#i used to own a pug

[glowsticcc]

i loovveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee grumley hes so cute and small and squishey i need to give him head scritches and kiss his sweet squishey little face

[hislittleraincloud]

Where does everyone get their information from. Am I the only one not savvy in the way of internet sleuthing?? 😮‍💨 I thought Jenna was close with all her siblings. And they take a protective stance over her, especially Aliyah who guards Jenna’s privacy. How do you know she was on the “outs” with her older brother?

She wrote it in her book bro.

"Right now, my older brother and I aren't on the best terms. I haven't seen him in almost a year, which is the longest we've ever gone. We got into an argument last year about prioritizing family, actually."

Page 71 of ✨It's All Love✨

Also on Page 71

"Sometimes the best thing for us is to love our family members from a distance, as painful as it is."

Happy Thanksgiving? LOL

[xellandria]

I know I (was) volunteered, but being left out hurts surprisingly more than usual this week.

[jimmerzz0905]

gajhbauhbaubauhbuhsbjhsb,,,,,,

An archivist found a long forgotten 8mm film reel in an old metal box, marked “Philippines 1942”. Thinking it was lost WWII footage, he sent it in to be restored/digitized. When he got the footage back, he found puppies instead (via)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

50 Terms of Endearment

This selection of words used as terms of endearment over the past thousand years shows several items that have stood the test of time, notably darling and dear, and some recurring motifs, such as those from the semantic fields of taste and the animal kingdom. But several belong to their own time: bawcock and bully, for example, are encountered in Shakespeare.

darling (c. 888) ⚜ dear (c. 1230) ⚜ sweetheart (c. 1290)

heart (c. 1305) ⚜ honey (c. 1375) ⚜ dove (c. 1386)

cinnamon; love (c. 1405) ⚜ mulling (c. 1475) ⚜ daisy (c. 1485)

mouse (c. 1520) ⚜ whiting (c. 1529) ⚜ fool (c. 1530) ⚜ beautiful (1535)

soul (c. 1538) ⚜ bully (1548) ⚜ lamb (c. 1556) ⚜ pussy (c. 1557)

ding-ding (1564) ⚜ lover (1573) ⚜ pug (1580) ⚜ mopsy (1582)

bun (1587) ⚜ wanton (1589) ⚜ ladybird (1597) ⚜ chuck (1598)

sweetkin (1599) ⚜ duck; joy (1600) ⚜ sparrow (c. 1600)

bawcock (c. 1601) ⚜ nutting (1606) ⚜ tickling (1607)

bagpudding (1608) ⚜ dainty (1611) ⚜ flitter-mouse (1612)

pretty (1616) ⚜ old thing (c. 1625) ⚜ duckling (1630) ⚜ sweetling (1648)

pet (1767) ⚜ sweetie (1778) ⚜ cabbage (1840) ⚜ prawn (1895)

so-and-so (1897) ⚜ pumpkin (1900) ⚜ pussums (1912)

treasure (1920) ⚜ sugar (1930) ⚜ lamb-chop (1962)

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists ⚜ Notes: On Love ⚜ Love Advice ⚜ "I love you" Word Lists: Love Pt. 1 Pt. 2 ⚜ Physiology of Love ⚜ Synonyms ⚜ Kinds of Love

[sturniluvr]

Films and cuddles

Matt Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Nick sturniolo x bsf!reader

Word count: 900 (roughly)

Warning: none really, just fluff, possible spelling mistakes, maybe a bit cringe ngl😭

Summary: matts girlfriend can’t sleep, she and her bestfriend Nick watch a film on the couch.

❗️not proofread❗️

It was around 12:30am, the only time the sturniolo household was relatively quiet minus the soft hum of the tv coming from the living room as everyone was settling down for the night. The boys had just come back from filming the newest car video and everyone filtered around the house doing their own things. Y/N and Matt in their shared bedroom, Chris, for once in his own room, and Nick in the living room, presumably editing the YouTube video ready to be posted the next day. Matt was fast asleep behind Y/N, while she laid awake staring at the ceiling hoping sleep would overcome her eventually.

*hour later*

Y/N still couldn’t seem to fall asleep no matter how much she tried. She turned her body to face Matt who was still fast asleep, softly snoring with his beloved pug stuffed animal mr wrinkleton against his chest. Finally, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and threw on a pair of socks she found to avoid her feet getting cold and she quietly made her way over to Matt’s desk chair and grabbed his hoodie that hung on the back of the chair and she put it on, the hoodie drowning her small frame. She made her way over to the bedroom door and quietly opened it and made her way out and down the small corridor into the kitchen where she was met with the sight of Nick and Lauren, a friend of theirs they’ve known since high school and Chris’ girlfriend, sat on the couch together watching a film on the tv with a blanket thrown lazily across their legs Nick turned his gaze away from the tv as he heard her footsteps across the wooden floor.

‘Hey. I thought you were asleep. Everything okay?’ Nick asked the Y/H/C girl as he watched her open the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk. ‘hey, just couldn’t sleep that’s all. how come you’re both still awake?’ She replied quietly, not wanting to potentially wake Matt up ‘not long finished editing for tomorrow’s video. Probably gonna head to bed soon’ he replied. ‘Come watch this film with us Y/N/N, it’s Jaeden Martell’s new film and it’s only just started.’ lauren added on, knowing how much Y/N loves Jaeden and his films. Y/N nodded and trudged over to the couch after she finished her milk and put the empty glass in the dishwasher and sat next to Nick, who put the blanket over her legs and she sunk into the couch and made herself comfortable and they all continued to watch the movie, Nick occasionally on his phone answering Snapchat replies from fans.

*time skip*

Nick yawned as the credits rolled. Lauren had taken herself downstairs to Chris’ room halfway through the movie since she got too tired but Nick and Y/N decided to stay upstairs and finish the movie. The blue eyed boy felt a weight on his shoulder, he looked to his side and saw the younger girl asleep on his shoulder as soft snores escaped her lips. He chuckled softly at the sight of the girl who was like his sister. He gently tapped her, causing a mumble to escape her lips.

‘Hey sleepy head.’ Nick spoke softly as to not annoy her as he knew how easily annoyed she got if people spoke to loudly when she first wakes up. ‘Mmm hey.’ she murmured, and sent him a sleepy smile, and she made no effort to get up off the couch to go back to bed.

‘Want me to carry you kid?’ He said to the sleepy girl who was practically falling back asleep and she lazily nodded. Nick took the blanket off her legs and quickly folded it up and threw it onto the back of the couch. He put his phone in his pyjama pants pocket. He gently picked Y/N up, hooking his arms behind her back and behind her knees and carried her bridal style through the corridor and gently kicked open the door to Matt and Y/N’s bedroom which was open adjar to begin with.

Nick laid his best friend on her side of the bed, he removed her socks for her, aware of how much she hated sleeping with socks on as she shuffled slightly to get comfortable on the bed and he put the blanket over her body. As he was moving, the floorboards made a loud creaking noise which made Nick silently curse to himself as he watched his brother slowly wake up.

‘Nick, what are you doing?’ Matt mumbled with his voice full of sleep, slightly annoyed at being woken up ‘Sorry Matt, she fell asleep watching a movie on the couch so I brought her back to bed, you know, being the nice bestfriend I am’ Nick replied pointing at the half asleep girl next to Matt as if he was stating the obvious ‘Goodnight both of you’ Nick whispered as he made his way out the bedroom and made his way up to his own bedroom.

Almost as soon as Nick left his room, Matt looked over at Y/N, who, in her sleepy state, had reached out for mr wrinkleton and took the stuffed animal in her arms. He let out a soft chuckle at his girls antics and almost as if she’d sensed him shuffling around to get comfortable, she subconsciously moved so that her head rested on Matt’s chest and wrapped her arm around his torso, the stuffed animal getting squished between the couple as Matt wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

‘Goodnight sleepy girl, I love you’ Matt whispered to her, he felt her squeeze his torso gently in acknowledgment, she mumbled a quiet ‘I love you’ back to the brown haired boy as they both nodded off.

[aboringredmop]

k still don't know how im gonna post the videos (YouTube? unlisted?someone please help) but I can't sleep so I thought it'd write down whatever I remember happening!

