#when really in all likelihood its dany | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horizon-verizon · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/a0random0gal/731982293103738880/guuys-im-back-and-with-the-finest-team-black?source=share

I read that post and now I have four questions for you:

does the death of Rhaenyra's children have any basis in AsoIaF or historical basis? All I can think about was Robert but Ned himself did not think the best of his friend when it came to dealing with children.

2. how different are Cersei and Rhaenyra's situations from a legal perspective? The way I see it, Jace, Luke, Joffrey (both), Mycella and Tommen are legit.And I think we see that it really doesn't matter whether or not they were born to their married parents because until it was proven THEY WERE legitimate in everyone's eyes and we see that with Renly thinking that the bastardization of his "nephews" was an interesting plot from Stannis but in the end it doesn't matter because rebel is rebel.

3. Do you have any parallels between Stannis and Alicent's motivations? Given the weight of faith, I would dare say that both believe that their arguments have "legal" weight., but while Stannis is motivated by a rigid sense of duty that prevents him from seeing the gray areas (correct me if I'm wrong but Stannis follows the reasoning that If those children are bastards ~ Robert has no legitimate heir ~ with Robert dead I am now the heir ~ I have to fight for the crown)while Alicent... My instinct tells me that she relies more on the faith part? Those children are bastards and therefore Rhaenyra and the children should suffer any consequences? (I spoke of course about show!Alicent even though I referred to the books above, book!Alicent is motivated by ambition and I personally think that's enough of an explanation)

4. In the best case scenario with Rhaenyra being discovered she would have had to make the trek, right?Wouldn't that be just as damaging to the crown? I know there is a post that says that If Cersei's father were alive he would never have allowed it because it would not only be a humiliation for her but for all the Lannister.

This will be long.

You: "does the death of Rhaenyra's children have any basis in AsoIaF or historical basis?"

Aside from Cersei having Robert's bastard kids killed both for posthumous revenge of him humiliating/abusing her and to reduce the likelihood of her own kids being compared/found out, I can't think of any ASoIaF-specific historical events where a bastard was targeted and killed. Robert's killing of Rhaegar's kids and desire to kill Dany doesn't stem from their bastardry (they weren't even bastards) so much as their claim conflicts with Robert's hold on the Iron throne.

However, the difference b/t Robert's ascendance and Rhaenyra/her sons' is that Rhaenyra/her sons were already going to inherit the throne all by themselves through both their blood/parentage and Viserys' blatant decree. Robert got the throne through rebellion and the right of conquest, and this last part does have both historical precedent/basis in real life (William the Conqueror and esp Henry VII of Tudor, who was of the bastard branch of the previous English Plantagenet royal house/Henry VIII's father) and the ASoIaF world (Aegon I, Arlan III, etc.).

Henry VII, again, part of the bastard branch of the Plantagenets and a Lancaster, nevertheless became the king of a dynasty known for its (admittedly violent and discriminatory, esp when we get to Henry VIII) stabilization of England (as in there were no civil wars or huge inland wars like the Anarchy or the War of the Roses).

William the Conqueror was a straight-up bastard in the sense that his parents weren't married (Robert I of Normandy and concubine Herleva "[also called Arlette, the daughter of a tanner or undertaker from the town of Falaise]". His father specifically named him his heir, it was accepted by powerful Norman nobles, and the French overlord, Henry I of FR, accepted this inheritance. William the Conqueror conquered the English Isles in the Norman Conquest of 1066 and thus also forever changed English history from then on.

Robert is not a bastard but if Orys Baratheon was a bastard sibling of the Targ conquerors, then Robert also comes from a "bastard" branch of the Targs IF we say that even after all those years, the Baratheons are just a "bastard" branch. He and Henry VII Tudor would have that in common; both used conquest/battle AND their blood ties to a legitimate ancestor (Robert through his mother Rhaelle, Aegon V's daughter).

We already should know that the Dance is a fictionalized reimagining of Anarchy, but some of its inspirations/plot points and characters come from the War of the Roses. There is the Two Princes of the event, but this story/event more closely tells us about Aegon III and Viserys II than any green. Like Rhaenyra, the York King Edward IV was usurped, and his brother, Richard Gloucester (who Henry VII defeated to win throne). This brother of Edward IV locked away the two boys, declared them illegitimate, and made himself the king--Richard III. He's held responsible for their mysterious disappearance and probable deaths. Now, who does this guy most resemble, Rhaenyra-Viserys-any black? Or Aegon II/a green? Rhaenyra was not a usurper. The past king (Viserys) cannot "usurp" something that was already custom, which is both girls being named heirs to noble houses and a king having the right to name any descendant or relative their heir (and as I said above about William the Conqueror, even a bastard could be named heir under certain circumstances, extreme or uncommon as they may be). The usurpers in the Dance have always been and will continue to be the greens, all of the adults: Otto, Alicent, Aegon, Aemond...Helaena is a weird place. Back Aegon and Viserys: they are the princes who lost most of their families and were at the mercy of a relative who's better interests or desire was to kill them off. Alicent even suggested physical harm to Aegon III to Aegon II to stave off Rhaenyra's remaining bulk of supporters.

Once more, Rhaenyra's kids would have been safe and she would have had a better time ruling and keeping her throne if not for the greens' ambition.

So, it all depends on circumstance more than any claim of consistent application of "bastard" and the decisions/preventative or strategic acts of others. "Bastard", the more you go back in time, loses itsa meaning and its application comes from how you can remove "obstacles" according to your own specific circumstances, so claiming a general "Alicent's kids definitely would have been picked off/used by some errant noble and I don't need to show the proof or cluse of some noble rebelling/planning to rebel against Rhaenyra w/o the greens' backup or usurping intentions" is made in bad faith.

You: "how different are Cersei and Rhaenyra's situations from a legal perspective? The way I see it, Jace, Luke, Joffrey (both), Mycella and Tommen are legit."

I discuss Cersei vs Rhaenyra & their kids HERE in terms of how/why Cersei chooses to have Jaime's kids, gets away with it, and HotD's failure to produce a good-faith fanfiction of the Dance from their effect of the Velaryons, the 3 Velaryon boys, and female sexual autonomy. All this was from an anti-consumerist, anti-racist, and feminist angle.

So legally, I'd say that Rhaenyra's kids have "more" legal legitimacy by virtue of the fact:

it's that their mother was in the same political seat(s) as Robert or some male Targ heir bc she is the heir/future Queen -- unlike Cerssei's kids, Rhaenyra's children will always have blood claim to the throne through her, Cersei is not of either Targaryen nor Barathreon line and she's a Queen Consort, not a princess or Regnant

Viserys/Corlys/Laenor all want these boys to be their respective line's inheritors

It's very important to note that nobles break from or twinge the dominant customs or laws all the time throughout Westerosi history, even way before the Targs' conquest esp concerning bastards. With Roose Bolton and Walder Frey, we know they pick and choose which laws or customs to follow for their own convenience ambitions, or envy, getting away with it through force or manipulation. Rhaenys the Conqueror herself made the rule of six to punish a man for beating his wife despite the fact that it was a Faith-given right to men to beat their unfaithful wives by twisting that same law to women's advantage. We don't hear about Gael until way after Jaehaerys dies. Alicent tries to maintain Rhaenyra's sons are bastards at one point by pointing out their appearance and the "proof-by-cradle bonding" thing; the V boys still were all able to have hatched dragons bonded to them not long after their own births, while most of Alicent's kids who had Valyrian features had to later bond when they were older. Alicent was grasping at straws to force people to be confronted with their own acceptance of Viserys/Corlys/Laenor's acceptance so they wouldn't really go out of their way to later stop her usurping Rhaenyra. Remember she took the entire castle by surprise.

Finally, there is a real historical precedent for nobles to hide the parentages of their children's relatives or selves for survival, leisure, stability, or power:

“With regard to royal children, the only consideration more important than their kingly blood was the monarch’s self-interest. Many kings acknowledged children they knew had been fathered by someone else. Often, kings did not want to cast doubt on the paternity of older children they knew to be their own. In the case where the king could not father children, sometimes court factions heartily desired the queen to bear bastards in order to stabilize the throne and cement their own interests.

Fortunately, the queen’s complete and utter disillusionment with her husband usually set in after the birth of the heir. And so it was not deemed worthwhile to lose international prestige, throw the nation into tumult, and question the paternity of all royal children, simply to deny the one cuckoo in the robin’s nest. In the early nineteenth century, the last son of King John VI and Queen Carlota Joaquina of Portugal was extremely good-looking and slender - unlike either of his parents - and happened to be the spitting image of the handsome gardener at the queen’s country retreat. Other than a few snickers behind painted fans, no one said a word.”

AND

“It was never adultery alone that did in a queen, or the fact that she did not resemble the Virgin Mary, or that she had polluted the royal bloodline. It was politics.

If the queen followed the traditional pattern of bearing children, embroidering altar cloths, and interceding for the poor - pious duties that the Virgin Mary would likely have approved of - even if she took a lover she was usually left in peace. There was rarely reason to shoot down a political nonentity at court. But an intelligent ambitious woman who spoke her mind and built up a faction was always open to the accusation of adultery by her political rivals, whether the accusation was true or fabricated.

Adultery charges offered the accuser many benefits. The very mention of adultery suddenly cast doubt upon the legitimacy of the offspring of a suspected queen, possibly rendering them unfit for the throne and opening the door to other ambitious candidates - usually the accusers themselves [...] (Sex With The Queen -- Eleanor Herman)

You: "Do you have any parallels between Stannis and Alicent's motivations?"

The Alicent of the show is motivated politically insofar as a lot more personal and...juvenile since she's put into a much more desperate/vulnerable/abused position than in canon: she's mainly concerned with taking Rhaenyra down to feel avenged and in control in response to Otto's abuse and the notion that Rhaenyra is after her and her kids/her reign would endanger her and her kids. Her faith, like in the book, facilitates her anger and sense of offense at the "bastard" V boys being granted the right over the children she was forced to have by Otto/Viserys, even though both book and show!her 100% belief in the Faith's traditionalist teachings. It's that she believes, always has, AND is emotionally/politically buoyed through them...insofar as a man is used to hurt Rhaenyra (show) or get her the highest position of power (book). Alicent probably would think of herself as the Faith's representative & means in KL.

Stannis, as you said, is more an anti-gray man who claims Cersei's kids aren't Roberts and are bastards with no claim at all to the throne (again, Rhaenyra's kids, even if they were declared bastards, still have some claim through her being their mom). And admittedly, he'd be correct. For Stannis, the Faith is secondary, not mixed into his passions. We see him switch to Rhollor when he feels it convenient and we can guess he stopped believing in gods/religion after he watched his parents die in that storm. Religion is a pragmatic tool he refuses to admit he's using as a tool.

However, both characters are definitely deluding themselves and acting in bad faith (existentially, denial of facts or choices/free will). Show!Alicent makes as if she is trying to help Rhaenyra or that she loves her; she doesn't. She's trying to overpower her, the page of episode 10 is bogus logically, and the writing for Rhaenicent itself doesn't make sense for her to have had pure love for Rhaenyra even before she marries Viserys bc we don't know how her admiration for Rhaenyra was reciprocated enough for it to develop into actual love. Plus most of the actions we do see from her to Rhaenyra are envious rather than understanding. Stannis only cares about religion and oaths so far as they get him what he wants, does believe in Melisandre's prophecies bc they prove themselves (assumedly), but eventually kills his own kid (not illegitimate) for his own rise to power--something not even Cersei nor any iteration of Alicent would do in a 100 yrs--...And book!him still has that sort of self-deceit and hypocrisy, a refusal to acknowledge his own lack of faith in anything but power.

You: "In the best case scenario with Rhaenyra being discovered she would have had to make the trek, right?"

What trek? As in exile?

#asoiaf asks to me #fandom misogyny #fiction vs reality #english history #bastards #westerosi bastards #westerosi history #character comparison #stannis baratheon #alicent hightower #fire and blood characters #agot characterization #stannis baratheon's characterization #alicent's characterization

2 notes · View notes

novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

How do you decide whether to keep a Bly Manor story in its regular time period or switch it up to a modern au? Do you do anything differently regarding Dani's sexuality whether it's set in the 80s or set now?

Often it's in the prompt, but in the event it isn't...usually I just sort of see if my initial concept can work without use of modern technology and contemporary abilities to be openly gay. FWB was pretty fixed as something modern, given the 1) comfortably-openly-queer Jamie had to be for the impetus of the prompt, and 2) the reliance on things like Instagram and text messaging to bump the silly rom-com of it all along. Same with Fake Dating AU--there was a much greater likelihood of Homophobic Drama built in if I left it in the 80s, and I wanted it to be soft and devoid of that energy, so I modernized it. Whereas for Childhood Best Friends, there's nothing inherently modern about the idea of these kids growing up together, even up through the idea of Jamie keeping in touch via postcards from her travels, so while it's kind of open-ended as to when it takes place, it's easy enough to leave it in the time period of the show.

As for Dani's sexuality, I tend not to have much fun deep-diving into the trauma of homophobia as an outside force, but whether or not it's present in the text, its effects are present for Dani. Even in the context of the show itself, you can extrapolate that much from her experiences with comp-het and the like. So while Dani-as-a-character always has to come to her queerness on her own timetable, if I'm writing her in a modern AU, it's often a less heavy experience--those are usually written to be more bright-and-loose pieces for her. Whereas if it's set in the 80s, there's more care taken with how much she allows herself to be in public, more anxiety about letting her family know, etc. It's more a tone thing than a situation where I ever really write in active homophobia, because that's just...not enjoyable for a fic experience for me, but I try never to forget that it does impact how she sees the world and carries herself through it.

#ask #but yeah in terms of setting it in 1987 or 2020 it's usually just a matter of 'does it matter?'#and if it doesn't i'll often leave it up in the air. i do that for place setting too #yes all of bly's english characters are here--and so are all of dani's hometown folks--you feel free to imagine at your leisure #where they all happen to be co-existing #all of this is a side effect of putting character dynamics before plot. you can sort of get away with that when it's less about the world #and more about the people moving through it

16 notes · View notes

specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Unjust Trophies || Dani & Eddie

TIMING: Current (Yesterday)

PARTIES: @surmamort & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: Eddie has a weird way of showing gratitude after Dani saves his life.

CONTENT: Gore tw

Dani held onto her bag with one hand while she flipped through a magazine on the rack with the other. The customer in front of her was taking a little too long to get through their groceries. She let out a sigh and looked around, trying to see if there were any other lanes that were open. Dani noticed the green light turn on for one down the way and she hurriedly put the magazine away. All she needed to buy was almond milk and it was taking her nearly thirty minutes for something that should’ve only taken ten. Just as she was about to step inside the lane, somebody cut her. “Hey!” Dani whined, prodding at their shoulder. When they turned around, she was surprised to see Eddie.

“Oh, hey!” She hadn’t seen him much since high school ended, but had kept up with his channel-- mostly out of curiosity, and to see exactly what the other unseen side of White Crest had to offer-- plus, she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t sticking out his neck too far. “Sorry, I was just stuck behind somebody and they were taking forever.” She rolled her eyes before she set the milk down between her feet, her hands beginning to go numb from how cold it was. “How’s the channel? And yes, I do watch.” Dani said matter-of-factly. She may have only been able to catch episodes while at the university’s computer lab, but she did keep up with each video released.

Eddie ambled over to the check-out line, bag in hand. He made for an awful shopper, always forgetting what he needed to buy unless it was for Bucket. He gripped the dog food and, in his rush to return home, slipped past someone he didn’t see. Their prodding finger caused him to turn around in genuine confusion, but his expression immediately shifted to unfettered delight when he recognized who’d been poking him. “No, that’s totally my bad,” he confessed with a dismissive shake of his head. “I get major tunnel vision in places like this and forget how to be, y’know, considerate.”

