#plagues blessings and journeys

[cupcakesmoothie]

Sometimes I wanna draw and then I realise I can't draw

Anyway. WIP! I feel like this'll be fun if I keep going but I have a tendency to lose all motivation if I leave it so I usually do things in one shot. However, I need to go to bed.

I feel like this is a lot of research that people will never see unless they themselves are Mexican but one of the reasons I make/draw things like this is so people feel seen. I looked over a couple things for this, quite fun! This is supposed to be a chiapaneca dress, but I am not used to this more "realistic" style so the dress actually needs to spread out more. It's so pretty though! Will either be very fun or very torturous to colour

This is Paloma! I haven't started on her wings and at this point I'm not sure how to add them in. She's Mexican and was a fashion designer. I'm using that as an excuse to continue putting eyeliner on Alexis, who she is friends (?) with. She's older than him.

I have seen somewhere that Spanish Spanish and Mexican Spanish are slightly different, the two should still be able to communicate. I don't know what you call a "big sister/miss" in Spanish, or if that's even something you do. I guess Senorita would be it? I'm trying to convey that Alexis is showing respect to her though, so that feels like it's not it.

I'm debating between wing styles also. I think colourful wings (Like a parrot) would be pretty, and not as common as dove wings (Which are her namesake). Also it was while I was looking those up that I found out the Mexican flag has an eagle on it! The golden eagle wings sound pretty interesting, if a little bit drab, but having her be tied to the national bird would be fun I think. And lastly, wood pigeon wings, which are also her namesake, only in Latin.

[lady-adaneth]

Sleepless Nights ⋆.˚ ⭒₊ .

For those out there struggling to sleep, I present to you...

Synopsis:

An elf from Rivendell, you eagerly joined the fellowship. However, many harrowing months into your journey, you constantly find yourself struggling to sleep.

Maybe a confession and a certain blond elf can help soothe your insomnia...

Legolas x gender-neutral elf!reader

No use of y/n

Prequel to Romantic Inclinations, but can also be read as a one-shot

Want to feel truly immersed? Listen while you read Encampment | Forest Sounds 

Content Warnings:

Spice scale: it’s spicy…but like it could also be spicier

Intimate physical touch + allusions to more

Word Count:

1.5k words

Translation Dictionary:

Meleth Nín = My Love

Mellon Nín = My friend

Aman = Blessed Land

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

On tumultuous nights in which Legolas would undertake watch, the Fellowship and seemingly the entire forest would fall into a deep, weary slumber. Despite dozing constantly during your trek across the foothills, much to Gimli's envy, when day finally welcomed the night your worries continued plaguing your mind. You had laid staring up at the stars, knowing exactly which ones would lead you home to Rivendell. Despite the stick digging into your shoulders, it wasn't the thought of a snug bed and safe fire that tempted you, but rather those that you'd left behind. Before you joined the fellowship, there had been whispers of exodus. In the moment you had been hungry for adventure, ignoring the signs, but what if you'd made a mistake? You couldn't help but picture your kin sailing to the Grey Havens, escaping the torment that kept you from a good night's rest.

"Having trouble?" a kindly voice whispered. You briskly shot up, turning towards the source.

He sat back to a tree, vigilantly carving away at a piece of wood with his dagger. Despite your weapons lying comfortably around you; daggers by your ankle and spear by your side, Legolas's bow and quiver remained strapped to his back.

"Well that can't be comfortable," you teased, imagining the feel of a bow poking into your back. Suddenly you felt better about the stick.

"I could say the same thing about your arrangement," his head pointed towards your spot on the floor, eyes transfixed on his work.

"Hm, touché," you smirked, a pleasant silence falling between you.

The woods were immensely calm; the stridulation of insects a harmonious melody drowned out by a singular frog and its stark croak. The tranquility reflected in your companions, whose soft huffs of air you could hear below the crackling of the firewood. Maybe it was your expansive hearing that kept you from a restful sleep. You suddenly couldn't help but envy your newfound friends. Your thoughts were interrupted by the carving of wood as Legolas began to struggle with a corner, sawing forcefully at the bark.

"And what, exactly, are you making at this ungodly hour?" You stared at him with the corner of your eye, feigning annoyance.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the sawing continued.

"Mhm, what an astute observation" you mocked, standing and taking your place next to him, letting your head rest against the tree's homely bark.

After only a few weeks spent together you and Legolas had become settled in each other's presence. Through all of your teasing, you found it incredibly difficult to find anything about him to dislike. This unnerved you in a way, that is, how effortlessly you felt yourself falling for the princeling.

The silence returned once more, but the sawing had halted. You turned your head, finding Legolas already staring at you. His eyes were fawn-like and the tips of his ears began turning pink. Despite his curious embarrassment at being caught, he didn't shy away.

"What's on your mind?" you can feel your cheeks blossoming as the question leaves your mouth, your effort to prevent the blush only making it worse.

"How about you tell me what's keeping you from a good-night's rest," his eyes shone with genuine concern as he returned to his work. You felt the tension loosening, your playful demeanor returning once more.

"And what do I get for revealing such a thing, Prince?" You crossed your arms as if it could shield your fluttering heart.

"Whatever you want," the string was being pulled tighter once more.

You tried to keep your composure, confused as to how he was flustering you so.

"How about...you tell me what you're carving and why?" His eyes seemed to widen nervously at your proposal, only adding to your curiosity.

"Hmph, deal," he reached out his hand, and you leisurely reached your hand out. His handshake was gentle and his palms sweaty.

"But earnestly, mellon nín, what is plaguing you?" he said softer than before, suddenly aware of the others sleeping around the fire.

A sigh escaped your chest before you even registered it. You never told anyone about your troubles, and yet somehow it felt natural with Legolas. You weren't sure how much to say.

"I just...haven't found my sleep to be restful. Not since we left-," you swallowed hard.

You glanced at him as you attempted to compose yourself, expecting him to encourage you with his words. But he sat silently, knowing present in the depth of his stare.

He silently nodded, urging you to continue speaking.

You continued.

"When we first left, I had no hesitancy. And yet, as we continue, both our struggles here and those at home...trouble me," a breath enters your lungs. "I anticipated that this journey would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. The latter grows more apparent every day," you worried as to his response, and suddenly you found the ground to be rather intriguing. You began sifting the dirt through your fingers, soothing yourself as your cheeks turned red in shame. It was unlike you, let alone any elf, to be so vulnerable with another.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder; urging you to look up. Legolas's face came into view, eyes soft and glowing with firelight.

"I'm glad I am not the only one who feels this uncertainty," he smirked, though his eyes appeared more sorrowful than anything. You breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing all at once.

"We're not meant to lose hope at the prospect of another day not appearing before us-" He halted himself.

"-But, if it's any consolation, I'm glad my last day would be spent amongst all of these wonderful individuals," you chuckled at his words, fighting back a tear. "And if I could visit Aman with anyone...," he paused, seeming to collect his thoughts.

"...I would want it to be with you," his eyes lingered on your face, his demeanor more nervous than you had ever witnessed.

He searched your face for any sign. Disdain, perhaps? Or maybe acceptance.

Your breathing hitched as his eyes dipped down to your lips. Your arms could no longer muffle the sound of your hammering heart.

You were suddenly made aware of the hand on your shoulder, the way Legolas's hair seemed to burn more so than glow, the way his eyes sparkled with moonlight as they looked at you with the reverence of a thousand worshippers.

"Seems we have the same wish," you said quietly. Your words lingered as neither of you moved. Legolas sat motionless, not wanting to back away...or overstep.

You noticed.

Raising your hand to his cheek, you steadily moved your face closer to his. Your lips lingered over his for a second, before you moved back slightly; glimpsing into his eyes, searching for permission, before returning fluidly to his lips.

His lips encompassed your bottom lip gently, before pulling back to look at you. Your heart fluttered as he peered at you with an indescribable sense of wonder; impressing a sense of fey upon him. A smirk appeared on his face as he leaned back into your chest, his lips smashing against yours.

You could feel the string in your heart snap, all semblance of control leaving your body.

His arms wound around the back of your neck, and without a thought you moved your legs around his waist; straddling him as his back was pressed against the tree.

A small grunt escaped his lips as your hips gently made contact with his, the angles of his face sharp beneath your calloused fingertips. He gently pried your hands from his face as his lips trailed down your cheek,

then your jawline-

and then to your barely exposed neck.

You let out an audible gasp as his teeth gently bit into your skin, your hands finding their place in his hair. Legolas began shifting his hips, a pleasurable moan escaping your lips.

"SHHH," the sound emanated from the campfire.

His face leapt away from your neck, searching for the source.

Your hand covered your mouth as you fought back a roaring bout of laughter. Legolas's face was blooming as he held his breath.

Had they heard you? If Gimli had spotted the two of you neither of you would hear the end of it.

You both waited for a moment, searching for any sign of movement amongst your supposedly slumbering friends.

You couldn't believe what just happened. Next time, you resolved to find a more private location.

You let out a sigh, slumping into his chest; arms wounding around his neck as his arms found their way around your waist.

"So...who taught you that," you whispered, giggling to yourself at the thought of his lips on your neck...the claim his teeth had made on your skin.

"A certain, close source, that I shall not divulge," his hot breath lingered on your ear, his voice coarse.

"Hm, so that's how Arwen got those marks,"

"I hope you don't mind, meleth nín,"

"Not in the slightest-" you pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his.

"-I shall wear it like a badge of honor," you kissed him on the forehead.

A certain twinkle shone in Legolas's eyes as he leaned in to kiss the bite mark with enough gentleness to make you cry yet again.

"I think we may awaken the entire forest if we continue," a blush formed on your cheeks.

"Let's get some rest then," he smiled, his cheeks painted crimson at the thought.

You stood slightly, unwinding your legs from his hips. You slid to the floor, resting your head on his now outstretched legs. Without a word, he grabbed the blanket from his side, placing it around your drowsy form.

Legolas began to hum an unfamiliar tune, fingers making lazy strokes across your face. All you could hear was his steady heartbeat and voice, drowning out all else.

Your heart swelled with warmth as you fell asleep in Legolas's arms for the first time.

✩✩✩✩

If you have any criticisms or requests please send them my way! Have a restful day/evening <3

[enbyobeyme]

Vessel of the Gods.

In which MC is a lovecraftian God

Old writing, takes place in the og obey me, GN reader. This was made when the I game had like 40ish lessons so keep that in mind

You aren’t fully human. You may not be human at all actually, but your disguise is good, the Gods made sure of that. Since the day of your creation, it has been your job to be a vessel, a catalyst for higher beings. The God who created you was a kind one who thought that you were meant for something greater, and took a liking to its design. You stood by their side reincarnation, after reincarnation.

You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, Gods in higher dimensions. You have experienced being many different creatures ranging from a 50 foot Lovecraftian with trillions of eyes to a simple cat that helped guide young heroes along their journeys to save the world.

It has always been your job to serve the gods and to be a vessel for their spirit, or power. You guide them, speak for them, and even hold balance across dimensions for the Gods..You have spoken to and housed many gods and deities in your body before. It’s nothing new to you. You’ve met many good gods who are all about virtue and thank you for allowing yourself to be a comprehensible vessel to communicate with others. You’ve also met loathsome gods that you regret not kicking out or even killing with their cruel, prideful ways. Some even give you blessings with immense power as thank-yous that stay even into your next reincarnation.

Reincarnation has its drawbacks, however. Sometimes your memory resets to protect you from other Gods who want to know your secrets. All you know is to do the job you are assigned. Your memory always returns to you at some point. Sometimes towards the end of your life. Sometimes immediately.

Luckily, you started your life in this dimension with your memories off the bat, and in a human body. Whilst trying to do the job you were assigned, you were summoned to the Devildom much to your surprise. Being surrounded by demons nothing new. What was new is being able to be summoned by such weak demons. Curiosity came over you and you wanted to stay to understand this world. Your God allowed you to explore and understand this realm and allowed you to do your job of communicating with The Horsemen on the side.

Whilst doing your duties in the Devildom as an exchange student you also contacted The Horsemen of this realm. Pestilence or Conquest as they’re also called came to talk to you first. They were a creature that disguised themself as a simple plague doctor. They came to you in your dreams. They talked about their life as a horseman, their duties. It was your job to appease them, but Pestilence was already appeased from you listening to their story. Nothing needed to be done.

Diavolo was getting suspicious. He felt… more than one presence whenever you were near. You just ignored him and avoided him the best you can as you continued with your job.

Death was met in the RAD Colosseum. They were a disembodied echo in the abyss of nothing. No physical form. Only a constantly transforming voice.

Lucifer always wondered why you seemed to hang out around there to take ‘phone calls’ he never heard any other voice on the phone. 

Death just needed to be escorted to the Mausoleum. You did that easily. Mammon wondered why you wanted to explore the Mausoleum out of the blue.

Famine was a strange one. They disguised themself as a student, as their true gluttonous form was bigger than the devildom. She chose a feminine body to try to blend in but also stick out in the crowd of men you were always surrounded by. She invited you out on a ‘date’ to a more hidden side of town. Leviathan seemed to be jealous that you were going out to dinner with a girl. You felt bad for lying to him.

The minute you stepped into the building you were in another dimension. A huge dinner table stuffed to the brim with food. Famine was the opposite of Beel. She was always full and everyone around her lost their appetite, no matter how hungry they truly were. You both had a chat over dinner. She was kind and to the point. “I do not need anything. There is no need for me without an apocalypse,” you nodded “You only come with the aftermath of War don’t you?” “Yes… most of us do. War is the one who needs appeasing. War looms close over the Devildom. They are not even aware of it.”

That night you got the longest lecture from Asmodeus of all demons. You were gone for almost a full day. You really scared him you know? He thought your date had eaten you! You have to tell him everything. It killed you inside to feed him lies.

War was the only one that ‘possessed you’. In your head, War explained things how they were. If one mistake happens, all three realms would be involved in a devastating war. Your ‘death’ from Belphegor was bad enough, but now there is tension between Micheal and the Lords of the Devildom, along with you as well. You have pacts with all of them.

War was an odd one to house in your head. Their body was flickered between masculine and feminine, but every time you blinked you saw their true Lovecraft form.

War needed you to take them to Diavolo. War must stop this war, or this universe will fall apart.

The next day, you didn’t look like yourself at all. The aura you gave off was menacing and your eyes flickered like a fire. Lucifer knew at that moment that you weren’t you.

“I am sorry for lying to you all about what I am, but this is serious. War needs to speak with everyone.” Just like that, shadows seemed to surround you, and War began to speak. “There is a lot at stake. I need an audience with Diavolo. Now.”

In that moment, all the brothers were terrified of what you truly weren’t. You were far from human.

Lucifer

At first, he understandably very very pissed. You were lying this whole time? And not just any white lie, you made several bold-faced lies. Lucifer didn’t even want to be around you at first. It takes him a bit to understand why you lied

You were trying to protect them, and you were afraid they might hate you. You said something along those lines to him. Yes, you are technically human and you are in a weakened state since you are inside a human vessel, but still! He opened his heart to you, and you didn’t open yours.

After a while, it hits him. You’re a Lovecraft. That had feelings. Lovecraftians tend to be cruel. Lucifer remembers when you were first summoned how stiff and quiet you were. He also remembered that you seemed to hate the Devildom and not understand how things work socially. Mammon, oddly enough, still took a liking to you. You listened to him.

Lucifer thought you would make his precious little brothers sad at first. Honestly, Lucifer was going to threaten you if you tried anything. Then one day he saw you both in the RAD hall, you were smiling and trying your best to interact with Mammon, even if you didn’t really know how.

