#;;half mad stag

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hi there! I'm a huge fan of your work, and I was wondering if you could help flesh out a vilain idea I had? I have a basic setup, but no idea how to make him a rounder character.

The gist of it is a fey king whose queen died, so, driven mad with grief and incredibly deep in denial, he reaches out into the Material Plane and kidnaps women who resemble his queen, forcibly altering their minds and bodies through fell magic to transform them into reincarnations of his queen. He keeps failing as the magic instead transforms them into horribly broken and mutated horrors, driving him to more desperate measures.

Other than that, I have no idea how to develop him further or devise an end to his evil :(( so any tips on villain development would be greatly appreciated :))

Adventure: A Covetous Love

Friend, you don't need to make your villain a rounder character, you just need to refocus your narrative onto the genuinely horrific scenario you've created where a series of women have their identities torn away piece by piece. How does it feel to go through it? What must it be like for their friends and family to watch as the woman they knew is replaced by some cruel parody in line with a stranger’s lusts?  Refocusing the story on the current victim likewise gives the story human stakes, and allows the party a good entrypoint into this ongoing tragedy with the chance of possibly preventing it from repeating. 

Before we get into the story itself, here’s a few more ideas I’m going to suggest: 

Rather than kidnapping outright, the fey lord visits his victims in disguise courting them as if he were a wealthy, charming suitor. He offers jewelry and trinkets and other fine things, all infused with the essence of his beloved, and as each of them is accepted the victim becomes a little bit more and more like his queen. A silver comb that turns her hair into HER hair, a cup of wine that fills her dreams with memories of their pramanades through faerie together, makeup that not only wipes out any flaws but transforms the face into a mask of bloodless porcelain perfection. 

Likewise, the transformation process specifically fails because the fey’s expectations are too much. If he were willing to settle for someone who only reminded him of his bride, or gods help him strike out on some new course, he could theoretically be happy… but because he keeps trying to make his victims MORE he ends up with an idea that collapses in on itself, something too perfect to live or even maintain a coherent form. 

To really drive home the tragedy of the horror, I’m going to suggest that the current victim is a woman trapped in either a political marriage or one that’s long gone cold. The fey will exploit her genuine desire for romance and affection, as well as her longing to escape the cage of her life, making the offer of becoming someone else (even if it means dying in the process) all the more tempting. This makes it so that the hinge point of the adventure isn’t just a “rescue the princess” matter of getting her away from the fey, but confronting her as a person and trying to persuade her that there’s some other path to freedom than letting herself be eaten by some otherworldly waifu. 

This setup also gives the party a great secondary antagonist to clash against: the jealous mortal husband, someone who technically WANTS the same thing as the party and has the resources at his back, but will actively drive the victim into the fey’s arms every time he gets involved. He wants to save the victim, but doesn’t care about her happiness, in fact he may be intent on punishing her for her infidelity. He’s there to show why the victim wants to leave. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The party first encounter Lady Melanie Kerridell while out in the wilderness when a stag she’s hunting blunders into their path/camp, on horseback, weapon in hand and her fine clothes streaked with mud. She’ll berate them if they let the beast escape or steal the kill for themselves, but half way through will stagger and lose track of where she is. Just about then a group of her friends and servants will crash through the foliage in a desperate state, as Melanie was out with them having a country luncheon when she spotted the stag, grabbed a weapon from the guards, and took off after it.  This is not the first time this has happened, Lady Kerridell is about half way transformed into the Green-Eyed-Queen and she’s letting herself slip more and more. A concerned friend will invite the party back with them to the estate, and then politely broach the topic about how they might “look in” on Melanie and what might be causing her to act this way. 

The party receive a letter from Lady Kerridell, begging for their help ridding her manor of a haunting, of a monster that has been wandering her home at night wearing her face. When they seek her out however they find her beautiful and cruel and with no idea whatsoever who sent them the letter, despite it bearing her seal.

Lord Edrick Kerridell catches the party snooping around and offers to pay them if they can track down the young dandy he’s seen his wife sneaking off into the gardens to neck with. He wants to know just who the man is before he decides what to do with him, just incase these pricy gifts are from the vault of some other great family. When the party do find the dandy,  he’ll lead them on a merry chase through the town, dragging them all into the feywild if they manage to corner him. 

The local jeweler needs some help investigating a robbery, a few pieces were stolen, but the prize of the take was a staggeringly beautiful necklace of gold and jade, which he was in the middle of repairing. Strangeness surrounds the case: the dandy who delivered the necklace made no secret that it was for a married woman and as the jeweler worked on it he couldn’t shake the feeling of some kind of presence skirting around the edge of his workshop.  When the party find the thief they’ll find her in a bit of a state, having put on the necklace and been influenced by the fey-bride’s mind, she now finds herself driven to heist the home of Lady Berridale. Ostensibly this is for more riches, but the shard of the green eyed queen seeks to complete herself, which will likely result in one of the two womens’ deaths. 

Art

[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

I think my request will be about Lee Lucifer because I really think that Lucifer is a great Lee and he is so cute. Well, Lucifer is a childish personality and very hyperactive. This causes him to disrupt the order in the hotel to some extent. Whether it's dealing with Alastor or everyone else, you know he's just having fun. But this situation may hurt Vaggie and Alastor. Okay, Lucifer doesn't bother much with Vaggie, but even his dealing with Alastor causes a lot of destruction in the hotel and Vaggie is tired of it. They may want to catch him and punish him, but it is hidden from Charlie (because Charlie may be too "merciful" in this regard).

And when Charlie isn't around, the two of them can tickle Lucifer.

Alrighty!

Defense Mechanisms

Summary: Being the hyperactive King he is Lucifer is stirring up trouble in the hotel again, so being the hotel’s protectors Vaggie and Alastor take care of it

CW: Swearing, gets a lil intense at the end 😬

Fic below the cut! 👇

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally. A calm day at the hotel. Just Vaggie hanging out in her room with some music playing in the background while she polished her spear. Nothing could take her away from this moment, not stupid Alastor, not annoying Angel not…what was that crash from downstairs?

Vaggie sighed in annoyance, she wanted to stay here and keep tending to her weapon but as the hotel’s protector she had to go see what it was. With a reluctant sigh she stood up and grabbed her half-polished spear and made her way out the door and down the hall.

Arriving in the lobby a few moments later she overlooked the lobby from the top of the staircase but saw nothing? She raised a brow and was about to go downstairs to look around better when Lucifer came flying around the corner, cackling like a gremlin with Alastor hot on his tail.

Vaggie’s eyes widened in alarm and she quickly raced down the stairs and jumped between the two of them, effectively halting them both.

“Okay. Mind telling me what’s going on here?” Vaggie looked at both of them, Alastor watching Lucifer with an expression of exasperation and Lucifer watching Alastor with a grin, hiding behind Vaggie as he did so.

“Well…His Majesty here is being a bit of a nuisance this morning, I am simply keeping him under control. Well, trying to.” Alastor explained and Vaggie looked back at Lucifer behind her who shrank away with a nervous laugh.

“And where are the others?” Vaggie asked the stag, turning her attention back to him and placing her hands on her hips as Alastor pointed to Husk’s bar where Niffty was on top watching with amusement, Angel and Husk were behind the counter trying to stay out of the way and Charlie stood next to the bar counter with an exasperated look on her face.

Vaggie sighed then turned to look at the King behind her. “Your Majesty, what have you been doing all day that would cause them to do that?” She asked him and he stood straight again and straightened his cloak, trying to look as professional as possible after that whole ordeal.

“I was just having a little bit of fun, they’re being dramatic.” Lucifer waved his hand with a scoff, turning back to look at Alastor whose ears bent back a little. “You repeatedly irritated me then ran off laughing when I got mad and tried to wrangle you, you little pest.” Alastor snapped, fixing his hair and twirling his staff behind his back.

“If you’ll excuse me I have some clean up to do a few floors up.” Alastor told the group in the lobby before heading towards and up the large staircase, turning the dark corner and disappearing from sight.

Vaggie looked back at Lucifer who waved at her with a nervous smile, “I technically can’t even be upset with you.” Vaggie sighed, placing two fingers on the bridge of her nose making the King chuckle lightly as the other angel grabbed her spear that she’d placed against the wall and also disappeared up the stairs.

Lucifer let out an audible sigh of relief before wandering over to talk with Charlie, noticing that Angel had come out from the other side of the bar to talk with Husk and Niffty as the cat demon cleaned bottles as he listened to the two ramble.

“Heyyyyy Charlie..” Lucifer dragged out the greeting as he saw Charlie’s expression. “You gotta stop going around and causing trouble in the hotel Dad, it’ll get you in big trouble one of these days.” Charlie told him, scolding the King like a child but he only waved her off.

“It’s fineee Char Char, I’m the King of Hell what’s anyone going to do to me?” He asked her and she raised a brow, folding her arms in front of her chest with a ‘seriously’ type look. “You know what good point.” Lucifer commented and her expression quickly turned confused.

“I didn’t even say anything..” Charlie muttered as she watched her father’s thinking expression. “You didn’t have to.” Lucifer told her, concentrated look never faltering, “..Okay.” Charlie muttered again, facepalming at her dad’s antics.

~*~

What a mess.

Alastor stared irritably at the mess now soaked into the hotel’s floor runners. During Lucifer’s shenanigans Alastor was dusting one of the flower vases on one of the stands in the hallway when Lucifer came in and his task was interrupted causing him to stumble and the vase to get knocked over, water and dirt soaking into the floors as we speak.

So here Alastor was, staring at the floor holding a cloth and bucket of water. “Do you need help?” Vaggie asked, suddenly appearing right next to Alastor making him jump, nearly dropping his supplies.

“Someone’s awfully jumpy.” Vaggie teased the deer, taking the bucket of water from him since he got water in his clothes after the jumpscare, he was currently cleaning the water off his clothes. “Yes well, after a previous jumpscare from the King I suppose that does happen.” Alastor sneered, staring down at the fallen angel and retrieving the bucket from her hands.

“Don’t worry I’m just messing with you.” Vaggie replied with a laugh, walking away and soon returning with a vacuum. “Now what is that supposed to do? It’s soaked into the rug already.” Alastor told her, pointing at the rug for emphasis.

“You idiot it’s to clean up the dirt on top, now get to cleaning before it ruins the rug even more.” Vaggie told him, smacking him over the head in annoyance earning a round of annoyed radio static as the stag bent down to start scrubbing the rug with Vaggie helping.

~*~

“What should I do next?” Lucifer spoke to himself, now back in his room and pondering over a piece of paper and a pen on what he should do next to prank Alastor.

