#amori brothers

[9thdimension]

gimme!

#killua zoldyck #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh manga #hunter x hunter manga #hunterxhunter #hunter exam arc #manga cap #manga panel #anime #amori brothers

[tumblingclockwork]

Does anyone know if there’s a place online to read the My Brother’s Blood Machine comics yet? I plan to actually buy physical copies of all of them but it’s gonna be a while before I’m able to and I’d Really like to get the chance to read them before that.

#prize fighter inferno #my brothers blood machine #Coheed and Cambria #the amory wars #they look so good and I’m so impatient lmao

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

#I generally don't like talking about the whole rhaegar-lyanna-elia stuff partly because I don't really care for either of them #but mostly because these topics often devolve into extremes that help absolutely no one #but I just wanted to hop on here and say that blaming rhaegar for elia's death is imo not cannon compliant #the narrative already give us an answer to this - THE LANNISTERS but more specifically TYWIN and GREGOR and AMORY #it's not rhaegar or lyanna or their child Jon to bear any of the blame in this #dorne's decision to join the war against the crown is entirely because it's in opposition to the lannister regime #that's not to say that rhaegar cannot have responsibility for the humiliation of elia - because even grrm says he does #but saying he bears the blame for her murder is just a bit.....😕 #also rhaegar is one thing but blaming LYANNA of all people is ummm well #rhaegar targaryen #robert's rebellion #tywin lannister #ser gregor clegane #ser amory lorch #house martell #elia martell #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #pls forgive any spelling and grammatical mistakes its midnights and I'm tired af thanks #my stuff

[pctterswprld]

vena amoris

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!fem!zabini!reader

request: ok hello hello hello 😵‍💫 i have a request but only if u write for draco!! if not, please do ignore this.

i was kind of brain-rotting about this for a while now, so hear me out even if this might not be the best description ever. T__T

so, reader could be in the same house or not, this isn’t exactly a huge part of the plot. but draco has kind of been crushing on reader for a while, but reader keeps pushing him away—in a sense that they would keep denying draco’s attempts at wooing them, and would constantly reject anything he gets them (firm believer of draco's language being gift giving, at least one of them)

so clearly draco is like so whipped he grows so out of character and gets teased by his peers 😭 the ending is up to you, but i picture this as a fluffy (maybe the pushing away contributes to a bit of an angst factor) fourth or fifth year draco fic. your writing is so muah, by the way 🫂 much love, xx! ~ anon.

word count: 5,269 words (woah)

warnings: FLUFF, reader is blaise's twin (slay), a shit ton of swearing (sorry), theodore nott smoking his iconic cigarettes, reader kissing draco at the end, not proofread!

author's note: IM SO BAD WITH WARNINGS SO PLS LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING. i kind of included high valyrian (as in the language from game of thrones + house of the dragon) bc im currently in my asoiaf era so YEAH. also, anon, i'm sorry if i botched this, i kind of messed up the end but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long; I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY<3

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AS SNAPE DRONED on about Wit-Sharpening Potions and their advantages, you began fiddling with your silver bracelets, seeming to zone out of the lesson as the thought of dragons entered your mind. Your tongue licked your bottom lip rimmed with strawberry-flavoured gloss whilst you acted as if you were paying attention, flitting your eyes over to the back of Professor Snape’s greasy-haired head.

At this moment in time, you were bored out of your mind. There was nothing more riveting than the words of your historic fiction books, often containing stories about families with the blood of their dragons running through their veins. Instead, you were here in Potions class, preparing for your approaching OWLs, your chin resting in the palm of your hand as your eyelids fought to stay open. You did not even have the comforts of your twin brother, the well-revered Blaise Zabini, who had begun skipping class to see his “greatest love” (his words, not yours), Luna Lovegood. Others thought her to be a strange girl, especially because her mother was a powerful witch. Though Pandora Lestrange (who had never fitted in with her family) was known for her skills and her friendship with Regulus Black, she married Xenophilius Lovegood, who was now the editor of the Quibbler. He was stranger than his daughter, and many students theorised that it was him who filled Luna’s head with such… Such bizarre assumptions.

You, much to one’s dismay, quite liked the fourth year. Luna was often correct with her words and had interesting stories about her mother, to whom you had admired dearly.

Thankfully, something had caught your gaze. Unfortunately, it seemed to be much worse than the lecture you were enduring. Your eyes widened at the sudden appearance of a paper sparrow, the bird flying around in the air as it landed in the palms of your hands. You pulled a face, glimpsing at the faces around the godforsaken dungeon before stopping at a particular platinum-haired, blue-eyed boy, gazing at you with a goofy grin as the confusion written on your face contorted into vast annoyance.

The boy you met eyes with was the one and only Draco Malfoy. Son of the ‘wonderful’ Lucius Malfoy and beautiful Narcissa Black, he would’ve been raised with privileged views about the wizarding world, uttering vile words against those ‘below’ him and his maniacal pureblood ancestry. Quite frankly, you  had hated Malfoy ever since first year, regretting you had ever spoken to him because now…

Now he would not leave you be.

It had been five years since your first encounter. Draco had ensured that over the course of the half-decade, he’d never leave your holy presence. You could not, for the life of you, figure out what his obsession with you was about. Yes, you were pureblooded. Yes, you were Slytherin. Everything else about you did not, at all, reflect his persona.

Except, perhaps, his ever-repeating threats. The only difference between yours and his words against others was that you always had the will to act on them.

You were never one for affection. In the five years you’d been in this school, you hadn’t obtained a single crush. Kisses were shared in your fourth year with a Ravenclaw, but that was it. Your mother, the famed woman who had married seven husbands, but had died tragically and had left her with mounds of gold, had always taught you to not waste your time with boys in your academic years, for they were merely children. Instead, you should wish for a man, one like your father (who was also dead, but had died because of a disease when you and Blaise were young. Your mother still yearned for his presence daily).

You didn’t bother opening up the sparrow, knowing that it merely contained his one-hundredth love confession. What you did in reply was a little cruel, but you did not care. Instead, you crumpled the bird into a little ball right before him, seeing Draco’s expression crumble as you wore your signature sarcastic smile, throwing the paper ball behind you, huffing before looking back at Snape, who now had eyes on you.

“Miss Zabini,” Snape sounded out quietly, you realising that he had just witnessed you discard parchment across his floor. “Another brilliant display of Slytherin’s impeccable manners, I see,” he reprimanded, sarcasm encasing his tone as you refrained from correcting him. “Perhaps you’d like to continue this performance by littering the entire dungeon, just to make sure everyone is fully aware of your utter disregard for cleanliness and decorum.”

You pressed your lips together, hearing the quiet sniggers from other houses enter your ears as you exhaled through your nose, meeting Draco’s stare before glancing at Snape.

“I apologise, Professor,” you replied meekly, though not regretfully. Snape recognised this, but he did not say anymore, returning to what he said prior the supposed interruption.

Sighing to yourself after hearing another cry for your attention, you turned your head at the sudden ‘psst!’ from across the dungeon, the irises of your eyes growing dark as Draco shot you a wink. The sudden glint of his silver snake ring caught your eye, causing you to raise an eyebrow out of interest. Yet, you regained composure, tutting at his behaviour, staring at him no longer.

Draco Malfoy would be the death of you. The funniest thing of all was that he would not be delighted if such things ever came to be true.

In the corners of the Great Library, you sat alone, your eyes widened with amazement as you whispered the words of a foreign language unbeknownst to many, smiling as you began to uncover the secrets of your fictitious world. However, from across your table, Draco and his small band of friends (consisting of Theo, Blaise, and Pansy) sat with their own share of textbooks. They did not, of course, share the same interest as you did. Draco kept a watchful eye, his chin resting in the palms of his hands, the pupils of his blue eyes dilating into hearts as Theo and Pansy shared a disgusted look. They weren’t disgusted by you, but Draco’s continuous rants about you.

“Merlin, isn’t she gorgeous?” Draco murmured, practically drooling over the pages of some novel as Blaise snatched it from under him, shaking his head as he sighed.

“I know that. She is my sister,” Blaise grumbled, his knuckles resting on his forehead. He whispered into Theodore’s ear, extremely bothered. “I cannot take this love-sick nonsense any longer—”

“You aren’t very good at whispering,” Pansy mocked, twirling her quill as she leaned into her seat, smirking at the fact that Draco hadn’t heard a single word.

“You’re acting like you hadn’t been doing the same with Lovegood the last month,” Theo pointed out, matching Pansy’s smugness as Blaise rolled his eyes.

“I haven’t been following Luna around for the last five years!” Blaise retorted, leaning back in his seat as he watched Draco twist his ring around his finger.

“She was staring at my ring earlier. Should I give it to her?” Draco suggested, no one paying attention to him as Pansy piped up.

“Perhaps I would be a better match for [Y/N/N],” Pansy joked, getting a reaction out of both Draco and Blaise.

“NO!” They said simultaneously, causing Pansy to tsk as she rested her legs on the edge of the wooden table. Draco then stood up, taking in a deep breath as Blaise furrowed his eyebrows at him. He would have protested, but Draco had already sauntered off towards your desk.

“Balerion... Zȳhon perzys iksin hae zōbrie hae zȳhon ñelly, zȳhon tīkuni sīr rōvabona giez lenton sia ipradārin bē isse pōja sȳndor skori ziry rēbagon,” you read fluently, biting your bottom lip from smiling ever so widely as you read the Valyrian words with awe. Your necklace dangled from your neck, hitting the constant stripes of your loose, Slytherin tie as you looked up suddenly, hearing someone clear their throat.

“Merlin’s left fucking tit,” you seethed, snapping your book shut as you met the one and only Draco Lucius Malfoy with a hard gaze, pushing your novel away from the platinum-haired boy so it didn’t feel his stench.

“Hello, [Y/N],” Draco replied, his voice ten times softer than yours (was your tone ever gentle?) as you ran your hands through your hair.

“I do not understand why you keep bothering me—”

“A gift,” Draco interjected, aggravating you even more as he took out his left hand, removing his ring that bore a snake. You furrowed your eyebrows, realising that it was the same ring you had eyed earlier and you stood up abruptly, looking up at his towering figure.

“A-are you serious—?” you began, disbelieved.

“I know how much you like your accessories and this would look great with your Yule Ball dress—”

“I do not want the stupid ring and I’m not even going to the—”

“It would look better on you than on me—”

“Shut up,” you groaned, not understanding how gravely Draco felt for you as he became quiet almost immediately, almost like an obedient dog. You were a little surprised, but you feigned nonchalance. “Listen, I appreciate the offering, but I looked at it for not even ten seconds! That does not mean I actually want it, Malfoy.”

Draco remained silent, almost like he was contemplating her words as her chest heaved of simmered frustration. And then, he nodded, giving you a brief smile before turning around, heading towards the Library’s exit. You pulled another face, irritated beyond compare before stuffing your hands in the pockets of your robes.

That was until you felt a cold metal in the right one.

You pulled it out, cursing under your breath as your head cocked towards Draco’s friend group, where your brother also sat. Scoffing at Draco’s notion, your feet carried you to Blaise, where you slammed the ring on his table, causing Theodore to sit completely upright.

“Well, hello there, love—” Theodore began with his deep voice, only to be swatted on the head by Blaise.

“Blaise, I swear on Salazar’s grave, if you do not get Malfoy to leave me alone, I will feed your organs to our dead stepfather,” you hissed, leaning forward as Pansy bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to grin.

“Which one?” Blaise remarked, his eyes still trained on his book as you snatched it out of his hands, giving him a warning look as he sighed. “Just accept the ring—”

“NO!” You yelled, leaving the ring on the table as you thudded the novel against its wood before Theodore, once again, jumped at the noise as you left, leaving a vexed Blaise, an exasperated Irma Pince (who had flinched at the sudden outburst, and Pansy), who seemed to be falling in love with you every second.

