#i remember loving red-eyes darkness dragon as a kid

[chaotic-minds-think-alike]

Finally finishing all these guys we’ve got charts and headcanons! (Long post)

(Height)

(Wingspan)

(Body length & basic shapes I used) (it might be odd but ignore any detail on the back, the shapes are for general body shape)

Headcanons:

Seawings: - Colors range from red and purple to yellow - Aquatic is based off areas of bioluminescence rather than singular scales (because no one wants to draw all of those) - Although they average small compared to the other tribes, gigantism is more common - Wing bioluminescence gene is always present but for some doesn't show, thus aquatic doesn't utilize the wings

Rainwings: - Can change the texture of their scales alongside color - Weakest bite due to their fangs, probably why they're vegetarian - Mimic interesting behaviors - Have forked tongues

Mudwings: - Colors range from olive green to purple-ish red - Very resilient - Able to breathe fire regardless of body temperature, the heat of the flame depends on body temp - Their horns constantly grow and sometimes have to be cut due to dangerous growing patterns - Love gnawing on things, tough foods like jerky is popular - The horn covers of fallen siblings are harvested and turned into instruments to remember them by

Leafwings: - Colors range from gold to teal (and pink to olive green during cold seasons) - Can appear to have false eyes - Bug-like just like the other Pantalan residents (because they're just some weird outlier like what is going on here) - Leafspeak doesn't actually allow them to hear voices from plants but rather increase the sensitivity of their antennae which pick up on the changes in plants - In colder seasons, regions that have deciduous trees influence leafwings in that their scales change into warm tones similar to fallen leaves for camouflage but this also negatively impacts one's leafspeak ability; this doesn't apply to evergreen leafwings however

Hivewings: - Colors range from hot pink to olive green - Can appear to have false eyes - Have elbowed antennae just like their "cousins", Hymenoptera (wasps, bees, ants) - Tend to disregard personal space/get close out of habit, being close means better temp regulation and better communication - All hivewings have stingers, wrist stingers, and a venomous bite but it largely depends on preference of which they choose and like muscles, they can be exercised to become deadly weapons - They're not capable of "emitting a horrible stench"

Icewings: - Colors range from white to pale indigo - Melanism is still very rare but more likely in icewings - Can be iridescent in any color, especially visible in lighter scaled individuals - The scales on their face is very fine and is flushed with blood which darkens the area and allows them to see in the snow by absorbing light, otherwise the glare from the sun reflecting off would be a hinderance - Their wings are thin and thus have visible veins most of the time - Idk how to describe their scales other than its kinda like basalt formations - From the side they appear large but are actually thin and flexible - They can freeze to death if they've gone without cold for a long time and then reintroduced too quickly - In hybridization, they have dominant genes, partially because the animus gene - The extra mane of horns can appear randomly on the body in singular spikes, they also make a clink sound when they collide as if they're made of ice, making a pretty scary rattle when disturbed

Nightwings: - Colors range from orange to purple - Albinism is still very rare but more likely in nightwings - Dwarfism is more common - Teardrop scales are always present, highlighted when the dragon has powers regardless of type - Pitbull ready to bite kids - They CAN hang upside down as the books suggest but not for long - By taking dust baths, they dull their scales to reflect less light and blend in better in the dark - Have white fire but cant breathe for long due to how hot it is (this is mainly to add onto the mysterious factor of em and I always liked the idea) - Due to eye sensitivity, they hate sudden bright lights and will close their eyes as they breathe fire

Silkwings: - Can have black or dark accents but never as a whole body color unless they've hybridized - Wing shapes vary widely - Can appear to have false eyes - Flamesilk is rarer than one might think - Very flexible and have strong tails used as a sort of 5th limb in climbing - Albino or melanistic dragons still keep their iridescence - Silk is emitted through a spinneret on the chin rather than the wrists - Prefer to travel in pairs (instinct)

Sandwings: - Colors range from red to olive green - Dark patters often mimic a snake's - Horse-like in complexion - Alongside their snake-like appearance, they have pit organs - Tend to move like birds - Poor eyesight but good hearing - Their horns angle upwards sort of like a bull

Skywings: - Colors range from red to yellow (and green because skywings are meant to be your typical fire breathing dragon which is most often depicted to be red but can also be green) - Tend to move like birds - Weaker than they appear - Green skywings are incapable of being or having flamescales - Their horns constantly grow and have to be filed down - A flamescale cant melt rock or metal by touch alone, only via fire is it possible - It's not that they don't want flamescales that they kill them, it's more of a mercy killing because of how lonely their life can be

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[starsfic]

Fluff 49 is someone jealous

Mei (could be taken as platonic, romantic, or QPR, hell it could be dark)

while I'm not sure if Eastern dragons display hording/possessive tendencies like there western counterparts. But I wanna think Mei due to her dragon instincts gets somewhat possessive over things and people she highly values. From objects like her bikes, and stuffed animal collection to living people like her parents, pigsy and tang who may of been like second parents to her at this point and of course her best friend for eternity MK.

So when red son joins there friend group shes happy at first when him and mk start getting on surprising well. But starts to grow jealous when redson starts cutting into her personal time with mk. Heck at times she feels like he's deliberately trying to hog mks attention.

As much as she loves red she feels the need to assert some boundaries, and remind him or even both of the boys who was here first.

Long Xiaojiao felt sometimes that there was a great big fat divide between her and Qi Xiaotian sometimes.

It wasn't a divide that couldn't be crossed. But it was there. Between her and Red dealing with the Samadhi fire and Xiaotian dealing with the whole "Harbinger of Chaos" stuff with Wukong, there was stuff that they couldn't share because the other wouldn't understand. It sucked, but there was still things to talk about. Especially when Red started tagging along!

Red, like she thought, was a great friend when he finally relaxed a bit. He knew cool demon spots to hang out with and could rattle for hours about different topics. He was fascinating. Xiaojiao's favorite hangout was when he led her and Xiaotian to a secret demon fighting ring and they spent most of the day placing bets (with food) on fighters. Then someone got the bright idea to challenge her to a fight and Xiaojiao enjoyed watching Xiaotian's eyes darken with desire as she fought the guy barehanded.

Xiaotian was her best friend. Hers since the day they met at the park, playing in the mud. Red was also hers, although the desire to hoard him was much less due to the new nature of their friendship. They were happy, all three of them.

And then Red tried to make that divide wider.

At first, she didn't notice. She had been delighted when Red suddenly had a free night on Saturday night, an old tradition of hers and Xiaotian where they had a movie marathon. It was nice to have something that was just them even in the craziness of their lives now. She thought it would only be once.

Except "one free Saturday night" became "every Saturday night was free". It wasn't a problem, not at first.

Not until she looked over to realize that Red had wrapped an arm around Xiaotian to cuddle close and realization struck her like a fist on weird behavior she had noticed from Red. The ability to remember Xiaotian's favorites, the insistence on sitting next to him, oh my gods all the touching.

She loved Red, really. But she loved Xiaotian more.

Her breaking point came when they were at a bar, drinking in congrats for Xiaotian's webcomic finally being published. Of course, most people would be interested because it was the Monkie Kid writing it, but Xiaojiao knew his art style and storytelling would win.

Red leaned close, smiling at Xiaotian like pure sin. "So, Noodle Boy..." The nickname was sweet as sugar, no longer containing a disgusting note. "I had to notice some things about the love interest. They mentioned knowing how they kissed. Unfortunately, I don't think I've won something like that from you before..."

"Oh," Xiaojiao said before Xiaotian could answer. "It's because of this." She patted her lap and Xiaotian stood up, a sweet smile forming across his face. Red raised a brow and then his hair floomed into flames as Xiaotian straddled her, the motion easy.

"Hey," her best friend cooed.

"Hey," she cooed back, her fingers settling in their favorite spots before Xiaotian leaned down and kissed her.

For a few glorious moments, it was just him and her. She didn't need to steal him or lock him away. He gave himself to her, his best friend in the whole world, willingly.

Finally, though, air had the nasty need of being needed and Xiaojiao pulled away. Xiaotian instead settled his chin on her shoulder, sighing contently.

Red stared at them with wide eyes. Then his eyes narrowed.

It was a secret challenge. Xiaojiao answered it back.

(Xiaotian hid his smile in his best friend's shoulder. Hopefully, she and Red got the worst of the instinctual possessiveness out of their systems before his preparations were done.

He intended for them both to be his.)

[themotherofblood]

Dark!Daemyra x daughter!eeader but it’s their actual biological daughter (meaning rhaenyras the mom).

Remember in episode 4 when everyone thought that rhaenyra had her virtue taken by daemon? What if they actually had a kid?

Gosh I kinda made this a little too angsty so bare with me. I’m just really bad at writing to the point, I wanted to add some context to the smut hehe. So I hereby present

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

tw: incest, infantilism, cheating…(kinda?) murder, talks of more incest babies and kinda non con-ish? jason lannister (🤢) smut! oral, missionary kinda courrpution vibes. Threesome

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

Not you, the one that had brightened Rhaenyra’s world with your little laugh, the one that had her hair and her uncle’s charisma - but the deed done to conceive you had been the most terrible of errors.

By right, you were Rhaenyra’s first-born child and heir; however, given the time of conception and the beautiful (pale, too pale) features you had been born with, it was obvious that you were not the offspring of Laenor Velaryon, but of her brutish uncle Daemon Targaryen. What remained were the rumours of Rhaenyra and Daemon coupling at a notorious brothel on the Street of Silk. Bastardy or the Iron Throne, that remained the question of your birthright to many. Your conception was a greater source of whispers and slander than that of your brown-haired ‘Strong’ brothers.

You weren’t raised in the Red Keep; with the brunt of the court upon your muña’s shoulders, she’d hoped to keep you shielded away from the cruel gossip that surrounded you even at the mere age of five. You hadn’t even set eyes upon her for years, making do with the letters that detailed how much she missed you and a chest full of trinkets and dolls to share with the young daughters of the vassal lords sworn to Dragonstone.

Daemon Targaryen, on the other hand was truly banished after word of his murdering his first wife Rhea Royce reached his brother’s - your grandsire’s - ears. While there was no formal accusation nor trial, Viserys was simply at his wit's end with the reckless goings-on of his younger brother. He had left Westeros even before your mother had realised that the moon tea she had consumed had not worked.

Daemon found his family elsewhere. After slaying a sea lord who was promised the hand of Laena Velaryon, he married her and then fled to Pentos with her and her dragon. The word of a Targaryen bastard being born from the Crown Princess was most certainly to spread like a plague, far enough to reach your kepa’s ears. He wanted to come back the second he heard of you, but his brother denied his request. When you were shipped off to Dragonstone, he wished to fetch you - but this time, his wife refused him, not wishing to raise the love child he had with his niece.

He had begun to send letters of Valyrian poetry, old texts of Valyrian romance and many other trinkets. You had written to him the day you claimed your dragon, which happened in a hilarious accident as you had trailed through the Dragonmont to make friends with a silver dragon, a she-dragon named Silverwing. Though the letter you had written had gone without reply, you had waited for a year and then accepted the dark truth. He had other daughters and another family. By request of the King, you were raised by Septas and the handmaidens at Dragonstone.

At present, you waited by the Painted Table. While one might not have been eager at the sound of people returning from a funeral, you indeed were. Mother had spent four moons at Dragonstone, leaving the Red Keep behind for good until the time arrived for her ascension. These four months had been bliss; you were introduced to your brothers. When you had first departed, Lucerys was still a babe suckling at Rhaenyra’s breast. Now, she returned with another little babe. -Your good-father returned as well, the one knight that could have flung your body high to the skies and caught you right in time. He had engulfed you in an embrace the moment he saw you.

Then came the letter of Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the world shifted under your good-father’s feet. With respect to Laena’s memory and the illegitimacy of your station, the Queen Alicent had advised Rhaenyra to not have you come along with the family. You were accustomed to such treatment; it mattered not. Yet the news of your kepa’s return churned your belly. You had never laid eyes on the man, having seen a mere few portraits hung in the grand galleries at Dragonstone. He looked much like you when he was a babe, and yet the older he grew you imagined him to be the embodiment of the courteous knights you read of in your books.

You had worn your nicest dress, and your preparations had begun with digging through all the letters he had ever sent you, having the chefs prepare his favourite foods and procuring a fat sheep for Caraxes. The household staff all lined themselves up by the halls. It had been years since their Rogue Prince returned home. While many admired the man, others feared him. Regardless of his reputation, there had been respect for his name upon every rock on the island.

Rhaenyra had walked in first with your brothers, her face softening at seeing you looking eagerly at the grand doors. She hugged you, rubbing the side of your arms as she stood behind you. Your sisters… You weren’t sure if they would have taken it well if you called them such. They were introduced first as a knight called out their titles. They bowed first, reminding you that you were a Princess and they only ladies. Then, everything went silent - you heard the thudding of boots before your vision was clouded by the image of shoulder-length silver hair.

Daemon Targaryen stood atop the steps, hands held together in front of him. He commanded the room with just his purple eyes. Your eyes. You were so entranced by his presence you almost forgot to ask about your good-father. He approached you, a princely smile upon his lips, and you failed to keep your lady-like composure.

The first thing that came from his mouth was your name. Your name had never sounded so wondrous as it did at that very moment. He greeted you, and your voice abandoned you as you opened your mouth to return his niceties. You must have looked like a fool, mouth parted as no words came forth. Your mother’s voice snapped you from whatever had possessed you.

“The honour is mine, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. You wanted nothing more than to call him kepa - but there was so much unsaid. It didn’t seem appropriate to you at the moment.

Another two fortnights passed, and you were still grappling with the thought that both the people that created you now sat with you as you broke fast. Your brothers again ran wild in your chambers and now, you had two little sisters - twins.

One night, your mother came to your room, looking far happier than she usually was as she sat at the edge of your bed. You put your book away on your lap, awaiting whatever it is she wanted to tell you.

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

You had helped dress her for the very day. Your legitimacy was now sealed with fire and blood as your parents swore their vows to the Fourteen Flames. You had hand-lit every yellow and red candle along with your siblings, being perhaps the happiest you had been in all your life. Maester Gerardys had perhaps shared your joy, having raised you in these very halls and witnessing your disappointment whenever there had been no letter from Rhaenyra nor Daemon.

Their marriage was beautiful. Both looked far deeper in love than any poet could ever profess in words. There was longing, a sense of time lost between them. Perhaps, in a way - as they looked at you after sealing their union with a kiss - you were their love made flesh and bone, their blood running through your veins. Two ears, ten fingers and toes, and eyes that flared with the same longing Rhaenyra and Daemon had so long had for one another.

Both made concerted efforts between the sheets to reclaim the years lost, and they made efforts with you, offering you the attention you deserved from them. Daemon smiled ear-to-ear as he saw you loving up against his grandmother’s former mount, an elegant creature that matched your demeanour.

Daemon had once said “the gods give, as they take away.” Those words had come to royally interrupt the quaint life he lived with his family at Dragonstone. Word was to indefinitely spread about him marrying his niece, and soon did it grace the ears of his brother - and his cunt of a Hand. A white raven, the symbol of urgency, bore the demand that the entire household of the Blacks were to present themselves at Viserys’s court. There was no indication of whether the King approved or not, but naught was to be done other than abide by his brother’s demands. Thus, the older children mounted their dragons along with Daemon and Rhaenyra and set the course for their journey to the Red Keep.

Your memories had been rather faint of these halls. You remembered walking them and all your heart felt was its cold aura. It wasn’t home. Their welcome hadn’t been warm to be sure - a wheelhouse had received you at the Dragonpit alongside your parents, Baela, Rhaena and Jacaerys. Your Septa had squeezed you into a tight corset, one that you had never worn before, your hair braided far too tight for your liking. It was how the ladies dressed at court, they had told you.

The Targaryen guards had led your family straight to the Throne Room. Crowds of people assembled on both sides and the gallery crawled with young ladies, some your age, some younger. You had slotted yourself behind your kepa’s larger frame, finding an odd urge to hide as every eye in the room seemed to have been fixated on you and every whisper called your name. You hoped you were a lady enough to satiate whatever expectations these strangers had thrust upon your shaking hands.

Viserys was furious, as furious as he could be given his condition. He wasn’t the man you remember, his full cheeks and the head of hair that you had inherited and a hand gone. He pulled himself by using his sword Blackfyre as a cane, accusing his brother - your sweet kepa - of terrible obscenities. You wanted to defend him, you truly did. You wanted to scream, lecture the court on the man Daemon Targaryen really was. Of how much he loved his family, so much so that he had abandoned you the day his late wife begged him so.

There was much said and done, most of which made the corners of your eyes water with furious tears as you reached for your mother’s hands. Everything Viserys and Otto Hightower questioned about their union directly mirrored your existence.

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

It was a manipulation. You weren’t a lie.

It was a crime, that much was true; you were a bastard, after all. You were Rhaenyra’s first-born, yet stood to inherit nothing. You were the shield that politically protected your brothers. This marriage put everything into question. Who were you anymore?

What you were was a perfect example and a trap for Otto Hightower to lay in the King’s lap, offering you as an auspicious match with House Lannister. Of course, the words were never to be said, but this marriage was a blessing from the gods for the likes of you. You were ambushed by the Small Council on the second day of your return to the Red Keep.

The second the name of Jason Lannister spilt through your grand-sire’s lips, Rhaenyra was outraged. Never had you witnessed her this crazed over something, her eyes dark and voice low. She matched the intimidating aura of your father, perhaps giving you a glimpse of the similarities between them.

“She is to be my heir!” Rhaenyra argued, her voice booming through the chambers. “I will not have you sell her like you tried with me, father!”

The debate had grown heated. Jason was a proud man, from what you had heard, and your mother fought on your behalf for a different right altogether. For once (in your own stupidity) you saw purpose, a purpose you viewed as your grand-sire’s affection; a sense of duty you had never felt before. After so long spending your days wandering in the world of your own head, for once you felt a woman. A false sense of naive hope. When Rhaenyra urged that they in the least listen to what you had to say, your words echoing through the chambers were the last thing she expected.

“I will do my duty if that is what the King wishes,” you nervously mumbled. “The throne would not agree with me, mother.”

That had been five years ago. You were a proud lion now, or so said the letters that you sent home every other moon. You had been a dutiful wife to Jason Lannister, to be sure. Your bastardy had been allayed by the magnificent dragon you claimed, and your womb that would finally bring the glory of possessing dragon eggs to the Lannister name. He had been a good husband to you, showering you with gold and fineries beyond your needs, a perfectly dolled-up Targaryen wife dressed in the crimsons and gold of the Lannister heritage. You wanted to enjoy it, you truly did. You had craved such attention from a young age, but something in your mind nagged that it wasn’t genuine.

You spent much of your time hidden in the library, which Lord Jason had at first said would have made your little head spin.

You had claimed victory over it in a mere year, and so you had asked for more books; if he was to spoil you so, perhaps he could provide you with something of more use. And yet, your chests continued to be filled with more jewellery, the finest dresses and boots. You would scold yourself for not finding joy in this. There were children starving in the country and you complained of fine dresses being too much.

The love-making between you was respectable, quick. It was far easier than the complicated mess your Septa had chastely told you about. You would spread your legs for him and just lay there. However, once the first year of your union passed and you still hadn’t borne a child, things grew ugly.

Jason had been dismissive at first, petting your head and claiming your youth as the impediment of your lack of conception. Then, it was the Maesters hounding you with ways to be with child. from putting your legs high in the air after being pumped full of your lord husband’s seed to avoiding wines at feasts. They recommended positions to be placed in; then, they requested that you refrain from dragon riding. Your favourite foods were targeted soon after, the spices in them after that; and soon, your meals were left with just salt in them.

