#make sure the beheaded burned one is dead

[thevalicemultiverse]

Last time I saw him he tried to murder me. But when you kill someone by chopping off their head, rolling them up in a carpet and burning it... you'd better make sure they're dead.

Alice: To be fair, that would kill most things, even supernatural ones, so I can't blame him for not checking. But the other hand, I know ghosts are also a thing, even if you apparently are not one, so he probably should have still been prepared for you to come back looking for vengeance if he had any inkling of the supernatural.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[darkbluekies]

I'm sorry to bother you, I just wanted to see the Yandere's reaction when they found out that their S/O has a lot of scars because of their father who was a very abusive man with their mother and their S/O when she was just a child

Warnings: abuse, murder, beating someone to death with a lamp, celebrating a death, bruises, dragging someone behind a horse, beheading,

Silas: 

Would become furious. Everything suddenly clicked into place, all your out of pocket behaviors. He would set out every man he could find to make sure your father paid the price for what he did to you, while rescuing your mother in the mean time. She would get her own little house with Silas’s guard staying around 24/7 to make sure nothing would happen to her. Silas would stay with you the entire night, just to talk to make sure that you wouldn’t feel lonely. He would hold you close and let you talk about your childhood, giving you reassurance. 

“He will never get close to you and your mother again. If he does, I will strangle him myself. Might do it myself, actually. My men are just toying with him a little right now. What they’re doing? Let’s just say that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

Dr Kry: 

He would notice it when you change into the hospital gown. His heart would sink down to his stomach. He would ask you about it, and if you decided to tell him, he would sit with you and reassure you that nothing was your fault and that you were safe at the hospital. And then, he would kill your father when you were sleeping. If you didn’t tell him, he would dig out the information himself, until he got the answers he wanted … and then he would kill the father. Dr Kry wouldn’t admit that he had done it. After all, he is the sweetest doctor you’ve known, he would never have done something. But he would smile every time he thought about emptying him of blood.

“Why I’m smiling? I’m just thinking about some memories. How are you feeling? Still thinking of your dad? You shouldn’t be, it only brings you pain. The bastard’s dead now, and he will never hurt you again. Never again.”

King Edmund:

Would have had your father dragged through the gravel on the front yard behind a horse while he stood on the stairs with his arms crossed. He would have enjoyed seeing his face scratched open on the small stones, creating a bloodstream behind him. When Edmund would have been satisfied, he would have gone over with a sword, cut his head off and kicked it around like a ball. The body and head would be burned — nothing should remain of him. Then he would return to you and hold you tightly, kissing your head over and over again. 

“I have obliviated him. He can never return. He will never hurt you again, my jewel. Do you know how much I enjoyed hurting him? I would have loved for you to watch his suffering, but you are in no state to see that. His ashes will be used in the shit bin. That’s what he deserves. I will have everyone who knew about his deeds on you beheaded and hung at the city center. I promise. The one daring to shield that scum will be dealt with.”

Jerry: 

You would have been at your childhood home and she noticed that something was wrong. You accidentally let out that your father was a horrible man. She would shoot up from the couch right then and there and grab the nearest weapon, this time it happened to be a lamp. You ran after her, but couldn’t stop her from beating your father to death with the lamp. She would turn to you and her mother and wipe her forehead from sweat. She would reassure the two of you that the two of you get the best protection. Her men would move your mother far away, give her a new identity and shield her, all on Jerry’s demand. Jerry would lay down on the couch when you got home and hold you close to her breast. 

“He deserved this, and you know it too. Bitch deserved even more than that. You’re safe now. How about we celebrate this fucker’s death? Some champagne? Some cake? The bitch is dead, finally! Get up, let’s go buy fireworks!”

Hedwig:

First, she would hold you in her arms, crying with you, and then she would call up her hitmen. That man would not be alive in the morning hours. You would get the news from your mother and Hedwig would pretend to not know anything while hugging you. She would smile behind your back and look worried when you looked at her. The two of you would go pick up your mom and have her stay with Hedwig until everything was settled. Hedwig would take such good care of your mother. She would buy her presents and sit with her in the evenings to talk to her, to let her clear her head. 

“Your mother is doing okay, Y/N, don’t worry about her. How about the three of us go on a little trip together. You have both deserved it so much. I love you so much, and I cherish your mother a lot. I want her to understand how much I love you and your family. He’s gone, and now it’s time for the two of you to get the life you deserve.”

[ismyteadoneyet]

Theories and predictions about 'Oathbound', and The Kingsmage Oath in particular

okayokayokay yes, I know, I can think of nothing else but Legendborn these days, but ngl I feel such a desperate need to write this out to get more thoughts on it. We already know quite a lot about the Kingsmage oath, right? But as the title of the third book suggests, I believe we will learn a whole lot more about it in Oathbound and I cannot fkn wait lol

[Major Legendborn and Bloodmarked spoilers ahead, read at your own... volition, tihi]

Alright. So. First off, disclaimer - I don't currently have my physical copy of Legendborn closeby to reference stuff, so if any of this is debunked in the first book please correct me! Most of this is sprouted from Bloodmarked! I don't think we got that much info about the Kingsmage oath in Legendborn but it was also quite a while since I read it lol

Theory no. 1

First off, the thing that made me start off my 10-message long rant about this to my Legendborn-partner-in-crime to begin with, is the fact that the two "participants" of the oath are connected to the degree that, not only does the Kingsmage feel if the Scion is in danger, but the Scion in question also feels the things the Kingsmage feels. Selwyn even explains that this is partly why he attacked Bree during the trials in book one during the infamous "graveyard scene":

" 'You remember that I planned our partnership during the trial. Planned to trick you, corner you, and kill you. I knew Nicholas would feel a desire to kill someone that night, because it would come over from me to him through the bond. I planned for him to eventually discover that the person he'd wanted to... was someone he-' [Sel] shakes his head, eyes hard. 'That it was you.' " - Bloodmarked, page 366

...and

" 'The morning after the first Oath, [Nick] came to me. Said he'd felt my desire to kill you and begged me to leave you alone, because of what it did to him' -[Sel] taps his chest- 'here. He said it felt wrong, wanting to hurt you. ' So I knew that what I sent through the bond would poison the part of him that was beginning to love you. Knew that if I failed, he'd have to live with the memory of wishing his girlfriend dead. Not just the memory, but the feeling of wanting to kill you himself, with his bare hands. Murderous intent like that is one of the worst feelings in the world. Haunting. Destructive. And for someone like Nick... it would tear him apart in a way he'd never forget and never heal from. And I did not care. I believed I was right, all in the name of duty.' " - Bloodmarked, pages 366-367

Both of these show the bad effects of the bond. Sel can actively affect Nick's views of the people around him, and influence his actions, and I believe that this is shown by how Nick beheaded that one guard without hesitation, that one time.

"I didn't kill Zhao for my father." Nick's eyes burn. "I killed him for me." Sel's eyes widen incrementally. "We should...come back to that." - Bloodmarked, page 467

The interesting thing about this is the way Sel has been so sure that Nick would "never hurt another soul", and yet, here he is, rejecting Sel's reasoning that Nick killed Zhao because of his father, and instead hammering home that "no, I did it for me." Because, and hear me out on this, Nick is, in the moment of the kill...oathbound to a Merlin actively fighting his own demonia from taking over.

Bree also brings up multiple times that "Nick has become a killer, the dangerous thing" after witnessing the murder (which, when I read it sounded a bit silly since Sel has tried to murder her multiple times and even explained in detail how he planned to do that specific thing but oh well lol), but in relation to how we've seen Sel act throughout Bloodmarked, and keeping the Kingsmage Oath in mind, it makes sense. Because is it ever explained how Sel's descent might also be transferring to Nick through the bond? If it is, I don't remember seeing it.

Also, Nick being so incredibly calm and no-hesitation about killing Zhao (in one of the more brutal ways he could have, even), makes me fully believe that it was either 1. not his first kill, or 2. he is more affected by Sel's demonia than Tracy wants us to realize. During the scene where Sel and Bree watch him kill Zhao, Sel is still void cuffed, which to me means that he is still actively fighting his demonia from taking him. Sel doesn't get his void cuffs off until the fight with Erebus where Bree root-boosts him back to his normal, balanced self, which happens after Nick's kill.

The synopsis of Oathbound hints at Nick having "secrets to share with the Table", and we know absolutely nothing about what he spent all of Bloodmarked doing. We only followed one half of the whole. If Sel was only half-successful in "poisoning" Nick with murderous intent towards Bree in Legendborn, when he hadn't yet lost his humanity... Do you see where I'm going with this?

