#Once and future crab | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shiny-jr · 7 months

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outlander

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia.

Summary: In every land you travel to, there's a god with elemental powers. But why is it that in every nation you arrive to, the gods attempt to make you stay?

Note: Why has no one done a genshin x twst thing? This is more of a concept idea than anything else. I might do a series with it, or not, or just random posts. Feel free to ask about it or request stuff for it.

This must be a dream, either that or a never-ending nightmare.

Waking up alone on a sandy beach, as if washed ashore, was disorientating. There was nothing else on the shore save for shells and the occasional crab, no debris indicating a wreck and no scattered belongings. All you had on you were the clothes on your back, which were a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, your pajamas.

In the center of your palms, was a marking you had never seen before, like a freshly painted tattoo in the shape of a tiny key. As curious as the strange new markings were and you wondered how they even got there, there was a larger question looming:

How did you get here?

GRIM

There was a cat on the beach. At least, it looked like a cat. A talking feline, with gray fur and the most impossible feature of blue fire lightly simmering in his ears.

It spoke, just like a human, with a grating high-pitched voice. It was a devilish little beast, with little fangs sharper than his comebacks that he supposed were funny.

The feline pridefully announced his name: Grim.

And when you told Grim your story of how you woke up by the water's edge with no recollection of how you got here and little to your name, the creature didn't appear to care. However, when he spoke of elements being used by people and names of nations and cruel living gods you never once heard of, only then was he very vaguely intrigued. Perhaps it was amusement, as he laughed and called you stupid for not even knowing of The Seven.

That's when you heard a growl, not from behind his fangs but from his stomach. If you looked at him from the right angle, he looked quite scrawny. The poor thing was hungry, you realized.

All it took was an offering of cans of tuna found in an empty cabin nearby, and you had him in your grasp. Following you around was only temporary, he insisted, he'd go along so long as there was food. While a talking cat was not the most conventional of guides, it was better than nothing, especially since he knew basic knowledge of each nation and where the nearest sign of civilization was located.

HEARTSLABYUL

Through the winding dark woods where mysterious creatures lurked in hollow trees and dead end paths, were meadows of flowers and peaceful grooves. However, don't let the tranquillity of nature fool you. In the distance were mountains– not actually mountains, but volcanoes and hot sprints along this land's border.

It's been said that the very millions of roses and other greenery in this land, was formed when ash rained down on dry barren earth for nearly a month. Ash from those very dormant volcanoes that were the backdrop to this perfect scenery, which came in huge black clouds thousands of years ago and blanketed the earth.

A god, an archon, the deity of law that rained hell on earth over thousands of years ago.

Long ago this land was a country of criminals ruled by a god of chaos that reveled in havoc and disorder. Among the mayhem, was a small deity of fire with mighty powers and a vision for a future he was determined to see. Riddle, is what the deity was called.

Riddle gained a number of followers to listen to his words, and he created order. A small feat compared to the many wicked still running about in a lawless land ruled by a god that valued anarchy. So, using newfound strength, the deity of fire drew forth molten lava from the mouths of the northern volcanos, burning all those in its path while the deadly plumes of smoke and ash suffocated those that remained. Atop the remains of the destroyed towns and cities, he built a new nation of order for his loyal followers.

Today, it is a thriving nation filled with flowers and greenery. However, there is one issue. The god of pyro, Riddle, is a tyrant. Every law is expected to be followed without question and without fail, beheadings have become nearly a daily occurrence with the criminals often being charged with mistakingly picking flowers on Wednesdays, drinking the wrong sort of tea post-meals, or playing croquet after five pm.

You were fortunate to be spared after your audience with the god of law, for breaking the rule: one must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Before he could burn you were you stood, you interjected, answering that your companion was no cat, so you had broken no rule.

Well, he promptly apologized for the misunderstanding and in turn, offered to make up for it by inviting you to a tea party. It would be best to except his invitation, afterall, he was the same deity that buried nearly an entire country in lava and ash, then built his kingdom atop their remains. He was a tyrant that beheaded and burned people on the daily. It was wise not to get on his bad side. Besides, he appears to have taken a fancy for you. Riddle implores that you tell him more of your world while you ignore the whispers of rebellion.

There is no leaving Heartslabyul, not without the explicit permission from the god of law. The borders with their volcanoes burn any would-be invaders, allowing passage only to merchants and travelers who have received the pyro deity's blessing. Why would Riddle ever give you his blessing to see you go?

SAVANACLAW

Across the volcanoes and hot springs of the borders, the mountains turn green with dense jungles. Across the river lies the savanna where the world's most wondrous creatures run free. Times have been turbulent, the shaking ground was evidence of troubles with this nation's divine beings, or rather, now single divine being.

Earthquakes have always been a sign of something occurring either for a purpose or unintentionally by someone else. The harsher the quake, the greater the importance of the event. And not too long ago, a ginormous tremor shook the entire globe. Something of major importance had happened.

A god, an archon, the deity of intellect was the new sovereign after tragedy befell his elder brother.

In the past the land was under the protection of the god of strength, a mighty god worshipped by his people. This god had a young heir who was also beloved by the people. However, most forgot or completely disliked the younger brother of the god of strength, a deity of ground, Leona, who had a burning hated for his brother.

Leona amassed followers of his own in secret. It came as no surprise that the common and the wealthy adored the exalted god of strength. However, the poor detested him, because he offered no help to them, no matter how much they prayed and offered what little they had to his alter. Instead, their prayers for mercy and for a change in luck, were answered by the deity of ground. The change of luck came from the death of the former god and his son, paving the way for a new sovereign.

Today, there is uncertainty in the street. Many of the former worshippers of the god of strength believe in one thing. The god of geo, Leona, is unfit to rule. The poor and mistreated have emerged from hiding places in the shadows, filled with newfound confidence for their was finally a god that answered their prayers. However, there remains a growing tension between both factions. Followers of the new god sing his praises, while followers who mourn for his brother believe that everything is falling into disarray.

You were promptly introduced to the god of intellect by his followers that wished to spread the good word. There was something wrong, you and your companion both agreed. How could a powerful god of strength and his young heir just perish without warning? Something was amiss.

This was just a new follower, at least in his eyes. So he brushed you off, allowing you to partake in the best food and drink only his followers had the privilege of receiving. Testing your luck, you decided you would ask him if he knew of a way home. For now you filled him in, explaining your origins and recent adventures. For such a conniving and arrogant leader, he was surprisingly lax. It even appeared as if he wasn't even listening to your words, just dozing off on some pillows. Your words were at least more interesting to him than the rumors of possible unrest.

Perhaps he does know a way for you to return home, but he doesn't want to tell you. It's as simple as that. He likes the new follower, you. Besides, you're not going. There is always the option of traveling further, but why do so when the geo deity has what you need? Leona greatly loathes betrayal from his own worshippers, so you wouldn't leave Savanaclaw to see another god, would you?

OCTAVINELLE

In the seas dwell creatures of unimaginable horrors living deep within the watery depths, across the ocean over turbulent waves there are islands of paradise. The chain of islands composed warm southern beaches and cold northern snowlands. This may be paradise, but a toll must be paid to even get near the islands.

A tax is applied to all arriving merchants wishing to trade and tourists wishing to step foot on the island. It doesn't make much sense, until you see their towns and cities bursting with trade. Business was booming, apparently. The water is clear and pristine, you could see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of fish swimming below.

A god, an archon, the deity of contracts once came from these very waters when there was no land.

Thousands of years ago there was nothing but ocean out this far away from the mainland. That is, until a deity of water appeared from the depths. He promised a new nation to traveling merchants, so long as they worshipped him. The deity introduced himself as Azul.

Azul had grown bored of the dull happenings under the sea, for he had achieved most things beneath the waves. The ocean could not satisfy his endless greed. He had his sights set on higher elevation, with the lofty goal of being just as powerful on land as he was in the ocean. He moved waves, creating tsunamis outward but revealing islands once hidden by water. The merchants took to land and fulfilled their end of the deal, worshipping him while creating a prosperous nation of deals.

In present day, hardly anyplace can compare to the thriving hub the nation has become. However, loyal followers have begun to see his greed. The god of hydro, Azul, is a charlatan. The ocean in all its vastness was not enough to satisfy his desires, it was why he took to land. For the promise of fulfilling prayers, something always must be given in turn or the worshippers must risk going on a quest. But, it is not always as it seems. One way or another, a prayer asking for something will end in the worshipper becoming in debt to him.

In exchange for an answer to the continued question of how to return home, you have nothing to offer for payment except for ideas. Home was modern, this world was not yet on par with the technology you knew. So you offer ideas of inventions, a device to capture an image in time, a mechanism like a box with wheels, a tool to contact someone miles away.

He believes you're quite bright, you think it false flattery to deceive you but you would be wrong. Your ideas are truly brilliant, and will no doubt earn him more millions and influence in other nations on the mainland! Best to take the compliment with a smile, or else this swindler may find a way to trap you in debt. Azul insists you tell him more of your home and your lucrative ideas. Here, a contract, where he shall sell your ideas as goods and you shall reap the rewards! Whatever hearsay you've heard painting him in a bad light, is defamation! Don't fall for it so easily.

Sailing away from Octavinelle would just be a fool's quest. Unless you can escape on a boat that can weather the harshest of sea storms, there is no stepping foot off the island without the risk of drowning. Don't you have more profitable ideas to share with the hydro deity? If not, just listening to your voice would make Azul content than all the gold in the world could.

SCARABIA

Rolling sand dunes stretch as far as the eye could see, and rocky canyons border a savanna. Sandstorms fill the skies like a dark cloud, covering the dry hot land in a new layer of sand once again. Struggle through the scorching days and blistering cold nights, and there will be an oasis in the center between large flowing rivers.

Life follows the flowing waters, and an enormous oasis is planted in the center of the desert. For miles and miles along the banks, are blooming cities and towns. A great contrast to the desert outside, these settlements are overflowing with water, with the greenest gardens and greatest crops.

A god, an archon, the deity of commerce that gave life to a once barren land.

Thousands of years ago, a terrible famine struck the land. All remaining oasis had shriveled up, leading to starvation. A kind-hearted deity of earth took pity on the people. So he decided to extend a helping hand. People would call the deity Kalim.

Kalim used his abilities to create a lush environment, a vast and incredibly rich oasis out of sand in the middle of the desert. When he walked, grass and flowers sprouted from the sand. In days, he managed to create a garden of tremendous size and design, where his new followers could live in peace and luxury by the rivers. Towns and cities were developed, giving way to a grand nation where he resided in comfort and extravagance, surrounded by people that adored him.

Now there is a grand metropolis where there is just as much gold in the markets as there are flowers. The god of dendro, Kalim, is naive. For thousands of years he has been sheltered and treasured by his people. He is oblivious and clumsy, but at the same time he is not foolish. He knows of the people that have attempted to use his abilities for sinister purposes. Although, no one could guess a conniving being plotting against him, resides in his very own palace.

Exciting adventures and thrilling tales, the god of commerce loves to hear your stories of the outside world! First time foreigners are welcomed with open arms, but you are treated as a rare guest with your unique origin. This might just be the most peaceful land you had ever traveled to.

Come, partake in the celebrations! It's easy to forget that such a laidback and cheerful personality belongs to that of a deity that gave life to this region of the desert. Dance, chat, he wishes to do it all with you! The brightness of the fireworks and lively atmosphere is nearly enough to drown out the presence in the shadows you see from the corner of your eyes. A figure with a piercing gaze, watching the jolly divine being with envy in their eyes. With a power as tempting as his, there would be those wishing to snatch it. Kalim distracts you, offering more food and drink with a smile sweeter than any flower.

Why would anyone ever wish to leave this garden that was Scarabia? The outside, the desert and canyons, were harsh and unforgiving. The god of commerce did not wish to see you risk traveling and getting hurt. The dendro deity invites you to stay in the city! Surely you could be happy here with Kalim, right?

