he snapped.

Ser Enies held his side trying to calm his fastened breath.

"We… We've captured Otto's daughter. She intended to flee but a few of our riders found her on her way to the west."

Daemon raised his eyebrows. "Alicent?"

"No, her sister. The lady Arlis."

He didn't know her. He had only briefly known that Hightower, the old cunt had several sons and daughters. Well, now he was dead and as were many of his children but seemingly not all.

"Where is she?", Daemon unwillingly asked. He wished someone else would just take on his tasks so he could finally rest but of course as the prince it was him who had to solve every single problem.

"Right there in the tent. She was so wild and upset, we had to chain her to a chair. She screamed and shouted and bit several of our men but we have her under control now."

Daemon couldn't surpress a dark chuckle. Were these his warriors or fools? Not being able to catch a little girl… Nevertheless the rogue prince turned his body away from the tent that he had wanted to enter so dearly and decided to take care of this matter now.

"Fine.", he grumbled and followed Ser Eries to the mentioned tent. The knight pulled the tent flap aside and Daemon stepped in.

The first thing he saw was a lot of hair. Brown, messy hair that stood up to all sides. She was moving, desperately trying to free herself from the iron chains that held her in place but obviously she wasn't able to.

Ser Eries, who was the only person in the tent now beside him and the girl came forward and roughly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back so Daemon could take a look at her.

"The lady Arlis, my prince. Otto's youngest daughter from the lady Ellena."

She was pretty, was the first thought that entered his brain in this moment. Big round hazel eyes with thick lashes that made them appear even more intense, a heart-shaped face and full pink soft-looking lips. A button nose sat in the middle of her face which was swollen and flushed from her crying. The light freckles on her cheeks only added to her young and innocent looks and even now tears were swimming in her flashing eyes. With those she observed him now. The girl looked angry, aggressive almost and blared her teeth at him.

It was a brief moment. Daemon hadn't even properly thought about it and didn't really know where it was coming from but suddenly he heard himself say those words that made Eries raise his eyebrows.

"Leave us."

The knight obeyed, bowed his head and then only Daemon and Arlis were staring at each other.

"Let me go.", she spitted and he chuckled quietly.

"Fuck you and the whole pack of you.", she then added and shook the shackles that held her in place.

Daemon looked her up and down with relish and pursed his lips. "I would say the same thing about your pack, but well… They're all dead."

Arlis' expression hardened and she bit her lower lip in order to swallow her tears but she only partly suceeded.

"Fuck you.", she repeated but this time it was a lot more quiet which made Daemon smirk.

Then he approached her and the girl stiffened at once. He could see the fear in her eyes and it filled him with a profane desire and satisfaction. He didn't care how fucked up this was, but Daemon wanted this. He wanted to scare her, make her eyes go round as coins when she stared up to him and preferably see her cry. And he thought that he might have good chances because she seemed to be the crying type.

Daemon grabbed her hair and yanked her head back just like Ser Eries had done a few minutes ago.

"You're a pretty girl. It surprises me, quiet frankly. That your father, the stupid cunt was able to sire such a beauty. Perhaps you come more after your mother."

She grinded her teeth and pouted at him while squirming in his grip.

"Let me go. At once. I swear to you I will bite and hit you until you let me go."

Daemon was amused by her reaction and pulled at her hair with more force. "I want to see that.", he whispered and then took hold of her chin with his other hand.

"So pretty…", he purred. "I'm curious to see what else you have to offer. I just hope your little cunt doesn't taste bitter. You're a hightower after all."

Now panic was visible in her eyes and she shook her head quickly and with so much force that he almost would've dropped his hand on her chin.

"You will not touch me, you will now defile me like this. I'd rather have you kill me. I'd rather kill myself."

"Shh, little one. Be careful what you wish for."

His finger brushed over her jaw and he felt her tremble underneath his touch. If Daemon only could really tell if it was from her fear or anger. He didn't even know what he preferred because the thought of bedding a stubborn and defiant girl and the challenge of breaking her aroused him but at the same time he was eager to see the fear in her eyes while he fucked her.

His hand wandered downwards until he felt the soft skin of her neck. It was so milky, looked and felt so pure that a thought crossed his mind…

"Are you a maiden?", Daemon asked and his eyes searched for hers. Her eyes fluttered which he interpreted as a sign of weakness but her words sounded as sharp as knives.

"That's none of your fucking business.", she hissed.

"Oh I don't think so, sweetling. You'd be smart to tell me. Only if I know I can prepare you properly. You wouldn't want your tight little maiden cunt to be fucked roughly without giving you time to adjust. Especially not if you're dry as a desert."

Daemon was almost ahundred percent sure that she was a maiden and the thought made his cock swell to twice its size. The way she looked at him with this uncertainty in her eyes. And despite trying to seem indifferent and distanced, he had noticed how attentive she had listened to him during his last words. Also, Daemon simply couldn't believe that a girl like her, who looked so sweet and innocent could already have been defiled by another man.

He made sure that she had her eyes on him while his hand traveled further south. He saw the way her pupils widened and the sound of the rattling of the chains filled the tent.

"Stop it.", she spitted. "Stop it at once."

He rolled his eyes and brushed over her collarbone through her dress.

"Quiet. Or I'll put a gag on your mouth."

And yet Daemon actually took his hand off her body. Not because he didn't want to see and touch her breasts, he would do that very thing later, but because he had something else in mind. His cock was almost bursting in his breeches and he simply needed some relief. And when he looked at Arlis' pink and soft lips the only thought in his head was what it would feel like to bury his cock so deep inside of her throat until the only sound that could leave her mouth was her gagging and choking. That would shut her up as well, Daemon thought while he finally let go of her hair.

She let out a relieved sigh and perhaps seemed to think that the rogue prince had changed his mind. She couldn't have been more off.

Daemon watched the suspicion in Arlis' expression when he reached down to where her wrists were chained to the chair. She didn't seem to be that dumb to think that he would just let her go now after all.

Yet he freed her from the chair and wasn't surprised when the girl pushed him away at once while simultaneously trying to get off the chair. It filled him with so much smug to see how she failed because Daemon simply held her back with a hand gripping her shoulder and pressed her to the chair.

"Fuck you, you arsehole.", Arlis pressed and pulled and pinched at his arms. "Just let me go, already."

"I'm afraid that's not gonna happen.", Daemon sighed sarcastically.

Then without giving a warning he gripped her upper arm and shoved her to the floor. At first the girl winded herself and refused to have her knees touch the floor but he was too strong and simply pushed her down until she didn't have a choice but to stare up to him.

Additionally, Daemon had positioned the girl so that there was the big wooden table right behind her. The edge of the table was on the same level as her head which meant that if she tried to escape from him the table would block her way. He could just press her head against the wood and she wouldn't have a choice but to take it all, whatever it was he would give her.

Daemon had a hand in her hair to hold her head to his liking and he made sure to dig his fingers into her scalp. In response Arlis flinched which made him take yet another step towards her so she was now fully trapped between the table and his body.

"I know you'll do such a good job, pretty girl. You're so eager with everything you're doing, mhm? I just know you'll suck my cock so perfectly. Well, if you won't it doesn't matter either. Then I'll just fuck your mouth and use you like a toy and that's fine with me as well."

Daemon could now see something new in her eyes, a mixture of fear and panic. But still, she wasn't on the point of breaking because she tightened her lips and her eyes spit fire so much so that one could assume the blood of the dragon ran through her veins as well.

"Open your mouth.", he said and tried to sound as cool and dominant as possible.

He liked the way she fought him off and how desperately she resisted him but Daemon simultaneously enjoyed to make her feel scared so he felt a fluttering in his stomach as she looked up to him with big eyes.

"N-No.", she stuttered and seemingly was startled with his request. He hadn't even freed his cock; why did he want her to open her mouth? Daemon smirked crookedly and put a hand under her chin.

"Do it."

But Arlis denied and pressed her lips tightly together. Gods, she really was a defiant little thing. But he was confident that he would have her broken and messy by the end of the night. He started by delivering a light smack on her left cheek that only made her eyes glisten with more anger. Yet she let out a gasp which told Daemon that the things he did had an impact on her.

"I said open your fucking mouth.", he repeated and forcefully gripped her chin.

When she still didn't obey him he groaned and furiously pushed two fingers between her lips while pulling at her jaw and the girl seemed so surprised that Daemon was able to enter her mouth and he immediately shoved his two digits so deep that they hit the back of her throat. Arlis choked and gagged and despairingly fidgeted with her hands in order to find support. But all her hands reached were his hips which she pushed at in an attempt to free herself.

He watched her struggle with pleasure and his eyes glared with amusement. Therefore he kept up the assault for another few seconds and then pulled his fingers back a little so she could breathe. The little girl gasped and inhaled greedily while her pupils danced hectically in her eyes.

"See what happens if you're a bad girl?", Daemon whispered evily.

Arlis was still unable to speak so she just furrowed at him while trying to regain her breath.

"You'll take my cock now. And if I were you I'd be good now, understand me?"

As a reply she shook her head and Daemon sighed disapprovingly.

"Oh, dear. You want me to hurt you, don't you?"

Another motion of her head. Daemon flared his nostrils and then removed his fingers from her mouth which made Arlis pull as far away from him as possible. He intended to take off his pants and breeches now but knew she would try and run away if he let go of her. It turned out to be very cumbersome but eventually he was able to do the task one handedly all while his other hand still gripped her head tightly.

He now had to listen to her outbursts again and Arlis let out little curses and insults and only when he was done with freeing his rock hard manhood did he react to it. The girl in front of him stared at his member anxiously but even that couldn't soften the rogue prince's upset temper. He had enough of her bratty attitude and suddenly slapped her cheek again. It was a little more forceful this time but not so much that she started to cry.

"I will fuck and pound this cunt of yours until you remember your manners, little pet. I don't care how long it will be, I don't fucking care how sore you'll be. You'll take it."

She sniffed and tried her best to appear cold towards his words but he obviously saw the way she squeezed her eyes.

"Open your mouth and if you won't do it willingly I'll fucking make you and you don't want that to happen.", Daemon whispered dangerously.

It was a pity, really. Instead of obeying him she futhermore turned her head away from his center. Daemon exhaled loudly and prepared himself for another fight that he was certain he'd win.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair without caring whether he would hurt her and forced her to look at his manhood again. With his other hand he took hold of her chin to pull at it and at the same pushed his cock against her mouth. Arlis let out a whine but the mess of the whole situation actually allowed him to force her mouth open and he shoved his cock inside. The girl in front of him squirmed and threw her head to the side but there wasn't anything she could do. Daemon's hand controlled her head, she didn't know how to get his cock to leave her mouth and so she stared up to him helplessly.

The rogue prince moaned at the new feeling. Her mouth felt warm and wet, just like he wanted it. He had his eyes on the kneeling girl and it almost made him burst right in this second. Her wide eyes, her pretty lips wrapped around his manhood… And everything only became better once he started moving inside of her mouth.

He pulled himself out a little so that only his tip was inside but then thrusted right back in to hit the back of her throat. Arlis angrily cried out but simply had to endure it as Daemon used her mouth without paying attention to her resistance.

"That's right…", he purred. "What a good little mouth you have. I additionally would like to say that you're a good girl but unfortunately that would be a lie."

She coughed while he spoke those words and flashed her eyes at him.

"Do you have something to say? Perhaps apologize for your stubborness and tell me that you'll obey me from now on? You know that I own you now. You're my captive and it's my choice what I plan to do with you. I could make you my personal fuck toy and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it. That depends on what lies between your thighs though. If your slutty cunt is gonna satisfy me, perhaps I'll keep you. You're pretty to look at in any case."

This time Daemon was sure that those were tears welling in her eyes and it only fueled his desire for her. She seemingly tried to blink them away and lowered her gaze so she looked at his legs instead of him but he had glanced at a wetness gathering in her eyes which he laughed about now.

"Not so strong now, are we?"

Then he grabbed her jaw once more while simultaneously delivering a particulary sharp thrust inside her throat. She had no choice but to look at him and watch the smug smirk on his face.

"Let me see those pretty tears… Yeah that's right. Cry for me, come on. S'not gonna stop me."

He ravished her throat, bruised it and didn't care whether he hurt her or not. All he was capable of thinking about was the way her throat wrapped so tightly about his cock, the way her warmth sent shivers down his spine and how she gagged and complained around him.