That bled to the third year of your marriage. The gossip that had been abandoned because of your wedding was now set ablaze yet again. You suffered it all with a stiff lip.

The latest requirement had been for you to remain abed for most of the day, a consequence for going against your husband’s wishes and riding Silverwing after eight moons without. There was just something in her eyes that begged you to ride her, perhaps to save you from your own misery. When you returned, you had been grateful that you rode her.

The flattery that your lord husband had doted upon you with before bedding you had long faded with frustration. Couplings had always been a chore, but now it was painful as you laid there wishing for it to end. He would enter your chambers, undoing his doublet and you just knew. You would push down your small-clothes and spread your legs for him before returning to slumber alone. You had counted every petal embroidered onto your canopy as Jason grunted in your ear. You would run your fingers down his back, his hair, hoping to make him peak sooner.

One night, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to lay with him from how exhausted you had been, barely being able to eat the boiled food and enduring yet another feast that ran from dusk to dawn. You refused him politely, hoping that he would lounge with you or leave you to your endeavours alone. Instead, he lectured you on your duty, his breath stinking of strong wine as he forcefully yanked you towards your bed. You had protested, fought against his hold, but it had no effect on him. He had easily torn through your shift as he had turned you to your belly. All you remembered were the stern words of your inability to provide him with heirs when the whores down at brothels of Lannisport had already birthed bastards for him, your head shoved into the pillow to muffle your protests, and then the dread as you felt his seed from within you spill onto your sheets.

He took you in such a manner twice more, growing further irate with the judgments of his family. He was your husband - he had the right. That was, until your sheets were stained in red once more. The handmaidens and the maesters all huffed in defeat yet again, and you were sure your husband had been at a brothel for his business down at Lannisport.

So you ran.

Silverwing roared as she perched herself upon Casterly Rock, scaring the knights in their golden helms away. She flew you swiftly through the skies, heading towards the one place you felt the safest, the one place you should have returned to years before.

“Dārilaros, Silverwing ēza sepār māzigon naejot se Dragonmont,” a Dragonkeeper hastily informed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s eyes shot to Daemon who was seated next to her by the Painted Table as they went over season books for the fourth moon. They wasted no time in hurrying past Aegon’s Garden to see you, their daughter, dismounting Silverwing in a red gown. They rejoiced, finally setting eyes upon their blood after five years. The second you laid eyes upon your mother, you rushed to engulf her. Daemon wrapped his arms around both his wife and you, placing a kiss atop your head.

You had returned to your bedchamber in the Sea Dragon Tower, claiming that you were overdue a visit and your duties had freed you for long enough to fly home. Neither Daemon nor Rhaenyra were daft; you had arrived devoid of any riding clothes, dressed in a heavy gown and jewellery. With no clothes nor belongings, it was obvious that something had happened, but they allowed you your space.

You were overjoyed at being able to let your hair down and wear your old gowns. You had slept that night, sprawled across your bed like a happy child, fed and tucked in.

As the days passed, you were introduced to your new siblings - not half-siblings, but ones who shared the same parentage, the same blood as you. You learned of the toddler named Aegon and a babe of one and eight moons named Viserys, and the healthy girl your mother had named Visenya. You found much joy in meeting them. They reminded you of your childhood, though you were perhaps a little envious that they would grow up in much better circumstances than you did.

Rhaenyra had found you one afternoon, humming a Valyrian lullaby to Visenya, the words of which you had forgotten years before but you had hummed to yourself at nights to remind yourself of the memory of home. You were the blood of the dragon; you were the daughter of dragons. That glint of sorrow in your eyes had told Rhaenyra all that she needed to know.

“It is a matter of heirs,” she had told Daemon as he helped her onto their marital bed. “I fear what they might have imposed on her, Daemon.”

Rhaenyra knew first-hand of Jason Lannister’s pride.

“She doesn’t look herself anymore,” Daemon agreed. While Rhaenyra dreamt of a beneficial way of helping you, Daemon had already dreamt of a far more violent one, for years beforehand.

A prideful man with a runaway bride has never been a great song. Jason had set sail himself to retrieve his wayward wife from Dragonstone, winged beast to lead back into your golden cage. His ship was filled with more trinkets and fineries to sway you and your parents to hand you back to him, a place he believed you belonged.

He presented himself at Rhaenyra’s court as she sat the throne at Dragonstone. Without an inkling of enthusiasm or warmth, she accepted her son-in-law’s presence with Daemon standing next to her, also unimpressed by the blonde fool.

“I have come to convey my sweet wife home. Casterly Rock is much too cold without her fire,” he cajoled, his voice echoing through the Chamber of the Painted Table.

Rhaenyra had sent for you the second she had greeted your husband in the chambers. You arrived but moments later, your cheeks filled with colour from devouring your lunch of roast goose. Your feet abruptly halted the moment you saw the hair yellowish-blonde hair, knowing it could mean only one thing. Rhaenyra’s eyes caught yours first, and then your husband turned to find you in what he would deem a distasteful gown.

You hiked your skirts and bolted down the other corridor, paying no mind to the rain pouring heavily outside and running through Aegon’s Garden. Silverwing had already perched herself atop the Dragonmont as she had felt your distress. Her roar echoed with the thundering in the clouds above. Daemon chased after you, his quick feet catching up to yours with ease.The household guard blocked your path from exiting through the gates of Dragonstone.

“No, no! Please!” you wailed as Daemon caught onto your hands. “I cannot go back! Please, don’t send me back!”

Daemon’s eyes flared in concern over your distraught face. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you only screamed louder over the heavy pattering of rain.

“I will throw myself off the Windwrym Tower if you send me with him! Please, please, do not make me go back,” you cried. Your kepa pulled you closer, shushing your pained sobs as you begged harder.

Daemon had managed to reassure you that no one would force you back to Casterly Rock unless you wished it so. He had been horrified at how miserable you must be to threaten your own life in order to remain at Dragonstone, and his blood boiled to learn the truth of the matter. Rhaenyra had the servants prepare a room for your lord husband in an entirely different tower. You felt secure in knowing that Jason wouldn’t be allowed in the Sea Dragon Tower since it housed your chambers as well as your parents' chambers a floor above.

This is where you were brought after your handmaidens had helped you out of your soaking wet gown, huddled by the hearth crackling with a freshly stoked fire, a blanket of soft furs and a cup of warm tea in your hands. While you chose to sit on the floor, Daemon sat on his armchair, hoping to make you speak. Your wet hair clung to the sides of your face, a face that was once filled with so much light. Now, it hid something from him, and he couldn’t bear it.

“If you won’t tell me what happened, I cannot protect you,” he urged, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “What has happened, zaldrītsosi?”

You shook your head once more, making Daemon groan in frustration. You played with the rim of the tea cup, circling your finger around it, over and over again. You felt your father’s frustrations, gods know you had endured it yourself for years. In truth you were embarrassed of your inability to be a good wife, perhaps the harshness your lord husband had showed you- you deserved it.

The chamber door opened once more with Rhaenyra finally making her way to you, while Daemon felt clueless about what caused your outburst. Rhaenyra had her suspicions, she shuffled her skirts to lower herself next to you, she didn’t ask a thing but just wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Letting you know that you were taken care of, that you were home. Whatever tactic was this, it worked as the first words of your confession echoed through the chambers.

“I cannot go back,” you said, “He deserves to find another wife.”

You had tried to be the loveable wife your mother had been to both her husbands. She bore three sons for the first and three more children for your kepa, within the matter of five years when you couldn’t even conceive one.

“He is lucky to have a wife like you,” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head again “I’m not so…perfect like you.”

Rhaenyra frowned, never once had she wanted you to feel this inferior but your insecurities had been radiating through your skin. Daemon remained silent, letting his wife coax your reasoning out of you, perhaps you would do it quicker so he could fetch Dark Sister and resolve the matter.

“Lord Jason is my husband, he has a right to be sure,” you whispered, nuzzling further into Muña's embrace. “The way he held me down, for refusing to lay with him…” your voice trailed “I n-never want to feel that, ever again.”

Daemon saw red, even more so for the reason that you had not a clue of what had happened to you. A crime he had dismembered many during his days as the commander of the gold cloaks, his wife’s eyes shot to him. Silently begging him to not act on his anger just yet, he agreed - you needed them more. Your cries were silent, calmer than the onslaught before, Daemon let your head as you whimpered in your mother’s arms.

Somewhere along the evening you had succumbed to your exhaustion, Daemon had carried you into their bed and tucked you in. The silence left Rhaenyra and Daemon with a grave decision, they would have to petition Viserys to have your marriage annulled, however to lay the history of what you had suffered bare in court. The plea had to come from you, Rhaenyra had shuffled under the furs that night, her warm fingers trying to soothe the frown you sported even in you sleep. Daemon hummed that familiar lullaby as you stirred, feeling their bodies mould to yours - only this time you remembered the words.

Come morning, Rhaenyra had sent for Jason Lannister early in the morning; she had left her lady in waiting - Elinda Massey - to watch after you as you slept sprawled across their bed. In very distasteful words, Rhaenyra shunned your husband, Daemon stood beside her with his hand eagerly gripped around the pompel of Dark Sister. He paced back and forth, internally begging his wife to let him have the Lannister cunt’s head.

When you awoke, Elinda had helped you prepare yourself for the day. Your shoulders felt lighter, like a burden lifted from your shoulders. A content smile had finally adorned your face as you lounged in your parents chambers (far too elated). Rhaenyra returned from court with Daemon at her heel, trying to walk away the burning rage within her before she greeted you. She had sat you down, telling you of how Jason had returned to Casterly Rock and that the Blacks were to petition the royal court once more to have your marriage annulled. You threw your arms around Rhaenyra, profusely thanking her as she petted your hair.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered over your face for a little longer, the fullness of your cheeks, the purple of your eyes; gave her glimpses of herself and Daemon. There was something that overcame her, a subject Daemon and Rhaenyra had spoken at length about - first after their wedding night and second was last night. Her thumbs stroked your cheeks before her rosy lips found yours, it wasn’t a chaste kiss and yet the feeling that churned in you belly. You had yearned to feel it through the five torturous years of your marriage, when she pulled away you were stunned. Eyes glossed and mind in shambles.

“You are the glorious thing that came from us, sweet girl,” she whispered “you are to remain with us now, forever.”

She had pulled you up to stand in between your kepa and her, he was silently observing your reactions. You felt entrapped, not in the malicious way you had been caged in your marital bed, but the tenderness they had for you anchored you down, engulfing you in warmth. Daemon turned to hold your face in his hands, his roughed digits stroking at your heated blush stained cheeks.

“Let us take you the way you were meant to, let us show you riñītsos,” he requested. What were you to do? Pull away from the affection you were being dotted with after beggin for it for years. You nodded, mumbling a meek yes.

Rhaenyra turned you towards her again, both kepa and her working with haste to strip your body off your gown, leaving trails of sweet kisses upon your pale skin. The back of your neck to the pulsing at your wrists, they showed you reasons to live; showed reasons of why you were the most precious thing in the Known world. The smell from Rhaenyra’s flowered soaps mixed with Daemon’s woody ones, encasing you between their larger frames. You perked breasts spilt free first, your mother’s warm mouth immediately trapped the pebble between her lips. Suckling to harden them, and leave bruises of passion apon your milky skin. Daemon joined her efforts, his lips claiming your neck as he held you hand.

You couldn’t breathe, one would find lust, passion or even contentment within the feel of their lips but a deeper pit bubbles in your stomach. When you blinked your eyes open, they welled in tears and your breath hitched. Fighting to take in a bigger gasp of air, the years went on and you truly felt as beastly as they saw Silverwing. One incapable being found desirable, that your husband would resort to pumping bastards into tavern whores. You face scrunched, scolding yourself to enjoy this and yet you didn’t want them to see you bare; perhaps they would hate you too.

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened the moment she saw your discomfort and kissed your cheek. Hoping you would confess your feelings without coaxing.

“I won’t be to your liking,” you hung your head low, more tears streamed down your face.

“Nonsen - you are the most beautiful girl in the Known world,” Rhaenyra reassured, lifting your face to look at her. Perhaps it was something in her eyes that made you want to believe her flattery.

“How can you know?” You sniffed, wiping the tears with your wrists.

“We made you, who else would know better?” Daemon said, his voice softer than usual as looked down at you.

Mother had been incapable of bedding Daemon since birthing Visenya two moons ago, she was still healing. They believed that it was your husband’s incapacity to impregnate you; all your life at Dragonstone your moonblood’s course had been near perfect. It was to their benefit, your womb deserved to carry pure Valyrian babes anyhow. A witted mind may even see this as an advantage, with you as Rhaenyra’s heir. The silver of your hair, the smile that matched Daemon’s and little Valyrian babes of your own. Your mother’s claim would remain untouchable.

Daemon had led you to their bed, perhaps now your own. Rhaenyra had stripped herself to just her corset and chemise, while she intended on assisting her husband she would be a fool to not find pleasure in Daemon bedding you. Your father had been displeased as you crawled into bed and spread your legs open for him. While he admired the gesture of you presenting yourself to him, he tutted at how bereft of pleasures you were.

“Fucking is a pleasure you see, for the man and woman,” he had sultry eyes set upon you as he devices of ways to have you screaming for him.

Your legs already remained parted for him as you held your inner thighs, you were expecting his cock to penetrate you and yet he was fully clothed. It was horror that filled you next as Daemon kneeled by the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroked the sides for your mound before he flattened his tongue on your slit.

“K-kepa what are you d-,” a whine tore through your lips as you felt his lips suckling at your sensitive flesh. Daemon feasted on your cunny, like a delicacy with exotic flavours plated just for him. You muña had skittles herself next you, bracketing a leg to hold your thigh open as she paid much needed attention to your nipples. Her fingers toyed with one as her mouth nibbled on the other.

The throes of coupling were all you’d known awhile you dutifully suffered in the sheets, this - this - was tenacious; never ending as it hurtled you further into its depravity. The sounds of your squelching cunt and Daemon humming against your folds as Rhaenyra whispered the sweetest of endearments in your ears, their little girl…made just for them to ruin.

Daemon locked his palm against your, tangling your fingers between in him a silent call of, he was here for you, he would take care of you. Rhaenyra caressed your flushed face, the tickle of delicate fingertips distracted you from your insecurities. Your cunny felt the stretch of your Kepa's fingers, his thick digit knuckle deep within you. You hadn’t realised your body could even feel this way, so weightless that all you felt was the throbbing around your puffy bud. The textures on his tongue fondling with the tender flesh, how soft his actions were along with your mother’s ministrations of keeping the rest of your bare body ablaze.

You found your voice, as your breathy mewls turned to a shameless moans because of Daemon’s finger gracing a foreign spot within you; pumping in and out repeatedly. Your hips hiked off the bed, grinding into your kepa’s mouth. He gently held your hip down, you arched you back, unable to decipher the waves of tingles that ran up your thighs.

“Please, please!” you begged, unsure of it as you pleaded for, all you body seemed to yell at you was to find the ending.

A sudden, furious bliss burst through your core; you hadn’t felt anything like it before. You screamed their name, praying to the Gods to save you. You felt his tongue still laying soft licks on your bed as your thighs clenched around his head. You fell flat back against the beds, heavy breathing as you tried to gather your bearings.

“Wh- what…?” You couldn’t finish the question clouding your mind, your words lost on your lips.

“That sweet girl…was your peak,” Rhaenyra gingerly placed a kiss upon your temple. Her fingers mindlessly trailed up and down the valley of her breasts.

My peak…my peak you had incoherently whispered under your breath. “Will you bed me now?” You looked at your father expectantly.

“Would you like me too… would you like kepa to pump you full of his seed?” He whispered against your folded thighs as he pressed wet kisses across your pale flesh.

Your head eagerly nodded, wanting to feel more of what the art of pleasures had to offer. You wanted this ecstasy that Daemon spoke off. You wanted to drown yourself in it, having someone touch you so brutally broke a part of your aura - tragically - but your kepa and muña sewed your pieces back together. A cascading light that hurtled towards misery now floated high above the clouds, happy as you should have been.

“Say it riñītsos,” Rhaenyra whispered against your lips.

“Please bed me, kepa,” you asked, eyes flaring purple as did theirs. You shuffled against his hold on your thighs, the skin w clawing at your insides.

Daemon looked at Rhaenyra and chuckled, shaking his head at your niceties. “Such a polite thing, our daughter.” Rhaenyra indulged in stripping her husband for you, peeling his doubly away from him before freeing him from his breeches. Your kepa’s member was far more monstrous than your lord husband’s, it spurred a fear under your chest; the memories of bedding and the last night you had shared Jason’s bed were fresh within your mind. Daemon caught onto the apprehension that flared in the purple of your eyes. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “M’ going to be gentle…unless you ask me not to be,”

You hadn’t understood what he meant but your heart eased, preparing yourself to feel the bitter stretch of his bulbous tip at your entrance. Braced in position you waited for the burn to flare through your nethers but it never came. Merely the pressure of the hard line pushing you open, a little uncomfortable at best but the pain you had expected was nowhere to be found. You blinked your eyes upon, pulling yourself to grace upon where yours and Daemon’s body connected. You hissed at the fullness but appeared shocked, you looked to him; his eyes softened at the state of your discovery. Coupling was never meant to be a chore.

Rhaenyra circled her fingers upon your yearning pearl, you greedily raised your head pleading for her to kiss you and so she did. Her rounded mouth moulded against yours, a kiss that once rose bile to your throat - the tongues being far too much - your kittenish hum invited her in willingly. You could taste your shared breath, commanding you with the grape scent of her lips. Daemon had begun rocking himself, determined strokes rutting into your - his sweet cunny - his baby’s warm walls as he could barely contain himself from watching your mother dote upon you with honeyed vulgarity.

Daemon grunted, wanting to feel the touch of your lips as he tucked his hands behind the small of your back. You held your kepa’s face in your hands, lifting yourself just enough to taste the spiced wine that linger on his lips; his tongue raspily greeted yours. You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapping around his rear as your Rhaenyra and Daemon took turns whispering sweet obscenities in your ear. They made this cunny for them to use… kepa would breed you swollen of his Valyrian babes, pure babes. There perfect little dragon

Naught was of importance as you begged kepa to piston within you harder, you body smothered between the ones of your blood (warm, far too warm). Trickles of tears that fell from the corners of your eyes disappear in your hairline, Daemon wiped them - grunting louder - with his adoration directed straight st you. Rhaenyra had pulled him closer for a kiss, tasting you upon his lip as his hammering never once faltered. You wanted to peak again, you wanted to fly again.

“K-kepa, I- so good,” your words muddled at the tip of your tongue, but the way your cunt fluttered around his cock. There was just one reason to be sure. He looked to Rhaenyra, a short nod of his followed with your muña fingers working in tighter - quicker - circles around your throbbing nub.

“Oh - that’s it, pretty girl, come for kepa…wet his cock,” Rhaenyra cooed at you, your back arched off the bed. A longing whine tore through your lip, pleading Daemon to go harder. He obliged, haunching his body over as his shoulders laid flush against your chest. His heavy stones slapping against your rear. You wanted it, your insides clawed at you to peak.

“Our sweet little dragon, come - come now.”

Daemon’s order hadn’t gone unheard, in true fashion of a father’s daughter you peaked for him, your pleasures gushing through you core as your scream lodged itself at the back of your throat. Leaving only whimpers and squeaks behind as your finger nails dug into Daemon’s shoulder.

Days had passed since, once you had tasted the world of pleasures, the next four day you had spent either bouncing on your kepa’s cock; begging him to fill your cunt or muña fingers pulling peak after peak from your body.