Tracy herself shared a fanart of Nick doing The Thing, and quoted the artist with something along the lines of "Nick should scare you!" and "Ruthless Nick is the correct opinion to have!", and considering that Nick is now, by the end of Bloodmarked, bonded to a fully succumbed Demon!Sel, what does that make Nick?

Theory no. 2

Now, onto the more fun side of the oath (or, more heartbreaking, depending on how you read it, I guess lol)

I have seen a few people being put off by Nick and Bree's relationship in Legendborn because it, to some degree, reads a lot like "insta-love". And sure, love at first sight and all that stuff but how long has Bree known Nick, really? A couple weeks, maybe? I however, have another theory to this.

Again, the two participants of the Kingsmage Oath share feelings both ways, as explained by Sel:

" 'When did you worry [about losing your humanity]?' [...] 'When I started to see what I believe Nicholas sees when he looks at you. Only a monster could look at you and want to destroy you, Bree.' " - Bloodmarked, page 368

And of course we are led to believe that Nick, the "blond, good-hearted knight in shining armor" is the good influence, right, and Sel being the "tall dark and handsome demon" is the bad influence on the two...

...But what if it was the other way around the entire time?

[Sel:] " 'I was raised not to trust myself!' " - Bloodmarked, page 368

[Sel:] " 'I don't know if that's in the cards for me.' [...] 'If I'm allowed that wish, it would be truly something. But wishes are dangerous mind games we play with ourselves. The only way to win is to not play.' " - Bloodmarked, page 475

Sel was raised as a weapon and a shield for the Scion of Arthur, and has never been treated as anything else. He was never allowed by anyone else nor himself to put himself and his own feelings first. So when he is suddenly struck with feelings for Bree, it makes sense for him to "blame it" on Nick, automatically. He couldn't possibly be the one with romantic, wholesome, fluffy feelings towards someone else, right? To Sel, it would feel wrong. "Illegal".

" 'Why didn't you [leave]?' 'Because my judgement is not what it should be around you, Bree. It never has been.' " - Bloodmarked, page 369

"It never has been," huh? Now, I find that to be a very funny choice of wording, Tracy, since the over-arching conflict in the entirety of Bloodmarked is related to mesmers and witheld information.

And the fact that Bree's mother and Sel's mother knew each other.

" 'The woman that helped you hide the memory. Was that Sel's mother?' My mother smiles, fond and sad at once. ' Yes. Natasia.' I have to ask. 'Do you know where she is?' She glances at Sel, and I know her answer is for his ears and mine both. 'No. Even if I could speak to her now, she would not tell me.' " - Bloodmarked, page 447

We also know that Sel's mother was the one who mesmered Bree in the hospital. But what if both Bree and Sel were mesmered at some point? What if the romantic feelings Nick felt for Bree the moment they met was actually Sel's feelings for Bree, coming over through the bond?

Another thing that speaks to this, I believe, is the use of the phrase "call and response", which Bree uses a lot when talking about herself and Nick,

" And then [Nick's] mouth is on mine, and every call and response we've ever felt pales in comparison to this one. " - Bloodmarked, page 377

...but also how she describes the relationship between Arthur and Lancelot:

" I shiver. Even [Lancelot's] voice affects me like Nick's does. 'Arthur?' he asks. And I reply, 'Lancelot.' Call and response. That's how it is between me and Nick. How it has always been. " - Bloodmarked, page 132

I believe, again, that this "call and response" thing is what I personally believe is what might be bringing Nick and Bree so close so fast. They are both scions of what I see as one of the most bromantic knights in the entire Order. Of course they out of all people would find a connection soul-to-soul right way. And that on top of Sel possibly knowing Bree before Legendborn even happens? It's no wonder that both of the two boys feel so comfortable gushing about her being "beautiful forever" in that one bloodwalk that one time, lol.

In conclusion, I guess the big question at hand is "Where does Nick's feelings end and Sel's feelings begin?" Where is the line? Is there one? I'd like to argue that the fact that Sel's first instinct, when he first starts feeling "what Nick is feeling" towards Bree is to kill her, is denial in the most severe degree. He is the first character from the Order Bree meets, accidental or not, and even though Tracy has said that she wrote Legendborn without a set goal for the endgame-couple, I'm willing to believe that that has shifted towards a BreeSel outcome after the mayhem of a character-development-arc that is Bloodmarked.

The fact that I am a BreeSel believer might also be influenced by the fact that we simply have not seen Nick in A While lol

And if not, I'm willing to root for a Bree x Sel x Nick throuple lol. As long as Sel is part of the endgame setup, I'm good.

Just please let Lark be left alone for William even if Lark and Bree commit to a Kingsmage oath, Tracy, I beg

[lemonhemlock]

It’s very amusing that Condal clearly wants to adapt AFFC, and how people eat it up despite it not being earned. AFFC was the fourth book of the series, after the beheading of Ned, Winterfell falling, Jaime losing his hand, the Red Wedding, the Purple Wedding. All the reasons for why the War of the Five Kings is over, all those people are either dead or scattered to the wind, and yet the war rages on. It’s a pointless war that characters we have grown to know and love undergo intense changes in, notably Jaime and Brienne as they wander through the Riverlands, Arya in Braavos, Sam on the edge of despair as he journeys south. Frankly? Considering that the Dance hasn’t even properly started yet and no one cares about the deaths that have occurs (Luke, Jaehaerys, Rhaenys) the sheer fatalism feels unearned bc no one has gone through gut wrenching tragedy yet. “War is pointless.” Great, but we got another two seasons of this and if the characters think this story is dumb and pointless and are just going through the motions, why should we watch? It’s frankly just too early for everyone to lose their shit bc they haven’t even begin to truly lose everything yet. The characters themselves thinking it’s pointless robs them of motivations bc we still got more than half the story to go! Criston’s monologue in the finale is good but that’s because it’s directly cribbed from Jaime’s “honor is mist” speech but it’s not nearly as earned bc we don’t have any idea how or why he started sleeping with Alicent or even why he became a kingsguard in the first place! Daemon’s Harrenhal arc ended with him somehow obsessed with a prophecy and connecting it back to Rhaenyra without him coming to terms with Viserys not trusting him with the prophecy which is what he was mad about in the first place!

We never actually see anyone react to anything, and the limping plodding along of character development happening off screen so we never see how or why anyone changes is not good! Episode 7 actually gave me some hope bc Rhaenyra seemed to be embracing her role as a leader of there’s dragonriders the gods have given her, but in the next episode she’s literally saying the exact same lines “what would you have me do” and “who will pay the price” which she said at the start of the season! Even Alicent’s about face is unearned bc we don’t actually see her truly fight with her children about anything, really. She just lets them talk in her face and then limps away to camp in a scene that’s “all about rebirth bc baptism and water” without ever getting to the core of anything. It’s a beautiful show full of empty symbolism without a narrative actually underpinning it, borrowing from a better story without understanding what makes that story so good.

You said it more eloquently than I could at the moment. It's not just one or two badly executed points, nothing gets built up, nothing gets resolved or even discussed, we just skip past A TON of vital characterisational changes and are expected to "fill in the gaps". No, they're just bad at writing. You wouldn't be reading a book or watching a show that is so bad at these elements - people are watching because it's ASOIAF.

Why is Alicent so mad? Aegon has barely done anything as king, he's actually tried to help the smallfolk in his audiences! Aemond dismissed her from the Council, sure, which I found a dumb political plot hole, but she hasn't done much to address it? And what exactly has Criston Cole done all season that he is the most reprehensible male character on the show? He didn't vote for Alicent and called her by her name. Does he deserve to die for that? Has Alicent ever been portrayed as the type of character who would react so disproportionately? That's Aemond-level writing. Is Alicent = Aemond now? (She isn't even shown being mad at Criston for sending Arryk after Rhaenyra!)

What Alicent is shown to have a problem with is Aemond burning Aegon. But then again why abandon Aegon to be executed by Rhaenyra? Just overdose him on milk of the poppy and let him die, ffs. Alicent also suspects Criston is not telling her about Aemond's crime, but they part on okay terms? She gives him her favour? How do you go from that to dooming him by revealing his coordinates?

I would really like to pile on-to the AFFC copycat accusations* with Succession rip-offs (my followers are probably tired of hearing me mention it, but it's truly what prestige television should be and it's what we should be comparing HotD to!). First it was teenage!Aegon wanking in the window à la Roman Roy, then Alicent suddenly gets water symbolism this season like Kendall and "I do not wish to hear it"? Do they think they're being cute here?