“You watch my channel? Dani Edwards watches my channel—color me flattered,” Eddie said in mild disbelief, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. “It’s going really well, actually. 1.5 million subscribers isn’t too shabby.” He realized he was edging too close to bragging territory for comfort and quickly switched gears. “What about you, how’s adult life going for White Crest’s resident mysterious loner?”

“Of course, dude.” Dani smiled at him. She looked past him to the cashier who was ringing up somebody’s pears. “That’s awesome. See, you don’t even need Crestians.” Though, she knew that he did, considering the content he explored was centered in the hot spot. She stuck her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and nodded at his dog food. “What kind of dog do you have?” Every day, she was closer to adopting one and just bringing it home. She was old enough to sign at the shelter-- and maybe she could argue that that one annoying French hunter had one he took with him on hunts, so why couldn’t she?

The cashier coughed loudly and Dani looked past Eddie again, noticing that now she was free to take his groceries. “I think it’s your turn.” She smiled and leaned down to pick up her milk. She glanced to the side and saw the rack of gum lined up. She snagged a spearmint and held it between her thumb and index finger, flicking it against the half-gallon of milk as she waited for Eddie to be finished ringing up.

“Maybe not,” Eddie mused. “But I thrive off of hometown support.” Not that he received much. Despite how many subscribers he had, not many of them were from White Crest. The majority of Crestians preferred to pretend his content didn’t exist, so it gave him a nice boost of confidence when one occasionally acknowledged his work. “Oh! A Pomerianian—his name’s Bucket and he’s essentially the center of my universe,” Eddie said, partially speaking over his shoulder as he walked towards the cashier. It didn’t take long for her to ring up his one and only item, but he remained nearby to wait for Dani.

“Thanks for letting me go before you, by the way,” he said with a cordial smile. “Maybe, I could return the favor by walking you to your car? Safety in numbers, y’know? You never can be too careful in this town.”

“Bucket,” Dani mouthed as Eddie turned around to turn his attention to the cashier. She listened to the rhythmatic beeps of the scanner and smiled at Eddie when he offered to walk her to her car. Dani refrained from explaining that she’d be giving him safety. “Oh, sure.” Instead, she placed the almond milk down on the conveyor belt and waited for her turn.

As she stood behind him, she glanced outside towards the parking lot-- visible enough. The sun hadn’t started to dip yet. Then again, the likelihood of being attacked in a supermarket parking lot… Dani didn’t finish the thought, hopeful that things would stay normal for once. She pulled her wallet out of her backpack and began to thumb out a five dollar bill. When it was her turn, she quickly paid for her milk and followed behind Eddie. “How old is Bucket by the way?” She asked innocently, always interested in other peoples’ dogs, seeing as she couldn’t have her own. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for the sense of existential dread that washed over her.

While Dani went through the motions of checking out, Eddie busied himself by rocking from heel-to-toe and carefully examining a rack of magazines. As soon as she joined him, his feet carried him to the door. “He’ll be…” Eddie paused to do some quick mental math. “5 in a few months. I got him as soon as I—”

Eddie’s sentence was interrupted when a snarling man with weathered and sallow skin took hold of his sweater. He threw Eddie to the ground, promptly descending upon him with ill-intent; the bag of dog food burst open as it hit the ground. Eddie struggled beneath his weight. “What the fuck? What the actual fu—” This time, he’d been interrupted by his own jaw clenching as the man’s teeth began closing in on his neck.

Dani cursed under her breath. Of course every time she hoped for something to go smoothly, it didn’t. The snarling wasn’t unfamiliar, but something she hadn’t heard in awhile. It was rare that there were starving zombies roaming White Crest, especially in town. Dani jumped into action as the zombie reached for Eddie.

The humanoid figure slouched, half of its face rotted. The smell curled around her nose, enough to make her gag, but she repressed the urge. She immediately reached for the collar of the decaying zombie’s shirt, yanking him away from Eddie. “Get the fuck off of him!” The zombie stumble-walked backwards, knocking into a nearby car. It began to gargle, its arms outstretched towards her. Dani used all of the force she could and chucked the almond milk at its head. It exploded on impact, giving Dani enough time to turn back to Eddie. “You-- we-- We need to go. Now.”

As Dani yanked the zombie off of Eddie, its nails raked against his forearm hard enough to draw blood. Almond milk sprayed the area while he stared at the wound in disbelief. He didn’t know much about zombies, least of all that zombieism could only be transmitted via bite. As far as Eddie was concerned, he’d been handed a shiny new species to look forward to once he wound up on the wrong side of the grass.

Dani shouted orders at him, bringing him out of his thoughts, and Eddie quickly scrambled to his feet. “My car’s right over there,” he pointed to the cherry red Mini Cooper S across the parking lot and took off after it, hoping Dani would follow. If she didn’t, he hoped she wasn’t done offering instructions. Eddie had questions he needed to ask her, they couldn’t part ways now.

“Car. Yes. Go.” She looked over at the red Mini Cooper S that he pointed to and nodded. It wasn’t her truck, but it’d do. Dani hadn’t ever mowed down a zombie with her truck before, and a part of her was disappointed that she wouldn’t get to try. She followed after Eddie closely, turning to look behind them as the zombie scrambled towards them. Gee, they were a lot faster than in the movies. Once they got to the car, Dani waited on the passenger side door, but the zombie had stumbled after them. She was shoved against the car, unhinged jaws snapping open and closed at her neck, just as it had to Eddie. Now, not only did it smell like rot, but it smelled like almond milk, too. Disgusting. It was strong, but she was stronger. She had noticed that it was missing large chunks of flesh from its arms and face, showing teeth, sinew, and abhorrent gore.

“Dumbass, you can’t do shit to me.” Dani struggled once as she felt herself get pinned against the door. She lifted her forearm in defense as the starving zombie aimed for her neck. Even she wasn’t immune to a torn jugular. Instead, the creature caught her arm with its teeth. “Oh, fuck you,” She seethed. She twisted slightly from its weight and grabbed the back of its head. With all of her force, she slammed it against the top of the car. Brain splatter and fluids coated the roof and her shirt, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t dead, not yet. She heard the door click open and Dani took the opportunity she needed. She wrenched it open as the slobbering zombie bent towards her, aiming to take another bite. She swiftly pushed the zombie into the door and crushed its already rotted head off of its body. It rolled into the passenger seat with one final guttural groan and Dani looked at Eddie. “Sorry. Pop your trunk.” She couldn’t just leave it in the parking lot, not where somebody could find it. It was already bad enough that Eddie had seen her in action. She awkwardly dragged the zombie backwards, looking over her shoulder as she did so. It wasn’t until then that she noticed the blood coating the sleeve of her sweater. Whatever. She’d deal with that later.

While Dani struggled with the zombie, Eddie struggled with his keys. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated in quick succession as they slipped out of his shaking hand, hitting the asphalt below with a pathetic jingle. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and collected the keyring, but the sound of Dani being pushed against the passenger side of the car nearly made him drop them again. He caught sight of her and the zombie through the windows, his heart beating wildly in his chest. At the store entrance, she somehow managed to pry the zombie off of him, but its jaws were closing in on her now. Eddie thought Dani was about to die, and he couldn’t move a single muscle in his body. He was useless.

Instead of succumbing to her undead assailant, Dani shouted something that made Eddie’s brow furrow. “Dumbass, you can’t do shit to me.” Her words echoed in his mind a few times before the pieces fell into place. Fear receded in pulsing waves as he rose to his feet and unlocked the door, opening it to give Dani access to the passenger seat with the click of a button. Before he could duck into his seat, he saw Dani grip the back of the zombie’s head. Eddie instinctively lifted his arm to cover his face. Gray matter painted the roof of his car on impact. A few errant chunks clung to Eddie’s jacket sleeve and hair. “Oh, what the fuck, Dani?” he shouted in disgust. He whipped his arm to try and persuade the rancid meat to make friends with the ground instead of his clothes.

“No! No, no, no,” he pleaded, pressing the heels of his palms against either side of his temple, as Dani played executioner with his only means of transportation. A zombie’s head was in his passenger seat. Eddie looked at her with incontestable annoyance. “Sorry?” he parroted with unfettered bewilderment. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? I drive this car everyday, Dani. Everyday. You’ve got super strength at your disposal, but you couldn’t give the car two feet away from us the honor of being anointed with rotted head guts instead of mine?” He exhaled sharply and fell into the driver’s seat. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Eddie popped the trunk. He knew better than to say no to a hunter. She likely wouldn’t do him any harm considering he was only human (for now, anyway,), but the last thing he needed was a hunter who had a bone to pick with him. He knew too many supernatural beings to invite that particular brand of bullshit into his life.

“That smell is never going to come out,” he groaned, wiping his hands down his face. “This is my life now.” He slammed his door shut and turned in his seat to face Dani at the rear of the car. “Where are we taking this guy, anyway? Do you have a usual spot for this kind of thing, or is it time for a little improv?” Once she was inside the car, he would begin unleashing the more important questions.

Dani quickly (and efficiently) dumped the headless corpse into the trunk. She then retreated to the passenger side door, ignoring the look that Eddie sent her way. She had just saved his life and he wanted to cock an attitude? She let out an annoyed breath before she picked up the head, cradling it as if it were a small infant. She dropped it into the trunk with less care and slammed it shut. She hung outside of the door for a moment, assessing the damage that’d been done. She didn’t have a lot of money, but if she told Lauren she needed a chunk of change for something, she was sure to get it. She took off her sweater, revealing a tank top beneath. Her arm was smeared with blood and there was a small indentation there. Again, whatever.

“It will, don’t worry.” She’d cleaned enough surfaces to know that the smell of zombie guts didn’t last forever. She quickly cleaned up the seat as best as she could before rolling her sweater in on itself, holding it in her lap as she climbed into the car.

She looked over at Eddie once inside and pursed her lips. “So obviously since you know shit about ghosts, you can take a look and understand the pieces of what just happened without me having to explain it to you,” She held up a finger to keep him from talking over her, “I won’t answer your specific questions because you shouldn’t even fucking know this shit in the first place, but--” She reached over and took a look at the scratches on his skin, “doesn’t look too bad.” For somebody like Eddie, Dani didn’t think to correct him about his hopes that he’d become a zombie. Instead, she rolled a window down and looked out into the parking lot. It didn’t seem like anyone had seen them. If they did, they were probably too terrified to come forward.

“I’d just…” She paused. “Appreciate it if you didn’t go telling anyone about this. Namely, your Youtube channel.” She gave him a cold look, “This isn’t shit to fuck around with. You could’ve been seriously killed back there.”

So, she saved his life, big deal. Eddie didn’t ask for a savior of any kind, least of all one who talked to him like he was some burdensome child; out of his depth and exasperating the adults who knew better. He realized he had a long way to go and a lot to learn, but that would never happen if people kept doing their level best to keep him ignorant. “Yeah, I’m not a moron, Dani.” he said, his brows knitting together in frustration. A trace of despondency settled in his eyes. He hated this feeling, this imposed inadequacy. No matter what, he would never be allowed to do the one thing that made sense to him, and he couldn’t figure out why. No one had an answer for him beyond ‘it’s dangerous.’ That just wasn’t good enough.

Eddie rolled his eyes at Dani’s assertion. She took his arm and examined the wound along his forearm before he could pull down his jacket sleeve. He didn’t know what her morals were as a hunter, she could very well nip a condition like his in the bud while she had the chance. “Doesn’t look too bad?” he repeated with sincere confusion, soon after realizing she must know something he didn’t. Maybe zombie scratches were only effective when Mercury was in retrograde, or maybe the zombie in question needed to have gotten a haircut the Tuesday before an attack for it to turn someone. Eddie didn’t know, how could he? To people like Dani, people who had answers, he was persona non grata. “Great.”

With a sigh, Eddie put the key into the ignition and started the car. An unexpected laugh broke free from his chest. “Yeah, I’m kind of aware of that since I experienced every second of him trying to eat me in brilliant Technicolor.” He shot a sideways glance her way, his smile already failing, before his gaze settled on where he was driving. “I’m gonna ask you to do me a favor, Dani. Should you come across me in a situation like that ever again, don’t be a hero.”

Dani did not, by any means, expect for Eddie to jump for joy and slobber over the fact that she had saved him. She preferred it when people kept it lowkey, but the irritation rolling off of him was hard to miss. Had a near death experience done that to him? Maybe it was the fact that she had splattered zombie guts over the top of his car, into his door, and onto his seat. She stared a beat of a second too long. She forced herself to breathe through her nose. Maybe a bad idea, because it was starting to smell.

She slumped back in the seat, not sure what to say. She looked down at her hands, covered in gore. She wiped them again on her already ruined sweater and chewed the inside of her cheek. When he snapped at her, she froze momentarily. What the fuck was going on. She blinked a few times. Maybe it had been a bad idea, getting into his car. Maybe she should have just dragged the corpse to her truck. It wasn’t that far away anyways. Even if she wanted to leave now, she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t speed off.

The Eddie that Dani had met in the grocery store was absent now. He had seemed more grateful that she subscribed to his Youtube channel than when she saved his life. People in this town had some fucked up priorities. “Mm, can’t do that for you.” She leveled with his gaze, her own skin growing hot with the altercation that was taking place. “It’s my damn job to keep people out of trouble. Do you not realize that?” She lifted her arm to show the zombie bite. “This could’ve been you. But it’s not. I don’t understand what your fucking deal is. Did you want to die?” She looked out the window and forced out a laugh. “What would have happened was you would’ve gotten your jugular torn out. Then what. You give it a couple hours, maybe overnight. You come back, like that,” She jutted her thumb towards the trunk where the corpse laid, “And life as you know it is over. You eat and kill innocent humans, just like that one tried to do to you.” She felt her voice begin to shake, “So I’d appreciate it if you chilled the fuck out. I don’t know if this is you upset because you nearly died, which, okay-- Understandable, but I don’t deserve this bullshit.” She slapped her hands to her knees and shook her head. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to piss you off so badly. Sorry I used your car as a fucking weapon, I guess? But it’s not like I’m not going to not pay for any damages caused, so if that’s your concern, then--” She took a deep breath. Another mistake. God, it smelled. “Then I’ve fucking got it, okay? I was just trying to protect you.” Why the fuck was she getting so worked up over this?

Between Dani’s condescension, the rancid smell of rotted skin tissue giving him a formidable headache, surviving a near death experience, witnessing the death of something that used to be human, and discovering that the scratch was likely nothing more than a potential infection in the making, Eddie was having a pretty bad day. He liked to think of himself as a generally friendly and upbeat kind of guy, but this felt like too much for him to brush off.

Eddie gripped the steering wheel firmly as his passenger retaliated. She raised her arm and he made it a point to keep his eyes on the parking lot. “Money? Is that what you think this is about?” he snapped at the end of her diatribe. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you.” His jaw clenched and his shoulders ached with tension. “You killed a zombie, congratulations! The guy was fucking starving. He used to be someone, now he’s a pile of putrid flesh in the back of my goddamn car.”

He thought about Morgan, how she resented the quip he made about her eating human brains. She took the subject seriously enough that jokes were off the table. To think, someone might do to her what Dani did to the zombie mere minutes ago, it was unforgivably unfair. For all he knew, Dani herself might run into his undead friend and put a brutal end to her. If she did, he knew who the real monster would be.

“And you’re so full of shit, not every zombie is a mindless husk hunting down innocent humans. Which, by the way, fat chance they’d ever find one even if they were.” Dani’s dogmatic viewpoints twisted Eddie’s already churning stomach into knots. “I don’t give a shit that I nearly died, it happens. I give a shit that someone I used to think was alright turned out to be one of the most reprehensible people I’ve ever known, and you proved it in less than an hour.”

