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grandline-fics · 6 months ago

Note

I love love loooooove your work! If I may, I'd love to request a little friends to lovers scenario with Ace ❤️‍🔥 perhaps with a bit of meddling from the crew, perhaps with a hint of a drinking game/drunken flirting? No matter what, I'm sure I'll love whatever you write as much as I've loved everything else so far 🥰 Hope you have a wonderful day!

DESCRIPTION: Tired of you being 'just friends' some of the crew decide to interfere to get you both together

WARNINGS: Nothing, just the fluff that comes with the friends-to-lovers prompt

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,590

A/N: I honestly don't know where I was going with this half the time but I really hope it's to your liking and fits what you were looking for. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

From the day you and Ace met on the deck of the Moby Dick, your friendship was instantaneous and unshakable. After a week the crew had made bets on when you two would finally get together. Sadly for all of them, they were all unable to cash in on their guesses because still after all this time the two of you had yet to see the obvious. As far as you and Ace were considered the two of you were best friends and absolutely failed to see how utterly perfect you both were for the other. It was infuriating for the crew to see both you and Ace hook up with people on evenings the ship docked at an island. It annoyed them even more so to see that neither you or Ace would become in anyway jealous of those evenings. It wasn’t long before a new bet began to circulate around the crew about how long it would take for you and Ace to finally see what everyone else saw. Some were beginning to believe it was a lost cause for you both. Others however weren’t going to let that happen.

One evening you were sat on the railing of the ship, your back against Ace’s side with your head relaxed against his shoulder as you stared out at the ocean. This was your usual spot with Ace, one neither of you questioning how intimate it seemed as to the both of you it was just comfortable. Besides Ace was a naturally affectionate person so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do this with anyone in the crew, it was just coincidence that you were the one he sought out most of all because you two were practically joined at the hip. Keeping your eyes on the calm waves you wordlessly took the slice of apple as it was being held out to you on the tip of Ace’s knife. As you finished chewing, the ship hit a rogue swell of the wave and lurched forward. Because you weren’t expecting it you tumbled forward, almost being knocked overboard. Thankfully you were saved by Ace’s arm bracing around your waist and pulling you back to safety.

“My hero.” You grinned up at Ace playfully, swooning fully into his arms as his laughs joined yours. Your moment together was interrupted when Marco called for Ace. You yelped when he adjusted his hold on you and hauled you up onto his shoulder as he stood on the railing before jumping down onto the deck. Ace approached Marco who stared at you both with a practiced neutral expression. He was one of the members of the crew who was waiting for you and Ace to get together. This arrangement wasn’t anything new for Marco so he brought Ace into a conversation about the individual Division tasks needed to be done when they docked at the next island. Through it all you merely continued to be draped on Ace’s shoulder, enjoying being carried about the place. Just as you were getting comfortable in the position Izou called your name. With a sigh you expertly disentangled yourself from Ace’s hold while Ace also helped you back onto your feet, maintaining eye contact and his conversation with Marco through it all, his actions practically as natural as breathing. The sickening display of synchronicity only furthered Marco’s resolve that enough was enough.

“Um, excuse me?” Izou and Marco turned to see a woman approach them not long after they all settled into the tavern. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself but that man over there. Is he single or is he-” She moved to love over her shoulder at Ace but stopped when she saw you were now at his table, pulled onto his lap due to a lack of seats. “Oh…never mind. They’re a cute couple.” Together Marco and Izou shared a look and grinned.

“This next round is on the house in honour of the newlyweds!” A voice shouted out from the bar. You and Ace cheered out with the entire bar at the prospect of free drinks, looking up in happiness in hopes of seeing who the married couple were but you couldn’t see them. It was a large building and already filled with groups. When Marco and Izou appeared with the drinks you sat forward in Ace’s lap to reach for your mug only to be stopped when Marco leant in to you both. “Thanks for the free drink you two-yoi.” He grinned before taking his seat.

“Wait…what?” You laughed out slightly, glancing over your shoulder to see the bar owner smiling at you and Ace. Quickly you forced yourself to smile back and quickly turn your head back to Marco while Ace looked just as bewildered. “What made him think we were married?”

“That’d be my doing.” Izou answered smoothly, hiding his disbelief that even with you literally in Ace’s lap with his arm around your waist that either of you would find someone believing you two to be a couple to be confusing. “Marco bet me that I couldn’t wrangle free drinks from the barman and well, who can resist a couple of newlyweds?”

The lie came from the Division Commander so cleanly and with such ease that you and Ace couldn’t even find anything in his demeanour to make you doubt his words. Together you and Ace shared a look, momentarily tense as you now really noticed your seating arrangement. Unable to help himself, Izou added more fuel to the fire. “I hope you two can convince him you’re actually a couple otherwise we could find ourselves in trouble. Remember we promised Pops we’d be on our best behaviour tonight.”

“Please,” you scoffed leaning back to settled against Ace’s chest and reached back to lightly cup Ace’s jaw while Ace tightened his hold around you, leaning into your touch. The both of your met Izou’s stare with mirrored confident smirks, never backing down from a dare. “There’s no way he’ll doubt us. Right sweetheart?”

“You got that right babe.” He chuckled before quickly pecking a kiss against your cheek making you laugh. Grinning, Ace placed another kiss against your cheek to draw another laugh out of you, finding this game to be enjoyable. He paused however when someone started to chant ‘Kiss’ at you both, drawing more and more voices into the chant until it was all you two could hear.

Clearing your throat you turned in Ace’s hold until you were properly facing him, your hand remaining against his jaw while your other hand settled on his shoulder. You both met each other’s stare evenly and filled with trust and playfulness. To you both this was just a skilful ruse to avoid the owner of the bar from getting suspicious that you were both merely friends. Leaning in you let your breath ghost over his lips for just another brief enticing moment before the distance was closed and your lips met to the sound of whooping and whistles of the excited patrons. Not that either you or Ace were paying attention to the outside noise.

All you two could focus on was the magnetic pull of each other, the kiss too dizzying and intoxicating to just stop right away but slowly and reluctantly you both parted. Sheepishly you both smiled at the other, eyes flickering down to the lips you couldn’t help but want to taste again. Both you and Ace didn’t truly know what to make of what had just happened but you knew something certainly had happened. Something that while it had been started because of a silly game, was something very real. Smiling softly, you turned in his hold to grab your drink and pass Ace his too, settling against him once more. Regardless of the kiss you felt no different in his arms, it still felt like security and home. A small smile played on your lips as you felt Ace’s hand remain on your hip and let his cheek rest against your head, showing he too didn’t feel uncomfortable with what just happened.