As the soles of your Doc Martens entered your Common Room the following week, you made your way over to the couch, rubbing your wrists because of the hair ties that had strangled them. Your gaze had been on them the entire time, so long that as soon as you looked up, a few stares were coming your way, wrinkling your eyebrows as you looked them up and down. It was natural for some Slytherins—mostly girls—to dislike you purely because of Blaise. Not your twin specifically, but they were jealous of the attention you received from his friends, Theodore and Draco. It was the same for Pansy, even though (as much as you admired her) she had been horrible to everyone she’s ever met.

In all respects, you were not rude. You just didn’t like talking with people. A totally understandable prospect, right?

Back to the situation at hand, you had just approached the couch, freezing when you saw the amount of people huddled around an object on the sofa. You tutted, weaving your way past, most likely stepping on someone’s toes. You only wanted to sit down and rest your feet.

“Salazar’s sakes, can you move—?!” You began to raise your voice, but your words quickly died down in your throat, noting the extremely large package resting on the velvet cushions of the emerald couch. You glanced at the girl beside you, recognising her to be Daphne Greengrass, who smiled slightly before handing you an envelope.

“It’s for you…” She nodded awkwardly, giving the box a glance before turning away from you. You looked at the envelope, seeing that the seal wax was in your favourite colour, the actual symbol being a dragon.

Curious, you opened it, your fingers lightly grazing the parchment as your eyes moved along the page, the cursive letters peaking your curiosity. There was a dry flower taped to the note and you picked it off with care, the corners of your mouth briefly curling when you saw your favourite rose, looking fresh.

‘Dearest [Y/N],

I hope this note finds you well. As the annual ball approaches, I wanted to extend an invitation to you. I've chosen a dress and jewellery set that I believe would compliment your elegance and beauty. Please consider it a gesture of goodwill, with no expectations or strings attached.

 I wanted to offer this gift and extend an olive branch in the hope that we can enjoy a pleasant evening together, even if it's just as friends. If you still decide not to attend with me, I completely understand and respect your choice.

Wishing you happiness and looking forward to whatever the future holds for us, whether as friends or acquaintances.

Sincerely,

D.M.’

“How romantic,” Pansy’s voice suddenly appeared against your ear, a smirk tugging on her lips as she looked you up and down, seeing you eye the box with agitation. You cock your head to face her, your lips pressing together.

“Go away, Pans,” you mumbled, scrunching the note up as you shoved it in your pocket. You kept the rose, however, safely in your other pocket, too pretty to be destroyed. You picked up the box, throwing a look to whoever else that dared to gawk at you before descending up the staircase towards your dorm with a huff.

“Did she like it?” Draco’s voice suddenly boomed in Pansy’s ear as she jumped, pushing the blonde boy away, still gazing at where you had gone.

“She hasn’t even opened it, you twat,” Pansy retorted, walking past him as she made her way towards Theo, giving him a pleading look as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips.

“What?” He asked in a hushed voice, but immediately widened his eyes when Draco began nearing them. “Shit—”

“Did she like the rose?” Draco asked once more, his gaze becoming frantic as he looked at the stairwell. Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, stubbing out his cigarette as he tossed it aside.

“I mean, she kind of smiled—”

“She smiled?!” Draco guffawed, his lips curving into a wide grin as he sighed dreamily, sitting on the armchair beside Theo. Both Pansy and Theo shared another look as the short-haired girl sucked in a breath, forcing a smile on her lips.

“I wouldn’t say that, Draco. Like, she was a little flattered that someone knew her favourite flower—”

“Rose.”

“Flower,” Pansy repeated, feeling irked as she crossed her arms. “But the smile dropped as soon as she saw it was you who gave her the dress.”

“She smiled,” was all Draco said, gleeful as he leaned into his seat, staring at the ceiling as he began to daydream.

“Fucking hell,” Theo muttered, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his brown hair. “What are we gonna do with this kid?”

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

You had unwrapped the box. You had taken out the dress. You had taken out the jewellery, as well as the shoes and whatever else. You expected to hate everything in the gift box, predicting that you would’ve shredded the gown to pieces by now

But this guy had bought a dress so ethereal that it had suited all your tastes. You were satisfied with what was in front of you.

Donned with sequins, the dress was in a mermaid-cut style, which would’ve accentuated your curves perfectly. The bodice had a perfected pleated detailing on the waist, the gems glowing under the light of your room as your fingers itched to trail across the silk. The gown featured romantic puff sleeves which would line up your chest with a flattering square neckline. Overall, it was an airy dress that reached to the floor, creating a beautiful silhouette that would make you glow, the ivory satin of the dress increasing your beauty since it contrasted with your skin tone perfectly.

The jewellery was a whole different story. Draco had bought stones so expensive that you didn’t think you’d be able to wear them, the necklace could potentially weigh your neck down. The actual diamonds were in your favourite colour, but the crystals were silver and would rest above your cleavage excellently. There was also a matching ring with the same diamond.

Hesitantly, you reached for the ring, trying it on every finger. Shuddering, you raised your eyebrows, realising the ring would only fit on your actual ring finger. You scoffed, tossing the ring back into the box, disregarding the crème-coloured heels as you sat on the edge of your bed, head in your hands.

You were lost. This was too much. The dress was gorgeous. Simple, but exquisite. The jewellery was impeccable, and you wondered momentarily if these jewels actually belonged to the Malfoy family.

You turned your head, beginning to tug on your bottom lip with your teeth as you jigged your thighs up and down, at a crossroads. You couldn’t wear this and not go with Draco. That would just be downright cruel.

Damn, you began to think. Damn, damn, damn.

“Blaise.”

No response.

“I know you can hear me.”

No response.

“Your book is upside down.”

“I think the fuck not,” Blaise shot back, checking to see if Draco’s statement was correct. Blaise narrowed his eyes, closing them fleetingly as he jerked his head to the side, meeting the blue, wide-eyed boy’s face with exasperation.

“Stop asking me about my sister.”

“No.”

“Merlin’s fucking balls, Malfoy—”

“I just want to know if she’s going with me tonight. It’s been days since I’ve given her the dress! I haven’t gotten an answer!” Draco interjected, his hands clasped in front of him, almost as if he was begging Blaise. His best friend slumped in his seat, dropping his book onto the table before him as he placed his hands behind his head.

“I. Do. Not. Know,” Blaise reaffirmed, granting him a sarcastic smile, his eyes locking onto someone else as he let out a groan.

You had entered the study hall, eyes scanning the classroom before they landed on your twin brother. You sighed in relief, fiddling with your watch as you cursed, noting it was five minutes past six.

As you stood before Blaise, you made eye contact with Draco, curtly nodding at him as you cleared your throat.

“Where’s Pansy?” You asked quietly, looking around the room once again to see if she was there. Blaise shrugged, which didn’t help you at all. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know.When will people stop asking me questions I don’t have the answer to?” Blaise  questioned, causing you to roll your eyes before you fled, rushing down the hallways towards the dungeons.

Draco was staring at Blaise expectantly, his lips pressed together as he leaned forward. “Well?”

“End my life already,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. “She nodded at you. Which means she’s going.”

“With me?”

“No. Cormac McGlaggen.”

“WHAT—?!”

“SHUT UP.”

Meanwhile, you had found Pansy making out with some girl from Hufflepuff. Sighing, you pulled her away from the girl, causing the other to feel embarrassed as Pansy pulled your hands off her.

“What’s your problem?” Pansy muttered, fixing her hair as you threw her a look, smiling once you saw that the Hufflepuff had scurried off.

“I… need a favour,” you shrugged, smiling awkwardly as your lips thinned. She pulled a face, causing you to shove her shoulder.

“What is it, then?” You puffed your cheeks, looking around the hallway as you fiddled with your hands behind your back, wanting to pull out your hair.

“Needyoutodressmyhair,” you talked under your breath, causing Pansy to furrow her eyebrows as she crossed her arms.

“Eh?” You threw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I need you to dress my hair.”

A gasp escaped Pansy’s lips, her hands across her chest as she tilted her head, smiling mockingly as smiled at her back bitingly.

“Your first thought was me? Aw, [Y/N]!” Pansy waved you off, sighing contently, you having enough of her as you grabbed her wrist, dragging her away to your dorm.

You had waited until everyone else was gone to exit the Slytherin Common Room, already infected with nerves as you stepped carefully across the floor, slowly walking towards the Great Hall. Surprisingly, you had finished getting ready (with the help of Pansy and a lot of magic) in under two hours, leaving you enough time to make sure you didn’t trip on the way to the Yule Ball.

You didn’t know what Draco had worn, wanting to see what he looked like—only to make sure he didn’t make you look bad. Pansy had done your eye makeup since you didn’t know how, your friend going for a [Y/F/C] eyeshadow palette that winged your eyes. Your lip colour was as deep as the richest of raspberries from the Forbidden Forest. Your hair was in a braided crown, white daisies blooming in the tresses of your locks as the rest of your hair flowed down, the length ending at your middle-back. Large stones hung from your ears, matching with your necklace that felt heavy on your collarbone.

Heels clicking against the stone of the castle, you finally got to the staircase that led straight to the Great Hall. You gripped the wall anxiously, Draco’s ring on your right ring finger as you peeked around the corner, eyes softening (only slightly) once your eyes had landed on your date.

From what you could see, Draco looked as handsome as he always was—you’d never admit that to his face. Draco was dressed in a robe tuxedo, his dress shirt and bowtie the same ivory white like your gown. The buttons of his shirt sparkled under the flames of the torches in the hallway as he checked his watch, scratching his chin as he waited for you. He also wore a black cumberbund, to your astoundment, his robes as dark as the bewitched night sky in the Great Hall. Lastly, his signature snake ring, the one you refused to keep the other week in the Library, bore his middle finger on his right hand, which defined the veins in his hand as he flexed it.

Now or never, now or never, now or never, you repeated in your mind, silently stepping out of the shadows. Your heels clicked against the first step, causing Draco’s head to pick up. Your breath caught in your throat as you caught his gaze, your hands falling to your sides as you walked carefully down the staircase.

You tried so hard not to trip, but luckily for you, Draco seemed ready to catch you as he stood at the end of the stairs, catching your hand as you instinctively reached out for him. You thanked him with a small smile, steadying yourself on the ground floor as you looked up at him, his towering figure seeming to fit in with you perfectly.

“Sorry. Sort of took my time,” you mumbled, scratching the space behind your ear. Abruptly, the jewellery set Draco gifted you suddenly felt light, no longer itching your skin away as Draco’s touch warmed your hands, your fingers coincidentally on his vena amoris in his wrist—vein of love—that led to his ring finger and connected to the veins of his beating heart. You gulped, praying he didn’t know that as he smiled softly, his gloved thumb running over the palm of your right hand.

“‘s fine. I got you something,” Draco replied, catching you off guard as you hesitated, your mouth ajar.

“You’ve gotten me enough things, Malfoy,” you chuckled, averse. You didn’t want Draco to spend so much on you—must he insist on buying you things all the time?

Yet, as soon as you saw the final gift, your lips parted in astonishment, staring at the corsage that Draco had taken out of his pocket. You looked up at him, the peach of the rose pinned to the corsage gleaming at you as he watched your amazed face carefully, scanning it for confirmation before he slipped it onto your wrist. You gulped once again, your throat raw as you didn’t know what to say.

“You… you didn’t have to buy me a corsage,” you murmured quietly, staring at your painted toenails, refusing to meet his gaze as his hand moved to link your arms together.

“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t get you a corsage?” he responded gently, earning a cool blush from you, clearing your throat as you picked your head up, nodding.

Draco sensed that you didn’t want to talk anymore, noting the redness that appeared in your cheeks. He decided not to speak on it, knowing that you would probably glare him to the ground. Instead, he led you towards the Great Hall, the soft sound of organs and harps entering your ears as the corners of your lips turned upwards, entering the room with a heart rate that quickened every second.

A number of students (from fourth year and above) were in attendance. Yet, every single pair of eyes were on the pair of you. You gripped Draco’s arm tightly, glancing at him as he reciprocated, leading you to where your friend group stood. The first dance hadn’t happened yet.

