#dani is in your debt now

[dani-loves-you]

"Sometimes life throws us unexpected challenges."

// @hopeformankind... sometimes dani needs love too

Comfort starters

A small whine left the Corgi as she laid there in the large males lap, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to run down those steps after Erwin but she wanted to keep up and now...well now she had a splint on her front right paw which made it hard to walk.

She was thankful that the tall blond was kind enough to get her treated....even if it was her own fault for rushing after him in a panic. There were just so many people she was worried she'd lose track of him and then what? What would happen to him? He'd be left alone with his thoughts and she wouldn't be there to comfort him but it seems like he was comforting her now.

I love you Erwin, you are so kind to me. Thank you human for your generosity I shall repay you.

Is what she wanted to say as she'd lift her head to lick at the mans chin, her tail wagging slightly to show him how grateful she was....sure her leg still hurt like hell but she was thankful nonetheless.

And to think he was trying to make HER feel better....such a loving human she truly was lucky.

[formulaforza]

—strawberry wine

and all the times we used to have. (nothing defines a man like love that makes him soft). pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: language, angst babyyy love, mackie... 5k ish. this is. definitely something. perhaps it should have stayed in the drafts but dani selected it from a group of it's peers yesterday evening.

It’s been years since you last spent enough time at the vineyard to be considered even a part-time employee. It’s hard to be there, now, in a way it didn’t used to be. Watching it fade away into obscurity and beg someone–anyone–to buy the property to land so your family can get out without generational debt. The fields just hold so many memories, an ancestral kind of history; your first job, the place you had your first drink, where you fell both in, and out of love for the first time. Being there now, watching it die a malignant death is just… sad. There isn’t anything poetic about it. 

You long for the days of the peak, of never ending days spent behind the counter in the barn selling wealthy people on the aesthetics of a small, family-run vineyard. Of your father hosting tours and your mother tastings, of you, pink nose and shoulders kissed by the sun, picking grapes by hand. Of the days where help still had to be hired. 

For a while there, it seemed like there was a never ending rotation of teenagers and twenty-somethings willing to do manual labor for minimum wage–thirteen an hour–from sunup to sundown. They’d even host the occasional tour on busy Saturday evenings, would be compensated in under the table bottles of wine and cash tips. None of them ever stuck around longer than a couple months, found better jobs indoors, closer to school, better pay. Well, nobody except Daniel. 

Daniel worked at the vineyard for… four-ish years, with varying availability depending on seasons and school and racing. 

Sometimes, when you lose yourself to sentiments and fantasy, you imagine a world where the Vineyard never faced any competition, where it is still thriving and you take over your mother’s job when she retires. Daniel still works there, maybe in the fields where he was always supposed to be, or maybe front of house guiding tours and helping you with tastings. Life is simple and plain and at the end of every night you lock the barn doors  and go home together and eat dinner and grocery shop and do your taxes. Daniel strums the guitar on the porch when it rains. Life is easy and fun and you laugh more than you don’t. 

It’s silly, really. But first loves are always silly. 

He is one of the many memories that haunt the property, walking the lines of grapevines feeling more like a walk through a fogged out graveyard than anything. 

Even now, all these years later, you can still see him sat in the swivel chair in the office doorway, throwing grapes at you while you attempt to run the dusty cash register. It’s a cool July afternoon and he’s got a stupid grin on his face and can’t look anywhere but you. 

Daniel is kind of like those people you know you’re given young so that for the rest of your life you know what real feels like. They’re more a lesson than a lover, unfortunately. 

—

You move through the place like you own it, which, you suppose technically you do, in some will locked away in an accountant’s filing cabinet, this all belongs to you. Right now, though, you’re seventeen and just returning from school, already setting up your homework on the end of the counter, a spattering of greetings from the local customers and the local hands, the people who know that this is more of a natural habitat than anywhere else on the planet will ever be. 

Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips.

“It’s a history textbook,” you reply, eyes unmoving from the page. 

“Seventeen-seventy, cunt.” There’s a half-empty bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. He leans over you to grab an orange. “Captain Hook and such,” he adds, hosting himself up onto the counter with a thud. You’re sure one day the old wood is going to give out on him and he’ll fall straight onto his ass. Part of you hopes you’re around to see it, the other knows that he’ll find a way to not only make it your fault, but also tease you about it for a minimum of six months. 

“Fuck off, Danny,” you punctuate, just loud enough for him to hear. 

“It’s Daniel, now.”

You snort. Finally, you give him your attention. “Danny is too unprofessional for a hot-shot Red Bull junior driver like you?”

“See,” he pops his thumb harshly through the peel of the orange, the citrus scent wafting out into the humid air. “You get it.”

You pout. “I’m still going to call you Danny.”

“No you won’t,” he laughs. God, the smell of orange is overwhelming, the kind that lingers long after the fruit is gone. When Danny goes back to work in a few minutes, tosses the peel and into the trash by the office door, he’ll still linger in the room with the smell of citrus. 

“I will.”

“You know what,” he hums, biting into a slice. “Let me make you a deal.”

You smile, shake your head. “Shouldn’t I be the one making you a deal?”

He groans against the fruit, “Can you just?”

When you look up again, lean back in your chair and cross your arms, he has orange juice running down the side of his hand, all sweet and sticky and summery. “Fine.”

He smiles goofily, all fucking proud of himself just because you agreed to shut up for thirty seconds. “You can keep calling me Danny, but only if you let me take you out this weekend.”

“Danny,” you protest. This is far from the first time he’s tried to plant the seed of a date with him. It’s had to’ve been a year, by now. You know he’d drop it if you would just give him an answer, but a year later you still haven’t been able to deliver anything definitive. 

He shrugs. “‘Dem’s the rules, honey.”

Maybe what you say next is your greatest mistake, or maybe it was what you were always going to say. Maybe you feel like you can say it because he leaves again soon, for longer than ever. You won’t have to live with the consequences of your actions, of your words. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s simply that you think Daniel is far too proper a name for the sticky-handed vineyard tour guide you’ve grown particularly fond of. Danny is much more fitting for him, which is most certainly why you say, okay. When are you picking me up?

—

You drive out from your parents house with your dad in his old Ford Bronco. It’s half rusted out and half chipped blue paint, with worn leather seats and a steering wheel somehow more worn than the rest of it. Seven black tree air fresheners hand from the rearview mirror, new car smell. This relic is well past that–he’s been driving it out to the property literally forever, and this trip won’t be any exception. 

You hardly recognize the place, you think as you slam the squeaky door shut with enough force to make sure it really latches. 

The fields are overgrown with tall grass and shrubs and mustard flowers. The trunks of the grapevines act as headstones for the sprawling field of dry, sunburnt plants. You don’t think anyone has been out there with a plow in months, if not years. 

The barn, the one you grew up in, has been lost with the rest of the place to time. Red paint chips off the wood in massive flakes. The branding that had once run in big wooden letters along the top of the door have all since fallen, leaving a sad outline of your family name in its weathered wake. Two padlocks, one rusted shut, sit on the lock. Every step you take kicks up more dust. 

You’re removed from your thoughts, from the hauntings and the sentiment and the memories, by the creaking of the tailgate on your father’s truck. Stuffed in the back of the Bronco are your afternoon tasks; a pair of bulk cutters for the padlocks,  a new, state of the art keypad lock given to your Dad by a realtor, a post hole digger, and five for-sale signs haphazardly packed any way they would fit. 

You spend most of the next couple hours digging holes along the road, filling them with the wooden posts of the for-sale signs, looking disapprovingly at the thirty-something in a suit that has been tasked with selling the unsellable property. 

This is, what… the fifth person you’d hired to sell this fucking place. Soon enough, you’re going to be sticking up For Sale by Owner signs with a hand-written phone number in black sharpie along the fences that were supposed to keep animals out. Realtors were never in the budget to begin with. 

—

You’re waiting on the old front porch when he pulls up in his beat-up truck, John Denver playing through the open windows, his hand moving in the wind up the entire dusty driveway. You don’t know what he can see, that your Mom is watching out the kitchen window with a friendly smile. 

You’ve got your best sundress on, one that you’d debated wearing for almost thirty-six hours. The first week Danny worked in front of house with you, he spent the entire shift flirting with one of your Dad’s friend’s daughters. He said that sundresses are a crime committed against teenage boys and that when he meets God he’s going to have words with him over pretty girls and their affinity for said sundresses. 

You’d laughed then, because you thought it was silly. You remembered it because you thought the new kid was kind of cute, in a you work for my parents and I could never think you’re cute way. 

“Fuck,” is the first word out of his mouth, before the car door is even closed behind him, followed quickly by a check of his watch and “am I late?”

“No, no,” you smile, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind your ear, standing to your feet on the wooden stairs. “You’re early, actually. I think,” you chuckle. “I’m just,” you can feel your cheeks flushing. “I’m just excited.”

“Yeah,” he moves to you quickly, nervously. In the way only teenage boys on a first date do. “I’m excited too.”

“You look nice,” you say, stepping down the final couple of steps and meeting his waiting hand. “Your hair. I feel like I only ever see you in a hat.”

“Thanks, yeah,” he laughs. You’ve always loved his laugh, even when he’s annoying you and annoying customers and annoying himself. His laugh has always been good. “You look beautiful. I’ve never seen you, I mean. Not that you don’t always look–”

“Danny,” you interject as he opens the passenger side door. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he offers a smile and closes the door. Just before it latches shut, though, you hear him finish his sentence. “Thank you.”

He takes you to King’s Park, to the botanical garden after a stop for ice cream. He tells you that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and you ask him to tell you something you don’t already know. It’s then, in the botanical garden next to the water garden, that he tells you about his quote-en-quote ‘silly, kind of, like, backup dream, I guess’ where he has his own vineyard, brews his own wine and spends every day half drunk and wholly happy. 

He stumbles through the entire telling of it, which is how you know he’s not fucking with you. He never gets nervous when it comes to fucking with you. 

Perhaps that is where your silly, kind of like, backup dream started. The one where you and Daniel are working at the vineyard together and life is all death and taxes and grocery bills but somehow, in the midst of all the dull normalcy, you’re both happy as happy can be. 

—

“Someone is out there looking at the place today,” your father tells you over the phone. You try to talk every day, a habit you’ve both picked up in the past couple years, in the time and space since you’ve turned thirty. 

“You’re kidding,” you say. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of some health-conscious cereal into your mouth (another post-thirtieth habit). “Who?”

“I don’t know, kid,” you swear you can hear the frown on his face, the deep smile lines and the frustrated forehead wrinkles from months in the direct southern sun. “Probably some fucking developer.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he sighs. “If I’m right, I’d bet they break ground on a neighborhood within the year.”

Your sigh matches his. You can’t even imagine it, front yards and vinyl flooring and white walls built on a foundation of your childhood memories. It’s like going back home, to your childhood home that you sold so many years ago, and discovering it’s been bulldozed, wiped clean from the face of the Earth. “That’s so sad.”

“I know, but, well. You know, honey. It’s not like we have much choice.”

You nod. You do understand. You understand more than you wish you did. “I know. I know. Still pretty fuckin’ sad, though.”

There’s a long silence. The kind of silence that can only be shared by a father and a daughter; a silence that speaks more words than the dictionary can hold. “She’d understand it,” he finally speaks.  “She wouldn’t fucking like it, but she would understand it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know she would.”

—

“Are you going to kill me?” You giggled, stumbling over your feet. Danny is leading you on the property, one hand over your eyes, the other on your waist, guiding you poorly. 

“And be the first fucking suspect?” He laughs. “I think not.”

“Okay, then where are you taking me?” You beg. It's been going on like this for some half hour, before he even covered your eyes.

He laughs. You laugh. All the two of you do is laugh. “Can’t you lighten up?”

“Not when I’m being led to my death. No, I can’t!”

He stops, turns you around a hundred and eighty degrees and takes his hand off your eyes, fingers digging into either of your shoulders. “Babe," he says, and you'd think he was about to tell you he killed someone.

You mimic his seriousness, find humor in it. “Babe.”

“You trust me.”

“Do I?” You smile. He cocks his head to one side and rolls his big brown eyes. You would commit crimes for his eyes. “I do.”

“Okay, so then fucking trust me.”