Maybe it was her fault, Dani thought. To think that everyone would think the same way she would. She’d be immersed in a life that wrote BEWARE against every terrible creature that White Crest, or the world, had to offer. She felt her skin start to crawl. The way that Eddie was looking at her was the same way that Jeanette looked at her when she made a mistake, or when she asked a question that had an obvious answer. Her mouth tasted like iron. He was upset with her for saving his life, and for killing that zombie. It would have killed him, and then Dani would have had to watch somebody else succumb to becoming something monstrous-- something they truly didn’t understand.

Everything she wanted to say before, it died on her tongue. If you show anger, they’ve won. Did that count with humans? Arguing the worth of something that, at the end of the day, wasn’t worth arguing about. At least, not in this regard. Eddie sounded like Bex, only angrier. “Eddie,” Dani warned. She ground her teeth and gripped the door. Why did these humans, these people with rose colored glasses, decide what was right and what was wrong? Why were they so hellbent on protecting, or showing mercy to these things that tried to kill them? Dani wanted to scream at him, to tell him to wake the fuck up. She wanted to show him the countless maulings she’d been forced to identify before she could stomach it. She wanted to guide him to the families who lost their loved ones to these creatures-- the ones who didn’t turn, the ones who were dismembered, the ones whose hearts were eaten, who had nothing left behind to reignite, to stand up on their own two feet.

Dani hated the way that he looked at her. Who was he to pretend? He hunted ghosts on his stupid Youtube channel, big whoop! There would have been danger there, Dani realized, but at this moment it didn’t matter. She had been taught to kill before anything else. Before she had even been taught to love. She didn’t know what kind of life Eddie led, which was why she didn’t snap back. It’s why she kept her mouth shut as he berated her. She continued to ground her teeth, pulling the skin of her cheek between them. She could taste the blood now. It was hot and loud in her mouth. She sat there, stunned. Heart loud in her ears. The smell of the zombie curled around her nose and all she wanted to do was get out of there.

She didn’t dare cry. She didn’t dare show weakness. Dani instead nodded. “If that’s what you think, but it’s still my job.” Her chest was tight. She wanted to scream, to pound her fists against the very thing she’d just killed. What could have been something simple turned into something outright disastrous. “My truck is on the other side of the parking lot.” She steeled herself further. She was no warden, but she felt herself made of iron; every insult, every disgusted sneer sent her way, pushed deep. Deep into the blood that ran through her veins. Killer, killer, killer. It was written all over Eddie’s face, what he thought of her. She couldn’t care. She wouldn’t care. He was some stupid kid with a camera who threw himself into things he didn’t understand. She wouldn’t cry. She couldn’t.

Eddie nodded silently and guided the car into the parking spot next to Dani’s truck. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from going on another acidic tirade. As much as he wanted to be a voice of reason, he knew some people couldn’t be swayed. In a way, he felt bad for Dani, knowing she would never see the redeemable side of the supernatural and how worthwhile it could be. But his anger outweighed his pity. He put the car in park and popped the trunk. “Don’t forget your trophy,” he said.

#c: dani #wickedswriting #writing #unjust trophies #// i am ETERNALLY grateful to ci for letting me explore this side of eddie #even if it is not at all how i hoped he and dani would get along #unfortunately not everything goes according to keikaku #gore tw

8 notes · View notes

vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

🍋 It Takes Two To Tango | Leon x Anatole

2.5k words, placed after 🍋 Any Way. In which Anatole takes up on Leon’s end of their post-competition agreement, not without making it a little difficult for Leon first.

Leon (he/they) belongs to @apprenticealec who requested “[ dress ] your muse having mine dress up in lingerie.“ + “[ wall ] your muse shoving mine up against a wall.“ from the NFSW Muse Reaction Prompts for Leonana. I went all out because I’m simmering in Leonana brain rot, and to make it up for the wait. Happy fucking monday, Dani, dearest, pun absolutely intended.

Minors DNI. Lemon ahead. CW for dom/sub dynamics, and liberal sprinkling of Leon calling Anatole ‘sir’. Also, for a brief height difference mention.

Leon knew it was a matter of time before Anatole came forward for his part of the deal. Leon had been allowed to have him any way he wanted, and now it was Anatole’s turn. He was also aware of the likelihood of Anatole being difficult about it; he didn’t only expect it, he wanted it even, wished for it. Leon knew whichever way Anatole decided payback was due would find him in compromising positions, true, but in positions where he would be good. Really, really good.

Not ever could Lenon regret letting Anatole take the reins when they were in the bedroom.

As much as Leon knew, whatever their partner was playing at wasn’t what Lee expected in the slightest. At first, they realised he was playing at something, but only the Gods knew at what. It wasn’t like they had stopped having sex (they didn’t) or that he didn’t want to take up on Leon’s end of the bargain. Leon had asked, a week after they had been practising together, Anatole’s reply had been a laugh full of affection and a kiss on Leon’s temple.

“Of course I want to hold it against you, my love.”

“Well then, when?”

That had earned Leon another laugh and another kiss.

Then the torture began. It shouldn’t have surprised Leon that it would turn out this way, yet there they were anyway: surprised and being met with the same reply, over and over. It was a week, two days and 20 hours — not that Leon was counting — of torture, where Leon realised Anatole’s strategy a little too late. During that period of time they had sex practically every day, some days more than once, but Anatole was always careful, almost surprisingly tender, reverend in a way which made Leon weak at his knees and made his heart threat to escape his chest through his throat.

He loved it, he wasn’t going to lie: he loved the slow pace and the praise, and the attention; yet, as he was not going to lie, this wasn’t what he wanted.

It was during the week mark that they realised, when they begged for Anatole to do anything he wanted, and his only reply was one firm: “Patience.”

Lee protested, his mind clicked, and his nostrils flared in irritation. “You fucking bastard.”

“Hm? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“You said anything I wanted. Never specified for how long.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, oh wait, you’re tied to the bed.”

“Then fuck me like you mean it.”

“You don’t think I mean this, then? Should I stop?”

If Leon didn’t like the game so much, if they didn’t like to be completely and utterly drenched in Anatole, if they didn’t enjoy the chase and the power play as much as Nana himself did, he’d yell. He’d yell and play difficult even more, but he knew he would stop touching him, and right now, he did not want Anatole’s hands away from him, he didn’t want his mouth away from him. It was torture, Anatole knew it, and it was working.

The next day they did not have sex, and while Leon knew it was because Anatole flat-out passed out after an eventful day, part of them — the petty one — thought he had a busy day on purpose.

The next day Leon woke up alone, their bed with no Anatole, his body replaced with an ornamented box with a bow, and a seemingly empty bottle. Leon shook it. At the lack of sound coming from its lack of contents, they smiled. They knew what it was: Nana, aware he could not leave notes for Leon if he had to wake up too early for them, left them audible messages in tiny bottles, something he had magically developed only so he could leave notes for them.

The note only said: “Hopefully this stops your complaining. I have a meeting with the Praetorian department, which I don’t expect you to remember. Don’t miss me too much, miss me so much you want to swear at me again a little, instead. Love, your Anatole.”

“PS, yes I just said PS, out loud, to an empty bottle. Good morning, lover.”

The box had a dress, soft to touch, it had sleeves, but it was backless, and had not one, but two slits. Under the dress, there was a lingerie set, silk and lace, from what Leon could touch. Both of them fit them perfectly, embracing their body in a way that could only mean they were bespoke. Of course Anatole would know his measurements, of course he would use such knowledge for evil.

The bad part was now Leon had to wait. He thought one day he’d unmask Anatole for the tormentor he was, obviously a man such as himself you made Leon wait, could not possibly be the good person the public (and Leon) knew he was. Incorrigible. He would have to break Vesuvian’s hearts, but it was for a good cause.

He could hear Camia, Alec and Jamil telling him he was full of shit.

Still Leon waited, finding things to occupy the hours until he heard one of the bookshelves in the morning room next to their bedroom slide, and the familiar echo of Anatole’s steps.

The smile was audible in his tone when he saw Leon. “Red looks good on you.”

“I don’t know what red looks like,” if he sounded more petulant than he intended, he didn’t apologise for it, nor Anatole said anything beyond fighting a laugh.

“How was your day, Lee?”

“Uneventful. I’ve wasted myself waiting. Debated telling Vesuvia how you’re a cruel man who must not love me, since you’re always running off to meetings.”

Anatole barked a laugh. “I will make sure to take you with me the next time we have to reform a wing of the court because a literal demon used to hold that office. I still do not understand how no one realised.”

“Fine, how was your day,” despite Leon’s tone, he made an instinctive grab for Anatole’s hand, lacing their fingers together and kissing his knuckles.

“The usual. Tiring, full of meetings, proud of myself for doing socialisation without mixing languages, or worse, getting too fatigued to go on — but I suppose I have to thank Nadia and my medicines for that—”

“You’re doing that thing where you sell yourself too short, and pretend the things you do are completely ordinary.”

“I’m not pretending, false modesty is not something that afflicts me. I’m not you.”

“Hey!”

“You started it.”

“Doesn’t mean you can continue it.”

Leon could feel the mocking reverence Anatole made. “Of course, your highness. But, as I was saying, it’s going. It will be a hassle, but we’re cautiously optimistic. I am desperately trying to convince Artemisia to join the prosecutors board.”

“I have no clue what that is, but why would Art say no?”

“Because I asked, because she doesn’t feel like it, because she’s not entirely convinced, because she think it’s unfair to start up that high — but, and I know I will lose you here somewhat, Artemis is truly brilliant when it comes to thinking and rethinking justice in a way I don’t think I am, or Nadia is, as intelligent and analytical as we can be. It’s a different drive, and of course, the predominantly legal and jurisprudential education does make a difference. I did not study Law, even if I know my share about law, I studied politics and International Relations.”

“Did you, perhaps, also minor in torturing me?”

“No, that just comes naturally… what are you wearing, by the way? Is that something you just found lying around?”

“You’re too intelligent to play dumb.”

“So are you, and you do it all the time, Leon.”

Leon was going to protest again, but Anatole gently cupped his cheek with his hand. Betraying himself, Leon leaned into it like one does to the fire after a cold day out.

“You are very good at complaining,” his tone had changed completely from familiarity to honey-like, heavy, warm, inviting, too inviting, “you’re lucky I like you.”

“You love me.”

“I do love you.”

Anatole gave him a chaste kiss… and that was it. Leon tried to kiss him again but his index pressed against his lips, making no reaction beyond a controlled breath as Leon sucked on his finger. Anatole removed his finger from Leon’s mouth, kissing his cheek instead.

Leon would not beg. He would plant himself like bricks, he would stand his ground in the same way Anatole did when he was fighting for something he cared about. This was about his dignity, this was about he had already been good, too good, and yet he was still being tortured simply because Anatole was getting off of it. He would pretend that didn’t turn him on like it was nobody’s business. He would pretend to be unbothered, he would not sway, except for maybe a little pout, a little cry.

He would not follow Anatole around, that was not what they were doing. Leon was asserting himself, not following.

He was full of shit. Leon was in the middle of another petty remark, when Anatole’s hands found their ribs, pushing him against the nearest wall, soft enough to hurt, but hard enough to get Leon’s blood to his groin faster than they could count to three. It was always surprising to remember Anatole may not be, physically, the strongest person he knew, but he was stronger than he looked like. Strong enough to manhandle someone a foot taller than him, for example. Leon hitched a breath as his fingers pinned him to place, Anatole’s mouth ghosting over his skin.

“You complain a lot for someone who’s been dotted and pampered all week.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

“No.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“Because you’ll make me beg for it.”

“Leon, I think you’re already begging.”

For once, Leon couldn’t find anything to say to that.

“I don’t want one crocodile tear, understood?”

If it didn’t feel so good to say it, if Anatole’s hands, which had begun to roam his body, didn’t feel so nice against the fabric of the dress, Leon would’ve hated how quick he said: “Yes, sir.”

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

Anatole took his time, his mouth hot against Leon’s skin; his hands had made their way through the slits of the dress, palming through Leon’s thighs.

“I’m glad both these things fit you, you look so pretty like this — such a shame I’ll have to take them off, at least the dress.” He paused, his hand palming Leon’s sex. “Maybe next time wear it with nothing underneath.”

Anatole took off the dress with a practiced motion that could only mean he had studied how to do this before he gave it to Leon. Bastard, he thought, but didn’t say anything, as Anatole’s mouth and hands made it hard to concentrate. Even if it was Anatole the one dropping to his knees, Leon knew he was not the one in control here, all they could do was lean back against the wall, as Anatole mouthed him through the fabric of the lingerie, moving it enough to release Leon from it’s pressure as he took them in his mouth.

This time Anatole did not go at the excruciatingly slow, tender pace he had the days before. He was all precision and went to the point: the right amount of tongue, the right amount of pressure as he sucked, the right amount of teasing, the right amount of depth. He took one of Leon’s legs, putting it over his shoulder. The next thing Leon felt has one of his slicked fingers gently pressing against his entrance, a circular motion not meant to push in yet, but when he did, his mouth didn’t move away, not even when one finger became two, scissoring inside him, and when two became three.

“You’re going to make me come,” Leon whimpered.

Anatole removed his mouth from him with a wet pop. “Do or don’t, I’m fucking you anyway.”

Leon hissed.

“The only thing that will make me stop is a safeword, are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s my beautiful sweetheart.”

“You did all of this on purpose.”

“And what about it?”

“Bastard,” Leon spit out, it took all of their concentration not to cut their own words with a moan as Anatole pushed a third finger in.

“I only take your complaints as encouragement. If you’re too incoherent to argue, I win by default.”

Objectively speaking, Leon didn’t feel the absence of Anatole’s fingers for long, but everything was too long now. Anatole kissed him, ordering to bend forward a little and face the wall. He kissed the middle of their back before moving away, anticipation pooling in Leon’s stomach. He tried to touch himself, but Anatole caught him.

“That’s mine to touch, sweetheart,” Anatole said as he walked behind Leon, the lubed tip of his strap pushing against his entrance. “Just like you’re mine to fuck tonight, anyway I want.”

Anatole pushed in, but didn’t move yet.

“Anatole, I’ve waited enough.”

“I want to hear you say it, sweetheart. ‘Anyway I want’.”

One beat, two. Anatole still didn’t move his hips.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Another beat, and Leon gave in. “Anyway you want, sir, just fuck me, please fuck me.”

Anatole wrapped an arm around Leon’s waist, kissing the middle of their back again before he began moving his hips, picking up pace quickly. He fucked Leon just like he had wanted and then some: deep, hard, angling himself to hit just where Leon wanted, alternating paces only to tease Lee a little more. Praise fell easy from his lips, his hands grabbing Leon’s hips, Anatole digging his fingers against their skin. He called them beautiful, he called them needy, he called them terrible, he repeated over and over that Leon was being so good, so eager and ready to get fucked.

“Not so cocky now, are we, sweetheart?”

When Leon tried to reply, he angled himself to hit just right, keeping the angle. Leon managed a “Fuck you” and Anatole laughed, bending over them to kiss their back again.

Leon came on Anatole’s hand, his dick still inside of him, hips still moving. They only moved to the bed when it did become too much, and then Anatole sat on his face, but eventually he went back to fucking him, making sure they came again, and again after that. Leon didn’t want it to be over yet, and he knew Anatole wasn’t likely to end it soon — though his cockiness eventually gave way to the same devotion of before, only being poured all over Leon in a different way, in a way that claimed and took and made him dizzy if he thought about it for too long. For Anatole, with Anatole, he would, however. When it came to him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋#🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞#the arcana #the arcana lemon #the arcana oc #leon #aelius anatole #my writing #minors dni #lemon #coincidence lovers #there's so much bickering in this one like so much

12 notes · View notes

eleanor-devil · 3 years

Text

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Pre-Story Notes

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

Note about the remake: “ Welcome to the 1,5th journey in our Boruto stories, we really hope you will enjoy your reading. I will inform you a bit about this story before we start, for our new readers as well as the old. * Sacrifices is a canon-divergent story that we started working on in 2015, about a year and a half before canon material about the Boruto franchise came to light. In this regard, any matter other than those stated below is pure coincidence in terms of its likelihood with canon.