When the crew began to scatter about the bar you felt Ace’s nose lightly nudge your cheek to get your attention and you turned your head slightly to meet his stare. Even with the alcohol in his system he still held a bright sharpness in his gaze. “I don’t know about you but that was one of the best kisses of my life…”

“Well it’s because of my kisses that you proposed, surely?” You teased before settling your hand on his arm that kept you anchored against him. “But seriously…yeah. One hell of a kiss.”

“I feel like if I ask for another it definitely wouldn’t be because we need to convince someone we’re together. It’ll be because I want us to be together.”

“So we’d have gotten married first, had our first kiss second, and now start dating third? A pretty weird order to do things.” You laughed, sitting up to wrap your arms around Ace’s neck and let your lips inch closer to his. “But you know what? It doesn’t feel weird at all.”

Ace nodded in agreement before eagerly closing the space against you once more to kiss you insistently and more heated than the previous kiss.

Against the bar, Marco slid the large bundle of money over to the bar owner to cover the round of drinks that had been claimed as ‘free.’ “Worth every penny-yoi.”

------------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

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sefusneezed · 1 year ago

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INEPTUS MECHANICUS

Synopsis

Within the frigid cities of the forge-world Ineptus Anser, Manufactorium workers toil to death to create medical equipment and mass-produce medicines. In the dark alleyways hide gangs of scavengers, ready to pounce on unsuspecting Tech-Priests and tear their bionics from their remaining flesh. Thousands freeze throughout the night, unable to secure shelter to protect them from the bitter cold.

But all of these are 'poor people problems' to Katrumarius. As the narcissistic and airheaded nepotism baby of the forge-world's Archmagos, she already has the title of Metasurgeon despite her young age, and her borderline-heretical experiments result in nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Her war criminal Tech-Marine friend Lyrane, supposedly tasked with learning from the forge-world's tech-adepts, gets stuck going along with Katrumarius's genetor shenanigans.

---

Character Refs

COMICS DIRECTORY:

La Creatura

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five (WIP)

SHORT ONE-OFFS

Old Men

Pickle Kat

Skit Plushie Fucking Dies

Epic Noosphere Gif

Father Daughter Bonding Experience!!! Gah!! Scary !!

Lyrane Gets Smacked

Kalanis Commits Insurance Fraud

Custom Mouse Cursor

ROGUE SKITARII OCS

Chocolate Milk Guys

Angry Birds

#myart #warhammer40k #ineptus mechanicus #webcomic #wh40k #adeptus mechanicus #tech priest #tech priest oc #warhammer40kart #genetor oc #katrumarius #lyrane #space marines #warhammer 40k #my ass put too much effort into my goofy one off genetor thing what sort of new autism brainrot have I acquired

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Also preserved on our archive

By Jasmin Fox-Skelly

Microglia are the brain's resident immune cells. Their job is to patrol the brain's blood vessels looking for invading pathogens to gobble up. But what happens when they go rogue?

Historically they've been overlooked – seen as simple foot soldiers of the immune system. Yet increasingly, scientists believe that microglia may have a more directorial role, controlling phenomenon from addiction to pain. Some believe they may even play a key role in conditions such as Alzheimer's disease, depression, anxiety, long Covid, and myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME), also known as chronic fatigue syndrome.

But what exactly are microglia?

There are two types of cells that make up the brain. Neurons, also known as nerve cells, are the brain's messengers, sending information all over the body via electrical impulses. The other type – glia – make up the rest. Microglia are the smallest member of the glia family and account for about 10% of all brain cells. The small cells have a central oval-shaped "body" from which slender tendril-like arms emerge.

"They have a lot of branches that they are continually moving around to survey their environment," says Paolo d'Errico, a neuroscientist at the University of Freiburg, Germany. "In normal conditions they extend and retract these processes in order to sense what is happening around them."

When performing well, microglia are essential to healthy brain function. During our early years, they control how our brain develops by pruning unnecessary synaptic connections between neurons. They influence which cells turn into neurons, and repair and maintain myelin – a protective layer of insulation encasing neurons, without which transmission of electrical impulses would be impossible.

Their role doesn't stop there. Throughout our lifetimes, microglia protect our brains from infection by seeking out and destroying bacteria and viruses. They clean up debris that accumulates between nerve cells, and root out and destroy toxic misshapen proteins such as amyloid plaques – the clumps of proteins thought to play a role in the progression of Alzheimer's disease.

Yet in certain circumstances they can go rogue.

"There's two sides to microglia – a good side and a bad side," says Linda Watkins, a neuroscientist at the University of Colorado Boulder.

"They survey for problems, looking for unusual neural activity and damage. They're on the watch for any kind of problems within the brain, but when they get super excited, they turn from being the vigilant good guys to the pathological bad ones."

"Out-of-control microglia are now thought to be behind a variety of modern diseases and conditions."

What makes them go rogue? When microglia sense that there is something wrong in the brain, such as an infection, or a large presence of amyloid plaques, they switch into a super-reactive state.

"They become much larger, almost like big balloons, and they pull in their appendages and start moving around, munching up damage like little Pac-Mans," says Watkins.

Activated microglia also release substances known as inflammatory cytokines, which serve as a beacon, calling other immune cells and microglia to action. Such a response is necessary to help the body fight off invaders and threats. Usually after a certain amount of time, microglia revert back to their "good" status.

However, it appears sometimes microglia can stay in this super-excited state long after the infectious agent has disappeared. These out-of-control microglia are now thought to be behind a variety of modern diseases and conditions.

Take addiction. This condition has historically been viewed as a disorder of the dopamine neurotransmitter system, with imbalances of dopamine being to blame for sufferers' increasingly drug-focused behaviour.

But Watkins has a different theory. In a recent academic article, Watkins and scientists from the Chinese Academy of Sciences argue that when a person takes a drug, their microglia see the substance as a foreign "invader".

"What we found out through our own research, was that a variety of opiates activate microglial cells, and they do so at least in part through what's called the 'toll like receptor' (TLR)," says Watkins.

"Toll like receptors are very ancient receptors designed to recognise foreign objects. They're supposed to be there to detect fungi, bacteria and viruses. They're the 'not me, not right, not okay' receptors."