“Okay,” you nod, closing your eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay," you reach blindly for his hand, bring it to your eyes to block the light from them once more. "I trust you. Let’s go.”

After a short, terribly blind walk, Danny finally stops. You’ve been able to hear the river that flows out the back of the property for twenty minutes, but it’s close enough now that you can smell it; the sticks and the rocks and the mud and the water. You can practically feel the splashing of the water bouncing off the boulders.

“Okay. Open,” he instructs, removing his hand from your eye, moving his arms to hug you from behind, arms wrapped over the front of your chest. 

You open your eyes to find a picnic, carefully set up with a spread of dinner and drinks and dessert, complete with a plaid flannel blanket and candles that smell like citronella masked with lavender and a bouquet of white roses already in a water filled vase. “Danny,” you hum, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

He kisses your temple, whispers against your hair, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Danny,” you drag out the letters of his name, of the nickname he only lets the people he loves call him by. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy and special. 

“Honey,” he mocks you, sways behind you. 

“This is too much,” You crane your neck to look at him, and then turn your whole body so you’re flush against his chest, close in a way only you get to be. “You’re so sweet.”

He laughs and it vibrates in both of your chests. A feeling you’ll never tire of. “I mean, this is not too much. Arguably, this is too little.”

“No,” you back away, out of his grip and take small steps backwards, towards the picnic and the waiting meal, pulling him along with you by interlocked pinkies. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Well,” his grin grows. “I can’t argue with that.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him, because you do, because you’re eighteen and everything in this life is so simple and black and white.

“I love you, too, and–”

“Oh my gosh,” you cut him off, wide-eyed and giddy. “Wine with strawberries?”

He nods. “Strawberry wine, if you will. For the winery with no strawberry fields.”

“This is better,” you state, with the utmost confidence, without even a sip or a sniff or any idea of what white wine he’d used as a base for his little cocktail. 

“Definitely not, but sure.”

“It is, because you made it for me. That makes it perfect.”

—

You’re completely removed from the actual buying and selling of the property. It isn’t up to you to decline or accept or field offers, that’s all your dad. The place is still his, at least for a couple more weeks while all the paperwork processes.

It was an anonymous buyer, according to your Dad. Cash offer, over asking price. He’s not sure how the real estate agent managed it, and honestly? Neither are you. Objectively, that land isn’t worth the cost of cleaning it up. Everyone in their right mind knows it. You just come from a particular bloodline where the mind never was quite right when it came to the vineyard. 

What shocks you most, though, is that the anonymous buyer–supposedly–is interested in restoring the place rather than bulldozing it.

“They asked me about the dirt,” your dad tells you on one of your daily phone calls. “Wanted to know about berries.”

“Berries?”

“Yeah, strawberries or raspberries or something like that.”

You scoff. What kind of fucking idiot is buying this land? It might just be a herd of manufactured houses after all. “Well, it’s too hot here for raspberries. Everyone knows that.”

“I know, that’s what I told them. They could probably grow strawberries in July or August.”

“Are they trying to make strawberry wine or something?” And, as if this is some fucked up kind of movie, and not real life, it all comes back to you. Every memory, every moment, all at the thought of fucking strawberries in wine. 

“Good fucking luck to them, if they are.” Your grandparents entertained the idea of it once, all the fruit wines. It’s a fucking shit-show, according to legend. Hell to try and make, Heaven to taste. It just wasn’t worth it for them. But apparently now it’s worth it to someone.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, bite and bite until you’re worried you’ll draw blood, that you’re a single tooth away from popping a hole clear through the skin. There’s no way, there’s genuinely no way, right? “Dad?”

“Shoot.”

“It’s not.” You almost stop yourself, you almost have some common fucking sense and realize just how vast the world is and how completely unlikely it is that– almost. You almost stop yourself. “The anonymous buyer, it isn’t Daniel, is it?”

“Daniel?” He scoffs on the other end. “Better not be that fucking cunt.”

You smile, the kind of smile that you know you should feel guilty for having. “He’s not a cunt, Dad.”

“I never fucking liked that kid.”

You’re right–you think. You’re right, Dad. You didn’t like him. “You loved him.”

“No, I lost all my respect for him when he left you like he did,” his voice is laced with a calm seriousness. He’s always been your blind defender. 

“Yeah, Dad,” you pause. Now’s as good a time as any, you suppose. “I’ve been… that’s not exactly how it went down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Daniel didn’t leave me, and even if he did, Dad, he wouldn’t have done it then.”

—

“What the fuck are you talking about, you’re breaking up with me?” His voice cuts through continents. He’s somewhere in the UK, or maybe Italy, or maybe Asia. You honestly can’t keep track anymore, can barely keep track of the days of the week that you’re living much less the ones he’s in. 

“It’s exactly what I said, Daniel,” you say, try to keep your voice as level headed as possible, to juxtapose the way your mind races, the way your heart rate spikes and your palms sweat and everything in you hurts. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“No, no. I’m making this fucking hard,” he’s riled up enough for the both of you. “You don’t just. This isn’t how this works, babe. You can’t just break up with me.” He’s raising his voice with you. You can count on one hand and have fingers left over the amount of times Danny has yelled at you, and this is the first time it’s not scary. 

“I can, and I am,” your voice comes from your throat, choked out over the lull of your entire body begging you to please, please don’t do this. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry!” He yells, the last letter sound cracking with the realization of his actions. “You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Okay, sure. Whatever.” He doesn’t make this easy, not that you’d expected it to be easy. You’d hoped for something cleaner, though. Less mess. “I’m having a great time breaking your heart.”

“Just. Why? Why are you doing this? What happened? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, D,” you sigh. You didn’t know that your heart could physically hurt. You thought that was some crap that they made up for movies and songs and poems, some grand metaphor for how sad you get. “I can’t be a girlfriend right now. To anyone.”

“That’s such bullshit.”

You can feel yourself shutting down, closing every part of yourself off, running on pure survival instincts. “I know. I’m a cunt.”

“You aren’t… fuck me. I mean, fuck, dude.” He laughs. There’s not a thing about it that sounds happy. “I know you don’t want this, I know it. Talk to me, please. Tell me what’s going on and I can help you and everything is going to be fine, baby. Just. Please.”

“Daniel.”

“Why are you calling me that?!”

“It’s what you like to be called!” You yell back, feel the burn in your nose and your cheeks and the sting in your chest. 

There’s silence for so long you wonder if he’s hung up, if you’re supposed to. It’s minutes before he speaks again. “Not by you, it’s not.”

—

It’s been just past a year since the place got sold, and nobody from your family–nobody–has been there since. You moved out of town years before the sale, and your Dad has joined you, wants to be near you in his ever increasing age and always deepening wrinkles. When the arthritis sets in, someone needs to forge my signature for me, he tells you. 

It’s not until her birthday that you’re back in Perth, that you’re struck with the sudden spark, with the idea to drive past the vineyard, to see what idiot is trying to plant raspberries in the Australian heat, to see who's living in your shoes and wearing your clothes and sleeping under your bed like a monster. 

“I don’t know that we should do that,” your Dad says. “It’s going to make you sad.”

You shrug in the passenger seat of the old Bronco. “We’re in the parking lot of a cemetery, so,” you offer a near silent chuckle. “I think we’re a bit past sad.”

“Okay,” he nods. “There’s something you should know, then.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a neighborhood.”

“No, no. It’s a vineyard. Strawberries and grapes in the fields.”

“Well, good then,” you nod, glide your hands through the air outside the open window. “What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugs, drums his fingers on the beat up steering wheel. “You remember when you asked me last year if it was Daniel?”

“Dad. Don’t.”

“Well, I didn’t know it then, but–”

“I’m serious. Don’t tell me this, please,” you’re a second away from sticking your fingers in your ears and humming a nursery rhyme to keep the unsaid unspoken. 

“Daniel bought the place, hon.”

“My Daniel?” You squeak. You haven’t felt this young in a while. Or this small. 

He laughs, turns to face you with a look that begs you not to be so damn daft. “The only Daniel that means anything to anyone in this family.”

“When did you find out?”

“As soon as they put the sign up. I was still living out here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You have so many questions. You don’t think there’s any you actually want answers to. 

“What good was it going to do? I never thought you’d be back here.”

“Well. I’m back.”

He nods. “You’re back.”

You’re back. You never really left, you don’t think. It’s not something you can do around here. Perth is in your blood the same way wine is, some grand, immovable part of your soul. You suppose Daniel is there too, taking up a plot of land in your soul that can never be sold. He lives in you like summertime and sadness and strawberries. Strawberries. Him and his fucking strawberry white wines. 

“He’s got strawberries?” You croak. Tears pull on your voice but you won’t give them the satisfaction. You’re grown now, it’s time to fucking act like it. 

“Strawberry wine. First batches just came out last month. I heard it’s pretty good.”

“I bet.”

“You still wanna go?”

You nod, cold and stunted. “Yeah.”

You see the cars before you see the barn, they’re overflowing out of the parking lot and stopped on the side of the dirt road that leads to the drive. You’ve never seen it so busy. It looks like the pictures your parents used to show you, the ones where the place was fresh and new and shiny. The barn has a fresh coat of red paint, the parking lot is repaved and half full of ATVs with a logo for DR3 Wines printed on either side. 

Above the door, a matching phrase, in simple white wooden letters–like what once was–hangs, announces the place to passers by. 

Inside, it smells like wood, like lavender and citronella and alcohol. There are pictures on every wall, carefully framed photos of everyone in the world besides him. The counter is that same old slab of wood, the one that you always hoped he would fall through. On the wall behind is are more 4x6 photos than you can count, all unframed, all messily taken. He’s in some of those, holding a camera or posing with friends or hugging a grapevine. There’s one with you, right in the middle. You and he and your Mom on the back field picking grapes. It’s taken by your dad, you still remember that morning clear as day. 

There’s another of you; a selfie taken on a point-and-shoot, the two of you with glasses of white wine and strawberries. Next to it is a picture of Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard leaning against the counter, half-drunk glasses in each of their hands. 

Framed, on the edge of the counter, right beside the register, is a photo of the place when he first started working there, of your Mom and your Dad standing proudly in front of it. You took it. You left it in the office when your Dad decided to lock the doors for good. Our Story, the plaque below it reads, with a QR code to scan. 

It leads to a linktree, to social media links and tasting menus and a merchandise shop. The last link, though, is stomach curling. It’s her name, your Mom’s. Fighting for her, it reads. When you click it, you’re taken to a website that encourages donations, that spreads awareness and promotes research, that thanks Daniel by name twice in two paragraphs for his consistent and generous donations and support. 

Before you can make a bee-line for the exit, to tell your Dad that he was right and this was a mistake, you’re met with a red-faced teenage girl asking you if there’s anything she can help you with. “No, uh,” you swallow hard. “My parents were the previous owners, we just stopped in to see the place.”

“Oh my gosh, would you like a tour?”

“Um…” you pause, because you don’t know if you can handle being here. Seeing the place like this again. “Danny’s not… Daniel isn’t here, is he?” She shakes her head. You nod. “Then yeah, I guess. Let me just grab my dad?”

—

You get an invite to a VIP tasting at his vineyard two weeks after your visit. It’s scheduled during the F1 summer break, so you have no doubt he’ll be there, and if that wasn’t clue enough, his handwriting glaring back at you on the invite is about as obvious as obvious can be. 

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your Dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine–the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

read part two, everywhere, everything, here!

[dreamfyre03]

A Dragon's Love

Warnings: Grief, mentions of death

Chapter 16: Grief and Dreams

Daenys sat in her room reading another book Jace had brought her, this time, a novel about a princess who fell in love with a dashing prince, but was stolen away by the evil sorcerer. It was quite engrossing, and she almost didn’t hear when the door opened, and Rhaenyra entered. “Sister.” She greeted her, surprised. “Daenys.” She stood across from her. 

“Have you come to kill me?” She asked her. “Despite my earlier outbursts, for now, your life is safe. You are better off to any of us alive than dead, and I’m no kinslayer.” Her sister replied. “Then why are you here?” “To give you a chance. The first strike has been landed against the greens, justice for their crimes. You can escape their fate, if you swear allegiance to me as your Queen.” Daenys felt fear creeping up her spine at her sister’s eerily calm voice. 

