#Milord Reference

[caycanteven]

Milo's Official reference sheet~

[crescentmoonsandroses]

About

Heya! I'm Pup, AKA Rose Aurum, your local Undertale-obsessed creator. I like bad puns and good stories, and I mostly post fanart. I'm just here to have fun lol

AO3 Quotev Wattpad Another blog I share with my bestie/partner, where you can read our combined insanity about the UTMV YouTube (don't expect many videos, it's just there to dump whatever videos I do happen to randomly decide to make)

(More information about my art, my writing, and me under the cut)

Art info:

I use Krita

I'm not currently able to do commissions, but I'm hoping to get something set up for them in the future

Yeah, sure, why not, as long as you credit me: fanart, fanfics, using as backgrounds/headers/profile pictures, comic dubs

Ask first: translations

Absolutely not: reposting to anywhere (even with credit), removing my watermark, not giving me credit, anything to do with AI

Writing info:

I write both fanfic and original stuff, but most of the stuff I actually post is fanfic

My main fic at the moment is To Kill A Killer (abbreviated to TKAK), a story that features Nightmare's gang dealing with the aftermath of Killer's death. Beta-read by my aforementioned bestie/partner Tilly. Go check it out if you like angst, Cream, and the Noot Gang.

I also have a not-very-original book of incorrect quotes, and a one-shots book that's open for requests, although I can't guarantee when said requests will be completed, since my schedule for updating it kind of went out the window. Sorry about that.

All the all the 'absolutely not's for my art apply to my fics

Please do not use any of my work for anything related to AI. Literally anything. No training AIs, no using it as a picture or creating my characters on sites like character.ai, no coming into any sort of contact with any AI. I do not condone using anything I have made for anything related to AI. I have a deep and abiding hatred of generative AI and I don't want my work anywhere near that shit.

Me info:

I'm just the queer autistic weirdo who runs this blog. I like Undertale, books, art, mythology, and fungi. Pretty good artist, writer, and crafter. Decent witch, guitarist, violinist, and singer. Semi-beginner archer. Inexperienced cosplayer. In the process of teaching myself calligraphy and animation. My continued existence probably depends upon coffee at this point.

And... yeah. That's about it. Hope you like the blog!

[fandom-puff]

Fulfilling Duty

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Reader

Warnings: smut, pinv sex, fingering, reference to pregnancy and childbirth, brief reference to death during childbirth, reference to prostitution, implied arranged marriage, breeding kink, body image issues, implied innocence kink, older man/younger woman.

Italics indicate flashback

Gif creds to owner

After nine long months of pregnancy and two gruelling days of labour, Tywin Lannister finally had the son he craved. Little Darrick was perfect in every way. At almost four months, he guzzled his milk the way King Robert his guzzled his wine; he roared like a lion when something was amiss, fat angry tears pouring down his reddened little face until his mother or father consoled him; his hair thickened and lightened every day, though he showed no trace of Lannister emerald eyes (much you your elation; he already looked so much like Tywin so it was nice to see a shred of yourself in your son’s face).

The birth of your son only strengthened Tywin’s… affection towards you. It was not love- not yet at least- but his respect and fondness certainly grew. During the home stretch of your labour he had barged into the birthing room after overhearing an outspoken courtier’s gossip.

Your labour had dragged on and almost two whole days had passed since you first started having pains. While you had started in relatively high spirits, as progress began to falter almost to a halt and ‘one more push’ became an empty promise, your resolve almost completely shattered.

What had started as determined groans and howls of pain turned into whimpers, and then sobs as you begged the maester to just, please, get it out of you.

It seemed Tywin hadn’t unclenched his jaw for days, and while he wanted to remain just a room away in his office should he be called into the room, the Seven Kingdoms would not stop for any infant, not even the son of the Hand.

He had been walking back from an audience with disgruntled artisans from the city when he overheard some courtiers.

“… glad she’s shut up with the screaming, could hardly sleep a wink last night…”

“… should just cut her open, drag the babe out and have done with it… wouldn’t be the first Lannister woman to die in childbed…”

“… he’ll want another off her, just in case… especially if she gives him a girl…”

Tywin’s nostrils flared with rage, and while he would have so dearly loved to confront the gossiping courtiers, he marched to the tower of the hand, entering your chamber to the shock of your midwives and maester.

“Milord! Women’s work is still happening! The baby ain’t here yet,” scolded Jeyne. She was the eldest of the flock midwives attending you and the most experienced too, and had been crucial in supporting you.

Tywin held up his hand, and jeyne pursed her lips, knowing she could not argue. “Fine. But you’re not to interfere down here, milord. We’re nearly there,”

“You said that- ah- last night,” you said weakly, your voice shaky. Tywin sighed softly and knelt at your side, pushing your hair away from your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, one that he had done when you consummated your marriage. “‘M sorry, m-my lord,” you whispered, unable to stop the tears from slipping down your already damp cheeks.

“You needn’t be,” he said lowly, speaking so only you could hear. “You are doing well, just a little longer,”

Although the midwives and maester had repeated the same words over and over again over the last day, Tywin’s firm, authoritative voice reassured you, renewing your determination.

Tywin’s eyes flicked sideways to you. It was the first public event you had attended since giving birth, and he had kept a close eye on you all day. He’d even insisted on your retiring to bed for several hours in between the joust and the feast (“fine, I’ll rest. But only because I didn’t want to watch the archery anyway,”).

If you were tired, it did not show. You looked radiant, smiling serenely as you clapped for the dancing. You had changed into a gown of soft pink brocade, and while he always preferred to have you on his arm in matching Lannister red, he had to admit that the muted pink suited you beautifully, and provided a fresh and youthful contrast to his daughter’s sour, almost vulgar even by his standards, display of power.

“If you continue to glance at me so, you will miss the dancing, husband,” you said out of the corner of your mouth, bemused at the almost uncharacteristic attentiveness of the Old Lion.

“Then I shall miss the dancing,” he said lowly, though he kept his eyes dutifully on the entertainments. “Are you sure you will not sit?”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “No,” you said with exasperation. “I am well rested, I promise you, My Lord,” your lips quirked into a smirk. “I may even join in with the dancing,” you added.

Tywins jaw clenched as he looked down at his mischievous young wife. Your pregnancy and subsequent birthing of a viable heir for him had consolidated your power in court- and your worth in the marriage. “Then you shall dance only with me,” he said. “I will not have you jostled so,”

And so the Lord Paramount of the West took his wife by the hand and led her to the dance floor, lest she be manhandled by less careful members of court.

Grinning, you held onto his hand, beginning the steps that you had known since childhood. “I so love it when you give in to my whims, Lord Lannister,” you murmured, laughing lightly at his grumble of agreement. He supposed he owed you a fair bit, now that you had given him his heir.

“You are as stubborn as a mule when you want to be, wife,” he muttered, pulling you closer to his body by the waist as a drunken jester weaved through the crowd, his motley cap jingling. But despite his complaints, Tywin permitted you two more dances, before you retreated from the crowd- the bawdy songs had began, and he would not have his wife passed about like the maidens in the songs.

Instead of sitting back down, Tywin took you before the king, bowing and excusing the two of you. “We must retire for the night, your Grace. Lady Lannister is very tired,” he said shortly, bowing once more as the king waved you away.

You followed him, your face indignant, but you did not dare question him until you were out of earshot of any high lords. “I most certainly am not tired, My Lord,” you said, running a little to keep up with his long strides. “I do not need to be bundled off to bed like a child- again,”

Tywin ignored your complaints, only speaking once you arrived at the entrance to the Tower- and even then he only spoke to the guard at the door. “No one is to enter this tower until tomorrow,” he said lowly, before all but frog-marching you through the door and up the winding stairs.

“My lord?” You asked cautiously when you arrived at his chambers. “Have I displeased you?”

Tywin turned around to face you. “No, wife,” he murmured, stepping closer to you so that you had to look up at him. “You have not displeased me… exasperated, perhaps, but not displeased,” you smiled slightly, opening your mouth to speak, but Tywin cupped your head with both of his hands, his thumbs stroking your jaw. “I intend to bed you tonight, My Lady,” he said, voice gravelly. Your face heated, but you nodded slowly. “Your body should be ready to take me once more,” he continued. “That is if you are agreeable?” He added, raising a brow. He had laid out from the beginning that while he expected you to do your duty and provide him with a son, he would not have you in his bed unwilling.

Nodding slowly, eyes wide as you stared up at him, you let out a shaky breath. "I… yes. Please," you murmured your consent, following him out of the solar to his adjoining bedchamber, where the hearth was crackling and the luxurious bedsheets were already turned down. Tywin poured out a cup of wine, offering you it, nodding when you smiled at the vintage before finishing the cup for you.

