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#idk if i like this one
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i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3
‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’
Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner
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You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned. 
After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons. 
You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence. 
At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them. 
With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight. 
His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached. 
‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.
‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.
The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.
‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat. 
The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’ 
Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far. 
Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you. 
‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief. 
He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos. 
Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. 
‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you. 
You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’ 
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ghouljams · 9 months
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I was just stalking your fae au and was reading the moose-creature-mimic posts, and I saw you mention that witch can feel when the mimic is trying to break her wards.
Whenever I hear about Fae, my mind immediately goes to the magic system from one of my favourite book series in which people who make wards have to develop wards for specific creatures, and if a creature that they haven’t warded against tries to enter, they can break through, if not break the rest of the wards.
Let’s say for a moment that something like that happens in the Fae AU, where some kind of unfamiliar creature from a foreign civilization comes a knocking on witches doorstep, and is able to break through her wards.
What do you think would happen? If Witch is connected to them, would Witch ‘break’ too? How would Price react to the pure panic and pain shooting through the tethers as an unfamiliar creature breaks through his darling’s wards?
I feel like she would be absolutely broken afterwards (if she survives that is-) Her wards are her safe space, she had never had that happen, she didn’t know what happened.
Would price still trust her to be safe in her own home?
Would SHE still trust her to be safe in her own home??
Just some thoughts 🫣
Oooooooooh. Ok yeah I can do some horror with this. Love the concept. So the Canon answer is that warding in this magic system can be as broad or as narrow as the caster wants. Wards can be weak and they can be broken, but it isn't going to harm the caster, maybe it'll give then a bad feeling but not any actual harm. Not a very good ward if it harms the wrong target IMHO.
For the Witch's home these are wards that are basically generations of people enforcing and reinforcing an all purpose boundary. It's an iron wall that nothing(save humans) is getting through without a permit, and it's tied to Witch both through her magic and her blood. She can feel when things mess with it, but it's like getting asmr, it isn't actually affecting her. She's mentioned before that her wards are threats, so anything that isn't stopped by a simple denial of entry is going to have those threats enacted upon it.
But let's say something broke her wards, let's throw some rocks through the windows and bust shit up. I am going on record to say, this isnt canon:
You feel something crack in the air before you feel it break. The splintering spiderweb of intangible bonds being pushed too far hits you between the ribs and you have to clutch the kitchen counter to stay standing. Something is deeply, desperately, wrong. You don't know how or why(or what) but something is working very hard to get in to your space.
It shouldn't be possible in the first place, you have known this house, these wards, your whole life and you've never felt it give way. You've felt it change, felt it ripple, felt it pop and fizz when it doesn't like what you've let in, but never this. Never the creaking pressure of it bowing inwards and splitting under its own tension. Your fingers wrap tight around your athame as you go to check your back garden, peaking through the curtains. There's nothing.
But you can feel it, you can feel it splintering like a pain in your chest. Tight and radiating out from your sternum. It tingles down your arm, makes your grip feel looser than you know it is. You grab your back door's handle, take a few breathes to give yourself strength, and open it to shoo away whatever is pressing your wards. And very suddenly the splinters give way, like a hole punched through a window.
It feels like all the air has been forced out of your lungs. A cool breeze blows through your door, wrong so very, very, wrong. The smell of moss invades your nose, burdened with the scent of decay. Slime mold oozing against your desperate breaths. You tug your shirt to cover your nose and mouth as the battering ram that had been beating your barrier steps through.
The horns of it scrape your ceiling, actually that bothers you more than it should, you're the one that has to fix it later. Velvet hangs from its antlers, freshly scraped and red, gory and divine. It stands on two clover hooves, and looks at you with malice. If you can even discern an expression from the thing. It's face is completely smooth save for its eyes, or it was smooth. A crack forms along the bottom of its smooth surface, splintering and chipping as it rips its mouth open and screams at you.
The sound is overpowering, dizzying, you feel your ears pop and then the noise is gone, replaced by a persistent dull ringing. You truly wonder when your life got so interesting. You hate interesting. You blame Price.
