#typical got violence

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dancing with a wolf (FemalereaderocxAemondxAegon)

Aemond x reader x Aegon

Tags: Showsetting, blackmail, piracy, warcrimes.

🔷Summary: A long time ago, you paid the ultimate price for Prince Aemond's hand. And now your sister summons you back to court.

🔷Author's note: Dark.

🔷Wordcount :7000

🔷Warnings: Piracy, child-abuse and mentions of traumas and blood and gore.

Dancing with a Wolf

The Red Keep had not changed in years. It was the same old horrible looking building, with the same boring old towers and the same horrible people that called it their home. You look out the window of the carriage, quickly closing the curtains when a single sunray finds its way into your carriage. Today is a sunny, lovely day. So unlike how you feel inside.

You are irritated, hollow of the greed you have been feeling for a while now, as well as that anxious choking feeling you had hoped to be rid of for years now. You prided yourself into not feeling fear anymore, or not allowing yourself to feel it. Yet here you are, back in the city of Hell, King’s Landing on no one’s order than your sweet darling twin sister, Adalina. Or is it Princess Adalina now? You wouldn’t know. You haven’t written a word to that brat since you were exiled.

The Carriage finally drives up to the familiar courtyard, and when you are nearing the gates, you notice there is blood under your fingernails from where you slammed your fingers too deep into your own skin. You quickly wipe it away, on your skirt. The driver of your carriage, Haryold takes notice of your behavior. ‘’Ye Nervous, Miss?’’

You huff, denying it to yourself. As long as you don’t admit your feelings are real, they won’t feel real. ‘’That’s a ridiculous observation, Haryold.’’

He continues, stabbing the poorly healed wound.

‘’It’s just…Last time you were here, you were in quite the trouble.’’ Memories flash back to you, as you pretend that they are not your own. You are not the same girl you were back then. 

‘’I don’t pay you to have an opinion on my personal matters. People who lurk around in caskets, shouldn’t be surprised if they ended up in one.’’ You warn him with that and one of your glares. Haroyld nods, understanding he crossed a line and does not speak when riding the carriage to the entrance of the keep.

There, two servants help you out of the carriage. One offers his arm, the other is prepared to help you with your feet. You drop your bag in the hand of the man, and after that you jump out of the carriage, landing on your leather shoes, glancing up at the sun and the castle.

It is quiet in the courtyard. Adalia invited you here, yet she isn’t here. You would be insulted, if you didn’t hate her. You walk towards the castle doors, your boots leaving muddy footprints from your last trip. A page or servant, someone who works for the castle, as you didn’t bother to keep up with titles of the staff, rushes after you. ‘’Lady! Lady Ethel! You must wait.’’

You turn on your heel, facing him. You smile, revealing your glimmering teeth, folding your hands on your back. ‘’I’m just visiting my sister’s future home. If you like me to report that you had a issue with me, be my guest.’’ You wait for him to deny that claim, that she’s an angel, a gift sent by the Seven. Instead of that he bows his head, letting you, as a dog rolling over. You smile, patting his shoulder and tossing him a coin, before entering the Red Keep.

—-------------

The smells, the lights and the damn banners. It all brings you back. You tried to look as yourself as much as possible. Your parents don’t need to be pleased. Your hair is loose, wild, untamed, unbothered. It is as wild as a river, as deep as an ocean and endless as the sea. Your good eye has a beautiful black line around it, highlighting the color of your pupil, and your other eye is shining as beautifully as ever. The silversmith did an amazing job, fitting your new eye. It is a small, pure silver orb with a citrine in it, symbolizing the pupil and the eye you lost. Your dress is a simple but practical dress in the colors of the Dornish. 

Inside the castle, someone awaits you already. Two guards size you up, narrowing their eyes almost at the same time. ‘’I am here for Princess Adalia.’’ You tell one of them, when watching the other. The two men share a glance.

He judges your poor quality dress, your cloak with holes and your old boots. ‘’You are Lady Ethel?’’ No. 

‘’Yes.’’ You say, smiling to hide your disgust. You are, in ways. In others, no. Not anymore.

You turn your head at the same time, and notice someone coming down the stairs. Someone with your hair color, someone wearing your smile. Someone living a life so different from yours. Your twin sister wears a fine silk gown with embroidered details of gold. She spots you easily, dismissing the ladies following her around as helpless little pups stalking their mother.

She comes over, and both guards nod in respect to Lady Adalia. You don’t. You do smile, and you notice her staring at your clothing and your fake eye. ‘’You changed.’’ That is the first time your twin sister says to you. Her voice almost sounds sincere. She sounds shocked.

You shrug. ‘’Disownment and exile does that to a person. Shall we go discuss things upstairs? I’m sure you can fetch a decent bottle of wine here.’’ You add with a wink. 

Adalia groans, but follows.

You soon walk over the same stairs you did years ago, and it all comes back to you.

-ten years ago-

Your hair is put up high, making you look so much older than you actually are. The coal and berry juice  itches on your face, as you aren’t used to wearing any of it. And your dress, it is the pretty own with the silver sparkles, as your mother requested by the seamstress. You never felt as a princess as much as you do tonight. 

Your parents worked hard to arrange this match with Queen Alicent of House Hightower. Despite your family being some of her most loyal supporters, Queen Alicent was being ‘’difficult’’ about the match for months. But now, tonight, she finally has accepted: Her son, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, will marry either you or your sister, Adalia. You and her were born during the same moon and have shared everything in life. From plush toys to dresses and from dresses to secret wishes. You both love each other deeply.

You are presented first to court. You have to wait until the page reads your name out loud and when he does, you finally make your debut and enter the castle hall. Many eyes are fixated on you, but only one pair of eyes matters. You see him standing near the throne where his father sits, the boy with silver hair that one day will become your husband. ‘’Lady Ethel of House Mossdam!’’ A few murmurs rise up as you pass the crowds of people, coming closer to the Prince. He waits with his hands folded on his back, taking in your gown with a smile on his lips.

When you are finally in front of the King and Queen, you make a curtsy for them and turn to your future husband. He smiles, greeting you. Your mother who had escorted you, quickly tells the Queen which one of the two twins you are as you and Aemond converse about the candy that is put on the table. ‘’I personally prefer the dragonsticks but I can also recommend the chocolate cake.’’ The prince says, moving a bit with his hands as he talks, likely nervous. You nod and smile. Chocolate cake sounds delicious. You plan to get a piece when your sister is announced. Once again, all heads turn.

But this time it is different. Gasps and adoring coes are heard as your sister parades to the Prince, her head held high as a true Queen. You look at the Prince, trying to get his attention by offering him chocolate cake, but it doesn't matter anymore. 

The moment he sees her, his eyes light up in a way they never did when he looked at you. Despite your best efforts, your smile fades and you turn to your parents for direction and help. You gently tap the Prince’s shoulder but he does not only ignore you, he also glares at you to warn you to not do that again. Insulted and confused, you look at the Queen who only smiles back at you the way you once saw so many smile at you. Her smile speaks where her mouth cannot. Disappointment, shame and embarrassment wash over you as Prince Aemond and your sister take off in another direction entirely, gushing happily to one another. 

‘’Prince Aemond made his choice.’’ Queen Alicent declares with a smile. ‘’Adelia and him will be married when they both turn sixteen.’’ 

You came here, hoping that Aemond would like you. You came here, hoping that this would be your home. A strange, hollow feeling eats away at your soul, bringing out an unfamiliar darkness in you that you never felt before as you look at the smiling Adelia. Your feet act before you can think and you quickly dispose of the chocolate cake you had gathered. Fresh tears pierce in your eyes, threatening to cause a scene and to ruin all what you worked so hard for.  And now he doesn't even want you. 

You hear footsteps approach and see that your father has followed you. You offer him a piece of cake too. He only needs to glare at you so you put the plate down. ‘’I am very disappointed in you.’’ He tells you, his voice soft so only you may hear. ‘’Your sister only needed a few moments with the Prince, and you are making a fool of yourself and he doesn’t even care.’’ He refers to the cake incident. You had hoped that no one would’ve noticed. But as you lift your head and a few tears escape, you notice that all eyes in the crowd are on you, stuck as a fly in honey.

You must defend yourself. You must.

‘’Daddy, I tried.’’ You manage to stutter. He raises his hand, to silence you.

He has a scoff in his voice, but you hear anger more than anything else.  ‘’You didn’t try hard enough. Do you know how much effort me and your mother put into this match? You could at least try to not look like a clown.’’ You quickly wipe at your make-up, smearing most of it on the sleeve of your dress.

 He walks away with one final word that would forever haunt your memory. ‘’Disappointment.’’

Prince Aemond and Adalia seem to be happy, at least. You try to be happy for your sister, but somehow you are only reminded of your own failures and your own misery whenever you see the two of them together. You can’t take the suffocating growing feeling inside of you, threatening to tear you apart the way a wolf would tear apart a lamb. Your legs take off, running to the exit of the ballroom when you think no one looks.

When you try to enter the cool and calming gardens of the castle, you bump into a tall silver-haired person that smells unpleasantly. You don’t need to see his face to know it is the Prince’s older brother, Prince Aegon. 

Aegon smirks at your teary face, your trembling hands and your dirty dress enjoying every miserable little minute. ‘’You’re one of the little brats who my brother would marry.’’ He observes, quickly blocking your way to the gardens. 

You sniffle, nodding to confirm, as you know well enough it is rude to not answer a prince.

‘’I-I am. Please let me through.’’

