#-dragons powers so they would do their bidding

[cuubism]

The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

#'you've written about dream manifesting physical injuries to reflect his emotional turmoil before' and i will again! #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #one short wip finished 5 billion wips to go

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

*112 AC

Viserea leaned down low against the saddle of Tessarion,

“Aderī! (Quickly.)” She shouted, smiling as the wind whipped in her face. Rhaenyra and Syrax were close behind them as they neared the dragonpit and Viserea was determined to win their race. As the four came dangerously close to the pit, Viserea called out to Tessarion again,

“Paerī, nepot. (Slow, to the pit).”

The dragons touched down at the same time and Viserea waited until the two dragonkeepers had Tessarion’s attention before dismounting. Giving her dragon one last loving pat on her neck, Viserea made her way over to where Rhaenyra stood with Lady Alicent Hightower.

Viserea bit her tongue and forced a polite smile onto her face as Rhaenyra and Alicent spoke for a moment more. They boarded the carriage together and Viserea kept her eyes out of the carriage window while they rode through the streets of King’s Landing. She didn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She and Alicent had never seen eye-to-eye on most things and she wouldn’t be the one to make Rhaenyra choose between her two closest friends, so staying quiet during the conversations between the two was the best thing she could think to do. Mayhaps it was jealousy, but Viserea refused to let her mind wander down that path. Every time she thought about it, she was left even more confused than before.

After exiting the carriage, Viserea stayed in step with Rhaenyra and Alicent, participating in their conversation just enough to not be considered rude. They approached Queen Aemma’s door and all three were swiftly let inside the Queen’s chambers. Alicent greeted the Queen, then gave a small bow to the Princesses, excusing herself to allow the two to visit with Aemma.

“My girls,” Aemma greeted with a warm smile which the Targaryens returned. “Must you two continue flying while I am in this condition? You know I do not like it.”

“Your Grace-” Viserea started, only to be stopped when Aemma held her hand up,

“Viserea, you have been my daughter for years now. Unless you wish for me to only address you as Princess, I ask you to stop referring to me as your Queen. Aemma will do fine,” Aemma told her, causing the girl to smile and nod her head.

“You don’t really prefer us flying while you're in any condition, mother,” Rhaenyra pointed out, causing her mother to chuckle, “Did you sleep?”

“I did,” Aemma answered.

“For how long?”

“You know I am the mother here, I do not need looking after.”

“Well all the attendants surrounding you seem to be focused on the babe, I can only count on myself and Viserea to attend to your needs.”

“Soon enough you two will both be going through the same discomfort. It is our duty to the realm,” Upon seeing both girls grimace, Aemma continued, “The knights ride into battle and we fight a battle here, ensuring our legacy lives on, and doing so with a stiff lip. Now go bathe, both of you. You smell of dragon.”

Viserea and Rhaenyra both bid the Queen goodbye and placed a kiss on her forehead before exiting the room.

“I know it is our duty, but I do not want to become a slave to that bed,” Rhaenyra said once they were far enough away that they could not be heard.

“Neither do I. I do not wish to become a slave to my husband either. Only viewed as a title with a womb that can give him and his house more power,” Viserea replied. This was a topic the two had discussed multiple times at depth.

“What is it you wish for in a marriage?” Rhaenyra asked Viserea, looking to her with genuine curiosity written across her features. Viserea blushed lightly as she answered,

“A marriage to rival Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys’. We would be wed in the Valyrian manner with cut lips and palms to bind us to each other. Someone who looked at me and did not view me as just a Targaryen Princess, but looked at me and recognized the power Targaryen Princesses truly held. Aegon did not lock Visenya and Rhaenys away to their bed chambers and force them to provide him with heirs. He had them fight alongside him and gave them a voice in his court by always taking their opinions into account.”

“You seem to have thought about this before.”

“And you have not?” Viserea asked, already knowing the answer.

“I am to be wed to Syrax and cake alone. Never to a man,” Rhaenyra joked, causing both her and Viserea to burst into a fit of laughter.

The two told each other they would meet at the Godswood and Rhaenyra made her way to the Small Council room as it was her day to be the cupbearer for the King.

It was one of the first things Viserys did. After making Viserea a member of his family, he declared both her and Rhaenyra to be cupbearers, saying they could each spend a day by his side, and that if there was a matter of extreme importance being discussed, there would simply be two cupbearers in the chamber.

While Rhaenyra carried out her duties, Viserea was bathed, redressed, and her hair was freshly braided. Ser Ryden met her at her door when she went to exit and begin heading to the tourney.

“Princess, there is someone here that wishes to see you in the throne room,” he informed her as he began guiding her to the throne room.

A wide smile came across Viserea’s face, already knowing who awaited. When she entered the throne room, it was to no surprise of hers that she saw Daemon seated upon the Iron Throne, though she could hear Ser Ryden behind her gasp at the disrespect.

“You play a dangerous game, Uncle. One might think your actions disrespectful and let you feel the wrath of a dragon,” Viserea greeted in their mother tongue of High Valyrian.

“Are we so sure that the Queen is to have a boy? This throne might end up mine yet,” Daemon said, a playful smirk on his face as he looked down at the Princess from where he sat.

“The King said he had a dream that it was a boy. Though he also said the boy was born wearing the crown of Aegon the Conquere so I am unsure of how much faith to place in his dream.”

“Is it not possible that the babe being born with a crown is a metaphor for him being crowned king later in life?” Daemon asked Viserea. She gave a shrug in response,

“Every dreamer is different. My dream of Rhaenyra and I was straightforward, but I do not know what Danys saw. It is alway possible that her dream was not actually of Valyria burning and she was left to decipher the meaning of her dream.” The limited knowledge on dragon dreams was something that had driven Viserea to tears many times; unable to tell if nightmares were just bad dreams, or if her family would truly face the fates she dreamed of.

“Describe the dream again,” Daemon commanded with a voice full of curiosity.

Viserea had explained the dream to him multiple times over by now, yet he asked to hear the story of it every time. She had no qualms with explaining it again and again to Daemon, for he seemed to be the only one, aside from Rhaenyra, who seemed curious about the dreams. Others seemed to be in a state of awe after hearing it and many at court used “meeting the dreamer” as a bragging right to their peers. Daemon and Rhaenyra were the two that helped her look at every possible angle with her dreams, prophetic or not, and decipher if there was another meaning to them. So Viserea retold the story of her dream and the events that had taken place the next day.

“If the whispers are to be believed, I will be gifting you a new saddle for your dragon, soon,” Daemon said, apparently not being able to come up with any other meaning for Viserea’s dream and changing the topic of conversation.

“The dragonmasters say she will outgrow the pit at the rate she is growing and possibly grow larger than Meleys and Caraxes in the coming years. There are many adult dragons down there that Tessarion has grown larger than,” Viserea spoke in the common tongue now, though anyone could have told she was proud of her dragon by the look on her face.

“It seems fitting that the Targaryen princess named for Visenya would hatch and bond to her own dragon that is bound to reach the same size as Vhagar.” Daemon wore a proud look on his face as he spoke.

“I believe Tessarion will outgrow Vhagar and that we are looking at the next Balerion.”

The voice came from behind Viserea and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her. “Nice to see you again, Uncle. What has brought you back?”

“The tourney in my honor, Princess,” Daemon answered, stepping down from the Iron Throne.

“He still is not sure that mother's babe is the heir,” Viserea told Rhaenyra, to which she nodded.

“And until she brings forth a son, you are all stuck with me.” Daemon stopped in front of the two girls, looking down at them.

“Then Viserea and I shall both hope for a son,” Rhaenyra said, smirking up at Daemon and causing Viserea to giggle.

Daemon smirked back at Rhaenyra then looked to Viserea with the same fond expression before pulling something out for each of them.

“I brought each of you something. Do you know what they are?”

Viserea and Rhaenyra each reached for the object he held out towards them. He had brought Viserea back a ring and earrings, which she gently took. The steel felt cold in her hands and she realized what it was at the same time as Rhaenyra.

“Valyrian steel,” they said at the same moment.

“So we can all have a piece of our ancestry. Turn around,” Daemon said to Rhaenyra.

Viserea took out the earrings she wore currently and put in the earrings Daemon had brought her while Daemon helped Rhaenyra fasten the new necklace. After he had fastened Rhaenyra’s necklace, he took the ring from Viserea and gently placed it on her hand.

“They were intended to be worn together, but I do believe you two are one of the same. If both of you wear it, the set might as well be worn by the same person,” Daemon remarked, causing both of the girls to look at each other and exchange smiles. “I’ll see you both at the Tourney.” He said, dipping his head respectfully to the girls before leaving the throne room.

Rhaenyra and Viserea looked at each other after they had watched him leave, then began making their way to the Godswood, where they were both due to go over their studies with Alicent.

“How was the Council?” Viserea asked, reverting back to speaking in Valyrian so that the matters handled in the council would stay private.

“The Maester asked about the Rogue’s progress on the City Watch, father brushed it off and said he was ‘occupied’,” Rhaenyra started, distaste clear in her voice and it was obvious to Viserea that Rhaenyra was giving her the nice version of what was really said, “the Sea Snake is worried about a Triarchy in the Stepstones being led by a man who calls himself the Crabfeeder and what it could mean for our ports. No one paid that any mind because soon the Tourney was brought up.”

Viserea interjected before Rhaenyra could continue, “The trading ports? If there is danger near them, I side with the Sea Snake. Those ports cannot be lost.”

Rhaenyra gave Viserea a look that said she agreed, “The Tourney holds father’s attention over the ports. Who wants to think of war when the future king is supposed to be born?”

Viserea did not reply, knowing the question was a rhetorical one. Her thoughts raced everywhere as they continued walking to the Godswood; some of them on Aemma’s labors, others thinking of the Tourney, others thinking of the ports in the Stepstones, and a small portion of her thoughts thinking of the ring on her finger, the necklace around Rhaenyra’s neck, and the earrings adorning her ears.

For once, Viserea was happy to see Alicent. She offered a distraction. Viserea could focus on the stories of the rulers before them instead of the matters at hand. She answered all of Alicent’s questions, and helped Rhaenyra answer the ones she tried to simply play off. Viserea watched as Rhaenyra laid her head in Alicent’s lap and continued brushing off all of Alicent’s questions, even as Alicent grew frustrated.

She stayed seated when Alicent stood up and let a smirk play across her face when Rhaenyra recited Princess Nymeria’s tale of fleeing across the Narrow Sea. Viserea knew Rhaenyra could recite most of the book, and that she was much smarter than she let on, and in the moments she showed it, pride would flow through Viserea.

As they walked back to the castle, the three of them laughed as Rhaenyra cussed the Septa, and let their topic of conversation change to that of who was attending the Tourney.

Viserea was awoken early the next morning, the light of day not even shining through her windows yet. Groggily, she stumbled to the door of her chambers, opening it and finding two handmaidens standing there.

“The Lord Hand sent us to ready you, Princess. A Small Council meeting has been called.” Stepping back, Viserea allowed the handmaidens to enter.

They dressed her quickly, and one of them styled her hair in a simple braid, given the short amount of time they had. Neither of them spoke to Viserea, knowing she was not talkative in the mornings, and Viserea was grateful. She thanked both of them once they were finished and stepped out of her room, being greeted by Ser Ryden.

“You look as lovely as ever, Princess,” he greeted, walking beside her as they made their way to the Council room.

“I do not feel it, Ser. I feel as though I have just been called out of bed before the sun has risen,” Viserea said bitterly, though the knight knew none of the bitterness was directed towards him.

The two met with Otto and the King as they neared the room,

“…it was an unprecedented roundup of alleged criminals of every ilk. Your brother made a public show of it, meting out the summary judgments himself. I'm told they needed a two-horse cart to haul away the resulting… dismemberments when it was done,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea as she joined them.

“Gods be good…” She heard Viserys mumble as the entered the Council room.

“The Prince cannot be allowed to act with this kind of unchecked impunity,” Otto continued before being interrupted by the Lord Commander, Redwyne.

Daemon’s presence sent a jolt through Viserea and it took her a moment to remember her duties. She walked to the side of the room and picked up the wine, beginning to fill the cups of the attending council members, though Daemon and Corlys were the only two to acknowledge her with a thanks.

Viserea stopped behind Otto’s chair, her eyes on the blood streak that stained Daemon’s gold cloak.

“Do not let me interrupt, my Lord Hand. You were saying something about my impunity?” Daemon spoke, both he and Viserea watching as Otto looked to the king to continue the conversation.

When he stayed silent, Otto moved to his seat, causing Viserea to have to quickly step to the side to avoid being hit by the chair. Lyonel Strong reached for Viserea’s arm to steady her and Daemon’s look towards Otto turned to a glare.

“You are to explain your doings with the City Watch,” Otto said, paying no mind to Viserea.

“What about them?” Daemons questioned. He sat down along with the rest of the council when the king sat down.

“Your new “gold cloaks” made quite an impression last night,” King Viserys finally spoke.

“Did they?” Daemon replied, causing Viserea to force back a smile.

“The City Watch is not a sword to be wielded at your whim. They are an extension of the crown,” Otto continued before being cut off.

“The Watch was enforcing the crown’s laws. Wouldn’t you say, Lord Strong?” Daemon and Viserea both looked to Lord Strong, who looked taken aback. He stuttered out a “My Prince” before Otto was speaking over him again.

“Making a public spectacle of wanton brutality is hardly in line with our laws,” the Hand said.

Viserea couldn’t help herself as she stood still between the Hand and the Master of Laws and let her eyes flicker between Otto and Daemon.

“Nobles from every corner of the realm are right now descending King’s Landing for my brother’s tourney. Do you want them to be mugged, raped, murdered?” Daemon’s face looked bored as he continued speaking to Otto, “You mightn’t know this unless you stepped out of the Red Keep, Lord Hightower, but much of King’s Landing is seen by the smallfolk as lawless and terrifying. Our city should be safe for all its people.”