The moment of truth arrived sooner that you had expected, you had flown to court once more. Viserys had been gravely ill, as a mourning grandchild your heart ached for what had become of the once proud king. As a wronged wife, you feared if Otto Hightower would have your best intentions in sight. Whil by marriage it would have been appropriate for you to wear an alarmingly bright red gown and jewellery of gold. You had come dressed in the darker crimsons of your house as you stood in between your kepa and muña.

Jason Lannister presented an elaborate case, claiming you as his - how your place was at Casterly Rock and not behind your mother’s skirts. He even made attempts to approach you, but the deathly glare Daemon had set upon your husband made Jason’s cowardice known. The Blacks and Greens had separated them on each end, and by the passing day it had become rather evident that if you returned with Jason, your support of your mother would be squandered under their golden foot.

Otto Hightower then called the Blacks forwards as he sat upon the Targaryen throne as if it were his own. Rhaenyra stepped forward to petition on your behalf but was dismissed by her old bitter companion Alicent Hightower - the Queen.

“Your daughter is far above her age to petition for herself, Princess Rhaenyra, unless she is daft…?” Alicent retorted.

Your eyes darted between your mother and father as they looked to your covering frame, they wanted to protest but what other choice had they given you. With cautious mannerisms you stepped forward, cultivating your sentences of beggary in your head to not stumble upon them. Your fingers fiddled with one another as you stood at the front of the throne room; with the entire court gathered to see your humiliation. Much of everything had sounded muffled to you, they would send you back, he would take you back. You should have flung yourself the first chance you had.

The night before, Rhaenyra had visited her father’s chambers. Maternal tears coating her face as she begged her father for you life. Daemon had told her of your threat to end your existence. What she thought were pleadings fallen to deaf ears, she had hoped to use her inheritance to save you from this curse or have Daemon flee with you to Essos. To remain there until Rhaenyra would take the throne.

Perhaps a call from the heavens answered your pleas (Rhaenyra’s efforts in truth) the grand door to the Throne Room opened, your grand-sire limping his way through a startled court. An old dragon lashing out to protect his blood once more, you moved away. Mouth agape just as the rest, Viserys had come to sit on his throne after four years of sabbatical.

To shield your honour, as your father - Daemon approached his brother to present your case in private. Telling him of the cruelties you had suffered and Jason’s inability to provide you heirs. To which Viserys coughed out his disdain on the Lannister’s lack of providing his granddaughter with heirs.

“Her heir? Tis my family that would be shamed because she is barren. Yet I choose to take my sweet wife back to my noble seat.” Jason scoffed, looking at Rhaenyra like she was delusional.

Rhaenyra passed a knowing look to Daemon before letting go of your hand. She looked right at the vast lords gathered at the court “My first born, my daughter is to be my heir. Your future Queen and a second wife to my prince consort.”

Horrid gasps echoed through the Throne Room, Alicent looked disgusted along with her father. You looked at your mother in shock, unable to grapple the titles she had just placed in your lap.

“Your grace! This is an abomination!” Otto Hightower protested, hoping for the King to see reason.

“She cannot be Queen…” Jason muttered, just as shocked as you.

“And w- why is that?” Viserys coughed.

“Well she is…” his blond brows furrowed tightly, his glare fixated upon you for embarrassing him. Your father raised a challenging brow to him, say it…say it Daemon prayed as he once again clutched the pommel of Dark Sister, he looked to his wife and begged like a toddler to let him end this. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon through his periphery and agreed, subtly nodding at him.

“She is a bastard,” he shrugged, looking appalled, finding this entire situation ridiculous.

Viserys groaned, huffing as he unsheathed his dagger; angered and ready to place his judgement. “I will have your tongue for that!”

Thwack!

You hadn’t realised when your kepa had moved from behind you to trail behind your husband - headless husband - your mother yanked back to look away from the decapitated corpse as knights all around charged at Daemon. He merely wiped his sword away at his cape, before returning to stand next to you.

“You’re a widow now,” he smugly whispered in your ear.

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- It took me a while to write this due to some personal issues and to be true I had expected it to be better than it came out to be.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The Present As It Is

Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3

Tag list - @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @Blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba

GIF Credits to @valkyriethais

Summary- 10 years have passed since the duel between the Rogue Prince and the Wolf Lord and things have changed.

10 YEARS HAD passed since that day when the Realm's Desire's wedding was interrupted. (Y/N) still wonders what would have happened if Cregan had won that challenge, but she is glad he didn't.

She remembered Daemon's brutal blows to the Lord of Winterfell. People had whispered how the Rogue Prince and the ancient sword of House Targaryen, Dark Sister, craved the wolf lord's blood.

(Y/N) remembered the twisting fear when she watched Daemon advance towards the fallen Stark Lord with the blood-hungry Dark Sister, a murderous look painted on his handsome face. (Y/N) had screamed to stop Daemon when he had placed the grand Valyrian steel sword right against Cregan's armored chest.

Whatever it was, it was the past and (Y/N) definitely loved her present and hoped for a good future. "Mother," chirped Alyssa, clearly wishing her mother's attention. (Y/N) and Daemon had decided to name her after their mother's name. (Y/N) hummed, caressing Alyssa's check.

"Can we go for a ride on Vaemar?" Vaemar was a name chosen for Alyssa's dragon by her. "Sure, we can, sweetheart. But before that, we need to find your brothers and sister." Alyssa nodded with a huge grin, already setting off to find her siblings. "You might want to check the training grounds!" (Y/N) exclaimed as she smiled, watching her daughter grin widely and disappear in the maze of corridors of the Red Keep.

(Y/N) followed her overly excited Alyssa towards the training grounds. Groans and grunts and clashing of swords became more and more apparent as they reached the ground filled with knights and young lordlings.

In the middle of the circle was Daemon with their 2 sons and eldest daughter, teaching them to defend themselves. "Father!" Alyssa exclaimed, sprinting towardsthe Rogue Prince. Daemon turned, grining as he spotted Alyssa approaching, closely followed by his dear wife.

"Daughter," he greeted calmly with a smile, crouching down to hug her. "How come did you decided to visit your lonely father?" He asked mockingly, placing the young princess on his hip as he stood up to his original height. "She wished to go on a ride on our dragons," (Y/N) said, ruffling Daevon's white hair.

Daemon's eyes brightened up as he looked at his youngest daughter who was 6 summers old. (Y/N) and Daemon both had been early dragon riders. While Daemon started riding Caraxes when he was 8, (Y/N) had started flying her mount, (D/N), at the age of 6.

"Can we join as well, mother?" Viseyna asked, handing her sword to a servant. "Sure, why not," (Y/N) grinned, looking at her beautiful children. "Go and change out of your armors and into your riding dresses," she urged her kids, who sprinted off with a nod.

Daemon sighed, smiling widely as (Y/N) turned to him. "It have been a while since all of us has took to the sky together." His hand snaked around (Y/N)'s waist, bringing her close. "Yes... let's go before our children come and find us," (Y/N) said, winking at Daemon who chuckled in response.

Once the family reunited at the Dragonpit, laughs and conversations bounced off the rather silent walls of the fort as they waited for their dragons to be brought. Caraxes' roar and (D/N)'s comparatively soft grunt grabbed the dragon riders' attention.

Daemon smiled, prideful of his mount, while (D/N) bowed her head to (Y/N), just like she has always done. Following the older two dragons were Vaemar, Zaerex and Jaenna; the mounts of the young dragon riders, except for Viserys, the Rogue Prince and the Realm's Desire's youngest son.

"Jikagon ahead, riñi," (Go ahead, kids) Daemon urged, making his own way to the red worm-like dragon. The young offsprings were quick to mount their own dragons, just the way they have been taught. Meanwhile, Viserys made his way to (D/N), waiting to follow his mother.

The giggling was constant until the dragons took to the skies, soaring across the swift, cool breeze. Viserys stared down at the city in awe, pressing himself to his mother, who kept one hand on (D/N)'s scale and the other around Viserys' abdomen in a secure manner.

"Look at the sea, Kepa," (Father) Daevon squealed as Zaerex descended down to kiss the surface of the shimmering sea. A ship or two, small on the horizon. "Gevie, iksis ziry daor, tresy?" (Beautiful, is it not, son?) Daemon asked, his eyes tender and filled with adoration.

Daevon nodded absent-mindedly, smiling down at the sea water. His hands, unconsciously, caressing Zaerex, something he had took in heredity from his own mother.

Alyssa and Viseyna seemed to have settled into a race of their own, trying to beat each other by doing something out of ordinary and enchanting. Alyssa's Vaemar being young and energetic could easily pull off more stunts than Viseyna's Jaenna, who was more fast due to her smaller structure.

Daemon and (Y/N) shared a knowing look. A content feeling warming their hearts. It didn't matter how much they had to struggle to live their present, but it didn't matter now. Now, that they had their sons and daughters close and them bonded in fire and blood.

Perhaps, not always does duty needs to be followed, sometimes, it has to be love.

[simpyshrimpy]

New draconia family tree just dropped. some chap 7 spoilers, some are ocs still

i do not know how three generations of women mommy dragon ladies ended in a boy honestly i feel like that means its rigged. anyways-

Maldra Draconia - Big red dragon old as time itself, this is where the Draconia's get their pretty green eyes from. Also though, just like all of the Draconia's in canon twisted wonderland. she's an absolute horror. I'm talking country destroyer to the point that if Tenebris hadn't somehow accidentally seduced her- the world probably would have ended. and it only got worse from there, because.... both her and Tenebris were strong af so Maleficia came out even stronger...

Rex Tenebrarum - that's just his title technically. I just translated king of darkness into latin smh. Tenebris is his nickname. Fae names are power guys. He's so anal about it even his own wife doesn't know his true name. Which isn't to say that he doesn't love her, but just that he takes every measure necessary to protect himself and in turn, his family. Somehow he accidentally seduced Maldra and then she actually forced him to marry her- but don't worry- he was totally into it.

Maleficia Draconia- Somehow even stronger than both of her parents. Terrifying. Her dad kept her more mellow than her mother thankfully, but she's still horrible and her mother lets her cause havok anyways. Dad has to come in and stop her halfway but by then some citys are still gone....

Dante Draconia- He'll come up in the future, so i haven't decided much on him, but i do want it to be a theme where the draconia women just strong arm these men who accidentally seduce them into marrying them. Poor guy. He probably mellows out grandmommy draconia though.

Other than that, things will be close to the canon universe. Lilia, Mallenoa, and Raven will all still be childhood friends, although Lilia will be doing fieldtrips to Kumiko's mountain to train. Maybe for summer vacation! And of course, Mallenoa will not allow him to have fun without her- Which also means Raven comes too.

Grim, Kumiko and the reader will be like summer camp counselors with a world destroyer dragon fae, bratty little future hardcore general lilia, and also a bird who probably cries whenever he makes eye contact with kumiko.

Also no- i do not subscribe to the Crowley is Raven theory guys. C'mon. I wouldn't want any future where Mallenoa died tragically while Raven was still alive. I'd like to think he'd go to hell before he ever leaves her high and dry.

Also we'll probably try to prevent them from dying in this world. I haven't worked out the specifics yet. Maybe it ends up being their fate to die- or maybe I'll decide that since we hold some sort of power over this world, that we can defy even fate itself. It's the same problem I'll have to think over with Ortho. Since the original ortho is dead and the one we all know and love is just a recreation of a dead kid...

Welp. That's a problem for future Shrimpy. Not me. goodnight and please remember that i love malleus-

[osatokun]

Tell us more about Glinda!

the original one, not the tiefling one?

She is an npc in the vampire the masquerade ttrpg chronicle I'm playing with my friends. I play that chubby sweet vampire man.

I put the story under the cut, as it's pretty dark

She is a changeling form the House Balor. Once she was a queen of the changelings of the New Orleans, back in 90s. She was so strong that she even created a wildly strong chimerical creature, a Dragon, who, ofcourse, could take a human form. Glinda always had prophetic dreams and she knew that soon her changeling people will extinct, the era of wonder will be over. Should I mention, that changeling soul wakes up early in kids, and closer to 20-25 years it usually goes back to sleep, resting inside human body unless that human dies. The human doesn't remember they were a fae creature once.

So, the young teen Glinda was talked into the apocalypse. Pentex or nephandi (both?) talked her into giving birth to a changeling-spirit creature, that will destroy big part of the world, but the other half survives and start believing in wonders again, giving strenght to changelings. This way changelings could survive.

Could they make it differently? Ofcourse they could. But they didn't miss on a chance to rape a teen and destroy her child's soul. Plus, the time was right, the Eye of Balor appeared in the sky (or the Red Star, as vampires named it). But the other changeling House, house Beaumayn, who also known to be seers, riot and freed her chimera. The Dragon burned (by that time pregnant) Glinda in chimerical flame, which had to kill her changeling soul and her spirit-child. But the spirit survived and ran away into the depths of the Umbra, and Glinda's changeling soul fell asleep. The connection with this spirit creature helped her changeling part to survive.

Beaumayns took the lead of the changelings of the city, "imprisoned" Glinda and made the Dragon her jailer. For regular people it looked like a marriage(it sounds funny when I word it this way) .The Dragon, Gregory Dequir in human form, did his best to make Glinda feel like she is nothing, a zero, not even a person and tried to control her every step. Time passed, changelings woke up and fell back asleep, and pretty soon Dragon was the only one who remembered this story and had a good chance to shape it however he wanted. Everyone hated her, a lot respected him, but no one knew the reason she made this choice, no one even knew what exactly she made. (Gregory, also known as Dragon)

But despite everything she grew up into a very kind loving person. 20 years passed. She became an art teacher, always caring about her students and protecting them, just as she did when she was a queen. She kept her courage too, and now and then tried to sneak from the Dragon. Even tho she had no personal budget, even tho he tried to control all her contacts, she found ways for sneaking from time to time. Should I say, that's how she met Charlie, who was looking for changelings at this point and..at the same time was hungry and horny ?

They met in the art gallery. Quickly she lured him in a more private place ( don't laugh, it was the rest room).She needed to be quick while Dragon wasn't around. Charlie never bit her, no. He ended up fighting frenzy and crying, trying to ignore his visions. He got scared by the big, never healing scar on her chest. There is nothing he can do about it, he just can't feed on people who has skin problems, its one of his core mental issues that can't be healed. But still he didn't want to upset her too much so he didn't ran away screaming, he put all his fading strength just to cry like a little child. She tried to calm him, but when he started to say that he feels sorry for her, the wound looks so bad it must be really painful (etc etc) it hit her pride and she walked away.

Charlie however tried to figure who she is, what she is. He tried to find a changeling who asked him for help, but poor vampire didn't know how exactly this changeling looks like. So he made a thing that he makes very rare - he looked into her soul to learn her true self. And he fell in love, insanely, in that very moment, as he never seen anyone more brave, more beautiful , just like a little brave robin with her burnt mark over her heart, she fought the horrific Dragon.

I won't bore you with the year long story of the gaming sessions. In short, he found the way to return memory to Glinda and the younger changeling (the one who asked for help, Monica). It requires to go to the umbra and survive in Arcadia's wood, but no matter, he did it.

Other noble changelings seemed to look for the way to get rid of the Dragon without doing it themselves. Dragon had too much power, both physical and social, and he became (or always were) the banal chimera so he hurt changelings just by existing near them. So the conflict of the chimera and the vampire, who seemed to be too stupid to retreat, attracted their attention. Charlie ended up fighting the Dragon on the changeling court, and the king of the house forces another very old vampire to give my dude a sword. That sword contained a demon(which ofcourse Charlie didn't know) and, when Charlie was one hit from gis final death, he made a contract with the creature from the sword. One hour and ten minutes inside his body, for the feath of the Dragon and Dragon only. Charlie knew it was a horrible idea, but couldn't stand the idea of Glinda's death, Monica's death and his firend's, Veronica's death. So the demon turned dragon into a regular human being, this way killing the Dragon and making him a regular mortal, and used vampire's body to run away. Oh, the swords keeper aka demons jailer wasn't happy at all..but Charlie deserved all what he got.

Anyway, lets get back to Glinda. After the death of the Dragon, the jailer, Glinda was free ( so do Gregory). He divorced her and she could start her new life. Charlie gave her the healing that restored broken connections of her changeling soul and ran straight into the Umbra, to restore her memory. Monica and her friends (a werewolf, a ghost, a changeling-satyr and chimera) followed her a day after. Time works differently in Umbra, so Glinda spent a whole month here, the kids spent a week or so. They met to that spirit face to face, they fought, and they escaped. Glinda even managed to steal the symbol of her connection to the spirit, a Golden Chalice. All that time Charlie waited near the portal-painting for their return.

A couple days after Charlie and Glinda stared to date. She told him her story, he told her his, and also shared his true name to show his feelings for her. They quickly moved together and shared bits of their curses: Charlie took a bit if the spirit curse, she took a little bit of his demonic one. And finally, they got married. There are still incredible amount of dangers, the mummy is trying to get their (kinda now adopted) daughter Monica, the spirit getting closer and closer to the surface, Charlie's demon is still walking the earth and, ofcourse, vampiric community isn't happy with changelings at all ( I don't think changelings thinks positively about Charlie too).But they have their little family, their smol house, they even managed to create a new chimerical cat together, they are determined to survive and win. (curse sharing was a pretty sweet scene they both sung a song and put bits of their powers into small bat pins)

They even got the True Love merit!

Edit:

In the end, they worked with the occult council of the city ( vampires, werewolves and mages were there) to slay Glinda's spir. Charlie made a deal with a local settite leader Manon asking to help out with Glinda's ritual in return. Council succeed but flooded the city (not too badly, but still 😔). And Charlie's demon was trapped by other much more powerful vampires and he did his best to resist demon till the end.

Now happily married couple is traveling together, looking for the new deadly adventures x)

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

’Cause Daddy Doesn’t Love Me, Mommy is a God

it’s here!! Almost 3k words of Jay centric angst why do these keep getting longer. this is split into two scenes; one from Jay’s childhood, the other right before he becomes a ninja. warning for one instance of mild swearing, cross posted to ao3

~

Jay poked at his cereal sluggishly. It was the first day of term break and he was all alone in the house. Again. Dad had gone to work, he was pretty sure, and wouldn’t be back until night. The housekeeper and nanny, Ms. Peony, was at her daughter’s wedding this week. None of the other employees were here today either, meaning that Jay had the house all to himself.

Giving up on his cereal, which had begun to get soggy, Jay went upstairs to his room. For other people, the house may have been considered eerily quiet, but for Jay it was normal. The only sounds he could hear were his own footsteps and the air humidifier. Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.

Jay looked over his comic book collection. He had quite a few, ranging from Fritz Donnegan to Spider-Man to Wonder Woman. None of them seemed particularly interesting right now, though. Not even the Fritz Donnegan ones, which were his favourite. 

Maybe I can draw something, he thought. Pulling out some colour pencils and paper, Jay quickly sketched out a dragon. He liked dragons. Cole’s mom had told them stories about them. The dragon he’d drawn was blue, with yellow stripes and fire coming out of its mouth. Pretty cool, in his opinion. Maybe Dad could hang it up on the fridge. 

Speaking of Dad, Jay missed him. It was just the two of them when Jay was little, and now he was always busy. Jay missed when they would curl up on the couch with popcorn and watch a silly movie together.

Shaking his head to snap out of the old memories, Jay picked up another sheet of paper. Thinking about the past wouldn’t change the present. He went to go get the markers — he wasn’t technically allowed to use them, but they were needed for his new drawing.

Uncapping the orange marker lead him to realise it was dried out. He tried the red one instead, getting the same results. A third test showed that all the markers were likely dried and unusable. 