"Oh fuck.", he moaned and narrowed his grip on her head.

She was still winding and shifting and so Daemon secured her position in front of him by coming yet another step foward so there was no way she could escape from between his hips and the table.

He went deep, so incredibly deep that his balls were pressed to her face. It felt so good that Daemon didn't even want to come and instead enjoy this perfect mouth for the rest of his life. But at the same time he was so close that he felt like exploding every second so he slowed down a little and even granted Arlis some room to breathe properly.

Greedily she inhaled and held her hand to her chest. Daemon would've thought that perhaps the girl was a little more frightened now and therefore more submissive but he couldn't have been more off. The assault seemed to have only enhanced her fury as she made yet another effort to fight him off. She pressed on his legs to make him step away, angrily mumbled something he couldn't understand and tried to escape from his grip in her hair. But soon he shoved his manhood back in and continued to pound her mouth while throwing his head back in ecstasy.

"Oh gods be good.", he panted. "Look at you… On your knees for me. So fucking pathetic."

It was only seconds later when Daemon felt the tension in his lower stomach tighten and then contradict.

"Oh fucking hells.", he growled and released right into her mouth.

His seed shot in her throat which made her choke but he wanted her to swallow it all so he kept his cock buried in her mouth until he was sure she had milked him completely and had been forced to swallow every drop of his seed. Only then did he pull away until his now flaccid member hang in front of her face. She hiccuped a few times, stubbornly refused to look at him and squirmed in his grip.

"I bet you liked that, didn't you?", Daemon smirked. "Getting that slutty mouth of yours fucked. Getting ruined by me."

Arlis raised her gaze at last and looked like she was trying to set him on fire with her glistening eyes.

"Fuck you. I hate you and you will get punished for this."

If she had attempted to threaten him, she had failed. Daemon merely chuckled and then yanked her to her feet by her hair until she stood in front of him. Her face, particulary her cheeks and nose were reddened and traces of tears covered her face. Her already wild hair looked even messier now and this picture of her made him incredibly hungry for her despite just having released.

Daemon pushed the girl towards the table until her backside hit the edge of it. Fear and uncertainty darkened her eyes but it only made him want her more. He slowly reached out to her waist and tightly gripped her through the fabric of her dress. Arlis was quick to try and shove his hands away and additionally kicked him with her feet.

"You will not touch me.", she hissed.

"Oh I will. And I will do so much more than that."

And then with a swift motion he grabbed the collar of her dress and tore it apart so it hang loosely over her body and exposed her undergarment. Perhaps it was in that moment that Arlis realized that the rogue prince would take what he wanted and that he planned to claim her maidenhead right here and right now because her facade crumbled, she started to shiver and tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

"Please. Please, don't.", she whined while Daemon started to remove the layers of fabric covering her stiff body.

"Aww, what's that? You've decided to drop your bratty attitude?"

He was genuinely amused and observed her tense jaw.

"Please don't touch me. Please, my prince."

Her pleas filled him with satisfaction. He had suceeded after all and now had a begging and broken girl in front of him. Because as much as he had enjoyed taming that stubborn little thing, he couldn't wait to see her crying.

"You're mine now, little one. And that means that I get to decide what I want to do with you. And at this moment I want to see that pretty body of yours and then fuck your tight little cunt. But keep on begging, it's too adorable."

With these words Daemon removed the rest of the layers from her shaking body until she was bare under his gaze. She had still tried to fight him but at this point she seemed weakened and frightened so that her attempts were beyond ridiculous.

Once he ran his eyes over her body he felt his cock already harden again a little. She had small breasts with pink perky nipples that looked so delicious, he couldn't wait to bite and nibble at them, a small waist and frizzy brown hair between her legs that covered what hid underneath. It was almost too much for him. He didn't know what to do with all of this, didn't know where to start so he leaned forwards to force her into a kiss.

His lips sucked on her cold ones and her taste made his heart beat faster. Meanwhile his hands forcefully grabbed her breasts and squeezed them in his hands which made her whince. Suddenly Daemon felt a sharp pain in his lip and he pulled away from her at once. When he licked over them he tasted blood and stared at Arlis with narrow eyes.

"You little slut.", he grunted and wrapped a hand around her neck.

"Is this what you want?", he asked evily without letting her out of his sight for one second. "You could have a much better time, sweetling, if you simply laid still and took what I give you. But seems you want to take it the difficult way."

His hand stayed around her throat while his mouth kissed down to her collarbone. Her light skin looked so pure and delicate to him that he couldn't resist and bit and marked her. Now and then Arlis flinched and hissed out at the pain but over all she seemed a little more tame now after he had scared her by choking her. Once he had enough Daemon pulled away and proudly watched his work.

Her cleavage and neck was covered with light bruises and bite marks where he had sucked and nibbled at. She looked so… desirable. He wanted nothing more than to show his little fuck toy off to the world and letting everyone see how he had claimed her.

After observing her for another few moments Daemon leaned down again and this time took care of her breasts. Her nipples were already hardened though he was not certain if she was aroused or simply scared. While still taking hold of her neck he started to kiss and suck on her nipples while always concentrating on one for a few seconds and then switching to the other. After a while Arlis quietly murmured and squirmed in discomfort and taking a look at her nipples he noticed how red and sore they had gotten. He didn't stop though. She looked too cute shifting like this and the occasional moans were music to his ears so he continued to let his tongue circle around the buds and drew them into her mouth until he simply couldn't wait to get to her cunt anymore.

Therefore Daemon grabbed her hips and lifted the girl onto the table without leaving her a choice and then was quick to spread her legs and step between them before she was able to close them. He watched the tears stream down her face as she seemingly feared his imminent actions so much but the prince mockingly stroke her cheek.

"You look very pretty when you cry, you know that?" He then smiled. "You don't want that cunt to get fucked?"

Arlis swiftly shook her head and tried to convince him with the most pleading look of her eyes. "No. Please, my prince."

"What a shame then. But don't you worry, little one, I'll warm you up because I feel merciful today."

With these words Daemon suddenly dropped to the ground and knelt between her legs while widening them with the strong grip of his hands. He sighed with pleasure once he saw what laid between her thighs and his thumb soothingly caressed her soft skin.

"Well… Will you look at that? Perfect fucking cunt."

He kissed the inside of her thighs right next to her most intimate parts. "From now on you merely exist to serve me. You're my plaything, my toy to use whenever I feel the desire to."

His words were in such contrast to his soft kisses that it made Arlis' head spin.

"You won't speak unless I tell you so. You won't move unless I tell you so. And if I have to fuck your stubborness out of you I'll gladly do so until all you're capable of saying is yes and thank you."

And then without any kind of warning he closed the distance between his mouth and her cunt and pressed his lips on her bundle of nerves. Daemon could tell that this was entirely knew to her in the way she gasped for air and when he took a look up he saw that her eyes had sprang open like she was a woman haunted.

At this moment Arlis was dry as dust but the prince was quite convinced of his skills and started to let his tongue tease her pearl. Daemon's arms were wrapped around her thighs in order to keep her still and after a while he could feel her moving around and this time he wasn't sure if perhaps she was actually turned on or rather wanted to escape his grip. Because when he licked at her entrance he could taste something sweet and wet on his tongue and now nothing could stop him.

He lapped up her arousal and then spreaed it all over her folds and especially her pearl. He used the slickness to circle and flick the little nub, press into it and traced it. When he suddenly heard a quiet moan he stopped his motion. Something about it sounded a little different to the sounds that had left her mouth earlier and Daemon was curious now. And first and foremost he wanted to hear it again. He wanted to turn her into a begging mess, make her plead him and ask him to keep going. He wanted her to embarrass herself and humiliate her until she would cry. So he glanced at her with a cruel smirk and just very slightly brushed over her pearl which made her inhale sharply.

"So you do like this…", he whispered and Arlis' eyes sprang open at his words. "It's pathetic, really. Here you are refusing to give in and as soon as I rub at your little pearl you can't bring out a coherent sentence. Desperate little thing."

She sniffed a few times and then gulped loudly. "Please stop…"

Daemon laughed at this and threw his head back. "Oh I don't think you want me to stop. I think you want nothing more than to get this little cunt of yours pounded and filled with my seed."

Her 'No' was swallowed by the moan she let out once his tongue came back to teasing her bundle of nerves. He needed her to come, wanted to taste more of her sweet juices and wanted to see her fall apart. That was why Daemon fastened the motion and made sure to put more pressure on her pearl while his hand grabbed her breasts to play with her nipples. He heard her whine and cry and moan and whimper and each sound only hardened his cock along with her divine taste.

And then, when he felt her muscles tense underneath him he knew that she was gonna come so he stopped. Arlis who was panting heavily and unsteadily lifted her head to see what was happening and Daemon grinned smugly. He had just ruined her orgasm and she didn't seem fond about it.

"Do you want me to go on?", he asked innocently.

Arlis clearly fought with herself and quietly hummed while pushing her hips towards him. He could see the pleasure in her eyes and the way she bit her buttom lip and Daemon knew he had her right where he wanted her.

"Go on. I want to hear your pretty voice." He lightly ran his thumb over her pearl and watched with amusement how her face tensed.

"P-Please…", she mumbled but it still wasn't enough for Daemon.

"I can't hear you."

A desperate cry left her mouth and she threw her head to the side. His thumb pressed into her nub with more force and Arlis moved her hips in order to create some friction.

"Please. Please continue."

She sounded so pathetic and needy that Daemon couldn't help but reach up to her face and smugly run his thumb over her lips before finally going back to work. All that he had wanted was to hear her beg for him and now he was eager to watch her fall apart under his touch.

Daemon buried his face in her cunt, lapped up everything there was while flicking her pearl and then she let out a muffled high-pitched noise and collapsed on the table. His hands were tight around her hips so she couldn't flee from his mouth but she seemed too powerless to fight anyhow. He devoured her sweetness, rolled his eyes back at what most definitely was the best cunt he had ever had and then looked up to the girl.

She had her eyes closed and yet tears were streaming down her face. She almost looked pitiful lying there like this so Daemon soothingly stroke her thigh.

"Oh, sweet girl.", he cooed and then got up from the floor. He stood between her legs and gently grabbed her waist.

"You're gonna be a good girl now and take my cock, right? If not I'll make you take it. Which is gonna be more painful for you but I don't really care which path you're gonna choose."

Her eyes fluttered a few times at his words and she put her arms in front of her breasts in order to hide them which Daemon commented with a scoff. Roughly he took hold of her wrists and pinned them to the side of her body.

"You're not gonna be able to hide from me, little doll."

His eyes wandered from her head down to her feet once more and then he fisted his hard cock. Arlis seemed to really understand the gravity of the situation and moved back from him with glossy eyes.

"Please. Please, my prince, please don't do it."

Her reaction was exactly what he had wished for. Having her at his mercy, watching her beg him and seeing her at her lowest. Breaking her.

He ran his tip through her folds, stopped at her pearl for a brief moment and then spread her arousal all over her cunt. She whimpered and pressed her eyes together as if she was able to avoid the imminent action that way and then Daemon's cock was at her entrance. He circled it a few times, enjoyed the way she shivered in his arms and twitched every time she thought he would enter her now and then finally sank into her.

She shrieked out and her face was drawn with pain while the rogue prince let out a deep and long sigh. She was so incredibly tight that he feared she might tear off his cock and the warmth and wetness that welcomed him was almost too much.

"Oh fucking… Oh shit.", he moaned and tightly grabbed her shoulders not only to keep her up on the table but also to have some leverage while he stretched her wider for him. Tears relentlessly spilled from her eyes and she looked even more pale now. Her hands had grabbed the edge of the table beneath her and she would've fallen on her back if Daemon didn't hold her up.

"Oh yes… That's a tight fucking cunt… Gods, I knew you'd be good for one thing."

He stayed buried in her for a few moments in order to regain his breath and then pulled back only to start thrusting into her at a steady pace. Arlis gasped out at every sharp jolt but he could tell that it was caused by her pain. Daemon truthfully would have been kinder to her and given her more time to adjust but he was tired of her stubborn attitude and wanted to punish her for it. He had told her that it was her choice to either obey or continue to fight and she had chosen the latter. Now she had to live with the consequences.