“It’s true,” Viserea spoke, causing all heads to turn towards her. The blush that graced her cheeks matched the red in the gems of the jewelry gifted to her by Daemon which she currently wore. “The smallfolk don’t allow their children to roam the streets as they once did.”

“And how would you be aware of this?” Otto asked, looking up at her.

“Princess Rhaenyra and I notice it when we fly above. The children used to chase our dragons through the streets and now their parents keep a hand on them to prevent them from doing so,” She replied confidently, the lie coming easy to her. She would not tell them how she truly knew, though Viserys and Daemon both knew the truth and she could tell by the look the King was giving her.

“I agree that the city should be safe for all of its people, I just hope you don’t have to maim half my city to achieve this,” Viserys said, trying to calm the tension in the room.

“Time will tell,” Daemon answered easily, still looking up at Viserea.

Viserea looked away when Corlys voiced his support for Daemon and made her way around the table to top off anyone’s cups that needed it. She came to a stop next to Daemon when Otto brought up Daemon’s marriage. A sour taste filled Viserea’s mouth but she forced her face to remain blank.

“We understand from Lord Yorkers that you’ve not been seen in the Vale or at Runestone in some time. Queen Aemma was very proud to have arranged your union with Lady Rhea,” Otto continued on.

“I would think my bronze bitch is happier for my absence.” Daemon’s statement caused Lyman Beesbury and Lord Strong to both take sips of their wine, while Corlys and Viserea made eye contact and exchanged similar looks of amusement.

“Lady Rhea is your wife, a good and honorable lady of the Vale-“

“In the Vale, men are said to fuck sheep instead of women. I can assure you, the sheep are prettier.”

“You took a vow before the eyes of the Seven to honor the Lady Rhea in marriage.”

“Lady Rhea doesn’t seem to enjoy the Prince’s company either, is he to force himself on her?” Viserea quipped, an eyebrow raised toward the Hand.

Before Otto could reply, Daemon cut in again, seeing that Otto’s temper was about to turn on Viserea.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you’re in need of a woman to warm your bed. Your own lady wife passed recently, did she not?”

Viserea nor Daemon flinched when Otto jumped from his chair, sending it toppling over.

“Perhaps you aren’t ready to move on just yet,” Daemon said, causing Viserea to cover her chuckle with a small cough.

“You know my brother makes sport of provoking you, Otto. Must you indulge him?” Viserys asked, his own exhaustion at the dynamic evident in his voice.

As Otto utters an apology and picks up his chair, Viserys looks up at Viserea, silently reprimanding her for aiding in Daemon’s comments. The King turned to Daemon and spoke once Otto had sat back down.

“The council has, at great expense, bettered the City Watch to your exact standards. Enforce my laws, but know that any further performances like last night’s will be answered.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Daemon said, standing up from his spot, “Was there anything else?”

“That is all. You and Viserea can both be dismissed.”

Viserea was not surprised at her early dismissal, knowing it was the response to her comments and to her admitting she was sneaking around the city again.

She placed the wine down on its table and walked to the end of the table, where she took Daemon’s arm that he offered to her. She looked up at him as they left the room, clear confusion written on her face but no answers were given until the doors of the room were shut behind them.

Daemon answered her unspoken question, “I really do enjoy getting under our dear Hand’s skin, and offering the Princess my arm to escort her from the room and show that I do know how to use my manners is a great way of doing so.”

Viserea forced herself not to let the laughter consume her body, though the broad smile she wore showed just how amused she was at Daemon’s actions.

“I am glad I’m not the only one who enjoys watching his face turn red. It was worth being dismissed from the meeting early and any stern words I’ll receive from the King about my sneaking into the city if it means taking him down a peg.”

“You should be more careful, Princess. I am watching how you handle yourself in these meetings, and I cannot offer such a rebellious person a place in my council,” Daemon teased.

“Your council?” Viserea questioned, “Going by the King’s word, it will not be your council. It will be his son’s. I will be promised no place on the future King’s council so I might as well make sure my place is noted in the books. I do not wish to just be remembered as another Targaryen Princess married off to a Lord in order to further whichever King’s political gain.” Though her tone was light, her words held some weight.

“I shall see to it that you are remembered as more than that,” Daemon told her, his words completely erasing the joking atmosphere between the two. Viserea doesn’t doubt his words for a moment, looking up at him and offering him a small smile.

“I look forward to seeing how you carry out that promise,” she told him.

The rest of the day flew by uneventfully for Viserea. She had attended another council meeting of little importance later in the day, and recited the events of the two meetings to Rhaenyra in her chambers before they went to bed.

She did well when the Septa tested her on the histories and the Septa rewarded her with another book from the North, specifically from Winterfell, though this one was clearly written for her. It was a detailed history of the Starks and must have been written by the Starks own maester. The book was heavier than most, but Viserea knew some of that weight was mental. She had learned what she must about her family in her classes, but couldn’t bring herself to study more about them. It made her feel closer to her mother, but she found the cost to be just as large as the reward.

Viserea was never ashamed of who her mother was, in fact, she frequently wore dresses of Stark grey intertwined with Targaryen red to honor her mother and her mother’s family. However, she could only sometimes bring herself to do more than that. She loved Aemma as a mother figure, and she knew that Aemma loved her as if she was her own. Viserea was grateful for the love she received from her father’s family, but that did not fill the hole she felt of not having her own mother there with her. Learning about the Starks made her feel closer to her mother and farther away at the same time.

Viserea was more than grateful for the afternoon dragon ride she was able to take with Rhaenyra, though they kept the flight short in case Aemma’s condition changed at all. The short time in the air helped clear her head and she was back to her usual self by the time they returned to the pit.

That night, after Viserea had told Rhaenyra of the council meeting and they had bid each other a good night, Viserea fell asleep quickly. The sleep did not last long though.

She did not remember what the dream started as, but it quickly turned to one of horror. Aemma in pain, blood soaked sheets, and two pyres being burned by dragonfire at Rhaenyra’s command. She was shaken awake by Ser Ryden, concern written on his face as he checked her over for injuries and started to call for the maesters.

“No, don’t!” Viserea commanded, through a tear soaked face. “It was a dream, nothing is wrong with me.” She said, falling against Ser Ryden and sobbing into the cool metal of his armor.

“I need Nyra and Daemon.” She told him, pulling away. There wasn’t a single protest from him as he left the room to retrieve the two, coming back less than a moment later with a disheveled and concerned Rhaenyra.

“The Prince is not in his chambers.” Ser Ryden said, “I checked them myself on the way to the Princess’.”

Rhaenyra quickly made her way to Viserea’s bed and the two hugged each other tightly.

“Is it bad?” Rhaenyra asked her after a couple minutes of their embrace. Viserea took a shaky breath and nodded,

“Horrible. The other nightmares were nothing like this, they weren’t prophecies, this was.” Viserea told her, pulling away to look at Rhaenyra.

“What is it about?” Rhaenyra asked. Viserea tried to reply, but felt the tears start again and took a couple deep breaths to calm herself,

“I feel like if I say it out loud, it will make it come true and you will hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you.” Rhaenyra said quickly, taking Viserea’s hands in her own. “You see prophecies. They are already set in stone, you do not make them.”

“It’s mother.” Viserea said.

She gave Rhaenyra a moment to decide if she wanted to hear more and, once she nodded for her to continue, told her of the prophecy. She left out the gruesome details, telling her only that she saw Rhaenyra giving Syrax the command to burn their pyres.

“There’s more.” Rhaenyra wasn't asking, she knew that Viserea was withholding part of the dream.

“Trust me and hear me when I say that you do not want to know. It is not something you need to be haunted with.” Viserea’s voice was cold and serious, making Rhaenyra nod.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Rhaenyra asked her, though she had already begun pulling the blankets back for herself.

“Please.” Viserea replied.

The two girls laid down next to each other, with Viserea pulling Rhaenyra into her side. Neither of them said another word. Neither of them knew what to say. They simply took what little comfort they could in each other’s presence.

Rhaenyra nor Viserea slept much the rest of the night, the two waking each other up due to a bad dream or anxiety the moment the other fell asleep. When their handmaidens saw to them the next morning, both girls looked as exhausted as they felt and neither of them wanted to attend breakfast.

The Princesses’ late arrival to the tourney did not go unnoticed by Viserys, who threw both girls a sidelong glance. Viserea and Rhaenyra both apologized to the nobles they had to climb across and Viserea sat on the side of Rhaenyra not occupied by Alicent.

When Viserea nor Rhaenyra showed much interest in Alicent’s gossip of Lady Elinor being secretly pregnant, Viserea saw her curve her body to face them and she dropped her voice.

“Are you feeling well?” She asked with a voice of genuine concern.

“Rea was sick last night, I stayed with her.” Rhaenyra lied quickly, though Viserea shook her head.

“She can know.” Viserea said, dropping her voice down and turning herself to the two girls beside her. “I had another dream last night. It was… gruesome to say the least.”

“Might I know the subject?” Alicent asked the two.

Viserys stood from behind the three of the girls,

“It has just been told to me that Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” He announced, smiling widely as the crowd cheered loudly.

Upon seeing Rhaenyra and Viserea exchange glances with clear worry written on their faces, Alicent quickly realized what the dream was about.

“Is there a way to stop it?” Alicent asked, but quickly backtracked “Apologies, you two would have already done it if you could.” She told them, taking one of their hands in each of her own.

“I won’t discuss the details of what I did see. They aren’t pleasant.” Viserea looked to Alicent, whose face was laced with curiosity and a sad look.

“She would not even tell me, only that she saw me burning the two pyres.” Rhaenyra said, her voice still dropped low, though all eyes were on the knights dueling below.

The three girls’ attention was drawn away from each other for a moment as the Master of Revels introduced Daemon and watched as he and his horse passed along the knights lined up.

When he pointed his lance to Gwayne Hightower, Viserea forced herself to keep the amused smile off of her face. Alicent was okay sometimes and Viserea had grown used to her presence due to Rhaenyra’s close friendship with her and she trusted her not to wrong them, but that was the nicest she could speak of the Hightower family.

Daemon dismounting Alicent’s brother caused all of the nobles and royals in the box to lean forward and Rhaenyra to gently rub Alicent’s back in a calming manner once her brother stood up.

“Nicely done, Uncle.” Rhaenyra told him.

“Quite a skilled performance.” Viserea said.

“Thank you, my Princesses.” He tells them both, smiling at them after removing his helmet. He lowers his lance towards Alicent, “I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.”

The same feelings of jealousy that Viserea had spent hours in solitude debating rose as a bile in her throat as she watched Alicent blush and stand up before placing the favor on Daemon’s lance.

“Good luck, my Prince.” Alicent wished him.

Viserea looked to Rhaenyra who was already looking at her. Both of them had frowns on their faces that they forced away when Alicent returned.

As the tourney continued on, Viserea’s favor was given to her cousin, Rickon, who invited her to see Winterfell.

Upon seeing Ser Criston Cole dismount Lord Boremund Baratheon, Rhaenyra called over Ser Harrold and Ser Ryden and questioned if either of them knew of the Cole man.

“We have been asking the same thing, Princesses and my Lady. I’m told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhaven’s steward. Other than that, and the fact he has now unhorsed both the Baratheon lads, I could not say.” Ser Harrold told the three girls.

The three move to the guard-rail when it is announced that Ser Criston has chosen Daemon to tilt against. Viserea’s attention is drawn away from the fight and she grips the guard-rail tight enough that her knuckles turn white due to the strange feeling taking over body.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wishes to continue in a melee!” The voice barely breaks through Viserea’s trance while she concentrates on taking deep breaths to steady herself. She hardly registers the rest of the world, only noticing from the sound of the crowd that Daemon had apparently been bested by Ser Criston and feeling Rhaenyra’s hand rest on top of hers.

“Sit.” Rhaenyra commands her, leaving no room in her voice for argument and Viserea doesn’t try to.

She begins to make her way to her seat, but is waved over by Princess Rhaenys, while Corlys stands and allows her to take his seat.

“Thank you, my Lord, but you did not have to give up your seat.” Viserea tells him.

“Nonsense. You looked as though you were about to faint.” Corlys spoke in Valyrian to the Princess, avoiding drawing any concern to them.

“Are you that concerned for your uncle’s wellbeing?” Rhaenys asked though she knew that was not the cause for Viserea’s episode.

Viserea looked to her cousin, her dark hair and lilac eyes complimented each other and the rare combination radiated power that Viserea had nothing but respect for.

“I always worry for my uncle, but no, that is not the reason for my… unease.” Viserea struggled to find the word that fit exactly what she was feeling.

The three of them turned their heads when they noticed Viserys and Otto leaving the box, and though she had not eaten anything since the night before, Viserea still felt she might be sick. She looked back to Rhaenyra and Alicent and was grateful neither of them had seemed to notice the absence.

“It is the Queen. You’ve had another dream and the Princess and Lady know of it.” Rhaenys’ declaration did not surprise Viserea; Rhaenys was a smart, strong, and observant woman.

Corlys’ looked down at Viserea when she nodded,

“You can feel the dream happening?” Corlys asked and Viserea shook her head.

“I don’t feel her labor pains, but I feel that the dream is happening. It did not happen when I predicted our first dragon ride, though I was still a child and the excitement of my first flight was the only thing I noticed.” Viserea looked between Rhaenys and Corlys as they exchanged glances.

The three of them stood as more cheers and screams of the crowd suddenly grew louder. They glanced down and saw that multiple fights had broken out which brought a sneer to Rhaenys’ face.

“Some way to celebrate the birth of our future king.” Corlys said with distaste.

“Their lords sent them to the tourney field with fists full of steel and balls full of seed. None of them have known real war. It is a wonder that war did not break out at first blood.” Rhaenys spoke in the common tongue now and moments later Otto returned to the royal box.