When microglia detect drugs such as opiates, cocaine or methamphetamine they release cytokines, which causes the neurons that are active at the time of drug-taking to become more excitable. Crucially, this leads to new and stronger connections between the neurons being formed, and more dopamine being released – strengthening the desire and craving for drugs. The microglia change the very architecture of the brain's neurons, leading to drug-taking habits that can last a lifetime.

The evidence to support this theory is compelling. For one, drug abusers have raised inflammation and inflammatory cytokines in the brain. Reducing inflammation in animals also reduces drug-seeking behaviour. Watkin's team has also shown that you can stop mice from continually seeking out drugs like cocaine by blocking the TLR receptor and preventing microglial activation.

With ageing, glial cells become more and more primed and ready to over respond as the years go by – Linda Watkins Microglia could play an important role in chronic pain too, defined as pain that lasts longer than 12 weeks. Watkins' laboratory has shown that after an injury, microglia in the spinal cord become activated, releasing inflammatory cytokines that sensitise pain neurons.

"If you block the activation of the microglia or their pro-inflammatory products, then you block the pain," says Watkins.

According to Watkins, microglia could even explain another phenomenon; why elderly people experience a sharp decline in their cognitive abilities following a surgery or infection. The surgery or infection serves as a first hit which "primes" microglia, making them more likely to adopt their bad guy status. Following surgery, patients are often given opioids as pain relief, which unfortunately activates microglia again, causing an inflammation storm that eventually causes the destruction of neurons.

The field of research is in its infancy, so these early findings should be treated cautiously, but studies have shown that you can prevent post-surgery memory decline in mice by blocking their microglia.

"If I walk up to you and, without any forewarning whatsoever, slap you across the face, I get away with it the first time. But you don't let me get away with it the second time because you're primed, you're ready, you're on guard," says Watkins.

"Glial cells are the same way. With ageing, glial cells become more and more primed and ready to over respond as the years go by. And so now that they're in this prime state, a second challenge like surgery makes them explode into action so much stronger than before. Then you get opioids, which are a third hit."

This "priming" of microglia could even be behind Alzheimer's disease (AD). The main risk factor for AD is age, and if microglia become more ready to respond as we get older, it could be a factor. At the same time, one of the main hallmarks of AD is the build-up of clumps of amyloid protein in the brain. This process begins decades before symptoms of confusion and memory loss become detectable. One of microglia's jobs is to hunt down and remove theses plaques, so it's possible that over time, repeated activation causes microglia to permanently switch into rogue mode.

"The accumulation in the brain of amyloid induce microglia to became more reactive," says D'Errico.

We found that microglia are able to internalise the amyloid protein, and then move to another region before releasing it again – Paolo d'Errico "They start to release all these inflammatory signals, but the point is that since these amyloid plaques continue to be produced, there is constant chronic inflammation that never stops. This is really toxic for neurons."

Chronically activated microglia can engulf and kill neurons directly, release toxic reactive species that damage them, or start "over-pruning" synapses, destroying the connection between nerve cells. All these processes could ultimately lead to the confusion, loss of memory, and loss of cognitive function that characterises the disease.

In a 2021 study, d'Errico even found that microglia can contribute to the spread of Alzheimer's disease by transporting the toxic amyloid plaques around the brain.

"In the early stages of Alzheimer's there are particular regions in the brain that seem to accumulate plaques, such as the cortex, the hippocampus, and the olfactory bulb," says d'Errico.

"In the later stages of the disease there are many more regions that are affected. We found that microglia are able to internalise the amyloid protein, and then move to another region before releasing it again."

Some of the symptoms of Alzheimer's, such as forgetfulness and loss of cognitive function, are similar to those suffering from long Covid, and it's possible that errant microglia could be behind "brain fog" too. For example, one of the main factors that cause microglia to turn rogue is the presence of a viral infection.

"Abnormally activated microglia may start over pruning of synapses in the brain, and this may lead to cognitive decline, memory loss, and all those symptoms related to the brain fog syndrome," says Claudio Alberto Serfaty, a neurobiologist at the Federal Fluminense University, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, who summarised the evidence for this theory in a recent review article.

The hope is that this new way of thinking will eventually lead to new treatments.

For example, clinical trials for new Alzheimer's drugs are currently underway that aim to boost microglia's capacity to destroy amyloid. However, as with all Alzheimer's drugs, such a strategy would work best in the early stages of the disease, before significant neural death has occurred.

For addiction, one idea is to swap the errant microglia that have gone wrong with the "normal" microglia that are present in the brains of non-drug takers. This concept, known as microglia replacement, involves grafting microglia into the specific brain regions by bone marrow transplantation.

However, such an approach would prove difficult. After all, active microglia are necessary to fight off infections; in fact, they're vital for brain function.

"In theory, yes it could work, but keep in mind that you don't want to disrupt microglia all over your brain, it would need to be localised," says Watkins. "Microinjecting microglia into specific brain areas would be very invasive. So, I think we need to look for something that's safe for that kind of a treatment."

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator

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sehtoast · 1 year ago

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Gentle Giant (Homelander x Reader)

1k | g/t, fluff, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader | Fic Directory

For @homelanderbutbig bc they spoil us with their 8ft tall cinnamon roll. highly recommend them if you enjoy big homelander!

As a man already larger than life, one would think Homelander would adjust well to suddenly being that way in the literal sense. One blast of energy from a rogue supe suddenly had him standing eight feet tall and finding that the world, which was already unequipped to handle him before, was far too small to accommodate him now. At least his suit had also grown in the blast.

He had hoped it would be temporary. Maybe he would shrink up, finally fit between doorways again. Be able to lay on the couch or in bed without half his body dangling over, but such was not the case. After a full month went by, he gave up hope.

He was just going to have to be big now.

That didn't stop him from still getting down on himself. If people looked at him as a horror before, they did so even more now that he was gargantuan. The once metaphorical ants to him were now literal.

But it got to him.

Day in and out, seeing those fearful expressions… all the judgment. It ate at him. Standing before his now ten foot tall mirror, he would unleash a tirade of self deprecating thoughts and insults. His hands were too big to hold, lips too big to kiss, body too big for even a fucking hug.

His dreams of a house with a white picket fence and a happy, normal life were dashed entirely. He would never be normal. Not only was he always going to be Vought's plaything, but he was cursed to forever be a fucking circus act giant.

What more could life take from him? Must he always be robbed of peace?

The answer was yes. That is, until you came along.

A new hire. His new assistant.