You cough, gag. You have to drop your makeshift mask to retch against the stench of rotten decay on this thing. It smells like death, weeks old bodies left to fester where no one will find them. You gag again, fingers curling around your throat as you try to keep you athame raised.
Your wards are silent, you home is silent, and you realize that you've never actually experienced true silence. Something is always buzzing or humming with magic, you always have music playing or bottles clinking, you're always surrounded by sound. Now it's all stopped. Even the ringing in your ears has settled into a cottony muffle. You can't feel any of your magic. Your numbed to it.
You drop your hand from your throat to your chest. You can't even feel the tethers there. Your fingers move over the fabric of your shirt without catching, there's not tightness to pull, not warmth to catch. You feel cavernous, empty past empty. What the fuck is that thing.
Whatever it is it seems to have finished its evaluation of you. Finished working whatever spell it was weaving. It takes a step towards you. You don't wait for it to take another before running. Scrambling away from the broken seal of the door towards whatever is heavy and throw-able.
You do your best not to let blind panic take over, to not just run wherever feels safe. You've always thought it was silly when people in horror movies don't do the smart thing, but you've never been in a horror movie before. You bolt towards your bedroom. It's the best guarded room in the house. Even if you can't feel your magic it should still be there. Right?
You feel the swip of the things claws through the air as it tries to grab you. You run straight past your front door without a second thought, sure you don't want whatever that is to be unleashed on the general public. It's claws dig deep gouges into the plaster of your wall, and you pray it doesn't do the same to your bedroom door. You know it will, but it can't hurt to pray. You're not in the mood to be picky with magic right now.
You get your bedroom door closed just in time to hear it splinter as the creature throws itself against it. You don't bother with chalk, digging your athame into the door and scratching sigils and circles as quickly as you can. When you tap them they sit absolutely dead. You smack your hand against your messy circle, willing the magic to respond. You smack it again as the creature throws itself against your door. The circle stays as it was, motionless, silent, still as a drawing.
You are suddenly much more comfortable allowing panic to overtake you. If you're powerless there's really no reason to keep your emotions in check. Your breath heaves, short and quick as you back away from your door and look towards your window. No magic swirls, no books rip themselves from your shelves, your panic heightens and nothing happens. How mundane.
One of the creatures claws punches a hole through the center of your circle, then another, and another. You back towards your window as it grips the wood of the door and attempts to pull it from its hinges. Your fingers push at your window, try to find the seams of it, try to get it open. It doesn't budge, it feels like it's been painted on. You bang your fist against the glass without so much as a crack. The wood behind you splinters. The crunch of it deafening over the silence.
"Price, Price, fuck I am not fucking around Price please," You beg pressing yourself back against the window as the creature drops pieces of the door onto your floor. Even if your magic doesn't work his still must. You've never hear of a fae not responding to their name. Granted you don't know the full thing, you don't know if that's really his name and not just a nickname. It might hold no power without the tethers between you. That doesn't stop you from saying it like a prayer, hoping if you speak him into existence enough times he might come and save you.
Your shoulders are grabbed by an invisible force as you are physically shaken. Your ribs shake, muscles tensed too tight to even take a breath.
There is a wet ache spreading over your stomach, you begin to tilt your head down to see what's wrong and Price catches you. His hand holds the back of your head, pulls it back up and shoves it against his shoulder. "Don't look," he tells you just as quickly as he'd stopped you. You nod against his shoulder.
He pulls something from you, rips the proverbial bandaid off, and you bite him at the pain. It feels like your heart has been knocked out of place, like your ribs have been played as a xylophone. Your stomach twists on itself. Suddenly you are back in your kitchen staring at the cabinets, the space where the creatures antlers had scraped the ceiling. The scratches are still there.
Then the shaking starts. Every muscle in your body starting to unspool in a violent shudder that must quake the very earth you stand on. It's loud. The house is so loud. The wards are practically screaming at you, you threshold wails and sobs where it has been brutalized. Your back door is still swung open to red and orange leaves, a lovely autumn day that leaks the smell of wet earth into your home. Price turns to follow your shaking gaze and kicks the door shut behind him.