Great. Now he really had nothing to do. It seemed too early for TV, and he didn’t want to bother plugging in the video games. Oh, wait! There was a landline in the house. Jay wasn’t entirely sure how to use it, but maybe he could call Cole. Cole was always good company. 

Marching down the stairs now that he had renewed purpose, Jay found the landline and tried to remember Cole’s number. It wasn’t technically his, much like how the number Jay had given him wasn’t actually Jay’s, but it would contact Cole. 

Punching in the numbers, Jay watched the phone ring. Someone picked up on the fourth one. “Hello?” That someone said. It was Cole’s mom. 

“Hi, Mrs. Hence, it’s Jay,” Jay started. “I’m looking for Cole?”

“Oh, I’m afraid he’s not here right now,” 

Jay felt a pang of disappointment at that. “That’s alright. Thanks,” he hung up before Mrs. Hence could respond. It was rude, Jay knew, but he did it anyway. 

Now what could he do? It wasn’t even lunch yet, and Dad wouldn’t be back until after dinner. Jay had no one to talk to for the entire day.

Maybe a nap was the solution, Jay decided. Mrs. Chan, his old babysitter, had often said that sleeping helped pass the time. Though he wasn’t sure if that applied to kids, or just grown-ups.

It was worth a shot. Jay went back to his room, Spider-Man crawling up the stairs, and jumped onto the bed. His blankets were still rumpled from the morning, his stuffed animals shoved into the corner.

Jay closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was harder than expected. The light kept shining into his eyes. Groaning, he pulled the blanket over his head, trapping himself in darkness. Much better, Jay thought. 

He woke up at about five in the afternoon, well past lunch but still before his dad would return. Jay rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and dragged himself out of bed. Mrs. Chan had been right. Now, time to get a late lunch (did it still count as lunch?) and some water. 

After a quick snack of potato chips and chocolate, Jay was feeling much better. Junk food was always good for energy, and Dad would (hopefully) be home by 9:00. He could watch movies until then. 

Turning on the television and scrolling through Netflix, Jay found that there weren’t a lot of movies he wanted to watch. Giving a brief shudder at Coraline, he eventually clicked on Into the Spider-verse. It was a good enough movie.

One movie marathon later, it was already seven o’clock. Jay went to the pantry and grabbed some instant ramen as dinner — perhaps not the healthiest, but definitely tasty.

It was getting dark, now. Soon it would be completely pitch black. Jay hoped that Dad got home before that. He didn’t like staying at home alone during the night. 

Jay slurped up the rest of his dinner and put the bowl in the sink. He’d deal with that later, right now he wanted to play with his action figures. 

Fritz Donnegan lands on the ground, sticking a perfect landing. “No sign of any ambush,” he says. “I’m going to look around, stay on guard.” He takes a step forward, and then— 

Downstairs, the front door slammed closed. Jay looked up at the sudden noise, and jumped to his feet upon realising that his dad was home. 

“Dad!” Jay ran into his father’s arms, hugging him as tightly as a nine-year-old could. 

“Hello, Jay,” Dad said. He pried Jay’s arms off himself. 

Jay tried not to let that sting. “I drew a picture for you!” He exclaimed. 

“Mhm,”

“Don’t you want to see it?”

Dad sighed. “Not right now, Jay.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “I’ve already had dinner, so there’s no need to cook for me,”

“That’s good,”

“I called Cole, too, but he wasn’t there. I did watch a movie, though. It was fun!”

“I need to shower and eat, Jay,” and oh, that was Dad’s ‘I’m Getting Tired and You Need to be Quiet’ voice. “You should go to bed now,”

“Okay,” Jay ran back upstairs. He hadn’t even gotten to show Dad his dragon picture. 

~

Jay looked up at the mansion he called home and frowned. Dad was considering sending him to boarding school after all the trouble he’d been getting into. “It wasn’t my fault,” Jay had screamed last night. Dad had started yelling, and he hadn’t wanted to deal with it anymore. Jay had stormed out the door and didn’t come back until Dad was asleep. 

No one was home right now, so Jay let himself in. Dad was still out with his girlfriend, Amanda. Yet another woman who treated Jay like he was rubbish, or pretended like he didn’t exist. After all, nobody wanted to deal with the illegitimate son of Cliff Gordon, Jay thought bitterly. Nobody except Cole, and he’d been gone for years by now.

Kicking off his shoes and shoving them in the hallway closet, Jay went to his room and collapsed on the ground. He didn’t bother locking the door. Dad would be out all night. 

Scrolling through his phone showed nothing of interest. There was a new trailer for some action movie, but it wasn’t like Jay had anyone to go see it with. Also, Jay didn’t want to see anything with his dad’s face in it.

Hmm. Jay’s thoughts drifted to the makeshift hang glider shoved up in the attic. It was one of the results from his venture into DIY-ing. (Not that Jay didn’t do inventing anymore, just that it was one of the earlier projects.)

“Where are you?” Jay muttered to himself as he dug through the attic. It was shoved full of old trinkets and boxes. None of them seemed to be labelled. So far he’d found two boxes of old books and papers, five boxes of assorted junk, and one box of family photos. But no hang glider.

He squeezed past another crumbling box of who-knows-what and threw aside an old lamp. Jay figured it was yet another priceless antique that had been left to rot, much like the other twelve pieces of junk he’d found so far.

His efforts were finally rewarded when he found the hang glider dumped into a corner. Picking it up and shaking the dust away revealed that it was (mostly) in good condition. Now to get it out of the attic and to a good hang gliding place. Doing his best to fold it up, Jay dragged the hang glider though mountains of boxes and down the stairs. Huffing and sweaty, he glared at it.

“You’re a lot more trouble than I expected,” he said. “This better be a fun activity,”

Getting the hang glider into his car proved easier than finding it. The trunk was just barely big enough to fit it. Jay wasn’t technically allowed to drive, but Ninjago City wasn’t known for good law enforcement anyway. 

The commute took just over an hour — enough time for Jay to finish the podcast he’d been listening to. 

“Ugh, finally,” he muttered as he parked the car in place. Dragging the hang glider out, Jay found the nearest skyscraper and climbed up. He got strange looks for it, and it was a weird sight to see a teenager with what was essentially an oversized kite, but he managed.

The building he’d chosen was a good spot for hang gliding. With lots of other buildings around it, Jay had a much better chance of not falling to his death and landing safely on another rooftop. Sure, it was probably illegal, but no one would notice. Hopefully. Jay really hadn’t thought this through. 

Well, too late to back out now. Jay spread the glider’s wings, checked to make sure he was fully strapped in, and jumped.

It was exhilarating for the first few seconds, but Jay quickly found that the rest of it was terrible. The glider worked — he had gotten a smooth takeoff, and he wasn’t falling to his death, but Jay should have realised the billboards scattered around were a hazard. He crashed into one with about as much grace as a manatee and collapsed. The world was swirling. Jay bet that if anyone could see him, they’d see birds flying around his head. 

“Well, isn’t this an interesting sight?” A voice startled Jay out of his dizziness. 

“Wh— huh?” Jay looked up, head still spinning, to see an old man sitting calmly and drinking tea. 

“Who are you?” He blurted, then realised that was probably rude. 

The old man didn’t seem offended. “A dreamer, like you,” he said. 

Jay resisted the urge to call the old man crazy and run away screaming. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You may call me Wu. I’ve been waiting for you for a while,”

“What are you, some kinda stalker?” Jay narrowed his eyes. 

“No, nothing like that. I want to offer you an opportunity,”

“An opportunity?” Jay parroted. 

“Yes. There is a dark force rising, and I cannot stop it on my own. You have great potential. I want to train you in the ways of spinjitsu,”

“I don’t— what?” Jay’s head spun from all the new information. Or maybe that was the probable concussion. 

“You have potential you are not aware of, and I can help you unlock it,” Wu sipped his tea. 

“What’s this ‘spinjitsu’ gig going to involve? I wanna know what I’m getting into,”

“You would be able to help people. And the world could very much depend on you,”

Do it, something in Jay whispered. He took a breath and put a determined look on his face. “I’ll do it,” he said carefully, “but I need to pack first. And I can’t just run off without telling anyone,”

Wu nodded. “Of course. Meet me here tomorrow at sunrise, and we will start your training,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Wu smiled, picked up his teapot, and walked to the side of the building. When Jay blinked, he had vanished. Stupid cryptid old man and his stupid cryptic messages. 

Jay left the remains of his glider on the rooftop. It was unsalvageable, and Jay figured that he wouldn’t have a use for it anymore. He found his car, shoved the parking ticket into his pocket, and drove home.

The house had lights on when he returned — that wasn’t a good sign. It meant that Dad was back, which meant the argument from yesterday would start again. Great. 

Jay opened the door as quietly as he could, cringing at the creaky noises it made. You would think a multimillionaire celebrity could afford to oil his door hinges, but apparently not. 

Dad was standing in the main hall when Jay turned around.

“Where have you been?” He snapped. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour now.”

Jay scowled and looked at his dad angrily. “I was out.”

“Out doing what? I grounded you,”

“Doing stuff,” 

“You are grounded. You’re not allowed to leave this house.” Dad glared at Jay, but it had lost the intimidation factor years ago.

“Well, I did. And it’s not like you would’ve noticed,” Jay said that last part under his breath, but Dad still caught it. 

“Why wouldn’t I notice?”

“Because you’re never around! There! I said it! You’re never around, you don’t ever know where I am, you don’t care about me!” Jay exploded. “All you care about is your stupid career and fancy house,” Wow, where had all that come from? Jay wasn’t normally very vocal towards his dad. 

“Jason Edward Gordon! Go to your room and don’t look at me until you’ve apologised.” Dad glowered. 

“Well then, I guess I’m not gonna look at you ever again,” Jay spat. He marched up the stairs and slammed the door. 

Cursing under his breath, Jay stomped around the room and looked for his backpack. If he was going to become some sort of ass-kicking vigilante, he’d need supplies. 

Clothes. A couple pairs of socks. Water bottle. Headphones. Tablet. All these items were shoved into a duffel bag — the backpack wasn’t big enough. Though Jay was still bringing the backpack, because it was cool. 

He made a point to be as quiet as possible. Let Dad think he was sulking, when really he was plotting an escape. The old man Wu had said to meet at sunrise, but Jay would have had to pack even if he wasn’t running away, so it didn’t make a difference to do it early. 

Jay looked into his drawers for anything he might want to keep. There probably wouldn’t be any coming back after he left. He found multiple trinkets he’d bring — an old pocket knife, some notebooks, a portable charger. All of those would be useful. 

Digging even further led him to find an old bracelet. It was old and tattered, and the little star charm was banged up, but Jay remembered this bracelet. Cole had given it to him right before he got shipped to boarding school. Jay slipped it into his pocket. 

A bottle of lotion got thrown into the mess that was his bag too, along with a couple books. Jay left his phone. He didn’t want to get tracked, and he rather doubted Wu had Wi-Fi. 

Zipping up the duffle bag and shoving it under his bed proved easy enough. Jay thought about writing a note, but decided not to. Not like Dad would bother reading it. He fell into a dreamless sleep quickly. 

At exactly four o’clock in the morning, Jay’s alarm sounded. He didn’t normally wake up so early, but sacrifices had to be made if he wanted to get to Ninjago City before sunrise. He grabbed his duffle bag and crept down to the kitchen, planning to get a quick breakfast. He didn’t expect his dad to be sitting at the table. 

They made eye contact. Dad opened his mouth, clearly planning to ask what Jay was doing, so Jay spoke first. “I’m leaving,” he said. 

That seemed to stun Dad into silence. “What?” He finally croaked out, face a perfect mask of shock and confusion. 

“I’m leaving,” Jay repeated, “I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

“Why?” 

Jay shuffled his feet. This conversation had not been a part of his plan. “I got an offer,” he decided to say. “I was told that I have potential, and that I could unlock it,”

Dad rose to his feet. “Who?” He demanded. “Who told you that?”

“Just someone,” Jay shrugged.

Dad narrowed his eyes. “Was his name Wu?”

“I— yeah,” Jay admitted. 

“I should have known,” Dad sighed. “Your mother knew him. She always said that you’d have to make a choice, someday. I suppose this is that choice.”

“Mom knew him?”

“I don’t know all the details, but yes. You should go. I think we both need time alone, and it’ll be good for you. Just stay safe,”

“You don’t get to parent me after ten years of forgetting me,” Jay snapped. 

Dad looked at him with sad eyes. “I know,” he said. “I wasn’t cut out to be a parent. If you don’t come back, I understand.”

Jay thought back to his earliest memories. Their relationship hadn’t always been this strained — he could remember good times, with movie nights and silly dance parties and being tucked into bed with a kiss. But he couldn’t find the words to say all that, so instead he said, “I’ll tell you if stuff happens.” An inadequate response, but it would have to do. 

Dad nodded grimly. “You can take the car,”

Jay nodded back and took the keys. He walked out the door, started the car, and didn’t look back. He’d have to drive quickly if he wanted to make it by sunrise.

[beautifulphilosopherbird]

Dungeon Meshi rewatch ep 10 notes

so I always play the intro and outro because I love them so much and another thing caught my eye that might be nothing but is there a reason the women and men are reaching up, with Falin and Laios the ones in the center, and then them grasping hands? it feels meaningful anyway

ah it's the frog costumes ep hahahaha

they've reached the stairs they have to take to reach the 5th basement floor, near the orc's settlement (where the orc leader told them the red dragon was seen, hanging out and causing problems)

but the staircase is filled with tentacles so they can't just stroll down lol

Chilchuck is upset bc the tentacles mess with traps making it even harder to disarm them

KENSUKE SHOOK ALERTING THEM AGAIN but Laios didn't react fast enough and poor Kensuke got SNATCHED by froggy bad froggy let Kensuke go!

LOTS of notes for ep 10 so imma cut it off here

aw bye bye Kensuke (and Marcille's staff is called Ambrosia bye bye Ambrosia)

lol Senshi calling Chilchuck a kid again

he saves the day by using frog skin to wrap his hands so that tentacles don't hurt him smart kid hehe (sorry Chilchuck)

Marcille's weakness as a fashion girlie exposed lol

THEY'VE REACHED THE 5TH FLOOR castle town

lol the frog skin is stuck to them hahaha

(Chilchuck and Senshi's faces tho akjfiashioaghoa they look like Russian dolls help)

Namari gets motion sickness from the return spell portal thingie (bitch, same, that would totally be me, I get motion sickness from walking a little faster lol)

ahhh right right grumpy mcpants works for the "lord of the island" (ig the dungeon is on "his land"?)

hmmmmmmmmmm dwarf mines you say 👀 is that how Senshi got into the dungeon before it officially got discovered?

anyways, he's suggesting to the haughty looking dude to deploy troops in order to take care of the orc "problem"

hm lord haughtypants calls dwarfs "abominable" and says they're like moles

OH LORE ok let's see

so the dwarfs and elves were at war (no reason stated) and

not sure what that means exactly but I'm guessing the elves went to the west and the dwarfs to the east?

the dwarfs hid in the lands (where haughtypants is a lord now ig) and waited for the elves, and even after the war they continued to dig tunnels WHICH ALLEGEDLY SWALLOWED THE GOLDEN CITY AND TURNED IT INTO A DUNGEON wait wasn't that the dark evil crazy magician's work (allegedly)? hmmmmm interesting

he also says that the surviving dwarfs are responsible for the dungeon's continued expansion

grumpy mcpants says (his name is Mr Tansu just in case you think I am using the dumb nickname bc I don't remember) that rumor can't be trusted

ok so he copied a magical circle, I'm guessing before they met Senshi & friends bc afterwards they just bailed right? and it's in elvish, the same individual as before

AHA so his theory is that the crazy evil magician is an elf and these magical circles are his work, interesting (he says the work is beyond the abilities of dwarfs and tall-men)

OH EVEN MORE STUFF wow how did I manage to miss all this I'm such a clown

anyway, the western elves are sending letters now being like "the dungeon is ours we want it back" (well, our "heritage" is what they said, which is interesting bc weren't the king and Delgal tall-men?)

oh EVEN MORE INFO so they won the war with the dwarfs? bc they took the land from them and gave it to humans bc they apparently "didn't know what to do with it" (their king granted it himself even)

this evil magician, if it is an elf the only one I can think of is the crazy eyes elf from the living paintings, so I wonder if it has something to do with him

lordy mcislandpants doesn't want to give them back the island bc he wants the treasure that must still be in the depths of the dungeon lol

MAN we're getting so much lore and theories and everything now, the hamster in my brain is being pushed to his limits

grumpy mcpants says that the elves aren't after the treasure but the immortality spelll that's been cast on the dungeon (that does seem more valuable lol)

he tells mr lord to get his hands on the blueprint of the spell before they do and then he'll finally be treated as an equal, or even their superior

he says the lord of the dungeon possesses it (is that the evil magician or does he mean whoever "beats" the dungeon?), and tells him to keep supporting adventurers and not to cut down prices for hunting monsters etc

oh he'll issue a reward for taking down the orcs (that does not sound good)

ah yeahh I remember, Namari goes to the resurrection office and she asks about Falin (no luck of course)

on the 5th floor, outside the golden castle is the castle town (now abandoned and in ruins)

right, so Laios did mention that the red dragon is supposed to hunt once a month and then sleep until the next hunt but this red dragon has been active nonstop, even going as far as getting the orcs to flee their settlement which Marcille finds odd (but it's also no good for Falin bc she's getting digested faster)

aw cute detail look at Shuro all blushy as he's looking at Falin here hahaha

fun fact: the weak spot of a dragon is the underside of his neck

there she goes again saying her protective magic isn't as powerful as Falin's. She was the best in school, right? It's making it seem like something either happened to her or the school didn't have any good students in it hahaha I mean, I don't really have anyone else to compare her to (besides Falin who is apparently better than her in everything magic related) so I can't tell if it's just normal for her not to be able to do this stuff or what.

ALSO not me just realising Falin is a tall-(wo)man and aren't tall-men supposed to be weaker in magic than elves by default? hm

listening to their plan of trapping the dragon now after I know what happens makes me think that they should have known this wouldn't work out. they're all humanfailures

hmmmm I don't think anyone has mentioned this before but where are dragons normally bc apparently not on the 5th floor lol my guess is lower? hm does that mean something chased it up, like the orcs were chased up by the dragon WAIT IS WHAT SENSHI WAS TALKING ABOUT ACTUALLY HAPPENING????? Did something fuck up the ecosystem? 👀

Senshi guarding his special knife hehehe

and oop the red dragon is here

random screengrabs:

them in Mr Tansu's imagination tho LOL

Idk about you but I ship Senshi x bread 100%

same Chilchuck, same

paused and laughed

his timing is impeccable truly I love him

[thelustybraavosimaid]

...

....

.....

I want to specifically talk about book!Jon here because I'm pretty sure this person doesn't know a goddamn thing about Jon in the books or his personality to even remotely reach this conclusion. I'm, quite frankly, confused at this response. So I'd like to provide some quotes:

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. (Jon XII, ASoS)

If a child was something Jon had always wanted, as is clearly stated here, why would he force Ygritte to get rid of his own kid?

Let's not pretend like he doesn't love her, either. Was the beginning of their relationship dubious? Absolutely. But he did love her:

"Yes." His voice was thick. "First we'll live."

She grinned at that, showing Jon the crooked teeth that he had somehow come to love. Wildling to the bone, he thought again, with a sick sad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand, and wondered what Ygritte would do if she knew his heart. (Jon V, ASoS)

--

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body...and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted.

...

"Who is Ygritte?" Donal Noye asked pointedly.

