#scream queen savage

[gregorycddie]

what i’m listening to atm: Queen - Death on Two Legs

Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied? Do you feel like suicide? (I think you should)

#i knew the story of this song was savage but i had never listened to it #come to find out it's an absolute bop on top of that #queen #death on two legs #atm #there's smthg really joyous about screaming i think you should

[germiyahu]

There's such an intricate interplay between antisemitism and islamophobia from the slacktivist left. For every reason they can think of to delegitimize the Jewish People's connection to Eretz Yisrael, it's propped up by some Noble Savage presumptions about Palestinians/Arabs/Muslims.

Since Jews in America are seen as a model minority, seen as having accessed whiteness and privilege, and "antisemitism" is at worst having to explain what Hanukah is to clueless Christians, the Left is confused as to exactly why Jews care about Jerusalem and the Land of Israel so much. Shouldn't they be above such petty and barbaric and outdated concerns such as a dusty old book from 2,000 years ago?

They should be more enlightened than that. They're all rich suburban secular Democrats. They're the leftist religion, according to bloggers on this very platform. There is no room for Judaism to be a religion, there's no acknowledgment of ancient customs, rituals, and the deep mysticism that's still alive and well in the Jewish community. There's no attempt to understand Jewish history and culture and why a group of people you think shares your vaguely atheistic vaguely liberal (and not in the Tankie sense) vaguely smug detached Western worldview... is more complex and unique than that.

Jews should be happy living in Diaspora because clearly the problem of antisemitism is fixed now, and never really was a problem in America. There must be something sinister behind a desire to reestablish a country by and for Jews. There must be something colonial, oppressive, European and White about it. Because why else would they do it? They have it good here. And no we won't acknowledge where Israelis primarily descend from because that requires us to do research and have a shred of nuance and integrity when it comes to Jews. No thanks!

A lot of the modern left is nonconsensually dragging Jews kicking and screaming from their own unique demographic toward the banal Norm. To themselves. But not totally. See they think they relate to Jews and vice versa, but not enough that when they think Jews should "know better," or haven't "learned their lesson," from the Holocaust, it engenders a deep seeded disgust and mistrust and rage that's not felt for actually privileged mainstream dominant society.

Conversely, the slacktivist Left sees Arabs as savages. Silly desert people who eat sand and worship a big black cube and cover every inch of their bodies for some reason. How quaint! When the Palestinian/Arab/Muslim cause explains that Jerusalem is important to them, the White Western Leftist nods sagely and says "Your culture is so valid queen," because they don't care. They just accept that Muslim society would be willing to fight over an ancient city proscribed as holy in dusty old tomes. Because that fits the narrative already surrounding Muslims.

They're seen as backwards, but the Left, reacting to their conservative parents and the Bush era, see "Muslims are backwards," and says not "No actually they're modern groups of people with practical geopolitical goals," but instead "Yeah and that makes them better than us!" Especially with this new crop of baby Leftists who think Islamo-Fascist "Feudalism" or whatever the best term would be, is aspirational or at least harmless... because it's not capitalism :)

So Muslims are infantilized and condescended to because the Western Leftist is still just as racist as their parents, but they feel guilty about their parents without considering their contribution to White Supremacy and the Post Bush surveillance state. And all the while Jews are reprimanded and held to an impossible standard because the Western Leftist, again, rejects their conservative parents' philosemitism, and decides that Jews Must be Punished when they step off the pedestal that Suffering the Shoah placed them on.

Jews should be above nationalism, Jews should know that demurely suffering pogroms and ethnic cleansing and genocide and general inequity and humiliation will earn them their divine reward in the end. Muslims should not be above nationalism, because they're not capable of being above it, and can't we throw them a bone, after all Obama was the worst president in history because of the Drone War and let's not mention George W Bush at all :0

Hot take, but I believe this is an essential underpinning of where the average disaffected White millennial/zoomer Leftist's head is at with regard to Israel and Palestine. They won't acknowledge it of course, but I can generally see through things like this.

#jumblr #israel #palestine #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #islamophobia

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

The Dragon and his Wolf

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!Stark!reader

Warnings: Daemon and his pure Valyrian blood obsession, he is a bit of an ass in the beginning, becomes obsessed after, sassy Stark reader, smut

Summary: Daemon always prided himself with the knowledge of having pure Valyrian blood. The wish of his grandmother changes his views drastically.

Daemon always prided himself with the knowledge of having pure Valyrian blood. He always proclaimed his wife would be the same. A woman of pure Valyrian descendants. Until his grandsire, King Jaehaerys betrothed him to a savage. A woman of the North. A wolf. A Stark. It was the wish of his late grandmother, Queen Alysenne, for one of her grandchildren to be bonded with her beloved North.

He was taken aback. Screaming to not marry her. Claiming he would rather cut off his cock then marry a savage wolf of the North. King Jaehaerys looked at his grandson with anger flowing through him. “You will as I say. Or you will be offered to Castle Black.” His voice boomed through the throne room. Begrudgingly he bowed to his grandsire and king’s demand. Daemon seethed quietly swearing every Valyrian curse word he knew under his breath.

Prince Baelon, Daemon’s father, took his son’s shoulder and escorted him out to the courtyard. He led him to the training grounds and threw him a wooden sword. “Come on. Let’s spar. I haven’t seen you hold a sword in a long time.” He grinned at his younger son.

Daemon scoffed at the training sword. He hadn’t held a training sword in his hands since he was nine years old. Now ten years later he had Dark Sister, his family’s ancestral sword. “These swords are shit, father.” Baelon laughed. “You can’t be so picky when you are on the battlefield surrounded by enemies and you lose your sword. You have to take the nearest sword,” He swung at his son with another training sword. Daemon blocked immediately. “Or you will be dead.”

Baelon smiled proudly as Daemon blocked his blow. “I am proud of you. I hope you know that.” Daemon grinned at his father’s soft words. “I know father.”

Meanwhile in Winterfell resided Daemon’s bride. A quiet, timid thing. Her father wanted to shield her from anything he could but an order from the King was an order. Starks were known to never break an oath.

So she was packed and shipped off to King’s Landing a fortnight after the letter of the king arrived. A carriage ride so long the young Lady Stark wished she could have flown with a dragon.

The first meeting with Prince Daemon was unpleasant, to say the least. He made no attempts to converse as both of them strolled through the gardens. He didn’t even so much as look at the young lady.

Hurt and anger bubbled up inside her chest. Emotions she rarely brought forward. The young Stark stopped in her tracks and turned to her betrothed. “Have I done anything to upset you, Prince Daemon? Given you a reason to be cross with me?” Anger was sparkling in her icy eyes as Daemon looked at her.

He raised an eyebrow but went on. Not answering his betrothed questions. She looked away from him. Her anger brewed quietly as she walked on. The awkward situation going on for hours.

His behaviour towards his betrothed went on even until their wedding. He ignored her, dismissed her, and never listened, to or answered her questions. The young lady felt smaller than she ever had. Which Daemon saw and liked. He wanted to break the savage, young wolf. He heard about the proud Starks of the North. He wanted to break her; show the Starks they gave him the weakest wolf of the pack.

But she knew better. And slowly she turned the tables on her betrothed. Every time Daemon called upon her, she would decline. Saying she wasn’t feeling well or she needed to prepare for the wedding. Sometimes even giving some lazy excuses like attending an afternoon tea with the ladies of the court. Most of the time she lied so she wouldn’t have to face her betrothed. It was a repeating occurrence she would sit in the library in an armchair in a far corner of the impressive room. What she didn’t know was this corner was Daemon’s.

Daemon became frustrated shortly after the third rejection. He couldn’t play with her feelings today. Which frustrated him to no end. Not even the whore in front of him gave him the kick he needed. His mind drifted off to her. He imagined the young Stark being held down by the neck while he drove inside of her.

The woman’s moans became hers. The woman’s begging became hers. Her skin and hair turned into his betrothed’s. Daemon reached his peak faster than ever before. He pulled out, releasing his seed on the woman’s back. As he looked at the woman, he imagined how she would look with his seed on her back. Or how the sight of his spend leaking out of her cunny would look like. He wondered how fertile northern women were to other Westerosi women.

His mind whirled around until it came to a shrieking halt. The she-wolf had entered his mind and made residence there. Tormenting him every waking hour. She began to even plague his dreams. Sometimes he would only dream about her in different scenarios. Like when she smiled softly, a soft blush on your cheeks as she tried to converse with him.

And some nights, he dreamed about their impending wedding night. How she looked up at him, pupils blown mouth open as she softly moaned his name. How she would gasp when he drove into her. How she would cling to him for support. How her back would arch or how she would look on top of him. Riding him.

He woke up after those dreams fairly hard and aching. Yearning to be touched, but not by anyone except his she-wolf.

Lady Stark sat in the library reading when she felt a presence standing in the room. She looked up and saw a bewildered Daemon with a book nearly falling out of his hand. “Something wrong, Prince Daemon?” She softly whispered. Daemon couldn’t answer her right away. He looked at the book and read the title. History of old Valyria. He didn’t know his future lady wife had an interest in history. But then he remembered he didn’t know her at all.

“A history book. Are you interested in a time before us?” He sounded meek which made the corners of her lips quirk. But the young lady didn’t want to be as mean as him. So she indulged in the conversation. “Yes, very much. I find it fascinating to learn from what our ancestors did so we would end up here where we are. Maybe even learn from their mistakes.”

Daemon’s eyes widen. She was young, one and six to be precise. But wiser than some Septons would ever be. More mature than him with his ten and eight. His father often said he was still a boy learning. And his father was right, he was still a boy learning. Learning about his future spouse.

He now saw how immature and juvenile his actions were until now. Drinking until the early morning and blacking out. Indulging in carnal acts with prostitutes. He was once proud of being called Prince of Flea Bottom, the Rouge Prince. But now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He wanted her to be proud of him. He needs the approval of her. In the last few weeks, he became obsessed with his Lady Stark.

“May I sit with you? Mayhaps show you more books on the subject of old Valyria?” She smiled softly making his heart flutter. Seeing he would change. Princess Aemma was right. Daemon could change when a mirror was held in front of him.

The wedding was granted. Nearly every house in Westeros attended. But Daemon ignored them all. He had only eyes for her. His bride, his wolf. He never told her about his nickname for her. Only said it in his head or the safety of his room as he pleasured himself to the image of his wolf.

He was embarrassed by how many times he had to leave their meetings to relieve himself and his aching cock. Only a soft touch from his bride could set him ablaze with desire. He felt slightly embarrassed. Something he wouldn’t like to admit, especially not to the object of his desires and fantasies.

The ceremony was too long for Daemon’s taste. He could have gone only with the cloaking ceremony and the exchange of vows and be done with it but this wedding was also for show. His betrothed looked so otherworldly as she stood in front of him. He could only gaze into her beautiful eyes. He wished he could drown in them.

Before the High Septon was finished declaring them man and wife in front of the attending people and the gods, Daemon already sealed their lips together. It seemed like an innocent kiss, but Daemon’s hunger was laced into it. She could feel it.

At the feast she danced, laughed, drank, and ate with her new husband. They had grown closer over the last weeks. Forming a bond similar to a friendship but not quite. Sharing their love for history and myths as they sat in the library for hours.

Daemon’s eyes never left his wife’s form. He was engrossed by her completely. He never left her side and always had a hand on her body. She liked the attention from him. For once she knew he appreciated her.

The feast was slowly winding to an end. But for Daemon the night only began. He led her to their marital chambers with a firm hand, eager to get his wife alone. To see her out of her dress. Claim her body, claim her as his.

As the door closed, Daemon stood behind her, pulling her to his front. “I have waited for so long to get you alone.” Shivers ran down the young woman’s spine as his smooth voice flew in her ear. Daemon’s hands ran up from her stomach, over her rips and under her boobs.

Her breath hitched. “So responsive, zoklītsos.” Little wolf. His hand wandered further up. He cupped Her breasts softly, squeezing them a bit. She let out a soft moan. Daemon smirked. “Tell me, zoklītsos, are you ready to play with fire?” Her breath came out in shallow breaths. A whine escaped her lips.

His free hand reached for his dagger on his side. He unsheathed it, cutting open the laces of her dress in one swift motion. She gasped loudly as the dress loosened on her body and fell to the floor in a heap. Daemon’s grin widened.

Her arms tried to cover her chest as the fabrics on her body were ripped from her. But Daemon already covered them with his warm, large hands. “Don’t you dare cover yourself?” He whispered hotly into her ear. Biting the shell of her ear. “I want to see it in all its glory.” He mouthed at her neck, biting down harshly. Leaving his mark on her skin.

A small whimper escaped Her lips. Shivers ran up and down her spine. “Iksan vaoreznuni, valzȳrys.” I am sorry, husband. She whispered into his neck. Her lips ghosted over his jaw as she tried to compose herself. “Valyrīha? ao ȳdra daor jorrāelagon naejot seduce nyke dombo.” Valyrian? You don't need to seduce me anymore. He huskily whispered against her temple.

One hand slipped from her breast and trailed down between her legs. He ghosted his fingers over the patch of hair before he softly cupped her mount. “I have imagined this, she-wolf. How you looked. How you sound. All those little whimpers.” He mouthed at her jaw. “But most of the time I imagined your little cunny. All wet and tripping for me. Ready for me to plough you.”

A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.” Daemon chuckled. “You will not. You will never disappoint, ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

Main Masterlist

Can't get enough? Tell me about it...

