#ive given up on this coloring good lord

[trannyfaggotry]

Ok so í might get laid off soon so. Yeah

[laurellerual]

ASoIaF: Arya’s change of clothes

AGOT 

Arya III: His claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. (...) Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running.

Arya V: Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak (heavy woolen cloak) (...) The silver bracelet she'd hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along with her bundle of good clothes (a velvet skirt, a silk tunic, some smallclothes, a dress her mother had embroidered for her,  a satin gown) , snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they left her was the cloak she had been huddled in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practice sword … and Needle.

ACOK 

Arya VI: "That hair is a fright and a nest for lice as well. We'll have it off, and then you're for the kitchens." (...) Goodwife Harra slapped her so hard that her swollen lip broke open all over again (...) They gave her a shift of grey roughspun wool and a pair of ill-fitting shoes, and sent her off. (...) On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift,

Arya X: They required dressing like a page and washing more than she liked. (...) In her cell, she stripped to the skin and dressed herself carefully, in two layers of smallclothes, warm stockings, and her cleanest tunic. It was Lord Bolton's livery. On the breast was sewn his sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. She tied her shoes, threw a wool cloak over her skinny shoulders, and knotted it under her throat. 

ASOS

Arya I: She was still dressed in her page's garb, and on the breast over her heart was sewn Lord Bolton's sigil, the flayed man of the Dreadfort. (...) "Who dressed the poor child in those Bolton rags?" 

Arya IV: They insisted she dress herself in girl's things, brown woolen stockings and a light linen shift, and over that a light green gown with acorns embroidered all over the bodice in brown thread, and more acorns bordering the hem. (...) Lady Smallwood said as the women laced the gown up Arya's back. (...) one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. 

Arya IV: The dress she put her in this time was sort of lilac-colored, and decorated with little baby pearls. The only good thing about it was that it was so delicate that no one could expect her to ride in it. 

Arya IV: So the next morning as they broke their fast, Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. "They were my son's things".

Arya V: Then they stole all the clothes that Lady Smallwood had given her and dressed her up like one of Sansa's dolls in linen and lace. 

AFFC 

Arya III: In the black of night she rose again, donned the clothes she'd worn from Westeros, and buckled on her swordbelt. Needle hung from one hip, her dagger from the other. With her floppy (woolen hat patched with leather) hat on her head, her fingerless gloves tucked into her belt, and her silver fork in one hand, she went stealing up the steps. (...) She emptied her pouch into her palm; five silver stags, nine copper stars, some pennies and halfpennies and groats. She scattered them across the water. Next her boots. They made the loudest splashes. Her dagger followed, the one she'd gotten off the archer who had begged the Hound for mercy. Her swordbelt went into the canal. Her cloak, tunic, breeches, smallclothes, all of it. All but Needle.

ADWD 

The Blind Girl: The blind girl tied a strip of rag around her head to hide her useless eyes (...) The waif had shaved her head for her when they took her eyes; a mummer's cut (...)  she gave her pox scars and a mummer's mole on one cheek with a dark hair growing from it.  (...) The clothes she wore were rags, faded and fraying, but warm clean rags for all that. Under them she hid three knives—one in a boot, one up a sleeve, one sheathed at the small of her back. (...) A cracked wooden begging bowl and belt of hempen rope completed her garb.

The Ugly Little Girl: An ugly girl should dress in ugly clothing, she decided, so she chose a stained brown cloak fraying at the hem, a musty green tunic smelling of fish, and a pair of heavy boots. Last of all she palmed her finger knife.

The Ugly Little Girl: They brought a robe for her as well, the soft thick robe of an acolyte, black upon one side and white upon the other. 

TWOW

Mercy: She shaved, donned her smallclothes, and slipped a shapeless brown wool dress down over her head. One of her stockings needed mending, she saw as she pulled it up. (...) Her boots were lumps of old brown leather mottled with saltstains and cracked from long wear, her belt a length of hempen rope dyed blue. She knotted it about her waist, and hung a knife on her right hip and a coin pouch on her left. Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. A real blade, not a fruit knife like the one on her hip, but it did not belong to Mercy, no more than her other treasures did. 

[ivorybled]

╰ ┈ [ maddison jaizani , twenty eight , cis woman , she/her ] in the time of dragons , KYRA MARTELL is entering the game of thrones . said to be freethinking + whimsical , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be capricious + intransigent . when asked about them , people are always reminded of hands never without a goblet full with dornish wine , high pitched giggles accompanied by rosy cheeks , grasping for as much freedom as possible with high ambitions . though they are the LADY OF THE TOWER OF JOY , their true loyalties lie with house martell and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support THEIR FAMILY above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .

i.

full name : kyra ( pronounced like key-ruh ) martell .

also known as : ky ( pronounced like key ) .

official title : lady of the tower of joy , lady in waiting to azra martell .

age : twenty eight .

gender + pronouns : cis woman + she/her .

orientation : bisexual , biromantic .

relationship status : unwed , unbetrothed .

allegiance : house martell & dorne .

ii.

faceclaim : maddison jaizani .

eye color : brown .

hair color : brown .

dominant hand : right .

height : 5'5"

build : slim .

iii.

weapon of choice : her voice probably poison tbh , not a getting her hands dirty type of girl .

moral alignment : chaotic good .

inspired by : lady kenna ( reign ) , cordelia chase ( btvs ) , young alicent hightower ( hotd ) , rachel greene ( friends ) .

pets : has a tabby cat named sunshine .

iv.

always one drawn to beauty and exquisite sights , kyra has always viewed the world in a positive light , despite learning lessons the hard way in her youth . she was able to adapt well enough to what others expected of her , even if it was the result of numerous tantrums . not ever accustomed to hearing the response "no" , kyra was raised with whatever she wanted at her fingertips . it helped that her biggest wishes were a pony in her childhood and elegant dresses in her teens , understanding there were rules and appearances to respect . she has been a perfect lady in that regard - always smiling , giggling , and ready to mingle with whoever approaches . it has taken her years to learn how to hold her tongue , sometimes she still forgets , but her intentions are never short of wanting good .

she's never desired anything less than the future that has always been expected of a noble lady - get married , have children , and live your days lavishly with a goblet of wine in your hand . kyra was wildly imaginative as a child and often dreamt of a prince , but now , she strays where she wishes . favorably among the highest of ranking lords , though she is always one to appreciate a pretty face . she just likes looking pretty herself and being left to do as she wishes .

part of her has always yearned for more , though . perhaps not in a responsibility manner , but she adores house martell first and foremost - so when she was tasked with being her cousin azra's lady in waiting , she saw it as a gift of sorts . they feel closer than cousins , siblings would be more fitting , with kyra adoring the other martells as well . she's always been a big family person so wherever she ends up , understand her heart will always belong to dorne .

in present time , kyra holds herself as a presentable young woman , devoted to her lady and interested in the idea of a betrothal ... but of someone truly worthy . she is a girly girl through and through , loves bright colors , and often enjoys being surrounded by gardens or wine ... both are preferred . though still very much spoilt and bratty at times , she has good intentions with less than conventional ways of getting there .

v. - wanted.

betrothal - kyra isn't shy about making it known she wants a family of her own one day , so this would be someone interested in that ! whether they want to marry her bc of her or for other reasons , we can plot this out <3

past flings - mostly sexual partners , though romantic partners are wanted too ! maybe they were just going separate ways or someone's heart got broken ??

gal pals - her inner circle is azra + azra's ladies , but give kyra some more friends to drink and be merry with ! a lot of fun to hang out with , just don't engage in any of her stories bc you'll be there all afternoon .

i'm an angst monster so anything pls hehe

[askgothamshitty]

ive recently looked down the rabbithole of modern radical feminism, as a genderqueer person. ive come to the conclusion that i fucking despise radfeminism and all its collaborators. more than half of the people ive come across who tout themselves as radfems are genuinely deranged and horrifically racist/transphobic individuals, even the so called "tirfs".

now, the problem is, is that i still want to theoretically learn about radical feminism. sorry if thats bizarre and weird, but i dont want to delve into witch-hunting hate of an ideology that i dont even fully understand. i dont think i will ever stop hating radfeminism, something i perceive as a downright cult, but i still want to try and understand it? if any of that makes sense.

so, that was a really longwinded way to ask; do you have any advice on this? whether it be just telling me to give up, or giving me some educational resources that might help a person like me. if this is too stupid of a question feel free to ignore!! but i still wanted to try, because my research into this has genuinely given me a lot of anxiety and dysphoria, as silly as that is.

Anonymous

18 Jul

Not a stupid question at all! Despite my qualms with the radfem community, I still find some of theory useful. And it’s very helpful to read theory of ideologies you disagree with so you can better understand where/why they falter.

And not all of radfem theory is bad; some of it, I think, is absolutely indispensable for a principled critique of heterosexuality (Catherine Mackinnon and Carole Pateman specifically). You just gotta go in with a critical eye because a lot of it is white-/middle class-centered.

My tips would be to first learn about the history of the second wave to get some historical context. Rosemarie Tong’s “Feminist Thought” is good for this. Then I would recommend looking into Dworkin, Millet, Firestone, Mackinnon, Pateman. And once you feel like you’ve got a good understanding of what the main ideas of radfeminism were, then you can move onto the critiques (mostly from feminists of color). For that, I recommend:

Women, Race, and Class by Angela Davis

Audre Lorde’s letter to Mary Daly

Radical Feminism and Feminist Radicalism by Ellen Willis

White Women Listen! by Hazel Carby

Feminist Theory by bell hooks

The Incompaitble Ménage a Trois by Gloria Joseph

Feminism, Moralism, and Pornography by Ellen Willis

You can always reach out to me with questions or requests for more recs :) good luck! Tbh I think it’ll be a very interesting journey for you because you’ll end up realizing how many radfems online actually do not know shit about the theory lol

[amicidomenicani]

Question Dear Father Angelo,  My name is Alessio, I wonder what happens during the absorption of the eucharistic species. What happens when we have consumed the Body of Christ? Thank you for your reply. As a matter of fact, I am interested in finding out how we can be in communion with Christ, thus becoming His Mystical Body through the sacrament of the Eucharist. Answer Dear Alessio, 1. The presence of the body of Christ is tied to the accidents of bread, namely its color, taste and quantity. When they vanish, the Lord’s presence ceases as well. 2. During the process of absorption the accidents of “bread” are not there anymore, but there are the elements it was made up of, and that now are blended with saliva and acids. These elements - that are not anymore the Body of the Lord - are absorbed like any other food. 3. This notwithstanding, there is another reality we ought to bear in mind. Actually, it is the most important. It is the union with Jesus’s soul. Jesus  becomes united with us through His Body in order to form a tighter union with our spirit, namely with our thoughts, with our will, with our feelings. Saint Thomas writes: “it is proper to friendship that a man reveals his secrets to his friend [...] that he should share his belongings with him; It also belongs to friendship that a man delight in the presence of his friend, and rejoice in his words and deeds; also, that he find in him consolation in all his troubles” (Contra gentes, IV, 21-22). The union of Jonathan’s soul with David’s (1Sam 18:1) is just a pale figure of the union between Jesus and whoever nourishes himself with Him. They can repeat the words of the Song of Songs: “My lover belongs to me and I to him” (Song 2:16) 4. No presence, no union is so sweet, agreeable, discreet as Jesus’s. Other presences, although appreciated, become sometimes boring. Jesus's presence, on the contrary, is always humble, pleasing… Saint Thomas (and the liturgy of the Church with him) exclaims: “How kind and gentle you are, O Lord”! (First Vespers of the Solemnity of Corpus Christi).  5. There is a special effusion of grace in this union, because this sacrament works in our lives “the effect which Christ’s Passion wrought in the world” (Summa Theologiae, III, 79, 1). As a matter of fact, this sacrament is none other than the application to a single man of the Lord’s Passion.  6. The effects are those that are represented by the symbols: bread and wine. As a matter of fact, “the effect of this sacrament is considered from the way in which this sacrament is given; for it is given by way of food and drink. And therefore this sacrament does for the spiritual life all that material food does for the bodily life, namely, by sustaining, giving increase, restoring, and giving delight” (Ibidem). “Hence it is that the soul is spiritually nourished through the power of this sacrament, by being spiritually gladdened, and as it were inebriated with the sweetness of the Divine goodness, according to Cant 5:1: Eat, O friends, and drink, and be inebriated, my dearly beloved”.(Summa Theologiae, III, 79, 1, ad. 2). 7. Father Garrigou-Lagrange comments: “First of all, it sustains. He who in the natural order does not take food or who takes insufficient food, declines; in the spiritual order the same is true of the man who refuses the Eucharistic bread which the Lord offers us as the best food for our soul. Why deprive ourselves, without reason, of this “supersubstantial bread,”which is the daily bread of our souls? As material bread restores the organism by repairing its losses, the results of labor and fatigue, so the Eucharist repairs the gradual loss of strength which results from our negligences. As the Council of Trent says, it frees us from venial sins, restores to us the fervor which we lost because of these sins, and preserves us from mortal sin. Moreover, ordinary nourishment increases the life of the body in a growing c