At some point Daemon let go of her shoulders and pushed her so she was lying on her back. His hands dug in her waist and he forcefully held her down while filling her sore cunt to the brim. It wouldn't have been necessary of course. Arlis was weak, done with everything and took what he gave her without fighting. Her eyelids were closed and her body only moved when she was being shoved by a particulary deep thrust. And yet this image aroused Daemon so much that he wanted her to come again. And if the rogue prince wanted something he would get it.

So his finger reached out to her center where his cock pounded her cunt and he put it on her pearl to stimulate it in intense circles. She responded with a quiet whimper from her slightly parted lips and Daemon knew he was doing well. Soon he slowed down a little so he wouldn't burst before Arlis had come again but then finally he felt her walls clench around her and no matter if she liked it or not, he forced her to come again. He allowed himself to cross the edge as well and grunted as his seed filled her hole.

Daemon didn't pull away at once as he wanted to make sure that his semen would stay inside her. He pushed into her one more time and only then slipped out of her which she reacted to with a whimper.

Arlis wanted nothing more than to be left alone at last and preferably never see him again but he didn't grant her the favor. He put on some clothes on his body and then approached the motionless girl again. Daemon wrapped a hand around her throat so he was certain he had her attention and brushed with his mouth over her ear.

"I think I will keep you, darling. You have a nice little hole and a pretty body and I think it would be a waste to have you executed. You're mine now anyway… You're gonna be my little fuck toy to calm me after a long day. My plaything to always take with me. My little whore…. I do like that idea."

Daemon didn't expect an answer from her and just dropped her back to the table.

He didn't give her another glance and simply left the tent and only then did Arlis allow herself to cry again.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Roasting you based on your favorite of these German Expressionist films

(this post is a joke; don't take it too seriously lol)

Metropolis: You've got spicy political opinions and daddy issues. You were doing great in life until you found out how corrupt capitalism is sometime in high school or college, and it's absolutely mind-boggling to you that nobody else is batting an eyelid at all the injustices of the world because they're too busy defending the concept of a 40-hour work week. You're constantly checking your privilege and everyone else's, too. Or you just want to bang a robot. That's probably it.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: Okay, I could make a joke about you being emo, or you liking the most basic film on the list, but that's not really the issue here. Your Hot Topic fashion sense and shitty drugstore eyeliner are nowhere near as concerning as the fact that you have no idea who the hell you are without them. You constantly overthink everything and are great at solving everyone's problems but your own, and you're averaging like 4 hours of sleep on a good night. You can't get your intrusive thoughts to leave you alone and if you relate to literally any character in this film, you need to get help. It's okay; I promise your therapist doesn't secretly hate you.

M: You're a surprisingly sweet and empathetic person for someone whose favorite film on this list is about a child murderer. You care deeply about others and are very much in tune with yourself, but unfortunately, everything you say is so off-putting that most people don't get that vibe about you. If they actually gave you a chance, they'd find that you have a great personality, but they don't, so instead you're stuck at home stalking your ex's vacation photos on social media.

Dr. Mabuse the Gambler: You like the finer things in life. You're high-maintenance, your tastes are classy and expensive, and you actually know how wine tasting works. However, you're way too into conspiracy theories and pyramid schemes for your own good, and your cultured proclivities are deeply undercut by the fact that you probably got into Bitcoin when that was a thing. Your two career paths are either "businessperson" or "cult leader," and it's concerningly difficult to discern which one you're on.

Nosferatu: Your sense of humor relies entirely on recycling memes that are at least a decade old, and the fact that you communicate nearly entirely in pop culture references is your attempt at disguising the fact that you're really bad at socializing. You think you have lots of great ideas that make perfect sense, but most people don't know what the hell you're going on about. However, you've got one or two ride or die friends who love you for who you are, cringe and all. Keep being you, Nosferatu fan. Never change.

The Student of Prague: I'm not sure this one is actually anyone's favorite film, but if this was yours, you were into shipping the Onceler with himself when that was a thing. You're super competitive, but you have a tendency to overwork yourself and burn out quickly, so now you're living off of Top Ramen and protein bars. People love to tell you that you "have potential" and "just need to apply yourself," but what they don't get is that you're stressed 24/7 and won't give yourself a break because you're trying so hard to satisfy your own impossible standards. Please take a nap.

Der Golem: You're great with children, small animals, and potted plants, but that's because literally anyone else you have to deal with fucking pisses you off. The absolute audacity of everyone around you means you're never not two seconds away from throwing hands, but honestly? You're always right and you should say it. You're actually a really nice person, but people keep pushing you to your limit and you're sick of it. On an unrelated note, you probably work in customer service.

Different from the Others: If this is your favorite film and you're a member of the LGBT community, that's perfectly understandable. It was a monumental achievement in LGBT cinema in the early 20th century and, despite being somewhat dated by today's standards due to the time period it was created in, largely holds up as an educational, yet tragic, piece of cinema. That being said, if you're a straight/cis/allo person and this is your favorite film, what is going on with you. I want to study you in a lab. How did you find this film. Come to think of it, how did you even get into German Expressionist cinema to begin with. I just want to know

Der Januskopf: [REDACTED]

Genuine: You're a "Caligari" fan who doesn't want to seem basic like the rest of the "Caligari" fans, so somehow you ended up here. You don't actually like this film aside from the visuals. Nobody actually likes this film. You want so, so badly to like this film, so you lie to yourself, just like you do about everything else.

[whatsthelimitoncharacters]

So, in my opinion, Athena is probably dead. I think that it’s dumb and doesn’t make sense but the listening party animatic definitely implies she’s dead

Here we have some before and after pictures. When I first saw the livestream, I assumed that she was just gonna pass out and that people were overreacting. However, the glow fading really implies that she is in fact dead.

Shortly before the earlier images, we see Athena kind of holding onto life with her glow flickering. We can assume she is almost dead because Ares asks if she’s even alive(I will return to this). All this considered, despite the fact she isn’t glowing in a lot of scenes in this song(such as Odysseus showing her Telemachus), her glow fading really does show that she is probably dead.

If you need some evidence from the songs, we can also get some without looking at the animatics. First and most importantly, Ares asks if Athena is dead. While Ares isn’t the most respected god and many would label him as kind of dumb, he would probably know that gods can’t die if that’s the case. Him asking this does show that a god can, in theory, die. If you want mythological precedence, you can look at how Pan died(I know that there’s a bit of debate to that but idc). Another piece of evidence is actually Calypso saying “Last i checked, goddesses can’t die.” Many people take this as proof that Athena is incapable of death but it’s already been established by major gods that a god/goddess could die and there’s a mythological precedent, so calypso may be lying. In honesty, she isn’t being entirely untruthful in saying that she can’t die. Odysseus is just a half dead mortal king and Zeus is the single most powerful god. Odysseus can’t kill calypso while Zeus could kill Athena. This segues very well into how this line fits into the larger saga. Instead of this line acting as foreshadowing for Athena’s survival, it instead acts as tragic irony for Odysseus. Athena is Odysseus’ only chance at leaving and she dies. The irony comes because Odysseus’ problem could be solved if only a different goddess had died. The wrong goddess died and now it’s up to Zeus to decide whether Odysseus should be set free.

Now, if I’m correct, then I have a lot of feelings about this. If I’m wrong I have slightly less. If I’m right, you can see my previous post for a lot of my reasons why I think athena dying is a bad decision, but I’ll give one here. Gods don’t die. Pan is the only death I can think of (not counting stuff like Helios disappearing over time) and the phrasing of pans death could also be interpreted as the cult of Tammuz praising him for his one myth. Even characters that are treated as mortal like Medea (both her parents are minor gods so she probably should be too) don’t get myths where they die. Medea just runs off to a far away land. Kronos is sliced to bits. Typhon is sealed under Mount Etna. Kronos’ children are swallowed whole. ATHENA’S MOTHER GAVE BIRTH IN ZEUS’ HEAD. IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE THAT ATHENA COULD DIE. If she isn’t dead, why is the animatic like that? Jorge had to have commissioned it. I doubt the animator would have added that in on their own. Why would it be framed so much like she’s dead if she wasn’t.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

I want you to know I respect your opinion and at the end of the day you can do whatever you want on your own page, which I love all the art you do. Your White Diamond AU is so remarkable I've added it to my own headcanon idea of Steven meeting his alternate selves.

With that said, why are you responding to posts or asks that talk about blatant shattering of other gems? Real SU fans don't immediately go "death to the enemy." Real SU fans understand that SU is about love, acceptance, second chances, and pacifism. I'll admit, there have been more idiots in the fandom since the show's end, but in my humble opinion, it's best to not give any of them attention, even if they are annoying.

Sorry if I sound rude, I just didn't get responding to that one ANONYMOUS comment.

It's not rude at all! And it's a great question! One I understand the reasoning of.

But I have my own reasoning for doing the things I do.

Mainly, I think that while ignoring SOME behaviors is definitely good.... talking about OTHER behaviors actively is the fastest and healthiest way to immunize the greater community against them.

Let me explain.

I've been in this fandom a long time now, and I agree with you - there's a solid possibility, a real chance that whoever sent that message is just a passing non-fan who decided to be weirdly edgy in my inbox. No big deal. It happens.

But in my experience, the SU fandom is.... wide and varied. There are people of all ages, and many opinions. It would be easier, of course, if the only 'true fans' were those who perfectly understood the show's themes. But to me, that veers dangerously close to a No True Scotsman type of thinking. The reality is that many different people watch SU. And while many of them do inherently agree with the message and understand the nuance, many more just watch the show because... they like the surface level graphics and cool fights and interesting worldbuilding. In fact, many of the show's fans are edgy teens (sorry edgy teens) who are in a life-stage where violence and being strong and cool and decisive in a morally black and white manner is the only way they can possibly imagine solving any problem. And... that's kinda the opposite of what SU teaches! But that's also the point. SU teaches those things on purpose.

And yeah, I can absolutely just ignore this part of the population. But ignoring a behavior does not actually make it go away 100% of the time. If a child in a supermarket comes up to you and starts smacking you with a wooden spoon from Aisle 4, then... sure... you can ignore them and see if their parent comes to get them, or they go away, especially if it's a very small child and they're not hurting you a lot.

But that's not the only option. You can ALSO opt to teach them - and any other spoon-wielding children watching - what COULD happen if they are crude or cruel to a stranger in public. Namely, you can snap 'stop it' and at the very least glare at that child. This is a lesson that will arguably teach them more about the interaction than a complete lack of reaction would.

Now, I'm not saying people who send me asks are all children and I'm doling out some moral lessons here. This is just a metaphor.

I'm simply a person in a social space (tumblr) who is driving my own blog. And while I DO ignore a very large part of cruel/rude asks I get (trust me, I do ignore many!) I sometimes also just post a reply to show what ELSE could happen if you say a borderline silly and arguably tonally inappropriate ask to a person. You could get replied to! In a sarcastic or snappy manner!

And maybe - just maybe - the other people reading my blog can learn something from the experience, and think 'ah, so doing it like THAT will maybe make people kinda annoyed, now I know and will not do that'.

I cannot deny that overall I agree with you, though. I don't think that these types of messages deserve attention on the regular. But I'd hope that my replies to these things are not really... regular. I ignore probably... 80% of these sort of things? I guess maybe it just feels like a lot less, since, well. The public ones are 100% of the ones you get to see!

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.

contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes. 

Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure. 

It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.

Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents. 

The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan. 

An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid. 

But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.

It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by. 

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The time is now. 

As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century. 

“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.

The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.” 

At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons. 

“Your majesty,” you bow your head.

As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.

While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away. 

This is pointless. 

Why is he being forced to be here? 

It’s not like you're his bride.

Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin. 

Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.

So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.

It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.

You aren’t really his type.

“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”

Typical Sae.

Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.

“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”

With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different. 

“So the rumors are true then?” 

You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother. 

“Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.

A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart. 

Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.

“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words. 

“What is it that you make me out to be?”

There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume. 

…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.

Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise. 

This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.

“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit. 

Sae would never say those things.

The people would never say those things.

Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.

As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?

In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.

“Are these your words?” he interrogates.

One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”

“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks. 

“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”

So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.

And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.

Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks. 

Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.

He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.

With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence. 

Oh how he cannot stand you.

You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.

He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living. 

“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”

Oh no…

“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”

Please, just shut up.