“Rhaenyra… what have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything. Daemon, however, has many friends, people in all places, in King’s Landing.You might be especially interested to know her a butcher they call Blood, and a rat-catcher they call Cheese.” She revealed. Daenys imagined the worse praying that her siblings were alive… Aemond… 

“My son’s death has been avenged, sister. A life for a life. A son for a son.” She said in a menacing fashion. 

She felt a ringing in her ears, and her heart hammering in her chest. The realisation hit her so hard it physically sucked all the strength out of her body that kept her standing. Daenys fell to her knees, as a sob overtook her. Aemond had no sons. Which could only mean…

No. 

Not sweet Jaehaerys. Not the little boy she held when he came out of her sister’s womb, smiling and giggling happily. Not Helaena’s pride and joy, and Aegon’s little miniature. 

Daenys felt the last thread of hope in her snap, letting out a guttural cry as she mourned the loss of the nephew she loved as her own son. “He was a child, Rhaenyra! An innocent child!” She screamed, not even feeling the stone floors bruising her knees. “So was my son!” Her sister shouted back at her. “But this is war, and war is not fair sister. You have a choice. You can choose your rightful Queen, or you can leave see what awaits you if you lay your life down for the Usurper King.” She said, shutting the door behind her as she felt. 

Leaving Daenys there, wailing and crying on the floor, nothing but a ball of grief on the ground, truly and utterly broken. 

She laid there on the floor for hours, not even registering the soft opening and closing of the door, and Jace’s voice that softly called out her name. She felt numb, lifeless. She knew Rhaenyra would want some form of debt for Lucerys’s death, but never did she think her sister was capable of masterminding the death of an innocent boy. The war was raging for probably a month, but to Daenys it felt like an eternity. Perhaps it was her grief, or her captivity talking. She felt like the days before her father died were nothing but distant memories. Dragonriding with Helaena, drinking and laughing with Aegon, poor Daeron, she wished she had more time with him, and Aemond, her beloved Aemond. It wasn’t until she felt her body being raised up and she saw Jace’s face did she register his presence. “Please talk to me, can you hear me?” He asked nervously, and she felt a cool hand touch her cheek. 

“He was just a child, Jace. Barely a boy, still so much like a babe. He still slept with his sister. When he was a babe, when he first said my name, he called me ‘Dany’. Just like Aegon did when we were children.” She didn’t know why she was rambling on like this, but surprisingly, Jace just sat next to her on the ground and listened. “Alicent was overjoyed Aegon had an heir. But Helaena, my sweet sister, she was just happy to have a child. She was so young when she had him, but I saw in the childbed, the moment she held him, there was nothing but love in her eyes.” Jace took her hand in his reassuringly, and in her grief she didn’t give the gesture a passing thought.

“Aegon was terrified to hold him, and Jaehaera. But when I finally convinced him to, it was as if all the pain in his heart simply melted away, and he felt genuine, true happiness in those moments. And now, that sweet child, a ray of light in his parents’ lives, is gone. Gods know I would have traded my life for his in a heartbeat.” 

“Don’t say that.” Jace spoke softly. She turned to look at him. “I would. I wish Rhaenyra had chosen to take my life to settle the debt, than his. I would have laid my life down smiling. I have spent my life trying to love my family, protect them, with what little power a woman has, and I could not help him. I left to go North to give them all a better chance of staying alive, and it has all been for nought.” 

Jace simply kept holding her hand, and Daenys had to ask. “Did you know?” “No. I had no idea until we received a raven from King’s Landing, announcing the death of Prince Jaehaerys, and proclaiming Prince Maelor as Aegon’s heir.” 

“I suppose you are glad, your brother’s death is avenged.”

He sighed. “Killing a child is not justice. Only killing the man responsible is.”

Her mind instantly went to Aemond, Daenys had no doubt he was blaming himself entirely. She needed to feel his arms around her, she needed to cry and grieve in the arms of someone who loved those children as much as she did.

“Please, eat, and get some rest. I’ll come back to see you in the morning.” He said, getting up, and helping her to her feet. She rose and went and sat at the table, where a plate of food was, she didn’t even recall hearing or seeing a servant come in. 

Before he shut the door, he turned around and called her. “Daenys?” She looked at him.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

.

.

.

“You mother would be livid if she knew you were in my rooms at such an ungodly hour.” “Ah yes, but she won’t know, will she, sweet sister?” Aemond grinned as he watched her sitting up on the floor in front of the fire in her room, letting the heat warm her skin as they shared a bottle of Dornish wine Aegon left in her rooms earlier that day. Her skin was flushed from the heat and the wine. Her hair was slightly tousled from being roused from sleep, but she didn’t mind. He had a nightmare, and couldn’t return to sleep, so he sought her  out instead, needing her presence to clear his mind. The firelight on her skin made her appear like a goddess radiating the beauty of Old Valyria, and when she drank again, and passed the bottle back to him, his eye couldn’t leave her frame as he watched her slip her sage coloured robe from her shoulders, exposing her pure alabaster skin to him, her shoulders bare but for the straps of her nightgown. Her wine stained lips curved into a kind, empathetic smile. “Do you feel better, brother?” She asked him softly, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. 

“Mmm” was his only response, as his eye closed, relaxing into her touch. She giggled, the wine’s effects beginning to show. “Aegon will be jealous when he learns I’ve taken his drinking partner.” Aemond said. She laughed. “I suppose you’ll have to learn to share me.” “I don’t think I could ever share you with anyone.” The wine loosened his tongue, and he realised his words, worrying that they would perturb her, but she simply gave him an affectionate smile, and shifted over to lie into his chest, and he tried not to look down her nightdress, but couldn’t resist the urge, and glanced downward to see the curve of her breast. “Well, you’ll have to learn. I received a letter from Daeron this morning.” “Mmm” “He’s excited to return for my name day. I told him he should come for yours instead, it’s only a few moons after, but he aches to return home.” “I would imagine so.” He couldn’t resist the urge and took advantage of their wine induced states, and pulled her closer to him, keeping his arm on her waist. She was so warm, and soft, and-

Aemond woke with a start in his bed, his sheets soaked with sweat, and Daenys’s name on his lips. Even in sleep, she haunted him. But he felt it was a blessing that she haunted his dreams, at least that way, the gods let him see her face. 

[noforkingclue]

By Any Means Chapter 20 (Malcolm Bright x reader)

By Any Means tag list: @shadowluna25

Prodigal Son tag list: @queenoffandom08, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @stilestotherescue

Malcolm Bright tag list: @v0id-sp1rit, @fansformentalydistroyedmen

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Umm, y/n l/n? Is there a y/n l/n in this class?”

You looked up at the sound of your name and your lecturer glanced over at you.

“Yeah?” you said ignoring the whispers of your classmates, “What’s wrong.”

“I have your father on the line in the office.”

“My father,” you jumped to your feet and slung your bag across your shoulders, “sorry, got to take this.”

You lecturer just shrugged and continued with her lecture as you practically ran out of the room. If your father was calling the university directly then something must be serious. You frowned slightly when you saw Dani and JT in the office.

“Still doing interviews?” you asked

“Just the last few,” said Dani as she made some notes in her book, “thought you’d be avoiding this place.”

“I’m already in debt,” you said, “got to make as much of my few lectures as I can!”

You grinned at the both of them as you were ushered into another office. The staff member gave you a small smile and left you alone, clearly not going to listen in to your private conversation. You quickly grabbed the phone and said,

“Dad? Is everything alright. I thought-“

“Y/n!” you froze at the sound of the voice, “How are you?”

“Whitley,” you hissed, “How did you get this number?”

“Oh it wasn’t too hard to work out,” he said, “once I knew that you were one of Joseph’s pupils. I have my ways for finding out the number and well,” he let out a chuckle, “the rest I’m sure you can figure out.”

You sat on top of the table and glared. Dani made eye contact with you through the window and nudged JT when she saw your expression.

“What the fuck do you want?” you snapped, “And why shouldn’t I hang up right now?”

“If you were going to you would’ve done so already,” said Martin, “and really I think it’ll be better to speak face to face.”

*

“This is insane,” you said as you walked once again down the prison corridors, “why did Gil even agree to this? Does Malc know what we’re doing?”

“Malc,” JT said with a smirk, “is busy. As for Gil,” he shrugged and glanced at Dani, “maybe he thinks that this’ll stop him bothering Malcolm.”

“Doubtful.” You muttered

“Alright, this is as far as we can go,” said Dani, “but we’ll be outside.”

“Ok,” you took a deep breath, “ok. I can do this.”

And with that you once again entered Martin’s cell. It was strange being here without Malcolm, even though you had only visited once before. Martin smiled at you but you crossed your arms and leant against the door. You found yourself wishing that Malcolm was with you.

“So,” said Martin, “how have you been?”

“Cut the bullshit,” you said, “what do you want?”

Martin’s smile became strained and he gestured for you to come closer. When you raised your eyebrows in disbelief he shrugged and sat down instead.

“I thought we could get to know each other,” he said, “after all, you and my boy…”

“Malcolm and I are friends,” you said, “and I doubt that you called me here just for a chat.”

“It sounds like you know me.”

“I’ve read you Wikipedia page.”

“Ooh I’ve got a Wikipedia page. How exciting!”

“Yeah with all the other vicious serial killer bastards,” you snapped, “I’ve wasted my afternoon with this. Unless you’ve got something useful for me I’m going.”

“You spoke to him, didn’t you?”

You paused at the suddenly serious tone in Martin’s voice. You narrowed your eyes and said,

“Who?”

“Your friend.”

“This might come as a surprise but I have several friends. Can you be more specific?”

“Unfortunately I do not know the names of your friends,” Martin said with a bright grin, “something to do with being locked up.”

You both knew who he was talking about and you hugged yourself tightly, hoping that it would bring you some comfort.

It didn’t.

“Of course I spoke to him,” you said, “he’s my friend. Why wouldn’t I.”

Martin tutted and stood up. He paced about his room and gave you a disapproving look.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he said, “probably made him wary.”

“It’s not like I told him the details of the case.”

“With killers like these you can never predict how they’re going to act.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Now then,” Martin’s grin became sharp, “why ever would you think that?”

You weren’t given time to reply. You heard shouting and looked over your shoulder as Malcolm practically ran down the corridor. JT and Dani were nowhere to be seen and when Malcolm finally entered the room you knew that you were in for another awkward conversation.

[taylorthrift]

Grief is a terrible, incredible thing.

To most of the people here I'm an erratic fan. Shouting into the void about lost love, Taylor Swift, my gender identity, ai-doom. Each post I make takes a little more out of me and fewer people interact with me.

Only a few mutuals even understand who I am and why I'm here. This is the real, authentic me. This is a LONG READ.

When I came to Tumblr, I was grief-stricken, sobbing for the end of a 20-year relationship. Most of you are pretty young and I'm sure the idea of that is incredibly distant and impossible. Love is hard_HARD_ work.

Throughout our relationship I'd pour my heart into music and then that music into him. When we were younger it was Avril Lavigne, then it became Paramore-then it was Taylor. I didn't have the female voice to express the love to my partner that I wanted to so these womens' words became my words. A way for him to really hear me.

Near the end of the relationship, this was through Folklore specifically. When I needed desperately to feel a connection it was Invisible String. When I wanted him to see how desperately I wanted his love and attention it was Mirrorball. When I felt neglected and forgotten about it was Hoax. When I knew my depression would never leave us it was Peace.

After we split, I couldn't pour myself into that music anymore; now there was no-one to listen to my voice. I was heartbroken doubly and started screaming my grief into the void. It was 20 years, besties: 20.

I've always felt what I call art debt. It's the idea that the people who do art that moves you are owed part of the emotional movement it inspired. Basically, the people who have moved you with their art deserve to know that. Not with some generic 'your art inspired me', but the very specific: "I am who I am because of this art."

It helped make me who I was as a professional. It helped me express who I was as a lover. It built me into someone greater than I had been before.

I came to Tumblr to say thank you, hoping with some small hope that Taylor still lurked and might be able to hear the message. Taylor wasn't the person who found me and helped me in my flailing grief, it was Abby. A disabled girl half my age and suffering worse than I am.