*not just with Criston, but with Rhaena, too, although you could at least argue there that GRRM himself is also mirroring Jaime and Sansa there

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Dofus Novel 4, The Thirsty Beheader

I apologize for my absence. Translating this novel has burned me out from the fandom in a pretty major way, and I also got into a different fandom in the meantime and am, like, three 4k word chapters deep into a longfic for said new fandom. Besides that, I had a depressive episode and went insane for a while. Basically, I've been a bit busy.

At the same time I release this post, I have uploaded the new, updated versions of both translations (since this liveblog is mostly a reason for me to reread and fix stuff) to MEGA and VK, so I recommend you download the new versions!

I will mostly be copying the text directly, to bypass tumblr's image restriction, but some screenshots will be provided. For example:

If pride is a sin, then the typesetting and cleaning I went through with this book will have me go to hell after I die. (I don't think I'm a master, but I did a pretty good job, ok?)

A cart had just entered the District of the Lost Steps. It stopped in front of the store, as two Srams* got out.

I love the internal consistency of the street being named here. Thank you, author of this book, for caring.

“Are you sure about this,” asked the little guy, “Is this really the right place?” “Yeah,” replied the tall one, “There aren't thirty-six Shushu* houses in the neighborhood.”

LMAO this is something Kerubim is actually known for, huh?

At the time that this book takes place in, joris can't read very well. Cute...

Also, hehe... I am pretty proud of the way this part of the book was cleaned + the font + the layers and colors and opacity I applied to the text, to make it fit in with the paper.

^^^ This is me btw, during this entire post. ^^^

The entirety of the epilogue and prologue are typed on top of cleaned backgrounds sourced from the scan. The rest of the book is typed in front of a digital background. This artistic choice was made because....... You can't set different pages to be different colors in word. You have to overlay some image or a textbox, if you want a page to be a different color.

Anyway — I had a lot of fun searching for the fonts from this book! (and far less fun searching for appropriate fonts for the Russian translation since none of the fonts this book uses have cyrilic versions...)

The fonts this book uses are: Dimbo, Chelsea Market, and Aleo. Google them for all your Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim related needs.

The fonts I chose to use in the russian translation are: Brydan Write, Correction Brush, Curinn, and Itim. I just had to make do with what I had, ok?

“My Papycha said it's urgent!” exclaimed Joris, “He could be in danger. Maybe he's being attacked by the Thirsty!” Even Pupuce looked worried. Simone reread the message, thinking out loud: “The Huffing Bow Wow tavern is in the Pandawa district... There's plenty of bamboo milk there. Maybe the neighborhood is overrun by the Thirsters?” “And soon, the whole city will be under attack!” concluded Joris.

Nobody knows how to escalate a situation better than a 7yo with anxiety. God bless <3

The Ecaflip goes full "war machine" mode: he cuts and slices through the living dead for the entire night, and when the golden disk of the sun finally rises over the horizon, the scenery is carpeted with the Thirsty. The region is saved. Kerubim becomes a legend. To thank him, the local lord offers him the... “Hey... Joris? Are you listening?” asked Simone. She began shaking the boy, who, abruptly snapping out of his reverie, mumbled: “Huh? What?”

Joris is so normal. So sane.

“Bye-bye,” added Bowiknif. But Luis slammed the door in their faces, roaring: “You're not going anywhere!” “Oh yeah?” hissed Bakstab, “Is that so?” “Would you like us to chop up your friends with a Brakmarian steel sword of Chouque?” questioned the other, “Or with Samuel J. Axe?” Luis muttered what sounded like a string of expletives, before reluctantly opening the door to the two robbers, who bolted out without further ado.

I'm LITERALLY fucking insane about this.

“I'm sorry,” said Luis, “I tried to hold them back, but...” “We know, we saw everything,” the girl cut him off, “You did your best, Luis.”

Actually deranging. Also explains why Luis did fuckall about Sipho, Harebourg, and Ush — there's just not much he can actually do.

She spotted a Dragoturkey standing near a trough. In two strides, she reached the animal, untied it, and climbed onto its back like an experienced Dragogirl*. “Let’s go!” she said to the boy.

This once again raises a some questions about Simone's past — when did she learn how to ride dragoturkeys? Is it the same reason why she knows how to fight, at least a little?

Then again, maybe she's just being an Osamodas here.

I love, love, love the Simone&Joris content in this book. Their bond is so important to me... She's the aunt who stepped up.

This art is so nice...

They had run like mad through half the city, arrived at the wrong address, turned back just as a thunderstorm broke out, wandered around in the rain in the Pandawa district, and FINALLY arrived at the Huffing Bow Wow Tavern, a large, long building with a thatched roof.

They're so fucking stupid. I love them.

“Ah, there you are!” called out Kerubim, “I almost thought you’d make me wait some more!”

I wish english also had the phrase "I almost thought you'd be late" as a cunty response when someone's an hour or three late to an event. I don't think the english translation I made conveys the sheer frustration.

Kerubim raised an eyebrow — a perfect copy of the circumflex accent:

I struggled with this part a lot in russian sjfkgdfg. It made me nerd out a little bit too.

I didn't have a lot of comments here, but eh. It was nice to finally get this over with dfjgkdsfg.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 7 [Secondo]

“I daren’t stay long. I just had to see you.” - 1.9k

CW: Headless Terzo, a ritual, bringing people back from the dead, manipulation sort of?

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

The ritual had been planned down to the second. It was intricate and complex, one slight mispronunciation or missed step could have drastic consequences, but it needed to be done. He knew it needed to be done.

Secondo had been meticulously planning this day for just shy of six months. All that time working under the nose of Sister Imperator, who he was sure would have him imprisoned for what he was about to do. He had met with the Ministry’s many ghouls and magic wielders to confirm and plan this unfortunate venture. 

Sure he was graced with powers of his own when he was granted the role of Papa. His bloodline and lineage provided each brother with equal power of the last, and then some more. However, Secondo knew it would take more than his admittedly minute grasp on his abilities to pull this off. Hence the endless arrangements of secret meetings with those that were still loyal to him.

It was the night before he was set to begin the ritual. He was in the middle of one final meeting with some quintessence ghouls and his trusted followers to be absolutely sure everything was in order. There could be no mistakes. Not a single one.

“Are you sure about this, Secondo?” Brother Victor asked quietly as he skimmed over all the research they had accumulated, the pages and pages of notes and array of books spread out across the large table they all had sat around.

“Yes. Unfortunately, I have to see him. He is the only one with the answers we need.” Secondo said sternly with more than a hint of displeasure in his voice. Accompanied by his signature scowl which was emphasized by his fading face paint from the ritual earlier that night.

The Ministry brothers and pair of ghouls in the room all nodded quietly in understanding. It was true. Terzo had answers the Ministry needed, and this was the only way to get them. Not at all thrilled that it had come to this, Secondo tried desperately at the beginning to find another way. But after all his searching and failed trials, the only option they had left, led him back to Terzo.

Why did they have to behead him? This would have been much, much easier if he was alive for me to force the secrets out of.

The stage was set. The ritual would happen tonight.

Secondo’s private ritual chamber was alight with life once again, having not used it since he summoned his last ghoul, which was many years ago. The dark and eerie room was lined with velvety black curtains covering the walls. They served no purpose except for covering the grimy grey bricked walls that surrounded the room. 

The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs and candle smoke, creating a hazy and almost dreamlike atmosphere. In the middle of the room, a large circular pentagram is etched into the concrete floor decorated with intricate symbols and runes. The shiny silver lines outlining the design had been permanently stained with the blood of past rituals.

While his brothers and Copia had opted to clean after each session. Secondo had said it helped channel any rituals that would follow. Believing it showcased his ability to command the dark magic and have it bow to his agenda once more.

Where normally he had his trusted brethren to watch over him while he conducted his rituals, this particular ritual would be one he did without such an audience. He was not about to take the chance of anyone accidentally following him where he was about to go. The magic he was about to call upon had a tendency to be unpredictable at best, and he had to make sure there were no hiccups. 

No. This mission was to be his. And his alone. For if they did end up sucked into the void, he had no way of knowing if they would be able to come back out.

And Hell was not somewhere you wanted to be, accidentally.

The clock had struck midnight, signalling it was time.

“Oh fratello, please make this easy.” Secondo grumbled before stepping into the pentagram. The flames of the candles sensing his unholy spirit and coming alive, the peaks surging upwards, calling upon his dark powers to guide him.

“In nomine Satanas, I command and demand that my soul be dragged down to the depths of Hell, where demons and flames await eternally. May the weight of my sins drag me down to the inferno in which my brother awaits. So it is said, so it shall be done. Fiat, ut dixi.”