“Do you think it will hurt?” You murmured out of the blue, taking your jewellery off and setting it on his dresser.

“It may be a little uncomfortable, perhaps. Not as painful as childbirth, I’m sure, nor breaking your maidenhead,” your eyes widened at his words and he smirked. He so loved to see you flustered. “Such an innocent, wife,” he said, stepping closer to you and undoing the pins in your hair. He nodded his approval when you unwound the braids, shaking out your hair.

“It has been a while…” you considered, looking up at him in the mirror as he stepped behind you, beginning to unlace your gown.

“It has,” he said in agreement.

“Will you be gentle with me?” You whispered, eyes widening as his hand slipped up your front, over your breasts, lightly squeezing your throat before he tilted your head to the side.

“Absolutely not,” he growled into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing there as your gown fell stiffly to the floor.

You made to turn to begin undressing him, but he lightly batted your hands away, continuing to strip you of your stays and chemise until you were bare before him.

Eyes downcast, you made to wrap your arms around yourself; your pregnancy had left it’s mark on your body, your belly soft and marked with stretch marks, your breasts hanging heavier than they had when you first married. Tywin held your hands by your sides briefly, before his large hands claimed your hips, his thumbs massaging the softness of your belly. “I want another babe in your belly before year’s end,” he said lowly, making you shiver. “I want to watch you swell again with another of my heirs,”

“Yes, my lord,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he gripped your hips tighter, drawing your naked body to his, your skin hot against the cool metalwork of his belt and buttons. Slowly, he began to walk you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, and he helped you up onto the mattress, his eyes blazing with lust. His green-gold eyes pierced you as he removed his chain of linked golden hands, his doublet, his boots and trousers too. Your eyes flicked down briefly as you admired your husband’s build; despite his age, Tywin was fit and strong, and your glance did not go unnoticed by him.

Tywin got up onto the bed, looking down at you as he came up between your legs, which fell apart willingly to allocate his breadth, to which he hummed with approval, his hands dragging up your thighs. You sighed softly as your body refamiliarised itself with the weight atop it, offering him a soft, shy smile. He returned it with a rare quirk of his lips, before his fingers teased closer to your exposed core, shushing you gently when you gasped. Whimpering, you arched your back as he dipped his fingers into your waiting wetness, body tense. “Are you in pain, wife?” He said lowly, his movements stilling.

“No…” you whispered, pushing your hips up to his hand as if to reassure him.

He nodded, looking down at you as his fingers worked you open for the first time in months, though he did not seem out of practice in the slightest. He watched intently as your face contorted, brow furrowing and mouth falling open, and your body twisted while you clenched around his fingers. When he felt the erotic spasming of your inner walls, he nodded and hummed with satisfaction, before withdrawing his fingers. You watched in awe as he used your release coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm to slick up his cock.

“You look as though you belong in a pleasure house in Lys, spread out like that,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. And he had a point; your breasts rose and fell with shaky, heavy breaths; your eyes were now dark with lust, brow furrowed and lips plump as you stared down at him, propped up on the pillows with your hair splayed out.

“Are you calling me a whore, My Lord?” You questioned, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“No,” he said, guiding his cock to you. “But if you were a whore, you would be mine alone,”

He grunted, pushing into your tightness. With a cry, you tossed your head back, your nails clawing into the Lion of Lannister’s muscled back and arms as you adjusted to his invasion. You hissed out a curse between your teeth, gasping as he stilled, smirking down at you. “Such deplorable language,” he said, and you could only whimper in response, gritting your teeth and scratching at his back. Despite his promise to not be gentle with you, he held you tight to his body by your thigh, massaging the quivering limb with his hand as you adjusted to the suffocating tightness of your union. With a needy whine, you rolled your hips experimentally, grinding your clit against his pubis. The resulting tightening of your channel had him hissing in pleasure, and with a low groan he began to move with slow deep thrusts that had your head spinning.

One hand still gripping his bicep like a vice, you trailed your other hand over his shoulder anchoring yourself as you made feeble attempts to meet his movements. Grunting, Tywin grasped onto your hips, before moving his grip to your thighs, holding them apart as he began to fuck you harder, faster. You cried out at the shift in pace, arching your back as Lord Tywin took his pleasure (though he gave just as much as he took). He let out a groan of pleasure as his own thighs trembled and his hips stuttered, and he emptied his seed into you.

Moaning lowly, you fell back into the pillows, panting. You felt the bed dip then settle as he withdrew from you and stood, and your eyes slipped shut as you heard him rustling about the room, the door slamming shut. You frowned. He must have dressed quickly. With a sigh, you stood up, albeit shakily and slipped your chemise back on. His thick seed seeped down your thigh as you stood before the mirror, combing out the tangles in your hair with your fingers.

The door opened, and Tywin stepped into the room, but before he acknowledged you, he turned to what you assumed was his squire. “Have the servants bring up two plates from the feast, and a flagon of Arbor Gold,” he said to the lad, who responded with a quiet ‘yes, My Lord.’ “And see to it that Lady Lannister’s handmaidens know to come here on the morrow with her gown and jewels. She will be staying here tonight,”

He dismissed the squire with a nod and shut the door, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to return to my own chambers, my Lord,” you murmured, finally able to smooth your hair down over your shoulders.

“Indeed not,” he said simply. “I was merely arranging some supper and wine,”

You crossed your arms. “And for my handmaidens to come here on the morrow?” You teased.

Tywin only smirked, prowling over to you. “Indeed,” he said. “It would seem, wife, that we must return to bed…” you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him curiously. “An heir will not find its way into your belly if my seed is dripping down your thighs, now, will it?”

[badpersonboogie]

I don’t know how popular it is, I’ve seen a writing prompt somewhere on here about a woman who’s husband is found after being reported missing, and he acts completely different now. He’s kinder, more compassionate. He doesn’t talk to the woman his wife suspects he was having an affair with before. He’s more attentive to her. And the twist is she killed him, so she knows this isn’t her husband, except he’s a much better husband than her actual husband ever was.

And my point is-Jayvik. Viktor being married to Jayce (Giopara, maybe?). And his husband stays out late every night. Flirts openly with others and rarely if ever asks about Viktor and his life. And Viktor, in a moment of anger, kills him and hides the body.

And then Jayce comes back, but he’s wrong. So much kinder, so much sweeter. Almost obsessively so, he barely ever leaves Viktor’s side, refuses to even joke flirt with anyone. And Viktor is so on edge, because there’s no real light behind Jayce’s eye, and sometimes he wakes up to Jayce staring at him in bed, and Jayce just smiles and snuggles closer.

(Possibly an alternate universe Jayce who landed here after his Viktor died, realised this universes Viktor has a missing Jayce!husband, and just slots himself in, not realising this universes Jayce hadn’t been treating Viktor right.)

ohohohoho! >:D it doesn't matter if it's popular, anon, as long as we can make it into a prompt!

viktor's marriage to lord talis is a business one but he expects civility, even coldness and distance so he's very disappointed that jayce is dismissive and openly contemptuous with his mask of charm and even of a doting husband easily sliding onto place when they're outside. viktor swallows the bitter taste in his mouth and does his best to play along because the state of his marriage is no one's business but their own

outside he softly calls him jayce, inside he calls him milord and sir, a stranger's or even a servant's way of referring to him. they make plans, the two of them, they sleep in different beds in different rooms, and make paths in the talis estate that don't ever meet. and they only talk through letters. it could be better but at least it's not any worse, viktor thinks, better this distance than looking at lord talis' contempt in the face

and this is how their marital life goes, lord talis makes his plans and viktor makes his, filling his side of the estate with plants and well-paid zaunian servants because at least this way, he can provide for his people. but it's lord talis and he's curious about his estate so goes to see viktor's side. viktor is in his greenhouse when it happens, when one of his zaunian servants come running.