Lucifer realized that you truly did care about all of them. You weren’t a heartless liar using them, you cared so much about them that you (re)learned emotion. 

Lucifer seeks you out after that. He can’t imagine how you feel. You both kinda ‘started over’ except this time, he got to know the real you. The two of you became even closer. You even show off some of the abilities you earned. (Sometimes you use some of your abilities to rejuvenate him and help him relax)

He’s proud to have such a powerful Lovecraft by his side. He supports you in your work and loves to hear all the tales you have to tell. If you ever pass, he will wait for you to return to him in your next life, no matter what form you take.

Mammon

YOU WHAT.

He’s the most hurt out of all of them. You and him were best friends before everyone else! How could you hide this from him? Were you also lying about being his friend? He forgives you pretty quickly once you explain yourself. You do care, you are his friend, that’s why you kept yourself hidden! “Imagine all the other Lovecrafts who might go after you if they knew you associated with me. I have a lot of enemies Mammon, and I would never forgive myself if they hurt you to get to me.”

Mammon fell even harder. He asks all about the Gods you met. He’s also fascinated by all the blessings, and runes on your body and always wants to show you off.

Loves all the cool abilities you have and your kindness. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t stop protecting you. Yeah, you’re strong but your human form is still weak. It’s sweet seeing how much he cares about you. He also tries to teach you more customs you aren’t used to.

Mammon has a lot of questions about your work too. Once he learns how dangerous it is, he wants you to stop. “You can die? And it’s normal to die on the job?” “Yes but it’s rare and I will always be reborn.”

Mammon knows you can’t simply quit your job and that you have to save the world and all that but he worries. He becomes more affectionate with you. Whenever you have to go out on a job, he always makes sure to spoil you a few days before you leave.

When you come back, especially if you look a bit roughed up, he’s in full nurse mode. He really does love you and always will.

Leviathan

Leviathan was both amazed and terrified when he first found out what you really were. He was quick to understand why you kept it hidden. If you were anything else he would have been ecstatic, but you were a Lovecraft, one of the most violent creatures in the universe. You’re his best friend, you weren’t going to try and hurt them… right?

Lovecrafts were known to take over dimensions and cause endless torture and agony for anyone that comes near them. How were you different? Those worries are soon pushed away when you come up and held him close, apologizing for lying but reassuring him that you did care for him. That’s his Henry…

He asks you to show off your abilities the most. “Ooh mimic that” “transform into this” “do the thing again” he’s in awe.

Honestly a bit jealous of your abilities but you’re his BEST FRIEND. Who else are best friends with an incomprehensible god-like being? He still doesn’t know how he got this lucky either.

Speak to your God and ask them to allow you to travel a few dimensions over… Leviathan is ready to propose right then and there when you bring him an interdimensional first edition copy of TSL.

Satan

He’s less terrified in the moment and more mesmerized. You? A Lovecraftian Vessel? For the elder gods?

Its a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to able to even get a glimpse at something this ancient and powerful, let alone talk to one. You may know or may know where to find all the secrets of the universe!

The realization kicks in after you and War have a private audience together where he’s left alone. You are a Lovecraftian. Lovecraftians are terrifying things with no compassion. Despite them not having empathy they will not hesitate to take over a universe if a fellow Lovecraft is harmed just to justify their cruelty. You could have just put on an act in front of them to gain their trust and end them while they’re most vulnerable.

Satan thinks back to every kiss you shared, every smile, every laugh- was that all a lie? Satan then remembers your development since you first came here, vs now. You even helped him mend his relationship with Lucifer. Those are not the actions of an evil Lovecraft.

When you come out and War leaves you, he gets caught up on what was said. He might as well gather information before he can confront you. He asks Diavolo everything. Satan is surprised at what he learns.

You don’t want anyone to get hurt? You want to save all three realms? You asked your God to stay here because you cared about them? Satan feels relieved but still needs to confront you. Satan doesn’t dance around the subject. “How do I know I can trust you?” “Because I was created with empathy..?” You cringed at your response, but what do you say? “Hmph… I guess I’ll trust you. For now” You just hugged him close for a long time listening to his heartbeat- you will never get over your fascination with mortals.

Satan asks a lot of questions like a giddy kid. “How’s your God like?” “How were you created?” “Why were you created?” “Why do you do your job?” “Do we know of your god?” ”What are you trying to achieve?” “What’s it like to reincarnate?”

He would love to meet a god or hop dimensions with you. Thankfully, your God helped you plan such an outing.

Asmodeus

EW. EW. EW. Lovecrafts are kind of ugly? How could he fall for one- well okay you’re an exception because you’re cute. Surprisingly, he’s the most chill with it? He’s more upset that you felt like you needed to hide. 

Despite rumor spreading that you may just be some world-eating scum. He can sense your emotions easily. He felt how much you care about others. How much you cared for him. You are definitely not some world-eater and even if you were he wouldn’t let go of you that easily.

You were the only one who loved him for him and not his looks, You were the only other person who he loves as much as himself. You see him as kind, sweet, passionate- all things he has never heard before. You were rare. You loved him.

Asmodeus will also try to stick up for you against his other brothers or calm them with a ‘well they haven’t hurt us, have they?’ he truly believes you are not evil. He asks you a lot of questions once you feel better from dropping the bomb on everyone.

He tries to ask you more… meaningful questions. What is your home like? Are you happy here? Are you happy doing what you do? How are you holding up? It has been a long time since someone you these kinds of things.

Asmodeus loves your abilities and all the stories and beauty hacks you picked up over the years. He hears that your God takes some time to redesign you and come up with something you would also like. Asmo keeps you in mind every time he designs something. No matter what form you take he will always be prepared to have self-care days that you both enjoy. Even after a long day of dimension-hopping, he’ll run a bath for you.

You plan on surprising him with your shapeshifting ability someday. He did say that he wanted to date himself after all...

Beelzebub

So… your kind can potentially hurt his family. He’s very conflicted. On one hand, he understands why you kept yourself hidden, on another, your lie could have gone wrong. Hells, you were possessed by war. You speak to gods! Gods that might want to hurt demons!

Beelzebub gives you the benefit of the doubt. You did warn them and try to help their realms after all. You also helped his brother and chose to forgive his twin, despite what he did. There’s no way you would hurt his family.

Beelzebub also gets super protective of you. While making your way to the castle with War possessing you, other demons figured out quickly that you weren’t human. Rumors spread quickly. Rumors of you trying to kill the prince, of you being dangerous. Some demons even wanted to see your fall. Beelzebub speaks out against the rumors and comforts you. 

“It’s okay I’m quite old you get used to it…” “You shouldn’t…” Beel doesn’t treat you any differently than before. You were family then, your family now. Beel is a bit more relieved that you’re stronger than you look.

You may be his new workout partner. With your abilities, you can help him get stronger, and also help with his hunger. Sometimes when he can’t sleep, you tell him stories of your past.

Being a dimensional being, you’re able to talk to your God and even the dead if they allow it. He cried when you were able to take him to see some past memories of Lilith in a different dimension. “She never blamed you, Beel. Even now, I can feel the love she felt for you.”

Belphegor

He didn’t like humans. He hates Lovecraftians. He also hates liars. But… he likes you… This was complicated. He doesn’t know how to feel. He tried to kill you, he lied to you. Why does he not know how to feel.

“MC… how are you related to Lilith?” “...” “MC tell me!” “I…” “TELL ME!”

You told him the truth. You traveled dimension through dimension. Where did Lilith go when she died? She was kicked out of heaven, became a human, and died with no way to hell. She came to your dimension- an infinite incomprehensible universe. She was a lonely spirit traveling where she met you.

You never met anyone like her, so brave and kind. You both got along well, she helped you with jobs, told you about her family and how much she loved all of them. How she missed them. Kindness towards you was rare, and you wanted to repay it. Your God also tried to help you repay it, you were their loyal subject. All that you could do, was to also give her the ability to reincarnate. So you did. Lilith can experience all kinds of universes and paths of life. Her soul rubbed off on you, hence why you are ‘related’ to her.

Belphegor wanted to try and kill you again in that moment. He knew he couldn’t but how dare you. How dare you not tell him. How dare you get to see her again? He was so, so jealous and would have attacked you if War possessed you again and held him still. Tears ran down his face and he screamed in frustration.

It takes a while after for him to calm down. He knows he acted out but he’s still racked with guilt and grief and he took it out on you- again. All he ever seems to do is hurt you. You came to him first, “She never, ever blamed you, Belphie. She loved you all so much…” Belphie eventually accepted it and for once, it’s like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He grabbed you and held you close to him, sobbing and apologizing over and over.

That same year as you walked the streets of Devildom along side Belphie, you felt a... Familiar energy. Belphegor looked over at you, worried something was wrong. You held out your hand to the small cat that approached you. “Welcome home, Lilith"

Diavolo

He was a bit… Terrified. At first. He is powerful, but Lovecrafts are a few dimensions above him. He has seen refugee demons from other dimensions whose worlds were corrupted and destroyed. His father warned him to not deal with Lovecrafts- they are beyond reason and not worth the headache no matter how powerful you were.

Diavolo had suspicions that you didn’t seem to act much like a human, he just assumed it was fear or shyness from being summoned. He should have put it together sooner...The strange references and ways of speaking, the strange energies within you, the ancient runes that covered his body. How foolish of him.

When we saw your hollow vessel you called a body, possessed by War itself he was put in shock from the energy you gave. “Diavolo. It has been too long. Come. Let’s talk.” The last time he has seen War is when he was a child. His father had many meetings with War during the Celestial War brewing at the time.

Diavolo sat upon his throne, Barbatos at his side protectively, and looked down at you- at War as they began to speak. “Your universe is on the brink of absolute destruction. Interdimensional corruption infests your world. It will destroy everything from the inside. Soon, war will start between all realms as the universe collapses. This Lovecraftian vessel was sent upon your realm to protect it… Please cooperate with them, lest there will be nothing left…”

Diavolo wanted to ask so much, but as soon as War came, he was gone. Your body felt limp, runes lit up and dulled as the soul of War left you. Diavolo stared down at you carefully, gold eyed staring holes into your head. Could he trust you?

“Tell me what you need,” he spoke in a dull, uncaring tone, it was simultaneously demanding and bored. You nodded, “Corruption roots its way into people first, transforming them into beasts from the inside. They get hostile and attack, spreading the disease. I tracked down the source. All I need is your permission to eliminate them.” Diavolo waved his hand dismissively. It’s surprising how cruel he can be, you don’t blame him.

Diavolo gave you permission and dismissed you to do what you must. As you left for a few days to clean up the Devildom. He had some soul searching to do for himself. He was conflicted. He was taught Lovecrafts were never to be trusted, yet here he was now letting one in the Devildom. It took him time to reflect on everything. Diavolo refused to see the world through his father’s lens. He abandoned his own people.

Diavolo goes with his heart and trusts you. Once you come back from your duty, he calls you to his office. Once you’re there he asks you to sit with him. You both speak for a long time, sharing stories from times forgotten. You both open up to each other more. Diavolo then goes silent, thinking, before he thanks you, voice wavering. You saved his people yet again. He is in your debt. The conversation for the rest of the night was nice. It was great to finally talk about your home after so many years away from it. He jokes about your Deity being the God of the Devildom.

Diavolo throws a party in your honor, being sure to show that he has united not two, not three, but four realms. Diavolo now has a Lovecraftian warrior on his side, and he also defends your honor when he hears rumors and slurs being thrown at you. His people are understandably terrified- but that doesn’t mean you should be punished for sins you haven’t committed.

Diavolo grows… softer for you. He finds your abilities amazing and loves to hear you rant about your God/Deity and your culture, your home. It’s all so fascinating to him. You kinda become a knight of the Devildom, keeping balance between dimensions. No matter what you may have to do, what you reincarnate into, or where you go, you will always have a home in the Devildom.

Barbatos

How interesting. He did not at all see this coming. Barbatos had his suspicions that there was more to you, but he never expected… this… His liege comes first, however, and Barbatos makes sure to keep a close eye on you as he gathers his thoughts. He has never felt any ill-will or bad intentions from you at any point, but it never hurt to be cautious. For some reason, he felt a little hurt when he did so.

Barbatos liked you, he fell for you. He rarely got close to anyone. It was rare for him to fall in love or even be friends with someone unless he knew them for years and here you were- able to make him melt within a year. He was fascinated with the effect you had on him- but also disgusted. Like he got… soft. It was so strange to be by his master’s side as you- no- War spoke prophecies through your body about the end of time. He felt… numb in a way. You both were so close.

Barbatos didn’t want to lose that- He already had his time-traveling abilities which he rarely used so he could actually enjoy life as it went and he was happy he didn’t use them when you were around. You genuinely surprised him and excited him. He knew you were different from other Lovecrafts- you had to be. Barbatos was greedy and was not planning to let you go so easily.

You proved him right when you did everything you could to unite the realms when you solved the brother’s family issues when you took time out of your day just to thank him. Here you were- yet again proving him right by trying to protect his home.

Barbatos never bothered or asked about the Lovecraftian side of you. It never mattered to him then, and it won’t matter now, but he does love it when you talk about the dimensions. He can even relate to it sometimes with his time travel powers. Barbatos never traits you any differently- only now he knows that you don’t need protection.

He knows how hard your job must be. Interacting with a bunch of powerful being dimensions above you. You were also a servant in a way. You both got close cause of that. It was nice complaining and letting loose in the presence of each other with no need to be professional. He has always found your abilities useful and will ask if you can help him with more strenuous tasks. “You can lift about a few hundred times your weight right? Can you help me relocate the statues in the old colosseum?”

You even one-time shapeshifted into Barbatos when he was sick. You turned off his watch and his alarm and took over his tasks for the day as Barbatos slept in. When he woke up- he panicked until he saw himself across the room. The doppelganger shifted back. “Please- rest more I’ll take over for today…” He is… In love...

It’s a secret between the two of you but sometimes you take him a few dimensions over to show him all the strange teas, ingredients, and spices the multiverse has to offer. He now has a secret garden that only a few know about, filled with all the gifts you have given him.

Barbatos knows that it will soon be time for you to leave this realm, and to be honest, he is not ready for it. Barbatos knows that your job is important and that you both will meet again. When you’re gone he spends a lot of time reminiscing in the garden and tending to the plants.

He notices that a bird has gotten in and is also tending to the plants. He can recognize your soul anywhere. So this is the form of your next life? No matter the reincarnation you always meet him in the secret garden, and he always welcomes you back into his heart.

Luke

Fear. If demons were terrifying- Lovecrafts were worse. Demons may embody sin but Lovecrafts make them. Lovecrafts are dangerous. He knows. There have been many horror stories of angels who have never returned from scouting- or warriors who go off to fight an interdimensional interloper, just to find out it’s a Lovecraft. Angels have their wings torn and their halos bent if they are lucky, but most of the time they just become a hollow shell of an angel- corrupted by the presence of such a high being. Some of them are even more incomprehensible than God himself.

You were a Lovecraft- a monster in Luke’s eyes. That broke his heart. You were a sibling to him- his best friend. And you- you are the enemy? All the times you both hung out, baked together, the time you protected him from Lucifer, ready to fight to defend him- was it all a lie to get him to trust you? He… He needs to talk to Simeon.

Simeon does not give him an answer. Simeon told him that he could tell Luke how to feel about you- it was up to him. Luke refused to believe you were evil. You couldn’t be! But he will admit. He is young. He doesn’t have experience with this kind of thing. He didn’t know much about the horsemen.

He overheard everyone talking about the Lovecraftian exchange student- even rumors that you were trying to save the realms- then more about wanting to destroy it. Luke wanted to get to the bottom of it. He didn’t care if it hurt- he wanted the truth.