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat. "She's with Styr, but she's not...she's young, only a girl, in truth, wild, but she..." She killed an old man for building a fire. His tongue felt thick and clumsy. The milk of the poppy was clouding his wits. "I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but..." It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her... (Jon VI, ASoS)

And he did mourn her.

Though Maester Aemon said his wound was healing well, Jon bore other scars, deeper than the ones around his eye. He grieves for his wildling girl, and for his brothers. (Samwell IV, ASoS)

--

She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander's Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon's heart leapt into his mouth. "Ygritte," he said. (Jon VI, ADwD)

It goes without saying that Jon is one of the most progressive protagonists in the series. He:

•despises rape,

•advocates for those perceived "weaker" for not fitting the typical Westerosi gender standards (i.e. Sam and Satin),

•breaks the mould of Night's Watch traditions for hundreds of years by allowing freefolk men and women ages twelve and up to join.

Jon Snow values bodily autonomy.

Moreover:

Burning dead children had ceased to trouble Jon Snow; live ones were another matter. Two kings to wake the dragon. The father first and then the son, so both die kings. The words had been murmured by one of the queen's men as Maester Aemon had cleaned his wounds. Jon had tried to dismiss them as his fever talking. Aemon had demurred. "There is power in a king's blood," the old maester had warned, "and better men than Stannis have done worse things than this." The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames. (Jon I, ADwD)

--

Once outside and well away from the queen’s men, Val gave vent to her wroth. "You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter…her face…"

"Greyscale."

"The grey death is what we call it."

"It is not always mortal in children."

"North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago."

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. "Princess Shireen is the queen’s only child."

"I pity both of them. The child is not clean.”

"If Stannis wins his war, Shireen will stand as heir to the Iron Throne."

"Then I pity your Seven Kingdoms."

"The maesters say greyscale is not—"

"The maesters may believe what they wish. Ask a woods witch if you would know the truth. The grey death sleeps, only to wake again. The child is not clean!"

"She seems a sweet girl. You cannot know—"

"I can. You know nothing, Jon Snow.” Val seized his arm. “I want the monster out of there. Him and his wet nurses. You cannot leave them in that same tower as the dead girl.”

Jon shook her hand away. "She is not dead."

"She is. Her mother cannot see it. Nor you, it seems. Yet death is there." She walked away from him, stopped, turned back. "I brought you Tormund Giantsbane. Bring me my monster."

"If I can, I will.”

"Do. You owe me a debt, Jon Snow.”

Jon watched her stride away. She is wrong. She must be wrong. Greyscale is not so deadly as she claims, not in children. (Jon XI, ADwD)

Not to mention the conversation he has with Tormund:

"You are a free man now, and Ygritte is a free woman. What dishonor if you lay together?"

"I might get her with child."

"Aye, I'd hope so. A strong son or a lively laughing girl kissed by fire, and where's the harm in that?"

Words failed him for a moment. "The boy...the child would be a bastard."

"Are bastards weaker than other children? More sickly, more like to fail?"

"No, but—"

"You're bastard-born yourself. And if Ygritte does not want a child, she will go to some woods witch and drink a cup o' moon tea. You do not come into it, once the seed is planted."

"I will not father a bastard."

Tormund shook his shaggy head. "What fools you kneelers be. Why did you steal the girl if you don't want her?"

"Steal? I never..." (Jon II, ASoS)

So with that in mind, why would he force a woman of the freefolk — a group of people he had come to appreciate, and his first love — to drink moon tea? If she wanted to, she'd do it herself. But he would not force her. That is not how the freefolk work and Jon knows it.

[manda-kat]

Precious baby Jenna! I think this is the most intentional character design I've ever made. So let me ramble a bit about her.

Jenna is Micah's twin and the two of them are both new dragon riders hailing from a proud family of dragon slayers. While Micah despises the idea of teaming up with a dragon, Jenna actually loves dragons and wants to disown the idea of dragon slaying entirely.

So for Jenna's design, I focused on the following:

Each character has their own signature element, related to the element of their dragon partner. Jenna's element is sky, so she has a lot of blue, she has long flowing hair, round edges, archery as a fighting style, ribbons, and- something I noticed while drawing and decided to emphasize a bit later- a flight-attendant-esque outfit. Like wind, sky, storms and rain, Jenna is a free spirit, but her preppy style implies that she's putting on appearances and not fully embracing that personality.

She is woefully underprepared for this new lifestyle. Jenna has no armor, is wearing a skirt, has little buckle-on shoes with no socks, her hair is down, her bows are in the way. Every utility-based item she has is in the same dark gray featured in Micah's belts.

This basically spells it out that Jenna didn't actually pack that stuff herself and Micah is the one adjusting her gear so she doesn't die. Since she'll be riding a dragon, she is now wearing thick, protective leggings that don't really match the rest of her outfit. She didn't want to bring her weapon at all, but Micah insisted. The bow is dark and has little to link it to her character. It represents the violence that Jenna despises, but like it or not, she must carry and learn to use for the protection of others. The quiver is just thrown around her waist with the only added detail being a bow she added after the fact just to keep it from being depressing.

There is a lot of room to grow. Jenna's final design at the end of her story would be more put-together, confident and prepared for action. Right now she's a teenaged girl trying to live her dream without really knowing the details of that lifestyle and I really think it shows! I hope I design more characters like her.

Bonus for her twin brother's design:

Micah's element is fire, but at this point he won't be flaunting that the way Jenna already is. His hair and cape give a bit of fire imagery, but that's mostly it. Fire is the most dragon-like element and he doesn't want anything to do with it. Red is still his color, connecting him more to that violence that Jenna is running from. For Micah, being able to fight and protect is the most important trait for a person to have and if he fails in that regard, he's nothing. The red is smothering him. It's something he carries for someone else rather than something he owns and wears proudly.

Just like Jenna, he is unprepared. While she forgot essential supplies and dressed for fashion rather than function, Micah remembered his armor and gear. However, the gear isn't suited to him specifically. Everything he is wearing is a hand-me-down from his father and grandfather. Key parts of the golden armor are missing, which implies he couldn't find a way to fit into the whole set and had to just settle for the pieces he could adjust. The sword is nearly as tall as he is and is way too big for him. Instead of finding a more reasonable weapon, he stubbornly sticks to the family relic, insisting that if it worked for the previous generations, it'll work for him.

Micah's round chin and freckles just make him look so young. He's way too much of a kid to realize the severity of being a dragon slayer.

I think Jenna's design has more thought behind it, but I love the twins together. Their eyes match, but their hair and skin helps keep them separate. Jenna is slightly darker, implying a tan. Like she actually goes outside and does things on her own, while Micah hides indoors and avoids actually living. Micah's blond hair matches his mother, but Jenna's hair has red in it, which neither of their parents have, which marks her as an outcast in the family. She's also taller and comes across as more mature than her brother, despite them being twins.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Monkie Kid

season 4

episode 1

knox reaction

HECK

L- help that’s so funny i just started typing this and my youngest bro came up to me and went “shouldn’t you be watching monkie kid?” THE TIMING WAS IMPECCABLE I’M ON THE FLOORBG;SAKMF;AWLEF

ANYWAY HE’S RIGHT I SHOULD BE

I HAVE BEEN SITTING HERE SINCE EIGHT THIRTY AND IT’S ONE NOW AND EVERY TIME I THOUGHT ABOUT WATCHING I’D GET SO HYPE IT FELT LIKE I WAS GONNA IMPLODE BUT HECK IT HECK IT WE BALL, LETS ROLL I’M READY TO SCREAM AND CRY AND SOB AND WHAT THE HECK AM I GETTING IN FOR-

man i love this show this is insane

ALRIGHT

guys I haven’t even opened the file pls it’s just sitting there i’m cryiNGBG;ALAWFIAMWF

OKAY

OKAY I CAN DO THIS

(ajr bang song music) HERE WE G O

opened the file. I have accepted there’s no way i’m going to be normal about any of this

can i just say tho i’m impressed how quickly we got the english episodes season 3 was waiting months and avoiding spoilers was like walking through a minefield- wdym no i’m not stalling

HECK OKAY STARTING HERE WE GO

i have closed discord no longer distracted

OH GODS I PRESSED PLAY I;MGNSDF;LKMAFAWGBA;IOWMF

THEMESONG WTHEME SONG I’M GOINT GBDFBSALKFMA;OWIABG;IWEMF;AMF

so

I have

seen the theme that was shared last month but

oh man i am

i am still not normal

I

GUYS ITS GBSDFB;AWKMEFFL

CAN I PLS JUST

THE BEGINNING?? PLS??? THE GOING THROUGH VICTORIES THEY’VE HAD, THE LBD ONE I’M BGSDF;MAWOIEFMAF

AND NOW EVERYONE’S GOT THEIR JTTW COUNTERPARTS/PAST LIVES BEHIND THEM AND I AM MENTALLY ILL WHY IS EVERYTHING THIS SHOW DOES SO FREAKING PRETTY PLS I’M GBSDFLK;MA;GOINWFAMF AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

sorry going through it frame by frame we’ll be here a while I try and make it quick

I love how Zhu Bajie is holding a kitchen knife sir still cooks 10/10, hecking desert for Tang with ruins and HMBGSLDKFMAWEF SANDY, SANDY MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED, ALL THE SKELTONS IN THE BACKGROUND WITH HIM AND THE WILD RED HAIR DESIGN FOR SHA WUJING GIVES ME LIFE, MEI WITH THE DRAGON PALACE BEHIND HER I’M IN TEARS, AND THEN WE GET TO THE MONKEYS, AND THE SCROLL WINDING AROUND IN THE BACKGROUND I SWEAR IF THIS IS TIME TRAVEL, OR DELVING INTO SWK’S MEMORIES, OR GOING INTO THE BOOK I’M FLIPPING TABLES I HAVE SO MANY GUESSES AND I’M SURE NONE OF THEM ARE RIGHT SWK AND MAC HELLO DISASTER MONKEYS YOUR’E BEAUTIFUL HIS HAT HIS HAT I’M GONNA CRYGBLSAE;KFMAWEF

as you can see I am perfectly normal about this show LEGO Monkie Kid

lion fella looking at swk, hi you can tell the lion dude is a fave the way he’s drawn no fr literally just in the theme song he is so shaped, i’m sure he’s great but SWK BELOVED WITH HIS MONKEYS |;A;/ PLS THE SWORN BROTHERS ALL LAUGHING AND MESSING AND SWK LOOKING PASSED OUT ON THE TABLE PLS I’MGBNSDFLKAMWEO DBK’S SMILE FACING OFF AGAINST THE HELPGNDFL WITH NEZHA THERE AND AAAAAAAAAAAA MAC THERE AND AAAAAAAA

we’re cool we’re normal, i remember someone saying this was supposed to be like a filler season not so plot heavy or something, i call cap this is gonna emotionally destroy me i can already feel it

MK GETS LI’LL MECH IT LOOKS LIKE IT TELAPORTED THERE THAT MIGHT JUST BE FOR THE THEME SONG BUT THAT WOULD BE AWESOME IF HE LEARNS HOW TO DO THAT HELLO??

new outfits new outfits new outfits NEW OUTFITS NEW FITS NEW FITS NEW FITS

TANG GETTING A HAND OF HIS BUBBLE SPELL, PIGSY HYPE PIGSY HYPE PIGSY STANS WHERE WE AT, NAH I LOVE THIS DUDE SM, FATHER OF THE YEAR only Sandy could  smile that brightly standing on a pile of bones and skulls i swear MY MANS WEARING HALF A SHIRT PLS BGS;LFKMAW;EOFIM

so hear me out, theory moment, all this dark looking fools with blue eyes, i swear they look like ink, ink from a book perhaps? maybe i book they get thrown into HECK IF I KNOW I’M JUST SO HYPED I SWEAR I’M SHAKING THEY HAVE THEIR WEAPONS HBGBSDF;AMWOEIMF SCREAAAMSSS fighting evil ink clones of their past lives? MK FACING OFF AGAINST MONKEY OFC I JUST AM SO FREAKING EXCITED I CANTBGL;SDFMAOI;EWFMASLKFAWOIEMKDSF

the jttw crew looks so freaking dope i love them

gosh this show’s animation is just FLYING BARK YOU HAVE MY ENTIRE SOUL NOTHING BUT MAD RESPECT AND GRATEFULNESS FOR MAKING THIS HIGH QUALITY OF ANIMATION

okay okay theme song over, i managed to have that only take up like… less space than ses 3 I’M DOING GOOD SEE GSDBFA;LKFMEWOFIAMFKLAF

okay actual episode time I’m gonna cry when i hear any of them i’mgbkl;fma;owef

oh ohhh hello hellloooooo hello mysterious swooshy beginning hiiii

OH OH

IS THIS

THIS LOOKS LIKE THE UNDERWORLD

HELLO??

ALL THE LITTLE FLOATY LIGHTS IS THIS THE UNDERWORLD??? DEATH?? HI? ????

i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal i’m normal

that’s a dope fit dude, i’m biased towards sick hoods tho i will say, looks like he has like an arrow on the back of his hand whats that i feel like i’m being presumptious assigning this dude as he- OH COME ON THAT’S SO DOPE THAT’S SUCH A COOL HEBGSFLKMAIOWEJFIAMFMMF HELLO ROOM FULL OF SPINNY THINGS IS THAT THE DEATH NAME BOOK\???? AAAAA

i’m jumping ahead might not be the underworld at all i could be wrong AAAAAAASCREAMSNGBSLK;DFMAWEF

SIR THE VIOLENCE OF THAT SPIN LIKE, THE HECKING FORCE OF SOMETHING LOOKING SO EASY AND IT SHAKES THE WHOLE FLOOR IS SOMETHING ALRIGHT I’M BGDS;LFMA;OEWF

AAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

STIMMING STIMMING CHILLS I CAN’T TYPE I’M TOO BUSY STIMMINGBGFSDL;JFMA;WE SCREAMSNBSGSDKFLM SCREAMSBGSKMDFLM HELGGBBSKAMW;EF AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

nice transition i love this show i’m in pieces GLOWY LETTERS ITS THEY ITS THEM WHAT DOES THIS MEEEAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

DOUBLE SNAKE

oh we have old lego people now hello gents NAH BUT THEIR BACKGROUND CHARACTER DESIGN IS ALWAYS SO FIRE

the trio of grandma’s my beloveds

PLS I CAN’T BEILEVE HOW DISGRUNTLED THIS ONE PERSON LOOKS AT BEING THROWN INTO THE AIR BGSLKF;MAWEMIF

have

kay

so so

so sooo so hey hi hello hi there i

i am smiling

so big rn sir

the grandmas mk MK

MK

MY BOY

MY LAD

MY MAN

IT HE

I ADORE

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ITS HE

So i really love this funky monkie man, i adore him, he is serotonin, he is everything, he is so wonderful

OKAY AND THE SNAKES EXPRESSION IS SO FUNNY PLS, JUST *SWEATS* MASSIVE STAFF MY LAD IS DOING SO WELL I’MGBSDALKFMAWE

VOICE I

I NEED TO PRESS PLAY AGAIN I WANT TO HEAR HIM I WANTBG;LSDFMAWE I LOVE THIS FREAKING SHOW SOMEBDOY SEDATE ME BGDS;LFKMA;WEF

POWERFUL

HE IS BUT A LAD

HE IS T H E  LAD

“GOOD MORNING LADIES”

PLS

PLS

PLS

PLS

PLS

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND PLSBGB;SDFMA;OWIEFMAWENASNGWIEMFKSMF

HIS SMILE

HISBGSLKFMAWE

GOOD MORNIGN MK

WHAT A SWEETIE

PLS

ADOPTED GRANDMAS THANK YOU

MISS LADIES GM

I’M

I’M GOING TO START SOBBING I SWEAR HE IS EVERYHTINGBFMAOIAWJE;FAGBAEFMASF

POWERFUL LAD

HE IS NOTHING BUT VIBINGBSDF;LKAMWE

SELFIE

PLS HE’S TAKING SELFIES WITH THE GRANDMAS I’M BGSLFKM;AWE

THE BLEP

PLS

PLS HE’S SO WONDERFUL I AM NORMAL ABOUT THIS CHARACTER I SWEAR

JIN AND YIN

THE LADS

nice caps mates y’all stylin this season 10/10

OH THEIR SNAKE NICE

HELPGNSLFKMWE HAS THE STAFF

STILL TAKES THE VEHICLE

WHOAH

WHAT THE

SEARPENT SHEARS

FANCY

OH THEY’RE SO FANCY TODAY

THOSE ARE MASSIVE

PLS

MMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

MA’AM OF MY HEART

FIRE OF MY HEART

GIRL OF MY WORLD

WHAT WORDS BELVOED

BELOVED

SHE’S STYLIN IN A SHIP

PLS

PLS IT’S ALWAYS BREAKING DOWN

HER LAUGH

HER LAUGH IS EVERYHTINGSKFLSDMF

:O

PRETTY NEW ROBE

OHH HELLO? HOW’D THEY GET HIS RING???

WHERE’D YOU GET ALL THESSENL;GMAWEF-

w wait

wait did they get them from monkey kings place? because if so that’d be really funnybGLKAMWEF

OKAY NAH THO THE “that we’ve SOMEHOW managed to steal” LIKE THEY DON’T KNOW HOW THEY DID IT EITHER I KNOW IT’S WRITING BUT ITS STILL SO FUNNY PLS BGS;LKFMWEA;IOFM

JUST THROWING THINGS

NOT EVEN USING THEM AS WEAPONS

JUST TOSSING THINGS

HELPGNSDLKFMWE

ESPLOSION

MEIIII

EMJIGNSFLKWEM

AAAAAAAAAAAA

CAN

I’M SO HYPE

PLS

LAD GETS A PERSONAL MECH

I’M GONNA CRY

LOOK HOW GOOD HE IS

nNICE CATCH MONKEY MAN

CAUGHT

SNATCHED

NOTHING DOING

EASY MEAL

RIP

BUGGAR

PLS

TEAM ATTACK

I’M GONNA CRY

YOU DID NOT NEED TO DESTROY THAT WHOLE BUIDLIGN PLS BGSLFMKAWE

AWAAA AAA PLLSSSS

THE CITY BEING HAPPY ABOUT HIM I’M

YES

DARN RIGHT

WONDER HOW LONG THAT’LL LAST I’M SORRYGBSF;KMAWEFMAS

SO MANY GRANNIES IN THIS SEASON AND I APPROVE

nice landing mates bG;ALKWEFM

COME ON THEIR SO SILLY AND EPIC I LOVE THEM SM MEI AND MK THE DUO EVER

g

get

pls its so easy

get BRICKEDBGSLKWEMF

GET BRIKED GET IT CAUSE

BRICK

ON HEAD

pls don’t kill me i’m doing my bestbG;LWAMERF;OAWEF

little groUP HUG

THE TIME FOR HUGS IS OVERGHLSKF

OH??

THEIR MANAGER????

THEIR MANAGER?????????

MK WERE U GONNA KILL THOSE SUCEKRS??

HELPGNSLFKMAWEF

IS THAT THEIR MOM OR AUNT OR SOMETHING??

DANG

AWAAA PLS

“i wasn’t ACTUALLY gonna slice and dice em i just thought we looked cool and edgy” actually your honour i adore him and he’s never done anything wrong in his life and he should get all of the hugs and money and everything in the world

MEI MY BELOVED

TAKING SELFIES

PLS

PLS THAT’S SO FUNNYGBSDFLKAWMEF

mans ready for edgy, i’m ready mei i can feel it its my emo goth girl phase

THEY HAVE PILES FOR DIFFERENT THREAT LEVELSGNSLDKFM PLS

;-;

my lad

my lad is so trauma

pls

he’s so traumatized

pls he needs therapy

I love him i’m so concernedbG;LKAWEF

SIR

SIR PLS

SHE’S CONCERENED

JUNK IN TRUNK

.