when viktor arrives, jayce is in a tense conversation with another zaunian servant. and everyone including viktor knows that this will escalate into violence. viktor does his best to pull lord talis aside to hopefully calm him down but that just makes him angrier. lord talis grabs him by the forearm and yanks him close, viktor's cane slips from his fingers. there's that look in lord talis' eyes, arrogant and wild because he's not getting his way. and viktor has a feeling he might die here if he doesn't do something

so he does, reaches behind him to grasp for something, anything. his hand closes around a pair of shears left behind. it's easy. viktor pulls his hand back. it's so easy. he slams the shears into lord talis' throat. it's so easy and that horrifies viktor. blood flows quickly, flows like rushing water. they stare into each other's eyes and viktor sees the exact moment lord talis has realized what happened. the blood steeps into the talis white. lord talis' grip on viktor's forearm spams. he lets go, stumbling back

lord talis dies that day. viktor steps back then drops to his knees, the shock dulling the twinge in his legs. lord talis is dead. one of his servants come and viktor snaps out of his daze. he tells them to keep away because he musn't let any one of them know. they're safe that way, they finally have money to feed themselves and their families, a situation such as this will take it all away. viktor will have to bury lord talis

he does. after sweating and dragging, this man is so heavy, how much does he weigh or is it because viktor is just that weak? and digging, viktor manages to bury him. and so he goes back to his life the best as he can, trying not to wither under his servants' knowing eyes. lord talis is gone for two days then four then seven, lady kiramman comes by and viktor swallows the guilt because even if lord talis was awful to him, he and lady kiramman loved each other genuinely, then twelve then fifteen, lady talis comes by and viktor is so sick with guilt that lady talis is worried. viktor shakes his head and manages to say that she shouldn't worry about him

when she leaves, viktor collapses into his chair with stinging eyes. just because he killed lord talis to protect himself doesn't make everything easier. so imagine his shock when he finds lord talis in his solar. milord? viktor whispers. and lord talis frowns, what? no, it's jayce. he meets viktor's eyes and-and there no contempt there. just confusion and such-such earnestness. isn't it just jayce? lord talis asks confused

viktor's mind races. what should he do? to act like he was before or to act according to lord talis' earnestness? viktor thinks of the blood, the rage in lord talis' eyes before he died. of course, jayce, viktor manages to say. it's better to play along than make him remember that he hated him. lord talis grins, boyishly charming that people adored. have you eaten yet, lord talis asks, and with how viktor's belly is so full with dread, he'll throw up anything he eats. he says no and lord talis calls up a servant for food

viktor was sick with guilt now he's sick with worry, who is this man? he looks exactly like lord talis, the same face with his eyes the same color, his nose the same shape and his teeth with the same gap. the same voice too, only different because of the sheer... fondness he talks to him. but why would lord talis act this way? there's no reason for lord talis to act this way towards him, his contempt for him was clear. this isn't lord talis so who is this? ...what is this?

no, that's silly and farfetched, for what reason would a creature pretend to be lord talis? for what reason would a creature pretemd to like him? viktor will figure this out later, for now he has to focus on being beside this lord talis to figure out who he is and he'll do. but viktor gets nothing, feels so damn lost, because all lord talis wants is to be near him

seemimgly interested in knowing what he's and will be doing and listens attentively. is even confused that they're sleeping in different rooms, in different beds. lord talis softly asks if he'll see him for dinner and viktor stares. he had seen lord talis level that look at others so seeing it being leveled at him.. viktor's skin prickles and he wants to throw up

viktor spends his days like that, strung out and sick with dread. in one moment, lord talis reaches for him and viktor both used to keeping his distance and his mind flashing to when lord talis grabbed him, he moves back, flinching. lord talis stills and viktor internally curses himself, now he set this man off and now what? what will he do?

lord talis' expression goes from surprised thennto something cold and angry. viktor's stomach drops, fuck. he expects anger and so is shocked that lord talis pulls back. viktor, this lord talis says softly, something the lord talis never did, he opens his mouth. viktor's eyes widen. i'm sorry, lord talis says, eyes so sad. viktor searches his face. janna, oh, janna, this lord talis... means it. all viktor can do is nod, tongue heavy. he needs to think about he'll do, what he has to do

(jayce lands in a greenhouse. it's big and lush, the air chilly. from here, jayce can see the wall of the talis estate. jayce goes home, goes to the nearest solar and is pleasantly surprised to see viktor there. milord, he hears viktor whisper, and what? no! viktor has never called him that and now that jayce has heard it, he dislikes the word from viktor's mouth. isn't it just jayce? and viktor stares. jayce knows the gears of his head is turning. of course, jayce, viktor says. and jayce knows something is wrong

something feels so very wrong. viktor is distant, weighing each word carefully as if jayce will be angry at him. jayce catches sight of the ring on viktor's finger and his heart drops. but later lifts because... viktor is married. to him. jayce looks at his hand in wonderment. married... to viktor. he had never thought about it but it sounds right. viktor talis. jayce's husband, viktor. oh, that sounds beautiful. but before he can go to him, jayce has to figure out what's wrong

because viktor not only keeps his distance, he's keeping his distance like he expects jayce to hurt him. no. no! to hurt viktor is unthinkable, to not love viktor is unbelievable. how unfair it is that in the world he's married to viktor, he doesn't love him. that is so unfair. jayce has to make this right, he has to.)

(and it doesn't take him long to notice that his other self is nowhere to be found. and considering how viktor acts around him and how he positions himself in front of his servants, jayce can guess what happened to him and... he is proud of viktor. if he doesn't love viktor, what's the point of him? if he hurts viktor what's the point of staying alive? his other self should feel blessed because dying by viktor's hand is the best death he could have had) ((also... anon, what if lord talis is still alive and manages to limp back to his estate? throat bandages and eyes bright with rage? he hisses sump rat at viktor and jayce loses it. jayce kills him and it's how he proves his love to viktor?))

[demontonic]

Hayden Christensen - The first time - 2

let’s pretend that i didnt already start writing this for a separate story before i decided to just add it in for a part 2 please and thank you! Here’s part 1 if you haven’t read it and my masterlist for more!

word count: 1998

You had landed a part in Star Wars after years of auditioning for any possible role. You had struck mainstream fame after a horror movie you did for Rob Zombie. They had introduced an interesting character, they wanted to give Darth Vader a devotee, of course after Padme he never loved again but they wanted to show how exactly he dealt with it immediately after her passing. The audition was a scene in which said devotee breaks after pining for his approval the entire series.

“I have given you everything I am, I betrayed everything I ever knew, and I have done everything you ever asked! Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice sounded empty, defeated, broken and angry. Unrequited love in the worst case scenario possible, falling in love with a widowed sith lord. The story outside all the theatrics however was quite the opposite.

“Chosen one, how’s your morning old man?” You taunted in a merry voice, the taller blond man just shook his head. A smirk resting on his lips as he scoffed at the weak attempt of a joke.

“You aren’t too far behind me lady,” he dropped his bag onto the blue mat next to yours. Soon Hayden towered over you awaiting the inevitable comeback, something you’d grown accustomed to during training.

“Twelve years is enough for me to give you shit big papi,” you shoved his torso once you felt your neck stiffening at the uncomfortable angle it required to look at him.

“Well I thought you two weren’t supposed to get along,” Dave Filoni, you swear you could spend hours thanking this man for his work in the Star Wars universe, afterall he did create your character.

“Dave!”

“Hayden!”

They briefly shook hands, clearly having a deep respect and adoration for each other as long time coworkers and friends. Behind Dave however was this redhead, she was older than you but still younger than Hayden. She was the trainer's assistant who very much liked to try and correct Hayden, despite him having more experience than most of us. It wouldn’t have struck a chord with you, it shouldn’t have, but when she placed her hands around his arms to adjust his ‘lightsaber’ it angered you deeply. Luckily for you she seemed to be in quite the chipper mood, “Fan- fucking -tastic,” you thought while watching her drool over him.

“-And then we’ll get started on your final battle, sound good?” Dave looked between you and Hayden, a nod coming from you both before he walked away; being replaced by the main trainer, Harry.

“Morning, Milord, lover girl, Jess.” His voice was relaxed as always, he was a gentle man despite the skills he had taught us. He could cheer you up and stop you from being discouraged one moment and then completely body slam you the next. You were forever grateful he was the trainer, because if it was that snotty bitch Jessica, you’d never catch a break. He liked to refer to us using names related to our characters to ‘get us in the headspace’ you just thought it was cute.

“Morning puff, how was the commute this morning?” You teased since he always complained about traffic, but today he gave you a knowing look. Puff was the nickname you gave him, his hair was insanely fluffy and long it also was a very light blonde.

“Well I’ll have you know it was better today, I hope that’s how your choreography goes as well since we’re gonna start breaking down your final battle today.” He grabbed a pole before swiftly turning to us, a test he’d do every now and then to see if we could spring into action. Of course, being the teacher’s pet I’d met his ‘blade’ first.

“Ah my lover girl, always quick on her feet,” his praise made you smile while he stood down, returning to his previous spot.

“She still needs to keep her legs braced properly, her stance is weak,” Jessica spat while she walked over to Harry, twirling her pole in hand cockily. To be fair she’d won many matches against you, but as of recently you had the winning streak.

“Now Jess-”

“Wanna give it a go, see how weak my stance really is?” You proposed, walking out to the middle of the mat, leaving Hayden to stand lonesome in the corner. He loved your drive, your constant need to prove yourself against that wretched woman. Not many people fancied her, it wasn’t hard to understand why, Hayden was not one of those people.