hild. Now, from the spiritual point of view, we ought always to grow in the love of God and of our neighbor until death; thus we advance in our journey toward eternity. That we may grow in this way, the Eucharistic bread always brings us new graces. Thus supernatural growth does not stop in the saints as long as they continue on their way toward God: their faith becomes daily more enlightened and more lively, their hope more firm, their charity more pure and ardent. Little by little they advance from resignation in suffering to the esteem and love of the cross. Through Communion all the infused virtues grow with charity; and through ever more fervent Communions, they may reach a heroic degree. The gifts of the Holy Ghost, being permanent, infused dispositions connected with charity, also grow with it. Lastly, as material bread is pleasant to the taste, the Eucharistic bread is sweet to the faithful soul, which draws from it a comfort and sometimes a spiritual well-being that is more or less felt”. (R. Garrigou-Lagrange, The three ages of interior life, vol. II, pp. 180-181). I wish you that all of this may happen in an ever increasing way in you, I remember you to the Lord in prayer and I bless you. Father Angelo

[chimepunk]

Fly (2016) | Hard Carry (2016) | Eclipse (2019) 

[insp.]

[goodqueenaly]

Do you think Maelor’s dragon egg that was sent to Lord Hightower will be of significance in part 2?

You know, I was going to just respond "shrugemoji.jpg", but I actually wonder whether this egg could tie into a theory I have on a potential False Daeron story in Fire and Blood Volume 2.

Obviously, we know from TWOIAF that Aegon III and his government faced "the troublesome appearance of several pretenders claiming to be Prince Daeron the Daring—the youngest brother of Aegon II who was killed at Second Tumbleton but whose body was never identified—leaving the door open for unscrupulous men to make their false claims". Considering we didn't see any of these men in F&B, it stands to reason that these false pretenders will be a major (or relatively major) plot point for Aegon III's reign in F&B Vol 2. I specifically tend to think that at least one of them will show up in Oldtown, since this location potentially lend a False Daeron more of the appearance of legitimacy (since the real Daeron the Daring had served as Lord Ormund Hightower's cupbearer and squire in Oldtown before the Dance, and thus could plausibly be recognized - or "recognized" - by Hightowers and other residents of Oldtown). I also tend to think that this Oldtown-based False Daeron will have a collection of disaffected Reach-based aristocrats as his support, including Hightowers hostile or potentially hostile to the government of Aegon III and/or the seemingly pro-Aegon III Lord Lyonel Hightower: Myles Hightower who had "stolen a good part of" the gold sent to the Hightower by Ser Otto at the outset of the Dance (and was subsequently outraged at Lord Lyonel's decision to return it to the crown), as well as perhaps Martyn Hightower (who would have been the obvious Hightower replacement for Lyonel Hightower should the latter have been ousted from power).

So if, following Lady Caswell's decision to send Maelor's dragon egg to Lord Ormund Hightower (then at Longtable), Ormund then sent this egg back to Oldtown for safekeeping, I could see where some of those same disaffected Hightowers might have presented this egg to the would-be "King Daeron I" as a sign of his "true" Targaryen identity. Tessarion, the dragon ridden by the real Prince Daeron the Daring, had perished at Tumbleton, but now he would have a new egg, with the expectation that it would hatch a new dragon to be ridden by this restored, "rightful" Targaryen king (and how convenient for these conspirators that the egg should have been predominantly green, to match the favored color of the Hightower-Targaryen faction!). I don't expect that this egg would necessarily have hatched in such a scenario, but the mere symbolic weight of it might have been enough to boost the credibility of the would-be Daeron’s story.

This theory, if true (and it's just a theory for now, of course), feels like a potential prefigurement of elements of both Daemon Blackfyre and Euron in the main novels. Eustace Osgrey references an individual called "Quickfinger" who supposedly stole or attempted to steal dragon eggs for Daemon Blackfyre during the First Blackfyre Rebellion; while we don't know anything about this Quickfinger's motivations, I don't think it is unlikely that this individual (and/or pro-Backfyre backers of him) was trying to give Daemon Blackfyre a sense of Targaryen (or, more specifically, Targaryen-adjacent) identity by presenting him with a dragon egg. While Daemon, a bastard neither recognized nor legitimated until very late in his royal father's life, would never have been given a dragon egg at birth in the manner of Targaryen princes, possession of an egg might be seen to confer a sort of retroactive draconic legitimacy on Daemon; this was the final complement to his consummately Targaryen appearance, ancestry, and armament, the missing piece that would confirm him as the obvious successor to Aegon IV. Similarly, if this false Daeron had the right look and the right acknowledgement from his Hightower foster family (as a substitute for his actual ancestry), then a dragon egg might have been seen as the perfect addition to complete the claim.

As for Euron, we know that he boasted of once owning a dragon egg (though his claims of throwing it into the sea should be taken with considerable suspicion, I think). More to the point, Euron I think has his sights (in both his smiling eye and his malicious one, naturally) set on Oldtown as the seat of his terrible apotheosis into a god-king. I also like the interpretation of Euron looking to Valyria for his inspiration, attempting to appropriate the heritage of the Freehold and its dragonlords for his attempt to rule the world: with his Valyrian steel armor, his eager practice of chattel slavery, his boasts of visiting the ruins of Valyria, and his obsession with draconic dominion (via the Valyrian horn Dragonbinder), Euron seems to see Valyria as the ideal model for his plan for dominion. (This is, incidentally, why I see Euron as the prophesied beast emerging from the smoking tower.) I don't think False Daeron would be looking to become a god-king as Euron is, of course, but the elements of (falsely) appropriating Valyrian heritage (since neither actually is or would have been a Valyrian descendant) via dragons (the egg perhaps to be given to this False Daeron, the dragons Euron hopes to gain through Daenerys), all taking place in Oldtown, echo through both stories.

Of course I've not also written off the idea that Maelor's egg became Egg's, well, egg. Egg describes his own dragon egg to Dunk as "white and green, all swirly", while Gyldayn described Maelor's egg as "pale green with sworls of silver". White does not necessarily equal silver, of course, and it's no guarantee that these are the same egg (indeed it is even possible that GRRM liked the visual idea for such an egg without realizing that he had used it in the Tales already); nevertheless, these descriptions are too similar to completely disregard. (Which, if true, presumably means that it was destroyed at Summerhall.)

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Alrighty, got asked twice for Ellie finding out the truth about her new boss being a vampire, so here’s that!

Warning: blood, hospitals, Hardy is a fool who doesn’t take care of himself, Ellie being upset, spoilers for series one

On with the fic!

--

Last night had been an experience for poor Ellie Miller.

One minute they were in pursuit of the bastard that had killed Danny, the next her boss dropped to the ground, clutching his chest and crying out in pain. Ellie had tried to see what the damage was, but from how he reacted to the pain, she feared it had to do with his heart.

But then she saw something that still sent chills down her spine when she thought over it.

She had seen Hardy’s eyes change color in the light of the street lamps, from brown to something closer to a dark red. Then his mouth opened, gasping for air, and his teeth literally grew in front of her. Fangs, good lord, he had fangs.

He gasped, begging her to not take him to a hospital, but she couldn’t do that. Despite how scared she was, for a number of reasons, Ellie had ordered for an ambulance.

And her she was now, sitting at her boss’ bedside, where he was hooked up to a number of machines and IVs. One was saline, of course, but the other... it was a blood bag, and it wasn’t the first one he was given during his stay here.

Ellie had asked the doctors what had happened, as she was his current contact, the one who brought him in. The doctors said it was heart arrhythmia, and apparently a very serious case of it, one they’d never seen before. Hardy’s pulse was out of control, it had either kept speeding up through the night, or it was so low that he was nearly considered dead twice.

Then there was his blood, the doctors had no idea what was wrong, but he needed blood transfusions. According to one of them, Hardy’s blood almost seemed old, in a sense.

Well, she had to admit, whatever they were doing with the transfusions, he looked a bit less... dead, like he had been seeing him for nearly two months now.

Still, as Ellie sat there, looking at the unconscious man, she had to know what that strangeness was all about last night. Why had his eyes changed color? His teeth getting longer? She’d have to wait until he woke up for answers, didn’t she?

Ten minutes would pass before there was a soft groan next to her, and she shot her head up, staring at Hardy as he came to. Glowering, she threw the bag of grapes she had brought with her at him. He sleepily blinked at her, his eyes were normal again, brown.

“What’s that...?” He asked, sounding so groggy.

“Grapes.” She replied.

“Why’d ya bring grapes?”

“I’d hoped you’d choke on the seeds.” She snipped.

He sleepily blinked at her, then looked at the grapes. “They’re seedless.”

Ellie was about ready to strangle him.

“Sir, what the hell happened last night?” She hissed at him, standing up from her seat to loom over him. He just stared at her, then glanced away, up at the IV rack. He made a face and then looked at where they were hooked up to him.

“Fuck.” He said under his breath. “No wonder I feel better.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Ellie snapped. “What happened last night? Were you ever going to tell me you had massive health problems!? And for God’s sake, what was up with your eyes and your mouth!?”

This made Hardy tense up, his eyes widen in shock. “You... what did you see?”

“Your mouth had fangs! And your eyes changed color!”

Hardy swallowed hard, glancing around, before suddenly jumping right out of the bed, the fastest she’d ever seen him move. He shoved her aside, but Ellie was not going to let him get away so easily.

“Oh no you don’t!” He was fast, but she was quicker. The DS launched herself and tackled him to the ground.

He shouted and squirmed to get away, nearly knocking over the IV rack he was still attached to. “Miller! Release me!” He shouted, they could hear the heart machine beep a little louder, faster.

“Not until you explain what the fuck is going on, sir! Talk!” She shouted back, turning him onto his back, and oh, God.

Maroon, that’s the color.

He looked up at her, breathing hard. She had never noticed before, but he felt cold to the touch, it was scary. Ellie moved away, scooting across the floor as Hardy sat up. He yanked the little disks attached under his hospital gown, the machine no longer able to read his pulse.

“You want to know, Miller? Do you really want to know what the hell is going on?” Hardy asked, eyes narrowed. She just mutely nodded.

“You’ll never believe me.”

“At this point, sir, I’m prepared to believe all sorts of things...”

His mouth was a thin line as he looked away, moving to stand up, get back on the bed. “I’m... a vampire, to put it simply.”  

If this had been anyone else saying this, Ellie would have laughed and then told them to shut up and be serious. But no, this was her boss, this was DI Hardy, who in just two months she had come to learn that he was a very serious man. He rarely ever joked, and even if he did, it was more of a rude comment than anything else.

The look on his face, the way he held himself, he was not kidding as he said this.

Yet, it felt impossible to believe.

“Prove it.” Ellie said, her voice sounded so quiet.

“You want me to prove it?” He frowned at her, his eyes were still wrong, she hated it, go back to the brown she knew.

“Yes.”

“You won’t like it.”

“I don’t bloody care, sir. I just... prove it.”

He sighed, running his hands down his face, and she watched in horror as his features changed in front of her. He looked, God, he looked like something from a movie, and it was happening in real time, right in front of her. Ellie looked away for a moment, feeling her body shaking.

“Miller...” His voice was soft, worried, and she spared a glance. He was normal again, brown eyes and freckled cheeks, normal teeth and nose. This was her boss, the man who drove her up walls and yet seemed to be trying to be good to her, despite everything.