“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”

He hates that damn sound.

There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.

“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”

“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”

“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”

A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent. 

“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”

You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people. 

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.

“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”

“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”

“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”

“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”

The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you. 

He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami. 

Rin knows he’s frightening…

…and he’s enjoying it.

“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.” 

He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”

“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”

On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.

Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face. 

Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.

The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.

Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.

As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep. 

You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.

A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child. 

“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”

“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”

A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”

The castle staff?

He’s to stand with lowly servants?

Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father. 

“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”

There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.

“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”

This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.

“You are a disgrace.”

His father tells him these things often.

“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”

That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.

With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.

So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…

…when he, himself, has no significance at all?

His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.

The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.

A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself. 

A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.

A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.

“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”

Why are you looking at him like that?

The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all. 

The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.

“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.

“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement. 

“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”

While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.

“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?

“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?

“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?

A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”

“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now. 

“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”

You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”

Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels. 

“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”

Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears. 

“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”

You’re apologizing?

“I don’t regret anything, though.”

That makes more sense.

Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”

You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”

Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.

He should thank the man in the moon.

Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”

“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”

“...right there.”

One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful. 

For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…

…if only you were his…

…but you aren’t.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (54)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He was awakened by a loud female scream. He pulled himself up on the bed convinced that it was a dream and involuntarily reached his hand to his side, instinctively wanting to check that his wife and their child in her womb were safe.

He froze feeling the cold bedding under his fingers and turned his terrified gaze in that direction. He looked around the chamber, his heart pounding like mad.

Where was she?

He heard a sudden commotion outside his chamber door, the raised voices of the guards, the clack of their armour and blades. He rose quickly from his bed, putting on his breeches and shirt in a hurry, and ran out of his room without even putting on his eyepatch, bumping into a terrified Aegon.

"What happened?" He asked quickly, following him – he saw that the door to Helaena's and their children's rooms was wide open.

"I don't know. She said she'd be back in a moment, that she'd just check on the children." He mumbled as he stepped inside, both of them squinting, not seeing much in the darkness.

It took him a moment to notice the silhouettes kneeling on the floor, he could hear the loud sobbing of Aegon's daughter and the loud breathing of the other two women.

He moved quickly forward spotting his wife, infuriated, lifting her upright.

"What are you doing here? Why did you leave my chamber?" He asked furiously, shaking her, but she didn't look at him, her mouth wide open, her gaze terrified, her whole body trembling.

It was only a moment later that he heard the miserable wail of his brother as he fell beside his sister-wife, pressing his face against something pale lying on the floor.

Only after a while did he recognise his nephew's face in it.

He felt his heart pounding like mad, for a moment he was unaware of what was happening on around him – he clenched his hands tightly on his wife's shoulders and pressed her to him, wanting to be sure that nothing would happen to her as long as he held her close.

"Floris is dead. Someone cut her throat." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard her. "They mistook her for me."

He felt like he was having trouble breathing – he didn't hear the screams of his mother, who came running to them hearing the commotion, he didn't hear the words of Ser Criston telling him that they were all to move to the Small Council room until the guards had searched the entire keep and made sure everyone was safe.

He, his wife, Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, their daughter and Royce sat in sepulchral silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, no one daring to speak. He stroked his chin in a nervous gesture looking ahead with a blank stare, terrified, furious.

"I told you not to wait." Aegon whispered, his face covered by his hands. "I said to burn that whore at once along with her children in Dragonstone when we had the chance."

He said, but no one answered him. Otto raised an eyebrow, tapping his finger on the table.

"I know that I am no longer the Hand of the King, however, after today's events we are faced with a problem that must be solved. After the death of my great-grandson, the line of succession has changed anew. In order to maintain your right to the throne over Rhaenyra your successor must be a male. So, for the moment, the direct heir to the Iron Throne is Aemond, and if his wife gives birth to a son, he will be next in the line of succession until Helaena gives birth to another son herself." He said coldly, and he shivered all over, glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye, her face shocked and terrified, her hands clenched on her womb trembling all over.

She looked at him and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

He had craved this so much all his life, but now that it was at his fingertips he felt nothing but fear.

The realisation that she was going to die that night, that she was the one he was going to find in the morning with her throat cut didn't allow him to think or reflect on anything.

Why had she left without his knowledge?

By what right was she walking alone in the keep at night?

He shuddered as Aegon's voice snapped him out of the advancing darkness and fume that was engulfing his mind.

"Must we speak of this now that my son is dead? Because of you, because of your plotting, because of your fucking greed! Fucking Otto Hightower, The King without a Crown!" He roared across the room so that everyone looked at him in horror, no one daring to speak or move.

He had never seen him like this before.

Aegon leaned over the table, slapping his finger against his chest. He was smiling, tears were running down his face – Helaena touched his arm in a gesture of comfort.

"This was my child. My first-born son. And all you think about is the fucking Iron Throne, the succession. Go and sit on it, put Aegon the Conqueror's crown on your head, all knowing that you're probably getting hard just thinking about it! Fucking old fool!" He growled; Helaena tried to silence and calm him, trembling herself.

Everyone looked towards the entrance when the door opened, Criston Cole and several other guards stepped inside.

"In the chamber we found the body of Floris Baratheon. Our suspicions have been confirmed, the hired assassin probably mistook them for each other." He said.

She was going to die.

She and their child.

He would sit alone, there would be an empty seat next to him.

He felt a powerful shiver run through him and he struggled to restrain himself not to vomit.

"Calm down." She whispered to him and he looked at her with eyes filled with the desire to slaughter her.

"We will speak about it in our chamber." He hissed coldly and she swallowed loudly, looking at him horrified.

After an hour, they decided that Aegon and Helaena needed to rest before taking drastic measures and moved the council meeting to the morning.

As soon as they left the hall Aemond grabbed his wife firmly by her arm and dragged her into their chamber with a brutality that terrified her. She squealed loudly as he literally shoved her inside, closing the door with a slam, five armed guards stood outside their chamber.

He could see that she was looking at him with fear, her whole body was trembling, clutching the spot on her arm that he had squeezed so painfully tight a moment ago. He approached her looking down at her.

"Did I let you leave my chamber?" He asked lowly and she opened her mouth slowly, her lower lip trembling as she tried to coax out an answer.

"I just wanted to…"

"DID I LET YOU LEAVE MY CHAMBER?!" He growled grabbing her cheeks with his hand so hard she sobbed in pain, tears of fear running down her face – she looked at him pleadingly, breathing fast and unevenly, terrified.

"I asked you a simple fucking question." He hissed, his fingers dug hard into her skin and she squealed in pain.

"− no – I'm sorry − I'm sorry −" She mumbled out with difficulty, shaking with dread and terror – he could see in her gaze that she didn't recognise him and was afraid of him.

He felt his jaw tremble in the realisation that he might have lost her, that she might have come across the man who had cut her sister's throat, and if he had seen her and realised his fatal mistake, he would have finished his work.

"− I have given you too much freedom – you will never again leave my chamber without my permission − do you understand? −" He growled, shaking her head aggressively, and she nodded quickly, sobbing quietly, clenching her eyes.

He looked at her, at the face of his beloved wife who had just carried his offspring under her heart, and began to wonder what he was actually doing.

He let her go suddenly, frightened by the realisation of what he had done, looking at her with wide eyes – she moved away from him clutching her cheeks, looking at him with fear and pain, so frightened that she dared not move from her place.

He turned and walked over to the table on which the jug of wine stood feeling as if it was all a dream – he had the impression that everything around him was a blur and trembling, and with difficulty he grabbed the ear of the jug and poured himself a full cup.

He grasped it, pressing it to his lips and drank its entire contents greedily hearing the mother of his child struggling to breathe behind his back.

She needed him, and he was unable to give her comfort, being devastated himself.

He realised that as long as his whore sister was alive, he would never sleep a peaceful night again.

He glanced over his shoulder hearing a quiet rustling and saw his wife lay down on their bed like a ghost – she pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, lying with her back to him, her whole body quivering.

He approached her slowly, pulled by some incomprehensible, subconscious urge, lay down behind her back and embraced her, placing his hands on her womb, drawing her close, melting his face into her hair.

She did not reciprocate his gesture.

"Forgive me. I'm terrified." He whispered and heard her swallow hard, breathing with difficulty.

"I'm terrified too. But as always, when I need you, when I am at my most vulnerable, you are hurting me." She mumbled, pressing her face into the pillow, trying to pull away from him. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her back.

"I know. I know, my sweetest. Forgive me."

But this time she didn't forgive him.

He knew he had crossed a line, that he had irretrievably destroyed something.

He felt empty.

She meekly obeyed his order and did not leave his chamber, asking her servants to bring her books, which she then read. She did not speak or look up to him, did not reciprocate his touch or gaze.

He knew he had failed her.

He tried to make it right, but he didn't know what to say, what words would make up for what he had done to her, how he had treated her. He knew she didn't deserve it, that he had poured all his rage and fear at her when she needed him to just embrace her.

The familiar feeling of shame that he remembered so well from his childhood filled his chest and he felt like he had regressed to a state before he met her.

The only thing that had changed for the better was his relationship with Aegon.

The two of them, united by their grief and unhappiness, had discussed for hours in the Small Council chamber how to end the matter of the Blacks once and for all.

His brother was unable to recover from the death of his son, but his and his sister's grief brought them even closer together – he knew that Helaena and their daughter spent every night in his chamber.

He, unlike him, was able to show them care, to protect them when they needed it. He did not understand how it was possible that suddenly their roles were reversed, and it was his own wife who refused to look at his face, sad and pale.

They both knew that Rhaenyra was only waiting for them to make a move, knowing that they would want revenge, but they understood that they could not act rashly, that they had to wait for the right moment.

The advantage of strength was still on their side.

He watched from the sidelines as his wife's abdomen swelled from his child – she had increasing difficulty moving and bending over as she helped him bathe.

She continued to do this despite not speaking to him.

The thought that she was preserving their ritual was the only thing keeping him over the edge of despair.

However, one day when he walked into their chamber, seeing that a tub full of hot water filled with his favourite oils was waiting for him as usual, he suddenly got an idea and decided that this was the way to show her what he had been feeling for the past long weeks.

"From now on, I'll be the one to help you bathe, if you'll let me." He said. She gasped and looked at him surprised, the first time in a long time he had noticed a sparkle in her gaze.

She swallowed quietly, pressing her lips together and tilted her head as if considering his words. She nodded.

He approached her without a word and reached up to untie her sleeves, slowly helping her pull off all the layers of her gown. When she was left in her nightgown he slipped it off her looking at her bare body, her gaze lowered, thoughtful.

He lifted her chin with a gentle movement of his fingers, forcing her to look at him. He was silent for a moment, looking into her bright eyes filled with sadness.

"I will always love you." He whispered with difficulty, feeling his voice break and tremble, betraying his desperation, his longing, his overwhelming remorse.

She pressed her lips together at his words, her brow arching in pain, her eyes turning red. He ran his finger over her lower lip, and she put her hand over his for the first time since that night.

He drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her almost tentatively, holding her cheeks, which he then squeezed so tightly, with tenderness and gentleness in his large hands, wanting to make up to her for what he had done, to show her that he didn't want this at all, that what she was experiencing now was what he really desired.

Her hands tightened on his wrists, her puffy lips brushed his, enveloping his skin with her warm breath, giving him the sign that he could continue, that this time she would not reject him. He felt a squeeze in his lower abdomen, having not experienced fulfilment with her for weeks he hungered for her closeness.

He took her in his arms and laid her on the bed with her back to him, laying behind her, untying his breeches. He caressed her fleshy, silky folds for a long time with his fingers, his lips pressed against hers the whole time, sucking and licking them, taking his time, wanting to show her that this time it was her fulfilment that was most important.

Only when she came under his hand, when her sticky moisture spilled over his fingers did he dare to slide inside her, his pushes slow and steady, deep, filled with desire for closeness, tenderness. He sped up, tightening his hand on her hip only when they were both beginning to pant, her walls started to clench rhythmically againist his erection, bringing her closer to another fulfilment.

He reached his peak inside her with a loud sigh of relief, holding her warm body close, his face snuggled into her neck. Her hand stroked his arm reassuringly as his soft manhood continued to throb inside her.

Then he lifted her body gently, carrying her to the bathtub filled with hot water, laying her comfortably in it, slowly and unhurriedly repeating all the steps she always did.