It was Swifties who were there to catch me and help build me up. It was Dani (@meaningtotellyou) and Abby (@whydoifeelthisquiet) and Kelly (@alwaysleadstoyou) and Jam (@maryssongwhen). (with dozens of tiny interactions along the way)

If I couldn't say thank you to Taylor directly, I'd take care of some of the girls who were devoted to her. So, I stayed. I endeavored to be the Taylor that you all seemed to need.

I helped Dani and her friend get to Metlife. I sent little love letters of hope and optimism to girls who were lonely and sad. I bought off some people's debts. I volunteered to give an extra dress I had to Isabella(@missegyptiana) when she lost her luggage. I reached out continuously trying to find ways to help make lives better. I didn't do this to gain anything: most of these I did anonymously. I did this because I cared about these girls now.

Their stories deserve to be told. Their lives deserve to be better.

I learned of the ticket issues. I learned of the scamming. I spent hours researching what was going on and trying to help elsewhere against Ticketmaster. I spent hours with a lawyer. I called the federal government. The pile of Swifties that I was trying to help grew, but the number who actually knew anything about me shrunk.

Caring and being attentive to the updates and individual life struggles of 4 Swifties was hard. When it was 40 it was untenable. I kept going.

I'm not giving up on any of you, but it is killing me to be doing this alone. I am disabled. I am grief stricken. I am stretched thin. My options are to give up on you all or keep going till I burnout. Maybe you don't care about me-I don't really need you to. As someone who's had Taylor speak for her for 10 years, let me speak for her for once:

I need you to care about each other.

The world is mean and hard. Worse going through it alone. Especially if you're marginalized. Band in. Stop broadcasting and start talking to each other. You are all wonderful in your own ways and you wouldn't be nearly as lonely with each other as real friends.

I'm sorry if I'm annoying. I'm sorry if I don't shut up about AI worries. I'm sorry if it seems like I want something. I'm sorry I'm not actually Taylor. Maybe you aren't used to seeing someone actually care about your wellbeing and happiness? The erratic behavior is just fragments of me struggling to survive while not giving up on you.

I want to see you all shine. I want people to see this so people see you. Taylor's already done more for me than I could pay back in a hundred years. I don't need anything from her other than help to take care of you all.

[emberwood-if]

Not sure how big the beds are in the Dufner House and if they are even allowed to spend the night in a room that isn't theirs, but... What would the LIs do it were to turn out that MC usually sleeps on the side of the bed they usually occupy? Who would insist that it is their side of the bed and who would have no problem giving it up?

So thats funny you ask that because dating in the Dufner House is such a foreign concept, Andrei wouldn't actually know what to do. He'd wonder if he should be enforcing rules or if that'd be too restricting on them since they're all adults. I don't think he'd impose any rule in staying in each other's room, just be prepared for many jokes and teasing at your expense lol

No one has dated within the Dufner House so that'd be a fun conversation if MC decides to romance one of them lol

The beds are all twin-sized! At least when they first get there, but they can request bigger ones and hope that Andrei has it in the house budget ha, I haven't actually thought about whether any of them specifically requested it so I guess it'd be canon that they all sleep on twin-sized beds....(they're all tall too, poor ROs)

Perry: would have no problem giving it up and would even go as far as making sure MC is comfortable: "how many pillows do you sleep with? Do you listen to anything? Do you need a nightlight?" He has great bedside manner and such a people pleaser lol

K: Doesn't sleep anyway but they do have a very strict night routine and schedule. They'd bicker for the sake of bickering and insist its their side, but then they'd tell MC to just take it. It wouldn't actually bother them, I don't think, but they'd bring it up in a teasing/joking manner and tell MC that they "are now in their debt."

Alex: Doesn't care so they'd give it up easily, just don't wake them up lolol Having 'sides' in the bed doesn't matter with Alex because by midnight Alex will be all over the bed. They are a definite bed hogger. One leg will be on one side of the bed, an arm hanging off another side. Also a blanket hog...great cuddler, though

Dani: Dani would insist it's their side and win the argument, only for MC to be woken up in the middle of the night with Dani looking over them saying, "Just take it."

MC: "Are you serious? You woke me up for that?"

Dani: (shrug) "I felt bad."

N: N would give up easily mostly because the very idea of sharing a bed would have them anxious in the first place. They'd actually offer MC to choose, and when MC chooses the side they'd usually sleep on, they'd keep to themselves and be like, "Ah...alright."

F: F would be like, "We don't have to choose let's just cuddle <3" lolol but they'd let MC take the side and they'd be alright with their side of the bed.

I find that most of the ROs are pretty accommodating and flexible when it comes to stuff like this, but some of them won't be quiet about it lol They'll make sure MC knows they're doing a nice thing (jokingly, of course).

As a bonus, E will insist they need to sleep on their side. And will win.

[bitterblue-nymph]

A Targaryen Sits The Throne Again || Daenerys GOT fix-it fic

A/N: hello! I am new to this and posting this is going to be a huge risk because the fandom is divided on opinion on S8 but I wrote this just for my own satisfaction! I hope anyone who comes across this will like it!

Word Count: 5k

No Pairings!

The dragon queen stood on the balcony of her pyramid palace, gazing down at the city of Mereen below with a small smile on her face. She had everything she had aimed for in the west but now she needed to head to her homeland and reclaim her family’s throne. She had heard that Tommen Baratheon now sat on her father’s throne and a rage she hadn’t felt in years reclaimed her breast.

Candles began to ignite as the sun set and Daenerys made up her mind. Turning from the balcony, the dragon queen walked back into her chambers and smiled as Missandei stood waiting for her. “I am going to Westeros,” Daenerys announced suddenly, startling her friend and trusted advisor.

“Yes, your grace, but for that we need ships,” Missandei spoke with slight confusion in her voice before she saw the smile on her queen’s lips, “you have a plan, your grace?”

Daenerys’s smile only grew and she nodded. “My dragons are fully grown, I have trusted advisors that I will need in Westeros, especially Tyrian Lannister but I can have as many ships as I need much sooner,” the Targaryen spoke, her mind set on her plan, “would you follow me across the great sea to the land of my ancestors? Will you go or will this be our parting day?”

Missandei faltered at the mention of flying but she regained herself and nodded to Daenerys, “I am bound to you in debt with my life, Khaleesi, I will follow you.”

Daenerys smiled and nodded, walking over to her and clasping her hands together, looking deep into the girls eyes. “Gather my advisors, this is to be a long night of planning,” Daenerys whispered softly.

~~

It was decided that Daenerys would stay in Mereen for two more months after that night while some ships were speedily being built by the best carpenters of Mereen. The dragon queen watched Jorah very carefully after he had expressed his concern of her leaving Mereen for her better future in Westeros. Daario had been a comfort to Dany as she watched the ships being built day by day. 

On the night before she would fly for Westeros, she sat up in bed with Daario and stared out of the window. “I cannot sleep,” she whispered into the dark, knowing that Daario couldn’t sleep either.

“We will sail for your birthright right behind you, my queen,” Daario replied, sitting up and pulling the dragon queen flush against him before pressing soft kisses to her neck and grinning at her slight flinch, “try to get as much sleep as you possibly can.”

With that, the soldier laid back down with Daenerys’s head on his chest and the hours sped by as she fell into a light slumber under the protection of her lover. 

A knock the next morning signalled Missandei was up and ready and once she entered, the girl helped Daenerys into her riding outfit that she’d had custom made to last above the cold waters of the salt ocean. 

“You look beautiful, your grace,” Missandei commented as she tied the last strap to Daenerys’s bodice, “Drogon landed in the harbour and the Unsullied are gathered as well, they await your order.”

Daenerys nodded and turned to look at Daario, who had gotten dressed as Missandei was talking, and sent him a wistful smile before departing her chambers to head down to the harbour. 

As Missandei had described, many Unsullied had gathered in uniform lines, awaiting the commands of their Queen. With a shaky breath, Daenerys took the podium and looked over them before beginning her speech. “Unsullied!” she shouted, hearing the bang of spears as acknowledgement, “today I shall fly across the ocean to my homeland and slay the usurpers to reclaim my throne! Your general has spoken with you all and you know that a hundred of you shall be accompanying me! The rest shall listen to Jorah Mormont until a ship arrives back here with a fleet to deliver you to my palace!”

There was no verbal response, only the pounding of spears against the ground as Daenerys climbed onto Drogon and looked over the city of Mereen before grabbing onto Drogon and commanding him into the sky. The dragon roared and kicked off from the ground, keenly listening to his mother and batting his wings against the current of the wind. Once the ships left the harbour, Daenerys allowed Drogon to fly in the direction of Westeros.

The wind in her hair felt luxurious above the clouds, her hands reaching up into the sky, going into clouds and coming out as she allowed herself these small moments of peace. Daenerys Targaryen was heading back to her home, twenty years after the siege of Kings Landing by Robert Baratheon and the death of King Aerys Targaryen and her mother, Rhaella on Dragonstone. 

The mother of dragons watched the ocean below, allowing Drogon to swoop low so he could dip his claws in and she smiled at his deep groan in appreciation. The dragon had never made such a journey before and neither had his brothers that were following behind. They had planned to land on a small island for a few hours and when they reached the island, Daenerys scanned it from the air before deciding that there was no threat and allowing her children to land.

Daenerys slipped off of Drogon’s back and examined the grass around her before striding down the beach to the edge of the ocean, watching as the water lapped at the edge. 

Daenerys smiled as she made it to the beach. The ocean was a place of solace for her. She had spent many her childhood days on the beach in Volantis, dreaming of one day coming back to Westeros to reclaim her family's throne. The last twenty years had been full of struggle, but now she finally felt at peace. She knew she had a long journey ahead of her, but she was ready to face it head on.

Their trip to Kings Landing to overtake King Tommen would likely cost her many of her ranks. Somehow, she was glad that she only brought three hundred Unsullied with her. Even with such small numbers, the men in their iron suits would still suffer by her hand and dragon breath. They'd expect her to head to Dragonstone first as a base but Daenerys knew that she would be better off attacking the Capital if she wanted this seige over quickly.

This was a major part of her strategy. By attacking the capital directly, she would surprise her enemies and catch them off guard. Her Unsullied were well trained and disciplined, and with her three dragons at her command, she had an overwhelming force that her opponents would be hard-pressed to beat. She knew that her enemy would put up a fierce fight, but she was confident that she could outmaneuver them and take the Iron Throne once and for all.

Seeing the sails of the ships in the horizon, Daenerys jumped onto Drogon's back and gripped his spines before the dragon took off into the sky. Daenerys clung to her dragon as the wind whipped at her hair and they began their journey to Westeros again.

They flew for hours, Daenerys clinging to her dragon the whole time. It was a perilous journey, but they eventually made it to the shores of Westeros. As they landed, Daenerys felt a surge of excitement course through her. She was back on her ancestral home, and she was ready to reclaim what was rightfully hers. No one could defeat her now, not with her dragons at her command. She would take the Iron Throne and restore the Targaryen dynasty to its rightful place of power.

She could see King's Landing growing larger in the distance as they approached. She felt a surge of excitement mixed with nerves as she prepared herself for the battle to come.She was determined to not let anything stop her from retaking the Iron Throne. Her dragons were her most powerful weapon and she intended to use them to their fullest extent. She took a deep breath and knelt to feel the sand on the beach of Westeros. 

She knelt and crumpled some sand in her hand, feeling the spirits of past Targaryens at her side, propelling her forward to carry on with her task. She would wait until nightfall when her ships would arrive and by morning, she will be at the gates to Kings Landing to punish the usurpers and the kingslayer.

That night Daenerys felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as her ships neared the shore. She knew that her enemies were waiting for her, and that this battle would be a difficult one. But she was confident in the strength of her army and her dragons, and she was determined to take back the Iron Throne at any cost. She gave one final look back at her ships before turning her attention to the city. This was what she had fought so hard for, and she was ready to take what was rightfully hers.

Her Unsullied followed behind as she made her way towards the city gates. She was met by a group of Lannister warriors, who drew their swords and prepared to fight. They had been anticipating her arrival, and they knew that she would be a formidable opponent. But Daenerys was not deterred by their threats. She raised her sword in the air as her Unsullied raised their spears, and they charged towards the gates with a deafening roar from her dragons overhead.