(edit: here's the full recording! )

Becky and Joe walked on stage wearing sunglasses and red leather jackets and threw 3 of the trio plushies into the crowd. didn't get one unfortunately but it's really cool some people got free plushies :)

they made this robot child called the Inspiration Child, who's clearly meant to be a nod to ai (can learn from our show and generate it's own content!)

they explained how they met (and had some dodgy animated retelling), and how they started with small projects like commercials and music videos, until they came up with designs of the trio (and a mysterious fourth fella)

they made the designs first, then made the set, then the song and finally wrote the script for creativity. red guy was just a red mop head with legs at first ("alien squid thing") but Joe put the red guy head on for shits and giggles once and Becky thought it was hilarious so they kept it in the show

they were really not expecting it to blow up, and when Sundance called because they wanted to show creativity Becky thought it was a scam caller lol

they talked about the kickstarter and the credit card fraud kid. the mailed him saying "hey maybe dont do that" but the kid didnt know how to undo it cuz he just found a website full of credit card information and went ham, so Becky and Joe had to contact kickstarter because people were pulling out of the funding because they thought the project was overfunded (kickstarter was very difficult to contact)

they also made (lighthearted) fun of nsfw fluffybird art ((no padlock 😔) "using OUR characters to act out their SICK FANTASIES" - Becky) and theorists, especially because most if not all of the webseries is just them fucking around.

Inspiration Child also says something along the lines of "wow what a cool show with a great message of how corrupt the media is. I hate the media!"

Becky and Joe had these rules to make the show as vague as possible (no pop culture references, no names, no swearing and way too much detail put into small things)(the duck guy drag queen absolutely obliterates the no swearing rule lol)

they talk about the pilot, how they focused too much on the story because they felt like they had to due to it being on the big screen now, and how it ended up ruining the atmosphere and such of the pilot. they did show the entire thing sped up but my phone sucks ass so I could not get it to focus correctly. I'll see what I can salvage so you people can dissect frames of your blorbo you're Legally Not Allowed To See (which is also the official reason we don't get the pilot)

also pilot concept art showed that Mean Steve is in fact just called Key

they showed a whole post-it wall full of ideas for the tv show. don't know how much I got on footage, but what stood out most to me were 2 episodes called Money and Christmas. Joe mentioned "clock in a wheelchair" specifically

also really fun fact. Becky made the Lesley suit during covid, and pretty much threatened Baker into writing a human character into the show to wear it. concept art also shows Lesley with a mask made out of the same fabric, don't know if this was part of the original suit tho

they showed Warrens old models (?). he was gonna be a wayy more ugly looking silicone pug-worm thing y'all got lucky with the bald fuck

lily and todney were directly based off of some cancelled show about two porcelain doll children with panda parents. do not for the life of me remember what it was called but Becky and Joe were very enthousiastic about it (UPDATE: Candy and Andy!)

international release of the show soon!

Inspiration Child talks about what he's learned and sings a little song, then generates his own dhmis inspired content of a cult meeting in a forest at night. the dhmis Discord server called this "potential new content" but I doubt it

3 cultists walk on stage, face the screen backs to the crowd, drop their cloaks and boom! drag queens!!!

they were not mentioned on the site or during earlier parts of the show at all so they were a complete surprise. I asked Becky about it later during the night and she said she really wanted them there, so she asked and they were excited to! hope this means more official content with them soon I love them

they dance to There's Three Of Us, then Duck lipsings the shredder song which turns into a techno remix while Red and Yellow dance during the background

then Duck and Yellow make out while Red tries to undress to the instrumentals of the Fucked Up Part of Creativity but can't get out of his suit on time before the song ends

the drag queens, Becky and Joe and the Inspiration Child walk around during the meet and greet later and I got signatures from all of them! except inspiration child he didn't have thumbs

the drag queens were so fucking funny. Duck adopted inspiration child and loudly yelled at everyone to "GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING CHILD" (their duck voice is sooo good). yellow stood in a corner staring at a wall for like 10 minutes and red was constantly awkwardly hovering just outside the frames of pictures (and also could not see shit lmao)

Becky liked my shirt! (the one with the melting trio heads) said she handdrew it

I'll post the signatures and some more stuff tomorrow because it is. 5 am

edit Heres the signatures! yellow guys is Italian I think? and means hi I love you :)

(the liyskaen is duck trying to spell my name. they got pretty close)

[bigsnaff]

my burning question

[bogleech]

People really liking my speculative animal wishlists and seem to enjoy that I keep doing vampire versions of non-vampire animals, which is of course because vampire bats are adorable and wonderful. They are adorable and wonderful BECAUSE they are vampires. They are technically completely harmless but there's still a chance they will drink your blood while you're asleep and we as a species hate that SO much it inspires horror and superstition of all sorts. So I think there should be more like that but I already have some that are fish and some that are bugs, so here's just my Top Ten Land Vertebrates That Should Have Vampire Versions:

Tarsier. How great would it be if that thing was also a creeping ghoul. Vampire version would be goth colors. I guess it'd be aesthetically like between a tarsier and an aye-aye actually.

Gecko. I don't know how it would obtain the blood, maybe its tongue would have evolved to have a super sharp tip? Maybe the tip of its little gecko nose would be like a sharp hook?

Tree frog. Same issue as the gecko. I'm gonna say the gecko has a sharp tongue and the frog has a sharp nose. A frog with a beak. Let's also make it see through like a glass frog. Just a ghostly little frog that will cut you.

Kiwi bird, using a needly-fine beak tip and excellent climbing skills, much tinier than the New Zealand one and found on every continent. Then the New Zealand kiwi can still be special. Nature specials can be ike "did you know!? The New Zealand Giant Kiwi is the only kiwi that isn't a sick freak"

Pangolin and this one unlike the rest of these would maybe actually be dangerous, like still pretty large for a blood feeder, if you fall asleep unprotected in vampangolin territory you aren't gonna wake up. I just think pangolins deserve to take a little something back, you know. I guess it might be hard for them to sustain themselves on just blood but maybe these would live where there's a whole lot of big juicy animals for them, like they follow herds of buffalo around.

Flying squirrel and I would put this in my own state of Oregon so like a real Fearsome Critter.

Turtle, because to successfully live like a vampire bat you need to be able to detect a blood source, get to it quickly, drink your fill and get out of there just as quickly, so we'd be talking the fastest and lightest little turtle in the world, a long legged scurrying beetle of a turtle, really long neck with a nasty ass beak. Shell could also be covered in wicked as hell thorns for when a rude host wakes up and tries to be mean to it.

Snake and I would also make it the shortest fattest snake so I guess I'm saying a leech tsuchinoko. Like the vampire bat its fangs would have evolved into two short but sharp little vampire buckteeth. It would be too chubby to coil up the way regular snakes do so instead it would have to roll up the way a pillbug or an armadillo does, into a ball.

Pachyderm with a sharp spur on its trunk. Maybe around pug size, a wrinkly hairy wretched looking micro elephant that would probably live off the blood of things like giraffes and zebras and regular elephants while they sleep. Actually like the pangolin this could probably kill you. Every now and then we could hear about how a big game hunter left his tent open and got completely exsanguinated by an adorable hideous vamphant.

[nectardaddy]

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

random tweets | rating shit my students have said to me

masterlist

I have no idea how to use twinote, so bear with me.

all except the last are my own experiences lmao

I have more if you want

not creative with the users or names idc

this isn't part of the plot at all, I needed serotonin

all the volleyball nerds in her class ganged up on her saying she most definitely was not dating that man

learned they call him ninja shoyo and will never let him live it down

taglist because I thought you would appreciate this too

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @muskratlove @mollyrolls @cryptictheseus

@theycallmenanamisgirl @jaeminsbuckethat @deluluforcarlos55

[obsidiancreates]

I will get on my hands and knees and BEG for Booker x Grumley domestic fluff, please, I beg, I NEED more Uprooted content, especially Booker x Grumley!!

"Oh, wow." Grumley looks around their shared cells. "This is the nicest jail we've ever ended up in!"

"Is that a pillow mint?" Booker picks it up and gives it a cautious sniff. "How high are the taxes on these poor bastards? Well, at least it's going to making our stay comfortable."

Booker is inspecting the cell for weak points when he hears Grumley whimper. He turns around to see Grumley trying, in vain, to scratch behind his own ears.

"Whattya doin'? Come here, come here." Booker waves Grumley over and scratches the itch for him, leaving Grumley to sigh in relief. "You know that can't reach that spot."

"You were planning our great escape! I didn't want to bother you!"

"Okay first off, maybe say that first part a little quieter next time. Second, since when does planning something come before making sure you're all set? I'm not the one who volunteers you for kidney puncturing for plans."

"That's true." Grumley points behind his other ear, and Booker switches his focus there. "I'm sorry I couldn't fight off the guards."

"There were like, a hundred of them! You're one pug! If anything Peggy should've used her magic again!"

"The clown mask, right? Not the bottle with the fire?"

"Never again the bottle with the fire, I'm never getting those images out of my head as it is. My point is you're strong and you're brave but you're not our only option for intimidation so don't blame yourself for stuff that can't be helped. Hey, sometimes a con just goes wrong!"