Upon the last words, the candles had violently extinguished. The glowing light of the pentagram now shining a vibrant red and pulsing as Secondo felt the unholy essence flow through his veins, as if it was determining his worthiness to enter the sacred plains.

His vision faded to black through a tunnel of shadow. He felt the hot air kiss his skin long before his eyes were allowed to be opened. The power that resonated within the unholy city was unlike anything he had experienced on the surface. He realized now that the power he had was a mere fraction of its true potential, diluted through the vast distance it had to travel as he called upon it on Earth.

Once his eyes were peeled open, the air stung his orbs like a swarm of bees for a moment before adjusting to the heavy sulfuric breeze. He could feel the souls of the damned aching to be set free, as ghouls prowled to keep them in line, much like a wolf protecting a flock of sheep. Predators, circling their prey. Toying with their fleeting hope of free will.

These ghouls were a far cry from those he had come to know. These ghouls were vile and vicious. Prowling on all fours and snarling with elongated teeth, their claws digging into the red dirt with cold, flat and calculating eyes. They prowl across the ground, quickly scanning and cataloging every soul, object, and detail. There's no warmth or feeling, just a sense of intense focus and hunger. Their eyes betray nothing but a single-minded drive to fulfill their intended purpose.

As Secondo watched the ghouls in sheer curiosity, a familiar voice from behind caused him to break out of his trance. He turned around to find the source, yet saw nothing. No one.

His brow furrowed in frustration as he looked around, the red haze of the blood soaked sky illuminating everything in a shade of crimson. Giving nothing away to the time of day, it was both light and dark all at once. His eyes fought between wanting to squint and wishing it was brighter. 

It was absolutely infuriating.

“Hey baldy, catch!”

Secondo immediately turned around with a grim expression, only to find a round ball-like shape being tossed at him. He caught it carefully and glared at the perpetrator before looking down to see what they had thrown at him.

It was Terzo’s severed head.

“Ciao fratello mio, it has been a long time, no?”

“Ye-agh!” Secondo yelled, immediately drawing back his hands in disgust and letting his brother's sentient head tumble to the dirt under his feet.

Terzo gave a grunt as he hit the ground, his body walking over to pick up its missing appendage, his own hands dusting it off before placing it back on his neck.

“I may be dead but that still hurts.” Terzo grumbled, stretching his neck to make sure he had reattached himself correctly, twisting his head like an owl, 360 degrees like he was locking it into place.

“This is absolutely horrid, do not do that again.” Secondo grumbled, giving his brother his biggest look of disappointment. Apparently even in death Terzo could manage to get on his every nerve.

“You haven’t come to visit out of the goodness of your heart, have you Secondo? Now I am flattered–”

“No. Shut up.” The eldest groaned. “I daren’t stay long. I just had to see you. The pages from your element ritual years ago, with that ghoul? They are missing. We need to know what went wrong so this time we do not repeat your unfortunate miscalculations.”

Terzo scratched at his neck, trying to remember what he had written. “Oh those pages? I burnt them long ago. And his name is Delta, if I recall.” He said with a hint of aggression, like the memory of that night was the biggest mistake of his short life. “We made a mistake, one that I will caution you not to repeat. We should never have thought we could force him to take on a new element. It goes against the laws of–”

“Equilibrium. Yes, yes. We are well aware.” Secondo groans, his fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We need to do it again, but we need to do it right. Copia is not well versed in this type of advanced magic and he needs your help.”

Terzo contemplated for a long moment, beginning to pace with his hands tapping his chin. “Copia you say?” Secondo nodded.

Terzo and Copia had been very close when they had come up through the ranks, Terzo teaching the youngest much like his experimental protege. Terzo would take the blunt of the mistakes so that Copia would be able to slide into each role with the utmost of knowledge of his required duties.

The youngest brother stopped and looked over. “Fine. I will help. But I have one condition.” He shrugged, his tone laced with an insurmountable amount of arrogance which took no time to make Secondo’s skin crawl.

“What? What could I possibly do for you?’

“Bring me back.”

Secondo’s eyes went as wide as saucers and he took a shaky step back. “You know that is prohibited. Not only within the rules of the Clergy, but within the rules of Hell. I cannot simply just take you from here.”

Terzo smirked at his brother's ignorance. He couldn’t blame him, there was no way of knowing the mischief he had gotten up to down here. He had thought about this a lot, and had talked to a lot of people during the long, endless days. For what else was a guy to do? 

“I made a deal long ago, when I first got here.” Terzo said, voice dripping with malice. “The deal was: if one of my brothers was stupid enough to come ask for my help, it would be a sign that my death was premature, making my untimely demise a grave error in judgement.”

Secondo started to feel the fear growing in his stomach. He had seriously underestimated his brother’s hatred and anger. Not ever expecting him to have gone as far as making deals with the Devil to make this right. 

Terzo wasn’t done with the surface yet, and he was about to let everyone know it. Secondo was bound by the laws of the deal, forced to bring his brother back with him.

When Secondo finally recited the trigger words to send his body back to the surface, the dark chamber was filled with his loyal Brothers of Sin. And when he finally came to, his eyes opened to reveal a less than impressed Sister Imperator, arms crossed and scowling.

“Well… tell me you at least got something out of this.”

Secondo opened his mouth to speak, but it was not his voice that came out.

“Ah, Sister. Indeed,” Terzo had chuckled darkly from the shadows of the ritual chamber before stepping out from behind his brother with calculated steps, cracking his scarred neck like he had just woken up from the world's longest nap. 

His eyes opened, a red hue donning his once green irises. Burning red with a thirst for vengeance.

“Now tell me… what have I missed?”

A/N: Like always, not proofread. Sorry. Hope this one was fun! I had fun writing it. Thanks to @pandasleepy07 for the idea!

[batboyblog]

Have you ever heard of the phrase "Every Zionist accusation is a confession” because that story about eviiiiil Palestinian putting an innocent Israeli baby in an oven, just like the story about eviiiiiil Islamic jihadist Palestinians beheading 40 Israeli babies, is a fake propaganda stories with absolutely no real proof beside Zionists saying its true, but you know what is a real story? Israeli soldiers ordering Hussein al-Shareed to throw his own son in a burning oven then throwing that baby in the oven themselves after his father refused to do it closely followed by throwing Hussein behind his son.

And this doesn't of course take into account how a huge portion of the 4000 Palestinian children Israel killed in "self-defense" this month were babies or the other babies that they killed in prior years, but why would a fascist scum like you bother showing sympathy to thousands of systematically murdered Palestinian babies when you can save all that energy toward a fake proof-less story about one dead Israeli baby?

Ps: I know you will not actually answer this and would instead make a post about "omg anti-semites in my inbox are wishing death on me simply because I'm Jewish AGAIN! :/ " but Idc I just wanted to remind scum like you that literally no one is falling for your old Zionist tactic of victimizing yourself and demonizing Palestinians (at least normal people, I'm sure fellow White Supremacists would be with you)

And good morning to you too. This is a taste of the delightful antisemitism clogging up my inbox

any ways this is pretty classic of how holocaust denial works, ie "It didn't happen! but you totally deserved it!"

of course there's lots of proof of what Hamas did on October 7th, they filmed a lot of it, if any one wants to traumatize themselves they can hear it all in the survivor's own words here

but the real reason I want to publish this is when you google the name "Hussein al-Shareed" you know what you find? nothing. After assuring google that no I didn't mean Hussein bin Ali, King of Hejaz died 1931, the closest match to "Hussein al-Shareed" was from Linkedin Pakistan. I've even put in a good faith effort to google the story without the name, and couldn't find anything that matched. Not a crappy story from some troll farm, not a tweet by someone who pays for twitter, nothing, nothing at all. So this person came into my inbox, made up a story, made up a name, all to prove "the evil dirty Jews Zionists lie!" truly every accusation is a confession my friend.

Am Yisrael Chai.

[lauralot89]

"She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our establishment!"

what in the fuck

I mean I get what she means, but why would you ever say that to a grieving person

I feared that he, being a foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements, and so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble.

I'm sure his grasp of English law is as competent as his grasp of the English language

You forget that I am a lawyer as well as a doctor.

I am not the first to make this joke and I will not be the last: Dr. Barbie Van Helsing

Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is to you.

Out of respect for the two women who just died, I will not use the gif here

till positively I could not believe my eyes that I was looking at a corpse

well Jack, I've got some news for you

Then he took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold crucifix, and placed it over the mouth

So why doesn't this burn her? Is she still turning?

Let me tell you now

FINALLY.

but not a word to another

Of fucking course.

I want to cut off her head and take out her heart.