*looks at my bricked joke*

I

I can’t even judge him i do the same thing plsBGL;AKMEF

am

am i an Mk kinniebG;LKEWF;ONAWEIOFMWE IGNORE THAT MOVING ON WBK PROBABLYGBSL;FKMWAEF

IS HE OKAY?????

SIR????

ARE YOU ALRIGHT????

I DON’T THINK YOU ARE ALRIGHT

PIGSY

HELPGNBSLF;KMAWE

HELP I’M

PLS

PLS I’M GONANGBSADLKFMAW;EOF HEGBKLSFMEMFK WBGBS;LKDFA;WEIMF

WHEEZINGNSFKLMSDF

OH GODS WE’RE HALF DONE I’MBGBSDFLKAEW

PLS IT’S PIGSY

HE’S NOT EVEN PRETENDING TO DILVIER NOODLES ANYMROE

I’M NGONGDSLFAMOI;WEFMAFKH;GOIAWFEJE

STILL USES THE VEHICLE THO

i am

so in love with everything about this show pls

my concern for mk grows ARE YOU OKAY GOING BY YORUSELF?? ISSUES WITH THE MONKEY ?? ARE YOU OKAY?? TRUAMA AT THE MOUNTAIN?>? DEISAGREEMENTS WITH MONKEY KING STILL?? ARE THINGS AWKARD??? I’M SO CURIOUS PLS BGSLKFMAWEF PLS PLSGBSDLKFMWE

PLS DON’T STILL BE MAD AT HIIIMMMMMMMM

HE’S DOING HIS BEST MK PLS I’LL ONLY ACCEPT THIS OUTOCME IF THIS WHOLE SEASON IS JUST EXPLORING MONKEY KINGS TRUAMA ADN THEY ALL GO “OH TAHT’S WHY HE’S LIKE THIS” OKAY OKAY MOVING ON I’M PROBABLY WRONG I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCHGBSDFLKAEW

i have

to pause this

every time

i hear one of their voices

every time

W WONDERFULGBDSFLKAMWE

I

MONKEY

MONKEY

IT HE

ITS HIM

IT IS THE MONKEY EVER

THE ONE AND ONLY

THE ABSOLUTE BEST MONKEY OF ALL TIME

THE MOMST TRUAMA

SIR HAS SO MUCH JUNK PLSBGSL;FM

I

I am so normal you guys I’m so normal about hearing Monkey King Mei Pigsy and Mk’s voices i’m so normal bG;LAWMEF;EWAMF

aALL THE LITTLE MONKEYSNGLKSFE

HELPGNDSLFKMAWEF

NEZHA’S GONNA FLIP WHEN HE HEARS I HAVE THISBGS;LKFMAWEAKGM NOT GONNA RETURN IT? I MEAN FINDERS KEEPERS RIGHT-

OH HE STYLIN

MATE HE STYLIN MONKEY KING IN CAPES BRUH THERE AIN’T NO OTHER

I’M

PLS

PLS

HE’S SO

PLS

ITS THE MONKEY GUYS WHAT ELSE DO I SAY

ITS HIM

WHEN IW AS YOUR AGEBGLD;FMA;WEFOIMAWEF

I’M

PLS

HE’S SO

HE IS

SO

SO

YES

I’M

I’M SO NORMAL I LOVE HIM

SIR SEEMS A BIT DETATCHED STILL OH YEAH SAVING PEOPLE YES THAT IS A THING YOU ALSO DO I REMEMBER PEOPELGBSLF;MAKWEF AND GIVING HIM PRAISE YES, PRAISE THE LAD TELL HIM HOW GOOD HE’S DOING DESERVED PLS I’MGBSDF;LKMAWE

SWINGING YOUR BIG OL TAIL AROUND TO GET WHAT YOU WANTED-

he is

so important to me you guys I have such brainrot over this monkey pls bGLKAMWEFAF

I WAS GOING TO SAY MAKING REGRETABLE LIFE CHOICES BUT BGS;LKFMA;WEFAG;WOAIEMFAWEF

I

y you

kinda already done

more for this world that i ever

;-;

pls

i’m

|;-;/

|;A;/

monk e y

OH MK PLS WDYM

OH

OH WE

WE PLAYING THE BLAME GAME ARE WE

OH THEY’RE BOTH SO TRUAMATIZED AND MENTALLY ILL

THEY BOTH NEED THERAPY SO BAD

MONKEY KING BLAMING YOURSELF FOR IT ISNT’ GONNA HELP MK STOP BLAMING HIMSELF PLS MONKEY SEE MONKEY DO THEY WOULD HAVE FOUND WHAT THEY NEEDED ANYWAY PLS, MK IF YOU HADN’T SHOWN UP THEY WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE STAFF STRAIGHT AWAY, LBD CLEARLY ALREADY HAD THE KEY THE MAYOR HAD IT, AND COME ON COME OOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN MK PLS YOU GOTTA JUMP THROUGH SOME SERIOUS HOOPS TO SELF BLAME FOR THIS

i mean his teacher’s p good at doing that too it seems but BGLA;KMEF;OAWEF SHAKES THEM BOTH

YOU HECKING MENTALLY ILL MONKEYS

i adore them hanging out they mean everything to me I’m adoring how chill this starts out i feel like i’m about to be hit by a train of some kind bGLK;MAWEF

“come on bud you gotta learn to let that suff go” AND RISK LOOKING LIKE HE’S IRRESPONCIBLE AND DOESN’T CARE AT ALL LIKE YOU??? THIS IS A CHALLANGE SORRY I’M THINKING ABOUT MONKEY KINGS TRUAMA AND HOW BEING ALOOF AND LIKE HE DOESNT’ CARE HSA GOTTA BE THE ONLY WAY HE CAN LIVE WITH ALL THE STUFF THAT HE DID AND THE STUFF THAT WAS DONE TO HIM OKAY I’M NORMAL I’M NORMAL

BELIEVE ME I WASN’T ALWAYS THE EASIESTMKML

WHAT

BUT YOUR’E SO CUTE AND CHEEKY

PLS

PLS

MONKEYGBSDLFK;AW;OEFMAGH;IAOWENBG;OIWAEMF

“i know right??” PLS

PLS SIR

UR HONOUR I WILL NOW ONLY EVER DESCRIBE MONKEY KING AS CUTE AND CHEEKY /J /J /J

THE POINT IS

oh hi

hello

nah tho that’s

actually p decent advice ngl

<— number one rule is “leave it better than you found it” in dealing with everything

STILL GOTTA RECOVER FROM THE MESSUPS THO MONKEY KING

I CAN SEE WHY HE’S BEING LIGHT ABOUT IT-IS THAT THE MONA LISA BGS;JDLAKFMNA;WGB;OIAWEM;AWOEG;OIWEFGGBIO;MEF

MK HAVING TROUBLE

I’M GONNA CRY

IT WON’T

OH

OH

OH THAT FACE

OH NO THAT FACE HE MADE

PLS

MONKEY KING SIR

SUN WUKONG

MAN

OH MAAAAAN

THAT FACE

SERIOUSLY THIS DUDE

MAKES SUCH

SPICIFIC FACES WHEN MK ISN’T LOOKING

WHERE ITS JUST

SO MOURNFUL

AND UNDERSTANDING LIKE FEELS THAT

FLYING BARK YOU ABSOLUTE MAD LADS YOUR EXPRESSIONS WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME

FOREVERS A LONG TIME BUD

TRUST ME

I AM

MENTALLY UNWELL YOU GUYS

I AM SO VERY MENTALLY UNWELL

man cleaning up together ;-;

WELP

.

THAT’S AWKWARD

FIRST OFF CALLED IT, CALLED IT THAT THEY’D FIND SOMETHIGN WHILE CLEANING HIS PLACE I SO CALLED IT I WAS SO RIGHT

gosh that was some PANIK from mr. the king

OH MAN IT WAS SO CHILL FOR A HOT SECOND

SCREAMSGNSLDKMAWEF

OH I’M

GOTTA BREATH HANG ON I’M NOT CHILL I’M LSOING IT

YOU DID A THING

HIDING BEHIND MONKEY KING PLS

OH BOY

OH BOYYYYYYYYY

SO HANG ON

WHAT IS THISBGSL;DKFMAWE

AAAAA

WAHT IS AGHSJFLKAWEFN;GANLE;AWFKEKMLAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SCREAMS

MONKKEY KING SNATCHING HIM GETTING HIM OUT O FTHE WAY AT THE SPEED OF SOUND

OKAY OKAY

SO INK CREATURES

FROM BOOK I WAS RIGHT

SWK WHYAAAAAAAAAAAA

SCREAMINGBNFLAMWEF

AAAAAAA

GOING THROUGH

WHAT

HOLY

WHAT THE CRAP IS

HAPPEN

OH MY GODS

OH MUY GODS WHAS I WRIGBSDLGN;WAELNMWAKEMRFWEMAIEWMGAAA

AAAAAAA

THING ABOTU IT BEING A BOKGHNSG

I’M NOT NORMAL I’M LOSING IT GUYS

ITS

ITS A BOOK OF TRUAMA I SWEAR

LISTEN TO THAT I’M LSOING IT

EVERYBODY YELLING AT HIM LBD LAUGHING WUKONG IS FROZEN ITS THE SAME CLIP FROM WHEN MEI WAS YELLING AT HIM TRUAMA MONKE TRUAMA MONKEY OH OH THIS SEASON IS GOING TO KILL ME I’M GOINT TO DIE I’M GOING TO PERSIH THISBGSLKMA;GH;OIWFMAWEOIFHA;AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

TRIPITAKA VOICE SHUT THE FREKAKNDFKLWE UPPPPPP NOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAA

SCREAMS THE BABY MONKEYS NOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

MK READY TO FIGHT

NOOOOO

THE

NOOOOOOOO

BBY MONKEYS

OH MAN

first of

bird guy

fire looking

that animation ??

that composition?? hot dang buddy flying bark is off the rails

secondly

SCREAMS

ITS LITERALLY A BOOK OF SWK’S WORST MOMENTS IT LOOKS LIKE, WAS I RGHT WAS I RIGHT WAS I RIGHT THERE’S NO WAY THERE’S NO WAY IW ASBGNLSAFKMAW HE’S GONNA GET PULLED IN ISN’T HE

MONKEY KINGS GONNA GET PULLED IN I SWEAR IF HE GETS PULLED IN

I’M LSOING IT I’M LOSING IT SCREAMING

SWK VS HIS TURAMA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

TEY

I’M

HOLY CRAP

HOLY WAHT THE FBGDFNKSMA;AWOEGB;OAIWEFMKMSDFKMSDF

HE GOT FREAKINGB

I’LL FIGURE OUT AND ITS CRYING

HE’S CRYINGLKFDMSF

I AM NEVER OKAY EVER A DAY IN MY LIFE I HATE IT WHEN I’M RIGH AND HE SEALED THEM IN HE SEALED HIM

OH MY FREAKINGN TRUAMA

FREE TRUAMA

FREE TRUAMA FOR EVERYBODY

.

.

.

.

inhales

I am mentally unwell

fake composed

hello good evening

I WAS FREAKING RIGHT ABOUT THE SCROLL I’M GOING TO FREAKING IMPLODE RIGHT THS SECONDHGNLKSAMDF AAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

SCREAMSING

FLIPPING TABLES

RUNNING AROUND

THROWING CHAIRS

RUNNING OUTSIDE

THROWING MYSELF IN THE SNOW

LOSING IT

I AM LOSING IT

I AM SBGLS;KMSBG;OWAIEMNGABGA;OWEIFNA;OEWIBHG;OAIWG;B;OUINFAOIWEBGUIONMG;OIAWEMF;AWGO;IUFN;OIDRQWEJOIJG;OAIERWJF;BG;OWAEIJFOIJEF;LMF;OERGH;OLFMAO;WEIJF;OERGJ;OERHGOA;WEIMFOWGHEWAIOMFERWOGHWAEFJOEWAIMFORIJAG;WOIR

okay so that was

sure something

that was

SURE SOMETHING

THAT SURE WAS SOMETHING HUH

THAT SURE WAS

SOMETHING

WHAT DO I DO WITH MYSELF AFTER THAT

HEKCING

SCREAMS

SWK JUST

THAT WAS A GOODBYE

THAT WAS HIMSAYING GOODBYE

SIR REALLY WENT

WELP

THINGS CAN’T LAST

NICE KNOWING YOU

STUFF ALWAYS CATCHES UP

DO WHAT YOU GOTTA BYEEE

FR THIS DUDE

READY TO DIE

READY TO SEAL HIMSELF INSIDE

WAHT LOOKS LIKE HIS NIGHTMARES AND ALL HIS WORST MISTAKES FOREVER HUH

FR HUH HIM AND HIS MONKEYS JUST GONE

AND THERE ENDS THE LEGEND OF THE MONKEY KING SUN WUKONG GREAT SAGE EQUAL TO HEAVEN

FREAKNBGBGBSLKF;MAWEO;IFAGB;OIAWEFM;WOIAN;SAFMLSKDFDSF

AND I HAVE TO WAIT FOR MORRREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Y’all mk is so freaking traumatized the Lad needs therapy asap he just got out of a traumatizing experience and he just watched his mentor get engulfed in freaky ink and THAT

THAT

“some monsters can never change”

“you make a couple of mistakes in your life and no one ever lets you live it down”

“you’ve done more for this world that i ever have”

YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME

HIS FACE

WHEN THAT INK STUFF IS GETTING HIM

HIS FACE THE WHOLE TIME

SO IN THE THEME SONG

HE IS FIGHTING MONKEY KING

HE IS SO IN THE THEME SONG

SO

YOUUUUU

YOU HEKCING

MONKIE CREW DIRECTIORS PEOPEL I LOVE YOU I WANT TO THROW HANDS I’M SCREAMIGNFBGFNAKWEFMAGN;OAIWEMF

THAT

oh yeah so

this season is

probably going to destroy me more than 3 did. 4 is probably going to be my favourite i’m calling it now, we’re dealing with monkey kings past trauma and depending on how its handled this will easily become my favourite welp here we go i’m ready to die bring it the heck on perishment here i come

ahem yes uh

thank you for coming to knox reacts today… uh we will be back with… more reactions when I get… more eps… in english i

i

all that dialogue that came out of the ink guys come on

THE MACAQUE SCREAM?????????????

THE LOOK ON WUKONGS FACE???

THE LBD LAUGH????????????

I AM

HOLY CRAPGBSESHGBWABG;WA4IEUONAEWFM

“Monkey! No violence.”

“NO!”

I’M SCREAMING

THE STREAK OF INK ON MK’S HAND FROM REACHING FOR THE MONKEYS

excuse me i need to go scream into a pillow nice having you here godspeed if you read all the way you’re as insane as i am i’m gonna go perish now or i’ll be keysmashing here all day have a good one SCREAMSBGS;LMAW;OGBWAEF

we get to see mk still having truama and trouble from the previous season you guys MONKEY KING’S PAST POPPING UP IN A MORE EMOTIONAL WAY AND YOU CAN SEE IT DANCING ON HIM PUSING HIM INTO THE GROUND MY GOOD SIR THIS IS LITERALLY EVERYTHING I COULD EVER WHAT I

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Remember

Agi remembers those she lost during the Calamity as she watches the fireworks she helped organize for the Rising. SFW.

As Agnes Currai Varlineau watched the fireworks for the Rising in Limsa, several images flashed through her mind.

Fishing with Da in Costa del Sol. Mum’s happy face seeing what we caught.

Family dinners…

Lewson, Purple, Yararu, H’nadia, and I playing on the beach as kids.

The last time I saw Lewson…waving goodbye as I set off on another adventuring job…

Neila, Brash Waves, and Mauritenne celebrating my twentieth nameday in Limsa with Mum and Da.

Neila’s last letter being delivered the day I buried her, Brash, and Mauritenne…

“Agi? You okay?” Her husband rumbled softly, hand on the small of her back.

She blinked and then smiled at Estinien. “Just remembering, love.”

Da.

Lewson.

Neila.

Brash.

Mauritenne.

I hope I’m making you all proud.

I carry you with me in my heart wherever I go.

For so long as I remember, you’re still with us.

The hand on her back moved to her hip, pulling her closer. Agnes closed her eyes and rested her head against the elezen’s shoulder. As he placed a kiss on her dark red hair, she could feel the dull ache in her heart (that always appears when it’s the Rising) fade. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and wrapped an arm around his narrow waist. “I love you.”

“As I ever love you, sweet girl.” He rubbed her hip and gave her another kiss on the head. They watched the fireworks for another few minutes before he murmured, “They’re proud of you. Don’t worry.”

She nodded wordlessly, her brown eyes filling with tears.

I know, my grumpy dragon. I know.

[rorimoon9597]

They really didn't stay there for very long. It was barely a month, and Ulaz was picking them up to take them to a new foster home. Takashi packed up their things, put them in the car, and said goodbye to Emily and David and the other three kids. Ashton shouted goodbye to them, but Keith didn't say anything back. Just waved, then turned to look down at Mr Hippo.

Ulaz drove them through the city, to another suburb, and to another two story house. The lawn of this house wasn't filled with toys or bikes, but with flowers that were clearly well-loved. Takashi felt some sort of trepidation, because there was a good chance that this person was a total control freak. At least, Takashi knew how to contact Ulaz to get them out of there if they needed it.

It was the same sort of ritual as at the previous house. Grab their things, let Keith hide behind him as Ulaz introduced them, then go their new rooms as Ulaz and their foster parent talked.

Takashi took Keith into his room, first. He was... pleasantly surprised.

In one corner, there was a pile of stuffed toys. Dogs, horses, bears, dinosaurs and dragons, as well as a few cats. The bed was under the window, and there were glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. The walls had a medieval scene on them. A knight riding a horse with a sword raised, a castle, and a dragon. Takashi watched as Keith walked around, looking around the room. He investigated the toys, and the bed, and the scenes on the walls that had been painted red. He even opened and closed the drawers and the closet.

Takashi started to put all of Keith's things away, making sure that it was all neat and organised. When he was done, he put the duffle bag into Keith's closet. Takashi turned to face Keith, who was hugging Mr Hippo.

"What do you think, Akira?" He asked. Keith looked up at him, his purple eyes wide.

"There's no hippos," he replied, pointing to the toys. "She needs a hippo."

"You think so?" Takashi asked. Keith nodded, completely serious. "Maybe we can tell her that she should add a hippo to the pile?"

"Can we do that later?" Keith asked.

"Sure. Want to come and see my room?"

"Yeah!" Keith went across the hall, where Takashi's room was. Their foster mother, Sarah Cooper, had told them where their rooms were before they went up. Takashi was glad that she let them explore their new rooms by themselves.

Takashi's room was more mature than Keith's room was. The walls were a blueish purple colour, and the bed wasn't under the window. The desk, which was a deep brown colour, was set underneath it instead. The chair was one of those swivel ones. Keith went up to it and pulled it out. He sat on it and spun around. Takashi let him, and put his own things away. He hid the knife under the mattress, hoping that Sarah wouldn't find it.

He didn't want the last piece of his mother to be taken away from him.

When he finished, he put his suitcase into the closet, along with his bag. He turned around to see Keith lying on his side on the rug, watching him.

"Come on, Akira-Kun. Let's go and talk to Sarah some more, yeah?"