Drogon's flames exploded across the city, incinerating the archers and any other enemies in his path. He was a powerful force, and he had already caused significant damage to the city in a short span of time. But Daenerys knew that her dragon was not invincible, and she would need to be careful to keep him out of harm's way. Her Unsullied continued to push forward and fight off the Lannister forces as Drogon flew above them, raining fire down on their ranks.

The arrows whistled through the air as Drogon flew towards the Red Keep. Daenerys ducked as she felt them brush by her head, and she could hear the screams of the archers as they desperately tried to flee from the burning dragon. She landed at the entrance of the keep, her Unsullied surrounding her as they prepared to face whatever lay within. She looked up at the Red Keep's towers, her heart racing in anticipation. This was it. After all these years, she was finally here. Now it was time to take back what was hers.

Tommen, upon hearing Daenerys's threat, reluctantly decided to surrender and come out to face her. He knew that he had no chance of defeating her and her dragons in battle, and so he figured it would be better to give up peacefully rather than face certain death.

He walked out of the Red Keep with his hands raised in surrender, and Daenerys's Unsullied surrounded him, pointing their spears at him. Daenerys looked at him with a mixture of anger and disgust, her eyes blazing with fury. She had spent years planning for this moment of vengeance, and now she would finally get to enact it.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, true heir to the Iron Throne," Daenerys spoke, tilting her head with a show of power as Drogon roared behind her, "Unsullied, go find Cersei Lannister and drag her outside, she needs to repent for her crimes."

The Unsullied nodded and set off to complete their task, while Tommen looked on with fear in his eyes. He knew that he was at Daenerys's mercy, and she could do with him as she pleased.

Daenerys's rage was palpable as she stared down at Tommen, her body trembling with anger. She was going to make him pay for what he and his father had done to her family, and she would not rest until he had suffered for his crimes. Tommen could see the hatred in her eyes and knew that he was in for a fate worse than death.

"What do you know of my lineage, Boy King?" Daenerys asked Tommen, fire in her eyes as she stepped toward him and pointed the tip of her sword to his throat.

Tommen froze in fear as the point of Dany's sword pressed against his neck. He knew that she could easily end his life in an instant, and he had no real way of defending himself from her attack. He stared up at her with a mixture of fear and defiance, unable to say anything except for a faint, "...nothing..."

"You speak lies just as your mother did," Daenerys sneered, stepping closer and lowering her blade, kneeling to take a clump of Tommen's golden hair between her fingers, "the Baratheon hair genes are strong and yet Cersei births three blonde children. Impossible unless... they're bastards."

Tommen's face went white with shock as he realized what Dany was saying. He had never considered that his mother might have been unfaithful to Robert Baratheon, and for a moment he felt as though he was going to be sick. He was at a loss for words and he simply shook his head in denial, unable to speak the truth that Daenerys had just revealed.

"No?" Daenerys hummed, standing when she saw her troops dragging out Cersei Lannister. "Lets ask her," she growled, stepping up to the blonde King Mother, "Cersei Lannister. You realise incest is punishable by death. Who did you have your children with? Was it your brother? Or your cousin?"

Cersei's eyes widened in fear as she was pulled forward by the Unsullied. She looked on in horror as Daenerys approached her, her eyes filled with hatred and fear. She knew that she would not be able to get out of this unscathed.

The Lannister looked at Daenerys and then at Tommen, and then back at Daenerys, the terror in her eyes growing with each passing moment. "I am innocent of these charges," she sneered, "You have no proof that my children are the product of incest."

"I said to Tommen that his hair is unnaturally blonde for a Baratheon," Dany commented with a light giggle, her voice laced with venom as she spoke bitterly, "how, when Robert Baratheon's bastards have brown hair, does his legitimate children have blonde hair like their mother unless they're bastards and incestuous bastards at that."

Cersei's face went pale as she processed the evidence that was being presented to her. She could feel her stomach turn as she realized that she had been found out. She had been so careful to keep her secret, but now it was all coming out in the open. She had no way of denying the accusations, and she knew that she was going to have to face the consequences of her actions.

"Unsullied, take away the Usurpers, I shall deal with them later," Daenerys ordered before entering the Red Keep for the first time.

The Unsullied followed Daenerys's order and took Cersei and Tommen away, leaving them to await their punishment.  Daenerys was now in control of the capital, and she intended to make sure that the message was sent loud and clear that the House of Targaryen was back in power. She knew that she would have many enemies, especially among those who had supported her enemies, and she would need to be cautious in order to consolidate her power and protect herself from those who wished her ill.

Daenerys walked through the halls of the Red Keep and took in the smells that she could smell. She was surrounded by the spirits of her ancestors, welcoming her home as she made her way to the throne room. Power coursed through her veins as she took in the sight of the Iron Throne before her, a seat that had held her family for centuries.

Daenerys stood in awe of the Iron Throne, taking in its majestic appearance and considering the power that it represented. She felt her ancestors' presence all around her, and she knew that she had been called to this place for a reason. It was the symbol of her family's power, and it would be her seat as queen. She took a moment to breathe in the power and the history of the throne, and then she ascended the steps and took her place on the Iron Throne. She felt unstoppable, and she was determined to prove herself to be a worthy successor to her ancestors.

Daenerys watched as people began to file into the throne room, Lord and commoner alike curious about this new Queen. Missandei walked past the crowd and took her spot at the foot of the stairs leading to the Iron Throne proudly and announced, "you stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, the breaker of chains, Khaleesi of the great grass sea, protector of the seven kingdoms and the mother of dragons. Bend the knee or die with the old age."

The room fell silent as everyone turned their eyes towards Daenerys. She sat on the Iron Throne, her head held high and her eyes burning with determination. The crowd seemed awestruck by her presence, and she could feel their respect for her growing with each passing moment. She gave Missandei a smile of gratitude and then turned her attention towards the crowd.

The people looked on in awe and fear at the sight of the new Queen. Some immediately kneeled, while others looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. Daenerys rose to her feet, her eyes blazing with determination and power, and she spoke to the crowd in a loud and clear voice. "I am the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I am here to retake what is rightfully mine,” she proclaimed, her words ringing out throughout the room. “If you wish to live, you will kneel and swear your allegiance to me."

The crowd all bent the knee and bowed their heads to their new ruler; Daenerys Targaryen. The Dragon Queen stood straight and looked over her subjects with a blank expression before she began to speak again, "my coronation shall be a week from now, in the ruins of the dragon pit! I shall honour my family's traditions or coronating there!"

The crowd cheered at Daenerys's words, their enthusiasm evident as they chanted, "Queen! Queen! Queen!" Daenerys raised her hand in acknowledgment of the crowd's support, and she could feel the immense responsibility that was now upon her shoulders. She knew that she had big shoes to fill, but she was ready for the challenge. She had spent her whole life dreaming of this day, and she was not going to let anything stop her from succeeding in reclaiming her rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Daenerys watched as the crowd then began to leave the throne room to spread the word and she looked to Missandei with a smile. "Follow me," she whispered before leaving through a side door down into the crypts. Once there, she stood before the skull of Balerion, the largest dragon in centuries. "This was ridden by King Jaehearys Targaryen centuries ago and then King Viserys for a few short years before his death," Daenerys spoke to Missandei, a small smile on her face, "I wonder if that is how big my dragons shall grow to be."

Missandei looked on in reverence at the skull of Balerion, the powerful dragon that had once soared through the sky. She had heard much about this legendary dragon throughout the years, and to see its remains in the flesh was truly a moving experience. She was reminded of the legacy of the Targaryen's and the power that their dragons once wielded, and she felt a sense of pride and admiration for what Daenerys was able to achieve in reclaiming her family's throne. She was glad to be part of this historic moment, and she remained silent as Daenerys paid her respects to her ancestor's legacy.

"Now that I have Kings Landing secured, I shall need to affirm my allies to ensure prosperity for my Kingdom," Daenerys realised, guiding Missandei back to the throne room, "have a maester send a raven to Lady Olenna Tyrell, I am in need of her alliance of Highgarden."

"Of course, Your Grace," Missandei said with a respectful bow before turning to go and complete Daenerys's command. It was clear that there was much work to be done if Daenerys was to ensure stability in her new realm, but she knew that she had the strength and perseverance to see it through. She was ready to lead the Seven Kingdoms into a new era, and she knew that with her allies at her side, there was nothing that could stop her from achieving her goal of restoring her house's true glory.

Daenerys smiled and left the throne room, walking around the ancient halls of her family and only stopped when she spotted a finely dressed lady heading her way. "Lady Margaery Tyrell," Daenerys greeted her with a gentle smile, watching as the woman dropped into a curtsy, "I apologise for arresting your husband but I have more claim than he, I hope you understand. You will be allowed to remain here if you wish or return to Highgarden with your..." her eyes drifted to Margaery's stomach, "heir."

Margaery looked up at the new Queen with a mixture of fear and respect. She had heard rumours about Daenerys's ambitions, but she had never expected to be face to face with her. She was impressed by the new Queen's powerful presence and her confidence in her claim to the Iron Throne, and she knew that it would be wise to pledge her allegiance to her. "I am grateful for your mercy, and I promise that I will serve you faithfully and loyally as you rule the Seven Kingdoms. I hope we will be able to work together to build a better future for this realm under your leadership."

Daenerys gave Margaery another smile before continuing on her path. So many doors, portraits and artefacts that her ancestors had passed without a care were now appreciated by the new Queen who had never seen it before. Her brother, Viserys, before his death had spoken of the golden halls nightly but that had just been his childish memory and glorification of the Keep. Viserys was a fool, Daenerys was a Queen.

The halls of the Red Keep were full of history and grandeur, and Daenerys was grateful that she had the opportunity to explore them and experience what her ancestors had once built. She knew that she had a duty to honor their legacy, and she was determined to do just that. The power of her ancestry radiated from the very walls of this place, and she felt a deep sense of pride in knowing that she would one day walk in their footsteps as Queen and rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

A memory resurfaced in Daenerys's mind of the witch who had made her infertile after her bargain to save Khal Drogo. Clicking her tongue, Daenerys headed to where she knew there was a septa and allowed him to bow before she spoke, "I wish to be cleansed of curses. I am a Targaryen and need my lineage to continue with an heir. I am currently cursed with infertility, mayhaps you can fix it?"

The septa's eyes widened as he heard Daenerys's request, and he looked at her with sympathy and concern. He knew that the Targaryens were a proud and powerful family, and he could understand why a curse of infertility would be a source of great distress and disappointment for someone who had been raised on all the prestige and privilege that came with being a part of such a prestigious lineage. He was determined to do all he could to help Daenerys overcome this curse, and he hoped that his knowledge of the old ways and sacred rituals would provide her with the help that she so desperately needed.

Daenerys allowed the septa to guide her to a bed where she stripped to her chemise and then she laid on the bed. The septa began the rituals and incantations that had been passed down for countless generations in the hopes of removing the curse upon Daenerys. He knew that if the gods were feeling merciful and the incantations were performed correctly, they might choose to remove the curse and restore Daenerys's fertility so that she might one day bear a son to carry her legacy and the Targaryen bloodline forward into the future.

After what felt like hours, a pressure Daenerys didn't know she felt disappeared and she sat up, feeling her abdomen tenderly. "I thank you, septa," Daenerys whispered, slipping off the bed and taking the robe the septa offered her, "long live House Targaryen."