"What-" You can't get anything more out around the aftershocks of panic. You're sure your house must look like a war zone.
"Probably some American invention," Price mumbles, "You weren't under long, deep breaths."
You suck in a breath, press your know into his shirt to smell the cool tobacco. It helps. Price keeps a firm grip on the back of your head, keeps you looking where he wants you to while his other hand does something. He touches you in a way you can't explain. It's almost metaphysical the way he zips you up, just on the right side of freezing. You can almost feel his fingers moving muscle and viscera out of the way as he does whatever he's doing. Fixing whatever just happened.
"Fucking hell your wards shredded that thing, surprised it even had the strength to touch you," There's something at the edge of Price's voice, fear your think. You're not sure what he's scared of, it isn't a comforting sound.
"How're you-" You try to focus on the important questions, like why Price hasn't been shredded.
"You lit up like a damn Christmas tree, thought I was gonna have my own attack with the panic you shot my way," He draws his hand away from your stomach, apparently finished with his fussing, "wards were too busy to notice me slip in."
Makes sense, even now they're too busy with repairs to pay attention to your regular.
"It broke my door," It's funny what you latch onto once shock starts to set in. "What did it want?"
"Same thing we all want," Price tells you, and you hate hearing him say it(we), because he doesn't mean it kindly, "you."
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zombiecleodoodles · 3 months
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Cleowo!
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divine--intervention · 8 months
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I have NEVER drawn this guy so i figured why not
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countdowns and kisses
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in which you're at a new year's eve party with nakedtoaster.
WARNINGS: alcohol, creepy strangers, overwhelming surroundings, partying in general tbh
everything was sticky, smelly and wet. the walls, the floor, even the people. it reeked of alcohol and body odor. the music was pumping loud enough that you could feel each beat in your stomach. it was all... a lot.
you watched as toasty's eyes darted back and forth in an attempt to find an escape. downing whatever was left in the drink you'd given them, they headed out the back door.
concern immediately hit you like a dump truck. tonight was too much. and you shouldn't have left them alone, even if it was only to grab some snacks.
"hey, you looking for someone to dance with, gorgeous?" a sweaty man asked. he took a step towards you, his hand outstretched. from the way he staggered, he was definitely intoxicated. the closer he got, the more uncomfortable you felt.
you painfully tried to remain polite, face twisting into something of a grimace.
"no thank you... mister." you stumbled out.
"you sure baby? how about i buy you a drink? hm?" he grinned, tightly grabbing your hand.
oh fuck no.
you twisted your hand around to dig your nails into his palm, stepping on his foot as well just in case. "shit!" he cried, eyes flashing with an anger that only comes out after a few drinks.
immediately weaving your way into the crowd and away from that creep, you make a bee line for the door you saw toasty leave through.
the stark difference between the the inside and the outside of the house was astounding. the music, which was once blaring, was only a distant thumping. there were a few partygoers chatting around a burning firepit, and what appeared to be a group playing beer pong. they must have brought out a table from the house.
a sharp chill set in as you scanned the porch for a certain tall, pink-haired friend in the dark. luckily, he wasn't hard to spot, standing alone at the railing looking over the yard.
with how quiet it was, each of your footsteps across the creaky porch could've been heard from the other side of the yard. joining toasty by the railing, you leaned against the railing, placing your head against his shoulder.
"you okay? i was worried when you left." you asked, trying not to let any of your previous panic show in your voice.
they hummed, leaning their head against yours, before responding, "yeah, it was just... too much."
you thought you caught a glimpse of red on toasty's cheeks as the fire cast a dim light over his face. he must've had more to drink than you thought. or maybe it was the comfy position the two of you were in. if you thought about it too much, your face might turn red as well.
the music stopped. only the nearly-as-loud sound of chatter filled the night air. soon, everyone on the inside had begun chanting in unison.