"Thanks, Booker."

"Anytime, Grumley."

"... Can we have a little kiss? They cleaned my face folds before they tossed us in here."

"What is this jail, a spa? Alright, one little kiss then I have to get back to work."

"Okay!"

It's a quick, soft smooch, and it leaves Grumley contentedly laying on his belly on the floor watching Booker with his tail wagging as Booker, blushing, keeps trying to figure a way out of this one.

[nogu-d-reamers]

MORE ABOUT LIBBY AND #1202.

(this Sketch are the first concept about Libby and Dogday + a little Bit of lore of them).

MORE ABOUT LIBBY:

As mentioned above, she was an orphan who ended up in the playtime CO adoption program to be adopted by one of the employees at playcare, and was selected as to be one of the smiling critters, specifically; Dogday. (I don't think that the gender of the children is a great influence in deciding which children will be experiments for the bigger bodies initiative.)

She lost her parents because of a "strange religion" so the topic is something delicate for her.

Originally due to all the reasons, the team of scientists wanted to place it in "experimentation" as soon as possible (#1189-#1201); However, it started to be a problem when a certain Playtime manager had taken a liking to her and had her under some protection.

She was known for being a quite sociable and charismatic child among other orphans, however with adults she was a completely different thing being withdrawn and quiet.

She used to be constantly hurt and wearing Band-Aids (playTime co. trademark) due to her own childhood hyperactivity and was often an easy target for older children caused by the panic of not being adopted. (Libby in general did not usually betray them or return evil because she did not see the point of revenge).

Extra note: he reason for her appearance in the story (specifically her haircut and several of his clothes) is based on several protagonists of Ghibli films.

She favorite food was the po' boys sandwiches and chicken and waffles (which causes a misunderstanding when, already converted into dogday, he said "man, how much I would kill to eat a po' boy" and catnap left him the body of a deceased child).

Her favorites Playtime Co. toys are the smiling critters, Candy cat and PJ pug-a-pillar (although Libby was only able to buy 2 smiling critters at the toy store during his entire stay at playcare)

She hates the playtime Co. Doctor's, according to her because they were very rude and scary.

Libby "died" at the age of 9 due to an attack by the prototype.

About Dogday/#1202:

It should be noted that Libby's clear annoyance and confusion at being turned into dogday made it difficult for the playtime co. scientists deal with him.

The biggest problem in being turned into dogday in a curious way was not the fact that it was referred to as masculine; Instead, they put Dr. Sawyer's voice on the voice box.

extra note: dogday has no problem being referred to as a boy (he/him), however it was VERY confusing for him at first and many times he did not respond or had a hard time saying that; so he started referring to himself in the third person "dogday says..." or "dogday thinks...". He keeps his true identity a secret so that there is no confusion about what to call him (although he will be happy when he is treated femininely)

Returning to the topic of the voice box, this was a strategy of scientists who were aware of the fear and rejection that Dr. Harley Sawyer and that unlike Elliot Ludwing, he did not have a very charismatic personality or very kind to them in general. So, adding the fact that they had to turn Libby into an experiment, they thought that if Dogday had the same voice and interacted with the little ones in a friendly way, they could trick the children into confusing the smiling critter's voice with that of the scientist. (Dogday refused to collaborate; being the one who fears and rejects the doctor the most, so he learned to imitate the cartoon's voice as best as possible).

That made him create a sworn enmity with the scientists; constantly punishing him when the children did not see him, denying him food and when they gave him food it was portions of poor quality raw meat (which made Dogday prefer to endure hunger than eat it).

Not counting that enmity with the scientists, due to his duties in the counselor's office as an assistant and "therapy dog" for the children who came, he had a broader perspective that there were "angel employees" and "evil employees." even witnessing when one was upset about the whereabouts of one of the children he was going to adopt and hearing their complains about not being able to get out of there.

About... PLAYER?!:

(hell yeah... This story is more complicated...)

Remember when I mentioned that the reason Libby hadn't been experimented on before was because a high-up Playtime official had taken a liking to her? well, whoever she was the player is the person.

At first both were irrelevant to each other's lives (the player because he was just another worker, and Libby because of her shyness with adults); However, after an absurd incident with Barry's toy, it was enough for them to meet.

Once Libby had come into confidence with Player, she can't pronounce his name correctly, so she affectionately call to him as "Mr. Angel" and ran to hug him, give him drawings and crafts made in class whenever she could.

The scientists thought that perhaps it was a ruse to get the girl to believe in him, in any case they knew that he had already done more terrible things for the company... but they were shocked to know that he was taking the issue of Libby seriously as a legitimate adoption. even giving her gifts along the way (including the famous "tragedy dress").

Once Player entered the complex adoption process to be able to take Libby from Playcare, he learned the worst side of the scientists and managers of Playtime Co.; He spent two whole years fighting for it until he was able to find a legal loophole where either the girl would be handed over to him or he would publicly declare everything the company has done without caring that it would sink him in the process.

...unfortunately the day he was going to take her, she disappeared and only a bloody piece of the sunflower dress she was wearing that day appeared; and scientists left her for dead in an accident in the restricted area.

After Libby's disappearance and "dead", Player was never able to return to playcare so he demanded to be changed sections shortly before Dogday went into operation. They were never able to cross paths again.

a massacre and 10 years later; They cross paths again. Dogday cannot recognize his "Mr. Angel" and only called him that because it was the first time in a long time that he heard friendly footsteps; However, the mere fact that he referred to "Angel" and that player assumed that all the bigger bodies were children, it didn't take him long to realize that that poor ragged dog would be his sweet little Libby.

The shock of that possibility was so great that the mere idea made him remain paralyzed while the bigger dog said his monologue before he warned him to run away from there.

Extra note: in the timeline where he did react in time and saved Dogday from that cruel fate, he couldn't help but burst into tears and hug him, begging for forgiveness. while dogday would be confused.

About Theodore Grambel/Catnap/#1188:

(Let's not lie to each other, everyone even me came for this-)

Ohh boy... How I can start this?...

Their relationship was one-sized from minute 0.

Libby wanted to be friends with Theo however she wanted, because she considered him to be a very shy and quiet boy; Theodore, she tried to talk about him all the time with different topics until she could find a common topic.

Theodore for his way... he only considered her annoying and a waste of time to spend with his true friend, 1006.

Which got worse when Libby realized that, like her, he was a fan of the smilling critters show and that it bothered him that Catnap had disappeared from the shelves (she was even able to give him his catnap stuffed animal to keep him happy; which he still thinks is a nuisance but he appreciates the stuffed animal)

When Theodore disappeared, Libby got really sad; while Theo couldn't care less that it was Libby's... that is, until her resistance to her poppy gas became present and Catnap had to be more aware of her. (in the end it could be useful to his angel)

dogday also strived to be friendly with catnap and that it will integrate with the others.

That unilateral dynamic is cut when the theme of the "hour of joy" becomes present.

dogday understands everyone's motives in wanting to participate; but it starts to be a problem for catnap when your "and there's no other way?" along with their “and then what?” They made other toys start to doubt the prototype... that annoyance towards Dogday turned into legitimate hatred.

Extra note: In an alternative line where Theo likes Libby things would be slightly different, he would be rude because he doesn't know how to be sweet with her and he would even ask 1006 for advice on how to be romantic (of course it would end in failure).

Despite everything, for Dogday things would only end up being him alone, being the last smiling critter standing, completely a prisoner and feeling stupid for having wanted to be friends with that thing called catnap.

[areyoudreaminof]

Feysand as parents incoming for @officialfeysandweek :

Nyx gripped Rhys’s hand tighter as he used his chubby legs to keep up with his parents. His wings twitched and spread slightly with every step. From his flying lessons, Nyx knew that having a strong body was just as important as having strong wings. So, the little boy took the advice to heart, making sure to walk and run wherever he could and offer to carry “big” canvases and bags for Feyre. He had even offered to carry the picnic basket after he stuffed it with food.

Nyx could fly well for a boy of his age, Rhys thought with pride. One of his favorite things to do was fly with his son. Rhys had strapped Nyx to his chest as an infant and took to the skies. Now, Nyx could soar off the ground on his own, yelling “Papa! Papa!”, as he showed off his small aerial tricks.

With help, Nyx could fly to great heights and Rhys knew he could start taking Nyx on longer and higher flights soon.

But watching puffed cheeks and the red nose of his toddler, Rhys decided to offer a little break.

“Want to ride on my shoulders?” Rhys asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Nope. I wanna walk.” Nyx replied with his eyes ahead. “I don’t wanna scare the ducks away.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked, “Why would the ducks be scared of you.”