Luke took up the courage to go up to you himself in your room. He held himself together until he saw you when the door opened- images of your possessed body and you in front of him- ready to die for him flashed into his head. He burst into tears and buried his face into your shirt, his hands balling into fists as he grabs your shirt.

You hugged him close to you. “It’s okay Luke, I’m here, I did swear to always look after you, right little bro?” He sobbed harder. “Y-you-you? They… They all said that you were e-evil! B-b-but I KNOW it’s not t-true, right?! I know it is not!” Luke was ugly sobbing at this point. You cradled his head in your hands and hold him.

You told him everything- from your home, your dimension, your job, your deity, your intentions, and everything he wanted to know. Luke held onto every word. “I swore to protect you- and that means your home as well.” “I knew it! You were looking after everyone!” Luke sniffles and hugs you closer. You were the best sibling anyone could ever have. He really looks up to you.

Luke doesn’t understand everything at first and he may need some explanation. Your powers fascinated him. You end up shapeshifting a lot to impress him, or telling some very weird recipes across dimensions that you both make together to see if it actually works (most of it can put Solomon’s cooking to shame. Seriously eldritch horrors need some taste buds.

Sometimes, you watch over him from above or disguise yourself as an alley cat to give him a small boost in emotion he gets from a wild cat “accidentally” guiding him to where he was supposed to go. It takes him some time to understand other gods. Is it strange he wants to meet yours?

You do take him to see your interdimensional home in the stars where your god lay. Luke was fascinated by all. The creepy but oddly cute creatures, the beautiful but also endless landscape, time didn’t feel real, and sometimes if he thought hard enough, the area around him changes.

Luke is very much conflicted with your job and reincarnations. On one hand, you don’t die, but on the other, your job is very hard. He gets kinda grumpy about it, and when it is time for you to reincarnate, it gives him a sense of happiness that no matter what form he takes, you will be there to cheer for him.

Simeon

Ah. That’s… concerning… Lovecraftians… He is not going to judge you yet. You haven’t done anything yet. It wasn’t fair to blame you for the atrocities that your kind have committed. He goes to Diavolo and Lucifer first, asking about what happened. When he realizes that you are in a way, a warlock or vessel, he needs some time to think about it.

He doesn’t believe your evil. An evil person would not have helped him nor Luke, let alone mend the brother relationship and try and protect the Devildom. You also put your life on the line to protect Luke. Even if you were evil in the past, you at least are trying to repent and get better and he would help with that.

Simeon goes to you, ignoring all the rumors and warnings spread about you. “Ah, hello there MC. How have you been holding up?” “You’re here just to see if the rumors are true, aren’t you?” Simeon frowned, “I know you aren’t anything like the rumors say you are. I came to check up on you- I can’t imagine how you feel…” You hugged Simeon, face pressed into his chest and your hands enjoying the warmth of his bare back.

Simeon does admit he wishes you were a bit more truthful, however, he doesn’t blame you after watching the fallout from the Devildom knowing. Simeon comforts you for a bit. He decided to talk to you for a bit, asking some questions to ease his curiosity. Watching your expression sadden when you mention your home, makes him realize how homesick you truly were.

Simeon asks a lot about your Deity and your abilities. He finds it all fascinating and finds himself writing a new book series based around the things you told him- he finds it inspiring and it’s a step in the direction of people accepting you.

In a way, he relates Seraphs, Archangels, and all those ranks to your job. Simeon can’t imagine the pressure you’re under and all you have seen over the years. You even tell him about your ability to host gods in your body which he would like to try out. It’s up to you to show him. You tell him stories about reincarnation, he hopes in the back of his mind that when it is time for your departure, you may become an angel in your next life with him.

Until then, he will stay by your side and support you when you come back from a rough job. Simeon heals up any wounds you may have and lets you rest. You often thank him back by helping him sneak out from the Celestial Realm to take a break in your realm where you both have no worries. He loves to see all the strange creatures and cultures in your lonely home. Maybe you may carry his soul with you when his time comes.

Solomon

He has no fear or worries upon learning of what you were. He is the opposite, in fact, Solomon knows that you won’t hurt anyone, and it isn’t his first time dealing with something like this either. You’re old and knowledgeable, you most definitely are powerful as well, a strong ally to have. Maybe he can make a pact with you?

Solomon is still concerned for you though, you are his friend after all. You do seem down from all attention on you. He knows, however, that having someone pity and coddles you must be frustrating. He instead bothers you in a very Solomon way. Solomon comes over with some… ‘food’ he made you and decides to gossip with you.

“You know, you must have knowledge and all types of stories to tell.” You both ended up dragging and gossiping about certain gods and goddesses. “Fuck Zeus bro, he couldn’t take a hit and kept trying to get inside me in more ways than one!” You both had good laughs and made a lot of old jokes only the two of you would understand.

Solomon waits for you to calm down before he asks with his smug tone “You know, I would love to make a pact with you…” “I’ll… Consider it.” He jokes about making a pact with you a lot, having a Deity Vessel under your control would be helpful, especially with your ability to communicate with gods. You also share with him bits of forgotten knowledge, lost in time. You also tell him ancient cooking techniques in hopes he gets the hint. (he doesnt)

You do end up making a pact with him at some point. Throughout the years, reincarnation, after reincarnation, he is always able to summon you to him once again and you never tire of his antics. Even if you don’t remember him at first, you always end up falling for him time and time again. You both become a bit well known among those who study magic. Stories and tales of a powerful wizard and the incomprehensible eldritch horror traveling together and saving universes and going on dates at coffee shops ran by angels are spread around. You both are legends and monsterfucker icons.

He starts to also ask for your help with things a lot more- “This Arcane book filled with ancient knowledge is written in Tounges? Can you read it?” “This spell was never recorded properly and has a lot of missing pieces, can you go over it with me, I feel like you may recognize this.”

You and Solomon also travel through dimensions together a lot. Sometimes he asks you to take him to your world or to go with you on a job when you have to deal with some gods. In a way, you both become apprentices to each other. Solomon also offers to help with your reincarnation, he has a few spells to help keep your soul in a certain domain…

Either way, he is always there for you, and when his time comes, you will be there for him, ready to guide him through your dimension.

[ebonyslasher]

Sorry if this is to specific

But can you do a thick user with demon slayer men? And when I say thick i mean like a pear body shape wide lower body parts and stretch marks I just don’t see a lot of writers do this body type

It's not too specific at all! Honestly, you could even give more detail than that and it'd still be okay. I chose the guys, since you didn't include which specific men you wanted.

Pear-Shaped Thick!Reader with Demon Slayer men:

Tengen Uzui

"What a flashy figure...!"

Tengen is enchanted by your looks. Your hair, skin, and fashion were so distinctive from the area. He was bored with the Meiji era standard of beauty. How were you going to be flashy if you looked standard?! He finally found another person that would understand his plight.

As expected, he's quite vocal with his appreciation. How could he NOT be? You were cool and extra fine; someone worthy to be apart of his harem.

"Y/N, you're just as stylish as ever!"

"Whoa! Be careful throwing that flashy figure around, you might just make people faint!"

The people he's referring to is his wives. They are also avid fans of you. What? You thought he would faint? And miss looking at that awesome body of yours?

He certainly did not want to miss seeing your smooth skin, enriched with lovingly patterned strikes that covered your cute hanging stomach, ass, and thighs. He bit his lips at the thought of touching your soft body. Cuddling with you would be heaven on earth. You were beautiful and beginning to be a wonderful possible addition to his marriage.

Giyuu Tomioka

Characteristically, your shape is not the first attribute Giyuu noticed. He paid more attention to your face and how you acted during your introduction. Once his attraction to you becomes more apparent over time, that's when he pays attention to your body.

He's overwhelmed. How could he handle all that? He isn't a confident man. The only time his confidence shows is in his fighting and training, slightly. Not in romance, much less sexual interactions. He employs a secret style training...calls it Sex Breathing. It targets his arms, hips, and legs in order to handle your bottom heavy size.

One time, he accidentally watched you when you were changing. It was a small moment before he forcefully turned his head away. But Tomioka did not miss that you had stretch marks adorning your thick thighs. Giyuu became addicted to the memory, wishing he could have had the audacity to watch you fully undress.

Your figure could not be hidden by your clothing, much to his combined glee and chagrin. He loved that he could see it, but hated that others could enjoy your lovely figure too.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei, respectable and pious as he is, privately succumbs to his dirty thoughts after you both start dating. He'd felt your bottom heavy figure against his body after the first hug. The feeling of that soft stomach and thick thighs stuck in his memory. The hulking young man begins to pray.

"Kami, as these straying thoughts plague my mind, i must ask that the gods keep me afloat. But, I must thank them! Only they could construct a being such as Y/N! I will not ignore this obvious blessing to my life!"

Gyomei will not make it known of his thoughts on your figure, keeping his comments to himself. He makes the effort to not make you uncomfortable, not wanting to scare you off. Once you let him know that it's okay, he is more free with his thoughts.

He strongly desires to hold you daily, his hands ache to travel down your pear-shaped figure in glee. You felt so soft. Gyomei wanted to cuddle to feel his hard muscles against your supple form. It's always a blessing when he's able to. Each time is more magical than the last.

Gyomei, selfishly, makes you describe your stretch marks to him. As poetic as possible, to paint the perfect picture in his head.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

It was rough journey getting past Sanemi's tough exterior. Many times you wanted to give up on your odd pursuit of this mean ass hashira. But, it was obvious his act protected himself and others, albeit extremely harsh. You knew something sweet lied past that facade.

And your intuition was correct. After you broke him down with your endless flirting, he started to bite back. In his own special way, of course. It starts with:

"I'm not staring!"

To

"Just cause you're shaped like that doesn't mean you can say whatever you want."

To

"Sometimes looking at you calms me down...but excites me in a different way.."

Sanemi felt drunk whenever he was with you. The sight of you makes his heart race. Your pear shaped figure was something he could not ignore. Trust and believe, he has tried many times. It was as if your body called out to him, instructing him to look. Much to his embarrassment, it did not take long for him to relent to the voice and stare. He was always in a different plane of existence when you came into the room. It annoyed him to no end.

Sanemi was speechless when he first laid eyes upon your unclothed form. His eyes gravitated up and down the electric marks that blessed your appearance. You had never seen him so affected.

[mangosmootji]

Chapter 1 | Memento Mori

“Remember you must die”

18+ fic, minors do not interact!

Fic summary: The Red Keep stood tall on Aegon’s hill. It used to house the nobles of the realm in the old histories of Westeros but now it was home to the Targaryen family, tainting its red color with their dark and gloom. The Targaryens were a family plagued with rumors, drama and perhaps even the supernatural. It doesn’t help that King’s Landing has been plagued with murders ever since their arrival. Once a month on the morning of the first full moon a body turns up in the Blackwater Bay and everyone suspects it is the mysterious family living in isolation, safe from the horrors that plague the city.

Your father, a well-known businessman and a lover of mysteries, had received a letter from Lady Alicent Hightower that contained a marriage proposal. She wished to marry you to one of her sons who had both recently come of age like you. Your father itched at the opportunity to unravel the mysteries of the Targaryen family and immediately sent you on your way as a future bride and with a mission: uncover the secrets of the most prestigious family in the kingdom.

Chapter summary: You arrive at the Red Keep. You meet the strange family and try to get along with your distant and secretive fiancé. Meanwhile another body is found in Blackwater bay. Chapter warnings/tags: Mentions of death, gore, corpses, organs, profanities, canon typical incest, the supernatural, betrothal, family drama, family secrets if any of these things are not to your liking/ are triggering i recommend not to read it! Word count: 5.2k Rigor Mortis Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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“They say the castle is haunted, my dear sister.” Your older brother teased with a large, shit-eating grin. The two of you were being escorted to King’s Landing, the capital of Westeros, in a cramped black carriage pulled by two large black horses. The inside of the carriage was small and you had been practically squeezed up against your brother the whole ride. The cushions were covered in a dark purple velvet while the rest of the inside was painted black. 

Heavy rain splattered against the roof and the window of the carriage and you pitied the coachman that drove it. It had been raining all day long. Your mother used to say rain was a bad omen, that monsters were able to lurk amongst the normal people due to the lack of sunlight and the gloomy atmosphere. However, your mother had also been sent to an asylum a few years ago. As much as you wanted to, you never visited, terrified of finding out what they did to her there. It started off with a doctor’s recommendation to visit the seaside to clear your mother’s mind but that coastal visit had quickly turned into a one way journey to the ‘madhouse’ on the Arbor. Despite all of this you were certain of one thing. Your mother wasn’t a lunatic. 

It bothered you and your father more than it did your brother. Your brother and you never truly got along. Your older brother was blinded by greed, he was the heir to your father’s company and would inherit everything once your father passed. If anything, it was your brother that was the black sheep of the family, always preferring the company of his lousy, rich friends over you and your parents. You and your father, however, had always gotten along well. He would tell you stories of great mysteries and detectives or sometimes about the world outside of Westeros. You liked stories, whether they were fake or not. Despite all the stories your father and mother had told you, you never believed in the supernatural. You knew the human mind worked in peculiar ways and would often fill in the blanks if someone didn’t understand what they were seeing. Human creativity was both a blessing and a curse.

“I doubt the castle is haunted, dearest brother. They are just ghost stories to keep unwanted visitors away.” 

You didn’t even know why your brother had insisted on travelling with you. Perhaps he got a sick kick out of giving you away to a bunch of rich strangers, never to be seen again. 

“You’re no fun. I can’t even scare you properly-” 

He was cut off by the carriage shaking for a moment and you could feel the left back wheel get stuck in a pot hole. The carriage was slanted and you felt yourself lean towards the lower point. You cursed under your breath and stared at your brother for a few seconds as if to urge him to go check it out but he didn’t move. You crawled over him and opened the door of the carriage and hopped out yourself. You immediately cringed when you felt the mud stain your new proper black boots and the bottom of the skirt of your deep blue dress. You held it up as best as you could and walked around to the back of the carriage to find the coach man inspecting the wheel. The old man was soaked to the bone due to the heavy rain and the pity you felt for him only worsened. “Can’t the horses pull it out?” You asked him as you turned your gaze to the wheel as well. The pothole was rather deep, not to mention slippery because of the dirt turning into a muddy puddle. The old coachman shook his head and took off his black top hat to run his hand through his thin grey hair. “No Lady, someone must push the carriage from behind as well. It is too slippery for the wheel to roll out properly.” 

You let out a frustrated groan and stomped back to the carriage door and peeked your head back through the door. Your brother’s gaze fell upon you and he grinned.

“Benjamen, I need you to push the carriage out of the pothole.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Because you’re a man and you’re stronger than me.” 

Benjamen rolled his eyes and glanced up and down, scanning your already soaked and dirty attire. His lips curled back up into a shit eating grin and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re already soaked and dirty, you do it.” 

You groaned at his childish attitude and slammed the small door of the carriage shut. Once you were behind the carriage again you glanced at the wheel and sighed. The pothole was filled with a watery muddy puddle and you grimaced. The coachman’s brows furrowed when he saw you outside again. 

‘He pities you’ You cringed at the thought.

“We should move the carriage now. I shall push it.” You replied, trying to seem as calm and confident as you could. You wore your best dress today but it didn’t matter anymore. The bottom of the long blue dress was soiled with mud while the rest of your dress was starting to get soaked. If only you had invested in a waxed cloak. 