He washed her hair, stroked and rubbed her body and found some solace in this, a way of showing how much he needed her, how significant she was to him.

He did this every day from then on.

He didn't tell her about his and Aegon's plans, what they discussed behind closed doors – he was afraid that if she found out, she would lose their child out of fear.

Now that he was Hand of the King he had more responsibilities and he tried to perform them as best he could, but they both knew that as long as the Usurper lived they would not have peace.

He knew that by now the word must have reached her that her assassin had made a mistake, that his wife was still alive. Aegon was heartbroken when it came out that the person who had let in the man who murdered his son was the servant he had once took against her will.

She had been sentenced to death after maintaining on torture that no one else had helped her, but his brother-king knew that this made him partly to blame for what had happened.

He changed, but he did so far too late.

Many things were irretrievably lost and could no longer be repaired.

The marriage of Royce and Lord Greyjoy's granddaughter in the Great Sept sealed the Greyjoys' alliance with the Greens. For safety reasons, the nuptials and wedding were not as lavish as originally planned, though there was concern that Rhaenyra would want to take advantage of the concentration of so many people in one place. His wife struggled to endure the entire ceremony standing up, clinging to his arm for support.

He thought that while Royce did not look happy, he did not look heartbroken either, and neither did his wife. They seemed to him to be fashioned from the same clay, direct but essentially warm and strong.

Although he would never tell him this, he wished them to succeed.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife thinking about what he was going to do that night and felt a squeeze in his stomach.

Rhaenyra had not suspected they would attack her on the day of the wedding.

The Greyjoy ships had already set sail late in the evening, going out to meet the Velaryon fleet lurking near Dragonstone.

He had left his wife during the feast telling her that he and his brother still needed to discuss a few things, and she simply believed him.

She smiled at him, since they were close again trying not to fall into despair. She blinked and popped up, surprised when he suddenly leaned over her and kissed her in the presence of everyone gathered, holding her cheeks in his hand and not letting her go for a while.

He pulled away from her and looked at her for a moment with a hard pounding heart, the surprise mingled with desire on her face.

"You know that I love you." He whispered, and she furrowed her brow, sensing that something was wrong, hearing that there was something strange and unsettling in his voice.

"Of course. I love you too, my beloved." She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, let her go and stood up, heading for the entrance, his brother standing up right behind him.

He tried not to think about the fact that he wanted to cry.

Helaena had promised him that if he and their brother did not return, if Rhaenyra crushed them, she would take his wife, her daughter and their mother and flee to Essos on dragon's back.

All or nothing.

When they went down to the underground everything was ready – their servants were already waiting with their armours, which they quickly helped them put on. According to the plan they were to reach Dragonstone with their flee – he had to go to the hill where Vhagar was resting.

He felt surprisingly calm.

As he took to the skies on his dragoness, when he saw the starry sky above him he imagined for reassurance that Daeron was flying beside him, as when they were heading for the Eyrie. He glanced to the side and saw in the distance the silhouette of Sunfyre heading ahead in the darkness.

Two dragons against four.

He figured he had to deal with Rhaenys and Rhaenyra first.

Luke and Baela in Vhagar's eyes were mere dust.

They noticed as cannonballs and their fire began to light up the sea below them.

The great battle of the fleets had begun.

The Greyjoys had gone on the attack, taking the completely unprepared enemy by surprise – he spotted the silhouette of the Dragonstone in the distance and ordered Vhagar to breathe fire.

He hoped they would burn in their beds.

Their guards and their army tried to shoot him and his brother down with crossbows, but they anticipated this and kept at a sufficiently high distance. Looking at them, he thought of Borros and his wife, of how they wanted to cut her throat, to kill her while she was carrying his child, and felt a burning sensation under his eyelids, a rage, a hatred.

A madness.

He had a feeling that with the wave of fire from Vhagar's maw hitting the great stone fortress he was also releasing what he had always feared, but now, in this moment, he felt at last that he didn't have to be in his senses at all, that he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He laughed out loud, amused to hear the screams and cries of their soldiers, Sunfyre's fire completing the job and sweeping them away into the dust. He turned his head sideways when he spotted Meleys hovering in the air and immediately moved to meet her, unwilling to let her reach their fleet.

Pillars of fire from the mouths of their dragons collided with each other, then again and again, lighting up the black night sky with a warm glow. He saw Syrax and Moondancer flying behind her, but could not see Luke anywhere.

He thought she didn't want to lose another son, but he was sure he would take his life with his own hands that very night.

Aegon flew to his aid, flying above him, preventing Rhaenyra and Baela from attacking Vhagar from several directions.

The last Dance of the Dragons had begun.

The claws of Meleys clamped down on Vhagar's body and his dragoness let out a loud, furious roar of pain, almost throwing him off the saddle – he struggled to hold on to the thick ropes, trying to catch his balance.

He had lost control of her completely.

Vhagar threw herself at Meleys, who nimbly and quickly began to flee, burning the ships of the Greyjoy fleet along the way. He ordered Vhagar to breathe fire, but it did nothing – Meleys was faster and lighter than her, Vhagar was unable to keep up with her.

He turned over his shoulder and saw the uneven fight Aegon was facing, Syrax and Moondancer attacking him from both sides. He saw his brother's face surrounded by flames and thought of Daeron.

He thought he would not lose another brother.

With a loud yell, he ordered Vhagar to turn back, tugging hard on the ropes and to his surprise, she obeyed him, changing course, turning back towards Sunfyre.

Syrax rushed at him in an attempt to shield Baela, fire escaped from her throat, however Vhagar opened her maw and clamped her fangs on the dragoness' flesh, tearing her apart, her squeals of pain echoing around them.

Moondancer rushed to her rescue, but Aegon blocked her path, forcing her to flee, Meleys coming towards them from the south, but there was nothing more she could do.

He watched with wild, frenzied satisfaction as Rhaenyra tangled in the saddle of her dragoness fell into the water with her, sinking into the depths of the sea.

He laughed happily, lightly, feeling that he had completely lost his mind, instead of grief and sadness he felt relief.

His sister-whore was dead.

He heard Rhaenys shouting to Baela, most likely telling her to turn back, knowing the case was lost, wanting to take Rhaena from Dragonstone and escape on dragon's back to Driftmark.

He thought he would never let that happen and set off after them in pursuit, Sunfyre right by his side. He glanced sideways at Aegon, the adrenaline must have stunned him at the pain, his whole face was covered in red burns, part of his skin was living flesh.

This time Meleys' focus was not on escaping, but on protecting Baela – and that was her mistake.

Sunfyre and Vhagar had a true feast that night.

When it was all over, when everything was a foregone conclusion, when they had burned the Velaryon fleet fleeing in terror, the Greyjoys stormed into Dragonstone.

Without the powerful army of the Starks and Arryns, their soldiers were defenceless.

He and Aegon landed side by side on the great stone bridge – Aegon fell from his saddle and only close up did he see that his burns were in worse condition than he had originally assumed, his brother was unable to open his eyes.

"Take him to the Red Keep and treat him immediately. Protect your King." He ordered his soldiers, and he set off towards the stone fortress, wanting to do what he had always dreamed of doing.

He knew that Rhaenyra had surely envisaged a way out in the event of such a situation, that now it would be Luke who would claim his rights wherever he ran.

He had to end this once and for all.

He went stepped into the keep with his soldiers, ordering them to search the underground, confident that they would try to escape through some secret passage.

He was not mistaken.

As he walked into the room they had been brought into, Luke shielded Rhaena and Joffrey with his own body, as if to show him that he had courage in him, that he was not a coward. He laughed at this sight, spreading his arms as if to embrace him, the blood of the soldiers of the Blacks on his face, his dagger in his hand.

"My Lord Strong. Should I call you king now that your mother-whore is dead? Bring me her the crown." He hummed to the Greyjoy vassal – one of the soldiers found the golden crown his father wore in the things they were trying to escape with.

As if having it made him truly the heir to the throne.

He smiled as the man handed him the crown – he looked at it from all sides, and hummed under his breath as he approached him – Luke stepped back, horror on his face.

He raised his hands and, with feigned reverence, placed the crown on his head. It was too big for him, it slid halfway down his forehead.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a more pathetic sight.

"Lucerys Strong, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He exclaimed wistfully, laughing loudly as he looked around the room, the men surrounding him watching what was happening with curiosity and amusement.

Luke broke into tears.

He looked at him, not being able to believe that he was crying like a little, scared child.

He was afraid of death.

For a second he felt a sting in his chest, his throat squeezed tight.

He snorted, chasing the thought away, ridding himself of the remnants of conscience that still remained in his heart.

He threw his dagger at his feet with a nochalant movement.

"Before I kill you, I want you to put out your eye, as a payment for mine. I plan to make a gift to my mother."

By the time he returned to King's Landing on Vhagar, the sun was already rising. He looked at the outline of the Red Keep, his armour and hands, his hair, all dirty in blood, dust and sweat.

He felt free, he felt at peace at last, and although he knew that the screams and cries he heard that night would haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life, he explained to himself that he had done the right thing.

He had protected his wife and their child.

He protected his brother, his sister, his niece.

He had protected his mother and his grandfather.

Now they were safe.

Now at last he would be able to sleep.

His wife was waiting for him in his chamber – when he walked into she rose quickly, terrified, covering her face with her hands as if she were about to scream, her face pale and tired.

He knew she had not slept that night, not knowing where he was, what had happened.

She couldn't make a sound, apparently thinking that the blood that coated his body, his hair and his armour belonged to him.

He approached her, knelt down in front of the bed she was sitting on and hugged his face to her swollen abdomen, a deep sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He had done the right thing.

He had done the right thing.

He had done the right thing.

"It is done."

____

Next chapter will be the last chapter of this series. My poor heart!

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[azarisage]

So here’s a snippet of a fic I’m working on! It’s a teen wolf fic that’s kinda a fix it? It’s definitely set after the whole Kanima thing, but Erica and Boyd are alive, Peter’s back from the dead, and Derek’s still Alpha. I’ve been drooling over the idea of What if EVERYONES PARENTS FOUND OUT?????

Like, only the Sheriff and Melissa knew??? Come on! It would be sO much fun to watch them all flip out while Stiles tries to coral a bunch of adults and two Hales into playing nice long enough to solve there freaking problems!!!! Through Chris in the mix? Glorious!

Anyway, I’m calling it Not so False Alarm, and it’s currently a wip on AO3, so we’ll see how this goes🫠

“No!,” Stiles shouted. A growl much like the wolves he spent so vary much of his time around rumbling out of his throat. “None of you are going after anything,” He stated firmly

”I don’t think you quite get it, you are mine. The Pack, is Mine. And no one touch’s what’s Mine without at least losing a hand in return.”

His tone was hard and his gaze was cold and angry, and it was almost frightening to see Stiles, laughing, joking, goofy, always smiling Stiles, with his ice cold murderous gaze turned towards them. Even though they knew he’d never hurt them.

But that was just the thing.

Stiles had called them his. And he would never hurt his people.

But someone, or something, had taken and hurt a rather large amount of his people.

And they were only now beginning to realize that to Stiles?

This kind of offense was absolutely unforgivable.

And the whiskey eyed boy was out for blood.

“Stiles, you just spent the last few hours ranting about how Scott and the other kids could be in immense danger, and you think we, their parents, are just going to sit back and watch you and your Werewolf buddies charge off into the night to go play hero? News flash son, we are the parents, and We will protect our children.” Noah cut in.

The other parents nodded in agreement, adding their own little tid-bits on how they were the adults, they should be the ones to rescue their kids.

But Wendy Martin made the unfortunate mistake of adding in her own comment of, " We, as the adults in this situation, will be able to handle it better."

The two ‘wolves, who stood only just behind Stiles, frowned deeply at this comment.

They themselves were adults, they were Werewolves for goodness sake, and they both could list quite a few times in which Stiles had been able to handle the supernatural far better than themselves. Countless times where, had it not been for Stiles, they would’ve been dead, Werewolf healing or not.

And to hear Stiles’ own father talk with such little faith about their human Pack member? About Stiles? Well that just didn’t sit right with them at all.

“I’m sorry, are you all suddenly forgetting that Stiles is far more familiar with this type of situation than all of you?” Peter huffed.