He whispered something into Corlys’ ear and went to the next member of the small council. The unease Viserea felt was gone, washed away by grief. She did not need to hear the Hand’s words in order to know the message he delivered.

A flurry broke out in the royal box and Viserea stood quickly, pushing her way through until she stood just outside of it, awaiting Rhaenyra. Once Rhaenyra joined her, Viserea immediately took her hand, letting Rhaenyra lead the way as she wordlessly followed her.

As they arrive at the Queen’s chambers, Viserea bites her tongue to avoid letting any tears fall. They both step into the doorway but neither cross the threshold. Aemma had already been taken out of the room and Viserea’s grip on Rhaenyra’s hand tightened as the short flashes of blood and pain from her dream began flashing through her head. When Viserys does not move from his spot, Rhaenyra is back to pulling Viserea down the hallways, not stopping until they reach Rhaenyra’s own chambers where she begins pacing in front of her bed.

“I was never good enough for him. A daughter with a womb, never a son with a cock.” Rhaenyra’s words shocked Viserea, but not because of what she said. The anger in her voice was surprising.

Viserea stepped closer to Rhaenyra, stopping her from walking and hugging her tightly. She felt Rhaenyra’s tears soak the shoulder of her dress and the two sat on the foot of her bed and her own tears soon began soaking Rhaenyra’s dress.

The tears eventually stopped flowing and the two of them moved to lay in the middle of Rhaenyra’s bed. Each of them had their arms wrapped around each other while Viserea laid on her back with Rhaenyra’s head on her chest.

“I feel selfish. I was able to know my mother and I grieve the loss of only one. You have now grieved the loss of two and it is you who comforts me.” Rhaenyra spoke, her voice gravelly.

“Our losses are not meant to be competitions, Nyra. You comforted me last night and I was delivering news of Aemma’s and your brother’s loss.” Viserea said, playing with a strand of Rhaenyra’s hair that had fallen.

“I will have to give the command?” Rhaenyra looked up at Viserea as she asked.

“I saw you give the command and since your father’s dragon has passed, the responsibility would fall to you. However, you are the Princess of the Realm. If you wanted me to give the command to Tessarion, I would oblige… and I am sure Daemon would offer Caraxes.”

“No. I will not pass off my responsibilities to someone else so that I may wallow in my own pity.” Rhaenyra said with a firm tone.

Viserea nodded and the two sat up when they heard a knock on the door. Rhaenyra cleared her throat before saying,

“Enter.”

Viserea’s favorite handmaiden, Amarda, entered followed by one of Rhaenyra’s. They each carried a tray of food and gently sat them on one of the tables of the room.

“I thought you two would enjoy your dinner in the Princess’ chambers tonight. The King had his delivered to his own chambers.” Amarda explained, offering a hand to each of the girls to help them stand.

“Thank you, Amarda.” Viserea offered her a small smile which she returned.

Rhaenyra and Viserea ate what they could stomach of their dinners and were briefly separated long enough to bathe and dress in their nightclothes. They joined each other in Rhaenyra’s room again afterwards and eventually received the news that Baelon had also passed.

A second sleepless night was spent together and the handmaidens offered no surprise to see them in Rhaenyra’s room together the next morning as they brought them their breakfast. The two were soon dressed in black dresses and cloaks and being ushered to the funeral.

It was late afternoon by the time everyone was brought out to Rhaenys’ Hill, the morning being spent inside and dealing with nobles offering well wishes to the remaining Targaryens. Viserea did not bother wiping away her tears as the Septon spoke. She kept her posture straight and her head high, her free hand by her side and the other laced with Rhaenyra’s. She did not know if she had offered her hand in an attempt to comfort Rhaenyra or herself, but she was glad when Rhaenyra took it. She could force herself to maintain a regal posture and not be ashamed of her tears, but she could not force herself to stand without the other princess.

The crowd turned to look towards Rhaenyra, signaling it was time for her to say the word, though she made no move.

“They’re waiting for you.” Daemon spoke gently from behind the two.

Viserea saw Rhaenyra’s jaw clench in anger and she ran her thumb across the other’s knuckles. Daemon stepped to stand on the other side of Rhaenyra and offered his arm to her.

“Come. We’ll go together.”

“I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness.” Rhaenyra snapped, her breathing getting deeper.

Viserea kept quiet, agreeing with Rhaenyra’s words, but knowing her input would help nothing.

“Your father needs you… more now than he ever has.” Daemon said, looking to Viserea next, “Both of you.”

“We are not sons.” Rhaenyra said, dropping Viserea’s hand and stepping forward.

Daemon takes a step towards Viserea so they stand shoulder to shoulder. They both watch as Rhaenyra raises her head to speak and then pauses. Viserea can sense it before it happens and grabs Daemon’s wrist, stopping him from going to her again.

“Daor. (No.)” Viserea said, stopping Daemon. She knew Rhaenyra needed to do this on her own and that she would not appreciate the help.

“Dracarys.” Rhaenyra spoke. The dragon stepped forward, letting out a low moan, as if feeling Rhaenyra’s pain herself. A moment later and the dragon’s fire was cascading over the two pyres.

Viserea did not move from her spot as others began leaving the hill. She reassured Rhaenyra she would be inside soon and saw from the corner of her eye Alicent and Rhaenyra walk off together. Daemon did not move from Viserea’s side. When the hill finally emptied and the last of the smoke rose from the ashes left of the two members of their family, Viserea finally spoke.

“The gods are cruel. I have now attended four funerals for my family, and there is no positive to outweigh the grief. Rhaenyra and I both grieve the loss of a mother, I grieve the loss of a father, and the father Rhaenyra so desperately needs has never learned to appreciate her. ‘The Realm’s Delight’ they call her, and he has never opened his eyes to see how true those words are.”

“He loves her, loves both of you-“ Daemon started, though he was cut off by a harsh laugh from Viserea.

“I have no doubt in my mind that he loves us, but he does not love us the way he would have loved Baelon. He does not love me the way he loves Rhaenyra. He has already begun discussing possible future betrothals for Rhaenyra, but does not mention any for me. He may love us, but he treats her as no more than a political pawn and he does not even treat me as that. His first royal decree on the very day he was made King was that I was part of his family and I was to be treated in the same respect as Rhaenyra, and it is he himself who failed that.” Viserea’s words were laced with bitterness as she stared ahead with a few more fresh tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

“The two of you do not see how much he truly loves you.” Daemon replied, his voice sincere.

“He did not notice anything was wrong with me at the tourney. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys noticed before he did. She was the one who put it together that I had another dream. Alicent noticed that something was wrong before he did! Alicent whom I do not speak to unless I must! The man who I am supposed to view as a father saw nothing wrong with me or his blood born daughter!” By the end of the rant, Viserea was shouting through tears and grateful that the hill was empty.

Viserea felt Daemon pull her towards him and she allowed herself to melt into his embrace and wrap her arms around him in return. After a couple minutes, Viserea had calmed down and she pulled away from him, wiping away any sign of her tears.

“You had another dream?” Daemon asked her, not commenting on her previous show of emotion.

“Yes. I called for you and Rhaenyra last night, but you were not there. I did not tell Rhaenyra the full extent of it and I never will. She doesn’t need to know what her mother went through in her final moments.” Viserea said, her tone surpassing its previous bitterness and turning to one bordering hate by the end.

“What was the full dream?” His voice was cautious, as if he was afraid that asking would only make her angrier.

“The babe was in breach. They were both going to die no matter what, but Aemma was never told that. He held her down like a pig for slaughter as the Maester suggested a new way being practiced in the citadel. She died terrified and in pain. Her screams will not leave my nightmares anytime soon.” Viserea told him.

“You do not plan to forgive him for this.” It wasn’t a question that Daemon asked. He already knew the answer.

“You and Rhaenyra are the only Targaryen family I have left.” Looking up at him, Viserea’s lilac eyes were cold and Daemon understood that her words were true to her.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x y/n #daemyra x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #daemyra #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader

[grison-in-space]

Wrapping up the Guards! Guards! reread, I hit this passage from Vetinari to Vimes and have to pause to snicker because Vetinari is just so damn young here:

“A great rolling sea of evil,” he said, almost proprietorially. “Shallower in some places, of course, but deeper, oh, so much deeper in others. But people like you put together little rafts of rules and vaguely good intentions and say, this is the opposite, this will triumph in the end. Amazing!” He slapped Vimes good-naturedly on the back. “Down there,” he said, “are people who will follow any dragon, worship any god, ignore any iniquity. All out of a kind of humdrum, everyday badness. Not the really high, creative loathesomeness of the great sinners, but a sort of mass-produced darkness of the soul. Sin, you might say, without a trace of originality. They accept evil not because they say yes, but because they don’t say no. I’m sorry if this offends you,” he added, patting the captain’s shoulder, “but you fellows really need us.” “Yes, sir?” said Vimes quietly. “Oh, yes. We’re the only ones who know how to make things work. You see, the only thing the good people are good at is overthrowing the bad people. And you’re good at that, I’ll grant you. But the trouble is that it’s the only thing you’re good at. One day it’s the ringing of the bells and the casting down of the evil tyrant, and the next it’s everyone sitting around complaining that ever since the tyrant was overthrown no one’s been taking out the trash. Because the bad people know how to plan. It’s part of the specification, you might say. Every evil tyrant has a plan to rule the world. The good people don’t seem to have the knack.”

Ah, yes, sir: because you are very evil, what with the assuming power largely, as far as I can tell, because you're offended by how poorly the system works; you whose first career move was to work to create stability in the city in a bid to minimize blowback, you who are above everything else practical and focused on utilitarianism. Uhhuh.

He's so young. Almost everyone in Guards! Guards! is, of course--Carrot with his law book most obviously--but with Vimes the alcoholic depression and the despairing cynicism has its hooks in so deeply that the overall impact is hard to see. By contrast, moving from Making Money to Guards! Guards! reveals a Vetinari who is almost embarrassingly green relative to the Vetinari who trains Moist: he is constantly making arrogant mistakes (ie "there's no dragons, that's nonsense") that his older self would be mortified to see, and then there's little pronouncements like this.

And for that matter, Vetinari himself should know full well that his "bad people" don't necessarily bother with much planning, either; just look at Mad Lord Snapcase. It's possible to view this through a Doylist lens--we just know a lot more about the history of Ankh Morpork by later books than Pterry did when he was writing this one. But I like to integrate Watsonian interpretations into my readings of the text, and so I enjoy thinking about this as partly a bid to undermine any support Vimes might be lending to any bids for power Carrot might make. After all, Carrot hasn't made any commentary about his sword one way or another; it's unclear to both Vetinari and the reader whether Carrot knows about the long lost heir of the city thing, and even more unclear what Carrot might choose to do in the absence of a giant flaming dragon having declared itself king.

Vetinari is in a fairly precarious place in this book, having been Patrician for only a relatively short time as far as I can tell, and after all there has just been an extraordinarily popular movement to replace the entire office of the Patrician with a hereditary king. If Carrot chose to, he could make life quite difficult for Vetinari: he might not win a theoretical power struggle, but he could certainly cost quite a bit of political capital and considerable public belief in Vetinari's ability to create stability. And Vimes, as Carrot's immediate supervisor and erstwhile human mentor, is the single person most likely to be able to influence Carrot away from that leg of the Trousers of Time.

It's an interesting way to plea for the support of a man like Vimes, I'll put it that way. It's wholly truthful and quite earnest, and it's not particularly manipulative: if anything, it paints Vetinari in quite a lot worse light than he could make a reasonable claim to being. It also avoids tugging on at least one equally truthful argument that could be expected to tug on Vimes' own sentiments: Vetinari is, for all his flaws and autocratic opinions, at the very least not a king. While he holds power, there will be no monarchs, no Lorenzo the Kinds to claim divine right to rule. I suppose it's also possible that Ventinari simply didn't know, of course, but--it's such an interesting little speech from a character perspective.

#discworld #guards! guards!

[lonesilverw0lf]

My take on the RWBY/40K idea. It’s not a ‘Jaune is a Lost Primarch’ that @guardsman-of-remnant or @the-wayward-arc have, or as thought out as @weatherman667 Astartes Chapters.

Juane was a normal guy who’s planet was destroyed. Then he decides to do something about it and potentially changes the course of the galaxy.

Jaune’s early life and world was dealt a bad hand. On a planet considered backwater, ruled over by incompetent lords, an over paranoid and self-righteous Inquisitor, continually and unrightfully drained of resources, repeatedly denied aid and due process, castigated for things beyond their control, and so on. Punished for ‘refusing to pay their tithe’ despite the fact they did pay the tithe but it was attacked by pirates. There was even a time when an enterprising farmer designed a better water pump, really all he did was find an older and better model and made more. Yet somehow the Mechanichum got wind of it and declared it Technoheresy. They destroyed every model and glassed a good swathe of the planet. Those are just a couple of many examples that Jaune was alive to experience. When everyday looks like hell, the Warp starts looking pretty good. Well between a Chaos uprising and a surprise Ork Waaah, alongside the possible threat of a Tyrranid fleet, the planet was declared hopeless and Exterminatus was ordered.

However instead of dying with the rest of the system’s population, Jaune was whisked away to another dimension. A pocket realm in-between the Materium and Immaterium. This realm was reined by a goddess yet not a goddess, who also sits in a weird in between with the materium and immaterium. Said goddess was an entity from another galaxy before the War in Heaven. She started off as just another galaxy conquering dragon, but after a few zillion years that got boring. Seeing the Old Ones and their creations she decided to observe. She’s got nothing but time, so why not? Over time she became loving, a gardener, a collector, a teacher. She doesn’t interfere with the Materium much because of her overwhelming power, and her control over the Immaterium is mostly spent keeping her corner of the galaxy protected from everything else. She’s pretty hands off and lets everyone else do their own thing, hence she didn’t take part in the War in Heaven. Or much else for that matter. She likes to watch the galaxy spin and all its different paths.