The coachman reluctantly nodded and walked back around the carriage to sit down at the front and spur the two horses in. Once you noticed the horses trying to pull the carriage you placed your hands flat against the back of the carriage and pushed with all your might. It was tedious and heavy but once you felt the carriage move forward you let out a sigh in relief and kept pushing until the wheel was fully out of the pothole and it came to a halt so you could re enter. 

As you stepped back into the carriage you could hear your brother Benjamen snicker at the state you were in. You sat back down and ignored him for the rest of the bumpy ride to the Red Keep. You only listened when he said the city of King’s Landing came into view. The city was old and incredibly large. It had a harbour on the south side of the city where the narrow sea turned into a river and the city was built on three hills. Rhaenys’ hill, where a large abandoned structure stood that once had the name ‘The Dragonpit’. You had read the old rulers of the city used to hold gladiator fights or host trials by combat in it. People believed it was now haunted, sometimes disgruntled screams could be heard coming from the ruin and people avoided it at all cost if they could. The second hill of the city was Visenya’s hill, a tall hill that housed the great sept of Baelor. It was a tall gothic structure with seven crystal towers to represent the seven gods. It was an old building covered in details of the seven pointed star, the main symbol of the religion. Then, finally, there was Aegon’s hill. Aegon’s hill housed the large castle that was called ‘The Red Keep’, your future home. It was a grand structure located on the south east of the city. It had many tall towers that overlooked the beautiful, yet treacherous narrow sea. It was said that ever since the Targaryens took residency in the Keep the sea had become more wild and stormy as if it was protesting against them.

The carriage entered the city through the north western gate that was famously dubbed the Dragon’s gate. You had hoped the ride would be less bumpy now that you had finally left the King’s Road but you were wrong. It was clear the city structures and the cobblestone roads were neglected, to say it nicely. As you peeked through the window of the small carriage you could see the people living in poverty, especially once the carriage rode onto the street of the sisters and past the city district that was named ‘Flea bottom’, or so your brother had told you. The more uphill the carriage got, the wealthier the city folk became. The streets were deserted due to the rain but you could still peek through the windows of some of the houses and gawk at the interiors or occasionally the people themselves. 

They were dressed like you, well, the women were. Their lavish dresses that reached the floor were in various colours. Most of them are darker colours but if the fabric was lighter the colour was muted and desaturated. 

The castle gates of King’s Landing came into view and the structure seemed even larger when you stood close to it. The carriage came to a halt and you saw the coachman open the door to let you and your brother out. You saw the family standing in a part of the courtyard that was roofed over, safe from the heavy rain and looking at the carriage in anticipation. As you glanced down at your dirty cloak and dress you could feel your cheeks heating up, your hair most likely looked like a mess as well due to the rain, though it did have time to dry in the carriage. If it couldn’t get any worse you saw a bright flash in the sky followed by a loud rumbling boom a few seconds later.

Benjamen urged you to leave the carriage so you did, finally released from the cramped space. You took in the sight of the family again. A woman, clearly the mother, though still young, stood in the middle of the group. She had beautiful auburn hair braided into a delicate hairstyle. It looked complex yet elegant and if it weren’t for the horrible weather you assumed it would usually be worn with a garden hat or a bonnet. Her dress was large and ruffled. It was black and dark green, which you found quite bold. After all, your nanny had always taught you black dresses should only be worn with light colours and white dresses should be worn with darker colours. To her right stood an older man who had the same hazel coloured eyes as her. He was a tall man and wore a high black top hat. His entire outfit was dark, from his long frock coat to his shoes. The only white piece of clothing he wore was his shirt which could barely be seen due to his many layers of clothing. Resting under the man’s was a cane with beautiful golden details. You had quickly figured out the two standing in the middle were Otto- and Alicent Hightower, your future grandfather- and mother-in-law. 

The other members of the family all had beautiful silver blonde coloured hair. Next to Otto stood a beautiful girl in a pale purple dress. The dress had many frilly details and ruffles. It complimented her violet eyes well. She was a little plump and her long silver hair was curled and up in a bun that was less complicated than her mother’s bun. You still thought she looked extremely elegant, especially with the white and purple flowers in her hair that served as accessories. 

Next to the pretty young lady, on her left, stood a tired looking male. His silver blonde hair was unkempt and grew a little past his jawline. His eyes were plagued by dark circles and the mustard coloured double breasted vest he wore made him look ill. The vest had a darked mustard colour stripes and fitted his figure quite well, unlike his jacket. It was too large and boxy, something that would be worn 30 years ago maybe. The mustard yellow colour made his violet eyes look darker and less noticeable compared to the people you assumed were the man’s siblings. 

On the far right of the group, the opposite side of the tired looking man stood a guard in uniform. The man’s skin was tan and he had dark hair that was combed back. He sported a moustache and a beard, though both were quite short and were only noticeable due to the dark colour of the hairs. His uniform coat was white with silver details and his pants a greyish colour. The man’s arms were large and you assumed he must be close to the family if they allowed him to stand beside him like that.

Finally, the man between Alicent and the Guard stood out the most to you. He was taller than most of his family members and had a sharp jawline. He had long straight silver blonde hair like the rest of his siblings and his outfit was dark with hints of green, like his mother’s. Unlike the tired looking man his coat fitted him perfectly. It accentuated his waist and shoulders well and made him look elegant. The thing that stood out the most though was the ‘subtle’ scarring on the left side of his face. It was a thin shaky line that went from his cheek, over his eye and then stopped at his forehead. In the place where his eye was supposed to be was a glass eye but instead of it having an iris and a pupil it was completely white. His left eyelid twitched occasionally, as if it wasn’t used to the glass eye yet. He was beautiful, yet his intense gaze sent shivers down your spine. He was studying your every move, you could feel it. 

You knew you had to marry one of the brothers, but you had no idea which one yet. Judging by the two silver haired men you didn’t want to marry either. There was something eerie about this family and you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling. 

You could hear your brother behind you step out of the carriage and he followed you as you walked towards the family. As you were to introduce yourself, Benjamen beat you to it. 

“It is an honour to meet you all. Please let me introduce my dearest sister to you all.” 

Benjamen politely bowed with an arm tucked over his stomach and you bowed as well. You told them your name and Alicent pulled you under the roofed area in a gentle manner.

“You poor thing, you’re completely soaked.” She cupped your face in her hands and inspected it with a large, proud smile. “You’re truly as beautiful as your father claimed in his letters.”

Alicent turned to look at the guard and nodded at him. “Ser Criston, please tell the maids to prepare a nice warm bath for the poor girl. We wouldn’t want her to fall ill because of this weather.” 

The guard sternly nodded his head, turned around and entered the castle. You turned to look back at your brother who was eagerly (too eagerly, in your opinion) helping the coachman unload your wooden trunks from the carriage. You had taken most of your belongings with you, for starters, you didn’t own a lot of large lavish dresses and Alicent had assured in her letter that your future husband would order some for you as soon as you arrived. 

Benjamen returned and roughly patted your shoulder as if you were one of his male companions. You winched and shot him a quick glare which he returned with a taunting grin.

“I shall miss you dearly, sister. Make sure you write home so father won’t miss you too much.” Benjamen said and roughly patted your shoulder again. 

‘Dickhead…’

“She will be in good hands, Lord Benjamen. We take good care of our ladies.” The man with the scarred cheek said, the tone of his voice was icy and you could hear the passive aggressiveness in it. He was belittling your older brother and you had to stifle a laugh. It was a clear jab at Benjamen’s rude behaviour towards you. While you tried not to laugh, the tired looking brother let out a snort that he quickly tried to hide with a cough. Both Otto and Alicent sent the two men a warning gaze before looking back at Benjamin who’s cocky grin had been replaced with a scowl. 

“Do not fret brother, I will be in good hands and I shall write plenty.” 

You, reluctantly, hugged your brother goodbye and watched as he stepped into the small carriage. The coachman sat on his seat in front of the carriage and took off his tophat to wave at you. He spurred the horses on and you watched as the carriage walked through the gates and a loud boom of thunder could be heard again. The gates closed behind them and only now it had dawned on you that you were all alone in a castle with mysterious strangers. 

You felt Alicent’s hand gently rest on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry dear, Aemond shall take good care of you.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The room they had given you was spacious. It had a dark wood king size bed with pale blue silk covers. The furniture was in the same dark wood and detailed style as the bed. There were many items in the room. In the corner near the fireplace there was a large white porcelain vase with blue details painted on it. Instead of flowers the vase held many beautiful and neat peacock feathers. The vase might’ve lacked flowers but the rest of the room did not. The table had a centrepiece with the Bay Rose Rhododendron as its main flower. It made you frown. You walked up to the flower and inspected the pale pink petals. You were no expert in the language of flowers but you knew what this one meant. 

Danger. Beware

The other flowers in the piece did nothing to ease your worries. The person that had put together the flowers had made it very clear they wanted to warn you for something.  

You opened one of your wooden trunks and rummaged through it until you had found what you were looking for. An empty leather notebook, the dip pen your mother had given you and a regular pot of ink. You sat down at the table where the centrepiece stood and scribbled down the flowers that were in it with the different meanings. 

- Afternoon, the fifth day of the first month of the year 1871 -

Bay Rose Rhododendron - Danger. Beware.

Cypress - Death. Mourning.

White Catchfly - Betrayal.

Creeping Cereus - Horror.

You softly blew on the ink in your notebook to make it dry quicker and hid the notebook back into the wooden trunk. Your father had gifted the notebook to you before you left. He was enthusiastic when he had gotten the proposal of Alicent to marry you to one of her sons. Not only would this strengthen his business’ reputation but it also meant insight into the mysterious Targaryen family. He wanted you to log your findings in a notebook like the detectives in the stories he told you about when you were younger.

No one knew where they came from centuries ago. It was almost as if they had appeared out of thin air. Your father was rich but compared to him they were filthy rich. Their ancestors had bought the Red Keep and had resided there ever since. There were many rumours about the family. Some believed they were vampires, stalking through the dead of night and looking for their victims in the city of King’s Landing. 

Others believed them to be shape-shifting beasts, ghouls, werewolves or even the undead. You had met them only a few hours ago and you could say with certainty that they were neither undead, beasts or ghouls. Not that you believed the other supernatural rumours. 

There were plenty of non-supernatural rumours about them that were equally distasteful. Some said ‘they liked to keep the family pure’. Inbreeding was one of the main things they were accused of but they never confirmed nor denied it.

The most well-known rumour about the Targaryens had to be the one relating to the cases of dead bodies found in the Blackwater bay. No one knew exactly when it started but one thing they knew for sure was that it didn’t happen before the Targaryens appeared in King’s Landing. Well, it didn’t happen before in a pattern.

Every morning after the first full moon of the month a body would be found dead in Blackwater bay. It had been happening for a century at this point and every time it was the same. The body would be found with no eyes and no one could find anything on the body that pointed towards murder. No stab wounds, no bruises, no nothing. Even the empty eye sockets showed no signs of violence. As if someone surgically removed them without a trace. 

People didn’t go out on full moons, no one did. Even the animals like house cats or even stray cats found shelter somewhere inside. There weren't a lot of things the people knew about the mysterious deaths, only that they knew the Targaryen family had something to do with it.

“Do you like the flowers, dear?”

Alicent’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring at the flowers that contained the ill message.You sheepishly nodded and forced yourself to smile.

“I do, my lady.”  

“Please, call me Alicent, dear. I hope you are eventually able to call me mother as well.” Alicent chuckled and walked further into the room and motioned at the centrepiece. “Helaena arranged them for you. She is a wonderful girl and so incredibly creative.” Alicent beamed as she spoke of her daughter.

Helaena was the pretty lady in the pale purple dress, you remembered. She seemed sweet, did she really mean to combine these flowers together to send such a strange message or did she genuinely not know? No. You figured it was too much of a coincidence not to know. 

“I see you have changed your clothes as well, you look absolutely beautiful. Aemond is lucky to have you as his bride.” 

Alicent complimented you with a kind smile. The lady next to you had changed into her evening gown. A fully green velvet dress with many ruffles and layers. Her hair had also been braided into a much simpler style than earlier that day.

“Thank you my lady- I mean Alicent. You look wonderful as well.”

Alicent beamed at your compliment, perhaps she didn’t get them often. 

“We shall have dinner in half an hour and afterwards Aemond shall give you a tour of the castle. Take that time to get to know each other.” Alicent spoke and turned around to leave your room again.

When the door closed behind her the only noise in your room was the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. You rummaged through your trunk to find your notebook again. You needed a more well hidden spot for it, especially since the first findings you had made about the family weren’t particularly positive. You’d hate for them to find it. 

You eventually settled on hiding it beneath your mattress. The notebook wasn’t too thick and if it was uncomfortable to sleep on it was a small price to pay. Before hiding it in its designated spot you added a small note underneath the list of flowers. 

Helaena arranged it.

Once the notebook was hidden in its spot you sat down on a sea green velvet couch and tried to devise a plan. You knew Aemond’s tour of the castle wouldn’t be enough to explore it to your liking but you didn’t want to make it too obvious you were snooping around. 

You had mulled over it during the duration of dinner. Absentmindedly answering the questions the family asked you. Well, it was mostly Alicent and Otto that asked you questions. After a few cups of wine Aegon joined in too but Alicent quickly shut him up once the questions got too perverse. 

You were now walking with Aemond through the castle and you had quickly figured out he was a stern man. His long straight hair was braided down his back and tied off with a black ribbon. He didn’t wear his coat inside the castle, only wearing his white shirt with puffy sleeves and a black double breasted vest with silver buttons. 

“These are my quarters.” He said with a monotone voice and pointed at the room on the left, not even bothering to show you the inside. You continued to follow him through the hallway. He pointed at the rooms in the hallway that belonged to his siblings Aegon and Helaena. Their names were engraved on a small golden plate attached to the door in swirly letters. He skipped over one room, not even bothering to look at it. You, however, noticed it still contained a golden plate with a name engraved on it. From the corner of your eye you could only barely make out the name.

Daeron Targaryen.

‘Weird.’ You thought. You weren’t aware of a Daeron living in the castle with them. Perhaps he was a cousin or an uncle? You had learned at dinner that Aemond’s half-sister Rhaenyra lived in a different castle with her husband and five sons and two step-daughters, perhaps it was one of them. 

You had also learned Aemond’s father had been ill for a long time and that he had sent his apologies to you for not being able to meet you this afternoon. You were only half-listening to what Aemond was saying, too deep in thoughts to concentrate on his voice.

“You mustn’t enter this hallway.”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Aemond. You had exited the stairwell and were a floor above his chambers now. The hallway didn’t have any servants walking through and many of the white candles that lit it were almost fully burnt up.

“Why is that?” Your voice was laced with curiosity as you stared into the creepy hallway. It was long and quite dusty. The silence and darkness sent a shiver through your body but your body ached to find out what was located there.

“These are father’s chambers. He doesn’t like visitors. No one comes here except mother and the doctors.” Aemond replied sternly and gazed at you. You had made sure to walk on his right side so he could see you easily without having to turn his head too much.

“What? Really? Not even you or your siblings?”

“Yes.”

An awkward silence hung between the two of you but he eventually motioned at you to follow him to the next floor. You had only now realised you hadn’t asked him any questions about himself yet and you mentally cursed at yourself for not doing so.

“What is it that you do?” You asked him as you followed him through the hallways of the next floor. 

“I plan on opening a doctor’s practice and a morgue in King’s Landing.”

You were unsure on how to reply to that. Being a mortician was a rather dark profession but you knew many places in Westeros lacked one. Usually the septs handled all the burials of the deceased. 

“I studied medicine and anatomy in Old Town, I have only returned half a year ago.” He must’ve sensed your hesitancy to reply so he continued to speak but didn’t bother to look back at you. His body language screamed dominance and authority. He walked with his arms behind his back in a stiff manner. You simply nodded and picked up pace to catch up with him.