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon prince #prince daemon targaryen

[goryhorroor]

What are some underrated horror films? I have watched all the popular ones and need more! Thanks!

mentally prepare yourself because im ready to give a gumbo list (this has been sitting in my inbox because i had to ask all my friends and this is the list we came up with):

curse of the demon (1957) the serpent and the rainbow (1988) paranoiac (1963) the old dark house (1932) countess dracula (1971) golem (1920) haxan (1968) island of lost souls (1932) mad love (1935) mill of the stone women (1960) the walking dead (1936) the ghoul (1933) tourist trap (1979) the seventh victim (1943) ganja & hess (1973) dead of night (1945) a bay of blood (1971) let's scare jessica to death (1971) alice sweet alice (1976) the deadly spawn (1983) the brain that wouldn't die (1962) all about evil (2010) black roses (1988) the baby (1973) parents (1989) a blade in the dark (1983) blood lake (1987) solo survivor (1984) lemora: a child's tale of supernatural (1973) eyes of fire (1983) epitaph (2007) nightmare city (1980) slugs (1988) death smiles on a murderer (1973) intruder (1989) short night of glass dolls (1971) the children (2008) alone in the dark (1982) end of the line (2007) the queen of spades (1949) the housemaid (1960) tormented (1960) captain clegg (1962) the long hair of death (1964) dark age (1987) the crawling eye (1958) the kindred (1987) the gorgon (1964) wicked city (1987) baba yaga (1973) 976-evil (1988) bliss (2019) decoder (1984) amer (2009) the visitor (1979) day of the animals (1977) leptirica (1973) planet of the vampires (1965) lips of blood (1975) berberian sound studio (2012) a wounded fawn (2022) matango (1963) the mansion of madness (1973) the killing kind (1973) symptoms (1974) morgiana (1972) whispering corridors (1998) dead end (2003) infested (2023) (this just came out but im adding it) triangle (2009) the premonition (1976) you'll like my mother (1972) the mafu cage (1978) white of the eye (1987) mister designer (1987) alison's birthday (1981) the suckling (1990) graveyard shift (1987) messiah of evil (1987) out of the dark (1988) seven footprints to satan (1929) burn witch burn (1962) the damned (1962) pin (1988) horrors of malformed men (1969) mr vampire (1985) the vampire doll (1970) contracted (2013) impetigore (2019) eyeball (1975) malatestas carnival of blood (1973) the witch who came from the sea (1976) i drink your blood (1970) nothing underneath (1985) sauna (2008) seance (2000) come true (2020) the last winter (2006) night tide (1961) the brain (1988) dementia (1955) don't go to sleep (1982) otogirisou (2001) reincarnation (2005) mutant (1984) spookies (1986) shock waves (1977) bloody hell (2020) the den (2013) wer (2013) olivia (1983) enigma (1987) graverobbers (1988) manhattan baby (1982) evil in the woods (1986) death bed: the bed that eats (1977) cathy's curse (1977) creatures from the abyss (1994) the dorm that dripped blood (1982) the witching (1993) madman (1981) vampire's embrace (1991) blood beat (1983) the alien factor (1978) savage weekend (1979) blood sisters (1987) deadly love (1987) playroom (1990) die screaming marianne (1971) pledge night (1990) night train to terror (1985) the devonsville terror (1983) ghostkeeper (1981) special effects (1984) blood feast (163) the child (1977) godmonster of indian flats (1973) blood rage (1980) the unborn (1991) screamtime (1983) the outing (1987) the being (1983) silent madness (1984) lurkers (1988) forver evil (1987) squirm (1976) death screams (1982) jack-o (1995) haunts (1976) a night to dismember (1983) creaturealm: demons wake (1998) the curse (1987) daddy's deadly darling (1973) nightwing (1979) the laughing dead (1989) the severed arm (1973) the orphan (1979) not like us (1995) prime evil (1988) the monstrosity (1987) dark ride (2006) antibirth (2016) iced (1988) the soultangler (1987) twisted nightmare (1987) puffball (2007) biohazard (1985) cameron's closet (1988) beast from haunted cave (1959) the she-creature (1956)

#answered #horror #horror movies

[barbieaemond]

Intrusion (part I)

moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: (modern) Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!reader

WARNINGS: angst, Aemond has no filter, drug use (very brief), mentions of overdose, suggestive themes, sexual tension (sadly nothing more but part II will be a helluva ride)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sothoryos is a large continent in Martin’s universe. It is located below Essos.

WORD COUNT: 7k

Song for this fic:

taglist: @zae5 @chompchompluke @multyfangirl

“What’s up with the green light?”

Jason's voice came distantly, even though he was sitting right next to her. She looked up through her long eyelashes, scanning the mighty, green-lit Hightower from top to bottom, an emerald glow kissed her face.

“How dumb are you? It was a beacon once.” She said mindlessly, dragging her eyes away from the car window to watch her brother crouched on a little mirror with three lines of white powder on it.

“D’you want some?”

“I’m done with that shit.”

“I should hope so.” He chuckled, rolling a banknote between his fingers with the expertise of a magician ready to do his trick. “Dad is still paying the hospital to keep their mouth shut. Not to mention the papers…”

She heard him snort the substance, humming with delight as it reached his brain. She looked at him for a moment, green just like the glowing light on her face. It was so easy for Jason to surrender to the void. She struggled to do even that.

“Speaking of which” he said wiping his nose “he could’ve bothered to come.”

“And watch Otto Hightower gloat in his face? Dad would rather throw checks to the homeless.”

“Why are we here then?” he asked as the car stopped in front of the huge, tall building, the tallest in all the continent.

“Because he wants to remind everyone we are still the wealthiest in this wretched world.” She said she grabbed her little purse and got out of the fancy car as soon as the driver opened her door.

Blinding lights fell on her as photographers took note that the Lannister family had sent its scions to attend the annual Gala held by the Hightowers. A party that had always been held in the capital in the previous years, at least until what the newspapers had called the divorce of the century.

“I would not be so sure about that.” Jason said, squinting his eyes in front of the ruthless flashes. “Papers say Viserys is going to pay a fortune, for alimony and all that shit.”

“Miss Lannister! Here, please! On your right!”

She built a broad smile for the photographers, maneuvering her hair to let it slide down her shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. A well-thought-out act, repeated incessantly for as long as she could remember. A beautiful machine doll bathed in gold and diamonds.

“Do you still read papers?” she asked, not breaking her plastic smile.

“How else should I find out if I've done something illegal?”

“They’re a reliable source on that, less on others. They claim I had a thing with Cregan Stark when even walls know he’s gay.”

They claimed many other things. But she never confirmed or denied the rumors, because it was all part of the plan.

Any rumor of an alleged flirt or talk of an engagement with a scion from one of the old power families of the country only increased the height of the pedestal on which her father and mother had placed her. So that when rumors died, the vultures would come even more savage, raising the stakes to win the most coveted prize in their circle of starched shirts and centuries-old privileges that no longer had any value except in the small, greedy world inside their small, greedy heads.

She moved, swiftly but graciously, and stepped inside the building, followed by her brother and his giggles, and the photographers screaming at the top of their lungs, begging for another picture—just one more. The begging had started already.

The Hall of the Hightower Palace was a sight to behold. Adorned with green and dark tones, crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings and yellow cocktail music pushing all the fine-dressed people to chat and laugh more loudly as if they unconsciously tried to imitate the lively ups and downs of the notes.

The Lannisters lingered on the entrance, immediately catching many pairs of eyes, greedy and green as the decorations around them.

“Are they waiting for us to go greet them?” Jason asked, watching the Hightowers at the center of the Hall. “Gods, why do they always act as if they were royals and us merely subjects?”

"Apparently, it has been proven they have hints of blue in their blood.”

“Who’s the blondie?” he asked, taking his sister’s arm as they walked towards the hosts.

“Helaena Targaryen.”

“Oh! The freak?”

“She’s not a freak. She’s a renowned entomologist.”

“And my point stands.”

Miss Lannister knew all the four Hightowers waiting to be greeted. After all, who didn't?

Otto Hightower was the most influential man in the country, although he liked to hide and pull his strings behind the curtains. They said that family and strangers made no difference to him. His daughter Alicent would agree with a stiff lip.

She wore the most lavish dress of all, but that was not what caught the eye, but rather the determination in her gaze and the way she stood. A woman free from the chains of a marriage she had never wanted.

“It is a pleasure to have both of you here.” She said smiling at the two Lannisters. Her father Otto was towering just behind her, a curious look on his face as his eyes rapidly scanned Miss Lannister.

In fact, he stepped in, saying “Indeed, Alicent. Especially Miss Lannister. I’m relieved to see you well.”

After what happened in Pyke, was the part he deliberately omitted.

The young woman looked at him, unfazed, building another one of her plastic smiles and then directed her attention to the youngest son of Alicent and Viserys Targaryen. Daeron.

The boy was no more than twenty, but he had a way of standing and carrying himself, which gave him at least five more years. That was the price of being doomed to inherit a heavy family name and all within it. The young Lannister girl understood it all too well.

As for Helaena, she seemed the most out-of-place creature, like watching a dolphin swim along sharks. The Lannister girl didn’t know her that much; truthfully no one did. Helaena was always far away from the country for her studies, traveling to the edge of the world to discover wild and rare creatures. She had a way of avoiding eye contact, Miss Lannister noticed, if not for brief and furtive glances, as if she was afraid that if she looked too much, she would see too much.

“And you don’t call that a freak?” Jason asked once they moved away from the Hightowers.

“You are just sour because she barely looked at you.” his sister answered, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hey. I’m nice to look at!” he said gesturing to his figure.

“You tell yourself that.” she sipped her bubbly like water, barely tasting it, as her eyes roamed around the lavish hall, watching the same old play unfold, with the same old puppets. And she was one of them, perhaps the main star, ready to follow the script and never stray from it. It was her purpose in life. A well-trained parrot with a melodic laugh and the stillness of a porcelain doll.

She looked around and saw the eagerness, the anticipation as they bided their time before flocking to her, begging for flesh and money and power, each one of them so eager to sell one piece of themselves to be on a golden plate, the very same on which everything was always freely given to her. Things, places, people. The Golden Girl, they called her. She was born in it, she reflected it. She never had to ask, she never had to beg for anything. While everyone around her seemed to be able to do nothing else.

"Miss Lannister, we would love to have you as our guest in High Garden. Please, consider our invitation."

"Miss Lannister, did your father receive the gift I sent him last week? Please, have him contact me as soon as possible, I have another proposal for a collaboration."

"Miss Lannister, please, convince your father not to cut off the funds, I wouldn't know what to do without the invaluable support of your bank.”

“Miss Lannister, please—"

Please. Please. Please. Please.

They all came muffled, the beggars and their begging, as if speaking from the surface while she was deep down underwater, floating. Then the puppet would take over, moving haughtily and mischievously, promising lies with empty smiles and stolen words. The same old power play, to tell the world the Lannisters were far above it.

But amid the muffled chatter and greedy eyes, there was one in particular, stripped of all reverence, blue and cold as the eye of the scientist dissecting something under a microscope.

He had placed her under the lens out of pure boredom.

He never attended these kinds of gatherings, at least not after Sothoryos, not after Floris. He was there only because his mother had insisted, almost pleaded with him. This was the first public event after the divorce. It was essential to appear close, united.

The word tasted rotten in Aemond's mouth.

He had made sure Aegon would not attend, and had come in through the back, creeping into the hall like a spectre.

Alicent had seen him at once, her eyes widening with surprise as if she were certain he would not come. And they had barely talked.

She had kissed him on the cheeks with that look in her eyes, the one that rose tenderness and contempt at once inside him, twin flames mirroring and dancing around each other. His mother's lips opened and closed repeatedly, like a record needle cutting the same groove on and on without making a sound. And he had no desire to fix that.

Once, maybe. He had nurtured so many unspoken words that they had ended up souring and festering the more he held them back, locked in a dark corner where no light filtered. So, his mouth stayed sealed and silent, like a tomb.

He had withdrawn to a corner of the hall, watching as the people lingered with their gazes on his dead eye, half curious, half scared. Something he was all too used to. He found himself cursing under his breath for wasting time in such a vapid and useless way. He could have been at home, studying, or working in the basement.

But then he had spotted her.

It was hard not to.

The moment she had entered the hall with her brother, it seemed she had drawn all attention to herself, absorbing all the light from the chandeliers. It seemed that her golden dress was truly made of gold.

Aemond had seen her once or twice in the past and each time, two distinct thoughts had rapidly crossed his mind.

First: that she was a pretty doll with more money in her pocket than cells in her brain.

Second: that he wouldn't mind taking her doll's clothes off.

No man with sense would have denied her beauty, but the more he looked at her, the more he saw how dry she was, how cold, like a sculpture doomed to live the same moment forever.

It was all scene, all pose. And Aemond understood it at once since he himself had enacted the same play in the years past. He knew what it meant to be an inanimate thing waiting to be moved by others, for duty or loyalty. Things that had lost all meaning to him once he’d found out that the more he latched on these things, the more hollow he felt.  

He watched the Lannister girl build fake smiles at each turn and he found himself grimacing, feeling pity for her, almost contempt. Perhaps she was just a tool, an extension of his former self for him to loathe, like spitting into a mirror.

But he just couldn’t stop watching.

She had a way of making the place where she stood like some kind of holy shrine and everyone around her kept scrambling to fall at her feet. She had a way of moving, slowly, like a creature living underwater. She would lean forward as she listened to people, only to retreat when it was her turn to speak, and she did it quietly, making the privileged speaker unconsciously lean towards her.

A tactic—a working tactic, though. Because Aemond had found himself craning his neck forward more than he would’ve liked to admit, and he wasn't even close to her.

“Choosing your next victim?”

He turned on his blind side as Helaena stopped beside him, handing a flute of champagne.

“Hāedar.” he said, taking the glass “Don’t say that. With all the shit they say about me, tomorrow they might title I’m a serial killer.”

“Well, you do have a dank basement in your place. And with the way you keep looking at the Lannister girl, it would be hard to beat the allegations.”

He looked down at the sizzling bubbles and curled his lips. Helaena did the same as her blue eyes scanned his face. Of all her brothers, she had always had the closest bond with Aemond. Born only one year apart, they had grown up as close as twins. Helaena did not look down when she talked to Aemond; she did not stutter or struggle to voice her thoughts as she did with anyone else. And his lips, which struggled so much to voice his emotions, always curled up in the most spontaneous way when they spent time together.

“You won’t get away with a smile, though.” She pointed out after a sip of bubbly “You barely talked to me earlier.”

“I was afraid our mother would stir up a hornet’s nest seeing me here.”

“She was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“I shouldn’t have. This place smells of coffin.” 

She watched him for a moment, trying to guess his mood and, therefore, whether it was a good time to speak. “Did you get my message last week?”

His eye remained fixed on the elated crowd, but Helaena didn’t miss the slight twitch in his lips. “I did.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“What was there to say?”

“Aemond, I know you have your grudges, but... he’s our father and he’s severely ill. He wants to see us, all of us, at Summerhall, next month. I want to believe he’s changing and—”

“Must I remind you what happened the last time we had a family heart to heart?”

She did nothing but cast a single, saddened glance to his dead eye and all her willingness to talk and try to make things better withered like a leaf in a frosted land.

“He’s changing because he already has one foot in the grave. Quit the fancy words, Hel, he’s not changing. He’s just trying to relieve his conscience. A bit late for that, no?” and he downed his champagne in one gulp.

“Aem—”

“I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t care.” He said, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket and placing one cigarette between his lips. He glanced one last time at his sister and with the coldest distance he said “But do let me know when he dies. I'll toast to that.”

She had had three flutes of champagne while talking to a countless number of faceless beggars when she started to feel nauseated. She didn’t even know by what, whether it was the champagne, the people, or herself. Perhaps all of them.

The cold night air embraced her as she went out on the terrace, making the hairs on her arms stand and her half-covered spine shiver. She had not brought her coat with her, but she did not mind. The cold awoke her from her torpor, made her stop being a relic on a mantelpiece.

She slipped a cigarette between her lips and looked into her purse for the lighter. "No, no, no—" she said to no one, frantically feeling every nook and cranny of the purse. "Fuck!"

"Here."

She jumped, turning her head just in time to see a lighter flying towards her. She caught it, staring at the dark corner on her left. There was a man sitting there, wrapped by the shadows, except for a thin white hand laying on the table, long fingers, and half a cigarette resting between index and middle.

She squinted, trying to get a better look. “I can’t see you.”

“I do.”

It was just a simple statement, but his tone was strange, riddled with an edge of shrewdness.