Your job was to do what he no longer could. Anything too small for his massive hands was your responsibility on top of a normal assistant's duties. Schedule his meetings, coordinate his day, get him whatever he wants. You made the world as normal as possible for him.

It didn’t take long at all for him to get attached.

Your comparatively short stature became endearing to him beyond words. The way you’d trail after him, help him, stick up for him… He adored you. You were the first of his assistants to not bail in the first month, and the fact you stuck around for even longer left him nothing short of amazed.

He really wishes you wouldn’t have just barged in. But why wouldn’t you? You knew you were safe with him. You knew you were allowed unlimited access to his space. Other than just flat out kissing you, he’s practically already professed his love with how much leniency he’s given you with what’s his.

“Are you okay?”

His head practically whips over to the side. He never heard you enter, never saw you in the reflection. How much had you heard? God, what you must think…

“Homelander..?”

He stands there stunned and still. He was supposed to be your gentle giant. He wanted you to think he was nice, he was sweet, he was good, he was–

“Hey,” you coo, approaching him. You take one of his big, gloved hands in yours and look up at him so sweetly. “C’mon, big guy.” You say, gently tugging him toward the oversized couch.

He follows without an ounce of resistance, a little enchanted at how big guy sounds so much better when you say it. It doesn’t stink of the same disapproval when the others call him that.

When he sits beside you, he’s unsure of what to do next. When he was smaller– normal– he would lay his head in Madelyn’s lap. He wishes he could do that with you. How your hands might feel running through his undercut, the sight of your smile, the twinkle in your eyes… He wishes he could find it in himself to just take what he wants. But not with you.

He wants you to want it just as much as he does.

You’re so sweet as you coax his worries from him. His confession starts as a mumble, eyes cast to the floor lest he see a hint of amusement at his suffering. He knows you never would, but there’s still a part of him that fears that same old thing that always happens. He’s baited with affection, hooked, then cast out when he’s either too much or they get bored.

“You’re not too big,” you tell him. “But I understand.”

Your hand pats his and he grasps it without a second thought. It looks so small compared to his and he finds that he likes that. In one hand, he has the power to shield you from the world. He could wrap you in an embrace and protect you from anything.

Whatever words he thinks he could say are stuck in his throat, lips parted to release what won’t come out. Instead, he reaches over and lifts you effortlessly, resting you in his lap. He hugs you as gently as physically possible. He’s terrified of hurting you, especially now that he’s so big. One hand at your waist, the other splaying against the back of your head.

Your arms wrap gingerly around him– well, as much as they can given his stature. But you do something else that strikes his heart and brings tears to his eyes. You mimic his hold.

Your hand wanders into the taper of his undercut and you let your fingers dance in the softness.

“See?” You ask. “Not too big. I can hug you just fine.” You squeeze a little tighter for emphasis. “Not scary, either.”

He huffs a soft chuckle against your shoulder at that. At least someone didn’t think so. Probably the most important person.

He held you like that for some time. He didn’t want to let go and you never moved away. Your fingers continued dancing at the nape of his neck, moving up to thread through his undercut with a tenderness he swears he’s never felt before. You make him feel normal. You make him feel good. Peaceful, even.

Your smiles and contented breaths tell him that he does the same for you. When you eventually doze off, his heart clenches with something so warm and pure that he swears he could cry. He’d never admit that a few tears did find their way out. Well, maybe he’d admit it to you.

After all, you make his heart sing.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #g/t #antony starr #the boys

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troutclan · 17 days ago

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| WELCOME TO TROUTCLAN! (WE HAVE FISH!!!) |

"We have fish :)" — Silverstar, probably

🔷 START HERE!! 🔷

🐟 ALLEGIANCES 🐟

0 Moons (Founding Members) | 25 Moons (soon...)

🐟 TAGS DIRECTORY 🐟

#troutc moons — the moon tracker! #troutc art — all TroutClan-related art #troutc fics — written short stories featuring the TroutClan cats #troutc lore — any form of media (drawings, writings, etc) about TroutClan that happens outside of or behind the scenes of the moon updates #troutc memes — all TroutClan memes (includes drawings, incorrect quotes, and more) #troutc sprites — all of my designs are heavily stylized, so some people may wanna see how their in-game sprites look! #troutc asks — answered asks, for me and/or the TroutClan characters! #troutc updates — any updates related to the progress of TroutClan, which may include art wips, moon wips, in-game happenings, etc.

TroutClan Introduction below!

Silverwatcher formed many friendships throughout her youth as a wandering rogue. She kept the tradition of her Clan ancestry alive: by forming a Clan with her friends! They went on many whacky adventures, getting into trouble with Twolegs, even outsmarted a pack of wolves! But when most of them became senior warriors, with three friends called the Tricky Three joining them soon after (Violetkit, Tempestkit, and Flykit), Silverwatcher decided "all this traveling is fun, but let's find a permanent home to settle down & think about our future".

...And thus TroutClan became official! Once they settled into their camp, this was when Shiveringpaw (a RiverClan apprentice from seasons ago) met Silverwatcher in her dream, guiding her to the Moonshore, their source to StarClan, to receive her nine lives.

#pinned #troutclan #troutc updates #clangen

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sunvmars · 1 year ago

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｡･ﾟ･ღ¸.✻´ fic masterlist `✻.¸ღ･ﾟ･｡

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | old masterlist

-updated: 01/15/24

-writing and taking requests for marvel, bullet train, the gray man, stranger things

✮ smut | ♡ fluff | ❄ angst | ❀ general romance | ☽ misc.

Bucky Barnes

one-shots:

stars around my scars ♡ ❀

during a day off, you and bucky reminisce about how you met and your past experiences.

sunshine ♡ ❀

you and bucky host a get-together for the team, an expected surprise causes you to confide in steve.

you showed me how ♡ ❀

bucky was never one for love, unsure he was even capable of it- but then there’s you.

Steve Rogers

one-shots:

tangled ♡ ✮

(archived for revision)

honeybee ♡ ✮ ❀

steve knows everything about you, his best friend, and he strives to make you happy. you make the first move and steve wants to learn how to please you in other ways.

sunday morning ♡ ❀

a rainy day ruins your date plans, so steve brings the date to you.

if i could give you the moon ♡ ✮ ❄ ☽

your relationship with steve is nothing more than a string of lies and promises in a hearty affair.

only you ♡ ❀ ❄ ☽

on a night out with the team, only shortly after you and steve’s breakup, you end up drinking a little too much and refuse to go home with anyone but steve.

afterglow

06/20/24-06/27/24

a quiet hue ♡ ❀

you meet steve during a creative block, and he eases you out of it.

two-shots:

01. fireworks ❀

everyone but you and steve realize you like each other.