“He has been dealing with your idiotic children for years now, saving their asses, finding out everything we’ve ever needed to know through Google more often than not, and Lord knows how he manages that! So before you all go assuming things about this situation, how about we ask the guy who’s saved our lives almost a dozen times, half the time on his own.”

Stiles was slightly surprised at Peters animosity on his behalf, but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it makes sense. Peter had always hated how the puppies would dismiss his ideas or plans, but he never really got the chance to go off on them because Stiles had always brushed it off, they were a group of teenagers, they were doing their best, but surrounded by human adults? That was another story.

They should at least be listening to the person who had the most information on how to safely go about the situation.

But still….

“I killed you.” He stated coolly, his questioning gaze turned toward the older Hale.

“Yes, by lighting me on fire if I’m remembering correctly, which I am.” He said, giving the younger a sly smile, completely ignoring the startled sounds coming from the adults around the room.

“But don’t worry, you’ve been forgiven, water under the bridge and all that.” He said, giving a dismissive shrug that was far too amused for the situation.

“Oh good, ‘cause I wasn’t gonna apologize anyway.”

“I never expected you to. To be honest I probably would’ve done the same.” He returned with a surprisingly genuine smile despite the topic of conversation.

“Alright, have we finally decided to not do anything stupid?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Hold on, my son what?” Noah sputtered.

Some of the others began protesting the attempted topic change along with the Sheriff, and Derek sighed.

“Did you really have to bring that up Stiles?”

He was giving the teen his usual Disappointed eyebrows look, and Stiles just groaned.

“What? It’s not like he stayed dead anyway! And besides, that was years ago, we get along much better nowadays, so the chances of it happening again are really vary slim, right Peter!”He turned to give the older Hale his most innocent look, which both had learned long ago was the absolute biggest lie. Stiles could talk circles around most people, and had learned surprisingly quickly how to affectively lie to Werewolves, Stiles was a silver tonged snake when he wanted or needed to be.

“Stiles is right nephew, we’re far less prone to tearing each other apart, we’ve even been known to hold a conversation or two when the mood strikes us. I believe just the other day we had coffee at that one café Stiles likes while we went over that old book of elementals.”

Derek just rolled his eyes at the two of them, while the others were just frozen in shock.

But before anyone else could add even more questions to the pile, Stiles just had to go and make things worse.

“I will say though, getting rid of that bitch was one hell of a final act.”

Before he disappeared up the stares to grab his hidden bag of supernatural supplies, leaving the parents heads spinning, and Derek just shaking his head at the whole situation, Peter laughing madly at his favorite humans ability to cause chaos.

[sleepy-spacetronaut]

When the Mystery Shack acquired a feisty gremlin

Start note: (22/11/2024) I have been experimenting a lot with designing Bill Cipher alternates and although they all have some points of resemblance, they have their own energy of a sort. Once the hyperfixation is over I will switch back to brainstorming lore for my personal projects, but this little experimental phase gave me a kick for making more emotional expressions and comic-format drawings. Also, I randomly started to write short fanfiction chapters for this design, my imagination has been running wild in the past few months, so stay tuned for potential story bits!

(Edit on D/M/Y: 07/12/2024: The reason this is the 4th design is because I had this drawing made in the beginning of November, but had not gotten the chance to post since my phone was unusable for about two whole weeks, so I switched to digital art in the meantime.

*will add ID for bottom picture later

One more idea that flashed through my head recently— if Bill can be a Tumblr Sexyman, then he also could total be a short, stocky and gremlin-like in a human form. Held he ravaging the pantry, causing a major ruckus in the shack, fighting children over candy—-Gosh, the POTENTIAL of this, if put in the Handyman Bill (credit to @/ on twitter) AU is endless.

Hypothetical scenarios with this design:

Ford, opening the door to get out of the Shack: What the—?

Bill, slouching on the shack’s doorstep: Hey Fordsy , guess who’s baaaack! Did you miss me, admit it, you missed me ! >:^)

Ford: … I may have missed you last time, but guess what? My aim has gotten BETTER!

Bill: *sits upright and stops smiling, now looking confused* Wuh—?

Ford: *punts him like a soccer ball*

Bill: *Shrieks while flying away and disappears with a twinkle in the sky*

Mabel and Dipper: SCOOOOORE! 📢

————————————

[After Bill had been caught red handed raiding the pantry and eating all the snacks]

Stan: *pulls out a pair of regular handcufs and tries to put them onto Bill’s wrists* There! Problem solved! Now you can’t get your grubby paws into the pantry—

*the shackles immediately slide off and fall to the floor with a metallic thud*

Bill and Stan stare at the ground rather dumbly. Bill snorts.

Bill, cackling and pumping his fists into the air: AHAHA! YES! YESSSSS! Finaly something good came out of theses acursed baby hands! SUCK IT, FEZ—-!

Stan: *unceremoniously picks him up by the scruf of the shirt*

Bill:*his tiny face flushing red with anger* Wh- What the heck!? Put me down! * starts to wriggle* STANLEY PINES, YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL, YOU MEASLY WORM WITH CATARACTS ! YOU DUMBASS! PUT ME DOWN OR I’LL— I’LL-

Stan: *goes over to the coat hanger hook on the wall and hangs Bill by the fabric of his shirts, grinning triumphantly* Or you’ll what? Steal my kneecaps? You’re powerless, Cipher. For once just admit that you lost and quit rummaging through our food!

Bill:*stops wiggling like a worm to stare daggers at Stanley*…I’m gonna scream and get your ass fined and incarcerated for child abuse. >:(

———————————

Stan, to Soos: I made a mistake by giving that menace a tricycle; he’s been rolling on it after my ankles ever since.

*Bill approaching rapidly in the background on his tricycle, a stick in hand*

Bill: HWOOOOYA! Take THAT, old fart! *smacks Stan’s shins repeatedly*

Stan: *glowers* that’s IT, I’m selling you on the internet, you ankle bitter. 

(And this is how the Pines officially acquired a new puny arch nemesis to replace the menace that was Gideon Gleeful.)

Wake up democracy, it is Polling Time!

I don’t have a preference when it comes to my Bill designs, but if love to know what’s your take on them and see if we got any favourite.

For reference, here are the links to each design, but I recommend to just look through my pinned post for additional art or info.

Design 1

Design 2

Design 3

Design 4 (it’s this post! Scroll up🔝 )

Design 5

End note: I will perhaps make a short fanfic with this concept but it will be much later, as I have already Vogelfrei to work on and Rewind the Timeline. Feel free to check out the story concept for both fanfic ideas on my pinned post. Have a great day/afternoon/evening/night, fellow tumbkerfolks!

[corbeausim]

OKAYYY started a challenge with this boy : MBTI legacy challenge

so here's the stats of my gen 1 -> INTJ

name : Mynts Stafford traits : perfectionist, hates children, snob aspiration : musical genius career : criminal (oracle) focused skills : logic, programming, guitar

i also rolled for different aspects of his life (good or chaotic) -> under the cut

relationships are chaotic lol (sabotage)

In relationships, you sabotage your own chances. The contrived rules of dating feel trivial and insulting, and you refuse to participate in those games. When emotions arise, you feel vulnerable and exposed, uncomfortable with conventional displays of affection. Rather than reach compromise, you instinctively give your partner reasons to leave. The paradox of longing for connection while rejecting the very mechanisms to attain it leaves you trapped in self-imposed solitude

professional life is “successful”

In the professional arena, your high standards align seamlessly with the culture of your workplace. Your dedication to continuous improvement and innovation not only enhances your own professional growth but also contributes to the success of the organization as a whole. Recognizing your contributions, your workplace is eager to invest  further in your development, fostering an environment where ambition and achievement are celebrated. 

parenting is “baby genius”

As a parent, you prioritize raising capable, self-reliant children with clear interests and robust critical thinking skills. They embrace freedom responsibly, navigating life’s challenges with confidence and resilience. By reframing challenges as learning opportunities, you inspire your children to think rationally and problem-solve effectively

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: Paws, Feathers & Scales

Mausritter, by Losing Games.

It’s a huge and dangerous world out there, and it does not look kindly on a small mouse. But if you are very brave and very clever and just a bit lucky, you might be able to survive. And if you survive long enough, you might even become a hero amongst mice.

Take up the sword and don the whiskers of a brave mouse adventurer in Mausritter, a rules-light fantasy adventure roleplaying game. Mausritter is built on the chassis of Into the Odd, with new rules for setting, character generation, magical artefacts, and mouse-scale adventures.

Mausritter is a game that makes character creation deceptively simple - your little mouse doesn’t have much to them, but that’s because they’re small creatures in a much larger world. It’s very easy to kill your mouse, which means that your team is going to have to focus on solving a lot of problems without diving head-first into combat. This is a game built off of other games that are OSR, which has a lot of ties to dungeon-delving kinds of games. There’s an online character generator if you want a character fast, and a seriously gigantic amount of third-party content created for these little adventurers. If you like creating and solving challenges more than diving head-first into combat, you should absolutely check this game out.

Cats of Catthulu, by Catthulu.

In Cats of Catthulhu, players take on the roles of a variety of ordinary-seeming cats fighting conspiracies of cosmic chaos. Mighty spirits such as Snarlyathotep, slimy Phatphroggua, and Hastpurr of the Yellow Eye inspire their cultists to destroy civilization-but that’s where all the comfy furniture is! 

One person acts as the Cat Herder, arranging the secret plots, challenges, and rewards and guiding the others through the process of making an adventure. Rules are light and quick, emphasizing player cleverness and the fun of being feline. There’s plenty of darkness and chaos in the world, but our fuzzy heroes can handle it!... Usually.

This game is perfect for players who don’t want to deal with math, because cats can’t do math either! Normally you play using special cat dice, but using regular d6’s will work just fine. Your cats will dive into situations that have a Lovecraftian twist, but aren’t too scary for children. On top of rolling dice to determine whether you succeed, there are a few optional rules that add to the goofy feel of the game - particularly the rule of Wum Fing, which states that if a cat character picks up something in game, the player must put their pencil in their mouth and speak around it. If the player gets annoyed and takes the pencil out of their mouth, the cat drops what they are holding.

You only really need the Nekonomikon to play, but Cat Herders might benefit from picking up the Cat Herder’s Guide.

Capybara Capers, by momatoes.

A super elite team of capybaras has been assembled to steal the mythical Awesome Lemon once and for all. But each of you have your own motives...and there may very well be a traitor in your midst. Can you afford to trust one another?

Capybara Capers offers a smooth, seamless tabletop RPG experience for playing a criminal critter, with mechanics for sharing trust, escalating rolls, and even individual win conditions. Ideal for 3-6 players, plus a Game Master!

Each character has their own idea of what victory looks like. There are up to 6 unique Win Conditions that your character may draw from the deck - from gaining the trust of all of the other players, to betraying the rest of the capybaras. Characters also descriptors that will add dice to relevant rolls, in order to increase their chances of success. Throughout the game, players may exchange Trust tokens to give each-other aid or remove Escalation Tokens, which are added whenever the group fails three or more consecutive tasks in a row. If you like wacky hi-jinx and the possibility to betray your friends, Capybara Capers is for you!

Pugmire, by Onyx Path Publishing.

“Be a good dog. Protect your home. Be loyal to those who are true. These are the words of the Code of Man.”

— Sister Picassa Collie, Shepherd of the Church of Man

Dogs have inherited the world, building the kingdom of Pugmire untold centuries after the Ages of Man are over. These dogs have been uplifted to use tools and language, and they seek to rediscover the ruins of the Old Ones. Some have learned to use the leftover technology of humanity, but they believe it to be magic handed to them by their lost gods. Others seek to create an ideal civilization, using a Code of Man compiled from ancient, fragmentary lore left behind by humanity. The world is dangerous and mysterious, but good dogs will persevere.

Pugmire uses a simplified version of 5e, which makes it great for kids or first-timers to the RPG scene. You may clear the forest of Giant Ants, foil the plots of scheming cats, or race rat cultists from the Cult of Labo Tor in order to retrieve a ruin from an artifact. As adventurers, all of your endeavours serve to fulfill your over-arching goal: to become Very Good Dogs. For players, the core rulebook for Pugmire is free as a phone version on DriveThruRpg. For cat lovers, you can instead play in the scheming Monarchies of Mau, if that is what your heart desires.