“I don’t think this is a very good idea dad.” Charlie spoke up from one of the walls she was leaning against and Lucifer swung around in his chair and waved her off again.

“It’s fine Charlie! Plus people in the place need to lighten up anyway, they’re always so boring.” He commented, grinning at her now irritated face. “Don’t say that about my friends dad.” Charlie told him, clearly being serious about that matter

“Oh fine but it’s not like I’m wrong.” Lucifer told her, spinning his chair back around and staring at the paper in front of him. “What should I do…” he muttered to himself, trying to think before finally he got it.

He snapped his fingers together in realization, an excited expression forming on his face and he stood up and threw a quick glance at Charlie. “I’ve got it Charlie! I’ll be right back!” Lucifer told her and disappeared from the room before she could get a word out.

“Hehe.” Lucifer chuckled to himself, creeping down the hallway on his way to the main lobby where he knew one of the main trios would be: Angel, Husk and Niffty.

He had a great idea. Place a remote control bug in the foot of one of the corridors to get the little maid away, fake a phone call from Valentino to Angel’s phone to get him away from the bar and play a harmless prank on the cat demon, simple.

So here he was going down the hallway as quietly as he could and when he finally reached the foot of the stairs he hid behind one of the pillars and magicked the remote control bug over to the furthest hall and shot a glance at Niffty to see if she noticed it.

When she didn’t he let out a small whistle and that got her attention, looking around in confusion before her eyes focused on the toy in the hallway. Immediately she pulled her dagger out and ran off to catch it as the remote part of it controlled it to scuttle away.

“One down, one to go.” Lucifer told himself and then looked over to where Angel sat. “Guess Niff found another bug to catch.” Angel commented, watching the little maid run off and taking a swig from a glass of alcohol he was given and leaning up against the bar counter.

“Yep I guess so.” Husk replied, cleaning a previously used shot glass, he was about to say something else when Angel’s phone rang.

The spider demon checked it and audibly groaned, “Ughhh it’s Val, I gotta take this Husk.” Angel told the bartender, reluctantly placing the drink down and walking down a random hallway to take the call.

“Perfect.” The king told himself as the other sighed in content at the now peace and quiet. Well not for long. Lucifer began his scaring prank by pulling a glass cup out of his pocket and chucking it at the nearby wall making it shatter on impact.

Husk’s head immediately snapped to where the glass hit the wall and made a noise of confusion, ear flicking curiously as he walked out from behind his counter, walking over and crouching down to examine the mess.

“Okay now for the next part.” Lucifer audibly monologued, waving his hand in the air and suddenly all the lights in the lobby began flickering violently making Husk snap up, fur standing on end and a nervous growl emitting from his throat.

“Okay whoever’s doin this it ain’t funny you hear? Come on out!” Husk shouted at the ‘ghost’ visibly growing more nervous as the lights suddenly halted all flickering and the room fell dead silent.

Husk was about to turn around and walk back to behind his bar counter when..”BOO!” Lucifer yelled from behind him making the cat demon jump away with a frightened yowl, fur still on end and his wings all puffed up.

Husk caught his breath for a moment after a scare like that as he glanced at Lucifer who was now on the floor laughing and the cat demon huffed out a breath and stood up fully again, straightening his hat and helping the king up.

“Sohohorry Huhusk, couldn’t hehelp mysehelf.” Lucifer giggled and Husk gave him a small smirk. “It’s fine Your Highness, I figured that bug Niffty went after looked fake and it just so happened things started getting weird after Angel got that call from Valentino. Were those your doing?” Husk asked and Lucifer sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yehep you got me.” He grinned and Husk shook his head in an exasperated way with a smile before walking back to the bar counter.

"Be careful with that Your Highness your pranks although they are harmless might get you in trouble with Charlie." Husk told him as he picked up the glass he was previously cleaning and resumed.

“But as usual Lucifer only waved him off, “I’ll be okay Husk thank you though!” The king called as he started for the staircase again, scaling it and walking down the hall back to his room, Husk watching the whole way.

~*~

“You guys have quite the handful here.” Charlie spoke up as she came down the hall to see Vaggie and Alastor cleaning up what looked like a dirt spill in the carpets.

“Yes well that prank that your father pulled this morning on me resulted in this.” Alastor replied, a little bit of static entering the air at the mention of the incident. “It’s fine Alastor, besides we can’t really do anything he’s the King of Hell.” Vaggie told him, standing up and greeting Charlie before crouching back down to help.

“Do you guys need any help?” Charlie asked them as she got a little closer. “Could you take this to the washer?” Vaggie requested, holding up a dripping wet but mostly clean floor runner and she nodded, taking the runner from the fallen angel and starting down the hallway.

“Hi Mr. Alastor!” Niffty greeted, running down the hallway towards him and Vaggie and holding up the remote control bug she was previously chasing. “Hello Niffty dear.” Alastor greeted back, sitting up straight as she climbed up on his shoulder.

“Look I killed a bug angel lady!” Niffty exclaimed, now referring to Vaggie who chuckled, “I see that, where did you find that one?” She asked the little maid and she grinned before replying, “In the hallway a few halls down, it was fast but I caught it!” Niffty told them before glancing at the still dirty floor runner and scowling.

“Ew what a mess! Go both of you leave! I’m going to clean!” Niffty told Vaggie and Alastor, pulling a broom out of nowhere and shooing them away with it, reluctantly the two left and met Charlie halfway to the lobby.

“Hey guys did you already finish?” Charlie asked them, turning around and falling in step with the both of them. “Nope, Niffty found us and shooed us away, telling us she would take care of the mess.” Vaggie explained and Charlie laughed a little.

“Yep that’s Niffty for you.” She replied, turning to Alastor, “Has my dad been bothering you guys again?” She asked him and he looked down to glance at her. “Thankfully no my dear me and Vaggie here have been in this hallway all afternoon.” Alastor replied and Charlie hummed in thought.

“That’s good but it’s also not like him.” She commented and the two waved off her concern, “It’s okay babe, he’s probably just somewhere else in the hotel planning his next prank or already initiating one.” Vaggie told her, placing a reassuring hand on the princess’ shoulder as they walked.

“Yes there’s nothing to worry about my dear, even if he is around here somewhere causing trouble me and the angel will take care of it.” Alastor remarked making Charlie smile, “Yeah you guys are right I shouldn’t worry.” She smiled as they walked down the hall to the foyer.

~*~

“Hmm, what should I do next..” Lucifer muttered to himself at his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers as he thought, “I could…? No that wouldn’t work..” he thought aloud, thinking for a few moments before he felt something prick him in the back.

“Ow! What the..?” Lucifer spoke in confusion, reaching behind him and pulling out the object and holding it in front of him, a red feather. He looked behind him to see that his wings were out, they must have summoned while he was zoned out.

“Oh well back to..wait. I can use my wings! Going around detaching some of the feathers and randomly poking the others with it, it’s brilliant, it doesn’t hurt anyone and it’s funny!” Lucifer exclaimed, now pleased with himself as he stood and walked to the door, opening it and folding his wings in so he could fit through the door before closing it again.

~*~

“Dealing with him is starting to get a little old.” Alastor grumbled, now juts him and Vaggie again on a sofa in the common room. “It’s fine you grump. Plus it’s the King of Hell it’s not really like you can do anything about it.” Vaggie told him, lightly punching the other in the shoulder in an attempt to get him to lighten up.

“I suppose but it’s still- ow!” Alastor exclaimed suddenly, a startled crack of microphone feedback filling the air as his gaze shot down to where something just stabbed him. “What’s wrong?” Vaggie asked him, a hint on concern in her voice.

“Something stabbed me but there’s no wound, just a jab I presume.” Alastor replied cautiously, turning back to Vaggie. “It’s fine it was probably just a stray dagger from Niffty.” Vaggie reassured the other, gesturing to the little maid on Husk’s counter.

“Yes I suppose that would make sense.” Alastor told her, clearing his throat and straightening his bow tie before fixating his attention back on the conversation they were having.

“And then I told her ‘wait you can’t do that that’s dangerous!’” Vaggie laughed, in the midst of telling a particularly amusing story, “Yes that does sound like her.” Alastor replied, letting out a small chuckle of his own at the story.

“Yeah and then what happened was-!!” Vaggie flinched, feeling a stabbing sensation in her back, “What happened my dear?” Alastor asked her, confused static filling the air.

“Let’s just say I know what you meant when you said you felt a stabbing sensation, I’ve kept my eye on Niffty if wasn’t her.” Vaggie grimaced, rubbing the spot where she got ‘stabbed’.

“What is going on?” Alastor spoke, sounding uncharacteristically lost, “I’m not sure but let’s just go back to talking and see if it happens again.” Vaggie told him, now keeping a sharp eye out for anything of the matter.

They continued talking for about 5 more minutes before…”OW!” Alastor exclaimed again, whipping his head around to see a red feather dart back to the shadows. Alastor’s eyes narrowed in anger as he looked down at the stab point which was bleeding this time.

“You’re bleeding Alastor!” Vaggie exclaimed, standing up briskly, “I am aware my dear, but what I am also aware of is the identity of our silent attacker.” Alastor replied, grin more strained now and a lime green aura filling the air, “Let’s go catch an angel.”

~*~

“Shit shit shit! The stupid Bellhop saw one of my feathers and now knows it’s me!” Lucifer thought as he raced down the halls, “Charlie’s out today so I can’t ask her for help and I already know they’re both on my trail! What do I do?!” Lucifer’s mind raced as he ran.

“I know I’ll just hide in my room! Then I’ll just act like I never knew anything in the first place! Brilliant!” Lucifer grinned as he continued running until he reached his room, swinging open the door and shutting it before walking over to his bed and sitting down at the foot of it to catch his breath.

“You really think you got away that easy?” Vaggie spoke and Lucifer’s head shot up as he just noticed her standing in the shadowy part of his room. He then heard a small click and his gaze snapped to the door that had just locked, it now being held shut by lime green magic.

“Huh-?” Lucifer muttered before his gaze locked on the figure standing by the door, “Sorry Your Highness but we wouldn’t make it that easy, you understand~” Alastor grinned, stepping out of the shadows next to Vaggie to be seen.

“Wait no I d-don’t know what you guys are talking about!” He stuttered, now realizing that he’d been caught, “Do you now? Then how do you explain that?” Vaggie asked him, raising a brow and pointing to the small wound on Alastor’s side.

“Uhh, Niffty?” Lucifer grinned sheepishly, eyes widening a little as Vaggie and Alastor subtlety crept closer. “Get him?” Vaggie glanced at Alastor who grinned, “Get him.”