02. sparks ♡ ✮ ❀

just steve fulfilling his craving of you.

01. a quiet hue ♡ ❀ ☽

during an extreme case of art block, you meet steve on your apartment's rooftop. he helps cure your blocked creative flow, and sparks something else along the way.

02. a brighter hue ♡ ✮ ❀

you and steve go on a date, deepening your connection in ways you couldn't have even dreamed of. (01/20/24-01/25/24)

wip series:

bitter sweet series you've grown to resent steve after he breaks up with you and you give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news. he tells you the real reason for his leaving forcing both of you to work together and cooperate. will things go back to how they were, or is it forever unfixable?

01. bitter sweet ❄

02. sour ♡ ❄

03. tart ❄

04. citrus ♡ ❄

05. sickeningly sweet ❀ ♡

06-1. as sweet as cake ♡ ✮ ❀

06. fresh start ♡ ❀ ☽

rogue series

01. rogue

timeweaver (mini-series)

01. coming soon

Wade Wilson

one-shots:

i love you, wade wilson ♡ ❀

a simple, lazy weekend with wade. (coming soon)

Billy Hargrove

one-shots:

remember ❄ ♡ ❀

billy's first and only love returns

you're so good ♡ ✮ ❄

you and billy connect, forming a close bond.

Steve Harrington

one-shots:

i missed you ♡

{steve confesses after nancy leaves}

Tangerine

one-shots:

kyoto ✮ ❀

tan stumbles (literally) upon you on the way to kyoto

Ladybug

coming soon

Six/Court Gentry

coming soon

Lloyd Hansen

coming soon

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weclassybouquetfun · 10 months ago

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What an achievement for Dev Patel.

MONKEY MAN is lit, it's fire, it's bananas

it's a wild action, vibrant, brutal action flick that is right up there with the best of the best.

It's very easy to compare it to the JOHN WICK film (the JOHN WICK stunt team was to do the fight choreography but in one of the multitudes of bad luck that happened to the film during production namely Covid 19, but including the studio going bankrupt, Patel's gaffer dying from a heart attack, losing the location he scouted for four to five months, having to move the shoot from India to Indonesia, thus losing much of the production team and their equipment and Patel breaking his hand on his very first stunt, and injuring his foot when a stuntman stepped on it) Patel lost the stunt team), and while Patel has said his influences were bombastic Bollywood action films and Korean revenge films; for me, not as versed in those films, an easy reference is THE RAID. So if you like that brand of action, you would love MONKEY MAN.

What I especially loved is that after the first act the action levels out, which is great because when it is incessant (as I found JOHN WICK 4), it's mind-numbing, so with act two, you get breathing room and a deeper dive into the story and it gives more depth to the film.

-Dev Patel is just one of the many SKINS cast members who are having a moment. What are some of the others up to?

-Jacob Anderson was in only one SKINS episode but he has remained in the fold somehow.

He even invited the gang to his wedding.

and was on GAME OF THRONES with Joe Dempsie and Hannah Murray.

Anderson can be seen May 12th in series two of AMC+'s INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, where he plays the long living, long-suffering Louis du Pointe du Lac.

-Jack O'Connell, pictured with young Jacob, will reportedly be the villain in Michael B. Jordan and Ryan Googler's next team-up.

Jack can be seen S.A.S ROGUE HEROES.

-The cast reunited at another wedding a few years ago based on pics posted by Kaya Scodelario and five years ago at a Golden Globes celebration.

Kaya can be currently seen in Netflix's THE GENTLEMEN.

-Also on Netflix is Daniel Kaluuya's directorial debut THE KITCHEN.

during his time on SKINS, Kaluuya also pitched storylines and co-wrote a few episodes for the series.

-Nicky Hoult, who played the lecherous Tony, is our future Lex Luthor in James Gunn's SUPERMAN LEGACY.

Yes, he looks like a giant Caillou - what of it?

#dev patel #monkey man #skins uk #skins #skins alum #jacob anderson #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #kaya scodelario #the gentlemen #daniel kaluuya #the kitchen #jack o'connell #sas rogue heroes #nicholas hoult #superman legacy #lex luthor

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pipedreame · 1 year ago

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DPXDC Dead on Main — Justice is Swift (Vengeance is Sweet) Master Post

Summary —

Danny knew life in Gotham wouldn’t be quiet, it was literally Crime Capitol after all, but he didn’t expect to catch the attention of the entire squad of Bat Vigilantes as his civilian self or make friends with the Wayne family, and he sure as hell didn’t mean to kill The Joker on live television as Phantom, effectively drawing the attention of the entire city and what was left of the rogue GIW group… Fantastic.

(Okay, so he totally did mean to kill that clown freak, but only because he decided to take his little sister hostage as some twisted way to get at Batman… Sue him.)

Danny trying (and spectacularly failing) to lay low in Gotham while simultaneously attempting to be a regular college student. As always, his life is a mess.

Relationships —

Danny/Jason, Tim/Bernard/Kon, Sam/Tucker/Val

background: Dick/Wally, Bruce/Clark, Damian/Jon

Directory —

AO3 || Ch. 1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3

Ch.1 Shitposts || Ch.2 Shitposts || Ch.3 Shitposts

Current Progress Report —

Ch.3 posted Sunday 1/21 (~7.5k words)

Ch.4 progress ~5k words

#vee’s writing #vee’s dpxdc fics #jisvis #jisvis master post #dpxdc #dead on main

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bronzefuryfic · 2 years ago

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Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter One: Runestone Remembers / Directory

The shepherds of the Vale report the dragon Sheepstealer has been sighted to the south of Runestone. Determined to please her family, 15-year-old Rhae Targaryen is ready to finally claim her birthright, or die trying.

Since she was a child, Rhae Targaryen bore the weight of vengeance for a house wronged. The words of her mother's house were "We Remember", and for what happened to her, House Royce would never forget. The ghost of their fallen matriarch haunted the face of her daughter. Despite her silver hair, the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce otherwise preserved the features of her mother.

Rhae would sometimes wonder if she looked any less like her mother, that the lords and ladies of Runestone might move on. Her uncles and cousins would promise her they'd have justice for Daemon's crimes, but these promises always seemed for someone else. While all of House Royce could remember Rhea Royce- her fury and her passion, her skill with a bow, her sharp wit- Rhae could not.