In her Library Jaune finds out the truth of the Horus Heresy, along with many other Heresies and major calamaties from alternate timelines that brought the Imperium to its knees and eventual demise. Horus Heresy, Robutian, Dornian, Lion, Erebrun, each and every Heresy and their potential variations. In a desperate bid to prevent these calamities, Jaune convinces his goddess to send himself and a motley collection of volunteers back in time to just before the Great Crusade. A Suicide Squad consisting of those that the Imperium would execute on the spot: Mutants, Abhumans, Heretics, Traitors, Xenos, Abominable Intelligence, and more. I’m sure Big E would get a laugh out of the irony.

Jaune knows that he can’t do half of what he wants to do. They can’t deal with anything big, like E’s journey into the Warp, the creation of the Primarchs and Astartes, the scattering of the Primarchs, the Great Crusade, etc. He can’t just go and tell the Emperor or Malcador about this. They won’t listen first off, and then they’ll just kill him for knowing too much, trying to play with things he has no business in, or just because Jaune refuses to kiss their asses.

He can’t just go out and pick up all the Primarchs and raise them like his own sons post-scattering. They’re scattered too far apart, their homeworlds need them in some fashion, the worlds are too big and dangerous to be looking for them, the Crew is always on the move which would be bad for their personal growth, each of them are too intelligent to not notice something’s different, they grow too fast for their limited resources, and more. Not to mention the unwanted attention they’d bring themselves from Chaos and Big E. That would spell doom in no time.

What they can do is use their knowledge of what happened and what could be to alter small yet key moments. A quick bombing run to eliminate the Butcher’s Nails factories, ensuring Corvus makes it to the surface, eliminating Kor Pheron, erasing Erebrus from the equation, keeping RG’s family alive from the deamon(Robutian Heresy story), warn and prepare several civilizations of what’s coming, plant a few bugs into each of the Primarchs’ flagships regarding certain orders, and more. These guys do not get a day off. They have to move in relative secrecy because who’s going to believe them? And those who may will likely have him killed for ‘interfering with the Emperor’s will’.

He’s met with relative success in his endeavors. Angron wasn’t implanted with the Butcher’s Nails, but with a different kind of device of similar purpose. This new set wouldn’t turn Angron’s brain to soup like the Butcher’s Nails did, this set gave him a form of split personality in the same way that Bruce Banner has with the Hulk. So Angron can be either the Stalwart Paladin type he was meant to be, or the Raging Barbarian type from canon. It’s a flip of the coin with him. Give the guy some more complexity than just rage rage rage.

It eventually comes to a point where he’s too far into the game to know what to do next. He’s changed too much to know the right call. The Primarchs are all gathered and conquering systems, so trying to do anything to them is out. Chaos has to know about his meddling by now, probably the Emperor as well. Despite the anti-aging tech, he's getting too old. His entire crew has fallen one by one. He’s the last man standing in this crusade.

Out of resources, options, ideas, allies, full of desperation, Jaune decides to throw one last Hail Mary. He calls in a favor from his Goddess, and through means that I haven’t decided on, gathers all the Primarchs in one room, locks the door, glues them to their seats, and lays it all out on them.*

He explains who he is, what his mission is, the nature and rise of Chaos, large parts of the Emperor’s plan, and all that. He tells them of all the potential futures, all the Heresies, the one where E decides to make Eye of Terror 2.0, one where all the Primarchs go balls to the wall mosh pit civil war, how each of them could/did fall, the War of Heaven, the Tyrranids, Necrons, Tau, many other subfactions, potential allies, those that would’ve been very helpful but were butchered, allies in one but not another, what E has done and his potential plans, their own half Warp entity souls, lots of history, lots of secrets exposed, what Jaune and crew have done, and so on.

He doesn’t hold anything back either. He rants on about how badly humanity has fallen, how logic and reason are replaced with fanaticism, progress with stagnation, the hypocrisy, the injustice, the stagnation and corruption of the Imperium, the bloated and rotting corpse of a once great civilization, the works. He even has a nice little partial Abominable Intelligence helping him out. It puts up all sorts of data, photos, videos, recordings, etc. to supplement Jaune’s rants. Just a little guy that gives intel like how Astartesanonymous, Majorkill, Isyanderandkoda, Livefromtheblacklibrary, Wes, and them give lore explanations.

 “But it’s only one guy who did a cute trick of keeping us in our seats and talks a lot, why should we believe him?” Sorry to do this to you Sanguinius, but he just casually drops the fact that your legion suffers from the Blood Thirst in front of everyone. The thing that you fought so hard to keep quiet from everyone and only a few even within your Legion knew about? Yeah that’ll get your attention, along with everyone else’s given how badly you react. Dropping a couple less dangerous secrets from the Lion’s assortment of secrets is also on the table. Pretty sure Alpharius wouldn’t mind getting pointed out as the actual first Primarch recovered, #sarcasm. He drops a little skeleton from each of their closets in front of everyone.

Suffice to say he isn’t going to be invited to any family cookouts after this.

He calls out each of them on their critical failures, dangerous shortcomings, hypocritical mindests, how easily they fell to Chaos, all the ways Papa E screwed up and is still screwing up, and more. All while calling them the stupid nicknames the Crew used. Mufasa, Simba, Long Johnson, for the Lion. Rowboat Girlyman, Bobby G, Robot Gorrillaman, for Robute. Fido, Balto, Scruffy, for Leman. And so on. He only calls them by their proper names once, at the very beginning when he was introducing himself and being respectful.

Is it smart to insult a room of the most powerful people in the galaxy and their daddy? Or talk down to them like the emotionally immature people they are? No. If it weren’t for the Goddess favor pinning them to their seats and disabling their gear and abilities he’d be dead and he knows that. They try to use their Primarch Aura on him, but after however long serving his Goddess he’s relatively immune to it. And he’s in such a IDGAF mindset that the most they get out of him is a raised eyebrow. It’d take one of the Chaos Gods’ or the Big E’s aura to really make him shake.

However pointing out flaws without a solution is just bitching. He gives credit where credit is due. He offers help and suggestions to a lot of their problems. He asks everyone to start appreciating Perty a little more, tells the Prophecy duo to get together and speak with some Farseers about their visions, commends the achievements of the Builder Brothers and ways to make their stuff even better, etc. He gives them self-help books, some psychiatric care books, and some insights from various sources to help out with some of their more human problems. God knows E isn’t helping them out with any of this.

Jaune had the foresight to make volumes of his findings. He drops many encyclopedias worth of books in front of them, all scaled up in size for their convenience. They hold everything. Names, dates, quotes, specifications, supply lines, blueprints, maps, numbers, persons of interest, items of interest, planets of interest, deamons of interest, xenos of interest, xenos that are beneficial to the galaxy and the Imperium, xenos that Leman can have fun exterminating, xenos that must be protected, xenos that can be uplifted, xenos that are up in the air, events that could happen, things that Jaune prevented from happening, nothing was left out. Not just books pertaining to the Primarchs and their dealing with Chaos, as both opponents and slaves to it, either. He also dumped books detailing events from the various futures for the next 10 millennia. Greatest victories, worst defeats, the breaking of the Legions, Successor Chapters, betrayals, redemptions, plots, plots within plots, the power of Faith, the detriments and benefits of groups like the Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy, the strength of character in Xenos races, and on and on and on. The Primarchs have quite a bit of reading to do.

Don’t worry Lemon Rush, you can still have your fun hunting down Xenos. Here’s a stack of books detailing all those filthy Xenos that are detrimental to the Imperium and galaxy at large! This lists where they are, what danger they pose, what their biology is, how best to kill them, and so on. Have fun!

Guilliman, here’s a stack for you regarding Xenos that are good guys that could use a hand. Vulcan, here’s a buncha worlds that could really use your more human touch. Horus, these worlds are major players so will be better won with your diplomacy. And so on.

So what is the Primarchs reaction? Do they accept the things he’s said? Do they bring this intelligence to the Emperor and Malcador? Do they take a hard look at themselves and decide to do better? Do they throw themselves at the feet of Chaos? Do they slow down the Crusade to better reinforce the reclaimed worlds? Do they help each other overcome their weaknesses and petty grievances so Chaos has less of a foothold on their souls? Do they exacerbate their flaws? Do they watch each other’s backs for Chaotic influence? Do they start training their Sons in Astartes vs Astartes combat? Astartes vs Chaos combat? Do they purge the corrupt members of their legions? Do they decide to eradicate the dangerous Xenos while uplifting the benevolent ones? Do they go hard in ways to better the Imperium? Do they become the mindless tools that E wanted them to be? Do they start to stand up to the Emperor and call him out on his shit when he needs it?

Jaune has no idea what they decided, or what any of their thoughts were. After he drops everything on them, gives them the books and AI, he walks out the door. His only thoughts were getting blackout drunk and working on the next step after the hangover. That particular conversation never left that room as far as he’s concerned or aware. He’s fully expecting any one of them to turn him into a red mist for his attitude, or a visit from the Banana Squad for a ‘chat’. He doesn’t even care what happens to him now.

He doesn’t even manage to find a bottle before he’s in trouble. He’s hit from the side, a mortal wound that kills slowly and painfully. However his attacker isn’t anyone from any branch of the Imperium. A deamon has been hunting him and his crew ever since he came back to the past. This is the thing that’s been orchestrating the deaths of his friends one by one. It’s very proud of its work and monologues like a cartoon villain. He just saved Jaune for last since he’s the leader. Something about helplessly watching as your friends are picked off as you can do nothing.

Taking this as confirmation that Jaune was doing the right thing he gets up for one last go. As noble as he is he can be a spiteful little shit, so he’s not going down without a fight. Jaune uses a single word of Enuncia to banish the demon, however his previous injuries and the power of the word kills him at the same time.

This is a good ending right? Did everything he could, gave those who hold the galaxy in their hands everything they need to keep things going right, gave a big middle finger to Chaos, the Emperor, and the demon, and died an unsung hero. Good place for retirement right?

However Jaune’s not done! The word quit doesn’t exist in his dictionary, especially when he knows that he was making a difference. Or was at least enough of a thorn in Chaos’ side to warrant a personal Demon after him. He reject’s his Goddess’ offer of a peaceful afterlife to go back for more. He’s a sucker for suffering sometimes. He crawls his way through the warp to be reborn in an Avatar type way. His DNA is identical, he holds the same kind soul and indomitable spirit, but he’s a fresh slate in everything else. The ‘current Jaune’ doesn’t know anything about the potential futures, his past lives, or any of that. The most that his original past self, the ‘original Jaune’, can do is subconsciously nudge him in what should be the right direction. Eventually the Demon, which I dub Little Timmy, comes back from the Warp to kill him again. To which Jaune’s original soul takes over in a sense, like how Ozma fights alongside his current host and body, and the two die in a draw yet again. Then he crawls back through the Warp to be reborn yet again, and so the cycle repeats.

Jaune does most everything during this series of cycles. Was an Astartes for each of the legions at least once even the Lost 2, guardsman, Commisar, Rouge trader, mechanicum, planetary lord, bounty hunter, Psyker, Blank, anything and everything as long as it wasn’t under E’s direct oversight like the Inquisition, Assassinorum, Custodes, and the like. Not to say he hasn’t tangoed with and against such organizations over the cycles.

Despite having the same face and dna, he’s missed completely by those in the know. Besides the fact his Goddess is blocking certain figures’ sight from recognizing him properly, think how just a piece of fabric over the eyes works for most heroes identities, he’s just one guy in trillions of trillions in that particular sector. They might have an idea of ‘that guy seems familiar’ in a déjà vu kind of way, but easily dismiss it. How common are blue eyed blonde dudes? The only confirmation that the Primarchs get that Jaune has been reborn again is during or after his fight with Little Timmy. Jaune leaves a message or calls them or whatever, and the original soul makes sure he calls them by one of the stupid nicknames from the chew out session. Who else would have the balls to call Ferrus Manus Tin Can Sam, or can tell the difference to know which TweedleTwin he’s talking to? Not like they can do much by the time/if they get the message, he died in the duel again. They’re lucky to find parts of his body from the fight. Little Timmy tends to desire a lot of collateral whenever possible, and Jaune isn’t always the roided up transhuman super soldier to trade blows so he has to get creative when he fights.

*As everyone else is stuck to their chairs, Jaune is standing on the table to look them in the eyes and move around easier. Also allows him to move close enough to the Primarchs to drop the reading material in front of them, but not close enough to be grabbed. It’s a funny image, but couldn’t find a spot where it would fit so here it is.

~

I have no idea where some of this should go, but I know that it should be a mess of things anyway because it’s 40K. As much as I don’t want any of the Primarchs taken by Chaos now that they have guidebooks on what to look out for and just how fucked that would be if they do, I can see a few of them falling anyway. Fulgrim for instance. I can see him taking the Laer Blade just to try and show Jaune that ‘Oh look, I guess you were wrong and I am strong enough to carry a demonic blade and not get corrupted!’ That’s the reason he talked down to you like a child, ya Purple Nurple! I love the idea of Snakegrim and Clonegrim duking it out, a duel of both loyalties and ideals. Although from what I hear from the various fangroups I’m in we probably won’t see that. Dangit GW. You’re missing a trunkful of easy money.

I’m not sure how the other Primarchs should be affected by Jaune’s meddling either. Angron was just an easy picking on how to change things up.

#crossover #au #rwby #jaune arc #writing #warhammer 40k #primarch #story ideas #mostly a shitpost

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Would you be able to do another Alicent Hightower x fem reader headcanon/imagine? Maybe where the reader is a targaryen/velaryon but enjoys fighting/hunter instead of normal “lady” things?? I’m not great at coming up with prompts so srry if it’s bad, but there’s a lack of Alicent content and I really need some. Thanks!