The septa smiled at Daenerys and said, "In the name of the Father, the Mother, and the seven Blessings, I bless you with fertility and the ability to bear a son that will carry forward your legacy and that of your House. May you live long and prosper as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys smiled and left the septa, making her journey to the chambers that long ago belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the half year Queen. Daenerys felt a connection to this particular Targaryen and so, claimed her rooms as the Queen's Quarters and ordered for tailors to come measure her for a new wardrobe fit for a Targaryen Queen. Happy with herself, the Queen took herself to bed and slept soundly for the first time in years. 

~~~

Days later, her wardrobe was ready and Missandei joined her when she went to view what the royal tailor had come up with. They were magnificent, composed of fine silks, furs, and fabrics that were woven in the colours of her house with intricate dragon motifs. The tailors had worked tirelessly during her first days in the capital to create a wardrobe worthy of a Targaryen Queen, and they had done an amazing job in crafting her a wardrobe that would reflect the dignity and power of her newly-claimed position. When Daenerys put on her new clothing for the first time, she felt an immense sense of pride and admiration for the craftsmen who had created them and for the heritage and legacy that they reflected.

Daenerys turned to Missandei for her opinion and grabbed her skirts, twirling for her friend childishly, knowing that she could only be herself with Missandei and perhaps Daario. Missandei smiled at her Queen's show of excitement and pride over her new wardrobe and she gave it her stamp of approval. She knew how much pressure and responsibility Daenerys had upon her shoulders, so it was good to see her taking this time to let her hair down and be herself for a moment. Missandei was one of the few people that Daenerys had been able to trust throughout her life, and she was touched to see her friend finally able to find a moment of peace amidst all the chaos and turmoil of her taking back the Iron Throne.

As Daenerys finished her twirl, a guard opened the door and stepped inside. "Your Grace," he began with a bow, "Lady Olenna has arrived."

Daenerys froze and then sighed, hugging her friend goodbye before following the guard to the throne room. "Send her in," she ordered the guard, who nodded and walked to the grand doors.

Olenna Tyrell entered the throne room in all her grandeur and splendor, her presence demanding respect and attention from all who beheld her. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Daenerys knew that she would need to tread carefully when dealing with her. However, she was also a powerful ally, and she would need to find a way to win her favor and gain her support if she was to achieve her goals. As Olenna came forward and bowed deeply before the Queen, she made a mental note to tread carefully but still stand her ground despite her admiration for the powerful Lady of Highgarden.

"My sympathies to you for your granddaughter losing the throne but hopefully we can move past this setback and see a prosperous future alliance," Daenerys spoke, her voice regal and full of power, "if the Lady Margaery produces a son for Tommen Lannister, I would happily betrothe him to the first daughter I produce."

Olenna was taken aback by Daenerys's words, but she knew the importance of forging alliances and building strong relationships in order to maintain stability in the realm. She was also wise enough to recognize that Daenerys was not the type of Queen to be messed with, and she was impressed by the new Queen's display of authority and power. She respected her as a worthy adversary and was willing to work with her to ensure a prosperous future for their respective Houses. She gave a stiff nod to Daenerys's proposal and spoke. "That is most generous of you, your Grace. I suppose such an alliance would be mutually beneficial to both of our Houses. ," Olenna replied with a respectful curtsy and a bow of her head, "You are wise to seek to make an alliance with Highgarden, considering that House Tyrell provides much of the crops and resources that allow the Crownlands and its people to thrive."

"I wish for the best of Westeros and those I freed in the east," Daenerys responded with a twinkle in her eyes, "I need allies to ensure that my reign shall be a long one. May we count on your armies should a rebellion arise?"

"You can count on the support of House Tyrell, Your Grace," Olenna vowed with the utmost seriousness. "We have a strength that few in the realm can match, and we will stand by you in all your endeavors. You have my word; our swords are at your disposal should you ever need them."

"I thank you, lady Tyrell," Daenerys bowed her head before gesturing to a guard to guide her out of the throne room and when she was alone, Daenerys turned to her throne and breathed a soft sigh. In a week, she would be venturing north to meet with the self-proposed King in the North, Jon Snow and hoping he will bend the knee for her. By that time, her full army should land in Westeros with Daario so she would be protected. A tear dropped down her cheek as she thought about how mad her father had been and she vowed to herself that she would never sink that low.

With the alliance with the Tyrell's secured, Daenerys felt her confidence and resolve strengthening as she now looked forward to her meeting with Jon Snow. She knew that they had much to discuss, and she hoped to ensure that the meeting was productive and ended with an alliance between their Houses. Daenerys knew the North was a key ally as it controlled a significant portion of the kingdom's manpower and resources, so she was determined to find a way to reach an agreement with the King in the North. She had the support of her House and the power of her dragons, so she was ready to negotiate from a position of strength and determination.

Her mind snapped back to the present and she recalled her coronation in 4 days time and she clicked her tongue, leaving the throne room to find Missandei and she smiled when she found her friend overlooking the city in one of the turrets. "Will you do the honour of announcing me as official Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at my coronation?" Daenerys asked, standing beside Missandei with a smile, "I would love for you to be the first person to call me Queen Daenerys Stormborn."

Missandei let out a joyful chuckle and put a hand on her chest as she said to her Queen, "It would be my honor to do such a thing. I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished, and I am thankful to be able to be a part of this historic moment. You have come such a long way, and you have overcome great challenges to claim your rightful place on the Iron Throne. Your people shall know no greater queen, and I am honored to be chosen to help with ushering in this new age of prosperity for the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys nodded with a smile and took her friend's hands with a gentle grip. She looked up to the sky and whispered, "please, Missandei, you are my true friend. Every other has betrayed me or left me in the past but not you... I don't know what would happen to me if I lost you."

"You will never lose me, Daenerys," Missandei replied with a tear in her eye. "You have been an inspiration to me throughout all these years, and I know that you will be a wonderful and just queen. I am honored to be by your side and to be able to help you succeed in bringing order and stability back to the Seven Kingdoms. I shall always be by your side, standing beside you as your loyal and faithful friend, come what may."

The mother of dragons smiled and nodded before enveloping her friend in a tight hug and nestling her head into the crook of her neck. “Thank you,” she whispered softly, allowing herself a few moments of peace before the wild of the storm.”

Daenerys Targaryen wasn’t alone in this world though an alternate universe reigned as the supreme where the Dragon Queen meets her end before becoming Queen. In this world, she had everyone she needed, she had her dragons, her army, Missandei and forces were sailing to assist her. She wasn’t going to be Queen of the Ashes and in this world, she won’t be.

[rhube]

Look, I'm not saying Martin's worldbuilding has no problems (particularly re race and gender) but reeeeaaaalllly long posts that begin 'I never watched GoT and I was RIGHT because the world building is stupid!' Are so face palm.

If you actually read the books you would see that their whole economy IS based on saving up for the long winters. The point of ASoIaF is that the current rulers of Westeros get SO CAUGHT UP in their stupid politics and the game of thrones (!!!) that they ignore the very real economics on which their power is founded, and the PALPABLE THREAT OF CLIMATE CHANGE.

Like. This is not a subtle theme. But if all you know about the show is that there are a bunch of rich dicks who ignore that winter is coming and fight each other all the time YOU WILL HAVE A COMPLETELY INCORRECT UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORLD AND THE SHOW.

VERY early on - BOOK ONE - people from the river lands (WHERE MOST OF THE FOOD COMES FROM THAT'S MEANT TO FEED PEOPLE THROUGH THE WINTER) show up saying, basically, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, some arsehole knights are fucking up our land and it's going to ruin EVERYTHING. This is a HUGE PROBLEM.

And Ned Stark - who fucking knows winter is coming - says SHIT, that is a PROBLEM, we need to deal with it RIGHT FUCKING NOW. And sends a bunch of knights off to protect the farmers.

After Ned gets killed and everything spirals seriously out of control, those knights keep following Ned's last orders. They become the Brotherhood without Banners, and they're not just doing it because they're loyal to Ned. They don't follow his banner. They're doing it because they realise that it is absolutely essential, for everyone, to protect the farming land and the farmers.

Meanwhile, the rich fucks ARE ALL RUNNING OUT OF MONEY towards the end. Debt collectors become important characters.

Similarly, it's clearer in the books, but Daenerys leaves a swathe of devastation behind her, because she's a conquerer who never pauses to consolidate her power and look after the people she conquers. This is a DAMNING INDICTMENT of shitty rulers. When she finally does pause to try to run a city, it goes TERRIBLY. (Spoilers, i guess?) A Dance with Dragons has Dany shitting herself with plague at the end.

It's not supposed to represent a fantasy world running efficiently. It's supposed to be a warning.

And if you think it's over the top and grotesque (firstly, it's OK to say something is not your genre and let those who like it be) I would like you to look at what's happening RIGHT FUCKING NOW - in Russia, in the UK, in the US, in Italy, and probably a lot of other places whose news I don't see as regularly. With CLIMATE CHANGE. And the PLAGUE. And WAR. And the shitty corrupt politicians who are somehow still in power despite the monumentally TERRIBLE decisions they are making and how much it's fucking things up for everyone.

THAT, is Martin's point.

This is not Westeros at a point of normal, functional living. This is Westeros in the middle of multiple huge crises, with a truly terrible set of people jostling for power. And that starting from a point of complacency that didn't seem so very bad.

You're not meant to think that this kind of nonsense is how Westeros became wealthy. You're meant to reflect on how it got so very fucked up so very fast, and how easy it is for politicians to miss the big fucking picture because of their own selfish desire for power.

It's not bad world-building. It's actually pretty good world-building. Again, long time readers will know I have a LOT of critiques up my sleeve too for these books, but it's against a backdrop of frankly astonishing world-building that few have equalled.

It is not bad world-building to depict a civilization collapsing because the way it's being run wouldn't work!

FFS!

/rant

[lolitastories]

Chapter 3:

Just a couple months went by and I can safely say that I am not prone to heart attack anymore. Not funny. My body has never felt more relaxed. I open my eyes, feeling a shadow over me. “I told you only if your dying” I let out a groan sitting up.

“Yeah well my life is in danger and I thought instead of being close to death you can help me before I get there” Her clothes were dirty and it seemed she was panicky.

“Get inside” I tell her. I grab my stuff getting myself out of the sun chair I was in and into the house. “Whats going on?” I close the windows and start making coffee.

“A couple days ago I was on an assignment. One of the Sierras escaped and now the Carmicheal is doing everything to find him” She sits down pulling out her phone. “I need you to help me look for him before they get to him first. Carmichael threaten me and I am not going down for his mistake”

I stir my coffee. Dark with 5 spoonfuls of sugar. “So you need me to find him?’ I sit on the chair infront of her.

“Yes. Whatever he knows, Carmichael will kill to have. Whatever that might be” Still on her phone she speaks moving her fingers quickly across the screen. “I know you left but I am here to collect the favor you owe” I roll my eyes knowing exactly what she meant. A couple years ago before I came in for the CIA I met her. She was one of the person I didn’t tell the whole truth but the only one who I trusted on helping me. She didn’t asked question.

“Dani.” I sit up pushing my coffee aside and taking ahold of the phone she extended to me. “After this I repaid my debt” her smirk was clearly shown as she nods.

“That is his file. He is one of the top most trained agent in the operation. After our mission he ran and I don’t know why yet.”That face. Six. “I need a location and help to capture him so I know what the hell is going on so my ass is not on the line” As much as I want to say no, I owe her. Just like she is afraid for her life, I was afraid for mine when she saved me. I get up and connect her phone to my computer.

“I will track down the phone he was last tracked on. If he is one of the best he will run without any technology but I can hack into the CIA system and figure out anything they might have on him.” I get up grabbing my stuff. This was the last thing I am doing when it comes to this life. After this is over, I am over for good.

“I got it. Lets go” Once I finished everything was pulled up and she grabbed her phone making her way to the car she had outside. A couple hours later we arrived in Vienna. “Seems like Lloyd got orders to kill too” We got out the vehicle making our way up some stair of the building. Hearing an explosion we stayed put.