“Merlin, bless your souls,” Pansy sighed, faking tears as she hung off Theo’s arm, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Fuck off,” you tutted, pressing your lips together. You eyed her appearance, relenting slightly as you mumbled. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” she retorted, winking at you as Blaise appeared with Luna. Luna widened her eyes in admiration, reaching out to touch your puff sleeves.

“You look beautiful, [Y/N]. Like a dove!” she complimented sweetly, Blaise nodding in agreement, but refusing to say anything. He smiled, glancing at Draco, who only had eyes for you.

“Thank you, Luna,” you smiled, the only real smile you had given today. “You looked gorgeous,” you added, raking your eyes over the light blue satin of her gown.

“Guys, the first song is going to start,” Theo announced, his arm around Pansy as he dragged her to the floor, the pair of them giggling to themselves, seeming to be a little tipsy. Blaise also kissed the back of Luna’s hand, pulling her along gently as they made their way towards the middle of the room.

You glanced at Draco, your smile still lingering as you looked at your feet.

“Would you do me the honour and grant me a dance, Miss Zabini?” Draco murmured, his tone soft as your tongue poked your cheek, utterly wordless.

“I might step on your toes,” you breathed, your voice quiet as his thumb brushed against your fingers.

“I won’t mind,” he replied, smiling as he took the lead, causing you to follow him to the middle of the hall. You looked around, copying everyone else’s movements as you wrapped your arms around his neck, staring up at him with uneasiness.

“Relax,” he whispered against your ear, your shoulders immediately losing their tenseness as his hands pressed against your hips, guiding you as your feet followed his, syncing to the slow song that played in the background as the lights dimmed. You gazed into his eyes, not wanting to stare at anyone else, aware that others were sending you looks.

“Why does every girl have to have a crush on you?” you questioned, your gaze dropping as you felt unease. Draco tutted, tilting your chin up as you swallowed imaginary air, shivering under the coldness of his glove.

“Thought you didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion,” he mused, causing you to give him a bored look. 

“‘course I care. Just look at their patronising stares. It’s unnerving,” you grimaced, rolling back your shoulders as he twirled you around, his hands travelling up your waist as he picked you up, spinning you around whilst you gasped.

“I’m not looking at them. I’m looking at you,” Draco said softly, shrugging playfully as you scoffed lightly, feeling your cheeks warm once again. “You look stunning, [Y/N]. Absolutely stunning,” he whispered, his minty breath fanning against your face as your expression softened.

“Well, um, this is the gown you bought me,” you chuckled. You always felt weird whenever you accepted a compliment.

“It is,” he replied, his grin still tugging on his lips, “I may have picked out the gown, but it's you who makes it look so graceful… You are the definition of elegance, [Y/N] Zabini,” he whispered, a little breath escaping your lips as he brought you closer.

“I… I’ve hated you for so long,” you uttered, furrowing your eyebrows. “But you never gave up after the amount of times I’ve rejected you. Why?” Draco thought for a moment, taking in your delicate countenance.

“I don’t really know. I think I never gave up because I genuinely care about you. I saw something special in you, and I was willing to keep trying because I believe in us.” The entire time, Draco had kept true to his words, his voice fragile, as if he was going to break at any moment. He honestly could not believe that you had finally given him a chance.

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at him, disbelieved, tilting your head to the side as your expression faltered. And then, you knew what to do, your eyes flickering from his eyes, to his lips.

Hesitantly, you encaptured his lips with yours, your hands reaching up to his hair as Draco was taken by surprise, but kissed back nonetheless. You were never good with your words, but your actions always made up for it. Your noses touched as you mewled helplessly, allowing him to capture all of you as he smiled against your lips, almost wanting to scoop you up and take you out of here.

A flash suddenly caused you two to pull away, squinting your eyes as the pair of you turned to the side, letting go of each other as you stood there, mouth agape. Colin Creevey, a fourth year, had pictured your kiss with his rather massive camera, the younger kid smiling at the photo with satisfaction.

“Fucks sakes,” Draco grumbled at the fourth year as you picked up your dress, snatching the camera off Creevey with a stare so defiant, it could kill the Dark Lord himself.

“Hey—!”

“You people are not ruining tonight for me,” you snapped, knowing exactly who set this up, shooting Blaise and Theo a snarky smile before deleting the picture almost immediately, shoving the camera back into the boy’s arms before grasping one of Draco's fingers and leading him out of the floor, the Slytherin prince happily following behind you with an adoring smile across his lips.

The finger you just so happened to grab was his ring finger of his left hand. This very particular finger, as stated before, had a special sort of vein that growed throughout the body, stopping at the middle of Draco's heart—vena amoris.

Was it a coincidence that you took Draco's ring finger instead of his hand? I think not.

For he had fought his way into your heart for years, and now, you had entered his.

like and reblog!

#〔 ❦ 〕 ─── 𝐏𝐂𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐏𝐑𝐋𝐃 #〔 ও 〕 ─── 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fandom #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

[space-invading-pigeon]

It had been almost a year since Steve had disappeared. The Party had not taken it well.

Dustin and Robin were the most affected, obviously: Dustin lost his older brother, the first person aside from his mother that had ever loved him unconditionally, his confidant. Robin lost the other half of her very soul; she feels like a shell of herself, a hollow corpse drifting through space.

Eddie threw himself into the search with Eleven: they barely stopped for basic needs like rest or food, too busy chasing every lead (El's connection to the Upside Down seemed unable to locate Steve, but Eddie swore that he could feel his "warmth"). Max, through her recovery, writes down every achievement, every setback, because she wants to share them with Steve. Lucas quits basketball; being on the court sends him back to every evening practice with Steve, and the loss makes him so sick that he genuinely cannot play. Will draws scene after scene of the party rescuing Steve, although each picture grows more ethereal- Steve's image starts to change, his features lost to a golden shine, his clothes shifting from his cozy sweaters and jeans to shining armor and a white cloak. His eyes, though, maintain that same warmth, the same kindness, obvious even in a painting. Nancy pretends to be fine, but she's always felt responsible for Steve: it's her fault he was ever involved, and she'd been so cruel to his in '84. It's her fault he's missing. Jonathan is distraught: he and Steve were on great terms before California, but there's always the guilt carried from giving Steve his first concussion. Argyle doesn't know who Steve is, but if everyone is this upset, he's down for getting the dude back.

Hop is on the warpath.

****

Pelor fights with Vecna proudly for the cause. The vile creatures destroying their homeland are insatiable, and it is through Vecna's grace that Pelor was saved.

But things are starting to make no sense. It has been a year since Pelor was saved, but Vecna's story is starting to make no sense. These enemies, as he watches, and barely more than children. Watching them for too long makes Pelor's head hurt, especially when the curly-headed one sings that soul-searing song in the middle of the night.

"Don't be fooled by them, lord," Vecna advises. Pelor hums.

*****

Fighting the child soldiers feels.... wrong. They're crafty and innovative, making weapons and clever plans, but at the end they're just children. The redheaded one is easily incapacitated, for example, her body already weak from battle. Pelor can't bring himself to truly harm them, though.

And then the curly one starts to scream. "Steve! Holy shit, you're alive!" He cries, running at St- Pelor. His cries make the others freeze.

"That's not Steve," the small, angry woman snarls.

"Dust, get away from him!" The ugly one shrieks. Pelor steps away, glancing from each child warrior and trying to stave off the splitting headache.

"Eddie!" The curly one cries. "Eddie, sing his song! The song!"

The pretty one, who was near the back of the squadron, scrambled forward like a newborn foal. "You can sing it too, Henderson!" The man wails. The curly one and the pretty one bicker for a few minutes, before they both decide to start singing (only after the dark one and the red one start screaming that stupid fucking song that Dustin wouldn't stop complaining about-). The song splits Pelor's head in two.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

@amoris-no-smut-allowed imagine if you will, Eddie = Kas the Bloodyhanded and Steve = Pelor, god of the sun, summer, and agriculture

Pt. 2

#steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #steddie #villain steve

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Chapter 8

Previous chapter here

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for this chapter- mention of smut, mention of 18+ themes. Cussing, bathing together, mention of war, description of scarring, child abuse, sandors past, Joffrey being a little bitch, merryn trant.

Sandor stands next to joffrey in between him and cersi as a messenger has arrived. 

“Your g-grace.” the man said out of breath hurrying into the great hall as he ran most of the way. 

“Speak man!” jeoffry barks already annoyed. 

“HIs late grace, the king's brother stannis barathion is planning to invade king's landing…and t-take the throne for himself as it is his birthright.” he says panting but talking as fast he can for the annoyed new child king. 

“Where did you hear this?” cersi speaks. The man approaches cautiously, side -eyed sandor afraid of him. He hands her a piece of paper while bowing. She takes it from his hands. He backs up from the royals and waits as she reads the letter. 

“Fuck..” she says under her breath. 

“Mother?” Joffrey asks, looking up at her as she now stands. 

“Ser merryn gathers as many men as you can to begin fortifying the walls. Tell the iron mages and blacksmiths to begin preparation for incoming weapons.” she says handing the letter to her handmaiden before ser merryn bows and begins to walk off. 

“Go with him dog.” jeoffry speaks  looking up at the hound as he grumbles and then follows ser merryn reluctantly. He'd much rather have his dick buried inside of you right now back in your shared chambers. Your soft body on his as your whimpers and moans echo off the stone walls of the room as you whine out his name telling him how good he feels, but no.

Hes following merryn fucking trant out to the kings gaurd and outside the castle walls to inform all of the soon to be burning kingdom. 

“Don't be so silent now clegane. I know you're just jumping under that hard exterior.'' Merryn says. 

“Shut the fuck up. Do you want me to beat you into the mud again? " Sandor speaks immediately, shutting the other knight up. Passing through the halls you and Sansa walk down a guard and two other ladies are waiting following behind you both. Your arms are linked and you both laugh.

You wear a light gray dress, with an off the shoulder bodice that's lined with fur, the golden and jeweled accents scattering the bodice no doubt a choice from the queen. Your skirt is held in place yet is flowy. Sansa wears something similar but in a light blue. 

Sansa gives your arm a light squeeze signaling for you to look ahead and you are seeing sandor with ser merryn. You both meet at the hall as ser merryn and sandor both stop giving a quick bow before speaking. 

“Princess, my lady.” ser merryn says. 

“Where are you both off too you're never assigned together?” you speak. 

“None of your concern my lady.” Merryn speaks you raise your eyebrows at his sudden rudeness

“Well..then I hope my beloved husband will enlighten me?”you say turning your head to sandor fixing your eyes on his. 

“No. he will not.” Sandor speaks coldly before looking up at the other guard behind you both. 

“You. Go with trant to the amory.” he gruffly speaks. The knight nod and bows to you before ser merryn and him walk onward to the journey they were set on. 

“Sandor?” you ask. 

“Stannis Baratheon is going to invade kings landing and take the throne in 3 days.” he speaks once ser merryn is gone from ear shot. 

“What?” Sansa speaks. Before letting go of you. 

“Excuse me.” she hurries off her maid following her and you and sandor and your hand maiden are left in the halls.

“Are you certain?” you ask. 

“Yes. one of varys messengers sent the note.” he says 

“I'll arrange for you and I to take a ship to Volantis then.” you say. 

“Don't bother, I won't be on it with you.” he says, looking down at you. 

“W-what? Why not?” you ask, stepping closer to him. 

“I'm staying here, I have to fight on the king's orders,” he says. You scoff a sarcastic smile forming on your face. 

“And since when have you carried what the boy king has to order?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms at his stupid notion. 

“Since he married you to me.” he speaks plainly now, finding his notion no longer stupid as you drop your arms to your sides. You slightly bite your lip, a sheen of blush flowing to your cheeks as your eyes revert down quickly before looking back up at him. 

“O-oh..” you stutter out. 

“I'll have more guards posted outside your doors.” he says before moving around you and heading off down the hall to assign guards to be posted. You stand there watching as he walks away before he disappears past the corner. 