“Do you like it?”

“No.”

‘By the gods at least give me something to work with.’ You internally groaned.

“Why didn’t you like it?” 

“I prefer history and philosophy.” 

Now that was something you could work with. You loved history and a small smile tugged at your lips when you learned he did as well. At least there was something you and your betrothed had in common. 

“What kind of history do you enjoy the most? I enjoy learning about the Old North and The Children of the Forest.” 

His eyebrows raised a little in surprise and for the first time he actually turned his head to look at you instead of glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I enjoy learning about my family history and the cultures of Essos and Sothoryos.”

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

“I didn’t expect you to like history, my lady.” 

A grin tugged at the corner of your lips, your hands were now behind your back as well, only your stature was a lot more relaxed than his. It was always easier to converse when the topic was something you enjoyed.

“Well, perhaps I am full of surprises.” 

You knew you had to win him over if you wanted a chance at a decent life with a husband that tolerated you. Of course, you couldn’t forget your father’s wishes as well. Investigating this family would be a lot easier with a husband that trusted you. 

The rest of the tour of the castle was a lot more pleasant than the first half. He showed you his workstation with medical supplies, located on the base level of the castle. The interior creeped you out a little. In his room were bottled up organs in a mixture you did not know the name of. His supplies were neatly stored in various cabinets and he showed you the books he had to use in his studies, promising you that you were always allowed to borrow one whenever you wanted. 

He had also promised to take you on a walk on the castle grounds the next day if the weather would allow it, after all, the storm was still raging outside. 

He had dropped you off back at your room after the tour. Wishing you a good night whilst he pressed a soft kiss against the back of your hand. You knew he was only being a gentleman but it still made your stomach flutter. The men in the North weren’t as chivalrous as men in the south. 

“Sleepwell my lady.” He said before turning around and walking away, his braid swaying a little from side to side and his footsteps echoing through the empty hall of the castle. 

A few maids helped you change into your nightgown and you dismissed them before they could help you into bed. You wanted a little more time writing in your notebook about the first day in the castle. You didn’t want to write much, after all, it would be a shame if you filled it too quickly.

- Night, the fifth day,  first month of the year 1871 -

I ate dinner with the family, most of them (Targaryen side) were quiet even after initiating conversation. I met my future husband and he seems like an intelligent man. All of them are quite secretive. The father of the family is ill, no one could tell me about his ailment and no one is allowed to go near his chambers. 

Who is Daeron Targaryen?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Aaaa thank you all so much for reading the first chapter. I had a lot of fun writing and researching for it. I’m still not sure at how many chapters it will have but I'll keep you all updated.

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know! 🫶

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – Taglist:

[little-fairy-forest]

The test

bakugou x fem! reader, fluff, domestic, mentions of pregnancy

You and Katsuki have a comfortable life. The nice spacious house you and katsuki moved into not long after you found out you were pregnant with your little boy, Tatsuo. This little guy was certainly a surprise a few years into your marriage. Katsuki was over the moon to be quite frank. He found it hard to keep the news hushed until you felt safe enough to share the news with friends and family. The media was kept out until Tatsuo was born. You announced the news with a simple tweet on Katsuki's account with a cute photo of Tatsuo's feet with the caption of his birth date and a blue heart. Yeah, twitter broke down for a week.

Now, why is this information important? well, you had this inner sense of something off-putting. Your period was a little late- could be due to stress- but the chances of your being pregnant again? the stakes are high.

"you gonna take the test yet?" Katsuki asks you as he changes Tatsuo into his pyjamas on the little rug in his room. As Tatsuo squirms and giggles as his fathers grasp. You look at the box in your hands and think about all the 'what if's?' what if you are pregnant? will you be able to care for another mini bakugou? will your body be able to handle it? will Tatsuo feel pushed aside with the thought of sharing his favourite people? will you be able to focus on your hero life as well? will you -

"take the damn test already" Katsuki grumbles as he holds Tatsuo up side down as he laughs and squirms at his dad playing with him

"The result won't change" katsuki gives you a small smile as you take a deep breath and make your way into the small bathroom beside Tatsuo's bedroom.

Three minutes. In just three minutes you will know if you will be a mother again.

The little white the stick on the sink counter top had the results you were nervous to check. This little white stick you've seen numerous times before trying to conceive Tatsuo. You take a deep breath before checking the results

You lift the pregnancy test up and turn it over to view the results

pregnant 4-5 weeks

oh my god, you're going to be a mother again! Tatsuo will be a big brother! You start to tear up as your heart starts to race at the newfound news of a baby bakugo that will soon be a part of your chaotic family

"did you have a nice piss? your takin a long ass time" Katsuki knocks on the door before opening it. Katsuki sees you crying, he assumes the worst. You've both been through this before. One to many negative tests have plagued your journey to becoming parents, but now?

"Katsuki your gonna be a Dad again!" you said through happy tears as Katsuki stumbled over and engulfs you in a hug. You both start to laugh at the moment. How this special moment is being shared once more in the home you built together, a home you built to raise your family through thick and thin.

"thank fuck, oh my god your pregnant" Katsuki trembles out as he hugs you tighter, being mindful of the little life growing in your tummy

Katsuki just hold you as you start to ramble about all the little signs you've had over the last few days. How you can't wait to tell his mom again after how she reacted to when you were pregnant with Tatsuo. Katuki smiles at the thought of you blessing him with another child. Another symbol of your love.

"If this little peanut craves weird things like Tatsuo I ain't making it again" Katsuki jokes as he remembers back when you craved and ate weird cravings that made Katsuki physically sick. Who knew porridge and mustard was edible?

-> masterlist

[forkshighschooler]

Unexpected Blessings

Summary: Fear and uncertainty can consume even the bravest souls when faced with life-altering news. Follow the journey of (Y/N) as she musters the courage to share her unexpected pregnancy with Paul Lahote, discovering that love can conquer the greatest of uncertainties.

Word Count: 1,200

Note: This one-shot contains references to pregnancy and anxiety. If this topic is triggering for you, please refrain from reading. Take care of yourself!

----------

The air felt heavy as (Y/N) paced back and forth in her bedroom. Her thoughts raced, anxiety consuming her every fiber. The truth weighed heavily on her heart, but fear held her tongue captive. She had to tell Paul, her boyfriend, that she was pregnant. The news felt both joyous and terrifying, a mix of emotions that overwhelmed her.

As (Y/N) sat on the edge of her bed, Paul entered the room with a playful smile. However, the sight of her anxious face wiped the smile away from his face instantly.

"(Y/N), you've been acting strange lately. Is everything alright?" Paul asked, concern lacing his voice.

Her heart pounded as she struggled to form the words. The fear of rejection and the unknown outcome threatened to consume her. Taking a deep breath, she mustered up the courage to speak.

"Paul, I have something important to tell you," she began, her voice trembling. "I…I'm pregnant."

Silence hung in the air, and (Y/N) feared the worst. She couldn't bear to look at Paul, certain that he would be overcome with shock or disappointment. But when she finally gathered the courage to meet his gaze, she was met with something unexpected—warmth and love.

Paul approached her and took her hands gently in his, his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and tenderness. "You're pregnant? (Y/N), that's incredible news."

Her heart swelled with relief as tears welled up in her eyes. "You're not mad? You're not scared?"

Paul shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. "Of course not. I love you, (Y/N), and we'll face this together. This is a blessing, not something to be afraid of."

With each word, (Y/N) felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued her moments ago were replaced by a newfound strength and love.

Paul pulled her into his embrace, holding her softly as the reality settled in. "We'll make a great team, you and me. Our baby will be surrounded with love and support."

A mixture of emotions flooded (Y/N)'s heart. The fear she once held faded, replaced by excitement, hope, and a deep sense of gratitude. She couldn't have asked for a better partner to navigate this new chapter in their lives together.

As they continued to discuss their plans for the future, (Y/N) marvelled at the strength and unwavering support that Paul provided. While there were challenges ahead, they faced them as a united front, ready to embrace the journey together.

Months passed, and (Y/N)'s baby bump grew with each passing day. Paul doted on her, showering her with love, care, and endless affection. Their bond grew stronger, reflecting the beautiful life they were nurturing.

When the day of their child's arrival finally arrived, (Y/N) clung to Paul's hand, the love in their eyes mirroring their hopes and dreams. In that moment, everything felt perfect and right.

As they welcomed their tiny bundle of joy into the world, (Y/N) was reminded once again that love could conquer even the greatest of uncertainties. Together with Paul, they would navigate the beautiful chaos of parenthood and make sure their child knew they were cherished beyond measure.

----------

Note: Parenthood is a significant journey full of both joys and challenges. It is essential to find a support system and seek help when needed. Reach out to professionals, such as doctors or therapists, for guidance and assistance.

[cloudninetonine]

The Hero of the Oracles, was a man that radiated optimism. Despite his pig-like appearance, being the following Ganon of King and the preceding of Famine (not that he didn’t look to the brighter side, but he certainly didn’t radiate it) he was one of the more welcoming Ganons from within the group.

A contrast to your familiar pinky hero- Oracle kept a more positive view on things: to him there was always a solution to any problem, to him there was never any need to fret because to him, everything else was already so much better than what he had faced decades ago.

Similar to the villain Ganon, Oracle was originally a thief after losing his parents to only the goddess knew what at such a young age. He had to fend for himself, he was alone for so long before his first adventure had even begun and he had told you all this quietly amongst the flames of the campfire when you struggled to sleep on one of the many nights that your horrid memories seemed to crawl into your dreams and stain them with terrors beyond you imagination. He didn’t leave out the details and he didn’t sugarcoat any of what he told you- his honesty was nice in a way. These men weren’t perfect. They weren’t even on the side of light, they still served the God Demise and they were only the heroes to keep the balance as their Hylia seemed to strive for “Purification” in her eyes, anyway.

You had decided to tag her as ‘Martinet’, as it perfectly described just how worse she seemed to be.

It seemed the OG Hylia wasn’t all the bad anymore.

Oracle liked to knit, and sew, and crochet, and so much more of the textiles arts you had almost lost count. A thing similar to Legend, Oracle had grown an attachment to the arts after having to repair garments one too many times while on the road. It was a useful skill. A skill that he enjoyed, so it wasn’t rare to see him working on his own little project in the quieter moments- he had even sewed some pretty flowers into your tunic after seeing all the tears!

It was his peace offering at your bumpy beginning.

Oracle couldn’t go into town. Neither could Famine, or Betzalel, or Power or Pestilence- when you looked like a hulking moblin it would make sense to avoid towns like the plague, if you were in a group of moblin looking bastards you knew it would only end bad for you to ever step near civilization. So it made sense, the men staying at the camp to take care of everything while the other men strolled through the people for the journey’s supplies.

You were clutching carefully at Tide’s coat, like a child with his mother, attached at the hip. He didn’t mind though. The man preferred it actually, able to keep a better eye on your smaller form in the crowds- you were so “small” after all, was what Tide argued and, well, he wasn't wrong.

Didn’t stop you from trying to fight him about it.

These moments did give you time to glance around the area. Eyes rolling over the stalls in the markets, ranging from everyday food to magical items for daily use. What an interesting sight it was. Never in your life would you have ever expected to hear a salesman screaming about his “magic wares- good for the husband for his upcoming travel!” What kind of magic item was it? A protection ring? Blessed weapon? Leaning in a little, you tried to spot just what the guy was speaking about.

Only to be tugged along with Tide as he moved to the next stall. Following obediently, you made quick haste in order to keep up with the giant’s massive strides-

When a stall caught your attention. 

Your pause also had the older man stopping, not that your strength did anything but simply due your lacking grip when you turned to face the stall with the assortment of fabrics and crafting materials.

“My child?” He edged closer to the table also, looking over the stock with mild interest. “Is there something that interests you?”

The clerk, a Rito woman, chuckled lightly before her wing gently brushed the table over what you were looking at- the glowing blue fur that dazzled in the light of the evening sun.

“It seems you have grown a likeness to our blupee fur.” At your aghast expression she tutted playfully, “Come now, don’t think of me so cruelly! I would never kill such a beautiful creature! Not that I think there is a possible way to as such….these furs where shaven.”

You looked over them carefully, your hand gently moving over the material- this was reason blupee fur, you could feel the familiar magic of the mountain lord buzz in your hand. “You were able to shave a blupee?”

The bird woman laughed once again, “Me? Goddess no- my father, however, has his own secrets on taming the creatures. The magic of the furs allows for the greatest luck with rupees, adjusts for the environments and blessed with protection”

“Really?”

“Yes, the Lord of the Mountain does flow through each and every one of the creatures.”

You hesitated slightly with your next words, “When you say protection, you mean projection against evil….right?”

Tide’s hand came to gently rest on your back, a gentle reminder that he was here and whatever fear that currently tried to fight to your heart could simply buzz off.

The clerk looked sympathetic, “The furs are known to help in moments of panic, be it against evil or simply lost on a path, the magic will be there to aid you.”

It was certainly promising. As much as you didn’t want to part with your beloved cloak (a gift from Wild- your Wild, a reminder that one day you would return to them, at least you hoped you did…) it was definitely time for an upgrade. And an upgrade that could be handy if you have to deal with….them again, you could take that over sentimental value.

“I’m going to guess these furs do not come cheap?” Tide joked, pulling out his rupee pouch.

“500 rupees is the lowest I would go.”

“I’ve got it.” Tide watched as you pulled out your own coin pouch, balancing 3 silver rupees with a small handful of purples following, “Is there any other fabric that goes good with the blupee fur? Magical or not?”

“Hold on, I have a small deal that comes with the fur- discounts for such lovely customers.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Returning later than evening, Nature had started on dinner as soon as you had all settled down. Priming the pastry top for a nice smelling pie with the goods he had gathered from the market. Your stomach rumbled for the dish, the fire alluring you towards where it cooked on the gentle fire- but it would still take time for such to be ready to feast upon.

Which is why you used the time to approach Oracle, talking animatedly to Famine who listened to his younger self quietly, eyes focused on polish his weapon- his chopped ears twitching in a way which showed his was listening.

“Uh, Oracle.” The two giants faced you, Oracle with interest and Famine in acknowledgment, “Could-...could I ask a favour?”

“Of course!” He replied, lightly with mirth (You didn’t understand how such a kind giant could come from King, but then again King would have been the equivalent to an angsty teen with all his counterparts. “What is it you require? Does it have something to do with the fabrics laid in your hands?”

You felt heat run up your neck, your hands shakily moving towards him “I- I was wondering if you could make me a new cloak?”

“A new one? Put your one this moment is perfect! Why do you wish to part from it?”

You hesitate.

There was a constant fear that nagged right at the back of your mind. Always there, fleeting but present- it would probably never leave you for as long as you continued to live. But maybe, just maybe, there would be a way to hide from it. This cloak was your answer, promised protection from what in the shadows of Hyrule, both monster and not. You needed this, not wanted, but needed to feel safer, even with a placebo effect.

“I don’t want to…I need to.”

Oracle paused, as did Famine. The two shared a look, eyes reflecting a similar look of concern as you continued on.

“The woman at the shop said it’s guaranteed protection and I need- I just- Ganon can you please just-”

A large hand came to rest upon your head, like a giant sun and casting a shadow in your vision that almost blinded you before your locks were ruffled.

“If it is truly needed then I will happily make you another cloak.” Taking the the materials he looked over them in interest, whistling lowly “Such rich fabrics- it must have cost you an ear or two.”

“....are you sure you’ll be able to make it? Do you need other tools?”

