#but then there was a whole cannibal island in canon

[drbobbimorse]

Enigma’s Plot Bunnies → Hopeless Wanderer

"Are these guys friends or food?" "Food! Definitely food!" "Finally. I'm starving."

Surviving the Kinzokou Town fighting pit Hanako was forced into was arduous but easy. She never lost a fight and, since she’d been born into a cannibal tribe, the pit gave her an endless supply of food. But it wasn’t her home and she longed to be free. Nyssa had always come to her rescue before, but not this time. It was a long eight years in that cage, waiting for her dearest friend. Instead, a rubber kid claiming he was going to be King of the Pirates came and changed everything. 

Hanako hated pirates, she hated sailing, but at least these pirates didn't use seastone to cage and control her. And they didn't even seem to mind her bear form, mostly. Her eating people still bothered most of them. "Friends aren't food," Luffy told her. Unless they were in a fight, then it was okay. 

Hanako would do whatever her Captain ordered. She'd adapt to the sea. She'd get used to an altered albeit balanced diet. She'd have a real job as Sanji's sous chef, his idea. She'd go to the Grand Line and help Luffy achieve his dream because he'd saved her and she owed him. But she had dreams of her own. Hanako was going to prove she wasn't the monster the Kinzokou townspeople made her believe she was, and she was going to find Nyssa if it was the last thing she did.

#allaboutocs #ocappreciation #oc hub #oc community #opla oc #my characters #my edit #plot bunnies #sooo she was always going to be someone who could turn into a bear #who was taken and forced to fight in a fighting pit for years #the cannibalism was supposed to be forced for survival #but then there was a whole cannibal island in canon #and it's shaped like a bear paw (or three people in a cooking pot) #so it seemed too perfect to pass up #also kinzouko village isn't canon I made it up #originally she was gonna be picked up after usopp and before sanji #but canon didn't allow that! #so now Luffy Zoro and Nami grab her after buggy and on their way to usopp #cause I imagine this made up village is on the other side of the organ islands where buggy was #for a plot bunny I'll probably never write I sure am overthinking

[avisisisis]

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

#i'll make more of these later #i'm just very bored and i love rtte #race to the edge #rtte #how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd rtte #toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #dagur the deranged #tuffnut thorston #ruffnut thorston #heather the unhinged #avis' post

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Capital (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You think you married the plainest woman on earth, and you look away for one second and suddenly she is not. Typical. At least, for Daemon.

Warnings: Mature language, sexual thoughts, canon typical violence.

Requested: Yes! But since I am particular about my aesthetic, I didn't answer there. Jealousy + arranged marriage. Brought to you by the seven deadly sins.

Gluttony /ˈɡlʌtəni/

​the habit of eating and drinking too much.

Claw Island is as good as getting vanished from the court. You know it. Your Lord husband knows it. Even the tenants know it. Why else would the King order your marriage to Daemon Targaryen?

It was not as much of a punishment as the King had hoped. The Celtigars are a prestigious family, one of the few left with Valyrian blood. While not ones to flaunt their riches or seek for great power, you led a luxurious lifestyle.

The finest wines. Myrish rugs. The newest books. And of course, the riches from the surrounding sea. Beautiful pearls, a fleet that, while small, sailed with speed. The best foods.

The small island was your perfect little world, sequestered away from the troubles of the mainland. What else could a person long for, when they lived in a paradise? Claw Island had it all. Miles and miles of tempestuous sea, soft sands and gorgeous wildlife not seen anywhere else. Humble, but good people. Natural riches enough to last a lifetime.

But as of late, your breathtaking lands did nothing to bring you peace. Sometimes, in truth, as you walked along the shoreline, you wished for a tremendous sea wave to swallow you whole.

It would be better than this. Among the crabs, the sea life and wreckage of old ships, you would feel at ease. At home, even. And finally, finally untroubled. But things were not as you wanted them to be. With your Lord Father at court, someone had to mind the island. And no one knew the lands as you did.

You shuddered to think of something happening to you. In that case, the island, and its people, would go to your husband. Considering how much he hated it here, Prince Daemon would make a poor ruler.

You glare. He glares right back. Remembering your manners, you serve him a cut of spider crab seared in butter. The meal is rich and decadent, a show of the best Claw Island has to offer.

“Crab, Lady Wife?” Daemon raises both eyebrows. “Again?”

“What else does the Prince wish to eat?” You do your best effort at keeping your tone even. You try hard to not raise your voice at him, remembering the rumors about what happened to his last wife. So far, it seems to be working. Despite being older than you, the man behaves as a child. You have found he benefits from being managed as one, too.

Ever since you got married, he has been desperately trying to rile you up. The Prince always seemed to deflate when you refused to engage. He was clearly itching for a fight, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“You seem too willing to indulge in cannibalism for my tastes.” Daemon, in what he surely believed to be the absolute demonstration of cutting wit, smirks. You smile at him, sedate. You have heard enough remarks about crabs to last a lifetime. “It’s worrying.”

You could answer him. Perhaps make a mockery of his inability to perform in bed and the behavior of the female praying mantis. You do not. Instead, you force yourself to give him a tight smile.

“Don’t worry. I will ask the servants to bring you fish.” You took your napkin out of your lap and placed it on the table. Dutifully, you rang the bell to call for a servant.

“Again?” Daemon complained, sounding much like a petulant child. You smiled and went back to your seat. Your crab was getting cold, and it would most likely be by the time your husband’s fish was served. But good manners dictated you could not start eating without him. You resigned yourself to another night of eating a cold dinner.

“You should write to the King, my Prince. I would serve you venison, were it not for the fact that your dragon has nearly extincted the population here.” While you were by no means poor, feeding a dragon was an expense you didn’t care for, especially one so picky as Daemon’s was showing to be.

While a dragon was a marvelous creature, and having one guarding your lands was a great perk, it was also hard. Caraxes ate the same as five grown men in a day, if not more. He didn’t eat just anything you served him, either. Much like his owner, he was picky. He had come with dragon keepers, and needed to be built a shelter.

You had hoped that his serpentine appearance would mean that he would eat a lot in one sitting, then hibernate, but no such luck. Your island couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried. Animals didn’t reproduce at the pace required.

“Of course, my Lady. Of course.” Daemon says, in a dismissive tone. It’s then, when a servant comes in with his fish.

Your crab is cold. Again. Daemon is not pleased with the fish, but seems wary of extending dinner even more. For once, he doesn’t complain.

Dinner is eaten silently. In your head, you make plans for tomorrow's meals. Perhaps oysters, served cold, will withstand the wait better. You finish dinner and settle down to read some before bed.

When the time comes for it, you close your book. Daemon departs with a cold kiss to your cheek. You go to your bed, just as cold and empty as the kiss was, and fall asleep.

It’s around the witch's hour when he comes back to you, getting into the bed next to you. He stinks of cheap perfumes and oils. As he pulls you closer, to be able to hide his face on your neck, you can feel the smell of sex and alcohol induced sweat. It comes from the clothes Daemon hasn’t even bothered to shed before getting in bed with you.

You don’t like him drunk. He gets sloppy. You do better when he hides his indiscretions, the proofs of your failure as a woman. As a wife. He seeks his pleasure from other bodies, never yours. With you, he is unable to perform to completion.

Perhaps the same happens to him with others, on nights like these. That thought soothes you, and it’s the only reason why you allow Daemon to seek comfort in your arms. Sometimes, he has nightmares. It’s expected then, too, that you are the one to soothe him back to sleep.

Shifting in his grip, you rub his back, gently. You card your other hand through the matted strands of blonde hair, as a mother would do to his child. In many ways, you guess he is one. You pity him, your husband. A man with a void so deep, not even all the vices in the world could fill it.

You are unable to fall back asleep. You lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling. When you hear the rooster’s first crow, you roll out of bed. Sleep is not coming for you. Daemon, unperturbed in his slumber, only sprawls more. You tuck him in.

When you get to your vanity, you catch the servants leaving the correspondence for the day on it. She giggles when you point at the bed and the mess of clothes, gesturing for silence. It makes you feel better, that they think your husband comes from the pleasure houses straight into your arms for more than just cuddles.

One of the letters catches your eye. It’s written in the strange alphabet used for High Valyrian, bearing both the royal seal and the King’s name. You don’t mean to pry. In fact, you open it because you are worried your husband has upset his brother even more.

Marriage is like being tied to a ship. When the tides are good and the ship strong, you soar above the sea. But no one wants to be tied to a sinking ship. It’s that fear what leads you to heating a knife on your candle’s flame and lifting the seal.

You read as you brush your hair, unrushed. You know Daemon won’t be awake for at least six more hours. But the more you advance, skipping polite greeting, the more your stomach sinks, and you jump from sentence to sentence.

“And while I understand your dislike of Claw Island, it is a less harsh punishment than you deserve. Much you complained of wanting a Valyrian bride, and now the opportunity presents itself, ripe for the taking. Yet, you do not seem keen on it. Is it, again, the lack of a throne you find off-putting? Perhaps, the lack of a child bride you can manipulate? Your Lady Wife might not have purple eyes or silver hair, as you mention, but she is a maiden in the bloom of youth. Tales of her beauty have graced the court, shared among the eager mouths of her family and previous suitors. Both Lord Velaryon and Lord Mooton agree that the woman is a delight, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. She has impeccable breeding and education. I will not grant you the annulment. I will not allow you to go back to your whore.”

There is a coppery taste in your mouth. Blood, you realize. From biting your tongue so hard to avoid letting out a scream of rage. It feels like being stabbed, countless times. In your back, and in your heart. Betrayal and deep, hurtful sorrow.

What have you done to deserve this? To be blindsided so? You have stood firm through all the humiliations your husband puts you through. Never once reproaching the way he goes out after dinner and does not come back until sunrise. Never complaining of his audacity to search comfort in your arms when he is drunk and stinking of whores. Never once raising your voice at the insults to your people, your home, your family.

But for Daemon Targaryen, it wasn’t enough. You would never be enough. Childishly, when you had first heard of your betrothal to him, you had hoped for companionship, if not love. At least, you thought, you would have a friend. But you hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep him in your bed, you had not been enough of the blood of Old Valyria for him to give you children, and you had not been enough for him to stay married to you.

He took from you, and took from your island and from your family, and not once was he satisfied. Not once, he was sated. And now, Daemon has done the unspeakable. Not satisfied with making a mockery out of you, with his constant unfaithfulness, he seeks to ruin you further. It’s only King Viserys who protects you and your family from further embarrassment.

You have underestimated him, pitying him while he planned your demise. The ruin of your house. You have been sharing your bed with the enemy. The thought frightens you and fills you with anger at equal parts. What will happen, when the King dies and the awful Princess with whom your husband was so taken ascends? Will you be put to the sword, accused of an imaginary crime to get you out of the way? Treason, perhaps? Hands shaking in anger, you fold the letter and reseal it as carefully as you can.

That is the day you decide you will retreat into your shell, like any good crab. You will close yourself over, put up walls and keep him as far away as you can. And you will wait for the day to stab at his heels until his physique reflects exactly the useless kind of man he is inside.

One day, this man might kill you. You will have to make sure he does not get away with it.

Envy /ˈenvi/

​the feeling of wanting to be in the same situation as somebody else; the feeling of wanting something that somebody else has.

It’s not often you are summoned to the court. But your father is about to be named Keeper of the Keys, a prestigious position often held by members of your house before being promoted to Master of Coin. The implication is clear. Soon, another Celtigar will be handling the finances of the Kingdom. It’s a ploy, to intertwine you further with the Royal Family. As soon as King Viserys dies, it will be your father who serves on Princess Rhaenyra’s council.

Hence, the need for a celebration. Traveling from Claw Island to King’s Landing is exhausting, especially considering that you do the journey by ship while your husband does so in his dragon. He seems overjoyed about it, but you can only think of how much the separate travel is costing your purses.

Daemon arrives early, because of course he does. Meanwhile, you spend your time preparing to put on the play of your life. You must be the most dutiful wife in the Seven Kingdoms, or else he might find a reason to get rid of you. Setting apart your most fashionable dresses, preparing gifts for the King and Queen and otherwise looking radiant.

Knowing Daemon, he is already whispering poison in his brother’s ear. You need to dazzle the King and the whole court, convince them you are not only an adequate wife but a perfect one. No stain must be perceived in your reputation.

You arrive punctually, just in time to prepare for the feast. It’s inside the Hall where you meet Daemon, and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. Chaste, but affectionate, performed under the King’s approving look. You are radiant in your house’s colors, with subtle references to Targaryen’s ones.

The feast is torture. Viserys, Daemon and Rhaenyra are all seated at the same table. They get along wondrously, while you, Queen Alicent and Ser Laenor are ignored despite being next to them.

The only thing that calms your heart is watching your father, sitting at the table of the Master of Coin.

“My Queen.” You say to her, hoping to curry favor. The Gods knew you needed as many allies as you could. “I brought you this.”

You take out a beautifully engraved rendition of the Prayers Book. It’s a gorgeous edition, with a gold finish. You hope that at least, if she doesn’t like it, she would think it is a gift to the babe she carries. It’s a thoughtful gift, the kind of thing you excel at.

“Oh, Lady Targaryen!” The Queen says, and takes it, admiring it in the light. Fortunately, she seems truly charmed by it. “It is the most wonderful thing!”

“I have one myself.” You tell her, as if you had not purchased it for exactly this moment. “When I heard you were from Oldtown, I couldn’t think of a better thing to bring.”

“It’s lovely.” Alicent says, as your husbands ignore both of you. Viserys and Daemon are too busy having their fun to care about what women are doing. “Will you join me in prayer tomorrow?”

“I would be delighted to.” It’s the first genuine smile you wear since your arrival. And it’s the first time that someone from the royal family smiles back.

You do attempts towards Rhaenyra and Laenor. They both ignore you, and so, you decide to keep strictly to conversing with Alicent. You decide to leave Viserys out of it, despite your gratitude to him because you would rather not look like much of a sycophant.

Your happiness at finally making a friend between your in-laws makes you oblivious to Daemon’s silence. During the whole dinner, he barely taunts you. None of the crab-based insults he so favors are present, either. That should have warned you. If you have learned something about your husband is that there is never a time when he is quiet.

He bides his time. The desserts are already served when Daemon delivers his greatest insult up to date. Some couples are even swaying to the rhythm of the music already, no matter if the tables have yet to be cleared.

“I wish to dance, I think.” Daemon says, getting up from his seat. You start to get up too, knowing you cannot refuse him, but he turns towards Rhaenyra. “A dance, niece?”

Rhaenyra preens under the attention and takes his hand. For a second, you stay frozen, hand falling uselessly by your side just when you were about to reach for him. You feel like you are being stabbed. Again.