“Shit.” Lucifer muttered, summoning his wings and trying to escape but Alastor slammed his staff on the ground and the room engulfed in darkness, shadowy tendrils bursting out of the floor and grabbed the other out of the air before he could get away.

“No put me down! I am your King!” Lucifer tried pulling the royalty card but it didn’t work on them, the tendrils only carried him to his bed and set him down, still holding him in place as the other fallen angel and the stag walked up to his bedside.

“So what do we do?” Vaggie asked the other, glancing up at him as he hummed, “Uhh maybe let me go?!” Lucifer tried to interject but he was silenced real quick, “I have an idea. We obviously can’t hurt him correct?” Alastor spoke up, looking down at Vaggie who gave him a ‘really?’ type look.

“Yes obviously.” Vaggie rolled her eyes, “Well I have an idea that is just as effective.” Alastor grinned down at the King who sneered at the other, “Yeah? And what’s that?” Vaggie asked him, watching closely as Alastor’s tendril crept closer to the blonde’s side and jabbing him once and fast causing him to jump and shoot his gaze over to glare at Alastor nervously.

“You wouldn’t.” Lucifer told him, a bead of sweat running down the side of his head, “Oh I most certainly would. Care to help me my dear?” Alastor grinned, looking over at a now grinning Vaggie.

“Absolutely. No offense Your Highness but you’ve been a bit of a nuisance lately.” Vaggie replied, looking at Lucifer who now started to smile nervously. “W-Wait you can’t! I’ll tell Charlie!” He tried bargaining but the other two only laughed.

“Charlie? And what are you going to tell her? We’re keeping you here to be nice, we could very easily go to my radio tower and let all of Hell know just how ticklish their king really is~” Alastor taunted, grinning deviously at Lucifer’s now panicked expression.

“Nohoho…I-I’m gohohood..” Lucifer chuckled nervously, glancing at Vaggie with ‘Help me’ written in his eyes but she only shrugged and climbed up on the bed to sit behind his head.

“Would you like to do the honors my dear?” Alastor asked Vaggie, noticing her excited expression, “Gladly.” Vaggie smirked down at Lucifer who grinned nervously back up at her.

The other fallen angel spread her wings and fluttered them a little before descending the tips to drag along Lucifer’s sides and stomach while her hands came down to squeeze and prod at his ribs.

Immediately he started squirming, face turning a light red as he bit his lip to avoid any laughter from coming out, “What’s the matter Your Highness, what happened to all those snarky comments hmm?” Alastor taunted, standing at the foot of the bed with a grin.

“S-Shuhut the hell uhup!” Lucifer snapped, the wave of laughter getting harder and harder to hold back the longer this went on. “You should help me Al, it’s kinda fun.” Vaggie spoke up, still concentrating on Lucifer’s face that just changed to something more worried as she said that.

“Noho! D-Don’t help heher!” He pleaded, face getting redder the longer he held back, wings starting to lightly flap against the bed as it continued.

“Why I would love to.” Alastor smirked lightly, taking one of his fingers and lightly trailing it down the outside of Lucifer’s thigh, relishing in the way his eyes snapped open and his leg jerked away from the touch.

Alastor grabbed the King’s leg and pulled it back, holding it in place and now using all 5 fingers to lightly skitter along that same place and almost laughing as he nearly got kicked in the face and the other broke, hearty laughter pouring out of him with no hope of being contained.

“Wahahahait! Wahahahait you twohoho plehehehease!” Lucifer pleaded, face now fully red with embarrassment, “Wow, begging already? That was fast~” Vaggie teased, trailing her wing tips towards the King’s lower back making him buck, “Nohohohot thehehehere Vahahaggie plehehease!” He pleaded again and she shrugged, bringing her wings back up to his stomach.

“This one seems to be rather sensitive, what about the other one?” Alastor commented to himself, switching his hands to skitter over the other leg causing the other to kick out again, “Nohohohot thehehehere wahahahait!” Lucifer called, trying to sit up but being restricted by Vaggie and Alastor’s tendrils.

“Not where? Here?” Alastor taunted again, moving his hands to lightly scratch over the backs of his knees making the other grin wider, laughter kicking up a notch at the change in spots.

“Hmm..” Vaggie hummed, noticing that Lucifer was sort of covering his neck, she moved her hands lower to squeeze at his sides and brought her wings higher, fluttering and lightly tracing over his neck and jaw. He immediately scrunched up, laughter turning into more loud but breathy giggles that made her internally aww at him.

“DOHohohOHONT do THAhahahahAHAT!” Lucifer complained, kicking again as Alastor switched legs again. “AHAHA! Ahahalastohohor you AHAhahahaHASS!” Lucifer whined making them both mock-offendedly gasp at his remark.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Vaggie scolded him, unable to keep the large grin off her face though, “Do we forgive him?” Vaggie asked Alastor, glancing up at him.

“Hmm…no.” Alastor replied, grinning widely as they both watched his eyes grow from worried to panicked really quick.

“Why don’t we let the hotel know just how ticklish you really are~” Alastor taunted, watching as Lucifer’s wings fluttered in anticipation and the giddy panic as Alastor’s tendrils rose around them and Vaggie gently grabbed, spread and held Lucifer’s wings in place.

~*~

“AHAHAH!! WAHAHAHAHAIT YOU GUHUHUHUYS IM SOHOHOHORRY PLEHEHEHEASE!!” Lucifer cackled as Alastor’s tendrils gently and somewhat roughly playfully attacked his wings, the feathered appendages beating against the bed as he was forced to lay there and take it.

“Hmm are you though?” Vaggie teased him, but still watching his face closely for any hint or indication of distress or discomfort but all she saw was stubbornness and childlike joy, it made her heart swell seeing her king so happy.

“NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAY!! DO YOUR WOHOHORST I CAN TAKE IHIHIT!!” Lucifer challenged which only made Alastor grin wider, “Alright then. Challenged accepted Your Highness.” He grinned, “Vaggie dear, a little help?” He asked her, gesturing to her wings and then to Lucifer.

Catching on quickly she spread her wings with a thumbs up, Alastor now noticing that she understood, flicked his hand in the air and suddenly the tendrils moved and went after his back, Vaggie following suit by gently tracing his upper rib/underarm area.

Lucifer arched off the bed with a bark of a laugh before crashing back down and bursting into hysterical cackles. “WAHAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOT WHAHAHAT I MEHEHEHEANT HOHOHOLY SHIHIHIT!!” Lucifer screeched, taking his hand and pounding it against the mattress.

Taking that as the universal sign of ‘I’m done’ the two backed off immediately, laughing at the disheveled mess of a King, “Yohohou okay Your Hihighnehess?” Vaggie snickered, hearing chuckles coming from Alastor as well.

“D-Dohohon’t…laugh at mehehehe…you ahahahasshoholes!” Lucifer breathed out, sitting up and smoothing his hair down, being the King of Hell he recovered rather quickly, breathing regulating to normal and titters dying down.

“That. Was completely and totally unfair.” Lucifer grinned, pointing an accusatory finger at the both of them but they only shrugged. “Hey you had to learn your lesson somehow.” Vaggie grinned, “Oh that is IT! Come here!”

~*~

“You heard that too right? All that laughter? Also what do you think that crash from upstairs was?” Angel asked Husk, leaning against the bar counter and downing the shot the bartender just slid his way.

“Who knows in this hotel. But it was likely His Majesty, Vaggie and Alastor. Charlie went to Cannibal Town and Niffty’s over there.” Husk pointed to the little maid chasing a bug in circles a few feet away.

“Yeah but the laughter?” Angel questioned and Husk smirked to himself, “Well His Majesty has been a bit of a pain in the ass today.” Husk smirked, glancing at Angel.

“Yeah but what does that have to do with- ohhhh.” Angel realized, a small smirk forming on his face. “When do you think Charlie will be back? She’s been gone for a while.” Angel asked, staring at the door.

“I don’t know.” Husk replied, turning around and grabbing a bottle of alcohol right as the door banged open.

“I’m baaaack!” Charlie sang, skipping through the doors and stopping in her tracks as she noticed how quiet the hotel was. “Where are Alastor, Vaggie and my dad?” She asked, walking in some more and stopping at the bar, looking around cluelessly.

Husk and Angel glanced at each other then back at her with a smirk.

“You don’t wanna know.”

(I’m so sorry this took so long to get out I’m not dead don’t worry I am very much alive 😭 I’ve just been burnt out from irl things and have had absolutely no ideas or motivation for this but I finally got it finished and hopefully I’ll be able to get the others out quicker! I hope you enjoyed!)

[alxarasm]

As my booklet prints let’s talk about the fundamental tragedy surrounding NedCat to honor the impending Nedcatweek and since everyone is talking about it (by everyone I mean like 2 people-ANYWAY)

They were always meant to meet, whether she was to be his good sister or his wife, they were always going to meet, and I believe there was always going to be a connection between them. Not necessarily romantic in the first scenario but just this…thing that pulled them towards each other, but it’s always- always going to end in tragedy. In terms of the hypothetical “Brandon lives” au, that’s a thing for another day, but Canon?? We got some good tear jerking stuff.

They were never meant for each other. They’re haunted by secrets and ghosts. They were both pulled out of their molds and shoved into tighter, more constricting ones. It’s a gift they never asked for. “You will rule the North.” Applies to both of them, and they resent it. He loses everyone after the war, and so does she. He hurts her before he even knows her. He’s terrified and plagued by nightmares. She’s never been more alone in this world. They find comfort in each other. They don’t know how to. It’s one step forward and 3 steps back. They try to be happy. He frightens her into silence. She forgives him. It’s her duty. He regrets nothing but the hurt he caused.

She’s an outsider. So was he. He builds her a sept. They have many children together. Each time a part of him is afraid he’ll lose her to it. He leaves for war again. This time she loves him. It hurts more. He comes back with another child. Not his, but the wound still aches. They have more children. Only one looks like him- a girl. He loves them all the same. She resents the boy more. They have years of happiness…

A Stag kills a Direwolf. The hand of the king dies. Their boy is crippled. She’s mad with grief. He has to leave again. He kisses her tears and still, he goes. They are apart for weeks. He wishes he were by her side in her grief. She wishes he never left. Their child is attacked. She bleeds to save him. She travels half the continent to find him again. They reunite- its happy- its dangerous- it doesn’t last. They part one last time. He lies to save her. She does everything she can to save him, but she cannot move inside this mold. He is tricked by the man she told him to trust. The thought of her is as painful as a bed of nettles. He thinks about her- constantly. He is plagued by nightmares she cannot save him from. He’ll never see her again.