You really could have eased into this suggestion, Professor.

Oh, but I must not forget, my dear friend John, that you loved her; and I have not forgotten it, for it is I that shall operate, and you must only help.

Yeah that makes it better (it doesn't)

he will want to see her—to see it.

Van Helsing I am pretty sure you let Dracula have he/him pronouns when you speak about his undead self

But there are things that you know not

YOU DON'T SAY

If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think; and that is not perhaps well

for fuck's sake, Van Helsing

As I stood without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage—she had her back towards me, so did not see me—and go into the room where Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love.

bad news Jack

"Because," he said sternly, "it is too late—or too early. See!" Here he held up the little golden crucifix. "This was stolen in the night."

I don't fully understand what difference that makes to staking/beheading her

He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new puzzle to grapple with.

Classic Van Helsing

I assure you, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced."

He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part—in which he was officially interested—of so great a tragedy, was an object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.

Understatement of the century, Jack

even his stalwart manhood seemed to have shrunk

I'm sorry, I know I'm terrible, but phrasing

"Jack, is she really dead?"

Yes and no

I take it that you do not—that you cannot—trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot—and may not—and must not yet understand.

HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house, and was never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with the wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose, a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

as someone who is horribly allergic to lilies, I'd have died of migraines after three seconds in the house

[sugolara]

You belong in this world

ft. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

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Day three since meeting each other begins as birds chirping could be heard from the trees near their cabin. From the only window that was placed by the door, the wind would sway the branches of the oak trees. Today would be a windy day, which was a relief as the cool air wouldn't cause their bodies to sweat profusely.

Already awake, F/n stood up and quietly placed her jacket on. She did so while looking at a sleeping Izuku, making sure that her actions wouldn't disturb him. Once her jacket was on, she stepped out to sit on the porch.

With the wind blowing her hair, she pushed it aside and took in a deep breath, letting her lungs fill with air until it no longer could. With fresh air in her system she exhaled and watched the bush that grew on the other side of the road rustle. Peeking out was a squirrel with a nut in its hand. It seemed to be coming her way, but it suddenly stopped on the road and instead stuck its nose in the air.

She used her ears to listen to her surroundings wondering if the squirrel was sensing something she couldn't. She couldn't smell anything either, but she wasn't going to go and look as she wanted to know whether the squirrel would continue her way.

However, she never got her answer as she turned behind her when she heard the door open, following a yawn. Izuku tiredly wiped his eyes as he stepped towards her, his eyes squinting once the sun hit them, "Did you just wake up? Or was I asleep for a while?"

She shook her head, her attention focused back on the road. The squirrel no longer was there, but its nuts rested on the empty road, "No, I've been up for a while."

He hummed, "You should have woken me up that way we'd get the day started early."

"Yeah," She shrugged and stood up, "but I need some time for myself. Besides, you were drooling so I thought to let you sleep."

A coat of blush dusted his cheeks. He moved to the side so she could step inside and when her back was turned to him, he wiped his mouth with sleeves embarrassingly. Drooling was normal, but to drool in front of a girl—who was attractive—was just embarrassing.

"You said you saw a creek, right?" F/n asked from the kitchen, grabbing cups and pots that were left behind. She placed the cups inside the pot to not carry much, "We can grab water and boil it and if we find fishes we'll grab those too."

"Fishes?" He confusingly said and grabbed the dishes from her hand, "We don't have any equipment for that? You don't actually think we'll be able to grab them with our hands, right?"

"You leave that to me." She placed her bag on before beheading out the doors. Izuku shortly followed with his rifle and bag on his shoulders. Though he was still perplexed he decided on not saying anything, afterall he barely knew her. Maybe she had a few skills up her sleeve that he could use.

Reaching the creek was a very short walk. The sound of the water running and splashing as it slammed against rocks were soothing to their ears. The creek was a beautiful sight as well. A few dragonflies flew around and water was clear as crystal, the ground covered in pebbles. There was also a bundle of flowers swaying with the grass as the bees and butterflies flew from one onto another to collect their nectar.

To Izuku's surprise there were indeed fishes, but he left that to F/n as he crouched down feeling the water against the pads of his finger. It was cold, just the right temperature if one wanted to swim.

With the dishes set to his side, he grabbed the cup and placed it underneath the water. When it filled he removed it and checked to see if the water was dirty, but upon seeing no piece of nature he set it down and grabbed the pot.

While he did so, F/n took a couple steps away from the male. She found a rock away from the water and placed her jacket on it. With the inside facing her, she found a net that had been sewed on and with her hands she carefully pulled on it so it would remove itself.

Once completely removed, she took off her boots along with her socks. She raised her jeans until it reached her knees and approached the water. With the extra pot she grabbed, she placed it behind her where it wouldn't get wet.

She hunched over, placing her hands inside the water holding the net and waited until a fish would swim to her. With her still movements a fish had begun to slowly swim to her. Its senses probably felt alerted as its movement looked conflicted, but once the fish swam above the net she quickly pulled her hands together to trap it.

She then brought the net to her eye level, feeling boastful as the fish flopped around. She then walked towards the pot and placed the fish inside, its movements slowing down. Hearing footsteps approaching her she looked up and pointed to her fish, "Check it out."

Izuku peered down, his eyes that were curious were filled in amazement, "You caught a fish!? That's amazing, F/n! How did you learn to do that?"

Her lips quivered, begging to be pulled into a smile, "I go camping."

"No way!" He was actually amazed she even managed to catch one. With no fishing equipment, he wondered if she was being sarcastic as it is hard to tell with her tone of voice. Not to mention, he's never once even seen her smile and she didn't exactly look like a people person "Can you teach me? If that's alright with you?"

"Sure." She ushered for him to come closer. With his shoes, socks, rifle gone and the ends of his jeans pulled to his knees he entered the water with her. He carefully stepped on the pebbles, afraid they he might step on the small fishes that swam away when he caused ripples.

She handed him the net and guided his hand underneath the water, both of them hunching over and staring at the water, "Just keep still and wait for a fish to come by. When it swims over the net, quickly pull your hands together so the net closes."

He hummed, his eyes intently staring at the water, "I thought it would be a lot more complicated."

"It kind of is." She shrugged and stood to her full height, "But you have steady hands whereas mine are shaky."

He glanced at her hands, "How long did it take for you to catch one?"

She thought while she glanced at her surroundings, "It took a few trips. I think I was able to catch one on my fourth or sixth camping trip. I don't remember, I was really young."

"Oh." He said. The only person who knew who liked to camp or be in nature was a dear childhood friend of his. His face reminded Izuku of their childhood and when they'd cross lakes multiple times, "But at least you got the hang of it, right? And at such a young age that's something to be proud of."

"I guess." She shrugged, looking across the river.

He smiled a little, his eyes back on the net. Even though his back had begun to get strain from his hunch form, he didn't have to wait long as a fish swam across the net. Just as she said, he pulled his hands together, the fish successfully caught and he stood his to his height.

His smile grew as he showed it to the girl, "Steady hands."

She was actually stunned he managed to catch one. The evidence was shown on her face as her eyes slightly widened, having Izuku feel giddy that he made a reaction come out of her, "I'm surprised. I thought you would at least caught a baby, but good job."

His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he didn't stop and instead made his way to the pot with the other fish, "Two will be enough, right? We can come back tomorrow morning and get more."

"Sounds fine." She left the river to place her boots on, "I know how to clean them, the only problem would be starting a fire."

"Actually I saw the chimney in the cabin had one of those small racks where you just place it over the fire." Izuku said as he also placed his shoes on, "With the lighter we found yesterday and spare paper from my notebook it should be no problem."

"Right." She stood once her boots were on and grabbed the pot of fish while Izuku went to grab the pot of water, "Ready?"

He nodded. After the short walk, Izuku headed inside while F/n left the fish on the porch to grab a kitchen knife before seating herself. With her outside, Izuku prepared the fire. He grabbed the lighter from F/'s bag which she didn't mind and with his notebook paper, he set it on fire and placed it underneath the rack that sat inside the chimney.

With the extra plank of wood, the fire grew strong and he placed the pot of water on it. The small plank cackled as it burned. In the meantime he grabbed a smaller kitchen knife and went to help F/n. The process was rather messy, but thanks to helping his mother cook he was able to get the job done. They mainly focused on cleaning the fish as they were hungry so their communication was gone.

Once the fishes were thoroughly cleaned, he headed back to check the pot of water while F/n took in the fishes. The water had been boiled and once it cooled down it would be safe to consume. With the fishes on the rack, they waited for the fish to cook and finally they would eat.