The humiliation is so great you wish for some great disaster, perhaps one of the couples bumping against a table and overturning it, just to get the attention away from you. Half the hall has now seen you get rejected by your husband. In a celebration meant to honor your father, nonetheless.

You struggle to keep your face emotionless, curved into a polite little smile. You have made a fool of yourself. Hot tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill.

Noticing your despair, Alicent places a hand on your arm, softly.

“Thank you, Lady Targaryen.” She exclaims, loudly. “With the babe getting bigger and bigger every day, I find it harder to stand. You are very thoughtful.”

Her rescue, as she stands and walks down the dais, helps you save face. Your smile turns more genuine.

“It’s but good breeding, my Queen.” You answer, just as loud. “What kind of noble could see a Lady of your station and not aid her?”

Alicent smiles, and she cradles her stomach.

“Indeed. Only a savage, I would think.” Her glance at her own husband is unmistakable. But Viserys is too busy watching Rhaenyra and Daemon dance to help his pregnant wife. His eyes never leave his brother and daughter, his expression twisted into one of annoyance.

Alicent makes her way towards a table where a few knights sit. Most of them are from Oldtown, and you cannot help but smile at her doing the rounds her husband so neglects. But her rescue, and quick exit, leave you in an uncomfortable position. King Viserys and Ser Laenor are engaged in conversation, including you only when they remember your presence, which means once every half an hour.

Without Queen Alicent, you have no conversation partner. The only thing you can do is watch. Daemon twirls around the room as if he were not a married man, taking every eligible bachelorette in the room for at least one dance. He is enchanting, pulling blushes left and right. He dances twice with Rhaenyra and Laena Velaryon.

You play your part to perfection. Each time he glances your way, you give him an indulgent smile or a sweet tilt of your head. Even when he dances again with Rhaenyra, your expressions don't shift. Instead, you lift your cup to them and even find it in yourself to give a small clap.

It’s torture. It’s exhausting, having to play the devoted but never jealous wife, when he is doing his best to embarrass you. Finally, the King retires, but orders that the celebrations do not stop. You consider making your way towards your father, uncaring if leaving Laenor sitting on his own is rude.

Just as you are getting up, a knight, dressed in a fine green gambeson, steps in front of you. You look up at him, wondering what he could possibly want.

His voice is soft and eloquent, with the barest hint of an accent. His voice reminds you of someone, but you cannot quite place who.

“Lady Targaryen. You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” You answer him, politely. Is he about to ask you for a dance? Is this a ploy for your husband to embarrass you further?

The knight smiles. He is tall and slender, very different from your husband, yet handsome just the same.

“If I had a wife as pretty as you, she wouldn’t be sitting here.” He compliments, and startles a laugh out of you. It has been months since the last time a man complimented you so. Before marrying, you had quite the suitors, but no one dared practice courtly love with the Rogue Prince’s wife. And your husband never once spoke to you kindly.

It’s a thrill, to feel wanted and appreciated again. You love having his eyes on you. It fills you with a forgotten kind of confidence. As the daughter of the man whose star in court is rising, as a beautiful woman and as the wife of a Prince, you deserve to be admired. It’s not your fault your husband can’t see it, you are desirable. People should be currying for your favor. You shouldn’t be begging for the scraps of a man whose only interest is his niece.

“Would she be on the dance floor?” You tease the knight, falling back into the practiced flirtations that had made you so popular before. You feel like you are glowing again.

The knight shakes his head, a hint of mischief appearing in his brown eyes.

“I would forbid her from leaving my chambers.”

At that, you laugh again, blushing. Despite how charming he is, you are still a married woman. You cannot give anyone reason to suspect or judge you, else Daemon might have basis to rid himself of you.

“I am not your wife.” You say, politely. The knight gasps, as if wounded, making you laugh again. You do not realize someone is glaring daggers at you, entranced as you are by him. “But perhaps a dance might suffice?”

The knight gives you a cheeky grin. He takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, gently.

As he leads you towards the dance floor, you barely notice Daemon looking disgruntled on the edge of it. You look over and see Rhenyra dancing with some tall and broad knight. He is probably jealous of him.

“You must give me your favor, for tomorrow's tournament. We are, after all, celebrating your family.” The knight says, making you focus back on him. His eyes are brown and kind, so soft. They remind you of someone, but once again, you can’t tell who.

“Ah, I see you are a tough negotiator.” You tease, your tone turning slightly more girlish. This time, it is the knight who laughs.

“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” The man winks, as he starts to twirl you around.

“I think, my lord, you have yourself a deal.” You grin.

It’s only when a Hightower knight approaches the stands the next day and offers you his lanze, you realize the mistake you have made.

Wrath /ræθ/

​extreme anger.

Daemon can’t believe his ears. Out of nowhere, a sweet sound reaches him. It’s the sound of a Lady’s laughter, but something about it makes him turn his head.

Perhaps, the fact that the sound has managed to catch his attention at all, despite the loud music, chatter and other laughs. Perhaps it is that the sound is familiar to him. He doesn’t know what it is, but as the piece finishes, he steps aside and tries searching for the source.

It’s then he sees you. His wife. Glowing and laughing on that Hightower cunt’s arm. And no, it’s not Alicent he is referring to. Otto’s spawn seems to have a proclivity for you because this is the other one. The elder.

Gwayne. His hands all over you, a gentle touch to your lower back to guide you forward. And are your eyes brightening? For him? As you pass by Daemon, you barely spare him a glance. He manages to hear a piece of the conversation.

“Your favor, for tomorrow's tournament…” The man has the gall to ask, as if he could win you the flower crown! The nerve of that Hightower pup, to think himself able to win. It’s clear he doesn’t remember the last time he faced Daemon, and while he was already planning on entering, now he knows with absolute certainty he is competing. Gwayne Hightower seems to have forgotten his lesson. He needs to remember his place.

“… Tough negotiator…” Your cheerful voice answers. Probably telling him he has to win if you do so because you are Valyrian and proud like him. Surely, the idea of getting crowned Queen of Love and Beauty appeals to you. You want a flower crown? Daemon will get you the damn thing.

When he was no more than a boy, his father used to have a particularly overzealous hound. Daemon had taken great delight in setting him free just when ladies were visiting. The dog loved sniffing beneath the ladies' skirts and humping their legs. The whole scene often ended up with Daemon getting yelled at, either by the ladies or their husbands. Now, as he looked at the proverbial dog humping his wife, Daemon understood why the ladies' husbands were so enraged.

He should cut his hands. Hightowers. No sense of shame at all, with their whorish ways. They were all the same. There went Alicent, throwing herself at Viserys when poor Aemma was not even in her pyre. There went Gwayne Hightower, placing his paws all over you and trying to charm you when Daemon was still in the room.

Couldn’t he tell you are his? It’s not that Daemon likes you, but it’s an affront to his honor. You are the wife of a Prince. The mere fact that a measly knight thought he could compare it’s outrageous. And the fact that he dared touch you! The nerve!

It’s Daemon who shares your bed, back in Claw Island. It’s Daemon you hold during the night, who pays for your silly little dresses. It’s for him you have clearly gotten all pretty today. How dare he, that Hightower fool.

He can’t have you. Gwayne Hightower is not allowed to just swoop in and try to steal his woman. You are meant to sleep by his side, be his solace. You are not the kind of woman for whom a simple knight would be enough. Just like him, you love the lush life. Could Gwayne Hightower buy you a dress like that? Could he use a dragon to protect your little island?

Daemon clutches at his cup so hard, he thinks he might bend the metal. You are his bride. He is the only one allowed to have you. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but it doesn’t mean someone else can.

Rhaenyra approaches him again, no doubt wanting another dance. But not even her allure, which is usually so hypnotizing to him, manages to get him out of his bad mood. He hates when other people touch what is his.

Daemon decides to retire for the night, before she can reach him. He needs to think. How he longs for your shared rooms back at Claw Island. At least that way, he wouldn’t spend the night tossing and turning, wondering if the Hightower cunt escorted you back to your rooms, and if so, at which hour.

Strange, isn’t it? Such a small act can cause such a big shift in perspective. So many months, he had spent thinking of Claw Island a prison, longing to be able to come back to court. Now, he sees it as it was. A shell made to protect the most valuable pearl the sea had produced.

Had Daemon known men at court would try to steal his bride, he would have never authorized this trip. Your father could have been named Hand, but you would have never stepped foot outside your castle if Daemon had known. You would not be taken with Gwayne Hightower if he had a say in it.

He had a plan. The knight would make a fool out of himself. Daemon just had to encourage him in the right direction.

Daemon is up and about as soon as the sun is. He strolls towards the space prepared for the tournament, armor in hand. He changes slowly, giving plenty of time for Gwayne Hightower to arrive.

The foolish knight does. So do you, sitting next to your father in the stands, all pretty and glowy under the sun. You wear a red gown that compliments not only your skin tone, but pays homage to both of your houses. After all, both House Targaryen and Celtigar have red on their coats of arms. A clear show that you were meant to be his, and his alone. What would you even look like, if you were married to a Hightower fool? Red and green would look hideous in a dress.

As the highest-ranking competitor, Daemon gets to make the first challenge. To no one’s surprise, he picks Gwayne Hightower.

Daemon waits with bated breath, already seated on his horse. Does the man dare? Oh, he dares! The Hightower cunt gallops towards the stands. You don’t rise, looking towards the Hightower whore. It’s then he realizes you must be truly innocent. You are either doubting the boldness of the man or are not aware of his house, and do not recognize him under the armor.

But as Gwayne Hightower reaches the stand, Daemon close on his heels, he takes off his helmet. You gasp.

The Hightower whore makes a move as if to get up. Her brother’s voice cuts her off.

“I was hoping to get a sign of your favor, my Lady.” The man says to you, and your eyes widen. You stand, shakily. You look at Daemon, then at the cunt, then at him, then back at the cunt. Daemon arches an eyebrow, visor lifted. “For you have already struck me with your beauty, and the fact that you cannot be mine. Allow me the consolation of placing a crown of flowers upon you, and soothe my wounded heart.”

You gasp at the bold declaration. Daemon has to admit it, the cunt has some nerve. Not only has he praised you in ways that are too bold even for a couple courting, but he has slighted Daemon in front of the whole court. He has made explicit mention of your marriage to him.

Viserys eyes him warily. Daemon scoffs. The distrust is unnecessary. Why would he slaughter the Hightower now, when he has the chance to plummet him into the ground without consequences in just a few minutes? Besides, it would be in bad taste, slaughtering the brother of his sister-in-law.

Your father urges you forward, with a forced laugh. You grasp one of the favors from your box, which has only two, and place it upon the Hightower’s lanze. The pretty ribbons sway in the wind. White and red from House Celtigar proudly displayed.

Daemon clears his throat, and presents his own lanze.

“How touching.”

You ignore him, as Rhaenyra approaches. Surely thinking how he will want to wear her favor, after his rejection of last night. Curse him, Daemon thinks. He should have danced with you. If he had known that up jumped son of a rat was going to try his luck, you would have not left Daemon’s arms the whole night.

“Thank you, niece. But today I fancy wearing my wife’s favor. For it would be a shame for her to be lacking her crown once her champion undoubtedly disappoints.” He loudly declares, uncaring if his niece’s face falls. Rhaenyra will get over it. But this has turned into a manhood competition. He can’t let Gwayne Hightower, of all people, win.

“Can I do that?” Daemon hears you whisper towards Viserys and his whore. “Can I have two champions fighting each other?”

Viserys, as if this is the most fun he has had in a while, answers cheerfully.

“Of course, my dear girl.” It probably is the most fun he has had in a while. Really. It must be very amusing to him, after hearing Daemon complain about you for months. Who would have known he would have to fight some Hightower for your attention? Laughable, really. A Prince groveling. “Double the chances for you to get the flower crown, is it not?”

“Of course.” Your father jumps in, clearly trying to prevent a scandal. “Go on, love. Give the other one to your husband. If more are needed, we will get more ribbons.”

You approach Daemon, pretty little favor on your delicate hands. You smile at him, pleasantly. But this close, he can tell you are shaken by the power play happening right in front of your eyes.

Daemon lowers his lanze as you stretch to place your ribbons. You give him a confused and hurt look. He stretches closer.

“Save that one.” Daemon says, as he places a hand on your hair and pulls out the red ribbon that holds it back. “I’m your husband, I get some privileges.”

His gesture makes you laugh. Daemon feels on top of the world. He gives a superior glance to the Hightower cunt, as if saying: Look at me, I do not need half your effort and get double the results.

Daemon is not so deluded as to think the laugh is more than half nervousness and half playing the part of the dutiful wife you are, but to Daemon is still a win. He can see why the other lords want you. With your hair loose, smiling and with your skin glowing from the sun, you are actually quite pretty.

He ties the ribbon around the pommel of the lanze.

“A kiss, for good luck?” Daemon knows he is pushing, but cannot help but be smug. His pretty wife gave him her hair ribbon to tie around his chosen weapon, for all the court to see. Smugness radiates out of his pores.

Without any expectation, the sweet peck you give him is even more of a delight. Even more sweet is the disgruntled look on Gwayne Hightower's face.

Safe to say, the man gets unseated so fast, it has to be the quickest defeat ever registered. The crunch he makes as he falls from his horse it’s the most satisfying sound Daemon has ever heard. The crowd gasps and cheers. The man does not get up.

That will teach him, he decides. Gwayne Higtwoer will never again even look your way. Daemon turns his horse back around, ready to face his next opponent, but it’s stopped by the pages.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower has requested to continue with the sword.” At that, his blood boils. He nearly jumps off his horse, discarding the lanze and unsheathing Dark Sister.

“What will it be, boy? First blood?” He saunters towards the man, and the sight of him this close only serves to anger him more. He shares Otto’s slender build, tall and slight. In Hightower armor, he even looks like him. Daemon is going to enjoy this.

“Why stop there?” The knight asks, hatefully. “Until one of us yields.”

“As you wish.” Daemon charges, forgoing his shield. He is just too angered for politeness. This is not jousting anymore, it’s his hate for Higtowers, and the fact that this man has tried to take something that’s his. He should have never looked your way. Never. And if it’s up to Daemon, perhaps he will leave the arena without the ability to repeat the feat.

The fight is quick and dirty, but even when he has disarmed and cornered him, Gwayne Higtower refuses to yield.

“What are you..?” Daemon asks, utterly confused because the little savage is grabbing Dark Sister with gauntled hands and pulling.

“Just as marriage is not an excuse for not loving…” He grins, teeth bared in a feral little grin, and Daemon lets go of his sword in surprise at the boldness of the fool. “No weapon is no excuse for yielding.”