Their baby girl begs to save him. He confesses treason to save them. His head is cut off. And with it, the secrets die.

She goes mad with grief, and she is alone again. He is everywhere and nowhere. He is her final thought. She begs him to save her while she claws at the face he loved, tearing it apart. He doesn’t. Her hair, they were going to cut it- he loved it. They cut her throat instead.

She’s at peace. Until she’s not.

[isiaiowin]

Behind the scenes of Hell's Art Department.

So I made this image of Shax last night as a practice piece:

And I thought it might be fun to show you how these are made. I can't really draw, so what does a demon lost in Hell's Art Department do? Find another way.

Find a funny story with pictures below the cut:

And there it was: a shiny new app on the dingy computer called Canva. Instead of using this fancy program how as it was meant to be used, memories of H.S. Paint resurfaced, and a little spark of Hellfire lit up their soul: there are shapes in this thing.

SHAPES

and you can RESHAPE the SHAPES!

A few more hot drinks from the fire cooler later, they had made this for the April First Bad Art challenge :

But Shax threatened to use them as her new wall décor when she saw it, so back to the proverbial drawing board they went and came up with this:

Triangles for days! Even the background! And a happy Grand Duke of Hell now had something else to hang on the wall.

This was fun, and when a new event happened in @goodomensafterdark: 8008 Week, they had to make some more.

After surviving the 8008 events and learning a lot more about shapes (all the circles and stars), they kept fidgeting and found a fuming Dagon in front of their ink-stained desk, demanding a portrait. And you don't say no to the Master of Torments of Hell itself.

Pride Month started soon after, and Eric wanted a fun picture because he won the popular demon vote.

Then there where birthday celebrations with angel Cake.

And the pride gift exchange.

Then one day, Shax was in front of their desk again, demanding a piece for her nightstand. Hours of hyperfocus later, forgetting to eat the half rations she left them, this fell out of the old computer.

Yes even the base stag itself is made out of separate shapes.

And now we're here.

This was an overview of four months of art and progress, offering a glimpse into my madness. Thank you for reading. ❤️💚

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Dreamer headcanons

• Lurien is half dragonfly (son of an outsider dragonfly and nobleman of the city) and the grandchild of a higher being. He posseses great magic ability, especially in regards to sight. (Also fun fact: Dragonflies irl have great vision, and are known to have some of the best eyesight of any bug!) I will elaborate on this HC in a separate post Which will go over my dragonfly lore.

• Lurien helped the king create the worldsense spell, that he gifted the hollow knight. (A spell that allows one vision of an entire kingdom from one location.)

• Lurien and Monomon were very close before becoming dreamers having spent much time working together as advisors of the king. They often argued though, with Lurien never questioning his monarch and Monomon always advocating for trying new ideas, looking from all perspectives ect. (The pale king appreciated both very much.)

• They are also both poets, which they bonded over. And Lurien had definitely at one point painted a fog canyon art piece, that he gifted to her.

• Monomon is the oldest of the dreamers, technically, She is actually already over a hundred years old, before becoming a dreamer.

• She was once a regular (at least more regular) type of bug, and was later turned into a jellyfish.

• She always had an amazing mind and used her scientific skill to help the kingdom progress. She impressed the king so greatly that he granted her immortality (I will elaborate on this in a sec) And entrusted her to keep all the kingdoms records.

• Then of course with this new immortality, and new position, she became more ambitious. She created the jellyfish and fog canyon, Wanting to prove that she could be like the higher beings and create her own people/followers. (Typical god complex mad scientist behavior.)

• The king had her punished by taking away her true form. and turning her into a jellyfish creature. (Which she eventually grew used to and even happily accepted.)

• Of course as long as she stayed loyal to the king, the jellyfish did. And she remained loyal to the end.

• She was one of his foremost trusted advisors, and besides the white lady, the most involved in his plan to seal the infection.

• About the immortality thing- that was granted to her through her mask. The king had heard of the mask maker of Deepnest and his power. He made a deal with the then ruler of Deepnest (this is before Herrahs time) to have a mask created for Monomon.

• Skip forward a hundred years or so, the king is amidst his plan to seal the infection. He needs dreamers and at this point Monomon and Lurien have both volunteered. In order for the plan to work they need their masks and he goes to deepnest again to make a deal for two more masks to be made. This is how Herrah becomes aware of the dreamer plan, and her deal with him is made not long after.

I hesitate to elaborate on Herrahs backstory, only because Silksong might do just that. (I hope it does!) Anyway this all may be disproven but here we go~

• Herrah married the old sire of Deepnest who was a weaver (higher minded being) And this caused much controversy in Deepnest. She was not a weaver, not a royal, not even of noble birth.

• She did have her loyal followers of course, but many of her people, did not have much faith in her.

• The sire died unexpectedly in battle against the mantis tribe and Herrah was put in a worse position. Now Deepnest depended solely on her. (And to make matters more difficult she had not yet birthed an heir.)

• The pale king soon discovered how unprepared Herrah was to be queen, and was quick to make an alliance with her, after the sires passing.

• Herrah agreed to the alliance. (And trade routes and what not were established, the stag station, trams ect.)

• Herrahs people were not so much in agreement. The relations between Deepnest and Hallownest remained shaky to say the least.

• The bargain for Hornet was made both to the advantage of Herrah and the King. Herrah would have an heir, And with the new queen of Deepnest being his daughter, the king would gain more influence over the land.

• not wanting for her daughter to grow too attached to her before the sealing, Herrah sent Hornet to the hive to train when she was very young. (Herrah trained in the hive herself when she was in her youth. And trusted them to care of her daughter.)

• ooh also Deepnest culture is very family oriented specifically revolving around the children/the youth.

I feel like I have more, but this is all I can remember for now. Might add onto this later.

[ghostforwhat]

Not to post a whole plethora of tentative meta, but I’ve seen quite a few posts and had a few discussions about Will Graham being continuously linked with water in the show and I just wanted to pull you all into a not so quick comparison & theory that I thought was incredibly interesting. 

To start with, it’s symbolic with his increasing instability in regards to not only his life but his mental state as well; the stag is heralded often as a measure as well and I’m a huge fan of using it as it solidifies the nature of Hannibal’s influence early on as something not quite inherently destructive. It’s a parallel to Alice’s white rabbit in the sense that Will is constantly seeking it without being aware of what it’s purpose is or where it’s going. However, it isn’t seen as corrupting until after the water becomes unmanageable in the show. We see Will use towels to soak up his sweat and fall back onto his sheets, we accept this as his normality and as he delves further and further into the fever, it becomes less of a understood routine and more of a underlying warning. He takes a shower and hallucinates, he falls asleep and he drowns. This is the beginning, the shaky steps out on a ledge of suspended instances where he is emphatically sinking instead of swimming; he himself attributes his sense of stability to a stream which. Stream of consciousness metaphor notwithstanding, it’s an odd place to set up and then depend on for a baseline of sanity or calmness. Streams are prone to interruption, be it currents or an outside force. Which sparks the first comparison:

Water and navigation had that role to play. Locked in the ship from which he could not escape, the madman was handed over to the thousand-armed river, to the sea where all paths cross, and the great uncertainty that surrounds all things. A prisoner in the midst of the ultimate freedom, on the most open road of all, chained solidly to the infinite crossroads. He is the Passenger par excellence, the prisoner of the passage. It is not known where he will land, and when he lands, he knows not whence he came. His truth and his home are the barren wasteland between two lands that can never be his own. [...] One thing is certain: the link between water and madness is deeply rooted in the dream of the Western man. (Foucault’s History of Madness, Part 1: Stultifera Navis)

The water motif being an allegory for his madness isn’t necessarily the point I’m dissecting but it’s certainly an bursting concept when the only other time a character (a character who is not Hannibal; Hannibal is not a Western man nor does he strive at any point to emulate one and at this point, his particular strain of insanity cannot mirror Will’s directly.) experiences the same sort of unmistakable submersion is when Alana finally comes to terms with who and what Hannibal (and by association at that point, Will) truly is and has dreams not dissimilar to Will’s which are then followed by a fortification of self. She is changed by this. In the passage, there’s references to navigation and ships; I presented the conclusion first because it simply works better if the assumption that water and madness is already present when thinking of Will’s journey across the Atlantic but I can’t bring myself to leave the first half out entirely.

The madman on his crazy boat sets sail for the other world, and it is from the other world that he comes when he disembarks. This enforced navigation is both rigorous division and absolute Passage, serving to underline in real and imaginary terms the liminal situation of the mad in medieval society. It was a highly symbolic role, made clear by the mental geography involved, where the madman was confined at the gates of the cities. His exclusion was his confinement, and if he had no prison other than the threshold itself he was still detained at this place of passage. In a highly symbolic position he is placed on the inside of the outside, or vice versa. A posture that is still his today, if we admit that what was once the visible fortress of social order is now the castle of our own consciousness.

Right before the information of Will’s pilgrimage is revealed, we see Alana walk out of Will’s home, she tells Jack that Will is gone and that “...he knows what he has to do.” as if an agreement had been reached. We learn after the fact that if this was the case, neither parties intended to honor it. They both were subjected to this cruel sort of infinite crossroads, Will more frequently than Alana, and it’s evident that Will is already half way down the path that leads to Hannibal; stumbling down the halls of his childhood home while Alana firmly removed herself from that kind of uncertainty and instead sought to cut off Will before he could reach him, which she does again later by situating herself at the BSHCI while also protecting herself and her family. Will offers no rebuttal to Hannibal when Hannibal accuses him of trying to take his freedom; he can’t deny it but what caused him to seek Hannibal a second time, across the ocean, retribution or not, had no hidden cage at the end of it. His stream is removed from him as a place of serenity at the end of s2, he finds no comfort in it in s3, he does not attempt to even return to it, and yet water persists around him, through him, and eventually, he chooses it as a form of destruction fit not only for him but for Hannibal as well. 

Their fall, their “death”, is already considered a culmination and acceptance. It’s an embrace, a point I’m not contesting. But while we are witness to a plunge taken, there is no ripple and splash of impact, it as the though the sea had simply parted and accepted them without tension or protest. It could be said that the cliff face was one last crossroad; Will did not remove himself as Alana had, he simply ensured that Hannibal would accompany him on the reckless journey, a ship boarded again. Madness shared by two. 

[witchofimber]

trick or treat 🎃❤️‍🔥

One week after Lily and James broke up – tears, shouting, broken crockery – and six days after Remus walked away from Sirius for the last time – no tears, because nothing they did counted, right? - Sirius opened his door at a horrific half-past seven on a Saturday morning and found Lily, wan and haggard, leaning against his doorbell.