POMEFIORE

On elevated lands, between mountains and hills, were endless forests in which travelers often vanished in or were discovered frozen. A winter wonderland, although this wasn't so delightful. It was beautiful, but a deadly kind of beautiful, where you risked being chased by mysterious beasts or becoming lost in blizzards.

The snow may be pure, it may look picturesque upon frozen lakes and lines of white trees, but looks are deceiving. This was once a serene land with a temperate climate, but it has only gotten colder and colder in more recent months until there was not a single spot of green to be seen.

A god, an archon, the deity of curses who was so bitter like the cold that he caused snow to fall all year round.

Stories have told that the land was once warm in springs and summers, only growing cold whenever the divine being was cross. They were frighteningly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful, regal as royalty but at times wrathful. Vil, is what the deity was referred to.

Vil became envious of an emerging figure, so he invoked powerful blizzards and storms. In recent generations, there have been a growing number of his people breaking off into a separate faction that worshipped a younger compassionate god of healing. Enraged by the betrayal of some followers and resentful with biting jealously, many knew that it was only a matter of time before he would snap. This frightening divine being would not accept being dethroned, he would not allow himself to be demoted in the people's hearts.

Civilization continued to thrive, even despite the never-ending snow. And yet, people cannot help but worry what may happen if the cold doesn't let up by spring. The god of cryo, Vil, was pretentious. Anyone who openly voices their distaste for him or a preference for the god of healing, can expect to be encased in ice and used as a display. No one dares to even utter the name of his rival, for fear of incurring his wrath.

Misfortune brought you before the god of curses' throne. Mistakingly his followers had believed you to be worshippers of the god of healing, which you insisted not to know of. You had simply been lost. Maybe it was your gawking at his ethereal appearance, or the compliment you murmured under your breath, but you were not frozen a punishment.

He decided to interrogate you himself, and through his stern questioning you found yourself a nervous mess as you answered honestly but blabbered far too much. Maybe this deity was amused, much like a king would find humor in a pathetic little jester. The divinity that froze nonbelievers into statues for his palace, found you quite endearing. Vil even once smiled at you when you spoke of inconsequential things, warming his heart to which the clouds carrying snow broke apart if for a moment, causing his followers to go into a frenzy fueled by hope.

When leaving Pomefiore is so much as even mentioned, all exits will be frozen shut by the god of curses. Why even venture outside the palace, when you have earned the favor of the cryo deity? Perhaps the land is warmer, but the neighboring nation is dangerous and he forbids the journey. Why would anyone leave after finally melting Vil's icy cold heart?

IGNIHYDE

A forest of dead trees serves as an ominous welcome, or perhaps it was an omen warning incoming travelers. Slopes gave way to valleys, and along the coasts was a heavy mist that painted the vision gray. Homes and buildings, magnificent temples and crumbling feats of architecture, appeared to be floating in white clouds, but in reality they were situated on cliffsides thick with fog.

In the center of the dying forest, there are ruins of a grand temple once belonging to a god that met a tragic end. However, its remnants are closely guarded by mysterious creatures of air that cannot be touched. Legends say the temple was once a place of worship for a fledgling god related to the main god the nation worships today.

A god, an archon, the deity of innovation that has never once shown his face to the public.

Thousands of years ago, a pair of divine beings appeared. They went largely unnoticed for many years, until their brilliant inventions brought awe to those around them, attracting worshippers and diminishing the power of other local gods. The one remaining brother from this pair, is a deity known as Idia.

Idia created wondrous inventions, unintentionally forming a nation of inventors in the process. Withdrawn, dark, and silent, he is quite the unconventional god and yet he begrudgingly rules nonetheless. As reserved as he may be, he is feared among divinity. All lesser gods aiming for his spot are quickly wiped out by his inventions, without him so much as lifting a finger and using his own abilities. They're reduced to mere memories, as nothing is left of them. In times of old, it was once believed that he was a harbinger of death.

On decent days, the sun may shine on the coast, but most days there are heavy clouds and fog. The god of anemo, Idia, is an enigma. Most think him a ghost, for never appearing and for his abilities. The highest families, the most brilliant inventors, even other divine beings may request an audience, but he will never show. No one has ever seen him, all that's known is he is a figure shrouded in black robes like a grim reaper. There are others who believe there are double, because two figures have been spotted once.

You become the first to see his face purely by accident. It seemed he was just as startled of you, as you were of him. Thankfully, you were not going to be blown off the face of the planet by hurricane-level winds. No other god would help, in fact, they wished to keep you here. So you had to turn to him for assistance in finding a way home.

It was only by promising that he could pet Grim, a deal to which the feline disagreed to, did the god reluctantly hear you out. After your explanation, he scoffed as if looking at a simple equation like 2 + 2. Of course he knew the answer, but he wouldn't give out the assistance you needed. The deal was to hear you out, not help you out. He'd become quite bold in the private conversation, a sharp contrast to his previous anxious demeanor. There was no arguing against he who could slaughter gods with a snap of his fingers. Although you aren't as intolerable as other mortals, this he admits.

Departing from Ignihyde is highly unlikely, given how dense the fog is. You cannot even see the ground you're walking on. While, yes, the anemo deity hasn't assisted you, he will, eventually, probably, maybe... You're the first mortal Idia has ever asked to stay, so why would you turn your back to him?

DIASOMNIA

A wall of impenetrable thorns stands in the way, magically opening and creating a clear-cut path through dense forbidding forests lively with critters. The thorn walls close, effectively trapping you. There was something different. It was unlike all the previous nations, the very air itself felt off. With every step deeper into these whimsical woods, it felt as if you were not alone.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon. No one knows how long the dragon has been alive, only that even the oldest tales say he was already ancient way back when. Valleys were shaped by his claws, the rivers from his tail, rare ore came from his fallen scales buried in the earth, the tallest mountains were but small hills to him.

A god, an archon, the deity of dreams is by far the most powerful and most ancient of all divinity in the world.

Peace was his personal preference, as he enjoyed new company which he never truly received due to his fearsome reputation. However, when other divinity sought out his destruction and his home, the deity of electricity raged. Destruction was left in his wake across the entire globe, and everyone came to know the name Malleus.

Malleus commanded thorns to be raised like walls protecting his home, and constant violent storms to ward off anyone threatening to cause trouble. For hundreds of years, no foreigner was allowed to step foot within the nation's boundaries. Anyone that tried would quickly be reduced to ash, and just a number added to the untold amount he's slayed in order to protect himself and his territory. Kind he may be to his own, but to foes he is merciless. With his black horns and piercing eyes, some refer to him as a devil incarnate.

A land unseen by outlanders, it's peaceful and magical in it's beauty. However, it seems that while your presence may be surprising, it is not a shock. You're taken by knights in gray and black, escorted away. The god of electro, Malleus, has invited you to his castle. There is astonishment and disbelief in people's eyes, a foreigner alive and well. Most like you would have been reduced to particles before they could even step foot past the thorns.

Much to your horror, or relief, once you're brought to the god of dreams, he seems delighted to have you here. It seems your presence was expected, as all he said was, "So you've finally come to see me, hm? I was beginning to grow concerned that perhaps I would have been left out of your list of destinations."

This was the last option, the only one you could turn to in finding a way home. Surely, the most ancient and powerful deity would hold the answer and assist you, since he had been so kind as to allow you inside his nation. Although as welcoming as he may be, you must remember that despite his fang-toothed smile and the twinkle in his eyes, this man– no, god, was archaic and all-powerful. He must have killed more people than you will ever know, wiped out whole armies and flattened entire nations. Malleus tilts his head at you, requesting that you recount your tale, with every minute detail.

This will be the end, there will be no escaping Diasomnia. Of course, you shall not know until later. For now, the god of dreams delights in your stories. You were the first guest he's had in thousands of years, and one of the few who did not wish to slay the legendary dragon that was the electro deity. Malleus knows what you desire, he has seen it in your dreams. However, he will not be kind and grant you what you sought. If he did, then what he desired would then vanish: you.

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patrice-bergerons · 9 months

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Quick FAQ on Tumblr, "Value", and the Proposed Crab Day

Motivation: I see a lot of misinformation circulating on the dash re the proposed crab day and I wanted to offer a simplified and judgement free perspective using core principles of finance.

Q: We keep being told that tumblr's been making nothing but a loss for years, and yet, if it is so unprofitable, then why is no one is shutting the website down? Is it really in need of our money if it's already owned by a multi-billion dollar corporation?

This is in fact not as much of a paradox as it appears to be because "value" in corporate finance terms is a function of present and expected future profits (adjusting for the fact that profits you expect to be earn in the near future are worth a lot more than equivalent profits expected to be earned much later in time).

This means that you can have a company or a product that is currently making a loss (i.e. costing a lot more to run than the income it generates) and it might still be worth some (or a lot of) money as long as you expect it to generate enough profits going forward. Uber for example has been making a loss for years and is still valued at billions of dollars because people think it will eventually generate a lot of profit.

Q: What does all of that mean for tumblr, specifically?

Given how unprofitable tumblr has been historically it's actually a pretty good sign that management has a plan to try and make it profitable because it means they haven't thrown in the towel yet!

But if they fail or if they decide that no matter what they do tumblr will remain unprofitable, then they wouldn't have much business incentive to keep running it. This is why participating in crab day or spending some money on tumblr in general is a good idea, if you can afford it and if tumblr is a service you would like to keep enjoying into the future. And if the answer is no to either of those questions, that's ok too--don't let anyone guilt you on this.

Even more questions-and-answers under the cut! My inbox is also open for any (good faith) questions you might have.

Q: But we all use tumblr religiously--isn't that enough?

Not quite. Tumblr's current state means that the existing userbase is not enough to make the site profitable. For that to change, either the existing userbase needs to become more profitable, or tumblr needs to get a lot more new users--or have a combination of both.

Q: Can crab day really solve all this?

Once again, not quite. A one time cash-injection is not equal to sustainable income, which is what tumblr ultimately needs. This means tumblr will still need to court potential new users and that entails some change to the design and/or the perception of the site. (I love tumblr but guys, if we are real for a second, last time I told my coworkers that, they asked me if I also had a myspace account.)

Q: So why participate then?

Because it will still help. While some change is inevitable and necessary, if we the existing users put our money where our mouth is, it would send a strong signal to management that we value the service they offer and that they should take our preferences into account in designing the site's future also. Also some cash, even if it is a one time deal,

Q: I heard people who came up with the idea are transphobic Christian fundies--do you really want to associate with people like that?

I don't. But who the blogs behind this idea, as people, are has no bearing on the merits of the idea itself.

#crab day #save this hellsite #im gonna say something i never explicitly have #and ask that you rb this if you agree with it #finance is confusing! and the more we get the message across #the better i think #for keeping tumblr around for a long time

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miupow · 2 months

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⭑𓂃 GETTING STONED W/ TXT .ᐟ ୭ ˚. [ HEADCANONS]

☆〜（ゝ。∂）txt x gn!reader ⋆ cw// drugs/marijuana mentions! sfw, tooth rotting fluff <𝟑 kissing, cuddling, implied established relationships

⤷ what i imagine it's like smoking with the boys . . .

연준 YEONJUN

i imagine him high is a lot like him drunk lol

soft, sleepy, cuddly and just the biggest baby whining that he wants kisses now

likes using your lap as a pillow for his head, the type to nuzzle his face in your belly and wrap his arms tight around you-- won't you play with his hair? tell him what an amazingwonderfulhandsome boyfriend he is?

tries very hard not to fall asleep on you but fails every time

pls take care of him :(

finds the other boys annoying when they're high lol but still does it with them because they're his baby brothers and he loves them no matter how much they piss him off <33

cannot smoke without you because he'd spend the entire sesh going "where's my baby?? i wanna see my baby, i miss them so much :(("

수빈 SOOBIN ⭑𓂃

the kind to just stare blankly at the wall for hours

"bin, you okay?" "uh huh..."

probably gets sensory overload easily, don’t have too much going on at once or he’ll get a headache :<

soogyu is my dream blunt rotation im gonna be honest they're so fucking funny they just be sayin shit

high bin says the some of funniest things you've ever heard in your life but he has no idea he's even being funny

"why are you laughing at me??? :(("

gasps when you tell him you love him even though you tell him every day

“REALLY??? I LOVE YOU TOO!!!”

will get into the dumbest arguments, especially with gyu?? “what do you think would happen if you put a werewolf on the moon…” “what the hell is wrong with you??”