“You doubt my skills?” he joked, going through his bag to pull out some items you did not recognise, “I could create the most majestic of cloth with my eyes closed, my dear, there isn’t a need to worry.”

…you trust him, why would he lie after all?

Walking closer, you move to sit next to the man but Famine tugs you into your arms and places you right on his shoulders instead. It’s your seat now, if you’re not walking with the men your on one of their shoulders- they didn’t mind though. Your weight to them was like a empty rucksack over their shoulders, weighing almost nothing on the expanse of their build.

Crossing your arms, you laid them to rest upon the head of Famine as you watched Oracles hands move- skilled and precise.

In the following few days you would have a new cloak, dazzling in the sunlight and just the added protection to what stalked you in the burrows of the bush. It would not laid rest the fear that kept true to you but at least you would have that added relief to it all.

Oracle’s hands moved so smoothly.

[daenerystargaryen06]

Times Daenerys has Shown Compassion

A Game of Thrones:

"She brought back a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables. Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know. While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she'd had made to her brother's measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon. She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he'd hit her. "How dare you send this whore to give me commands," he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet. The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. "I only wanted … Doreah, what did you say?" [..] "Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper." [..] "No one commands the dragon," Viserys snarled. "I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!" The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. "Don't be afraid, he won't hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace." She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. "Look. These are for you." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IV

"Across the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men. I am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate. "Most of Ogo's riders fled," Ser Jorah was saying. "Still, there may be as many as ten thousand captives." Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne. "I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen," Ser Jorah said. "They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them." Behind them, the girl being raped made a heartrending sound, a long sobbing wail that went on and on and on. Dany's hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver's head. "Make them stop," she commanded Ser Jorah." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"The girl was trembling, her eyes wide and vague. Her hair was matted with blood. "Doreah, see to her hurts. You do not have a rider's look, perhaps she will not fear you. The rest, with me." She urged the silver through the broken wooden gate. It was worse inside the town. Many of the houses were afire, and the jaqqa rhan had been about their grisly work. Headless corpses filled the narrow, twisty lanes. They passed other women being raped. Each time Dany reined up, sent her khas to make an end to it, and claimed the victim as slave. One of them, a thick-bodied, flat-nosed woman of forty years, blessed Dany haltingly in the Common Tongue, but from the others she got only flat black stares. They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate. "You cannot claim them all, child," Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped, while the warriors of her khas herded her new slaves behind her. "I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do." Across the city, a building collapsed in a great gout of fire and smoke, and she heard distant screams and the wailing of frightened children." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"I will carry you, blood of my blood," Haggo offered. Khal Drogo waved him away. "I need no man's help," he said, in a voice proud and hard. He stood, unaided, towering over them all. A fresh wave of blood ran down his breast, from where Ogo's arakh had cut off his nipple. Dany moved quickly to his side. "I am no man," she whispered, "so you may lean on me." Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple. The three bloodriders followed. Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now," said Jhogo. "He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat." [..] "It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo. If I look back I am lost. "It was a cruel fate," Dany said, "yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh." The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. "Khaleesi," the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, "Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back." She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo." He was lying on the bare red earth, staring up at the sun." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

A Clash of Kings:

"We follow the comet," Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo's people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law. They rode by night, and by day took refuge from the sun beneath their tents. Soon enough Dany learned the truth of Doreah's words. This was no kindly country. They left a trail of dead and dying horses behind them as they went, for Pono, Jhaqo, and the others had seized the best of Drogo's herds, leaving to Dany the old and the scrawny, the sickly and the lame, the broken animals and the ill-tempered. It was the same with the people. They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo's queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done. Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. Blood flies swarmed about his corpse and carried his ill luck to the living. "His time was past," her handmaid Irri declared. "No man should live longer than his teeth." The others agreed. Dany bid them kill the weakest of their dying horses, so the dead man might go mounted into the night lands." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick, yet it was her dragons she feared for. Her father had been slain before she was born, and her splendid brother Rhaegar as well. Her mother had died bringing her into the world while the storm screamed outside. Gentle Ser Willem Darry, who must have loved her after a fashion, had been taken by a wasting sickness when she was very young. Her brother Viserys, Khal Drogo who was her sun-and-stars, even her unborn son, the gods had claimed them all. They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Yet even as her dragons prospered, her khalasar withered and died. Around them the land turned ever more desolate. Even devilgrass grew scant; horses dropped in their tracks, leaving so few that some of her people must trudge along on foot. Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"They saw no sign of other travelers. The Dothraki began to mutter fearfully that the comet had led them to some hell. Dany went to Ser Jorah one morning as they made camp amidst a jumble of black wind-scoured stones. "Are we lost?" she asked him. "Does this waste have no end to it?" [..] "It has an end," he answered wearily. "I have seen the maps the traders draw, my queen. Few caravans come this way, that is so, yet there are great kingdoms to the east, and cities full of wonders. Yi Ti, Qarth, Asshai by the Shadow . . ." [..] "Will we live to see them?" [..] "I will not lie to you. The way is harder than I dared think." The knight's face was grey and exhausted. The wound he had taken to his hip the night he fought Khal Drogo's bloodriders had never fully healed; she could see how he grimaced when he mounted his horse, and he seemed to slump in his saddle as they rode. "Perhaps we are doomed if we press on . . . but I know for a certainty that we are doomed if we turn back." Dany kissed him lightly on the cheek. It heartened her to see him smile. I must be strong for him as well, she thought grimly. A knight he may be, but I am the blood of the dragon." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"Dany smiled. "Perhaps it's the camels you're smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose." [..] "Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did. -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys II

A Storm of Swords:

"No," said Dany. Groleo watched them from the forecastle, and his crew was watching too. Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, every one had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap. "I want to sail now, not on the tide, I want to sail far and fast and never look back. But I can't, can I? There are eight thousand brick eunuchs for sale, and I must find some way to buy them." And with that she left him, and went below. Behind the carved wooden door of the captain's cabin, her dragons were restless. Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. "No," Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. "You're too big for that now, sweetling." But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"Dany's mouth surely twisted at that. Did he see, or is he blind as well as cruel? She turned away quickly, trying to keep her face a mask until she heard the translation. Only then did she allow herself to say, "Whose infants do they slay?" [..] "To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them." She was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself. "You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"None." Was it Mormont she was angry with, or this city with its sullen heat, its stinks and sweats and crumbling bricks? "They sell eunuchs, not men. Eunuchs made of brick, like the rest of Astapor. Shall I buy eight thousand brick eunuchs with dead eyes that never move, who kill suckling babes for the sake of a spiked hat and strangle their own dogs? They don't even have names. So don't call them men, ser." [..] "Khaleesi," he said, taken aback by her fury, "the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained—" [..] "I have heard all I care to of their training." Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done." Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. "The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs." [..] "Your Grace," said Jorah Mormont, "I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they'll kill are those you want dead. And you do have some dogs you want dead, as I recall." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

"Valar morghulis," said Missandei, in High Valyrian. "All men must die," Dany agreed, "but not for a long while, we may pray." She leaned back on the pillows and took the girl's hand. "Are these Unsullied truly fearless?" [..] "Yes, Your Grace." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

"Within the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, with her own tall golden pavilion at the center. A second encampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling and chaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, no horselines. Those who had horses or mules slept beside them, for fear they might be stolen. Goats, sheep, and half-starved dogs wandered freely amongst hordes of women, children, and old men. Dany had left Astapor in the hands of a council of former slaves led by a healer, a scholar, and a priest. Wise men all, she thought, and just. Yet even so, tens of thousands preferred to follow her to Yunkai, rather than remain behind in Astapor. I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it. The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver's armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV

"The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse's mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay. Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. "They will not hurt me," she told him. "They are my children, Jorah." She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. "Mother," they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. "Mother," they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. "Mother, Mother, Mother!" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys IV

"Ser Jorah looked unhappy. "We'll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There's no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we've had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."[...] "Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." [..] "Slave or free, they are hungry and they'll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"It is known," Jhiqui agreed, as she poured. "Not to me." Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. "Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?" [..] "You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us." Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. "No," she said. "I will not march my people off to die." My children. "There must be some way into this city." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"Children ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. Instead of salutes, voices called to her on every side in a babble of tongues. Some of the freedmen greeted her as "Mother," while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

"Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"Dany was shocked. "They want to be slaves?" [..] "The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor." [..] "I see." Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. "Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman." She raised a hand. "But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves," said Daario Naharis. "You have brought freedom as well," Missandei pointed out. "Freedom to starve?" asked Dany sharply. "Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?" Am I mad? Do I have the taint?" -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"A dragon," Ser Barristan said with certainty. "Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace." [..] "But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. "My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed all over again." She turned back to look at their faces. "I will not march." [..] "What will you do then, Khaleesi?" asked Rakharo." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

A Dance with Dragons:

"She had not forgotten the slave children the Great Masters had nailed up along the road from Yunkai. They had numbered one hundred sixty-three, a child every mile, nailed to mileposts with one arm outstretched to point her way. After Meereen had fallen, Dany had nailed up a like number of Great Masters. Swarms of flies had attended their slow dying, and the stench had lingered long in the plaza. Yet some days she feared that she had not gone far enough. These Meereenese were a sly and stubborn people who resisted her at every turn. They had freed their slaves, yes … only to hire them back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat. Those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the streets, along with the infirm and the crippled. And still the Great Masters gathered atop their lofty pyramids to complain of how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves, and whores. To rule Meereen I must win the Meereenese, however much I may despise them. "I am ready," she told Irri." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"If he proposes again that I wed King Cleon, I'll throw a slipper at his head, Dany thought, but for once the Astapori envoy made no mention of a royal marriage. Instead he said, "The time has come for Astapor and Meereen to end the savage reign of the Wise Masters of Yunkai, who are sworn foes to all those who live in freedom. Great Cleon bids me tell you that he and his new Unsullied will soon march." His new Unsullied are an obscene jape. "King Cleon would be wise to tend his own gardens and let the Yunkai'i tend theirs." It was not that Dany harbored any love for Yunkai. She was coming to regret leaving the Yellow City untaken after defeating its army in the field. The Wise Masters had returned to slaving as soon as she moved on, and were busy raising levies, hiring sellswords, and making alliances against her." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"The noble Grazdan had once owned a slave woman who was a very fine weaver, it seemed; the fruits of her loom were greatly valued, not only in Meereen, but in New Ghis and Astapor and Qarth. When this woman had grown old, Grazdan had purchased half a dozen young girls and commanded the crone to instruct them in the secrets of her craft. The old woman was dead now. The young ones, freed, had opened a shop by the harbor wall to sell their weavings. Grazdan zo Galare asked that he be granted a portion of their earnings. "They owe their skill to me," he insisted. "I plucked them from the auction bloc and gave them to the loom." Dany listened quietly, her face still. When he was done, she said, "What was the name of the old weaver?" [..] "The slave?" Grazdan shifted his weight, frowning. "She was … Elza, it might have been. Or Ella. It was six years ago she died. I have owned so many slaves, Your Grace." [..] "Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"Reznak wrung his hands. "N-nine, Magnificence. Foul work it was, and wicked. A dreadful night, dreadful." Nine. The word was a dagger in her heart. Every night the shadow war was waged anew beneath the stepped pyramids of Meereen. Every morn the sun rose upon fresh corpses, with harpies drawn in blood on the bricks beside them. Any freedman who became too prosperous or too outspoken was marked for death. Nine in one night, though … That frightened her. "Tell me." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

"Reznak mo Reznak gasped. "Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?" [..] "From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy's Sons have slain." That brought a smile to the Shavepate's face. "It will be done," he said, "but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city." Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. "Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

"How else, to grow a soldier? Your Radiance enjoyed my dancers. Would it surprise you to know that they are slaves, bred and trained in Yunkai? They have been dancing since they were old enough to walk. How else to achieve such perfection?" He took a swallow of his wine. "They are expert in all the erotic arts as well. I had thought to make Your Grace a gift of them." [..] "By all means." Dany was unsurprised. "I shall free them." That made him wince. "And what would they do with freedom? As well give a fish a suit of mail. They were made to dance." [..] "Made by who? Their masters? Perhaps your dancers would sooner build or bake or farm. Have you asked them?" [..] "Perhaps your elephants would sooner be nightingales. Instead of sweet song, Meereen's nights would be filled with thunderous trumpetings, and your trees would shatter beneath the weight of great grey birds." Xaro sighed. "Daenerys, my delight, beneath that sweet young breast beats a tender heart … but take counsel from an older, wiser head. Things are not always as they seem. Much that may seem evil can be good. Consider rain." [..] "Rain?" Does he take me for a fool, or just a child? "We curse the rain when it falls upon our heads, yet without it we should starve. The world needs rain … and slaves. You make a face, but it is true. Consider Qarth. In art, music, magic, trade, all that makes us more than beasts, Qarth sits above the rest of mankind as you sit at the summit of this pyramid … but below, in place of bricks, the magnificence that is the Queen of Cities rests upon the backs of slaves. Ask yourself, if all men must grub in the dirt for food, how shall any man lift his eyes to contemplate the stars? If each of us must break his back to build a hovel, who shall raise the temples to glorify the gods? For some men to be great, others must be enslaved." He was too eloquent for her. Dany had no answer for him, only the raw feeling in her belly. "Slavery is not the same as rain," she insisted. "I have been rained on and I have been sold. It is not the same. No man wants to be owned." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

"I know that the Mother of Dragons will not abandon us in our hour of peril. Lend us your Unsullied to defend our walls." And if I do, who will defend my walls? "Many of my freedmen were slaves in Astapor. Perhaps some will wish to help defend your king. That is their choice, as free men. I gave Astapor its freedom. It is up to you to defend it." [..] "We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom." Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face. Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael's teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him. "Enough," she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. "No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away." They dragged him out feet first, leaving several broken teeth and a trail of blood behind. Dany would gladly have sent the rest of the petitioners away … but she was still their queen, so she heard them out and did her best to give them justice." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

"It was all Dany could do not to laugh. "Not well. Last night three Qartheen galleys sailed up the Skahazadhan under the cover of darkness. The Mother's Men loosed flights of fire arrows at their sails and flung pots of burning pitch onto their decks, but the galleys slipped by quickly and suffered no lasting harm. The Qartheen mean to close the river to us, as they have closed the bay. And they are no longer alone. Three galleys from New Ghis have joined them, and a carrack out of Tolos." The Tolosi had replied to her request for an alliance by proclaiming her a whore and demanding that she return Meereen to its Great Masters. Even that was preferable to the answer of Mantarys, which came by way of caravan in a cedar chest. Inside she had found the heads of her three envoys, pickled. "Perhaps your gods can help us. Ask them to send a gale and sweep the galleys from the bay." [..] "I shall pray and make sacrifice. Mayhaps the gods of Ghis will hear me." Galazza Galare sipped her wine, but her eyes did not leave Dany. "Storms rage within the walls as well as without. More freedmen died last night, or so I have been told." [..] "Three." Saying it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "The cowards broke in on some weavers, freedwomen who had done no harm to anyone. All they did was make beautiful things. I have a tapestry they gave me hanging over my bed. The Sons of the Harpy broke their loom and raped them before slitting their throats." [..] "This we have heard. And yet Your Radiance has found the courage to answer butchery with mercy. You have not harmed any of the noble children you hold as hostage." "Not as yet, no." Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. "If I kill my cupbearers, who will pour my wine and serve my supper?" she said, trying to make light of it." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IV