He does not comply. ‘’Shouldn’t you be talking with my brother?’’ He asks. You huff, anger, getting the better of you.

Why does he care? ‘’No. He picked my sister.’’ You say, pointing to the two children who are now enjoying a chocolate cake.

The other prince huffs, annoyed quickly. ‘’You give up so easily? Do you know what’s at stake here?’’

He leans in a little closer, a mischievous spark growing in his eyes. ‘’I’ll let you into a little secret. If you want to hold Aemond’s attention, mention dragons. He never had one, he would do anything for one.’’ Dragons. You know of dragons.

House Targaryen is one of the few surviving houses of old Valyria, where dragons once roamed the big skies. Before the doom. ‘’Anything?’’ You reply, a plan forming in your head.

–

That night, when everyone is asleep, you sneak out of your rooms at the palace. You pass Ada’s bed on the way out, and you can’t help but feel horrible for how you are going to steal her husband and her future away from her. You even tear up, and can barely muffle your cries as you sneak past her. 

On your own, you dress and prepare yourself. Your mission is simple: You will find a dragon, convince it to bring it with you, and offer it as a gift of betrothal to the Prince. He would not even dare to refuse it. It sounds like an amazing plan, and you are pretty proud of yourself for thinking it up. 

There are just a few irons to work out:

You don’t know where dragons are, you don’t know how to bring a dragon home, and you don’t know how to speak with a dragon. But you assume that if you learn one, you learn the other two. It has to be.

You manage to sneak out of the castle easily: No one cares where you go, who you are, or what you come to do. You are a shadow in the light of the Red Keep. And whoever pays attention to shadows? You hear your own footsteps and take comfort into this.

You read in your history books about the Dragon pit, located in King’s Landing. That is where the dragons of the Targaryens are where their riders can’t attend them, and that is where you will go.

It is dark and cold in the city as you walk through it, but no one seems to pay you any mind. That is until you are in front of the huge colossal housing where the dragons stay. You never saw anything like it. It’s structure reminds you a lot of the Red Keep. A memory of a time long ago, long forgotten by most. Two guards outside warn you of trespassers and what will be done to them. 

Both guards seem bored, yet dangerous. You had hoped there would be no security at all, but that might have been wishful thinking. Instead of backing down and rolling over, you think of a plan on how to get inside.

Luckily for you, a huge cart is approaching, with dead animal meat on top of it. Huge slabs of meat, likely meant for the dragons. You make yourself as small as possible. The driver is asked to stop and when the two guards are busy inspecting the meat on intruders, you sneak past them both, into the famous Dragon Pit.

There you avoid most torches, and go from pen to pen. First there is a big goldenlike dragon. It warns you when you approach by flapping it’s wings violently, hissing and warning you. You bet it would impress the prince, but you aren’t stupid enough to even risk that. So, you go onto another pit.

Most dragons you pass do not please you. Most are too big, too dangerous or too scary. You had almost given up your quest entirely when you stumbled upon a small, red with black dragon sitting in a lone pen, straw and food near him. He is as big as four apples, and arguably the smallest dragon you ever saw. It looks weak, tiny, vulnerable. And perfect as a gift for Prince Aemond.

You open the pen, easily and slip inside of the pen, as the dragon cocks its head at you. You withhold a giggle of excitement and glee as you realize that everyone will soon be either impressed or happy with you. 

You approach the dragon, hands out to grab it. The dragon takes a few steps back, watching you very closely but does not fight or breathe fire at you. ‘’Please, dragon. Work with me! Prince Aemond wants a dragon, and I want Prince Aemond to like me.’’ You whisper to the creature that awkwardly stares back at you with its big hollow eyes.

You lean in closer to the hatchling, coming as close that you can smell its poop nearby it and the meat it devoured recently. You watch it twitch it head at you and both your hands come closer to his body, grabbing hold of it firmly.

It seems so tiny. So helpless. 

And so, so threatened by your presence. 

The dragon hisses, before slamming a claw down your face, tearing open your flesh, blood bursting from the wound as you open your mouth. You know you are supposed to be silent. You know this is forbidden. You know you can’t be heard.

But that pain…

The pain of a dragon’s claw, it is the worst pain you ever have been subjected to.

You cry out in agony, pain slashes through you as the claw of the dragon pierces your flesh, cutting deep and unforgiven. Your screams of pain echo through the dragon pit as you back away from the baby hatchling, covering the right side of your face.

When you remove your hands, they are drenched in your own blood. Your face feels as if it was ripped from your very own skin. You pant, heavily, as the dragon follows you around its pen. You finally manage to get back on your feet, your small legs trembling as you make it out of the pen at long last.

Outside of the pen, with the dragon safely behind bars, you fall back to your knees, your pain becoming too much too quickly. Blood is flowing down your face, your dress, your shoes. It drips on the floor and for your own sanity, it feels like it slips between the tiles itself, going into the earth below.

You can only wail and cry in pain as someone approaches, carrying a torch. It appears to be a old man, wearing a classic scribe robe you would see on septons. But this man is no septon. He is a guard to the dragons. He sees your bloodied face, your trembling legs and your shaking body and the dragon who keeps hissing at you from behind bars.

It is all he needs to leave. You assume he is leaving you to die.  Your breath quickens, as panic takes hold of you. But you soon hear three voices, coming closer as you crawl in the direction of the door.

It is the dragon guard. And he brought the two outdoor guards. The dragon guard lifts his torch, shining a light upon your face. You blink back against the sudden warmth and light. The dragon guard mumbles something, and the other two guards look at you speechless as they take in your face.

“It's a girl!” One of them shouts. “Child, what were you doing here?’ He tries to get your attention. You don’t respond. 

You can only look at the crying girl looking back at you in the reflection of his blade, and you see that something ripped her face in half. It is you. It is your face. You cower, making yourself as small as possible as your face keeps stinging, reminding you of your injuries. Of a very bleak looking future without any Prince by your side. Without any approval of your parents. 

Without any husband at all.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

The dragonguards brought you to the King. It is embarrassing, seeing the entire castle woken up and everyone in their nightclothes for something you did. The King did you give the privilege and kindness to first receive excessive stitching in your face. You were offered milk of the poppy, but your mother denied it. ‘’Let her suffer the consequences of her actions.’’ She said. And so, your skin was pressed back together and stitched with a needle and thread in a slow, torturous manner. The Maester had never seen anything like it, and you could tell most women were horrified to see you like this, scarred and bloody.

All but Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The Princess of Dragonstone seems as furious as her little boy, the owner of the dragon you tried to steal. She resembles her ancestor, Queen Visenya.

You can only cry, no words to defend yourself or your actions come to mind. Your parents are near, yet they stand in the back of the room, disappointment and anger chizeld into their eyes forever. Adalia is near the King and Queen, close to Prince Aemond.

“What were you doing there?’’ King Viserys has a powerful voice that booms through the room as you are finally done with your stitches. What were you doing there? How could you be so stupid?

“Can we discuss this in private?” You ask, your voice soft. You don’t want Aemond to find out. Or your parents for that matter. Anyone but the King.

The king continues his sharp questions, spitting them out as fire. “Why were you trying to steal Prince’s Joffrey's dragon?” You don’t know. You really don’t. Maybe you wanted everyone to stop judging you. To stop pressuring you. To finally be in control for once. And you ruined it all.

“It was all my fault. I didn't know a dragon would be so aggressive.’’ You say, and the King’s harsh features soften, as he takes in your new fresh scars and trembling hands. You can see he feels pity for you.

A voice as sharp as glass cuts through the silence, surprising both his foes and friends. “You know nothing of dragons then.” Prince Aemond sneers. It's somehow even more painful when he scolds you. Unknowingly to him,  you wanted to please him. You wanted him to like you. To pick you as his wife.

And now he is lecturing you as if you are a little stupid girl. You look in the reflection of a sword of the King’s guard from Dorne, seeing your scarred poorly stitched and terribly mangled face. You are just that. A stupid, little girl.

Aemond continues, taking steps in your direction.

“You came into its pen, you threatened it and tried to take it away. Of course it would lash out.” You don’t know anything about dragons. You don’t know much about anything.

You would love your parents near you. To defend you and to hold your hand. But they remain in the back, present but silent. And holding your hands? They won't even look at you. 

For all they are concerned: You are a disgrace, a failure, a disappointment.

You expect to be executed on the spot for your treason. And truth be told? You’d welcome it. Anything to end the pain of your face, of the humiliation and the disappointment your parents feel for you. 

So when Prince Daemon takes out Dark Sister, his famous sword, you just stand there and allow him to approach you.

Queen Alicent is quick to interfere. 

“The girl has been scared. Forever. Lower your blade, Daemon. Even you won’t harm a disabled child.’’ You are shocked at her kindness. Why does she even care, you wonder? She didn’t like you during the ball.

But someone else disagrees firmly with the Queen. It is the Princess. ‘’My sons will have their answer. We must know why she stole the dragon. If not willingly we can always sharply question her.” You know what that means. Torture.

So you start talking, avoiding all eyes, your eyes aimed at your bloodied slippers. “I heard Aemond liked dragons. I wanted to give him one.” You confess, softly. Queen Alicent’s eyes shimmer with tears as she turns to look at her son, the prince who has many eyes on him now.

His face betrays that he is enraged. “You can't gift dragons!” He shouts, instead of taking you for your sacrifice, for your thoughtful gift, for the gesture, for the blood you lost because of him.

“I know that now.’’ You mutter, a tear falling rolling down your scarred cheeks.