For all her frustration for her lack of remembrance, Rhae's heart still soared with each comparison.

"Your mother also favored a heavier bow when she was your age," her uncle would tell her. "Best to build the muscle. You'll have a far greater range than others will expect from a female archer."

For all her frustration for her lack of remembrance, Rhae's heart still soared with each comparison."Your mother also favored a heavier bow when she was your age," her uncle would tell her. "Best to build the muscle. You'll have a far greater range than others will expect from a female archer."

"Lady Royce never had much patience for needlework either," lamented the Septa. "We'll have to have you start this piece again. That simply won't do..."

"A favorite of Rhea's, if I recall correctly," a cousin shared as Rhae pored over the historical accounts of Nymeria's travels. "Nymeria was a hero of hers."

Though she'd never know her mother, Rhae thought she would've liked her.

The subject of her father was an equally difficult one, but for a different reason. House Royce was sure to remind Rhae of her father's crimes near-daily. Her mother was said to have been thrown from her horse, her spine broken and skull caved. A senseless tragedy, as noted in the letters that came in the following weeks—most of which offered some line of inquiry about the new heir of Runestone's two-year-old hand. But nearly all neglected to comment on the true treachery that transpired.

Prince Daemon had returned to Runestone the day of his wife's death, and had scarcely stayed an hour before departing for the Red Keep. The Street of Silk was alive with whispers that night, rife with reports of Daemon's celebration. He was finally rid of his bronze bitch.

Rhae was raised on the story of her Uncle Gerold confronting Daemon at King's Landing and accusing him of murder. She was told how her father merely laughed, and said that as Rhea Royce's husband, Runestone should pass to him now. Daemon never made good on the threat, but nothing came of Ser Gerold's accusations either. During this time, only the Hightowers extended a hand. Ser Otto alone dared to acknowledge Rhea's murder in his communications with Ser Gerold. It was a small solace.

Rhae resented and feared the rogue prince accordingly. There was little incentive for any other conclusion—she could not remember Daemon either. Images of his face were only her imagination.

But resenting him did nothing to change her heritage. Rhae was the only person bearing the Targaryen name in all the Vale. She was easily spotted everywhere she went for her silver hair. Just as the vestiges of her mother haunted her, so did her father.

Her position was thus a precarious one. She was the heir to Runestone, but shared the name of the butcher who'd killed her predecessor. To some, to have a Targaryen sit the ancestral seat of House Royce was a great insult. As she was a woman, an engagement could easily remedy this slight, but there were those in Runestone that recognized the power in her name. If a Targaryen were to champion House Royce, their house may know glory like it hadn't seen in years. While the Bronze Kings were a proud lot, they would be foolish to deny the potential of the dragon before them.

That was, of course, if the young Targaryen had a dragon. Forgotten in the Vale, Rhae suffered from a lack of resources. She knew little of Old Valayria and its teachings. Daemon had never disowned his eldest daughter, but he'd never extended a hand to her either. It was as though she didn't exist, even as obvious as it may be she was a trueborn Targaryen. What House Royce remembers, the House of the Dragon forgets.

Questions of her place plagued Rhae through her youth. For all her love of House Royce, she carried a hollowness in her heart. She'd never known love without grief.

"They have denied us justice for your mother's murder for many years, Rhae," Gerold told her as they walked the courtyard. "And perhaps we'll be denied forever, if not for you. If Daemon were to return for Runestone, as he's promised, we will be at the mercy of his dragon."

"I cannot control his dragon," Rhae replied. An involuntary tug of her lip turns her mouth into a frown. Few things could stop a dragon, and Caraxes and his rider were as vicious as they came.

"Not his," Ser Gerold mused, offering a rare smile. He did not seem to hold his usual temperament. Rather than grave and serious, Ser Gerold's voice carried a hint of eagerness. For what, Rhae couldn't be certain. They'd had this conversation a thousand times in the 13 years since Rhea's murder. "We know little of dragons here, but even this we are certain. Dragons are loyal creatures, even if their riders are not."

Rhae pursed her lips and looked away. Last she'd heard, Daemon had travelled to the Free Cities some months ago with his new wife and children after a years-long stay in Driftmark. Rhae had spent many nights wondering if he might do something horrid to them as well, but all the news seemed to point to the contrary. Having won his battle in the Stepstones, and ridding himself of his first wife, Prince Daemon seemed to have retired to a life of a lavish lord. More than that, he seemed more than willing to share this life with Laena Velaryon and their children together. Rhae's father seemed no stranger to loyalty, even if it wasn't to her.

"There have been reports of a dragon migrating north from Dragonstone," Gerold continued, stopping Rhae in her tracks. "Myself and the maesters believe it might be a sign."

"I'm up for the task."

Gerold chuckled and turned, having gone a few paces past her.

"I suspected you might say that," He said, surveying her with pride. "I've had scouts tracking the beast's movements for some time now. We believe it's settled in a cavern on our Southern coast."

"And you've waited until now to tell me?"

"We wanted to be certain," Ser Gerold said, raising a hand defensively. "Furthermore, we'd hoped you might learn more from King Viserys before taking on such a task. Has the King responded to your letters?"

Rhae flushed. At her uncle's behest, she'd been attempting to appeal to the King's supposed love of family and Valaryian history. Ser Gerold even instructed her to express contempt for House Royce and show a longing to reconnect with her Targaryen roots. Rhae thought this piece was her most convincing. She hadn't expected an invitation to King's Landing by any means, but she'd hoped at least for a book or two. So far, even that was too much to ask.

"No."

Ser Gerold's brow furrowed, and Rhae knew this meant disappointment.

"I don't need a letter or a book or a blessing from the king to claim what is mine!" She insisted, clenching her fists. She'd do anything to ease the constant shame that hung so heavily over her. "Just because they refuse to see me as part of their house, doesn't mean I don't share their blood! It is my birthright to claim a dragon. You too must not deny me this!"

Ser Gerold held her gaze a long while, before finally relinquishing with a curt nod.

"Very well, Lady Rhae."

And without waiting for dismissal, Rhae took off to prepare her things.

Rhae, Ser Gerold, and thirty of their best men set out the next morning for Gull Town. The journey took three days of riding, but Rhae did not mind. Away from the castle, on her way to claim a dragon... The change was welcome.