“Dorcas and Marlene only have a sofa and have really loud sex,” she said. “And Mary’s still living with her parents, and my family are – it doesn’t matter, but look, I understand if this is going to break your sacred vows of friendship with James, but - “

“I’m too hungover for this,” said Sirius. “The rents about two pounds eighty, but nothing works.”

“Aren’t you rich?”

“I’m living in bohemian squalor.”

Lily scrunched up her face, possibly catching a whiff of the kitchen. “Is it going to ruin your aesthetic if I fix shit?”

“Please. Do whatever the fuck you like.”

Sirius wouldn’t describe himself as mad at James, exactly.

You couldn’t be mad at James – no, plenty of people could be mad at James, but Sirius couldn’t. Vaguely irritated? Currently blaming most of his life problems on him? Enjoying watching him squirm? Yes to all three. But never anger, not really, which was why he was in The Pickled Stag (terrible pub, chosen purely for the name), signalling the barman for another and saying, “Are you really going to be grouchy because I didn’t let your ex be literally homeless? She’s my friend too.”

“I just think,” said James, “that, given the situation, it really would have been kinder of her to move to Bali.”

“Terrible choice, she’d burn in an instant,” said Remus. “Sweden. Iceland. Those are more Lily-appropriate places.”

“She can’t go anywhere cold, she can’t ski.” James picked up his shot glass, downed it in one, stared mournfully into the depths and then said, tearfully, “I was going to teach her to ski.”

“You can teach me,” said Peter.

“There you go,” said Sirius. “Pete is basically just Lily with worse hair.”

James, on the edge of a sob, said, “Pete, I’ve already taught you to ski five times. You cannot be taught.”

Remus was leaning over the bar, rapidly ordering enough shots to kill an elephant. His horrible trousers were stretched over his decidedly un-horrible arse. Sirius had to fire himself into the sun. He could not, could not, lust over a man in khaki slacks. A man who – dear god – was requesting Nanci Griffith on the tunes.

“Are you serious?” said Sirius.

“I thought that was - “ said Pete.

“Don’t,” said Remus, shaking out his hair. “My mum likes her, ok? It’s soothing music.”

“It’s the sad and sexless wail of the perma-virgin,” said Sirius.

“Not everything has to be about sex,” said Remus testily. “Sometimes things can just be nice, all right?”

“Who wants nice?” said Sirius, aware that he was stumbling into danger but slightly too drunk to stop. “I mean, give me passion any day.”

“Love is a lie,” mumbled James.

Sirius pointed at him. “See? He gets it.” He was grinding salt in the wound, deliberately nasty now. “No love for James. He doesn’t love anyone.”

“I love Lily.”

“He loves Lily,” said Sirius, gleeful.

Remus curled his lip. “The speed and consistency with which you manage to miss the point is genuinely astonishing. Prop James up, I’m going for a piss.”

“Merlin,” said Pete, looking between Remus’s back and Sirius. “What’s up with you?”

“There’s a monastery in St Bartelomo’s,” said James. “Very beautiful view. Lots of sea.”

“Fascinating,” said Sirius, with an intense premonition of dread. He pushed another shot towards James.

“The monks take a vow of silence.”

“Probably not for you, then.”

“What’s the point of speaking if I can’t say anything to her?”

“Human communication. Discussing the weather. Buying booze.”

“The monks of St Bartelomo’s brew their own wine.”

“Do they drink it?” said Pete.

James waveringly raised his glass and studied the irridiscent depths of his sambuca. “Perhaps further study is needed.”

“Perhaps,” said Sirius. “You’d make a shit monk, though.”

“If I can’t have her, perhaps God will comfort me,” said James, and then promptly threw up on his shoes.

[alaynasansa]

Her empathy

Sansa was too well bred to smile at her sister's disgrace

&

The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. “He was no true knight,” she whispered to him

&

Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly ; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

It would have been unkind to say so, however, so Sansa took a sip of milk and changed the subject

&

She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon

&

“I'm certain your father is well,” Sansa told her when she had finally gotten the dress buttoned right. “I'll ask the queen to let you see him.” She thought that kindness might lift Jeyne's spirits

&

Sansa dried her own tears as she struggled to comfort her friend. They went to sleep in the same bed, cradled in each other's arms like sisters

&

They all laughed then, Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing attendance, Janos Slynt and Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the five who had been his brothers until a moment ago. Surely that must have hurt the most, Sansa thought. Her heart went out to the gallant old man as he stood shamed and red-faced, too angry to speak

&

Sansa heard herself gasp. “No, you can't.”

Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say ?”

Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad ? To tell him no in front of half the court ? She hadn't meant to say anything, only... Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he meant no harm

&

Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. “You should go with her,” she told the king. “Your brother might be hurt.”

Joffrey shrugged. “What if he is ?”

“You should help him up and tell him how well he rode.” Sansa could not seem to stop herself.

&

Prince Tommen sobbed. “You mew like a suckling babe,” his brother hissed at him. “Princes aren't supposed to cry.”

“Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon,” Sansa Stark said, “and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound”

&

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag

&

“I want the man who threw that !” he shouted. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who gives him up.”

“He was up there !” someone shouted from the crowd.

The king wheeled his horse in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the king.

“Please, Your Grace, let him go,” Sansa pleaded.

&

“If I'm not betrayed by my own guards, I may be able to hold here for a time. Then I can go to the walls and offer to yield to Lord Stannis in person. That will spare us the worst. But if Maegor's Holdfast should fall before Stannis can come up, why then, most of my guests are in for a bit of rape, I'd say. And you should never rule out mutilation, torture and murder at times like these.”

Sansa was horrified. “These are women, unarmed, and gently born”

&

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear

&

Sansa went to Ser Lancel and knelt beside him. His wound was bleeding afresh where the queen had struck him. “Madness,” he gasped. “Gods, the Imp was right, was right...”

“Help him,” Sansa commanded two of the serving men.

One just looked at her and ran, flagon and all. Other servants were leaving the hall as well, but she could not help that. Together, Sansa and the serving man got the wounded knight back on his feet. “Take him to Maester Frenken.” Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead

&

The Hound had turned craven, she heard it said ; at the height of the battle, he got so drunk the Imp had to take his men. But Sansa understood. She knew the secret of his burned face. It was only the fire he feared

&

How can I let my sister marry Joffrey ? she thought, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “Margaery, please,” she said, “you mustn't.” It was hard to get the words out. “You mustn't marry him. He's not like he seems, he's not. He'll hurt you”

&

She did not want Margaery to suffer as she had, but she dreaded the thought that the Tyrells might refuse to go ahead with the wedding. I warned her, I did, I told her the truth of him. Perhaps Margaery did not believe her. Joff always played the perfect knight with her, as once he had with Sansa. She will see his true nature soon enough. After the wedding if not before. Sansa decided that she would light a candle to the Mother Above the next time she visited the sept, and ask her to protect Margaery from Joffrey's cruelty

&

When Sansa turned, the little man was gazing up at her, his mouth tight, his face as red as her cloak. Suddenly she was ashamed of her stubbornness

&

He is as frightened as I am, Sansa realized. Perhaps that should have made her feel more kindly toward him, but it did not. All she felt was pity

&

Sansa had been wary of Tyrion's squire at first ; he was a Payne, cousin to Ser Ilyn Payne who had taken her father's head off. However, she'd soon come to realize that Pod was as frightened of her as she was of his cousin

&

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing

&

Robert did not need to know that, though. He was only a sick little boy who'd loved his mother

&

Robert had spindly arms and legs, a soft concave chest and little belly, and eyes that were always red and runny. He cannot help the way he is. He was born small and sickly. “You look very strong this morning, my lord.” He loved to be told how strong he was

&

A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell

&

Ser Wallace reddened. “I am no more a s-squire, my lady. My n-nephew knows full well that I was k-k-kni-k-k-kni—”

“Dubbed ?” Alayne suggested gently.

“Dubbed,” said Wallace Waynwood, gratefully

&

After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment

Sansa Month 2023 : day thirty - your favorite sansa trait

[asoiafreadthru]

A Game of Thrones, Catelyn III

“We found where he’d been sleeping,” Robb put in. “He had ninety silver stags in a leather bag buried beneath the straw.”

“It’s good to know my son’s life was not sold cheaply,” Catelyn said bitterly.

Hallis Mollen looked at her, confused. “Begging your grace, m’lady, you saying he was out to kill your boy?”

Greyjoy was doubtful. “That’s madness.”

“He came for Bran,” Catelyn said. “He kept muttering how I wasn’t supposed to be there.

“He set the library fire thinking I would rush to put it out, taking any guards with me. If I hadn’t been half-mad with grief, it would have worked.”

[hamletisintown]

Hemera, the Sun God. (ID under the cut)

Honorable Hemera grants strength and courage to anyone who would need it. In war just like in love, he offers protection and guidance.

Hemera, like all gods from the Pantheon, is everchanging in form. Some constants are his 4 arms that he uses to wield his enormous shield (not to scale on the picture) and his 2 swords, one of which (not pictured here) was a gift from his lover Eros.

___

Inpired by stag beetles (for the horns), the fiddler beetle (for the colors) and scarab beetles (for the cute heart shaped scutellum that some have, as well as their association with the sun in egyptian mythology). (Also inspired by Ravana from FFXIV, i'm so mad how cool he is and how little the game shows him, like, come on.)

[ID: A digital drawing of a fantasy character inspired by beetles. He is covered from head to toe in a smooth glossy spiky red-brown armour that looks like the chitinous exoskeleton of a beetle. He has 4 arms, outstretched to better show the design. He is wearing a helmet adorned with horns that look like stag beetle horns, and hides his eyes and nose. He has black skin, only visible on the bottom of his face. His armor is adorned with tiny dangling neon green gems that are shaped like droplets and shine slightly. A motif is drawn on his helmet, a green dot and a half-circle over it, colored neon green as well. Next to him are drawn his shield and sword. The shield in shaped like the elytras of a scarab beetle, also reddish brown and glossy like his armor, and covered in a neon green motif that is shaped like the motif on a fiddler beetle's elytras. There are also neon green droplet gems dangling from the bottom of the shield. The sword is arched and has a jagged blade, it looks like a giant mandible or perhaps part of a beetle's leg. the handle is wrapped in red leather, and there is also a neon green droplet gem dangling from the tip of the handle. /end ID]

[calisources]

THE GREAT HOUSES OF WESTEROS. all sentences here are taken from Game of Thrones, History and Lore wed series made by HBO for the Game of Thrones series. This is potentially, part one with only a few of the main great houses histories seen in the show. change whatever you see fit.