She stared at the dark figure for a moment longer, then lit her cigarette and walked a few steps closer.

"I would like to know who I'm speaking to, stranger." She said, handing over the lighter.

A moment later the shadow stood up, and she had to lift her chin as she watched the glow of the lamps unraveling his face, sharp like a knife. The air hitched in her throat, her gaze inevitably caught by the blue of his eye, as well as the dead blue of the prosthetic. "Oh."

His arched mouth bent upwards. "Define your oh."

“It’s just a oh, you’re not a stranger after all.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, curiously tilting his head with a ghosting grin “What do you think you know about me? Aside from what you read on gossip papers.”

“I don’t read gossip papers.”

“Yes, you do. All the girls like you do that.”

“All the girls like me?”

“Dolls with a trust fund to squander before forty.”

She raised her eyebrows, quickly scanning the young man before her. He was clad in black, with a black turtleneck and a leather jacket, accentuating his sharp features and pale face framed by short hair, a bit curly but neatly styled. “You’re the one to talk, Mr. I have blue blood in my veins.”

“I don’t work for my family.” He said matter-of-factly “They don’t pay my rent and they don’t cover up my shit.”

“Mine neither.”

His eyebrow raising was enough to dismantle her lie right away. “Papers say otherwise.”

“Do you trust papers and their cheap rumors?”

“Hmm. Trust is a strong word. But true or false, rumors are often more revealing than facts.” he took a long drag on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes and she watched as the dead one remained unnaturally still. It was not disturbing, she thought. It gave him a sinister allure, catching her off guard.

“Then I should believe all the rumors about you and your...charming mystery.”

“They say I’m charming now?” he asked with a smirk.

“I believe they called you a sphinx” she deadpanned “before claiming you hit a journalist, a woman.”

“And which one do you think is more likely?”

She looked at him uncertainly. Well, he was charming. But he was a lot more mysterious. More than a sphinx, Aemond Targaryen was a living riddle.

Even before the accident in Sothoryos, from where he returned with an eye missing, the second-born son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower was a foggy figure, often in the shadows, more than often in the shadows of someone else, his half-sister Rhaenyra, his older brother Aegon. And after Sothoryos, he seemed to have grown his own shadows, distancing himself from his family and dropping his academic career to do Gods-know-what in a small flat in the oldest quarter of Oldtown.

“Both?” she dared.

He clicked his tongue, looking away with disappointment, and flicked the cigarette. “Too easy. And now you’re boring me.”

“I shall take my leave, then.” she chirped with a tight smile.

“Don’t expect me to follow you. I am not one of those wankers inside who come in their pants as you bat your fake eyelashes.”

The smile left her face instantly, and she glared at him, throwing her half-cigarette on the ground. “It is true, then. Royals do act like the rudest jerks.”

Instead of looking offended, her words seemed to do nothing but tickle his pride—some kind of gratification that poured like poison from the angles of his mouth. “I don’t act. But if I wanted to, I'd know who to turn to.”

“Meaning?” 

“And you keep boring me.” his eye went momentarily below her neck, and he tilted his chin “Are those pretty diamonds slowing blood to your brain?”

Miss Lannister looked stunned. No one, ever, dared to talk to her like that.

She was used to being praised and begged and praised. A beautiful portrait framed by gold and hung on a wall for all to see. She should have been outraged, she should have used her last name as shield and threat. But for once, she was breathing on her own, free of any strings.

“Are they real?” he asked suddenly, and she stilled as his hand ghosted on her necklace, feeling his cold fingertips hovering above her skin.

“Of course they are.”

“Hmm.” He mused, pulling his hand back as he continued to stare at the necklace and then down at her dress.  “They serve their purpose I’d say.” he said dragging his eye back to her face.

“Slowing my brain?” she asked with a little vitriolic smile.

“Hiding all the fake beneath them.”

“Who are you, a fortune teller?” she spitefully asked. “Do you possess the Third Eye as well as the Fake One?”

“One eye is enough to see right through you, golden girl.”

“And why were you watching me if I am so blatantly obvious?”

He almost shrugged his shoulders. “These parties are dreadfully boring. I was in need of a distraction, and you were hard to miss.”

“I could say the same about you.” Her gaze flicked for an instant to his dead eye. “Except that I don’t hide in dark corners from my own family.”

Whether he was stung by her words or not, his composure remained utterly impassive. A sphinx through and through.

“No. You do it before them.” An amused smile, spiced up with poison, curled his lips. “At least I have the dignity to disappear instead of begging for attention like a pathetic creature.”

Her words did not sting, but his surely did. And they shouldn’t.

They had crossed paths once or twice in the years prior, but effectively, Aemond was but a stranger to her. She wasn’t even aware of him watching her inside the hall, maybe too absorbed in her puppet play, or maybe resigned to scream into a crowded room of deaf mannequins.

She swallowed heavily, not dropping her gaze, waiting for all the gold to shield her, hide her, serving its purpose once more. But Aemond had a strange look in his eye. He was staring at her, and what he saw thrilled him.

He was sure he would see harshness, contempt, but not that. Not…anguish. It was buried in her pretty eyes and yet it just lied there in full sight, the darker shade of abyss beneath the crystalline blue of the deceiving surface.

If only someone had bothered to look.

“You remind me of someone.” he said almost mindlessly.

“Do I dare asking or do you wish to offend me some more?”

He seemed to ponder for a while, looking at her as if he were measuring an opponent.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

He moved, leaving the terrace without waiting for her, sure enough she would follow him. And she did.  

Not immediately, though. She stared at his tall figure as he went back inside and thought she should go back to the party, go back to the script. There was something uncanny, almost eerie about staying close to him, like walking on the thin thread of a cobweb while being dreadfully aware to be walking towards the spider’s bite.

But the dread made her feel alive, made her heart pounding in her throat. So, she followed him.

“I didn’t know your family had it.” She said with a tinge of amazement as they stopped before the painting gloriously exhibited along one of the lavish corridors upstairs. “I thought it got lost during some war.”

“It was.” He said, stopping beside her, eye roaming on the canvas.

“Did I remind you of a lost anonymous painting?”

“You reminded me of the Maiden.” And his eye flicked to the left of the painting. Then he dragged his gaze on her, turning his head, and watched her. “Do you know the story?”

“The myth?”

“You don’t believe it to be true?”

“I don’t believe in Gods. Or myths.”

“That is strange, coming from a girl who spent so much time building her own.”

She turned her head and looked at him. He was smiling subtly, but it was different this time. There was no poison dripping from the angles of his mouth, but the clearest intrigue.

It stopped her heart for a moment. A sudden cut in the canvas, a crack in the porcelain. And she felt that this stranger was peeking inside, or perhaps she was.

Aemond looked back at the painting and laced his arms behind his back, making the leather of his jacket creak. “They said once there was a land inhabited only by Gods and Monsters. The Maiden was the most beautiful Goddess in the Holy Garden. She grew flowers from her hands, trailing behind her as she walked. But she was unhappy. The Gods only sought her for her gift, used her as a piece of ornament. She was beautiful on the outside, but inside—”

“Lonely and hollow.” she filled in.

“Just like the Stranger.” he said, and they turned at the same time, locking their eyes.

Aemond glanced back at the ominous figure in the painting and said “He was not allowed to enter the Gods world. He lived underground, blowing his mortal winds to call the souls into his realm of death. But then he saw her. He dried her tears through his wind until one day—”

“He took her.” she filled in once more. “He used the wind to tie her hands with the flowery branches she grew and kidnapped her from the Holy Garden.”

“Are you sure kidnapped is the right word?”

“According to the myth? Yes. You might have been a great scholar, but I’m not a goat.”

He chuckled quietly, and the sound made her turn again to watch him.

He held her gaze as amusement left his marbled features, and without taking his eye off her, he tilted his chin towards the painting “Look at her. Look at her face and tell me what you see."

She did so, observing the anguish, the dark trepidation on the Maiden’s face.

“She is frightened.”

“Is she?” he asked, and suddenly he was almost behind her. His breath tickled her ear like the wind on a hot summer day, and her breath hitched once more. “Look into her eyes.” he whispered on her nape “Is it fear to be taken…or desire?”

She swallowed, keeping her eyes fixed on the painting, and dug her nails into the expensive fabric of her little purse. “Art is not math.” she said with confidence “There is not one undisputable interpretation.” And she turned to face him “So unless you painted that, and I have some doubts, you say she’s keen on being taken. I say she’s frightened.”

Aemond stared at her for a moment with a strange new look on his face, as if someone had just issued a challenge to him. His blue eye was wide, and the little smirk was peeking through his lips. “Do you ever choose a position, golden girl?”

“I think I just did.”

“Allow me to rephrase, then. A less boring position.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he was faster. “Let me show you something a little less ambiguous.”  

"Wow, these are beautiful," she said as they climbed the stairs to the floor above the one where the glorious anonymous painting stood. On the angled wall, a series of photographs were exhibited—portraits, precisely—all in black and white.

"Are we complimenting each other now?" he asked, halting on a step.

She looked at him doubtfully for a moment before slightly widening her eyes. "What, these are yours?"

He gave her a simple nod, and she looked back at the portraits.

"My mother put them here. Her way to prove she cares, I guess." He said absent-mindedly, as if conversing about the weather. 

The Lannister girl watched him closely, in search of something that would betray such a cold statement, but there were no cracks, no cuts.

"The great mystery unraveled.” She said forcing a dramatic tone “Aemond Targaryen is a photographer."

"I am not. I don’t do it for a living.”

“Yes, because you don’t need a job to get by.”

“Look who’s talking.”

She glared at him, trying with poor success to stifle a smile.

“It's just an interest." He stated.

"A passion." she dared to suggest.

"I wouldn't call it that. Passion preludes emotion, ardor. Photography is nothing like."

She watched him fold his arms behind his back in a peculiar way, grabbing his forearms with his hands. He had done the same thing earlier, in front of the painting. The gesture caught her attention then, as it did now.

"What is it then?" she asked, trailing her eyes back to his face.

He stared at her for an impossible long time before answering. “Revelation.”

She looked back at the portraits and observed them thoroughly. There were some men caught behind the camera, but the majority were all women. Young and beautiful women.

The portraits were majestic, she considered. He had found a way to toy with light which made these people look like glimpses from an otherworldly dimension, flashes of dreams.

No, not dreams, she thought.

The light was cruel, exposing, cutting. And all the subjects seemed to have been caught in a moment of great distress, flowing almost into a grotesque despair.

Flashes of nightmares.  

The sight made her lips part, her skin shiver with eeriness and something else, something she could not name. The same basic instinct that had pushed her to follow him. These people, made eternal by black and white, were dressed, but their souls utterly naked before the eye.

“I wouldn’t call it revelation…”

“And what would you call it?” he asked, stepping beside her to watch the portrait, not missing her little startle when his elbow brushed against hers.

She took a deep, silent breath and turned her head to look at him. "Intrusion.”

“Hmm.” He mused, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket “Intrusion of which kind?”

He placed the cigarette between his lips only to see her hand snatching it away, but slowly, just like she was used to move, so much that her fingertip brushed his upper lip. “Any kind.” she answered and his eye fell on her rosy lips closing around the filter.

His mouth twitched, as if her light brushing had lit his skin aflame, and he moved unconsciously, bringing the lighter close but pausing, his thumb lingering on the little wheel, and he looked at her, just as she looked at him.  

When he pushed his finger to light the flame, the short metallic sound came through with a strange finality, a curtain dropping after the first act.

She lit the cigarette and took a long drag, glancing at the portraits and then back at him. “Did you fuck these women?” 

“No.” was all he said, hiding a little smirk as he slipped another smoke between his lips. He saw her raising her eyebrows with clear disbelief, so he clarified. “Not all of them.”

“I bet they revealed themselves thoroughly.”

“They were more than keen to do it.”

“And did you?” she countered, tilting her head, lowering her voice so that once again, he found himself leaning towards her, like a moth to a flame. “Did you reveal yourself as well? Did you let them intrude?”

“Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.”

She clicked her tongue and laughed—the very first genuine laugh she could conjure up in the span of hours, or even days. “Now you’re just trying to impress me.”

“Yes. And unfortunately for you, it is working.”

She gave him a bemused look at his brazen statement, but she felt strangely exposed under his unblinking stare, a hand ending her ceaseless floating to anchor her against the seabed.

“I want you to come to my place," he said suddenly, his voice kept quiet, almost soft, to the verge of whispering. It wrapped her senses like a soothing lullaby.

“I want to take your picture.”

“Why? To end up on this wall and in your bed like dozens of girls before me?”

“Dozens?” he raised an eyebrow “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

“Hmm” he crooned, cocking his head to one side, a contented expression stretching on his face, much like a cat licking its whiskers. “Envy doesn’t suit a Lannister.”

“Envy?” she repeated, laughing scornfully. “You’re an arrogant brat, has anyone ever told you?”

“Many in fact. So, shall we?”   

“Shall we what?”

“Pity, I thought you had stopped boring me.” He said pocketing his lighter “Stay here playing the doll with those old fogeys, if you like. I’m leaving.”

She had only time to blink and he was gone, leaving her on those steps with the foreign, unsettling longing to follow. Her feet moved on their own, dragging her back to the party with an urgency shaking her bones, pushing her eyes to dart in every corner of the hall, moving amongst the people as if chasing the wind.

“Oh, there you are!” Jason pulled her to him, and she stilled, as she was used to, but everything inside her kept moving. “That Lonmouth smartass came at me screaming like a chicken.” Jason said with cocaine pupils, slurring words after words “as if it’s Dad’s fault that he’s an idiot. Put him in his place, would you? I’m too high, I might stick a fork between his eyes. D’you you want to hear something funny?”

“No, Jason. I don’t.” she replied absently, looking around once more “Listen, did you see Aemond Targaryen?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She said, wriggling herself from his hold, but he was fast to pull her back “Sis, why are you looking for that creep?”  

“Let me go, Jason.”

“Listen to me. First the shit show in Pyke and now Aemond One Eye? Dad would not be happy to know you are—”

“Dad would not be happy to know fucking anything that he has not concocted and told us to do. And I’m tired of it, Jason.” She hastily broke free from his grip, alerting the well-dressed people around them, but she ignored them altogether. “Just this once, you’ll have to play the puppet. I’m done for tonight.” she tugged the pocket square from his jacket and threw it at him. “And wipe your nose, for Gods’ sake. There’s coke on it.”

She wandered inside the huge hall like walking through quicksand, sinking a little more any time another man or woman stopped her to chit chat, to ask her about her father and the bank and the next slot in her father's agenda.

As if she had any clue. As if her father had not dismissed any of her natural vocations  like wrong bills to be fed to the shredder only to make her study economics, only to frame her degree, and then instruct her himself to specialize in the sacred act of parading herself around like a rare stuffed creature.

“Here you are.” A hand slipped around her waist, and she found herself enveloped by two familiar hands. “I’ve looked for you anywhere.”