“You’re... you’re a vampire.” Ellie found herself saying as she tried to get back in her chair.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Been one since the forties.”

“Fuck.”

“I know, trust me, it’s a lot to take in.”

“You think?” She snipped, then sighed. “I don’t... what do I... you’re not going to kill me for knowing, are you?”

Hardy looked offended at this. “God, no! I’m not a monster, Miller. An arsehole, that much I can agree with, but I don’t kill anyone.”

“You, uh, you drink blood though, right?”

He sighed loudly. “Yes, but I hate it, it’s disgusting and delicious at the same time, and my body wants it, but I don’t like letting it have it. I don’t like... being like this.”

Ellie nodded quietly. “The... the doctors said your heart is bad.”

“Always was, even before I died. If I hadn’t been bitten, it would have probably killed me. Being a vampire doesn’t exactly fix all your problems from your human life.”

She nodded again. “Your blood was also bad.”

“Vampire blood, even after I consume fresh blood, it ends up getting old quickly, sits in the veins until I drink. I guess they’re giving my transfusions, explains why I don’t feel like shit.”

“But I’ve seen you eat food before, I’ve never seen you drink blood!”

“Dried blood pills, I either swallow them, or drop them in my tea. I also have blood bags at home. And I don’t... really eat. I do if I have no choice and it’s offered, but there is a very small limit to what I can eat without being sick.”

Ellie frowned, then thought about when she invited him to dinner. “Oh... I had no idea, no wonder you never took anything I offered...”

“Well, some stuff I could have, but my stupid heart hates it anyway. I miss coffee.” He sighed and looked at her. “You cannot tell anyone about this, no one knows I’m a vampire.”

“Sir, this is a lot.” She admitted.

“I know, and I wish you had never learned it, but... now you know. Still, keep it to yourself, cause the last thing this town needs is to learn about me. And don’t tell the bosses, I can’t afford to be taken off the case for medical problems, we’re so close...”

Ellie listened to him talk, about the killer running on them, how he was letting his guilt consume him. But she wasn’t really taking all of this in, her mind couldn’t get over what she just learned, that her boss was really a vampire.

It explained a lot, yet so little.

She stood up, and walked to the door without much of a goodbye, ignoring him calling out to her.

--

Today was just... the worst.

Ellie was trying her best, trying so hard to be brave for her boys, but it was impossible. Everything she learned, of knowing who really killed Danny, it was just a lot.

And the only person she could talk to about this was the vampire that was her superior. But Hardy let her into his room at the Traders, let her talk and cry, and he just sat there, listening.

She dried her eyes, sniffing, before looking at him. “Sir... you said you don’t kill people...”

Hardy seemed to pick up on what she wanted to ask, what she was trying to suggest. “Oh, Miller, I can’t do that.”

“No one would know.”

“We would know.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“I want him dead, I want him bloody dead, Hardy.”

“I do too, but I can’t kill Joe. I just... it wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

Her eyes were wet again as she looked at him. Hardy was right, it would never be enough to make her feel comfortable again with her life. “Could you scare him?”

“I think I did that already by letting you into the room.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “If... circumstances were different, I’d do it. I’d drain him.”

She sniffed, blowing her nose. “Thanks anyway, sir.”

[amuelia]

Got any fun Woose head cannons bouncing around in your head ? :) or about anyone else. you have such neat insight into asoiaf and I love reading it

Hello, thank you that's so flattering! 🥺❤ I'm glad you enjoy my meta posts!

I do have many Woose headcanons :D I am going to try and focus this post more on headcanons that i can somewhat closely support by text, so i'm sorry if i mentioned some of these already!

Since Domeric squired in the Vale under Lord Redfort, i headcanon that Roose' mother was a Redfort as well since that would explain the connection the easiest... The way Roose talks about Lord Redfort doesn't necessarily sound like theyre close or related, but that might just be to keep the information simple for the reader. Either way we will likely find out in Sansa's tWoW Vale plot how that connection came to be, since she will probably interact with relevant characters like Mychel Redfort.

[Domeric] served four years as Lady Dustin's page, and three in the Vale as a squire to Lord Redfort. [...] Redfort said he showed great promise in the lists. - Reek III, aDwD

Roose not only has a son who loves horses, but he himself also has some quotes alluding to him liking to ride and being knowledgable about horses, which makes me hc that Roose is an able rider as well; So Domeric would get it from both sides of the family (explaining why he's such a horse boy). This hc is inspired by analysis from Bran Vras

"...on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame..." - Reek III, aDwD

"The clans of the northern hills come with him on their shaggy runtish horses. " - The Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

He's likely so pale from all that leeching (since they cause regular blood loss), and would probably have a normal skin color if he didn't do it so often... His quiet voice might also be caused by it (fatigue). I also assume his "unwrinkled" face is at least partially due to him having such an emotionless expression; if he showed an intense emotion (like a very genuine smile) there might be more wrinkles visible. I also don't get the impression his "unwrinkled"/"ageless" face makes him look unnaturally young, since none of the older PoVs (Cat, Jaime) comment on it; He probably just looks like he aged very well.

He is described as having a "hairless body" during the leeching scene, which makes me think he might shave his body hair so the leeches can apply easier (which ive seen recommended online for leech therapy).

Him having dark brown hair is unfortunately still a headcanon, since his hair is not described in the books... But it seems likely to me because it would contrast his pale features and make them stand out more; and if his hair was grey that would have probably been pointed out as a contrast to his unwrinkled face. I'm usually excluding blonde/red hair as a possibility since I assume grrm would have described that explicitly.

He'd probably wear sunglasses frequently in a modern au, his eyes seem sensitive to me because their color is so light (less pigmentation making eyes more sensitive to sunlight)... I also hc him as nearsighted + needing glasses in modern au, though obviously we don't have anything in the text referencing this.

He and Barbrey share a long history, yet we see that she talks negatively about him to Theon... I hc that she probably started having a lower opinion of him due to the way he handled the Domeric situation (or that the situation at least heavily contributed to it); My assumption is that Barbrey quickly suspected Ramsay of murder and hates Ramsay because of that, so if Roose takes Ramsay in as his new heir this would make Barbrey think that he's really callous/emotionless and "does not love/hate/grieve".

"Those leeches that he loves so well sucked all the passions out of him years ago. He does not love, he does not hate, he does not grieve." - The Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

Roose doesn't seem to care when it comes to various cruelties and illegalities (telling Ramsay he will not chide him for his "amusements" and Ramsay just needs to be "more discreet"; and also being guilty of many crimes himself), but due to the long Bolton-Stark animosity i feel he would probably see warging as an abomination and oppose it on "moral" grounds (similar to how he says a kinslayer is "accursed").

He is usually described as clean-shaven; i hc he shaves his beard partially out of vanity, partially because he doesn't want to look like his father... He probably also takes a while to grow a good beard/has weak beard growth. (No textual evidence for any of these statements, just hc; sadly we don't know about any of his family beyond his sons/wives. I also wonder if he was always shaving his beard, or if he had a beard phase when he was younger)

I get the impression he is not that strict a father, and is more someone who tries to get to his kids verbally than through punishment... In both Ramsay's and Domeric's case we see that he gives them advice that they dont much care for, and neither appear to fear disobeying him or arguing with him much.

"He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father." - Reek III, aDwD

“It should have been you who threw the feast, to welcome me back,” Ramsay complained, “and it should have been in Barrow Hall, not this pisspot of a castle.” [...] “Is this why you left Lady Dustin and your fat pig wife? So you could come down here and tell me to be quiet?”- Reek III, aDwD

I do also have more "fanfic-like" headcanons, but im shy about posting them since they could easily be deconfirmed in future books :") Of course i try to do them as "in-character" as i can, but in some aspects grrm just hasn't given much info yet.

[dalekofchaos]

If Vader raised Luke and Obi-Wan trained Leia

Let’s say sometime after Mustafar. Darth Vader in his meditation in his castle, Vader felt a presence he hasn’t felt since.....Padme. Since he felt his unborn child through the force. His child is alive. Sidious lied. The Jedi took his son from him. They will all pay. So here is what would happen if Vader sensed, found and raised Luke. 

Darth Vader would’ve killed Owen and Beru instantly and burned the Lars homestead

Obi-Wan would rush to face Vader. Vader would overpower Obi-Wan, mortally wound him and throw him into the burning homestead and use the force to crush the roof onto an unconscious Obi-Wan 

Darth Vader would hold a baby Luke in his hands and  for some reason Luke is not afraid, but drawn to this dark figure. 

Vader would simply say “Luke. Son...”

Vader takes Luke to his castle on Mustafar

Obi-Wan would crawl out of the remains of the Lars Homestead. Injured, but alive. Obi-Wan failed. He contacted Yoda and told him Vader found and took Luke. Yoda will simply tell him “There is another.” All he can do is call Bail for transport to Alderaan. He failed Luke, but he will not fail Leia. 

Bail and Breha would teach Leia about politics and Obi-Wan would train Leia to become a Jedi

Luke would spend his entire childhood to adulthood in the depths of Fortress Vader. Training and submerging himself in the dark side of the force. 

Vader would indoctrinate his son into hating the Jedi. Hating The Emperor and instructing his son that only together could they destroy The Emperor and the last of the Jedi.

By the events of Rogue One/A New Hope. Luke’s training would be complete. “You were weak when I found you. Now your hatred has become your strength. At last the dark side is your ally. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth Zhoun. Rise, my son.”  Source 1. Source 2

Luke would be Vader’s assassin. Carrying out assassinations in the name of the Empire. Killing the last of the Jedi. Enemies of The Empire. His identity is unknown to the Emperor and Rebellion, but his reputation would strike fear in the Rebel Alliance. He is simply known as “Vader’s Shadow.”

Palpatine feels a disturbance in the force, but for some reason, he cannot detect Luke. All he can sense is “a shadow”

Luke fully embraced the dark side and is consumed by it. When Master Shaak Ti tries to turn him away from his path, before killing her(What is this her 5th death????) Luke will say “My father’s fate is my own.”

Vader’s final test for his son would be to pit him against his old Padawan. Luke kills Maul with ease as he decapitates him. Luke uses Ahsoka’s need to save her friends against her and when she attempts to save them, Luke cuts Ahsoka down. 

Thrawn would request the aid of Vader, in his stead, Vader once again sends his son. Luke would kill Ezra and save Thrawn. “Lord Vader has need of you, Grand Admiral. Set up the TIE Defenders program in the Unknown Regions and return with a fleet of them.” Thrawn would call off the fleet and let Lord Zhoun deal with the Rebels. Luke would then slaughter the Rebels on Lothal

Sometime after securing Thrawn’s victory on Lothal, as a gift. Thrawn has given Vader and Luke their own personal TIE Defenders. 

Vader and Zhoun would slaughter Cal and Cere. The Holocron is theirs. 

The existence of Darth Zhoun would only be known to Vader, Admiral Piett and General Veers.(you’ll see why)

Leia had a decade of training. On Alderaan and on Dagobah. Yoda and Obi-Wan together completed Leia’s training. Leia is now a fully fledged Jedi Knight and is ready to lead the Rebellion and confront her father and brother.  art source

Yoda and Obi-Wan would tell Leia the truth. Darth Vader is her father and his secret assassin is her brother, Luke. Due to a decade of training, Leia would prove strong and wise enough to learn the truth of her family.

Also Leia would ask about her mother. “Tell me, what was my mother like, my real mother.” “Your mother was Padme Amidala, a senator, queen and a kind and beautiful..” “Strong, was your mother. Believed in peace and diplomacy did she.” “And my father? Was he always Vader?” “Your mother loved your father. Anakin Skywalker was a good man. But he was consumed to stop the people he loved from dying. His mother was killed by the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine and the Emperor seized the opportunity to turn your father to the dark side. One day, your father was plagued by nightmares of Padme dying in childbirth, The Emperor promised him the power to save your mother, but in doing so Anakin became twisted by the dark side and became Darth Vader.” 