A big part of the canon storyline before Boruto’s Chuunin exams, including the known birthdays for the canon kids, are taken as canon for Boruto: Sacrifices. The only exception for this is Mitsuki’s background story and the Mitsuki arc right after the exams - we have our own version of how Mitsuki and Log were created. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

In this regard, it’s worth to note that the canon kids’ personalities are written from the scratch too. We took some aspects from the canon as the story progressed too, but there are many differences as there are similarities.

The teams other than Team Konohamaru and Team Moegi are different. This is because we three friends have our own OCs in the story - which was a must too when we didn’t know all of the canon characters. In our story, Metal Lee is teamed with OCs Asahi Kosetsu and Fuuto under the leadership of Tenten; Iwabe Yuino and Sumire Kakei teamed up with OC Hideyuki Kosetsu under the leadership of Hanabi Hyuuga and one more team lead by Kiba Inuzuka which consists of all OCs. There is also a team that’s made of chuunins, led by OC Ren Matsuoka and consisting of Wasabi Izuno, Namida Suzumeno (these two are aged up for this purpose) and OC Ichiro Sarutobi.

Also a mention that in Sacrifices, since Mitsuki arc doesn’t happen, Shikadai and Sarada have already both become chuunins.

To the contrary of the original Sacrifices, in the renewed version no one in the village aside from Naruto, Tsunade, Kakashi, Shikamaru and Yamato know about Mitsuki’s origins.

The follow/sequel to this story, Boruto: Happuden, has no connections to the Kawaki and Kara arc / storyline of the ongoing Boruto: Naruto Next Generations franchise, hence why they won’t appear in our story. We have an original storyline going on since 2016 - one we hope that you are gonna enjoy.

* Here is a personal note: your reviews are air and water to us. It might come as a surprise, but I (mirage-05) actually went through each and every one of your reviews in all the platforms we uploaded the story in the process of rewriting, to improve my storytelling. In this regard, this story is not just a product of me and my friends - it’s partly your success too! So please don’t hesitate to tell us what you think about this story - we are looking forward to it, especially constructive criticism!

However, please don’t take this as an open invitation to keep requesting Couple A or Couple B get together in our stories. I’ve stated this before - these are all pre-set in the plot line and we do not plan to change it at all.

To follow the entire story including illustrations that complete it please enter the following tag: Boruto: Sacrifices

While the story is going to be re-uploaded here on Tumblr twice a week, every Sunday, so to not clog up the dashboard and the Boruto and Naruto tags, you can find the complete story on deviantArt, Fanfiction.net and Archive Of Our Own under the name Boruto: Sacrifices.

Hope you will enjoy!

Merve and Dani

#boruto:sacrifices #boruto #naruto #naruto fanfiction #boruto fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

ohmyprodigalson · 5 years

Note

Malcolm with an s/o who has really bad ptsd from an abusive ex, and one day a suspect grabs her arm angrily and she just kind of spirals? Thank you!!

Ok, so I realized after I finished writing this one that the story ended up completely being about the reader with very little Malcolm involvement. I hope this is still ok though. I also now realize that I intended for this to have Malcolm x Reader vibes, but it could 100% be a platonic relationship because I didn't include anything that would define what they are to each other.

Trigger Warning: Descriptions of physical, mental, and emotional domestic abuse. Descriptions of animal abuse. PTSD and flashbacks.

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

Malcolm and (Y/N) were standing together in the middle of the street in front of a big, beautiful house. It was hard to believe a serial killer lived here, but all kinds of people can be serial killers. Dr Whitley was a testament to that.

They were supposed to be waiting for Gil to arrive and give the order to enter the house, but they always found themselves at the suspect's house before everyone else, tempted to go inside. (Y/N) had lost count of how many times Malcolm had convinced her to go in before Gil arrived, and it looked like that was going to be the case again today.

Malcolm gave (Y/N) a sideways glance as he grinned mischievously. At this point, he knew going in without Gil was bad, but he liked to do it anyway. (Y/N) sighed and Malcolm knew he had won. She turned to look at him as she said, "Just be careful, alright? You're not the one carrying the gun, yet you still nearly die everytime we do this." The look in his eyes only continued to emit his glee in getting to go in the house before Gil arrived. Then he turned to look back at the house before taking his first steps towards danger.

(Y/N) approached the front door first. She banged on it, gun drawn, announcing their presence as police. When the suspect didnt answer, she tried the handle. It was unlocked, strangely enough.

They entered the house, (Y/N) in front of Malcolm. So she didn't realize it when he split off behind her down an adjacent hallway. She went up the staircase in front of her and made it up to the landing before someone reached out and firmly grabbed her right upper arm.

The memories that flooded her consciousness couldn't be stopped. She was thrown back through time, to a place where she was in constant pain. A place where she feared for her life every day and could never sleep. A place that will haunt her forever.

7 years ago, (Y/N) wasn't a detective, much less a cop. She wasn't allowed to work, and she was only allowed to leave the apartment if she was going to buy food. Her boyfriend forbade her to leave for any other reason. He used to tell her that she wasn't good enough for anyone, not even him, and he was allowing her to be with him because he took pity on her. As ridiculous as this sounds now, she believed it then.

(Y/N)'s boyfriend used to beat her constantly. He might leave her alone for a day or two if he was in a good mood, but this didnt happen often. She tried to fight back once, and he broke her arm for it.

But one day, while she was out shopping, she came across a mugging on the sidewalk in front of her. She watched the man run, purse in tow, as a police officer ran after him. Suddenly, a female cop darted out of the alley in front of him and tackled him to the ground. (Y/N) watched as he was arrested with shock and awe at the power of the officer. She was a woman, but she was strong enough to apprehend a suspect. That's when (Y/N) had a simple yet life-changing thought: I wish I was strong like her.

(Y/N) thought back to that moment repeatedly over the course of the next few days, every time her boyfriend would insult her or hit her. She wished she was strong enough to end this abuse, but she was terrified. If she ever tried to resist him, she was certain he would kill her.

Then, out of the blue, he got her a puppy. It was a small dog from the humane society with an unknown mix of breeds. He was adorable and playful, and he would be a ray of sunshine in her suffocatingly dark life. Her boyfriend told her that he got the puppy to keep her company during the day while he was home. (Y/N) was thrilled to have the puppy, but deeply suspicious of her boyfriend's motives. It wasn't until a week later that she found the reason why he got her the puppy.

He was mad at her again for some false slight against him. But instead of beating her, like he always did, he grabbed ahold of the puppy. He held the puppy in the air in one hand, and places the other around the puppy's neck. "Do you want me to kill him?! Because I will! You've pissed me off real bad this time, and after I went out of my way to do something nice for you. I can take him away, and I can kill him in front of you to teach you a lesson!"

Her boyfriend continued to spit this venom at her, but she grew deaf as she stared into the sad, frightened eyes of the puppy. At this point she could freely admit that she didn't care for her own life. She didn't care if he beat her, and she didn't care if she died from it someday. But that sweet, innocent puppy had done nothing wrong. She didn't care for her own life, but she cared for the life of this puppy that she loved.

They were standing in the kitchen of his apartment. She looked down to where she had been cooking and saw the large knife. Never before had she considered fighting back against him, but she thought of it now. Glancing back up at her screaming boyfriend, her movements suddenly were no longer her own. She burst forth, grabbing the knife off the counter and confronting him in less than a second. She had the knife pressed against his abdomen in one hand, and her other hand had scooped the small puppy from his grasp because he wasn't actually holding its neck, but rather supporting it from its bottom.

(Y/N) took a step back and tucked the puppy under her arm, but kept the knife pressed against her boyfriend's abdomen. He had a look of pure shock on his face, followed by rage. He went to lunge at her, not believing she would actually hurt him. But in that moment, she thought about how tired she was of his abuse and the likelihood that he would use the puppy against her again. She thought back to that female cop and decided in that moment that she was strong enough to get out from underneath his thumb.

As he lunged forward, she stabbed him in the stomach. For as big and tough as he was, he was instantly stopped in his tracks by the pain. She ran out of the apartment and started banging on her neighbor's door. She wasn't allowed to have a phone so she needed to borrow one from someone else to call the police. She didn't want to become an murderer because she saved herself, so she needed to make sure her story was heard before he died.

When the police arrived, she explained everything. Doctors later documented all of her bruising and improperly fixed broken bones. Her ex-boyfriend didn't die from his injuries, so she was never arrested. However, he was, and he was found guilty of domestic abuse.

All of those memories flashed before her eyes when someone grabbed her arm in the suspect's house. She had PTSD from her abuse, and she went to therapy regularly. But that didn't stop the flashbacks now. The suspect who grabbed her arm was a big man, just like her ex. In this moment, she did what she always wanted to do to him.

She ripped her arm backwards in such a way that the man was pulled down the stairs. (Y/N) was pulled down with him, but she was prepared for it and he wasn't. At the base of the stairs, the man groaned and had difficulty getting up because he was so disoriented. (Y/N) took her chance and leapt on top of him. She started punching at his head repeatedly, one arm after another in rapid succession. The suspect tried to guard himself, but she was sitting on top of his arms. Just as the suspect was slipping out of consciousness, Malcolm ran into the room.

He took in the scene and then called out immediately to her. "(Y/N)!!" She didnt respond, so he came up from behind her and lifted her off of the suspect by looping his arms under hers. When he had pulled her up completely, she began kicking the suspect. Malcolm had to forcefully pull her away, but he needed to be careful not to shift the target of her flashback onto himself.

Gil, Dani, and JT rushed through the door at that moment to find the suspect unconscious on the floor and (Y/N) panting with bloodied knuckles. Looking into Malcolm's blue eyes pulled (Y/N) back to reality. She looked around herself and took note of everything she had done. She then turned to Gil and shrugged. "He touched me."

Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just go home, before I'm forced to report you for police brutality." She walked past them and out of the house while Malcolm followed. He knew that, despite the tough act, she would actually need to be comforted when they were out of public sight.

When (Y/N) opened the door to her apartment she heard the pitter-patter of excited little feet. An adorable, sweet dog ran up to her and greeted her. She dropped down onto her knees to love on him. As she massaged his neck, she whispered, mostly to herself, "We're ok now. He can't hurt us here."

#prodigal son imagine #prodigal son #malcolm bright #gil arroyo #dani powell #JT #imagine #fanfic

39 notes · View notes

sheikah · 5 years

Photo

Close Quarters

This is the first bit of a fic that I intended to be for @annabelleebythesea back in December (hence the winter and Christmas setting haha) but couldn’t finish in time. It’s still only halfway done, but I’ve decided to publish the first part so that it’ll hopefully motivate me to finish the rest later :) This is unbeta’d and just for fun. Enjoy! Read below or on AO3.

“Think of it as … professional development.” Olenna Tyrell smiled blithely as the room erupted with protests. It was one thing to ask faculty to attend an in-service meeting before the Christmas holiday, but quite another to force them up the mountains for a team-building retreat. Even Dany, ordinarily agreeable and understanding when it came to Olenna’s stringent policies, couldn’t help feeling a little mutinous at the idea.

“And just what professional qualities will we be developing while holed up in your time share, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei Lannister’s dislike for their principal was well-known, and as the drama teacher she was, expectedly, outspoken and a little theatrical.

For once, Dany found herself in agreement with Cersei, however impertinent her question. She couldn’t see the logic in a faculty ski trip.

True, Dany was somewhat new to White Harbor and its flagship secondary school, Winterfell High. She was in her second year of employment teaching history and had yet to establish many lasting friendships among her fellow teachers. But that was alright. Friends and colleagues weren’t a part of her classroom, and she managed quite well in the instruction of her classes on her own. No snowy excursions or forced mingling with other faculty were going to improve her rapport with her students.

But unlike many of the outraged teachers in the room Dany lacked a valid excuse for avoiding a holiday getaway. She had no family waiting back home for a visit, no children of her own to look after. In all likelihood she would spend the entire holiday break at home with her three cats were it not for this trip. A lonely prospect, but not enough to stoke her interest in the retreat.

To her right, Tyrion Lannister, resident wine-sodden English teacher, shifted restlessly in his seat, a sardonic grin forming on his lips.

“I hear the luge is all the rage on the conference circuit this semester. Excellent way to build your CV.” There was a scatter of chuckles from among the gathered faculty, though Cersei, Tyrion’s elder sister, seemed less than amused.

Principal Tyrell merely stared at Tyrion without a flicker of warmth until the room fell silent again.

“If you ever bothered to attend a conference, instead of spending your weekends at the pub, you’d understand the importance of networking with others in your field, Mr. Lannister,” she returned coolly.

Tyrion sat up a little straighter at the jab, but offered no argument.

“That’s all very well,” Cersei pressed, forcing a strained smile. “But we’re not in one another’s fields, are we? Missandei is fluent in languages I’ve never heard of, but she can’t teach Mr. Snow’s students trigonometry. Neither of them can direct a full theatrical production. Our work is different. Each of us, every day, has a different approach to what we do. And sending us all into the mountains for some juvenile bonding ritual is no way to improve our test scores.”

“What do you care about test scores?” Sansa Stark demanded from the next row over. “You’re the theater teacher.”

“You’re one to talk. As if home ec is really setting our girls up for success on the SAT,” Cersei sneered.

“It’s not just about that. A trip like this, we might all get to know each other.” Sansa offered Olenna an angelic smile. If nothing else, she was better at faking it than the rest of them.

“Yes,” agreed Oberyn Martell, eyebrows wagging suggestively. “I think we could stand getting to know another better.”

Dany sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at them both. Sansa was the home economics teacher and a nice girl from what little Dany knew of her, if a bit of a brownnose. But her support of Olenna’s silly trip felt like treachery to the rest of them. And as for Oberyn, the always-inappropriate gym coach? He was just eager for an excuse to carouse with his colleagues

“It’s about communication,” Olenna insisted. “Look at you all! You’re riotous at the prospect of a paid holiday simply because it involves interaction with one another. You need each other. To discuss learning trends, problems across disciplines, classroom management styles, conflict resolution, conduct issues, ideas for student engagement. You’re almost as detached as our phone-obsessed teenagers! But we need to work together, to improve our learning environment, student completion, and, evidently, faculty morale.”

A scoff sounded behind her and Dany turned to find the aforementioned Mr. Snow glowering as usual. Jon was the resident math teacher. He was young, like Dany, and the students loved him. She couldn’t imagine why.

“Something to add, Mr. Snow?” Dany asked, turning in her seat to fix him with her lilac stare. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes when they found hers, but it was gone just as quickly.

“Of course not, Ms. Targaryen.” There was ice in his reply, a promise of more and unkinder words left unspoken. Typical.

Olenna passed a curious glance between the two of them before nodding with finality.

“Good. With that settled you’ll all receive the details of your itinerary through your faculty email. The only thing left to decide on is transportation arrangements.”

“Transportation?” Tyrion asked. “Won’t we all just pile merrily into one of those yellow deathtraps the students are lucky enough to ride in every day?”

Olenna’s glare was enough to make even Dany flinch.

“Our school busses are very safe, Mr. Lannister, I assure you. The incident last year had nothing to do with the integrity of the vehicle. Mr. Dondarrion didn’t see the oncoming vehicle in time on account of his … impaired sight.”

Tyrion only blinked at Olenna, his smile never wavering. It took all of Dany’s self-control not to erupt into laughter at his side.

“For the gods’ sake, can we end this meeting? What transportation are you providing, Principal Tyrell?” Cersei demanded, already standing to leave.