“Quentin.” She said, looking into the dark glinting eyes of Quentin Martell, slightly wrinkling her nose for the heavy male perfume in which he had apparently dunked his suit.

His eyes scanned her slowly, looking like he wanted to peel her dress off like an orange. “Always outshining anyone else, are you?”

She looked away, stifling an exasperated sigh, all too used to Quentin’s redundant flatteries.

“This party is dead, isn’t it? And rather self-celebratory from the Hightowers. As if they don’t owe their current position to Viserys Targaryen.”

She glanced at him and saw her father talking. It was one of his favorite refrains at breakfast, lunch or dinner. It made no difference to him. Any time was a good time to incense themselves as the best, the wealthiest, the proudest, and hundreds of more superlatives that made the food instantly go rancid in her mouth.

Distractedly, her eyes roamed around, numbing her ears while Quentin kept talking. It was then that she saw him. He had not left.

Holding a glass of some liquor, he seemed to be in deep conversation, or rather on the receiving end of a soliloquy from his grandfather, who was leaning slightly over him, almost talking to his ear.

His eye was absently buried to the floor, one long finger tapped against the glass. A couple of words she could not make from that distance slipped from his mouth, resigned as his whole demeanor.

She thought she was looking into a mirror.

“Honey, are you listening to me?” Quentin asked at some point, tightening the hold on her waist. “Who are you looking at so rapt?”

“No one.” she hurried to say. But Quentin was quicker to follow her gaze before she dropped it.  “Aemond One Eye?” he said on the verge of mockery. “Baby, he is so out of your league.”

She cocked her head and plastered a tight smile on her lips. “And precisely, what do you know about my league?” 

“You know what I mean. How blind can you be not to notice that your brother has been screwing your girlfriend behind your back for months? Oops, sorry, wrong metaphor.”

“Both the Baratheons and the Targaryens have denied it.”

“Sure, sure. Then why the Baratheons were not invited tonight? And why did the one eyed come? He never does. Oh wait, look at that, Aegon’s missing. Not surprising though, didn’t they say Targaryens used to fuck amongst their own in the old times?”

She lowered her gaze, lost in thought, and then turned her head, instantly widening her eyes, shoulders tensing when she saw Aemond looking straight at her, sipping his drink, straightening the cobweb’s thread on which she had been tottering until that moment.

“Baby, are you high again?” Quentin asked her, with a genuine, inquisitive tone.

“What?”

“You’re shivering. Greyjoy told me everything about that night. Said you went batshit crazy on coke. Depraved as he is, it’s actually a good thing that you OD’ed. That creep would have fucked you even that stoned.”

She immediately grabbed his arms, trying to wriggle out of his hold. “Let me go.”

“Oh, come on.” He nothing but hold her more tightly. “I know you like to get a little freaky once in a while. I do, too. In fact, why don’t we take a tour upstairs? We could cheer up this drag.”

“No. Quentin, let me go.”

“Come on.” He insisted, pulling her to his chest.

She had to step on his foot to shake him off. “Let me cut straight to the point. I won’t fuck you, Quentin. Not tonight, not even if you were the last man left on this earth.”

He grimaced, spitefully twisting his mouth like any man who's been denied the chance to feel like a man for a few minutes. “I had warned Greyjoy about this. I told him you’re a spoiled cunt. You know what? You should get with that Stark fag. He may fuck your ass, so maybe you’d feel something 'cause I’m sure as hell your cunt is drier than the Red Waste.”

The insults were also part of the play.

After all, the act might not please everyone in the stalls. “Just shrug them off. They’re praises, actually, disguised bitterly for what they cannot have.” her mother said “Besided, a lion does not concern itself with the opinion of the sheep.”

When she was younger, each bitter word was a giant finger pointed at her, a gavel sealing the next judgement. Her mother had tried with all her carelessness to teach her how to be exactly that. Careless, a river flowing in its direction no matter the filth that would pollute the waters.

But she was draining, ever since Pyke, perhaps long before that.

She was tired of pretending to be gold while her fingertips seemed to leave behind nothing else but ash.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like to be tagged when I post part II, leave a comment below 🫶

#intrusion #liv(in la vida loca) #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #Spotify

[pearlprincess02]

playlist for: ARIES EDITION

part 1 for more artist

BY ARIES MOONS

"ambitionz az a ridah" - tupac / "scream & shout" - will.i.am (feat. britney spears) / "bitch better have my money" - rihanna / "see you again" - wiz khalifa feat. charlie puth / "queen of the night" - whitney houston / "dear mama" - tupac / "drip" - cardi b (feat. migos) / "work" - rihanna (feat. drake) / "so emotional" - whitney houston / "money" - cardi b / "just like a pill" - pink / "come & get it" - selena gomez / "ring" - cardi b (feat. kehlani) / "i needed you" - blackbear / "where have you been" - rihanna / "young, wild & free" - snoop dogg & wiz khalifa (feat. bruno mars) / "bodak yellow" - cardi b / "on my own" - ross lynch / "raise your glass" - p!nk / "exchange" - bryson tiller / "love you like a love song" - selena gomez / "california love" - tupac / "hot girl bummer" - blackbear / "diamonds" - rihanna / blow me (one last kiss) - p!nk / "don't" - bryson tiller / "idfc" - blackbear / "feelin' myself" - will.i.am (feat. miley cyrus, wiz khalifa, french montana)

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"roar" - katy perry /"run the world (girls)" - beyoncé / "uptown funk" - mark ronson (feat. bruno mars) / "stronger" - kanye west / "don't stop believin'" by journey / "fighter" - christina aguilera / "eye of the tiger" - survivor / "i will survive" - gloria gaynor / "can't hold us" - macklemore & ryan lewis (feat. ray dalton)

BY 1ST HOUSE MOONS

"i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me)" - whitney houston / "thriller" - michael jackson / "kill bill" - sza / "chained to the rhythm" - katy perry (feat. skip marley) / "big pimpin'" - jay-z (feat. UGK) / "i like it" - cardi b (feat. bad bunny, j balvin) / "breaking the habit" - linkin park / "sex" - the 1975 / "greatest love of all" - whitney houston / "firework" - katy perry / "black or white" - michael jackson / "robbers" - the 1975 / "broken clocks" - sza / "bartier cardi" - cardi b (feat. 21 savage) / "i will always love you" - whitney houston / "unconditionally" - katy perry "run this town" - jay-z (feat. rihanna & kanye west) / "i'm every woman" - whitney houston /"don't stop 'til you get enough" - michael jackson / "the weekend" - sza / "numb" - linkin park / "WAP" - cardi b (feat. megan thee stallion) / "california gurls"- katy perry (feat. snoop dogg) / "empire state of mind" - jay-z (feat. alicia keys) / "good days" - sza / "material girl" - madonna

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"stronger (what doesn't kill you)" - kelly clarkson / "unwritten" - natasha bedingfield / "titanium" - david guetta feat. sia / "eye of the tiger" - survivor / "brave" - sara bareilles / "shake it out" - florence + the machine / "the middle" - jimmy eat world

aries moon playlist (honorable mention : moon - mars aspects)

BY ARIES VENUSES

"home with you" - madison beer / "alejandro" - lady gaga / "american idiot" - green day / "consideration" - rihanna (feat. sza) / "fantasy" - mariah carey / "pretty savage"- blackpink / "born this way" - lady gaga / "BOYSHIT" - madison beer / "EARFQUAKE" - tyler, the creator / "feel special" - twice / "obsessed" - mariah carey / "judas" - lady gaga / "hips don't lie" - shakira (feat. wyclef jean) / "needed me" - rihanna / "911 / mr. lonely" - tyler, the creator (feat. frank ocean and steve lacy) / "FANCY" - twice "baby" - madison beer / "it's not living (if it's not with you)" - the 1975 / "DDU-DU DDU-DU" - blackpink / "bad romance" - lady gaga / "when i come around" - green day / "rude boy" - rihanna / "see you again"- tyler, the creator (feat. kali uchis) / "selfish" - madison beer / "what is love?" - twice / "robbers" - the 1975 / "holiday" - green day / "is this love" - bob marley & the wailers / "IFHY" - tyler, the creator (feat. pharrell williams) / "I CAN'T STOP ME" - twice / "reckless" - madison beer / "girls" - the 1975 /

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"can't be tamed" - miley cyrus / "S&M" - rihanna / "womanizer" - britney spears / "i will always love you" - whitney houston / "love me harder" - ariana grande (feat. the weeknd) / "break free" - ariana grande (feat. zedd) / "we found love" - rihanna (feat. calvin harris) / "heart attack" - demi lovato

BY 1ST HOUSE VENUSES

"hot n cold" - katy perry / "pillowtalk" - zayn / "girlfriend" - avril lavigne / "formation" - beyoncé / "boss bitch" - doja cat / "good 4 u" - olivia rodrigo / "last friday night (T.G.I.F.)" - katy perry / "entertainer" - zayn / "déjà vu" - beyoncé (feat. jay-z) / "hurricane" - halsey / "favorite crime" - olivia rodrigo / "dark horse" - katy perry (feat. juicy j) / "dusk till dawn" - zayn (feat. sia) / "irreplaceable" - beyoncé / "now or never" - halsey / "complicated" - avril lavigne / "best friend" - saweetie (feat. doja cat) / "teenage dream" - katy perry / "drunk in love" - beyoncé (feat. jay-z) / "without me" - halsey / "chanel" - frank ocean / "juicy" - doja cat / "flawless" - beyoncé (remix feat. nicki minaj) / "my type" - saweetie / traitor"- olivia rodrigo / "self control" - frank ocean / "streets" - doja cat / "good years" - zayn / "partition" - beyoncé / "control" - halsey / "sk8er boi" - avril lavigne / "rare" - selena gomez / "pyramids" - frank ocean / "graveyard" - halsey / "single ladies (put a ring on it)" - beyoncé / "hands to myself" - selena gomez / "tap in" - saweetie / "woman" - doja cat / "bad idea right?" - olivia rodrigo / "my happy ending" - avril lavigne / "nights" - frank ocean / "who says" - selena gomez / "better" - zayn / "ghost" - halsey / "say so" - doja cat / "moon river" - frank ocean / "obsessed" - olivia rodrigo / "when you're gone" - avril lavigne / "love you like a love song" - selena gomez / "gasoline" - halsey

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"feelin' myself" - nicki minaj (feat. beyoncé) / "fancy" - iggy azalea (feat. charli xcx) / "confident" - demi lovato / "glamorous" - fergie ft. ludacris / "love myself" - hailee steinfeld / "me too" - meghan trainor / "beautiful" - christina aguilera / "pretty hurts" - beyoncé /

aries venus playlist (honorable mention : venus - mars aspects)

OTHER ARIES PLAYLIST

aries sun playlist (honorable mention : sun in 1st house, sun - mars aspects)

aries rising playlist (honorable mention : mars in 1st house, mars - asc aspects , mars dominants)

main masterlist

©pearlprincess0

#aries moon #aries venus #astrology #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #astro placements #astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology notes #playlist #spotify playlist #venus in 1st house #moon in 1st house #aries sun #aries rising #aries

[diamondperfumes]

I like and see the appeal of "Dany, Jon, and Young Griff" as the three heads of the dragon/"new Targaryen trio." I can't help but think, however, that people who are reluctant to acknowledge that the real three heads are likely Dany, Jon, and Tyrion, are simply being ableist.

It makes sense that the three heads are Dany, Jon, and Tyrion, centered around Dany (she is Aegon the Conqueror Reborn; this prophecy centers around her, whether you like it or not).

All three have dealt with an undying threat using fire (the Undying, aptly named; a wight; a stone man).

All three have connections to dragons (Dany the strongest connection, one I don't need to elaborate on, hence being the center of the trio; Jon, who wishes for a dragon "or three," who speaks of a dragon warming things up at the Wall; Tyrion, who adores dragons, who yearned for one as a child and even dreamed of them, who is an expert on dragonology).

All three have had concrete, extensive ruling arcs (and not just "for thematic exploration," as some would have it, but as tangible demonstrations of what Westeros needs, and how Westeros could benefit if they were in charge), as Queen of Meereen, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and (acting) Hand of King Joffrey I Baratheon.

Both Jon and Tyrion show up in Dany's House of the Undying visions; Jon as Dany's third ?* in her bride of fire prophecy, Tyrion as a white lion running through grass. Tyrion similarly hears a prophecy of dragons from Moqorro, a prophecy that likely refers to both Jon and Dany, among other Targaryens, and is said to be a snarling shadow amidst them all. If that doesn't scream Tyrion's importance, especially his future connection to Dany and Jon both, I don't know what does.

All three are the third child of their parents, whose mothers died in childbirth, and all three have some kind of rivalry with an elder sibling (though Jon's relationship with Robb is the healthiest and most loving). All three also look up to their eldest brothers. All three had a negative relationship with an authority figure while growing up: Viserys, Catelyn, and Tywin (and for Cat haters, no I am not comparing Cat to Vis and Tywin, except to demonstrate the similarities in thinking and emotional state between the three).

All three suffer a formative betrayal that leads to a physical or metaphysical rebirth, taking place over ASOS to ADWD.

All three know what it's like to starve, be hunted, and live in deprivation. These aren't just random experiences; it's obvious that George is setting them up to brave the harsh conditions of the Long Night, possibly to find the heart of winter together. Being able to endure and survive starvation and the extremities of physical environments like The Wall, the Red Waste, and Slaver's Bay, are building blocks to this.

All three have connections to nomadic cultures that are seen as savage and barbaric––the Dothraki, the Free Folk, and the Mountain Clans of the Vale.

All three are positioned to rectify the wrongs of their houses, though thus far Dany has done the most concrete work in this regard (this is not a slight against Jon and Tyrion). More on this later.

All three are "outcast" POV's, even explicitly referred to as such by GRRM. Jon because he was raised as a bastard, Dany as an exile, bridal slave, and teenage girl, Tyrion as a dwarf who has been abused and maligned his whole life.

All three have had arcs that take place away from Westeros proper; again, this geographic and geopolitical distancing from Westeros only serves to enhance their ideological values as rulers and leaders.

Under the complicated rules of succession, all three are positioned to inherit a title that is not immediately accessible to them: Jon as King in the North (Winterfell), Tyrion as Lord of Casterly Rock, Dany as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Why they can't access it is because of the very things that make them outcasts.

All three are foreshadowed to have three formative romances. Jon with Ygritte, Val, and ?*, Dany's marriages to Drogo, Hizdahr, and ?*, Tyrion with Tysha, Sansa, and ?**. Dany and Tyrion specifically share the parallel of having three marriages, with the first two "failing" in some way.

Their ruling arcs each deal with similar themes: the makings of war and peace, the line between compromise and justice, stirrings of revolution, poverty, hunger, disenfranchisement, exploitation, religion, ableism, classism, ethnic nationalism, etc.

Dany and Tyrion share in common being enslaved. This is a very important parallel that Jon does not have in common with them.