Leia believes her family could be turned. Obi-Wan would object. He's more machine now than man. Twisted and evil.” When insisting that Luke could be saved. Obi-Wan would be remorseful. “I failed my duty to save Luke, I should have followed Vader and staged a rescue, but you needed to be trained, you were our only hope.” 

Leia would be contacted by Bail requesting aid on Scarif. Yoda gives his blessing for Leia to go. Saying Ready to reveal herself to the galaxy, she is. Obi-Wan would join her as he must confront Vader one last time.

Leia and Obi-Wan get there just in time and they save the Rogue One Crew. Jyn personally gives Leia the plans. Obi-Wan tells her. “What is it?” All Leia can tell her master is “Hope.”

Leia would transmit the plans to the Tantive IV where her father would be there to receive the plans.

Vader and Luke board the ship to slaughter the rebels. Before they can get the Death Star plans back. They are confronted by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Leia. 

Darth Vader and Obi-Wan would duel similar to how they did in ANH aboard the ship. Leia and Obi-Wan are in desperate need to escape

Leia is able to defensively take down her brother, Obi-Wan momentarily stuns Vader and they escape with the plans.

As The Tantive IV is boarded, Leia and Obi-Wan are able to evade detection and hide in the escape pods with C-3PO and R2-D2

In place of Leia captured by the Empire, it is Bail Organa. Bail gives the plans to his daughter and pleads with Leia to leave with Master Kenobi. 

Leia and the droids wander Tatooine for a long walk. All Leia can think is “so much sand. so much fucking sand.”

Leia would store the plans in R2. Just in case something happens.

Leia is guided by Obi-Wan. “We must find passage to save Bail.”

Leia and Obi-Wan finds Mos Eisley Cantina and there they meet Han and Chewie. Leia asks for passage to Alderaan for herself and her droids no questions asked. “Is it a fast ship?” “Fast ship? You’ve never heard of The Millennium Falcon? It's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs! I've outrun Imperial starships, not the local bulk-cruisers, mind you.” All Leia can do is roll her eyes and takes Han’s word for it. Leia tells her “Once we get to Alderaan, my father Senator Organa will pay you handsomely. Say 15,000 credits?” Han just smiles that cocky Solo smile and says “you got yourself a deal princess”

Once Leia sees the Falcon. “You fly in that thing? You’re braver than I thought.” Han retorts “She'll make point five past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, Princess. I've made a lot of special modifications myself.”

Leia and Han bicker like an old married couple and Chewie just decided “that’s it I ship it” Obi-Wan would see the writing on the walls. “Oh, this is like watching me and Satine” 

Bail watches the destruction of Alderaan

Leia would convince Han to help her free her father. Han is hesitant, but Leia will insist “my father will be very grateful, I’m sure we can triple the rewar-” Han would say so quickly “DONE!”

Han and Leia are pretty much battle couple goals while taking down Stormtroopers and Imperial Officers in the detention center.

Leia saves her father and embraces him in a hug.

Vader and Obi-Wan duels and Obi-Wan sacrifices himself to save Leia and Bail

Bail is forever in Han’s debt. He saved his life and his daughter’s life. He will pay Han anything. Being indebted to a Hutt is no way to live a life. He pays Han what he’s owed, but asks if he can join the Rebellion after clearing the debt as the Rebellion is in dire need of good pilots. Chewie is all for it, but Han is having none of it, but looks at Leia and says “I’m not saying yes, Senator, but...maybe.” Bail sees that he’s looking at Leia and says “I see” and knows he fancies his daughter.

Leia would fly in her personal Jedi X-wing Starfighter(Just imagine a mix between Anakin’s Jedi Starfighter and an X-Wing) during the Battle Of Yavin IV Leia’s hypothetical ship would look like this(source) but realistically it would be colored blue and white

Han would make the save and Leia would destroy the Death Star(btw Han now will not shut up that he saved Leia, ya know in a way, princess I helped destroyed the Death Star. I saved you from Vader and gave you the confidence you needed to destroy the Death Star. Sometimes I amaze even myself. Leia rolls her eyes and smiles...and blushes. Bail notices this and is happy his daughter is in love but knows she will never admit it) 

Leia would be knocked out and captured by a Wampa. Leia defeats it.

Han would save Leia. “Don’t worry, your worship I’ll save you.” Leia now wishes for death, he would not stop bringing up saving her during the Death Star, but now she owes him twice. Is the force punishing her?

Darth Vader and Darth Zhoun are on the hunt for the Jedi Princess. 

Bail requests Leia and Han to bring Master Yoda back into the fight. 

When Han and Leia escape. Bail stays behind. Darth Vader kills him and Leia feels the loss of Bail and breaks down. 

Instead of bickering and bantering, Han comforts Leia. Leia embraces Han in a hug and a kiss. Leia lets him in.

Leia and Han make it to Dagobah. Leia is very patient with her old master, but Han thinks he should be bigger. “This is Yoda?” Leia confirms and Chewie says so as well an goes “and how would you know that???” “I fought in the Clone Wars, Han” “Well, what do you want, a medal???”

Chewie would embrace Yoda in a hug. Yoda would warmly greet his old friend. “Chewbacca, missed you I did.”

Leia and Han asks Yoda to return to aid the Rebel Alliance. He doesn't have to fight but advise the leaders as what they must do. Yoda is willing, but first he must complete Leia’s training. With this, Leia tells Han to go and pay off Jabba’s debt. and kisses Han goodbye. Han says “When you’re done, meet me on Bespin, I’m going to see an old friend.”

Meanwhile aboard the Executer, Vader and Luke set in motion the plan to destroy The Emperor. Everyone aboard The Executer, especially Admiral Piett and General Veers are loyal to Vader and his son. The Emperor lies in his throne in the safety of the Imperial city, while Lord Vader is a man of action who fights on the front lines with his soldiers. They will stand by Lord Vader and his son, soon more will follow. 

Vader’s call with The Emperor happens as same, but Palpatine says “We have a new enemy. There is a great disturbance in the force. The Rebel Princess who destroyed the Death Star.” “She is just a girl, Obi-Wan and her father can no longer help her. “I have a feeling she is the daughter of Anakin Skywalker.” “How is this possible?” “Search your feelings Lord Vader, you know it to be true.” “If she can be turned, she can be a powerful ally.” “Yes...can it be done Lord Vader? “She will join us or die.”

Vader internally is pissed, but also pleased. Vader tells his son. “A Twin Sister, you have a twin sister. If she can be turned, we will destroy The Emperor and rule the galaxy as a family.” “What if my sister doesn’t join us?” “Then she will die. 

Leia’s training is complete. Yoda dubs Leia the rank of Jedi Master. Leia senses Han is in danger. Yoda tells her to go. “Be here, I shall be. May the force be with you, Master Leia.”

Despite paying off his debt to Jabba, Vader still intends to test Han Solo into carbonite freezing him. And Jabba would be overjoyed to have Han as a decoration. 

Vader orders Luke to bring his sister in the fold or kill her. “As you wish, father.”

Leia is too late. She sees Han frozen in carbonite. 

Leia feels the presence of her brother. They duel and they evenly matched. One wrong move and the fight is over. Luke cuts Leia’s hand off and asks his sister to join him and his father. Leia defiantly refuses. “Vader killed my master and my true father, I’LL NEVER JOIN YOU!” “The Jedi betrayed our father. turned our mother against him and had us separated, luckily he found me and rescued me. With our combined strength, we can destroy the Emperor and bring order to the galaxy as a family.” Leia refuses and falls..

Thanks to Yoda guiding Lando and Chewie, they find her just in time.

Despite not having Leia, Vader and Luke has everything they need to pull a coup on The Emperor

Vader has his son. Admiral Piett. Grand Admiral Thrawn. The Death Squadron. Death Troopers. A legion of TIE Defenders and more and more are drawn to Vader. Vader and Zhoun make their attack on Coruscant. 

Darth Vader and Darth Zhoun face Palpatine. The Throne room is lit up with force lightning and crimson blades. The battle is powerful and raw, but ultimately Luke and Vader overpower The Emperor. There is nowhere where Palpatine can escape to. Not Exegol or anywhere. Vader decapitates his old master. 

Vader broadcasts to the galaxy. “The Emperor is dead. I am now your Emperor. Those who serve me and my son, you will achieve greatness as we bring order to the galaxy. Those who stay loyal to The Emperor, die.” There would be a small civil war, but eventually all those who stayed loyal to Palpatine would be rounded up and killed.

Leia rescues Han. Leia does not resort to allowing herself to be captured. Nor does Leia need to be forced to wear that slave outfit. Leia gives Jabba one chance to free Han. Jabba refuses and since a Jedi would be impossible to be enslaved, he plans to feed Leia to his pet Rancor. That would be Jabba’s undoing. Leia would use animal bond/beast control on the Rancor and successfully tames the beast. After Leia convinces the Rancor to help her, Leia unleashes the beast on Jabba and his men Source

Leia unfreezes Han, rescues Chewie, Lando and the droids. 

In addition to rescuing Han, Leia also rescues Oola and all the slaves in Jabba’s palace.

Leia and Han would fight Boba Fett. With Boba Fett at their mercy, Leia decides to save him. Leia thinking “he could be so much more.” Han makes the decision to save him.  Han and Boba Fett finally bury their rivalry and leave it in the past and shake hands. Boba would declare that Han’s bounty will no longer exists and he won’t chased by him and exits the story. This would work because it would show that Han has grown from the rogue who would shot a man dead without question in ANH to someone who is willing to find an alternate solution to his problems. It’d also give some layers to Boba Fett of being a man of honor.

Yoda dies, but tells her that she is the only hope in saving her brother and stopping Vader. 

With Vader as Emperor, he has no intentions with building a second Death Star. Instead he intends to wipe out the Rebellion from the face of the galaxy. 

Luke feels a pull to the light. After a life of darkness and evil, Luke feels remorse. He sees what his father as Emperor is doing is wrong and if he feels these feelings, it’s all over. 

The Rebellion plans to make one last ditch effort to end the Empire once and for all. A Coup. The battle on the ground would now take place in the Imperial City and the area surrounding the Imperial Palace. The dogfights between X-Wings and TIE Fighters would take place in the skies above instead of in space. The confrontation between Leia,  Luke and Vader and would take place in the Imperial Palace in The Emperor's Throne Room.

Leia would contact Luke in order to get close to the palace.

Leia feels the conflict within her brother. Luke is trying to keep her out. Eventually Leia gets in and pleads with her brother to help him destroy Vader. But Luke takes her before Vader

Vader taunts Leia that the Rebellion will die today, but they can all be saved if she gives in to the dark side and joins her family

Vader forces Luke and Leia to fight to the death. Only one can serve him. Leia refuses to join him, but Vader and Luke are not giving her a choice. 

Leia and Luke’s duel is a mix between Anakin/Obi-Wan and Vader/Luke in terms of how the fight would go. In the end. Neither Luke nor Leia can kill the other. They both deactivate their lightsabers and embrace in a hug. For the first time in a long time, Luke’s yellow eyes turn blue. This ignites the wrath of their father. 

Vader force chokes both his children with full intentions of killing them. The only thing that can save them? Leia remembers on what Obi-Wan spoke about her mother. “Our mother was Padme Amidala.” Vader is stunned and enraged by the mere mention of her name. All Vader can say is “Do. Not. Say. Her. Name.” 

Vader ignites his lightsaber preparing to kill. While Luke and Leia are ready to defend themselves. Luke lands a strike that is similar to Ahsoka’s where Vader’s face is visibly seen

With Vader down. Leia continues to speak about her mother. “She was kind and beautiful. You were deceived and betrayed by The Emperor. He turned you from the most compassionate Jedi Knight to ever live into a dark lord. You do not have to be this way. You are free. You and Luke are free. Padme loved you. Obi-Wan loved you. You are Anakin Skywalker, our father. Call off the fleet and let us bring peace to the galaxy as a family.”

Anakin concedes to his children. 

The war is over. The Empire has ended. Vader agrees to whatever punishment the Rebellion has for him. 

Leia is in charge of Luke. Leia helps Luke on his path of atonement. 

Vader is sentenced for execution. His final request. “Let me see my children one last time.” Leia and Luke are saddened, but Anakin assures his children he has made peace with his fate. His final request from his children is to take his mask off. “ Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes.”