He loses it, then. Later, he will only remember red. Daemon throws himself at him and starts punching him, until the asshole goes limp on his arms and has to be pulled away from him.

Only the fact that the Hightower fought back is what allows him to keep participating in the tournament, instead of being exiled again. The split lip and bleeding eyebrow do serve to build a case in his favor.

He wins the tournament without any opposition. With bloody hands, he places the flower crown on your head. Your horrified look is not as satisfactory as he would have thought.

Pride /praɪd/

the feeling that you are better or more important than other people.

Daemon manages to get a hold of you before you vacate the stands. You are trying to avoid the crowds, waiting patiently in your seat. He doesn’t allow it, urging you towards his chambers with a firm grip on your wrist.

Some other ladies titter and giggle, pointing towards the two of you. No doubt, they think he is about to ravish you. They are not wrong.

It’s not often Daemon feels desire for you. In truth, while you have a pretty mouth and a soft body, you do little for him. But today, you are enchanting. The flower crown still sits atop of your windswept hair, making you look like a forest nymph. There are a few red stains along your temple, left there by Daemon’s hands when he placed the crown on top of your hair.

Never has there been a woman more deserving of the title of Queen of Love and Beauty. As you walk with him down the halls, he feels a smug sort of satisfaction. Here is the woman half the court wants, Daemon wants to scream. Here is my wife.

The feeling is not unfamiliar to him, but it is in relation to you. His possessive nature so far has only extended towards members of his house. The lust is new, too. Daemon has experimented it many times, but never towards whom he should.

As soon the door closes after you, he kisses you forcefully, only for you to shove him away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, as you spit out some of his blood. You are remarkably strong, having been able to push him while still in armor. But what shocks him the most is the fact that you did it at all. Months of marriage and you have done nothing but smile, regardless of what Daemon does.

“Shh, Lady Wife. Nothing unusual, I assure you.” He pulls you back in, kissing along your neck. This time, you push him even harder.

Daemon stumbles and blinks, hard. Are you rejecting him? He sits down on the bed and takes off his helmet. He has beaten the Hightower fool half to death and won you the silly flower crown. Why would you reject him?

“You prefer him, don't you?” That has to be the answer, surely. You must be having an affair with the cunt. Why else would you reject him? It’s not allowed. While Daemon is not particularly keen on forcing you, you are his wife. He has a right to your body, and you shouldn’t deny him. You know it. Never before have you refused him, due to the same reason. So this must be something else.

“What nonsense are you on, now?” You barely lift your eyes from your work, busy with pouring some water in a bowl and taking out clean linens. Efficiently, as if a seasoned healer, and not a soft lady from Claw Island, you rip them apart.

“Don’t play daft, wife.” Daemon reproaches, scowling. Your innocent act is starting to tire him. You can’t possibly believe him so dumb. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“If this is about Ser Gwayne…” You start and he feels the urge to scream. He can’t help but cut you off.

“Of course it is! Of course it is about that fucking Hightower.” Daemon’s voice goes high-pitched, imitating yours. “Ser, Ser.” He rolls his eyes. “How easily they hand titles now. Is every scum in this realm a knight?”

Your face doesn’t even twitch. That is one of the things about you that drive him to insanity. No matter what Daemon says, he never seems to get a reaction. It’s infuriating. You are all manners and dimples, even in the face of the most vile insults he throws your way. You either have no honor, letting him stomp all over you, or you think him right. Pathetic. Even the Bronze Bitch bit back.

His nostrils flare. Softly, you step between his parted legs and dab at the cut on his brow with a soaked linen. Ever dutiful.

“You do know adultery is a crime.” Daemon says, in a low, threatening tone. You give him a pleasant smile, squeezing water out of the cloth. It runs red and fast down your wrist.

“So is incest.” Your voice is far too cheerful for someone who just got accused of a crime that’s punishable by death if he so chooses. And not only that, but you have the nerve to threaten him.

“I am a Targaryen.” Daemon practically growls. You glare at him. He should be angry, but instead, his loins seem to heat up. Who can fault him? Any man would feel the urge to take you over and over, when faced with those eyes and those lashes.

Surely, after it, you would understand you were his and not Gwayne Hightower’s. It was not such an ambitious plan. Perhaps a lesser man would have trouble with it, but not Daemon. Give him ten minutes between your legs and you would be singing his praises.

“And I am a Celtigar.” His pause has allowed you enough time to form a retort. You press down on the cut on his brow with a viciousness that startles him. Daemon winces in pain. No getting distracted, he notes. Less you murder him when he is not paying attention. “To stifle the blood flow.” You explain, but Daemon can see the bloodlust in your eyes. You want him to hurt. The past few months have not gone in vain, it appears.

“Mine, you are mine.” He replies, gruffly.

You let go of the cloth, hands on your hips. Your mouth opens and closes, astonished.

“You don’t have any right to speak those words to me.” How he longs to grab you and show you exactly who is in charge. There you are, screaming! You! The woman who Daemon doubted knew how to make sounds louder than polite conversation. “Am I not the bride you never wanted? Your chain? Well then, sail free. Go!” You scream, and Daemon needs to pick his jaw off the floor because never has he seen you this angry.

Are you screaming at him? He feels the urge to pinch himself, to see if he is dreaming. But the way you are pointing your finger towards the door seems very real. Still a bit confused by the sudden personality change, Daemon does not obey.

It feels like a dream. Like stepping into a parallel world. The words that come out of his mouth are spoken by a stranger, and he can only watch as you turn more and more furious.

“No. Come here.” Daemon grabs at your gown, trying to pull you into him. He doesn’t really know what he is going to do if you budge. Place you in his lap and placate you with a kiss? He doesn’t get to find out. Grabbing you has clearly been the wrong move.

You slip out of his grip with a harsh jerk. Daemon is not as young as he used to be, but the sight makes his lust bubble up. You are alluring when angry, all passionate lines, and bloody temples. Valyrian, in a way you had never been before, with your darker coloring and soft manners. Yet, when mad? You are a conqueror goddess made flesh.

“No! I will not. I am not yours. We might be married but I will…” You stomp your foot at him, all angry little crab. For the first time, he sees fire in you.

Such a shame this is the moment you chose to grow a spine. He couldn’t understand where you had been all this time. So many months wasted with the meek little wife, when he could have had you instead.

Why had you decided to show you had a personality now, of all times? It was not fair, if it was for that Hightower cunt.

“Why Gwayne Hightower? Out of all the men on earth?” Daemon mutters, clearly not low enough because you answer him.

“This is not about Gwayne Hightower.” You glare, crown of flowers balancing precariously on top of your head. As you move, a few petals fall down. Angry little dryad that you are, you bat them away.

“If not, what is it about?”

“You!” You scream at him. It’s hateful, it's rage filled, it’s everything you are usually not. A true Valyrian goddess, letting mere mortals feel her might. Daemon would have enjoyed the display more if he wasn’t the mortal in question. “I forgot what it felt like to be wanted. To be looked at as someone who was desirable. Do you know how I have felt? Begging for scraps of attention, trying to make this work?”

“Wife…” He pleads because now there are tears in your eyes, and while Daemon doesn’t do begging, he doesn’t do comforting either.

“Do not call me that! Didn’t you petition for an annulment?” And how had you found out about that? While he had not been exactly secretive with his correspondence, he didn’t believe you to be proficient in High Valyrian. He has no time to ponder on it because you intend to go further. “Well, you are in luck! I will make my own request!”

“Viserys will not allow it.” Even if Daemon has to go beg him on his knees to not grant it, you are not annulling this marriage. Not when he is just starting to see the real you.

“Fine! Then I am going back to Claw Island. Stay here.” You scream, and you look so determined it scares him. For a second, he actually thinks you have the power to ban him from the island and force him to stay, giving you plenty of time to receive visitors. Male visitors, all surrounding you, courting you, as if he were already dead and not just exiled.

“Look. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Daemon offers, in his most pleading tone. He has not apologized since… Gods. He barely remembers how to do it.

“You made me forget I deserved more than scraps.” You laugh at him, as his first apology to someone in more than ten years is the funniest joke existing. Then, enraged. “It will be a cold day in the Seven Hells, when I give you another chance.”

Hurt. He realizes, as you throw the flower crown at his feet and slam the door. Hurt. You are hurt, not angry. He has done the worst thing a man can do to a woman. Damage her pride.

Lust lʌst/

very strong sexual desire, especially when love is not involved.

Much to your dismay, every time you try to speak alone to the King, you are swiftly intercepted. If it’s not Corlys Velaryon asking you to help him pick a book in the library, it’s your Lord Father summoning you to his chambers. It seems like the whole palace is in it because even Princess Rhaenys asks you to stroll with her through the gardens when you lurk too close to Viserys’s chambers.

Daemon was smarter than you thought. He had taken to using your own weapons against you. The need to be polite kept you from rejecting all these new invitations, and so, you often ended up stuck an entire afternoon with nonsensical plans.

As time passes, your rage starts to subside. Much to your disgust, it morphs into shame. You cannot believe how you lost control in front of Daemon. Everything you have worked so hard on could vanish for a single afternoon pf foolishness.

You would rather not be his enemy. When the time comes for the two of you to go back to Claw Island, Gwayne Hightower is still bedridden, despite it already being days. Daemon is a dangerous man to cross.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. In fact, your husband has never been more attentive. With the talent of existing just at the right moment, Daemon appears at your side each time there is a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled.

“No one has ever seen him like this.” Queen Alicent marvels, as he watches him go fetch you a blanket in case the room is too cold for your liking. “Whatever you did to him…”

“Nothing, I assure you.” You answer, sternly. You don’t want her getting funny ideas, like that you are dabbling in witchery or the Seven knows what. It’s not something you can afford. Already balancing on a tightrope after the fight, any accusation could be your ruin. You do not trust Daemon’s change of heart. He is probably just biding his time.

Noticing something is amiss, Daemon comes back with the blanket, wrapping it around you. Alicent falls quiet.

Daemon stares at you, his hands lingering on your back more than necessary. He seems to be taking you in. His eyes fixate on your bosom a tad too long before you realize what he is doing, and you cover yourself more with the blanket.

Your cheeks heat up. You cough. Alicent’s brows raise.

“You are so beautiful, wife.” Daemon says, a bit dumbly.

“And you are a fool.” Your response is heated, and stupid, too. But you feel too embarrassed to care. Alicent is still sitting there, with a scandalized look on her face. Anyone would be ashamed to be the object of such obvious ogling, much less when they have never been exposed to it.

You are unused to this side of your husband. At most, when trying to consummate, Daemon would glance at you with disdain and proclaim it was all your fault. His eyes would never watch the heaving of your chest as you breathed, or the sway of your skirts when you walked. Were you superstitious, you would have thought him a man possessed.

Daemon laughs, either at your comment or your expression. It’s good, you suppose. At least he has not taken offense. You would have thought he would be angered, never one to suffer affronts to his pride without reacting.

“Your fool.” He leans down and places a kiss on your forehead, before walking away.

You stare at him. Alicent stares at you. Neither says anything. You are not sure what to make of it. It’s strange. It’s him now, who serves you dinner. The choicest cuts of meat, the sweetest of wines and meads, never asking for anything in exchange.

He has gotten unusually affectionate. Or possessive. Whatever it’s going through his mind, you don’t know. Daemon has never been open about his thoughts and feelings with you, unless they stem from displeasure.

Perhaps it’s a burst of boastfulness. He flaunts you, a hand on your waist, lower arm, whatever he can get away with. He is suddenly interested in the dresses you wear, commenting on them and gifting you new ones just because he thinks they would suit you. You do not miss the fact that the dresses are always in his house’s colors or styles he personally favors, with intricate needlework and embroidery.

It’s interesting. Once again, his testing of boundaries seems to come back. His hands are always playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, or the folds of your skirt. You have even caught him toying with the buttons of your bodice. It borders on the inappropriate.

“You are pushing it.” You say to him when his hands curls around yours as you dance. He is supposed to keep his hand extended for this step. He doesn’t seem to care. The other guests give him amused looks. No one is about to chide a Prince for his lovesick behavior towards his wife. Especially in a goodbye feast for the couple.

In truth, you are starting to think most of the fathers at court are relieved. If the Rogue Prince is chasing after his wife, then he is not chasing their daughters.

“Holding your hand is pushing it?” Daemon holds your hand more securely, as he makes you spin. This is another new and unexpected development. Now, he only dances with you. No heated looks at Rhaenyra, no longing glances towards Laena. You are not sure how you feel about it.

“It is. You are inconveniencing everyone.” You say, as he spins you again with a flourish. Despite wanting so badly to keep being cross with him, you cannot help but laugh with childish delight. What girl doesn’t want to be twirled around and made to feel special? “You are supposed to exchange partners.”

The balance of the dance has been thrown off by his refusal to let go of you. Any time there needs to be a switch, the couples flounder around the two of you. It’s childish on his part, but he seems unwilling to let you dance with another man.

“Oh, you haven’t seen me pushing it yet.” Daemon laughs, and pulls you in until your body is flush against his. It’s improper and probably not allowed. Scandalous, even. Yet again, no one is about to say anything.

Much less you, suddenly realizing that being pressed so close to Daemon is quite enjoyable. He smells surprisingly clean this evening. No trace of alcohol on his skin, or other women’s perfumes. Instead, he smells of the soap he usually favors and some sort of aromatic oil.

“Will you push further, then?” You raise your brows. It’s sort of amusing that Daemon is trying so hard. You would have not taken him for the seducing type, not when he had been so keen on dissolving your marriage.

“I will.” Daemon leans in, to whisper in your ear. His voice is low, thick with desire. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I want you. I burn for you. I need you in my bed, on top of me, under me, any way you will let me have you.”

You give a scandalized little gasp, softly hitting his shoulder. Daemon grins, pulling you in even more. The two of you are so close, you imagine you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“I’m not done.” He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your jaw. Daemon’s lips trail kisses towards your ear, teasingly blowing some air against it. “I want to spend the nights feasting between your thighs, on the valley of your breasts…”

“Stop it! We are in public.” You squeak, yet you look up at him like a flower searching for the sun. The attention he bestows on you is flattering, and you can't help but want to hear more.

“Do you want to hear a secret, wife? Every time you walk, I find myself lost in the sway of your hips. I want to drown on it. Drown on you. Until no trace of another remains, until the taste of your lips is the only thing I know.”

By this point, your skin feels so hot you worry you are about to combust. You gape at him. Not only has he dared to make a bold declaration, but he has done so in a room full of people.

You take a moment to gather yourself. Daemon could be bluffing for all you know, and so, you decide to match him. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone, feather-light.