-🐢

Title: Green With Envy

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,482

Summary: Y/n Velaryon is the best of both of her siblings. She’s a cunning warrior and skilled in fighting like Ser Laenor, and is one of the best dragon riders in all the Seven Kingdoms, like Lady Laena. Alicent would be a fool not to notice this.

Warnings: Anxiety, mostly. Alicent’s riddled with it.

Author’s Note: It’s a short one but I loved the idea of it, nonetheless. I hope you enjoy!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

“Cousin Y/n. Walk with me. I wish to hear about the years we’ve been apart.”

Alicent could feel her face twist momentarily into a frown against her will as she watched Y/n and a pregnant Rhaenyra leave the room, arm-in-arm, behind her wine cup.

Between the chaos of Vemond Velaryon’s death and the King’s wish for a family dinner, Alicent hasn’t had her usual warrior to stand by her side. Y/n had been reuniting with her nieces and nephews and allowing her mother to dote on her. Alicent couldn’t feel envy from this. Princess Rhaenys lost two of her children in a short span of time, and she would no doubt want to spend her days in King’s Landing beside her last living child.

No, what truly thrusted envy into Alicent’s heart was Rhaenyra, once again taking whatever she wanted without ever facing the consequences. Surely, the princess wasn’t stupid enough to take Y/n away from Alicent as well as everything else. Nothing will take the Queen’s sword shield from her. Nothing.

Y/n has done the impossible. She fought all odds and survived her birth. She claimed the Bronze Fury, Vermithor when she was only ten years old. She rose to the ranks of knighthood even though she was a woman. She put herself in the King’s court and swore fealty to the Queen... She even stole that queen’s heart.

Ser Y/n Velaryon is a perfect mixture of both her brother and sister, therefore a storm, not even her father could tame. And like any storm her family avoids, she swallows up and takes what she wants without mercy. But like many storms, Y/n is also forgiving and gentle, proving the fruits of her labor is well worth her knighthood. She believes in faith and justice, much like a true knight often portrayed in a little girl’s fantasy.

If Alicent was still a little girl, she would have considered Y/n the knight of her fantasy. Now a woman grown, she looks at Y/n and sees so much more. Y/n is more than just the Maiden or the Father. She is the Warrior as well, all of them reincarnated into this woman to tempt the Queen Consort.

Y/n was a powerful ally to the Greens, which made Alicent all the more concerned at the thought of Rhaenyra stealing her away. Should the Blacks want to take her sworn shield, Alicent would be sure to make their efforts a living hell.

These thoughts kept her awake for most of the night, waiting anxiously for her sworn shield’s return. A knock suppresses her door, and the Queen bids whoever was there to enter. Ser Y/n marches in, her helmet under her arm as she dutifully bows her head to Alicent, “Your Grace.”

“What did Princess Rhaenyra want from you?” Was the first thing Alicent could find within herself to ask, standing from her chair by the hearth.

Y/n smiled slightly as she raised her head, “She wanted to know how my days in court have been. She congratulated me when I told her how I was your sworn shield.”

Suspicious and on edge, Alicent clasped her hands together so as not to pick her nails, “That’s all you spoke of?”

“We talked about the baby for the most part. She’s very confident it’s a girl.”

The Queen forces herself to relax, unwinding her hands to lean on the back of the chair. Alicent takes a deep breath, watching the flames dance in the hearth, “I see.”

She hears Y/n’s armor as the female knight takes slow steps forward, and with each step comes the beating of Alicent’s heart, pounding in her ears, “Your Grace, I fear I have news from my mother that may concern you if you mind me telling.”

Her heart sinks before Alicent forces herself to remain undeterred, briefly nodding her head in her shield’s direction, “Please do.”

“She spoke of my father and his health and then mentioned a letter he had sent to her before he sustained his injury. As you well know, with Laenor and Laena dead... Lord Corlys no longer has an heir to Driftmark until Prince Lucerys comes of age. His legacy is dwindling... and so he wishes me to go home and marry the son of a Sealord of Braavos.”

The crackling of the fire fills the room and drowns out the silence. Alicent’s eyes finally move to meet Y/n’s gaze as her stomach drops with dread, “... What?”

Y/n’s sigh was heavy, internal mourning shadowing her features as her eyes dance over Alicent’s, “I am Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys’ last living child... and I am unwed and childless.”

“But you’re a knight!”

A scowl takes its place on the knight’s lips as she spoke ill of her father, “Not even Lord Corlys believes that my vows ring true because of my sex.”

Alicent scoffs in disbelief, turning around and drawing closer to the fire as her nails finally rise to her mouth. Her fingers shake against her lips, her teeth desperately wanting to tear at the skin around her nails, desperate to feel the familiar sting to relieve the stress of her troubles. It was as she feared. The Blacks wanted Y/n, as powerful as she is, with her dragon and her lust for battle. Rhaenyra, yet again, wants to take everything as hers knowing that there is no one able to tell her ‘no’. The princess wants nothing but to cause Alicent pain, as she always has. Even when they were girls, lovesick and innocent of the world, Rhaenyra did as she pleased and gave Alicent grief for worrying so much about her public figure. Either Rhaenyra was blind to life’s expectations of her as a woman, or she just didn’t care and wanted to fly her dragon with Alicent at her back. It was stupid, wishful thinking at the time, and even after all these years, Rhaenyra seems determined to prove her point by taking whoever she wants whenever she wants.

And yet, Alicent also couldn’t help but think of this small betrayal as a political move. House Velaryon was, by all accounts, loyal to Rhaenyra and her succession to the Iron Throne, through her marriage to Laenor and Corlys’ ambition for power. If the Sea Snake felt threatened by the Greens in any way, he would want his daughter removed from her service to Queen Alicent. Rhaenyra might have been aware of this prior to her arrival at the Capitol and could have wanted to persuade her cousin Y/n to the Blacks.

This hardens Alicent’s heart, her back straightening until she’s the regal queen the public believes her to be, her fingers falling from her lips to draw to her sides. Remembering her station and place in this world, Alicent’s persona becomes stern and confident, unlike the young lady she once was, full of crippling anxiety. Turning away from the hearth, Alicent points her gaze back to Y/n.

The change in her posture must have been obvious as Y/n slowly straightens to attention, watching her carefully as Alicent stepped closer. The Queen took several steps until she was close enough to feel Y/n’s breath on her forehead, then proceeded to lift a hand to rest on her sworn shield’s chest plate. With determination and authority, Alicent spoke as clearly as possible, “You are sworn to me. You made your vows to me. As your Queen, I forbid it. I forbid you from leaving King’s Landing. I pray for your father’s recovery... only so that I can tell him this myself.”

Her hand trails further up until it rests on the side of Y/n’s face, and finally, the knight relaxes against Alicent’s touch, shoulders slouching in relief as if she was worried the Queen would obey her father’s wishes. In a small whisper, Y/n nods to Alicent, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Alicent nods sternly despite the hammering of her heart and her wish to smile. Instead, she pulls away, immediately missing the feel of Y/n’s flesh against her skin, but refused to show it. Clasping her hands together to keep them from touching Y/n again, Alicent lifts her chin high, “Tomorrow, I wish to meet Vermithor officially. You must introduce me.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in shock and Alicent can’t entirely blame her for the surprise. She didn’t know what came over her, but Alicent didn’t dare take it back. She was always wary about dragons, even as a girl. She always refused a ride when Rhaenyra offered to take her on Syrax, yet to Alicent, this felt entirely different. Y/n is not Rhaenyra, and Alicent always feels the need to be a part of Y/n’s life, in every way she can be. Knowing her sworn shield to be a dragon rider didn’t bother Alicent like she thought it would, and perhaps that’s how she knew she was in love with Y/n.

Her sworn knight smiled widely, her eyes gleaming against the flames of the hearth, cheeks warm as she bowed, “As you command, My Queen.”

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Please leave your support and if you want a request, send a raven and leave it in the ask box!

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower imagines #alicent hightower imagine #queen alicent #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaelicent #olivia cooke #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenys targaryen #corlys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #laenor velaryon #laena velaryon

[spaceless-vacuum]

Hi my friend sent me the request you did for them. And I love it so much

Can I request yandere gagons for yandere links playtonic x baby dragon's female reader ( been playing tears of the kingdom. And you can ride and climb the dragons.)

Like the found the little reader coming out of her egg and is kinda different then the other dragons she More like a naga dragon looking one but is to cute

Please and thank you ( I didn't know if you do ganondorf's so I put links on there to if you can't do the ganondorf s have a great day

Oot Ganondorf was a powerful sorcerer who was born to the Geurdo and raised by two witches. He has stolen from everyone and knows no bounds and murdered people, nothing can or will stand in his way. When he first finds your egg he's more confused with what's inside. Will you even hatch?

He doesn't know the power he holds but he can’t tell from the moment he sees your egg that you're his. The rare object is his birthright. In his eyes and no one was going to stop him from keeping it.

After some research he found out he came across a rare dragon egg. One that hadn't been seen in centuries. Despite it being such a rare gift the limits and knowledge on you were limited. He had no clue what to think, what you could or would do, or even how to raise you. He thought about passing you along to someone else to raise but as he kept you close and spent more time with you the two of you began to imprint on each other.

He brought you with him to Hyrule as he swore allegiance and he often rants to your egg about news and how the days pass. His plots and schemes remain his to know about but he loves to just talk to you. Once you hatch it's after the young hero emerges from the woods but before he faces or challenges Link.

The serpent-like creature was too small and weak to care for itself. He took care of you. Keeping you close all the time (not that you would stand to be put down) he kept you with him hidden in his pockets. Sneaking your food during meetings. You ate fruits and meats most happily and he was glad to see you thrive even in these conditions. It would take awhile until you grew up but he had hoped it would be sooner rather than later. He had plans that needed to go underway soon. 

Wind waker Ganondorf has this deeper character to him where he states his reasons for wanting to take over Hyrule is so he can give his people a better life. While i dont think this is actually the case, I think it stems more from the fact that he believes by some sort of bid he owns hyrule by right and can rule it better. What better way to take it all over than a dragon?

Flying through the air or swimming in the ocean either way will be a wonderful tool for conquering. At first when he finds the egg he assumes he'll use you like a tool the same way he does his bird. Once you hatch though he takes one look into those beady little eyes and realises, no… No, I can't do that to this creature. He does care for even his bird (he uses chickens hidden around the rocky shores of his fortress as enrichment and will throw the hideous creature people who cross him for food to hunt down)  but he can't think of you as a tool. Not even as a pet.

You're intelligent, far more so than he would ever expect and you've… What's the word? Tamed? Imprinted? Like the rito- eh it doesnt matter.

He doesn't know how to care for you but you're very smart and intuitively the both of you work it out. As you grow older and his plans start to grow bolder as he starts to kidnap the maidens. He keeps you by his side for this. Planning to keep you safe and by his side for his final fight. Talking to you and keeping you safe as you grow older.

Totk Ganondorf would have found you while planning to challenge Raru. Leaving his kingdom to swear fealty also meant being able to travel through hyrule proper and taking claim to whatever he figured he might need. He found you hidden away in some temple and was skewed with jealousy. Raru never did know what power he wielded and this was just another show of it. Items of rare and extravagant power are best suited to those that would use them.

This man is tainted with hate and the moment he sees the egg he has his claws in you. Planning for what he'll do once you wake up. A dragon is a terrible thing to waste. He keeps you warm with blankets and hides you until he's back home. You sit still until it's time for you to hatch and he trusts few with the task of guarding you.

You're a very sweet dragon in comparison to his cool exterior.  He only allows you to circle his keep and to go no further than that, lest you be discovered before he can put his plans into motion. When he goes to kill Sonia and enact his revenge he takes you with him. Hiding you in the room he killed the queen in so you may witness his rise as king in front of zelda and everyone else.

When he manages to slip away you dash after him, remaining out of sight. He also takes you with him to the keep that was made his tomb. He knows that as an immortal dragon you're doomed to stay alive all those years without him, and it stops you from running off. He impressions you with him. 

Unless you showed absolute fealty, keeping you here with him is a mercy. Otherwise he'd have to hunt you down and corrupt you with malice and neither of you would want that. He believes in you to stay there. Staying asleep until he wakes up himself. After damaging Link and ensuring Zelda is gone he goes underground with you by his side. Waiting for the fabled swordman to challenge him; he plans to fight with you by his side.

#eye write #request #yandere ganon x reader #platonic yandere #platonic relationships #dragon reader #yandere legend of zelda #Ganondorf #oot ganondorf #totk ganondorf #wind waker ganondorf

[happilychee]

knight!erza and swordsmith!reader pt. 1

god I love erza so much

♡ when you were just an orphaned brat, you apprenticed at a forge in a rundown village. the old geezer who took you in, makarov dreyar, was a kind old man, but the real problem for you was his grandson: laxus. he took every opportunity to tease and torment you throughout your childhood. the only time the two of you could get along was at the forge. hammering away at raw metal, cooling hot swords, or sharpening new blades, that was the only time your arguing was replaced by the racket of a swordsmith's shop.

♡ you spent your childhood and adolescence learning the secrets of the trade and the dreyar family's special techniques. you grew into a fine young swordsmith, but you knew that this shop wasn't yours to keep. the moment you turned of age, you packed your bags and bid a tearful goodbye to the people you considered family: the man you called grandfather and (though neither of you would ever admit it) the idiot you thought of as your older brother.

♡ you travel for a while, doing odd jobs likened to a blacksmith's profession to make some coin. it's when you reach the bustling trade town of magnolia that you feel you've found your place. a ramshackle stand set up in a corner of the bustling magnolia market, a hot fire in your forge, and a roaring spirit are what it takes to set you on your path.