All three are related to, and have thus observed, kings: Jon is Robb's brother (biologically, his cousin) and observed Robert Baratheon; Tyrion is Joffrey and Tommen's uncle, and has extensively observed Robert and Joffrey; Dany is Viserys III's sister, and her POV is a bait-and-switch revealing that the protagonist of the Targaryen storyline is her rather than Viserys.

They have clearly outlined parallels with specific Targaryens from history: Dany with Aegon I, Rhaegar, Aegon V, Aegon III, and the first two Daenerys', most prominently, though the entire history of House Targaryen is centered around her so really every Targaryen could be counted here; Jon notably with the Targaryen bastards/dragonseeds, including Orys Baratheon, Jacaerys Velaryon, and Brynden Rivers; he is also paralleled with Aemon the Pale Prince; and Tyrion with Viserys II.

All three are romantic idealists; Jon and Tyrion are more outwardly cynical and ruthlessly pragmatic, however, a parallel they share with each other rather than with Dany, even if Dany will ~go darker~ in TWOW.

All three identify with beast/monster imagery, and not just because of their house emblems. All three have also been subject to malicious slander, in part because of their association with beastliness/monstrousness. All three are also seen as religious sinners/heretics.

All three have compassion for the marginalized (this is a fact; most ASOIAF fans tend to see Jon as a hero and Dany and Tyrion as villains, for obvious reasons, but as far as the text goes, all three are presented as empathetic toward the downtrodden and oppressed).

All three have both military and diplomatic experience; Jon is the only formally militarily trained one, with a traditional weapon (a sword), while Dany and Tyrion have to use more creative ways to wage war and fight in battle.

All three long for home, and feel guilty for doing so. Dany and Tyrion share a specific parallel of longing for an abstract ideal of home that may no longer be accessible (the house with the red door, the cottage by the sea).

Dany and Tyrion specifically share in common that they were suicidal. Dany was suicidal in AGOT, and Tyrion was suicidal in ADWD. Conveniently, the ASOIAF fandom wants both to die (as heroes or villains), and sees nothing wrong with such endings for them. One can argue that suicidal characters dying in the end is good, righteous, and beautiful, in the ASOIAF fandom (at least when it comes to these two).

Dany and Tyrion share in common that they failed to protect an innocent––Eroeh and Tysha––and this informs their political and spiritual development as rulers.

(*? = fill in the blank as you see fit; it is contentious in this fandom to admit who Jon and Dany's final romances are, and I am not in the mood to argue over this).

(**? = I genuinely am not sure whom Tyrion's third marriage will be with).

I could sit here all day and list parallels. These are just the ones off the top of my head. As you can see, Dany and Tyrion in particular share a lot of parallels unique between them. The experience of having a terrible father, and being alienated your whole life from your own family, while also taking pride in your family name, is something they will be able to help each other understand. The books are clearly setting that up.

Why then do people replace Tyrion with Arya or Faegon or Sansa or whoever else in the three heads of the dragon theory? Don't just chalk it up to different interpretations. The plain truth is that it's ableism. Tyrion isn't an able-bodied or conventionally attractive man and thus doesn't fit the aesthetic component of the three heads.

Yet for all the talk of wanting Dany to be the "antithesis" to house Targaryen, or wanting Dany, Jon, and Faegon to be Targaryens who "end the Targaryen dynasty" (is the dynasty not already ended?), why does no one speak of how Tyrion is the only Lannister in text to actually go against House Lannister, in concrete, material ways, and has suffered the consequences for it? The one Lannister who was barred from accessing his own identity? The one Lannister uniquely positioned to bring down his house?

Perhaps it's because what Tyrion represents is something people are afraid to admit about House Stark (upheld as unequivocally heroic) and House Targaryen (upheld as unequivocally villainous). Tyrion does not just foreshadow the ending of House Lannister as we know it; he foreshadows a RECREATION of it, a REFORGING in a new name and light. Tyrion has experience running the household at Casterly Rock, and did an excellent job of it. He was Hand of the King. He's known enslavement and hunger and violence, which a Lannister typically will never experience. This gives him a unique insight into understanding the plight and trials of the smallfolk who work Lannister lands and the commoners who work at Casterly Rock. Tyrion has not abandoned his identity as a lion of Lannister, even if he feels more alienated from it than ever. Nor has he abandoned love for his family, in spite of his dark spiral in ADWD. Yet his pride in being a lion, him being the only one of Tywin's children to truly resemble Tywin (as per Genna), while also undoing Tywin's legacy of oppression, and his idealism and desire for companionship and empathy, all exist in tandem.

Tyrion WANTS to be Lord of Casterly Rock. He WANTS to rule. He WANTS to be acknowledged as a Lannister. He WANTS vengeance against his enemies, including his own family. He WANTS a wife and family. All of this exists ALONGSIDE Tyrion wanting a simple life, to protect dwarves, enact justice for the disabled, care for the weak and innocent, create more equitable political institutions, foster more accountable ruling for the people, and pave the way for peace. Rather than Tyrion being part of "the good heroic house" (Starks) or "being the antithesis of House Lannister and dying to eradicate the house," Tyrion is clearly a balance forging new ground: an unabashed, proud Lannister, who envisions a future where a dwarf rules Casterly Rock, gets married, has children, may even be ruthless and cunning toward his enemies, but is also empathetic, compassionate, idealistic, dutiful, and kind. The crux of Tyrion's struggle is not "should I be good or should I be a Lannister," it's being accepted as a Lannister, knowing his disability, his status, his appearance, his values, his relation to his family. Tyrion as Hand of the King went against his own family, for both selfish and selfless reasons, and yet protected his family and heritage and strove to forge new ground AS a Lannister, rather than as an anti-Lannister.

This is anathema for ASOIAF fans, specifically in how they engage with Jon, Dany, House Stark, and House Targaryen. For the typical ASOIAF fan, Jon is a classic, traditional hero, unquestioned, unproblematic, unhateable. Jon is meant to "embrace" his Stark bastard identity and "reject" his Targaryen identity. His reunion with his siblings is meant to be nothing more than heartwarming and poignant. House Stark in this scenario is the "protagonistic heart" of ASOIAF, the unequivocal heroes, not problematized by the narrative in the slightest. House Stark "winning" is a moral victory, Northern Independence is reminiscent of anti-colonial justice, and a return to Stark rule is a proxy for GRRM's anti-feudalism, anti-war message, because the Starks are the good guys.

On the other hand, for the typical ASOIAF fan, Dany has to die. Now, some articulate this in the more honest, traditional way: Dany is a villain, destined to be a mad queen, and her death signifies the end of House Targaryen. Others articulate it in a more creative and deceptive way: Dany is just such a good person (with the caveat that she's still a "white woman whose arc is built on the suffering of women of color") that she clearly isn't like the rest of her family, and will happily die for humanity to redeem herself (because she'll still commit a sin; she has those dragons after all) and by dying, House Targaryen will end protecting humanity, where once it "colonized and enslaved humanity." The death of Daenerys Targaryen is supposed to emblematize a moral victory, anti-colonial justice, and a proxy for GRRM's anti-feudalism, anti-war message, because the Targaryens are the bad guys.

What we have here is that one side will win, reunite with his family, get the girl/the title/the house/the power, perhaps reject part or some of it so that the rest of his family can retain it, while the other side will have to die, either as a hero, villain, or redeemed anti-hero, and such death will thankfully symbolize humanity winning, order being restored, feudalism being destroyed, war coming to an end, peace flourishing, etc.

Where does Tyrion stand in this discourse? Usually nowhere. Most ASOIAF fans don't even care to write about his endgame; most of them write him off as a villain. Some think he'll die, some think he'll inherit Casterly Rock, but there isn't much passion in what most people theorize about his endgame. For better or worse, there is at least passion in people arguing over Jon and Dany's endgames.

In the TEXT, however, as I argue, Tyrion is someone who embraces his house identity and pride, while also going against the oppressive values of his family, and doing so in a material, concrete way. Tyrion doesn't cry about how awful Lannisters are, or hate himself for being a Lannister, or tell himself that he should give up his noble title in order to be a good heroic guy and save the day. But he DOES reflect on Tywin's evil, Cersei's greed, Jaime's stagnancy, Joffrey's petty tyranny, the near-enslavement conditions of the smallfolk at Casterly Rock, the corruption of the monarchic system in Westeros that the Lannisters benefit from, the ableism of his own family, how he benefits from the noble name that has also alienated him, etc. He seeks to protect victims of his family, like Sansa and Penny. Under the frameworks promulgated by the ASOIAF fandom, this should not be possible; he either should belong to "one of the good houses" (which the Lannisters clearly are not, and Tyrion is not Jaime, so he does not get the 50-page long PhD essays and dissertations on redemption, gender, and honor that Jaime does, despite being the more major Lannister POV character), or he should hate himself/distance himself from his evil family and die to eradicate their name (while Tyrion is suicidal in ADWD, it's not for selfless reasons; and he doesn't hate himself for being a Lannister, he hates himself for not being accepted by his family, for being a dwarf, for being a kinslayer, for being unable to save Tysha, for being hated by society).

Tyrion doesn't have to despise himself for being a Lannister in order to change his family and even be a class traitor to his own family. He also doesn't have to eschew his selfishly motivated ambitions and desires to effectuate real change. This makes him an excellent character, yet it also makes him one hard to parse for fans, not just because he is morally gray, but also because he defies the ASOIAF fanmade dichotomy of good house=good character/bad house=die (unless you're a teenage-girl coded cishet male character, e.g. Jaime, Theon, or Sandor). Tyrion isn't a selfless, abstract ideal of morally pure heroism. He has real flaws, often discomforting ones, and some of his desires are nasty. His ambition is ruthless. Yet he is still the one positioned to end House Lannister in its current form and recreate it completely.

It's clear that this is what unites the three heads: Targaryen, Stark, and Lannister, the actual heads of each house if they were allowed to be the heads if not for what makes them an outcast within their own family, embracing their names and identities while changing and recreating what it means to be each of these names. All three houses have been enemies at one point or another, but by coming together, these three will signify a real unity. Yet it's hard for fans to apply what Tyrion represents to Jon and Dany, firstly because most fans hate or ignore Tyrion, and secondly because Jon and Dany represent the two ends of the dichotomy I outlined. For fans to accept what Tyrion represents for the other two, they'd have to admit that House Stark is not the progressive, anti-colonial, feminist, pro-smallfolk force for change that fans claim it is, and they'd have to admit that Dany dying to end House Targaryen won't singlehandedly change the world and end oppression as we know it, and that House Targaryen isn't actually the devil.

A House Stark with a bastard as its head, mixed with Targaryen blood, is anathema to the history of House Stark. Have any bastards been Kings of Winter or Lords of Winterfell, save for Bael the Bard's child who killed Bael? Have any Kings of Winter had blood other than First Men blood (knowing that Starks only marry First Men-blooded houses)? Have any Kings of Winter intermingled with the Free Folk and reintegrated them into Westeros?

A House Targaryen with a teenage girl as its head may seem anathema to the history of House Targaryen, but it's not; really, it's a vindication for the women of House Targaryen. Certainly it's anathema to the WESTEROSI history of House Targaryen. What's even more anathema is a Valyrian heading an antislavery campaign and warring with other Valyrians to abolish slavery. This is the aspect of Dany's character that garners the idea that Dany is the anti-Targaryen Targaryen. Yet would not Jon be the anti-Stark Stark, by being half Targaryen and mingling with the Free Folk, when Stark identity for thousands of years has been rigidly defined in opposition to the Free Folk, exclusive of non-First Men blood, and in conformance with the Wall and what it represents?

That's what Tyrion is: House Lannister with a dwarf as its head, a dwarf who cares about women, smallfolk, bastards, commoners, children, and the disabled, who actually wants to protect the people rather than just exploit them, and who has killed and harmed other Lannisters both in the service of that cause and in service of his own goals. The other two heads of the dragon, Jon and Dany, are supposed to represent that balance and nuance as well, between embracing and embodying identity/rejecting its worst parts, destroying the old and ushering in the new.

But it's not in vogue to include Tyrion. He's not attractive enough and he's not able-bodied. He loves dragons, power, wine, and sex too much. He takes too much pride in his own identity and doesn't hate himself enough for being a Lannister. He's too ambitious. He's too ruthless. For a fandom so insistent on the aesthetics and performance of "ending the Targaryen dynasty and ushering in Northern Independence," he fits nowhere into that tapestry, so he is excluded. It doesn't sound as sexy to say he's the third head, not just because he isn't a Targaryen, but also because he doesn't fit the "pattern" ASOIAF fans want, of a "three heads" of the dragon that serves to uphold the centrality of House Stark as heroes and the centrality of House Targaryen as villains.

Yet it's for all of these reasons that TYRION is the third head of the dragon. People will continue to debate this and vehemently disagree (as if it makes sense for a completely minor character like Faegon to be the third head). However, only Tyrion thematically, philosophically, and plot wise fits the conception of the three heads of the dragon, and only he is foreshadowed to have that kind of relationship with Jon and Dany, but especially Dany.

#daenerys targaryen #canondany #canontyrion #danyrion #meta #my discourse #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #tyrion lannister #jon snow #the dragon has three heads

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite JOEL MILLER Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 7

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Scream Queen - @hellishjoel GhostFace!Joel

Cinnamon Girl Series - @hellishjoel DBF!Neighbour Joel

Honey-Do - @kiwisbell

Pieces Of Him - @xdaddysprincessxx CultLeader!Joel Featuring Ezra

Muddy Waters Series - @bonezone44 Featuring Ezra

Guard My Body, Tied Up At The Minute & If The Closet's Bumpin' - @intoanotherworld23

Pretty Mama - @spookykoolkat PlusSize!Reader

Pour Choices - @pascalpvnk BarTender!Joel

Honey Pot - @tightjeansjavi Neighbour!Joel

Daydreams - @morning-star-joy

Fall Into Temptation Series - @joelsgreys PreachersDaughter!Reader

Falling Into My Sins Series - @inthe-dark-tonight DBF!Joel

Kinktober 23 Somnophilia - @honeybeedrabble AFAB!Reader

My Love, Mine All Mine - @breakfastatjoels

Born Lucky, Under A Bad Star - @softlyspector

Blessed Be The Fruit Series - @romana-after-dark Commander!Joel Handmaids Tale AU

Trouble - @st4rymoon DBF!Joel

Wake - @notjustjavierpena

Sir - @dilfdemolisher Creep!Joel

Just This Once - @talaok Babysitter!Reader

Sticky - @sageispunk

Smack My Bitch Up - @milla-frenchy DDDNE Dark!Joel

Halloween Party - @milla-frenchy

Fruit From The Trees Series - @littlegrungegirlaf Featuring Tommy Miller

Joel Is Such A Sap After Sex - @inklore

Mystery - @mandoisapunk

Garnish Series - @penvisions Chef!Joel

A Savage Place Series - @gasolinerainbowpuddles Sub!Joel

Flowering - @tinycozycomfort

The Dark Caress Of Someone Else - @covetyou

I Wanna Be Yours - @farmerlarrry

Erotic City - @strang3lov3

Vertigo Series - @jenna-ortega

Sweets - @hearteyesforjoel Baker!Reader

No Control - @fhatbhabie

Standing In The Eye Of The Storm - @stargirlfics Black Reader

Hook, Line, Sucker - @kewwrites DDDNE Dark!Joel

Hard To Resist - @quickiesgirl

Hummingbird - @lucyeyelesbarrow

Observations - @ezrasbirdie Neurodivergent!Reader

The Devil & His Brother Series - @pascalsbby Featuring Tommy Miller

Slasher Joel Series - @toxicanonymity

Hidden Secret - @ozarkthedog

Missing You - @pascalssbabyy

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x gn reader #joel miller x m!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fan fic #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal cinematic universe #jett's fic recs #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff

[opposums-love-arson]

Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl

Chapter 5

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

P.S. lmk if y'all would like to be added to the tag list

  “Sidney Prescott and (y/n) (l/n) both escaped a vicious attack last night but one of them is the daughter of Maurine Prescott, who was brutally murdered last year when convicted killer Cotton Weary broke into their home and savagely raped and tortured the deceased. Cotton Weary is currently awaiting an appeal for the death sentence, handed down after the young Sidney testified against him…” The reporter just went on and on through the tv screen. Tatum was rubbing Sid’s arm as a sign of everything will be okay. I held Sid’s hand to signify the same message, gently squeezing it so she knows she’s not alone. “It’s never going to stop is it?” She asked with a small chuckle. 