Rhae was accustomed to whispers as she passed, but on this journey, the guards were sure to give her plenty space. She suspected this might be on her uncle's order—He had been oddly distant with her since they last spoke. He communicated to her only in scout updates and affirming nods from across the campsite. Rhae wondered what he was thinking.

Scouts reported they were tracking Sheepstealer, a wild dragon of about forty years of age. According to Ser Gerold, Sheepstealer did not harm shepherds. While it was not clear what compelled him to come so far north, the dragon seemed to behave in all manners expected from its name. Farmers have reported over two dozen sheep stolen in the last few days alone.

They planned for Rhae to deliver a sheep to the dragon before attempting to ride it. While Sheepstealer did not hunt humans, there was no way to determine his reaction to being approached. If things turned deadly, Rhae was to fall back to the treeline immediately. Archers would cover her retreat, and with any luck, Sheepstealer would leave after losing sight of them.

"Not that I have any doubts you will claim this dragon," Ser Gerold added after their meeting. "You are Targaryen; the dragon will obey your command."

Rhae willed herself to believe the same.

On the second night of their journey, a scout reported he had seen Sheepstealer just a mile westward. The camp grounds held an uneasy silence that night, every knight and guard nervous to fall asleep with a dragon so close by. In the morning, they would deliver Rhae to the sight on foot, to avoid detection and possibly frightening the beast.

Rhae too stayed up late, feeding on the anxieties of the rest of the campsite. She tossed and turned in her make-shift bed.

Perhaps she wasn't ready to tame a dragon. She'd never so much as seen one before! If she failed to tame Sheepstealer, what would come of her house's hope for justice? Would she become exiled from them too? Rhae thought she might prefer Sheepstealer eat her before facing that future.

In the morning, Ser Gerold maintained his stiff silence towards his niece. The whole walk, Rhae hoped he might say something. When they first heard Sheepstealer's roar, he did not look her way. As the archers got into position, Ser Gerold busied himself with a loose strap on his armor. It wasn't until her uncle pressed the sheep's lead into Rhae's hand, still dodging her gaze, that she found the courage to break the silence herself.

"I don't mean to alarm you, uncle, but I think you have grown twice as gray as when we started this trip."

Ser Gerold looked as though Rhae had smacked him across the face, then let out a wild bark of laughter. The guards behind him flinched at the sudden noise, eyes still trained on Sheepstealer, and Ser Gerold instantly bit his knuckle.

"Apologies," he whispered, leaning in as tears stung his eyes. He was still chuckling softly. "You are so extraordinarily like your mother."

"So I've heard," Rhae mustered.

"I'm sorry, Rhae," Ser Gerold clasped her shoulders, gaining his composure. Sheepstealer trilled from the field, but Ser Gerold did not take his eyes off her. "I have acted cowardly. House Royce has little business with dragons. I must admit, this pending task frightens me more than any I've had before."

"Fear not, Uncle," Rhae managed half a smile. "I'm the one carrying his favorite snack."

"That is the part that frightens me most." Before Rhae could reply, Ser Gerold pulled her into a tight embrace. A lump formed in her throat as her arms wrapped around his torso.

Lead in hand, Rhae steps out of the brush into the field. The ocean breeze blowing in from over the cliff edge whips her silver hair, and she quickly spots Sheepstealer lounging by the cliff face. She turns to see her Uncle Gerold one last time, and he gives her a final, grim nod.

You've got this.

Heart thumping in her chest, Rhae marched the sheep across the field. It was much farther away from the treeline than she would've preferred. As she drew near, Sheepstealer lifted his scaly head to watch her. To Rhae's surprise, he was actually smaller than she had imagined. Rhae wondered for a moment whether she'd merely imagined dragons to be too big. She straightened her spine—he wasn't so scary.

Sheepsteeler scales were a dark muddy brown, making it difficult to distinguish his features. He was a dark, lean mass save for orange eyes that seemed to glow like embers. The sheep Rhae escorted tugged at the rope, resisting her lead. The dragon trilled once more, eyes narrowing on its squirming meal.

Rhae held her ground as Sheepstealer pushed himself up further, baring his teeth. After a moment, when nothing else happened, Rhae gave a tug of the leash and dragged the struggling sheep closer.

"Serve me, Sheepstealer." Rhae said, locking eyes with the beast before her. His snout flared slightly. "By the power of Old Valyria, heed my words."

Rhae was uncertain that the dragon could understand her—his attention seemed torn between her and the offering she brought along.

It won't work, Rhae thought fearfully. But she couldn't return without a dragon. Sheepstealer would listen to her—He had to.

Now within biting distance of the dragon, Rhae slackened her grip of the sheep's lead. It at least seemed a good sign Sheepstealer had not struck yet.

The moment of truth was approaching. The sheep would run, and the dragon would feast. Then, if she still had her wits, Rhae would mount his back. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she wasn't sure what to do then, either.

Rhae let the rope fall to the ground with a soft thump, and the sheep set off at a brisk trot, its lead trailing behind it. Sheepstealer was now raised on all fours, watching its prey flee with alarming excitement.

"My gift to you, Sheepstealer."

With a roar of delight, the dragon did not waste a second longer to open his maw and expel a shot of flames. Even though the blast was not aimed at her, Rhae gasped at the intensity of the dragon's breath from where she stood. Startled, she leapt backwards to distance herself from the wave of heat. In doing so, her foot snagged on a rock.

Rhae cursed loudly, swinging her arms wildly for balance. She knew her mistake instantly—she should've allowed herself to fall. Sheepstealer may have tolerated Rhae's presence so far, but tolerance was not the same as trust. The sudden noise and large movements surprised the dragon, which defensively spun on her in an instant. His neck coiled back, eyes turning to slits. Another blast seemed to building in his throat...

"Serve me, Sheepstealer!" Rhae cried forcefully. "I wish you no harm! Stand down! Obey!"

Rhae could've sworn she saw the glow within his gullet dim, but control was already lost. At the edge of the wood, Ser Gerold had charged the open field the moment the dragon turned on Rhae. Dutifully, a small band of knights followed quickly behind. They let out a cry, drawing Sheepstealer's attention.

With a roar and a powerful flap of his wings, Sheepstealer was airborne.

"RHAE! RETREAT!"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit!

Rhae made her way hurriedly across the field, sprinting past the smouldering, forgotten sheep she'd brought as an offering. Within moments, Sheepstealer had crossed the field and was descending upon the guards. A volley of arrows loosed as the knights threw their shields up.