♡ you're a damn good swordsmith, and soon all of magnolia knows it. it's not long before your name is whispered throughout the entire kingdom. you receive commissions from all sorts of types. you've made beautiful bangles that twist into whips for a drunkard fortune teller; you've made a necklace that disguises spirit keys as charms for a hooded blonde woman; you've made twin daggers that can conceal themselves as earrings for the princess herself! your work is always well-made, created with the highest quality of materials, and it doesn't come at a low price.

♡ you think it's a day like any other. your biceps strain as you carry a new anvil into the back of the shop. your orders won't make themselves, so you get to work right away. between casting iron for gauntlets and hammering down on a new blade, you're quickly covered by a layer of soot. your skin shines with sweat, and you're about to yell at whoever dares to disrupt your work, but your words die in your throat. standing before you is a knight, covered from head to toe in armor. that's not an unusual sight in a place as well-connected as magnolia, but what catches your eye is the vibrant color of the knight's armor.

♡ "you're the scarlet knight." you breathe out, shoving aside scrap metal as you set down your hammer. "I am in need of a new sword." the knight speaks. you can't tell if they're a man or a woman or neither by their muffled voice, but you can tell that they're powerful. "what kind?" "any." you huff at their short response. it's an ongoing argument between swordsmiths everywhere: does the sword choose the swordsman, or the swordsman choose the sword? you think it's the latter. "will you be able to fight with any sword I make?" you raise an eyebrow. "if it's good enough." the knight answers. you can feel your blood boil, and you can almost imagine the smirk on their face. "you wanna bet, knight?"

♡ you don't sleep for the next week. you barely eat or drink, too focused on creating the best sword you've ever made. it's slightly longer than you'd usually make, but the scarlet knight was taller than the average man. the blade itself is a shining silver, but you know it won't stay that way for long. hopefully. the hilt is engraved with swirling dragons, their eyes inlaid with red gemstones. the hilt also has red and black stones that create a beautiful floral pattern in filigree. you don't think you'll ever make a sword as beautiful as this one.

♡ the scarlet knight seems to know exactly when you finish the sword. the embers are burning low in your forge, calming down as the evening draws in, and the knight is leaning against your doorframe again. you lift the sword out of a basin of water, the metal shining in the moonlight. "you don't waste a second, do you? here." you grin as the knight takes the sword, the blade turning a deep red. "what do you think?" your voice is nothing short of cheeky. the scarlet knight says nothing, staring at you through their visor. "...good."

♡ you don't see the knight for a long time after that, though you don't mind, with the amount of coin they gave you for the sword. you almost forget about them, until they return with a different sword, asking for a repair. "you have multiple swords?" you raise an eyebrow as you enter the back of your shop. "sit, this won't take long." you manage to weasel a few stories from the scarlet knight as you work, and you find that they're quite an interesting figure. you offer a few stories of your own in exchange, and you can't say you're not pleased when you hear them chuckle. the scarlet knight returns quite often after that, always with some weapon or other that needs adjustments. you learn more and more about them, relishing in each second you hear their alluring voice. the knight never takes off their helmet, but you don't ask about it. everyone has their secrets to keep.

♡ you fall into a steady rhythm of visits and late night talks. time between them varies, as the knight's travels take them far and wide, but your door is always open to them. on a rainy night, you perch at your table with a steaming mug of cider. sketches are strewn across the table, each offering a prospective new project for you to undertake. your musings are interrupted by a clatter at the door. like so many times before, you look up to see the scarlet knight, except... except they're falling to the floor, and you just barely manage to block their descent with your body. you wince as you hit the cold stone, but you quickly forget your discomfort when your palm comes back bright red. "blood?!" you cry out. "I didn't... know where else to... go..." the knight manages to get out.

♡ you did not sign up for this. you did not sign up for undressing a somewhat-friend-somewhat-stranger in your workshop. you did not sign up for pulling up their tunic and revealing planes of well-toned muscles. you did not sign up for stitching together their skin and wiping away the excess blood. you certainly did not sign up to remove their helmet, thinking it would put unnecessary strain on their body, only to find yourself face to face with the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen.

#lychee writes #hello I am insane about erza #as usual #also I'm a sucker for a reader who creates stuff #part two tmrw hopefully bc I have Thoughts #heehee #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #fairy tail x reader #erza scarlet #laxus dreyar #but this ain't about him #cana alberona #lucy heartfilia #hisui

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

 Troubled Men are my Forte

Ⓜ AN: Mikey with black hair reigns supreme. Sorry not sorry.

 Ⓜ Warning: Explicit smut, power dynamics, masturbation, mentions of smoking, sex work, and consensual voyeurism. Mikey x Fem Reader. Read at your own risk.

 Ⓜ Summary: You would do anything for your dream even if it meant becoming a gang leader's plaything for a night.

 Ⓜ Ⓜ Ⓜ Ⓜ Ⓜ

“Strip.” 

The word was said casually, his shoulders slumped. He wasn’t even looking at her rather at the lighter in his hands. 

But the demand was heard all the same.

Y/N shakingly exhaled, her hands trembling and nervous as she bent down to unzip her winter boots.

She hesitated and put them against the bed neatly.

Her dress was the next to go. The front buttons were easy to undo and she pulled it over her shoulders. She held her garments tight against her chest trying in vain to hide her nudity.

This was it. There was no going back.

Was her dream worth all of this?

Becoming popular in an industry saturated with idols and beautiful women was next to impossible. Y/N as talented as she was at singing, couldn’t dance without looking like a flailing awkward mess. 

She knew the Yakuza had their hands in the entertainment business. It was an open secret so when her agency didn’t renew her contract and with no other option. She did the only thing she could.

Y/N looked at the man with hollow, empty eyes and choppy black hair. A dragon tattoo adorned his neck.

His cigarette caught fire and he took a long inhale. Savoring it, he closed his eyes.

“Get on with it,” he said his eyes still closed. 

She dropped her dress next to her boots and sat on the bed. 

The hotel that she had been ceremoniously summoned to was luxurious yet dark. Nothing but the moonlight from the open window and a small lamp next to the bed helped to see her scantily clad body on the pale bedsheets. 

“Touch yourself.” 

A puff released a haze of smoke, which surrounded the man giving him an eerie look as he watched her with an appreciative gleam.

She leaned back, trying to relax. She tried to imagine herself at home instead with candles alit, warm, and comfortable. 

Yet she was cognizant and aware of his presence looming in the room.

Her hands wandered down to her chest- playing and plucking it until the bedsheets became rumpled from her feet restless shifting as pleasure alit her senses.

Her breathing became heavy but she wasn’t the only one.

A glance told her that he had paused, his hand still in the air just about to put the bud back at his lips. His eyes glistened with want, staring at her undeterred. His chest heaved with excitement, heavy breathing that had nothing to do with what he held in his hands.

Perhaps it was the sight of a powerful man being affected by her. But Y/N felt emboldened to continue so she ostentatiously spread her legs. Not caring if the angle exposed her.

She unfurled her folds apart with her fingers and felt her damp curls for the first time.

Turned out she was more eager than she first thought. Her nervousness melting away the more comfortable she became.

She found the nub that she was oh so familiar with and grazed upon it slightly.

A shiver went down her spine at the first touch and a male groan reverberated throughout the room. 

While one hand stayed on her breast, the other more dominant hand dipped fingers into the moist entrance.

She heard the clinks of metal and looked up to see the man in front of her, fiddling with his belt. The cigarette now put out in a nearby ashtray. 

He eased his cock out of his pants and fisted the engorged organ. 

“Fuck, fuckkkk,” he hissed. 

His black hair swaying as he jerked almost violently. His dull eyes flaring to life, emotions coursing through them. 

He stumbled towards the bed, still touching himself. 

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

Or it would have been a command had he not sounded so desperate. So eager.

Y/n did as he bid. Her mouth, her tongue lolling out, and saliva already gathering in anticipation.

He was now above her, imposing and expectant.

But most of all: naked. His shirt and pants thrown off in his hurry.

He was magnificent. Though his lithe body didn’t seem all that impressive when covered. Underneath however hid a sinewy body riddled with scar tissues. 

His cock considering his size shouldn’t be impressive as it was. What it lacked in length though his girth more than made up for it. 

Beads of precum glistened atop the bulbous mushroom head. Further evidence that he couldn’t remain indifferent to her.  

“Suck.”

#mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro #sano mikey x reader #mikey x you #manjiro sano #manjiro x reader #manjirou x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x female reader #mikey smut #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut

[max-nolastname]

black sails characters and the dnd classes they would be:

flint: fighter/sorcerer (draconic bloodline) with high wisdom and charisma. able to pass as human in "civilized" society, but has latent magical powers from an ancient dragon ancestor that manifests in the strangest things...eyes that see through the dark...summoning storms...enchanting the minds of others to do his bidding...

madi: paladin with an oath of devotion, but she doesn't answer to a higher power, or a crown or some nebulous greater good. she answers to a chorus of voices...multitudes...of men, women and children bound by chains across the world....she is devoted to them she answers to them

anne: barbarian. when she channels her rage into fights, she deals serious critical damage to her ops. able to take an insane amount of damage to protect the ones she loves and still be up standing and fighting.

jack: bard (college of valor), through and through. hoards the stories of legendary pirates. obsessed with putting himself up there among the greats. loves to Perform. silvery barbs. iykyk

max: mastermind rogue. the tenants of a rogue is to evade and hide, remain unseen, gather information on enemies and allies in order to figure out how they tick and exploit their weaknesses. she is not fighting on the frontlines she is the shadows she is in the walls of your house waiting to strike

charles: human fighter

billy: human fighter

silver: an npc with no special powers or talents or backstory, his name randomly generated using an NPC fantasy name table. He was created by the DM for no other purpose than to bring the party together and deliver the Inciting Incident/Call to Adventure in the form of a complicated treasure map. quite literally sidelined (see: shackled to a chair) in the first couple sessions, and is only brought back by the DM to add mischief and complications to the plot. but there is something so charming and endearing about this npc that the party can't help but have him tag along on their adventures. John Silver soon becomes integral to the campaign because the player characters want him to be. John Silver the NPC is a reflection of what different players want him to be. He is a trusted partner, co-conspirator, love interest, damsel in distress...a Pirate King to inspire their allies and strike fear in the hearts of their enemies. He is fleshed out and made real by the real human players around him. The players are extremely fearful of john silver dying, but what they don't know is that the DM has no plans on killing off John Silver! The DM has already written john silver into the finale of the campaign, and the story doesn't work without him, so.....

Ty @bloodyentrails for letting me bounce ideas off u

#fun fact: flint is currently the big bad evil guy for my longterm dnd campaign right now (hint: he's not the bbeg) #someone please ask me how im adapting black sails into a dnd campaign i am begging you #if you're a black sails fan you need to get into DMing a black sails pirate campaign because the meta is insane #black sails #dungeons and dragons #captain flint #john silver #max nolastname #anne bonny

[law-d-water-trafalgar]

Enslaved

Context: Reader becomes enslaved to the Sabaody Auction house. Law sees her power and bids on her, becoming part of the pirates of heart.

You have the Calm-Calm fruit.

Sensitive Reader, starting slave reader, some violence, bonding, fluff, reader begins not girlfriend or anything to Law but gains his trust and becomes girlfriend later.

Minor mistakes

-☆-

It's been so long since you were captured. It wasnt very difficult to capture you in the first place when your devil fruit was useless or so you thought. Talking with your cage buddy who was a mermaid you say

"I'm so sorry your in here, how did you get here?" She explains and then starts crying as shes raised and dropped into a gaint fishbowl. Unable to hear her anymore your shocked that your next, before her you wave goodbye with your shackles swinging back and forth as you make your way on stage.

"Now I present you a devil fruit user it's called the Calm-Calm fruit!" The auctioneer yells into the mike. You walk onto the center stage lights blinding you as you use your power on yourself *snap*

"Silence" as a purple sphere appears with a gong and paddle on the floor you pick them up and bang them together, the only noise is inside the sphere.

*snap*

"silence" as you silence an actor he drums on some drums with no noise to be heard.

*snap*

"Silence"

"Do I have any bidders-" After a second...

"Ah yes Mr. Law your bid has been cast" the auctioneer says but after the two minute mark no one else has bid on you.

'Am I actually wanted? Law? I wonder what their like?' You think quietly but are interrupted by the auctioneer.

"And this one is yours Mr. Law" he slams the gavel and your taken backstage. As your walking you see the mermaid being wheeled out now, but theres nothing you can do for her.

"I can't believe you, of all people you were bought" you hear a husky voice as you look and see a tall man a guard who has the keys. Suddenly you feel your hair stand on end as he slowly unlocks your gate.

"Why not have a little fun before you go. After all your damaged goods allready" He says aggressively as he grabs your arm.

-☆-

Laws POV

-☆-

Monkey D. Luffy has just punched a celestial dragon and things are heating up. Leaning behind you were Bepo, Sachi, and Penguin.

"Sachi, Penguin go get the girl were out of here Bepo come with me" you say to your crew as they all nod with Sachi and Penguin going to the cells.

-☆-

(N)-ya POV

-☆-

Grabbing your arm the guard shears off your panties from your skirt with his knife, as you start to cry. He starts to take out his slong and adjusts it at your entrance as hes suddenly bashed in the head knocked out cold by two unknown people. You realize your position and flip down your skirt quickly them not looking.

"Hey there we know your scared. I'm Sachi and this is Penguin were here to rescue you Law said, so let's go" he says quickly as the other caged people start to yell he takes your hand and starts to walk out of the cage. Fighting back tears you ask

"What about these handcuffs and shackles?"

"Dont worry our Captain can get them off of you, let's hurry" Penguin says quickly as you all run out of the building and keep running. Soon you see

'What is that? A submarine? Is that their sub?' You think as you run as fast as you can, following your new acquaintances. Hearing lots of marines yelling and fighting from behind you, you dont dare look back though. You all run onto the sub as they open the door for you and lead you inside.