As Dewey sat across from us he notified, “Billy was released.”

Sidney’s face faltered once she heard this, I think she’s still afraid of it all. I on the other hand slouched back with a wave of relief. 

“His celular bill was clean, he didn’t make those calls,” Dewey said as he sat back in the chair, “We’re checking every celular account in the county. Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross referenced, it’s going to take some time but we’ll find 'em.” 

I squeezed Sid’s hand again and Tatum lightly punched her arm. “Okay,” was all Sid could really say right now. 

“We’ve got this, Sis.” I said to her with a small smile. 

  I guess pulling up to school in a patrol car was cool? Kind of gave a real “Back off” vibe when we stepped on the school grounds. “Don’t worry girls, it’s school. You’ll be safe here.” Dewey reassured us...but if there’s a possibility that the killer is another student, is it really all that safe? Reporters swarmed us once Sid and I were completely out of the car. One woman going as far as asking, “So how does it feel to be almost brutally butchered?” Seriously what thee fuck? Sid and Tatum walked ahead of me right as I was ready to hook it to another reporter like I did to Gale. Sadly enough though I was stopped by two pairs of arms holding me back while my legs went swinging.

“Let me at ‘em!” I exclaimed to my mystery captors. 

“Not a chance little Nancy Thompson,” I could hear Randy’s voice from my left. 

“Yeah these reporters are worse than any Freddy Kruger!” And then there was Stu’s cackle from the right. 

“Fine screw it, I just don’t want to see anymore of them haggling Sid again.” I said as I slightly jumped out at the flock of reporters. 

“Uh, where did Sid go anyways” I asked the two boys as I spun around. Finally seeing her talking to Weathers I tried to beeline but Stu held me back. 

“Dude, (y/n) slow your roll. Syd’s just talking to her,” Stu said as he secured me against his chest. I did my best to hide the red embarrassment all over my face. 

“Yeah probably fixing the mess you made last night,” Randy said as he rolled my eyes. 

His words struck something in me, I just calmed down and stopped fight Stu’s hold, if anything I was holding myself now. 

Stu punched Randy in the arm before said, “Way to go man.” 

“Wha- I-” Randy was about to pick his own fight with Stu again. 

I beat them to it when I turned around still in Stu’s grasp and said, “No he’s right, what I did last night was reckless and now Sidney is the one who has to clean it up.” I leaned my head on Stu’s chest. 

“C’mon (y/n), it wasn’t that bad?” Randy backpedaled on his words to try and make me feel better but lets face it, when you punch someone on national tv… it’s pretty bad. 

  At our lockers we waited around for the bell to ring. “This is a mistake, we shouldn't be here,” Sid said as she gathered her books. I’m honestly with her on that, it’s a total scare fest in the halls today. “I want you to meet me right here after class, okay Sid?” Tatum addressed my step sister but left me out of the question. Peaking my head over my locker door I arched an eyebrow. “I’ll walk you out of class (y/n),” Stu pipped in before looking at himself in a mirror. “Yeah okay Chicken Stew,” I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh at my own pun. I thought Stu would’ve laughed but before he could Sid said, “Hey I haven’t really seen Billy around, is he really pissed?” What the fuck Sidney? I thought. “Oh after you branded him the Candyman? No, his heart’s broken!” Stu exclaimed, earning a punch from Tatum. He said “ow” as Tatum said his name in a stern frustrated manner. 

  Someone came running down the hall in what’s now been dubbed the ‘Ghostface’ costume as they screamed bloody murder while jumping out at people. I let out a squeal before grabbing hold of Stu’s tan and white over shirt. Feeling heat rise up to my face I quickly let go and lightly brushed out my hair to compose myself. Stu turned around and pinched my cheeks, “Awe is (y/n) scewed of da big bad boo-gy man?” I swatted his hands away while saying, “Given recent events, yeah obviously.” Shuffling past Stu and over to Sid I notice his expression change for a split second for playful to envious. “Come on (y/n), you punched Gale Weathers on live news, I think you’ll be fine if you get yelled at by a kid in a costume,” Tatum said as she playfully rolled her eyes with a smirk. I couldn’t take it anymore, whether it was the embarrassment, the fear, the secrets, or the regret. I just couldn’t. I ran off from the group as both Tatum and Sid shouted after me. 

  As I ran down the hall I bumped into another figure. 

“Shit!” I exclaimed as I pushed off of them. 

“Hey it’s just me,” I heard an all too familiar voice say to me.

 “Oh-oh… Billy,” I said as I backed away. 

Waving his index finger between us he asked, “You still think it’s me?” 

I reassure him I don’t by saying, “No, I don’t I was just shocked to see you.” As I fiddled with my shirt. 

“I swear it’s not me (y/n),” Billy said stepping forward. 

Looking up at him I said, “I know Billy, there was still someone in the house that night though. So can you please-” I cut myself off seeing the lack of inches in the space between Billy and I. 

“I know, I know, the cops say I scared him away. It wasn’t me (y/n).” He said as he looked down at me a little. 

“I know, he called us again when we were at Tatum’s…” 

“See! Couldn’t have been me, I was in jail,” Billy said as he turned over his hands to reveal inky fingerprints. “Remember?” 

“I’m sorry, but please understand,” I started as I looked up. 

“Understand what? My girlfriend and her little step sister would rather accuse me of being a psychopathic killer than touch me?” Billy looked back down at me, I could smell the spearmint gum roll off his breath. 

“You know that’s not true…” I said as I knitted my eyebrows together and grabbed a hold of his arm. 

“Then what is it?” He asked, hurt and confusion heard in his voice.

“Billy, Sid and I were attacked and nearly filleted last night?!” I asked, slightly appalled he’d even ask as if it weren’t clear. 

“I mean between us…” Billy said as his eyes stared down into my soul with an intensity I’ve never seen before. 

“What do you mean between us?” I asked at this point very confused as I let go of him and take a step back. 

“Isn't it obvious (y/n)? For the past five months, the smirks, the glances, the nudging, the little notes, Stu and I being practically all over you?” Billy said as he used his free hand that wasn’t on the banister to wave around. 

“No it wasn’t obvious! I mean Stu I knew about but you?! Billy, you’re my sister’s boyfriend!” I exclaimed, getting justifiably annoyed and upset. 

“Not anymore, she practically broke up with me the night at the station!” He raised his voice, making me flinch a little, he must’ve noticed since he let his body relax a little. 

“Look Billy I’ve had a crush on you and Stu for months but I know for sure this isn’t the way to go about things. Sidney didn’t say she broke up with you and I’m not going to just be a rebound to make her jealous.” I said resting my hand above his on the banister. 

Billy scoffed before saying, “(y/n), be real here Sid doesn’t want to see me anymore and like I said, the past five months…” Billy let his words trail off as he came closer to me, placing his hand on my forearm. Just like at the lockers my head was racing and everything felt so wrong, I just couldn’t take it. I just stepped away, shaking my head while I walked off letting Billy shout my name. 

Turning around to look at him I said, “I’m sorry if me having good morality for my sister’s relationship is an inconvenience to you and your perfect existence!” I exclaimed before turning back round. 

“What? What do yo- Nobody said that, (y/n)!” Billy shouted after me but it just faded out as I ran away. 

Stomping my way into the bathroom I make my way over to one of the sinks, I dig in my backpack for an aspirin or something. 

“They were never attacked, I think they made it all up,” I heard one of the bathroom stalls say. 

“Why would they lie about that?” A girl in another stall asked

“For attention, the girl and her sister have some serious issues!” The first girl replies. 

Part of me wanted to hide in the bathroom stall like the sad girls in the movies always did but then I remembered, this is life. In life you just gotta roll with the punches, so I’m doing just that, except this time I might punch back. Right when the two walk out of the stalls their faces dropped. Yeah I assumed seeing the face of one of your gossip subjects will do that to ya. I kept staring at them as they washed their hands, too scared to even look in my general direction. As they walked out I did that stupid petty way where you swish your fingers up and down. Finally I can cry in peace, I thought as I walked into an empty stall. Deciding that the short few seconds I’ve been in here were enough for me to feel refreshed I walk out, my eyes red and puffy while my lashes stick together. 

“Pathetic,” I said into the mirror. I always thought I held myself to a higher standard than this, not really with the crying thing. More so with the Stu and Billy thing… 

I don’t have time to think about it much when I hear a strange noise in the restroom. Getting low to the ground I check underneath all the stalls. Empty. Looking around I notice a loud vent in the wall, that must’ve been it. As I go back to shuffling around my bag I could’ve sworn I heard someone whisper my name. Maybe it’s better to ignore it? Slowly and carefully I get back down low to check again. This time I’m met with a pair of beat up leather work boots dropping down from the stall. “Oh shit,” I whispered to myself. 

  The stall door unlatches quickly and I try to make a run for it but I’m caught by the Ghostface. 

Thrashing around as he holds back my arms I asked, “Alright real funny, who is it? Stu, Rand, Billy? If this is some sort of pay back then it won’t work!” The man behind  the mask said nothing, but he violently jerked my face to the bathroom mirror. “What?” I ask, my face clearly showing malevolence towards whoever it is pulling the prank. That was until he pulled out an eight-inch long hunting knife. He slowly and lightly dragged the knife along my torso, from the collar of my cropped shirt all the way down to the button of my low rise jeans, applying extra pressure near my zipper. “Ya’ know if I wasn’t so skeptical about you trying to kill me right now we could probably take this in a very different direction,” I said as a more matter-of-factly sentence. I’m not sure if this shocked the masked murderer or gave him a change of heart but his grip loosen and I BOOKED IT!  I slammed the bathroom door open passing by a couple of teachers but I really just wanted to get the hell out of here. 

  After calming down a little bit I got outside of the school just quick enough to hear Principal Himbry say, “Attention now kids, due to the recent events that have occurred effective immediately, all classes are suspended until further notice,” Holy shit, “The Woodsboro police department has issued a citywide curfew beginning at nine o’clock tonight.” The whooping and hollering cheers that were so loud just a second ago died down into monotone boos. At least we’re out of school? 

“It was just some sick fuck having a laugh, sue me.” Tatum said as she rolled her eyes at me. 

“No, it was him Tatum I know it. Or else he wouldn’t have had a huge ass hunting knife!” I exclaimed in a huff. 

“Okay well, you're not to be alone anymore. If you pee, we all pee. Is that clear?” Asked Tatum

Sid and I looked each other up and now simultaneously say, “Ew, please no.”

Spooking up from behind us was Stu as he blabbered nonsensical words that most likely would’ve made sense if we were paying attention. 

“I don’t know what you did girls,” He said handing each of us flowers, “but on behalf of the entire student body we all say THANK YOU!” Stu shouted full force from his lungs.

“Stop it Stu,” Tatum said as she hit him with the little purple flower. 

I was so distracted by the two that I didn’t notice Stu change targets and come barreling towards me, hoisting me over his shoulder. 

“Stu! Oh my god asshole! I’d like to be returned to the security of my feet on the ground!” I shout at I hit his back with my palms. 

In the midst of my one sided battle Stu announces, “To celebrate this impromptu fall break, I propose we have a party. Tonight at my house!” 

Looking over to my right I see my step sister’s face contort into an emotion of unease, “Are your sure?” 

“Yeah as long as this little vixen doesn’t invite the entire world!” Stu exclaims as he motions to his girlfriend who is currently keeping me company by swinging my free hand. 

Stu goes on by saying, “Intimate gather, intimate friends,” whilst poking my thigh right below my ass. He should be glad Tatum didn’t see that one. 

“What do you say Sid? I mean pathos could have it’s perks?” Tatum piped up just as Stu let me down. Now Tatum and I have switched spots beside Stu. 

“Could totally protect you, yo I’m so buff, I got you covered bro!” Stu does a macho man impersonation as he twirls around Tatum. 

I fall a little back from the group, wondering if Billy will be there… he most likely will, won’t he? 

“I mean c'mon Sid? (Y/n), you with me? It could be fun.” Tatum says as she turns to us both. 

While the girls were focused on each other Stu looked over at me and snapped me out of my thoughts, literally. The loud noise made me look up. 

“Huh?” I asked, looking at the trio in front of me. 

“The party (y/n), you in?” Tatum asked as Stu kissed her neck

“Yeah fine, whatever. I’m in,” I said as I walked up in front of them. 

“Niiice,” Stu growled out, “Cool, you guys bring food, alright?” 

I don't know what it was but Stu did something which prompted me to shout, “You’re being weird Stu!” 

#scream 1996 #scream fanfic #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader #scream #scream x yn #stu x reader #halloween

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

AU where Thingol, not Beren, dies fighting Carcharoth

The Hunting of the Wolf begins similar to canon. Carcharoth has eaten a Silmaril and is mad with pain, destroying the woods near Doriath.

As in canon, Carcharoth leaps from the bushes at Thingol.

Beren, fighting with his off hand, still bleeding from his right wrist, is just a moment too slow.

Beren swings his spear, and wounds Carcharoth, but not before the wolf has attacked the king.

There is a bite taken from Thingol's chest, and a savage scratch in his face. Even with the strength of an ancient elf, the light of Valinor, and the love of a Maia, it is too great a wound to survive.

Beren tries to staunch the blood, but it's too late.

Thingol says to Beren, "Love her, my son." The command is unnecessary, but Thingol dies thinking of his daughter and trusting her choices.

Melian screams, and every twig in Doriath shakes with her grief. She does not leave though, not while her daughter still lives and may need her.

Huan and Carcharoth fight, and die.

Mablung cuts open the wolf's belly and takes out the Silmaril. He places it on Thingol's breast.

No one in Doriath really wants to look at the Silmaril though. This is what tore apart the royal family, what their king died for, what brought the Wolf to ruin the forest.