She used the knife to mess with the fire. It was beginning to get low so she used the extra sheets of paper Izuku had earlier left to let the fire grow. As she did so, Izuku sat next to her, his eyes focused on the flames, "Did you like to go camping?"

Her eyes flickered towards him for a brief second, "Not really."

"For someone who doesn't like to camp, you sure went a lot." He awkwardly chuckled, desperately trying to make conversation. He wanted to get to get to know her more, but she seemed reserved. Who knows if the two would continue to stick together.

She once again looked at him, letting out an internal sigh, "My father had me going. We grew up on a farm on the outskirts of Musutafu and there was a set of woods behind it. He'd make me go and learn new stuff."

He looked at her at the mention of her father, "Were you both close...?"

He didn't want to intrude, but he was curious to know her background. He knows that asking about a loved one would be overstepping, but if someone had asked him about his mother whom he dearly loved he would happily talk about her, but secretly hiding his sadness.

"Yeah." She said, memories coming up, "I was closer to him than my mother."

She then glanced at him, "What about you?"

"Oh, I've only gone once for a school trip." He smiled, cheeks dusting in blush, "I didn't like it. Camping's not really for me. Besides, I grew up in the city."

Her cousin also grew up in the city and he often went with her, but she didn't voice that. She moved pieces of burned planks to allow the flames higher, "I'm not a big fan of city life, but to each their own. Do you have siblings?"

"I'm an only child." He said, placing his knees to his chest, "And you?"

"A sister." Her mind then went back to yesterday when she saw the photo in his notebook, "Was the photo you and your mom?"

He perked up, his eyes glancing towards his bag where his notebook rested, "Yeah! That was her favorite picture of us, but it was a long time ago. I never understood why she liked it so much. I must've been seven when that was taken."

"You both look alike." She looked at him, examining his features, "Besides the freckles that is."

"I get that a lot." He placed a hand on his nape, cheeks coating in blush from her stare. He let his hand fall and then looked at her, "Who do you look more like?"

"My father." She turned back to the fire, "Just picture me taller with a lumberjack hairstyle and an unshaved beard and you're pretty much looking at my dad."

He chuckled at the thought, "Was he also a lumberjack?"

"Nah." She turned both of the fishes, "He was a veteran."

"Oh." Suddenly he understood her, "So is that why you have experience with taking care of yourself? From knowing how to make a net, catch, cook and not to mention getting close to a dead, it's almost like you're meant for this world."

After hearing what he had just said, he backtracked and waved his hands feeling like he had insulted her, "I don't mean it in a rude way! It's honestly impressive how you can handle yourself! Most people wouldn't dare be near a dead! I use my rifle to not get close to them so it really is impressive that you could even get close to one! Besides, I never knew how to make a net with my jacket! I only know how to clean water because I had a phase! I didn't mean to insult you or anything!"

"It's fine, really." This time it was her waving her hands around with eyes alarmed as she thought she had broken him, "I'm not mad."

His face was flushed in embarrassment and he felt sweaty and hot. The flames only added to it, "Sorry..I have a habit of...yeah."

She let out a quiet sigh when he returned back to normal, "Anyways, my father is the reason why I know so much. When I began to understand stuff, I got the feeling he was preparing us for an emergency like this. Even though he used to serve, he's got some pretty bad morals."

The smell of cooked fish swarmed them, "It's done. Can you grab the plates?"

He nodded and went to receive them, wondering what she had to go through if she considered her father to have concerning beliefs. However, he wasn't going to overstep that boundary and instead felt rather content that he managed to know her better.

Finally, with the fishes on their plates, they dug in, their taste buds satisfied. It tasted good even if it didn't have seasoning, but they couldn't be picky due to their situation. All that mattered now was they got their nourishment and with the water provided they'll feel refreshed and slowly get their energy back. Just one more day and they set foot out of Musutafu.

[esther-dot]

Any thoughts on Sansa saying she wants the Great Sept burned? Is she a witch?

Dontos nodded. "He made a great pyre of the trees as an offering to his new god. The red priestess made him do it. They say she rules him now, body and soul. He's vowed to burn the Great Sept of Baelor too, if he takes the city." "Let him." When Sansa had first beheld the Great Sept with its marble walls and seven crystal towers, she'd thought it was the most beautiful building in the world, but that had been before Joffrey beheaded her father on its steps. "I want it burned." "Hush, child, the gods will hear you." "Why should they? They never hear my prayers." (ACOK, Sansa IV)

No, I don't think she's a witch, but there is something to her wishes coming true:

I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. When Joffrey proclaimed her father's death, it had been Janos Slynt who seized Lord Eddard's severed head by the hair and raised it on high for king and crowd to behold, while Sansa wept and screamed. later -> Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer. But when they disentangled Morros Slynt from his horse, they found him bloodied but alive. "Tommen, we picked the wrong foe for you," the king told his brother. "The straw knight jousts better than that one." (ACOK, Sansa I)

Now, he didn't die, but I still think that's the beginning of a fun little pattern.

Across the city, thousands had jammed into the Great Sept of Baelor on Visenya's Hill, and they would be singing too, their voices swelling out over the city, across the river, and up into the sky. Surely the gods must hear us, she thought. [...] ...toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him. later -> Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, [...] She had forgotten the other verses. When her voice trailed off, she feared he might kill her, but after a moment the Hound took the blade from her throat, never speaking. Some instinct made her lift her hand and cup his cheek with her fingers. The room was too dark for her to see him, but she could feel the stickiness of the blood, and a wetness that was not blood. "Little bird," he said once more, his voice raw and harsh as steel on stone. Then he rose from the bed. Sansa heard cloth ripping, followed by the softer sound of retreating footsteps. later -> "It's done! Done! Done! The city is saved. (ACOK, Sansa VII)

Twofer! The people are saved and the Hound's fury/assault ends in him weeping.

Not sure if we should count this one, she did want to kill Joffrey back in AGOT and she thinks about praying for Margaery's protection from him, but I can't remember a specific wish in ASOS:

Sansa followed unresisting. I could never abide the weeping of women, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan's stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true. Did I wish him dead? (ASOS, Sansa V)

Martin is even playing this game in TWOW!

This time her eyes met Harry's. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn't need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now. later -> “I hope you joust better than you talk.” For a moment he looked shocked. But as the song was ending, he burst into a laugh. “No one told me you were clever.” He has good teeth, she thought, straight and white. And when he smiles, he has the nicest dimples. She ran one finger down his cheek. “Should we ever wed, you’ll have to send Saffron back to her father. I’ll be all the spice you’ll want.” He grinned. “I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?” (TWOW, Alayne I)

The guy is charmed. Oops, I almost forgot the best example:

Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence. Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. "Life is not a song, sweetling," he'd told her. "You may learn that one day to your sorrow." In life, the monsters win, she told herself, and now it was the Hound's voice she heard, a cold rasp, metal on stone. "Save yourself some pain, girl, and give him what he wants." (AGOT, Sansa VI) later -> much later -> much much later -> Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at him. "Please, my lord. Mercy. I'll … I'll go, I will, I …" No, thought Jon. You closed that door. Longclaw descended. (ADWD, Jon II)

I understand that politically, it would be a mess for Cersie to blow it up a la the show, and she'd lose all support blah blah blah, but I think the Sept will burn. Maybe that's later during Dany's great kaboomb of KL, but I'd kinda hate it if it was burned as part of everything and didn't get singular focus. Martin so frequently references Ned's death on the steps of the Sept we have this feeling of it being a place of horror and great injustice, and I'd like it to be a real moment. I would find it rewarding if it was Cersei, because she’d unwittingly be carrying out a wish of Sansa’s, a form of justice for the Starks. Also, we have that whole scene of her being enraptured by the tower of the hand burning, she has her own trauma tied to the Sept now, and in her scene of shame, she sees Ned and Sansa, so it’s all very present even as late as ADWD. And we know Martin is prepping another wish coming true in TWOW:

👀👀👀 Regardless of when/how, I do think Sansa will get her wish regarding the Sept and Harry (although I’m sure that one will upset her, she’s very soft-hearted!)

Again, not because she's a witch, because of the author's interest in justice and also, part of his series long project of unwinding simplistic beliefs and notions to replace them with a much more complex truth. Not to say people are dumb to believe in the first place, but more of an examination of faith and how prayers being answered can be the mystical explanation for a something that someone does for us, or we might even do for ourselves. As in, it was Sansa's longstanding kindness to the Hound, the relationship she built with him as well as her treatment of him in the moment that saved her from him.