[dailytudors]

Celebrating the New King of England & his Queen Consort:

On the 24th of June 1509, Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon were jointly crowned at Westminster Abbey amidst huge pomp, greeted with public acclaim go from their subjects, high and low. 

As some historians point out from contemporary sources, the coronation was a success and up to that point, one of the biggest demonstrations of dynastic power of the century. These contemporaries paint not just a portrait of an impressive king but two young monarchs who were both alike in royal dignity. "... the following morning Catherine and Henry processed from the palace into the abbey, where two empty thrones sat waiting on a platform before the altar. A contemporary woodcut shows them seated level with each other, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling as the crowns are lowered on to their heads. It is a potent image of the occasion, intimate in spite of the crowds behind them, suggesting a relationship of two people equal in sovereignty, respect and love. In reality, the positioning of Henry’s throne above hers, and her shortened ceremonial, without an oath, indicates the actual discrepancy between them. He had inherited the throne as a result of his birth; she was his queen because he had chosen to marry her. Above his head the woodcut depicted a huge Tudor rose, a reminder of his great lineage and England’s recent conflicts; Henry’s role was to guide and rule his subjects. Over Catherine sits her chosen device of the pomegranate, symbolic of the expectations of all Tudor wives and queens: fertility and childbirth. In Christian iconography, it also stood for resurrection. In a way, Catherine was experiencing her own rebirth, through this new marriage and the chance it offered her as queen, after the long years of privation and doubt. Westminster Abbey was a riot of colour. Quite in contrast with the sombre, bare-stone interiors of medieval churches today, these pre-Reformation years made worship a tactile and sensual experience, with wealth and ornament acting as tributes and measures of devotion. Inside the abbey, statues and images were gilded and decorated with jewels, walls and capitals were picked out in bright colours and walls were hung with rich arras. All was conducted according to the advice of the 200-year-old Liber Regalis, the Royal Book, which dictated coronation ritual. The couple were wafted with sweet incense while thousands of candles flickered, mingling with the light streaming down through the stained-glass windows. Archbishop Warham was again at the helm, administering the coronation oaths and anointing the pair with oil. Beside her new husband, Catherine was crowned and given a ring to wear on the fourth finger of her right hand, a sort of inversion of the marital ring, symbolising her marriage to her country. She would take this vow very seriously. The coronation proved popular. Henry wrote to the Pope explaining that he had ‘espoused and made’ Catherine ‘his wife and thereupon had her crowned amid the applause of the people and the incredible demonstrations of joy and enthusiasm’. To Ferdinand, he added that ‘the multitude of people who assisted was immense, and their joy and applause most enthusiastic’. There seems little reason to see this just as diplomatic hyperbole. According to Hall, ‘it was demaunded of the people, wether they would receive, obey and take the same moste noble Prince, for their Kyng, who with great reuerance, love and desire, saied and cryed, ye-ye’. Lord Mountjoy employed more poetic rhetoric in his letter to Erasmus, which stated that ‘Heaven and Earth rejoices, everything is full of milk and honey and nectar. Our king is not after gold, or gems, or precious metals, but virtue, glory, immortality.’ In his coronation verses Thomas More agreed with the general mood, explaining that wherever Henry went ‘the dense crowd in their desire to look upon him leaves hardly a narrow lane for his passage’. They ‘delight to see him’ and shout their good will, changing their vantage points to see him again and again. Such a king would free them from slavery, ‘wipe the tears from every eye and put joy in place of our long distress’. " ~The Six Wives and Many Mistresses Henry VIII by Amy Licence In his book on the Wars of the Roses (Wars of the Roses: The Fall of the Plantagenets and the Rise of the Tudors), Dan Jones also highlights Henry's good looks and the similarities between him and his maternal grandfather, Edward IV, and the reason for his popular appeal: "Young Henry came to the throne confident and ready to rule. He was well educated, charming and charismatic: truly a prince fit for the renaissance in courtly style, tastes and patronage that was dawning in northern Europe. He had been blessed with the fair coloring and radiant good looks of his grandfather Edward IV: tall, handsome, well built and dashing, here was a king who saw his subjects as peers and allies around whom he had grown up, rather than semialien enemies to be suspected and persecuted." Henry VIII understood the power of propaganda. Like his father, he used powerful imagery to push Tudor propaganda but taking a page from his maternal grandfather, Edward IV, Henry also relied on popular acclaim. He knew how to win the people over and dance his way around every argument; his illustrious court and physical prowess won over foreign ambassadors who like Lord Mountjoy and Sir Thomas More also noted his wife's virtues.

[ivorybled]

╰ ┈ [ sean teale , twenty six , cis man , he/him ] in the time of dragons , ARTHUR HIGHTOWER is entering the game of thrones . said to be intuitive + eloquent , we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be calculating + opportunistic . when asked about them , people are always reminded of numerous stacks of books littered throughout a room , satisfaction always barely out of reach , the cold startling touch of a steel sword's hilt . though they are the LORD OF OLDTOWN , their true loyalties lie with house hightower and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support THE PEACE TREATY / THEIR FAMILY above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come .

i.

full name : arthur hightower .

also known as : art .

official title : lord of oldtown .

age : twenty six .

gender + pronouns : cis man + he/him .

orientation : homosexual .

relationship status : unwed , unbetrothed .

allegiance : house hightower .

ii.

faceclaim : sean teale .

eye color : brown .

hair color : brown .

dominant hand : left .

height : 6'1"

build : athletic .

iii.

weapon of choice : usually has a sword on his hip but good with his hands for self defense .

moral alignment : true neutral ( for the time being at least ) .

inspired by : bronn & tyrion lannister ( got ) , eleanor shellstrop ( the good place ) , wesley wyndam pryce ( buffy / mostly from angel ) , orlo ( the great ) .

pets : doesn't have any :(

iv.

arthur has always been one to prefer the shadows to the spotlight , keeping himself and his circle of companions small . he lost his mother at a young age and though a part of him desired so badly to look up to his father , his judgement over the years drained hope of that away . instead , arthur found safety in his siblings and they became the people he trusted most . they've never been the most peaceful family and their connection is complicated , but even in present time , arthur still wishes all the best for them both .

though being the middle child let him have more freedom and less responsibility growing up , there were still expectations . to marry , to carry on the family name , everything that would help their house prosper . in many ways , art still wants that , but he grew out of living for others in his late teens . he doesn't really care what happens to house hightower tbh but like , he wouldn't do anything to hurt them , you know ? his sisters are cool but his dad can go to hell . also , marriage seems kinda ... dull to him ... he's not looking for anything serious .

he reads a lot , always wanting to know as much information as possible because he's nosy and also thinks it'll benefit him eventually . enjoys nerd things like battle strategies and mapping the stars . has a lot going on in his brain at all times but he's a bit quiet , doesn't really say much unless you initiate conversation . get him started on his interests , though , you might never get him to shut up . he's always trying to be the smartest person in the room .

likes to travel a lot ( his father hates it but he does it anyway ) , has a lute that he strums when he's alone , and is convinced horses hate him because he's been thrown off them three times now . he's very displeased about it . doesn't like violence but loves to sword fight and can defend himself if needed . he's just here to quietly have a good time .

v. - wanted.

pen pals - people art met while on his travels who kept in touch ! could be various people , he likes hearing about other people's stories so if you tell good ones then you'd be a good fit .

past suitors - arthur has zero interest in marriage and would not be subtle about letting someone down if they were interested in a betrothal ... especially women because he has no interest in them either .

scheming buds - this would have to be someone who is more of the devil on arthur's shoulder , since he has no issue doing what needs to be done to achieve his goals , but he is not someone who starts things . he's a loyal follower as long as the loyalty is mutual .

anything really !

[ladyofasoiaf]

Sansa & Beauty - Quotes

RADIANT:

Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.

A Game of Thrones - Jon I

*-*

COMELY: 

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey."Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?"

Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

EXQUISITE:

"You do look quite exquisite, child," Lady Olenna Tyrell told Sansa when she tottered up to them in a cloth-of-gold gown that must have weighed more than she did. "The wind has been at your hair, though."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

FAIR:

I must ask after Sansa. How else will I find her? She cleared her throat. "Goodwife," she said to the woman on the turnip cart, "perhaps you saw my sister on the road? A young maid, three-and-ten and fair of face, with blue eyes and auburn hair. She may be riding with a drunken knight."

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

*-*

BEAUTY:

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.

A Feast for Crows - Brienne VII

*-*

Lord Littlefinger kissed her cheek. "With my wits and Cat's beauty, the world will be yours, sweetling. Now off to bed."

A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

*-*

"Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown," Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

LOVELY:

Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was as pale as milk.

A Clash of Kings - Tyrion VI

*-*

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

*-*

"Leave the colors to me, my lady. You will be pleased, I know you will. You shall have smallclothes and hose as well, kirtles and mantles and cloaks, and all else befitting a . . . a lovely young lady of noble birth."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

When the moonstones hung from Sansa's ears and about her neck, the queen nodded. "Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

"My lady," Tyrion said, "you are lovely, make no mistake, but . . . I cannot do this. My father be damned. We will wait. The turn of a moon, a year, a season, however long it takes. Until you have come to know me better, and perhaps to trust me a little." His smile might have been meant to be reassuring, but without a nose it only made him look more grotesque and sinister.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Her maids were dressing her when Tyrion appeared, Podrick Payne in tow. "You look lovely, Sansa." He turned to his squire. "Pod, be so good as to pour me a cup of wine."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

*-*

And false. Sansa, Shae, all my women … Tysha was the only one who ever loved me. Where do whores go? "A lovely girl," said Tyrion, "and we were joined beneath the eyes of gods and men. It may be that she is lost to me, but until I know that for a certainty I must be true to her."

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

PRETTY:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls. Sansa's needlework was exquisite. Everyone said so. "Sansa's work is as pretty as she is," Septa Mordane told their lady mother once. "She has such fine, delicate hands."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"He's going to marry her," little Beth said dreamily, hugging herself. "Then Sansa will be queen of all the realm."

Sansa had the grace to blush. She blushed prettily. She did everything prettily, Arya thought with dull resentment.

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

"Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.

A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

*-*

A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

A Clash of Kings - Theon IV

*-*

"I will sing it for you gladly."

Sandor Clegane snorted. "Pretty thing, and such a bad liar. A dog can smell a lie, you know. Look around you, and take a good whiff. They're all liars here . . . and every one better than you."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

*-*

I have to look pretty, Joff likes me to look pretty, he's always liked me in this gown, this color.

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

*-*

"Didn't you ever have a brother you wanted to kill?" He laughed again. "Or maybe a sister?" He must have seen something in her face then, for he leaned closer. "Sansa. That's it, isn't it? The wolf bitch wants to kill the pretty bird."

A Storm of Swords - Arya IX

*-*

Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk. But there was no one on the roads but wolves, and their howling held no answers.

A Feast for Crows - Jaime III

*-*

Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

*-*

Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger.  

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child's fancy.

A Dance with Dragons - Reek I

*-*

Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

BEAUTIFUL:

"Joffrey likes your sister," Jeyne whispered, proud as if she had something to do with it. She was the daughter of Winterfell's steward and Sansa's dearest friend. "He told her she was very beautiful."

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys.  

A Game of Thrones - Arya I

*-*

When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst.To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

*-*

"Sweet Sansa," Queen Cersei said, laying a soft hand on her wrist. "Such a beautiful child. I do hope you know how much Joffrey and I love you."  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

*-*

She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful.  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

His smile emboldened her, made her feel beautiful and strong. He does love me, he does.  

A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

*-*

"I will need hot water for my bath, please," she told them, "and perfume, and some powder to hide this bruise." The right side of her face was swollen and beginning to ache, but she knew Joffrey would want her to be beautiful.

A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

*-*

His brow was damp with sweat. "I saw Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan. Drawn, as it were."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VI

*-*

"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper..."

A Clash of Kings - Catelyn VII

*-*

As they lurched into motion, Tyrion reclined on an elbow while Sansa sat staring at her hands. She is just as comely as the Tyrell girl. Her hair was a rich autumn auburn, her eyes a deep Tully blue. Grief had given her a haunted, vulnerable look; if anything, it had only made her more beautiful. He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.  