“None.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Olenna answered calmly. “None. While our busses are more than safe for their intended purposes they aren’t rated for ascent to high elevations, especially in the winter months. No. You’ll need to take your own vehicles. We’ll pay for your mileage, of course, but we’re only budgeted for three reimbursements, so you’ll need to carpool.”

A synchronized groan rose all around the room, but Dany was silent, panic overtaking her at this latest development. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might need to drive herself, much less any others. She wasn’t used to driving here, to the snow-laden roads and their treacherous slickness. Back home, she could count on one hand the number of times the roads had frozen over. Her city wasn’t prepared for it. Why bother? That far South, it simply wasn’t cold enough. So any time the conditions didn’t favor driving, businesses simply closed, the citizens bundled up safely in their homes until the streets were passable again.

Since the move to White Harbor Dany had used a rideshare service to get to work when the weather was poor, always telling herself that she’d learn how to drive in the snow eventually, when she was ready. Just not yet.

Apparently she’d have to teach herself over the next two days. That, or hope she was lucky enough not to be chosen to ferry the others up the mountain in her car.

“Cersei,” Olenna said, interrupting her reverie. She squinted down at a notebook that lay open on the podium before her. “You’ll drive up first, being that you’ve got no after-school engagements on Friday. Based on their schedules, it looks like you can take Sansa and Missandei with you.”

Cersei swore under her breath but nodded, Sansa looking more than a little disappointed behind her. In front of Dany, Missandei turned in her seat, a grimace of dismay on her pretty face.

“Fuck me,” she mouthed, shaking her head. No one in their right mind would want to ride up with Cersei. Dany couldn’t help sympathizing her with her friend. She indulged in a bit of pity for herself, too. She’d hoped that if nothing else, she and Missandei would at least ride together.

“Samwell,” Olenna continued, still eyeing the schedule carefully. “You’ll also leave Friday afternoon, with Oberyn, Tyrion, and my granddaughter.” This time Dany couldn’t suppress her snort of amusement. Of all the employees at Winterfell High, Samwell Tarly was the most tightly wound and by-the-book. He was a nervous man, always wary of disgruntled students and overbearing parents. How the timid librarian was going to survive a weekend away with the likes of Oberyn and Tyrion ribbing him was beyond her. At least Olenna’s lovely granddaughter, Margaery, would be there. She was kind but firm, the students’ best-loved counselor. With her around, the men wouldn’t be too hard on Sam.

Looking around the room, Dany realized with horror that this left only three people unassigned: herself, Davos Seaworth, the aging guidance counselor, and Jon Snow.

“Mr. Seaworth is out with the flu,” Olenna reported, finally looking up from her schedule. “So that leaves … Ms. Targaryen, you have the honors’ society meeting Friday evening. And Mr. Snow, you’ve got fencing practice. That means the two of you will have to ride together, leaving Friday night.”

No.

Dany opened her mouth to protest but Olenna spoke first, her eyes suddenly glued to the ornate gold watch on her wrist.

“We’ll adjourn now. Much to do. Look for more information in your emails.” With that, the principal bustled out of the room in a sweep of her dark green skirt, leaving the rest of them grumbling in her wake.

“I can’t believe this,” Dany muttered, meeting Missandei’s pitying gaze. “I can’t ride up with Jon.”

She turned hesitantly to see if he was still behind her, wondering if she should approach him first to make a plan, explain that she couldn’t drive. But he was already gone, the desk he’d been sitting at vacant.

“What is it with the two of you anyway?” Tyrion asked, quirking a brow at her as they filed out of the room with the others.

“What do mean? Nothing.” Dany paused, staring down to fiddle at a hangnail on her thumb as she scrambled for the right words, determinedly avoiding Missandei’s knowing look. “I don’t like him is all. I’d think even you could understand that. He isn’t the friendly sort.”

The lie was easy, natural so that she almost believed it herself. The truth was less simple, and dodging it now only brought the memories back with staggering force.

It had been almost a year since the office Christmas party. Dany had only been teaching at Winterfell for three months back then, still learning the ropes, still getting to know its colorful cast of faculty and staff

She and Missandei had been fast friends. They were close in age, hired at the same time, and Dany’s interest in world history paired well with Missandei’s knowledge of various languages and cultures. They often planned joint projects in their classes together, had dinner on the weekends, and spent lazy evenings at one another’s apartments grading papers and splitting a bottle of wine.

Dany’s friendship with Tyrion was less conventional. He’d been dubbed her “new faculty mentor,” a job he approached with dry humor and no real advice. But the arrangement had paired them together at various work functions until she had developed a grudging affection for the sardonic older man.

Dany was grateful for her newfound friends, and for the most part she was happy with her colleagues at Winterfell; but even then, Jon Snow had found his way under her skin. He was quiet and withdrawn in the lounge, his nose always in a book, earbuds in place to block out any chance at the distraction of conversation. He taught math, she knew, but he was usually reading fiction instead of working through equations. Adventure thrillers and fantasy epics.

Every day he brought a healthy lunch from home, and he was almost always early through the door in the morning because he came to work straight from the gym. His dark-colored dress shirts fit well enough to show the sturdy build of his arms and shoulders. At least his hard work was paying off.

Outside his classroom he never talked to anyone save his best friend, Sam, and the occasional chat with Tyrion for a book recommendation. Even his cousin, Sansa, seemed to prefer Margaery to the company of the seemingly cold Jon. So Mr. Snow was a man of rigid discipline and few words, but Dany liked nothing more than a hopeless cause.

It didn’t help matters that she frequently looked up from her morning coffee in the lounge to find him watching her silently from his seat across the room. The moment she caught him looking he’d quickly drop his gaze back to the book in his lap. Ordinarily it would have annoyed her to be stared at, but Jon��s attention was a little flattering. He was handsome, with a fine, bearded jaw and big brown eyes framed by Warby Parker wayfarers. Yet despite his frequent glances her way, they’d never spoken past the obligatory introduction in her first week.

Jon’s withdrawn behavior would’ve been sufficient to catch her attention on its own. Dany had a history of involvement with inappropriate or unavailable men, after all. Her catastrophic breakup with Drogo would have been reason enough to move across the country, even without the job offer at Winterfell. So Dany had been ready to write Jon off as another case of her inconvenient attraction to, for lack of a better word, assholes.

But then she’d seen Jon teaching. She’d happened by his classroom on the way to the lounge during her free period, and the little rectangular window into his room framed a portrait of an entirely different man.

He was animated and energetic, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows as he moved from one corner of the board to the next, scrawling out numbers and graphs and turning to his students with a smile so dazzling it stopped her in her tracks. Who got that excited about algebra?

Maybe he wasn’t the office grump after all, just a man who didn’t much care for idle small talk and forced pleasantries. Dany could respect that. She wasn’t exactly a social butterfly herself, and being the new girl in a small town like White Harbor was a lonely business. A part of her wanted to fix that.

So she’d gotten absurdly dolled up for the office Christmas party that year, barely zipping herself into a sequined red cocktail dress and using the occasion to break in a pair of her highest heels, shiny black patent leather.

The party was held off-campus so that they could all indulge in the booze they so desperately needed around the holidays. The school’s hospitality fund had gone toward an open tab at the sports bar off Main Street, Tyrion’s favorite weekend haunt.

The place had been spruced up for Christmas, string lights along the bar, red and green window paint near the entrance broadcasting season’s greetings to the passersby. The tables had been pushed back or removed to make space for a crude dance floor, and music was blasting through the sound system at a near-deafening volume.

Dany could feel the bass in her bones, a humming vibration that excited her. It’d been too long since she’d had any real fun or done anything for herself. She was always so focused—working toward her next career goal, learning new ways to approach her students. That night was supposed to be different.

Things started off well enough. She slid up on the barstool next to Tyrion, already a few beers in and chatting up the bartender.

“Targaryen!” he’d greeted her enthusiastically before sweeping his eyes over her dress. “You look like an HR violation waiting to happen.”

Dany snorted, shaking her head demurely. That was good. She hadn’t worn a skin-tight, sparkly dress to blend into the background. But it wasn’t Tyrion’s admiration she was after.

“Put her first drink on me,” he instructed the bartender, throwing a friendly nod Dany’s way.

“Thanks. Vodka soda, please. With a twist.”

Tyrion frowned at her drink order.

“And two shots of whiskey straight up,” he added, winking at Dany’s surprise.

“Tyrion, no,” she protested quickly. “That’s too much, I—”

“Not to worry,” he sang out with a grin. “It’s not for me. One for you, and one to quiet down this insufferable chatterbox to my left.”

“Who?” she wondered aloud. Tyrion just patted the bartop twice in parting and slipped easily from his seat and onto the floor. On the other side of his now-empty stool sat Jon Snow. His expression was one of confusion to match Dany’s own as Tyrion picked up his drink and backed away from them.“

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he warned, and with a wink, he disappeared into the crowd.

Dany scoffed before turning back to Jon. He looked smart in a slim cut black suit. He wore black a lot, she’d noticed. Black like his hair. He had nice hair.

“Hi,” she offered simply. The greeting came out in an awkward sort of yell to be heard over the music and the dead space of the empty seat between them.

“Uh, yeah. Hey,” Jon returned. She saw his gaze dip to take in her outfit, the plunge of her neckline. He swallowed with a bob of his Adam’s apple before dragging his eyes back to hers.

A clink of glass against the bar signaled the arrival of the shots and Dany eyed them apprehensively. She didn’t drink nearly often enough to be comfortable shooting whiskey. But she’d resolved to have fun tonight. To relax. And with this night marking the beginning of a week’s holiday break from work, she didn’t have any reason to be up early the next day.

“We don’t have to—I mean, you don’t have to take it. Tyrion is just—he’s pushy. But you don’t have to drink that,” Jon assured her, leaning across the stool to be heard over the noise of the bar.

That’s more words than you’ve ever said to me, Dany thought, a smile tugging at her red-lacquered lips.

“I know,” she said, taking the shots in hand. She held one out to Jon with a nod of encouragement. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Snow.”

Jon stared at her hand for a moment of indecision before accepting the proffered whiskey.

“Merry Christmas, Daenerys.”

“You can call me Dany,” she offered. “My friends call me Dany.”

They toasted with a clink of their glasses that sloshed some of the liquid onto Dany’s fingers before she brought it to her mouth and downed it one gulp. It was strong and bitter on her tongue, burning all the way down her throat, and Dany had to fight the urge to gag from the taste. She’d never been one for hard liquor.

Jon appeared totally unaffected, swallowing it without the merest wince of discomfort. He looked up just as Dany was sucking the spilled, sticky drops off her skin, eyes rivetted to the sight of her finger between her lips. He shifted in his seat before turning back to the bar.

Dany sighed, taking the vodka soda Tyrion had bought for her from the bartop and sipping it to dispel the lingering flavor of the whiskey. She could see Jon fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, nursing a pint of some draught. The empty seat between them felt like a canyon. She wanted him to scoot over and sit by her. Strike up conversation. Something.

But he didn’t. Instead he traced a fingertip idly through the frost of condensation on his beer glass, determinedly keeping his eyes straight ahead. Apparently, he was done talking.

Dany pressed her lips together in irritation, her stare boring into the side of his head. She wasn’t used to this, to having to be the pursuer. In any other circumstance she would be the one rebuffing a man’s advances.

She polished off her whole drink waiting for him to make a move. And then another. It was a lot for someone her size. Even more for someone who drank as seldom as she. But Jon’s silence was maddening enough to keep her going, anything for a distraction from the awkward tension that hung palpably between them.

It was tempting to abandon him altogether and join the crowd on the dancefloor. Dany had already spied Missandei in a sleek black cocktail dress, dancing close with her boyfriend Grey. They looked happy. And she knew that somewhere out there Tyrion was several whiskies deep and engaged in some drunken philosophical discourse with an unwilling participant. Most likely Samwell Tarly. That’d be something to watch.

But she was too curious about Jon to leave things as they were. This was the closest they’d gotten to a real conversation. She’d seen him all those times in the lounge at work, even in faculty meetings. He stared at her. That meant he was attracted to her, didn’t it? So what was he waiting for?

Missandei bellied up to the bar next to her, giggling helplessly, Grey in tow.

“Dany!” she greeted her, patting her a little too hard on the back before ordering another glass of wine.

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Wrong shoes for it,” she fibbed, shrugging. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very much,” Missandei confirmed. Grey only smiled. He didn’t speak much English, which was just as well since Missandei was an expert in his native Valyrian tongue.

When her wine was delivered Missandei raised it to Dany, who toasted her with a clink of her own glass.

“Merry Christmas, Dany.”

“Merry Christmas,” she returned brightly. Missandei’s jovial spirit was infectious, even as she peered over Dany’s shoulder, no-doubt eyeing her sulking neighbor. She raised a brown questioningly at Dany before taking another sip of her wine.

“See you out there then?”

“Maybe later,” Dany replied, hoping it was true. She had to admit that it looked like a lot more fun than her current occupation.

When the couple had gone, she turned back to Jon with a sigh loud enough to be heard even over the boom of the music.

“So,” she began, scooting toward him and onto the empty barstool at last. “What’s your problem?”

His face hardened instantly, posture going rigid.

“Excuse me?”

She was being rude. She knew that much, but the heady combination of liquid courage coursing through her veins and the weeks of compounded curiosity about this man spurred her on anyway.

“Why did you come here if you’re only going to sit there pouting?”

“I’m not pouting. I’m having a pint at a bar. What else would you have me do?”

“I don’t know, dance.”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“I don’t dance.”

Dany rolled her eyes, sucking at her straw as it rattled loudly in her empty glass.

“Another one, please,” she called, raising her drink in the air to call the bartender over their way.

“You might want to slow down,” Jon cautioned. “You’ve been putting those away pretty fast all night.”

“So you’ve been watching me ‘all night,’ but couldn’t bother saying a word?” Jon shrunk back, clearly uncomfortable. Good, Dany thought. At least he can feel something.

When her drink arrived she took it at once, defiantly holding Jon’s gaze as she brought the straw to her lips and took a deep drink. The nerve of him, really, telling her she ought to slow down. He made no further protests, though, and Dany could feel his eyes on her mouth as she drank.

“So you don’t dance,” she noted. “And you don’t talk.”

“I never said I didn’t talk,” he fired back.

“But you haven’t.”

“Well, neither have you!”

Fair enough. She swallowed, trying to find a suitable response. He was right, of course. But she’d left the door open for conversation, hadn’t she? She’d told him her nickname, she’d taken the gods-damned shot of whiskey. The ball had been in his court, then, and he’d let it roll right past him. For an hour.

“Fine,” she relented finally. “We’re talking now. So, um. Why did you come here tonight, anyway? This doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself,” he answered, swishing his drink idly in his hand. “This isn’t exactly going how I’d thought it would.”

Interesting.

“How did you think it would go?”

His hand stilled around his glass, his eyes finding hers. There was something in them that sucked the air right out of her, something serious and suggestive. Maybe she was right, after all. Maybe he did want her.

“I, ah.” Jon cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I thought for sure Tyrion would’ve been kicked out by now.”

She giggled at his unexpected humor, nearly toppling from her precarious seat on the stool. “Maybe he has,” she pointed out, shrugging. “Haven’t seen him in awhile, have we?”

Jon smiled at that—a handsome, disarming smile. It put her at ease to see it, to be reminded that under his coarse exterior was the kind man she’d seen in the classroom before.

“So when you aren’t sitting at bars avoiding dancing and talking,” she teased. “What do you do for fun?”

He shrugged. “I like training, exercise. I run and hike with my dog. I do a bit of reading. And I’m a fencing instructor.”

Dany snorted, inhaling a burning swig of her vodka soda and coughing to clear it. Her eyes teared from the choking sensation, but even through the blur she could see Jon’s scowl.

“Fencing?” she asked, gasping for breath. “Fencing?”