Crustacean Bus Station, by kumada1 (Sprinting Owl).

You are a crab.

You live in a tidepool community with other crabs. However, your crab factory job is at the other end of the beach. To get there, you must traverse dangerous terrain, evade seagulls and seals and morays, and wear yourself out scrambling over barnacle-covered rocks. This commute would be so much easier if you had a bus.

Unfortunately, crab bus stops are banned by seal civic ordinances. Crabs are rejected from the prestigious Seagull School Of Engineering. And Moray Refreshments, your factory job, is very strict about attendance. Miss even a few minutes of your shift and you risk having your pay docked---which will put you behind on your rent and give Octopus Realty all the incentive it needs to start processing evictions.Tonight, you're going to build your own bus with nothing but pincers and theft.

Buckle up and ready your pincers, because this is a game full of crime and creativity. You’re playing the underdogs, crabs with only a few hit points and a lot of obstacles in the way of building your bus. Each character gets something called a Scuttle Score, which acts as player currency in order to get out of a terrible situation. However, if you Scuttle out of a situation, it makes the situation worse for your friends! Will you leave them behind, or will you stick it out and solve your problems together? 

Geese at the Beach, by Justin Joyce.

THE GOOSE KING HAS AWOKEN.  The annual event has arrived, in which the Goose King rises and sends his most powerful Geese soldiers to the dangerous lands of The Beach to gather Shiny things for his most powerful Horde. Perhaps he simply wants as much treasure as possible, or perhaps he yearns for the greatest treasure of all. 

Regardless of his wants, it is on you and your squad of geese to brave the horrors of The Beach and battle the Goose King's enemies to bring the king what he desires most: Shinies. If the Goose King's wants are not met, the risk of all out war between The Goose King and the Seagull Armada could threaten to drown the world. 

This game picks up a lot of cues from Belonging Outside Belonging games, which don’t usually use dice. This game uses 2d8, but much of your character abilities rely not on dice, but on the Favors you gain by doing certain actions. Players choose from five Goose playbooks: The Buff Goose, The Duck, The Pelican, The Cat, and the Fish. Each one of these playbooks is hilarious and guaranteed to elicit a game full of laughter. 

Wanderhome, by Possum Creek Games.

Wanderhome is a pastoral fantasy role-playing game about traveling animal-folk, the world they inhabit, and the way the seasons change. It is a game filled with grassy fields, mossy shrines, herds of chubby bumblebees, opossums in sundresses, salamanders with suspenders, starry night skies, and the most beautiful sunsets you can imagine.

You might be a tamarin who dances with small and forgotten gods, a leporine mail carrier who relies on moths to get packages where they belong, a little lizard with a big heart and a mysterious past, or a near-endless number of other thrilling possibilities. No matter what, we’re always travelers—animal-folk who go from village to village and get to see the length and breadth of all the world of Hæth. The seasons will change as we play, and we will change with them.

Wanderhome is enchanting and endearing, and fundamentally encourages a different kind of roleplaying experience than you find in a traditional roleplaying game. Built on the Belonging Outside Belonging system, it requires absolutely no dice. Character sheets will give you the ability to describe the world around you, and encourage you to step into making mistakes in order to set your character up for successes down the road. If you are interested in stories about small critters travelling to pastoral locations and helping out the characters they find along the way, Wanderhome is definitely for you.

You can find both official and non-official Wanderhome supplements here.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Me, reading some pro-Katara meta because I like the character.

The meta author: “The Legend of Korra” ruined Katara’s character! She was made Aang’s trophy wife, whose whole life is dedicated to taking care of him! She does not have a chance to fight! “The best healer” title is empty since she never succeeded in healing anyone, it is only used to show how strong the opponents are! She is not shown during the trial on Yakone or Jinora’s ceremony! She never got a statue! Bryke said that’s because she never did anything important aside from giving birth to and raising Aang’s kids! Only one of her kids cares about Southern Water Tribe culture, two other worship Air Nomads’ culture and think this one is more important! She’s such a great character, she deserves so much better!

Me, a fan of Katara: Okay, I kinda agree with the opinion on LoK, in this aspect it sucks. And if Bryke really said this thing, it sucks too. *starting learning to draw Katara to make a cool fanart with her sculpture and many other cool fanarts with her one day, because she deserves it and much more*

Me, not really a kataang shipper, reading some anti-kataang meta that I came across, because I am open to different opinions.

The meta author: We never see Katara’s POV on this relationship, only Aang’s! The kiss in “The Ember Island Players” was a horrible attack on Katara’s borders! Katara and Aang had a fight about killing Ozai and never resolved this conflict! And how can you ever ship two literal children, it’s immoral! Also, Aang is younger than Katara, he’s too immature for her! “The Legend of Korra” ruined Katara’s character! She was made Aang’s trophy wife, whose whole life is dedicated to taking care of him! She does not have a chance to fight! “The best healer” title is empty since …

Me: Well, the kiss in EIP really was not okay, and I would like to see some dialog about it before the finale. The talk solving the conflict would also be nice. I do think that this sweet embrace in the end is better than their final kiss, because yes, they are kids, I think it’s too early for them to kiss on the lips. But I know that the final kiss is important, cause this time it’s Katara making the first move, cause now Aang learned to respect her boundaries. Also, LoK sucks. With the rest I don’t agree, but people can have opinions that are different from mine…

Zutara fandom: Zutara is such a better alternative than kataang!

Me, also finding out that these meta authors – both pro-katara and anti-kataang - ship zutara: Okay, what can you offer instead?

Zutara fandom: Wouldn’t it be nice if Katara got her own chance to be a hero… by saving Zuko? Wouldn’t it be nice if Katara only ever cared for Zuko and looked after his every need? Wouldn’t it be nice if she married him and gave birth to one, two, three, four, five, six children? Also only ever helping the Fire Nation people? Wouldn’t it be nice if she cheated with Zuko on Aang? Wouldn’t it be nice if we draw zutara arts in canon setting, with Katara in Fire Nation clothes without anything blue at all/okay, some blue elements/okay, some epic or sexy blue dress that looks nothing like the Southern Water Tribe style shown in the “Avatar: the Last Airbender”, because with Zuko she will have absolutely no problems keeping her culture? Wouldn’t it be nice if she used bloodbending more often since despite everything we saw in the show there totally is something good about it?

Me: HOW ON EARTH THIS IS BETTER?! You know, I am growing more and more into kataang right now.

As usual, I won't comment on the Korra thing because it's been years since I last gave it a chance, and I can't remember much other than "I hate the knew characters and can barely recognize the old ones."

The very idea that we "Don't see Katara's side/interest in Aang/was never the one to make the first move before the finale" is already completely false and this fandom gotta stop repeating stuff Zutarians say without rewatching the show first.

She's immediately his best friend after meeting him, says she'll leave her tribe if he's banished (she obviously spoke without thinking and I doubt she would have done it, but still), and she says "The world can't aford to lose you to the Fire Nation, and neither can I" before he's taken away by Zuko. Her obvious affection for Aang right away is so obvious that Sokka immediately teases her by calling Aang her boyfriend.

She's jealous when he's paying more attention to his "fanclub" than to her in "Warriors of Kyoshi." She decided to kiss him on the cheek in "Bato Of The Water Tribe."

The kiss in "Cave Of Two Lovers" was her idea, she's offended when she thinks Aang is not interested, and blushing after they actually kiss. In "Bitter Work" she gets jealous when he calls Toph "Sifu", and glad when he does the same to her. She's visibly upset when Aang doesn't want to hug her in "The Serpent's pass" and is touched when he says she gives him hope. When he dies in "Crossroads of Destiny", Katara goes berserk - much like Oma did when Shu died, hence their musical theme as a couple being the same.

In "The Awakeing" She's clearly touched again when Aang realizes she didn't save his life at the last second, but actually brought him back from the dead, and is visibly grateful to her. She's jealous AGAIN in "The Headband" when she sees all the girls at the party being clearly charmed by him, and is then all cute, shy and flirty when they're dancing together. She's happy when he is proud of her for the whole "Painted Lady" thing. When he kisses her in the day of the eclipse, she's suprised but kisses back and blushes, and by the end of the episode is practically cuddling with him.

She only accepts Zuko into the group because Aang feels it would be the right thing to do, and she trusts him, and then THREATENS TO KILL ZUKO if he steps out of line and hurts her best friend again. And in Ember Island, when Aang full on asks her if it's true that she only sees him as little brother and would never even consider dating him, she says "I didn't say that, an actor said that"

A 14-year-old girl who had crushes on other boys (and ended up going nowhere) and is busy being a child soldier in the middle of a war being a little unsure if she likes her best friend or if she likes likes him is not the same as "She never demonstrated ANY interest in him." There moments of Kataang being one-sided (again, because Katara was into Haru and specially Jet for a little while), but it was always very clear that show was setting up a Kataang endgame - one Katara was clearly written to want.

Also I disagree with the "they're too young to kiss on the lips." I don't know if it's just a case of different cultures doing things differently, but at least in my experience here in Brazil, 12-14 years old is EXACTLY the age where most kids start actually acting on their crushes, dating, and kissing - I'm not even talking a quick, cutesy kiss, I'm talking "I witness the unpleasant sight of my classmates aggressively making out in/under the school's stairs more than enough times to realize I was not the only kid/pre-teen with hormones coming out my ears"

And about what Zutarians do to "fix" Katara, don't forget: she needs to lose any and all agency she had as character so she can be the damsel in distress Zuko will save.

[higanbana-games]

Hints in Point&Click Adventures. How not to make players feel stupid?

The Point&Click Adventure genre implies a very simple gameplay from its name. Whether it’s a 1st person or a 3rd person game, players are meant to click in various areas on their screens. And that click calls many possible actions: talk to an NPC, pick up an object, use an object, examine some area, trigger an event/action and many other possible variants.

Story is what gives such games a meaning. Detective stories, romance novels or even horrors. However, a good story can simply go unnoticed if the gameplay doesn’t complement that story.

I’ve played many games of different genres, but when it comes to a story quest I often stumbled on one thing that unites such games as Syberia, Fran Bow and even Elden RIng. It’s the lack of in-game hints.

Every story is unique and has its own deep meaning, and I absolutely love every game I mention in this post. So, the following examples will just show some hard parts in the games I mention.

“Fran Bow” - ticket to the Club

The overall game is a masterpiece! Yet, I had a really hard time trying to understand what I was supposed to do to get into the Club in Ithersta.

(The following might be a spoiler if you haven’t played the game yet)

What the quest is about:

you have to find a hidden passage from the back of the club and send your cat in there,

you play as a cat too steal a ticket from one of the guests and bring that ticket to Fran,

Fran shows the ticket to the security guy at the entrance but he can easily tell she’s lying to him and doesn’t accept the stolen ticket,

Fran takes a smeared pest control specialist’s card she picked up ages ago and a green crayon she had got even earlier than that. And she draws herself a ticket on that card.

Fran gives that ticket to the security guy and he lets her enter the Club.

The main problem here is that Fran has had the objects she needs in her inventory all that time, but the quest makes players find a way to steal a ticket and try it first. Only after that sequence of actions can she fake her ticket. Of course, it can be explained like Fran had to see the real ticket before she could draw the one for herself. But this idea wasn’t emphasized in any way, which makes it extremely hard to figure the logic out by yourself.

No chance to skip the mini games

Another concern I had was on release of a wonderful game called “Children of Silent Town”. The game has stunning art and gives pretty but creepy vibes. The story felt so smooth that I did not even once think of looking into guides. Yet, some mini games were relatively hard. Though they had basic visual hints explaining how to play, some of the games took me too much time to enjoy them. And there was no button to skip it nor the more precise instruction showing how to complete it.

“Rusty Lake” - good visual hints

As a good example of guiding players through the game, I would call the “Rusty Lake” series. There are good visual hints following through the gameplay. And when there are no such obvious hints and players feel stuck, it’s up to players whether to try and figure everything out by themselves or press a button and see a thorough visual instruction.

My point here is simple. Hints should be balanced.

If you have to use a head of cheese to open a door with a complicated mechanism and there are no hints on such a unique usage - players might feel too stupid to solve it.

If a player character or an NPC comments on every action with phrases like “The door is locked” or “The villain ran over there”, it might frustrate players. For such comments are too basic and don’t give any extra helpful information while on the other hand they don’t guide players nor hint at what to do next.