“no, dumbass, that’s not even how ufos work. look it up.”

범규 BEOMGYU ⭑𓂃

true delulu headcanon time here but hear me out okay

he's so crazy adhd brain high energy when he's sober but i feel like when he's stoned he's so. chill?

put a movie on or something and he'll be quiet for hours he's just so transfixed by the moving colors and lights

just wants to cuddle with you in silence or like. talk about deep shit

you honestly kind of love it because you'll have conversations about your future and your relationship that gyu wouldn't take seriously sober

he's very upfront and straightforward with his feelings when he's stoned, which is so unlike him

says some corny shit with stars in his eyes like "i wanna spend forever with you" and then regrets it later because he sounded like a dweeb

he's so whipped for you and he can't hide it :<

let him lay on your chest, playing with his long pretty hair, calling him beomie while he looks up at you with hazy, unfocused but so in love eyes

again soogyu = dream blunt rotation gyu is so funny

“do crabs think fish are flying??” type mf i love him very much

태현 TAEHYUN ⭑𓂃

this might be an unpopular opinion but tyun is absolutely the biggest stoner out of the five of them

i feel like he would smoke to relax, not necessarily to get high-- he's on stress overdrive 24/7, especially during comeback season,, he smokes to finally make his brain go quiet for at least a night

big social smoker but also enjoys smoking alone or just with you

i see him the most like his sober self, quiet and content and not really paying much attention to anything

normally you have to fight him to get his picture taken but when he's stoned he'll just let you shove a camera in his face and you love it sm,, "tyunnie!! baby! smile!"

very content with letting you sit on his lap while he zones out, nuzzling his neck-- he loves feeling needed, loves taking care of you

thinks everyone else is very entertaining, just enjoys watching his brothers act like idiots

he's such a bottled up guy, doesn't like to show or talk about how he's feeling ;; but he'll open up easily once you get him loosened up

휴닝카이 HUENING KAI ⭑𓂃

i want to smoke with this boy so bad. it's not even funny.

he's so cuddly and sweet and giggly,,, i lob him,,

he gets too out of it to kiss you so he makes your plushies kiss eachother instead hehe

kiss his freckles :< just give him so many smooches all over his face while he laughs that it tickles

spooning is a need not a want. he'd rest his chin on the top of your head and hold you soso close while you lay on his bed watching a movie ;;

like soobin he probably gets overstimulated easily,, he needs the lights off and he likes when you wear soft/fuzzy clothes,, ur his plushie now :<

will not let you get up for anything at all. will literally follow you to the bathroom and wait outside of the door like a puppy

SOOO much skinship he needs to touch and be touched so badly

goes totally nonverbal when he's stoned. will not say a word for hours

TUMMY RUBS also lays his head on your belly ;;

thinks literally everything is funny. show him a picture of like. a horse and he'd laugh at it

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blackopals-world · 9 months

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What Nurseries would the fem!AU(Yuus) build

(Look I have baby fever and I'm tired of fighting it)

Vet!FemYuu

Stuffed animals everywhere

Doesn't care if it's a boy or girl they aren't changing it.

Every book will be animal fables

Is praying for the baby to be a beastman but just wants a healthy baby.

Got a bunch of teething toys just in case the kid has their milk teeth come early.

Rainforest noise machine

Once the baby is a few months they are going everywhere in a sling.

The baby will meet all of Yuu's patients and will be constantly covered in fur and feathers.

If the baby becomes interested in fish like their aunt Yuu will cry. She won't let her win!

Marine Biologist!FemYuu

A bit chaotic in decoration

Let's Azul decorate it the first time and cried because it was beige like those weird rich people who only care about aesthetic but have no real sense of style. Like, no color? Babies need color!

Yuu cries while explaining (it's the hormones)

She hates beige

Azul wouldn't argue with a pregnant woman

She wants sushi but doesn't know if she can have it if the baby is half mer.

They installed a tank in the room just encase the baby is a mer

The tweels are banned from holding the baby until the kid can sit up on their own.

Took the baby to swim classes to awaken their natural instincts to swim like all babies even especially fishy babies.

Chef!femYuu

Red and gold for good luck and prosperity.

Pandas for peace and protection.

She wanted everything to be traditional but knows how demanding it will be.

No hot foods, no crab, no lamb, mutton, no sushi, no soft cheese, no soft serve ice cream.

She's dying.

After the baby is born a feast of pig trotters, eggs, cakes, chicken and gelatinous rice is served. She will dye the eggs red.

The baby will get an anti-usog bracelet at birth

She is superstitious so no one will see the baby's clothes before birth.

Noble!FemYuu

Too much? Yeah.

Unfortunately, she insisted due to family tradition. Every child must use this crib first.

The baby has a different crib in every room so it doesn't matter.

Everyone needs to know how precious this baby is. The need to see this crib from space.

More silk! More pillows! More toys! More!More! More!

This baby will have like five names.

This baby will be lorded over the masses as the perfect example of a baby.

Portraits will be painted of this baby that will one day be hung in great halls and later art galleries.

Yuu is way too excited and honestly, even the baby is fed up.

She trying her best.

Special Forces!femYuu

We all know who the father is.

Yep, Rook designed this room

Doesn't matter if it's a boy or girl either.

Yuu was way too tired to stop him and she didn't even try to stop him.

Rook really wants a girl and will try again if it doesn't happen. (he was going to try again anyways)

You'd think he was giving birth with the effort he put in.

Yuu would make him do it if she could. But alas.

The couple was using their pet bunnies as pseudo babies while prepping for the pregnancy. They bunnies weren't happy except for one.

Pistolet the weirdo. Rook's favorite and the dumb one. He was also the future baby's best friend.

Yuu is an iron woman honestly, she shows no pregnancy symptoms while Rook has sympathy pregnancy symptoms.

They eat shaved ice and watch war movies together. Couple goals.

Gardener!FemYuu

A little English cottage nursery

Very whimsical

The baby isn't actually going to use a crib until they are whined because Yuu insisted on co-sleeping despite what the doctor said.(don't do this)

Yuu wanted to deliver the same way as her mother and her mother's mother. In field, by themselves, while harvesting the crops. Have that sucker out in an hour, swaddle it, and back to work.

That didn't happen. They went to a hospital and iron woman over here was put on extended bed rest after giving birth to a big ass baby. Beautiful too.

(???)!Fem?Yuu

They can have kids??

By who?

How?

I mean it's nice but I'm still confused?

Good for them?

You sure that baby isn't a cryptid? That thing has a lot of hair. Looks like that girl from "The Ring". That's alot of hair.

Well, good luck with your hairy baby.

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Yandere (HOTD) Targaryen/Velaryon/Hightower family (together) HCS part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Mainly Platonic, but there are some possible romantic pairings; Spoiler warnings

Note: This starts with episode 3 to episode 5. Also part 3 will come up soon

While the realm celebrates Aegon's second naming day, Daemon and Corlys are engaged in a battle with the crab feeder. To their dismay; Daemon and Corlys were unable to take you with them as you must remain in king’s landing. Viserys was the one who demanded you stick by his side; Rhaenyra and the Hightowers all agreed for once.

Rhaenyra still feels betrayed by Alicent’s marriage to her father. It doesn’t help that everyone anticipates Viserys to name Aegon his successor. Often, she would cling to you and turn to you for solace. She argues you side with her in this matter and avoid Alicent as she is.

As the queen, Alicent has several advantages. One of them is persuading Viserys to create time for you to spend with her since she is now your "mother"; Otto supports her argument, but in truth, it is his method of making time for you as well. You'll be pressured by the two to get close to and spend time with Aegon. They introduce him as your "brother." Otto believes in forming a bond with Aegon; you’ll back his claim in the future.

Otto is always cautious when dealing with you in front of Viserys. The king is still your "father" at the end of the day. However, he makes no attempt in front of the Velaryons, Daemon, and Rhaenyra. His plans are known to them. Though Otto is aware that by hastily proposing to marry you to one of his sons, he may have crossed a line and aroused Viserys' suspicion. Viserys, as predicted, rejects the proposal.

When Rhaenyra had to depart for a while to look for a suitor, she tried to convince Viserys to let her take you with her. However, Otto argued it would be better for you to stay with your father, and Viserys reluctantly agreed. Otto finds any means necessary to keep you in King's Landing, even suggesting that you take part in the small council. With Rhaenyra gone, Alicent and Otto had more time to spend with you, and Alicent made arrangements for you to spend time with Helaena and Aegon as well.

However, that period of time is shortened when Daemon and Rhaenyra both return. In spite of his delight at seeing you once more, Daemon is enraged to see you so near to the Hightowers. Daemon has made it known how much he despises Alicent and her children, more so her father. He nearly feels the want to act recklessly when he sees you acting so pleasant with them. It appears that you fell victim to their deceivement during his absence.

But for the first time, it appears like Alicent and Rhaenyra have reconciled and are on the verge of rekindling their friendship. You can tell by the way they have positioned you now, sitting between them. Unfortunately, things are called into doubt when word gets out to the court that Daemon and Rhaenyra were discovered at a brothel. Even so, there was some hope when Alicent decided to believe Rhaenyra.

Having been exiled once more, Daemon asks to see you one more time. To just say farewell. Viserys, however, rejects it. There's a small chance Daemon may use this chance to take you with him to Vale, and what can a lot of guards do against a dragon?

When Rhaenyra persuades Viserys to dismiss Otto, she not only points out that he is self-serving but also that he is attempting to take Viserys’ place in your life. All of this convinces Viserys, and he dismisses Otto. Even though Otto intends to leave after being dismissed, he first speaks to you and Alicent. With Alicent, he demands that she prepare Aegon to rule, and with you, he implores you to pick a side in the future.

Upon your travel to driftmark with the rest of the family to propose marriage to Laenor and Rhaenyra, you saw two dragons flying up high; Meleys and Seasmoke. At the driftmark, Laena is there to greet you with a bear embrace. Likewise, Laenor is delighted and greets you like his sister. You are enthusiastically brought by the siblings to the parents, who immediately give you a warm welcome as well.

As Viserys and Corlys finalize the details of Laenor and Rhaenyra's wedding, Corlys makes a special offer: he'd want you to come to visit the driftmark from time to time. He even adds that to make matters simpler, he might have Rhaenys ride you back and forth on her dragon, as it is one of the swiftest. Viserys accept, desiring to bring the houses together.

Before Criston's startling charge at the wedding ceremony, mayhem had already broken out. There was some debate over who you should sit next to, but Viserys and Rhaenyra demanded you take a seat in the middle of the two of them. However, every now and then Corlys and Rhaenys would come to your side or make you come to their side so they could speak to you. Even worse comes when Daemon shows up and asks you to temporarily sit next to him because he hasn't seen you in a while.

Rhaenyra, Laena, and Laenor all dance with you alternately, and occasionally Daemon does too. Anyone else who attempts to approach to you will be sent away before they can even utter a word. Laenor may even take the time to introduce you to Joffrey. Alicent, who doesn't participate in the dancing, attempts to persuade Viserys to have you sit them instead of dancing; at this point, she can't bear Rhaenyra and watching you dance and laugh with her enrages her.

Chaos breaks out when Criston strikes Joffrey. Everyone is now concerned about the princess and you. Those at the table will shout for help in locating you and the princess. And when Laena reaches for you, she is knocked to the ground. Harwin is the one who carries Rhaenyra to safety, while Daemon carries you. All of them hurry to check on you, but notably, Alicent and Rhaenys, who look to see whether you've been hurt. Upon the dispersal of the crowd, Laenor can be seen sobbing over Joffrey's lifeless body. Alicent grabs hold of you to shield you from the sight.