"Whew we did it" Sachi and Penguin highfive eachother.

"T..thank you both. I thought I would be a slave forever" you say quietly.

"Well we dont know why but our Captain wanted you" Penguin said as you put both your hands on your skirt pulling it down somewhat to hide yourself.

"What was that guard doing to you when we got there?" Sachi asks quizzically.

"He.. was going to rape me but you both saved me. He said something about wanting to have fun before I go. I cant thank you enough" you say but think

'Mainly girls are bought for sex slaves was this Captain like that if his crewmates are this nice?'

"Um am I going to be a sex slave?" You say tears forming on your lashes then falling on the ground. Sachi and Penguin bust up laughing then quite down.

"Haha our Captain is so not like that. Dont worry your safe" Sachi finally says to you. Feeling relief for the first time in a long time you collapse on the floor the feeling of exhaustion overwhelmed you.

-☆-

Laws POV

-☆-

After having fun with the marines you book it with Bepo to the sub.

"Room, Shambles" You and Bepo pop into the control room.

"We depart immediately, Bepo thirty degrees let's go" you state boldly.

"Yes Captain!" Everyone says in unison. You then are stopped by Sachi and Penguin.

"Captain that girl passed out" Sachi says.

"I put her in the med bay" Penguin says next.

"Good I need to give her a check up and get those shackles off" you say as Sachi starts to say something

"She was almost raped Captain, and she uh has no panties on" Penguin says to you as you just sigh.

"Okay thank you" you wave them out of your way and walk to the med bay.

-☆-

(N)-ya POV

-☆-

You slowly flutter your eyes open only to see

"Medical equipment?" You say out loud as a voice startles you.

"Your finally awake" you look over to see a man with silky spiky black hair, carmel skin, and tattoos on his hands.

"Y..yes um who are you? Where am I?" You question cocking your head to the side.

"My name is Trafalgar D. Water Law. What's your name? I originally bought you at the auction but ended up having my crew get you. Do you remember Sachi and Penguin?" Law questions. Thinking for a moment you nod.

"Oh so this is your sub? They said your not intrested in a sex slave." You let it roll off your tounge which makes him blush slightly as he tilts his hat down slightly then brings it back up without a blush.

"I'm not intrested in that. Why have you been raped before?" He asks quizzically.

"Im actually a virgin..." you say quietly.

"Well your quite lucky then normally sex slaves are used a lot, for other pirates and celestial dragons" Law states blankly.

"I guess your right" you say as you sit up realizing all the cords attached to you.

"What's all this? Oh that reminds me-"

"What's your name?" Law asks quickly cutting you off coldly.

"I'm (n) D. (Ln) we both share the D." You say understanding some important meaning of the D but not knowing the true reason. He looks slightly shocked then relaxes again.

"Nice to meet you (n)-ya. And to your question before you were severely dehydrated and you have many bruises. Other than that you are fine." Law states coldly yet again starting to disconnect all the cords.

"Oh I forgot to say, welcome to the heart pirates" Law says a little less cold.

"Thank you so much for having me" you look up at his grey eyes then disconnect eyesight making him slightly blush again but it fades quickly.

-☆-

One Year Later

-☆-

You were sleeping curled up on a gaint Bepo in your boiler outfit when the loud speaker sounded.

"Land hoy!" Waking you and Bepo up you fall off of him in your guys room. You were still unsure why Law put you in a room with his favorite mink but you didnt complain. You both stand Bepo zipping up his boiler outfit and go out on deck with everyone else. You spot Law and go up to him saying

"Would it be all right if I go onto this island to find a book Captain?" You ask sweetly a slight blush appears on his face but dissapears eventually.

"Allright but take Bepo with you or actually I'll go with you" he says glancing at your sparkling eyes blushing a bit more before it dissapears again.

"Allright let's go" he said as he took your hand in his making your heart flutter and you blush for some reason.

'What's this feeling? I only ever get it around him' you think as he pulls you away with him.

-☆-

On The Island

-☆-

Hes still holding your hand as you both walk through town looking at the shops. As you stop at a clothing store your admiring a crop top and shorts missing the freedom of your own clothing.Law suddenly gives you a small tug as he glances and sees what you were staring at. At the book store you flip through many books finally deciding on a fantasy novel with dragons, princesses, and knights. You go up to buy it and let go of Laws hand. Once you turn around you see him frowning. Holding the book in one hand you hold his hand again as you both walk out of the store.

"Hey Law, why do you always hold my hand in towns?" You ask innocently.

"To protect you of course" he says as he looks away blush appearing on his face.

'I know he never touches anyone else but hes still never told me why he decided to save me that day' you think then run into a pole as you were not looking in front of yourself.

"Are you allright?" Law asks nonchalantly.

"Yea"you let go of his hand and rub your head. Once your ready he grabs your hand again and walks with you back to the sub. "Thank you Law" you say cutely causing him a slight blush but he brushes it off and says

"Yea no problem" as he walks to his office. You follow behind then knock on the door

"Yes?" Law questions.

"Um I was um wondering if maybe I could be your medical assistant? I can train for it. I promise to be very dedicated. After all I haven't done anything that the rest of everyone does since I joined the crew" you say looking down with the book in your hand. He walks over to the bookshelf grabs a book and hands it to you.

"Start with this once your done come back for the next one" Law states clearly blushing so he pulled his hat down slightly.

"Didn't know you had an intrest in what I do" he states.

"Oh but I admire what you do Law" you state holding the book as you know now hes blushing you say

"Thank you for this opportunity I wont disappoint you" you say and run off leaving a blushing Law to ponder his seemingly confused thoughts and feelings. Once you return to yours and Bepos room you notice on your bed... that crop top and shorts you were staring at that one shop with a note attached.

-Dear (n),

I noticed you stating at these clothes, so I'm allowing you to wear these clothes instead of the boiler suit.

-Enjoy Law

'Awee and more clothes in different colors even a pure white set I can dye. Even though they call him the surgeon of death he can be so sweet to me' you think quietly as you quickly dress into your new clothes.

-☆-

One Year Later

-☆-

You and Law have grown quite closer. You finally became his fulltime medical assistant. Your allowed to wear whatever you want and he been treating you nicer than the rest of the crew. The crew has noticed but keeps it all hush hush. 'I've been hearing rumors that Law likes someone but theres only two females on board and it can't be me. After all I'm just his assistant' you think obliviously of the gifts hes gotten you. You just thought he was being the same nice man hes always been. Until one day, you both working in the office then it hits you.

"Hey Law I read in a book that devil fruit users have fragments of the previous owners in them like apart of their soul. Who do you think mine was?" You say innocently.

He stops what hes doing looking not prepared for this right now and sighs.

"I really trust you (n)-ya so I'll let you know the previous owner of your devil fruit... was a nice man named Don Quixote Rosinante who had saved my life by stealing the Opa-Opa fruit and making me eat it. His own brother shot him to death as I camouflaged with the other dead bodies of the Amber Lead disease. He made it possible for me to cure my disease. I'm alive because he kept using his power on me until, I was out of earshot because I was crying." Law holds his face in his hands tears dropping on the floor. You immediately go to him and embrace him in a hug making him wrap his arms around you. After a minute he relents and squeezes you tight as if a part of Cora was in your niceness.

*snap*

"Silence" You rub his back as he crys until he can cry no more.

"Is that better a good cry can do wonders.." you whisper quietly in his ear causing him to shiver. With him sitting and you standing he looks up to you.

"(N) I care about you.." Law states gazing into your eyes.

"I care about you too Law" you tell him rubbing his back. He stands arms still wrapped around you.

"No I mean I really like you in... that way" he says fully blushing shock shown on your face as you respond.

"I've liked you ... too.. but I only just realized how... I felt" You say as he leans down embracing your lips with his. Hes gentle with you kissing softly as you both break for air your blushing tomatoe red now.

"La-"

"Call me Trafalgar please."

"I have to make it official though. (N) Will you be my girlfriend?" Trafalgar whispers in your ear. Unable to word, you just nod and then bury your embarrassment in his chest as he hugs you close.

"Starting today I want you to share a room with me since your my.. girlfriend" Trafalgar says quietly even though he doesnt need to be quite.

After awhile you

*snap*

"Silence" and the purple is gone. You both break apart as you go to start moving what little things you had into his room. Once done you weren't sure what to do. This had all started over a simple question but you weren't complaining. After all you wanted even more to explore these feelings with him, whom you liked very much. Little did you realize what this feeling was.

-☆-

Six Months Later

-☆-

"Are you done with the report dear?" Trafalgar asks you.

"Yes here you go" you hand over the last report of the night. You had gotten used to becoming his girlfriend/assistantand having the Captain of the Heart Pirates as your boyfriend but it did come with drawbacks, like you weren't allowed to leave the sub anymore which didnt really bug you since you would just ask him to get you whatever you wanted or needed from islands. All the crew knows but doesnt say anything. "Its allready one am we need to go to bed now" Trafalgar says sweetly to you kissing your forehead.

You yawn loudly finally feeling the effects of the workload.

"Okay let's go sweety" you say grabbing his hand leading him to the bed room you both undress but not completely. Slipping into bed you feel him behind you spooning you wrapping his arms around you holding you close. You had finally discovered what feeling you were feeling was. Feeling brave you decide to tell him.

"Trafalgar?"

"Hmm love?" He hums.

"I think I love you, at least that's how I feel is that okay?" You say quietly to him, lean over, to see him blushing deep red.

"I just wanted to make sure you were ready. (N) I love you too" he says as he kisses you deeply as you completely turn over and use your tounges to fight for dominance. Embracing him putting your hands on his chest. Breaking for air you smile widely.

*snap*

"Silence" as you both try your first new adventure in bed.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #trafalgar law fluff #law one piece #trafalgar law x reader oneshot

[hornysarcasticberry]

out on the wild high seas, a tiefling pirate captain and his loyal crew of tieflings, orcs, and dragon-folk sail in search of plunder. they make a pact with an ancient eldritch horror of the deep who grants them power and protection. in exchange, they bring it gifts and news of the wider world and carry out its mysterious bidding.

the eldritch being takes care of its loyal servants. it brings them willing offerings - mortal beings hungry for the power the eldritch horror offers, willing to do anything to earn its favour. all they have to do is serve the whole crew. pretty humans and half-elves are carried out to sea and passed around the pirate crew, used and enjoyed until they are fuck-drunk and the crew is satisfied. they know if they please the pirate captain, the eldritch patron will reward them with the magic they so desperately crave. and the captain likes to see his crew satisfied. likes to watch them enjoy themselves.

desperate would-be warlocks who spend their days and nights on their knees and on their backs, passed from one pirate to another, eager for the chance to earn their power. these huge, powerful pirates are rarely gentle. they are demanding. the offerings can be used any time, whenever the pirates feel the urge to bend them over the ship's rail and take their fill.

sometimes the captain takes a liking to a particular offering. this one shows promise. he keeps them in his cabin, except when he leads them out on deck and tethers them to the mast so he can sit back and watch his crew spread their thighs and use them, one after the other, until they can barely stand.

when they have proved themselves worthy, the offerings face one final test: give themselves to the eldritch horror of the deep so it can judge for itself how obedient and pleasing they are.

#terato #monsterfucking #free use scenario #pirates #eldritch horrors #tentacles #had this idea simmering in my drafts for a while #maybe i'll write it into a whole fic some day

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

You're in Denial: Arthur X Celestine

Lady Celestine is one of the four heroes of Yore and just happens to be the love of Arthur's life. She's a very integral character... kickstarting serval events in the story. I hinted at their dynamic in the past: it's the classic enemies-to-lovers troupe (my favorite- blame Bridgerton: They're Kate & Anthony )

Their relationship is an integral part of the story: hopefully, I can get you all on board this ship (it's okay if you don't, it's part of the prelude). She kicks off several plot points in the story. She's the oracle & blacksmith of the GSA and is responsible for creating Triple Star, Exabliur, and Galaxia (unfinished - completed by another). But her main job was to look after the Fountain of Dreams that was in the temple of the ancients.

Which is where this lovely scene takes place. (And they're lotus flowers, not lilies...)

This happens before Meta and Gala, so this is a young Arthur (the before times).

Sir Uther had three apprentices...

The pecking order was: Arthur, Morgan, and Nonsurat. Which created a wall between Arthur and the other two. It also didn't help that Arthur wasn't the nicest guy either.

Before, Arthur was known as Sir Uther's "golden boy"... Cold and calculating, ready and willing to do Uther's bidding without question. An unfeeling war machine by Uther's design. He was Sir Uther's top soldier: a position Morgan envied & despised Arthur for it...

He was at the top, but it was a lonely spot. As a result, Arthur had closed his heart off from the world: never being his own person. Causing him to wear an apathetic and arrogant personality. He was his master's tool, nothing more. This was his lot in life, and he had accepted all of it.

On Celestine's end, she was a caged bird all her life...

Celestine can't predict the exact future... only show potential paths. But with her powers can guide people to the outcome they want. Which is why she's given the title of Navigator of the Constellations. Nightmare knew of her ability and desperately wanted her power. Only appearing with if alongside the other heroes of Yore when needed (which was only Uther & Icarus at the time).

However, there was a sinister reason behind it... the ancients wanted to monopolize her power. And was confined to the temple most of her life as a result.

Because of her powers, she knew what the ancients really were; a bunch of self-serving hypocrites. So she played the "naive, sweet little priestess": but hid the heart of a dragon. She had a few followers that served under her court; her position kept them within arms reach. In reality, she was alone...

She's the Merlin of the story and Celestine... did not take kindly to Arthur. When she found out that Arthur would be the one to end Uther's reign... "there has to be another Arthur because this one's an arrogant little prick!" She met him a few times: shadowing Uther, and saw him as his dirty henchman.