“If it's not too much to mention my lady, but, I think the lord clegane may love you.” your maiden says. A small smile forms on your lips. 

“I think you're right.” you say smiling at her before you both turn to continue your walk down the hall. 

—---

You didn't see Sandor for the rest of the day after he informed you. He was outside the wall and in the knightstand training area. Watched out to the court yard as more troops of knights marched in but sandor was nowhere to be seen. You missed him. 

You missed him until the night fell and you were in your room. He wasn't lying about having more guards posted outside the room, instead of the usual two three were now eight. Two on either side of the door and two across from your door posted on either side. Your handmaids scurried past them as they entered and exited.

“Will you draw a bath please?” you ask one of them. She nodded and left along with another to collect the contents for bathing. You sighed and undid the lacing of the back of the dress you wear. The stretch of reaching behind you a much needed one as the ache of your muscles from your night with sandor last was still lingering. 

The doors open once again making you turn your head in confusion as to why your hand maidens were back so fast. But you were met happily with the sight of your husband. He sets down his sword on the side of the door against the wall. He groans annoyingly as he does. 

“I haven't seen you all day. Are you alright?” you ask, walking up. You meet him and place your hands on  his cheeks; he slightly leans into your soft touch. Your palm resting on the scarred part of his face. 

“Bunch of cunts.” he grumbles. 

“I have the maids drawing a bath ... .would you ... .would you like to join me?” you ask. Sandor goes quiet bringing his hand up to yours keeping it placed on your cheek. 

“Okay.” he simply says. Your heart jumps at his answer. 

“I'll need something from you first.” you say. 

“Mm.” he answers. 

“Can you unlace my dress?” you ask. He lets out a soft chuckle and nods. You take your hand from his face only to catch his hand in yours and lead him to the bed. 

“When you ask me to unlace your dress, little fox…” he trails off as you sit him on the bed. 

“I mean unlace my dress.” you say turning around standing in the space between his legs. You move your hair to the side as he had come up feeling the fabric on your waist making you shiver before he truly moves to the back of your dress and begins to unlace the dress.

You feel it becoming looser and looser with each segment of lacing until it's loose enough to slip off your body. You step out of it as you bend down, picking it up and laying it on the space next to him on the bed. Left in your underclothes sandors hands find your waist again, turning you around to face him. 

He pulls you closer to him leaning his head up but not too much as even as sitting he's still comfortably level with you. His lips catch yours in a kiss feeling the softness he was deprived of all day. You moan into his mouth as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips and your arms around his neck. The kiss is only broken when the doors open once again your hand maids arrive with bathing materials and begin to fill the tub in the corner but not before apologizing for intruding on the two of you. 

You admire the features of your husband, his scruff already growing back from shaving it thank goodness on your behalf. You sit on his lap, the hot water warming you both. His arms rest on either side of the bathtub as his eyes search you. No matter how many times he will view your body nothing will ever compare to its beauty. The moment calms him but the focus is to keep the blood rushing to his cock while your breasts are virtually centered in front of his face. His knuckle tightens the side of the tub as he closes his eyes. 

“S-sorry.” you speak, causing his eyes to open again and his grip to cease. He looks up at you in confusion. Your hands are now resting on his collar bones. 

“It's not that..” he says realizing you pulled away thinking he closed his eyes due to you touching his scars. He takes your hand bringing it back to his face somehow finding a sort of comfort in you tracing his marks. 

“Does it still hurt?” You ask him as you move his hair out of his face, your fingers brushing against his scar. 

“No.” He says 

“Good…what happened?” You ask

“I’m sure some servant has told you the gruesome story.” He says slowly.

“Yes…but..I’m asking you. What happend?” You ask again.

“Like you’ve heard little fox, I was pressed into the fire like a nice juicy mutton chop by my brother.” He says gesturing to his scar. 

“Why.” You ask. 

“Though I stole one of his toys, I didn't steal it, I was just borrowing it…playing with it. I was 6 or so.” He says you tilt your head slightly brushing your thumb over his cheek. 

“The pain was bad, the smell was worse…but…” he sighs before continuing. 

“The worst thing was that it was my brother who did it. My older brother. My father who protected him..told everyone my bedding caught fire. And my mother…wouldn’t even look at me said i was too ugly to love.” He says eyes averting from yours. It's quiet, the only noise is the crackling of the fire and the light swishing of the water. 

“I can look at you...” You say moving closer to him. His eyes make contact with yours like before. 

“...And I love you, Sandor.” You say he lets out a relieved sort of sigh before pulling you to him placing a much need kiss on your forehead.

chapter 9 here

Tag list- @stephyshadows @germansarechill

#sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandorclegane #sandor clegane #Sandor clegane x reader fic #got x princess reader #Sandor x princess reader

[ichooseviolence]

There's a specific type of humor that I love in ASoIaF, and it's mostly sarcasm. Even characters that I absolutely loath make me laugh because the deliverance of their quips are so on point that I have to respect it. Tom of Sevenstrings, Jaime, Tyrion, Eddison Tollett, Olenna, Genna Lannister, Oberyn, Cersei, Euron, Renly, even Petyr. Dany has a couple moments that make me chuckle as well.

But I might actually add Sansa to the list, because some of her quips are perfection.. If she was in a healthy environment she would probably let loose on the sarcasm and take no survivors.

The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. "Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect." "As well he should." The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. "If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in office." Sansa finally found her words. "Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace," she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her. -AGoT Sansa I

"...It's almost as good as if some wolf killed your traitor brother. Maybe I'll feed him to wolves after I've caught him. Did I tell you, I intend to challenge him to single combat?" "I should like to see that, Your Grace." More than you know. Sansa kept her tone cool and polite, yet even so Joffrey's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he tried to decide whether she was mocking him." -ACoK Sansa I

"She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey. When she heard that the Imp had sent Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, "I hope the Others get him." The king had not been pleased." - ACoK Sansa II (this one literally took me out)

"Dontos was prattling on. "If I were still a knight, I should have to put on armor and man the walls with the rest. I ought to kiss King Joffrey's feet and thank him sweetly." "If you thanked him for making you a fool, he'd make you a knight again," Sansa said sharply." -ACoK Sansa IV

"Ser Meryn Trant held the blood bay for Joffrey to mount. Boy and horse alike wore gilded mail and enameled crimson plate, with matching golden lions on their heads. The pale sunlight flashed off the golds and reds every time Joff moved. Bright, shining, and empty, Sansa thought." -ACoK Sansa V (this one made me smirk)

"Curses are only in songs and stories." That seemed to amuse him. "Has someone made a song about Gregor Clegane dying of a poisoned spear thrust? Or about the sellsword before him, whose limbs Ser Gregor removed a joint at a time? That one took the castle from Ser Amory Lorch, who received it from Lord Tywin. A bear killed one, your dwarf the other. Lady Whent's died as well, I hear. Lothstons, Strongs, Harroways, Strongs...Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it." "Then give it to Lord Frey." -AFfC Alayne I

#she's had enough #sansa stark

[bookgendrya]

She looked at their filthy hair and scraggly beards and reddened eyes, at their dry, cracked, bleeding lips.[…]The water splashed across her fingers and down her sleeve, but Arya did not move until the cup was brimming over. When she turned back towards the cages the townsman moved to stop her. “You get away from them, boy-“ “She’s a girl,” said Harwin. “Leave her be” “Aye” said Lem. “Lord Beric don’t hold with caging men to die of thirst. Why don’t you hang them decent?”

Her face throbbed. Her shoulder bled. Breathing hurt. The pain crackled up her arm like lightening. She cried out for a maester. “We have no maester,” said a girls voice. “Only me.” […] “She can’t go much further. She’ll die.” “One less lion. I won’t weep.”

“You stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth or falsehood of the charges, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by battle.” The Hound frowned suspiciously, as if he did not trust his ears. “Are you a fool or a madman?” “Neither, I am a just lord. Prove your innocence with a blade, and you shall be free to go.”

At the hollow hill, what you said about being King Robert’s men, and brothers, I like that. I like that you gave the Hound a trial. Lord Bolton just hanged folk or took off their heads, Lord Tywin and Ser Amory were the same. I’d sooner smith for you.”

“…till you stand before m’lady.” Renly stood behind the girl, pushing hair out of his eyes. Not Renly, Gendry. “M’lady means for you to answer for your crimes.”

“Whatever treachery you think I may have done, my lady, Podrick and Ser Hyle were no part of it.” “They’re lions,” said the one-eyed man. “That’s enough. I say they hang. Tarly’s hanged a score o’ ours, past time we strung up some o’his.”

#Day 12: Vengeance vs. Justice #bookgendryamonth2023 #arya stark #book arya stark #gendry #gendry waters #brienne of tarth #thoros of myr #harwin #catelyn stark #lady stoneheart #jeyne heddle #podrick payne #hyle hunt #gendrya #bookgendrya #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕

Summary: Being with Aemond is unpredictable, you never know what he has in store for you. But no one could have foreseen what was coming.

Warning: smut, possessive behaviour, angst of course.

A/N: It has been two pleasing chapters (I hope) in a row. Enjoy it while you can *evil laugh* Masterlist (Part 26 - Part 28)

When Aemond was not there, your mother was more keen on being a motherly nuisance to you than when he was present and gave you pieces of advice about motherhood that you considered unnecessary. You were doing fine on your own, even if you appreciated the concern.

However, you could not deny that she was the very image of the caring grandmother in love with her first grandchildren, an image that you thought endearing, but you resented the way she wanted to drag Naerys around to be proudly shown to every soul in the castle. You told yourself that if she had been born in King’s Landing, it would've been worse than that, having to present her to the royal families and all the Lords and Ladies, but you still felt uneasy at letting her out of your sight, Lady Melara smiling at her like if she was her own.

But your mother’s agitated behaviour had almost disappeared since you had repeated to her what Aemond told you before leaving: the Tarbecks would be invited to take the River Road instead of the Gold Road, hence avoiding Deep Den, as per request of their Prince, and Lord Lydden would be warned as well of the changements. He had also assured you that should it not be enough, he would go to Tarbeck Hall himself.

One of the things that pleased you the most was that since you had recovered, your brother Amory appeared to be more joyful, even with the absence of your Lord father, inviting you to watch his training and archery sessions at times, and promising to teach you one day, when he would be better at it. It was nice to see.

But the days were long, and you found yourself dreaming that Deep Den was closer to King’s Landing so you could visit your husband as well as your father when you desired without suffering days and days of riding. You surprised yourself in wishing to have a dragon on your own in order to travel as easily as Aemond could. But you were forever deprived of it and doomed to wait for any news or raven that would come from the capital, and you consoled yourself in the fact that at least you and your daughter, along with your brother and mother were safe. For now.

One rainy day you were in your chamber, the letter you had just finished writing put aside on the table and now concentrated on the very complicated motif you tried to sew on your brother’s cloak, as a gift for his next name day.

You did not hear the door open and Aemond enter. His soft greeting had you jump in surprise but it was overcome by the gladness you felt in seeing him, although drenched from the rain. But he seemed to be in a fouler mood than he had been at his previous arrival, his smile barely reaching his cheekbones as he asked after your health.

“Where is Naerys?” he asked after that, looking at the empty crib.

“My mother has her. She would spend every minute of the day with her if she could.”

“Mh.” he said, looking at the doors as if hesitating to go fetch his daughter this instant. “She is not the one that has to put up with the nightly tantrums for sure.”

You would have laughed, but his flat tone made you think twice, rather taking the safer option and only looking at his wet state. You had to tread lightly, unsure of what had him so grumpy looking.

“And how is your own mother?” you inquired. Maybe it would unlock whatever Aemond had on his heart.