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

*-*

"Ser Loras," she finally managed, "you..  you look so lovely."

He gave her a puzzled smile. "My lady is too kind. And beautiful besides. My sister awaits you eagerly."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

"At the Hand's tourney, don't you remember? You rode a white courser, and your armor was a hundred different kinds of flowers. You gave me a rose. A red rose. You threw white roses to the other girls that day." It made her flush to speak of it. "You said no victory was half as beautiful as me."

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. "I spoke only a simple truth, that any man with eyes could see."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

*-*

She wanted to look beautiful for Willas Tyrell. Even if Dontos was right, and it is Winterfell he wants and not me, he still may come to love me for myself.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

*-*

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed.

"I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must... he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions' heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. "You are very beautiful, Sansa," he told her.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Ser Kevan told her she was beautiful, Jalabhar Xho said something she did not understand in the Summer Tongue, and Lord Redwyne wished her many fat children and long years of joy. And then the dance brought her face-to-face with Joffrey.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

*-*

Littlefinger pointed out a cedar chest under the porthole. "You'll find fresh garb within. Dresses, smallclothes, warm stockings, a cloak. Wool and linen only, I fear. Unworthy of a maid so beautiful, but they'll serve to keep you dry and clean until we can find you something finer."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

*-*

"Marillion?" she said, uncertain. "You are... kind to think of me, but.. pray forgive me. I am very tired."

"And very beautiful.

All night I have been making songs for you in my head. A lay for your eyes, a ballad for your lips, a duet to your breasts. I will not sing them, though. They were poor things, unworthy of such beauty." He sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. "Let me sing to you with my body instead."

She caught a whiff of his breath. "You're drunk."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI

*-*

"I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age."

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Do you require guarding?" Marillion said lightly. "I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her."  

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"Have you no honor?" her aunt said sharply. "Or do you take me for a fool? You do, don't you? You take me for a fool. Yes, I see that now. I am not a fool. You think you can have any man you want because you're young and beautiful. Don't think I haven't seen the looks you give Marillion.

A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

*-*

"And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

"Aye," said the second knight, a burly fellow with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, a red nose bulbous with broken veins, and gnarled hands as large as hams. "You left out that part, m'lord."

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

*-*

"I was never beautiful like Sansa, but they all said I was pretty. Does Lord Ramsay think I am pretty?"

A Dance with Dragons - The Prince of Winterfell

*-*

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

"Was she your wife? She … she was very beautiful …"

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

*-*

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

"A beautiful bastard, and the Lord Protector's daughter." Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

*-*

[og-danny-dorito]

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

-  it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

[walkerwords]

“The Bowman’s Sister” Part 1 of 4 - Daryl & Sister!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/20IqJ25

PART II PART III PART IV

Word Count: 5231

Daryl Dixon & Sister! Reader (possible rick x reader in future)

Summary: You are Daryl and Merle’s sister. You had been with your fiance and daughter when the turn happened. After losing them, you made your way through the world trying to survive. When you come upon a prison and man in cowboy boots, your brother may be closer than you think.

Warning: swearing, mention of death, mention of past rape and abuse

Song I Wrote To: “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron

Note: this could potentially move into more parts, but for now here we go!

(Y/N): your name

(Y/E/C): your eye color

(Y/N/N): your nickname

------

The dark forest was quiet as you moved through the thick brush.

Blood stained your hands and was soaked into your hair, but you were still alive and the new cruel world hadn’t won yet. You didn’t know where you were, but as long as the bastards who had gone for you while you slept were long gone, then all was good.

At least for now.

The cold air was not friendly as it seeped into your bones and surrounded you. You had lost your warm jacket to a pack of Dead when they had grabbed at you, tearing through the warm material. You had managed to stick an arrow in two of them before taking off in a sprint, leaving your only source of warmth behind.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep at a time. When you were able to, you found a sturdy tree and strapped yourself down high up in the branches with a bungee cord, but even that had its faults. The Dead could still smell you and would circle the tree, causing more and more to converge on your hiding place. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it was all that you had and it was better than being beaten and raped by passing groups or having to relive the nightmares that lived in your head.

As long as you focused on surviving and kept distracted, your emotions wouldn’t overwhelm you and you may just survive the new world.

The sound of running water reached your ears and you nearly wept at the sound. You had run out of water yesterday and even if everything else was going to shit, the world let you have this. It was something. 

You picked your way through the woods, keeping an arrow notched on your bow just in case. You found the stream not much further down the path and wasted no time in kneeling down by the bank and gulping down a handful of cool running water. Boiling it be damned, you thought.

After you had drunk your fill, you pulled your bottle from your pack and filled it to the brim. You then dunked your head into the water, trying to scrub the blood that stuck to your hair. You weren’t even sure if it was your own, your assailants, or the Dead’s blood. You decided that you really didn’t care.

You were so wrapped up in trying to feel human again that you didn’t hear the person sneaking up on you until the hammer of the revolver was pulled back. Your hands went to your bow, but their voice made you pause. 

“Don’t even think about it,” a gruff voice said and the deepness of it made you shiver. It was never good when a man snuck up on you. “Hands where I can see them.” Slowly, not seeing another option, you raised your hands and turned to him, keeping your eyes lowered. His worn leather cowboy boots came into your view and as you lifted your (Y/E/C) eyes, he lifted the barrel of his revolver. 

The man before you was tall, his hair was curled around the nape of his neck, and a brush of stubble was across his cheeks. The look in his eyes was deadly and it made you swallow thickly. You had managed to evade strangers for a while now, the ones you had been running from had been a fluke. A couple of men traveling that had come across you. You figured they had given up on you and continued on their way hoping for a new victim.

However, this man could be worse and that was offering no comfort to you. Your eyes flicked between the gun and the boots, trying to gauge your chances of escaping without a hole in your head.

“Please,” you said quietly, “take whatever you want.” You then steeled yourself and pushed to standing slowly and faced down the man with the gun. “But if you try to lay a hand on me, I will kill you. Even if I have to come back and tear you apart with my teeth.” You let your threat settle between them and the man lowered his gun slightly, but didn’t drop it.

“Was that a threat?” He asked. 

“More like a promise,” you answered. You moved to grab your bow, but the revolver moved back into place instantly. “Asshole,” you bit out. He narrowed his eyes at you and took a step forward, but then a voice called out. 

“Rick, stop!” You started at the voice and hole opened up in your chest. It sounded like… No, you wouldn’t let yourself think about him again. Not after the many times you had thought you heard the voice of your brother.

A figure came through the trees, still cloaked in darkness and you took a step back, tripping on a root, sending you down to the forest floor. 

“Rick!” The voice said again and your heart thudded in your chest. It nearly stopped as the figure stepped into the light of the moon. “Oh my god.” You didn’t say anything as you beheld the man that stared down at you, his eyes wide. 

Tears immediately started falling and you didn’t care if the man with the gun was there. “Daryl…?” You choked out and then he fell to his knees next to you. “Daryl!” You cried as you looped your arms around your younger brother.

You had finally found him.

----

Daryl clutched his sister to him, nearly crushing you into his chest. He smoothed his calloused hands over your hair, breathing in the smell of you and feeling the vibrations that went through you as you cried. “(Y/N),” he sighed, holding you tighter.

----

You pulled back, your hands going to his face, brushing the hair from his cheeks. “I thought you were dead,” you said, looking into his eyes, the eyes of your mother. 

“Ya know it takes a lot more than an apocalypse to kill me,” he said in his low accent and hearing that deep Georgian accent was like coming home.

“Daryl,” the man, Rick, said. “Who is this?” Daryl looked back over his shoulder and his form went rigid. 

“Put the damn gun down, Rick. Point that thing someplace else, will ya?” Rick looked at Daryl for a moment before holstering his weapon. Daryl then gripped your arms and helped you up. “It’s okay, yer okay now,” he said in your ear. Keeping an arm around you, Daryl turned to Rick. 

“Rick, this (Y/N), my sister,” Daryl said and Rick’s face turned from concerned to surprised. 

Rick didn’t say anything as Daryl shouldered your pack and handed you back your weapon, smiling slightly at the sight of your mother’s old bow. 

“It was in the garage,” you told him, “figured nobody was comin’ for it.” 

“Glad you took it,” Daryl said, adjusting his crossbow on his arm. “You were always better with it than Merle.” That made you stop. 

“Is he…?” You trailed off, not willing to ask the question. 

“Merle’s dead,” Daryl said and something about his face told you not to push the issue, at least not yet. You could tell that he wanted to ask questions of his own, but he also wanted to get out of the woods. 

“Where are we goin’?” You asked, trying to keep up with the men who had much longer legs than you.

“We have a place,” Daryl said, “you’ll be safe there.”

“Daryl…” Rick said, his voice full of warning. 

“Just...wait, Rick. Alright? Let me get her some place warm and then we’ll start askin’ the questions.” 

“What questions?” You asked, through shivering teeth. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Daryl said, tugging you along further. A few more moments and a large chain link fence came into view. 

Along with a large group of the Dead.

Your footsteps faltered as you beheld the sight, reaching for your weapon. 

“S’alright,” Daryl said to you and then he took a flashlight from his belt and flashed it twice. A second later, a light from what looked like a tower, mimicked the movement. Suddenly, there were shouts.

“Hey! Over here!”

“Come on and get us!” 

“Hey!”

The shouts just kept coming and more voices joined in. Just how many people were here, you wondered. Daryl and Rick lead you towards a large metal gate. The Dead were too preoccupied by the new waves of noise that they managed to get onto the gravel road without incident. Still, Daryl kept his crossbow in front of him and Rick kept his hand on his gun.

You were between both men as they approached the gate. Then the large gate rattled open and a young boy in a sheriff’s hat ushered you inside, slamming the gate behind the three of you. As soon as the latch was secured, Daryl relaxed and then finally looked you over, taking in your face. The look in your eyes and the way you carried yourself was a lot like your older brother, but so much was strictly you and it nearly brought tears to his eyes. 

“Who’s this?” The kid in the hat asked. 

“Daryl’s sister, apparently,” Rick said as he stared between you and Daryl. 

“I’m Carl,” the kid said, waving awkwardly. You nodded to the kid, noticing the gun on his belt. 

“Let’s get inside before we freeze to death,” Daryl grumbled as he led you through the yard and toward a large building. As you looked around, it finally clicked as to what this place was. 

“You live in a prison?” You gasped. 

“It has fences and beds,” Rick said as he strode next to you . “We’ve made it home.” You nodded, taking in the sights around you, but you couldn’t shake the sounds of the Dead just down the small hill. You kept your eyes forward, tightening your grip on your brother.

The four of you stepped through another gate and headed for a large cell block. As soon as the metal door closed behind you, the sounds of the Dead were drowned out and you let out a breath. “Come on,” Daryl said, pulling you further into the building.

He took you into an area with a few tables and beyond that you saw a few people looking at you through a gate that you were sure was locked.

Carl went over and stood by the door, his hand on his gun. Daryl took your bow from you and set it gently on the table and then helped you with the quiver on your back, careful not to brush up against any of the fresh scrapes and bruises he could see on your bare shoulders. 

“Beth,” Daryl said to a young blonde girl, “can ya grab me a blanket?” She nodded without having to be asked twice and quickly returned with a wool blanket that you figured was from the prison inventory. Daryl quickly pulled it around your shoulders, rubbing your arms with his large hands. “Yer gonna be okay,” he whispered, taking a seat next to you and looping an arm around your shoulders.

“This is Daryl’s sister,” Rick announced to the others and you got a look at the others in their group. There was Beth and a woman next to her that was keeping a protective watch over the blonde. You figured that was Beth’s sister and an asian man who was holding hands with the woman. Then there was an older woman with short gray hair who stood next to a tall dark skinned woman who had a sword along her back. An older man with one leg sat at the table next to yours and then of course there was Rick and Carl. Judging by the way Rick was standing in front of the kid, you figured Carl was his son.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” the woman with the short hair said, breaking the silence. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Daryl grumbled as he took a piece of your hair and moved it from your face, trying to keep you warm. “She’s my older sister,” Daryl continued, “but younger than Merle.” 