House Baratheon.

Ours is the Fury. These are the words of the black stag of Baratheon. A battle cry echoed throughout the land in rebellion.

This name seized the Iron Throne from the Mad King Aerys Targaryen ending a dynasty nearly 300 years old.

House Baratheon was born in the wars of conquest, when Aegon the dragon invaded Westeros.

The last of the storm  kings foolishly left the safety of his stronghold and met the Baratheon warlord in open battle. 

Orys took his lands, his holdings and his daughter.

Orys was said to be a half-brother to Aegon Targaryen. If this were true, a little blood of the Dragon mingled with that of the stag in those days.

The seat of House Baratheon is storm's end, a legendary keep raised in the Age of Heroes. 

Legend has it that Durran the first storm king raised the keep with the aid of bran the Builder of House Stark forging a centuries-long connection with the Stormlands and the north.

Baratheon remained loyal enough to the crown while Targaryen Kings came and went. But loyalty has its limits. 

When Rhaegar Targaryen, Aerys’ vile son and heir, abducted Lyanna Stark, it was time to act.

Baratheon, Stark, Jon Arryn and the Tully's United in rebellion against Rhaegar and his father the Mad King. 

That bit of Dragon blood in my veins came in well as it made me a distant relation to the Targaryen dynasty.

House Stark.

Starks of Winterfell trace their descent to the first men in the Age of Heroes.

The family's founder was Brandon the Builder, who in the aftermath of the long night helped establish the Night's Watch.

 Legend has it he enlisted the aid of giants and the powerful magic of the children of the forest to raise the mighty wall which protected the realm for generations.

He went on to build the ancestral seat of Winterfell and reigned as the first King in the North.

Starks reigned as kings for thousands of years even withstanding the invasion of the Andals as the southern kingdoms fell and the children of the forest were driven away.

The North stood strong maintaining its religious customs.

Eventually the reign of the kings of winter came to an end with the coming of Aegon the Conqueror.

 After Aegon and his dragons destroyed the combined armies of the Reach and the Rock at the field of fire, King Torrhen Stark bent the knee and swore fealty to the Targaryen dynasty, in order to spare the destruction of Winterfell and his people.

He was forever after known as the king who knelt .

The Starks take great pride in their history and traditions, it is one of the few noble houses that still keeps the old gods.

Its ancestral sword ice was forged in ancient Valyria and has been passed down through the generations.

 Much like their sigil, the great Direwolf, House Stark is the stuff of legend in the north and throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Their family words, Winter is Coming, serve as a reminder of their beginnings in the wake of the long night and the importance of things to come.

House Lannister.

Overlooking the sunset sea, sits Casterly Rock, ancestral seat of House Lannister.

Below it lies Lannisport, one of the great cities of Westeros, a centre for trade culture and the great Lannister fleet.

One of the most productive mines lies beneath Casterly Rock itself, making House Lannister the wealthiest of all the noble houses.

This allows House Lannister to finance many endeavors of other noble houses even the king himself has sought credit from Casterly Rock.

From time to time we Lannister's claim our descent from the Andal invaders and through the female bloodline.

According to the legend Lan, using only his wits, won Casterly Rock from the noble house of Casterly during the Age of Heroes.

The Lannisters reigned as kings of the rock for thousands of years and worked to make it the envy of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms 

Seeing both the threat and opportunity the Targaryens represented, Loren wisely surrendered and aided Aegon in his further conquest of Westeros.

 It is neither luck nor royal favor that makes our house prosperous.

There have been times in our history where some have thought of us as weak or opulent.

Our vassal, the Reynes of Castamere, dared to rise up against the Lannisters, and they learned how dangerous it can be to taunt a lion.

I made an example of them to anyone who doubts our might. They even made a quaint song about the fates of the rains of castamere.

Our words, Hear me Roar, but there are other words that should be remembered when crossing a lion of Casterly Rock a Lannister always pays his debts.

House Targaryen.

The Targaryen dynasty United the Seven Kingdoms and lasted nearly three centuries.

It was a dynasty forged in fire sealed in blood and destroyed by rebellion.

Instead of attempting to reclaim the eastern lands of his ancestors Aegon sailed west for the Seven Kingdoms, his sister's Visenya and Rhaenys at his side.

To keep the bloodlines pure, Aegon continued the custom of his Valyrian ancestors and took both of his sister's as wives .

He had the swords of his enemies melted down by the fiery breath of his dragon Balerion, the Black Dread and forged into the iron throne.

The capital city of King's Landing was built on the eastern coast where Aegon and his sisters first came ashore and Aegon ordered the construction of a royal castle.

For 300 years the Targaryen dynasty stayed strong in the face of rebellion, civil war and plague .

But the line of Dragon Kings was broken when Aerys Targaryen the second of his name, was overthrown in rebellion.

Aerys was betrayed and slaughtered by Ser Jaime Lannister, a member of his own Kingsguard.

Rhaegar perished on the field of battle at the hands of Robert Baratheon who claimed the iron throne for himself .

Prince Viserys, rightful king of the Andals and ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and his sister Daenerys  were spirited  away to the Free Cities of the East.

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 4

I almost forgot to post today's fic! It's been a busy day. Click through for the fic!

Dec 4 - Winteriron - Regency AU - Hot chocolate

Tony settled back into the settee cushions and let his gaze be captured by the flickering flames on the hearth. This was his favorite time of day, when his parents had retired to their rooms and the big house was still and quiet and he could be alone with his thoughts. Winter’s chill had quite settled over the estate, and he was just considering ringing one of the servants to bring him a throw for his lap when the door opened to admit Jarvis to the parlor.

“M’laid,” Jarvis said with his usual aplomb, “Lord Barnes is asking to see you.”

“Lord Barnes?” Tony’s heart leapt and began running like a rabbit. “What could he possibly be doing here at this hour of the evening?”

“I couldn’t say,” Jarvis admitted. “Shall I tell him you’re not prepared to receive visitors?”

“Don’t be silly,” Tony said. “Show him in.” He straightened his posture and brushed his hands over his wildling hair to try to settle it, though that was a hopeless task without an attendant and half a jar of pomade.

“Lord Barnes, your laidship,” Jarvis announced, stepping back to let the man into the room. Barnes looked quite wild, his face flushed and his hair nearly as untidy as Tony’s own. 

“Good heavens,” Tony exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing to capture Barnes’ hand. “Is something wrong? What’s happened? Your skin is like ice, you must be half-frozen! Jarvis, ask Cook to send up some drinking chocolate, please.”

“I wouldn’t wish to be any trouble,” Barnes protested.

“Nonsense, she was already making up a pot for me,” Tony said, all but dragging him toward the fire. “You’d only add an extra cup to the tray. Jarvis?”

“Of course, m’laid,” Jarvis murmured, letting himself back out of the room.

Tony drew Lord Barnes down onto the settee. “Sit here, warm yourself and tell me what’s brought you out here in such a state!”

Barnes took the seat Tony nudged him toward, but rather than extending his hands to the fire’s warmth, he reached out to catch Tony’s other hand, holding both of them delicately between his own. “It’s you,” he said. “I’ve not slept properly since the Rogers’ ball, and I... I couldn’t go another night, another hour, without seeing you again.”

If Tony’s heart had been a running rabbit before, it was now a thundering stag. “Lord Barnes--”

“I know it’s beastly of me,” Barnes said, half-desperately. “I shouldn’t have come so late, and looking like this, and you’d be within your rights to cast me immediately back out like some sort of madman. But if I am mad, it is for dreaming of your beautiful eyes and the sound of your laugh and the touch of your hand. I had to know if you could possibly accept my suit. Say you will, and I swear I’ll go at once and then do everything properly; I’ll come again and speak to your father--”

Tony could only see one way of stopping the frantic flow of words. He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Lord Barnes’.

“--if he... Oh. Oh!” And then Barnes was kissing Tony back, his hands clasped almost too tightly around Tony’s, as if he were holding himself back from pulling Tony entirely into his arms.

Barnes drew back after only a moment, eyes wide and shining. “Is that a yes, Laid Stark? I may call on you tomorrow?”

Tony reluctantly tugged his hands free of Lord Barnes’ grasp and moved to put a proper distance between them as he heard the servants’ footsteps in the hall, bringing the chocolate. “You may call upon me whenever you like,” he agreed, smiling through the blush that threatened to betray his own madness. “And I think you must call me Anthony.”

[grahamcrackers4hanni]

So, a while ago in the middle of the night, I wrote the beginning of a shitty Hannibal fic. I decided to post the parts I have rn on here to see if it’s good enough to continue!

Carnival of Venice AU inspired by the Cask of Amontillado

- Blood, hannigram, main character death, m/m, murder, stabbing, drinking, masks, etc. I don't know how to do this. Alt universe, Will Graham POV, 1st Person POV, grammar mistakes, unfinished, the beginning of the story and then a small snippet of the end at the bottom of the post, and probably some mistakes in characterization. I mean I was half asleep when I wrote this. I would love ideas for costume ideas for characters if anyone has any!

Quick summary of the basic idea if you don't want to read it all:

Will goes to the festival with his friends for the first time, borrowing one of their old masks. There he met this man with a gorgeous mask; one as extravagant as an elk. He wouldn't normally be able to go up to the man with the intentions that he has due to society’s expectations to love a woman, but there he has freedom. They talk for a while and eventually, the man invites him to dinner. He told him to wear a mask with no bottom half but still hide your identity so that he’d be able to eat without taking it off. They meet again the next night and they have dinner. It all seemed pleasant and peaceful at first with the meal being like that of which Will had never seen much less tasted. It was all wonderful. Eventually, he realizes that the man nor the meat was as they seemed. The man was a serial killer and a cannibal. He had done the same thing with Will with that of many others. Yet in the end ‘I truly am sorry, William. You’ve been like no other…. For you, I think that I'll eat your heart first.’

Actual fic:

I was invited to a carnival in Venice by a friend of mine, Dr. Alana Bloom. Alana typically moves between Venice and Florence, so I wasn’t initially startled by her offer. However, I was very tentative. But, in the end, guilt weighed me towards the idea. I must admit, I’m not used to events such as this. The activity was… suffocating. She gave me a spare mask, a simple one that hides the entirety of my face. It was a golden knight.