The balance between making players feel too smart or too stupid is really delicate. 

The main idea is to make players feel smart when they solve another puzzle or listen to an NPC carefully and follow the implication; or just let them enjoy the game in a simple way they choose by directing them smoothly and letting them skip the hard parts.

There probably isn’t one correct answer or a universal solution on the subject (should there really be one?), and I just shared my thoughts and observations.

Every story-driven game is unique, and game designers choose the best way that suits every single project to reveal its potential and touch people’s hearts. <3

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #65: GoT, but make it Narrative Symmetry

The thing about Game of Thrones is that there are very few slash ships that I can get behind, which is why I tend to lean towards a female!Jon Snow in my terrible fic ideas. Then I thought: what if Jon Snow looked just slightly more like his mother?

Or: What if Robert Baratheon takes one look at Jon Snow, decides he's Lyanna Stark reborn, and decides he's not going to give up his second chance at a Stark bride?

Aka: The Jon the Fair fic.

Just imagine it:

Lysa Arryn never gets the chance to poison her husband. Instead, on the very day she was set to carry out her plot, Robert Baratheon discovers that his wife has been cuckholding him with her brother and that his children are bastards. The shock kills Jon Arryn, and in a matter of hours Cersei, Jamie, and their children are imprisoned, executed, and their corpses tossed into Blackwater Bay.

While Tywin prepares his uprising, Robert heads north seeking a Hand and a Northern bride. He knows Neds daughters are both too young, but perhaps he has a beautiful, dutiful cousin who'd make a suitable queen.

Robert is fully prepared to search the entire north for a suitable bride when he catches sight of young Jon Snow practicing his swordplay in the yard. In the twilight, with slightly longer hair than canon, he looks so much like Lyanna Stark that for a moment Robert thinks he's been transported into a dream.

In the cold light of morning, Robert realizes that the person he saw was his best friend's male bastard, but can't quite bring himself to care. With the help of his kingsguard, he abducts young Jon Snow, dresses him as a woman, and drags him kicking and screaming back to King's Landing.

Now, the rest of Westeros is aware Ned Stark had a bastard, but nothing beyond that. So when Bobby B arrives in King's Landing claiming to have married "Lyarra Snow", Ned Stark's batard daughter, very few people realize his "bride" is male. Or unwilling.

For Jon's part, he's about as displeased to be be "wed" to his abductor and rapist as one might expect, but plays along as Ned Stark's bastard daughter for the simple fact that claiming to be male when everyone else around him thinks him female will cause more problems than it might solve.

Ned wants to raise the North against Robert for Jon as he did for Lyanna, but getting his kingdom to go to war for an abducted bastard is more difficult than getting them to go to war for a beloved daughter of a Lord Paramount. At best, he's able to convince his bannermen to stop paying taxes to the king.

Meanwhile, Twyin Lannister is preparing his own rebellion against Robert for killing his beloved daughter and son - but when he kills Robert in battle, the rule of the Seven Kingdoms falls to his "queen", Jon Snow, who is not inclined to make peace with a rebellious Lord Paramount.

Jon, largely trapped in his role as "Queen Lyarra" by circumstance, makes the most of it.

Honestly, my muse starts tapering out once it comes to figuring out the exact details of how "Queen Lyarra" manages to rule the Seven Kingdoms after Robert's death. The Westerlands are put down, peace is restored, etc.. but most people come to think that "Queen Lyanna" "crossdresses" as a man and is the "foremother" of the royal house that follows after him. (Think Hatshepsut without the strap-on beard.)

Bonuses include: 1) a detailed exploration of gender roles in Westeros, what is means to be a man forced into a woman's role, and the historical nonbinary/intersex/androgyny of Vayerian dragonlords before the Doom; 2) a detailed exploration of what it means to be the abducted bride of a king, with no legal recourse beyond lie back and think of England and yet a certain amount of power over everything except one's rapist; 3) learning to rule a kingdom on the fly because it's either that or wallowing in absolute horror of one's circumstance, but never being able to come clean about who you are without losing everything that put you in power in the first place; and 4) historians arguing for centuries afterwards whether "Queen Lyarra, First of Her Name" was a AMAB crossdresser or butch lesbian who took up a male role to solidify her rule.

Honestly, I'm not sure this amounts to a coherent fic idea other than Bobby B passes a male Jon Snow off as his second wife, but it is what it is. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird

[achaiapelides]

My TWP Predictions

I've seen that people started with predictions to what they think or want to happen in The Wicked Powers. So, here are my predictions:

The main character is either Dru or Kit. Dru because she is the most important living female character of the main squad and Kit, because most parts of the series are probably his story. Also he was second after Emma in TDA.

Kit, Dru and Ty have most of the book in their POV, additionally there will be some chapters from Ash and a few in Livvy's POV. The rest of the characters don't get their own POVs .

Kit and Ty will obviously make up (and out) and end up dating and staying together forever.

Mina or one of the Lightwood-Bane kids will be kidnapped and threatened to be killed, but won't die

Thule-Livvy comes to Our World and meets Cameron here. They get a second chance for their relationship, even though their respective versions of the other world are dead. I also think that Cameron would follow Thule-Livvy back to Thule to save it from demons.

Janus will either die, end up with the Seelie Queen, or go back to Thule to undo his and Sebastians mistakes and save the world on Clary's wish.

Thule Kit will either die, go evil and/or become King of Faerie. But somehow I think he dies because he gets attacked by faeries.

Thule Rosemary never gets attacked deadly, finds her son again, tries and fails to protect him at a dangerous attack by faeries and accidently goes to Our World and protects/saves Kit here.

The TWP-squad mainly consists of Dru, Jaime, Ghost-Livvy and/or Thule-Livvy, Kit and Ty. Ash joins them later and Anush also gets to be pretty important, but has no part written in his point of view.

Dru, Jaime and Ash will go to Thule for some reason. Kit, Ty, Livvy and Anush stay in Our World and go to Faerie.

We get to see Auraline. Either in a flashback or because she's actually alive, but nobody knew. In that case she will also protect Kit and maybe end up as Queen of Faerie.

Kieran might give up his throne to the brother who's dating (?) the Seelie Queen in tge end of TDA.

Kit has wings and can make other people fly with his powers. I want to see him and Ty dance across the night sky.

Love triangle between Dru, Jaime and Ash, but they actually communicate and Dru ends up with Ash.

In the end Ash lives with either Dru at Blackthorn Hall or either the Herondale-Carstairs family.

Dru and Ty move to Blackthorn Hall, like Jules planned them to, also to be closer to Kit (and Ash).

Kit and Ash become parabatai. Maybe to secure eachother's survival. They are scared the other will kill them, but parabatai's can't kill eachother. So problem solved.

If a Lightwood dies, it's hopefully Maryse.

Kit fake-dies. Ty also fake-dies at the showdown battle and Kit heals him with his power.

All characters comeback at the showdown. Also Herongraystairs reunion and sibling-bonding of their children.

Irene unexpectedly loves Kit

Ghost-Livvy playing with animals (Irene)

Dru naming Ash's chinchilla

Ash saving Dru from falling

gray character Ash, but he chooses the good side in the end

These are the things I definitely do not want to happen, but might be a bit likely to go down this way:

Jace dying. Because he's a Lightwood, too and has someone who wants to and can step up in his place if he dies: Janus. He's also in more or less immediate danger, because Janus wants to kill him. Also Clary thought that she would die in TDA, so maybe Jace steps up to die instead of her (like Jason did for Piper in TOA, Rick is a friend of Cassie's, too, btw). But I hope it's not him who dies.

Ideas I had, that are probably way too wild for it to actually happen:

KitTy wedding in faerie as a way of staying together forever, because others want to separate them.

Rosechild / Rosestar moments: I mean Ash flirting with Jaime and Jaime totally questioning his sexuality. Maybe even some more romantic moments

Ash taking the Fairchild name instead in honour of his aunt and grandma.

Kit taking the Blackthorn name because he feels more connected to them than to the Herondales. Jace almost disowning him afterwards.

Kit bonding and cuddling with a duck. Jace definitely disowning him now.

Ash being the one who warns Clary and Jace about Janus

I probably have even more ideas, which I will add when I remember them.

Predicted couple's surnames at the end (aka what I think fits the best):

Clary and Jace Herondale (-Lightwood): children will be Herondales

Clarissa Herondale and Jonathan Christopher Lightwood Herondale

Alec and Magnus Lightwood-Bane

Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane and Magnus Lightwood-Bane

Simon and Izzy Lightwood-Lovelace

Simon Lovelace and Isabelle Lightwood-Lovelace

Aline and Helen Penhallow (-Blackthorn): children would be Penhallows

Aline Penhallow and Helen Penhallow-Blackthorn

Mark, Cristina and Kieran Blackthorn-Rosales (if they have children, Cristina and Marks child would be Blackthorn and Cristina and Kierans child would be Rosales)

Mark Anthony Blachthorn, Cristina Mendoza Rosales and Kieran Blackthorn-Rosales

Julian and Emma Carstairs

Julian Atticus Carstairs and Emma Cordelia Carstairs

Kit and Ty Blackthorn

Christopher Jonathan Blachthorn and Tiberius Nero Blachthorn

(Livvy and Cameron Blackthorn-Ashdown)

(Livia Blackthorn and Cameron Ashdown)

Dru and Ash Fairchild (-Morgenstern)

Drusilla Fairchild and Ash Fairchild

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ discussion of RAMCOA with nonphysical examples, sh/suicide

For every person I see opening up about RAMCOA, there’s another telling the world to never so much as glance in its direction. We are shit at tone sometimes, so not to be rude, but I do have reasons I dislike the silence.

Reading about tortured children should never be comfortable, and if you have no reason to suspect a similar history, you can filter away the nastiness. We will never be able to have that ignorance, even if our front-facing alters don’t remember.

If you do suspect a history or end up having one, congrats! Time to start deprogramming. Chances are if you went through this flavor of hell, the stability you have is a cover for your involvement, past or current. Either way, I’ve never seen someone survive without any side effects, and addressing the problem is the only way to actually solve it.

Omega (death/sh) programs can be activated by looking into trauma material. Any trauma material. And a good amount of other stuff, like trying to leave your area or not reporting back to an assigned group member. Our omega programs have been passively problematic for years, and our first active cases were around 4 years old. It’s a common program line, and some groups install functioning versions very young. We did not know about any kind of abuse at 4, despite being trafficked and regularly hurt our whole life. It was triggered by existing too close to a ritual site, and we had sh behaviors and runaway attempts for ‘knowing too much’.

We were taught by abusers that what they were doing was good and normal at the same time they were teaching us we were dirty for living it and nobody would believe us. Pretty much all of that category was just convincing us not to tell on them, with punishment for breaking cult rules. We’ve read about survivors taking the ‘Golden Rule’ as ‘Silence’, and we have a similar experience. Any breaking of the quiet without direct harm at their hands is another inch towards safety. If we can convince ourselves they really did lie about their omnipotence, we can shake some programs based in those beliefs.

We were told that our system/body specifically was bad and wrong, and that these things happened to us because we deserved it. We don’t hold the same standard for outsiders, and their stories make us think we might not have been predestined for the life we got.

Outsiders who have no trauma history, and sometimes those who do, can be pretty insensitive. We have been harassed for having been sexually assaulted, called names for telling/not telling parts of our story, and insulted in various unpleasant ways because we were forced to perpetrate. We still commonly get a reaction of disbelief, even after months of building trust and then giving only vague summaries. The more people hear about this form of maltreatment and its effects, the higher their tolerance will be when someone needs them to show up.

It makes us feel more secure in our own memories when other survivors have similar experiences. To know that it can actually be that bad, it isn’t the norm, and others have gotten out and started healing is more weight off our shoulders I knew we carried. I, and other alters, have shame pits that we can sink into quick. The pure validation of knowing it happened, the flex tape of understanding it wasn’t their fault, the basis for comparison we have never had in anyone but our abusers. It helps us, even if it also hurts.

Silence is what they wanted. ‘They’ being the pedophile rings, cults, and other organized groups that rely on programming children and anyone else they got their hands on for profit. I genuinely do believe more people fit into our community than currently admit, and the gray doesn’t become visible until you open your eyes to the damn black and white.