“How’d you find us?” Rick asked, clearly not fully comfortable with your sudden appearance. You felt Daryl tighten his grip on you. You reached over and held onto his hand. 

“I wasn’t lookin’ for people,” you explained. “In fact, I wasn’t even headin’ this way. I was tryin’ to get more North, but I got turned around when I started running from them.” 

“The Walkers?” Rick asked and you looked at him in confusion. 

“The Dead,” Daryl clarified. 

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, “Yeah, I mean they’ve been around. Pretty big group of them not too far away a couple weeks ago, but no, I was runnin’ from people not...Walkers,” you said, trying out the word.

“People?” The woman next to Beth asked. 

“Couple of men who tried…” you trailed off and then shook away the fear that crept up your spine, “A couple of men tried to take me, they had rope and knives, but I managed to cause a distraction. Let out a couple of the Dead from a nearby van and they went for them so I could get away.” 

“I would have killed them,” Daryl growled from next to you. You looked at him and nodded slightly. 

“I know.” You then looked back to Rick, “I wasn’t planning to stay after I found the stream. If you hadn’t of found me and pointed a gun at me, I would have never known my little brother was here.” Daryl rested his head on your shoulder and you leaned into him. 

“(Y/N),” Rick began, “I need to ask you some questions.” 

“Rick,” Daryl warned. 

“Daryl, I know she’s family, but—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, “ask your questions.” Rick looked at you for a moment before nodding. 

“How many Walkers you killed?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t keep count. More than two dozen at least?” You offered.

“How many people you kill?” Rick asked next and you felt your heart stutter. 

“Three,” you said. 

“Why?”

“Two because they tried to kill me and,” you paused, trying to find the courage to finish. You leaned away from your brother and leaned your elbows on your knees. “The third was because he asked me to.” 

“Who?” Carl asked, interjecting. Tears pooled in your eyes, but you wouldn’t hide them anymore. It was Daryl that spoke next. 

“Carter?” He asked quietly. You looked at him and nodded. “Her fiance,” he clarified for the others. You felt your hands shaking and you knew what his next question would be. “(Y/N), if Carter...if he’s dead,” he paused and the tears began dripping off your chin. “If he’s dead, where’s Hannah?”

Something broke inside you at her name. It wasn’t sadness anymore, it was just hollow. You looked at your brother with a frown, your face wet with tears of guilt. “No,” he whispered as his arm fell away from you, to cradle his own head. “No, no, no,” he said, the anger growing. 

“Daryl, I’m sorry,” you said, nearly pleading as you gripped his shoulders. “I took my eyes off of her for thirty seconds. Then the camp was overrun and neither of us could get to her in time. Carter...he saw it happen.” Daryl shook as he listened. He could barely speak so you looked to the confused faces of the prison group. “Hannah was my daughter,” you told them, “she died at the start of all this.” Daryl fell to the floor, leaning back on his hands as he took in the news. His niece, only six years old, was dead, taken by this new world.

“Maggie,” Rick said quietly as he watched his friend slowly fall apart, “can you get (Y/N) some dry clothes and help get her situated?” Maggie, the woman you thought to be Beth’s sister nodded and disappeared through the gate as Carl held it open. “Let’s just give them a moment, everyone,” Rick said and ushered everyone out as you held onto your heartbroken brother and let the grief wash over you both. 

Once Daryl had calmed down, you helped him up and he wrapped his arm around your waist and then pulled you in for a hug. 

Neither of you said anything as you held each other. You just breathed him in and relished in the feel of family once again.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low, “let’s get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning’.” He took you into the cell block and up the metal staircase and into a cell. Maggie had brought fresh clothes and an extra blanket for you. Daryl pulled the mattress off the top bunk and lay it down on the floor. He then pulled back the blankets of the bottom bunk and gestured for you to lay down. As soon as you settled onto the cot, he lay down on the mattress next to you on the floor, staring up at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He shook his head, reaching for your hand. You let your hand fall over the edge of the bed and grab onto his. 

“Wasn’t yer fault,” he promised, “don’t you ever think it was, (Y/N). Never.” You nodded at his words. “Get some sleep.” You wanted to stay up, talk to him, but the overwhelming fatigue took you and soon, you fell into the darkness as you held onto Daryl’s hand. 

The only family you had left. 

----

When you woke up the next morning, you were alone in the cell. 

It took you a couple of minutes to wrap your head around everything that had happened. You had found Daryl, you were safe behind fences, you were alive. Those three things were all that mattered as you sat up in the bunk and rubbed the sleep from your tired eyes.

The clothes you were wearing were the ones you had been wearing as you ran through the woods the night before. Peeling off your stiff boots, you changed into the clothes Maggie had gotten for you. You and Maggie were roughly the same size so luckily everything fit well enough. Stuffing your feet back into your boots, you grabbed one of Daryl’s button ups and pulled it on, noticing the prison walls didn’t do much for warmth, but it was better than being in the woods or up in a tree. 

The sun was filtering in through the windows near the ceiling and you could hear the other prison residents starting their day.

“Good morning.” You jumped slightly at the sound and turned to see Maggie coming out of a cell at the end of the walkway. “We didn’t officially get to meet last night, I’m Maggie.” She offered you her hand and you took it, pushing up Daryl’s long sleeves.

“(Y/N),” you said, “thanks for clothes,” you said, gesturing to the jeans and tank top. 

“Not a problem at all,” she said with a grin and then gestured for you to follow her down stairs. “If you’re looking for Daryl, he’ll be back soon. Michonne found some Walkers down by E Block so she, Rick, Daryl, and my husband, Glenn, went to take care of them. Shouldn’t be long. My sister, Beth, said she saw them take a walkie so if they’re in trouble, we’ll know.”

“Michonne is the woman with the sword?” You asked, already feeling the anxiety rise as you thought about Daryl going after the Dead. 

“That’s right,” Maggie said, still cheerful. “She’s a hell of a fighter and from the way your brother fights, I’m assuming so are you.”

“I can shoot,” you said.

“Then it's a good thing we have you now, (Y/N),” Maggie said with a grin. You and her made it down to the lower level. Carl was sitting with Beth as he cleaned his gun. Beth watched on in curiosity. You didn’t know how old Carl was, but it made you feel a bit sad to see the kid with a gun, but this was the way the world was and it was better than becoming a victim. 

Maggie sat across from her sister and patted the seat on her other side. You sat down, slowly, fiddling with your sleeves. Beth slid over a container of peaches. “I can never finish a whole can by myself,” she said, “too sweet.”

You looked down at the fruit in the syrup and your mouth watered. It had been weeks since you had anything besides squirrel and canned tomato soup. “Thank you,” you said with a small smile as you dug into the canned fruit. 

“So,” Beth continued, causing you to look up, “what was Daryl like as a kid?” 

“Beth,” Maggie warned.

“You can’t tell me you’re not curious,” Beth said and then looked back at you with patience. You swallowed another peach.

“Uh, he was like most kids, I guess. Looked out for me, even though I was older, played in the woods, was always runnin’ around being...Daryl,” you said with a light laugh that took you by surprise. It had been so long since you laughed. “He was a good kid and an even better man. I can tell he still is.” Beth smiled and Maggie mirrored her sister, Carl was listening, but not offering any of his own commentary. 

“You look like him,” Beth noticed. You laughed again. Maggie then reached out and touched your arm. You looked at her and saw the sorrow in her face. 

“I’m very sorry about what happened to your family, (Y/N),” Maggie said sincerely. “We’ve lost people, but I could never imagine what it would be like to lose a child. I’m so sorry.” A wave of...something washed through you and you lay your hand over hers.

“You’re actually the first person to say that to me,” you said after you realized it was the truth. “Thank you.” 

“We look out for family here,” Beth said, “and you’re Daryl’s family which means you’re ours now.” Your throat was too thick to speak so you just nodded.

Before anyone else could say something, commotion sparked behind you as two people walked in with grins on their faces. “Victory is mine!” The woman said, her grin lit up her face.

“You found some?” Beth asked, suddenly very excited. 

“Hell yeah,” the woman said as she dumped a duffel bag on the table and Maggie looked like she wanted to say something but before she could, the unknown woman unzipped the bag and showed the table what she had found. 

Cases of baby formula.

Your blood ran cold. 

“Sasha fought off four Walkers for that stash,” the man said, clapping Sasha on the shoulder. 

“Shut up, Tyreese, you helped,” Sasha said, shrugging off his hand. He smiled at her and then Tyreese noticed you. 

“Who’s this?” Sasha turned to look at you and then looked at Maggie. .

“This is (Y/N), Daryl’s sister, we found her last night,” Maggie explained, but you couldn’t focus on Sasha and Tyreese. All you could do was stare at the formula. 

They had a baby here.

“(Y/N),” Beth said, lightly touching your wrist. You looked at her finally. “This is Sasha and her brother, Tyreese.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tyreese said kindly while Sasha just looked at you, much like how Rick had looked at you the night before. 

You tried to speak, but again the words were locked in your throat. Maggie noticed. “Sasha could you go put this with the others,” Maggie asked and then gave Sasha a look that had the other woman hauling the bag off the table and disappearing around the corner. 

“Who’s the formula for?” You asked, finding your words.

“My sister,” Carl said, “she’s still working her way up to solid food.” It was then that it clicked. Rick had a daughter. That was why he dispersed everyone so quickly when you and Daryl had your moment.

“Yeah, it can, uh, take some time,” you said roughly, trying to keep a pleasant look on your face. The only thing going through your mind was Hannah’s little hands wrapping around your fingers and the smell of her head after her baths or even the little noises she made when she slept on your chest. It was all coming back to you at once when you had worked hard not to think about your baby. 

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Maggie asked and you turned to her, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, getting to your feet. “I’m just gonna go get some air. That okay?” You asked, still not sure if there were rules here.

“Yeah, the yard is safe, just don't go into any of the far cell blocks,” Maggie said and you nodded. You left the cell block behind as you quickly made your way out into the open air. There were more people here than you expected and then you realized there must have been more people in Cell Block D. You avoided their gazes as you walked through the courtyard, shaking off all the memories that threatened to overtake you. Finding a picnic table, you sat on the top, resting your elbows on your knees as you looked out over the yard. 

You could see the Dead as they tried to break through the fences, but a group of four were walking along the chain link and stabbing the Dead through their decaying skulls. The sounds of their groans were nearly deafening even at a distance. It was a sound that would never leave you, even if it all stopped one day, that noise would follow you forever. 

You stayed there as the sun rose in the sky, leaving the morning behind as noon approached. You didn’t know how long you were out there until a hand came down on your shoulder. Daryl looked down at you with concern. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.”

“Maggie said I’d find ya out here,” he said, taking a seat next to you, “she said ya left after Sasha brought home the formula.” You just nodded, keeping your eyes on the yard. “Probably should have warned you about the little one.” 

“It’s fine,” you told him. “You didn't know about Hannah.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, “M’sorry we weren’t there to protect ya’ll. I figured because of Carter’s service record that he’d get ya out and then when we tried to get back into the city…”

“There was nothing left,” you finished, remembering the napalm that rained down from the sky. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“We got out, but it was so chaotic and when we got back to the house, the Dead were everywhere. I managed to get the bow and some clothes and food for Hannah, but then we had to run and we couldn’t get back.” You turned your eyes to him. “I didn’t know if you would make it or if you had Merle with ya. I tried looking for both of you when it happened, but I had Hannah and I…”

“Ya had to keep her safe,” Daryl said. 

“And I couldn’t even do that,” you said, wringing your hands. 

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, (Y/N/N),” he said.

“Since when do you call me (Y/N/N)?” You asked. 

“Haven’t gotten the chance to in a bit,” he said and you nodded, understanding. 

“I’ll work on not feelin’ guilty for Hannah and Carter, if you stop feelin’ guilty too. Deal?” You offered your fist just as you had when you were kids. He nodded and then tapped your fist with his. Then, he reached over and tugged you closer to him, planting a kiss to the side of your head. 

“It’s really good to see ya, girl,” he whispered. You leaned into him before pulling back.

“You smell like rotting corpses,” you told him and he grimaced. 