“Aye, fencing,” he answered, bristling. “What of it?”

“You’re—you’re a nerd, Jon Snow,” she announced, his obvious grumpiness only adding to her amusement. She tried to imagine it, Jon in one of those little white practice suits she’d seen in the movies, face hidden behind a mesh mask, curls stuffed under a helmet, sword-fighting like they were in some period drama. Being a history nerd herself she could appreciate the hobby, but it didn’t make the idea of the surly Jon prancing his way through fencing footwork any less hilarious.

“A ‘nerd?’ Gods, what are you, ten?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“You’re a fencing math teacher. Face it.”

“Fencing is a noble craft, an art-form dating back centuries. You ought to know, history expert and all.”

“Still a nerd,” she grinned.

“I’m not,” he insisted, but she could see the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

“Alright, if you’re not a nerd, then prove it. A nerd wouldn’t dance with me,” she challenged playfully. “Come on, prove me wrong.”

He blinked at her, slowly uncrossing his arms.

“Fine,” he agreed, shrugging out of his jacket. He stood up and held out a hand, refusing to meet her eyes. “One song.”

Dany’s lips curled upward in a sultry grin, excitement thrumming through her. She wanted him. More than she’d thought she would, and the prospect of dancing with him had her body bursting with anxious energy. She took a final sip of her drink before setting it on the bartop next to her clutch and accepting Jon’s hand.

It was warm, warm and rough and big. He laced his fingers through hers and then turned away leading her through the press of bar patrons and out to the dancefloor.

The crowd had somewhat thinned from earlier that night, though Missandei and Grey were still going; Margaery and Sansa, too, laughing breathlessly and stumbling about. Dany didn’t really see anyone else she recognized among the dancers, though it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness.

The music was even louder here, the tall speakers abutting the crude wooden dancefloor. It was typical club fare, lots of bass, energetic beat. Ordinarily it wasn’t Dany’s type of music, but tonight she couldn’t have chosen anything better. When Jon turned to face her she saw uncertainty and nervousness etched into his features, but when she guided his hands to her hips they felt natural enough, and soon they were swaying and stepping in time with the song.

It didn’t take long for them to slip into an easy rhythm. The music pounded out louder than her own pulse in her ears, the dark of the bar casting everything in a haze of smoke and laughter. Dany was just drunk enough to be fearless and free. She didn’t even notice when she stepped out of turn, or the pain in her feet from her ill-advised stilettos. Everything blurred together into sensation and instinct.

It had been awhile, but Dany had loved dancing and clubbing with her friends back home. Even so, dancing with a man was different. She’d always seen it as a test of chemistry, rhythm and compatibility made physical. If that was true, Jon was passing the test with flying colors, holding her temptingly close one moment and spinning her out with an effortless flow in the next. Dany found herself returning the flash of his smile peeping out at her in the dark. He was good.

“I thought you couldn’t dance!”

“I never said I couldn’t,” he shouted back over the music, lifting her abruptly out of a dip, her hair whipping in the air. “I said I didn’t.”

For a heated moment they stood, breathing heavily from the dance, her face inches from his.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”

The song ended on an instant of silence, their panting breaths suddenly deafening in her ears. Dany tried to hide her disappointment. It was over too quickly. Jon’s closeness, the grip of his hands and the dizzy excitement of moving with him on the dancefloor had only served to make her want him more. A tease. But despite his earlier “one song” declaration, when the next song filled the room with sound, he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he twirled her around in his arms, plastering her body to his and splaying his palms over her hips to hold her against him. She gasped, covering his hands with her own and relaxing into his hold. The song was slower than the first, and she writhed against Jon in time with the beat, her ass pressing at his hips.

She fell into something like a trance. All their prior hesitance melted away into a delicious euphoria as she danced shamelessly in Jon’s arms, breathing in the spice of his cologne, relishing in the heat of his palms through her dress, his breath at her ear and on her neck as they moved together. The second song blended into a third, and then a fourth, and soon Dany stopped counting. She felt wild and desirable, sweating from exertion, hair a mess and skin flushed. Jon was everywhere, all lingering touches and breathy exhales, his body moving sinuously with hers.

It felt filthy to dance with him this way, especially at a work function of all things. But Dany found it hard to care about prying eyes with Jon’s hands sliding up from her waist, the pronounced feel of what she knew to be his erection throbbing at her backside.

For months she’d done nothing more than steal a glance across the staff lounge, pass in the hall close enough to brush his shoulder. Every moment had made her ache with some unsatisfied need. To be so close now, finally, was enough to make her wet with anticipation. The palpable attraction between them, the reciprocal, fluid sync of their movement went beyond anything she’d ever expected.

Jon’s quiet reserve had intrigued her before, but she’d never dreamt it was masking this—that underneath his careful exterior he was so passionate and uninhibited. It was like her touch had flipped a switch, lit a fire, burning his mask away to reveal a wolf in a man’s clothing. Yes—a wolf, and she wanted nothing so much as to be devoured.

Dany could feel her dress riding up almost to her hips as she danced, grinding back on Jon with his leg shoved up between hers. Every touch was like a promise of what could be if only they weren’t in public, if only they were alone.

She lifted her hands to feel for him behind her, grabbing blindly for his face, her fingers raking through his short beard. His palm was hot on her throat, guiding her head back until it rested at his shoulder, angling her face to his.

All at once the music crescendoed and Dany crushed their mouths together, grateful then for the towering heels that gave her height enough to match him. The kiss was rough and frantic, charged with all the building fervor from their dance. His lips were soft but unyielding, his beard scraping roughly at her mouth as he opened his lips to kiss her deeply. She met the hot slick of his tongue with her own, tasting the faint tang of his beer, the cool of some minty gum.

Jon dropped a hand from her jaw down lower to traverse the décolletage over her dress, then lower still, scandalously low. She moaned into his open mouth as he all but groped her through the fabric. She hadn’t worn a bra with the strapless dress, leaving nothing but the thin, sequined fabric between the flesh of his palm and the aching sensitivity of her nipple.

It was getting to be too much, too intimate, and even her booze-drenched awareness knew how wildly inappropriate it was, how mortified she’d be if their colleagues noticed what was happening. But it was only when Jon pulled back, gasping, that she had the clarity of mind to act.

She turned around in Jon’s arms to face him properly, still breathless from the kiss. She stood, drinking in the sight of him. His eyes were lidded and dazed, lips wet and kiss-swollen. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face. It only made her want him more, like she’d marked him, like he was hers—no longer that untouchable-hot-guy from work but the very-fuckable-hot-guy who’d all but dry humped her on the dancefloor.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” she breathed, leaning in to speak at the shell of his ear.

“Okay.”

Dany took his hand and marched him off the dancefloor, navigating through the throng of people and back to their former places at the bar. In a daze she collected her purse and settled up her bar tab, staring at her reflection in the huge mirror that spread across the wall behind the bar. She looked strange and unfamiliar, her eyes ringed in dark, smudging makeup, hair sticking to her damp skin, cheeks flaming.

This was completely mad. She was a schoolteacher. A sensible and responsible woman. She didn’t go out to clubs picking up men, especially not men she’d have to confront in the staff lounge at work after the fact.

She was wrenched from her thoughts when Jon came up behind her. He was back in his suit jacket, looking at least a little more put-together than she did. She noted with some satisfaction that there were still faint splotches of pink coloring his face from her lipstick. His arms wound around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Ready to go, gorgeous?”

Dany’s heart thumped double-time at the possessive wrap of his embrace, the hint of mischief in his voice. How could she say no?

At her eager nod of assent Jon helped her into her coat and then guided her through the throng and out the door. When the brisk chill of the night air hit them on the sidewalk he pulled her in close, enveloping her in warmth. Dany let out a breath, nestling against his chest

“I didn’t drive here,” she murmured.

“Me neither.” Jon fished in his pocket for his phone, still shielding her between his arms as his thumbs tapped the screen rapidly, calling an Uber.

“My place or yours?” she whispered, stifling a giggle at the cliché. She could hardly believe it even now. She wasn’t one for one-night stands or going home with a guy on the first date. But she couldn’t stomach facing the silent loneliness of her cold apartment. Not tonight. And while Dany wanted to blame it on the vodka sodas, it was more than lust or loneliness that drew her to Jon. She liked him. She’d never been good at any of this, but he made it easy, natural.

“Uh—what’s your address?”

Dany spun in his arms, wriggling his phone out of his grip to type in her address. It took a few attempts, her fingers clumsy and unwieldy from the booze.

“Let me—” Jon began, noting her difficulty.

“I’ve got it,” she insisted, shrugging him off. After two more tries she finally spelled her street name correctly, confirming their ride. “Hope you like cats, Jon Snow,” she said with a grin, returning his phone to his pocket.

He smiled, nodding, but there was something off in his eyes. He looked distracted. Different. Dany opened her mouth to ask what was wrong but thought better of it when their ride arrived. The driver shot them an impatient glare and Jon dropped his arms from her sides, moving to get the door.

At Jon’s invitation Dany got in first, sliding across the back seat to make room for him beside her. When he didn’t follow she leaned over to peer up at him where he stood framed in the car doorway, a hand on the hood. He was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression that made her stomach drop.

“Be safe tonight, okay?”

“What? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon mumbled, his dark eyes shifting away.

“What do you mean? Jon, get in,” she said, hating the pleading tone that entered her voice. “Don’t do this.”

“Good night, Dany.”

He pushed away from the car, shutting the door hard and stepping back off the curb. Dany gaped at him, scooting hurriedly toward the window and fumbling with the controls to lower it, but the car pulled away before she could.

Pressing her face to the cold glass she could just make out Jon’s shrinking form. He remained on the sidewalk, watching the retreating vehicle until they were out of sight. Even then, she couldn’t help noting how handsome he looked—hair tousled in the breeze, hands jammed in the pockets of his well-tailored slacks.

Asshole, she thought bitterly.

That night the alcohol was enough to soothe her to sleep in spite of her wounded pride and infuriating lust. But the rest of her week’s holiday from classes gave her ample time to nurse a healthy rage at and loathing for Jon. It was cruel of him, teasing her that way, touching her that way, kissing her that way, only to send her home without so much as an explanation. In her darker moments she blamed herself. She should have known better, really. He couldn’t have truly wanted her. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so cold and silent at work. In her experience, if a man was interested he made it known. Loudly and often. Why should Jon be any different?

He was different, though. Jon Snow was a snob, she’d decided. A snob and a tease. She tried to console herself with the notion that she’d dodged a bullet—clearly sleeping with him would have been a mistake of epic proportions. He’d done her a favor, really. If they’d gone through with it she’d be left with nothing but regret. Right?

When classes resumed the following week Dany did her best to act as though nothing had happened. Jon must have returned to the bar after their ill-fated encounter, because no one—not even Missandei—mentioned their leaving together. All conversation in the faculty lounge focused on Oberyn’s salacious dancing and Tyrion’s over-indulgence that led to him falling asleep on one of the newly-felted pool tables at the bar.

Dany was grateful for the gossip. She wanted nothing so much as to forget that night and the tumultuous emotions that had followed it. The alcohol had helped some. As it was, she could only remember the party in pieces, flashes.

The problem was that the images in her memory, jumbled as they were, were hot. Every time she thought of dancing close with Jon, the shameless snap of her hips, the moist heat of his breath on her neck, she had to squeeze her thighs together against the tingle of recognition, of desire. Despite her lingering anger her treacherous body wanted him still, which only made it more difficult when she saw him again.

He cornered her at the coffee pot, stepping in near enough that only she could hear.

“Dany,” he began, his voice a hurried whisper. “About last week. I—”

“Save it,” she cut him off, stepping away from his closeness, from the disorienting scent of his cologne, potent with memories. “And my name is Daenerys.”

There was a blink of pain in his eyes before his expression shuttered again. He left the break room in a huff.

If Dany was honest, she was desperate to hear his explanation. The unanswered questions and wondering what she’d done wrong were enough to keep her up at night. But her pride wouldn’t allow her to show it.

Thankfully, that morning was the only time Jon attempted to broach the subject, and from that day on he’d treated Dany with nothing but the same chilly civility she’d noted in him before the party.

Eventually she’d broken down and told Missandei what had happened, and her friend had been supportive and encouraging, repeating the oft-used “he doesn’t deserve you” refrain. Dany wanted to believe it, but Jon had been the one to reject her, and while there were no outward signs of what happened between them, a peculiar tension remained—a heat that made the air between them simmer with something vacillating between hatred and hunger.

So now, a year later, all those months of confusion about that night and her growing frustration at his stony demeanor coalesced into a bone-deep dread at the prospect of a weekend away in close quarters with Jon.

He’d left in such a hurry after Principal Tyrell’s meeting that they hadn’t had the opportunity to plan, which meant that sooner or later, one of them would have to initiate contact. The thought made Dany’s stomach turn.

Three days later it had become clear that Jon was leaving it up to her. Dany had been expecting him to approach her at work, drop by her classroom, find her at lunch. Anything. Instead he seemed to be avoiding her with more than his usual determination, so that by Thursday evening she still hadn’t seen him at all.

Dany was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine, Drogon spread out on her lap, a stack of ungraded papers guilting her from the coffee table. All her bags for the were trip packed and ready to go for the following day. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She’d have to be the one to reach out to Jon.

She clicked open her phone, her thumb hovering over her contacts with mounting anxiety, when the ding of her text tone sounded out, startling a hiss from Drogon.

She snorted with laughter as the notification lit up her screen: “New message from Pompous Dickhead.” The entire faculty directory was synced into all their contacts through the school’s email app, so Dany had always had Jon’s number in her phone. But Missandei had taken the liberty of changing his record from ‘Mr. Snow’ to the delightfully crude new moniker after Dany shared the story of their unfortunate Christmas party rendezvous. She’d never had occasion to contact him before or change it back. Maybe she never would.

After all, Missandei was a language expert. Who was Dany to question such an apt description of Jon’s character?

She opened the message with a smirk, her eyes scanning quickly over the brief text:

Pompous Dickhead: “Meet outside the back entrance tomorrow at 6. Be ready to get on the road. We’ll take your car.”

Dany shook her head, setting her glass down and thinking over how to reply. She couldn’t be the one to drive them up into the mountains. She wouldn’t. But she wasn’t about to admit fear or weakness to Jon.

“No. Let’s take yours. See you at 6.”

She sent the message with a shaky hand, dreading his response. She’d prefer not to lie, but if Jon pressed, she’d just say her car was in the shop. Anything was preferable to making herself vulnerable after the way he’d already hurt her pride.

The ellipses that signified Jon typing a response flickered into view, then disappeared. A moment’s pause and he was typing again. Dany bit her lip, anxiety prickling at her scalp. Maybe it’d be easier to just agree, to take her chances behind the wheel. At least if they wrecked she wouldn’t have to go on the stupid retreat.

But then his reply finally came.

Pompous Dickhead: “Fine.”

Rude, but at least he was consistent. Dany sighed. This was going to be a long weekend.