“Much better, but not yet enough to travel to Oldtown like we plan her to,” he replied, discarding his effects on the table next to your work, and your heart began to panic, seeing the letters next to it. “She asks about Naerys all the time. She longs to meet her.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be any time soon,” you replied in a regretful tone as you discreetly put the parchments that would certainly not improve his mood away, hiding it from view. “Unless she visits here, of course. She would be welcomed, Deep Den is much closer than the Citadel…”

“Or you could come with me,” he stated, his expression a little warmer as he approached you. You sighed in relief when the letters were safely put under the cloak.

“You mean, on dragonback?”

“Yes. You could come back with me, you could see your father again.”

“Are you saying that you would put our daughter on Vhagar at only a few weeks old?” you asked, not sure about the extravagant idea.

“Why not? My grandmother Alyssa made my father ride with her on Meleys when he was only nine days old. It would not be unheard of.”

“But it would be very dangerous,” you pointed out, watching how his eye twitched at your refusal, but he reached for your hair nonetheless in a gentle manner, putting them aside.

“Nothing bad ever happened to anyone who rode with me on Vhagar. All of the passengers’ safety were always guaranteed, especially the ladies’,” he argued with a malicious eye.

You turned your look away, not wishing to remember the ride he had taken with Cassandra Baratheon back when you were at Storm’s End. Aemond seemed to pick up on your jealousy and smiled a bit.

“It is only because the people accompanying you were adults, old enough to hold on to something if they ever fell off.”

“You never fell off.”

“Yes well-” you tried to find your words. “It was not thanks to Vhagar!”

“I would have caught you.”

His words made you look at him, meeting his sweet smile that was too beautiful for the world and the dampness of his skin making him look ethereal.

“You are dripping on my carpet,” you remarked, and he gave you a sly smile.

“Then you should undress me and get rid of my very wet clothes,” he replied simply.

You bit your lips, considering it for the briefest moment before walking shamelessly away from him, going to your vanity and grabbing your hairbrush.

“You are old enough to undress yourself, I believe,” you replied, amused and willing to play this game if it allowed him to be better inclined and bring him away from the table at the same time.

Aemond let out a groan, taking off his eyepatch and coming to join you. “Do you know who I find to be as frustrating as you?”

You shook your head, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you tried to put your locks in place on your head, Aemond’s face right over your shoulder.

“Your father,” he finally said.

You frowned. “Why? What did he do?” you inquired, eager to learn more and now wondering if your kin was the source of Aemond’s previous bad mood.

“He had made quite the argument to the council in order to delay the attack I wanted, rather encouraging to pass an agreement with the enemy. He can be quite the pain in-” Aemond cleared his throat. “He can be as stubborn as you when it comes to striking deals and choosing diplomacy. He had earned the respect of my great-cousin, and now I have two great men to argue against.”

His arms snaked around you and he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I am sorry that my father is trying to avoid bloodshed,” you said matter-of-factly. “And my stubbornness is nothing compared to yours.”

He brushed his nose behind your earlobe, his wet clothes against your back making you shiver. “I beg to differ.”

You let him win this argument as you struggled not to shiver again. You told yourself that it was from the sensation of his clothes against you, not from something else.

“How are you not cold?” you said in scolding astonishment.

“I have the blood of the dragon, I hardly get cold,” he stated as if it was obvious. “You should be acquainted with it by now.”

Indeed, he always felt divinely warm, and you feared that you would never have enough. Nonetheless, where your face could feel the heat where his face connected to the side of yours, the back of your body could not.

“By the gods, fine!”

You turned around and began unclasping the brooches that held his cloak together. You always marvelled at the complicated designs of it, suited for none other than royalty. Aemond did not even bother to hide his smile when your hands roamed on his chest to take his vest off, his arms still firmly around you.

“Stop that,” you said.

“Stop what?”

“Acting like you got what you want. I am only doing this because I do not want you to be ill or infect our daughter.”

He hummed. “I thought it was because I was dripping all over your precious carpet.”

“There is that as well,” you replied, pushing his now curling locks away in order to rid him of his shirt, his last layer. “You are lucky I had a fire lit earlier.”

“I do not need a fire either,” he stated, gazing intensely at you.

You sighed at his stubbornness as you brought his clothes over to the said fire to let them dry on the back of a seat.

“Do you still have that dornish dress? The black one,” you heard him ask.

You turned around to be met with the sight of wet and bare chest Aemond still standing where you had left him, with the only difference that he had grabbed one of your cloth and was using it to drain his hair absent-mindedly from the rain. You froze for a minute, both from the sight and from your thinking.

“I don’t. Though if I remember rightly, you told me that you would buy me more.”

“Then this is clearly a mistake on my part.” he replied, giving your body a look over.

You shook your head at his obvious playfulness, unable to hide your own smile. Your current red and golden gown was fine, and you liked it because it did not squeeze your chest as much as the others, allowing you to tend to Naerys much more easily this way. You walked up to the table with the intention to get the cloak with the letters underneath, to put it away from reach and not lay around for Aemond to discover. He spoke again:

“Are you not going to finish what you have begun?”

Your gaze remained on the embroideries in your hand, thinking about a plan to appear nonchalant.

“If you mean the sewing, I very much intend to,” you announced smartly. “If you mean undressing you, as I said, you are old enough to do that yourself.”

Aemond groaned at that, making you smile, but he was too far to see it. Instead you heard him walk toward you again and you let the cloak fall on the table once more at his approach.

“I have a gift for you.”

It made you look up. This was unexpected from Aemond, even though you two were married. You slowly turned to him to meet his now serious expression, cautious about his thoughtfulness.

“What for?”

He gave you a dismayed look.

“Because I want to Y/N. I do not need a reason,” he said with an obvious tone. “But I can keep it if you don’t want it.”

“No!” you cried out, suddenly regretting your suspicions. “I… want it of course. What is it?”

You saw his lips quirk a little at the glow appearing in your eyes. 

“Turn around.”

You gave him a confused look before doing as asked, pivoting on yourself to present your back at him. You saw something jiggle before your eyes and a necklace delicately be laid on your collarbone, the icy metal sinking into your skin.

“This was my grandmother’s,' he explained. “I had the gemstone replaced."

The delicate sapphire that glowed in the middle of the pendant was ornated by tiny little ambers, making the stones look like the sea at sunset, and the chain links were silver, thin enough so it would not feel heavy on your neck. It was absolutely stunning.

Your parted lips said nothing, watching the jewel between your fingers, admiring it with awe as Aemond clasped it in the back of your neck. You turned around to face him again.

“I... don’t know what to say.”

He reached for the pendant, grazing his thumb against it as his eye lazily watched the glow of the sapphire.

“You had not worn this sort of jewellery since our wedding. And this is a shame to let that pretty neck of yours this bare of the finest there is. The best for the prettiest of them all.”

You blushed, but Aemond’s gaze was too entranced by the way your skin went so accordingly with his gift to notice. His proximity and the manner in which he intensely looked at you made something in you shift. You bit your lips, the motion not going unnoticed by Aemond this time who looked up at them, then to your eyes.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, a sly smile on his face, convinced that you might yield to his teasing very soon. “You don’t like it?”

You tried to ignore how the atmosphere thickened and the way your stomach seemed to fill with something akin to fire at his teasing voice.

“No! I really do. It’s beautiful,” you assured, lowering your gaze to the said object again where his hand still laid.

Something flickered in his eye, and he seemed to ponder something for a moment before changing his mind, pouting.

“Mh,” he let go of the necklace slowly to let his hands slide down to your waist, eye following the movement. “What is that?” he suddenly asked, and you froze.

His gaze was now on the table, where you knew your letter was, not very well hidden. You tried to remain as casual as you could. “Correspondence.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrists gently but he was faster and reached for the letters. “I thought you were supposed to lay low. Who are you writing to?”

“Only… some friends of mine. The letters won’t do any harm,” you tried, seeing him frown as he took one that did not bear your writing. It was about to become ugly.

“Is this some kind of jest? Why is the Vance boy writing to you?!”

Looking back at you, he seemed genuinely lost, irritably lost.

“He was… the one to help me sneak out of Bitterbridge, so I thought that I would thank him, it’s only nat-”

“He was there? With Ulf?” his nostrils began to flare in unsuppressed anger. “With you?”

You swallowed, but you were certain that you would manage to calm his anger this time, to make him see reason. Gone was his sweet smile.

“Without him Ser Sterron would have never been able to get to me. He relayed a message, nothing more. He was there by the request of Lord Ormund.”

Aemond quickly browsed over the other parchments before throwing Addam’s letter away. He pulled away from you and took a few steps around the room to steel himself.

“We have never talked about Bitterbridge because I have heard enough from others and that we both know that I would not be able to control myself completely if we did, and also because I trust you. And now I learn that the boy had crossed your path. Again. And you didn’t even mention it.”

“Aemond calm yourself,” you said, repeating the words he had said to you nights ago. “There is no need to be mad about it. I did no mention of it because nothing of significance happened regarding him, I had other troubles at the time...”

“Do not tell me to be calm,” his voice firm, intimidating. “I did not forget. I did not forget that he had intended to marry you once. He had courted you. Right under my nose, the cun-”

“Aemond, I am married to you. It is only a letter,” you said softly. You had found long ago that keeping your composure would appease Aemond faster.

“I am sure the little bastard had in his mind to steal you from me, as Ulf did. I’m sure he thought he could do the same.”

The foul mood he had arrived with was back, and tenfold. His furious pacing around the room prevented you from going to him. “I will ask you, and I want you to be honest. How much did Ulf take from you? How much did Addam ask of you? Ulf may be dead, but I still can take care of the Vance Lord.”

You gave him a bewildered look, hurt by what he had asked and the way he had asked it, tears crippling at the rim of your eyes.

“Addam did nothing, asked nothing of me,” you said as firmly as you could, bracing for the next words. “And Ulf… he kept me close, threatened me, but it was all words. He wanted to wait, to be sure. Nothing happened.”

Aemond standing steps away from you, came to a stop to watch your distressed state, clenched fists at his side. A pan of guilt passed on his face.

“I am so sorry I was away,” he admitted, coming to you and brushing a falling tear away on your cheek. “I was so afraid for you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if...”

“I know. I know that Aemond just... don’t be mad. I am yours, only yours,” you assured, overwhelmed by the way your face felt numb under his touch.

“Yes, you are. Only mine.”

His pained expression was gone, replaced by something resembling his previous fury, but in an entirely different way. His whole being was now determined to show you how much you meant to him, so much that his words sounded almost menacing, along with his demeanour. You refrained a little whine when he kissed you fervently.

His mouth was all over you in the next second, and his hands did not even bother to be gentle, instead grabbing onto your hips roughly and you could already feel his growing hardness. You did not recall the last time where you had both been this much frenzied.

“Aemond-” you managed to breathe out between two lathering of his tongue, but he shushed you and silenced you again with his mouth, reaching for the fabric of your skirts and lifting it as if it was nothing but air.

He took his time caressing your thighs, the softness of your skin making his blood lit ablaze as he put his hand behind your knee to bend it, forcing you to straddle him with a yelp from your lips. He was carrying you so effortlessly that you thought you were flying, your hands digging into his shoulder to keep levelling with him. You felt bad for feeling so aroused.

“Aemond-” you tried again.

“Did they think of you this way? All pretty and malleable with your swollen belly?” he seethed, holding you firmly as he nibbled at the length of your neck, making you sigh. “Did they dream of fucking you with these nice tits of yours while my unborn child was inside of you? To claim you as theirs?”

You shivered, not very attracted by the thought at all, but the way he was saying those words made you feel a certain way, opposite to what the implication of his words should make you feel, his voice, full of envy and jealousy rendering it so appealing to you.

“Only you can claim me this way Aemond. Only you.” You panted, feeling his teeth dig into your flesh where your necklace laid.

“You are absolutely right, my Lady,” he said, and you were thrown onto the mattress, his bare chest over you as he kissed you again, sucking on your lips as you tried to regain some semblance of good sense in your very dizzy state.

“Aemond, you know I cannot- that we cannot. Not yet.” You panted again, your insides weeping at the meaning of your own words.

He growled in frustration into your neck, your gown already halfway down your chest as he reached to take hold of your throat sweetly, licking his lips.