What was supposed to be a ceremony with days of feasting and celebration turns out to be an empty hall with only a small group of individuals present to witness the culmination. Alicent is still holding you the entire time, as the Vaelyrons can do nothing but glare at her. Since she pardoned Criston and not only made him her sword guard but yours as well, Laenor and Laena in particular have grown to detest her even more.

There's a possibility that Criston will develop tendencies for you. You are not only cared for by Rhaenyra, but also by Alicent, who he believes saved his life. Criston begins to feel a sense of responsibility to defend you. Criston could even view you as someone in need of saving, as someone decent and compassionate in such a harsh world. As Alicent did, he will try to portray Rhaenyra in a negative light.

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goldsainz · 2 years

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MASTERLIST.

A/N: after the last episode i knew i had to write something about it, or even slightly related to it because IT WAS AN AMAZING EPISODE!! also this is is angstyyyy, there’s not much comfort really, just right person wrong time type of beat [gif cred: @alicenthightcwer]

WORD COUNT: 1,8k

──────────

CHOICES

You wished you could say that after the three years he had gone away, you had forgotten all about the Rogue Prince, but that just wasn’t the case. You heart yearned for his warm touch, and the sleepless nights in which you preferred staying awake than losing time together in favour of some sleep.

Daemon Targaryen was everything to you, you hoped he thought the same. You were almost certain he did, the longing looks he threw your way did not go unnoticed.

You were no longer the young girl Daemon had once met, you’d seen each other grow up and form into your own people. You had to watch with a lump in your throat as Daemon fucked around with people who meant nothing, people who would never get to know him, not like you did anway.

In those three years in which he was away, the prospect of getting married was all too familiar to you. Your father wanted to marry you off to Harwin Strong, it would be proper, noble of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be happy about the notice. Yet there was a part of you that knew your life would be much safer in the hands of your future husband, than it really ever would be with Daemon.

There were numerous things you’d rather do than stand in the throne room, receiving news that probably meant so little to you.

As you walked down the halls, accompanied by your father, you couldn’t help but overhear some rumours as to what the King had to announce. Some whispered he was naming Aegon II his heir, others that Alicent was yet again pregnant, but the one that stuck out to you was that Daemon was back. The whispers of Caraxes landing today with his rider made you uneasy.

Could it be? Could Daemon truly be back?

You stood amongst a crowd of people, awaiting the King, and whatever news he bore. His crown was at the top of his head, sword in hand, his attention fully on the doors, or rather who hadn’t yet come through them.

Suddenly steps could be heard, the hard clink of an armour filled your ears.

Finally Daemon stepped through the doors, a “crown” above his head while he held a sword. If you didn’t know who your King was, you would not have doubted it if someone said the Prince was him.

You stood frozen in her place for a while, but slowly started to follow his movements. He paid no mind to his surroundings, only looking forward to his brother.

When he finally reached the throne, the guards sethed their swords, one of them placed right on his chest. Daemon moved his hand, placing the sword in an offering motion.

“Add it to the chair.” Were the first thing she had heard from Daemon in three years, the noise of the sword falling on the ground was white noise for her ears.

The crowd whispered, but you remained speechless. He always had that effect on you, but right now you just didn’t know how to feel, how to act. You didn’t know how to ever speak to him again, not with the things that would inevitably spill from her mouth if she were to open it.

The two brothers were speaking, Daemon kneeled while the King watched him intently. Your train of thoughts had made you space out for far too long, but you still managed to catch onto the conversation.

“My crown, and Stepstones are yours.” The King had a small smile on his face, though it was evident it bore intrigue.

“Well, where is Lord Corlys?”

“He sailed home, to driftmark.”

“Who holds the Stepstones?”

“The tides, the crabs, and two thousand dead Triarchy corsairs. Staked to the sand to warn those who might follow.” After his words, Viserys started to walk towards Daemon, and you held your breath, fearing the worst. Even if your King was kinder than most before him, the Prince had still done things many would have no mercy while judging.

“Rise.” You let out the breath you were holding when Daemon placed his head on the King’s shoulder, clapping slightly alongside the crowd. “The realm owes you a great debt, brother. Come.”

Everyone slowly left the room, following their King, and you did so too. Though you hoped you would get even the slightest of moments with Daemon, you truly dreaded the idea of having to speak to him.

━━━━━━

“Why are you ignoring me, Y/N?” A voice boomed from behind you, the pastry you were eating, now made you slightly choke.

“I’m not, my Prince.” You responded, slightly defensive from his words.

“Drop the formalities, we’ve known each other for long enough.” He sounded amused, but you were far from being in the same mood.

“Yeah, and then you left for three years…” You mutter under your breath, making him tilt his head.

“Pardon?” Daemon sounded almost offended, like he couldn’t understand why you would say that, as if he hadn’t whispered more times than you could count how you would run away together. Only to ultimately have left without you.

“I said nothing, my Prince.” You continued to use his title, slightly enjoying the annoyance that coursed through his body. You tried to leave, only to have your arm grabbed by him.

“Stop this game,” He told you, his violet eyes looking like flames rippling with conflicted emotions, “I missed you.” He whispered softly, almost making you falter, but you knew he could do better than that.

You said nothing as you walked away, his hand falling off your arm. His touch seemed to burn you, like it was too much for your own body to bear. Something that had never happened before, you wondered if it had been too long without it that your own body repelled even the slightest of touches.

You quickly made your way to your chambers, grabbing your dress so moving was easier. You knew some people stared as you practically zoomed by them, but you could not be bothered, when all you wanted was to wash your skin. You were betrothed, it was improper for you to be touched by anyone who wasn’t family, much less the Prince whose infamous reputation was hard to forget.

You threw yourself onto your bed the moment that your maid had been called to run you a bath. Now all you had to do was relax, and definitely not think about Daemon Targaryen.

You heard a knock on your door, and blindly assumed it was your maid.

“Come in!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself off your bed, preparing to take some of your clothes off. Except that who came through the door was not your maid, but rather the one person you did not wish to see.

He smirked at the looser hold on your dress, making you roll your eyes.

“Daemon, get out.” You gritted through your teeth, going straight at him to kick him out.

“Is this how you treat your Prince?” He said, ignoring your demand.

“I’m serious, get out. Someone could see.” If anyone saw the state of your clothing - the state of a betrothed woman - it would be a scandal. No matter if the Prince was involved, no one would want you if people believed you were no longer a maiden.

“How terrible that would be.” He mocked, getting closer to you, closing the door behind him.

“”It would be, yes.” You admit, annoyed at his light behaviour, acting as if he hadn’t abonded you. “Some of us don’t have the luck to be royalty, we can’t all damn the consequences of our actions.”

“If you married me you would be free, you could be whoever your heart desired.” You scoffed at his audacity, he disappeared for years and yet again made empty promises.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“Daemon, you left for three years. I had no notice of what you were doing for months, you left with some whore I presume you don’t even know where she is now, and you expect me to believe you want to marry at all?” There were some tears gathering in your eyes, but you refused to let him see you cry.

“I came back, didn’t I?” He stepped forward, and as much as you wanted to step back, you couldn’t.

“You can’t just come and go whenever you want to! You don’t get to say you want me so deeply, and then leave me stranded as if I mean nothing to you.”

“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” He murmured, cupping your face in his hands. You turned away, not looking at his eyes.

“You’re too late for those confessions.” You say after moments in silence, finally looking at him.

“What?”

“I’m to be married, Daemon.” You finally speak the truth, the truth that had been haunting you. You saw his eyebrows furrow, the crease on his forehead, some hairs shaking with his head. “Ser Harwin Strong offered his hand, and my father thought him to be the worthiest suitor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“By the next full moon we’ll be married-”

“Stop…” Daemon cut you off, whispering words that were meant to bring comfort to his own thoughts.

“He’s kind, Daemon. He kisses my cheek when he sees me, wishes me goodnight, tells me where he’s going when he has to leave…” Yiou knew you were being harsh, but Daemon had to get your picture, he couldn’t walk over your feelings. Not this time.

“Don’t marry him, Y/N.” He pleaded, it felt strange to have a Targaryen plead for something like this.

“You know I have no choice in that.” You whisper sadly.

“Then I’ll fight for your hand.”

“And then what? You marry me, and then what? What will my life be like if my husband does as he pleases, when he pleases?”

“It won’t be like that, I promise you.” You wished you believed him. He looked so honest, and a part of you knew he could be true to his word, but you also knew his word wavered when he didn’t find it appealing anymore.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Daemon.”

“I swear, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Daemon, but we’re no longer kids. Marriage is all I have, all I can truly have, I won’t risk my whole life on the idea that you won’t mess it all up.”

You both stayed silent. As Daemon rested his forehead against yours, you relished in the small comfort of his steady breathing. Your lips brushed, and if you had been the girl Daemon knew years ago, you would've kissed him. BUt you couldn’t.

“Please leave, that’s all I ask.”

You watched defeat cross his eyes as he pulled away from you. All you could do was watch him leave. He didn’t turn back, you weren’t sure if him turning back would’ve been better, but regardless this was your choice. You had made your bed and now had to lie on it.

taglist: @freerangesweets @westsidelegendary @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kiribrima @chevelledahuman @dkathl @ccallistata @beelanie @edum123 @booksbabes @watersquirtpewpewboomm @newtsniffles @deadstarkblacksoul @flowerisevil

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen fanfic #matt smith #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #game of thrones #daemon x reader

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cannibalcaprine · 9 months

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in the far-flung future, gene editing will be considered an art form, like sculpture or music

skyscrapers are not built, but grown from redwood saplings. crab-like grubs run people and goods from place to place on specially grown rails, not trains. chittering birds fill cities with the sounds of classical music, jazz, and whatever's on the radio. computers forged from human brain tissue run billions of equations per second, solving hundreds of eternally vexing problems in mathematics, physics, and astronomy.

when you walk down the street, you see people with orange-plumaged wings, cat ears and tails, bioluminescent spots, tentacles, extra arms, decorative horns and antlers and antennae. gender is dead, the idea of assigned sex even moreso. some abscond from civilization altogether, roaming forests where their ancestors may have killed off the wildlife. a dragon-headed waiter flambes a couple with matching moth wings' desert with his own fiery breath.

data can be stored in insect larvae, or beehives. people may ride to work on giant salamanders or horses with eight legs. it is peaceful

mankind is exploring the stars with spaceships crafted from nautiluses. Mars and Venus are lush with life created for their own biospheres. grade-schoolers learn this art by giving frogs wings, or many eyes. look out at the managerie tilling the fields, herding the sheep. they were all once human, but are now something beyond that.

someone's learned to run DOOM on a cuttlefish

#for later

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maxwellatoms · 3 months

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Good day, I have a couple of questions regarding Underfist. 1.) How many seasons would you envision Underfist having? 2.) Were the chosen members of the Underfist team in the movie always planned to be in the team, or were there some early character cuts and or additions to the cast? 3.) In an earlier blog you mentioned that you wanted Eris to be a part of Underfist in future seasons, so would she reform from Naughty and Nice Eris or would the two take turns leading missions for the team?

I've answered one or two of these before, but that's on Tumblr for being as organized as my desk drawer.

I always saw Underfist as being a series of "specials" rather than seasons. So each one would've been an hour or whatever and then you're on to the next one. I guess in modern terms, it would've been a slightly-bigger-budget-than-I'm-used-to limited series.

I always wanted the team to be malleable, with Irwin probably being the consistent central figure. I had actually planned to "kill off" Hoss at the end of the second one after healing Eris' heart. Then the third one would've had a sort of "Search for Spock" thing going on. Anything after a third seemed like too much of a pipe dream to even pipe about, but I'll bet we would've seen Ernie the Space Crab once more...

#underfist #fantasy #cartoon network

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astarions-musings · 5 months

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This story is about survivors, who’ve seen the worst that life has to offer and said “Fuck you, I’m gonna be happy regardless.”