“Cause my wings are big, and I’m big too. I don’t want them thinking I’m a hawk that wants to fight them.” Nyx said with a firm nod.

Feyre’s cheeks retreated as she sucked down a laugh. “I didn’t know hawks fought ducks.” she said with as much control as possible.

“Well, hawks always want to fight.” Nyx said solemnly, “The other day, me and Aunt Nesta went to the bookstore and a hawk came down and tried to grab a dog off a balcony!” His wings flapped slightly as he stretched his arms and screeched. “But the dog was kind of fat, and a lady came outside on the balcony and chased the hawk away.”

“Aunt Nesta didn’t mention that,” Feyre said, “we’ll have to ask her at dinner.” She shot a quick look at Rhys, who was desperately trying not to laugh.

“That’s ‘cause Aunt Nesta was talking to Miss Carys about their kissing books.” Nyx rolled his eyes at the memory. “You can look if you don’t believe me.”

The memory came to Rhys insistently, just as Nyx wanted. Rhys saw the fat pug snoring on the deck of the small apartment, while an equally fat starling came onto the railing looking for a fight. But to the eyes and mind of his four year old, it was an epic battle of bird and beast.

“See? I told you. Hawks always wanna fight.” Nyx said with a huff.

“Well then, we’ll just have to make sure to protect the ducks.”

“I will. Aunt Nesta got me a book about birds, so I know all about ducks.” Nyx nodded his head with a sort of seriousness that only a young boy could have.

“What other birds do you know about?” Rhys asked.

Nyx furrowed his brow, “Turkeys can run really, really fast. But I could beat them in a race.

[blorger]

I have a confession to make: I love Pansy Parkinson.

I love her little snub nose, I love her big DH moment (even though as readers we're supposed to hate it) but, most of all, I love her because jkr hates her.

I'm not being hyperbolic when I say this either, we have it straight from the horse's mouth:

I loathe Pansy Parkinson. I don't love Draco but I really dislike her. She's every girl who ever teased me at school. She's the Anti-Hermione. I loathe her. Yeah, sorry! Sidetracked there by my latent bitterness.

("PotterCast Interviews J.K. Rowling, part two." PotterCast #131, 24 December 2007)

I recently found myself wondering how, for a self-professed Pansy stan, I sure know very little about her as a character. If we take aside the fact that I derive psychic joy from being a contrarian (especially when it comes to jkr and her garbage views), is book Pansy actually an interesting character or do I just like the Pansy that the fandom's collective unconscious created? Who even is Pansy, really?

Because I'm me and there's no problem that can't be answered by amassing huge amounts of informations, I went ahead and prepared

a Persuasive Primer to Pansy Parkinson

PART 1: PANSY'S PERSONAGE

The character of Pansy Parkinson has been present in the Harry Potter series since book 1. Her name shows up briefly during Harry's sorting since she's close to him in the class list but her first real appearance occurs during the Remembrall Incident, where jkr sets up two of her character's mainstays: her looks and her meanness.

This very first description of Pansy's face as severe and pitiless-looking is perhaps the kindest one we get in the books, since the only other times Harry, our narrator, bothers to describe her appearance he calls her pug-faced, which incidentally is where we as a fandom (and, clearly, the HP movies casting directors) got the idea that she has a snub nose.

Other than these vague and unkind descriptors, Pansy's looks are left to our imagination; the brunette bob she is well known for is a movie creation and the only other description relating to her appearance is that of the robes she wears for the Yule Ball in book 4, which are very frilly and pale pink.

As any scholar of JKR Studies worth their salt can tell you, jkr is a consummate misogynist who loathes pink and only uses it in order to give a negative connotation to something/someone; pink=girly, which is bad, and frilly=superfluously, ostentatiously girly, which is the worst possible thing a female character in the jkr extended universe can be. jkr has a lot of opinions on what constitutes an acceptable performance of femininity and the character of Pansy Parkinson exists to exemplify the complete opposite of that.

PART 2: A PERNICIOUS PERSONALITY

What can we learn from Pansy's tone? Firstly that she is shrill and annoying, as she shrieks and screeches; in her role as part of Draco's entourage she's both a mindless follower who simpers and an active participant who spreads gossip and maligns by whispering and giggling mean-spiritedly.

jkr created Pansy in the image of the girls who bullied her in her youth so Pansy has an entourage all of her own, an unnamed gang of Slytherin girls (they're always referred to as such, no further description provided) who appear in a greek chorus-like fashion to herald the bullying of Hermione (Ideal Woman and self-insert supreme).

So, what can we learn from Pansy's insults? well, for one that she doesn't like "fat little crybabies", as shown in the excerpt above. Furthermore, when she's not parroting Draco's insults, Pansy shows a single minded preoccupation with the life and looks of one Hermione Jean Granger

(from GoF, Pansy has Opinions of Rita's Skeeter's aricle)

(from GoF, Pansy is there to show us that Hermione was Beautiful All Along)

(from GoF, Pansy helps Rita Skeeter with her character piece)

(from GoF, Hermione suffers the fallout from Rita's article, Pansy is vigilant to any and all Hermione news)

We'll look more closely at Pansy and Hermione's relationship in a short while but for now let us focus on more of Pansy's barbs; I would like to take to this moment to highlight the following:

(from OoTP, Draco's gang shows up to the Gryffindor quidditch practice to do some heckling)

I find it notable that the only time Pansy insults the looks of someone who isn't Hermione it's when she makes a racist microaggression towards Angelina Johnson, one of the very few black characters in the books. While this is unquestionably vile behaviour, I struggle with interpreting jkr's intentions: does jkr even know and/or understand microaggressions? Is Pansy's insult even meant to be interpreted as racist? Does racism as we know it even exist in the hp universe?

Personally, I've always gotten the impression that the wizarding world was meant to represent a post-racial society in a very United Colors of Benetton, "I don't see race" kind of way that is very typical of nineties pseudo-liberalism, no doubt to give more space to her blood purity system (and because someone like jkr has no interest in even mentioning the pervasive effects of racism in society). Still, let's not discount what is no doubt one of Pansy's lowest moments in the books, regardless of the reading we choose vis à vis jkr's intent.

To cleanse our palates, here's a more benign insult:

(from OoTP, Harry and Cho's date is but a collection of unfortunate moments)

While I'd put the Cedric reference pretty high on the Insensitivity Scale, I find myself reluctantly entertained by Pansy's drive-by read, especially because Harry IS a garbage boyfriend to Cho.

What else do we know about Pansy's personality from the books? For one, that she likes unicorns but considers showing it outright to be undignified:

(from PoA)

We know that Pansy is made a Prefect in OotP and, while the books never specify the parameters used to choose Prefects and Hermione implies Pansy wasn't chosen for her smarts ("she's thicker than a concussed troll" is the actual quote, though Hermione's objectivity is questionable), we can assume that, at the very least, she is somewhat of a leader among the Slytherin girls (on account of the aforementioned gang).

Finally, we never hear Pansy's opinion on blood purity although it's safe to assume that it's not terribly progressive on account of the company she keeps.

PART 3: PASSIONATE PARAMOUR

While the books never state conclusively wether Pansy and Draco are ever a couple (in fact, neither of them says a word about the other in the books), we know both from statements jkr has made irl and from the in-universe characters' opinions that we are supposed to treat them as a couple of sorts. The evidence for that is as follows:

Draco is implied to exagerate the extent of his Buckbeak injury in order to garner sympathy from Pansy in PoA:

Pansy is Draco's date to GoF's Yule Ball

the infamous carriage scene in HBP:

and

and

Ron assumes that the boasting witnessed by Harry on the train was done in order to impress Pansy.

and

Regardless of wether you want to read their relationship as romantic or not, Draco and Pansy clearly hang out together a lot from the ages of 13 onwards; Pansy is often mentioned as part of Draco's posse together with Crabbe and Goyle and she's further shown as an active participant in his various schemes, most notably in the popularisation of Weasley is Our King:

(from OotP)

Pansy appears to have a genuine interest in Draco's wellbeing as shown by her concern when Draco is injured by Buckbeak in PoA:

and

Pansy if further shown to be understandably upset when Harry guts Draco like a fish in HBP:

So we can conclude that, although we have no idea of Draco's feelings, Pansy feels authentic affection for Draco.

PART 4: HERMIONE HATER?

Pansy is positioned as sort of the Female Draco: while Draco's job is to antagonize Harry and Ron, Pansy is there to deliver the Girl insults to Hermione, the Girl One of the trio. While jkr's intention was no doubt to paint Pansy as a straightforward bully, her singleminded interest in Hermione displays the same pigtail-pulling connotations as Draco's behaviour throughout the books.