“Right… I almost forgot… But it does not mean that we cannot have a little fun, don't we?” he said, but you only gave him a confused look.

His hair was tickling your chest, and the remaining damp layer over his strong thigh was pressed against your lower parts, but it soon departed as Aemond gave you a burning look and slid one hand under the fabric of your dress.

“Wh-!” you arched your back, feeling his finger touch the heat between your legs. You tried to regain your breathing. “Did you somehow gain the silver chain at the Citadel for you to be certain that you can do things like this?” you asked.

“No, but I know what would be good for my wife, and what would not. And trust me, you will definitely be feeling good. Very good,” he promised you, and you believed him when he started to trace small circles on your swollen knob. “Seven hells, have you ever been so wet? I should have seen this coming a while ago. It looks delicious.”

You let out a whine that made Aemond chuckle as he continued his assault with his mouth on your collarbone and your now discovered chest. You marvelled at how much he loved your neck, and you were certain that beside the necklace he had given you, many more traces of his generosity were now marking your skin as his free hand squeezed your throat ever so slightly.

“Aemond…” you said once more, and you knew it would not be the last.

“So sweet, my love. And only mine,” he whispered huskily, now taking care of your breasts, his fingers still stroking you below him. “So plump, so gorgeous.”

In your peaceful time in Deep Den with Aemond, you had often seen his eye linger at your breasts when in bed with him or when you had just finished feeding Naerys. It was the same look he gave you when sometimes you were brushing your hair, the action revealing your neck or when you had to lift your dress to walk and let your ankles appear without your notice.

He stopped his motion with a low huff, and proceeded to take off your gown all the way down impatiently, as if furious with the fabric. It allowed you to briefly glance at his pants and you wondered how he did not complain about the tightness of it.

“How does it feel, my Lady?” he asked hotly when he resumed his movements between your legs, now kissing your navel.

“It feels... really good.”

Your lungs were on fire, but in a good way and you were stunned at how much you had been so easily handled, your release feeling deliciously close already.

“You have been really patient. You deserve what I am giving you, don’t you agree? As the perfect little wife you are,” he praised, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and kissing the inside of your thigh. “Giving me everything I ever desired, doing what I ask, and screaming the exact way I want you to, my name in your pretty mouth.”

Your moans were messy, and you worried that you might be heard outside. You could not stare away from his handsome and arrogant face of his as he achingly licked the skin of both your thighs, caressing your legs before flattening his mouth to your folds, and you did exactly as he had said.

“By the Maiden Aemond-!” you screamed out, heart strongly bumping into your chest. He sucked at your bud with ease, lightening your belly with fire and letting you wanting for more. You let out a frustrated wail when you remembered that you would not have him whole tonight.

“Yes,” he seethed, hot breath on your insides. “Say my name again.”

You tried but his name was drowned in a breathy moan and after a while of not hearing you say anything he growled, the action making your core vibrate, and he pulled away.

“Disobeying me? Or did you lose the ability to talk? Should I let you rest for a moment for you to find your words?” he asked menacingly, readjusting himself between your legs.

“Please Aemond... do not stop.”

“Beg me again.”

“Aemond I beg you, please, this is so good.”

It astonished you how far gone you were. But it was Aemond. Your Aemond. Being this surprised was pointless.

You felt him hum satisfyingly next to your sensible part and dive into your wetness again. You were close and he felt it, his tongue expertly lapping at you and the scream you made at his movement got you flustered, for surely the whole tower would hear it.

But your screams pleased Aemond, and when you finally came undone, convulsing on the bed with his head between your legs, he took a minute to properly lick you clean, making you whimper more at your oversensitivity before giving you a triumphant look. You felt mellow as he crept over your body again, taking your nipples in his mouth and tasting them gently. He had taken off his trousers without you noticing, his erection very evident.

“That was like music, love,” he told you as he pressed your deliciously painful breasts, making you swallow with difficulty, struggling to catch your breath again. “Will you be good enough to please me now?” he whispered.

You weren’t sure of what it implied exactly, but you trusted him. He looked at you expectantly, his finger tracing your jaw and down your neck, and you shyly nodded.

“Good, very good. You will like this.”

He lifted himself and you moved to do the same, certain that whatever you were about to do would at least have you sitting but he told you to lay still as he straddled you, bringing his reddened length to your chest.

You suddenly understood as you watched when he put himself between your breasts and asked you to squeeze them together.

“Very good. You are so beautiful, and you are mine. We fit together so well Y/N. Fuck,” he cursed, his jaw dropping as he thrust between the soft skin of your chest.

You regretted that you could not kiss him from this position, because he looked so gorgeous over you, with his dilated pupil and his glimmering sapphire eye, reflecting the one you wore, placed under his hand tightly pressed on your neck. The new position made you breathe heavily again, both from the friction and from the way he looked, and that encouraged him to continue, his muscles visibly tensing as the minutes went by.

When he reached his peak, he let out a loud moan, your name dying on his tongue as he let his body relax. He brushed your hair away from your shoulders, the sight of his seed resting on the base of your throat making him grin in delectation before allowing himself to fall beside you, short breathed.

You gave him space for a second before turning over and leaning over him, meeting your lips with his again.

He took hold of your head in order to respond to your eagerness, fingers digging into your now loose hair, softly moaning.

You kissed his jaw and shoulder before gazing at him, admiring him with fondness. The necklace, the only thing on you left, was resting on his chest, and his eye went to it. You smiled as you remembered something.

“Do you know how the court at King’s Landing called me when you brought me back from Sandstone? What my moniker was?”

His fingers reached for the gemstone on your neck, playing with it.

“The Stolen Jewel.”

You smiled and he smiled back, amused by the name that suited you like no other.

After a long due bath for the both of you, Aemond had stayed the night, sleeping next to each other as the rain continued to pour outside, and Naerys had found her place next to her parents again.

But the next morning he had kissed you goodbye, telling you that even if things were going slow due to the ‘uninteresting parlays’ that did not include fighting his uncle, he still had to go back, even for a few days. At the moment, the Greens were in talkings with Rhaenys and Baela, the only one who had put a stop to Daemon’s fury and who were keen on having Jacaerys back from Daeron. Aemond had not mentioned it, but you heard that the Rogue Prince had been furious that his own family had tried to cross him and had gone to handle things himself from Harrenhal, where Cregan Stark’s forces were keeping the south border of the Riverlands from the Westlanders. You better understood Aemond’s foul mood of the previous day, frustrated by the fact that Daemon had once again retreated back further away from reach, in addition to the potential release of Jacaerys that did not please him at all. Aemond had little patience for deals and the more the days passed, the more he thought about riding Vhagar and annihilate his uncle, and be done with it.

But what happened the next day made you think that Aemond’s departure was for the best for the time being:

The Tarbeck armies, along with Ser Adrian Tarbeck, a renown knight of the Westermen, had come as planned with several hundred men to camp at the bottom of the castle, in the valley. It had caused your mother to panic.

“I thought your husband had made some sort of arrangements,” she told you with wide eyes.

You gave her a disconcerted look.

“He did, at least he must have! They should have not been notified and came anyway.”

Your mother had steeled herself and claimed that not a word of it would be uttered, that their guests would be feeling welcomed, before sending for Amory with a commanding voice.

They were to stay only for a few days, and only the high-ranked knights would actually stay inside the walls, in the guests’ wing. Ser Tarbeck was a lean and tall man, who had seen battle countless of times. Amory, as the current Lord of Deep Den, welcomed him with respect before the knight turned toward your mother with whom they exchanged polite courtesies and needed information for the stay before laying his eye on you, greeting you with grace.

You only said a few words, no more than necessary before he asked about your daughter. Being just a few metres away, in the arms of a midwife, you took hold of her and proceeded to introduce her to the knight.

“Ah… What a delightful little girl. We can without mistake recognise the royal blood in her veins, can we not?” he remarked, eliciting a pout from your mother that he did not notice.

You nodded as you rocked Naerys in your arms, her silver hair and pale skin affirming the claim of Adrian, and now that she had revealed her eyes to the world, everybody could see that they were similar to yours.

He stayed over the babe in adoration for a minute more before accepting the evening invitation to dinner and turning on his heel to join his men and organise his short stay.

The dinner was more pleasant than you thought it would have been, Ser Adrian was clearly cultivated and talked to your mother with ease and of interesting subjects, without being too familiar. He talked about your father a great deal, praising his notoriety and pointed out that you and your brother already showed as much intelligence as him. The topic of your mother’s family, however, the Marbrands, was not assessed, her house being one of the few that did not declare sides in the war when the Lannister had called its bannermen, but remained oddly neutral due to Melara’s cousin being the Commander of the late Queen’s Guard. You wondered at that moment if Ser Lorrent was at King’s Landing with Joeffrey and the Velaryons, or if he had followed the Rogue Prince at Harrenhal.

On the last night of their stay, when you had begun to grow sick of the soldier’s crude laughter that echoed from the valley every now and then, trying to find some sort of comfort and entertainment in the fog and rain and wishing them gone, a feast was thrown in honour of your visitors. Nothing too fancy, but enough to properly pay respect to the Tarbecks and display the Lydden hospitality.

Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred during their stay, beside your dread that Aemond would come back unannounced at any moment and be very annoyed if he found them here. But nothing of the sort happened and after the feast you had retired early to your chambers, planning to find the comfort of your bed. But when you called for the maids to help you take off your dress, the look on their faces made you at first, believe that something horrible had happened.

Starting to feel their anguish, you had instantly inquired what was wrong seconds before another maid had entered with the same decomposed face.

“It’s… Naerys my Lady.”

Your heart stopped beating.

“What of her?” you let out quickly, your eyes widening.

“We… we can’t find her.”

Your body made you remember that you had to breathe again and the action burned your lungs, odd colours dancing before your eyes, almost blinding you. You had abruptly stood up and grabbed one of them by the elbow, shaking her.

“What do you mean you cannot find her? Where is she?”

“She was at the nursery, asleep, but when Glenna went to check on her an hour ago she was… she was…”

You could not hear this, it felt like your heart was being ripped apart as your brain tried to handle the many emotions that came flooding through you. However you still found the courage to steel yourself.

“It must be a mistake. Surely my mother has her, there is no need to be-”

But footsteps were heard and your mother appeared at the threshold, a desperate look on her face. You almost fell due to the shock.

“Mother?” you asked, voice breaking.

She came to you, pulling you away from the maid you were now hurting from your tight squeeze on her arm and took your face tenderly. “The guards are looking everywhere, Ser Adrian is too. She cannot be far-”

“No!” you had shouted, and you left your chambers, going straight to the nursery to see it for yourself, your mother calling behind you.

The castle seemed alive at such a late hour, soldiers in the hallways walking hastily to check every room, and that did not soothe your panic in the slightest. When you arrived at the nursery and saw the empty crib, you did not cry, you did not sob, nor weep.

But anger took you. Something in you shut down, replaced by darkness. Someone had taken your baby, and your mother heart cried for retribution. At this moment you understood Aemond’s wrath, and how much effort he had to make in order to be able to keep on, with his grief, his loss. It felt like the anger would never leave you.

You thought of him. It would ruin him to learn about this. You could not let him suffer this, you will have your daughter back. A determined and hard expression on your face, you turned around to pass next to your afraid, unmoving looking mother and maids and walked down the corridors until you reached Adrian Tarbeck.

“Did you do this? Did you take my daughter?!” you yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him. Your fury scared the people standing around in the hall and Amory directly came at your side, carefully taking your arm.

“Of course I did not! My Lady please I understand how you feel but-”

“No, you do not!” you shouted louder. “This is your fault, everything was fine before you came, and now my daughter is missing !”

Amory pulled you closer, and even if it did soothe you a little, you still felt outraged. “Did no one see anything! Is this castle blind ?!”

Your words echoed in the hall in agonising sounds, and everybody fell silent for a while before some of the guards came moving again, as awoken by the way your eyes shot at them, Adrian Tarbeck watching you as if you were going to crumble at any second. You did not need his pity.