“Then do it. No one is stopping you. Come to bed. Drown on me. Drink me, take me, ravish me.” You are trembling, and you only realize it when Daemon holds you tighter against him. You feel feverish, voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Give me Valyrian sons, to hold my island when we are both gone.”

“No. No.” He says, against the curve of your neck, embraced much closer than the dance requires, making a spectacle. “I want them to have your smile and your eyes, and that infuriating curve of your shoulder. Give me daughters with your smart mouth, and your even temper. I want them to be proof of the love I had for you.”

You tremble more. Love. He really said… Oh, by the Seven.

“You are shaking.” Daemon kisses your brow. “Don’t. Unless it is from pleasure.”

Laughter rings in your ears. It's yours, but it feels foreign. You are too stunned to think clearly. Daemon tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you still there, Lady Wife?” He taps at your lower lip with his thumb. There is a teasing tilt to his smile, but his eyes are nervous. Vulnerable. Daemon was clearly not planning on confessing tonight. “Or have I broken you?”

“Prove it.” You say, still caught up on the love part. His declaration has sent your mind reeling, and shown you all of your latest interactions in a new light. You don’t know if Daemon knows what he is doing. He is a deeply passionate creature, much like his house’s sigil. Daemon doesn’t do infatuations, nor does he do dislikes. He loves or hates, and there is no in between.

“I will.” He promises, playing with a stray piece of hair that has fallen out of your up do. “Our whole lives. But perhaps I can start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You frown, puzzled. You even pull back from his embrace to be able to look at his face. What an odd thing to say. Despite it, you admire the utter shamelessness he has about it. Were it you the one accidentally confessing, you would be a bundle of nerves.

Daemon doesn’t even blush. Of course, there is the small fact that he believes himself to be the Seven’s gift to humankind. You suppose if you believed yourself to be irresistible, you wouldn’t be nervous either. Cockiness wasn’t something you thought did it for you, but it seemed like you were learning new things every day.

“You will see.” Daemon smiles. You let him keep his secret, figuring it can’t be anything that bad.

You discover what he means when you arrive at Claw Island. A dragon egg waits for you, the fireplace clearly modified in a hurry, judging by the new stones and bricks that were added to the hearth.

“Even if it never hatches, I want you to have it. For you are as Valyrian as we are, and I was a fool not to see it sooner. You are worthy. It should have been on your cradle as a child.”

Greed /ɡriːd/

​a strong desire for more wealth, possessions, power, etc. than a person needs.

The way his eyes trail after you now, it’s quite unfamiliar. Not lust, nor disdain. Something entirely new. Heavier.

Your afternoons have been filled with new entertainment. You coo at the egg, holding it over the fire. Sometimes, Daemon kneels beside you and helps you hold it, making a game of it. How long before either of you gets burned? How long can you endure, hands so close to the fire, before you are yelping and giving it to him?

When you think he is not looking, you speak to it in High Valyrian, whispering soft promises of how loved him or her will be once it hatches. There is no doubt in your mind it will. Perhaps not in weeks, or even months. Yet, your heart tells you there will be a dragon before your life ends.

Every night, you place the egg in the bed next to you. On your side, you curl around it, trying to share your warmth. Daemon reaches forward, sometimes. When he thinks you are asleep, his hand will curl over your waist and touch the egg, pressing it more against your stomach. You wonder what he means by it.

Does he know what he is doing? The low lullabies he half sings, half mutters under his breath indicate a yes. The way his lips curl into a soft smile against your nape show a longing that’s very much not subconscious.

Just as a pot of boiling water, the egg hatches a night no one it’s looking at it. Both Daemon and you are curled in a love seat, engrossed in a book. He is reading something about the doom of Valyria, your legs over his lap. You are submerged in a text about a man’s travels around the Free Cities.

One of his hands is wrapped around your ankle, in the sweetest of chains. Each time he flips a page, he will brush it with his thumb, softly. While not unwelcome, it’s strange. You are not used to being comforted in the same way you did for him during the first months of marriage. While Daemon doesn’t expect any kind of retribution, you find yourself granting it anyway.

The domesticity is quickly broken, however, when a strange noise fills the halls of your home. At first, you are unable to hear it through the background noise, but if you strain your ears, you can just make it out. It’s a shrill cross between a bird’s chirps and someone crying.

“Daemon?” You close your book and stare at him. Unable to help it, you get a little sidetracked, watching his face. His mouth is pursed in concentration, the candlelight giving his features a golden glow. Despite him being several years older than you, you cannot help but find him terribly handsome. Age has only turned him more distinguished. You betted he was dashing when younger, but unlike his brother, he has aged like a fine wine.

Sensing your eyes on him, he gives you a lazy smile.

“Little wife.” His voice comes out in a pleased rumble at having caught you looking. Your face heats up. Daemon's eyes shift from yours, to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You squirm under his gaze, trying to focus.

“Do you hear that?” You force yourself to utter.

“Hear what?” Daemon leans more towards you, his hand squeezing your knee. You give a small, delighted shiver. Good gods, what is it about him that gets you to turn into a puddle of want with the simplest touch?

“Some sort of animal crying.”

Daemon frowns. He tilts his head to the side, as if to listen better. You keep quiet, hoping to aid him. Then, his face breaks out in the biggest grin.

“It hatched! You amazing, wonderful woman.” He praises, pulling you into him. The hug is awkward, but it doesn’t last because you are too eager to see the baby dragon. Your dragon. You squirm out of his hold and rush out of the room, not even bothering to put on shoes, Daemon hot on your heels.

When you open the door to your chambers, you find the cutest thing ever. A baby dragon, slimy and confused, sits in the middle of his egg in the fireplace. It’s all big, dark eyes and long limbs, much like a baby horse. Unable to resist the temptation, you reach towards them.

“I do not…” Daemon tries to stop you, but the baby dragon climbs right up into your arms, curling close to your chest. Eager to touch it, you let it climb over your shoulder and nuzzle you, even if the sudden weight makes you stagger a little.

“That was really dangerous.” Your husband reprimands, trying to lift it away from you. The baby dragon snorts towards his direction, as if attempting to breathe fire. It only manages to give a cute little sneeze. Daemon glares.

“Aw, you are just like a baby.” You coo at the dragon, petting its head. Daemon looks even more disgruntled.

“Your dragon tried to burn me.” He complains.

“It’s a baby, husband. They don’t know any better.” You rub the scales on its back, soothingly. Unwilling to let go, you find yourself looking around your bedroom. “Let it stay here? Just for tonight.”

Daemon glares. You give him your biggest, most pleading eyes. He relents.

“Fine. But it’s not sleeping on the bed with us. And only for tonight.”

“Only for tonight.”

A month after, and the baby dragon is still sleeping in your bed. He has taken to laying between Daemon and you, leeching off your warmth. Daemon complains of having to sleep on the edge of the bed and his back being sore, but despite it, never once asks you to send the dragon outside with Caraxes.

The trouble starts, how not, with a trip to King’s Landing. This time, you ride with him, as a passenger to Caraxes, while the baby dragon follows. When Daemon lands, the dragon keepers fret around your baby, unsure of what to do with the unexpected visitor.

You command him to stay by your side, despite the protests of the dragon keepers. You are arguing and complaining and shielding your baby while Daemon only watches, amused.

Perhaps the commotion attracts more people, or someone calls for them, but you end up cornered as King Viserys makes his way to the dragon pit.

“What do we have here?” He asks, smiling at you. You give him a nervous look. Your dragon has gotten bigger, and so, you can not pick him up gracefully, but you usher him behind you regardless.

“Nothing, your grace.” You say, lacking your usual charm. You feel nervous about leaving the baby dragon on his own in the dragon pit. What if the other dragons don’t like him? What if he gets lonely?

With one hand, you reach for Daemon. His fingers meet yours halfway, squeezing reassuringly. More often than not, being a woman, your orders were not taken seriously. But if your husband gave an order, people would rush to obey. You hope he intercedes in your favor.

“Daemon, please.” You say, under your breath. “Don’t let them send him away. He will behave.”

“What do I gain, little wife?” He asks, interlocking your fingers together. Daemon gives his most charming grin to his brother, before pulling you into him. You go willingly, body lax and pliant for him. “A kiss, perhaps?”

“Please.” You turn to look at him, hoping to move him. This close, once again, you feel slightly distracted. Your husband smells so nice, and his hands feel so good around your waist, it’s no hardship at all. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Must you always arrive with such a ruckus?” Viserys frowns. Daemon gives him a small smile.

“You know me.” Slowly, he starts to lead you towards the Red Keep, a hand placed protectively on your lower back. The message is clear. Daemon wants you to make your dragon follow you. You don’t even need to order it because your baby, smart as it is, is already following. The dragon keepers step back, muttering unhappily.

“Is it going inside?” Viserys point at your dragon. Foolishly, you had been hoping he didn’t notice, and so, your stomach drops. But Daemon doesn’t falter, strolling confidently inside as if he owned the place.

“He will behave. As long as no one touches her.” Normally, you despise when people talk about you as if you are not there. Currently, though, you can only feel relief that your dragon is not getting sent to sleep outside in the cold. He is just too little for it.

Viserys walks you towards his private dining room. A blonde child runs around, playing. The Princess and Ser Laenor are already there. And Alicent is even more heavily pregnant than before.

“How have you been?” You ask Alicent, sitting next to her. You half expect to be left out of the conversation as you were a few months before, and so, choose to sit next to someone who has been kind to you. The baby dragon hops on your lap when you take your seat.

Alicent looks absolutely horrified.

“Good enough.” She speaks, blinking slowly. It’s clear she cannot believe her eyes. She stares at the dragon in a mix of awe and fear.

“He is harmless.” You explain, petting it as if it were a small dog and not a baby dragon. “Do you want to pet him?”

Alicent reaches forward with a trembling hand. The dragon sniffs her, and curls to sleep again.

“… And I was thinking of changing the layout of the hall, to make sure he fits…” You hear Daemon complain, and your ears immediately perk up. Is he talking about your baby?

“So you keep it inside?” Viserys asks, sounding disbelieving.

“I have never seen such a close bond.” Daemon boasts. He sounds as if he is proud of you, you realize. It makes something warm flutter in your stomach. No longer are you the wife he never wanted and tried to get rid of. “Damn thing sleeps on the bed with us. It’s better trained than a dog, seriously. We should have given Celtigars dragons a long time away.”

“Why not leave it outside?” From where you are seated, you can’t see his face, but you imagine by his tone, Viserys is smiling.

“She will riot. She loves him as her own son.” Daemon explains. You keep your eyes trained on the nervous Alicent, who has managed to lay her hand on top of your dragon’s head. She looks about to bolt.

“Isn’t he the nicest thing?” You say to Alicent, excited. “He thinks I am his mom, or something. Isn’t it great?”

Alicent does not look as impressed as you hoped for, but she gives you a kind smile. She seems willing to tolerate your eccentricities if for the sake of not having to make conversation with Rhaenyra.

“Very nice.” She compliments. “Pretty colors. Prince Daemon was very kind, giving it to you.”

“He is.” You smile, softly. “Although he complains all the time.”

Alicent shrugs. This time, both of you tune in the conversation between Daemon and Viserys.

“Perhaps, as you build him something outside, you can distract her with an actual baby.” Viserys says. Alicent looks torn at the comment, and you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by the topic.

It’s not something you had thought about before. Well, you had. Never with him, though. As a girl, you dreamed of being a mother, and as a woman, Daemon and you had discussed the issue of heirs already. You had spoken about it during your last goodbye feast, in this same castle. But those words had been spoken in the height of passion, and neither of you had done anything about it.

“Trust me. Next time she holds a babe, it will be a proper human one.” Daemon says, and his hand finds yours over the table. You look up at him, meeting his purple eyes. He looks hungry. Starved, even.

You lower your eyes demurely. Viserys laughs. And Daemon, greedy as he is, lifts your hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Sloth /sləʊθ/

the bad habit of being lazy and unwilling to work.

The light filters in through the open curtains, giving the room a soft glow. Daemon’s face scrunches up, bothered by the sunlight in his eyes. He has tried to convince you to sleep with them drawn, but you are unwilling. To you, the best way to wake up is slowly, with the sun. Or so you say. He is not very convinced.

Daemon stretches. You reach for him in your sleep. He gives himself a moment to savor it, the fact that he can finally pull you closer. The dragon is finally gone from his bed, although he is no way near distracting you with a babe.

Dragons are not pets. Daemon had been taught that since the cradle, even before he had a dragon of his own. Their control over them was only an illusion, and so, they should be trusted but feared. He had lived by that rule, never once questioning it. Until you.

Watching you raise yours as if it were your own child had proven interesting. You lacked his education about them, but you made up for it by sheer enthusiasm. The fact that your dragon had not bitten your hand off yet or burned you to a crisp could only mean two things: You were some sort of forest nymph, or they were mistaken about their approach to dragons. He knew which one he thought was true.

How much was nature, and how much was nurture in their relationship with dragons? Trying to answer that question would occupy his entire lifetime. Daemon hoped that watching you gave him some insight. Even if he ended up discovering you were a nymph in disguise or some sort of goddess of the hunt. He wouldn’t regret it, fascinating as you were.

No matter how much food for thought you gave him, Daemon had been enjoying the joys of marriage. Perhaps, a little too much. Seeing you with the baby dragon had awoken some unexpected feelings. Targaryens were dragons, after all. When the time came, you would make a good mother. Not only were your instincts well-developed, but you seemed to thrive on having something to nurture.

Ah, the joys of domesticity. Daemon loves that you trust him enough now to allow him to witness you at your most fragile. Asleep and wearing a soft white night shift, you are deliciously innocent. Giving, too. You do not complain when his hands find your hips or when he pulls you flush against him. Nor do you move away when his face hides in your lovely locks, mussed with sleep.

Your expression is open and vulnerable in ways you are never when truly awake. Your eyes open just the tiniest sliver, before you hide your face on your pillow, rubbing against it like the sweetest kitten.

He adores you like this. Worships you, even. Obsessed with the curve of your hip, or the soft flesh above your womb. Daemon can’t help but rub it, hoping to manifest a child into existence without actually fucking you.

If he believed in such a thing, as so many fools in this realm did, Daemon would say this was the Seven Heavens. But he knew the truth. Just like you, who worshiped the Old Gods of Valyria, Daemon did too. How could he not when he had a tiny goddess sharing his bed?

Your nose scrunches up. You twitch. Worshiping a little nymph, now that was hard work. Especially when the nymph in question does her best to escape his personal worshiping time.