“Whos Lloyd?” She turns to me as I see dust clouding up the side of the building. I point over to the man pointing the gun and Six. “Fuck” She rushed over shooting out a dart to his leg. It made a smile seeing fall over. He deserves so much worse, but who am I to judge right?

“It sounded like a question” Once I arrived next to them she already had his wrist zip tied and faceing the direction of the car. “How did you find me?” Following closely behind but not making myself known. Last thing I want is to look at him. I know that is going to be impossible but now that Dani had what she wanted we can go to a safe place and I can leave once again. But only if things were that easy.

“Had a little help” He turns his head around as I stop behind the car. “Get in the trunk” She motions it with the gun as I open it up his eyes are on me.

“Not the trunk. I could use a comfortable seat” Before I could say anything he fell forward with the dart going straight into his leg. “Can you help me?” I grabbed a hold of him. Dani helped me place him into the back closing it. She kept on driving. It was an awkward silence.

“Whats on your mind” I say leaning the seat back to rest my eyes.

“How do you know him?”

“Never met him in the office. A friend of ours needed help so we worked together then, outside the field. Just a couple weeks”

“How long ago was this?” she started blankly at the road. Following straight to the place where I swore never to set foot in unless I needed to.

“2, 3 months ago” She only nodded. I don’t know but it got even more akwards. A couple hours go by and I turn to see the back seat kicked down.

“You look like shit” She speaks. I turn my eyes on the road again. Not wanting to show how much he affected me. How could he?. Damn it.

“This is the most sleep I’ve hand in 36 hours” Bruise in his face. Track suit that didn’t go well with him. Leg stabbed and fatigue.

“They pulled me from the field. They think I have something to do with you and you are going to tell them that I don’t”

“Why do you think they are going to believe me?”

“You are an asset. This is my career on the line.” her words stinged. His silence might seemed like he didn’t care but If I learned anything from the couple weeks we were close, is that he thinks critically of everything.”What did you steal?”

“Technically I didn’t steal anything. Four handed it to me”

“And why didn’t you give it HQ?” I feel her patience breaking and his sarcasm too.

“Four gave it to me” I almost let out a laugh but I hold it in looking out the window.

“What was it?”

“An encrypted drive”

“What does it have in it?”

“Its encrypted”

“I want to see it where is it?”

“Why should I trust you?” This going back and forth is real giving me a migraine

“Becasue I just saved your life!”

“Fair point” He sighs. “I sent it to Margaret Cahill the U.K Agency Chief” I sit up removing my seat belt. My mind went blank for a second. Fuck why does everything have to haunt me.

“Seems like we are going to Prague” I came back to the real world feeling the car speed up. “We get the drive and figure out what the hell is in it, use it to save my career and then you get to go home.” We drive close enough the Maggie.

“You don’t need me to help with this part. You’re a big girl.” I say grabbing my stuff. “Stop the car” She presses on the brake pedal. I open my door as she gets out aswell. “You can call me if you’re in trouble but I can’t put myself so close to their radar, you understand”

“I do. I’ll have you on speed dial” she smiles and I walk away. I don’t look back hearing the car drive away. I go into the nearest store and grab a phone.

“Where can I use a computer?”

“A couple streets down you will find a public show room.” I thank the clerk and head down the street. I have to figure out what Lloyd was doing going after Six. I have never seen him going after another agent. Not creating such a chaos. Carmichael might need this bad and he is deemed to make a mistake. I need to find out what it is a finally put an end to the trickery Lloyd is into to, just like Maggie and Fitz tried to do for so long. I log into the system again. Going into any indication of Lloyd.

“Bingo” I smile. Cameras pop up. Multiple body cams. Lloyds voice could be heard. They surrounded a house, opening fire on Lloyds command. My heart sank. The next minute I hear the phone ring.

“I never wanted to betray your trust” Tears were coming out. I watch them moving in throught the dust and damages of the building. “They are lucky to have you. I have an envelope, you know where to find it. It is a free pass to start over with no problem, like I know you always wanted.”

“I thought you werent the sentimental type” I tried to be strong but I know she heard my voice break.

“Give them hell. And after you are done, go and be happy” My eyes focus back on the cameras seeing the men standing before her and everything disconnects.

“Fuck. no” I pull out of everything rushing out the door. The dilemma was there. I could fininish what she started like I have been planning or I could walk and start the life I always wanted, like I was planning. I see swat car moving down creating chaos. “Lloyd” I rush down the street going towards the rackous. Multiple guys surrounded the center plaza infront of maggies home. They were shooting at a bench. I take out my gun shooting to get close but there was to many people. “Sorry” I say to the officer down on the ground as I get into his car. “Alright you go this” I push the accelerator and before it could go into the statue of the man I jump out.

“Having fun?” I cover my head feeling the assault vehicle being blown up.

“Seriously?” he looked at me while pointing over to him being handcuffed to the bench. Oh of course. I roll my eyes. I point my gun up. “Wait-”

“You’re welcome” I smile. He stood up grabbing my arm and pulling me out the way before a van hit the bench. We rush into the train hiding behind the some seats.

“You’re welcome”

“Don’t count victory yet” I grabbed a hold of his jacket rolling us over to the next section avoiding the bullets. Straddling his hips I sit up shooting the gun men.

“I can count this as a victory” I roll out seeing a man rushing towards us.

“Shoot at him” I scream off, tossing my gun to hit another guy in the head.

“Thats not how you use a gun!” Well no shit dumbass. The train is hit by police cars knocking us to the ground.

“If we survive you can give me a lesson!” I get up running towards the back of the train while Six covered my back. “Our ride is here” Dani gets close to the train allowing me to jump and get into the passenger side. But a harsh blow to the side of a train knocks the car over.

“Take my gun!” I grab a hold of take out the swat car shooting at us

“Watch out” I stick my head back inside embracing the force of a car hitting us on the passenger side, Making us go out of course. “Step on it!” We watch Six running on top of the train.

“Hold on” Dani said putting the car is reverese. The pain in my ribs becomes worse I closed my eyes not wanting to see the train derailing hitting the building. Suddenly the car stops and I hear her let out a sigh. “Are you ok”

“Yep” I whimper sending her a smile. I look back seeing the remains of the big building barely missing the car. The back door open and six throws himself in.

“Thanks”

“You’re welcome” Dani puts the car in drive and we are off. “Maggie said you would come back. She said you always finished the job” I nod. To be truthful I didn’t know what to say. “Are you hurt?” She looks at the rear view mirror as the car stops.

“My ego is a little bruise but am ok.” I crack my neck trying to take the focus away from him. “I would like to repay you two one day, not that I want any harm to come to-“

“You mention a girl” jealousy of curse Jealousy was the first thing that hit when Dani mentioned a girl. Now is not the time, I thought to myself. “How do we find her?”

“She has a pacemaker” I eyes shot open turning my whole weight to him. “Lloyd had her a random as well as Fitzroy” first Maggie now The girls?

“Wait she said girl?”

He nods, sitting up right in the back seat. “Claire. Victoria is out somewhere safe. The next day after you left she escaped. Maggie helped find her and giver her a new life. The free life she always wanted. But not Claire”

“She could never leave Fitzroy” I sigh looking back to the road. “Get us to a hospital” Dani nods, starting to drive again.

“You don’t have a handcuff key by any chance do you?” I shake my head hearing the rattle in the chain. The day became dark once we arrived in a location far away so we didn't look suspicious. The emergency room was full. Six was leaning against Dani for support trying to get into a room but were ignored. I see them walk back and I just turn around finding and employee.

“Am so sorry” I say mistakenly walking into the nurse. “Am just in pain” I move my left hand to my rib and he shows his concern

“How long have you been waiting?” He starts helping to a room. I grabbed his ID and unnoticed by anyone Dani grabbed it from my hand. He took me straight for some scans and the first chance I got I left. I walk out the building and cops are outside and people are scattering.

“Who throws a loaded gun?”

“I asked for a loaded gun” I laugh seeing them argue.

“No one throws a loaded weapon, okay?” I just shake my head at six pushing him aside from the drivers door of the police car.

“You look like shit” Their head turn to look at me like I had two.

“While you were busy with the nurse man, I got stabbed two times” he grunts putting his hand up so I can see the damage.

“Oh poor baby” Dani unfazed moves towards the car. “Get in the car” I start the car and drive once Six is in. “Where is she?”

“Croatia” from the rearview mirror I see him struggle to get comfortable “Also this man attacked us and got the drive” I look over to Dani and she only nods leaning back in her seat. “I think he is working with Lloyd”

“You think” I whisper to myself not wanting to feel irritated. I park a couple feet back from some establishments. While Dani shoots the cameras outside I break open the window of the vet place. “Here” I thow a bottle to Six. He looks at me weirdly. “I got it from the man nurse” he opens the painkillers and takes a few.

“I will just wrap it up and leave” I stand by the door waiting for him to scavenge whatever he needs.

“Why did you go to prison?” I turn my head wanting to get an answer to.

“Why do you ask?”

“Becasue I want to know?” He continues to grab things from the cabinet

“Will it affect if you help me or not?”

We turn to look at eachother only nodding. “Maybe” We both say at the same time.

“Fair enough” he sighs finally turning around. “Puppy mouth wash” He walks over to sit in a stool. I walk over quickly before he can put that on his wound. I break the lock on a cabinet and take out alchol. “You saw me struggle” he whispers to me as I grab some cotton and pour the alcohol straright in. “Fuck” he hisses

“You were saying?” No matter what he said I needed to go with him to save claire. But it will answer the questions I have in my head running around.

[aprilrainsimblr]

Huge thanks to all of my friends who tagged me! 💖💕

rules: answer the questions and tag 9 people you want to get to know better.

favourite colour: various shades of red, pink, green, purple and black with honourable mentions to turquoise and peach (watch me list half of the colour wheel 😎)

currently reading: A Course in Theoretical English Grammar by Mark Blokh, Language and Translation (Issues of the General and Special Theory of Translation) by Leonid Barkhudarov and Translation Theory: A Handbook for Linguistic Translators by Vyacheslav Alimov ☠️☠️☠️

last song you listened to: Eleusis by Wendy Rule, the whole Persephone album is just chef’s kiss! Also lately I’ve been listening on repeat to YMCA and Dancing Queen, I swear these two are keeping me afloat like a lifeline 😭

last series you watched: Code Black. I'm on season two right now and I love it, Mama Jesse is the best!

sweet, spicy or savoury: this is gonna be the most annoying answer ever but all of these. At the same time.

craving: rose-flavoured lokum and this wine with herbs (it's absolutely delicious! I use more wine though and also add a sprig of thyme and a little bit of dried rosehips, but the recipe is very easy to adjust to your taste).

tea or coffee: okay now what kind of question is that? Do you also go around asking parents which of their children is their favourite??

working on: a research paper, learning to belly dance and recovering from a traumatic event — lost my house recently because of my father’s debt but it’s ok now, me and my mom found a decent apartment to rent (this is why I’ve been absent lately). I had a cool simblreen project in my WIPs ( @nonsimsical Dani you know what I’m talking about 👀) but sadly I won’t be able to finish it in time because of aforementioned disruption.

Most of my mutuals have already done this one so if you see my post and you want to try this ask game, consider this your sign to do it! ✨

[vivacissimx]

tagged by @selkiewife & @nosafeanchorage in the WIP game 💌

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips!

first of all i didn't realize how many i had until i looked today and now i'm embarassed 😳 or how hotd/by extension f&bpilled some of my writing has become! will separate below:

hotd-verse

queen baela gives birth in harrenhal

life on dragonstone

fire & blood-verse

GIRLS NIGHT OUT

lucerys & aemond / building the blood debt: a step by step guide

ghost viserra / visenya baelon double dark sister death match

pre-asoiaf

rhaegarelia conversation

kingdom of heaven / dany origin story if rhaella slayed

TOJ / all candles fall quiet

asoiaf proper

elasticity

dark red coat at the side of my throat

ladies night ficlet: exposure

look at this lovely list of things i will never finish haha *screams* tagging anyone else who wants to do this if they haven't been tagged yet!

[seedfamilysimps]

This is a Far Cry 6 blog now thank you. My mission is to write Dani with every person he has chemistry with. FIRST UP  my man Paolo. n;s;f;w under the readmore