Princess Rhaenyra approaches now too, angry and terrifying as a thunderstorm or maybe a big mother dragon. “Why would you give him a dragon? Why did you think my son's dragon was a good gift?” She makes it sound like this was some deliberate attack on her son. You would never. You don’t care for her sons. 

You decide to tell the truth, hoping she will believe you. “Because the others seemed too big. This one seemed harmless.” You feel all eyes on you as you fumble with your hands.

“And because…Aemond had to pick a wife…and…” Briefly, your air is cut off as you sob, your emotions becoming too much. “I wanted it to be me.” Followed by a final plea. ‘’I’m sorry!’’ You shout.

If Rhaenyra cared, she has become quite good at not showing it. “What will we do with her, father? She tried to steal my son's dragon.” This is madness. She thinks that this was some plot to hurt her, to hurt her sons, her claim to the Throne. That was not what this was. This was a desperate act.

Queen Alicent scoffs in disbelief at her words, as if she can’t believe what the Princess is saying. “For Aemond. To please him. I fully believe there was no ill will in Ethel's heart.” She adds. “She only did what she thought was right.”

Rhaenyra glances at Alicent, but her glares are for you and you alone. She turns her silver braided head in the direction of your silent parents. ‘’What do the parents think?’’ You gulp.

Your mother steps forward first. ‘’In all truth, we are disappointed and grieved by Ethel’s stupidity. We fully believe she is not capable of marrying any noble.’’ Your mother says. ‘’We certainly cannot approve of a marriage between her and House Targaryen anymore. We all ask that we may leave with Adelia and our heads on our shoulders. You may do with Ethel as you wish.’’ Your head fills with horrible images of you losing your head, or rotting away in a prison cell.

You don’t feel well. You feel as if you can pass out any moment now. ‘’’Mother,’’ you manage to squeak. ‘’You can’t mean that.’’ Yet your mother turns away, ignoring you as if you don’t exist. It is the cruelest thing she has ever done to you.

‘’Will you disown Ethel?’’ Alicent asks, and at that point, you start crying to a hysterical angle. You can’t handle being alone. You can’t be alone. Your twin sister is perfectly silent by Aemond’s side, a faint smile on her lips. 

Your mother glances one time at your face. ‘’I will do as the King wants.’’ She says.

The King glares. Not at you, however. At your parents. At your mother, your father, even at your sister. To you, he only speaks. “We will spare you. But we can't allow a marriage between you and Prince Aemond, not any other Targaryen.” You had figured that one out already.

Aegon snorts, reminding everyone that that weasel is present. “As if he even wanted her anymore.”

King Viserys ignores his son, standing up from the Iron throne. ‘’We must all rest now. The hour has grown late and I’m sure Ethel wants to forget this has even happened.’’ 

The Princess chases her father, her black and red skirts lifted so she may go faster. 

‘’Father-’’ She smiles but this time her father does not fall for it.

‘’The matter, has been settled, Rhaenyra.’’

You are returned to your rooms after. You don’t even dare to glance at the Princess, convinced you made a powerful enemy for life.

—

You are cooling your face with a towel, still somehow crying, minutes later. “Where is Ada?” You ask as your parents enter. They had an argument. You heard both of them scream and things break. 

The towel brings small comfort but the pain is unbearable. “Ada has been removed from her Chambers. She is living with the royal family. And that is for the best. You could ruin it all again. Forever  this time.” Your mother warns you. You roll your eyes.

She gasps at your audacity, before she sits down, grabbing you by your freshly stitched face. You yelp in pain. “We are already a minor house. Our coffins are nearing their bottom. And to top it all you now have a hideous scar that makes you unattractive and reminds every man how stupid you truly are.” She hisses, close to strangling you. 

‘’Resa, let her go.’’ Your father begs your mother. ‘’The king warned us if anything happened to her, he would know.’’ Why does the King even care? 

Your mother stops her actions, as if only now realizing what she did in a wave of anger. She turns her back to you, her first born child. ‘’You disgust me.’’ She whispers before she leaves. 

Ada and you never became close again after the incident. She blamed you for trying to ruin her chance at becoming a princess and you blamed her for ignoring you and shutting you out when your entire world was on fire.

—-------------

present

You watch the wine splash around in your cup. ‘’What do you want?’’ You ask your twin sister. Your sister raises her chin, trying to intimidate you. She has no idea what you've been through, however but you are not impressed. 

‘’I want you to attend my wedding to prince Aemond.’’ Ah, yes. Aemond. The man you lost your eye for. The man who you became a scarred mess for. The man who changed your life.

You can’t and don’t want anything to do with him anymore. ‘’I heard men lie better than that.’’ You say. ‘’Whatever you want, it’s not my support when that Valyrian scum fucks you.’’ You become distant and eye her room for anything unusual. You notice a vanity with an excessive bouquet of flowers, likely a gift from her husband to be. You notice your eyes glide to the hair bracelet around your wrist, where black, dornish locks hang. You try to hide your smirk, but you fail.

‘’I am serious. I want your support.’’ She says, using her big puppy eyes. ‘’Mother and father died so suddenly.’’ There is an accusation there. You had nothing to do with it. In a way. Sort of. Kind of. Ok, it was your fault, but you didn’t use the daggers. That was someone else. 

You know it is risky for you to stay at the castle. But you want to see how her marriage with Aemond is treating her. You tell yourself that lie, feeding it your brain, repeating it until it becomes the truth. You feel your tattoo ache on your back, the one you had Aros put there years ago. You want revenge, in truth. But you can’t let Ada know that. Sweet, doe-eyed Ada would never let anything happen to her Aemond, her precious Prince. 

You try to think back of the last time you felt sadness. ‘’It was a great tragedy. I regret missing their funeral, but as you know, I was not allowed back in the estate.’’ You need to cough. Your sister however thinks you have become emotional and rubs your back. 

She takes a deep breath as if what she says costs her great energy. ‘’I regret the way we parted, Ethel.’’ Not Ethel.

‘’So do I.’’ You lie smoothly. You do, but it is easier to convince yourself that this is just another harmless lie. You won’t allow yourself to see it as a truth.

Adalia does not notice and pulls you in a hug. You notice her eyes close, but yours are wide open. ‘’You may take a bath.’’ She says after the hug has ended. ‘’You …smell.’’ She adds, softly. You chuckle, scoffing a bit but agreeing. You smell.

She stops in her tracks. ‘’After that, we must talk. We have much to discuss. I want my sister to be near me when I become a Princess.’’ You are confused. Didn't you just talk? You were right. She wants more from you. Much more.

—

You are even allowed to use her bathroom when your sister is busy arranging a room for you. You fill the bath to the brim and toss in three different bars of soap, and wait for the bubbles to appear. You drop out of your dress, putting your golden dagger in your boots. You also raid your sister’s closet, searching for pretty fabrics and bottles of wine. You find a delicious Dornish well-aged bottle, likely a gift from one lord or the other. You pop the bottle open and take a big swing, lying down in the warm bath, drinking freely from the bottle as the soap bars continue to create bubbles. You could get used to this. 

The door is pushed open after a few minutes. Your eyes shoot open and you reach for your boot, for your dagger to see who is approaching. Once you see who it is, you are shocked. You did hear rumors he lost his eye. A blessing, you called it. You remember treating the whole bar on a drink when you heard it the first time. Aros was furious you spent so much gold, but he did forgive you, and once he heard the news too, he bought everyone a second round.

Prince Aemond has interrupted your drinking and bath moment, staring at your bare naked chest as if he never saw a pair of tits before. You lower your hands, back in the warm water and pick the bottle back up and take another sip of the bottle, daring him to speak up. 

He doesn't. He seems shocked yet fascinated by what he found in his fiancee’s bathtub. You have had many men look at you that way before. You know what is on his mind.

You don't even attempt to cover yourself. “O. You're not…” He begins, soft and gentle with his way of speaking to you. You recall how he yelled at you, how he screamed at you. So you don’t even blink. 

You raise your eyebrows, picking up the soap and continuing where you left off before he interrupted. “Clearly. Did you hear about this wonderful invention?” You ask, when cleaning your arms. Fascinated, he watches, shaking his head, his cheeks growing warmer and warmer.

“No.” He breathes, as you lower the soapbar underwater. You grab it, throwing it at his head. It hits him, perfectly, as he quickly backs away.

You scowl, lecturing him angrily. “It's called knocking. People usually do that before storming in.’’ You dryly respond.

Prince Aemond gawks, looking at you and the door, you and the door, the door and you and finally decides it's for the best to leave. “I-, yes.” He says. ‘’It’s just…I haven’t seen you in years and…You’ve grown.’’ Clearly.

As much as you enjoy him flustered over your body, you do have more things to do.  “Where is your brother?’’ You ask. ‘’I have things to discuss.’’ You smile, and you watch Aemond’s gleeness die in a mere moment, jealousy breaking out of him.

‘’My brother?” He asks, dumbfounded. Aros needs a new ship. Aegon has money. Aros is not stupid, Aegon is, there is the end of the story.

You smile, sweetly, tilting your head. ‘’Are you deaf too?’’

He approaches, anger getting the better of him. You can’t even move but if you could, you wouldn’t have done that either. You just smirk, enjoying his little worked up face and angry pouty lips.

‘’I’m your Prince.’’ He reminds you, firmly. ‘’You will grant me your respect.’’ You have one prince. It is not Aemond.

You laugh, empty and shallow. ‘’No you’re not. You made that choice years ago. You choose wrong, little princeling.’’ You continue, taking another sip from the bottle. ‘’I made my own happiness. I don’t know what my sister wants from me yet, but I am not interested in feeding that brat if she was dying of hunger in a desert.’’ 