“Any day, any time, you know I’m always ready,” she quickly met you in the middle, poised for action, awaiting your first strike.

“Are you?” You had been working on this rendition of Hayden’s move, it was your personal touch to the character. It was the famous ‘Obi-Ani’ however when the saber went behind your back the blade would be downturned. From there it would switch hands, strike once it was brought forth, then switched back to your right hand. That was exactly how you started, she hadn’t been able to combat it and in the fictional universe her hand would be severed. In the real world, you hit her wrist very hard, you hoped to see the bruise later on.

“Impressive! I didn’t know you had finally polished that move, I think it will do well in the choreo.” Harry quickly declared before getting in between you two. Hayden also approached you, his hand turned your shoulder to face him.

“What even was that?” He sounded impressed, almost childlike especially with the smile that accompanied the question.

“I took your move, and I made it my own master,” you said cockily with a shit eating smile. Harry’s praise made you smile, but Hayden’s interest made you jump for joy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours now, you had gone through 4 out of 10 parts of the battle and you were starting to get frustrated. The lightsaber part had never been an issue, but the footwork on your part was intense. It had to be because by now Anakin was Darth Vader his mobility was nothing like the prequels. To keep Hayden stiff they had pads on his arms and knees to limit the movement. On top of that there was a lot of dialogue throughout the beginning, so you kept circling each other, anticipating each other's next moves.

“Again, let's slow it back dow-“

“No. Let’s do it again, I just need to keep doing this until I get it.” It wasn’t a backflip or some mind blowing parkour, however the transition from running, to sliding, up to your knees; and then trying not to fall back while Hayden pushed down on you with his saber wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to ease up?” God sometimes you just wanted to hit him with the pole when he tried to water it down for you. He came from a good place but amidst your frustration, and Jessica’s relentless corrections you were losing control.

“No, just start again at 3”

“Okay, on your line”

And with a heavy sigh you repeated the last line of your spiel. “Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice was harsh, it was unmissable so as Hayden began his attack, you deflected with more force than normal. Your jaw was clenched and your fists tight. Your eyes were set on Hayden, it was like you were doing the scene for the actual take, hell it was like you were actually living this scenario.

“Anakin is no more, I killed hi-“

“Liar!”

You stepped forward going back into the confrontation, your sabers clashing louder than before. Grunts leaving your throat as you push your tired body to perfection, until you catch sight of Jessica. Her glare stuck on you as if you killed her favorite person, it just made you fume. The next part is when you cut off Vader’s left hand and while normally you let Hayden put his hand down, you hit the back of his hand. Finally it had clicked that you weren’t okay, something was bothering you and he had a pretty good idea why. However he remained silent and followed through with the scene.

“All this time, did you think I might fall in love with you? Your pride consumes you, padawan.”

“And your grief consumes you.” You said through clenched teeth, this was where you had to jump off a blue block they’d set up. As you jumped down, you rolled onto your knees before running at Hayden, and to avoid his saber you slid beneath it. Once you turned to face him, you hurriedly got onto one knee finally making it on time before your sabers clashed. He pushed down on you and you could feel your shoe slip against the slick fabric of the mats. You were fed up with this plastic always fucking this part up so you pushed back with all your upper body strength.

Not your best moment.

Hayden fell back as you stood up and this finally calmed you down from your mood. You breathed heavily while you walked over to help him back up, twirling your saber mindlessly. You looked down at the blonde, holding your hand out wordlessly in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just-“

“Let’s take a break, and talk about this.” Hayden interjected before hurriedly ushering you to the parking lot. There was nothing to say, it was childish of you to act out, it was embarrassing, you couldn't begin to process the emotions pooling in your stomach. He unlocked his car and opened the door for you without hesitation, he was scarily calm as you got in the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for him to get into the driver’s seat, long strides equaled less steps. Once he was seated the silence continued for a moment, you wouldn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Jessica is a hard person to be around, I’m sure you’ve had a few instances like that in the workplace. Y/N you are giving her what she wants when you get angry, people like that thrive off your misery.” Hayden Christensen, he had to be God’s favorite, he was so nice and understanding. A gentle giant trying to reason with a short psycho, perfect.

“It disappoints you as much as it does me-“

“I’m not disappointed in you, if anything I’m proud… surprised even.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, Harry assumed you would’ve chewed her head off by now. You saved me 20 bucks”

“So what I’m hearing is you think I could win in a fight.” The mood was lighter now, you both sported bright smiles while the banter continued.

“I wouldn’t have put money on you if I didn’t think you would,” he was being sincere and you knew by the way he spoke so effortlessly.

“Might not be for much longer, it’s like she gets worse everyday- that or my tolerance is getting shorter.” This time your tone sounded defeated, sure you’ve dealt with more stressful things in life, but it seemed as though you had no more patience left. Hayden quickly took note of this and used the leverage of you being a Star Wars nerd to cheer you up.

“Have faith love, everything will soon be set right… I’ve been told she’ll be transferred to a different project anyway. Someplace far far away from us,” His voice dwindled to a hushed volume, it was soothing.

“That would bring peace to the entire city.” He laughed at your brutal joke before changing the subject.

“So do you think we can go in there and try to play nice?” The question lingered for a moment before you reluctantly answered him.

“I don’t make promises.”

“But?”

“But… I will try.”

“Atta girl.”

@oogachakaooga

@lonelywitchv2

@papas-peepee

[m4rs-ex3]

DREAMER'S NIGHTMARE! THOUGHTS!!!!!!

spoilers ahead obviously

callum. that's it. that's it that's the post. like this little fucking goober baby nerd freak pretty baby boy i would kill anything and everything in the world for this child

long haired gren i can't breathe

"GREAT STONY TOADSTOOLS"

"wait. that's a jelly tart and you're not destroying it. are you sure you're ezran?"

callum: magic is in the air? wrong. gas leak.

"a rogue elf. i wonder what would have to happen for an elf to go rogue..." wouldn't you like to know callum

bro thinks he's a diplomat

it kills me the way this kid is just a walking list of sarai quotes

i'm choosing to blame harrow for the way this stupidly dedicated boy turned out

"couldn't have anything happen to the future king" rip my heart out why don't you

all of the callum / harrow stuff oh my god it hurts so good i'm in tears like "your dad" AUUUAUGHHGHGHGH

"milords" fucking tears no they are not

*facepalms in the background*

"begone"

despite the fact that in present day he is plenty tall callum being referred to as "the taller one" does not sit right with me

"stronger together" // "safer together"

gren was family guy death posing idfc

i can't go to the club bc i'll start talking like kusa

THATS MY KING!!!!13131!@!@!#!!!

"my big brother is super smart" 😭🩷

half this book is just callum in 3x06 when he was mothering ez and i love it

"I THOUGHT MAYBE HE WOULD BE PROUD OF ME" FUCK

"i know you'll do everything you can to protect me" you don't, actually. you have no idea

"all right, clues. looking for clues. reading for clues."

moonshadow child jumpscare

NO NO NO NO NO NO ON O NO NO NO NO ON ONONONONOONONNOONN

NO

WHAT

HELLO

YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME

why do i kinda wanna see this depressive episode though

a) i hope this comes back for the possession arc b) this explains a lot about s4 don't worry i'll get to that

i love how they show harrow being the most amazing, sweetest, bestest dad ever while also showing his flaws in the form of his bias. also everyone else's casual racism. average tdp w

STOP HES SO SOKKA

im goanna throw up

maybe it's just my biases but why was this the book that fucking broke me. like bloodmoon huntress was a bit sad bc rayla is just like that. puzzle house was sad because motherless child behavior and also hindsight. this novel is just fucking depressing front to back because callum's entire life has been so fucked sometimes i forget this. also my biases

[miyukiswonderland]

RANDOM MOXIE FACTS

He's Chinese and the languages he can speak are French,English, Chinese and Japanese

He's known to speak more properly out of all the first years in NRC with him also referring to everyone as Lord or Lady. For example he calls everyone Lord or Milord but refers to Selene as Lady Selene or milady.

Even though he's really proper when he speaks this usually changes whenever someone praises him or he starts acting narcissistic about himself

He's seen being able to scold people very firmly even housewardens and upperclassmen despite him being a first year. He usually hits them with his fan and starts going off on them when he scolds them

Vil gets onto him for covering his face with his fan when he speaks.

Due to his insecurities as a kid he studied hard in magic and potion making and like Riddle learned his Unique Magic at an early age.

He learned how to walk in heels because of his mom teaching him. He also mentions that when he was younger he wanted to be a model because of his mom designing clothes for Luxe Couture but when he got into NRC he changed his mind and wants to consider something else.

He knows how to sew and make clothes and stitches up his own clothes when he rips them.