Their first exchange comes by courtesy of Hermione, who hits her with her trademark condescension, which seems to specifically drive Slytherins mad like nothing else (the first "mudblood of the books comes as a direct response to one such occasion):

(from GoF, Pansy enjoys the potter stinks badges, hermione begs to disagree)

Following this exchange, we start to see Pansy engage in your typical Mean Girl behavior, which, apart from the preoccupation with her looks shown above, also includes laughing at Hermione's expense:

(from GoF, Hermione was hit by a stray curse and her teeth grew to a comical size)

and

(from GoF, Pansy shows hermione the infamous "harry is in love with Hermione" article by Rita Skeeter, which features a quote from her)

While we never see Hermione respond in kind (since her preferred method of dealing with bullies is the could shoulder), we know that this behavior definitely colors her opinion of Pansy

(from OotP, Hermione is displeased when Pansy is made Prefect)

and

(from OotP, Fred and George's departure from school left a vacuum in the prankster hierarchy and all manners of students jumped up to fill the spot)

All in all, we don't have a very precise read on the relationship between the two: do Pansy and Hermione exchange barbs whenever they meet? are they enemies or is Hermione a sainted martyr suffering in silence (on account of her moral superiority)? Just how closely do they parallel Harry and Draco's rivalry? You decide.

PART 5: PANSY'S POLEMICAL POSITION

Finally, we come to Pansy's Big Moment

(from DH, Pansy says the quiet part out loud and is banished for it)

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy displays the ultimate act of Evil (in jkr's eyes) by not behaving Bravely when faced with an impossible decision. To give context, Voldemort has just given the students of Hogwarts a way out of the whole mess:

Personally, I hate this scene. Pansy doesn't know shit about just how essential Harry is to ending the whole shebang; furthermore, she's just a scared student living out her own version of the trolley problem and yet the narrative frames her (imho) understandable reaction not only as unforgivable cowardice on her part but has a condemnation of Slytherin house as a whole.

I hate how the Hogwarts student body is alternatively portrayed as a mindless horde whose opinion can be swayed by the faintest of rumors (as seen by public opinion turning on Harry in CoS, GoF and OotP) and as a prop to show the Right Way. The Hogwarts student body is essentially pulling a Spartacus moment except their reactions are somehow neatly divided into Houses: it's not some individuals who choose to react bravely and motivate the rest, its the Gryffindors as a whole, moving like a single-minded hive, who influence the other single-minded hives of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw. The individuality of all of these people is ignored in service of an impactful scene and the one person who shows a dissenting thought is summarily removed (together with the Evil Slytherin hive, which did not express any opinions but is nonetheless blackened by association).

jkr's bullshit black-and-white worldview rears its ugly head here and what could have been a genuinely moving moment of student solidarity - showing people from different backgrounds coming to the defense of Hogwarts together - becomes a condemnation of those who dare oppose the righteous horde instead.

In a moment in the books that feels very biblical, the non-believer who dares doubt the Savior is shunned and summarily dealt with (which opens up a whole can of worms about the Jesus-ification of Harry that I'm not prepared to go into). Pansy is merely a prop in this scene, a stand-in for the whole of her house, yet I appreciate her very human reaction: she's the only person in that room to show individuality, expressing the fear and doubt that most people would feel when placed in a similar situation.

I appreciate how Pansy goes against the grain in one of my least favorite scenes in the whole books but I acknowledge that her big moment is not really about her, nor does it tell us anything about her character that we didn't already know: All Slytherins Are Evil and the best they can hope for is to just be slimy and opportunistic (à la Slughorn) instead of straight up villains.

PART 6: PERSONAL PERORATION (or: I really shot myself in the leg with the whole alliteration thing)

So, what did we learn kids? First of all that the Pansy in the books, as intend by jkr, is an irredeemable, uninteresting shitstain, less of a fully-formed character and more like a vaguely defined caricature of a Mean Girl.

While my instinct is to go against this cartoonish portrayal and attempt to read some complexity in her thoughts and motivations, I acknowledge that, to some, Pansy is forever tainted by the harsh way in which she's depicted and therefore will forever remain unlikeable. Personally, I find myself drawn by characters with seemingly nebulous motivations and, since I don't share jkr's shitty deterministic worldview, I can see scenarios where she grows as a person; I enjoy seeing different explorations of her characters in fics just like I enjoy reading about her fellow b-team villains in general.

Choose the path that sparks the most joy for you and live your truths my friends, ignore this primer completely or allow it to change (or reinforce) your opinion of Pansy, your feelings are valid regardless.

xoxo

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Six)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader reborn as lady greenstar. it was no secret as aemond’s admiration grew.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, size kink, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and Aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: this chapter is ONLY in Aemond’s pov. ooc aemond, but still is a cold-stone, charming prince we all love. Thank you for being patient with me; i took so long to write. I used a reference from Nanami’s line from JJK—he said “Being a child isn’t a sin.” And the trailer of HOTD S2 is 😍😭🔥❤️‍🔥👏

Chapter Six: The Rebirth of Lady Greenstar

~Aemond’s POV~

Aemond couldn’t stop gazing at you in your sleep, no matter how often he saw your chest rise and fall with soften breath drawing past through your lips—sinful lips, droning out soft noises, he recalls the day where he undressed you. Moles engraved on your lower lips and neck, and several others spotted on the collarbone. Some at the back. The shape on your smooth legs sprawled and tucked at turns you rotated whilst in dreamland—he recalled your skin marked in red outline of a dragon on your right thigh, and a green dragon on your whole backside.

Slender arms rested beneath your head despite the ivory pillows are there, all fluffed and cleansed with new ivory sheets, aglow under a yellow sun.

Quenched as he is, Alicent’s word stung; his hands and teeth clenched. “But the truest of your heart—your love must be hidden in secret,” she told him once.

He knew what she meant.

Studying the histories of the Targaryens—of those who had children out of wedlock for an escapism in horrid and loveless marriages assigned from previous kings are often ridiculed and reigned in contempt, in curse—bastards.

He hated bastards. Lucerys and Jacaerys are one—they claimed to be as Velaryons throughout—and on a night of Laena’s passing, Aemond, at the age of three-and-ten claimed Vhagar and lost his eye, that damned good-for-nothing bastard—a Targaryen pretender who was out of Rhaenyra’s womb, bathed and born with brown locks and pug-like nose and sneering features—Velaryons tend to have delicate and soft features, but still manly in their own way like Targaryens do, but not Strong. House Strong are rugged and filthy.

But—

With your case, as a newcomer, as an outsider, he knew you don’t belong in this world, considering how you tried to avert Aemond with diversion. You’re neither a royal nor a bastard. Though punishment can be given to anyone in the royal court or outside the Red Keep. Anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Though of course Dorne accepted bastards.

Aemond’s intrusive thoughts overcame. A battle of restrain lashed out, when the prince approached towards the lush your sleeping figure. Your breath steadied at the rise and fall on your hilled breasts; the torn and worn out nightwear severely took a toll on the guards yanking you as if you’re a fragile doll.

If one’s act of taste that considers as a sin, then it’s a sin I shall give.

His head leaned forward, face closing to yours, tip of his tongue tingled as his left hand clasped on your head, the other rested on your waist as his tall body brought down on the bedside atop of your sleeping form. He had memorized, and counted the moles—once, as he lay himself to sleep in his quarters on the night after he first saw you. There’s a theory that moles came from a past lovers planting a kiss on empty spots. Aemond could offer you more. His tongue slithered on the soft line of your neck, and brought back to pucker with balmy smack, leaving a small trace of string silava coated on your now bruised skin.

Squirming underneath him, Aemond satisfied, humming, his right hand snaked on your waist, then fondling your left breast, pinching the taut nipple as he devoured the scent on you as he hungrily kissed your jawline and slope on your neck.

Earning a moan from you, Aemond spurred, his fingertips roamed on your breast and lowered down to your thigh, kneading. Your face—your lips—directly aligned to his, drawing a quiet sigh.

Adrenaline rushed in his veins, his body grew hot, trousers compacted with his engorged cock. He couldn’t get enough of you. The taste of you, your beauty and your fiery heart. He envisioned of what your face would be like, your voice would sound like, if you’re awake during the pleasurable intercourse or under his tantalizing fingers and mouth.

Countless footsteps skittered across the hall nearby. And so, Prince Aemond sat on the chair with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on the armrest behind the wall, spying on the maidservants passing by the opened door without batting an eye, maids chatting as always.