This one’s for the people who clawed their way up from rock bottom, with bleeding hands and bleeding hearts, supported by headmates who know exactly what you’ve been through and how to support you in ways you never realised they could.

It’s about the hope the world couldn’t tear from your heart, the life they couldn’t squeeze from your lungs, the fire in your eyes that they thought they’d put out, but yet it still fucking burns.

This one’s about the future, for people who never thought they’d get one.

It’s about what happens after the happy endings, when you’ve fought off the monsters and made friends with your demons (they make damn good headmates), and yet the story goes on. It’s about the nights you spend stitching together a new sense of self, about patching the holes in the person you once new, about moving into a whole new self like a hermit crab who outgrew its old shell, admiring the claws and the fangs and the dashing good looks of the new form.

It’s about sitting down in a bed under the warm blankets, surrounded by the creature comforts that your system’s collected, and approaching your trauma like you’d approach a stray dog. Moving softly and gently, with some comforting treats to help it feel safe, letting it approach you at the pace it feels safe at. Feeling your heart break into pieces at how awfully this animal has been treated, feeling the cold rage in your soul at the bastards who abused this animal so cruelly, but also the hope and the joy at the life this creature still has ahead of it.

It’s about looking the pain in the eye and going “Fuck you, I’m gonna be happy regardless, and I don’t care how much work it’s gonna take.”

It’s about people like us. It’s about people like you.

And you’re not alone.

So welcome to the story. Let’s write a new chapter.

#Aston's musings #stream of consciousness #plural #plurality #plural system #pluralgang #plural gang #plural pride #plural positivity #actually plural #endo safe #endo friendly #we're all in this together #pluralpunk

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 6 months

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im back again abbabsnxhskjfcn (cue evil laughter)

not sure if you’ve done smth like this before but errnn, request for mini hc of the m6 with an apprentice w/ selective mutism?? (im a little bit obsessed with your blog oopsies)

and of course, the ceremonial crab emoji 🦀

The Arcana Mini-HCs: When MC has selective mutism

~ @crabofthewoods hi friend!! I tried to do a little research for this and I'm hoping I got this right. feel free to let me know if I missed anything. enjoy! - brainrot ~

Julian: completely freaked himself out the first time he saw it happen. are you injured? choking? his doctor senses are tingling but he doesn't know why. comes up with hand signals for future use

Asra: really good at noticing how you're doing without having to ask or make a fuss. they don't hesitate to suggest new things to try, but they'll never push it and will always be there for whatever you need

Nadia: very respectful. likely to ask ahead of time if any of the day's planned activities might be difficult and will adjust as much as she can to accommodate you. covers for you so smoothly when she can't

Muriel: honestly, mood. he would prefer not to speak at all most days, and if it's something you can't really help? he's protecting your safety fiercely. happy to dip if you need space or just want to go home

Portia: assumes it's just a "mysterious, quirky magician thing" before you explain otherwise. she has excellent people skills and helps you navigate tricky situations easy. always carries comfort items for you

Lucio: lost his temper at you the first time it happened when he was still a ghost. apologized once he understood and will advocate for you fiercely if anyone comments on it. talks enough for both of you

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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sleepygenie-o · 1 year

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You Guys Rest?

Sky Cotl x SAGAU again :>

Let's hop straight in!

Chrs Mentioned: The Archons (Venti, Ei, Zhongli, and Nahida), You (2nd person), unspecified Moth Skid (sky kid)

---

You are your usual Sky kid, with the new Season of AURORA out, (Where through the grapevine, heard that you get to literally meet GOD.) you've been hard at work farming for candles.

Especially Eden candles for height spells! .. Yeah you used them up trying to get taller.

On your way to the current known location of a Red Shard Event, which is in the Village of Dreams, you encounter a Moth, well, not really. They seem to understand the world enough and are apparently still getting used to seasons.

As you both converse, you're waiting for the eruption with the Sky kid as you give them advice on how to purify it since as stated, they're still getting used to it.

Once the eruptions roll in, you notice 4 gold stars rolling in too. You would assume that it's more sky kids that either are born or being re-born but..

They crash land right near you. The eruption happening at the same time. In a panic you tell the Sky Kid to move the weird dressed sky kids to a safe zone while you purified the darkness.

...

Venti is the first to wake up, instantly waking the others.

The sight was beautiful, but the situation wasn't. There were some sky kids sheltered in the stage with them, a blue person (one of the Performance Spirits) seemed to be healing a few.

A majority of them had one similar trait, simply done hair and a brown cape with 1 star at the back. Asking the spirit what's going on prompts the response of:

"Some advanced Sky kids brought a bunch of moths here to prepare for the purification of the eruption"

Excuse them as they remain confused the wHAT?!

After a good hour of finding the way out and to the village of Dreams it's.. a bit chaotic.

"CALL OVER HERE IM TRYING OT BURN S*HONK*T"

"AAAAAAAA-"

"WHO KEEPS DYING I CAN'T KEEP SAVING YOU?!"

Among the yelling children is another yelling child, you. You were flying up to get the flying dark plants, activating pre-prepared and placed shared memories to signal the mutated crabs. Even using yourself as bait while the rest continued to burn the darkness away.

What are you doing there, your grace?! You could get hurt!!

Venti and Ei were about to march over there if it weren't for Zhongli and Nahida holding them back. Don't worry Zhongli activated his shield, they're safe.

As the final act ensues (collecting the fragments of light), they watch you maneuver through the floating red crystals to get the.. glowing.. mantas??

As the final memory if collected, they all condense into one and bless the sky children.

As much as they want to approach you, it seems you're a bit occupied..

"Aiya..!! That was harder than I thought!"

"Really? It was actually kinda easy.. you all are so loud-"

"I still have to head to the stadium to see some of the spirits. Are you guys excited for the concert?"

"Pfft-! Obviously! Who wouldn't wanna meet someone who is probably our God?" Wait wHAT?!

"That IS still speculation.. we're still unsure if AURORA is Megabird and-"

"Okay okay theorists of the future we get it, let's enjoy the fun while it lasts. We have like..2 days to prepare for the concert." (psst! You can imagine yourself saying any of these dialogues)

..Congrats! You broke them.

There is a God above you?! Higher than you?! That can't be possible!!

...Well.. you do look like a child.. maybe your mother..?

They'll take this info with a grain of salt. And hopefully not freak out.

Taglist: (It's been so long- ;-;)

@karmawonders , @chocogi , @bk-4-trash-fire

#sagau reverse isekai #genshin sagau #sagau #crossover #more crossovers #even more crossovers.#sagau/SAGAU/Cult AU crossovers #Sky COTL #Can't really be considered spoilers since it's been a while-#But to be safe I'll tag-#sky cotl spoilers #Zhongli #Venti #Ei/Baal/Raiden #Nahida/Kusanali #x reader

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accessible-tumbling · 8 months

Text

youtube

Video description: The Quora site is displayed and the narrator, who has a British accent and is speaking quickly and excitedly, opens by reading from it: "My MacBook Air weighs 2.3 pounds. If I download more files on it, will it make it heavier?

"This is Quora," he continues. "A place where once grand intellectual questions would be mused over. But if you recall, 2 years ago we sadly bid farewell to our friend, Yahoo Answers, a place where those sorts of questions didn't happen, and in that time it seems many Yahoo users have made Quora their new home.

"Do chimpanzees get pregnant? Does anyone live on the sun? How high do planes fly when landing? What percentage of people are going to die? Do lesbians get periods?"

(A response to that question is read in a gruff tone:) "Oh, come on! Where the hell are you getting that question?"

"You are sleeping with your partner and suddenly realize that he/she is a ghost. What would you do? Are there werewolves in Texas? Why does the sausage have two ends? What happens to the time it takes to actually time travel into the past/future? Which hole does an actress push out a baby in a birth sense?"

(Another answer is read:) "She doesn't. She acts."

"I heard that in the Middle Ages, nobles used to wipe their butts with ducklings. Is that right?"

(Response, gruffly:) "No!"

"Is it true that pregnant women should not sleep during a lunar or solar eclipse as it may cause harm to the unborn?"

(Response:) "No. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"Can I sue Germany for putting my grandfather in prison for 7 years in the second world war?"

(Response:) "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Can you think of a sentence that contains the words 'book' and 'crabs'?"

(Response:) "Well, yes, I can."

"Why does the 'bros' abbreviation for 'brothers' end in 's' instead of 'th'?"

(Response:) "Because that would spell 'broth'."

"Do rich people get embarrassed that their servants know what their stuff in the toilet looks like?"

(Response:) "This is a very weird question."

"What happens when we wash vessel and use it with water in which a lizard was dead? Is it poisonous? What can we do?"

(Response:) "Uhh..."

"Why does the United States promote homosexuality and not consider what happened in the petrified village of Pompeii?"

(Response:) "Wha…?"

"How can I have sex with Asia?"

(Response:) "Pretty sure you mean an Asian girl."

"Is Israel on the world map? Are the Irish really from Ireland? My son speaks Arabic. (in a panicked, shouting tone:) What do I do? Does India have airports?"

(Response:) "Putin came to India in 2014 swimming in the ocean. I have a photo to prove." (A flash of a picture of Putin swimming can be seen briefly at this point in the video.)

"Where do animals live? Why are things? What is my date of birth? Do you know a microscope? Real mathematicians (in all caps): I have 5 live cows and then I multiply them by 0. How then do you come and tell me that I end up with 0? Where did the 5 go? Which is larger: 0 or 2+7? Math math what is angle?

(Narrator comment: "I do believe this Quora user was intending to ask 'what are the names of the most powerful angels?' but…) What are the names of moist powerful angles? I'm an atheist who believes in God. What should I do? Why do atheists watch fiction movies? During airplane turbulence, how do atheists keep calm?"

(Narrator comment: "This question I could only find an old link for, even Quora went nowhere, not even, that is way too stupid:) How do atheists know what foods are 'sweet' versus 'sour' or 'bitter'?

"I am 11 and stand at 5 foot 2. Am I obese? Do celebrities fart? What's the meaning of a single white egg left at my door? (narrator's comment: that is weird.)

"My mom slapped her own bum in front of me what does that mean? Is this correct, 'similarvgbhujkljhgtyhujk'? Why is Zelda so 'thicc' in Breath of the Wild? Do demons always say 'I am a demon' when they are introduced? Is it possible to balance your entire body on your penis?"

(Response:) " Yes, but I'm scared of heights."

"I saw the cop the gay eating a raw bird in my backyard. What should I do?" (Narrator comment: "I became a bit obsessed with this question, it's so indecipherable and googled it for clues to find apparently there was much debate on the site about whether this was a weird autocorrect from 'cat'. Which word was supposed to be cat?")

"Can deaf people laugh out loud? Can deaf people do surfing? How do def people know what facial expressions look like and how they're used outside of American Sign Language (ASL)? If so, how do they learn about them if there's no way to see someone else make that face?" (Narrator comment: "I mean, I don't think there's any intelligent questions actually left on this site, is there? Who's asking 'Can music cause candle to light?' Obviously, no!")

"Do people still eat mashed potatoes? (Yes!) Can semen travel up your foot? (No,, it cannot.) Is the word 'stay asleep' alwasy spelled 'J'? (I don't even know what that means.) Do lobsters pee from their faces? (Uh, ugh, are you mad? Obviously no!)"

(Response:) "Yes, as others have pointed out, many crustaceans have two different types of excretory organs, both near the head. Usually only one is used, depending on the age of the animal. Lobsters and crabs, etc, use their urine smell like cats, to mark territory, warn rivals, etc." (Uh..oh.)"

The screen goes white and the scene transitions to footage of the narrator walking up to a door. He places an egg on the mat, then runs away.

End video description.