"I don't wanna," Keith mumbled. Takashi sighed and crouched down. Keith sat up.

"You have to," he said. Keith pouted. "Listen, we can't go home, and I can't take care of you by myself. I'll be able to do that when I'm eighteen, but for now, you have to let these people take care of you."

"What about okaasan?"

"She's gone, Keith. You have to remember that." Keith stared down at the ground.

"I miss her."

"I do too, bud," Takashi replied. He held an arm out, motioning to Keith. "Come here." Keith did, wrapping his tiny arms around Takashi as much as possible. Takashi pressed a kiss to Keith's head. They stayed like that for a little bit. "You ready to go downstairs?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's go."

They went downstairs, where Sarah was talking to Ulaz about something. They had cups of coffee (or whatever they drank) and they were clearly having a lovely conversation. They looked up when Takashi and Keith entered.

"What do you think of your rooms?" Sarah asked.

"They're really nice, thank you," Takashi replied. Sarah nodded.

"You two can add whatever you want to the rooms, personalize them as much as you'd like," she said.

"That- sounds like a nice idea. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Sarah said. She looked down at Keith. "What did you think of your room, Keith?"

"It's nice," Keith replied.

"Yeah?" Keith nodded.

"The toy pile needs a hippo." Sarah wasn't outwardly surprised.

"We can add a hippo to it," she assured him. There was a smile on her face, one that was gentle and genuine.

"I should be heading off now. There are other things that I have to attend to," Ulaz said.

"Bye, Mr Ulaz," Keith said.

"Goodbye, Keith, Shiro."

"Bye," Takashi said. Sarah led Ulaz to the door and let Takashi and Keith wave to their social worker. Then, when he was gone, she led them back inside.

"When would you two like to go shopping?" Sarah asked. Takashi looked down at Keith, who looked back up at him.

"Not today," Keith told him.

"He doesn't want to go today," Takashi explained.

"Alright. Just let me know when you would like to go, alright?"

"Okay," Keith said. It was the first word he said to Sarah. He'd just waved at her when they got there. Sarah smiled at him, apparently happy that he had said at least one word.

"You two can go explore the rest of the house if you would like."

"Thank you," Takashi said. He moved away. He could hear small feet following him, and he didn't have to look behind him to know that Keith was behind him.

Takashi explored the house, just as suggested. Keith opened a few cupboards, curious about what was in the house. The bathroom had sanitary products in the cupboard under the sink as well as a First Aid kit. Takashi pulled it out to look through it. He wasn't taking any chances.

He put everything back into the First Aid kit once he was done and moved on.

They steered clear of Sarah's room, letting her have that privacy. Instead, they went to see where the laundry room was, where the downstairs bathroom was, and where the backdoor was. Takashi and Keith went out to the garden.

There was a sandpit, and a slide and a swing set. Takashi noticed that there was also a little house, and a goalpost, too.

"She's got a lot of stuff out here, huh?" Takashi said to Keith.

"Hai," Keith replied. He walked over with Mr Hippo to investigate the playhouse, chatting in Japanese.

"So you speak a different language?" Sarah asked. Takashi had heard her coming up, but he had chosen to ignore her unless she spoke.

"Yeah. We're Japanese," Takashi replied.

"Ah. I haven't actually fostered any Japanese kids yet. I'd love to learn how to say some things, even if it's simple phrases like 'good morning' or 'welcome home'."

"I can teach you," Takashi offered. Sarah smiled.

"That'd be very lovely, Shiro. Thank you." The two of them turned to watch as Keith examined the sandpit.

"Nii-San! Can we play together tomorrow?" Keith called out.

"Yes, we can," Takashi replied. Keith bounded over to him, happy.

"What do you think of the yard?" Sarah asked.

"It's cool. Mr Hippo and I like the sandpit," Keith replied. Sarah smiled.

"I'm glad. Now, let's go see what we can do about dinner, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Takashi smiled. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

__________

He was slightly disoriented when he woke up. He forgot where he was until he remembered. Then his door opened, and Keith came in.

"Nii-San, Ms Sarah said that we can go shopping today," he said. Takashi nodded.

"Alright, then. I'll be dressed and downstairs soon. Do you want help to get changed?" Keith shook his head.

"No, I'll be okay," he replied. Takashi nodded.

"Alright. Go get changed, yeah?"

"Okay." With that, Keith walked out of the room. Takashi sighed. He didn't think that Keith would ever warm up to any of their foster parents.

That... would cause them to move around a lot. And that would be a problem, because they'd have an extremely unstable upbringing. Sarah was nice, but how long would it take for her to get sick of them? Of how Keith didn't speak all that much around her, and if he did talk, it was in either singular words or in Japanese that Takashi had to translate?

Would their other foster families even allow them to speak Japanese and practice basic things from their culture?

He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away for the time being. He had to get dressed.

He grabbed a spare change of clothes and went into the bathroom. He located the towels and turned on the shower. While he was showering, he thought of what they would be doing that day. According to Keith, they were going to go shopping. Takashi needed some body wash and deodorant. Keith needed more toothpaste, and maybe a new toothbrush. He'd try to get one similar to the one he had now.

Takashi turned off the shower and stepped out, drying himself and changing into clean clothes. Then he went to put his pajamas back in his room.

Keith was waiting for him, sitting on his bed with Mr Hippo in his hands. Takashi put his pajamas away.

"Did you put your pajamas away?" He asked. Keith nodded.

"Under my pillow, like Okaasan told me to," he said. Takashi nodded.

"Good job, Akira. Let's go downstairs now, yeah?"

"Okay." Keith followed him downstairs, content to just be behind his older brother.

That... might end up being a problem in the future. Takashi didn't know how he'd deal with the problem if it became one. Though, he guessed that he could just deal with it when it came up.

"Good morning, Shiro. How did you sleep?"

"Morning. I slept okay." Sarah nodded.

"That's good. Are you two ready to go shopping?"

"Hai," Keith replied.

"That means yes," Takashi translated.

"Ah. So 'hai' is yes."

"Hai," Takashi confirmed. Sarah smiled.

"I see what you did there. Anyway, I made pancakes for breakfast. Eat your fill before we go out."

"Thank you," Takashi said. He sat down with Keith, who was already eating his pancakes. Sarah had put some chocolate syrup and berries on his pancakes, probably because she asked him about it and he said yes to it.

The pancakes were really good, and Takashi ate as much as he could. When he was done, he took his plate to the sink. Keith followed, trying to put his dishes in the sink. He pouted when he was unable to reach the sink.

"Nii-San, can you help me?" Keith asked. Takashi took his plate. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Five minutes later, Takashi found himself in Sarah's car with Keith in the backseat, holding onto Mr Hippo, going to the store. Sarah had given them an outline of what they were going to do - go to Target and Walmart, get some bedsheets and some other things to personalize their rooms more, and get some food.

Simple enough, even for a five year old child that refused to talk in full sentences to their foster mother.

When they got to Target, Takashi got Keith out of his car seat and onto the ground. He clung to Takashi, looking around nervously.

"Hey, it's just Target, Keith, you'll be okay." Keith just nodded mutely.

Sarah got a trolley, and they went into the store.

"Let's go look at the little kid stuff first," she suggested.

"Sounds good," Takashi agreed. He followed her to the bedsheets for little kids. "Go find something you like," he urged Keith. He looked up at Takashi, then walked forward by himself. He'd look back to see if Takashi was still there from time to time, but he mostly looked at the bedsheets that were for sale.

"Space," Keith said, pointing to a space themed comforter.

"Yeah, it's space. Do you want the space blanket?" Keith thought about it. Then he nodded. Takashi grabbed it and put it into the cart.

"Do you like space, Keith?" Sarah asked. Keith nodded. "That's so cool! Do you want to go to space some day?" Keith shrugged. Sarah looked happy to get non-verbal responses from Keith.

They walked around some more. Keith went to the toys when he saw them, and picked out a new hippo. He put it into the cart carefully, which meant asking Takashi to pick him up so that he could put it in. Takashi complied. He was weak for this child.

They moved onto stuff for Takashi when Keith made it clear that he was finished. He picked out his own sheets, and some decorations for his room. Then they went to check out. Takashi helped to carry their things to the car and load them in.

They went to Walmart next. Sarah bought them food that they wanted. If she saw them staring at something for a long time, she'd encourage them to get it. When they were done again, they checked out and took everything to the car.

"You take your new things to your rooms, I'll take care of the food," Sarah said when they got back home. Takashi nodded, and called Keith, who was holding both hippos.

Once he lugged everything into their rooms, he sat down in the middle of the floor in Keith's room.

"What's the new hippo's name?" Takashi asked, nodding his head towards said toy. Keith studied it.

"Frankie," he said. Takashi nodded.

"Alright, then."

"Play with me, Nii-San. You said that you would yesterday."

"Alright. What do you want to play?" Keith grinned widely.

"You're going to be an evil purple alien," he declared. Takashi hummed.

"Does this evil purple alien have a name?"

"Hmm... Zarkon."

"Alright, I'll be Zarkon," Takashi agreed. Keith grinned.

"I'm gonna be the hero!" He said.

"Going to," Takashi corrected. Keith ignored him.

__________________________

Pt1 pt3

[duchess-of-oldtown]

House of the Dragon Season 2 Episode 6 "Small folk" Thoughts

Just clarifying, these are my own thoughts, you don't like them, don't bother telling me so. Also, I'm not a book purist, I like adaptions taking putting their own spin on things - if it makes sense to do so. So, here were my thoughts. Obvs, this post is dark and full of spoilers.

Am I sad to say I was excited to see House Lefford? Give us more houses.

Jason ordering Aemond to come to him, it's just... my guy do you know Aemond? Are you serious?

Alicent got her cumuppence at the Council. I'm loving Olivia's portrayal of her fear and unease around Aemond.

Another Red Kraken Mention!!

I like that they let Aemond be smart at the Council and it lays the ground for him leaving King's Landing.

Ewan Mitchell's lil mmms are such a great character tic

Alicent, you're giving Serena Joy Waterford and it's not a good look on you

Corlys taking his place as Hand, there's so much in it, you can see he's sort of like I got all the power I wanted but... The cost.

Oh great now we're just making up Targaryens. Ryan, wtf

Why didn't they use this as an opportunity to introduce the other Valyrian houses? House Celtigar?

PADDY

As glad as I am to see Viserys and Daemon scenes, I'm so done with Daemon at Harrenhal. Why couldn't we get him wandering the Riverlands actually doing something? Introducing new houses and such? New places?

Simon being so kind to Daemon, this isn't the first time that somebody went mad around him.

CARAXES MY BABY

These are the scenes we should have at Harrenhal, Daemon and Alys plotting and discussing magic

I loved the Seasmoke scene. You can really sense the awe in which they hold the dragons but also the true danger of them. It's something I never felt in GoT. Also Seasmoke was side-eyeing Steffon like one of the raptors in Jurassic Park, that man was going to be a snack from the outset

Jace shouting Mother as they watch Steffon burn... Oh the irony

Dyana scenes.

Slap that old man, Rhaenyra. Slap him

Rhaenyra and her sword = Visenya

Mysaria as Rhaenyra's mistress is so special to me. Canonically bisexual Rhaenyra.

Larys, you're about as subtle as a fart in church

Aegon and Aemond scenes. Ewan and Tom play them so well. Aegon holding the lil ball, remembering his lil boy

Rhaena is going to be Nettles. That's no Morning, no reason for Daemon to fight Aemond, nothing.

Oh lil Stormcloud 😍

Disliking Jeyne Arryn. Why did they do her as an expy if Lysa?

Also, how is Rhaena going for a walk in the Eyrie? Did they wynch them down for a jaunt?

The Gay Abandon 😭😭😭

Addam and Alyn discussing their dad. Why does Corlys not pay Addam any mind? What happened there?

Where is Marilda of Hull???

Jace giving Mysaria the "I'm not calling you mom look"

Alicent with Aegon, the miscommunication, ugh the tragedy

Gwayne being a good brother to Alicent, these are the relationships we want to see complicated but expressive

Daeron mention. He's kind. (tell that to Bitterbridge)

Both Hightower siblings looking at Criston like 👁️👁️

RIOT! RIOT! RIOT! EAT THE RICH

I love Helaena's fringe tiara.

Helaena's panic, Alicent defending her daughter. The SPIKES

It's the same carriage from Rhaenyra and Alicent's first scene, she still has it 😭

Daemon was hoping that kid killed his grandad, he was like "maybe that kid is alright"

#GETDAEMONOUTOFHARRENHAL2024

Seasmoke was choosing his own man like a mid-season Bridgerton

Seasmoke reminds me of my cat.

Apparently all dragons have stealth mode.

GAY WE GOT GAY

Rhaenyra's little "yes he does that" when they tell her about Seasmoke is me when my sister complains the cat is trying to sit on her shoulder.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Bran III (Chapter 34)

This is as close as I'll ever come to copying and pasting an entire chapter.

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. 

x

The moon was fat and full. 

x

The moon was a black hole in the sky.

x

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. 

x

The moon was fat and full. 

x

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. 

x

The moon was a black hole in the sky. 

x

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. 

What is that, three months?

Imagine how bored Meera, Jojen, and Hodor are. I love Bran, but I'd hate being his friend.

+.+.+

Red leaves whispered in the wind. Dark clouds filled the skies and turned to storms. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and dead men with black hands and bright blue eyes shuffled round a cleft in the hillside but could not enter.

What's Daenerys doing in a Bran chapter?

I'm kidding, except not really. She's all over this chapter.

+.+.+

Sometimes the sound of song would drift up from someplace far below. The children of the forest, Old Nan would have called the singers, but those who sing the song of earth was their own name for themselves, in the True Tongue that no human man could speak. The ravens could speak it, though. Their small black eyes were full of secrets, and they would caw at him and peck his skin when they heard the songs.

[...]

Bran and Meera made up names for those who sang the song of earth: Ash and Leaf and Scales, Black Knife and Snowylocks and Coals. 

Ash, Scales, Black Knife, Coals. . . fire/dragon imagery? Mmkay.

The ravens are cawing and pecking at Bran's skin whenever they hear the children singing their secret songs. Feels kind of hostile.

+.+.+

The last greenseer, the singers called him, but in Bran's dreams he was still a three-eyed crow. When Meera Reed had asked him his true name, he made a ghastly sound that might have been a chuckle. "I wore many names when I was quick, but even I once had a mother, and the name she gave me at her breast was Brynden."

"I have an uncle Brynden," Bran said. "He's my mother's uncle, really. Brynden Blackfish, he's called."

"Your uncle may have been named for me. Some are, still. Not so many as before. Men forget. Only the trees remember." 

Gross, I hope not.

Brynden Rivers = BloodRaven. Get it, get it??

Once it's revealed he's a Targaryen we can safely label him a villain who will orchestrate his own demise.

The last greenseer, the singers called him

This makes no sense.

+.+.+

"Most of him has gone into the tree," explained the singer Meera called Leaf. "He has lived beyond his mortal span, and yet he lingers. For us, for you, for the realms of men. Only a little strength remains in his flesh. He has a thousand eyes and one, but there is much to watch. One day you will know."

The tree ate Bloodraven. Good.

Is Bloodraven an instrument of the children? Are they co-conspirators? They don't care that he's an Andal? I'm having a difficult time wrapping my head around this.

+.+.+

"What do the trees remember?"

"The secrets of the old gods," said Jojen Reed. Food and fire and rest had helped restore him after the ordeals of their journey, but he seemed sadder now, sullen, with a weary, haunted look about the eyes. 

[...]

"Maybe you could be greenseers too," he said instead.

"No, Bran." Now Meera sounded sad.

"It is given to a few to drink of that green fountain whilst still in mortal flesh, to hear the whisperings of the leaves and see as the trees see, as the gods see," said Jojen. "Most are not so blessed. The gods gave me only greendreams. My task was to get you here. My part in this is done."

Jojen's watch has ended.

+.+.+

The singers made Bran a throne of his own, like the one Lord Brynden sat, white weirwood flecked with red, dead branches woven through living roots. They placed it in the great cavern by the abyss, where the black air echoed to the sound of running water far below. Of soft grey moss they made his seat. Once he had been lowered into place, they covered him with warm furs.

King Bran on a weirwood throne.

+.+.+

"Never fear the darkness, Bran." The lord's words were accompanied by a faint rustling of wood and leaf, a slight twisting of his head. "The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother's milk. Darkness will make you strong."

I don't think it takes a genius to figure out we don't want Bran embracing darkness.

However, that doesn't mean Melisandre's little crusade is based in reality or morally justified.

"FREE FOLK!" cried Melisandre. "Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness!" - Jon III, ADWD

+.+.+

Flying was even better than climbing.

Slipping into Summer's skin had become as easy for him as slipping on a pair of breeches once had been, before his back was broken. Changing his own skin for a raven's night-black feathers had been harder, but not as hard as he had feared, not with these ravens. "A wild stallion will buck and kick when a man tries to mount him, and try to bite the hand that slips the bit between his teeth," Lord Brynden said, "but a horse that has known one rider will accept another. Young or old, these birds have all been ridden. Choose one now, and fly."

He chose one bird, and then another, without success, but the third raven looked at him with shrewd black eyes, tilted its head, and gave a quork, and quick as that he was not a boy looking at a raven but a raven looking at a boy. The song of the river suddenly grew louder, the torches burned a little brighter than before, and the air was full of strange smells. When he tried to speak it came out in a scream, and his first flight ended when he crashed into a wall and ended back inside his own broken body. The raven was unhurt. It flew to him and landed on his arm, and Bran stroked its feathers and slipped inside of it again. Before long he was flying around the cavern, weaving through the long stone teeth that hung down from the ceiling, even flapping out over the abyss and swooping down into its cold black depths.

My gut tells me this all leads to a confrontation with Drogon.

That may sound silly, but that is exactly what the show insinuated would happen. They were just too lazy and out of time/budget to adapt it.

+.+.+

"Someone else was in the raven," he told Lord Brynden, once he had returned to his own skin. "Some girl. I felt her."

"A woman, of those who sing the song of earth," his teacher said. "Long dead, yet a part of her remains, just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy's flesh were to die upon the morrow. A shadow on the soul. She will not harm you."

You couldn't escape Jon foreshadowing even if you tried.

+.+.+

"Do all the birds have singers in them?"

"All," Lord Brynden said. "It was the singers who taught the First Men to send messages by raven … but in those days, the birds would speak the words. The trees remember, but men forget, and so now they write the messages on parchment and tie them round the feet of birds who have never shared their skin."

Dot, dot, dot.

Maybe we should be paying attention to talking ravens!

+.+.+

He wished Robb were with them now. I'd tell him I could fly, but he wouldn't believe, so I'd have to show him. I bet that he could learn to fly too, him and Arya and Sansa, even baby Rickon and Jon Snow. We could all be ravens and live in Maester Luwin's rookery.

I went back and looked for suspicious ravens in Luwin's rookery. Nothing stood out other than the bloody raven that delivered the news of Ned's death.

A raven landed on the grey stone sill, opened its beak, and gave a harsh, raucous rattle of distress.

Rickon began to cry. His arrowheads fell from his hand one by one and clattered on the floor. Bran pulled him close and hugged him.

Maester Luwin stared at the black bird as if it were a scorpion with feathers. He rose, slow as a sleepwalker, and moved to the window. When he whistled, the raven hopped onto his bandaged forearm. There was dried blood on its wings. "A hawk," Luwin murmured, "perhaps an owl. Poor thing, a wonder it got through." - Bran VII, AGOT

A scorpion with feathers? Dried blood on its wings? Never noticed that. Those arrowheads continue to haunt me.