He's actually an otokonoko which means he dresses in feminine clothing and has feminine features but he still identifies as a male. In simple terms he's a crossdresser but still identifies as male.

This isn't really revealed in Book 5 or the main story but I imagine it's probably revealed in a vignette.

He explains the reason why he dresses feminine is because it was accepted in his family by his parents and he grew up liking to play dress up and try on dresses

He knows self defense and uses his fans as a throwing knife sometimes

In the Vil's Red Carpet Cadets event it's revealed that his mom is married to Vil's dad technically making him and Vil stepbrothers

[ant1quar1an]

Fledgling Sanses

Ages go like this:

Axe

Dust

Killer

Blue

Sans

Red

Milord

References were very much used for all of these :]

When avians are young, they don't gain control of their ears until they've hit the stage where their adult feathers come in- usually around 40-50.

Avians are incredibly old-living species, with the oldest Ancestor Avian- Pine- sitting comfortably at 3,000 years old. It's rumored that you've got to kill them in order for them to be dead.

( In all actuality, they can and will live up to 10,000 years old, but don't often have a lot of children. The Gaster family is an exception to that.)

[doodleferp]

Will doodle this later(?) but I’m tickled by the idea of Happily Ever Afyer!Thorin becomeing particularly incensed when someone dares to refer to Averil as something other than his wife. After all they went through and Averil becoming pregnant, they’re as good as married in his mind. (Even though they haven’t had the wedding yet.) It doesn’t even matter if they’re insulting Averil in the same breath, either. Everything in Thorin’s mind will suddenly grind to a halt when someone refuses to acknowledge that he has wifed this Hobbit and he VERY VOCALLY takes the time to remind them of this.

A dwarf: Your Hobbit is quite friendly, milord. If a tad strange.

Thorin: What did you just say? MY WIFE is a tad strange.

An Elf: Do control your woman, Your Majesty.

Thorin: MY WIFE is not held to standards of you poncy bastards.

Gandalf: The dwarves go over this way, and the Hobbits-

Thorin: M Y W I F E

Gandalf: Be quiet lest you blow our cover, Thorin Oakenshield! Your wife is not the only Hobbit here!

[waxwing-ed]

If it is a book series it is not one I am aware of, apologies milord I was referring to the game series.

I could throw myself into the dungeons for this transgression should it please you?

oh i didnt know it was games...

[aphroditelovesu]

The Bloody Viscount - Chapter 1 Sneak Peek

❝ 🐝 — lady l: so besties, I had a problem with my computer and I couldn't post the fanfic chapter today, however, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer and I've decided that I'm going to reward you with two things: first this sneak peek and a love letter from Anthony referring the future of this fanfic, nothing with much spoiler, but enough for you to know something. I hope you like it and forgive me for the delay and for any mistakes! I love you all. ❤️

❝word count: 500.

Your eyes met Viscount Brigderton's and you felt your face heat up as you felt the intensity he was staring at you.

He was an attractive man, you had to confess. And it wasn't the way he looked, sure, he was handsome, but the look in his eyes was what stunned you. The passion they conveyed put you to shame.

And the fact that eyes were thrown in your direction made you even more cornered. Looking away to a random spot on the ball, you smiled as you watched the couples dancing and people chatting and gossiping.

You turned to your mother, who was watching all the men at the party carefully, sizing them up. You mentally rolled your eyes at that, she was so determined to find you a husband that she didn't even ask you what you wanted.

It's not that you didn't want to get married, you wanted and would like to have a family one day, but... You didn't know how to deal with all that. This was your first season and your mother, Lady (L/N), seemed very committed to getting a good match.

And it wasn't for your happiness, you noticed.

It was to raise your family's social status. As the only child, it was your responsibility to improve your parents' lives. It was your duty and something you'd been raised to do since birth.

Raised to become a proper wife.

Your education, your tastes, everything taught to you was thtat you should correspond to the tastes of your future husband. And your mother had been pretty strict about it. Your dad was more relaxed, but he always made his expectations of you clear.

Your mother's eyes turned to the Viscount and you felt like hiding. She looked him up and down, he was talking to an older woman, who you assumed was Lady Violet Bridgerton. His mother.

You watched your mother straighten her posture and start walking across the room, towards the Viscount. Your face got even redder because you knew what your mother would do.

What she always did. She would start babbling about you and your skills and what she thought you liked. How good and sweet you were, how motherly you were.

You mentally sneered and frowned when you saw your mother coming, accompanied by Lady and Viscount Bridgerton. You looked away quickly and turned so you could flee, when the Viscount's deep, sensual voice called out to you.

''Lady (Y/N) (L/N)?''

A shiver ran down your spine at the tone that had your name coming out of his mouth and you mentally scolded yourself. You straightened your posture and turned to face them.

You bowed slightly, bowing your head in submission as your mother had taught you, and looked into his dark eyes.

''Lord Bridgerton.'' You smiled weakly, ''It's a pleasure to meet you, milord.''

You could have sworn you saw him wince at the title and his eyes darken even further.

[presidenthades]

Once again, I am doing a series of my behind-the-scenes thoughts for The Golds while I do light edits for formatting, typos, and continuity. Here’s Chapter 6!

For this chapter’s title, I chose to reference the Stranger because of the fear for Jace’s life throughout the chapter. But there are no lyrics for the Stranger in “The Song of the Seven” because, as Sam Tarly says in ASOIAF, “no one sings of the Stranger.” Hence the placeholder: (The Stranger has no songs). And, at the end of the chapter, Jace tells Aegon that she wants no more songs.

Like Chapter 3, this chapter has no scene breaks since it is essentially one long scene during one day. In Chapter 3, there’s a mystery while Jace is trying to figure out what Aegon has been up to, then in Chapter 4 we find out the truth. Here it’s reversed: we already know from Chapter 5 what happened to Jace, but now we’re following Aegon as he tries to figure out where she is.

The chapter starts with Aegon having a normal morning. We see he’s developed the habit of helping his wife dress, and his knowledge of her gown, shoes, and hairpin is useful in his investigation later.

The irony of Aegon and Jace’s last dialogue before they separate! Turns out it’s not Aegon we have to worry about missing the lunch meeting 😢.

Aegon is of the opinion there’s nothing wrong with a little brawl between boys (he and Aemond still brawl on occasion). TBH he probably would’ve kept moving if he didn’t know any of the boys, but because he knows Ronnel, he intervenes. Also, since Aegon pays Gyles, Gyles and Ronnel are part of Aegon’s household (although Gyles makes pies for pretty much everyone who asks), so there’s some of that feudal responsibility where a lord takes care of his people.

Ronnel is basically the new kid at school, and the other servant boys don’t like him because they perceive favoritism from Aegon (which there is). I’m sure the castle staff have some kind of hierarchy that factors in things like tenure, and suddenly Ronnel and his dad show up going “milord Aegon” in what the others deem an overly familiar way. Gyles’s pies are very in demand among other highborns at the castle, which means Gyles’s standing quickly rises (and Ronnel by proxy), so the boys are envious of Ronnel’s good fortune. And most of the servants are from the Crownlands, so the boys are quick to pick on Ronnel’s Vale background.

Gyles is around 30 (Aegon is 18) and from a very different background, so it would be difficult for them to be true friends in a society that places so much emphasis on class and wealth. But they’re at least friendly because they’ve known each other for so long, and Aegon has been thinking a lot more about fatherhood. Gyles is one of the few men he personally knows who seems to have a healthy relationship with his son, so I feel like Aegon has asked Gyles a few questions about fatherhood prior to this chat in Chapter 6. The convo about Gyles’s wife foreshadows some of the issues Jace wrestles with in the coming chapters (although she has a much happier resolution), and it’s definitely on Aegon’s mind while he helps her through the aftermath.

Aegon’s little detective business just kind of happened. Probably started with one of the former captives at the warehouse asking for help related to the Tyroshi, and it snowballed from there as word spread around the city that “hey, if you have a problem, Prince Aegon might help you out.” Of course Aegon would prefer not to get the boring problems (I keep imagining BBC’s Sherlock only taking interesting cases), but he puts up with them because the smallfolk are very enthusiastic with their gratitude—and Jace likes it when he helps people, which is probably the bigger incentive.

The innkeeper disapproving of his daughter’s elopement is supposed to parallel Daemon disapproving of Jace’s elopement, so Aegon is inclined to sympathize with the young couple instead of the father (again, the theme of smallfolk and highborns being essentially the same, just with more or less money). AND the daughter is pregnant, so Aegon is envisioning what he and Jace would want in that scenario. Also, Aegon specifically buys a goat as a wedding present because it’s just about one of the most useful things a peasant could have. The goat is relatively inexpensive to maintain and feed, and it provides milk and some wool. And it can be marked with ownership, so it’s harder for a jealous neighbor to steal than a sack of coins. (This is my amateur understanding of goats, I know very little about goat husbandry.)