‘’Our interests align, then.’’ He leans on the tub with his hands, coming closer to your naked body. His voice becomes a soft, breakable plea. ‘’I want my freedom back.’’ You laugh, enjoying his misery. ‘’I should’ve chosen you. I didn’t know how she was.’’ He adds. There it is. Words you always dreamt of hearing.

Yet this marriage is old as stone, and it is likely that Prince Aemond has tried to talk his mother out of it before. ‘’The marriage is an old agreement. How do you plan to break it, Prince Aemond?’’ 

‘’I was hoping you’d know that.’’ He says. ‘’I heard you are quite the clever girl.’’ You roll your eyes. Did he really think that would work? No wonder he is in a arranged marriage. This man couldn't seduce a wife if his life depended on it.

‘’Hah! Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me. I am not a weak little doe eyed girl.’’ You tell him.

He doesn’t respond, looking at your wrist. ‘’Whose hair are you wearing around your wrist?’’ Aros. Yet you won't tell him. It is bad that he notices. The hair is a tradition among sea folks, people who travel a lot and yes; pirates. You cut off a lock of your own hair, so your loved one may tie it around their wrist, keeping you near them in a way.

‘’Please answer me, Adder.’’ For the first time during your time in the Red Keep, your head twists, shock written across your face as you look at Aemond’s smirking pink lips. He adressed you by your nickname. He knows. But how much?

Prince Aemond smirks. You glare, putting the bottle aside, as this has just become a serious conversation. One of life and death. You reach for your boots, showing him your dagger. He chuckles, delighted. ‘’Oh, that’s a adorable little blade. Did your boyfriend give you that?’’ He asks, mockingly. 

It is true. You are not Ethel. You have become the first mate and paramour of Aros Blackwaters, the fearless Dornish pirate that captured your heart. You have stolen from royal and merchant ships belonging to many nations and kingdoms, including the Seven Kingdoms.

You sigh. ‘’I am not his girlfriend. I am his paramour.’’ 

‘’So, his slut.’’ He remarks, unimpressed. 

You roll your eyes. He’s such a simpleminded man. ‘’What do you want with Aros?’’ Although, it is pretty obvious. He is a pirate. Aros regularly attacks Westerosi ships.

Aemond pretends to think. ‘’I am certain he can be of use on a rainy day.’’ He chuckles. You are silent.

‘’Aros never told you, did he?’’ 

You only look at him. Aemond leans in closer.

‘’He’s not just any Dornish man. He’s the bastard of Qoren Nymeros Martell. His first born bastard at that.’’ He pats your wet hand, as if rewarding you. ‘’Congratulations, your pirate boyfriend is the runaway prince of Dorne.’’ He reveals as if this isn’t already known to you at all.

You glare at the ceiling, smacking his hand away from your own. ‘’Touch me again and become known as Aemond one-hand as well.’’ You warn him. ‘’Aros never liked his family or his birthright. I’m telling him of you and your plans.’’ It is true. He would never help Aemond.

He smirks, a bit darker as he takes in your body. 

‘’Do that. If I put you in a nice, dark cell, your boyfriend will come here and I’ll finally be able to jail him for his crimes, or worse, depending on my mood.’’ You know he would. You know he could. Aros would save you. He would risk his life for you. He is just as stupid as Aemond is.

You glare. Aemond leans closer, his lips coming closer to your ear so he can whisper. ‘’Now, I don’t want to hurt you. But for the sake of my family, for duty, for the crown, for the greater good? I will run you through with my sword and make that little scar of yours look like a adorable little accident.’’ You scoff.

‘’Looks like the gods gave you your own little adorable scar.’’ You remark, making him much more upset than before. He growls, clutching the bathtub to avoid hurting you personally. ‘’Although, I’m the lucky one. I at least have my wits so I can make my own happiness. But you, a little boy who always seeks validation from others? I pity you.’’ you whisper, brushing your fingers over his cheeks. He does not pull away. ‘’I despise you.’’ You add. 

He only smirks. ‘’Soon I don't need validation. I will have it all. And more. You can either play along with my games and my plans, serve me and my brother well-’’ You frown, turning your head.

‘’Serve?’’ He makes it sound so sexual.

Aemond slightly blushes. ‘’Well, do our dirty work.  I promise you, we won’t need help in the bedroom.’’ You see another plan forming in your head, one where you and Aron take the throne from the two princes, and sit it.

You nod, smiling. ‘’No, you do have both your hands.’’

He glares. He rolls his eyes, eying the heavens as if to ask the gods why he is forced to work with you. ‘’Or I will reveal you for the Pirate that you are, for the war criminal you are, and will see you hanged at dawn.’’ How romantic.

‘’I have never received a more moving proposal-’’ Your mockery is interrupted by your own thoughts. ‘’What do we do about my sister?’’ You ask.

Aemond smiles, mischievously. ‘’I might take her flying later, you of all people should know just how dangerous dragons can truly be.’’

A/N

Who's gonna listen when you run out of lies? Who's gonna hear you, when your words seem worthless? Who's gonna save you when you're out of time? And who's gonna want you, when you're on your knees, begging

"Oh, please take me at my word, I'm desperate I swear, I never meant to hurt no one, no Oh, please stay for what it's worth, I'm desperate" You're on your own

So don't you call my name I will take you down Should've known that you've been dancing with a wolf So don't you call my name I will take you down I'm not your friend, you burned a bridge I chew you up and spit you out

Really captures this fic really well.

I hope yall liked this little one shot!

:) i was inspired by @valeskafics latest aemond/aegon/witch reader thingy and wanted to make something!:) Hope yall liked it and im sorry for leaving for so long. mental health is kicking my butt.

[bunnieswithknives]

GET HIS ASS FLOWERS! GET HIS ASS!!

Did Flowers target Dale specifically because of him shooting his own son?

Yes! Sort of. But don't mistake anything Flowers does to be out of genuine good will

[buf309-art-binder]

[DOPPELGÄNGER] - Chapter 1 - Part 2

<<< Part 1

<<< Read from the start

[bigassmoonchild]

Feral

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

The first three parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: You had your problems with your squad, no different than anyone else running their first. One Alpha, Michael, gave you the most problems, dragging you from leave to punish them all. It didn't take long for him to become your biggest problem, or for Simon to try and take care of him.

Content Tags: Shouting (not w/ between Ghost & Reader), A lot of Anger, Fluff, Protective Ghost, Violence, Fighting, Ghost shows his Face, Non-Sexual Punishments, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: I woke up this morning with over 100 notifications from tumblr, and I've spent all morning trying to think of another part for Maple Syrup. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are wide open <3.

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Ghost could watch you forever. Seeing how you flit around the soldiers, taking care of each of them, barking orders at your own little squad. After being removed from missions, you were able to convince whoever would listen to give you a squad to train, a group of hopeful combat medics.

Sometimes he would find himself watching what you were doing, and he would inch himself close enough to hear what you'd be telling them. Sometimes, it was nothing short of you screaming at them, other times it might be explaining how to stitch someone up. Most times, you sat back and watched as they worked through the exercise that you had created for them.

You were still off on leave, leaving your squad under the hands of Soap and Gaz to train them further on combat situations. Ghost had spoken with them a few times, listening to them rant about the soldiers you had to deal with. Especially one Alpha, who had been demoted from a regular soldier to being entrusted with saving others.

So when Ghost got the first hint of your scent, not the stale one, his head spun to the doors. Your leave was supposed to last another 6 days, not that Ghost was counting, and worry spiked through him. Had something happened? Was everything okay with your family, or did you merely forget one of the gifts you were giving to your nieces and nephews?

When the door slammed open, your eyes gazed across the mess hall. Your brows were furrowed and Ghost could smell the anger lacing your scent, alongside the musty smell of the rain that was coming down. The room had gone silent, everyone looking over at you. Your eyes locked on your squad, body tensed.

"Get the fuck outside," you growled, staring through your squad. They hesitated and your fist slammed into the wall. "Now!" You shouted, watching as they scrambled up and moved. All but the Alpha, who moved leisurely. Your eyes didn't leave his and you pointed. "You move any slower and I'll have you dishonorably discharged for insubordination," the man didn't flinch.

He gave a smile, looking at you. "You're not even a soldier, you have no say in what I do," your muscles relaxed, leaning your head back, eyes falling closed. Ghost stood, moving towards the two of you, opening his mouth to say something.

"You're on my squad, you do as I say, unless you want me to remove you. You want this to be your last strike?" The Alpha looked away, opening his mouth to make a remark.

"I'm sure there isn't going to be a problem, is there?" Ghost finally spoke up, moving beside the man and staring down at him. The Alpha scoffed and walked away, leaving you looking around.

You gave a soft smile. "Leave your stuff, it'll be cleaned up," and you turned and walked away, adjusting a hood onto your head. Ghost stared after you before walking back to Soap and Gaz, sitting beside them again.

"What the hell happened?"

You stood in the rain, having grabbed another jacket to protect you from the chill of the wind, alongside the rain beating against you. Your squad was running until they collapsed or someone admitted who caused the problems. You knew, though, that the stubborn Alpha in your squad was always the problem.

"You need to get back here," Soap said into the phone. "I honestly don't know what to do with them," and you booked a flight.

Now you were waiting, patiently. Someone would give in soon enough, someone always did. There would always be a weak link, and if it took running them until they threw up so be it. A hand fell on your shoulder and you looked back, eyes climbing to find Ghost standing behind you.