+.+.+

Some days Bran wondered if all of this wasn't just some dream. Maybe he had fallen asleep out in the snows and dreamed himself a safe, warm place. You have to wake, he would tell himself, you have to wake right now, or you'll go dreaming into death.

Yes, Bran! Fight! Don't go dreaming into death!

+.+.+

"I thought the greenseers were the wizards of the children," Bran said. "The singers, I mean."

"In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun, but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood, or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest. By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers."

Cue the fandom going nuts over anyone with green or red eyes.

The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance.

He's so full of shit. This man was born in 175 AC, then disappeared in 252 AC.

for every song must have its balance.

What do you mean? Fire good, ice bad.

+.+.+

Bran did not understand, so he asked the Reeds. "Do you like to read books, Bran?" Jojen asked him.

"Some books. I like the fighting stories. My sister Sansa likes the kissing stories, but those are stupid."

+.+.+

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies," said Jojen. "The man who never reads lives only one.

I don't know why the fandom thinks George hates Sansa when she's the designated Stark Reader.

Everyone knows he favours the readers.

+.+.+

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies," said Jojen. "The man who never reads lives only one. The singers of the forest had no books. No ink, no parchment, no written language. Instead they had the trees, and the weirwoods above all. When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world. Maesters will tell you that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods. The singers believe they are the old gods. When singers die they become part of that godhood."

what

The old gods are dead children of the forest?

+.+.+

Bran's eyes widened. "They're going to kill me?"

"No," Meera said. "Jojen, you're scaring him."

"He is not the one who needs to be afraid."

If you're afraid why did you bring him here? You foolish green boy.

I can't tell if Bloodraven wants to take Bran's life force or corrupt him. Littlefinger and the kindly man don't want to kill Sansa and Arya, but this is different.

+.+.+

Summer prowled through the silent woods, a long grey shadow that grew more gaunt with every hunt, for living game could not be found. The ward upon the cave mouth still held; the dead men could not enter. The snows had buried most of them again, but they were still there, hidden, frozen, waiting.

:(

There's too much missing from this. There's no way Meera and Bran could outpace wights for weeks, it's absurd.

+.+.+

The caves were timeless, vast, silent. They were home to more than three score living singers and the bones of thousands dead, and extended far below the hollow hill. "Men should not go wandering in this place," Leaf warned them. "The river you hear is swift and black, and flows down and down to a sunless sea. And there are passages that go even deeper, bottomless pits and sudden shafts, forgotten ways that lead to the very center of the earth. Even my people have not explored them all, and we have lived here for a thousand thousand of your man-years."

Maybe the magic breaks and Hodor briefly keeps the wights out while Bran and Meera take the river back to the Wall? I don't know, I'm throwing anything out there.

Is she being honest, or does she not want him exploring for other reasons?

+.+.+

They [the children] had nut-brown skin, dappled like a deer's with paler spots, and large ears that could hear things that no man could hear. Their eyes were big too, great golden cat's eyes that could see down passages where a boy's eyes saw only blackness. Their hands had only three fingers and a thumb, with sharp black claws instead of nails.

Say a prayer for Arya Stark.

+.+.+

That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. 

That almost feels like code.

+.+.+

But after they were gone, he slipped inside Hodor's skin and followed them.

The big stableboy no longer fought him as he had the first time, back in the lake tower during the storm. Like a dog who has had all the fight whipped out of him, Hodor would curl up and hide whenever Bran reached out for him. His hiding place was somewhere deep within him, a pit where not even Bran could touch him. No one wants to hurt you, Hodor, he said silently, to the child-man whose flesh he'd taken. I just want to be strong again for a while. I'll give it back, the way I always do.

It's always incredibly loaded language.

"The world is full of horrors, Tommen. You can fight them, or laugh at them, or look without seeing . . . go away inside."

Tommen considered that. "I . . . I used to go away inside sometimes," he confessed, "when Joffy . . ." - Jaime I, AFFC

Bran yearns to be whole again, while Arya hungers for justice. It takes them both down a dark path.

Good thing Sansa only wants to be loved. Difficult to make something like that immoral. . .

+.+.+

He even crossed the slender stone bridge that arched over the abyss and discovered more passages and chambers on the far side. One was full of singers, enthroned like Brynden in nests of weirwood roots that wove under and through and around their bodies. Most of them looked dead to him, but as he crossed in front of them their eyes would open and follow the light of his torch, and one of them opened and closed a wrinkled mouth as if he were trying to speak. "Hodor," Bran said to him, and he felt the real Hodor stir down in his pit.

Explain to me how Bloodraven is the last greenseer. There's chambers filled with greenseers. Bran is a greenseer.

Anyway, this whole chapter might as well be Daenerys in the House of the Undying.

She is not breathing. Dany listened to the silence. None of them are breathing, and they do not move, and those eyes see nothing. Could it be that the Undying Ones were dead? - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Daenerys Targaryen does not have one Starkling foil, she has four. Thinking this all leads to Jon vs. Daenerys is buying into Targ Exceptionalism.

+.+.+

Seated on his throne of roots in the great cavern, half-corpse and half-tree, Lord Brynden seemed less a man than some ghastly statue made of twisted wood, old bone, and rotted wool. The only thing that looked alive in the pale ruin that was his face was his one red eye, burning like the last coal in a dead fire, surrounded by twisted roots and tatters of leathery white skin hanging off a yellowed skull.

The sight of him still frightened Bran—the weirwood roots snaking in and out of his withered flesh, the mushrooms sprouting from his cheeks, the white wooden worm that grew from the socket where one eye had been. He liked it better when the torches were put out. In the dark he could pretend that it was the three-eyed crow who whispered to him and not some grisly talking corpse.

One day I will be like him. The thought filled Bran with dread. Bad enough that he was broken, with his useless legs. Was he doomed to lose the rest too, to spend all of his years with a weirwood growing in him and through him? Lord Brynden drew his life from the tree, Leaf told them. He did not eat, he did not drink. He slept, he dreamed, he watched. I was going to be a knight, Bran remembered. I used to run and climb and fight. It seemed a thousand years ago.

Lord Brynden drew his life from the tree. Is he draining the other greenseers wired to the trees or feasting on human sacrifice? The children wouldn't let him suck the life from children greenseers, right?

Is he trying to corrupt Bran or eat Bran, someone tell me right now.

+.+.+

What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins. He had thought the three-eyed crow would be a sorcerer, a wise old wizard who could fix his legs, but that was some stupid child's dream, he realized now. I am too old for such fancies, he told himself. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. That was as good as being a knight. Almost as good, anyway.

Despite it all our little Starklings never let go of their dreams.

+.+.+

Under the hill, Jojen Reed grew ever more sullen and solitary, to his sister's distress. She would often sit with Bran beside their little fire, talking of everything and nothing, petting Summer where he slept between them, whilst her brother wandered the caverns by himself. Jojen had even taken to climbing up to the cave's mouth when the day was bright. He would stand there for hours, looking out over the forest, wrapped in furs yet shivering all the same.

"He wants to go home," Meera told Bran. "He will not even try and fight his fate. He says the greendreams do not lie."

They don't lie, but they're misinterpreted? There's still hope!

+.+.+

"For the next step. For you to go beyond skinchanging and learn what it means to be a greenseer."

"The trees will teach him," said Leaf. She beckoned, and another of the singers padded forward, the white-haired one that Meera had named Snowylocks. She had a weirwood bowl in her hands, carved with a dozen faces, like the ones the heart trees wore. Inside was a white paste, thick and heavy, with dark red veins running through it. "You must eat of this," said Leaf. She handed Bran a wooden spoon.

The boy looked at the bowl uncertainly. "What is it?"

"A paste of weirwood seeds."

Something about the look of it made Bran feel ill. The red veins were only weirwood sap, he supposed, but in the torchlight they looked remarkably like blood. He dipped the spoon into the paste, then hesitated.

There's no chance that isn't human blood. The only mystery is whether it's Jojen's blood.

+.+.+

"Will this make me a greenseer?"

"Your blood makes you a greenseer," said Lord Brynden. "This will help awaken your gifts and wed you to the trees."

Bran did want to be married to a tree … but who else would wed a broken boy like him? A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. A greenseer.

No weddings, it's your doom.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. - Daenerys X, AGOT

x

mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . - Daenerys IV, ACOK

x

She looked at her son, watched him as he listened to the lords debate, frowning, troubled, yet wedded to his war. He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table. - Catelyn XI, AGOT

Remember how dumb people believe 'bride of fire' means literal marriage to a Targaryen? Lol.

+.+.+

He ate.

It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him. The empty bowl slipped from his fingers and clattered on the cavern floor. "I don't feel any different. What happens next?"

Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them . . . and then the glass was empty. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+.+

Bran closed his eyes and slipped free of his skin. Into the roots, he thought. Into the weirwood. Become the tree. For an instant he could see the cavern in its black mantle, could hear the river rushing by below.

Then all at once he was back home again.

Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the godswood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man's gnarled arms. The greatsword Ice lay across Lord Eddard's lap, and he was cleaning the blade with an oilcloth.

"Winterfell," Bran whispered.

His father looked up. "Who's there?" he asked, turning …

… and Bran, frightened, pulled away. 

See, calling it the deep black pool makes me link it to the cave river.

The visions we're about to be shown are happening in reverse chronological order. We'll place this around 298 AC.

Most important thing about this vision is that Ned 100% heard Bran.

+.+.+

Bran's throat was very dry. He swallowed. "Winterfell. I was back in Winterfell. I saw my father. He's not dead, he's not, I saw him, he's back at Winterfell, he's still alive."

"No," said Leaf. "He is gone, boy. Do not seek to call him back from death."

She says that like they're not responsible for all these living dead things walking around.

Is that something Bran could do? Call someone back from death? I'm thinking Jon here.

+.+.+

"A man must know how to look before he can hope to see," said Lord Brynden. "Those were shadows of days past that you saw, Bran. You were looking through the eyes of the heart tree in your godswood. Time is different for a tree than for a man. Sun and soil and water, these are the things a weirwood understands, not days and years and centuries. For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction. The lives of trees are different. They root and grow and die in one place, and that river does not move them. The oak is the acorn, the acorn is the oak. And the weirwood … a thousand human years are a moment to a weirwood, and through such gates you and I may gaze into the past."

"But," said Bran, "he heard me."

"He heard a whisper on the wind, a rustling amongst the leaves. You cannot speak to him, try as you might. I know. I have my own ghosts, Bran. A brother that I loved, a brother that I hated, a woman I desired. Through the trees, I see them still, but no word of mine has ever reached them. The past remains the past. We can learn from it, but we cannot change it."

The moment you realize baby Bran is way more powerful than this musty Targ.

He spoke to Ned.

"Winterfell," Bran whispered.

His father looked up. "Who's there?" he asked, turning …

He spoke to Jon.

Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother's face. Had his brother always had three eyes?

Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow.

[...]

Don't be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him. - Jon VII, ACOK

He'll speak to Theon.

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. "Theon," they seemed to whisper, "Theon."

[...]

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. "… Bran," the tree murmured. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

And I'm almost positive he spoke to Arya without the assistance of any tree.

Calm as still water, a small voice whispered in her ear. Arya was so startled she almost dropped her bundle. She looked around wildly, but there was no one in the stable but her, and the horses, and the dead men. - Arya IV, AGOT

This is why I'm more inclined to believe the talking environment found throughout the story is always Bran. Bloodraven can't do that.

The past remains the past. We can learn from it, but we cannot change it.

If he can be heard, does that mean he can also change the past?

You probably don't want to do that though. I learned that from movies.

"A man must know how to look before he can hope to see,"

Give me 5 minutes on Reddit and I'll find someone theorizing Bloodraven was warging inside Syrio Forel.

+.+.+

"He heard a whisper on the wind, a rustling amongst the leaves. You cannot speak to him, try as you might. I know. I have my own ghosts, Bran. A brother that I loved, a brother that I hated, a woman I desired. Through the trees, I see them still, but no word of mine has ever reached them. The past remains the past. We can learn from it, but we cannot change it."

Um, do I look like a Targ historian?

Pick three of the following names, and assign them wherever you want, I don't care.

Daemon I Blackfyre, Aegor Rivers, Daeron II Targaryen, Shiera Seastar.

+.+.+

"Once you have mastered your gifts, you may look where you will and see what the trees have seen, be it yesterday or last year or a thousand ages past. Men live their lives trapped in an eternal present, between the mists of memory and the sea of shadow that is all we know of the days to come. Certain moths live their whole lives in a day, yet to them that little span of time must seem as long as years and decades do to us. An oak may live three hundred years, a redwood tree three thousand. A weirwood will live forever if left undisturbed. To them seasons pass in the flutter of a moth's wing, and past, present, and future are one. Nor will your sight be limited to your godswood. The singers carved eyes into their heart trees to awaken them, and those are the first eyes a new greenseer learns to use … but in time you will see well beyond the trees themselves."

He can see well beyond trees. Like in throne rooms, and the Red Mountains of Dorne.

As his men died around him, Littlefinger slid Ned's dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin. His smile was apologetic. "I did warn you not to trust me, you know." - Eddard XIV, AGOT

x

He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. - Eddard I, AGOT

I understand time is not linear for Bran, but can he see the future or not? On the show he could.

+.+.+

Hodor carried Bran back to his chamber, muttering "Hodor" in a low voice as Leaf went before them with a torch. He had hoped that Meera and Jojen would be there, so he could tell them what he had seen, but their snug alcove in the rock was cold and empty. 

This does not mean Jojen is dead! This doesn't make Jojen paste real!

We should be skeptical of deaths that allegedly happen off screen.

+.+.+

Watching the flames, Bran decided he would stay awake till Meera came back. Jojen would be unhappy, he knew, but Meera would be glad for him, He did not remember closing his eyes.

… but then somehow he was back at Winterfell again, in the godswood looking down upon his father. Lord Eddard seemed much younger this time. His hair was brown, with no hint of grey in it, his head bowed. "… let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them," he prayed, "and let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive …"

"Father." Bran's voice was a whisper in the wind, a rustle in the leaves. "Father, it's me. It's Bran. Brandon."

Eddard Stark lifted his head and looked long at the weirwood, frowning, but he did not speak. He cannot see me, Bran realized, despairing. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but all that he could do was watch and listen. I am in the tree. I am inside the heart tree, looking out of its red eyes, but the weirwood cannot talk, so I can't.

Let's place this around 284 AC.

Close as brothers? I thought they were brothers, Eddard.

Holy god, N + A = J is stupid.

+.+.+

The rest of his father's words were drowned out by a sudden clatter of wood on wood. Eddard Stark dissolved, like mist in a morning sun. Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. "You be quiet, stupid," the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. "It's just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?" She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool, but before she got him out again, the two of them were gone.

This can only be Lyanna and Benjen. We'll place this around 275 AC.

"You be quiet, stupid,"

Good thing he never expands on child Lyanna. Guaranteed I'd find her as annoying as Arya. Lol

+.+.+

After that the glimpses came faster and faster, till Bran was feeling lost and dizzy. He saw no more of his father, nor the girl who looked like Arya, but a woman heavy with child emerged naked and dripping from the black pool, knelt before the tree, and begged the old gods for a son who would avenge her. Then there came a brown-haired girl slender as a spear who stood on the tips of her toes to kiss the lips of a young knight as tall as Hodor. A dark-eyed youth, pale and fierce, sliced three branches off the weirwood and shaped them into arrows. The tree itself was shrinking, growing smaller with each vision, whilst the lesser trees dwindled into saplings and vanished, only to be replaced by other trees that would dwindle and vanish in their turn. And now the lords Bran glimpsed were tall and hard, stern men in fur and chain mail. Some wore faces he remembered from the statues in the crypts, but they were gone before he could put a name to them.

Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand.

Excellent, I shine when it comes to ASoIaF history.

Sorry guys, I'm going to have to go with general consensus here. I have nothing else to offer.

He saw no more of his father, nor the girl who looked like Arya, but a woman heavy with child emerged naked and dripping from the black pool, knelt before the tree, and begged the old gods for a son who would avenge her.

Based on the timeline, best theory I've seen is it's one of the she-wolves of Winterfell.

The She-Wolves of Winterfell is the working title given to the as-yet unpublished fourth Tales of Dunk and Egg novella, once intended to be published in an anthology named Dangerous Women but now postponed. - Wiki of Ice and Fire

Then there came a brown-haired girl slender as a spear who stood on the tips of her toes to kiss the lips of a young knight as tall as Hodor.

The fourth installment of the Dunk and Egg stories takes place at Winterfell.

Is this Ser Duncan and Old Nan? Maybe. Is Ser Duncan Hodor's great-grandfather? Perhaps.

Ser Duncan was born in 191/192 AC. The Mystery Knight takes place in 212. If he's a young knight in this vision, this must happen a little bit after the events that take place in The Mystery Knight, yes?

Would that not make Old Nan older than Aemon?

A dark-eyed youth, pale and fierce, sliced three branches off the weirwood and shaped them into arrows.

Brandon Snow. :) <3

Torrhen's scouts had seen the ruins of Harrenhal, where slow, red fires still burned beneath the rubble. The King in the North had heard many accounts of the Field of Fire as well. He knew that the same fate might await him if he tried to force a crossing of the river. Some of his lords bannermen urged him to attack all the same, insisting that Northern valor would carry the day. Others urged him to fall back to Moat Cailin and make his stand there on Northern soil. The king's bastard brother Brandon Snow offered to cross the Trident alone under cover of darkness, to slay the dragons whilst they slept.

King Torrhen did send Brandon Snow across the Trident. But he crossed with three maesters by his side, not to kill but to treat. All through the night messages went back and forth. The next morning, Torrhen Stark himself crossed the Trident. There upon the south bank of the Trident, he knelt, laid the ancient crown of the Kings of Winter at Aegon's feet, and swore to be his man. He rose as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, a king no more. From that day to this day, Torrhen Stark is remembered as the King Who Knelt...but no Northman left his burned bones beside the Trident, and the swords Aegon collected from Lord Stark and his vassals were not twisted or melted or bent. - The World of Ice and Fire

Goodness, all of this feels so relevant.

The tree itself was shrinking, growing smaller with each vision, whilst the lesser trees dwindled into saplings and vanished, only to be replaced by other trees that would dwindle and vanish in their turn.

Back and back we go.

And now the lords Bran glimpsed were tall and hard, stern men in fur and chain mail. Some wore faces he remembered from the statues in the crypts, but they were gone before he could put a name to them.

Kings of Winter. We're well before Aegon's Conquest now.

Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand.

A bronze sickle. First Men.

The First Men—who had brought with them strange gods, horses, cattle, and weapons of bronze—were also larger and stronger than the children, and so they were a significant threat. - The World of Ice and Fire

+.+.+

"No," said Bran, "no, don't," but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed. And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man's feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood.

Spit it out!

This is the final (earliest) vision. The tree got its eyes after the blood sacrifice.

Final thoughts:

Goodbye Bran.

Another challenging chapter behind us. Fun! What's next, more Aegon and Illyrio discourse? Maybe Moqorro can talk nonsense to Victarion for 20 pages? When can I dive into a ghost in Winterfell? What's that Harpy up to? Betrayals, betrayals, betrayals! HOW ABOUT A LOCUST MYSTERY? LET'S BRING BACK MELISANDRE, QUAITHE, AND SEPTA LEMORE - I DIDN'T SPEND ENOUGH TIME ON THEM. WHO WROTE THAT PINK LETTER? IS IT GRAND NORTHERN CONSPIRACY TIME? BRING ME PATCHFACE PLEASE. REALLY LOVING THIS WHOLE EXPERIENCE. ADWD IS THE BEST. 10/10.

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