“My Lady, everything will be done to retrieve the girl, I will not depart until we know what happened, the least I can do is offer you my help.”

You were about to pull away from Amory’s embrace and storm out to go find her yourself, but one of the Tarbeck soldiers walked to his commander and you stopped.

“Ser, some of the men have noticed that the smith’s apprentices are gone. They believed that they stole some of the horses and left to the east.”

Your family looked at him with bewilderment, scandalised.

“Send men after them and bring me the smith. Now !” Adrian commanded, and the soldier did as told.

The smith revealed that the apprentices had only recently joined the Tarbecks at Lannisport. You remained sceptical as he told the tale of three meaningless men that some soldiers down below the valley suspected to be the kidnappers. But after a few hours of unfruitful search, Naerys was still nowhere to be found, and it became the only lead you had.

“He claims that two of them looked dornish, and the third was frail looking and claimed to be from King’s Landing before seeking an apprenticeship in Lannisport.”

Your eyes were burning from the unshed tears and the ire you held within. Your brain, however, was working fast.

“If they have gone to the east, I won’t wait for your men to catch them. I am leaving as well.”

Your mother tried to convince you otherwise, telling you that you didn’t even know where exactly you were headed, but you were deaf to her pleas as you commanded your possessions to be packed at once.

“My Lady, I cannot let you leave alone. Let us depart at dawn at least, when the sun is up and be on our way,” said the knight.

“No. I said I won’t wait. I do not care for the night nor the destination.” you had said, looking from Adrian to your mother.

The man sighed.

“I will come with you, sister,” said Amory, a determined look in his eyes.

“No, there must always be a Lydden in Deep Den, especially now. And I won’t let you come into any harm, my daughter is loss enough.”

“She is right, my Lord,” had agreed Adrian before turning to face you again. “Very well. I will accompany you, the men will catch us soon enough when they depart at dawn.”

You knew that Tarbeck was no fool, that he was aware that he had no choice but to be compliant when the daughter of Aemond Targaryen had disappeared right when he was in the premises. The wrath of the rider of Vhagar was known enough to make him think twice about helping you as much as he could, as he did not wish to be the subject of this said wrath, nor end up in a dragon’s stomach.

Both your mother and brother had gazed up at you with unsaid words but your furious eyes and evident pain had them stay silent.

“When…” you had begun. “If Aemond comes back before I find her, tell him…” Your brother looked at you expectantly, drinking your words. “Tell him that I am sorry, and that I will take care of it. Tell him that I will not fail again. Not fail him.”

He had nodded, a little uneasy at the idea of saying such words to the Kinslayer himself, but you knew he would respect your wish regardless.

On your way out, you understood how frightened the court was at the idea of Aemond coming back without learning of Naerys’ disappearance beforehand and finding both you and his daughter gone. The whole castle was shaken that night at the fact that an innocent baby had been taken away from its mother under their roof. So when they understood that you had chosen to leave immediately, nobody said a word to stop you.

A few hours away from dawn, you were riding east and into the night.

A/N: Just so you know, a month ago I was this close to rename the fic “The Stolen Jewel”. Feels like a missed opportunity.

-0- Part 28

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget@jeyramarie@ephemeralninon@mrswhitethornbelikov@dudfahsn@missusnora@queenofterrasen418@honeytrapsblogp-graham@heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88@ivartheblessed@xceafh@bubbletae7@omgkatherine01@tzipora-art@signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs@bietchz@samnblack@mariaelizabeth21-blog1@projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal@polireader@zillahvathek@moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749@claudie-080102@ebaylee422@hydrationqueensworld@crumblychunksofheaven@officiallyunofficialperson@grungegrrrl@stargaryenx @dark-night-sky-99

#aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond x oc #aemond x you #smut #angst #prompt #fanfiction #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x original character #aemond x female original character #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #ywawm #mygif #aemond 1x08 #usermyfandomprompts #purple eyes #aemond edit

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Pokemon and Hunter x Hunter as decided by my friend @doodle-storm after only seeing Hunter Exam and Zoldyck Family Arcs... Part 2!!! As always friend, add onto this post if there's any reasoning I've missed!

Netero: Medicham (I think the rationale here was that despite looking a little goofy, it's actually quite strong. I think this guy is very appropriate for Netero, for reasons I can't tell my friend yet.)

Hanzo: Greninja (It's a ninja pokemon. However, my friend laments the fact that Greninja is not bald enough, nor does it have "bedazzled eyebrows". She has therefore made an entire team for Hanzo that is purely comprised of bald and bedazzled eyebrow pokemon. She took this very seriously I'll have you know.)

Pokkle: Decidueye (An archer! She hopes Pokkle gets to finish his pokedex.)

Satotz: Omanyte (I honestly can't remember the initial reasoning but they both have mustaches and no visible mouth so that's cool.)

Menchi: Dachsbun (Bread dog. As befitting a Gourmet Hunter.)

Buhara: Snorlax (Probably needs little elaboration.)

Lippo: Rotom (Because of all the cameras in the prison and the fact that he operated from behind screens using electronics.)

Beans: Politoed (She can picture politoed in an identical suit.)

Tonpa: Trubbish (...she does not like Tonpa very much.)

Ponzu: Beedrill (Bee pokemon. She has bees in her hat.)

Bendot: Machoke (He's a fighter pokemon. Also he was going to choke Tonpa so there's that too.)

Sedokan: Litwick (It's a candle. It's also got one eye hidden.)

Majitani: Wishiwashi (We spent a long time trying to find a pokemon that sort of gives that impression of guy trying to look way more intimidating than he is... She decided on Wishiwashi because its school form is powerful but it also reverts back to weaker solo form when wounded.)

Leroute: Salazzle (I did not know there were pokemon people thirsted for and I don't think I needed to know that. Anyways, Salazzle is kind of an exotic creature and she was involved in exotic animal trafficking so. Checks out.)

Johness the Dissector: none. (She tried to think of one but really couldn't. We both kind of agreed that he probably wouldn't have any on account of... probably killing them.)

Geretta: Aromatisse (I don't know lol. I think this was just vibes.)

Agon: Galarian Farfetch'd (He appeared to have been a fencer so I think this was the closest thing. Plus eyebrows.)

Bodoro: Gallade (She was trying to think of an honourable type of pokemon. I don't think she was entirely sold on Gallade, especially since she gave Kurapika one later on, but we moved on.)

Bourbon: Seviper (Viper for the snake charmer.)

Nicholas: Abra (Abra just kind of sleeps, and though Nicholas tried to predict the Hunter Exam, he wasn't prepared for it, so I think that was the rationale here.)

Siper: Inteleon (A sniper pokemon for the sniper. I questioned why she was giving this minor character a pokemon when I'm pretty sure she didn't even have a speaking line, to which she replied, and I quote, "Yeah, but I want her to step on me.")

Sommy: Aipom (Mischievous monkey for the monkey trainer.)

Todo: Hariyama (Sumo pokemon for the sumo guy.)

Amori Brothers: Falinks (Yes, all three of them have the same pokemon. They work together for team attacks and so do the brothers. Do not separate.)

Zeno: Roaring Moon (I brought up Zeno's association with dragons. She liked the vibe of this one for him.)

Silva: Kommo-o (I think she wanted to keep the dragon theming. ...she also refers to Silva as "evil He-Man". Just thought you should know.)

Kikyo: Hatterene (She picked this one because of its elegant look... and the fact that it attacks anyone who is too loud or hostile within its home range.)

Illumi: Ferrothorn (It's absolutely perfect omg. She said it attacks using spikes and thorns, and it also "has the eyes". She also cheerfully informed me it's weak to fire. She does not like Illumi very much.)

Milluki: Forretress (Also has the eyes, and stays in a shell. It shoots things I think. She was trying to pick one that calls to mind Milluki's bombs.)

Kalluto: Kartana (I mentioned Kalluto's association with paper, so she picked this one.)

Gotoh: Meowth (For the coin association. Also she thought it'd be kind of funny if all the butlers had cat or cat-like pokemon.)

Canary: Espeon (Because it evolves based on friendship... augh... also vibes.)

Zebro: Cinccino (Zebro's kind of the janitor, and Cinccino likes to clean, if I'm remembering correctly? Also it's kind of disarmingly cute and harmless looking, which fits Zebro's "taking the key from the hapless guard" shtick.)

Seaquant: Watchog (Vibes, I'm pretty sure. hjdfkbvdshjvh)

#hope you enjoyed! she definitely had fun with this and i had fun listening lmao #storyrambles #pokemon #hunter x hunter #hxh #she is asking me to post team bald. i will soon.

[warsofasoiaf]

“Doran Martell isn't motivated by justice, although he believes himself to be.”

How so?

Anonymous asked: If Doran Martell isn't motivated by justice, what is he motivated by? Anonymous asked: I just saw your answer to another ask about how Doran Martell isn’t motivated by justice but thinks he is and I’m fascinated. Cause I can definitely see that, it makes sense. Would you mind talking about it in more detail?

I've already talked about this before. The idea that Doran finds the Iron Throne worthy of overthrow because thr Baratheon regime built it on the bones of the murdered innocent rings hollow to my ears, because Doran was perfectly fine with Eddard and Robert being murdered for no reason. He can't claim ignorance like he might for Rickard being murdered without a right to trial (although Lewyn Martell was there, so I doubt Doran didn't know). Aerys made the death sentence public and demanded Jon Arryn murder them. For Doran, this is fine; Aerys can kill Starks for no reason and his regime remains legitimate. Then, when Doran is personally wronged (and he was wronged, let it be plain) by Tywin, only then does it renders the entire enterprise illegitimate? What Doran experiences is absolutely horrible - it's brutal, it's heartbreaking. I have sympathy for Doran's pain for the losses he suffered (I've said this before, Doran would have had my support if he went for independence). But he's saying that it only is a problem when it happens to him - it was fine when Eddard had half his family murdered and was himself marked for death, that warranted no overthrow and indeed, doesn't render that line at all illegitimate. Yeah, I don't think that's being motivated by justice.

Compare this to what Robb Stark did. When his family was (repeatedly) wronged by the Iron Throne, he rebelled. When the Riverlanders were being brutalized by Lannisters, he protected them, earning their loyalty. So Robb's responding to the situation when the perpetrators are actively committing their crimes, and he's doing so defensively. This is the same issue when Robert's Rebellion happened - the Targaryens were the aggressors: they murdered Rickard and Brandon, they marked Eddard and Robert to die for no other reason then being tangentially related to people that Aerys already spuriously murdered (who comes next? Catelyn - Brandon's fiancee? Benjen - Eddard's brother? Do you really think Aerys will stop?) Doran's reserving the right to start a war and return a deposed monarchy...and this runs into snags when all of the perpetrators are dead. Amory Lorch and the Mountain are dead, Tywin is dead, Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn are dead. Everyone who was conceivably involved, even through omission, is dead. So now the crimes of Tywin are being laid at Tommen's feet. To Doran's credit, he recognizes this as "(t)he boy never did us any harm."

Now, some might say "sure, the criminals are dead, but they were never held to account for their crimes, and the system they established not made to answer for it." But again, this runs into the problem that Aerys was ousted for these very same crimes, so again, definitely rings hollow to me.

Thanks to @turtle-paced for her excellent breakdown of the entire thing, and thanks to all of you anons for the question.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#doran martell

[alaynasansa]

The Loss of Lady

He saw his father pleading with the king, his face etched with grief. He saw Sansa crying to herself at night, and he saw Arya watching in silence and holding her secrets hard in her heart

Bran III — A Game of Thrones

He had only to look at Sansa's face to feel the rage twisting inside him once again. The last fortnight of their journey had been a misery. Sansa blamed Arya and told her that it should have been Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher's boy. Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell

Eddard IV — A Game of Thrones

He remembered Rhaegar's infant son, the red ruin of his skull, and the way the king had turned away, as he had turned away in Darry's audience hall not so long ago. He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna pleaded once

Eddard IV — A Game of Thrones

What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow ? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa's, and for what ? Was it guilt he was feeling ? Or fear ? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done ?