"I've never heard you scream," you laughed, looking back to your squad. The Alpha ran at the front of them, no reaction to the amount of running he was doing. You were pretty sure he had lapped everyone at some point, but you weren't paying close enough attention.

You looked back to Ghost. "You have most definitely heard me scream, just not angrily. Soap called, said that the squad was getting out of control and they didn't know what to do," you sighed. "I thought I taught them better, but I guess I haven't treated them exactly like soldiers," Ghost hummed behind you, eyes trailing the Alpha.

A shiver ran through you and Ghost pulled you back into him, letting you soak in his own warmth. "Does he always give you problems?" You nodded, letting him take on your weight as you leaned against him.

"There is rarely a day that goes by when he doesn't give some form of lip, but everyone's grown used to it, I guess," you whispered, sighing deeply. It bothered you, so much, that you couldn't get all of your squad to act like it. Like a pack. "He's just trying to take control back. He was kicked from his last squad because of similar problems, speaking down on Betas and Omegas," Ghosts scent changed a little, but you weren't able to decipher what it was before it had disappeared.

Neither of you spoke for some time, merely watching the group of wanna-be's run around and around. You wanted to be back home, with your family and watching the little ones run around, not some grown adults. You just wanted to be able to control the squad like other people, but you needed a break. So you went on leave, but came back too soon.

There wasn't much of choice, though. Either let Soap and Gaz keep getting eaten alive, or you come back and beat them back down, but maybe if you talked to Simon he would've been able to help. No, this was your squad, they were your responsibility. You'd have to be a Drill Sergeant, and it was already giving you a headache.

You pushed off Ghost, watching as one of the Omegas stumbled before righting herself. You gave a deep sigh. "Get over here!" You shouted over the rain and wind. As everyone gathered, you glared through them. "I am not your mother. I shouldn't be coming back from leave early because your senior officers are unable to control you," you huffed, looking away for a moment.

The rain still pattered down, and the Alpha was looking away. You couldn't decipher how you felt about him, but you knew it was heavy dislike. Something about the man made you uncomfortable.

"You'd expect a group of adults to behave better than a group of pups, but I suppose none of you have grown," the Alpha opened his mouth to speak and Ghost took a step forward, daring him to make a comment. "I haven't been treating you as soldiers, clearly, so from now on you'll be meeting up with Task Force 141 to being your morning training," a smile graced your features.

You'd spoken with Price briefly over the phone on your flight back. It didn't take much to convince him, and his tone gave you the chills once or twice as he described what he could do. You didn't mention anything to Ghost. You weren't entirely sure what he would do if he found out you were being dragged away from your family because of a problem child.

Everything was still in the air, what you would end up doing with them. As you gazed across, the only person not having any form of regret was the Alpha. Michael. If you could, you would have rejected him from being a part of your team. You'd read his file, it was nothing short of infraction after infraction.

You gave a deep breath. "You're going to go into the mess hall and clean it, if I come in there tomorrow and find even a crumb you'll be stuck cleaning it every day until you leave," no one moved. "What are you waiting for?" They scattered into the wind, Michael still taking everything at his own speed.

Ghost grabbed his soldier, eyes not leaving the mans. "You'll be with me," and you watched him get dragged away. You were finally free to take a warm shower, perhaps curl into your nest for some sleep you'd lost while traveling.

It was late in the evening when you heard from Simon. He had walked into your room, taking his boots off and crawling next to you in your nest. His balaclava scratched at your neck as he scented you, brushing his cheek against you.

You turned the page in your book, letting the large Alpha nearly curl around you. Your fingers found the top of his head, scratching at him over the balaclava. Yet to see his face, you never pushed it. It was none of your business to push him, even as his mate.

You could hear him chuffing softly, nose digging into your neck slightly. It was quiet for some time, outside of the chuffing of Simon and the pages turning from your book. His hands were around you, tugging you closer to him as your fingers continued scratching.

The chuffing quieted, a bothered grunt coming from him. "Want to feel your hand," he muttered, tugging at his balaclava before being able to pull it off entirely.

You didn't look, didn't move, just kept on reading as your fingers found hair. That made you pause, brows furrowed as you turned to look at him from where he returned to your neck, his chuffs returning.

Purring, you tugged him to look at you, book falling from your hand. Simon groaned softly, trying to pull his head out of your grip. A quiet be still, coming from you before he paused, eyes opening to glance down at you.

Scars littered his face, your fingers finding some of the larger ones to stroke at, trying to memorize every part of his face. You could see his cheeks growing a little red and you laughed softly, pressing your hands to his cheeks.

"Little embarrassed of being looked at so thoroughly?" Simon looked away, finally pulling out of your grip and hiding his face back against your neck. You could feel him lick you slightly, laying down a nip or two, his hands tugging you against him again.

It was a few moments later that either of you finally said anything. "What did you do with Michael?" Simon huffed against you, a quiet who?, coming from him. "The Alpha you pulled away from the rest of the squad," you added.

Simon pulled away to look at you fully. "Nothing illegal," you looked at him, smile dropping. He gave you a little grin. "Just gave him some things to do to get all of his energy out, he had a little too much to be acting that way," you laughed.

The next morning, you had a knock on your office door. "Come in," it wasn't anyone you would've expected. Not Ghost, nor Soap or Gaz. Michael.

He slammed his hands on your desk and leaned over it. "I want out," you raised your brows. "I'm not gonna let some little doctor think she can control me," you gave out a deep sigh. "And what about Ghost? You fuck him to get where you are?"

"My relationship with the Lieutenant is none of your business, soldier," you answered, crossing your legs. "You want out? You leave this squad and it's the last place you'll be. You know you can't join the military again if you get discharged. Too many infractions," you shrugged, pulling his file out of your desk. He looked at it.

Lunging for it, you pulled it out of his reach. "Who the hell gave that to you?" You laughed at him, his scent changing to something reeking of anger. God, why were you able to smell him? "Or, is it because you're an Omega?" He smiled shortly.

You stood. "You haven't been taking your suppressants as prescribed, have you?" There was no other answer for why he was so angry constantly. Without a consistent dosage, the androstenone in him would be too high to think properly. He could go feral.

Lunging for your phone, you were only able to get one number dialed before he threw it into the wall. "A little Omega bitch, fucking Ghost in order to get where she is," he snorted. The door was cracked open still, but Michael was in the way. There was no leaving.

Looking away, you blinked slowly. "I'm assuming this is how you were removed from your last squad," he threw your chair into the wall and you opened the file.

"You have no right to read that, you bitch," he growled, trying to grab it over your desk. You pulled it back, Michael growling deep in his chest. "You're gonna give me that, or I'm gonna fucking kill you," you could feel your heart in your stomach. Sure, you could fight but it was nothing with an almost feral Alpha trying to kill you.

Glancing around, you had to look for something to hopefully protect yourself with. A man like Michael could easily kill you, you didn't doubt it. One wrong punch and you'd be in the infirmary, another and you could be out of it. Forever.

"You touch her and you'll find out why I'm feared," Simon. You could feel the relief coursing through you. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, let alone allow another Alpha to hurt you. You looked between the two, seeing Michaels face slowly start to drop.

You dove under your desk the second either of them moved, a growl ripping through the area as you heard a body slam into the wall in front of you. You knew the fear on your scent would be pungent, especially to Ghost.

And it was. He could smell it from down the hall, causing a spark of fear to course through himself. The only other thing he could smell was another Alpha, and he hoped to god he wouldn't be too late. When he opened the door just a tad bit more, he heard the threats.

It set something off in him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He didn't hesitate before throwing the other Alpha into the wall, seeing you dive under your desk in his peripheral. His fists found the man, but it barely did anything. A feral Alpha would do anything to kill whoever he saw, and Ghost could hear shouts coming from the hall.

Michael charged at Ghost, who braced for impact, colliding with him and being dragged into the hall and on the wall across from your office. Ghosts knee found Michael gut, throwing him onto the ground and climbing over him.

Some MP's had come careening down the hall, guns up and shouting commands. Ghost tried holding the man down, but it didn't do too much before he was bucked off and climbing to his feet. The fear was still pungent on your scent and it set Ghost off.

He couldn't do anything before gunshots echoed down the hall and Michael collapsed. A few tranq darts scattered along his back.

Ghost was put on administrative leave, pending investigation. You'd used the rest of your leave to be able to stay with him and for the entire duration you weren't out of his eyesight.

Showering? He was standing against the far wall, staring through the doorway.

Trying to use the bathroom? The locks on your bathroom doors had never been used more, and when you left he would be standing in front of it.

For some time you had also been far to shaken to let Simon leave your eyesight. There was nothing he would do that you weren't following him for, his showers left you sitting on the counter and talking to him, even without a response. You didn't go into the bathroom with him, but sat by the door as your eyes flittered around to each corner of the room, looking for feral Alphas.

Before either of you became more comfortable, Simon wouldn't even go into your nest. He would sit outside of it, never moving much at all. It took you panicking in the middle of the night for him to start going back inside of your nest.

Neither of you knew what the future would look like, but as long as you had each other, you figured you'd be alright.

Next

[transingthoseformers]

Frick it, Merformers au idea

Optimus is a new mer researcher, and recently he saw reports of a particularly large mer seen swimming far out in the ocean and he overhears some poachers planning to capture it, and in good conscience he can't let it happen.