If Daemon could spend all day in bed, just like this, he would. He would trace your features with his mouth, peppering your face with soft kisses. He would feast on the soft curve of your neck, drink up all your sweet little noises. Trace a path down your soft limbs, draw nonsensical patterns on your stomach. But you are an energetic little thing, always jumping out of bed, no matter the pleasure he tempts you with.

Convincing you to stay is hard, but Daemon likes to think it’s an art he has perfected. It’s not a ritual, by any means. Each morning goes differently. Sometimes, you need to be kissed silly. Sometimes, you need to be gently worshiped and coaxed back to sleep. But his favorite mornings are the ones that go like this.

“I have to go check on the tenants, down by the shore. The rain season just started.” You complain, as he noses along your hairline. Suddenly, Daemon’s arms are empty. He opens his eyes to find you sitting up and pulling your robe over your night shift.

You look delectable in red. He should buy you more robes like that one. Especially because he is about to ruin it.

“Did you say at what hour you are going?” Daemon sits up as well, toying with the edge of your robe. You bat his hands away, playfully.

“No.” You are hurriedly standing up, perhaps knowing what comes next. Daemon grabs your robe, and pulls you back in, using all his strength.

No matter how much you try to keep your feet planted on the floor, you end up tumbling back into bed. You give a girlish shriek, a smile already forming on your face. You struggle, kicking the blankets off the bed.

“Come back here, you little minx.” He tugs you by the ankle, making you laugh. Your hair is sticking up in all directions and your chest heaves up and down with the exertion of putting up a fight.

Daemon secretly loves it. He would never tell you because you would be outraged, but he enjoys the idea of overpowering you. Perhaps, once you fully trust him, he could ask you to play like that. But for now, he takes what he can get.

“Or else what Lord husband?” You tease, still trying to escape him. More blankets and furs are sent flying off the bed. You give a mean little tug to his hair.

“That was it!” Daemon complains, and starts tickling you. The night shift rides tantalizingly up your hips, giving him an unintentional show. He feels his blood warming, arousal turning into a dull throb in his loins. Your legs kick wildly, you squirm on the bed, and your eyes fill with tears from laughing so much.

It’s only when your poor body can’t take it anymore, and you are crying from laughter that he stops. He thinks of how it would feel, to overwhelm you in a different context, make your body take and take until tears ran freely down your temples. A different sort of crown for his forest nymph, one made from her own silver tears. The visual is too much for him to take without giving himself away.

Daemon lies on top of you, smothering you with his weight. He licks a few stray drops of sweat from your neck, making you flay once again. There will be a day when play wrestling will turn into something much less sweet. That day, though, it’s not today.

“Get off!” You complain. “That’s disgusting.”

“I could eat you up.” He teases, nuzzling into your neck. It's the truth. Daemon loves the taste of your skin and your smell. If he thought he could get away with it, he would crawl between your thighs and feast on you. “You are delicious, wife.”

“Daemon.” You push lightly at him, trying to get up. Again. But your words lack their previous conviction. Daemon can tell he is getting to you. “It’s getting late.”

“The tenants can wait. Let us hide from the world a little longer.” He pleads, clinging to you. Under him, exhausted after the play wrestling, you go limp. He knows he has won then.

You spend the whole day in bed. The tenants end up being visited closer to sundown. Daemon does not regret it one bit.

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon x oc #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon x fem!reader #daemon targaryen fic #daemon fluff #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #prince daemon targaryen #prince daemon x reader #the rogue prince #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd daemon #asoiaf fanfic #asoif fanfic #cristi's bingo #daemon targaryen fluff

[johncarrera]

Thinking about how Cellbit's lore got so convoluted on accident.

Most people in the island are just normal guys who at some point got kidnapped and possibly tortured.

Meanwhile Cellbit, thanks to Tazercraft jokingly making Fuga Impossível canon, he talking about the Hunger Games collab with BBH to Richarlyson and the whole thing with Bagi:

Lived in the island when he was a little kid along his parents and twin sister

Witnessed something horrible and decided to try to escape

Got captured

Escaped capture

Lost his memory of all this

Somehow got sent to a battlefield where he became a cannibal in order to survive

Literal 13 yr old when this happened.

Met a motherfucking d e m o n as a mentor

Somehow got sent to jail

Became a serial killer manipulator cannibal bitch

Escaped prison alongside Tazercraft

Got betrayed and left to die

Was rescued by the police officer he had killed and became best friends with him

Went to therapy

At some point did an ad for Vivo Turbo which implies he got some fame

Became a detective / Occult researcher

Befriended Tazercraft even after they had tried to murder each other

Became roommates with them

Divorced Forever at some point????

Went with Tazercraft, Felps (the police officer) and Forever on a boat trip

Felps somehow crashes right into the island where Cellbit lives

All of this while Bagi was searching for him.

And then the whole shit within QSMP itself happens which includes getting married to a hot mexican, becoming a father, being tortured by a bear, being recruited by said bear, being kidnapped and brainwashed, etc etc.

Truly the Wattpad protagonist of QSMP

#qsmp #qsmp cellbit

[soft-for-them]

Dead dial - Leon Kennedy x plus size reader

Summary: You're a nursing student who lives in Raccoon City who frequently talks to an old friend, Leon Kennedy, over the phone. Just as he's about to move to the same city as you the living dead start to roam the streets. (There is some descriptions of zombie related gore.)

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: Replaying Resident Evil games. Might not be 100% canon, I'm not really into the RE law. Also this will get a part two if people like it enough. Not proof read because I'm tired.

“You know this probably is a bad idea, Leon.”

Balancing the phone receiver between your ear and shoulder you try not to pull in the old spiral cord too much, the old in phone wall in your outdated flat is probably as old as you.

Standing in your small kitchen, the kitchen island digging into your soft flesh as your lean into it so the phone cord does not snap, you look out the old creaky wooden window past the fire escape to the dim yellow bulb street lights and rain soaked grey buildings.

Sirens loud and ear piercing can be heard, followed by the flashing of the obnoxious red and blue lights of multiple cop cars. You’ve never really trusted the police in this city, funny considering the man on the end of the phone is about to become one.

“(Y/n).” Leon says with an exhausted sigh. You can imagine his rubbing his hand through his hair whilst saying it.

“There’s something going on here-“ you step closer to the widow the phone line going straight as you look outside like an nosey old person would, “-the hospitals have been so hectic lately.”

You should know, you’re a second year nursing student, it’s the whole reason you moved to Raccoon city in the first place. (It certainly wasn’t the damp filled flats and lovely raining weather that brought you here.)

For school you work partly in the city’s hospital and for weeks now the ER has been flooded with people, you don’t know why, but many either have been sent home or have suddenly died. There’s even a rumour that patients have been taken as test subjects by Doctor Bard, though you’ve been too busy dealing with the rise of ‘cannibals’ to even care. All the nursing students have been worried, hell everyone working at the hospital has been worried, but the city’s government and press have been keeping the rising casualties hush hush.

“I know…” Leon begins his words long and worried, “Was it bad today?”

He knows your answer regardless, for the last month you conversations on the phone have been less about happy things such as seeing a fluffy dog on a walk or eating a tasty pastry and more on just about how you feel like you’re an overworked underpaid nurse already with how much you’ve been helping at the hospital whilst also studying and working a part time job.

“They say us going to the hospital is for educational purposes, at first it was but now we just go to be extra hands. They need it. I saw a doctor collapse today she was so over worked… and well at least all this overtime is going towards my grade.”

“(Y/n).” Leon echoes your name so quietly to stop you from rambling, he has known you long enough to know when your anxious rambling begin.

“Haha-“ you nervously chuckle as more sirens blare on, this time from ambulances rushing down the narrow roads lined with parked cars and thin pavements, “-I’m going to get an A with all the work I’m doing.”

“(Y/n).” his voice is louder and filled with concern.

“I hand to hold man down today whilst he screamed… he was screaming Leon-“ tears start to bubble up in your tired eyes, them threatening to drip down your face like the rain drop on your windowsill, “-I- I-“

“(Y/n)… listen to me, ok.”

“I’m listening.” You sniff as you lean back on the kitchen counter.

“You’re ok, Sundays almost here and then you can have day off, I can call if you like.”

Leon hopes you will for his relationship isn’t going well and ever since you moved away he hasn’t had a proper friend to talk to about such mundane and normal things. He likes hearing your voice even if lately you’ve been sounding worn out and a bit sad.

“I- I have work Saturday and I’ll sleep through Sunday, I- well- I don’t want to miss a call, but it’s hardly a day off Leon.”

“Ring in sick, go to that café you want to go to- what is it call- Lauren’s?”

“Lorenzo’s coffee and cake.”

“Yeah, that. You said they have a cream cake and imported coffee beans.” He remembers you talking about it on a past phone call, “Or you said that you wanted to go to that pop up art exhibit-“

“- The classics one –“

“-Yes, you said there is a Van Gogh there.”

He recalls you staying that a private collector was exciting their art collection which just so happened to have a Van Gogh sketch in it. You were so excited when you told he almost asked you to go with him to it, totally forgetting you now live in to different places and not in the same apartment complex like you did before.

“I ends Friday.” You glumly say.

“Then call in sick Friday and Saturday.”

Surly your boss would believe you more if you’d come down with say a cold on the Friday rather than suddenly getting on the Saturday, that’s what Leon thinks as he says the idea to you.

“I guess it does make it more believable to but-“

“-but?”

“…I don’t want to let anyone down Leon. This city is going to shit and I don’t want to be the asshole who fucks everything up because I don’t turn up to work or class…”

“You work in a supermarket.” His voice is filled with a fun confusion, like he’s amused and shocked at your words, as he ponders how not turning up at your cashier job will affect the city.

“So? Three shops have already closed down this month, the customers have doubled because people have to eat and- and-“

“(Y/N), you’re overthinking again. They can handle a day without you.”

“They can?”

“I can’t handle a missed phone call from you, think about it. A day off and a long phone call with me or no day off and a missed phone call because you’re too exhausted to wake up?”

“You know I’d take the phone call regardless.”

“Take the days off and call me tomorrow, it’s getting late and we both need some rest.”

It’s your cue to say goodbye, which is already drawn out and filled with cheesy jokes from Leon that make you laugh. You always did say that going to bed on a happy note makes the next day a better experience and Leon remembers it, so he always tries to cheer you up before either one of you hangs up.

“Night Leon.”

“Goodnight (Y/n).”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

You didn’t take the days off but you did stay up late long enough to speak to Leon. He was having girlfriend troubles and you talked to the sun came up.

You were on your way to a lecture but a mass email was sent out telling everyone to stay home, or arrive at the hospital to help out, you chose the former opting rather to go home and go back to sleep.

Maybe you’ll go to the hospital to help out later on.

Apparently half of the students were already at the university when the email was sent out and apparently a lot of teachers were too. Many people have been sending messages through the many university group chats and message boards to stay away from the school. On person said that the city was going t be evacuated.

The sirens have been going off for days now, public transport has been limited that morning for some odd reason, you had waited at you bus stop for a half hour before getting a text from a friend telling you about the email and walking back home.

Even now you hurry as if someone is following you.

It feels like for the last week the city has become smaller and smaller, like a video game with a map yet to unlock. More and more people have become ill and it seems the Umbrella Corporation is being shoved in your face, their advertisements playing every commercial break along with warnings to stay inside unless you need to go out to work, school, the shops or hospital.

You have no clue what’s going on but you’re glad Leon is starting work here, even if he’s a cop.

You hope that Leon will get to the city quickly. You see, it all started with a call from him last night of him crying and saying his girlfriend dumped him and ever since that call it has seemed to get worse for you both. No longer was he going to have that nice shared flat with her in Raccoon city and from what you heard he was drunk, whilst you were up all night the sound of sirens and screams keeping you up.

Last night you stayed up with him until he fell asleep and even then you couldn’t sleep. Even this morning, you were worried sick about him driving down to Raccoon hungover, so you left him a voice message.

“Hey, Leon. I’m just about to head out to class, but um just know I’m here for you if you need me, oh and drink some water and take some paracetamol... Yeah, anyway I was thinking that well if you want to you could crash here if that apartment situation is still – you know- fuck, it’s too early to think and talk coherently… Um, yeah, the offer’s there if you want, you know where the spare key is hidden, speak to you soon. Take care Leon. Bye.”

And even now as you rush home avoiding everyone out on the streets, which is odd because there hardy seems to be anyone at all, well apart from some people asleep on benches like they were drunk and apartment buildings filled with shouts of people angry and annoyed (which you don’t realise is the sounds of zombies roaming around.)

You hurry up your pace to avoid a crowded looking street that looks to have a car crash and an onslaught of on lookers on it. You don’t take one look at the reanimated corpse who stumbles out the car and bites an onlooker, you just carry on rushing back to your flat, a bad feeling taking over you.

Passing burning buildings not yet entirely engulfed in flames but getting there and all the cars normally parked on the sides of the road gone from their owners trying to escape the city you finally get your apartment complex, the big double doors barricaded shut, a cabinet pushed against the fragile glass.

You wonder up to the door to see if someone is near the metal letterboxes or if the janitor’s closet is open with the janitor taking a break. Leaning your head on the glass you look around but no one is there to help you get inside.

“Hel-“ you begin to speak, your hands clutching the straps to your backpack but you stop yourself, the odd feeling of dread making your stomach do back flips.

Stepping backwards you hear a blood curdling scream.

You whip around to see a woman coved in blood crying and crawling out of the spinning doors of the fancier apartment complex just a bit down the street, her voice screaming a croaky ‘help’ to no one in particular.

“Don’t be a coward (y/n), you’re a nursing student, go help her!” the voice in your mind urges you.

Freezing still in front of the barricaded glass doors you look on to the speck that is the screaming woman, your hands clutching at you backpack straps so much that that the plastic fabric irritates your skin.

White doctor daps step backwards and not forwards, the tarmac scuffing your shoes.

You’re too scared to help the woman.

A loud moan like growl reverberates the ground, you look to your left at the glass doors to see a person, no, a dead man walking. He tries to walk to the door the furniture blocking the door making him slump over, only his hands touch the brittle glass.

The noise of gargling blood, the sight of his glassy dead eyes, the absence of a left arm, it makes you panic. You desperately look around for anything, anyone, any opening to escape all the while the dead get closer and closer.

Finally you spot the side alley, well it’s technically a whole road that leads to another street but with all the rubbish and filth only police cars and rubbish trucks drive down it. Apparently your block of flats used to look over a nice patch of grass that was a park but a couple years before you moved in they had built more buildings grey and dull blocking out the sun light.

Passed the rubbish bins you see the fire escape, the same fire escape that leads up to your window.

You look one more look at the dead man banging his head on the cracking glass, then one more look at the now quiet woman slumped on the ground, back to one look at the dark alleyway, you know what you have to do.

You bolt.