#op #video #humor #youtube #quora #yahoo answers #inane questions #i think something popped from me laughing at this video #please enjoy this i had to share it with the masses #long post

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humanpurposes · 7 months

Text

Karma is a God

Chapter 13: The Riverlands

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence

Words: 7700

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

The skies over Blackwater Bay and Crackclaw Point are clear. There are no clouds to hide in and Grey Ghost makes quick work of the distance from Dragonstone to Maidenpool.

The Queen had ordered that she fly straight back to King’s Landing after accompanying Baela and Rhaena to Dragonstone, but as much as she fears her mother’s wroth, she fears what might happen if she sits idly.

To the south, Borros Baratheon has summoned his banners to Storm’s End. To the west, the Lannisters clash with the Iron Fleet. The Tyrells have taken a neutral stance, but the Hightower army is rebuilding in the Reach, rallying behind Prince Daeron and Criston Cole.

As for the Riverlands… the reports they receive are harrowing.

For almost two moons, Aemond has terrorised the Riverlands, unleashing dragonfire and death upon all those he deems to be traitors. Everything in his path turns to ash; towns, cities, castles, crops, and too many lives to count.

They fly high enough that the world spreads out below them like a map. As they approach the southern shore of the Bay of Crabs, she can see where the green fields turn to black. Smoke rises from the ground, trees reach against a grey sky, charred and bare. No life remains where Vhagar flies.

Could he hear the screams as he did it? Was he blind to the suffering, or did he bathe himself in it?

She had heard the cries of dying men as she burnt the Tyroshi war ships by Driftmark, but they were distant, a noise lingering in the back of her mind. All she remembers of that night is the smell of smoke, flashes of golden flames blurred through her tears, emptiness and rage. Thousands of lives ended, for the sake of avenging two already lost.

It is not the same, she tells herself.

They were soldiers. Any one of them could have been the man who released the quarrel that killed Jace, or manned the ship that sunk the Gay Abandon and young Viserys with it.

Aemond kills because he is cruel.

And I…

Death could not save the people who died at Hightide and Spicetown, it could not bring back her brothers, or any other lives lost at The Gullet. That thought has lingered in her mind ever since, a parasite draining the warmth from her body, the life from her soul.

But this is war. Either she will die a martyr, like Jace, like Rhaenys, or survival will chip away at the person she once was.

Maidenpool is nothing compared to the grandeur of Dragonstone or the high walls and towers of The Red Keep. Its keep and battlements are grey and cobbled, covered in moss and ivy so it blends in seamlessly with the surrounding greenery and the backdrop of the sea.

The castle is not the first thing she spots though, rather the blood red dragon that lies before the outer walls. Caraxes is curled in on himself, in a rare moment of peace as he sleeps. But he stirs as they land, rearing his head and glaring at them through wide, golden eyes.

Grey Ghost is uneasy, and not without cause. The Bloodwyrm is monstrously large, bloodthirsty and chaotic.

She remembers the first time she saw Caraxes, as their families gathered on Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon. Jace had flown on Vermax, while she, too small to ride Arrax, rode in a carriage with her mother and father. They reached Hightide and suddenly she heard a thunderous roar and a whistling, rippling shriek. What a sight they were, Caraxes and Vhagar, soaring from the East with the sunrise. They terrified her in different ways. Vhagar was colossal, and though Caraxes was smaller, he was swift, with piercing eyes, sharp teeth and a serpentine neck that she couldn’t help but follow as it swayed and slithered.

The gates open before she has dismounted. Daemon leads an escort of guards to meet her, dressed in his riding leathers rather than his armour. He knows not to come too close to Grey Ghost.

Her dragon is steadfastly steady as she dismounts, his head fixed on the men who have dared to approach his rider.

Strangers, hisses the voice in her head. Danger.

“Princess Lucerra,” Daemon says, resting his hands on the hilt of Dark Sister which hangs from his hip. “What a pleasant surprise.” His voice is calm but in a way that makes her nervous.

“Your Grace,” she says, keeping a gloved hand against Grey Ghost’s hide, stroking along his scales to calm him.

Daemon observes this with a small smile, and a turn of his head towards the guards, who relax their stances. “You should know better than to announce on dragonback unannounced.”

“And yet you were able to determine I was not an enemy,” Luke says. “I came from Dragonstone.”

His amusement fades into something more concerned. “Baela and Rhaena?”

Rhaenyra needed a dragon to protect the island and patrol the sea, if necessary. It couldn’t be Tylesys, Sheepstealer was still weak from the encounter with Tessarion, and she wanted Seasmoke, Vermithor and Silverwing to stay in King’s Landing. By the slight frown in Daemon’s face, he has some trepidation about Baela being the one to take on such a burden. But she is brave enough for it, and besides, Dragonstone is defended by water and the Velaryon Fleet. So long as Daeron and Tessarion remain in the Reach, the girls will be safe.

“Your daughters are safely delivered,” she says.

Daemon looks between her and her dragon. “Does your mother approve of you being here?” he asks.

Her breath catches effortlessly in her throat. “She does not know.”

He smiles again. “I have to admit, I did anticipate you might find your way here.”

The small council met the very day they received the first letter from Riverrun.

Prince Aemond has declared a one man war on the Riverlands, intent on burning all those who align themselves to Queen Rhaenyra.

The sight before her eyes was dull and gloomy. She winced at flashes of lighting and rumbles of thunder that were not there to be seen or heard. She saw only him, the scar she had left him, the sapphire set within the socket. His voice drifted through her, just out of earshot but there nonetheless.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

“Do this, dōna ilībōños, and I will consider your debt fulfilled.”

“My nephew must not be left unchecked,” Daemon’s voice said.

Suddenly the other faces in the room materialised into view. Rhaenyra’s eyes were down, fixed on the golden ball placed before her. Lord Corlys’ brow was twisted in contemplation and concern. The other men of the Small Council were watching Daemon, who in turn had his eyes on her.

He watched her for the entirety of their gathering, and she knew what he was looking for. She gave him nothing, not the smallest movement in her face or a hint of an expression. She had become rather well practised at this.

But the moment she was back in her chambers, the moment she was alone, she gave into the fury and fear simmering inside of her. She only managed to seat herself on the edge of her bed before the tears began to stream down her face. She caught them in her palms as she wept.

Aemond was rarely cruel as a child, if he was it was because he had been pushed too far, by Aegon, by Jace, and by her own doing. She had expected him to hate her when she returned to the Red Keep, and she had been right in her assumption. A debt was owed, one he had wanted her to pay with her life.

Whose fault could it be but hers that Aemond had grown into he had become?

A weight hung heavy in her chest. She hadn’t been the one to mount Vhagar or utter the command that scorched the Riverlands, but she knew she had a part in this, in some twisting of fate, in the overlaps and knots in the threads of life.

Two moons passed and hardly anything came from Daemon’s hunt. News would come of a castle or town left in ashes, farms and fields obliterated, whole herds of livestock lost to the dragon’s jaws, but Daemon could not fly fast enough. By the time word reached him of an attack, there would no traceable signs of Aemond and Vhagar but the devastation they left behind.

The night before she left to escort Baela and Rhaena to Dragonstone, she took supper with Lord Corlys and her siblings, which included Alyn and Addam. Moments like this were the closest she came to feeling she had a home in the Red Keep, despite the notable absences. She forced herself to smile as Joffrey tried to imitate everything about Lord Corlys, the way he held his cutlery, the way he leaned back in his chair and kept his cup close to his lips. Her brother was to be the future Lord of the Tides afterall.

Rhaena kept her little pink dragon, Morning, on her shoulder. She and Addam fed her scraps of beef and praised her when she cooed.

Baela sat beside Alyn, with perfect posture and a tight smile on her lips at everything he said. But her resolve was slipping. With every joke Alyn whispered in her ear, she leaned a little further into him and laughed a little louder.

At first the sight made Luke’s stomach churn, as if she could still see the distant battle at The Gullet, like she could still smell the smoke as the Tyroshi ships were bathed in Grey Ghost’s fire. Until she wondered if Jace had ever told Baela of his time at Winterfell, why he had a scar on his palm and why, if she travelled north to see for herself, Cregan Stark would have one to match.

Alyn was charming, Luke supposed, gracious, with a smile that sparked excitement.

What did it matter where Baela chose to seek happiness? Surely it was better that she did not dwell on memories and live her life with the burden of the past. What would that bring but grief and regret?

After seeing young Aegon to bed and allowing Joffrey one game of Cyvasse, Luke visited her mother. Rhaenyra could be found where she usually was, in her father’s chambers sitting by a dying hearth and gazing over the model of Old Valyria, coated with dust and cobwebs after so many years of neglect. Luke sat by her side, tracing her fingertips over her hands and the cuts along her skin. Some were red and fresh, some were older and clotted, others had faded into thin scars.

“They are meaningless,” her mother whispered without turning her eyes to her daughter. “A consequence of our ancestor choosing to forge his throne from the swords of his enemies. My father suffered the same.”

Watching her mother was like watching a warm and golden autumn fade into a desolate winter. She could not endure it for long.

Her back fell against the door as she returned to her bedchamber, frozen in place by what she saw. Another envelope, sealed with a winged insect stamped into amber wax, left on the floor by her bed, exactly where she had found the last one.

She held her breath for a moment, waiting for any kind of sound, a footstep, a voice, a scuttling of a rodent, but whoever had delivered it must have been long gone.

Once again, she reached for the knife by her bedside, slicing through the envelope to save the seal.

There was just one line, and no signature.

Search for him and he will find you.

She knew what had to be done. She could not sit idly, not while her mother’s allies burned and she had a debt of her own to claim.

Daemon steps towards her. “You want to be the one to do it,” he says.

She often has this feeling, like she’s drowning in her own skin. Like the world around her is cold and dark and she cannot breathe. She sees only one way to save herself from it.

“I have to be.”

The castle is quiet, filled with servants who scurry through the halls with their heads down, and knights and Lords who offer no looks of warmth to their Prince and Princess. It is unusual that Daemon does not reprimand them for it.

He sees that she is brought to a chamber that overlooks the sea and is given supper. It is no great feast– many of the crops and livestock of the Riverlands have been lost to Vhagar’s fire, but she is given a plate of shucked oysters and another with white fish and potatoes. Daemon does not eat with her, or visit her once she is finished.

The sounds of the waves roar in her ears as she lies in the bed and pulls the sheets around her. Each time she starts to fall asleep she feels weightless, and suddenly she is slipping from Arrax’s saddle and hurtling through to storm into the waves of Shipbreaker Bay–

But she wakes before her body meets the water.

A maid comes to her early in the morning just after sunrise. She bathes and dresses in her riding leathers, firmly fixing her sword to her hip, letting her fingertips linger on the golden seahorse hilt.

“He should be taken as a prisoner,” was Lord Corlys’ counter to Daemon’s pledge to find Aemond. “If he is dead, the Greens will make a King of Daeron and rally behind him.”

Rhaenyra at last looked up when he said it. “My brother forsook any chance of mercy when he tried to claim the life of my daughter,” she said.

Grey Ghost and Caraxes wait for them beyond the castle walls, restless the way dragons always are before they take flight.

“I have word from Sabitha Frey,” Daemon says before they mount their dragons. “She has recaptured Harrenhal along with the Blackwoods.”

“I can’t imagine it was difficult,” Luke says. “It was left completely undefended.”

Daemon chuckles as he hauls himself into Caraxes’ saddle, a much steeper climb than it is for her to mount Grey Ghost. Aemond would have further to climb than either of them, a thought which she tries to dismiss.

“We have our hold in the Riverlands once more,” he calls to her as Caraxes starts to move. The dragon whistles like a dolphin and bellows a screeching roar as he lurches forward, bounding off the ground and swiftly ascending into the air with powerful beats of his wings that shake the trees. Daemon steers him west, over the burned landscape.

Danger, whispers the voice in her head.

She drives Grey Ghost forward nonetheless.

As they fly, the air around them is hazy and thick. Luke keeps her sleeve over her nose and mouth. She is used to wind and rain rushing against her face, but smoke is a different beast altogether. It stings in her eyes, burns in her throat, seeps into her lungs and her bloodstream.