There is talk of burying the Silmaril with Thingol's body, but Melian refuses to have it rest in her earth. The Silmaril is at once too cursed by Fate and too blessed by the Valar.

Melian can feel the Silmaril sing, and it would bring her in harmony with the first Music if she let it, until she was nothing but an instrument of Eru's first will. She would care only for the harmony of Arda and the good of all within it.

Melian is not willing to give up her passion and grief for her husband, or her love for her daughter, or her realm.

So the Silmaril is put to the side of the royal treasury for a few months, while a funeral and a wedding are planned.

Luthien is crowned Queen, with Beren king beside her. Melian is willing to stay and guard the realm as she has for centuries, but she is less able to hold her elven form without the one who inspired her to take it up, and in truth rarely cared for elven concerns.

Queen Luthien sends announcements of her coronation to the Falas and Nargothrond and Ethel Sirion.

(Maedhros begins recruiting for an attack on Angband. Murmurs in Doriath are that he is driven by shame, with the cowardice of his brothers compared to Luthien now known to all.)

Beren sends a letter to the people of Nargothrond, who have suffered as great a loss as the people of Doriath, with the loss of their king. He does not regret asking Finrod for help, but he grieves with them.

Privately, he tells Luthien that he wishes he had something of his own to offer, some token to remember Finrod, the bravest warrior in all elvendom.

Beren could give back the ring of Barahir, but he would just as soon keep it as his own memento, of promises kept and loyal friends.

Luthien has an idea.

It may be a terrible idea, but she is Queen, and all the treasures of Doriath are hers to with as she pleases. No one stops her.

In truth, no one argues that hard. Luthien and her husband are the ones who went on a dangerous quest, so the prize is theirs to do with as they will. Thingol might have standing to argue, but he's dead.

So Mablung, as the one who cut open the wolf's belly, is sent as emissary to King Orodreth, with a package he touches as little as possible.

Orodreth meets Mablung in a private room, after what a mess allowing an outsider to declare their business in the town square was last time.

(Not that Orodreth puts it that way, of course. But if Beren had mentioned the Ring and the Quest where none beside Finrod could hear, the Feanorians would not have learned until it was too late, and Finrod would have marched on Tol-in-Gaurhoth with a full army. He would have lived, Orodreth is sure of it.)

So there is none but Mablung to see how Orodreth's relaxes for a moment at the first moment of Treelight across his face, then nearly drops the Silmaril when he realizes what he is holding.

Orodreth cannot refuse the gift. It would be terribly insulting to Doriath, and all it would do would be move the looming bloodshed to his sister's home rather than his own.

Passing the Silmaril on would be an insult, even as tribute to King Fingon. And giving it to the sons of Feanor is as good as declaring himself open enemies with Doriath.

Orodreth asks Mablung to tell no one in the city what he has brought, to say only that Beren and Luthien grieve Finrod's death and sent a token. Mablung agrees easily enough, not being in the habit of gossip.

But much of Doriath knows, and though trade with the guarded realm is scarce, it is present. The secret may last for weeks or months, but in a year or two everyone will know that Nargothrond houses a Silmaril.

Including the sons of Feanor.

Orodreth locks the Silmaril in the most secure vault, to which only he has key, and thinks.

After a few days, he summons Celebrimbor before the court.

Orodreth declares Celebrimbor the Steward of the Vaults, responsible not for the daily spending of the kingdom, but for the safety and upkeep of the gems and elaborate ornaments that belong to the king.

Orodreth made the position up just now, but he gives it real responsibility. He doesn't wear the Nauglamir as his brother did, but neither does he want it stolen, and it needs the links oiled and the gems polished.

Celebrimbor is a jewelsmith, and a perfectly reasonable choice for the role.

And in the private audience afterwards, Orodreth emphasizes that Celebrimbor has authority over the vaults second only to his own. If Celebrimbor wishes a piece repaired, or a gem reset, he needs consult no other, even if it's a piece made by Feanor himself and brought from Valinor.

And speaking of things made by Feanor...

Celebrimbor is a bit insulted that he was given the role more due to the family he denounced than due to his skill. But he is not so insulted as to refuse the title, or the chance to closely examine so many masterpieces of jewelcraft.

Neither Celebrimbor or Orodreth are sure if this counts as hiding and hoarding a Silmaril, but it's now under the care of Feanor's kin so the Oath should be satisfied.

Right?

#silm #silmarillion #my fic #my writing #thingol dies au #heavily inspired by the lay of leithian russian musical because that's the most recent telling of the Quest for the Silmaril I watched #did not get to Turin in this #or to what happens when Beren dies years later and then Luthien and Melian die of grief shortly after #quest for the silmaril

[elirastudio]

Shadow king au

Love

Yes guys let’s see what I can do with only the writing, maybe maaaybe it’s gonna be seen?

I dunno …it’s just that I don’t want to leave you without content…

Anyway that’s a little flash forward to “revenge of the spider queen “ scenario , I believe that considering my situation not many people will see this and so it’s not going to be that big of a spoiler 😂

It didn’t have to be so long but I let myself go

Enjoy…and sorry again.

-

MK never thought to find himself in this situation…. He was tightly holding his wrist, it was bleeding, nothing bad, wukong wounded him in an attempt to get the kid away from him; not that he could go anywhere… they were stuck together underground.

The spider queen set a really nice trap…

They would have been squished by the rocks that she made fall on them, if MK didn’t stop them, thanks to the staff and the sigil magic he learned to control not that long ago with to the help of the two clones that macaque left with him, for protection and to control his powers.

Now they were together… not fighting tho.

Wukong was in a panic, in all this years MK never thought to see wukong, who always appeared to him as great and glorious, looks so vulnerable and scared. although MK wasn’t surprised, he now knew the story of the ex-monkey king and the fact that the feeling of being crashed and restrained again made wukong panic had a lot of sence.

But Approaching him again was out of the question.

So he sat next to the staff, still holding his wrist; four eyes poked out of the shadow, ready to protect the kid if needed… but MK wasn’t the one that needed protection right now.

His father would sure arrive soon…probably…did he know where he was? Maybe if he screamed…his father would sure hear him, but maybe he would scare or rage wukong? He could tell rumble and savage, but then he would be without protection… was his father trying to reach for him but his sigil didn’t let him throw? Would his father even save wukong?…he was tasked to kill him…

The prince sighed, he needed to say something at to try to calm wukong down.

“He will come for us…” MK lied

Wukong slowly turned to MK, head in his hands, dead stare in those red eyes with golden pupils, glamour obviously down…. phantom pain probably back.

“He won’t…” wukong answered with venom in his voice “he has no reason to-“

“Isn’t the fact that he loves us a good reason?” MK asked, he had to choose well his words, he didn’t want to get sun wukong angry

“Love” started wukong growling “doesn’t move mountains”

“You shouldn’t underestimate love-“ “LOVE IS AN IDIOTIC FEELING AND CAUSES NOTHING BUT PAIN!!” Wukong shouted suddenly making MK flinch , shadows moving behind him, but in his rage wukong didn’t seem to notice….

“I loved my people but they decided to follow a fake king over ME; I loved my brother, they were my family, but they kept me getting in trouble, getting me hurt” as he kept going wukong was getting horrifying close, fear raising in the boy heart.

At least he wasn’t thinking about the rocks that would soon crash them- was the only thing that MK could think to light up the mood

“I loved my master” the thought of Tripitaka immediately made the phantom pain start again “he freed me, he was like a father to me…BUT LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME!!” Shouted wukong as he was pointing at the golden fillet on his head “HE KEPT LYING AND HURTING EVEN WHEN I WAS DOING NOTHING WRONG BUT I ALWAYS PROTECTED HIM” tears falling from the ex-king eyes.

“I LOVED LIU ER MIHOU! And he betrayed me! Allied with heaven to put me down, they got me in chains… HE TOOK MY STAFF, MY CROWN, MY PEOPLE, MY MOUNTAIN! He should have been my loyal warrior and stay dead!”

“I wanted my life back… then” wukong growled again dangerously close “you came and stole what love liu er had left for me” if he had come even a little closer rumble and savage would have surely attacked, instead the great sage started to step back, head in his hands again as he reached the rocky wall “I thought you were just a puppy for him, a tool to heal his sorrow with… but he- he would have died for you…as he would have done for me long ago…” the ex- king let himself fall hugging himself for confort.

It was a lot to take in for the boy, he found himself moving closer to wukong, the other was not moving, than the stopped not too close but not too far away and said quietly, just as how they would talk when Xiaotian was a child “you were always the hero of his stories…” wukong looked at the boy “ he talked about you with love and admiration… he stayed up for so many night just to go visit you, he always brought you the best things, the best fruits.” The boy found himself smiling “ I always thought it was odd how he kept looking at his left, expecting you to be there, as he was at your right… I don’t think he never stopped loving you,neither now.” Mk and wukong looked at each other, silence between them.

Silence that was broken by the great sage with a chuckle “ he never shut up about you…” , MK just smiled “I think we both have a place in the six eared macaque’s heart…”

#lego monkey kid #monkiekid wukong #sun wokung #six eared macaque #lego mk #monkey king

[endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus]

[Headcannons] A Day At The Beach w/ The Ghouls & Ghoulettes

Cutesy lil fluffy thoughts that came to me at 3 am about my favorite band.

Thank you to my writing muse and fabulous goddess @sink-me-in-your-ocean for always proofreading my docs.

Bone apple teet (-‿◦☀)

ℝ𝕒𝕚𝕟

bolts straight for the ocean, manically laughing - he very delulu but so stinking cute

wears fish themed swim trunks with matching fishy arm floaties

anyone who dares enter his domain is in for quite the surprise…

he pretends to be a shark

playfully gnaws on your ankles under the water before yanking on your leg and pulling you under

finds pretty seashells and gifts them to you with the most heart warming smile

“Rain! Its time to leave! Lets go!” you annoyingly yelled into the void of the blue ocean, knowing for damn sure he heard you.

In the distance you spot a gray blob emerging from the surface of the water, “NO!” the voice echoed back to shore before disappearing once again.

…

The car ride home, Rain was sitting in the back row curled up in a ball, tears silently flowing down his cheeks as he aimlessly stared out the window. *insert Summertime Sadness by Lana del Rey*

You roll your eyes as you catch a glimpse of him in the rear view mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, he is such a drama queen…

𝕄𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟

he’s here for the good vibes and shade

paints a thick coat of sunscreen from head to toe

lounges under the umbrella with a paperback book of Twilight

ends up falling asleep within 20 minutes

could honestly sleep for eternity

In a hushed whisper, “M-mountain?”, you gently nudge his shoulder, attempting to awake him so you can pack up the car and leave.

No response.

Anxiety slowly creeps in, i-is he dead?

His neck is exposed and you take two fingers to take his pulse, as soon as you make contact he jolts awake, both of you screaming. Him with a high-pitched shriek of fear and you in shock that he’s alive.

“I thought you were a vampire!” he hysterically gasped.

𝔻𝕖𝕨𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕡

hates despises water with a fiery passion (don’t get me started when it's time for him to bathe)

he made it his mission to dig the largest hole possible beside Phantom and Swiss who were on their separate crusade to construct the most glorious sand castle

starts clawing at the sand like a deranged dog, kicking the small particles in Phantom and Swiss’s face

gets scolded and growls at them before repositioning himself the other way

happily zens out in his proudly accomplished hole

doesn’t realize the high tide was coming in as the day went on, causing the shoreline to sneak in closer and closer

A small stream of water trickled into his territory but he ignored it, not thinking much of it at all and resumed his rest, leaning up against the high wall with his arms crossed. Dozing off after a laborious work day.

SWOOSH! A huge tidal wave of water crashed in, submerging him in salty depths, ultimately scaring him. He yelped and frantically tried to climb out of the overflowing pit. You rushed over to rescue him, pulling him up, his body shivering from the frigid temperature.

Once he secured his bearings within your arms, he angrily turned back to see the catastrophic wreckage. Madness ensued - every hair in his small figure shooting straight up and his tail viscously whipping side to side, creating dents in the soft sand.

Oh, he big mad.

This wasn’t the first time he’s lost his cool and most certainly will not be the last. He aggressively launched himself towards the evil aqua, nothing but pure rage fueling his very fiber. You swiftly caught him by the waist, wrapping your arms around him and digging your heels into the ground for proper anchorage.

He violently hissed and swatted his arms about like a mad man, you held onto him for dear life, shouting, “Dewdrop! Stop it!” over the savage snarling and profanity spewing out of his tiny mouth.

(home boy really thought he could physically throw hands with water).

ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞 & 𝕊𝕨𝕚𝕤𝕤

true definition of bromance

begged and pleaded for you to buy them the “Super Duper Crazy Mega Plastic Sand Castle” building kit (as advertised on TV). Equipped with every tool in the shed to assemble the perfect castle of your dreams!

they damn well knew how to abuse their power of sad puppy dog eyes and pouting lips

so of course you caved into their ridiculous yet adorable request

They scouted the vast sandy land, personal privateers carrying out the Dark Lord’s decree. Dewdrop tagged along behind them as they paced back and forth in this vigorous expedition for the “perfect spot” to declare ownership.

Swiss grunted in annoyance, “That’s too far of a walk from the water, we need it to dampen the sand.”

Phantom sighed, pointing to the area Swiss had fallen in love with, “The rocks are going to get in the way, it's too close.”

The two continued to butt heads, both equally stubborn and childish.

Dewdrop stood in the middle of them, his head whipping between who was speaking. Bored with the endless bickering, he plopped down on the cushiony sand, tracing a phallic symbol in the pale dirt, “What about right here?”

They exchanged a mischievous look with one another, mirroring a brow raise at the fascinating offer. In unison they shouted, leaping in the air to tackle down poor little Dewdrop.

“LAND HO!”

𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖

fashioning the cutest teeny, weeny, polka dot bikini

sprawled out her towel on the pillowy ground and laid facing down

basking in the sun's scorching hot rays

much like a cat, she loved to lounge in the sun any chance she got

its ultraviolet rays recharging her energy- utter bliss

She stretched her limbs far out as she could before turning over to roast the front of her body, exhaling a deep yawn and placing large rounded shades over her eyes.

Her face scrunched in frustration at the commotion coming from Phantom, Swiss and Dewdrop hooting and hollering - it was disturbing her well deserved me time and she will not have them ruin it!

She propped up on her elbows, lowering the shades to the tip of her nose to gander at what the fuck was going on, “Aye!”, she roared loud enough for everyone within a mile radius to hear, “Shut up over there! I’m trying to relax!”

All three immediately stopped to stare at her with wide, fearful expressions, knowing from past experience she would definitely give em a good bop on the head for pissing her off.

In a stink eye glaring standoff with the Ghouls, she slowly pushed up the frame of her sunglasses -not breaking contact- to re-cover her eyes and reclined backwards to lay.

“Idiots…” she muttered to herself.