Dodging black bags of gooey trash and a hoard of skittering rats you clamber up the frail rusted frame of the fire escape. You take two steps at a time up the stairs each step rattling and swaying the old structure. You do not look back as trampled footsteps echo out in the street nor do you dare look into the passing windows, some covered in bloodied handprints.

Soon enough you get to your window, your flat on the fifth floor a welcomed sight to see.

The old wooden windows are slowly rotting away and the locks are permanently broken. You’re thankful that you hadn’t bothered locking the make do lock you drilled and secured in the window, the blocky hinged lock looking locked deterring any burglars from coming in.

Leon had said that he’d happily fix the window for you when he was settled in the city but considering what is happening you don’t care all that much for the lock, only that your friend is ok.

With a couple of rattles and a whole load of upper arm strength you slide the window up. There is just about enough space to fit in, though you’re going to have to suck in your tummy to do so and you’re going to have to shove your backpack in first.

You do just that, the backpack falling off the counter onto the floor with a thud, then you squeeze yourself through, your hips hurting as you force yourself in, your ass landing on the draining board next to the sink.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you bang your body on the hard surface, your feet hitting the ground as you push off the counter.

As soon as you are stable you lock the window the fastest you’ve ever done, closing the blinds along with it, doing that partly so no one can see you inside but also partly so you don’t have to see the outside world.

You’re finally home but you’re scared as hell.

Automatically you go to your rotary phone hanging on the wall.

You pick up the receiver, your fingers automatically dialling Leon’s home phone.

There is no ringing or waiting sound.

The phone line is dead.

A/N: If you want a part two please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

[anachronistic-falsehood]

SHIP BINGO FOR THE GUYS U WANNA TALK ABOUT. CELLTW I THINK . gimme the cannibalism rundown king

MAC. looking u dead in the eyes. getting into celltw has almost convinced me to start watching hannibal i guess i just really like gay cannibalism and i need more of it. ANYWAY listen listen listennnn. ok. qcellbit and qpac are my little fucking guys alright. my favourite boys. i'm gonna give you their whole fucking backstory here ok. ok. infodump time. i apologize in advance

so cellbit was a child soldier who didn't even have a NAME. resorted to cannibalism to survive. badboyhalo was there. both stuck in a war. killed thousands of people. AWFUL TIMES!!! goes from child soldier to domestic terrorist somehow. he gets arrested and thrown in FUCKING ALCATRAZ. HE'S STILL A CANNIBAL. somehow manages to sneak a cell phone in and uses it to threaten prisoners and people start calling him cell because he literally didn't have a name before. right. ENTER PAC E MIKE. they're robbers for a living. the sillies <3 they robbed a top security museum and got caught and thrown in alcatraz. cell has gone bonkers and fucking yonkers. weird habit of licking his lips. i'm in love with him. protects pac e mike from other prisoners. they are wary of him (understandable). pac e mike make a friend named jv who tries to help them escape. cell kills him right in front of them and tries to escape himself. gets thrown in solitary. pac e mike go to the solitary cells just to mock him. lots of lowkey gay tension in that scene???? eventually pac e mike escape with the help of another friend but cell tags along because he threatens them with a gun he got from a security guard he killed. THIS MAN IS UNHINGED!!!

they end up on a deserted island. the boat they used to sail there needs repairs and four people can't fit on it at all anymore. cell decides one of them needs to die and tells the others they can decide which one has to be killed. cell is the only one who manages to find food on the island, which happens to be apples. he hoards it from the others and I SHIT YOU NOT THERE IS SOME WEIRD FUCKING RELIGIOUS IMAGERY GOING ON HERE. OK. pac seeks out cell, and CELL, WHO IS SITTING IN A TREE, OFFERS PAC AN APPLE IF HE KILLS ONE OF THE OTHERS. PAC SAYS HE'LL THINK ABOUT IT AND CELL GIVES HIM AN APPLE. I'M GOING TO EAT DRYWALL. I DON'T KNOW IF THEY DID THAT ON PURPOSE BUT THEY SURE FUCKIN DID IT ALRIGHT. at some point cell eats pac's leg but we have no idea when that canonically happens bc it was only canonized in qsmp and wasn't shown in Fuga Impossível where he and mike met cell, but IT'S STILL FUCKING CANON AND I LIKE TO THINK IT HAPPENED SOMEWHERE ON THAT FUCKING ISLAND. ALRIGHT. IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN PRISON BUT IT HAPPENING ON THE ISLAND JUST MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE 2 ME.

they trick cell and trap him, telling him to use the last bullet in his gun for himself. the three of them leave the island and hear a single gunshot. they think he's dead. SIKE!!! somehow years and years later, pac, mike, and cell, plus two others are all on the same ship together and end up on a new island. cell now goes by cellbit??? and really likes mysteries and is a pretty chill person in comparison to how he used to be??? he went through copious amounts of therapy and is actually somewhat well adjusted. he's a pretty cool guy.

he's changed. mike has changed. pac has changed. they're all so different. he and cellbit get stuck in a cave and they kiss. it's weird. they don't do it again after that. cellbit starts talking to another guy, roier. they get married. pac is disappointed but he doesn't talk about it too much. why is he disappointed? he doesn't really know. pac has changed but every time he looks at cellbit he's back in that prison. one day, everyone's furniture goes missing, including cellbit's. pac's first instinct is to grab his son by the shoulders and tell him to pack his things because when cellbit sees that someone has robbed him he will go on a rampage the likes of which no one has ever seen. that doesn't happen. cellbit snaps and demands public execution of the culprit so they can drink his blood. he's holding a knife. he's easily placated and puts the knife away. cell is clearly somewhere in there. this is the first glimpse pac has gotten of him in the five months they've been here. pac licks his lips the same way cell used to. it's a habit.

their son goes missing. the president is put on drugs by the federation. pac has lost everything. he takes the fed's medication so he can try finding a cure. he sits in cellbit's castle panicking for a solid five minutes, debating with himself over whether he should leave some of the medication for cellbit to find in hopes he can help them. he tries to find a cure on his own while still hopped up on pills. there's blood on the floor. he leaves notes for his loved ones. he knows cellbit well enough to know he will come looking and find this. the thought is as terrifying as it is relieving. cellbit develops a cure with pac's notes. cellbit yells at the president, the fellow father of their son. pac only hears cell. he takes the antidote he helped develop. cellbit guides him home and tells him he's not alone anymore and never will be again. they hug. it's terrifying. it's comforting. it's weird.

cellbit clearly left that prison behind. pac never has. he probably never will.

#whiskey yelling into the void #friend tag :3 #celltw #girl i SWEAR i did not mean to go on this tangent alright. it just Happened #little bit of character analysis at the end there i couldn't resist #i think they're neat <3 #i think they neat to have weird gay cannibal sex and it might fix them #actually no it wouldn't. it would make them worse. that being said i think they should give it a shot anyway #whiskeys word soup

[quitealotofsodapop]

Shaggy Roger in various canons being a werewolf (Reluctant Werewolf + multiple refs throughout the years), but also a vegetarian/vegan is hilarious but also really interesting to consider especially since his character has only been a practicing vegetarianism since the early 2000s. Basically any Casey Kasem-voiced Shaggy is confirmed non-meat eater, with creators continuing the trend in honor of the og voice actor.

So I thought; What would happen to a werewolf Shaggy if he eats meat?

Most recent meat consumption I can think of is the crawdads in "Zombie Island", and thats shellfish. Hotdogs covered in whipped cream in Cyber-Chase. In Mystery Incorporated he chows down on a whole plate of burgers. And the last two can easily be swapped out for veggie alternatives.

Would the werewolf side of Shaggy become "worse" if he ate red and/or rare meat?

Probably a good thing his dog steals his plate 70% of the time.

Perhaps a Raw (2016) situation, where the consumption of any red meat activates lurking hunting and cannibalism instincts?

I dunno man I've been looking at a lot of horror stuff atm and wanna see a *good* adult-focused Scooby Doo tackle these kinda tropes. Imagine a infamous pacifist and coward like Shaggy having to become a monster to protect his friends. Like a SIAMÉS "The Wolf" amv where the Mystery Inc gang is getting chased by monsters, only for their skinny friend to run at the threat, teeth bared.

#scooby doo #shaggy rogers #werewolves #cannibalism tw #feral werewolf shaggy au

[apollos-boyfriend]

In Qsmpronpa, who do you think would kill, why would they kill, who would they kill, and how? Also, who do you think would survive up until they find the mastermind?

OKAY SO i wasn't gonna answer this initially because i am Not good at creating the enigma/mystery/everything around that aspect, and also because when i imagine danganronpa aus i imagine it as like. ultimate development plan/summer camp style where i just get to fuck with ultimate shenanigans. BUT the thing is i'm also like super autistic about this series and have fully analyzed the trends and patterns of every chapter. so. i'll be going into that for my explanations as opposed to actual motive and means

chapter 1:

pattern: tricked into murder/accidental victim, "important" victim

sorry cellbit. you'd be too powerful in this. you're getting sniped king. it'd be played somewhat like twogami where everyone is looking towards him as a leader due to his abilities to decode mysteries and get them out of the island, only for him to be Instantly Slaughtered. as for who kills him . . . probably charlie or mariana? the whole "bit" with the trial 1 killers is that they either didn't mean to kill, or didn't mean to kill that person. kuwata started as the victim to his attack, hanamura meant to kill komaeda, and akamatsu was going after the mastermind. and considering their duo name is misclick duo . . . yeah. likely mariana because if charlie's killed off too early how are we going to find time to put him in a freezer for the Bit

chapter 2:

pattern: killer reveal, hidden past

so. the pattern here actually isn't even about the killer or victim. a killer is just Revealed at somepoint within the chapter, whether before the trial (fukawa), in the trial itself (peko), or after the trial (maki). so obviously, the reveal of bad having previously having a more murderous ultimate would be revealed here.

as for the actual victim/blackened . . . One of them has to have something about their past that isn't revealed until the trial. i can't use cellbit's cannibalism because he's already dead, so i think i'd have to go with fit's history in 2b2t! gonna have to edit the canon a bit, as i think it'd make the most sense for him to be the victim, and the blackened having killed him for some past 2b2t-related slight. i think felps would be fun? chapter 2 is weirdly forgettable to me i'm sorry orz

chapter 3:

pattern: double murder, bury your gays trope, killing for love

considering essentially the whole smp is gay one of these will be very easy. the most obvious contender for this one, for me, is forever as the blackened with missa and philza as the victims, but ONLY in the sense that he hadn't expressed his more yandere tendencies prior to this. philza and missa get together mid-game, forever can't stand the thought, so he kills missa and philza ("if i can't have him, no one can" kind of thing). no one really suspects him at first because he seems GENUINELY torn by phil's death until the reveal. i also think it's funny if the ultimate survivalist doesn't survive to the end. so

an additional part of the chapter 3 blackened is that they're all women but. uh. i would never do that to jaiden. she is LIVING through this. we can ignore that pattern, as a treat <3

chapter 4:

pattern: "for the greater good", beefcake death

sorry but. i have to kill foolish here in one way or another. i think what would make the most sense would be for someone to have sacrificed themselves for one reason or another (such as nidai doing so to get them out of the funhouse) and having utilized foolish as a part of their plan. maybe maxo? a sacrifice to get more evidence against the federation, or to get out of the island, or something like that

chapter 5:

pattern: overly complicated, shrouded blackened/victim

uh. kind of anyone can go here, because while at this point, all the deaths are "important" characters, that tends to be because there's only like. 6 bitches left. i think it'd be cool to do something with luzu and arin! that's all i really got for this one because chapter 5 takes SO much thought and effort to properly plan out in a canon-accurate way and. i am Not that smart.

and chapter 6 is ofc more of an "unveiling the mystery" than a murder trial so. everyone else lives ig!

#muse talk #anon #qsmpronpa #long post #sorry. i'm so autistic about this series #im leaving the how to interpretation. yall figure that out

[gogandmagog]

Scared to be off anon for this one, do you think there’s canon support for Anne/Diana and Anne being bi?

Sent over two weeks ago! I apologise for a delayed response, and then I apologise again for your feeling that you needed to apologise to me for asking! There's not a single thing about your question that offends any part of me! But I’m going to be real with you. No. Sorry. No. I don’t... I don’t think so. I think suggesting that Anne loves Diana in a romantical sense is a little bit of a misunderstanding of the heart of the Anne’s story. To me, I mean. Most of the time, when this topic comes up, I see the following quote submitted as evidence:    “Whatever’s the matter now, Anne?” she asked. 

“It’s about Diana,” sobbed Anne luxuriously. “I love Diana so, Marilla. I cannot ever live without her. But I know very well when we grow up that Diana will get married and go away and leave me. And oh, what shall I do? I hate her husband—I just hate him furiously. I’ve been imagining it all out—the wedding and everything—Diana dressed in snowy garments, with a veil, and looking as beautiful and regal as a queen; and me the bridesmaid, with a lovely dress too, and puffed sleeves, but with a breaking heart hid beneath my smiling face. And then bidding Diana goodbye-e-e—” Here Anne broke down entirely and wept with increasing bitterness.  — Anne of Green Gables, Lucy Maud Montgomery   Anne is eleven years old here. What we have demonstrated (in my opinion) is not actually sapphic yearning, but something… incomprehensibly sad. We have a love starved child, who has finally made a friend, and more than that, a best friend. A best friend that tells Anne she loves her (and means it), and is the very first person to do so, in all of Anne’s little life. Diana tells Anne she loves her before even Mathew and Marilla do (that we have text of, anyway, Matthew being too shy to articulate any feelings whatsoever at this point, and Marilla too repressed to go all soft on the girl). That means everything to an orphan. That someone finally saw her and didn’t recoil, that someone finally thought she was worthy of friendship and adoration just by being herself. Anne was abused and told she was a burden by every adult in her life, until her coming to Avonlea. Before? She had to work hard (with manual household labour, raising babies while still a child herself) to ‘earn’ her keeping, to save herself from an even more pitiful situation in an asylum.

So, when Anne considers life as a grown-up, and she thinks of herself as losing Diana to her inevitable marriage—she actually thinks of herself as losing the only love she’s ever been freely given. That’s why she dreads the sheer idea of it and also why she hates whoever the yet-nameless impending future groom is. Here, Anne is still presuming that no one else will ever love her; she considers herself too ugly to ever have anyone show romantic interest (aside from ministers who live with cannibals, that is). It might be worth noting that the whole above quote comes on the heels of Anne huffing and puffing and saying she ‘hates’ Gilbert.     As far as being bisexual? Also, to me, a no. Why? Anne also doesn’t have any physical reactions to women. She admires them, of course, and does so in a way that is so open and free of jealousy, that I again feel leaves some space of miscategorising that quality, from a modern perspective. “Anne, there’s one thing in particular I like about you—you’re so ungrudging. There isn’t a particle of envy in you.”