Heat lingers even after the fires have died and eaten everything away to ash. She feels it through her leathers.

Harrenhal is not out of place among this scorched wasteland. She sees the lake first, as vast as an ocean, black water glimmering under the sun’s early rays, splashes of white foam with the waves. In the centre is an island, so thick with trees she cannot see the ground underneath.

She feels unsettled, as though she is being watched. This must be the famed God’s Eye.

Standing over the water, shrouded in smoke and mist, is Harrenhal. She can see the path of Balerion’s fire through the five towers, where the stone is melted, twisted, and crumbled to ruins.

Harwin Strong once told her of the curse of Harrenhal, that every family who dared to hold it was doomed to meet a terrible end, and now her mother’s banners hang over the front gates.

Caraxes lands on the lakeshore where Daemon waits for her to dismount. This is a place familiar to him. This is where he was when news came of Arrax’s demise above Shipbreaker Bay. This is where he gave the order to seek justice for the deaths of his daughters. He remained here while Rhaenys burned at Rook’s Rest, as the Triarchy sank the ship that carried his son, as the Velaryon Fleet held The Gullet, as Jace and Vermax were lost to quarrels and treacherous waters.

Now is not the time to unleash her anger, but Daemon has always had a way of seeing right through her.

He leads her up the slight slope to the gatehouse, into the castle itself. The soldiers they pass bear the sigils of the Freys and the Blackwoods, proud and powerful houses of the Riverlands. Unlike those they passed at Maidenpool, the men and women here look upon their Prince with reverence. Daemon, with Dark Sister by his side, his short, silver hair braided away from his face, looks nothing less than a force of nature, a warrior, a would-be-King, the kind of man to inspire fear from both his enemies and his allies.

And when the fearful eyes come to her, they become curious. It is a question that has haunted her all her life; what do they see when they look at her? A Velaryon, a Targaryen or a Strong? A Princess, an heir, or an outlier, an insult to custom and duty? Perhaps now they see what she has become.

She follows Daemon through quiet hallways, through archways and holes in the walls where there should be doors, until they come to a cavernous hall. The light hardly reaches through the glassless windows on the far side of the room, but she makes out arches and buttresses hundreds of feet high, hearths untouched for decades. On the walls there are carvings of the sigil of House Hoare, images of the sea, krakens and sea monsters, men bathing– or drowning, under the dim light of the braziers, the last remnants of the Iron Islanders who once made this their home.

In the centre of the hall, still quite a distance away, is a table, around which a man and two women are gathered. Candlelight flickers against their faces as she and Daemon approach.

A woman stands at the head of the table, studying a map of the Riverlands and the Crownlands. Her chestplate bears two sigils, one of a black toad, one of two, blue towers. Her hair is pulled tightly from her face. Despite the soft, round edges of her cheeks and jaw, there is a stern look about her, a sharpness in her eyes and the thin line of her mouth.

The man is young, dressed in armour, marked by the sigil of a weirwood surrounded by ravens. He has a head of curly black hair, to match the second woman, only hers reaches below her waist. She is breathtakingly beautiful, tall and broad, dressed in white and black with a red cloak hanging from her shoulders.

“Princess Lucerra,” Daemon says, ushering Luke to stand at the other end of the table, overlooking the Kingswood and the Rose Road past Tumbleton and Bitterbridge. “Lady Sabitha Frey, Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall, and Lady Alysanne Blackwood.”

Only now do they look at her, with the same curiosity that she is used to.

“What an honour it is to be acquainted with you, Princess,” Lady Sabitha says, stiffly.

The two Blackwoods bow their heads, and Lady Alysanne offers her a small smile.

“We are glad to have you join us, Prince Daemon,” says Lord Benjicot.

Daemon hums in acknowledgement as he sets Dark Sister down on the table. “It seems a far more convenient base than Maidenpool,” he says, darkly.

A gust of wind howls in the distance. It is quiet, but with the echo through the hall it sounds monstrous and unnatural.

Lady Sabitha seems to have command of this gathering. Luke has heard rumours of Lady Frey’s character, most of them from Daemon. He says she is merciless and efficient. She finds she agrees with this assessment, but rather admires her for it. She has lost her husband in this war, and now her seat. The Twins, along with her son, have been taken by the Lannisters, who now block the road south.

“The Riverlands are loyal to you, Your Grace,” she says to Daemon, “but we have little chance of mustering more men than we have here.”

“What of the Tullys?” Luke asks.

Lady Alysanne sighs. “They cannot be relied upon. Elmo Tully would pledge their banners to the true Queen, but he will not act against Lord Grover’s wishes.”

“The Lord of Riverrun is as decisive as he is young and spritely,” Daemon says. “We cannot afford to wait for the old man to die while the Hightowers recover their strength.”

“But with Jason Lannister at the Twins, the Starks will have to fight through an army to reach us,” Alysanne says.

They fall into quiet, studying the map and the figures upon it, the hightower in the Reach, the stag at the edge of the Stormlands, the lion and the wolf to the north.

“And then there is the more pressing issue,” Lord Benjicot says darkly.

Luke counts the dragons upon the map. Tessarion in the Reach; Moondancer at Dragonstone; Syrax, Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, Tyraxes and Dreamfyre at King’s Landing. Lady Sabitha moves Caraxes and Grey Ghost to Harrenhal. Two figures remain, a golden dragon for Sunfyre, kept at the edge of the map, and Vhagar, hovering over Pinkmaiden, seat of House Piper.

“He was last seen here?” Luke asks quietly, reaching out a finger, but stopping herself before she touches Vhagar’s figure.

“Not three days ago,” Benjicot says. He places the tip of his finger over Riverrun first. “He began his assaults here, after Harrenhal was abandoned. He won’t directly attack the Tullys, but he targeted the lands that surround them.” Then he traces east, over the towns along the River Road, marking Aemond’s warpath.

“I went to Darry,” Daemon says, “by the time I got there, Vhagar was feasting on whole farms of sheep at the border of the Vale.”

“We think he might be seeking shelter here–” Lord Benjicot points to the mountain range that marks the border of the Westerlands. “Out of Prince Daemon’s reach, close enough to continue his attacks.”

“And he was not seen after Pink Maiden?” Luke says.

“He attacked at nightfall. Even with Vhagar’s size, it was impossible to tell where they went.”

Her eyes follow as he moves Vhagar’s figure to the mountains, and a heavy hand lands on her shoulder. The weight strains her neck.

“Perhaps I could ride out on Grey Ghost and search the mountains?” she says.

Daemon does not give the others a moment to consider. “I will not allow you to use yourself as bait.”

What is the difference? He would be happy for her to meet him in open battle, but not to seek him out as she had done with Daeron?

She knows better than to test the patience of Daemon Targaryen, but her own has been wearing thin for far too long.

“And how else do you intend to find him?” she asks. “You have searched for Aemond for moons and to no avail. Do you expect him to come to us willingly?”

“He is proud enough to do so,” Daemon mutters.

“Then where is he? Why has he not sought you out?”

“Enough.” He does not need to shout. His anger is apparent enough for her to bow her head and listen in to the rest of the gathering in silence.

There is nothing for her in Harrenhal but death.

She takes an abandoned servant’s quarters as a bedchamber, by the kitchens in Widow’s Tower, until Daemon tells her of the horror found in the crypt underneath.

Their bodies were left in the cellar, slaughtered within a cell, some simply run through, others slashed to shreds. There was no sense to it, no reason for Aemond to kill his prisoners or bring such a bloody end to House Strong– well, almost.

She wonders why he did it and how he can live with himself in the aftermath. He had not even spared the children. She pictures them cowering, helpless to watch as their family were picked off, one by one, before Aemond at last set his one, violet eye to them.

But Aemond kills because he is cruel, and soon that cruelty will be ended.

She cannot stay in the tower knowing what lies underneath. So she takes her sword and climbs the staircases, past empty chambers and passageways. She doesn’t know what she is expecting. Whatever was left of Ser Harwin or his belongings would have been removed years ago, and while Harrenhal may belong to his family, he always said he never felt at home here. She sees why for herself.

Her legs burn as she climbs higher, where the tower becomes decrepit. The stairways are treacherous now, she wonders if they might crumble under her boots and yet she carries on, passing rubble never cleared and gaps in the tower where the walls were lost to the Black Dread’s fire.

She comes to a bridge, high above the courtyard leading into the castle’s tallest tower, the Kingspyre. There are at least some signs of life in this part of the castle, servants, lit torches and hearths.

She passes a chamber with a great oak door, adorned with carvings of sea creatures with grotesque faces, waves and ships, the three rivers of the Trident and, when she looks closely, pairs of eyes hidden amongst the images.

She expects it to be locked, but tries the handle, only for it to open, seamlessly and silently.

It is a grand chamber, to be sure, perhaps intended for the Lord of the castle. There are no belongings in the room, no sign of ownership, and yet it is well kept. The sheets are clean, the logs of the hearth set and ready to be set alight It smells stale and stagnant, but not like the lingering smell of smoke found in the rest of Harrenhal.

She hesitates, then smooths her palm over the bedsheets to find they are cold. This chamber must have been in use recently, but not recently enough to warrant immediate attention.

She wanders to the window, overlooking the courtyard, the gatehouse and the God’s Eye beyond the walls. The figures in the courtyard are distant but still distinct. Daemon’s silver hair is obvious as he stands with a woman. At first she mistakes her for Lady Alysanne; she is seemingly tall and slender with dark hair, but something about her posture is different, the way she tilts her head as she leans closer to Daemon.

The wind wails beyond the walls of the tower and for a moment it sounds soft, like a breath.

The woman turns her gaze up, to the very window Luke stands behind. She can make out the colour of her eyes– green, brighter and paler than Lady Alysanne’s. They must be truly striking at a ground level, because from here they are piercing.

A sick feeling floods Luke’s stomach. She should not be here, not in this room, perhaps not even at Harrenhal, but she cannot find the courage to leave.

When she makes her way down the stairs of the tower and into the courtyard, Daemon and the woman are gone. Instead she finds the castle’s Godwood, following the small stream that runs through it, to the heart tree.

The faces in the bark are nothing like those in King’s Landing. These faces are full of anguish, twisted, mouths open as if they are screaming, in pain or fury.

A chill slips down her spine and she knows she is being watched– not by the eyes in the tree. A footstep treads softly in the grass behind her. She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough for them to know she has heard them.

The footsteps are less careful now, unabashed in their approach.

She sees a flash of dark hair, at first believing it to be Lady Alysanne, only to find herself disappointed, and then a little on edge.

It is the woman from the courtyard, the woman with unnaturally bright eyes.

“Do you often find yourself seeking the comfort of a weirwood, Princess?” she asks. Her voice is surprisingly low, rich and seductive.

She never used to, but she seems to have noticed them more since they took King’s Landing. She passes the weirwood in the gardens of the keep, sees the image of one above her bed, finds her mind wandering to memories of afternoons she spent under the shelter of red leaves and her uncle’s arm as he read from a history book.

“What business of it is yours?” Luke says sharply.

The woman hums a low laugh and lets it fade to silence.

Night is beginning to creep in. Beyond the walls of the castle, the sight of the sunset over the lake will be beautiful, a red sky over the water. She hears the waves and the wind as if she is standing on the shore.

“It is a terrible thing to lose one’s family,” the woman says, bringing her hands before her. Her dress is made of simple black fabric, with no patterns or distinctive embroidery, but the sleeves are long, draped over her hands and lined with green satin.

Luke catches a piece of flesh between her teeth. “You have lost family in this war too?” she says, uncaring at her shortness.

The woman tilts her head. Luke watches her as she takes a step towards the tree, placing her palm against the white bark, beside one of the faces. “The family I have lost was never mine to begin with. In truth, I do not feel it,” she says.

A hollow feeling lodges itself in Luke’s chest and twists like a knife in an already fatal wound. She wishes she could say the same.