A hushed sigh of relief drew from his lips. By then, he looked at you one last time, spotted a love bite on your neck, before ushering himself out to go at the hall and disappeared with his lips, licking—tasted and lingered upon more ravaging thoughts of you.

~~~

Into a wide-ranged room, roofs decorated like constellations and metal works of the orrery, and the broad balconies garbed in light and ruffled curtains swaying. The council planned to use this room to divert the newcomer and persuade her to join hands and swore oath.

They have hoped that a new change of environment will appease her. Aemond couldn’t blame her; the Council room is filled with discrimination and accusations, despite his interest on becoming a sovereign—unlike Aegon who he rather be a sovereign in between someone’s legs at the brothels upon the Streets of Silk.

Regardless of Alicent’s cautionary, both Green sons lurked and eavesdropped on the members, who are more frantic and belligerent in comparison to previous meeting.

“She’ll be here,” Aegon teased. “Ser Arryk is coming to fetch her. Poor girl lost her way in the Red Keep.”

Aemond folded his hands behind his back, abiding, cold and calculating, and twice as tall, passed from Aegon’s stature.

“How long will she last, I wonder? With all the skills, beauty and remarks she has gotten,” Aegon emphasized on the word “beauty” as sarcasm, “do you think she’ll survive, even after the council? This is no easy task, of course, residing in Red Keep. The Blacks are here again. And Daemon didn’t come here alone.” His head jerked, indicating towards Rhaenyra. “I don’t suppose you’re aware, but the poor girl might risk her life again. Shocking how the Blacks and Greens weren’t showing hostility despite our shared past.”

Aemond watched within the presence of the council—Blacks and Greens united—without bloodshed. A bizarre sight to behold.

The doors creaked, and entering (y/n), following Ser Arryk.

The Blacks and Greens gaze with watchful eyes, tension rose as (y/n) proceeded closer and sat down on a vacant chair nearby the entrance door but struggled; Ser Arryk assisted her and perched down as she thanked him, returning a similar unnerving gaze back, unyielding even when appearing fragile. Her posture eased; she glimpsed at the decorated ceilings and tables with constellations.

It appears she likes it, Aemond thought.

Until her eye landed on Aegon and Aemond himself with her elbows rested on the left armchair, back slouching, eye concentrated intensely.

Aemond’s heart skipped that she faced him, in devoid of sheepish demeanor. And there, she smiled.

“Shall we get started?” Rhaenyra insisted.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop gawking at Aemond and Aegon.

“My lady,” Rhaenyra called out firmly, and (y/n) snapped back to actuality. (Y/n) eyed on everyone, then looked down onto her hands on the armrests.

Silence ensued. Then (y/n) requested to their introduction since they came to know (y/n)’s. All have introduced themselves—Hightowers and Targaryens. When Green brothers are finally introduced, Aemond spotted (y/n)’s lips curled a little; her dimple dented. But overall, she seemed happy throughout the introduction.

“First, we must address regarding to House Blackwood,” Otto drew the scrolled parchment, and distributed to (y/n) through the sentinel. “This letter is sent from a raven at this morrow.”

Sleeking her wavy strands—long curtain bangs back, she read the lines in the parchment. “Is this supposed to be a joke or something?”

“House Blackwood demands for your head, since they accused you of murdering Remon Blackwood,” Otto said. “Anything to have say in your defense?”

Tongue in cheek, (y/n) chortled, aloud for everyone to hear.

“Does killing others amuse you?” Daemon challenged. “Or would you rather a quick execution by a dragon for your childish act?”

“I’m sorry did you say dragons?”

Daemon unanswered her question, but she knew he wasn’t lying.

(Y/n) recollected herself. “It’s three knights that chased me, remember? They killed Ser Remon Blackwood long before they chased me. I used the blade he gave me, not the large swords.”

“There are other reports that the three knights are imposters,” one claimed. “That their faces aren’t quite as recognizable. And their armor and breastplates are entirely soft—a forge through cheap metal. Their blades and blunt and uncared for.”

“Must’ve been the rapers from the North.”

“Ser Criston, what was the weapon she was holding when you first found her in the woods? Was it a sword?”

“A fine blade that belongs to Remon Blackwood,” Criston replied.

(Y/n) sat there and released several guttural coughs, which got their attention.

“Are you alright?” Alicent concerned.

“I’m fine,” (y/n)’s voice croaked. Alicent ordered the servant to fetch the hot tea, to which you drank after being served.

“Has she drank the Milk of the Poppy,” Otto asked the Maester.

“Apparently she hasn’t drank any since this morning; deeply fell asleep.”

Relaxing in the chair, (Y/n) tossed her hair over to the side before she took out two objects again from the pockets on her nightwear and placed it onto her lips, and blew out smoke, but away from their direction.

“What are those objects that you possessed?” Daemon asked.

Crossing her legs, (y/n) blew out another smoke, her eyes glazed darkly, her demeanor changed as if it was an illusion. “This is the cigarette, and this is a lighter.” She demonstrated the items again, but only she’s precisely shown the golden lighter, carved in detailed dragon, and fire lit from the metal.

“Where are you really from?”

(Y/n) clicked the lighter shut. “I already told you last time,” her voice crossed.

“Are you a slave?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) is taken aback, brows scrunched, bewildered.

“Everyone saw the markings on your body,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“No, I got these since I was young. Let’s cut to a chase. What do you want?”

The members of the council baffled at your straightforwardness.

“Since we’re here, I don’t intend on wasting anyone’s time,” she resumed, her voice hardened. “What do you want?” Her voice darkened.

“Are you aware to why you’ve been summoned in the council?” Otto questioned.

“Oh please, do enlighten me,” (y/n) said in sarcasm.

“Lady Rhaenyra has planned on you becoming a knight—you both saved the children and experienced in combat during the battle outside the Red Keep.”

(Y/n) laughed again, though not as cruel. In anger, the knight trudged towards her, but she stopped the knight with her left foot stomped on his breastplate, revealing the red dragon tattoo, your hand ran through your luscious hair; Aemond stared for so long that he ignored his surroundings. He found himself yearning to taste you again.

“At ease, good sir,” Alicent ordered. The knight backed off and your leg lifted down, crossing over to the other.

“Why refuse?” Rhaenyra challenged. “Do you wish to be executed from false charges?”

“You misinterpret me, my lady. Do you want to know what happens when you put a woman as part of the Kingsguard? People will riot. No man would accept a lady knight because they don’t want to be ashamed of not holding much power.” With her elbows propped, the upper body slouched, leaning forward, intensely gawking at their familiar mortified faces. “If anything that you should be worry about,” her index finger pointed outside behind (y/n) at the open archway; behind her is the town of King’s Landing, “it’s the people. People hold you on the highest regard; anything you do, they’ll use it against you. You have dragons,” she reasoned, counting on her fingers, “legions of army and holds the utmost reputation—everyone knows your name and your appearances distinguished from others. If laying a single mistake, people will make an excuse to take the opportunity to tarnish—even bring hell to Westeros. If you put two and two together, it’ll be difficult for people to accept as much as I want to help,” (y/n) cautioned.

Unused cigarette wafted in the crisp air—and (y/n) stomped on it with her fingers.

“As a matter of fact, I couldn’t agree more,” Jason Lannister encouraged. “Ladies are not suitable to guard for the ascendance of a potential heir. Women take longer to dress than men, after all they’re made to be dulled for a tedious hobby.”

Aemond disagreed, otherwise.

“Why save them?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) blinked.

“Being a child isn’t a sin,” (y/n) said, solemn. “They don’t deserve to what they’ve gone through.”

“Never thought you find this miserable,” Daemon said.

“I have soft spot for children and those who are broken.” She darted her eyes to Aemond once more.

Rhaenyra sighed, her hands enveloped, glancing at neutral Daemon next to her, poised. “We shall find an alternate option for you to abide here in King’s Landing—tasking the vital aspects of being part as the Red Keep’s vessel—everyone has their own role to play, knowing their place, and you’re no exception.”

Refusing, (y/n) inclined back into a relaxing position. “Figures,” (y/n) muttered, posture sank into the chair.

“I know it’s difficult to accept, but should you stay, you’ll learn a thing or two of the culture and the history, everyone around you included,” Rhaenyra suggested. “And we shall do the same to yours. Though the customary traditions in Westeros must steady. But it won’t mean you’re limited from freedom at the assets of your personal values and desires and expression.”

“It would be the wisest,” Rhaenyra added. “People won’t know and comprehend this, but us, despite you’ve given simplistic explanation of your vast side of the story.”

You pondered; fingers tucked on her chin.