—Phil Gordon, Anne of the Island, Lucy Maud Montgomery I think it was Megan Follows that once said Anne has chosen to see and live for all the beauty of the world and people, as a coping mechanism for her very non-beautiful life. There’s some real validity to that thought.     Circling back, Anne does, however, have physical reactions to men. One boy specifically, of course. And this goes back as far as blushing-hotly, heart-fluttering, gaze-faltering-for-the-first-time, being otherwise confused by the strength of her emotions, in every single book. In ‘Anne of the Island,’ she finally reflects that she enjoyed the pressure of Gilbert’s hand on hers, and it made her... feel things — even before she could admit the true nature of her feelings for Gilbert.     Anne had an uneasy doubt that it was not strictly “sensible” that she should still feel on her hand the warm pressure of Gilbert’s, as distinctly as she had felt it for the swift second his had rested there; and still less sensible that the sensation was far from being an unpleasant one—very different from that which had attended a similar demonstration on Charlie Sloane’s part, when she had been sitting out a dance with him at a White Sands party three nights before.

— Anne of the Island, Lucy Maud Montgomery

In this same vein, and looping back to previous arguement, when Diana does actually fulfill the dreaded grown-up-duty of geting married, we have this quote to follow up the previous:    “It’s all pretty much as I used to imagine it long ago, when I wept over your inevitable marriage and our consequent parting,” she laughed. “You are the bride of my dreams, Diana, with the ‘lovely misty veil’; and I am your bridesmaid. But, alas! I haven’t the puffed sleeves—though these short lace ones are even prettier. Neither is my heart wholly breaking nor do I exactly hate Fred.” 

Which I think settles it all very nicely.  Anne’s laughing, not hating Fred, and nothing but happy for her. She’s come a long way since she was 11.

Now anon, if you’re a shipper… obviously go ahead and keep shipping! None of what I personally have to say on this subject is an attack on Anne/Diana pairings, or anything!

#literally thanks for asking #WHY are you scared tho #sorry i’m tardy #the cut went in a weird place and i cannot fix it #SORRY again

[lichfucker]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

oh this is adorable. I love this so much.

five is an interesting number because-- discounting the four wips I consider active and the fan music I've written-- I've only published seven fics. so this'll be less a question of which ones I include and more a question of which I don't.

all right. let's get into it.

in no particular order:

Through His Stomach - Black Sails - E - 24k - ongoing this is my dark fairytale au. when I refer to "hagfic" I'm talking about this piece. Thomas is dying, and Flint strikes a deal with a mysterious magical entity known as the Cook to save his life. this fic is full of hunger and magic and psychosexual fixation and devotion and desperation and cannibalism and some of the most gorgeous prose I've ever written in my life. I learned how to write smut for this fic. it's my pride and joy. it has my heart in a way no other fic ever will.

Ner Tamid - Black Sails - M - 3k - complete if Through His Stomach has my heart, Ner Tamid has my soul. this is a character study about Silver and judaism and grief, masquerading as canon divergence wherein he cannibalizes Muldoon's corpse in the doldrums. I had a fun little mental health episode the night before my mom's birthday and wrote this whole thing in one ten-hour sitting. it's a pesach story-- the doldrums the plagues, Muldoon Nachshon, the dairy goat the paschal lamb, and Silver the prophet. Silver Moses. it's about the burden of responsibility and the burden of survival. it's about seeing how far you'd go just to keep shouldering that weight.

Sanguine - Ted Lasso - M - 19k - complete my Trent/Ted vampire au featuring Trent as the vampire (I got nearly 30k into my Trent/Ted vampire au featuring Ted as the vampire, but I honestly don't know if I'll ever finish that one). Sanguine is an s2 canon divergence wherein Trent goes into a frenzy after Ted lies about his panic attack and kills someone. it's about want and monstrosity, about seeing the grotesque and loving it anyway. I'm especially proud of how the narrative voice shifts between the scenes from Trent's pov and Ted's. it's just… a good story. Ted Lasso is the biggest fandom I've written for, so it makes sense that this is my most popular fic, but it very much deserves to be my most popular fic regardless. it's just a good story. it's a good story.

Cold, Dark, Depraved - Black Sails - E - 10k - complete my latest crime, extremely heavy on the angst. I nicknamed this fic "anti-comfort fic" on purpose. a canon-compliant look at s3 and s4 wherein Silver and Flint had been sleeping together for a long while, then broke up when they got to Maroon Island. it's about grief and cruelty and saying, "there can be no happiness in the world, and to prove it I will go out of my way to eradicate any shred of happiness I can find." this is a fic about beating yourself half to death and digging your fingers into every bruise. it's about love and denial and care and grief. grief is my favorite subject.

Five Girls Annie Almost Kissed and One She Did - Community - T - 11k - complete this is the earliest fic on my ao3 (I had a different account I used in high school; it's still out there somewhere but it's not worth finding). a canon-compliant character study of Annie from middle school all the way through the first few seasons of the show, chronicling her journey towards discovering lesbianism. I'm sure if I rewrote it today, six years later, it would look very different, but it's precious to me as it is. this is a fic about Annie, and it's a fic about me in equal measure.

there it is. that's my five. shout-out to the two I didn't include (Fraught, 15k of fucked-up smut for a book series three people have read, and Crawl 'Til Dawn, the Annie/Britta vampire au I left unfinished for four and a half years but finally got me back into writing, another piece I'd do very differently if I wrote it today).

thanks for letting me gush about my work. it makes me so very happy to do.

#bluh bluh #long post #through his stomach tag #sanguine tag #cdd tag

[disfrutalakia]

Hi it's evillous AU anon again!! Now i've got time and it's not 11pm so I'm going to try and dump all my thoughts on it in your askbox >:D I started conceptualizing this while the election arc was still ongoing and something i've learned is that it's really difficult to make a complicated au of a story with characters that are constantly developing. several times i've assigned characters to one role only for the literal next day have a new plotline start that makes them fit a different role so much better and then i have to change everything around again. So this is 100% going to be outdated in like a week tops lmao. I've also taken a lot of liberties with things like who reincarnates into who and what order some events happen in, so it doesn't 100% fit the structure of either story. For reference i leaned toward making the relationships line up more with the QSMP storyline rather than evillous canon and its still heavily a WIP so things are going to be changed around a lot probably even while im writing this ask. I put a lot of thought into how the original sin arc would go in this au and there's a lot of details to it so to shorten it just a little bit i'll just explain that the federation serves as an overarching force/government/scientists thing throughout the entire story. they're conducting an experiment on the islanders where they're stuck in a cycle of reincarnation for 1000 years and their lives are going to be extensively documented to see what changes about them and how their society develops. The seven sins are something dropped into the world by the codes in order to mess with said experiment rather than being created by one person's soul like in the original story because tbh i hated that. I put ElQ in the role of Irina and Bad in the role of Elluka. I think they fit really well because I can then interpret The Song I Heard Somewhere as ElQ vowing revenge on Bad for assassinating him (in canon, at least. for AU purposes he kills all the other election candidates and wins) and Bad REALLY fits the role of the morally grey immortal whos creation is marked by a catastrophic event that destroys a whole civilization and they carry the guilt of that for their entire lives. As for the sinners themselves I haven't entirely figured them out yet? but for a couple of them i've got really detailed thoughts. For reference I also made it so each of them can reincarnate as many times as needed even if they've contracted with a sin before because I didn't want to remove characters from the story entirely. so: - Lust: I have no idea who i'm even going to begin to put into this role but the most likely candidate would be Pierre i think because of the whole bed thing? - Gluttony: I had Cellbit as this because of the whole cannibalism history thing he's got but other than that I hadn't really thought about it too much. I am sad to report however that the more BBH talks about eating living beings and inedible things he may fit better. it'd also be funny for the immortal assigned the task of gathering the sins to be the demon of gluttony itself. - Pride: tbh this one is pretty difficult to assign a role to because of how specific the original arc is and how it technically involves two characters. It's not something I could've put many characters in without really mischaracterizing them and I was thinking my best bet was probably Forever but then the happy pills happened and there's no way i could've not made him sloth. So my most recent idea was to change the pride story almost entirely and put Pac in the role? But more in the sense of 'two criminals are always fucking things up for the federation get a bit too cocky and have a warrant out for their arrest, Mike getting Pac to flee and as the feds are able to get at least one of them they're like "eh fuck it watching as your platonic soulmate dies is good enough torment for the other one."' but also idk. (1/2)

Ohhhh anon so sorry I forgot to check my inbox to reply to this BUT NOW I'M HERE AND AGH THIS SOUNDS AWESOME

First of all, I love Bad as Elluka (also i'm listening to survival ma, really sets the vibes I think) and also he is such a perfect choice for the demon of gluttony, like he would die by eating himself like Conchita (also who would be Carlos I wonder? Have no clue but someone gotta sing the best Kaito song ever made, drug of gold I love you so much)

And hum lust is a difficult one to pin down, especially cause like there is not many people I can see going the Duke Venomania route and having a fucking harem? Trying to remember who I saw being attacked by the lust mob more than once in the server and I think it was Bad (he really is Elluka hum, constantly finding sins left and right)

I think that Forever could fit well on pride actually, he is not like Rilliane was of course, but he is prideful in a way. Waiting to be the best president he can and not really accepting that sometimes his ways could be wrong.

#asks

[strifespecibi]

Like domino's pizza? Also what the fuck is cablepool?

so okay. for reference, cable aka nathan summers is this time-traveller who was born many years in the future in a dystopic society. his goal was to hop around and prevent that future from happening. he ended up joining the xmen and yadda yadda, rest is history. domino is his on-again off-again love interest and deadpool is his partner. i'll get to it in a moment

so dominos power is being able to control luck. no, really. she gives her opponents bad luck and in turn gives herself good luck. it is (from the wiki) "…largely participatory - in order for the luck to take effect, domino herself must engage in an action whose chance she can affect. for example, if domino were to stand before a hail of bullets, she would be shot. instead, she must take action; in attempting to avoid the gunfire, she will miraculously bob and weave just right to avoid every single shot." which is SO interesting on its own to pull vriska analysis from. also, one kind of funny note about her design is that her right eye is surrounded by black in the shape of an eyepatch! that eye also glows sometimes. so you see why i think she was the inspiration for vriska. there's also a lot of similarities with her backstory and personality but i'm not a domino scholar and i don't wanna mischaracterize her here so all i can say is if you want to know more about her and how she inspired vriska, check the wiki lmfao

picture of domino for clarity

so now lets wrap around to cablepool, the best example of nicieza yaoi this side of the mississippi. i will be perfectly honest this one isnt even subtext its just canon. they quite literally went to intercourse pennsylvania together. you can watch this amv for examples of what their dynamic is like ive been entranced by it for all of today. also this one because its really funny. regardless. so deadpool was originally created in new mutants vol 1 issue #98 as a mercenary who was hired to take out cable so they spent a lot of their early years trying to kill each other. they are forced to stop avoiding or attempting to kill each other in cable & deadpool vol 1 because of this virus that had infected both of them and thus the only way for them both to survive was to merge their dna structures in an event which i like to call cablepool homoerotic goop cannibalism. the result of this is that cable cannot time travel without taking deadpool with him. following your lover across the multiverse because of fate and to save the world? thats vrisrezi as hell! anyway they cure the virus and they get to stop bodysliding together woohoo. a similar thing happens when cable gets lost in alternate universes and deadpool has to travel through a bunch to save him. then there was everything with cable and providence … so providence was this little paradise island that cable built off of his orbital station called providence that got attacked by aliens and space pirates and deadpool ran in to help only to find oops! cable doesnt actually fully trust him! so cable 'dies' (he doesnt actually die he comes back) along with providence because thats how much he doesnt trust deadpool. which is reminiscent of the jack noir confrontation innit? vriska was so convinced of her own heroism and skill and so afraid of trusting others that she preferred to die than not be at the center of the narrative (fitting as well since deadpool is obviously a very meta character lol). they havent interacted a whole lot beyond that after cable & deadpool ended because the x-editors are evil and hate me and they hate nicieza yaoi and also deadpool is now a Popular Character so they have to tear him away from his roots and make him gay with spiderman instead for some reason. but i get it. get me on a cable & deadpool book i'll be normal (i will not be normal). anyway that book ended in 2008? iirc? which means it was likely On The Mind whilst writing homestuck. and if hussie wasnt into deadpool but WAS into daredevil enough to make a daredevil clone oc i will eat my hat because deadpool And specifically cable & deadpool is like, completely in tune with their writing style. anyway theres my proof that domino is vriska but cablepool is vrisrezi that was most certainly not an excuse to talk about my xmen Hope you all enjoyed it👍

#thank you for letting me talk i loooove talking about intertextuality between homestuck and 'traditional' comics but i rarely get a chance #to

[reginarubie]

If anything, Ned should be compared to Otto like these two dudes pushed their daughter to royalty for their own gain. At least Otto knows how to play the game, Ned just placed Sansa in the pit of vipers without any protection and lol haters still hate her for causing Ned to die? What 😆

Cia’ anon,

If you truly think the load of bullsh*t you have written you might have not paid attention neither to the series neither to the books. But, in good faith you truly are misconstruing I will explain my point of view.

Ned Stark did not want to go South, dude was traumatised by the South, and had refused Bobby B offer the moment it was uttered (pertaining both his naming to lord Hand and the marriage between Joffrey and Sansa). It’s Catelyn who convinces him of the need of him to go South to discover the truth after Lysa’s allegations became known about the death of Jon Arryn and thus accept Robert’s proposal.

Also, they betrothed, to be married when Sansa was old enough, a girl of 11 to a boy of 13/14. Also they betrothed a prince (not a king) to the daughter of the Warden of the North, who was one of the few eligible candidates for Joffrey’s hand.

Which is very much different than Viserys/Alicent both in the book and in the show (by book canon Alicent was 18 and Viserys almost 30, still big age gap but acceptable for the context… whilst in the show they gave us a forty something man and a girl of 16-18) in both cases Alicent/Viserys have a bigger age gap than Sansa/Joffrey and also a big gap in the experiences they led. Also Alicent was not near enough the best eligible match for Viserys, tho others would have been every worse on other aspects.

Viserys was a man grown, married already once and with a child and several failed pregnancies or children dead on his shoulders, whilst Alicent was a maiden of barely 18. Sansa and Joffrey were both very young, a teen and a very young teen (last of the pre-teen years) and inexperienced in the same way.