Sheepstealer roared in outrage, lashing his spiked tail dangerously. One body went soaring through the air, landing with a sickening crack in the ground thirty feet away. Rhae's heart seized as she sprinted harder for the wood.

"Fire!"

Another volley of arrows loosed, with several lodging in the dragon's throat. They didn't seem deep enough for any substantial damage, but Sheepstealer still cried defiantly, shaking them free.

Rhae was closer now, and could see Ser Gerold slashing with his sword. She sucked what air she could into her lungs and cried out once more.

"Stop this attack! Stop!"

Now caught up, Rhae dodged as Sheepstealer gave another deadly whip with his tail. It came down hard beside her uncle, who fell to the ground with a painful grunt. Before she could make her way to him, another knight had grabbed her firmly around the waist and was dragging her to cover.

"NO! Sheepstealer, stop! Unhand me!"

Rhae wrestled herself from his grip and ran to her uncle, ignoring the danger. A roar filled the air as another volley loosed—the men were panicking. Sheepstealer incinerated the arrows as they flew closer, thrashing his head. Rhae heard muffled shouts over the ringing that now filled her ears.

A blinding pain consumed her left side, the same wave of heat from before colliding even closer to where she stood. Rhae fought to keep her eyes open, struggling to focus on her own smouldering arm. Her skin bubbled and boiled, looking red and angry. Through the haze and smoke, she saw Sheepstealer rise once more.

"Ser... Gerold" she gasped. She had fallen to her knees, trying to hold herself up with her uninjured right arm. Her Uncle was badly hurt. With one knee bent at an odd angle, and an arrow protruding from his gut, Ser Gerold Royce lay gasping for breath in the dirt. He too suffered from sickly burns. Rhae watched in horror as his armor seemed to mold to his skin.

Ser Gerold writhed on the ground, crying in anguish from his injuries. As Sheepstealer soared off over the ocean, the remaining guard came out from their cover.

"We need a healer!" someone called. Rhae was loosing conscious rapidly, but she was vaguely aware of someone attempting to move her.

"Uncle..."

Rhae did not remember her travels back to Runestone, having been heavily sedated on the milk of the poppy. It was later, while she recovered in the castle, that the Maesters finally filled her in.

During her third bandaging, she'd finally become lucid enough to understand their story. She was told that they'd only lost seven men of the thirty they brought—a "miracle". In addition, only she and two others received any long-lasting injury.

"And Ser Gerold? Which of these is he?" she demanded of the Maesters once she had found her voice. They bowed their heads, confirming her fears.

"I apologize, Lady Rhae," the eldest of them, Maester Willem, stepped forward. "They said Ser Gerold did not survive the return to camp."

Rhae let loose a throaty sob, wishing they'd leave. She could not shout at them in this state, and so allowed them to proceed with applying burn creams to her charred arm.

"Your injury will take time to heal, but it thankfully has not become infected," Willem continued, once her labored sobs gave way to sniffles. "It is likely the scar tissue will affect mobility at your shoulder and elbow joint, but we hope it'll be mostly functional within a few months."

Rhae would give both arms to have Ser Gerold returned to her—none at Runestone advocated for the heir as devoutly as her Uncle.

"Any other news?" She asked meekly as they re-bandaged her arm. She prayed for none.

The Maesters exchanged nervous glances before Willem brought forth a letter from a pocket deep in his robes.

"One last thing, if you're up for it..." She wasn't. "It arrived shortly after you left."

Grunting, Rhae leaned forward in her bed, reaching for the scroll. She broke the seal and flattened it one-handed on her bedsheets. As soon as she read it, she read it over again. Then a third time, just to be sure.

"Is this truly from the Queen?"

"It came with all the royal seals, my lady."

"She says..." Rhae's voice faltered once more. "She says that the Crown regrets our estrangement."

"This is good news, is it not?"

Rhae couldn't say. Ser Gerold had ruled Runestone in her stead all these years. Rhae had originally ascended at 2, but now at 15 it would be appropriate for her to sit the seat herself. That was, if anyone else from House Royce still trusted her after this latest tragedy. She could already hear the whispers in the hall. Rhae had been tasked with bringing justice, but all she brought was more death and more destruction.

Rhae reread the letter a fourth time, ignoring the Maester's question.

"The King grows ill." She continued. "And has expressed a desire to reconnect with family after so many years apart." Did it count as reconnecting if they'd never met? "The Queen says she would like to host me in King's Landing, to learn the ancient traditions of my House." A bit late for that, it seemed. "She mentions her daughter Haelena is my age, and her sons are close to it. It's her sincerest hope that we might still be friends..."

Rhae trailed off, reading the letter a fifth time. Rage brewed in her stomach. What good was such an offer now that Ser Gerold was dead? The Maesters watched her closely.

"If I may offer some advice," Maester Willem said at last. "I know you bear no love for your Targaryen family members, but you're scarcely the only one to feel that way... if you're to believe the gossip of lords and ladies, that is."

"Which lords and ladies?"

Maester Willem eyed her closely. "The Hightowers have long held contempt for your father, just as the Royces have. I think it notable that your response came from the Queen, and not the King."

Rhae allowed his words to sink in, trying to ignore how itchy and sore her arm felt beneath its wrappings. Ser Gerold's cries of anguish still rang in her ear.

What had it been for?

"Fetch me some parchment, Maester," Rhae groaned as she sat straightened in her bed. She may be without her own dragon, but she could still align herself with their firepower. Best yet, she could do so while granting House Royce a reprieve from her presence. "And put away the poppy. I've had plenty."

The Maesters bustled at her orders. There was still a matter of finding someone to warm her seat in her absence, and she would need time to recover before she traveled. A necessary delay, though plenty frustrating...

"Prepare our fastest raven," Rhae continued, dipping her quill. "I'll have my response sent as soon as I'm done with it."

She may not remember Rhea, as the rest of House Royce did, but the sight of Ser Gerold's mangled corpse was not something she'd soon forget.

Next Chapter: Ch. 2 - To King's Landing

After suffering a great loss, Rhae is summoned to King’s Landing to meet her estranged Targaryen family members. Far from home and alone in the dragon’s den, it is up to her to determine friend from foe.

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

#House of the Dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc #aegon ii x oc #team green #Royce!oc #Targaryen!oc #OC can also be used as a semi-reader-insert #She has a name and silver hair and she’s right handed #For plot reasons #Everything else is up to your imagination and won’t be contradicted in the text

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