"The Astapori stumbled after them in a ghastly procession that grew longer with every yard they crossed. Some spoke tongues she did not understand. Others were beyond speaking. Many lifted their hands to Dany, or knelt as her silver went by. "Mother," they called to her, in the dialects of Astapor, Lys, and Old Volantis, in guttural Dothraki and the liquid syllables of Qarth, even in the Common Tongue of Westeros. "Mother, please … mother, help my sister, she is sick … give me food for my little ones … please, my old father … help him … help her … help me …" I have no more help to give, Dany thought, despairing. The Astapori had no place to go. Thousands remained outside Meereen's thick walls—men and women and children, old men and little girls and newborn babes. Many were sick, most were starved, and all were doomed to die. Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. Separating the healthy from the sick had proved impractical as well. Her Stalwart Shields had tried, pulling husbands away from wives and children from their mothers, even as the Astapori wept and kicked and pelted them with stones. A few days later, the sick were dead and the healthy ones were sick. Dividing the one from the other had accomplished nothing. Even feeding them had grown difficult. Every day she sent them what she could, but every day there were more of them and less food to give them. It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. "I will not turn away from them," she said stubbornly. "A queen must know the sufferings of her people." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VI

"They're past cursing," said Symon Stripeback. Little children with swollen stomachs trailed after them, too weak or scared to beg. Gaunt men with sunken eyes squatted amidst sand and stones, shitting out their lives in stinking streams of brown and red. Many shat where they slept now, too feeble to crawl to the ditches she'd commanded them to dig. Two women fought over a charred bone. Nearby a boy of ten stood eating a rat. He ate one-handed, the other clutching a sharpened stick lest anyone try to wrest away his prize. Unburied dead lay everywhere. Dany saw one man sprawled in the dirt under a black cloak, but as she rode past his cloak dissolved into a thousand flies. Skeletal women sat upon the ground clutching dying infants. Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. "Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …" Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me. What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?" -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VI

"Daenerys gave him a quizzical look. "Lions?" [..] "Three of them. The dwarfs will not expect them." She frowned. "The dwarfs have wooden swords. Wooden armor. How do you expect them to fight lions?" "Badly," said Hizdahr, "though perhaps they will surprise us. More like they will shriek and run about and try to climb out of the pit. That is what makes this a folly." Dany was not pleased. "I forbid it." [..] "Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people." [..] "You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now." The king's mouth tightened. For a heartbeat Dany thought she saw a flash of anger in those placid eyes. "As you command." Hizdahr beckoned to his pitmaster. "No lions," he said when the man trotted over, whip in hand." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IX

"Never, said the grass, in the gruff tones of Jorah Mormont. You were warned, Your Grace. Let this city be, I said. Your war is in Westeros, I told you. The voice was no more than a whisper, yet somehow Dany felt that he was walking just behind her. My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest, but she knew that if she turned around Ser Jorah would be gone. "I am dreaming," she said. "A waking dream, a walking dream. I am alone and lost." Lost, because you lingered, in a place that you were never meant to be, murmured Ser Jorah, as softly as the wind.  Alone, because you sent me from your side." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Many antis love to say that Dany is evil, a slave master, uncaring, etc. Yet here we see in her passages that she is compassionate, sympathetic, and has a high disdain for unnecessary violence.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Hiii could you do a fic of Frollo x a gypsy/romani reader, where he's madly in love with the reader and the reader loves him back? I love your fics btw!!!

My only light

warning : fluff, implied comfort, age gap, fem reader, kissing

Info : Hiii dear anon thank you so much for this request (very happy that you like my fics) finally a disney one and for Frollo ahhh. I really liked writing this so have fun reading and everyone else too ;)

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

She was his light, his fire, his angel. She was what he had always been looking for in his life. He had never committed sin but he would have done anything for her and she would have done everything for him. Her Judge.

His wife at his side the view of the unusual couple on the people of paris was still not clear even the archdean did not know at first if it was all a trick so that the judge would get more power. But no, it was not. Judge Claude Frollo had indeed lost his cold, stony, selfish, sinful heart to a woman. His beautiful wife.

His angel who was in her prime and would stay with him for a long time. ,,My gift from God" as he sometimes called her when they got out of the carriage together in public or when he took her with him to parties.

The meeting of the two was so unlikely that it could only have come from God. The judge left his residence and rode through the streets on his horse to get to the tailor.

The annual spring festival was just around the corner, and what better way to express prosperity than with clothes and jewelry. It was an easy walk to the tailor through the streets of his town plagued by sinners, whores, drunks and addicts.

A city that was on the brink of the abyss and could only be brought to salvation through him. Redemption that he would unwittingly bring to them with a woman at his side.

The small golden bell on the door announced his entrance as always he was unflattered by the owner but the judge was only interested in the important fabrics the dark purple and red the black for his robe as his eyes brightened a little.

It was colorful fabric that should not be in the department here. Lifting his gaze, his eyes met hers. His lovely flower. The long dark hair that lay beautifully against her body, the lips as if she had tasted a cherry and the juice had kissed her.

The captivating eyes behind the long eyebrows, the moving body and the "exotic" skin that peeked out from under the colorful clothes. But it was her smile that captivated him, not something of a witch, not a dishonorable gypsy. The smile of his angel. A meeting that brought the two of them together in a small shop.

The traveling nun who helped people on her journeys through the country, blessing them, giving them gifts and caring for them. His counterpart, where he had hate she had love, where she had luck he had bad luck. She in her prime, he under the moon almost at the end.

They were each other's side for better or worse. But it was a meeting that brought them both together. He enjoyed her stories and she enjoyed his clavichord which he played for her every night when she was on the couch.

They shared a glass of wine and maybe he felt young again for a moment when she took his hand and danced with him around the music room. Her lovely smile she gave him that warmed his heart everytime over and over. Her sweet kisses like a little fire on his skin that she gave him.

He stroked her hair, smelling the lavender scent that emanated from her. The flowers and blossoms were her passion as he found out. It was only necessary for him to present her with books, with flowers he had shipped in from other countries.

Her room had almost become a jungle through which he had to navigate to get to his wife. Where she welcomed him with a smile as always got into his arms and showed him what she has found out.

A new world for the man who only knew hate and sins but soon saw the beauty in her work. ,,My Judge," she always joked, knowing that he also had a nickname for her when he kissed the ring he had given her, the ring that sealed their marriage. It seemed that Frolllo's image of the two of them was not only washed clean by the way they behaved.

She showed him a world without sin, they both built children's homes, hospital camps and even enjoyed the time of feastivals. ,,I could never say no...not to my angel," he whispered to her as the two of them sat on the wooden thrones under the tent. His gaze on her as always, love in his eyes, love in her smile she gave him.

The best thing about the festival was that his hands, which were always folded on his lap, were taken by his angel. She stroked his fingers and he gave her a gentle smile before the party began. Knowing full well that she was always there for him...and he would have been for her.

A festival of which the masses of people made a picture of love between the judge who would soon no longer be considered heartless. Because his love for his wife, the love they found for each other seemed biblical and endless.

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

[evolutionsvoid]

To many, the plague of the Arimakki is madness, a terrible blight that is infesting an already wounded world. As the war wages on, and communities lay in ruin, these horrible parasites torment the many people trapped within these devastated lands. Every day, folks pray that a miracle come a wash away this sickness, for the world to be rid of at least one terror. But it seems that not all despise the Arimakki and their Vile Red Tree. Some who look upon these godly parasites and see some kind of potential or profit to be gained from them. Many are short sighted dreams that rely on foolish greed and dumb luck to pull off, and most who seek the Arimakki for gain perish beneath their writhing hordes. Yet, these are not the worst to be found, these are not the only folk who would seek out the feverish parasites. There are those who would look upon the Arimakki and not see fear and disease, instead finding some bizarre admiration for these terrible babbling things. It must speak to the madness that has gripped this world, where folks would turn to the Arimakki for guidance...

As vile and impossible it would seem, there are the rare folk who do align themselves with the Arimakki. These are people who are beyond broken, beyond help, trying to find some hand hold in a world gone mad. Ask any sane person, and they would find no reasons to ever look up to the feverish parasites, yet there are some who see something hopeful within the babbling creatures. They point to a world locked in endless war, where violence and death reign supreme. They would show you a fractured Church, where faith rots and compassion has perished. Everywhere you would look, you would find people suffering and starving, towns in ruin and families torn apart. But yet the Arimakki thrive. Amongst all the torment eating away at the land, the Arimakki show no signs of fear, hunger or want. As the flames of war devour hearts and homes, the parasites dance, laugh and babble in oblivious tongues. They do not turn on their own kind, they know not of betrayal or deceit. Humanity would accuse them of being simple, primal, yet what has our great intellect brought? In a crazed world, the insane parasite appears to be the only one who is sane, and some would seek that out. They would go to the Arimakki in hopes of finding that oblivious bliss that would blind them to the suffering of this tortured existence. 

It was believed to be impossible to achieve, as how can one possibly join forces with a mindless plague? The Arimakki speak no language, they have shown no desire to communicate. They have no plans, no laws, no goals, just the desire to grow, eat and spread. No tongue would reach their ears, no offerings would sway them. It comes to no surprise that most who seek out the Arimakki would die amongst the feverish heat. But with enough time and desperate souls, a bloody path was paved and a horrible answer was found. To receive the blessing of the Arimakki, one must become like them. To do this, an excruciating ceremony must be performed. Most would call it madness, but the crazed pilgrims who seek this path have another word for it: Koroni Netsu. This is the baptism that changes a person, that warps their mind so that they may become like an Arimakki. It calls for all things Arimakki, to submerse your body thoroughly in their world, and pray that your flesh is strong enough to make the journey. According to the disgusting tales, to perform Koroni Netsu, one must consume the flesh of the White Worm, and pierce their body with splinters of the Vile Red Tree. The final step is to baptize yourself in a shower of Feverish Sweat, and let the boiling juices take hold. What follows is a sickness that no medicine can cure, an unholy fever that burns without end or relief. The form is consumed in a vile heat, your body working with the Arimakki ingredients to create an internal flame hot enough to burn away all things human. If the fever is one's body fighting a sickness, the Koroni Netsu targets the disease that is humanity. All is seared and boiled by the sickness, and often the pilgrim dies in its thrall. Most mortal flesh is incapable of handling such heat and internal devastation, but there are some who do make the journey alive. However, with what comes out the other side, some folk would argue that there is no "surviving" this...

Those who undertake Koroni Netsu and emerge alive will be cleansed of their humanity and be filled instead with the blessing of the Arimakki. Their own flesh will radiate the sickly heat, and within their cavities will squirm the pallid White Worms. Of their previous mind, there will be no trace. There are no thoughts remaining, no sane words to be understood. Their tongues babble the same nonsense as the Arimakki, and their actions mirror the parasites' insanity. This conversion goes beyond simple heat and hallucination, as the Arimakki themselves will bring no harm to this new inductee. Those who undergo this process can walk amongst the parasites without a worry, as they now radiate the aura of fever and belonging. They have become another member of the colony, and they will be welcome within its boiling depths. To fit in with their fellow parasites, they shall scrounge from the dead and wear discarded husks. They shall cloak themselves with feverish flesh and lifeless worm, finding comfort in their weight and layers. And like all Arimakki, there is a role for them in the colony, and it is the one task their lost mind cares about. These pilgrims will become priests, and preach the word of the Arimakki to all. With staffs fashioned from the Vile Red Tree, and cloaks of White Worm, they go to the masses to spread the message and sickness. But to the people of the world, they are a blight and a madness. Their words are incomprehensible, their lectures crazed raving. The only conversion they hope to bring is spreading the White Worm and Vile Red Tree themselves as they wander. Those who try to silence their mindless tongues will find them potent foes, as they call upon the Feverish Sweat that now flows within. Clouds of boiling steam are released from their bodies and staffs, their sickly heat roasting any who get too close. Blades and claws born from Arimakki corpses can sear through armor and flesh, all while their maddened lectures continue on. To everyone else, the conversion into an Arimakki priest is pure lunacy, seen as mental suicide. But to the people who dare take on such a pilgrimage, they often find that there is no other path for them. 

Humanity loves to preach its superiority and speak of the wonders that come from their minds. Yet look upon the world and see what this superior intellect has brought. Petty war, ruined lands and mass graves unending. If these are the monuments of an enlightened mind, than the greatest blessing one can receive is the key to undo these cursed shackles of "intellect."     

-----------------------

"Arimakki Priest"

[cupcakesmoothie]

Paloma!

Drawing this was. An experience. I am not taking art criticism at this point in time thank you.

The dress was definitely more fun to draw, if a little confusing at first. It's a Chiapaneca (Chiapas?) dress. I had to stare really hard at a couple haha. I've never actually seen one before so I hope I did them justice

THE WINGS. I don't what is happening there I don't know I did it. It took me two hours

Anyway. Paloma is a Mexican fashion designer! Her blessing is literally just wings. They're not magic or anything but she can fly with them (We will not talk about the physics or biology of this).

They are wood pigeon wings! I could have gone with dove, as is her namesake, but white wings are very common, and the name Paloma is derived from Palumbus, which is wood pigeon so!

I probably also could've given her golden eagle wings, since they represent her country better, but I have been going with blessings being related to names sometimes, and I did name her a bird specifically because of her blessing, so pigeon wings.

Is this a lot of research for something most people won't notice unless they already know about it? I know about it. And now you do too. :)

[herecirmsims]

People I'd Like To Get To Know Better

Thank you for tagging me @pamsimmer !!

last song: The Plagues (from The Prince Of Egypt musical)

favorite color(s): Black, hot pink, rainbow

currently watching: Frieren: Beyond Journey's End and Heaven Official's Blessing, since both are on a once-a-week release 🤭

last movie: But I'm A Cheerleader

currently reading: A lot of Sims' stories on IG, but otherwise nothing 🥲 I used to read soooo much, too!

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet AND savory

last thing I googled: "are moon jellyfish edible" (good news, they are)

current obsession: The toddler toy mods from @pandasamacc ! I only got them last night because of @surely-sims new play kitchen, but I'm having so much fun!!

currently working on: The next post for my story, but unfortunately I have forgotten what words are. And I think I need to make at least one more pose for it but I'm lazy.

People I wanna know more about: @themagicbluefox @raspberrywhimss @simmireen @izayoichan @julesbbsea17 @lunelfy @surely-sims

Feel free to ignore and if you're eager for someone to tag you. This is me tagging you.

(pictured below are my weird blue baby playing with the makeup kit and the drawing supply. The family are holidaying in Komorebi at the moment and this was a perfect way to entertain her on a snowy morning 🥹)

[catmansquad]

The Thirst

Vampire Miguel AU? Why not. I will inevitably add this as a proper chapter in The Looking Glass, but this is the X Reader version. Typing on mobile is hard...

Earth 9962 (Iteration: 300)

The Unorthodox, London, 2022

The club had once been an old church, now it served another order of service altogether; aglow in vibrant neons, heaving with the pulse of music and life. Dancers lost in the beat on the shining floor, couples lost in each other on plush sofas on the upper levels and at least one or two strangers passed out in each other's arms somewhere in the shadows.

'The regular tonight, Mike?' The bartender spoke up to be heard over the pounding beat of the music, addressing the figure seated before him; Slicked dark hair, brown eyes, always mumbled when he spoke, always with a strange hunger about him, yet the guy couldn't be lacking in cash, for the pricy clothes he always strutted up in.

'Yeah, just the usual...' He took the crinkled note that was slid across the counter in response and replaced it with the strongest whiskey the house could offer. The whiskey would not soothe the ache in him, Miguel knew that, but this scene served two purposes: the first reminded him of what it meant to be human, to do things mortals did- like breathing, and drinking. For certain he could still eat and drink, hell he could even still get drunk if enough of a vast quantity passed his lips, but these were just simple pleasures, nothing would truly sate him. Then came the second reason; the club itself, the heaving bodies, the pulse of life. He could hear the heartbeats over the music, practically smell the liquor laced blood thundering through excited veins. He glimpsed at his watch, marking the time and raised the glass in a silent toast before taking a hefty sip. Here was to five-hundred years. Five hundred years since that night in old Mexica where his life had been stolen and his death denied.