So he sneaks aboard their ship to try to sabatoge them, but at night when out in sea he's caught, and he brought to his knees front the leader on the deck for him to decide what happens to him. Then in the icy water, they see a red biolumincient pattern glow, the poachers ready their nets and harpoons, the leader tells one fo them to just kill Optimus, one them ready his gun, Optimus shuts his eyes and waits for the shot, but it never comes, he open his eyes to the Mer, with his teeth deep in the poachers throat. the poacher loosen his grip on the gun and the Mer let's go of throat, then the poacher falls to the ground, dead.

Then hell breaks loose.

Optimus scoots away as the great Mer tears into the poachers, blood splatters everywhere as heads and limbs get rip and torn, the leader is the last one standing he tries to shoot the Mer, but the Mer plunges his hand deep into his chest out the other side, the just as fast pulls it out as the leader also falls dead.

Optimus is terrified at this point and is frozen in place, what could he do? This Mer just tore through all the poacher, and he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean there's no where to run. The Mer moves slowly toward him, getting infornt of his face, and just stares into his eyes. Optimus gets a good look at him, his face luminated be the glowing red patterns on his face, his eyes are the same color of red. then the Mer leans to Optimus ear and whispers something, then Optimus blacks out.

When he wakes up he's in the hospital, doctors swarm him, doing tests and asking questions, but he doesn't pay attention to them as he thinks, at night looks up at the ceiling as thinks about what the Mer whispered to him.

Megatron.

Megatron, it must be his name, what else could it be?

He turns to the side and closes his eyes, he is still new to the field, and there's alot he doesn't know, but he knows one thing.

The Mer, Megatron, saved his life.

Bloody but YES

Win Megatron

This supposed to be Megop? I hope it is

Optimus survived something not many would

[somfte]

"Money!" cried the squire. "Have you heard the story? What were these villains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what would they risk their rascal carcasses but money?"

Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

(Epilepsy warning: flickering lights from 01:17 through 01:22 (if your display shows countdown timestamps, then 02:18 through 02:13))

[video description: a Black Sails fan video. Music is "Leaving the Old World" by Bytheway-May. Voiceover excerpts from the Treasure Island audiobook read by Michael Page.

The video fades in on Jack Rackham waiting in the Guthrie mansion in Philadelphia. A girl comes down the stairs and they converse: Girl: Is it true? Jack: I'm sorry? Girl: Uh, is it true… that you've come from Nassau? It's true isn't it? You're one of them. You're a pirate.

Instrumental orchestral music begins and the scene cuts to a view of the Walrus as it sails into the Skeleton Island bay. A voiceover asks, "Have you heard the story?"

Flint thumbs the edge of the missing page from the Urca schedule and his voice asks, "So you think that they see me as the villain in this particular story?"

Drawings of exaggerated pirate stereotypes blend with ghostly images of Flint in his more piratical moments. The voiceover asks, "What were these villains after but money?"

Flint asks Silver, "Why would you do that?" Silver responds, "You mean aside from the share of gold I'd get out of it?"

Miranda explains, "To show you a way out of all this, to free you." Flint demands, "A way out? Have you no memory of how we got here? What they took from us?"

Hornigold says, "I promised my men that if they stayed with me, they'd be soldiers again, that they'd be part of a rebel navy fighting a war to restore a rightful king."

Eleanor says to Vane, "…no more fighting, no more leads, no more chasing our fucking meals."

Silver continues, "…one big prize. And with it freedom."

Flint says to Anne, "We're all in this for our own reasons. You want your partner back. He wants victory. I want to set my home aright."

The music begins to swell. Billy tells Silver, "One more thing. No one gets any special treatment from you of any kind. No extra rations, no preferences in cuts of meat. Not for me, not for the quartermaster, not for the captain. Here, every man is equal."

Flint says to the maroon queen, over images of Julius, Billy, Vane, and white men in chains hauling lumber, "For every man in your camp, there are thousands somewhere in the West Indies living under the same yoke, chained in fields, pressed on ships, sold into indenture."

Max pleads with Eleanor, "We can have a life together. And it can start this very minute. All you have to do is say yes."

The music softens. The maroons are gathered happily around a large cooking fire, smiling and talking, and then we see Madi's face. She says, "But I hear other voices. A chorus of voices. Multitudes."

The video fades to black and the voiceover asks, "What did they care for but money?"

The music returns in earnest with dramatic drums and violins. Anne crawls across broken glass in the hold of a ship. Scott chokes a guard with the chains binding his wrists. Flint says, "Defined by their histories…" Vane stands at the gallows. Silver argues loudly with Flint, "I let you try it your way! I did trust you. But I am through wagering with her life now." A hooded Teach is dragged across the deck of a ship by a rope around his ankles. Flint continues, "…distorted to fit into their narrative." Flint drives a sword into the belly of Peter Ashe. Eleanor desperately picks up a pistol and fires it at the Spanish soldier attacking her. Flint rises to his feet in the forest on Skeleton Island, continuing, "…until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children."

The music climaxes and fades to gentle piano. The video fades to black for a moment, then shows an old pirate leaning against a railing on a ship. The voiceover asks again, "Have you heard the story?" It returns to Jack and the girl in the Guthrie mansion. Girl: I heard… Jack: Hmm? Girl: He sometimes butchered his enemies for amusement, made stew of their flesh. Flint stands over a cowering Alfred Hamilton. Vane, covered in grave dirt, rises over the corpse of his childhood tormentor. Girl: He was truly an animal. Silver cries out in pain and anger as he crushes the skull of Dufresne with his iron foot. Jack: Stew? Girl: Mh-hmm. Jack: I'm… I beg your pardon, but you believe this? Girl: I read it in a newspaper. Jack: Oh. Girl: Mm.

Silver stands in the forest on Skeleton Island, tears in his eyes, jaw clenched. The voiceover asks, "For what would they risk their rascal carcasses but money?" The music fades away. Distantly, Israel Hands, Ben Gunn, and two other pirates turn toward a sound in the distance on the island.

/end description]

[enderham]

Some Aventurine headcenons:

- He can't swim properly (never got to learn)

- He has a lot of plants and hires someone to take care of them when he's away. His place looks like a jungle and his balcony is overflowing with them, that's where he spends most of his time when he's in Pier Point. (If there's a cold season in Pier Point his balcony has a sliding glass window that turns it into a greenhouse)

- Thankfully offset by the plants, the rest of his IPC accommodation is just as gaudy and luxurious as his outfits. It's somewhat eclectic because he chooses decorations by process of 'ooh shiny/cool' but there's a clear preference for art nouveu and art deco even though he probably wouldn't know that's what it's called.(He likes the interior design of the reverie but doesn't know why) It's in a luxury apartment block and he had to finesse his way through the chain of command to get it approved for him.

- He genuinely likes green, it's not just cause of his stone(he's wearing the wrong shade anyway) (yeah, the plants)

- He'd wear a lot of colour and jewelry even if he weren't "rich" or maintaining an image(based on the splashes of colour on little Kakavasha's Avgin clothes)

- He doesn't have an actual birthday on file. It's logged as the day the IPC "acquired" him. The only reason he knows the standard system date is because of the massacre. The Avgin calendar is different from the standard system one, so the documentation of the Katican attack was his only way of finding out. Since finding out, all he does on his birthday is burn a Knot of Cyclicality and say a prayer. He's no longer sure if it matches up with the Avgin calendar's Kakava.

- Since he gives out money like it grows on trees and I can imagine his project plans are fairly fluid that would mean that so are his budgets too. It makes me wonder if he's got money on off-shore accounts someplace in the galaxy the IPC hasn't reached yet.

-Converseley, the jewelry he's wearing could be his final asset. I can imagine that watch to be worth at least enough to sustain one person for a year(especially on worlds with a lower cost of living). The bracelets could buy you a vehicle and his other accessories are pocket money, all in case he's gotta run.

-He can drive and he wants to learn how to pilot a ship but the IPC is barring him

-He'd never sell the earring tho

-He also carries his family's heirlooms (the shirt, necklace and charm) everywhere he travels, also in case he has to run. I believe only the most dire of circumstances would stop him from retrieving them. (I also think the charm is the earring so these two are basically the same headcanon)

- Back to the swimming, he's both afraid of submerging his head under water(having to play dead in a pool of blood, probably thinking you'll drown in it does that to a kid) and drawn to large bodies of water.

-His gloves conceal scars on his hands from the chains he had to use as a "tool"

[gjdraws]

For @ckreversebang - where are all the Johnnies coming from? Whose shenanigans are these and why??

Do not wants/squicks: No silverusso, or if there is can it be one sided please? Not a big fan of the woobification as a trope either if possible (especially of Daniel). If you want to go make a fic that involves these tropes please go ahead, I don’t mind. I wish you the best but since I’m not the target audience I probably won’t read it (sorry).

Nice to haves: background cobra husbands! Toxic variety preferred!

That’s it from me, and apologies for the sketch (sweaty emoji)

[keirangoldenwatch]

I know this was a very important fight but sometimes you have to cast Otto's Irresistible Dance on the bastard who abused your boyfriend for two hundred years.

Dance, you fucker, dance!

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

For the first time since his brother had become a demon, Kudari gets to ride a train. Nobori and his other friends are there too, and for a while, things are nice. That changes when a powerful demon attacks. Kudari has to first face his inner demons if he ever hopes to defeat the one endangering the passengers. Lucky for him, he has a brother who would never let him down.

Hey! Happy Pokemon Day!

I am FINALLY posting, at long last, my @destinationunownzine fic! Figured today was a great choice lol. Thank you, mods, who organized the fic and let me participate <3 It was literally a dream come true!