I’m probably going to write a chapter from Liane’s POV in my smallfolk anthology. She’s a very smart girl who was born into poverty, can’t read (hence the X she signs on the contract) but has a good head for business. For a poor prostitute in this society, the most common career paths are either a) keep being a prostitute forever, b) repent and join the Faith as a septa, or c) become a brothel owner. Liane has been working on option C for a while, and she sees the opportunity to buy the building she works in when Aegon shows no interest in the Garden. He also doesn’t take a cut of their earnings, so she’s able to save up faster the next few months. I like to think that because she’s worked side by side with the other girls so long, she’ll be a good manager to them rather than let the authority go to her head. And the influx of money that Aegon sends them after they help Jace significantly improves living conditions, to the point that Liane might even be able to change it from a brothel to a different establishment.

But the most important point of the scene: Aegon sows good karma by selling the Garden to Liane for dirt cheap (1 groat = 4 pennies), and it pays dividends that very day when Jace needs help.

Rhaenyra mentions in the Handbook that Luce had quite a few childhood fears, including storms, which she still secretly has. I gave this fear to Luce because I was thinking about the canonical Storm’s End chase scene and how that would be even more harrowing with a fear of storms. Now I also realize there’s some symbolism because Cassandra Baratheon is one of the Four Storms ⛈️.

In Chapter 4, Aegon is quick to distract himself when he starts thinking about the baby and being a father. Here, he purposefully lingers on thoughts about fatherhood as he observes Daemon interacting with Alyssa; Aegon is making progress coming to terms with being a father.

Sorry not sorry but I love the imagery of short Lucera wearing Aemond’s big coat 🥰. She’s soaked after flying on Arrax in the rain, and he probably makes some snarky comments about how unkempt she looks while he wraps the coat around her. (Meanwhile Rhaenys is off to the side like “OK ignore me, I’m just an old lady, thanks.”)

There is some irony that Aegon sneaks out alone to the city all the time and deliberately gets in trouble but is always fine, while the one time Jace leaves the castle during her pregnancy, the worst happens.

Aemond thinks Aegon is being panicked and reckless (which he is), but Aemond follows him anyway because a) that’s his brother even if he’s kind of a dumbass sometimes and b) Aemond knows he’s the only person who can keep up with Aegon right now 🥲.

Bethany is in a heckload of pain right now, and it would be her right to demand a maester’s attention before her own wounds worsen/get infected, but she cares about Floris so she makes sure Floris isn’t alone at the end 😢.

Aegon’s threat to feed the madam’s brother to Sunfyre and make her watch is indeed a reference to a certain canon event… 👀

Aegon has definitely done his homework on the Tyroshi since he spent a while trying to catch him. I might flesh out the guy’s backstory in a future fic, but I imagine him to be from one of Tyrosh’s ruling families (the archon is chosen from a conclave of the richest families in Tyrosh). I had to make up a name based on the naming patterns of other Tyroshi characters GRRM created.

Throughout this chapter, Aemond serves as the voice of reason and is able to quickly refute many of Aegon’s arguments because he knows how Aegon thinks. Admittedly, Aemond would act a lot like Aegon right now if Luce were the one in trouble—but then Aegon would be the one knocking sense into Aemond into that scenario. The brothers are more similar than they like to admit.

Bethany is very angry at Elinor, understandably so. Bethany did her duty and came to Jace’s defense, and she almost died for it—plus she’s aware that her face is never going to look the same again. Meanwhile Elinor abandoned their mistress and did absolutely nothing to help anybody, and she’s perfectly fine (for now). I don’t think Elinor was thinking at all about her crush on Aegon at the time, but Bethany really wants to make her words hurt and ensure that Elinor doesn’t come away completely unscathed. Definitely not friends anymore.

As I’ve said before, book!Aegon has excellent zingers, and TGC says Aegon has an eye for people’s weak spots. Here, Aegon deliberately says one of the most hurtful things he could possibly say to a girl who likes him: “you’re worse than a dog.” 💀 (I can’t blame him though.)

Despite the circumstances, Westerosi values are pretty engrained into Aegon, so he feels like he can’t lay hands on a highborn girl like Elinor, whereas he wouldn’t hesitate to beat a man into a pulp. So he hands (pun not intended) Elinor to Rhaenyra, because the optics of a mother/another woman punishing Elinor are much less bad, and he’s confident Rhaenyra will make it hurt. (And he forces Elinor to personally tell Rhaenyra what she did. Oof!)

Book!Aegon is capable of immense cruelty, especially after he’s been wronged (I’m hoping we see that in S2). I wanted to channel that here when he punishes Edwyn Pyle. First he unofficially puts Edwyn on trial, with Aegon as judge and jury, and makes Edwyn sweat as he confesses everything he did wrong. Of course Aegon deems him guilty, and part of him would like to kill Edwyn personally. But Aegon also thinks the other guards need to be punished for blindly obeying orders (we can argue whether this is fair to the guards, but Aegon doesn’t care about being fair right now), so he includes them in Edwyn’s punishment. I was inspired by the Roman practice of decimation, where if an entire group of soldiers (usually groups of 10) needs to be punished, one of them is randomly selected and the others beat him to death. Aegon makes the other guards take turns beating Edwyn so they never forget their failure (and if they mess up again, next time it might be them being beaten to death), and it adds extra burn to Edwyn’s death because he’s being beaten by the very men he was ordering around. (And yes, Edwyn does end up dying after 12 hours of this.)

Although I just said Aegon is capable of immense cruelty, he is arguably “nicer” than Aemond 😅. In F&B, Aegon shows mercy to Gaemon Palehair and agrees to knight Trystane Truefyre before execution, neither of which he needed to do. Compare to Aemond, who slaughters all of House Strong including the toddlers and burns tf out of the Riverlands 😐. Neither of them is really nice though, let’s be real.

A younger Daemon would’ve been out searching on the streets too, but he is sadly no longer a young man. Instead he’s been playing spymaster at the Red Keep, and it pays off. The old man who has info about the hay wagon goes to a brothel in Mysaria’s network, and she sends word to Daemon. The show has made Mysaria a populist, so I think she approves of Jace’s attempts to help the people of KL. And I’m sure Mysaria has heard about Aegon’s detective services, so overall she’s inclined to help find Jace.

A wagon, two mules, and pile of good hay are worth way more than a little rowboat, hence the old man’s eagerness to trade and disinclination to ask too many questions.

Kites have been used in warfare for many centuries. When you have dragonriders, you need to be able to signal them somehow, and I feel like kites would be a pretty good solution for that. Now that there are so many adult dragonriders in KL, someone (probably Corlys or Daemon) suggested incorporating the kite system for emergencies such as this. The gold cloaks were notably incompetent during Chapter 4, but I think the Targs have whipped them back into shape during the last few months.

Luce is honestly not in much danger at all on dragonback, with only one “enemy” on the ground. But Aemond worries anyway 😛. (Aegon’s been in a state all day, some of it probably wore off on Aemond.)

When Aegon asks “where is she,” the Tyroshi realizes they haven’t found Jace. He knows there’s no way he’s escaping now, so he decides to drag out Aegon’s torment as much as he can before he’s inevitably executed.

Aemond reacts very strongly to Aegon digging into the Tyroshi’s mutilated eye because…uh…well, the eye thing 👁️👄⚫️. Aemond has zero sympathy for the guy but he’s probably getting some secondhand pain watching it happen.

I actually do think Jace saw Arrax while Luce was flying out, but she had no way of signaling Arrax, and it was too dark/high for Luce to spot Jace in the trees 🙁. Jace probably thought about trying to follow Arrax, but she had no idea when/where Arrax would land (and a dragon is much faster than her on foot), so she continued onward to the city.

Contrary to common belief, House Hightower’s sigil colors do NOT include green! It’s a white tower with orange flames on a gray field. That’s why Alicent’s necklace is white gold and amber. I imagine it as a necklace from when she was a girl (long before her green era), and she gave it to Jace shortly after the elopement.

The guards who refused to listen to Liane are probably due for some very arduous training drills once the Targs have the bandwidth to pay attention to them 😬.

The Liane chapter I mentioned above will probably cover in more detail what happens when Jace shows up at the Garden. I imagine that once the girls realize Jace is in fact the missing princess, they kick out all their customers so they can focus on her.

Jace has a big problem with people touching her in the next chapter, but right now she’s still in shock, so she lets one of the girls comb her hair. The Garden girls have never interacted with anyone as high society as Jace before, but they’re offering the best hospitality they can: dragging out a clean mattress and blankets, building the fire as hot as they can (firewood ain’t free), giving her clothes (they don’t have much that’ll fit a heavily pregnant woman but they try), scrubbing Jace’s muddy shift.