“Had to take care of a few Walkers down in E,” Daryl said, “Imma go get a new shirt, you just try and relax for a bit. Yer safe here, (Y/N), don’t forget that.” You nodded and he squeezed your shoulder once before heading off to go get a clean shirt.

After Daryl left, you decided to walk the yard. Slipping through the gate, you meandered through the field, keeping a wide distance between you and the far fences. They had a well groomed garden going as well as some pigs. It seemed that even amongst all the death and chaos, they were doing well. It was enough to lift a bit of the weight off your shoulders.

As you walked through the tall grass, you let your fingers brush against them and felt the warm sun on your neck. You sighed at the feeling, letting the peace swirl around you. 

“You know, Beth did the same thing when we first got this place under control.” You turned to see Rick approaching you and in his arms was a beautiful blonde little girl. You stayed where you were as he approached, your eyes on his daughter. 

“I can understand the draw,” you said.

“Not everyday you feel some sense of security,” Rick said as he stopped in front of you. “I figured you should meet the remaining member of our little family,” he said. “This is Judith.” Your heart swelled at her name. 

“Hello, Judith,” you said with a grin. “Aren’t you just the prettiest rose in the garden?” Judith looked over at you, her hands holding onto her daddy’s shirt. You looked up at Rick. “She’s beautiful.” 

“You wanna hold her?” He asked and you went to argue, but he was already moving her from his arms and holding her out to you. 

“Oh, okay,” you said as you took the baby and held her against you, feeling the familiar weight of a child in your arms. She reached up and took hold of your nose, her curious eyes roaming your face. “Hi, sweetheart,” you cooed. 

“She likes you,” Rick said and you smiled at him. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last night.”

“For what?” You asked, your brows pulled together. 

“I shouldn’t have pointed the gun at you or pressed you with questions, especially after Daryl told us you were his sister.” You bounced Judith slightly as she played with a lock of your hair and turned to Rick again. 

“Don’t ever apologize for protecting your family, Rick,” you said sternly. “I would have come in handcuffs if it meant that you felt that your children and your people were safe. You can’t be too careful in this new world, so no apologies necessary. Isn’t that right, Judith?” you said, scrunching your nose at the baby. Rick looked at you and nodded his head.

“I see it now,” he said. 

“See what?”

“The Dixon in you,” he explained, “but it’s all Daryl, not Merle.” You snorted and looked up at him, your eyes shining in the sunlight. 

“You just haven’t seen the Merle side yet.”

Note: I could definitely add more to this. Requests are open!

[blackbriarsparrow]

The Ballad of Shimura Danzo (taken from: Born from Winter Ash)

The Ballad of Shimura Danzo Arc I (Born from Fire)

 No mercy.

It is the phrase that Shimura Danzo grounds into the malleable skulls of his burgeoning army of adolescents. Danzo walks tall with his hands clasped behind his back, squinting through the noonday sun as he watches the young boys in the training arena. He has a favorite. An indomitable youth with moonlit hair; a trait, no doubt, given to him by the gods. They have a habit of marking their favorites and Danzo has learned to recognize the signs.

The boy is naught but nine years old, and already he is fast and strong. He listens with eager ears and watches with careful eyes. His movements in the arena are meticulous, and he has yet to be defeated by an adversary. He is a tolerant warrior, and Danzo is most impressed with the youth. He watches him use the bamboo Shinai to knock his opponent off his feet. Obito lands on the ground, the air whooshing from his lungs as he stares up at Kakashi and holds his injured ankle. “Breathe, Obito,” Kakashi reminds him. “On your feet.” He offers his comrade a hand.

Danzo strikes Kakashi on the back of the wrist with the flat edge of his dagger. The crack is loud enough to draw attention from nearby sparrers. Kakashi inspects the smarting welt on his wrist. He looks up at Danzo with a frown on his face and anger flaring behind his lucid eyes.

“We do not help our enemies, Hatake Kakashi. Why are you offering this boy your hand?” Danzo slides his dagger back into his holster and looks at the boy expectantly.

“Obito is not the enemy, Hersir. He is my comrade.”

“And how will Obito become the best warrior he can be if you are always there to carry his weight? Obito relies on you too much. You only think you are helping him Kakashi, but you are indeed enabling him to be weak.” Danzo leans forward, leveling his gaze with Kakashi. “If Obito is to become strong, you must show him no mercy.”

Kakashi frowns at Danzo, and Danzo sees the wheels of thought turning in his mind. Danzo thinks he is getting through to the lad, but Kakashi believes in a different code and no amount of manipulation on Danzo’s part will cause Kakashi to change his mind.

“Finish him,” Danzo instructs.

Obito, lying on the ground with his elbows propped beneath him, looks up at Kakashi with parted lips.

“Hersir?”

“Make him fight for his spot, Kakashi. The Black Army does not tolerate weakness. Make Obito prove that he belongs here.”

Kakashi does not move. His hand tightens around the Shinai.

“I said,” Danzo repeats, “finish him.”

“He’s wounded–”

Before Kakashi can finish his sentence, Danzo lunges and reaches for the boy’s Shinai. He wrenches it from his hand, but Kakashi leaps when Danzo swings. He rolls to the ground, scooping up Obito’s abandoned weapon and uses it to parry off Danzo’s swift attacks. Kakashi is very small compared to the Hersir, but he is fast and strong for his age. He manages to block each of Danzo’s strikes, but Danzo leaves no room for Kakashi to present a countermove.

Danzo means to teach the boy a lesson. If he will not do as commanded, Danzo will break him until Kakashi’s will bends to his authority. He strikes the boy hard in the ribs, and Danzo is sure he hears them crack. Kakashi’s face pales, but he does not let go of his weapon. The boy plants his feet, leaving his right side wide open for the strike. Danzo sees the opening and he means to take it.

He would have taken it, that is to say, but the boy pivots and brings his Shinai down hard over the side of Danzo’s head, right above his ear. Danzo’s vision blackens at the edges and stars crackle and sputter like fireworks in his head. He feels the ground beneath his knees. Suddenly, Kakashi is the same height. The boy is looking at him with wild fury and Danzo knows he has struck a chord.

“No mercy,” Danzo pants, wavering on his knees.

Kakashi cries out and brings the Shinai across Danzo’s mouth. He manages to break a tooth and the taste of hot copper spills over Danzo’s tongue. He falls to the ground, laughing as he spits blood onto the dirt floor of the arena and smiles.      

The Hokage sees everything from her window.

Arc II (Born from Ash)

Malodorous smoke spans across the night sky and shouts and cries from the burning village are heard through the blackened trees. The white-masked man thrusts a small bundle into Danzo’s arms and he expects the thing to cry. Ash from the stable fire rains down through the gnarled bare branches of the surrounding trees, settling like freckles on the babe’s small, heart-shaped face.

Danzo looks at the girl; the crown of her head adorned with soft pink curls. He thinks her family named her adequately; for her hair is the exact color of Sakura blossoms. Oddly enough, the girl’s pink hair is not her most notable feature… She is gazing up at him with eyes so green Danzo is forced to think of the spring-time forest after a rainstorm. They are the eyes of a witch; so wide and so bright – undoubtably given in favor by some infernal siren goddess. The child’s birth was prophesized by the gods, after all, and Danzo seeks to use her gifts to exact his revenge on the accursed Black Army.

He thinks only of his success as he climbs into the saddle of his war horse, tucking the babe within his cloak as he rides out into the night with his men following close behind.

The baby never cries.

Arc III (Forged by Iron Will)

Sakura is ten years old when Danzo begins training with her. He looks for signs that her powers will manifest, but he sees nothing. She is a good warrior. Smart and capable; a force in her own right. She is small and works hard to prove her worth in the training field. The boys don’t take it easy on her, but Sakura never yields and she does not complain. She shows determination in the face of adversity. Danzo cannot help but see the parallels between she and his former favorite prodigy. It is for that reason Danzo chooses to watch Sakura from a distance. He does not wish to be reminded of Kakashi. With any luck, it won’t be his blade that cuts Kakashi down when he takes his final strike against Konoha.  

His plans are shaping up nicely. His army is growing, and he is building allies outside of Kumoga borders. It will still be years before his army is ready to take on the Konoha elites, but he will test their strength and determination before he sets his plans to motion. Sai shows promise with his mage abilities; a very useful trait that Danzo can’t wait to exploit. He trains more careful with these Kumoga’s warriors. He can’t risk getting ejected from Kumoga before his plan comes to fruition.

The Raikage knows nothing.

Arc IV (The Birth of a Phoenix)

The night sky turns red, a mirror of bloodshed, from all the lives that were lost in battle. There is a thick haze, choking out the stars so that no light shines through. It is a cold, unforgiving night. The wind howls with the death mourners and smells of frozen copper.

Danzo counts the warriors that return home and he notices that Sakura is not with them.

Sai is injured. Omoi supports most of his weight as he carries him through the village gates. “What happened to Sakura?” Danzo asks.

Sai’s face is a ruin of blood and tear tracks. He works his jaw, but he cannot say the words that are stuck in the tangled nest of his throat.

“She fell,” Samui answers beside them. “I saw a warrior from the Konoha village stab her in the side. She’s… gone…” Samui’s words are barely a whisper.

Danzo clenches his fists and thinks of what a pity her wasted life was. She never came into her Healing powers and yet Danzo feels her loss like a swift punch in the gut. He tells himself it is because he won’t get the chance to use her against Konoha.

His mind involuntarily conjures images of the babe with big green eyes and he remembers that she never even cried when he took her from her home…

Arc V (Born from Retribution)

The warriors from Kiri are heedless. Danzo admires their stamina and thirst for blood. They are a savage nation, behind the progression of time, and easily persuaded with gold and marauding. They lack a strong figurehead and Danzo effortlessly slips into the role. They follow him without question and are eager to strike the Black Army.

Danzo does not tell them that most will not return.

The Black Army is strong. They will survive this particular attack.

Danzo tells the Kiri army how to get onto the mountain without being seen. He instructs them to take whatever strikes their pleasure in the raid. “Burn the village to the ground if you must,” Danzo tells them. “You will only have a chance at penetrating the barracks if you draw out the warriors. Our goal is to weaken them.”

“Lord Hersir,” one of his men addresses him. “Our attack will only serve to anger them. They will come looking for us when it’s over.”

Danzo presses his lips into a thin line. This one is smarter than he looks. “We want them to attack Kiri,” Danzo says, enunciating each word with careful articulation. “The rest of the Kiri army will be here waiting for them. My allied forces will join in and the Konoha elites will be severely outnumbered.”

Danzo doesn’t say this aloud, but he is uneasy that he hasn’t received word from the clans surrounding Konoha. He suspects The Spy of the North has intercepted his messenger hawks. No matter. Danzo doesn’t need the alliances of those neutral clans. With half the Kumoga army under his wing, the warriors from Kiri, and allies from Waves, the Black Army won’t stand a chance against him. As long as they march on Kiri, Danzo will take them at the river crossing.

The Black Army will be his for the taking.

Arc VI The Down-spiral of a Hersir

After the fallout, Danzo leads his newly split forces into the woods as night falls like a cloak behind him. They left so many wounded, but it is of no concern to him now. Those who stayed behind in Kumoga are now his enemies. Danzo made himself perfectly clear: join him, or forever be ostracized. After he takes the Black Army, he will eradicate what’s left of the Kumoga warriors and leave the nation completely defenseless.

Danzo works his hands into fists, grinding his molars.

Sai chose to stay behind.

Years of training flash through Danzo’s mind – all the effort and special attention he paid the boy was all for nothing…

Danzo has never feared the gods, but he wonders now if this is his punishment for taking the child prodigies from their cribs so long ago… Sakura died in battle and Sai, his most notable progeny, had chosen to stay behind with the wretched, poor excuses of Kumoga warriors. Sai wasn’t even Kumoga! Perhaps he should have been honest with the boy about his true lineage, but Danzo could not tell him of his interference… After all, he had needed Sai to trust him.

All for nothing, Danzo repeats over and over, like a poisonous mantra that coils through his mind.

It is of no matter, Danzo tells himself… their losses will be of no consequence; the plans of attack are already placed in motion. The Black Army will be his in a fortnight.

Danzo’s hand trembles as he leads his army through the woods.

 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13781683/1/Born-from-Winter-Ash