It's my Demon Slayer AU! I need to share more about this one ngl, it's been a while since I thought about it! Either way, please enjoy this fic free for all to read <3

[kandicon]

Thinking abt mechanisms and tummy again <333

[kath-artic]

oh also i got my official ocd diagnosis back on monday. funny as fuck

[saltysideblog]

❁❁ Daisy ❁❁

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

A self indulgent Nice Guys OC

Summary: How they met, part 2.

Part 1 ❁ Part 3 Part 4

A/N: I broke it up into two parts because it was easier for me to write! Enjoy! 🎉

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Healy really had a knack for attracting trouble. Well, seeing as the three men slowly cornering them were most likely after the girl cowering behind him, attracting troublemakers was a more accurate statement. Not that there’s much difference. Either way, he’s in trouble.

He did a quick head count.

One bald, one bearded, one blond. Three. Three men in sleek black suits.

One brunette in kitten heels and one greying old man. That’s two.

They were definitely outnumbered.

Where the hell was March when you needed him?

The bald man unbuttoned his crisp suit jacket. Healy caught a glimpse of the holster underneath.

“Look pal, boss wants to talk to her, no need to make a scene.”

Healy nodded, “I agree with you about that.”

Baldie stepped forward, Healy’s hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks,

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk, though.”

“No, I don’t.” she quickly interjected.

Baldie scoffed, “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Healy tutted, “Now, I have to disagree”, he squared his shoulders, betraying his tenseness, despite his casual tone, “see, me, when a woman says no”, he leaned in, “that means no.”

Balling up the front of Baldie’s shirt, Healy violently connected their foreheads, using his free hand to snatch the man’s gun.

Blondie fired first, hitting his own colleague squarely in the back. Healy returned fire, right to Blondie’s knee. He crumpled like a house of cards. Using Baldie as a human shield, Healy slowly moved forward. The girl covered her head as more shots rang out in the cramped service hallway. A bullet whizzed past Healy’s ear, grazing him. Beardie was a better shot than his friend. He raised the gun and click.

“Fuck.”

Dropping Baldie like a rock, Healy hurled the useless hunk of metal, smacking Beardie in the face with a crunch.

He clutched his now bleeding face, giving Healy enough time to knee him in the stomach, dropping him to his knees. Blondie grasped at his pant leg,

“You son of a bitch, this is none of your business…”

Healy’s fingers harshly tugged on his blond locks, his other hand doing the same to Beardie,

“You oughta work on your aim.”

He knocked their heads together like coconuts, letting them fall with a thud.

A waiter came out of the kitchen, looked at the bodies, looked at Healy standing over them and wordlessly backed away, disappearing into the kitchen once more.

Healy gestured, “We gotta go.”

The girl daintily hopped over the unconscious men,

“So much for not making a scene.”

Leading her back through the crowds on the main floor, ducking behind drunken patrons to avoid any of the black clad security staff, Healy kept an eye out for his partner as well.

“-more like a crime scene.”

He hadn’t been paying attention, “What?”

“The scene we just made… it’s a crime scene.”

He kept a hand on her back, urging her towards the exit, “Well, you get what you pay for…”, he answered absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah, how much was that?”

“Hmmm?”, he pushed open the big glass doors, stepping out into the street.

No more stuffy casino air, all cigar smoke and strong perfumes. It made Los Angeles smell like Mount Everest.

“How much did I pay?”, she pointed to his overstuffed shirt pocket.

“How much did you-“, he fumbled with the money, he was still catching his breath, “Lemme see.”

He placed his glasses on the tip of his nose and counted.

“‘Bout five hundred dollars.”

“S’pretty good price.”

He nodded. They spoke over each other,

“D’you need me to walk you home?”

“How much for a nude scene?”

Healy’s cheeks flushed, “What?!”, he shouted a bit louder than he intended.

She held her hands up, shushing him,

“Kidding! It’s a joke! Because I paid for a crime scene?”

He let out an embarrassed chuckle, “Yeah, yeah… right…”

“You’re not my type anyway.”

He put his glasses away and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m Daisy, by the way. Daisy Streets.”

He shook her hand, “That can’t be your real name.”

“See that’s why you’re not my type.”

“Not gullible enough?”

“Not gullible enough”, she smiled, “and nameless, apparently.”

“I’m Healy. Jackson. Jackson Healy.”

He cursed at himself for being so flustered.

“Thanks for savin’ my skin, Healy-Jackson Jackson-Healy”, she gestured to the wad of cash in his hand, “don’t spend it all in one place.”

She winked and left, just as quickly as she’d arrived.

Healy stood in the street, taking a deep breath and chuckling to himself. Troublemakers…

A figure came crashing out of the bushes, making him jump, which in turn, made whoever’d just fallen on their ass shriek in surprise as well,

“Jesus!”

“Holland!”

Recognizing his partner, Holland chastised from him from his spot on the pavement,

“Where the hell are you when I need you?”

“I could say the same to you!”

“I was looking for my wallet.”

The look in Holland’s eyes screamed: Obviously.

“You lost your wallet?”

Healy needed a drink.

Holland placed both his hands on his hips, looking up at Healy indignantly,

“No I did not lose my wallet, I don’t lose things, I misplace them, except when they’ve been stolen. Like my wallet.”

“Well, how much did you have in there?”

“‘Bout five hundred dollars.”

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 26

****note from Wrey- the AU starts here****

“I almost asked if you remember the last Quarter Quell. Then I remembered I wasn’t born yet, so there’s no way you would.”

“You know, sometimes you’re very stupid.”

The screen flickers on.

“Oh mandatory viewing, how I miss you when it isn’t Hunger Games season,” Finnick says in mock wistfulness.

We watch a whole special on Katniss’s wedding dresses, which neither of us can muster up even the sarcasm to pretend to care about. I suspect the thing between her and Peeta is an act, and Finnick says Peeta might really love her, but she doesn’t love him. Of course, this is only said when we’re out lobster diving and far enough away from Beck’s boat that even if it is somehow tapped, Snow’s people in the Capitol won’t be able to hear us.

It has to be fake, I think, because how stupid do they have to be to want to get married? It’s just asking for trouble. Then again, they are from the same district. It’s not like Megary and Augustus.

For a brief second, the thought crosses my mind. We could do that…

I glance at Finnick.

He’s looking at my hand on the couch next to him. He shakes his head just the tiniest bit.

He’s right. We couldn’t. He has the same deal the rest of them do. And why would we give the Capitol more to use against us?

I slip my fingers between his, and we watch the rest of the wedding dress special in silence.

Then President Snow walks onto the stage and gives a history-filled and heavily biased speech about the Dark Days and the creation of the Hunger Games and the special glorified versions to take place every twenty-five years. “On the twenty-fifth anniversary,” Snow says, “as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it.”

That can’t have been fun. The strategic part of my brain knows that picking an older, stronger, bigger candidate would be the best choice. Electing someone smart, confident, charming, good with pointy objects. That gives the district the best chance at victory. But who wants to vote for someone everyone likes? It’s still, most likely, a death sentence, so why not vote for someone you don’t like? Someone mediocre at best, not terribly popular, someone who won’t be missed. The ethics are confounding, but then, we are talking about the Hunger Games.

Snow continues, “On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes.”

“How did Haymitch win that?” I ask.

Finnick shrugs. “They don’t show that one. Not the whole thing, anyway. There was an axe involved. Maybe we can get the tape.”

Snow takes the envelope labeled “75” from the box a little boy next to him is holding. He opens the envelope, removes a piece of paper, and reads, unflinchingly, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”

“What?” Finnick sits up like he’s somehow going to get Snow’s attention and ask for clarification.

I slump down as all the air leaves my lungs.

The people on the screen are confused. Well, Snow isn’t. But everyone else is. The people of the Capitol don’t understand. I can see them trying to puzzle through it. I read their lips as questioning whispers of “Existing pool?” go back and forth.

Next to me, Finnick is rigid and tense. “No. That can’t be right. That’s not… that’s not how it works. No.”

And the people on the screen have reached the same conclusion. They are shocked, outraged even. They love us, so we cannot go back to the arena. It isn’t fair to them to have to lose twenty-three of us after they’ve had years to get attached, even become friends. And I’m sure they think they are justified in believing those things, but I have already gone numb. The arena has taken so much from me, and now it will take more. The best-case scenario is that Mags and Manta are reaped and Mags wins. No one would miss Manta. But Mags won’t win against twenty-three other tributes, all of whom are going to be younger than her. And there’s only a one in four chance that Manta will be reaped. Which means there is a one in four chance that Beck will be reaped. Or Finnick…

It finally clicks. I was never as good at math as Mako, but there’s a decent chance that Finnick and I will both go back to the arena. And only one of us can come out. The odds are no longer in our favor.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Finnick sits in shock while I break a few plates. I don’t know how else to react. I think about walking myself off the pier like he was worried I would right after I won five years ago. It feels like a lifetime now. A different lifetime, really. At least then I knew I was done with the arena. Now I almost wish I could go back to those days. I break another plate. The front door closes. I’m not surprised. I throw one last plate at the wall, then trudge across the street. I walk past my house, hoping Dad isn’t home. Hoping he doesn’t come looking for me. I can’t face him right now. I can’t.

I don’t knock on Mags’s door. She’s told me before it’s always open, and now I’m glad. It seems like putting forth the effort to knock would kill me.

Mags and Beck are sitting silently at her kitchen table. I drop heavily into a chair and we continue sitting in silence.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

It is three hours before Finnick shows up. He kicks off his shoes and holds up the lobsters. Mags smiles.