“They’ll never accept me,” you lectured, locks undulated in steady motion. “No matter how you vouch or reason for me, they won’t adapt; I’m just an outsider—anyone who has a brain knows that outsiders aren’t something to be cordial. It wouldn’t be as upsetting once I get hurt. They won’t understand yours or my intention if I decide to stay here. Or worse.”

“But there’s still a chance for you to prove yourself, allow your presence to be seen and heard,” Alicent coaxed.

Rhaenyra contemplated. “Or perhaps you could join us at Dragonstone,” she proclaimed, rather blithe. “Of course you’re free to choose.”

Aemond disliked the idea of you residing in Dragonstone as much as Alicent, based on displeasure etched onto their delicate and finely features, green as envy—as Hightower’s colored banner that summons war, strong gazes projected towards Rhaenyra like a serpent in the shadows. Alicent needed you for the pursuits of ruling the throne by her heirs, if needed more allies.

Gritting and grinding your teeth, your tongue clicked. “No, I’m not staying in Dragonstone, either. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, consider how I “arrived”.”

Aemond’s breath unwinded. Flush smothered your cheekbones. Stared long enough until Aegon elbowed him in a single tap, as a reminder to stay focused.

“I’m afraid it’s far from possibility, since you came along way from the other vast side of your world. In the meantime, you must reside here in Westeros, in King’s Landing. We may never know your intentions, but it’s best to keep it simple and quick. Do tells us what you want.”

Refusing, your face turned away, sheepish.

“You want gold? Reputation?” Rhaenyra insisted, to which you answered “no”.

“Do you wish to possess a dragon?” she tested. “If it’s a dragon you want, I’m afraid I can’t—”

“First of all, dragons are hard to take care of. Two, I’m not a Targaryen! That’s your thing, not mine. I can’t even take care of my dog. And third, I don’t believe in dragons.”

Everyone baffled at your statement.

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, trying to maintain her composure. “You don’t believe in dragons?”

“Where I come from, they only exist in books, a figment of an imagination in a child’s mind—in tv shows. Or in books like Lord of the Rings.”

Everyone exchanged uncomfortable looks, still befuddled at your straight explanation.

“Then I assume you want the Iron Throne,” Daemon insisted, but the Blacks and Greens shot a piercing glare at him in unison, warning him not to give anymore ideas, but he awaited for (y/n)’s reaction.

You knew what the Iron Throne is, but kept your excitement within with annoyance under disguise. “That chair sounds uncomfortable! I’d rather sit on a cold ground rather than having an iron swords jabbed up and bleeding in my precious ass.”

Aegon snorted, covering his mouth when Otto noticed his grandsons, scowling.

“What can we do to convince you,” Alicent resumed, hands rest on the armchair.

“I don’t think you can help me on this one,” (y/n) said, begging them to let you go.

Rhaenyra maintained her posture. “Then what is it that you truly desire at this moment, Lady (y/n)?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Never.”

“What about now?”

“I still decline.”

Shaking, deep in pensive notion after hearing their relentless offer disguised as blatant curiosity.

Silence prevailed, at first. Fireplace flickered, soft howls bypassed the constellation room. Everything stood still, as does their anticipation, weighing and resting on their fate of the house.

Rising onto her feet, and she got close and flatly pressed down to a cold stone pillar with her hand. “I want to see the ocean, the sky—the smell of salt and cloudy air. I want to feel the wind as I walk by, or draw and paint surrounded by flowers as I looked out onto the ocean as the ships sails by.”

“A very simple, mundane request,” Daemon commented, folded his arms. “Anyone could percept the instability of waves and ships passing through and the fragrant smell of blooming flowers.”

“Sometimes taking the simplest pleasures in life must cherish with joy and savor with love,” you told him, remaining your eye locked onto the waves, wobbling and crashing. “You’re a dragonlord, Prince Daemon, I think you should be grateful. As for me, I rarely get to see the ocean, because I lived somewhere far where it has no ocean, no flowers—the weather is humid and sometimes shows a little rain. On most days, hot air suffocates you to a point you want to drown in cold water. If having an AC would’ve been nice and pile of ice cream to eat.”

Aemond’s brows furrowed, not knowing what you meant of AC and ice cream.

“There’s a chance people might conclude you’re from Dorne or Yiti. Or perhaps as Ser Criston’s sister.”

Aemond watched you shooting Daemon with a deadpan expression on your dulled hues. Criston, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate Daemon’s unnecessary commentary, but made no urging trifle.

“I’m not, and if I do, you would recognize the Dornish accent at this moment. Clearly you can’t. Sorry to disappoint you, dude,” you replied, nonchalant.

“Dude?” Daemon’s eyes twinkled.

“It’s umm…never mind, I’ll tell you about my world later.”

“Anything else,” Rhaenyra asked, anticipating.

Silence occurred.

“What of other things you acquire to be more convincing,” Alicent chimed in, coaxing, sensing an alarming and animated expression hidden from you.

“Nothing,” you squeaked, though her cheeks flushed says so otherwise.

Aegon snorted as Aemond lifted the corners of his mouth into a piffling smirk—as he found your sudden expression unexpectedly chaste with shyness and charm.

“The matters settled, then,” Rhaenyra got up. “I look forward to see you and more. I expect great and admirable accomplishments from you, Lady (y/n). I think it’s that for now you must stay in the capital. If you do intend to serve the realm, I’ll reward you, anything to your heart’s desire. As long as you make contributions, we’ll make your dream as certain. In the meantime, that is.”

“But I—”

“In the meantime,” Rhaenyra proclaimed.

Your brow quirked, then sighed as the princess wasn’t the type to give in.

(Y/n) ventured in a languid motion near towards the members in the council. In the end, the favor on her side—Rhaenyra and Alicent’s request—might go smoothly if done right. But Aemond’s heart grew heavy at a thought of you leaving King’s Landing, leaving Westeros, feared you might not recall your ventures and people you encountered alongside of the journey—feared your mind and sight of seeing Westeros and its people are nothing but a figment dream.

Alicent pushed herself up from her reclining. “I shall do my part as well. You’ll do great things, I’m certain,” she assured (y/n), enfolded atop (y/n)’s cold hand.

Happiness faded from (y/n)’s lips when a cold end of the blade—Dark Sister—tipped and traced a thin line on her centered neck. Daemon’s violet eyes gleamed at hers; her hands raised an indication of surrender.

Aemond’s eye snapped in fury. The guards Rhaenyra accompanied clutched their blades, viewing like vultures standby.

“I’ll never trust a cunt like you,” Daemon proclaimed. “You may wield a blade, you may save anyone who you wish, but you’ll never be part of the court. The look in your eye—arrogant and maliciously stricken with pretense. Common whores like you—pretending to be humble and virtuous when you really are neither.”

Yet you fuck whores in the Streets of Silk on your pastime, Aemond thought.

Sighing, (y/n) said, “Then kill me. If you really think I’m dangerous to the Red Keep and to the monarchy like Ser Marrow claimed, then end me.” Then she gripped Dark Sister and pointed it at her chest daringly. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

He scoffed, despite Rhaenyra’s attempt on pushing Daemon back.

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re my equal. We are nothing alike.”

“Thank god I don’t have a cock, then,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “I don’t have to worry whether I’m going to get gelded or not.”

Like a child, Aegon stifled his giggling.

“Fucking simpleton,” Daemon hissed, pressured the Dark Sister. “You know nothing of Westeros and its people. Might as well have your tongue remove. What say you, warrior?” he mocked.

“Seven Hells, Daemon, you’ve said enough,” Rhaenyra warned. “(Y/n), i insist that should you cease your quarrel.”

Aemond strode onward, never minding Alicent, who was rushing to his side, begging to not worsen an escalating quarrel. But Aemond paid no mind; his mother’s words drowned and emptied in his fueled rage.

“I saved both lives—a boy and a girl,” (y/n) protested. “I saved two young people who are separately belong from two mothers—who were at their near deaths. I saved you too, by the way. Guess it doesn’t matter, right?”

Daemon tsked. “And that’ll be the last thing you’ll ever save, considering your reputation has been nothing but meddlesome. I’m afraid your reasons on saving your neck has come to expire.”

Aemond trudged in front of (y/n), holding his long dagger and situated his honed silver on Daemon’s neck. He felt her cold hand pressed against his chest and gave a little push, but no to avail; she’s still weak under the Milk of the Poppy.

“Hold down your blade, Uncle,” Aemond warned. “You gave her quite a fright. I thought the deal has been final.”

“I never thought I’d take you as a fool, Aemond—that’s twice you’ve committed a sudden act.” Daemon’s lips curled in disgust. “Being blinded by her, I see.”

“She saved my sister’s life,” Aemond justified. “And I’m eternally grateful.”

Without shifting his eye, he saw you wandered your glance up to him before facing back to Daemon.

Aemond shifted closer, Targaryen against Targaryen.