Eddard IV — A Game of Thrones

He was thinking back to the day Arya had been found, to the look on the queen's face when she said, We have a wolf, so soft and quiet

Eddard IV — A Game of Thrones

They'd let the queen kill Lady, that was horrible enough

Arya II — A Game of Thrones

Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran

Sansa II — A Game of Thrones

At first she thought she hated him for what they'd done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey's doing, not truly

Sansa II — A Game of Thrones

"I am sorry for your girl, Ned. Truly. About the wolf, I mean"

Eddard VII — A Game of Thrones

"You're horrible !," she screamed at her sister. "They should have killed you instead of Lady !"

Sansa III — A Game of Thrones

Sansa sat up. "Lady," she whispered. For a moment it was as if the direwolf was there in the room, looking at her with those golden eyes, sad and knowing. She had been dreaming, she realized. Lady was with her, and they were running together, and... and... trying to remember was like trying to catch the rain with her fingers. The dream faded, and Lady was dead again

Sansa III — A Game of Thrones

The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria's lost, they're all alone

Jon VII — A Game of Thrones

Bran felt all cold inside. "She lost her wolf," he said, weakly, remembering the day when four of his father's guardmen had returned from the south with Lady's bones. Summer and Grey Wind and Shaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, in voices drawn and desolate. Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted with pale lichen, where the Old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while her brothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned

Bran VI — A Game of Thrones

By the time she reached the godswood, the noises had faded to a faint rattle of steel and a distant shouting. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. The air was rich with the smells of earth and leaf. Lady would have liked this place, she thought.

Sansa II — A Clash of Kings

And what will they do to me ? Sansa found herself thinking of Lady again. She could smell out falsehood, she could, but she was dead, Father had killed her, on account of Arya. She drew the knife and held it before her with both hands

Sansa II — A Clash of Kings

She hated Ser Amory Lorch for Yoren, and she hated Ser Meryn Trant for Syrio, the Hound for killing the butcher's boy Mycah, and Ser Illyn and Prince Joffrey and the queen for the sake of her father and Fat Tom and Desmond and the rest, and even for Lady, Sansa's wolf

Arya VI — A Clash of Kings

"That was Arya's wolf," she said. "Lady never hurt you, but you killed her anyway"

Sansa III — A Clash of Kings

She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came

Sansa IV — A Clash of Kings

"Lady," she whimpered softly, wondering if she would meet her wolf again when she was dead

Sansa VII — A Clash of Kings

Arya was glad to hear that the castle of the Darrys would be burned. That was where they'd brought her when she'd been caught after her fight with Joffrey, and where the queen had made her father kill Sansa's wolf. It deserves to burn

Arya X — A Clash of Kings

A shiver went through her. "A monster," she whispered, so tremulously she could scarcely hear her own voice. "Joffrey is a monster. He lied about the butcher's boy and made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel, my lady, it's so. And the queen as well"

Sansa I — A Storm of Swords

That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so...

Sansa IV — A Storm of Swords

I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though ; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now

Sansa IV — A Storm of Swords

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. "Ygritte ?" he whispered. "Forgive me. Please." But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark...

Jon VIII — A Storm of Swords

"I'll have a song for you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said

Sansa VI — A Storm of Swords

She saw Ned Stark, and beside him little Sansa with her auburn hair and a shaggy grey dog that might have been her wolf

Cersei II — A Dance with Dragons

#lady the direwolf #sansa stark #bran stark #eddard stark #arya stark #jon snow #cersei lannister #asoiaf #a game of thrones #agot #a clash of kings #acok #a storm of swords #asos #a dance with dragons #adwd #asoiaf quotes

[aryastarksource]

Arya Month 2022 || Day 25: Family - Robb

"I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb." -- Arya II, AGOT

---

"So you say, but might be the boy knows something we don't, maybe it's us ought to be run . . ." Yes, Arya thought. Yes, it's you who ought to run, you and Lord Tywin and the Mountain and Ser Addam and Ser Amory and stupid Ser Lyonel whoever he is, all of you better run or my brother will kill you, he's a Stark, he's more wolf than man, and so am I. -- Arya VIII, ACOK

#arya stark #robb stark #aryastarkedit #canonarya #gotaryastark #gotrobbstark #asoiaf #asoiafedit #gotedit #aryastarkmonth2022

[lilith-91]

[“]It is not our love that has dishonored you, it is the monsters you have served and the brutes you’ve called your brothers.“ That cut too close to the bone. "Robert was no monster.” “He climbed onto his throne over the corpses of children,” she said, “though I will grant you he was no Joffrey.” - Arianne Martell

“A start?” said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. “Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. -Ellaria Sand

My girls Arianne and Ellaria know who are the real monsters and criminals in the series :) unlike the fandom

#asoiaf #game of thrones #arianne martell #ellaria sand #dorne #house martell #elia martell

[wolfsbaneandotherfunactivities]

A running list of characters, in no particular order by location

New York

Simon

Meliphia

Antonine

Brooklyn

Thyme

Eli Zedbeth

Gabby/ Gabriel

Amore/Amory

The Triangle

Lil

Percy

Erin

Kat

Ally

(side cast)

Quinn

Adrian (good one)

Arron(kill it with fire)

Brady

Jinx

Pirates

Betty

Kai

Pam

Axel

Doc

Other

Dianna

Sam (The Special)

Bartender Jimmy

Bobbert

Butcher shop Bill

Charlie

Rosemary (zombie universe)

Soup

Emma (lils mom)

Elgar (lies dad)

Joe (brother)

Joe (uncle)

Mary (simons sister)

Unnamed mom to Percy

Unnamed dad to Percy

Sam (succubus)

Abe Alistor Gale

Pepper Jack (Kyle)

Asunder

AJ

Angel

Hayden Yezbeth

Khat

Steve/AJ Jr. (#Sexlesssnakebaby)

Naan

Cookie

Karen

#sexlesssnakebaby #tales of asunder #writeblr #creative writing #writer stuff #write #writing life #writing community #writer things #first draft #writers block #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #ask me anything #meet my ocs #meet my mc #meet my characters #intro post

[girljeremystrong]

✨best books i read in 2022 in no particular order✨ 

Beautiful Country by Qian Julie Wang (2021)

This "memoir of an undocumented childhood" is a beautiful story of a family who cared for and looked after one another and of a child who had a lot of fears but was at the same time wonderfully brave and curious and determined.

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante (2011)

This is the story of Elena and Lila, two childhood friends living in a rough neighborhood on the outskirts of Napoli. We follow their story, narrated by Elena, until they become teenagers, when their paths diverge and their friendship is transformed forever.

Persuasion by Jane Austen (1817)

Persuasion tells the story of a second chance, the reawakening of love between Anne Elliot and Captain Frederick Wentworth, whom eight years earlier she had been persuaded not to marry.

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin (1956)

This is the story of David, an american man living in Paris, living off the little money his father is willing to lend him, while his girlfriend is in Spain, On a night out he meets a young bartender named Giovanni and goes home with him.

A Swim in a Pond in the Rain by George Saunders (2021)

Paired with iconic short stories by Chekhov, Turgenev, Tolstoy, and Gogol, the seven essays in this book are intended for anyone interested in how fiction works, how the mind itself works while reading, and of how the reading and writing of stories make genuine connection possible.

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger (1961)

When Franny’s emotional and spiritual doubts reach new heights, her older brother Zooey, a misanthropic former child genius, offers her consolation and brotherly advice. These two stories offer a touching snapshot of the distraught mindset of early adulthood and are full of insightful emotional observations and witty turns of phrase.

Jazz by Toni Morrison (1993)

a passionate, profound story of love and obsession that brings us back and forth in time, as a narrative is assembled from the emotions, hopes, fears, and deep realities of black urban life.

The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers (2021)

This is the story of Ailey and her ancestor's journey in America through centuries, from the colonial slave trade to our days. We meet Ailey when she is a child and watch her grow up, until the moment when, as a college graduate, she embarks on a journey to uncover her family's past.

Young Mungo by Douglas Stuart (2022)

Growing up in a housing estate in Glasgow, Mungo and James are born under different stars--Mungo a Protestant and James a Catholic--and they should be sworn enemies if they're to be seen as men at all. Yet against all odds, they become best friends.

Real Life by Brandon Taylor (2020)

Almost everything about Wallace is at odds with the Midwestern university town where he is working uneasily toward a biochem degree. But over the course of a weekend, a series of confrontations with colleagues, and an unexpected encounter with a straight, white classmate, conspire to fracture his defenses.

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach (2011)

This is the story of Henry Skrimshander who gets recruited by a small college to play baseball and quickly becomes the star of the team, and of Mike Schwartz, the baseball team captain who recruited Henry, and who doesn't know what to do with his life, as his relationship with Henry becomes more and more co-dependent.

Unlikely Animals by Annie Hartnett (2022)

Emma was set to start med school but her father got sick with a brain disease and she decided to go back home to New Hampshire. At home her dad and her mum are in a fight, her brother is just out of rehab her childhood best friend is missing and Emma’s dad started seeing ghosts.

This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1920)

Amory is a boy with family money who attends a private high school, and then Princeton and then gradually becomes disillusioned with life.

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri (1999)

Navigating between the Indian traditions they've inherited and the baffling new world, the characters in Jhumpa Lahiri's elegant, touching stories seek love beyond the barriers of culture and generations.

Fight Night by Miriam Toews (2021)

It is told in the unforgettable voice of Swiv, a nine-year-old living in Toronto with her pregnant mother, who is raising Swiv while caring for her own elderly, frail, yet extraordinarily lively mother.

Scoop by Evelyn Waugh (1938)

William Booth is a young man living in the countryside, writing for a newspaper little colums about nature, and he is sent by mistake (he has the same surname as a much cooler novelist) to the fictional country Ishmaelia to cover a war for his newspaper. Various other little mishaps ensue.

Maps of our Spectacular Bodies by Maddie Mortimer (2022)

This is the story of Lia, Harry and their daughter Iris, a beautiful loving family. Iris is a teenager and has to navigate all that comes with that while, at the same time, learning to live with the fact that her mum's cancer has come back, and doctors are telling them it's terminal.

Dracula by Bram Stoker (1897)

When Jonathan Harker visits Transylvania to help Count Dracula with the purchase of a London house, he makes a series of horrific discoveries about his client. Soon afterwards, various bizarre incidents unfold in England.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (1937)

It narrates the experiences of George Milton and Lennie Small, two displaced migrant ranch workers, who move from place to place in California in search of new job opportunities during the Great Depression in the United States.

Born a Crime by Trevor Noah (2016)

The memoir of one man’s coming-of-age, set during the twilight of apartheid and the tumultuous days of freedom that followed.

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway (1952)

It is the story of an epic struggle between an Santiago, an old, seasoned fisherman and his life's greatest catch of fish, after eighty-four days that he has set out to sea and every time returned empty-handed.

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

One day in the life of Clarissa Dalloway. She is getting ready for a party she is hosting at her house. It is also a day in the life of a young veteran, Septimus who fought in WWI and got shellshocked: his last day. The two move around London and think back to episodes of their past.

Peril at End House by Agatha Christie (1932)

Poirot is vacationing in Cornwall, meets young "Nick" Buckley and her friends. He is persuaded that someone is out to kill her.  Though he aims to protect Nick, a murder happens that provokes Poirot to mount a serious investigation.

#DM FOR LINKS #i love all of these books and i would love it if you read them and then got back to me immediately #my dms are always open to talk about books <3 #books #booksblr #bookblr #dark academia #sorry cringe tag but i want people to read the books i want them to read! #light academia #classic #classic literature #books and reading #books and coffee #books and literature #young mungo #beautiful country #my brilliant friend #elena ferrante #virginia woolf #agatha christie #dracula #dracula daily #the art of fielding #unlikely animals #ernest hemingway #book recs