Arthur did not have a high opinion either of Celestine due to Uther's influence. As the chief blacksmith, Celestine would hire based on talent. She did not care if a person was a high-born or low-born... which Uther did not like. Uther saw her as a foolish little girl who did not know how the world worked. As a result, Arthur saw her as a sheltered, naive, delusional dreamer... however, this would all change.

After the temple was attacked by Nightmare: he was assigned as Celestine's bodyguard. Arthur was not ready for the bucket of sass that was Celestine. Sharp, witty, and vicious (with a few other surprises), she was not one to be messed with.

Arthur was at her mercy since she was technically above him. Though much to his surprise: she insisted on being treated as his equal. Unlike his master: who demanded respect... she was nothing like him. Celestine infuriated & fascinated him all at the same time.

For Celestine, she took this as a chance to reform him... which translated to: "For the sake of the galaxy, I need to take this man down a peg!" But... was pleasantly surprised that her original notions of him were wrong (half of them he was still a little prick ). And teased him every chance she got to reprogram him from his "unfeelingness,"... much to Arthur's annoyance and her delight. But she came to care for the man more than the prophecy.

In time they both realized they suffered the same loneliness. And found comfort in each company... and valued their time together. Arthur, he did not need to be"Sir Uther's golden boy": just Arthur... the feeling was mutual on Celestine's end. She never needed to pretend with Arthur and felt safe being herself with him.

They loved each other but didn't know the words. Both were too inexperienced and young to realize this. And if they did say it... their positions wouldn't allow it... What became of Lady Celestine?

Hmm... oh, I wonder what happened to her?

Keep reading to hear a bit about Morgan... (the runner up in the poll)

Morgan herself was also supposed to be one of the heroes of Yore and complete the set (of four)... But it just didn't fit well. I wanted her to have more emotional weight. Making her one of Uther's apprentices and a rivalry with Arthur seemed more fitting.

There was more of a personal connection to them. Giving her more reason to want to take over the GSA. Always desiring Uther's praise and recognition but never receiving it.

If Morgan won the poll, it (the comic) would've been about her and Norsurant. While they may have been the spares; Norsurant & Morgan always had each other (in a sibling sense).

But after Arthur fell from grace by taking in MK: Morgan became obsessed with taking his (Arthur's) spot. And ended up leaving Norsurant behind to pursue the empty spot. However, this incident also changed his relationship with Arthur.

Like Morgan: Nonsurat believed that Arthur was the golden child that could do no wrong. But after this incident: made realize that he had Arthur figured out all wrong.

#kirby oc #lady celestine #sir arthur #sir arthur kirby #kbasw #kirby gsa #kirby #hoshi no kaabii #oc x canon #kirby anime #them so much but make them suffer #voting poll #kirby right back at ya #krbay #celarthur

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Wither on the vine

Wekk 1 picture prompt for: Spring picture prompt event by @hotd-bigbang

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Maternal/child death prior to the beginning of the story

Wordcount: 500+words

Summary: Alicent writes about the cherry blossom tree in the Godswood, and her upcoming wedding.

A/n 1: This ficlet is written in the epistolary form of writing

A/n 2: Alicent is 18 in this story

Minors DNI

Alicent Hightower’s journal

5th day in the third moon of 106 AC.— It is still spring, and flowers in the cherry blossom tree have already bloomed in the Godswood. It is the only tree of its nature in Westeros, a gift to the king from the Empress of YiTi in honor of his ascending the throne. There was a solemn ceremony in the Godswood when it was planted into the soil, with a tourney and a grand feast afterward. High lords and ladies came from all over the realm to bear witness, and more than one champion made their name on the tourney grounds. It had been a glorious day, filled with warm sunshine, music, and laughter, and purses growing fat from wagers.

Rhaenyra and I often sat beneath its flower-laden branches and talk and read and laugh. She would share her father’s tales of old Valyria and tales of her little adventures flying atop her dragon, Syrax. She often begged me to come with her, and I always refused. Then she would pout, pursing her lips into a thin line. And then she would smile and enlist my aid in her quest to raid the kitchens for cake. 

“I want to fly with you on dragon back,” she once said after wheedling the cook into giving her a tray laden with cake and other sweets. “See the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake.” 

What happy times they were! The realm prospered, queen Aemma was with child again, and commoners and nobles alike awaited the birth of a little prince, an heir to wear his father’s crown and put an end to the question of succession for good and for all. Alas! That was not to be. Good queen Aemma perished in her labors, and her son followed her soon after. And that was when Father began his scheming, though, at the time, I did not see it for what it truly was. 

A ploy to put me in the king’s bed as his new queen and secure more power for himself.

“I would like for you to seek out the king,” he had said, “and offer him comfort. Viserys is plagued with grief. He will be glad to have a kindly visitor. And Alicent? Be sure one of your mother’s dresses when you call on him.”

As strange as it was, I thought nothing of his request to garb myself in one of my lady mother’s dresses. I did as I was bid, because that was what dutiful children did. They obeyed their mother and father in all things. I obeyed my father and listened to him, never questioning him or his motives, even when my own conscience pressed me to do so. And because I listened to him without question and toiled blindly on his behalf, I am now left without a true friend in court and the companion I once considered as dear as a most beloved sister. I am about to wed a man I could neither love nor desire and produce his heirs year after year, all while the cherry blossom tree continues to bloom and my own wishes and dreams slowly wither on the vine. 

Image: Arno Smit/Unsplash

Cherry blossom divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#hotd spring prompts 24 #hotd #alicent hightower #epistolary

[dandylion240]

Mathias shivered at the mention of the woman who had caused him so much pain in the past. “It’s possible…but would she dare come around after last time?” He would never forget the dragon god in action. The crunch of bone. The screams. The knowledge that he was safe. That no matter how ferocious Tony could be he was still his snow dragon. The thought brought a soft smile to his lips. “If it is her,” he couldn’t bring himself to utter her name. “She must have found a source of power…” He swayed a little “she won’t ever stop coming after me.”

Tony pulled Mathias close “it’s possible she has…found a source of power or at least a Sage to do her bidding.”

Mathias wiggled free from Tony’s arms. “She’s always been good at manipulating people.” He gazed out the window “I hoped that she would have become less dangerous since her mermadic powers were stripped …” He rubbed his hands up and down and his arms, suddenly feeling chilled. “How do you know this? Did you see her?” He had images of her lurking outside the window, hiding in the flowers, a snake in the garden.

“Devan saw her in ROM,” he said.

“And you didn’t tell me,” fear made his words more accusatory than he meant them to be.

#mathias drake #tony keeling #ts4 #trail of mermaid tears #simblr #sims story

[callsign-rogueone]

So you can totally ignore this and not even bat an eye lash at this request because I know we should all hate him more then Dain ( not that I hate dain because this boy deserves his arc) but would you ever consider writing for Jack Barlowe? I just see so much potential for angtsyness and a great enemies to lovers espically if reader was a rebel. Or maybe even violets twin and they ended up falling love because reader secretly hated her little sister to?

Again feel free to completely ignore this if you don't feel like writing for him!!

I had to sit with this one for a minute, and I’m still not sure lmao. anyway, here’s some initial thoughts:

the guy is like. public enemy # 1 from the jump. he pushed someone off the parapet, nearly killed Violet there as well, and then tried to kill ever single one of his sparring partners. it’s really hard for me to see him soft and in love, because he’s not really humanized at all in the books besides that one moment where he saves Vi, but I think that was still part of his evil plot lmao

that said, I do see potential for a storyline with a reader just as evil as him.

maybe a year older, already venin herself, and she sees his overwhelming desire for power and his attraction to her, and knows he’d be the perfect underling. she helps turn him by telling him he can be so much stronger if he pulls from the earth… it’s so easy, too, and all that power and raw energy flowing through you feels so good that it can’t be wrong.

hella manipulative, but it works because she knows exactly what he wants (maybe her signet is something psychic? maybe she has two signets, because she bonded the same dragon of a direct descendant? maybe the dragon is evil, too?)

he may be a rabid dog, but she’s holding the leash, and he’s completely devoted to her, to the point of obsession. he does her bidding, carries out her kill orders, etc. total sith vibes, if you know star wars; there are always two, master and apprentice.

and that could get sexy pretty fast. fucked up, but still sexy.

He kneels at your feet, looking up at you with stars in those pretty red-rimmed eyes.

You know exactly what he needs to hear. “Did so good for me, Jack,” you coo, wiping the dead rider’s blood from his cheek with a gentle brush of your thumb. “Think you deserve a reward.”

idk where that came from. actually, I do. from this fanart. they had no business making him that attractive (also, hi Dain 👀)

but if anyone wants me to write it for real, or has other thoughts, let me know 🫣

#liz.txt #answered #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #Jack Barlowe

[remidyal]

Bad Ideas of the Day, part two, the Baddening.

Going to start posting these once a month or so; the prior list is here.

Bad Idea of the Day, too early to be awake but too late to go back to bed edition: Fig, obsessed with finding out who her real dad is and why her mom won't tell her, figures out the truth halfway through freshman year: Gilear is, in fact, an incredibly powerful demon who Arthur Aguefort sealed away into the body of a wood elf and cursed to be the most pathetic imaginable version of himself. Sandra Lynn struck it off with him anyway, but can't risk Gilear actually finding out lest the curse be broken and destruction be wrought and such.

Bad idea of the day, You're Taking This Much Too Seriously edition: The Olympic Games are coming to New York City, against all logic and reason for choosing a host city! Even worse news than the grift and monetary disasters comes along with this, however: dream versions of the Greek Gods start invading Nod and from there start to spread into the waking world, creating the kind of havoc that one would expect from that pantheon.

Bad idea of the day, fake holiday edition: Adaine, in an increasing bid to get away from home more, makes up stranger and stranger holidays that she is obliged to help her party celebrate at night that her parents will believe

Bad idea of the day, Spring Break edition: Preemptively wanting to dodge getting stuck with a shitty quest again this year, the Bad Kids pick their own, travelling to Highcourt to handle a dispute regarding an arranged marriage between two of the ruling families. Are the bad kids the right group to send in when you need to create a semblence of love?

Bad idea of the day, you'll get stuck that way edition: Following yet another unwise use of disguise self, Fig is alarmed to realize that she cannot dismiss the spell and she appears to be someone who is going to have a lot of problems (Your pick of who, because honestly she regularly turns into horrific choices to be, probably reached at its peak when within like a day she turns into Arthur around Ayda and then into Arianwen around Adaine and Aelwyn)

Bad idea of the day, charts and graphs edition: Riz, in the time before Aguefort, manages to accidentally lay out his conspiracy board in exactly the right arcane pattern to offer to pact himself to the nearest being with power enough to take the deal: Kalina.

Bad idea of the day, bad idea of the day edition: A fic following a week in the life of Fig from the point of view of each of her friends trying to talk or trick her out of doing something insane and reckless that might get them all hurt or humiliated.

Bad idea of the day, ASO edition, spoilers through finale: In an attempt to follow Margaret's path of gaining money after leaving UFTP, Lucienne Rex uses her new profession to enter the galaxy's most deadly and rewarding cooking contest, the Battle of the Blends.

Bad idea of the day, FDA edition: The Bad Kids are forced to admit to failure when they all contract severe food poisoning from spoiled crab and shrimp, handing the victory to the nightmare king through default

Bad idea of the day, don't mix the pasta and the antipasti edition: Riz and Sklonda discover, to their horror, that dragons pass their power on after death through their flesh and now both of them have a minor problem that any time they're too excited or even just breath too deeply they're suddenly quite literally spitting fire. Can they deal with this while living in an apartment building with no sprinklers, smoke detectors, or fire escapes?

Bad idea of the day, do you have any idea how much a 2-foot diameter glass orb weighs edition: Adaine is, it turns out, every bit as bad at magic as her parents claim, mostly because of a complete lack of confidence. However, she learns in a hurry after killing people with a ladle, her magical focus, and then her bare hands, she's a freaking natural at improvised weapons. (Almost certainly eventually a monk classswap) Though honestly it might be funnier if she just kept taking wizard levels and being bad at that part of things

Bad idea of the day, overly dangerous summer jobs edition: Fabian, having given away ALL of his money to remove a curse, takes on the single most lethal job in all of elmville, that thin line between civilization and chaos, delivering pizza on the Hangman. Can he make it through three months of nights with a town full of hungry adventurers ordering food without getting himself killed, and can he make enough in tips to pay for the property taxes for the year on Seacaster Manor?

Bad idea of the day, reality show edition: The Bad Kids need to infiltrate a singing contest for a quest, but Fig and Gorgug are well known professionals, Kristen and Adaine are famous for other reasons, and Fabian is disqualified for having Bard levels. Can Fig coach Riz into not getting disqualified before they can complete their quest?

Bad idea of the day, mom joke edition: Pete the Plug is taking a rare trip outside of the city of New York in order to relax when, in an emergency situation out of a bajillion 80s and 90s movies, both the pilot and copilot are rendered unable to fly the plane. With radio communication out and none of the computer functions work, Pete is forced to rely on a new spell he just got working to manually operate the aircraft: Plane Shift.

Bad idea of the day, Starstruck finale edition: Inspired by Riva's words at their wedding, Bambi and Plug search for three more soulmates who they can love fiercely enough to spawn ten thousand children.

Bad idea of the day, A Courtroom of Fey and Flowers edition: Can judge Andhera and his loyal, eager baliff KP Hob manage to keep the dignity of the court as they try a case of family drama between a grandfather and his rackish grandchildren? Why does the peppy district attorney Gwendolyn Thistlehop seem to be hiding some sort of strange secret? Can he just get through the trial without embarrassing himself by revealing that he never really wanted this job?

No. No, he can't.

#dimension 20 #fanfic #ideas #starstruck odyssey #spoilers #fantasy high #a court of fey and flowers #the unsleeping city