ℂ𝕦𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕦𝕤 & ℂ𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕤

life of the party

verybody wants to be em or fuck em

baddest bitches

matching skull patterned bikinis and fancy floppy hats

love checking out the locale mom and pop shops lined up along the beach

buys trinkets/souvenirs for the other Ghouls

*insert shopping spree montage*

The ultra plush sand squished and practically swallowed their feet as they struggled to walk back to the group, hands full of bags from the shopping haul that they kindly charged to Papa’s credit card.

After settling in at basecamp, they began to unload the many items from chic clothing pieces to varying sizes of memorability that were neatly bound in gift wrap and topped with a colorful bow.

Cirrus used her thumb and pointer finger to whistle, calling the unruly herd to gather. The Ghouls' faces lit up in excitement as they sprinted to welcome the Ghoulettes. As Cirrus distributed the presents, Cumulus unboxed a package of ice cream sandwiches, letting each individual Ghoul pick out a flavor as they approached.

Today was a great day for the beach.

#can you guess who my favorite ghoul is? #eeeee <3 #i will die on this hill of headcannons #ghouls x reader #ghost #the band ghost #ghouls #ghoulettes #headcannons #ghost bc #ghost x reader #fluff #rain #mountain #drewdrop #phantom #swiss #swiss army ghoul #sunshine #cumulus #cirrus #rain x reader #mountain x reader #dewdrop x reader #phantom x reader #swiss x reader #sunshine x reader #cumulus x reader #cirrus x reader

[starsfic]

might i req a prompt if you’re still doing them?

it’d be an au of sorts where spider queen decides that the risk of wukong escaping her draining webs was significantly higher if he was conscious. so she bites him and injects him full of a powerful sedative venom. wukong, being in quite a bit of pain but couldn’t help drifting away from consciousness. he’s not asleep, but he’s not awake, his eyes stare at nothing and he’s eerily quiet. after dbk starts struggling after seeing this, he’s met with the same fate.

with wukong not being awake, nobody escapes containment and spider queen manages to capture red son and mk who get front row seats witness their teacher/dads completely subdued for the first time.

"OW!"

Sun Wukong felt his eyes go wide. Next to him, he heard DBK snort in panic as Spider Queen pulled away from his throat. Her teeth were bloody, but she was grinning. "What- What the fuck?!" Had she managed to tear a piece of his flesh out?! "Are you trying to eat me?! Stone doesn't taste very good, you know!"

"No, no, don't worry. I don't intend that fate for you, pretty boy." Her hand slid gently over his face before knotting in his hair and yanking his head back. "But I'm not an idiot." He wanted to spit that she could've fooled him, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth. "You'll do anything to escape and save your precious little prince," The title was spat out. "So I just gave you a bit of a sedative." Her hand released and Wukong felt himself slump over.

Move. Come on, move! Qi Xiaotian needs you!

But he couldn't.

He couldn't move.

Faintly, he heard DBK snarl "Wukong?! WUKONG, ANSWER!" He might've said something, but a cry of pain interrupted his words.

The last he heard was Spider Queen laughing.

-_-

"LET ME GO!"

"WHERE'S MONKEY KING?!"

"AHHHHHHHH!"

The yells and screams echoed off the walls of the mech. Spider Queen could barely bit back a chuckle at a loud yelp that definitely came from Huntsman. "So, the boy's here, and so is the Trigram Furnace," she said to the little lady. "What else do you need?"

The little lady hummed. "First, we need to make sure the boy does not escape." She turned her eyes to the little display that had been constructed over the hours since the prisoners had been taken. "This will do a wonderful job."

"And the prince? And the girl?"

The little lady hummed. "They may be useful in the course of destiny. But, of course, the Monkey King's successor matters most."

The doors opened, revealing the trio of powerful kids.

Goliath held the struggling girl over his head. His hands and face were littered with savage-looking bites. Syntax was barely hanging on to the Demon Bull Prince, looking as if he had walked through fire. Huntsman looked the most put together, with only a black eye. The Monkey King's successor looked wild though, as if he was about to follow the girl's lead and start biting.

His eyes met hers and then slid up. The screams and thrashes went silent.

"There you are, kids!" Spider Queen spread her arms, accenting the dead-looking Monkey King and Demon Bull King. "You nearly missed the party!"

#my writing #LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Sun Wukong #Demon Bull King #Spider Queen #Traffic Light Trio #Long Xiaojiao #Red Son #Qi Xiaotian #Lady Bone Demon #Huntsman #Goliath #Syntax #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

[astridhoff03]

Also watched Defenders of Berk again…

…also good Continuation, strong beginning for the Season. Astrid and Hiccups Chase is very funny and the Twins reaction to the Flight Club. Understandable that Stoick imposed flight ban, I mean his son was kidnapped one Episode ago. Still Love how deeply he cares for Hiccup and that this fact is also part of the Shows. Forgot to mention I like that they are reusing a little bit of the Soundtrack from the first Httyd, for example in the end of Fright of Passage you can hear Coming back around. Also love the Flightmare, cool glowing Dragon with frightening scream. Many very cool Dragons are in this Season like the Screaming Death, what a Badass and the Skrill, magnificent Creature and fits to Dagur very well. In Free Scauldy I love how Astrid messes with Snotlouts Head, ahh I love her she’s a Queen. Also Hicctooth Team Work in Frozen, excellent. The whole episode looks pretty cool, even if the Animation is not as good as in the movies. What I most appreciate about Episodes like Tale of two Dragons, it’s nice to see that Hiccup talks to his Dad about his Problems with his Friends and also gives him advices to become a better leader. No wonder Hiccup is an amazing Chief in the end of the Trilogy. Also the twins living their best lifes when their Dragon goes insane near the end of the episode. Savage and Dagur are the perfect Villainous Duo, love them. And it gets better in Cast out with Dagurs Boot. Hiccup. And Jealous Savage on the side. For the end of the season I also really like how they end the rivaly between Hiccup and Snotlout. The final scene with Stoick and Hiccup made me emotional. When Stoick says to his son he will be a great Chief one day maybe one of the best. And he was so right, Stoick would be so proud of Hiccup if he could see him in the end of the Trilogy.

My favorite Episodes are:

Fright of Passage

Eel Effect

Frozen

Tunnel Vision

Appetite for Destruction

Cast out 1 & 2

#dreamworks dragons #defenders of berk #httyd #httyd 2 #httyd 3 #httyd franchise #hiccstrid #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #hiccup and toothless #stormfly #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs ingerman #ruffnut and tuffnut #barf and belch #meatlug #hookfang #the dragon riders

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#330

“Ok faggot, your story checks out.  My daughter says you are cool.  I just don’t like waking up at 1 AM to find an arbitrary faggot in my living room watching drag queens on my TV while taking several hits from my bong.  Come with me….

“…Shut up.  We are going to my bedroom.  When I fuck, I prefer to be in my own bedroom….  Drop it.  Amanda told me she thinks you are a faggot.  She also told me that her boyfriend’s plane has been delayed an hour and a half.

“So I have three things.  I have a faggot in my home, I have the time, and I have a hard-on.  Of course, I’m going to fuck you. 

“Now this can go two ways.  You can try to run, but we both know, I am faster and stronger, and you won’t make it out the front door before I have you on the floor, tearing off those fag clothes, and make you take my hog with virtually no lube.  Or you can get on your knees, after stripping off your own clothes.  Good.

“Yeah, you are going to do.  I don’t care if you are a faggot or if you consider yourself as fag or straight or bi or gender fluid or whatever the fuck the current thing is.  I don’t care if you have a boyfriend.  Hell, I don’t even care if you are fucking my whore daughter.  Right now you are a faggot waiting to be cunted.

“You ever had a man cunt you?  That’s when man fucks you like he would a cunt he paid for.  The boys in your fraternity don’t count; they don’t know how to fuck, let alone how to cunt a fag.

“Up on the bed.  No. No. No.  Face down, ass up.  I don’t want to look at your mug.  In fact bury it in this pillow.  Extend your arms above your head.  Like that and hold them in place….  And with that, the first handcuff is on….  What?  You ain’t going anywhere.  A proper cunting takes a lot of time, sweat, and grease.  These handcuffs will ensure that your arms are stretched out away from your body.  Not only are you not going anywhere, you ain’t even moving around.

“Take a look at my cock.  It’s hungry.  This is the cock that is going to make you change how you view your cunt.  I know you are a real fag.  No straight would offer no resistance to the threat of being savagely cunted by a beer can thick dick.  You knew my size when I first came out of my room; you kept on checking out my boxers as I walked.

“These very boxers.  Open your fucking mouth.  That should keep you quiet while I do what needs to be done.  Keep your ass up and bite that fucking pillow. 

“Here it comes.  Oh fuck you are tight.  Scream faggot scream, just keep those boxers in your goddamned mouth.  Faggot, we are in it for the long haul.  I got a jar full of lube, a dick that can cum multiple times, and all night.

“Yeah, I have no idea if my daughter intended to leave you here with me while she picks up her boyfriend at the airport.  But knowing how conniving she is, it wouldn’t surprise me.  She didn’t even blink when I told her to stay out all night.  She knew that I was going to fuck you in an all-nighter.

“Fuck yeah.  Cry, cry, cry….  I love it when you moan.  Get it out of your system, we got hours to go.”

[rukafais]

every time someone bitches about how drizzt is Inexplicably Good For No Reason and that makes him a too-good mary sue my literary pretention meter goes up another pip

Like huh! I wonder why Drizzt would kick back against the constant indoctrination of the academy and the implied social skills that are required to be a proper adult in Menzo society

“I will remember everything you taught me,” Drizzt promised, dodging a cut and launching a fierce counter of his own. “I will carve my name in the halls of Melee-Magthere and make you proud.” The scowl on Zak’s face surprised Drizzt, and the young drow grew even more confused when the weapons master’s next attack sent a sword knifing straight at his heart. Drizzt leaped aside, slapping at the blade in sheer desperation, and narrowly avoided impalement. “Are you so very sure of yourself?” Zak growled, stubbornly pursuing Drizzt. Drizzt set himself as their blades met in ringing fury. “I am a fighter,” he declared. “A drow warrior!” “You are a dancer!” Zak shot back in a derisive tone. He slammed his sword onto Drizzt’s blocking scimitar so savagely that the young drow’s arm tingled. “An imposter!” Zak cried. “A pretender to a title you cannot begin to understand!”

It's not like he had a sudden fight with his beloved mentor right before they left

But Zak was relentless. He fended the attacks and continued his lesson. “Do you know the emotions of murder?” he spat. “Have you reconciled yourself to the act you committed?” Drizzt’s only answers were a frustrated growl and a renewed attack. “Ah, the pleasure of plunging your sword into the bosom of a high priestess,” Zak taunted. “To see the light of warmth leave her body while her lips utter silent curses in your face! Or have you ever heard the screams of dying children?” [...] “How loud, those screams,” Zak continued. “They echo over the centuries in your mind; they chase you down the paths of your entire life.” Zak halted the action so that Drizzt might weigh his every word. “You have never heard them, have you, dancer?” The weapons master stretched his arms out wide, an invitation. “Come, then, and claim your second kill,” he said, tapping his stomach. “In the belly, where the pain is greatest, so that my screams may echo in your mind. Prove to me that you are the drow warrior you claim to be.” The tips of Drizzt’s scimitars slowly made their way to the stone floor. He wore no smile now. “You hesitate,” Zak laughed at him. “This is your chance to make your name. A single thrust, and you will send a reputation into the Academy before you. Other students, even masters, will whisper your name as you pass. ‘Drizzt Do’Urden,’ they will say. ‘The boy who slew the most honored weapons master in all of Menzoberranzan!’ Is this not what you desire?” “Damn you,” Drizzt spat back, but still he made no move to attack. “Drow warrior?” Zak chided him. “Do not be so quick to claim a title you cannot begin to understand!” Drizzt came on then, in a fury he had never before known. His purpose was not to kill, but to defeat his teacher, to steal the taunts from Zak’s mouth with a fighting display too impressive to be derided.

where Drizzt desperately wanted validation that he Did Good and learned everything Zak wanted him to learn and got nothing but Zak suddenly turning on him and telling him he was a stupid child who didn't understand anything about what being a drow warrior really means. it went from a clean fair fight to suddenly being tricked

“Treachery,” Drizzt spat a third time. “It is our way,” Zak replied. “You will learn.” “It is your way,” snarled Drizzt. “You grin when you speak of murdering clerics of the Spider Queen. Do you so enjoy killing? Killing drow?” Zak could not find an answer to the accusing question. Drizzt’s words hurt him profoundly because they rang of truth, and because Zak had come to view his penchant for killing clerics of Lolth as a cowardly response to his own unanswerable frustrations. “You would have killed me,” Drizzt said bluntly. “But I did not,” Zak retorted. “And now you live to go to the Academy—to take a dagger in the back because you are blind to the realities of our world, because you refuse to acknowledge what your people are. “Or you will become one of them,” Zak growled. “Either way, the Drizzt Do’Urden I have known will surely die.” Drizzt’s face twisted, and he couldn’t even find the words to dispute the possibilities Zak was spitting at him. He felt the blood drain from his face, though his heart raged. He walked away, letting his glare linger on Zak for many steps. “Go, then, Drizzt Do’Urden!” Zak cried after him. “Go to the Academy and bask in the glory of your prowess. Remember, though, the consequences of such skills. Always there are consequences!” Zak retreated to the security of his private chamber. The door to the room closed behind the weapons master with such a sound of finality that it spun Zak back to face its empty stone. “Go, then, Drizzt Do’Urden,” he whispered in quiet lament. “Go to the Academy and learn who you really are.” [...] Drizzt looked out into the myriad colors and shapes that composed Menzoberranzan. “What is this place?” he whispered, realizing how little he knew of his homeland beyond the walls of his own house. Zak’s words—Zak’s rage—pressed in on Drizzt as he stood there, reminding him of his ignorance and hinting at a dark path ahead. “This is the world,” Dinin replied, though Drizzt’s question had been rhetorical. “Do not worry, Secondboy,” he laughed, moving up onto the railing. “You will learn of Menzoberranzan in the Academy. You will learn who you are and who your people are.” The declaration unsettled Drizzt. Perhaps—remembering his last bitter encounter with the drow he had most trusted—that knowledge was exactly what he was afraid of.

And its like GEE. I WONDER WHY DRIZZT HAS SUCH AN AVERSION TO BETRAYAL AND THE LESSONS THEY TEACH IN THE ACADEMY. IT'S NOT LIKE "WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A DROW WARRIOR" IS THE LAST THING HIS DAD LEFT HIM WITH BEFORE HE WENT OFF TO THE ACADEMY FOR TEN YEARS. ITS NOT LIKE HIS FIRST EXPERIENCE OF "BEING A PROPER DROW" WAS A REJECTION THAT HURT HIM DEEPLY OR ANYTHING.

Naw naw he's just a perfect little guy. Just the perfect mary sue. Obviously it just comes from nowhere because he is just so good. It's not foreshadowed at all.

#long post #auugnagjsgjhgjngnsghsggs #like fucking hello #drizzt chatter