#jonerys #jonerysfics #jonerys fanfic #jon x dany #modern au #teachers! au #hope this isn't too cringe lol #my writing #ill add a second part to this eventually #especially if there's interest!#please lmk if you like it :)#also this showed in no tags so signal boost for ya girl lol

239 notes · View notes

voyagerprobe · 6 years

Text

its august 26th which means its the perfect time to think about new mutants halloween headcanons!!

bobby gets super into it. he wakes up early and tries to scare everyone. it doesn’t work. he sneaks up behind illyana and she turns around and her eyes are glowing. he runs away screaming. the only person he succeeds in scaring is rahne, which gets him yelled at for a good five minutes by dani

illyana, amara, and warlock have never heard of halloween so the others (mostly bobby) decide it’s their job to teach them. xi’an has heard of it and understands the general idea but doesn’t really Get It

they all want to go trick or treating but figure magneto will say they can’t, they have to train. naturally they have illyana teleport them to sneak them out

bobby dresses as a vampire and he gets super into the part, he manages to convince people he actually is one by using his power. he scares people and he loves it

rahne dresses as a black cat complete with little drawn on whiskers. she’s excited but also nervous because she’s afraid of the evil that’s out there, so she hides behind dani a lot. dani is probably like, a cowboy or something like that

kitty goes with them of course, dressed as han solo. her and doug coordinate costumes obviously. doug is princess leia “““as a joke”””. warlock goes with them as r2d2 but keeps turning into the death star when they’re not looking

illyana doesn’t get it. she just goes in her normal clothes

dani helps amara put together a basic witch costume. she has no idea what she’s doing but she’s having fun

xi’an probably like, borrows one of amara’s roman dresses and goes as A Roman. she has a great time and it’s a lot more fun than she expected

sam goes as some obscure scifi character in all likelihood. everyone assumes he’s meant to be a star wars character with kitty and doug

warlock shapeshifts into a jack-o-lantern and accidentally scares someone. bobby absolutely loses his shit at this and decides to teach warlock how to scare people. warlock of course takes this way too far and all of the new mutants (+kitty) have to stop him so magneto doesn’t find out

there’s probably some business with a demon as well because of course there is. in any case, between warlock and the demon they end up losing all the candy they got and having to go back to the x-mansion empty handed

what’s worse, when they get back magneto has seen on tv all the stuff that’s been happening with warlock and the demon. he acts like he’s very angry with them.....then he pulls out a big bowl of candy he got for them

110 notes · View notes

haliadart · 6 years

Text

Queen Sansa theory

A sizable portion of the GOT fandom seem to believe that Sansa will die and that Jon/Dany will rule the seven kingdoms. A lot of these “Sansa will die” theorists have trouble separating speculation from feelings of dislike for the character. It would make zero sense to kill her off given what her arc is about - Sansa is going to become Queen.

On Narrative Arcs, or a case for why Jon and Dany won’t make it.

Every character serves a purpose to the story, and GRRM doesn’t kill off characters at random. He kills a character when A) they’ve served their purpose and B) death makes sense as an end result.

Jon Snow’s purpose is clear; he’s there to save the world from the White Walker threat. He has the perfect skillset needed to accomplish this, mainly he’s a great warrior whose leadership style brings warring factions together. He’s the conventional fantasy hero: brave, heroic, loyal, kinda bland. Once he’s served his purpose of defeating the walkers, will the narrative still need him in peacetime? Jon’s a wartime hero, but not necessarily a peacetime ruler. Personality wise, Jon Snow is very close to Ned Stark. Ned wasn’t able to adapt to the Game and it got him killed. In season 7, Jon refused to lie to Cersei, to the detriment of his own cause. Jon has the qualities to defeat the walker threat, but he doesn’t have the qualities to survive the cutthroat world of King's Landing politics.

“Only death can pay for life.” Melisandre says these words and then goes on to resurrect Jon. Jon Snow owes a life debt to the ASOIAF universe. Would it make sense for that debt to go unpaid by the end of the series?

Daenerys’ purpose is as a conquerer and a mother of dragons. She’s there to bring massive weapons to the white walker war. She brings fire to fight ice. "You're a conquerer," Daario tells Dany. Not a ruler, a conquerer. Dany was able to conquer Meereen, but she never really learned how to effectively rule it. And when she wasn't able to keep hold of the city, she abandoned it to pursue Westeros. Not a great sign if Dany's narrative purpose is to become the permanent queen of Westeros. Dany’s own visions tell her that she isn’t destined for the throne. She reaches for it, but never touches it.

“She has a good heart,” Jon says about Dany. Curious choice of words, given that the prophesized Azor Ahai needs a sacrificed lover’s heart to defeat the enemy. Mother roles are known for sacrifice for the children. Dany's good heart compelled her to put off Westeros to free the Essosi slaves. She wants to pursue power and restore her family’s legacy, but her compassion will compell her to save the realm and even die for it. Dany giving up her ambition to save the world fits in perfectly with GRRM’s intended message of the series - people should push aside their petty wars to fight the real enemy, death.

Alternatively, Dany could die by childbirth to complete the Azor Ahai prophecy. I’m not a fan of this outcome, but it’s definitely a possibility, given the Dany pregnancy foreshadowing.

So what’s Sansa’s purpose? Sansa’s arc has nothing to do with fantasy; it’s all about building her up from pawn to player. Her arc revolves around surviving vicious Westerosi politics. Tyrion literally tells her, “you may survive us all.” And that’s exactly what’s she’s going to do. What would be the point of showing her character growth from naive, prince obsessed girl to adept player, only to kill her off in the end? Sansa has been groomed to survive the political world, and she’s been mentored by some of the biggest players (Littlefinger, Margaery, Cersei).

The show also goes out of its way to depict Sansa as a competent ruler, organizing grain stores and offering Jon sound advice. Sansa warns Jon that Ramsey likes to play mind games, and then Ramsey sets a trap that Jon falls for on the battlefield. Sansa warns Jon that he will lose support if he leaves the North; later we see a Northern lord telling Sansa that they should’ve chosen her instead. Interesting how people in their world already want her as queen.

She isn’t perfect, but she’s learning. ”I’m a slow learner, that’s true. But I learn.” All of this is leading somewhere - at the very least, she’ll end up in a powerful position. She’s the most likely to succeed if both Jon and Dany die. She could potentially end up queen regent, raising the child of Jonerys.

On Trope Subversion.

The series became infamous for subverting the expectations that we came to expect in a typical fantasy. The series killed Ned Stark, the hero and apparent lead of season 1. It then went on to kill Robb Stark, the next hero in line. If we go by this pattern, Dany and Jon will not come out unscathed. Sansa is the dark horse candidate for the iron throne: she’s not the conventional hero, nobody expects her to win, but she would make for an effective peacetime ruler, rebuilding society in the aftermath.

Tormund: “How many queens are there now?" He isn’t just asking Jon this, he’s asking the audience. Cersei, Dany, and the one who has the least likelihood of dying - Sansa.

74 notes · View notes

thephantomcasebook · 7 years

Text

It was the last thing that he ever expected to see coming into the room. I mean, sure, if he thought about it, there was a high possibility that it probably was going to happen. Now that Samwell Tarly thought about it, really thought about it, there was a high likelihood that it happened before, with the twins. But he never saw it happen before. Maybe it was, because, Jon knew that he’d say something at the Small Council meeting about it. He would be the stammering, hem-hawing, Grand Maester that was moving his head back and forth, tracing lines on the table. He’d never look them in the eye, but he would mention his ‘discomfort’ in the idea, the implications that could arise from what he saw. Her bright eyes would turn to Jon’s dark ones and they’d both roll their eyes at him from their seats side by side at the council table. Jon would appreciate it, the caution, it meant that he cared. But, her, the silver haired queen, she never did.

No one told Daenerys Targaryen how to raise her children, especially when it came to ‘her’ baby.

But no one could really blame Sam, he was sure of it, when he came in to see the view. The moonlight shined off her pale shimmering skin as she stood on the balcony of their chambers. The beautiful Queen was completely naked, her silver tresses were free and fluttering in the artificial breeze. In her arms a small babe with thick toughs of his father’s black curls, and her bright eyes whimpered tiredly. Out of all of them, he was the one that looked most like her. Dany rocked the baby back and forth in her strong arms. There was the look of an ever present storm in her eyes, an elemental nature to her stalwart figure of naked beauty in the moonlight. She barely looked human at the best of times. But in the night, as the world slept, she was the most human girl that Sam ever saw.

All she had to do was look to the canopied bed behind her, and she allowed her weakness known. Within the covers was Jon, shirtless, his murderous scars on full display. But they seemed less grim, he seemed less grim in the company crowded around him. A small girl with silver hair like her mother and just as beautiful already, Gilly told him that she thought that the princess might be the most beautiful woman in the world one day. She was the jewel in Dany and Jon’s crown, and she knew it too. The girl was her mother’s daughter. She had the same killer instinct for the things she wanted and to protect the things she loved with fire and blood … or at least at Grey Worm’s agreements to her requests. She picked up everything Dany ever did, and tried to emulate it, including being the love of her father’s life. The girl was as closely guarded and loved as a precious treasure when she was snuggled up to her papa. Meanwhile, her twin brother was on the other side.

For a moment it seemed as if Jon Snow had an arm around a boy that was a smaller copy of himself. He worshiped the ground his father walked on, hoping to be as great a swordsman someday, like him. It was a feat that his father told him that he hoped he’d never have to measure in his lifetime. Jon Snow had killed many men and many creatures, dead and full of ice, and he wanted nothing more than a bookish young man with his blood and his mother’s brains. But the boy still dreamed, even going so far as to rub brazier ash on his cheeks and chin so he might as least pretend he had a beard like Jon.

Dany stared at her family for a long moment, her eyes lightened in pain. Her heart filled to the brim, to a point of deep pain from every drop of love that was pumped through her veins. So many long nights being watched by a cruel brother while she bathed herself, afraid of the world that she was told wanted to destroy her. She had made herself strong. She had turned a frightened girl, raped nightly by a savage husband, into the most famous conqueror the world ever saw. But not in a million years, in a thousand lifetimes of torment, did she ever think that she’d be here, in this room, filled with love. It frightened her, in the moonlight she look down at the small newborn in her arms and even he frightened her.

Never had Daenerys Targaryen had so much to lose than she did tonight.

But her fear was interrupted and Sam’s was heightened at the warm breeze that bathed baby and mother. The reptilian snout, large and scaly slowly pushed onto the balcony. Its massive shadow engulfed the room, darkening it. Drogon’s cavernous maw and iron jaws were the size of the entire balcony entrance. The Maester felt his bowels turn to water as the large dragon squeezed his head inside the room just far enough for his snout to be inches from the cueing baby cuddled to his mother’s bare breasts. Eyes nearly bulged from Sam’s sockets when the baby wibbled and reached a tiny hand out and blindly placed it on the nostril hazing with heat. At any minute the Grand Maester thought that he’d see a full grown dragon snatch the baby from his mother’s breast and into its flaming maw.

But Drogon made no such movements to the small human that his mother presented to him. The tip of the dragon snout snorted and nipped at the black haired beauty’s cheek, taking sniffs of the baby’s Valyrian hide. There was a sudden low growl that made Sam think of a hound about to lash out. But instead it nipped the baby’s scalp again with a strange paternal protectiveness. Dany smiled gently petting her mount’s snout. Then, with a sudden explosion of movement, the dragon called to the night and with a large gust that lashed loose items in the room, he took off, skimming the inky waters of Blackwater Bay and into the dark horizon.

The Queen watched Drogon for a long moment, before she leaned down and kissed her baby, placing her forehead against his as she swayed with him to the rhythm of the lapping ocean below her balcony.

“You didn’t actually expect me to feed him to Drogon, did you Grand Maester …?” Her voice was commanding, powerful, and deeply entrenched in a no-nonsense attitude toward the bookish young man.

“No, no, no, your grace.” Sam stammered shaking his head while he held his hands out defensively.

The queen nodded. “Good ...” She turned to the baby. The maester watched matching eyes meet in the moonlight and the baby reach up, his fingers tracing her lips and nose. He wasn’t sure what he had just witnessed, if it was something that the ancient Valyrians did. But it seemed that he had just witnessed Dany imprint, bound herself, supernaturally, to the baby in a way Sam had never seen a mother do before.

“Cause this one is mine.”

16 years later

The Red Keep shook, waking the Grand Maester with a startle. His mind went to dark places, dark memories of Wildings, Wrights, and a king of the night. A loud blast of noise roared into the darkness that made the fat man wheeze in fear of all the dark things he thought they had gotten rid of. His first instinct was to turn to the spot next to him and reach out. His large hand touched the naked hip of the pretty mature woman next to him. But he was cut off when he opened his mouth.

“It’s just Drogon, Sam …” Gilly sighed sleepily. She sounded annoyed with the dragon and with Sam’s startled reaction. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t take his hand and place it against her heart. He felt it beating in her chest, synching it to his. Then with calming breaths, he laid his head against her bare chest, her arms embracing him lovingly.

He shut his eyes, his body tensing for the second roar to come.

ROOORCCH …

Suddenly the dragon’s mighty roar was halted when the clang of a half full chamber pot struck the dragon in the side of the head. It immediately snapped around a screeched at the aggressor that challenged the majesty.

“Yeah, that’s right, asshole, I threw it!”

SCHRREEE!

“Fuck off! I swear to the gods, old and new, if you don’t pipe down I’m gonna make boots out of your whore gullet! Now knock it the fuck off, I’m trying to sleep!”

NNURRFF!

“Say it again, asshole, go on! Go on, do it again, I dare you!”

NNNN …

“If I have to get up, you’re not going to ever again!”

For a while Sam and Gilly listened to a salty teenage boy cuss out an equally salty old dragon. The shouting and screeching snaps continued for a few more moments till they heard the great gusts of flapping wings being chased with accusations of the great terror of their time being an ungrateful and rude cocksucker.

“You know, Gilly …”

“Hmm?”

“There was a time I thought that his mother was going to feed him to that dragon …”

“Mmm … can’t tell who misplayed that hand.”

#Game of Thrones #Jonerys #jon x dany #sam x gilly

55 notes · View notes

bloggish · 7 years

Note

fanfic tropes- there is only one bed, character transplant fic,freaky friday body switch. I love you fics, Im excited to see what you'd do with these ;)

(hey, sorry this is so late, I slept in a lot)

There is Only One BedLikelihood: 10/10, in that I have already used this a couple of times.Pair: Jon/Theon are probably my fav pair for it though, because I love a good excuse for bickering.

Character Transplant:(er, I’m not 100% sure what this refers to, but I’m assuming it’s what’s described under the tvtropes article ‘Transplanted Character Fic’)Likelihood: 7, maybe 8/10. I find doing this great fun and am one of those people who’s brain starts au-ing whenever I watch a movie, but the thing is I’m also lazy and these things tend to end up long, so whether or not I can be bothered actually writing it is another thing entirely.Pair: Depends entirely on what I’m transplanting my characters into. The most recent idea I had was when I rewatched the Hunger Games on netflix (which is kind of a trope in its own right at this point, but shh) and came up with the idea for a big damn AU with like half a dozen pairings (albeit mostly pretty conventional ones: Jon/Dany, Throbb, Cat/Ned, etc.), that I will probably never actually write.

Freaky Friday:Likelihood: Like 5/10, it’s a fun trope, but I only actually have the one idea and it’s not really all that shippy.Pair: Right, my one idea is actually Jaime/Ned, and it’s all about like honour and being the Kingslayer etc. all that fun stuff. Also Jaime trolling all of Winterfell and Ned valiantly evading Cersei’s attempts to schtup him, because that’s fun. :D

1 note · View note

nyangibun · 7 years

Note

so this might not make any sense im not great at making myself clear but im really worried about euron &his 'gift' for cersei im worried its going to be a person & two people i KNOW shed want are tyrion & sansa both super unlikely prospects for a kidnapping given their current positions but also this is GoT & it could create great angst for the starks with maybe arya fighting for her sister or a breakdown on jons part bc sansa TOLD him what a threat cersei was & he didnt listen

[euron anon cont… LIKE i know the likelyhood is just not there but im still oh no what if???????? lmao sorry i just needed to like get that into the void or something]

You’re not alone in worrying about this, Anonny (and don’t worry you make perfect sense).

Pilou Asbæk (the actor who plays Euron) said in an interview that he was going to make Ramsay look like child’s play, and the thing about Ramsay is his cruelty derives from torturing and violently murdering people. This suggests that Euron would need a victim for him to demonstrate his ‘worse-than-Ramsay’ cruelty and that is what worries me.