"10!"
it was already midnight?
"9!"
turning to toasty, you asked "are you going to be okay with the fireworks?"
"8!"
"um, yeah. yeah." they spoke, stumbling over their words. "...thanks. for, for asking, i mean." they mumbled, sending you a sweet smile.
"7!"
"always." you whispered, sending an affectionate look towards him. it seemed as the countdown got louder, you two got quieter.
"6!"
toasty suddenly stood up straight, face possibly even more red than before.
"5!"
standing up with them, you turned to him. "toasty?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.
"4!"
"yes? ah-" they shook their head, as though shaking an etch-a-sketch, clearing their previous thoughts. "i don't... i'm not sure how to..." they spoke, attempting several false starts before meeting your eyes.
"3!"
"fuck it." he muttered. he took your hands in his, suddenly determined. your eyes widened, lips parting slightly in your surprise.
"2!"
"y/n, i like you. i like you so, so much. i-"
"1!"
fireworks began going off. not just in the sky, but in your heart. the rainbow of colors shining down on your faces let you see just how flustered toasty was, eyes glassy with tears, cheeks rosy, face aglow. you felt a rush of emotions like never before.
"happy new year!"
suddenly you were kissing him. for a moment toasty froze, before melting into the sweet kiss. his hand found it's way to your waist, other hand tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck. your hands were placed on either side of their face, caressing their cheek with your thumb as you pulled back.
moving their hand from your hair to rest on top of yours, leaning into your touch. the look in his eyes grew even more affectionate, if possible. their lips were tinted pink from your lipstick.
"do... do you like me back?" he whispered, as if any louder would shatter the moment.
"of course i do, you doofus!" you began to laugh, a smile spreading across your face and to your eyes.
toasty pouted, flustered as ever. he nearly opened his mouth to retaliate when you leaned in to kiss him again.
pulling apart, you smiled. a magenta firework went off in the distance.
"happy new years, toasty."
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raiiny-bay · 2 years
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are you lost?
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babiedeer · 2 years
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fancyshooting · 1 year
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dubious ocelot icon has been laid to rest rip
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alliseeisredlight · 2 years
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skz as seasons -> changbin as summer
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winged-anesthesia · 1 year
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liquid salt
there are things that drip, drop
down my face like the pitiful melody
of my barely-beating heart.
they leak of my eyes,
pouring my soul out,
bare for the world to see.
they run down for the pain
that is held in the heart
of the ones i love.
for my brother wears long sleeves in the summer.
for my parents sleep in different rooms.
for every day i see my friends they refuse to eat.
there are some things
that i just can't write properly
for it will simply just come out
like the ramblings
of a sweaty-tooth madman.
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No matter how far I run, your talons remain underneath my skin. No matter how many lessons I learn about how wrong you did me, your words ring loud and clear in my mind. I do my best to seperate the daughter you raised from the person I am becoming but we're tied together, two halves of the same coin. What I wouldn't give to banish her from this place, from the life I want to build, all without her by my side.
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sylvies-kablooie · 3 months
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i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.
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noelledeltarune · 7 months
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EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt
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littlelightfish · 17 days
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Funny things I found out playing with language setting in Netflix while looking episode 15:
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Chilchuck's scream sounds HAUNTED in brazilian portuguese. Give it a try if you can.
(You can hear it here)
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In spanish dub, Senshi says: "tocó mis senos de hombre", which means "he touched my man boobs" in Spanish. And I think that's the best dub line one so far.
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inkskinned · 9 months
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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utilitycaster · 5 months
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"why should I get invested in shows if they'll just get canceled" I was deeply invested in Heroes (2006) and it was not canceled, it just got really terrible. I also got really invested in the sandwich I had a few weeks ago despite it only lasting like 15 minutes. You must embrace the ephemeral. You must be willing to love things that may not love you back, that might betray you, or that may die an untimely death. As the great philosopher Mr. Mitchell Lee Hedberg said "I'm not gonna stop doing something because of what happens at the end."
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