The woman drops her hand from the tree, and turns to her. “Do you feel your losses, Lucerra?”

The absence of her brothers becomes a little more subdued each day, but she still carries them with her, the memories, the pain of knowing that their deaths were anything but peaceful, and the burden Jace has left her with.

She was so fearless as a child, she realises. She was secure, the daughter of a Princess, the granddaughter of the King, with Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Jace to guide her, protect her. But all of that is gone now, the life she used to enjoy, and she fears the things she used to love.

Tears prickle in her eyes, heavy and close to falling.

How much can the woman read from a single look from her eyes?

She steps forward to take Luke’s hands in hers. Her skin is rough and dry. She opens Luke’s palms, running a slender finger along the lines in her skin. “A powerful combination of blood flows through your veins,” she utters. “The blood of the dragon, and of the First Men.”

Daemon has taken heads for such an insinuation.

Luke raises her brow. “Do you question my legitimacy?”

The woman scoffs. “ Laws are made by men, but we are made of flesh and blood alone. Legitimacy has no meaning in the natural order.”

“And yet without it, my position will never be secure,” Luke says.

The woman stares at her, amused or mocking, it is difficult to tell.

“It was not by right of birth that Aegon the Conqueror claimed rule of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She thinks of all the history lessons she used to sit through, never taking in a word. All the hours she would make Aemond read to her– did he hate her back then? Would he have refused her if he felt he had the choice? “No. But he won it, and had the strength to hold it.”

The woman hums. She runs her hand further up, to the thin, blue veins running along Luke’s wrist. She presses her thumb against her skin, letting the colour fade and run again.

Her harsh green eyes come to Luke’s. “Blood is unambiguous,” she whispers.

Why must it all come back to blood?

The woman seems to note some kind of change in Luke’s face, squinting her eyes and furrowing her brow just a little. What does she think she might find in the frightened and furious mind of hers?

“Helaena said something to me,” Luke utters before she can stop herself.

“She spoke of blood,” the woman says, assuredly.

There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.

Luke breathes slowly. She has tried to decipher Helaena’s words for weeks, moons even.

Her aunt used to mutter strange musings often, always to Aegon’s insistence that she was stupid and freakish. Jace’s stance was that he would not burden himself with things that did not make sense to him, and so she did the same.

Blood– blood she shares with her mother and the line of Kings that have come before them. Blood she shares with her brothers, with her father. Blood she shares with Helaena and her uncles. Blood spilled, lives ended or left in ruins. This war has seen too much of it already.

“What did she tell you, Princess?”

She whispers the words that have haunted her since she heard them, but where Helaena’s voice was gentle and wistful, she feels a tremble in her own throat. “There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.”

The woman frowns, keeping her gaze on Luke’s eyes as though the answer lies within her very soul. The longer she looks, the duller her eyes seem to become.

“What do you believe this means?” the woman asks.

Daemon says killing Aemond will end the war, or at least determine the outcome. Corlys says it will weaken their enemies, but give them cause to regather their strength. Her mother would say it is justice.

Kill Aemond and the threat of Vhagar will be removed. What remains of the Riverlands will be spared, Daeron and Tessarion will stand alone. Then they need only wait for Cregan Stark to march south to secure their victory.

It should all be so simple.

So why does she feel the wind running through her? Why does she feel so restless and furious that her body trembles and her nails press into her palms? Why does she hear the crashing of waves morphing into distance screams? Why does she feel so wrong?

The woman’s voice is perhaps the one thing that sounds true, clear and low. “Mercy is a weakness.”

She knows she has no reason to trust this woman, but the rage inside her tells her she is right. She may never know the number of men she has killed from atop her dragon, so what is one more? One more life lost, a fair exchange for what he has taken from her.

But it will be different to know the name of the man whose life she will claim, to know his face and his voice. To share his memories and his blood.

Mercy is a weakness– it sounds like something Daemon might say.

“What are you doing here?” The command in his voice as he approaches startles them both. Luke tears her eyes away from the woman, to the head of silver hair gleaming in twilight.

She begins to panic. Was she supposed to stay in the castle? The hour is getting late, perhaps he was concerned… but he doesn’t so much as look at Luke. His gaze is clearly on the woman.

“I was beginning to worry you might be dead,” he says.

The woman’s lips curl into a half smile. “I was spared by his Grace, the Prince Regent.”

Daemon scoffs, utterly unamused. Only then does he turn to Luke. “What poison are you inflicting on the poor girl?”

“Poison?” she echoes with a sly expression.

“That is your way, is it not, witch?”

This does not seem to phase the woman.

Daemon hums a short laugh, but his expression remains dark. “You were supposed to deliver my nephew to me…”

She hates this, not knowing the whole truth of what is happening around her, the secret devices and plots. The familiarity between Daemon and the woman is beginning to infuriate her, until her chest feels heavy with the weight of the breaths she takes to calm herself.

“...But by the sounds of it, it seems all you’ve succeeded in doing is keeping his cock wet.”

Suddenly her chest and stomach twist into a tight knot.

It is not an image she wants in her head, but it appears nonetheless. The woman standing before her is a beautiful one, and Aemond is a Prince, a warrior, hot-blooded and demanding when he wants to be.

Her imagination is vivid and visceral. She has felt his lips against hers, his breath on her skin, his hand tracing down the front of her gown and slipping beneath her skirts. She had almost expected him to take her fully that night, in the hidden corner of the Red Keep while their families failed to make amends. She often wonders if she should have let him.

Does he ever think about that night? What he did to her— what they did together, or was it all forgotten the moment he saw the pair of eyes bearing into her soul this very moment?

“He will come,” the woman says.

Daemon chuckles to himself. “For his paramour?”

Her piercing gaze falls once more to Luke. Her eyes are dark now and almost bloodthirsty. “He will come for what he believes he is owed.”

And so they wait.

Thirteen days pass. Daemon marks each one with a slash of Dark Sister in the trunk of the heart tree in the Godswood. Each strike bleeds red sap.

She tries to make use of each day, but there are only so many arrows she can shoot into targets and tree trunks, only so many times she can sharpen her sword before she will damage the blade.

All the while there is no word of Aemond and no sightings of Vhagar. Whenever she gathers in the great hall with Daemon, Sabitha Frey and the Blackwoods, she scours the map as if she will somehow know where to find him.

Daemon refuses to let her ride Grey Ghost, not even to circle the lake. He says the risk is too great, but since when did he ever burden himself with risks?

This castle was built on blood and is haunted by the Stranger. In another life Harrenhal might have been her home, but she fears she may not be able to stay here much longer. Her sanity cannot bear it.

She tries to find a new chamber to sleep in each night, but rest never comes easily. When she wakes she recalls dreams of the lake. In these dreams, she does not walk along the shore or try to find her way back to the castle. She lies against the pebbled beach, her head cradled in scaly limbs, a longing for blood in her belly and an ominous feeling that keeps her grounded.

Search for him and he will find you.

Luke rises with the sun. From the battlements, she can see Daemon in the godswood, carving his fourteenth strike into the weirwood tree. To the lakeshore she makes out the shape of her slumbering dragon. Grey Ghost blends in almost perfectly with the morning mist, until she spots one of his yellow eyes, wide and bright enough to spot from the castle.

She retreats to her little bedchamber in the Tower of Dread, tucks herself under the bedsheet, rough and scratchy with age, and shuts her eyes.

She stares back at the castle, and knows she will be safe within its walls— for now at least.

Her body is not her own, but she settles in it. This is not a brief moment of madness as with Tessarion. This feels like an extension of her dreams, something natural and familiar. Her movements are deliberate as she rises and spreads her wings.

She leaves Harrenhal behind, darting up towards the sky with all the speed she can gather, until the lake and the lands around Harrenhal are set out before her.

Aemond has not followed a particular path, so it stands to reason his hiding place may not be where she expects it to be. He could be in the mountains southwest of Pinkmaiden, or he could be somewhere else entirely.

If he has not been seen since then, perhaps he is somewhere more isolated.

By the time the sun has reached its peak in the sky, she has flown over most of the western Riverlands, over Raventree Hall, Acorn Hall, Pinkmaiden and Stone Mill. She can see she is approaching Riverrun, the seat of the Tullys. They do not fly any banners, and yet their men are gathered and preparing for war.

Where to then? Along the Red Fork to the Trident, to the mountains that border The Vale? Or over Whispering Wood, where the mountains meet the sea along Ironman’s Bay?

Intinstic drives her north with a swift beating of her wings.

A swirl of storm clouds looms over the Iron Islands, but the rain has yet to reach the mainland. A fearsome wind threatens to blow her off course and below her the waves beat against the base of the cliffs, crashing and roaring against the rock with flurries of white foam. Grey Ghost does not fear the sea and for now, neither does she.

She flies high, sweeping her eyes along the slivers of shoreline that have not been claimed by the tide, searching for any sign of another dragon, a nest, a charred carcass of an animal. That’s when she hears a growl, like a rumble of thunder, echoing through the air as if the very sky seeks to unleash its fury.

Vhagar rises from her hiding place, half-buried in damp sand and the rest of her hide blending in with the rock. She feels the heat coursing through her blood when the dragons meet each other’s eyes, the fire rising in her gut, the urge to sink her teeth and talons into flesh.

But she looks up to the clifface, to the figure standing on an overhang. His sapphire eye gleams through the dull daylight, the ends of his silver hair drift with the wind and the beating of her wings.

Aemond.

He knows what Grey Ghost’s presence means, she can see it in his face, the awe and the anger. She would be a fool to think he would feel anything else.

He will come for what he believes he is owed.

And what of the debt he owes her now?

When does it end?

When she opens her eyes her skin is drenched in sweat. She tosses the sheet off her body and hurries to dress herself in her riding leathers. Grey Ghost will fly swifter than Vhagar, but she needs every second she can claim. With her boots pulled over her feet and her sword on her hip, she yanks the door open, sprinting through the halls and the courtyard. She doesn’t stop when some of the soldiers stare at her in confusion, or when Lady Alysanne tries to stop her and ask what’s wrong. She couldn’t answer them if she tried.

She feels her heart beating at all her pulse points, the wind slicing over her skin, the howling of the wind coming off the lake.

Daemon is in the Godswood, under the heart tree, resting his hands on the hilt of Dark Sister. He turns to face her as she approaches.

She is breathless, but her voice has never sounded clearer. “He’s coming.”

“How?”

How did he know to come? How do you know?

“I saw it,” she says.

Daemon frowns. In fairness, she herself would not trust such a vague answer.

She follows him back to the courtyard. The castle is in a panic now; the men are restless. Daemon fetches something from the armoury, a bow and a quiver of arrows. They are slim, not enough to pierce the hide of the dragon, but enough to shoot through the flesh of a man.

“Remember everything he has taken from you,” he says before he hands them to her. “Aemond may share your blood, but he is not one of us.”

She nods, and fastens them over her back.

Grey Ghost flies over the castle as the sun begins to set.

Luke and Daemon both know what they must do. She joins her dragon, hiding amongst a line of trees on the eastern shore of the lake, while Daemon waits in the open, and calls for Caraxes.

From the shadows of the trees, she watches the sky turn from blue, to gold, to red.

A shape flies before the sun and for a moment the world goes black.

She has never forgotten the fear she felt when she heard Vhagar’s call at Storm’s End, as she saw her shape through the clouds and stared into her open jaws. That same fear ripples through her body and makes her blood run cold, but she does not shy from it.

A thousand voices cry out in her head. Screams of the men she condemned to burn. Cries of anguish and mourning. Raised voices, calls for justice and retribution.

Mercy is a weakness. She finds herself wishing the world had more mercy.

But one voice appears clearer than the rest.

Blood– her heart in her chest.

Blood– the sky through the branches, illuminating the lake.

Blood. Blood she shares with Kings, Princes and dragons.

She has seen Aemond’s blood before and felt it against her skin. She is sure she will see it and feel it again before the night has reached its end.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

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#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #fem!lucerys #lucemond #my fics #karma is a god

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