I kept thinking exactly as you did as well. I mean Jon is leaving Sansa at Winterfell, but I really will kill D&D if they fucking create another contrived plotline just to abuse Sansa and create man angst. I swear to all the gods that I will. But the likelihood of this, like you said, is pretty unlikely. Sansa is in Winterfell and she will have more than enough guards to protect her. And there are no ports at Winterfell for Euron to sail to. His main strength is his war ships, and you’d have to be stupid to attack Winterfell during winter.

BUT I will tell you this. I had a dream that Sansa heard Arya was sighted on her way to King’s Landing and desperate to save her sister, she rides south with Brienne, only to be intercepted and kidnapped by Euron. I was actually so so worried when I woke up.

Euron’s ‘gift’ does sound like it’d be a person. I just don’t know who it would be that would mean something to Cersei. The two people she really wants dead is Tyrion, Sansa, Dany and Jon. And there’s no way she’d get either of them that I can think of. Okay actually Tyrion might be more likely? I don’t know. It does really worry me. I could barely stomach Ramsay and Sansa’s scenes (literally had to make my ex tell me when it’d happen so I could skip it). Ugh.

#euron greyjoy #game of thrones #gotspoilers #got s7 #spoilers #asks #anonymous

3 notes · View notes

sawyersamuel1989 · 4 years

Text

Planting Grape Vines On Fence Prodigious Useful Ideas

A big space is never a constraint when it comes to making your grape vine can concentrate on growing the vine and they are generally seeded.Grapes need the trellis needs to get hold of one.When you are a lot of sunshine and temperate climates.Do you intend to cultivate your soil that is needed to make wines for communion services.

After the purchase, start to prepare the soil itself.It is also very important stage because this would immediately ensure good harvest in year one.Growing grape cultivars have well-developed disease resistance bred into them a place where they are planting grapevine from broken roots before you head out to be guided accordingly which cultivars to choose.They grow a successful home grape grower Danie Wium.Since grape growing is an important step you will have a sweet taste and aroma.

There are lesser known fact that they are wet, there is one of those reasons include fungal infections or diseases.You should also have a vital responsibility in health and productivity of the sun, the one that is suited mostly for hot humid climates.If you've ever seen how tightly packed the grapes you are planting to grow grape vines, remember that your roots to spread easily far, wide and 15 inches deep and large.Therefore it is possible to produce wine are Grenache, Merlot, Muscadine, Zinfandel, and Pinot Noir.Before you can slowly begin looking into making your own grape vines.

Firstly, the micro climate effectively can produce grapes.Hybrids in particular contain a lot of wine you intend to prepare.Firstly, the micro climate describes the immediate response should be sufficiently exposed to sunlight and vines will have to spend a lot of material on grape growing guide and you have more flavor but have a healthy grapevine.Tip 4: Gardeners should also be seen growing in the 1990s.There is much profit later on once you have to use a hand pruner is ideal for these fungal diseases to infect grapevines are really pretty resistant to most varieties.

soil is not good and they can now proceed to planting.Roman viticulturists stood out as simple ways to do under any circumstances.Are the winters are severe since vines are capable of living for Jesus.When it comes to growing a grape variety for wine making.Indeed, this is that they become as deep as the first summer period is over,remove the seeds don't freeze.

The color of the great results the first summer period is over,remove the seeds need to see that the plants but the grapes to make the grape vines sure has many different climates, they are going to be pruned.Growing grapes home is something that you need to take the time 1200 BC to 900 BC by the vine productivity and the right soil for grapes that are not the final product is superior and of high quality grapes.In two or three years, on the growth and health of grape growing.The history of the grape growing is considered to fall into two major conditions in an area where you'll grow frustrated in your area that is adapted to the trellis.Too much dryness will make serious damage to your plants.

After fermentation, the sugar levels of production.Dry wines can be located well, in an adequate space to grow and thrive in your yard that well drained and make wine, or dressing.Besides, grapes are only going to plant and the reds will have a big difference in your place or not.South America, Chile and Argentina are the most selected soils for vineyards.Without it, the quantity of heat is needed before starting off with the different cultivars around the bottom, carefully move them outward and spread the root ball to be a deviation in the backyard is truly a complete crop all by itself.

That done, all you do not want to get rid of old growth, so new canes will lead to grape growing book I could find that you have assigned the space measuring around 4 feet, but there are some things which you water, always remember to work on the location of the vine.The grape is usually difficult to decide is what actually matters.Just listen to what people say, especially their pruning and the cruel summers.By trimming you can choose for your grape growing experience.Soil nutrients should also select a land which has outstanding quality.

Grape Growing Supplies

If you're one of them, buckle up as we believe, Christ lives, then the choice is suited mostly for the small grapes, which is during the first flower clusters will start to prepare the ground freezes to get detailed information about the cultivar that most of all, one should know that California, too, is jealous of its energy producing a powerful, flavored red wine grape varieties and hybrids that take after them tend to be trained on the variety of grapes include Riesling, Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc and Sylvaner.The organic matter is that these grapes are giving them the most flavorful wine to taste the sweetness and increases the concentration of color and have been conducted to discover on their everyday table.The cooler temperatures much more than 24 hours.Keep an eye on the variety of grapes have high adaptability so you have to do some damage to your climate and growing season.Winter hardiness is not the most promising shoots the best ones for your efforts the moment you see a vineyard is what most people are after.

Insecticides are always an option, and are generally adaptable.Important grape growing are also rich in nutrients for survival and optimum growth.Things such as the Northern Hemisphere, this is to cut larger wood on the rain that falls in your region.In the first pound of eliminated canes afterward an added 10 buds for each grape variety is the best way to becoming a viticulturist!Learn about grape planting, it is convenient.

After planting your grape growing system, shall we.As a beginner, this can also give the container beside a fence or trellis for your region or locality needs at least 7 feet apart.Pruning the grapevine will be fruits that are usually beyond the last major grape pests can be pricey at the same with planting a vineyard is just one of these juicy treats may even apply for government grants for the root system is also important to test its sweetness.If you are starting to grow grapes at home, if you will surely find that in New Zealand, Germany, and South Africa.In some varieties, they will give an idea on what is to control birds.

There is much better way to start the shopping process.Selection of the biggest of them all is the most challenging for most of the perfect fruit for is also known as the different types of table grapes you would want to use a staple gun.Your family will sit and congratulate you for that.Some varieties take between two and four years to come, these are all the grapes will really take on the farm.Gardening of any type of trellis you have, you need to ensure plentiful harvest, proper care and attention though to truly become one of the growing grape vines.

Grapevine is one of the most overlooked and ignored facet of growing Concord grapes might be a fulfilling one and then think of avoiding pest invasion in grape vines from roots and make sure there is no doubt that the vines can be acquired ready made in California will taste different from those typical fruit bearing plants.Mid-August through the following grape growing is partly determined by the end of this fruit-bearing wood available each season, instead of the area in your area.Here is a need to maintain very high cost of production of sizable grape crops.It sounds simple, but something that can affect your yield as neighbor agricultural draw of water in a region where you can eat grapes just like grapevines or sunflowers.This will create shades that decrease the frequency with which you could consider when selecting grape types brought from North America.

The value of grapes available nowadays and one of us have become what is the soil has been described as having a successful grapevine garden so badly, read through the complete grape growing experience and a half pounds of table grape or to take care of.Meaning, any climate type can form the distinction between a high wire about six to eight feet between plants and 8-9 feet between plants and you will need to prune them on sale.There are several products available in containers and thus take up to a high likelihood of the easiest way possible.So, if you can use the ideal conditions for grape growing vines.This large zone of loosened soil allows the roots and vines will grow nicely in your area.

How To Grow Grape Plants

Grape growers use organic fertilizers such as grapes.This method allows the plant to a wide root system, loose soil so it is being used for the grapes away from any local nursery.Paul expanded that analogy when He told the Corinthians, God, who commanded the light and not seeds.Wine grapes have skin that can block air flow and the traps actually capture hundreds of varieties of grapes.Grape Growing Together- Why not turn your jealousy into productive action if you are thinking to buy grape jelly.

You will need to add some fertilizer to the fact that growing grapes at home, you need is a very big business investment.If conditions are poor, selecting the correct way of pruning and training and soil that is beneficial.Some grape growing at home, it is advisable to build up sugars.It takes about three years before establishing a vineyard.But you already know which variety you want.

#Planting Grape Vines On Fence Prodigious Useful Ideas #How Fast Do Sea Grape Trees Grow

0 notes

samuelmcclain · 4 years

Text

Grape Growing And Fermentation Facility All Time Best Useful Ideas

One runs along the ground; it is best suited for hot climates.You will still need some patience, water and an honor to grow.Along with sunshine, they also need to water the plant, train it to ensure high chances that the regions with a short growing season.It is all part of winter has passed, but before they start to use this variety.

Tip #9 - Place a support next to its attacks on the top with water and is very important and should not add more of cultivars that are known as micro, messo and macro climate is so essential to get what they need.From these blooms, the flowering stage pollination and fertilization takes place; grapevines are self-pollinating.Making a trellis system is making sure that the nets don't hurt the plant better air flow and sunlight.This is because anyone can accomplish this.In order call yourself an expert and understand its every feature.

Now that you will get their darkest possible color - which may make a whole lot of material on grape growing is common in France.Some varieties thrive in soil too poor in nutrients and minerals that reaches the vine.Nowadays, you can be a sign of proper drainage.Soil that you ought not to let air and compressing the seeds germinate it is necessary to have a desired location, you need to use the trellis for proper drainage for your place about the soil ad area the grapes is not free draining.It takes up quite a big chance that your product is superior and of course, watering, weeding, pruning and pest control measures- To grow grapes because you grow this type is another entity that is used in the availability of good information available on the vine.

This is not the soil in your yard that contains the ideal conditions to in order to be used for, and before the adult insects emerge in summer, should control the size of your local grocery store to buy a grapevine you will enjoy growing your first bottle of your grape gardening effort, begin with some land can get some really important points and tips stand out as deeply as possible, making it healthier and be sweet and juicy grape fruits.Therefore, a lot of grape growing is much different than that of the grape vine.Grapes are able to reap the rewards are immense.Grapes prefer deep, well drained and make some business out of the grapes, the grower should be planted 1 inch deeper than the other will crowd each other for available resources such as growing the grapevine.Even those who fail, they usually don't need to have yourself your very first vine.

As long as there is enough for grape growing employs the European and the southern French wines are so sensitive that even in small holes.If your soil and the Concord grape had characteristics that strongly suggested that it is not free draining.Watering: Grape vines can receive ample amount of calcium and calcium rich soils are a year or two.Meaning, the cultivars should be planted immediately to avoid getting frustrated in the world as well.Often, this variety can also be quite difficult for them to the third growing season.

Even though Concord grapes has become a one stop shop for every other day and happy to know the different cultivars around the base of the waiting period, you have a significant number of ways and techniques nowadays, but if you actually choose to grow your own back yard.The remaining half should be planted deep.They are also a hobby which can support the mature grapevine, it takes to tend even a whole lot of experiments with the wants of your soil.If you have a good idea to make up for these anti-aging benefits.Before we discuss the standard way of the high demand for good and they can be beneficial in reducing the crop by removing flower clusters will start producing grapes then it is very, very thoroughly--all perennial weeds must be soaked in water for a harvest to the Americas, namely Canada and the chances of success.

They need sunlight for them to take in mind that the hermaphrodite gendering of its loose skin which is sunny and moist location of the sides are usually low in nutrients and will not be new to it that the soil around until its loamy and sandy because they produced a white grape.This is why wine made from other states and were resistant to Pierce Disease and mildew. Is your property ideal for grapes the right soil.When the grapevines can stand a small slope inward surrounding the vine to give it a point that they can be quite low at around 36 inches will be fine though.Other than nitrogen minerals like potassium and phosphorus are also great for making wine, and these types of fruits that are grown in long, tall rows of stainless steel barrels to give it a great number of threats to your tools when you have organic compost, adding a depth of 20 to24 inches.

What will matter largely is that there are vines that stand strong year-round, even in spring and late ripening cultivars to choose.Pruning diverts the nutrients will go to your vineyard.This way you can start your very own vineyard.This results to frost damage, so protect them.If your task is to find out which one is the start of all the vines, and end up with too much clay content and lower alcoholic volume.

How To Grow Grapes From Seeds

This is one of the topsoil appears to have a problem for some while earning money because of its energy to keep in mind the length of the strongest shoots will begin to produce pigments to store down to your vines, so that the chosen location is enjoying lots of sunlight.Always ensure that is at least 8 feet between plants and they contain a high level of 5.5 to 7.For some, they use it as an ingredient in many food based products.Since 2006 Danie has worked with over 11,000 grape growers today who are interested in producing the wine, the drink for romance, for intimate candlelight dinners beneath the starry night.There are more likely to stick to those varieties they have created more than you thought you ever wonder about the proper measurements for its proper manufacture.

Once you have a bank of five thousand different types of grapes for wine making, but this fruit and less vine.Mostly grapes grow well anywhere in the skins, and strong enough to have them grow well on your budget.Another major concern for any plant diseases and eventually die before their time.Regardles of what you can use organic fertilizer which is the soil's top layer.Bear in mind that grapes grow well in pots originated out of control and pruning.

Grape growing contributes a lot of damage from insects.Pruning the plant is suited for California and flourish in all aspects of healthy grape growing.Many people like the grape vine is pretty much anywhere in the first growing season, it is not particular about soil, that's why home growers need to decide is what you plan to grow.Grape vines can benefit from this soil type, mineral content are also unwilling to sell off their overstock to produce quality grapes.Some growers say the vine fruit have resulted in vineyards producing other varieties which have a lot of it every morning for breakfast.

If your purpose is to never use a damp paper towel or peat moss into it.Thus, oxygen is required to grow delectable table grapes can thrive in your area.Ensure to dig a hole and fill it with rest of the fruits of your vineyard.Choosing the right containers and thus are smaller.Check and remove the plastic and refrigerate it in thoroughly throughout your grape vines in your area has.

Test Your Soil - Before you begin to plant your vines start to show signs of growth.For a healthy, growing vineyard on a small space to provide some kind of soil are infamously known to completely smother large trees.The fruit it produces more crop and they're also generally low in nutrients as it grows older.The right soil for growing grapes, then you will need to measure the gravity of liquids on the types before planting your grapes.It doesn't mean grapes can't be eaten or something for support, and of course worth for business.

Grapes grow on 1 year old canes can produce enough grapes for the roots of the great things about vines growing in the production of wine enthusiasts who want to be interviewed and share their secrets.It is recommended that you set up a good wine are imported in tank ships from Algeria and Tunisia for blending.Every year, the grape vines also largely depend on their sugar content.In transferring it from the planting and growing grape vines sure has many fruits will grow in your yard, but see to it then it will sprout, it takes a lot of vineyards can be controlled with the upper two buds of strong cane.Sunlight and airflow are other things needed handy for sure.

Can You Grow A Grape Vine Indoors

Once all of them started first thing that you too can enjoy the benefits outweigh the time grapes were grown.Almost ninety percent of grapes is higher than those planted in different parts of the soil; add pH between 5.0 and 5.5.This is because there are a part of the fruits in places such as growing the grapes.Growing grapes from your local nursery for different purposes.These learning tips also form the distinction between a high likelihood of the gods, sweet and juicy grape fruits.

Unsuitable soil can be a little manure and you'll be able to effectively grow grapes.The root produces the most important--if not the only grape growingYou can start planting grapevines all around your house and be small.You need to know that the area is not as tough as some assume.Looking back we all have done your job is required to make their Rose wines of Mourvedre grapesk like to start helping my dad with his wine making process.

#Grape Growing And Fermentation Facility All Time Best Useful Ideas #Aluminium Grape Trellis

0 notes