As I found myself surrounded by a crowd of sharks, I heard the laughter of her voice grow further and further. At least she finds happiness. Eventually, I find refuge from the inane and mad near a few barrels of rum, wine, beer, juice, etc. Their unmarked property assures that it is not of a soul’s awareness, which barrel contains what. It was a gamble, but wasn’t also being at this carnival? A place to be whomever and act however without discomfort or fear.

I pour myself a handle of the second barrel’s contents. With a sip, I’m pleased to find myself consuming wine. As I stand near the stand, a stag walks over to me. His mask was black with golden accents and showed the lower half of his face. The beauty and detail left me in awe. I’ve never seen someone with such a mask. I nodded softly, readjusting my hood and mask as I stopped drinking.

“Tell me, what are you drinking,” the stag asked with an accent that left me feeling confused as I attempted to pinpoint its origin.

“Red wine.”

“I see. Which barrel? They never mark these barrels for some idiotic reason.” A scowl formed on the man’s face as he looked at the barrels with distaste.

I smiled under my mask, appreciating the stag’s scowl. “The second.”

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate your help.” He pours himself a wine glass of the drink before moving to stand next to me. “Have you come to the festival before? You seem… out of place.”

“No. This is my first time. I was invited by Dr. Bl—… the um… the woman in the bluejay mask.” I shifted uncomfortably, tilting my head towards her direction.

“Dr. Alana Bloom?”

My head perks up at the mention of her name, tilting lightly.

“She’s a friend of mine,” he explains instantly, “I would rather not provide any other details as they would hint at my identity, but please be reassured that I do know Dr. Bloom quite well. Do not hesitate to converse about her with me.”

I nod, although the fact doesn’t console me fully. I continued, “She asked me to come here. Provided my mask and everything.”

“Do you enjoy it here?”

“As you mentioned, this is not my scene.”

“Then pray tell, what is your scene, my dear?”

I hesitate for a moment looking in the stag’s mask. It was as black and dark as a nightmare’s soul or as a raven’s death. “What’s yours?”

He stays quiet, turning back to the crowd in front of them.

It stays like that for a while. The two of them together watching the others dance and drink. For a moment I see a moth attempt to court a red dragon before the dragon declines and turns away.

“Ballrooms.”I snap my head back to the stag upon hearing his newly sincere voice harboring a new emotion or maybe lack of one. “Or my kitchen,” he continues.

“Your kitchen? Do you cook? A stag like you, I would’ve assumed you to afford many maids and cooks,” I say, looking into the mask. I’m sure that the fortune it must’ve cost to make would’ve sent me to the slums.

“I can, but I prefer to make my own food. No one else would make it the way I prefer.”

I hum in understanding. “I see. I’m sure you are a wonderful cook.” He hums and nods his head.

“Would you like to find out, my knight?” My head whips around towards him, his words taking me by surprise.

“That’s impossible, stag. The masks.”

“We can eat with masks. Ask Alana for one which leaves the bottom half of your face open. We can meet again here, at the same time, tomorrow night. I will be wearing the same mask. If you do not wish to, then do not show up.” The stag looks within the crowd spotting a jester walking further into it, pushing a woman butterfly along as he laughs at her. “I’m afraid I must part. My hunger is only growing, and I must prepare dinner. I yearn to meet again, my knight.” The stag bows before making his exit, walking towards where the jester was previously, going after him. They must know each other, I conclude, watching as he leaves.

The festival was nearly closed, and the crowds had almost completely dissipated. Nearby, a bluejay waves goodbye to a woman in a pig mask. She began to trot over upon realizing my location. “Will, I’ve been looking for you. Where did you go?”

“Alana, I just went to get a drink. Who was that?” I walked over to meet her halfway.

“I don’t know, but she was nice. I wish I managed to get her name. Shall we be off?”

I nodded as she led me back to her abode. The building was in one of the many lantern-lit alleys. The walls only further reminded me of my home in Florence, causing an itch to form where the heart beats and the bones grow.

As we arrived inside, we stripped off our concealing attire. I laid my mask on the table and hung my coat on the coat rack. I studied her as she took off her costume. “Alana,” I hesitantly began, “could I attend alongside you again tomorrow night? Maybe in a mask that allows me better access to my mouth?”

Alana gave me a suspicious glance. “Oh? And what would you need it for? Don’t tell me you plan a night of pleasure for yourself tomorrow with some handsome lady?”

I felt my face tense as I turned towards the fireplace. I managed a quick shake of my head as I spoke, “No, no. Nothing of the sort. I just got hungry. It was difficult to get nourishment and quench my thirst with this mask; although, I do marvel at its beauty. It was just a little-“ I paused, trying to find the word, “suffocating.” would greatly appreciate a more appropriate mask.”

Alana nodded and went to her bedroom before coming out with a gorgeous mask in hand. It was detailed with a bone-white coloring and two things that looked like ears on the side of it. She handed it to me carefully. “I went to it as a lamb a few years back. It was…enjoyable. I hope you find the same outcome.”

I attempt to hand it back to her after feeling the hills of the lines and the cannons. “Surely you can hold onto it for me until morning.”Yet, she hands it right back.

“Keep it. You never know when you might need it.” She smirks and takes her stuff as she heads back into her bedroom. “You best be leaving for your inn. I hear that it will rain before morning.”

-

As I lay in my bed for the night, my mind kept trembling with restless moths of thoughts, crowding the lightbulb of my sanity. In the pitch of my room, my eyes kept trying to identify the white lamb mask on my dresser, but they were left to only imagine its curves and indents.

Eventually, I shut my eyes. My mind drifts off to the darker place it usually finds residence. The woods crackle and live soundly around me as I look past black, stretching trees. In it, I see a familiar suited man with a familiar black mask. He huffs as red coats his figure. A sickening cut is heard causing me to stumble on a branch, breaking it. He spins around to face me. The mask…isn’t a mask at all. It connects to its person, merging into an overwhelming beast. A black, tall, lanky stag-man stands before me covered in blood. He was something out of children’s horrific nightmares and warnings. It creeps towards me before offering a long, lanky hand. Its fingers were twisted like tree branches and as sickening as bloody organs.

“Would you care for a dance, my lamb in knight’s clothing?”

-

The next night I hesitated at the entrance. The sounds of laughter and enthusiasm were overwhelming to hear as he studied the grounds.

“Will? What’s wrong? You look nervous. You weren’t nervous last night.” Alana looks at me with a furrowed brow, rubbing her soft palms over my coat. I remember a time when I used to fawn over her touch, and frequently find my gaze drifting back to her, now I just enjoy the company.

“I didn’t- I didn’t have plans tonight. I may leave tonight without you.”

“You will?”

“I might,” I correct immediately. She raises a brow. “I’m ok.”

“You were just hyperventilating.”

“I’m- I will be ok.”

“Will, tell me what’s going on.”

I hesitate, glancing into the crowd, and catching sight of the barrels. They appear alone. A frown crosses my face without apparent reason.

“Will? Are you ok?” She takes ahold of my shoulder, trying to ground me.

“Yeah, yeah. I just-…I’ll be ok. I’ve got this. I’ll be seeing you.” I leave her standing aimless and confused as I make my way through the crowd towards the barrels.

Once I arrive, the place is lonely. Not a mask in sight, much to my dismay. I pour myself a glass of the liquid in the second barrel. My face scrunches in disgust at the taste of beer after assuming wine.

A hollow laugh erupts beside me, making me whip my head towards them. “I suppose the second barrel isn’t red wine tonight, is it?”

It was the stag. His appearance brings a smile to my face. “Stag.”

“My knight, I love tonight’s mask. A lamb, yes?” I nod. “It looks beautiful on you.”

I turn back to my drink, wishing the mask covered more of my lower face. “I believe you promised me dinner, Stag.”

“I did. How could I forget?” He offers me his arm. “Shall we be off? My home isn’t far from here.”

Hesitantly I link my arm around his, letting him lead me to his abode.

—

Test for ending:

Pain seared and burned like molten lava as the blade began to carve a slit into the folds of my skin, tainting them scarlet. The blade lifted for a moment before moving to the next area for an incision. My hands wrapped the wrist, stilling the knife as it pressed softly against my skin, eliciting a small bead of blood.

My eyes blur as I look past him… at him… the pitch, lanky figure carving me like dinner. “I see you,” I rasp, softly. My voice barely evolved to a whisper. The wind brushing branches against the panels of glass windows almost hid my speech.

My hand fell slowly as I watched the eyes above me. Crimson eyes studied mine as we held each other’s gaze. “I let you see me,” he corrected quietly. His voice hid an emotion buried deep like a skeleton in a ditch. If I believed that he cared about me any more than a random stranger picked as a victim, then I would've mistaken it for remorse or regret.

I felt as he fixed his grip on the blade, pressing it in again slightly. I didn't realize that it had faltered, previously. “I truly am sorry, William. You’ve been like no other…” He pauses for a moment, studying my eyes again, a new hunger filling them. “For you, I think that I'll eat your heart first.”

[stromuprisahat]

Alina and the Darkling’s interactions, pt. 14

(But also a bit of Malina drama and the Darkling’s qualities of a decent leader.)

Siege and Storm- Chapter 3

Twice a traitor, twice deserter, murderer of her fellow soldiers, staying in a comfy private cabin, fed, allowed to see her beloved fellow deserter... What a life!

I feel like there’s a step missing. Alina doesn’t know about the Sea Whip and its properties, yet she “figured out” the Darkling wants the amplifier for her. Based only on the assumption he’s insane and what’s more nuts than two amplifiers?! Good thing she’s the MC, so it works...

Remember, children: Even a person prone to jumping to conclusions can occasionally land on the correct one!

It’s madness, I told myself. He wouldn’t dare attempt it. The thought brought me little comfort. He always dared.

One of the Darkling’s best qualities. If there’s a way, he’ll try it.

Stupid? Yes. Gullible? I’m sure the Darkling would wish so.

“Someone less stubborn? Less selfish? Less hungry for the life of a mouse? Believe me,” he said, “I wish I could.”

The Darkling’s often accused of wanting Alina weak and malleable, but the text shows quite the opposite! He wants confident Queen, only more open-minded and compassionate. He wants her proud and powerful, but helpful to Ravka and Grisha alike.

A Grisha can have only one ampifier. You told me that yourself.

No, he did not:

“If we have any hope of destroying the Fold, we need the stag’s power.”

“But maybe if I had one to practice with—”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.”

“I do?”

He frowned. “Haven’t you been reading your theory?”

The Darkling lets Alina draw a conclusion, but he doesn’t say she cannot get an amplifer, because she couldn’t have the Stag otherwise. I can see three possible reasons, all probably true.

a.) There’s no need for her to know about the rest yet.

b.) Alina’s main problem is lack of training, no skill. Amplifier for practice would only increase that power she cannot control.

c.) Why waste perfectly good amplifier on someone, who’s getting another?