Jace being soundly refused help from the other shopkeepers shocks and hurts her a lot. She’s spent her entire life being recognized instantly because she’s a princess. But the smallfolk have only ever seen her from a distance, if at all, and she would’ve been dressed in royal finery, like during her wedding day. Now she’s only wearing her shift and one shoe, and her hair (which is black instead of a distinctive Valyrian silver) is a mess. Usually the only people who walk around in public in their smallclothes are whores, so the shopkeepers take one look at her and assume she’s a whore. Meanwhile the girls at the Garden are at the bottom of society, so they know what it’s like to need help but be scorned by everyone else. They don’t believe Jace’s identity at first, but she’s a pregnant woman in desperate need of help, so they let her inside because they’ve been in similar straits before.

This is a turning point in Aegon’s journey to fatherhood. His concern most of the day was about Jace, but when he feels Cheeseball move for the first time, it suddenly strikes him that the baby is not just an extension of Jace, as he’s been thinking so far. This is the moment when Aegon realizes he loves the baby because it’s his child, not just because it’s part of Jace.

Luce has been away for six months, but she grew up with Jace. She immediately clocks that Jace isn’t going to be entirely OK. Aegon also knows this deep down, but he’s desperately hoping for the best so he’s acting like it’s only a physical thing.

Rhaenyra picked a very poetic punishment for Elinor. Elinor loses her dominant hand, which she used to push Jace, but it’s also the hand that made her excel as a LIW because many of Elinor’s talents, like hairstyling, lay in the dexterous use of her hands. But even if Elinor were ever welcome at court again, she wouldn’t be able to reclaim a similar position. The loss of her hand also takes down her marriageability a lot, if the dishonor weren’t enough. I also imagine Aunt Elinda had a lot to say to Elinor 😬.

Alicent doesn’t know how to comfort Aegon (and he probably doesn’t want it right now), so she defaults into “hostess” mode (the queen is basically hostess of the entire castle/court) by making sure he and Jace have their physical needs taken care of.

Jace spent many hours alone in the woods, so she had a lot of time to think about what happened that day. She’s already begun internalizing her guilt about her ladies’ deaths, and how her pregnancy led to them being in the Sept. She feels like she shouldn’t celebrate the baby when her ladies/friends have died because of it. And the Tyroshi talked about how people sing about Jace and Aegon, hence Jace’s temporary aversion to songs. So Aegon’s first attempt at helping her back to “normalcy” fails—but as we see in future chapters, he figures out another way.

Chapter 7 commentary here

[cryingpariah]

Garling being blond isn’t helping the redheaded wife because Kalgara accusations…

It was all the blasted Noland's fault.

He was the one that insisted on waxing poetic about the warrior's ruby locks.

“Oft, I heard individuals refer to the red-headed as demonic in nature. I can now say for certain how truly wrong they are. Kalgara's hair did not depict a wicked soul nor the pits of hell, but a beautiful heart of a leader, the holy and undying blaze of the heavens his crown.”

He had scoffed as he read it. How could anyone but the chosen be anything near holy? Garling had never wanted so badly to raise the dead, to see for himself this so called righteous fire and run his hands through it inhale it so deeply it never leaves his nostrils yank it from that undeserving scalp.

Instead, his only brain seemed to be the one picked at for now he could see red.

Or in more accuracy, its lack thereof in the holy lands. A sea of coloured heads wherever he went but none so much as a shade of crimson. He spilled blood plenty but growled as he couldn’t un-see its lack of life. Every shade of scarlet fabric now seemed dull. He bellowed to every seamstress that dared cross his sight, did none of them know their very simple jobs? Were they all so blind to the lifelessness of the colour?

He sat at his father's side now, still fuming at the failure of the world. Today was the he was to select a mother worthy of carrying the next line of Figarland's into the world. He waved his hand dismissively at every simpering debutante, feeling a light curl of satisfaction at each trembling lip and limb.

That was until she walked in. The whole room turned to him in surprise as he choked when he saw her.

Red. Red waves that moved like a cherry ocean. Alive and real and glowing like a halo under the chandelier. He approached her quickly, an imperceptible shake in his boots with each step.

“What magnificent hair you have.”

The woman smiled, a pleased aura surrounding her as she met his gaze.

“Indeed it is! How intelligent you are to notice. I am Saint Cassiopeia milord.”

They were wed two weeks later.

[maxiwaxipads]

Arupek sets off to leave Tuxedo Sam's Kingdom! What's left is preparations before continuing the journey!

Tuxam - “…Restocked rations. Check! Clothing…? We shouldn’t be too careless. Here. I’ll put extra layers for you.” Arupek - “I guess there isn’t harm with a few more layers!” Aurpek - “But Tuxam, aren’t you going to be cold as well?” Tuxam - “Me? I’m quite used to the cold at this point!” “I’ll be fine even if I had minimum clothing on.” Tuxam - “If it’s fine with you, I’d like to accompany you until we’ve reached [Route 1].” “The SEEDs surrounding milord’s territory are dangerous and aren’t the kinds to take alone!” Arupek - “But what if SEEDs attack the kingdom while you’re away?” Tuxam - “That’s why I’ll take you from [Route 1].” “The SEEDs rarely make it across the kingdom, but that doesn’t mean I should be careless.” “I’d take you further… But after recent events, I shouldn’t…” Tuxam - “It isn’t too far from the kingdom, and if I sprinted, I could likely make it in time.” “But if you’re underestimating this kingdom, I’ll abandon the thought of helping you in the first place!” Arupek - “I’m thankful for your help!” Aurpek - “Let’s go fishing the next time!” “I want to try the fish in your kingdom.” Tuxam - “With… Me?” Arupek - “Who else am I talking to?” “You’ve been so reliable, and helped me so far!” Tuxam - “I’ll have to find time in my schedule!” “Send me yours, and let’s see what we can do.” Arupek - “It might be hard right now…” Tuxam - “N—Not now! Later!” “Let’s go already!” Tuxam - “(But… Am I sure he’s only interested in the fish or…?)” “(No! Now’s not the time!)”

(Additional Information/Tangents):

I like to imagine Tuxedo Sam’s kingdom sits in a snowy landscape, with the capital being a walled city that protects itself from SEEDs (physically sturdier than most, but weaker against magic).

I like to think the answer to Tuxam’s question is both! Arupek genuinely admires everyone in Noir Bouquet and isn’t afraid to express that.  A really passionate guy! Arupek wants to meet Tuxam on a better note and also try the local fish in the region.

"[Route 1]" is a placeholder because I don't have a name, and it'll probably never have a name... or maybe it's an unintentional pokemon reference...

Arupek - “I know! We should go ice fishing!” “At your lord’s kingdom! Wait—Wait! Maybe we can even invite Lord Pekkle and Lord Tuxedo Sam as well?” Tuxam - “Hm… I’m not against the idea, but it might be cold.” “Are you sure?” Arupek - “How can I not be?” “This is time we can spend together!” “Oh!” “What are you thinking, Tuxam?” Tuxam - “There’s a place I’ve been thinking about…” “Have you heard of the Tuxedo Sam comics?” Arupek - “I’ve heard of it!” Tuxam - “You have!?” “That’s amaz—Ahem. In comic issue #37, Tuxedo Sam and the Hidden Lake; milord, Tuxedo Sam stubbles onto a lake upon accident.” “To much of his surprise, the fish there are purely yellow and resemble gold!” “It is greatly described in detail and said to be quite exceptional in taste!” “Finding this lake… I always wanted to do it!” Arupek - “A hidden lake with golden fish with exceptional taste!?” “I’m drooling!” Tuxam - “Wipe it with this.” (Hands a handkerchief) Arupek - “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that, but I’ll produce a little bit of drool so it can be of use.” Tuxam - “Make sure to return it clean the next time.” Arupek - “I will!”

(Weeks Later)

Tuxam - “What is… That?” Arupek - “A cooking set!” “If we’re set to eat yellow fish with a golden look with exceptional taste, we have to eat them in every way possible!” “You know. Grilled. Poached. Steamed. Cured. Raw.” “So I brought a cooking set!” Tuxam - “Every way… Possible?” Arupek - “Yup!” “Oh—Wait… No. I was thinking we could make sushi for Badobarm, but we don’t have rice.” “Do you think it is already too late…?” “Hm. You think if I ran fast enough, we could buy rice in your lord’s kingdom?”