“Take one more move, and you’ll lose another pair of your eyesight,” Daemon sneered. “What happens then, if I do cut your other eye out? So, shall we test it?”

(Y/n) managed to block herself in between Aemond and Daemon.

“Then I’ll be his other eye,” (y/n) declared, defended, one arm spread, shielding Aemond, the other hand held high against Daemon, bandage slipped from her visage.

All noise ceased.

Aemond’s heart quickened at a roaring declaration in a vibration on your tone—soft yet firm and fiery—like a dragon reborn.

“I’ll be his other eye,” she repeated, shielding Aemond. “Stay back,” she hissed at Aemond, insisting on shoving him back to lessen the tension between two factions. Aemond glimpsed at her shaken hand, yearning to hold her.

Even (y/n) knew a large cost of encountering Targaryens through fate, aside learning the history. Dragons never cower in their palace of red and gold of Red Keep, in a palace of black stoned walls of Dragonstone, their banners—sigils of red or green. Dragons come and reign in a price of fire and blood and fearsome, colossal beasts taming Westeros.

Knowing the consequences of her shared words, who knows what might occur depending on her unfickle judgement.

“You heard the maiden,” Aemond said with a smug on his face. “Release your blade, Uncle,” he commanded.

Grimaced, Daemon drew his sword back in his sheath, parting the gap, and endowed (y/n) and Aemond with imprisoned through his hues. “She’s no maiden. Perhaps I shall call her “Green’s bitch”.”

“I’m no one’s bitch,” you said, nose flaring.

“A bitch would always claim they’re no cunt,” Daemon remarked.

Aemond’s eye narrowed. Little by little, he stood inches near (y/n), like a proud and mighty dragon stood by its owner. Blood shared by dragon and Valyria.

Watching close by, Rhaenyra and Alicent shared knowing glances.

Overhearing the sound behind them, the king produced an agonizing sound of his breath, (y/n)’s able to catch him from falling in brisk reflex.

“Get the maester, quick!” Alicent cried, as you are clinging onto the ailing king, who was moaning and groaning due to his severe ail.

Everyone made haste as Alicent and Rhaenyra assisted (y/n) on putting back Viserys onto his chair.

Adjusting the king’s posture, Alicent dimissed (y/n) by saying, “We shall talk later. I must tend to my husband. You go on ahead.”

And with that, the council adjourned—(y/n) ushered out, giving Aemond one last look with a slight bent on her neck.

With a final word, Aegon said to Aemond, as they trudged back to the halls. “Daemon took great pleasure in stirring commotion, especially a certain lady, who you’re so keen on.”

Aemond hasn’t utter a single word.

“Obviously, he has missed his youth involved with treachery and rebelliousness. I supposed these days have kept peace quite busy despite our father’s poor lapse of judgment.”

Aemond sauntered farther, but Aegon caught on in a same pace.

“I never knew you had it on you, dear brother. But was it really an act of good will for Helaena’s life or was it a pure instinct to an act of affection?”

“It was all for Helaena’s sake,” Aemond said.

Aegon leered. “Is it?”

From there, Aegon fled.

For once, Aegon never said something stupid or drunk.

Aemond stalked his mother on meeting (y/n) in the chambers he trudged in upon darkest shadows, carefully listening in.

Alicent came over, agitated even concealed in unsuccessful, mortified demeanor. “The Council has been reached to a verdict,” Alicent told (y/n), as if it’s a death sentence—probably the men discussed and finalized to an upcoming conclusion.

He watched as (y/n) was plopping onto the bedside, the last cigarette held between finger has thawed into ashes.

“I see,” (y/n) soften tone echoed the room, rippling against his skin.

Alicent touched (y/n)’s upper arm. “I apologize on behalf of the circumstances. I know it can’t be easy,” she said, sincere.

(Y/n)’s eyes twinkled.

“Despite Rhaenyra vouching for you for saving her son, you have declared of being Aemond’s other eye, and thus, your declaration brought an uprising of questions to the Blacks.”

(Y/n) acknowledged.

“A word of advice; should you wish to keep your wits and tongue, play your part, and keep your head down for the Blacks not to detect or test your patience,” Alicent said. “Common folk, even nobles tend to have ill intentions far from a plain gossip. Kingdoms tend to hatch a birth of vipers and stabbers every corner of the castle walls.”

“I’ll do it,” (y/n) said, without looking back at her, picking on her fingertips.

Alicent clasped her hands over (y/n)’s, and heaved. “Rhaenyra and I are in a current matters of discussion regarding of your future duties in King’s Landing. She proposed the idea of you being as the cupbearer while I proposed the idea of you being as Helaena’s handmaiden. Nothing has set in stone. We did so to ensure of your livelihood be at safest, to cease the gossip that has been spread far and wide regarding to your arrival. But first, the king must anoint you at the throne room for a private ceremony—no audience shall be present.”

You stayed silent; your right hand stroke your left wrist; the feeling the absence without your possession.

“Is something the matter?”

(Y/n) shook your head, light-headed.

“In time of fear and change, that is where you must be brave,” Alicent advised, eyes glistened.

Aemond has never heard of Alicent—his mother—spoken ever so motherly to anyone, not even Aegon.

A sudden shift glided in you when you have decided what to do as (y/n)’s role in King’s Landing. “I’ll bend the knee.”

Alicent’s dulled eyes brightened at your answer. “Then I shall inform my husband regarding to your call.” She laid her hand on (y/n)’s shoulder blade.

Once she stood up, (y/n) bid Alicent goodnight.

And Aemond stayed in the dark, and the only words replaying in his mind are the words she declared opposing the Rogue Prince.

I’ll be his other eye.

The way you shielded his body and ordered him to shift back, Aemond knew that no noble woman or commoner in any Houses would defend him and his honor as a Targaryen and Hightower. Or more than his status as a one-eyed prince. As a swordsman, he can hold off his battles, even in close quarters, but something about you, a strong-headed girl, who knew of little consequences, protected him that he find as devilishly unique.

His mind stirred in a matter of battling between whether he want to fight your battles or claim you.

Perhaps both.

Aemond had certainly come to a closure, a predetermined arrangement of taking you, but obstacles must come forth before a dragon claims the maiden as his crown, glory and a hymn that he won’t mind spend the rest of his life hearing.

Upon a daylight hour, the decision came to a close when both Greens and Blacks debated to assigning on (y/n)’s fate for the realm, despite a given answer. In the end, King Viserys has a final say, which both factions surrendered for an hesitant agreement. In the Red Keep, guest of nobles and common folk alike flocked inside to a point where it’s nearly and impossible to fit, all awaiting, all mind shared one reason.

Hours before the occurrence in the throne room, in Aemond’s quarters, two servants awoke him to bathe, and one maid provided him information regarding to (y/n)—the Maester inspected and mended on her wounds once more before withdrawing. Her eye, however, is healed, just as it was yesterday when she ripped the bandage off.

In the throne, there she was, blocked by tall members of the Kingsguard.

He imagined that a maidservant tugged the strings harder for a cinched waist, despite this, (y/n) cooperated without a fight. Knowing resistance will bring disaster. Until a thought of disaster is long gone. From there, the guards veiled for (y/n) to cross passage towards the steps of the Iron Throne, seeing upon a pristined condition—clad to an outfit befitting for a youthful and appeased maiden to soften at the hardened image of a brute fighter. Her straight long (h/c) locks with thick stands braided as headband atop of her head; strands of baby hair left untouched, and soft paint dabbed it on your chapped lips and cheekbones, tainted in reddish shade to liven your surly visage.

King Viserys proclaimed and summoned (y/n); she knelt with a hand over her chest, head inclining down that her long (h/c) locks framed on sides, reciting her vows. King Viserys crowned her with a green brooch with a four-pointed star sigil pinned on her centered chest once she stood.

“As a last hope for a darkened age within House Targaryen, in hopes to reunite both factions,” King Viserys announced, hoarse. “Salvation rests in your hands. I wish you nothing but the very best to soothe the realm with your grace, Lady Greenstar.”

Two factions appalled at his last claim underneath their vacant neutrality in their hues. Spectators gathered and exchanged in gossip, all frantic and perplexed from their King’s announcement.

A girl from a modern century has been remade through rain of fire and light, befall and rose from sky. Arise onto her feet, who peered upon audience, before the eyes of the two factions, who solely darting her eyes to Aemond, as if she wanted him to sense her heart is surged with heaviness, rebirth as Lady Greenstar.

Aemond did—but couldn’t offer the arms of comfort. His fierce and benevolent maiden. But in the eyes of Gods, Westeros won’t lay rest, as he keeps his ardor hidden.

And chaos entered.

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[pixelsilver]

I have a feeling some yautja would see us as 'cute' like some people think pugs are cute.

Or we're less ugly than like 90% of things they normally hunt.

Or maybe they're like some humans who find yautja cute or sexy. Just their own version of monster fuckers.