I don’t understand why is the Darkling explaining anything to Alina. She’s obviously not willing to cooperate, yet he’s still schooling her. Somehow not giving up on her...

I thought of the books I’d read on Grisha theory.

So, like three?

Alina sounds like a spoiled brat. I want, I want, I want! This is the main character in a world full of wars and suffering. Her tantrum reminds me of a certain evil step sister from a certain Russian fairy tale...

When we’re there, the irony of the antagonist being the one to set aside his desires to achieve what’s more beneficial for others is also something else...

Back to insulting the antagonist right in his face... because it’s the most mature reaction to disagreement and the safest way to persuade him not to kill your beloved LI.

You can’t control the Fold. It has to be destroyed.

... I know, because I’ve studied merzost for centuries like half an hour, when YOU were using it in front of me! Strategy for even longer, because that’s in every map maker’s poor, poor orphan’s curriculum!

I love when the Darkling’s rational about Alina’s usefulness.

Alina once again assumes her precious Malyen’s gonna get hurt, even though the Darkling just told her how much he’d love to do it, but can’t... They’re both treated far better than they should’ve been, yet Alina’s first thought is death and torture. Just like back in the day, when the Darkling dare to ask about her day...

Like a fool.

Alina’s self-criticism's well deserved, but for different reasons than she wants us to believe. She’s not some defenceless victim surrounded by enemies, she’s merely close to facing consequences of her own reckless actions.

fool1/fuːl/

noun: fool; plural noun: fools

1. a person who acts unwisely or imprudently; a silly person.

And there’s nothing silly about her, or about anything she caused so far.

Aleksander’s done with her hysteria, but (un)fortunately possesses inhuman amount of self-control.

17 y/o voice: It’s a fairy tale. A children’s story. It doesn’t actually exist. I would know. I got out of our tiny village like a year ago...

“Like the stag?”

“... or my sister? Oh, my mother didn’t mention her, when unearthing family dirt? She IS a mermaid, btw...”

I just have to add this thread...

Let’s make infinitesimal a new effervescent!

Mal glanced at me. I gave an infinitesimal shake of my head.

Totally unexpected, and surely unnoticed by any Corporalki... but a moment later, the Darkling threatens to torture Alina and make Ivan heal her. Does it mean they don’t have any Healers with them? They would be less likely to survive and escape to join their general, if we use the “selfless doctor” stereotype to explain. Less used to combat, probably protecting their patients... Non-warriors are always easiest to kill.

Another proof the Darkling doesn’t enjoy cruelty or torture. He certainly knows when to use it, or threaten to do so, but never with other way at hand. Also, as a decent leader, he won’t have his people do something he’s not willing to do himself.

How doesn’t anyone find this suspicious? I’d thought Sturmhond has a reputation to uphold. ... and not one of the knight in shining armour!

I also need to link this amazing AU, where Sturmhond has the balls to act like a ruthless pirate.

The Darkling casually dismisses Sturmhond’s objection, to focus on matter at hand- namely persuading melodramatic couple to cooperate, since neither of them's willing to see the other harmed in any way. There’s no need to cease his actions, because unlike Sturmhond he’s aware they will never get to the torture.

He doesn’t waste time or breath on Sturmhond or his crew. They can be dealt with later, when Malina’s not present. The Darkling doesn’t show or tolerate disunity on the ship in front of the prisoners.

He uses theatrics to stall and unsettle Malyen. I have a suspicion that even the fact he’s touching Alina’s enough to bother the tracker.

They’re so easy! There’s not even a scratch yet, and Malyen breaks! It’s probably supposed to show how much does Alina matter to him, but heroes should struggle, not cave in as soon as someone pulls out a knife! This way they look incredibly weak and I don’t understand, why should reader root for them.

I know this is supposed to be Mal putting Alina’s well-being first, but he reads like a spineless coward.

The Darkling’s pretty generous for an insane megalomaniac, isn’t he? A week was Sturmhond’s first suggestion. Is it partly to appease him?

This is just PATHETIC.

I feel like I’m reading Rosamunde Pilcher, not ‘chosen one’ kind of fantasy. I guess I understand noble silent suffering more than constant screaming of each other’s names.

They DO love their drama....

All previous parts.

[menagerie-of-monsters]

Find the Word Game

I was tagged by @i-can-even-burn-salad - thanks for the tag!

My words are: hurt, help, mercy, and voice

And I'm gonna tag, if you want to, @authoralexharvey, @clairelsonao3, @kjscottwrites, @mariahwritesstuff and an open tag.

Your words are: noise, power, under, and choice

I'm using Caught in the Basilisk's Gaze for this one, since it's coming out on Feb 29th! Plus, it takes place in the Court of Mercy (mostly), so that makes word #3 ezpz haha

Heads up, there's some mildly NSFW text under there~

Hurt

Fae didn't carry scars unless they were made by iron or had healed without magic, and he had them everywhere. His ouroboros tattoo was on top of a circular scar that wrapped around his wrist, as if someone had bound him with steel wire.

"What did this to you?" I asked, horror tingeing the words. "Who did this to you?"

Vaduin turned his wrist for me, letting me examine the ring of scar tissue that ran around it. "I told you. It was after the retaking of Norsandios," he said, calm and quiet. "The Stag Army… or part of it, at least. Humans, I presume, since the debts died with them, one at a time." He sighed, then wrapped his arm around me and tugged me up against his warm side.

I let him do it, laying my head against his shoulder and wrapping my hands around his strong forearm. "That's… awful," I said, anger and horror making my skin feel cold. There wasn't even anyone to be mad at anymore. Eighty years was a long time. All the people who'd hurt him were dead.

How did a person even deal with that? Outliving everyone who hurt you, and having to remember them forever?

Help

"While a little trepidation when being faced with my cocks is flattering, I have no interest in having sex with a woman who's shaking in terror at the thought." His warm thumbs ran in slow circles against my palms, a soothing touch. "If you're afraid of me or horrified by having sex with me, I'd rather try… being blindfolded," he said, shuddering underneath me.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I tried to relax. "It would be better if we didn't have to worry about me getting paralyzed."

"If this isn't an option, we can work with the others," he said, still circling his thumbs. "I thought—" Vaduin stopped, then sighed and said, "You seemed to appreciate how we woke up. I thought that perhaps this would be easier than needing to be wary of me, and that you might… enjoy it. I wouldn't have offered it if I thought it would be a grim undertaking for you."

I tilted my head back, my panic slipping away. "It's not… it's not grim," I said, not wanting him to feel like I hated the idea. It made me nervous as hell to contemplate fucking a man I barely knew, let alone one with two dicks, but I didn't hate the idea of having sex with him. "This is definitely the best option. It's just… a lot, all at once."

He made a thoughtful sound. "Why don't you lie down?" he suggested. "Let me taste you. My venom might help, an orgasm certainly will, and you can fantasize about whatever you like instead of having to remember that it's me."

Mercy

"He killed his paramour for gelding him," I blurted out. All three pairs of eyes turned towards me; gray, black, and sea green. "It was, what, a year and a half ago? Right around when all Raven bondservants had to start carrying ID cards. There was even a whole tavern song about it. Something something, 'Mercy's wife took a knife / Cut the end right off his fife / Poor old Omahice lost his dice / But the missus lost her life'." I looked between all three of their horrified expressions, feeling more awkward by the second. "Did you not… get that one… out here?"

Vaduin looked like he was going to be sick. Ayre and Lilly didn't look much better.

"I, uh, have a good memory for words," I said, pouring myself some more tea so I could have an excuse not to meet people's eyes. The steam condensed on my fingers, making them momentarily warm before damply chill. "That's probably not what's killing him, though. Or why. Forget I said anything."

Voice

Vaduin never looked away from my face, moving with me, leading me through it and back down with slow circles of his fingers. He followed me back down to the bed, his hand cupping the back of my head as he lay me down on the pillow.

A smile touched his mouth as he brushed my hair out of my face. "I fear we've made something of a mess. Do you think the healers will mind?"

I laughed, tipping my head back and closing my eyes, the afterglow of orgasm warming me. "You made the mess," I said, my broad smile lighting my face. "I'm only co-located with it."

Vaduin's low chuckle joined mine. The laughter seemed to sweep away all the anxiety of the past weeks, everything returning to the way it should be with his musical voice in my ears.

"As the one who had her hand wrapped around one cock and her pussy around the other, might I suggest that you're equally culpable?" he said, rubbing his nose against mine. "Open those lush emerald eyes of yours again. Let me enjoy the spoils of war."

[breserker]

For the Behind the Scenes meme: ✍️ "when did you get started writing?"

pretty sure it was always a thing i dabbled in, whether just in daydreams or actually writing it down. two stories i remember making at least one if not multiple notebook pages were:

a prologue to set up a world where the jesus figure was a minotaur that cut off a bad guy's hand sooooo oo o o o hard before killing him that he became disgraced. i don't remember what the main story was but it was pretty basic wheel of time type shit of "peasant is secretly Chosen One" type stuff

a mad raccoon scientist creates the technology to merge two animals together. horribly abusive to his rabbit assistant. i drew so many fucking merged animals because i secretly really wanted the Impossible Creatures RTS game that i never was able to have because it was rated T so i made my own. most of all i remember the gila monster/cockatoo because i was so proud of myself for drawing the gila monster scales

beyond that it was a lot of daydreaming, i had a gang of imaginary pals that all had their own backstories and arcs nearly all independent of each other. one forever mainstay was a purple dragon with ram horns named guno that i still love in my heart. another favorite was, and typing this out i'm realizing how much this has always been a fascination in my life and Oopsie It's Always Been An Issue, a character named Stag who was born during a thunderstorm on the night of a new moon, so he's both half-mountain lion and half mountain-goat and All Cursed, like Super Cursed. He's got his normal head and then the skull of a twin fused onto the top of his head. I've actually been meaning to redraw him sometime for the concept alone.

I always daydreamed stories to myself to sleep (oh my god did 6yo bre take the battles in digimon and go "you know what this needs? BLOOD") but i didn't start writing down and sharing fanfiction until like, hmmm. 5th or 6th grade or something. I was 11 for sure. Those fics are lost to time and good riddance!

this current book i think i fucking started in september before the first book was even out--dabbling in writing that in between scream-editing the first book. it's making good progress but imma be honest my energy is shot and my brain is fucking Mush, so i'm taking a break to just zone out for a bit.