Tuxam, who sits there not expecting this

[trickstarbrave]

could you elaborate (if you don't mind) on the reading the sermons with esoteric analysis techniques thing and how vivec always talks about his trauma? i havent really read the sermons myself but i think i have a good jist of it but the trauma thing is new to me (well, other than the big one in sermon 14)

im not exactly an expert but esoteric readings basically mean "reading between the lines". like subtext but to and extreme. the 36 sermons were designed with this in mind with references to and structure similar of real world occult texts along with encoded messages and the like

"muatra", vivec's spear, is an anagram (basically you rearrange the letters) of "trauma". weaponizing the pain he has gone through in the world to defend himself.

also take sermon 16 for example:

Nerevar said, 'Why are you doing this, milord?' Vivec said, 'To make room for the fire.' And the Hortator could see that Vivec was out of sorts, though not because of the impending new power to come. The golden warrior-poet had been exercising his Water Face as well, learned from the dreughs before he was born. Nerevar said, 'Is this to keep you from the fire?' Vivec said, 'It is so that I may see with truth. It, and my place here at the altar of Padhome in the house of False Thinking, serve so that I may see beyond my own secrets. The Water Face cannot lie. It comes from the ocean, which is too busy to think, much less lie. Moving water resembles truth by its trembling.'

there is a lot of information in this but we're gonna be focusing on 'the fire' here, not the fucking water face or dreughs.

"the fire" here is akin to vivec's divine spark, a sort of symbol of enlightenment, given it is a literal flame on his head. but if you look at other sources like "what my beloved taught me"...

For you, I would shave this head. It would not do that your new friend shook an inconstant kwam-lice from it. I'd take the sigil of Vel, the V, and wear it twice. And I would be new, and believe in the one moon and star as your banner does. I’d make a legend of this netch longhook. Make no frown that this will be my weapon in your guard, however low its station. We all drink from the milk of our fathers. I’d learn to read and then write so that I could see right your name forever. And I would clean your feet so that the next time you made treaty it would be with an assured step.

vivec DID cut his hair, not out of a symbol for enlightenment, but out of devotion and love to nerevar (hell, he named his spear and made it a legendary weapon also out of love and devotion). that love and devotion is what has driven him, what has defined his life, and also that during his time writing the sermons he was still picking apart that love and devotion. i think we can all agree given the foul murder and everything that the love was uhhhh kinda toxic and not healthy. he is trying to make sense of it and what it means for him with an analogy of nerevar also trying and failing to find spiritual fulfillment in sermon 16. but this carries over to sermon 34

The monster accepted Muatra with a peaceful look and his bones became the foundation for the City of the Dead, anon Narsis [sic]. Nerevar put away his axe, which he had at the ready, and frowned.'Why,' he said, 'did you ask me to come if you knew the eighth monster would give in so easily?' Vivec looked at the Hortator for a long time. Nerevar understood. 'Do not betray your nature. Answer as you will.' Vivec said, 'I brought you here because I knew the mightiest of my issue would succumb to Muatra without argument, if only I gave him consolation first.' Nerevar looked at Vivec for a long time. Vivec understood. 'Say the words, Hortator.' Nerevar said, 'Now I am the mightiest of your children.' Let this sermon be consolation to those who read it that are destined to die.

now for further context: i believe vivec's marriage to molag bal is symbolic. molag bal is the daedric prince of domination and the king of rape. and we know factually vivec as a mortal went through all manner of abuse, exploitation, and sexual assault. his marriage to the daedric prince represents an attempt to reclaim his agency in his trauma. and also i believe the children he has with molag bal that he then hunts down and kills are metaphors for or physical manifestations of his trauma.

if the children are representations of vivec's trauma, that means now that he has slain them in an attempt to heal from them, what does that make nerevar? "now i am the mightiest of your children" = "now i am your biggest trauma". and just like all the rest, nerevar is destined to die.

there are other common illusions to his trauma outside of these like "'The span of the apparently inactivated is your love of the absolute. The birth of God from the netchiman's wife is the abortion of kindness from love.'" (this is also using the definition of 'love' as spoken about by crowley, IRL).

we would be here literally all day if i went through all 36 sermons and what i think are allusions to trauma or the deeper meanings of them. because vivec is a poet, talking about complex topics like enlightenment and trauma and the ways in which he sees the world. he loves symbolism and metaphor. there are many things you can say with metaphor that you cannot communicate as well in a literal, factual explanation. to quote ursula k le guin:

"I talk about the gods, I am an atheist. But I am an artist too, and therefore a liar. Distrust everything I say. I am telling the truth. The only truth I can understand or express is, logically defined, a lie. Psychologically defined, a symbol. Aesthetically defined, a metaphor."

hence why i am annoyed when people dont take a look at the deeper meanings beyond the "FOUL MURDER" easter egg hidden meaning. there are so many deeper meanings in them. its a lot of fun to pick apart. they were made for esoteric readings. they arent the factual objective truths, but personal truths. symbols. metaphors.

[odessa-castle]

HOW is your writing so good??? Did you make a pact for unspeakable power??? (That joke might be in poor taste). Anyway Im just trying to say I really love Nothing Like The Sun and greatly appreciate you writing and sharing it. Although I cannot wait to read more, please take your time resting/recharging, especially after all this amazing writing!

My questions:

I was wondering how you’d describe Branwyn. Asking cus I love her and want to attempt drawing her. Also just any other facts about her you wish to share!

I’m also wondering if you’re willing to point out another Shakespeare reference in your fic. Im intrigued but not well read enough to spot them lol.

Oh my gosh, thank you for all your kind words! And I'd be over the moon if you decided to draw Branwyn, so let me describe her as best I can!

Branwyn is a gold dwarf -- I haven't pinned down her exact age, but she's in whatever the dwarven equivalent of early/mid-forties would be. Let me break the rest of this into bullets so it's not a total wall of text (and so I can put all this behind a cut):

Branwyn has tannish-golden skin with warm undertones, dark brown eyes with an epicanthal fold, and a broad, flat chin.

Branwyn has thick brownish-black hair -- her hair would have a bit of a wave to it, but she wears it long enough that the curl pattern's been stretched out quite a lot. She usually wears her hair in a single long braid, reaching about midway down her back. She doesn't have bangs, but shorter strands of her hair do tend to escape her braid and frame her face.

She has high cheekbones, a wideish nose with a relatively flat bridge (although it's been broken more than once), and her lower lip's noticeably fuller than her upper one.

She has plenty of scars. I described a few in chapter 11 (the vicious gnarled scar across her nose and cheek; the shining band of skin around her neck, like a burn that never quite healed right), but those aren't the only ones. She's spent most of her adult life as a mercenary, after all.

Build-wise, Branwyn is about as stocky and muscular as you'd expect a dwarven fighter to be, lol. She's broad rather than curvy. She's usually in her Flaming Fist uniform/armor when she's speaking with Wyll -- when she's out of uniform, she's probably just sticking to a simple shirt and trousers.

idk what the queer scene looks like in Faerun, but Bran is a butch, full-stop. It's very sexy of her.

Some other tidbits about Branwyn:

Bran wears her hair long as a fuck-you to Thay. In Thay, shorter hair generally means higher social status, and the most powerful Red Wizards shave their heads bald so you can see all their tattoos. Slaves, in contrast, are forbidden from cutting their hair. After Ulder helped Bran escape, she decided to keep her hair long, because she didn't want to end up associating short hair with freedom and bring that piece of Thay back with her.

Branwyn has been married twice (and divorced twice). Her most recent marriage took place frankly too soon after she joined the Fist -- she and her wife stayed together a while, though, and probably should have split up sooner than they did. Wyll was in his preteens while this was going down; he worried about her, but he didn't really know what to do, and he felt bad about that (even though, like, he was a kid, of course he doesn't know how to deal with these things).

Bran loves Wyll dearly, but she's also very mindful of the hierarchies at play between them. Ulder has always been Branwyn's commanding officer, and she doesn't think it's her place to openly challenge or confront him about how he treats his son, or to act as a parental figure to Wyll in Ulder's stead. It's part of why she's so insistent about calling Wyll "milord" -- she's trying to remind Wyll that he needs to be mindful of the social expectations at play. Ultimately, I think their relationship can best be described as a lord and retainer type of deal -- a prince and his exasperated but fond knight/bodyguard -- until the end of Part One, when Bran finally says "fuck protocol" and helps Wyll escape from Baldur's Gate.

Bran's got a huge soft spot for kids. She swears like a sailor, though, so she has to check herself around them a lot.

As for your second question, a lot of the Shakespeare references are more structural than direct! Like, you know, a messenger rushing in at the wrong moment to deliver news of an impending catastrophe, and creating a tragedy of timing. One of my personal favorites, though, is the little nod to the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet in the scene where Cazador forces Astarion to expose himself to the sun. What light through yonder window breaks indeed -- although it's anything but soft.

(Yes, I know what “but soft!” means in the context of that line, but let me make dumb jokes.)