[spunsugarmusings]

Mun's Playlists Starter Sentences: Yandere Edition

From the mixed-up playlists of the creator of spunsugarmusings, here's a lyric starter meme based on the theme of yanderes. Trigger warnings for stalking, violence, kidnapping, murder, and blood. Change pronouns as necessary! Some of these songs DO contain gendered pronouns, and some have been edited for clarity!

"Sweetheart, please don't yell at me."

"It really isn't hard to see the truth that's rotting underneath."

Do you really think I'm out of line tonight?!"

"If you play my game, she might just make it out alive!"

"I'm not asking much, just give me your heart and put no one else above me."

"Go on, say you love me!"

"Without you my life means nothing!"

"I'll always see behind your smoke and mirrors."

"I know you love me deep inside."

"You're simply caught up in her lie, so I will cut you free myself."

"If you still won't accept it, you're gonna regret it!"

"I will devour your soul and make you wholly mine, so that you will belong to me for the rest of time."

"I want you to know that I only do this out of love."

"You're creepy when you're kind."

"You'd kill for me?"

"I'm a doll in your hands."

"You chucked me out like I was trash, for that you should be dead!"

"They're keeping you away from me!"

"They made you blind, messed up your mind, but I can set you free!"

"I was meant to be yours."

"You were meant to be mine! I am all that you need!"

"Sure you're scared, I've been there!"

"Please don't leave me alone. You were all I could trust "

"I'm a collector of beautiful things."

"I capture and keep them and pin down their wings."

"She will be my most precious prize."

"I have collected a beautiful dream."

"Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me."

"Laughing gas can be so much fun!"

"I just feel the need to be getting a little of you and a lot of bloodletting."

"This is no orthodox beheading!"

"I'm all out of hurt, you used up all I've got!"

"Everything you do, I'm obsessed with you."

"I don't mean to scare you, but you're just so cute!"

"I wanna cut you up and put you in my oven just to bake."

"I'd love to wipe these other bitches out so it's just you and me."

"The thought of caring for anyone makes me want to scream."

"Should I be scared?"

"You were comforting and quiet, how did love become so violent?"

"Everything was so sweet, until you tried to kill me."

"You never seem to notice when I follow you home."

"Just know I'm not the sinister type."

"I murdered half the town and left you love notes on their headstones."

"You die like angels sing."

"I want you stuffed into my mouth."

"But love, I'd never hurt you."

"I was born only to share my love with you."

"You are mine and we will never be apart!"

"Do anything, I won't refuse! Just to prove I love you more, don't you see?"

"I will burn in the flame every trace of her name!"

"I'll make you see, force you to be in love with me externally."

"Can't you see, you belong to me?"

"Goodness you're bleeding, what a wonderful feeling!"

"Tasting your blood means I love you!"

"Do you wanna let me tie you to the back of my Ferrari?"

"Will you let me cut your head off if I tell you that I'm sorry?"

"You're mine and I'm yours! If I'm sick, you're the cure!"

"I can't be sorry when her ending was overdue."

"Don't wanna come on strong, but babe, my patience is nearly gone."

"The only one worthy to be with you's me."

"When I'm done there won't be anybody left to stand between you and me."

"You'll be my local hero, you'll be my role model, and don't fail me now."

"I'm your biggest fan, it's so good to finally meet you!"

"Don't you think I deserve better after all that we've been through?"

"I will love you liked you died a martyr for me."

"Don't look so shocked, it's not the way I planned it!"

"Don't you fight back!"

"This'll hurt less if you just submit!"

"They don't know you, not like I do."

"One day you will learn to love me."

"One day you will thank me, you'll see."

"If I can't have you, no one can."

"Only you and I were meant to be forever."

"I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'd take your breath away."

"You speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes."

"My body aches to breathe your breath."

"Your words keep me alive!"

"Nothing stands between us here, and I won't be denied!"

"I've been thinking about you all the time, hope that's alright."

"My god, what a sight, to see you dancing around the room like you're alone!"

"I can't let you know, 'cause I need you so!"

"If you look into my eyes, you'll see the recipe is true!"

"The key ingredient is you!"

"Just remember, darling, through the years; you belong to me."

"Play along, they'll move onto somebody new."

"Save your complaints 'til they're gone and won't hear."

"You deserve your own picture frame."

"It would be a shame if you were to break."

"Formaldehyde ensures that you will stay the same."

"You used to fly so high, or was that just the lie?"

"Let's keep you safely locked away."

"Even if you run, I will find you."

"I decided I wanted you; now I know I need you."

"I couldn't help myself, I just took you."

"Better make yourself at home, you're here to stay!"

"Never leave my side."

[miquellah]

the other day i was thinking “huh yknow, araki REALLY like the trope of death fake-outs. but its not like he does it too much either lol” until i started thinking More and i was like ohhh. oh no. no as far as EYE know (parts 1-6), he really does it EVERY time

Part 1- dio death fakeout. like twice (beheaded then coffin. and the manor burning too i think, jesus)

Part 2- stroheim’s deal, then joseph showing up to his own funeral

Part 3- avdol that one time (this sucked tho). joseph fakeout again

Part 4- stray cat if you think about it. okuyasu

Part 5- bruno…… and then sort offff the whole chariot requiem thing

Part 6- foo fighters on that damn electric chair. and then sort of?? the souls reincarnating even when pucci said they wouldnt

if theres more examples past this DONT TELL ME!! SPOILERS. but also i think its very neat. and araki himself has this thing where he like… he plays story beats, where if this was an average american comic, it’d be overplayed and trite. characters coming back from the dead Just Because or parallel universes for the bullshit of it. but he (just about) always makes sure that he gets the bullshit plot beats like death fakeouts to stick, and even kind of evolves it.

i like ragging on araki every once in a while BUT… i think he is so cool

[darkbluekies]

What would your OC’s do if their s/o cheated on them

Warnings: cutting, carving name into skin, death, isolation, very toxic, unhealthy relationships, beheading, degradation

Silas:

Basement. Immediately. You've betrayed his trust and taken his rare love for granted. He'll feel stupid and want you to realize your mistake. He'll also not hesitate in getting rid of the person who managed to steal you away from him in the worst ways possible. From now on, you'll never see anyone else. At all.

"Now, Y/N. Don't you dare look away from me. You better get used to seeing my face from now on. It'll be the only living thing I'll allow you to see. You'll stay down here until you've learned your righteous place. I own you, I love you. And I'll make sure you understand that."

Dr Kry:

Since you're not a couple, you can't technically cheat on him. But he won't care. You're his and people should know that. Dr Kry can never blame you for stuff, you're not well! How can he put the blame on someone who doesn't even know what's best for themselves? The person he saw you kiss will be wiped off the earth one way or another and you'll get even more drugs and medication to keep you bed bound.

"If I'm mad? Why, of course I am. Why did you kiss that person? What do they have that I don't? I literally care for you 24/7! No one else even cares about you as much as I do. And this is how you repay me? Y/N, please. You don't understand how much this hurts me and I don't blame you for that. You're just naive. That's why I have to make sure you don't leave your bed. We can't let this happen again."

King Edmund:

Edmund is extremely hypocritical. If he wanted to, he could choose anyone to be with for the night, but he never does that because he loves you. You don't have that choice however and when you take that thing for granted to piss him off, all hell will break loose. People will be executed, he'll start war, he'll separate families and burn down cities.

"See what you made me do! Why do you let other people suffer thanks to you, Y/N? All you needed to do was to obey me. You promised to be loyal in our wedding vowels. Traitor. I'll make sure you never dare to cheat on me again. From now on, every person you glance at will get beheaded with a butter knife, got it?"

Jerry:

Her friends will have alerted her and she'll catch you right in the act. The moment the door swings open, Jerry will start to laugh. She doesn't know if it's out of shock or the fact that she now can punish you. Before you have the time to "explain", she'll have shot the other person dead and made her way over to you.

"My stupid, silly little bitch. You're really dumb, aren't you? Were you trying to make me jealous? Well, I don't get jealous, baby. I get territorial. And you're my property. I'm going to carve my name into every inch of your skin and force you to look at it every fucking day. Sooner or later that empty head of yours will get it."

Hedwig:

You can't keep anything secret from Hedwig. She knows everything. When you come over to her house one day she tells you that she has something for you in a tone that frightens you. Down in the basement, your fling is tied to a chair, gagged with a handkerchief and bruised all over. Hedwig’s sobs will bring you back to reality.

"You think I didn't know?! How could you, Y/N? I worship the ground you walk on. Isn't that enough for you? What do you want me to do? How could you do this to me? I could give you everything you ever wanted. This is not fair. But don't worry. We're not breaking up. I'm giving you another chance. I'm sure we can repair our relationship. I love you so much, honey. If you do this again, I'll have no other choice but to keep you locked in my room. If you don't want that, you better keep all of your attention on me."