So no there is no bloody similarity between the match Otto brokered between Alicent and Viserys and the one Ned accepted between Sansa and Joffrey.

Also, the moment Ned realised the truth, and I mean the very same moment, he works to get his daughters (both of them) out of KL which meant breaking the betrothal between Sansa and Joffrey and he tells her as much, promising her a match worth of her. And he failed, dude failed so fucking hard, because he told Cersei expecting she rolled over and died, and let her children be haunted and robbed of what she feels is their birthright. He alerted his enemies of his future moves and they anticipated him and incapacitated him.

Also, Sansa had no part in Ned’s imprisonment or death. Or, what little part she had (little and almost completely non influential in the matter of things) was caused by Ned himself, as I have explained in the blaming game part II .

Ned went in a nest of vipers himself, he did play his cards wrong but dude had a goal in mind his whole life after the Rebellion. He did not play the game with the throne in mind, he played the game with the safety of his family in mind. He tells Catelyn to return North and prepare for war, to defend his people and his family.

And yeah, Ned played his cards wrong, but dude got one goal and he reached it. To this day no one but Howland Reed knows the truth about Jon’s parentage, hence the boy is safe. He swallowed his pride and honour to try and save Sansa.

Of the six children Ned Stark raised in his home, four are currently alive and kicking, laying low and sharpening their weapons to return for justice (Sansa in the Vale sharpening her wit and natural political suavity; Arya in Braavos learning to be a Faceless Assassin and learning the difference between vengeance and justice; Bran beyond the Wall honing his skills as green seerer and warg and never forgetting his duty; Rickon on a cannibal island with unicorns gathering better knowledge of people different from him and how to work together; Jon learned how to manipulate the situation he finds himself in to do his duty and gathering support against the enemies around them) and let’s count also Jon since we know he’s to be resurrected, so to six, he has five children ready to come back for justice and defend the North and do their duty.

In the game of thrones, you always claim half a victory. Robert got the throne but lost the woman he gained it for, Ned got most of his family alive but they are traumatised, Catelyn got to return and have vengeance for her family but it’s all an illusion and she lost herself completely…) there is no clear winning in the game of thrones. Bran got his skills but lost his legs, Sansa learned how to survive but she lost almost everything, same as Arya. Bran and Sansa got the throne, but Bran possibly in the books will get it after he sacrifices his powers and thus the ability to move permanently; Sansa became queen in the North but lost her dream (for now), Daenerys got the throne for a moment and she lost herself and everything; Cersei got the throne but lost all she cared for.

Yes, Ned could’ve played his cards better, he should have, much of his downfall was caused by his own stupid mistakes, but stop the slander.

If anyone is like Otto, that is Olenna Tyrell, who manipulated to get her granddaughter to marry a king she knows is gay so won’t make her happy to further her family’s position and later she chose another king whom she killed to get her granddaughter betrothed to a child who is more easily manipulated. Let’s say the truth:

Olenna and the Tyrells try to use Margaery apparent resemblance to Lyanna Stark to have Cersei exposed and Margaery married. Robert, a man who could be her father, also known to have a great number of bastards all so Margaery would become queen.

Bobby B died and Olenna and the Tyrells married Margaery to Renly who, again was pretty much older than her and gay, all because this way Margaery would be queen.

Renly died and the Tyrells betrothed her to Joffrey a king known for his cruelty and rumoured to be a bastard, all so that Margaery would be queen.

They killed Joffrey off (Joffrey who was around her age, so a possible good match for her, had he not been a cruel boy) because he would’ve been cruel and unstable and not easily influenced, and betrothed her to Tommen whom she basically starts to groom, who is a child and who has little to none experience whilst Margaery is older and more experienced. All because so Margaery could be queen to a king who would be easily influenced by her.

So, if anyone should be compared to Otto we have LF and especially Olenna and the Tyrells, certainly not Ned Stark whom as soon as he realised the truth decided to break off the betrothal and get his daughter back home, and who, again had betrothed his daughter to a boy around her age (perfectly acceptable for time and context) and who was a good match for the context and time and who was not far more experience than her by what he knew. And, as soon as the boy cruelty started to be seen, his bastardy was known and the truth of the war that would happened set into his mind Ned moved to get his daughter back home where she would’ve been safe, he just played his cards wrong.

And that is the truth we get by analysing both books and series. So, yes, if you truly believe what you’ve written I think you need a re-read and a re-watch.

Also, (dis)honourable mention to Corlys Velaryon who was a 37man marrying a 16yo princess for her position and because she fell in love with him, and supported Rhaenyra who was suspected of having played a part in his son’s death and her bastard children by another man all for his ambition by betrothing his true born granddaughters to them to get House Velaryon on the Iron throne permanently. As suggested by anon, here.

But, thank you for the ask (it was good to set straight a couple of points) and please stop it with the Ned Stark slander. It doesn’t make you look good to say things so easily disproved!

I hope you have a very nice day! ~G.

#stop it with the Ned Stark slander #brutally honest opinions #the hag’s brutally honest opinion #Ned Stark #ask the hag #anon asks #brutally honest opinion asoiaf edition

[ratboy-tummy]

What the FUCK happens in Bugsnax!?

I don't wanna spoil The Twist but here's some of my favorite fun facts from the game that I promise you are cannon:

>One of the characters tries to decapitate themselves

>They ask for a "last meal", fully aware that if their hypothesis is wrong they"ll just... die

>The same character offers you the decapitation device as a bed in one of the sidequests... the only thing that changes is that it now has a pillow

>One of the characters is divorced and cannot see his son

>Said character is inspired by Danny Devito

>One of the characters is on the island because no international laws apply there

>You throw sulfuric acid at someone's face

>That someone also cuts their own leg and tries to eat it as an experiment, the leg never regrows

>There's an archeologist who carries around a real skeleton arm and constantly uses it for emphazis when talking

>No one mentions it

>She gives you a real skull when you do one of her sidequests

>Ritual sacrifices are canonical to the story

>Two of the characters are victims of smear campaigns by the government because one of them tried to be a whistleblower, leaving their job options as scientists rather slim

>This created a genuine sense of paranoia in one of them

>"What do you know about love? that's why your wife left you!" is a real quote

>This is not directed at the divorced guy mentioned before

>Cannibalism is stated multiple times

>There's more than one criminal on the island

>Depending on your actions, that statement includes you

>A genuine strategy to beat one of the bosses is to set yourself on fire

>One of the characters was abandoned by his family

>There's a whole section that is pretty much a long testicle joke

>The videogame inspirations are games like Pokemon Snap, Animal Crossing and Viva Piñata

>The movie inspirations, however, are Apocalypse Now, The Island of Dr.Moreau and Aliens

>The movie inspiration is heavy and apparent throughout the whole thing

>There's a reference to Soylent Green and The Wickerman

>You can force the equivalent of a vegan to eat the equivalent of meat and he is completely unaware it's your doing

>"Believe me, I got this condition where I'm deathly allergic to, uh, jail time"

>There's a clear, very unsubtle BDSM joke

#beast asks #thatoneguy157

[anothanobody]

I agree with you, Mai. A happy, utopic ending was unlikely in AOT from the start. I understand that the ending was rushed, but to me it conveys perfectly the message AOT was trying to send from the beginning, the cycle of hatred never ends, wars never end, exactly how it happens in real life as you pointed out.

What I disagree with is this widespread sense in the fandom that Eren died for nothing and his actions were innocuous because in the end Paradis was destroyed all the same. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe Eren ever said his goal was to stop the cycle of hatred and the wars. His goals were: that his friends survived and lived happy lives; that, in his words, he gave Paradis “a fighting chance”; and end the Power of the Titans by freeing Ymir Fritz through his own sacrifice at Mikasa’s sword. He accomplished all three.

Remember, the war we see in the end was many many decades after our main characters passed away. We can’t even quantify how far in the future that is. We’ve seen, however, that Mikasa, Armin, Levi etc. lived happy lives and died of natural causes without wars and that Shiganshina District developed into a modern society. That took literal decades, so Eren did give Paradis peace and “a fighting chance” for many generations. To expect that the Rumbling would give eternal worldwide peace is naïve, in my opinion, not even Eren expected that. Eren also freed the Eldians from the titan curse so that they couldn’t be controlled by the Founder nor turned into cannibal mindless titans again.

We also don’t know what the war in Shiganshina in the last panels was about. A lot of people somehow speculate that this was Marley, or the rest of the world exacting revenge on Paradis for the Rumbling, and therefore Eren failed completely. This was never stated. That could very well be only a civil war that destroyed a district. Like parts of Syria are destroyed. Or the war only partially destroyed Paradis, in this case Shiganshina, much like how it’s only Eastern Ukraine that’s in shambles due to the Russian invasion, it’s not like the whole country is completely, hopelessly destroyed. We don’t know what happened. It could very well be that only Shiganshina got destroyed – like, you know, what happened in canon in the first arcs – while the rest of the island thrived on. Or Paradis got destroyed, but maybe at that point in the future the Eldians had other settlements, be it in in other parts of the island or even in the former Marleyan territories (which, if I recall correctly, were the actual birthplace of the Eldian Empire, so it wouldn’t be unusual for people to move there after the Rumbling destroyed everything). We just don’t know.

And although I personally believe Mikasa did get married do another man, like Jean or some random NPC and moved on without forgetting Eren (which is what he wanted, he said that word for word), we’re also not sure this happened. We got one panel with Mikasa and another man. That could be Jean or Armin or anyone else, we got no way of knowing, only of speculating. Some people have pointed out that the flowers on Mikasa’s casket symbolize innocence and virginity, as if she lived a spinster’s life, which could also very well be true and beautiful, if not bittersweet.

People make a lot of assumptions to hate on the ending, which I do not agree with. You and everyone else can throw their lot and disagree, though. To me, what bothered me a bit in the finale was the whole Ymir Fritz – Eren – Mikasa cause and effect relationship that proved so vital and was so little elaborated. I think it should’ve been better explored in previous chapters or foreshadowed Ymir’s character and choice. In the same vein, I think Ymir’s relationship with the Founder’s power should’ve been better explained also, it was weird seeing this whole “only the royal family can control the Founder” but then Eren suddenly can, which implies that only Ymir can control it… but maybe she’s dependent on some stronger will… you know, this dynamic is fine, I like it, but it came out of nowhere in my opinion. Anyway, that’s my critique.

But it was showed that Eren asked Ymir (the founder and controller of everything) for her power, so that’s given. that’s consistent. it’s not sudden. she’s sharing it through Eren which is why we see her reflection in the panels in the last chapters. she’s present. like 134 side by side or 133 with Ramzi, because in itself Ymir is not real, she’s a consequence of Paths, she still controls it but she gave agency to Eren to take revenge for her on the world that she cannot step foot on. I do agree that this trio needed more tho, while i also get the lack of words and agency for Ymir is what make Ymir at all.

his goals can speculated honestly because he never said all of them out loud, the only thing we know is that he didn’t do it for Eldia alone, but seeing the last bits in 139 and 138 he’s giving his friends a chance and for Ymir to be free as well, which essentially ends the cycle of royals that he was avoiding all throughout the timeskip (him protecting historia). so we can say that’s also a goal. he more than anyone should know that the cycle cannot end, so i do think he’s actually just giving them time and that was the purpose kind of.

for the rest i agree, i do have an open mind on mikasa’s ending honestly, she’s a grown woman and if after a decade she decided to stay alone or get with another, i’m fine either way. i’m on the opinion that the man with her is Armin just coming to visit.

[viscera-vital]

some nsfw headcanons for my characters cuz i can do whatever i want

cicero is naturally a switch and it really just depends on his mood what kinda role he'll play, but when he doesnt really care and just wants to fuck, he can adapt to his partner pretty well. so if he picks up that his partner is feeling more dominant or whatever he'll act more submissive for their sake teehee. obviously hes got a huge blood/weapon kink, sadomasochism type shit (wow wonder where he got that from COUGH) and honestly i think the more time he spends on the island, the more he dips into sadist territory. all in good fun tho

monty. thats all

jupe is really- no im just kidding roight. monty is a whore and he will never ever admit it. he prefers to top and prefers to dom most the time but he secretly loves bratty types, loves having his buttons pushed cuz he wants a reason to fuck harder. thats why scenarios with him and cicero are always so fun to imagine cuz they hate eachother, naturally that means the sex is wild. hes not receptive to praise really like he just doesnt care but DEGRADATION? whole nother story he'll get angry but deep down he looooves it. its super embarrassing for him

also he looooves being selfish, loves teasing and edging. he sucks

i wasnt gonna include jupiter since hes asexual and doesnt really care about that kinda thing BUT i will say that he does still get horny and is pretty sex positive, wouldnt mind hooking up with a coworker or something to help eachother out, you feel me? but otherwise he genuinely doesnt care much, hes got things to do!! hes a little nerd hes got plant stuff to do

mischa so incredibly touch starved and loves to cuddle. there is a high chance that the contact makes him so excited that he cant help but grind against whoever is sharing their heat with him. despite his incredibly unserious and lackadaisical nature, he'll always check in with a smile, asking if its alright for him to continue, if they want him to, if they want more.. he silly. sex with him is very lighthearted and genuinely fun he likes to joke and laugh.he so cute man grrrrr

since he literally lives in a cave up in the snowy mountains, he doesnt really have a lot going on? so he would be more than content to stay in bed with someone, rocking his hips into them and fucking his cum into them over and over again. hes the kinda bitch to say "i wanna be inside you forever" and genuinely mean it, doesnt care about overstimulating himself to feel it. hes sloppy also, likes to bite and suck and lick, sometimes he does it to bother his partner, he sillay

shark??? do i even need to say anything. complete sopping wet man, being the village nuisance he doesnt get much tail (or any at all tbh) so its really easy? he can be really easily tempted if you make any sort of sexual advance hes drooling. village be damned cannibalism be damned hes interested in you and what you got goin on now. when involved with cicero (which ive talked about before, he views cicero as some kind of blood god honestly), he is on his knees and ready to please bitch. the kind of man who could cum just from giving someone head. super whiny, very hard for him to control himself. hes cute i like him

yarrow..................... despite his very large stature hes very respectful, naturally prioritizes someone elses needs over his own. he could ALSO cum from giving someone head but in a less pathetic and desperate way compared to shark. very affectionate, and soft, like much more than you'd think for a big cannibal man. he has a lot of patience! he doesnt like to be mean or particularly rough, but if you want him to hold you firmly, that he can do :]

he sorta sees himself as lower than most people mainly cuz of how hard hes worked in their village so if yr very clear that you want him to feel good to he'll be sorta shocked and then indulge you. very grateful type, very sweet hes so. ughh

also IDK why i said headcanons, these are my characters this is just canon lmao