It had been a long journey, of tragedies and wars, and loss. Eventually he had grown numb to it all, mortals did as they did, and eventually they slipped away and the next generation made the same mistakes. He had made mistakes, too. A frantic and young Fledgling who assumed he ruled and had quickly learned humility, of failed romances, of the fleeting fatherhood stolen by plague, of so many broken hearts. Even an Elder felt that kind of pain still. It was a blessing and a curse both, to be untouched by time, disease and death.

'What a nice surprise...' The scent of sweet perfume, the ghost of a hand across his shoulder, the beautiful vision in silken crimson cooed by his ear, her free hand clutching her bag tight.

'Another sweet night, my darling...?' Her voice was soft as silk in his ear, he merely took another sip from his glass, placing it back on the counter. If only the sheep knew there were now two wolves prowling incognito among them.

'Entertain yourself elsewhere, Christina, I am not in the mood for your games.' His response was curt, uncaring. Her charms would not work on him. Christina's smile was unfaltering, her icy blue eyes found his own inevitably. Once she had been a model, an actress of considerable skill, destined for stardom. Now she was barely half a century into her darker existence and had adapted far better than most. Miguel did not know who had Turned her, but the rare few who shared these streets with him knew one thing; this was his city, first and foremost.

'Aww, always a pleasure, sweetheart..' She purred with a playful wink, heels clicking on the floor as she weaved between the crowds, effortlessly drawing longing stares from man and woman alike, someone would find themselves going home with her tonight. Miguel shouldn't have looked, should have returned to his drink, but his eyes lingered as the crowds parted briefly, that was when he saw you.

High on life and booze, you had found yourself on the dancefloor, limbs twirling, uncaring for anything else as you and a friend lost all awareness for the outside world. It was only when the beautiful woman in red passed did you briefly falter, like the mere sight of her had hooked something into your skull. Then she passed by and the spell broke.

'You've got an admirer!' Your friend called out over the deafening thrum, and repeated themselves louder still as you held up a hand to your ear. You followed their pointing across the room to the bar; the tall, broad man sat half in shadow as if the light refused to cling to him, the feeling of hungry eyes upon you. Perhaps you'd get lucky tonight after all...

Miguel had drained the glass, uncaring for its burn down his throat and plotted his next move with patience. He could be very, very patient. You were aware of him, and he of you. He was content to wait, to see if you would make the next move. It would be so easy for him, just a touch of vampiric charm, a slight crook of a finger to beckon and you would be in his lap in moments, mind wrapped around his little finger. No. That would be far too easy.

He felt the atmosphere shift, something inside him bristled at the new presence; full of swagger, a young man had entered the club, dressed for a night out, for someone who desperately wanted attention. The eyes of every mortal on him, finding him irresistible. All Miguel saw was a troublesome Fledgling who needed to be put in their place.

He smothered the Fledgeling's charm with a strong arm across his shoulder, steering him away from the dancefloor- away from you, no sooner did they find a relatively quiet spot, did the troublesome new one find himself slammed against the wall with a hand at his throat.

'There are now three of us here. That is too much trouble to keep quiet. I also do not appreciate you so brazenly strutting in like a preening rooster, there is an art in charm and seduction that you wield with all the grace of a sledgehammer.'

The Fledgeling hissed at him, fangs bared, trying to amp up his intimidation through vampiric willpower. It was almost cute. Still easily keeping him pinned, Miguel stepped closer and returned the favour, fangs bared in a snarl, eyes ablaze crimson, letting the newly Turned vampire feel the full weight of an Elder's presence. He briefly relished the fear that followed realisation in those eyes, watched how he tried to shrink into himself, knees trembling.

'I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Sorry, sorry..!' His blubbering was an inelegant as his charms had been.

'Get. Out. Do not make me regret what mercy I show you now...' He kept his voice low, but those sensitive ears would pick it up all the same. Miguel could just as easily break a man's mind as his body. Satisfied that the message had been received, he released his crushing grip, and watched the terrified Fledgeling hurry to the exit, sparing horrified glances over his shoulder. He blinked, eyes losing their furious crimson lustre as he scoured the crowds once more, ensuring you were still there.

'So many hot people here tonight, god!' Your friend called out, but you did not look, barely paying attention, eyes firmly on the man who regarded you still; tall, broad, stylish, and looking right back at you. When did it get so hot in here? He took his hands from his coat pockets, glancing at his watch before giving you a charming smile and beckoning softly with one curled finger.

You would come to him, he had almost grown fond of you. He would look after you, keep you safe from the hungry Fledgelings. Tonight, you knew you had gotten lucky. Little did you know you would feel the bliss of his aching kiss.

Part 2

[yandere-sins]

Sacrifice

I realized that while I have “Gods” in my Fandom List, I never really write about them lol. Here’s a little idea, enjoy! :D

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Dionysus x GN!Darling!Reader (However, I did decide on calling them Priestess in this work, though nothing else as indication) Warnings: Yandere, Slight sexual innuendos, Threats, Mention of Death (by accident), Forced Relationship, Power Imbalance

Prompt: Coercion - Subtle application of threat, the brute force of physicality, or could it be someone’s will itself working into their brain? @sintember

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

Having a god's favor was always fun—sometimes for the person in favor, sometimes for the god.

There was no denying how valuable you were to your small village now that Dionysus had taken a liking to you. You had always loved going with your family to the small shrine your village built for him to ask for blessings for their vineyards and orchards. Though your community wasn't the most prestigious, you had never wanted to leave it. You loved everything about the family business, the wine-making, and growing up there, you couldn't imagine doing anything else for the rest of your life.

That was until the priestesses showed up unannounced on one foggy morning. It was supposed to be a beautiful day. But when they revealed who they were and why they had come, you were plagued by anxiety as you stood silently next to your mother, who tried her best to encourage you regardless of her own sorrow.

You were chosen.

For better or for worse.

The priestesses—women so much more beautiful than all the girls in the village—announced that there had been a divine prophecy, and you were the pinnacle of it. Never in a million years could you have imagined that a god would call upon you, plain and simple as you were. And you had to admit that sometimes, you thought the gods to be a sham. Just something to put blame and thankfulness onto in given times. But things progressed fast from that moment on.

There was barely enough time to pack a bag of your things. Even when the priestesses assured you, you wouldn't need anything where you were going, you and your mother insisted. And despite your mother's tears, she helped you pack, adding two bottles of wine and a blanket she knitted to your travel weight before releasing you to the noble women that ushered you away hurriedly, on a boat and across the ocean until your feet hit the dirt before Mount Olympus.

Now, you wanted to say something throughout the whole journey. Learn about the where and how and when of this special mission. But no one, not even the grim-looking sailors maneuvering the ship, gave you any information to cling to. You had no idea why it was such a taboo to talk about what was going on. However, it didn't help to soothe your anxiety about the unknown, the fear of what was possibly waiting for you. At your last chance, the foot of Mount Olympus, you turned around once again to ask why you should do the challenging work of climbing this mountain after all this secrecy.

But before you could speak, grapevines shot out of the ground and enveloped you, stealing the sunlight from your sight, and then, you were gone.

Gone for what felt like a long night of dreamless sleep and gone from the Greece you knew. The Greece that laid beneath the clouds surrounding the top of Mount Olympus, or well, in the other dimension different from the one the gods resided in. The one time Dionysus let you gaze at the picturesque life below, you almost fell out of bounds and got softly scolded for almost 'escaping'. Or dying. Pretty sure you'd have died if he hadn't caught you.

Truth be told, you found adjusting… difficult. You learned fairly quickly that the Dionysus, the same god you used to pray to with your family, had picked you as his personal priestess the moment you came of age for reasons you didn't quite understand. He liked to talk in roundabout ways, telling you of your beauty and devotion to him, how he watched you mature from a cute apprentice to a loveable devotee to the thing you both loved most: wine. So much hard work and passion had to be rewarded, and making you a personal priestess to him was the highest position he had to offer.

Your duties, however, were questionable. If not on his lap, you were to always sit close to him, one arm lazily swung around your body while you held his enormous goblet with both hands, always ready for him to drink from. At night you were to stay close, attend to him while drunk and sober. In reality, it was more like being a glorified slave rather than a priestess from what you knew from your home.

There were more like you. Priests, priestesses, young, old, cheerful, somber. They all attended different gods, and though you shared a bond of similarity, you never got to hang out on your own or enjoy the other humans' company. It was strange and different from how you had expected your life to go. You understood your responsibility and the honor given to you, but at the same time, you had only one wish: to go home.

The two bottles of wine you brought barely filled his goblet that night you sat him down. A real challenge since Dionysus was such a busybody, and once he did relax, you never caught him in private, only ever mingling with others. So when you finally had the courage to ask him for privacy, you were surprised at how quickly he agreed. You filled his goblet with your gifts, and he was overjoyed as he watched you pour the dark liquid. Delighted, he drank from it, sighing in pleasure as he pulled the golden goblet from his lips before offering it to you.

Dionysus leaned in close, not taking 'no' when it came to drinking with him. He always shared his drinks with you, one sip for him and one for you. Lifting the oversized goblet from his to your lips, he watched as you swallowed the strong liquid sliding down your throat, licking his own lips as he could see your gaze growing hazy from the alcohol. "Now tell me, Grape, what's on your mind?"

Pulling you on top of his lap, you allowed him to press you against his chest, combing through your hair affectionately. His little, perfect priestess. The gods' appearances were much taller than the humans that trotted after them, with a strength you couldn't match no matter your body build. In a way, it made you feel like the lapdog of a noble, which in and of itself wasn't the wrong impression. But you tried not to mind it. You were his priestess, after all, and as your god, you assumed he had those rights to order and move you around as he pleased.

"I miss home," you confided, the alcohol loosening your tongue. You lowered your gaze at the gold chains adorning his neck, your fingers falling to them, twirling them around. His muscles tensed in clear sight as you voiced your thoughts, but you had no idea why. It felt right to talk to him about this. To reciprocate the trust he put in you by confiding all his - sometimes drunken - thoughts to you. And who, if not your god, was going to hear you out?

"Darling," he purred, and you looked up at him before he had to raise his hand beneath your chin, well-trained as you were. After months by his side, the time passing irregularly, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, you knew what the tone of his voice meant or him calling you certain names.

"Have I not told you this is your home now?"

This time it was you who tensed at his question. Biting your lip, you nodded. "Yes, you did… But I can't help it."

Avoiding your gaze was the wrong move, but it was hard to look into his endless, dark purple eyes, the color swirling about like wine poured into a glass. Resting his arm over his legs and around you, Dionysus leaned back, clearly displeased by his priestess' longing. You were just about to take it back to not displease him when he spoke up before you could.

"Do you remember when I showed you your village down below?" he asked, and you furrowed your brows but nodded. How could you forget the one time you almost fell out of Olympus?

"Was it not lush and green? The vines full of grapes and the trees bowing under the weight of their fruit?"

"Yes," you nodded, remembering seeing everyone in the village working hard to harvest everything with big smiles on their faces. "Yes, it was."

"What do you think will happen if I have to return you to them? I'd be heartbroken to miss you by my side."

For a moment, you felt your expression grow confused as you thought about his words, the connection between him and your village. There was a hint of knowing somewhere shrieking in the back of your mind, but you were in too much disbelief that you could have such tremendous effects on everything to take it seriously. "I… I don't know?" you muttered, laying your head to the side questioningly as you looked at your god.

Dionysus had a lazy smile playing on his lips as he watched you wrap your pretty head around his words, his fingertips finding your body and drawing shapes over your skin. Possessively. Knowing he won a war before it even started. "I do so love to spoil my devotees, my precious grape. But only as long as they please me in return. And that's something only you can do. Without you… I don't know if I had the strength to keep those vineyards rich with grapes and those trees so full of fruits. I'd hate to cause a drought because I am unable to support your village."

Now, it was your turn to gulp.

Of course, something had to go wrong. Your gut feeling from the very beginning had been right as you realized you were trapped. Trapped between your want and your responsibility. Not to your god, but to everyone you loved and cared for. The parents who raised you, the village that taught and supported your passion. Who now prospered because of your… sacrifice?

That's what you were, right? Not a priestess or slave, but a sacrifice to a god whose immortal life demanded temporary partners that suited him.

When Dionysus placed a kiss on top of your head, wandering lower to your neck and shoulder, playing with the strap of your garment, you knew you were correct with your assumption. You wished to defy him, to leave and return to your old life, but you couldn't. Not at the cost of the others, people you loved and who depended on you to play nice with the god that made their life so much easier and prosperous just because he had what he wanted. You shuddered as Dionysus forced you to lean back into his hand, revealing your collarbones to him, his lips dancing over your chest with a grin.

And now that he had you in privacy on your wish, all he wanted was you.

His sacrifice.

[themotherofhorses]

Hey,

I was wondering if you were going to finish any of your aemond fics??? No rush or hate just curious :)

Hello, sweetheart! I’m so terribly sorry for being super duper late at answering this question. I’ve been completely AWOL for months; y’all deserve an explanation why.

Explanation below the cut (mentions of an ED (one word), racism, and death threats):

To answer your question — I would LOVE to finish my Aemond fanfics; however, it probably won’t happen until much later (maybe when S2 is released).

The reason? Around late 2023, I decided to take a step away from the HOTD fandom. The reasons were pretty mundane, if I’m honest:

— I became gradually disinterested in the show.

— Academics took over my priorities.

— My attention shifted to different topics; for example, the Call of Duty franchise and personal OCs of mine.

However. HOWEVER, in wake of certain (and VERY tragic) circumstances, I would also like to share my personal experiences with the racism plaguing the community.

As you all know, I’m a mixed Indigenous and Hispanic woman; this isn’t a surprise. I’m very proud of my heritage. But, around April 2023, I began receiving an incredible amount of racially-motivated hate. Over the span of months, anonymous slurs clogged up my inbox (e.g., “squaw,” “reservation indian,” “beaner,” and “mojado”) while other anons sent me a slew of death threats and other ill-mannered comments, especially involving my anorexia.

In fact—around September of 2023–I was actually told to “unalive myself” because my OC’s (Balenyra Red Rivers) main nickname (baby bal) was similar to another fandom writer’s nickname. Now, allow me to explain:

the reasoning for the nickname “baby bal” is because my Bal’s characterization included being introverted and sweet. Think of her like Fluttershy from MLP (perhaps a random comparison but it’s the truth! Ask @chainsawsangel. She’s like Bal’s other mother).

I also call my Bal “babybal cheese,” even though she’s lactose intolerant like me.

Anyways. That’s off topic. Receiving racist messages like that truly dampens a person’s mood. What is the point of writing if every time you open this app, you’re met face-to-face with such racism?

Because of such, I decided to go on a HOTD-hiatus, and focus my energy on other things.

BUT. BUUUTTTTTT:

As long as the river flows and the grass grows, I will have deep love for my fanfics, as well as all my beloved mutuals.

Truth be told, the HOTD fandom does possess an exceptional amount of talented and amazing writers, many of whom I’ve been blessed to meet. While the fandom isn’t calling my name back right now, I hope to return in the future, to finish all my work.

Ahé'hee to everyone who had supported me in this journey, in both the HOTD and CoD worlds! 🫶🏼

EDIT: I accidentally got a date wrong in the post. Fixed it. It was meant to say ”2023” — I said “2024”.