[random-blep]

genshin character head canons but it's only the characters I wanna talk about

Kaeya: he definitely has like muscle, but he's very good as dressing himself in a way that still gives him that figure. Also I think Kaeya has curly hair and for a while to fit in he straightened it causing a lot of hair damage. Personally I think of hoyo wasn't a coward his skin would be a lot darker, like no longer are the days where it looks like he just went to the mall for a tan. Secretly has a feral survival mode in his brain and if it is triggered there will be bloodshed.

Diluc: personally I enjoy his body type on game but ever since I have seen dad bod Diluc and I mean like the dad bod that has muscles not the beer gut dad bod I have been in love. I live for him having really unruly hair, like it takes dedication every morning to make him stop looking like a feral man. Another man that always knows how to dress to impress. I think he's pale as hell cause he cannot tan because all he does is burn. Ragnvindr genes may be strong but that does not mean their eyesight is, man's should be wearing glasses but refuses because then he would be any stereotypical guy pretending to not be a secret vigilante/hero/antihero. Jk they're just uncomfortable to him and annoying cause Kaeya teases him about his thick glasses then. Always ready to spill blood, just give him a reason and a target and he is doing it.

Fischl: personally I don't think of her much but I would enjoy her much more if she was shown more nerdy. Yes I saw that summer island thing where she fought her shadow self but I'm talking I wanna see her carrying a sketchbook or journal , I think her outfits should be less revealing and more covering. She needs to rock more of either a goth or alt style to fit her persona more. Also I think she might be one of the characters that would be pretty good if she was a little chubby.

Kazuha: somehow he is your adopted son, your emotional support little guy, and the plug all at once. I enjoy him very much. I know little about him but I feel like he is albino and I feel like his other senses are more heightened because his vision isn't the greatest so his other senses picked up the slack for him. That red streak in his hair is either a weird genetic anomaly for his bloodline or it's just a dyed streak. I'm leaning on the dyed aspect and each member of the Kaedehara family dyes a streak of their hair at some point. I heard this one head canon once and I love it, Kazuha used to have longer hair but as a criminal who was scheduled for execution his hair was cut short so it wouldn't get in the way when he would be beheaded and now he doesn't let it grow out because seeing himself with longer hair is hard because it reminds himself of his dead friend.

Thoma: listen yes he has basically become a house husband in a way. I do believe he does have lots of muscles under his uniform, he trains a lot and idk if you know this but house work is hard. This man is a people pleaser but he also believes sometimes you gotta learn things the hard way. I have no idea when Thoma came to Inazuma but I genuinely did see him and Diluc as friends when they were younger before he came to Inazuma. The whole blockage of Inazuma off from the rest of the world made sending letters home to his friends difficult but Thoma always found a way to make sure his letters made it on a ship. 100% believe when he got his vision Diluc was the first person to receive a letter with the news because they now had matching pyro visions.

Wanderer: he is small and thin and I can see him having no problem fitting in a box. I think he had long hair and kept his hair long until the fatui got their hands on him. They cut that away. Also think modifications added to him were basically torture but also I hold no doubts Dottore messed around with whatever stuff he's got inside of him. Added stuff removed stuff, all to see what would happened. And when his powers were unlocked he struggled with suppressing those cause he never had to do that before. I feel like I'm some ways he's super human like but there's just a few things that are odd about him. Like technically doesn't need to breathe, doesn't produce spit at all, isn't sure what's painful and how much pain he's supposed to deal with on his own or get medical attention for same with wounds, can dream but when he doesn't he is just in an unconscious void like he can think fully and he hates when it happens cause it's like he's floating in nothing. Also man has to have maintenance on his ball joints regularly so they don't get fucked up and he could totally remove a limb at any time. Funniest thing he ever did was slap childe with his own hand in place of slapping him with a glove.

Xiao: this guy right here. I feel like he either cuts his hair himself and doesn't look in a mirror or like he does it on impulse cause it's too long and in his way and Zhongli sees it later and is like "do you need help fixing your hair?" Cause it's not a great hair cut. I feel like Xiao had long hair once and now he never wants it again. This man could have so many talents if he let himself enjoy things like hobbies. Can drink alcohol but probably only ever does it in social situations and by that I mean he's with exactly one person and he trusts them and likes their company. Like all adepti, he can use powers without a vision, he only has his cause celestia was like "here" but he didn't even notice it and only keeps it on his person since he prefers to have a human form. He is the shortest anemo boy just barely being beaten out by the most precise tool to measure height in genshin. Having them stand in water and see who stands and who swims.

[erstwhilesparrow]

i've been sort of on-and-off poking at scott and pearl in double life for months and months now, and it keeps itching at me that i... can't totally make them work. like, there IS a pretty clear narrative right there: pearl goes off with martyn to the nether, scott is irritated / hurt by her not being around while he's taking all this inexplicable damage, there are attempts both at reconciliation and at further alienation, and all of those attempts fail. they die. such is the death game.

and this is fine? but i think... i haven't seen last life, and despite my best efforts to take double life as Its Own Thing Separate From Everything Else, it feels like there is Something Missing. grian says in his first last life episode something to the effect of "this is all new, what happened last season doesn't count or matter anymore, each of these seasons is standalone" and it just isn't. like, i appreciate the effort, really, but it so is not!

let's talk about martyn? the thing i am particularly thinking about: i watched double life first, limited life next, and then most recently third life. there was a good number of months before i saw third life where i was sitting with the limited life finale going, "??????" about it. it all... kind of almost made sense in exactly the same way that scott + pearl kind of almost made sense. it felt like trying to grab handfuls of sand. there's stuff on the screen martyn is responding to that i get and tracks, but there's also a bunch of stuff that's never on screen in that season that nevertheless is really important to making sense of him and his actions. ren's absence was deeply important! knowing that martyn was Like That in third life was deeply important! martyn was! actively bewildering to me! until i watched third life!

granted, martyn specifically is also kind of dead-set on making the seasons connect, but there are smaller examples. desertduo in double life doesn't work without desertduo in third life. bigb and ren's falling out immediately becomes a richer thing when you know about Blue Sword Boys and Renchanting. i don't think i would have been nearly as compelled by pearl and bigb in limited life if i didn't know about pearl's isolation and bigb's Whatever The Fuck That Couples' Counselling Bit Was in double life, and i'm sure that alliance will become more compelling when i watch last life!!

and so i am arriving at the realization that i have stumbled into a reading of scott + pearl that has this. bizarre gaping hole in the middle of their relationship that i don't know anything about. i am constantly writing and thinking around this gap, and it resists being filled in because The Thing That Happened Is Right There. there is a thing that happened and they know about it but i don't. it is for sure A Flavour of relationship, to have The Thing We Cannot Talk About pulling things into its gravitational well at all times, but it's super interesting to me that it only exists because [i watched the series weird, the series and its medium is Like That enough that i could watch it weird and have it feel like a fine and valid choice that opened up interesting considerations other people didn't get to have, the push and pull between creator and audience where 'makes sense on its own' and 'calls back to previous significant events' need to be balanced For The Content]? that's just. really neat to me.

other people have said this with both fewer and more interesting words, but it's SUCH one of my favourite things about this medium and in particular about the traffic series that even though everyone has kind of have the same touchpoints (i knew about the beheading and the cactus ring WELL before actually watching third life! we all know how limited life ended! "that time the ranchers' house got burned down" and "that time there was a warden on the surface" are phrases that have meaning!) there is also Participation In The Creation Of Story in the sense that who you watch and in what order creates a different story for you than it does for someone else who watches different people in a different order!

i think. i have thought / talked a lot about how audience in mcyt spaces are Really Significantly Part Of The Storytelling before, but it's been about, like, stream chat interactions, or theories on social media being seen by the creators and made true, or the awareness on the creators' end of Having An Audience They Must Tell Stories For. but it's fun to me that it's this, also?

the traffic series is... a closed box, in the sense that you know when you watch it that (1) there were three hours worth of recording that happened for that session, during which time Things Occurred, and (2) that whatever you see uploaded on youtube is in fact The Whole Thing This Particular Creator Deemed Worth Sharing. there's nothing outside those three hours. if all you care about is one person's pov, there's nothing outside those uploaded videos you need to worry about.

but there IS a box and there ARE other things in it, and you can put together such fascinating pictures of What's Going On but you're never going to have the entirety of it, the Everything In The Box, only Many Things In The Box Held At A Certain Angle. and that's a story! one of many! and you can just do that! you did that by watching it the way you did! isn't that so fucking cool?