Paolo was not the first transgender person that Dani had met, far from it, in fact. When you surrounded yourself with Yara’s least wanted, you got to know a colorful crowd.  Dani was no fool, he knew when people were watching him, he knew he’d attracted men, women, and people who identified differently than those small categories. Showering off the day’s filth kept him feeling comfortable and relaxed when banked in to camp for the night at Maximas Matanza’s stronghold. The camp showers were almost never warm but the temperature didn’t matter as much in humid, hotter than hell Yara, in fact it was usually pretty refreshing. So Dani didn’t let whatever pair of peering eyes take away from his ‘Me time’ It surprised him when he heard Paolo’s voice, barely able to be registered above the sound of cascading water. “Dani…I just wanted to thank you again..for everything you’ve done for Maximas Matanzas and for me personally.” Dani opened his eyes and he was greeted with the sight of Paolo’s naked form, he tried not to stare or be invasive with the other man’s body. The scars on his chest were no more his right to stare at than the scars that littered his own body, some of which he never wanted to tell their stories. “You have nothing to thank me for, Bembe is a snake and we all benefit from taking the regime down and partnering togather.” It was true to Dani, Maximas Matanzas were his friends and companions in the war they were waging. “It can be hard for me to believe you are doing all this for no gain of your own Dani. Is there anything at all we can do for you?” Paolo had stepped closer and Dani could smell the warm cinnamon and clove bodywash the other man used. “Just keep fighting by my side. Libertad needs strong dependable allies like you, Bicho, and Talia.” Dani rinsed the soap from his hair, rolling his neck back under the makeshift spout of the shower. An old punctured bottle.  When he opened his eyes again Paolo was gone, he looked down and there he was on the ground at his feet. Blood rushed to his face, he was eye-level with Dani’s cock. “Paolo, I don’t want you to-” “Shut up, I’m not doing it out of debt. I like you Dani.” His carmel eyes had blown pupils as he looked up at Dani and he felt his mouth go dry. Paolo looked good..really good on his knees. “Are you sure…What about Talia?” Dani didn’t really want to refuse, but he wouldn’t come between others or be apart of some drama filled romance, he had a revolution to win. “Talia has her guys and I have mine. Stop worrying so much.” Then his lips were on Dani’s cock, still soft Paolo pulled the tip into his powder-soft lips. Dani felt himself starting to rouse, still looking down at Paolo’s wet touseled hair. “Ay..cono…” Was all the guerilla could say as the other man’s hand grabbed him at the base and stroked, his lips felt like heaven and he couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his mouth. “You should be quiet unless you want the entire camp to hear you cum Guerilla. Hot but..” Dani’s face flustered warmer than it was before and he fought to control his cries as Paolo worked his mouth expertly. The other man was getting him close dizzyingly fast and he wondered just how much experience he had. Unable to stop the moan escaping his mouth as Paolo’s lips met the base of his cock but backed off shortly after. “You’re bigger than I expected Rojas.” If that wasn’t a way to fluster his ego and get hm to gently thrust past those soft lips again. Judging by the vibrations of Paolo’s moan on his cock, he enjoyed the motion, and Dani worked to get another sound like that out of him. Looking down he also saw his hand anchored between his own knees, doubtlessly getting pleasure out of this exchange as well. The sight had Dani’s hips stuttering and he managed to speak up as he felt himself tightening in pleasure. “Paolo…I’m close..” Paolo looked up at him wiith those lust blown eyes again it sent him over the edge, and much to his surprise Paolo’s lips stayed firm around the head of his cock, causing an aching shudder to pass over his body. As the other man’s mouth left his cock he smiled a lust-filled and playful edge to his voice, “You eat Pineapple alot Dani?” The Guerilla’s face flushed, “Its..my favorite..next to Guava..” But no sooner than he had finished was there pounding on the tin wall beside him. “Hey! Some of us need to shower! Take it to somewhere else.!” As Dani’s face flushed impossibly redder, Paolo chuckled, then raised off his knees. “Meet me behind the camp by the old dock later, Hero.” ------- Welp, that’s that. Part 2 coming (?)

[justadepressedwife]

I just want REAL REST.

and to feel SAFE. Yes, I feel so unsafe around you and I'm so tired.

So tired of being in my masculine energy for the 10 years we're together...

So tired of carrying this battle armor all the time because I can't afford to loosen up... It's too painful.

Can you please take this financial burden off my shoulders?

I shouldn't even be asking this because it's supposed to be your responsibility as a husband, a father...

And you expect me to be that loving, doting wife who cooks, cleans, the house, do laundry...the wife who'd drop everything if you want to have s*x any time you want to?

I don't even know how I got myself into this and how can I even get out.

Right now, I can't even sleep because it's almost December 15th, when all bills are due and a whole list of debts I need to pay to sustain the lifestyle we currently have.

It's just sooo messed up and I'm tired. Bone and Soul-deep tired

A little rest from all these would be nice.

Photo credits to Danie Franco

[brideofcdragons]

@mvndrvke Harij continued here:

Inej. What a beautiful name; was she safe? The grief-stricken features worn by the man pouring his hope into her were enough to place her other hand on their already joined hands. How does one tell someone already in despair that when she left Meereen -- the bloody flux was spreading to the point that she had to let the Astrapori starve outside her walls. Closing her eyes briefly so the sickness did not give her away to Harij and his already trusting ways. She could only hope that illness had not taken his sister's hold.

" I will find your sister until my last breath; I must know -- when in Qarth, were you separated by someone that would wish her harm? Perhaps she left with someone that she trusted and abused that power. " How does a young girl slip unnoticed? Masters love to show their possessions -- whether they belong to them or not. The tears glistened for a moment before being removed with a quick hand, tightening Dany's heart -- would her brother do the same if he was still alive?

Leaning forward -- the words poured with conviction and emotion that she could not name, " It is MY honor to have your stand by my side -- all of you that chose to follow me are not in my debt; it is I who is in yours, theirs, and whoever decides to help me make this world better. We are equals -- voices that need to be heard and respected, no matter who you are. The only way change will happen is when we all learn from each other and speak freely, always. " Leaning back slowly, she watches those velvety brown eyes turn down in submission, making her squeeze his hand quickly, begging him to turn his gaze upon her Amythest hues. " My favor is easy -- all I ask is that you survive. Help me gain my throne by telling your story, speaking as one of my advisors, and when the time comes...Become part of my court. I wish to have all of you who follow become my court and continue to make changes as you see fit. Now, tell me, what changes would you like to see happen? " She grabs the flagon of wine and pours a healthy dose for them both -- offering the goblet with a smile and an offering of friendship.

[noforkingclue]

By Any Means Chapter 19 (Malcolm Bright x reader)

By Any Means tag list: @shadowluna25

Prodigal Son tag list: @queenoffandom08, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @stilestotherescue

Malcolm Bright tag list: @v0id-sp1rit, @fansformentalydistroyedmen

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

It had been a week.

A whole week since you had seen or heard from Malcolm Bright.

Not that you were keeping track or anything.

Nope.

Certainly not.

You shifted the strap of your bag as you headed up the steps towards the lecture of the day. However you were unable to go into your building. You let out a frustrated groan as you tried to push your way through the crowd. You were already in enough debt, you were going to be damned if you missed one of your few lectures because of a demonstration.

“What the fuck?” you said when you finally managed to push your way to the front

“Haven’t you heard?” someone said next to you, “there’s been a murder.”

“A… murder?”

“Ooh yes,” they looked over at you, a grin of their face, “pretty gory from what I’ve heard. Apparently someone got beheaded.”

“No,” the person on your other side shook his head, “disembowelled. That’s what I’m hearing.”

“Where have you heard this from?” you asked, “getting disembowelled is pretty different from beheading.”

“Oh y’know,” the man shrugged, “here and there. But if you think about it, the two aren’t too different. Both were used as part of executions.”

Another beheading. You pursed your lips in thought as the people around you started arguing but you tuned that out. However, you were dragged back out of your thoughts when you saw Malcolm exit the building. The two of you made eye contact and he gave you a small smile. You could feel your face get hot and you turned on your heel and marched away. You only managed to get a couple of steps when a strong hand curled around our arm.

“We need to interview all the witnesses,” said JT, “and now that you’re here you’re one of them.”

*

“The first I heard about this was when I came here this morning,” you said, several hours later, “believe me, if I had known another murder had taken place I wouldn’t have come.”

“We know.” Said JT

“All I know is that someone has died,” you said, “I don’t even know how they died.”

“We know.” Said Dani

“So why am I here?”

JT and Dani didn’t answer as they led you down the corridors of your university. You hesitated slightly when saw Malcolm and Gil waiting at the end of the corridor.

“You alright?” asked JT

“Yeah, there isn’t a body in there? Heard that someone got disembowelled.”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t have had time to with the time they had. Besides, the head beside the body clearly shows what the cause of death was.”

You jumped slightly and looked at the woman who appeared by your side. She gave you a big grin and held out her hand.

“Edrisa,” she said as you shook it, “and you must be y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you from Malcolm.”

“You have?”

You glanced at Malcolm who had gone slightly pink. He pointedly looked away and Edrisa glanced between you.

“Well,” she said, “he might’ve mentioned you once or twice.”

“While discussing murders?”

Edrisa grinned and nodded. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm which was contagious. Maybe there was someone else in this team that you liked.

“Look,” said Malcolm, diverting your attention to him, “there has been another murder and we need to know if they’re linked.”

“Surely you’ll be able to do it?” you asked

“I thought it would be best to get a second opinion.”

“Lots of paintings of beheadings,” you said, “might not be linked. Could just be some madman with an axe.”

“Didn’t say it was an axe.” Said Malcolm

“Oh yes, they used a sword instead. Axe is more common. So, what was unusual about this? Besides from the fact that someone is going around cutting people’s heads off?”

“Despite the victim being blindfolded?” Malcolm said as he took a step closer, “and wearing her nightdress.”

“Could be a sex act gone wrong. No need to kink shame Malc.”

Malcolm smiled slightly and shook his head. You rolled your eyes and said,

“What?”

“Malc.” He said with a knowing look

“-olm,” you finished quickly, “Malcolm. This is nothing to do with me. None of it is. Now let me continue with my life.”

You turned on your heel and quickly marched away. Malcolm watched you go and Edrisa looked over at Dani and JT.

“What was weird,” she said, “was the weird? Am I the only one who found that weird?”

“Nah,” said JT, “that’s usual for them.”

[movieandgossip]

What's your opinion on Jorah Mormont?

Jorah is a bit of a tragic character. On paper he has everything he needs to have a happy and contented life, but unfortunately whenever he sees a beautiful woman he immediately gets +5 strength, +5 constitution and -20 intelligence.

Jorah was born to be a Lord. Not of a great or rich house, granted, but a well respected and proud one which was one of the few to possess a Valyrian ancestral sword. He was a strong, brave, and powerful man, who won fame fighting in Robert’s Rebellion and later in Greyjoy’s Rebellion, winning a knighthood from King Robert Baratheon himself after he was one of the first to breach the walls of Pyke.

Around this time, Jorah was made Lord of Bear Island as his father Jeor abdicated to join the Nights Watch. As a young-ish, unmarried Lord with a good reputation, Jorah was an extremely eligible bachelor, and had he married an appropriate woman he would have likely lived happily ever after.

Unfortunately this is Jorah we are talking about. He attended a tourney at Lannisport to celebrate the victory over the Greyjoys, where he fell head over heels for Lynesse Hightower, a beautiful woman from a rich southern family whom was less than half his age.

Spurred on by his desire for Lynesse, Jorah unexpectedly defeated everyone else including the famously good Jamie Lannister, Lyle Crakehall and Yohn Royce, and won the tournament. He then asked Lynesse’s father for her hand in marriage, which he accepted.

Things turned bad for Jorah almost immediately after the tourney. Having spent her whole life in a warm climate and a rich household, Lynesse hated life at Bear Island. In a desperate attempt to keep his wife happy, Jorah bankrupted himself giving her lavish gifts, hiring cooks and singers from Oldtown and building a luxurious ship for them to visit the south. Jorah participated in tourneys, but was never able to duplicate his success at Lannisport, so was forced to take loans to keep up his wife’s lavish lifestyle. Eventually, Jorah turned criminal in his desperation for money, becoming involved with the slave trade.

When Eddard Stark heard about Jorah’s involvement in the slave trade, he set out to Bear Island to arrest him, but Jorah and Lynesse fled to Lys before he could get there. With no money, Jorah was forced to become a sellsword. Whilst he was away fighting, Lynesse became the lover of a rich merchant named Tregar Ormollen and moved into his house. When Jorah returned from war, Tregar inform him that Lynesse was his property now, and if he didn’t leave Lys he would be arrested for his debts.

Heartbroken, Jorah wandered the free cities as a sellsword until he finds Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, at which point the cycle begins again with Jorah falling madly in love with a woman that is both far too young for him (criminally so in Dany’s case) and completely uninterested in his advances.

Jorah is someone who just can’t think straight around women at all. He is someone who is willing to literally set all of his logical faculties or moral principles aside in order to make a woman like him, and worst of all, he seems completely unable to learn from his mistakes. He is a character who has a lot of noble qualities, but is almost impossible to empathise with because he just consistently makes such terrible decisions.