Nothing like fresh lobster to celebrate a death sentence when you finally thought you’d get to die in peace at your own pace.

He sets the spear carefully in the umbrella stand, which would be ridiculous anywhere but Four, where anyone with an umbrella stand is sure to not own any umbrellas—we grow up in and on the water, what difference does a little rain make?—but they do make fantastic places to keep a spear clean and out of the way.

Mags takes the lobsters and starts preparing a meal. It is a mark of how shaken Beck is that he doesn’t help. Finnick leans against the wall for a long time before saying he’s going to shower. He doesn’t leave though, he just walks upstairs.

When he is gone and we can hear the sound of running water, Mags says, “You can’t go.”

“What?”

“She’s right,” Beck says, looking up for the first time since I got here. “No matter what happens, you can’t go.”

“Why? You think I won’t make it?”

Beck takes a deep breath. “Finnick won’t make it. If he loses you…” but he trails off. He doesn’t look like he has the heart to finish the thought. “You just can’t go.”

I walk upstairs. I don’t know what excuse I made, and I doubt they bought it anyway. But does it really matter at this point?

The door is locked. That’s not like him. He has no sense of (or want for, I sometimes think) privacy. I sigh, take three steps back, drop my shoulder, and ram the door.

The steam hits me like a brick wall. When my eyes stop watering from the heat and humidity, I close the door as best I can and turn to the shower. I don’t know what I expected to see, but this wasn’t it.

Finnick is sitting against the back wall, arms crossed, elbows on his knees, forehead on his arms, shaking. I don’t think he even flinched when I broke in.

“What do they mean?”

He doesn’t look up, only takes a shaky breath and says, “About?”

“You can’t go, Annie? What do you want, Mags dead?”

He finally looks up. His eyes are even redder than they were before. What did he do, go out and cry until he thought he was all cried out, then snag some lobsters for supper only to realize when he opened the door that he was not, in fact, out of tears?

“I’m sure you’ve never seen your list,” he says, “And I haven’t seen it either, but it’s written down somewhere, in a file in the Capitol. Snow has a copy. Megary Fallon’s name is on it, but it’s been crossed off. Augustus is there too, and Johanna and Gloss. Your dad, Jade and Coral, Mako’s parents. Mags, Beck, me. You’ve got a long list. You’ve got the ideal list. Friends and family, lovers, people of all ages, Victors, average citizens.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, lets it out even more slowly. “I have seen my list. It’s written down on a white piece of paper with a rose stamped at the bottom, in a drawer in Snow’s desk. My parents’ names are crossed off. And under that it’s just Mags and you. That’s it. I’ve been trying to keep you out of the Capitol for years, done stuff I’m not proud of, and come to find out that it’s all been for nothing. My list is about to get a lot shorter. And they’re right, you can’t go. I can’t sleep without you. The idea of having to live the rest of my life without you is… I’d just walk myself off the pier.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We eat the lobsters quietly. Eventually, I apologize to Mags for breaking the hinges on the bathroom door. She shrugs me off and we return to silence. I can hear the voices, the screams, the thumps and slices, but I keep eating. I don’t know why. I’m not hungry. But I feel like if I quit eating, then I really have given up. And I will not give up. I won once, I can do it again.

Beck finishes eating first. He pushes his plate away and says, “This isn’t what anyone wants, but…” He pauses and looks at Mags. She gives him a reassuring nod. He takes a deep breath. “Mags and I are going to volunteer.”

“What?” I splutter.

“No!” Finnick slams his fork onto the table.

“Yes,” Beck says firmly. “We’ve talked about it. We’re old and we’ve got no one left but you two barnacle brains. So you’re not going, we are.”

“What about Manta and Cellin?” Finnick protests. He’s waving his fork a little too emphatically for me to feel completely safe, but he’s also making a valid point, so I let him continue. “Cellin’s been doing his best to drink himself to death ever since I can remember, and no one would miss Manta! Why would you volunteer?”

“Mags deserves to have a friend in the arena.” Beck is as calm as I’ve ever seen him, which is saying something.

“Everyone loves Mags! She’d have One and Two begging to be allies!”

“Finnick.” Mags puts one of her wrinkled hands on his, which is still clutching the fork.

He stares at her. “You can’t…”

“I have to. And I will.”

“No.” I say flatly. “No volunteers. That’s the whole point of the Games, right? That we all have an equal chance of getting drawn? Let’s just settle it now. No volunteers. They draw your name, you go.”

I am met with silence.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

That night I dream that they draw my name, and I am standing tall with my ridiculous heels, and I am confident—cocky, even—through it all: the goodbyes, the Parade, the Training Center, the interview with Caesar Flickerman, in which he asks if I still eat whale for breakfast and I laugh and say, “Every day, Caesar—I should have brought you some!” and the audience laughs. In the arena, I am unstoppable. And then, in the end, there are four of us left: Katniss and Peeta and Finnick and me. We fight, the four of us, on open ground, a real show I am sure. And when Peeta is dead and the rest of us dying, Katniss readies her last arrow and looks me dead in the eye. “You deserve to win.” And she lets the arrow fly.

It hisses past my shoulder. I don’t hear the thump, but I do hear the exhale. And before I can even turn, I hear the cannon. I scream, release the pressure I’ve been keeping on the gash in my side—maybe I can bleed out before Katniss. I drop to my knees next to Finnick, my vision blurring, wild with grief, waiting for death. Let her kill me.

The cannon sounds again, and I look up to see Katniss lying on her back, fist closed around the handle of the knife she has just drawn across her own throat.

Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games!”

I scream incoherently, and I wake up screaming incoherently.

Finnick is there. He always is. But what makes it worse is the knowledge that someday soon, he won’t be. Or I won’t be here to need him. Or we’ll be in the arena together, all the while knowing only one of us can leave, because the Capitol will never let a pair of tributes pull that stunt again.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I don’t live the next few months like I should. I know I should be living to the fullest, spending as much time as I can with as many people as I can, but I don’t. Jade comes for supper on Tuesdays and Fridays. I work in the office on Mondays. Finnick and I sit at the pier in miserable silence.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Even Casca, who has never had a great deal of love for any of us but Mags, looks depressed.

“The female tribute from District Four…”

There are only two pieces of paper in the giant fishbowl. I don’t know why we have to drag this out. It’s either me or Mags. And then, like we’re under water, I hear Casca call my name.

I can hear all of it. The screams, the thunder of the buffalo herd, the booming of cannons, Merritt’s enraged shouting, Mako’s head hitting the sand…

Mags, who has been holding my hand through the whole ceremony, gives it a squeeze, then steps forward.

No.

I yank her bank. I will need a friend outside, and I trust Mags to do this for me.

She looks up at me, tears in her eyes. I shake my head. Finally, she nods.

What have I done?

But somehow, despite the stampede in my head, I stand straight and I step forward.

And then Casca calls Finnick’s name.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are on the train. I don’t remember getting on the train, and I have the horrifying realization that I blanked before the goodbyes. Before my only chance to say goodbye to Dad and Jade and Coral…

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, and look desperately at Finnick. “I missed it…”

“No,” he says quietly. “They didn’t let us. Ran us right on the train.”

We sit in silence, Mags and Beck looking almost as miserable as I feel. I have no doubt they are both regretting not volunteering, but that’s too bad for them. It’s too late. Finnick and I are going back into the arena.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[dkniade]

Genuine question, are there other (preferably free mobile) games that’s got GI’s level of character trauma but is written well and has pretty graphics and nice environment design? I guess I’m asking for recommendations

(Do I just want to see pretty anime characters get pretty traumatized or something)

I don’t play that many games and it’s hard for me to get into games ‘cause usually I do a ton of research about it before deciding to get into it

[musicalhistorical]

My spidersona!!! (At least the one I developed the most sh)

Tw: spiderverse typical violence,

Name:

Euphie Euylssess

Spider Name:

Spider Fall

Age:

13

Background:

Born into a lower class family, the youngest of twelve siblings, Euphie was initially named Euphoria. She goes by Euphie, as her full name is a bit hard for her to pronounce.

She grew up in New York after her family was forced to give up their custody of her, and shortly after that she was bitten by a spider.

But the poor girl couldn’t get a break from that; the spider’s DNA fused with hers on a powerful level, causing a few mutations in her body to form. First, she developed five brand new eyes on her face. Second, her teeth sharpened, why, she had no idea. And finally, she had the ability…to jump. Like a cricket, kangaroo….or jumping spider.

Well, how’s that?

The girl was only eleven when she was bitten, bored and with nothing else to do she’d use her abilities to protect the people she cared about. Even as her parents went out on dates past her bedtime; she was very good at sneaking in or out.

Which is how she saw- she saw the man pull the gun on her foster father. She saw the glint of the metal, heard the safety click off. Yet she was too scared to move; and so she watched as he was shot down just a few feet in front of her.

It was after this that she began taking her role more seriously. She began training alongside one of her foster siblings, who did martial arts. She incorporated some of her instinctual reflexes as well; honing them to be sharp and crisp.

Being a jumping spider, her vision is exceptionally good; however her extra eyes are more sensitive to the light than her other ones, so for her eyes she’ll often wrap a bandage around her head to soothe them.

She’s terrified of adults; especially ones with tempers, who have no qualms with hurting someone (shes petrified of Miguel Ngl) and is very distrustful; at this time it is assumed that this is because of her home life with her birth parents, and more investigation is needed.

I hope you liked this introduction to Euphie!

@oopsitszuli :3 ik you said you would be interested in checking her out