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krispykollection · 16 days

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Peanut Butter

Part 1: Anjay

"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."

Gosh, I almost can't even believe how we got here. If you had asked me if I'd be standing backstage at a local bodybuilding show with a hulked out and glistening version of my best friend Anjay, I'd have for sure thought I were hallucinating off some bad lunch… Funny how close to truth that would end up to be.

It all started 3 days ago when an unannounced package appeared on our doorstep addressed to Anjay. Not only was he not expecting anything, the contents were even stranger. Pulling off the packing paper revealed contents not immediately familiar to two skinny young men like us.

To the left a shimmery pile of purple blueish fabric. Anjay held it up cautiously as it unfurled. The garment presented itself as a bikini, the sight of it filling both of us with an awkward embarrassment of being in possession of such an obscene object.

Anjay quickly dropped it on the table before turning his attention back to the box. I had to lean in closer to make out the next object of mystery. A brown bottle of… tanning oil? "What kind of crazed sex fetish shit is this, David?" Anjay turned to me and questioned.

I didn't know what to say, so I just looked back down at what's left. The remaining item, while on the one hand familiar, only served to confuse further. It was a container of plain old peanut butter. At least something normal, but what on earth did it have to do with any of this? As I picked it up to examine it closer a final item was revealed underneath, and with it an explanation.

"Ohhh" we remarked in unison with the kind of trailing off that makes it clear we're still skeptical. It was a pass for what appeared to be a local bodybuilding show and not just any kind of pass, one for a competitor. That well explained the first two items, not a bikini, but a pair of posers, and not just any tanning oil, the kind used to cake a fake shimmering bronze sheen onto huge muscle heads so they can show off their freakish masses onstage.

The peanut butter could be reasoned to be just a backstage snack for a lunk like the probable intended recipient, but that's where the last mystery comes into play. The name on the badge, it was Anjay's. Realizing the same, he flipped the top flap of the box back to check the address on the shipping label, sure enough it was ours. "Hmph…" he said defeatedly.

In an effort to put a quick and tidy end to the strange past few minutes we had found ourselves in, I offered up a solution. "I guess there must be some other Anjay Bajwa in the area, the show probably just got the wrong address."

Anjay tacitly agreed. I'm sure we both knew the obvious holes in that explanation, our town isn't all that big, and being solidly in the midwest of the united states, Anjay Bajwa was not exactly a common name.

"This guy probably wants this… stuff, right? Should we, uh, try to find him?" Anjay weakly questioned.

I conjured up the image of the intended recipient. Some roided out freak standing wider than a doorway with arms bigger than my head ready to crush someone like me in a single moment. A rush of fear ran down my spine. With a similar picture playing out in Anjay's head, we turned to face each other and in unison uttered "Nah…"

Anjay put the items back in the box and loosely closed the flaps. He tossed it in the corner of the room to hopefully forget about, at least for a awhile.

I wish I could say the strangeness ended there, in fact that was almost true, all the way up to this morning.

I woke up before Anjay. The apartment was bare so I decided to head out early, grab a coffee and a bite, and run some errands. When I got back in the late morning I could sense something was off even before I opened our front door.

Through the opening door I spotted not Anjay, but a nearly naked yoked out freak. I stood frozen for a moment. He was thankfully facing away from me admiring himself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. I spied something familiar, the colorful posers. That's when it hit me, this must be the other Anjay looking for his package. A rush of fear shot down my spine, what if he's pissed we had it? Just look at those fucking arms, that back, he could pulverize me without breaking a sweat.

I stood there long enough for the creature to take notice. As he turned to face me, my fear took it's place as a side dish, with a main course of bewilderment. It was Anjay, my Anjay, from neck up at least, or what's left of it. Finally I broke my silence exclaiming "What the hell, man?!"

"Dave! I'm soo glad you're home! Bro, drop that stuff but hold onto your keys, we gotta hurry!" I instinctively stepped out of the way as he came powering towards me. In another second he was out the door, a gust of wind cast from his wide torso the only remnant by the time I had spun around. He was halfway down the hallway by the time I made it out the door. I was astonished he could move so fast with how big his legs had gotten, they clashed with every step yet he was practically sprinting to the parking lot. Still he was clad in nothing but those posers, but passerby's opted to say nothing, either terrified by the sight in front of them or insanely aroused.

Thankfully I hadn't locked my car doors, otherwise Anjay might have ripped the door clear off the hinges. The shocks of my late model sub compact protested as he slammed his weight into my passenger seat. Jeez, how much does he, does Anjay weigh now? Following his lead, I quickly hopped into the car myself. As I got in though, I slammed into what felt like cement, but turned out to be Anjay's arm.

"Huh, sorry bro, not used to my new width." Did he always say bro so much?

"Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?" I ask. That's when he pulled out another familiar item, the badge, pointing at it and exclaiming "Remember this? The expo center!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" too much had happened, too much had changed, it's all I could blurt out. "Look at me Dave, I'm gonna clean up bro!" Okay, that's a bro every sentence. "C'mon, we're gonna be late!" I took a second to sit and process as he sat by anxiously… "Okay, fine we'll go, but you gotta tell me what the hell happened to you."

Anjay was more than happy to tell the story of his morning. He started before I could even shift into reverse.

"Bro! oh my god bro, you won't believe it! So I woke up and there was like nothing in the house, but then I remembered that peanut butter from the other day. I grabbed a big ol' spoonful and plopped my ass on the couch."

As he spoke I found it hard to pay attention to the road, he was so animated, only exaggerated by his newly huge muscles, they were bulging everywhere at the slightest movement.

"A few minutes later, I started feeling this fuzzy feeling, I didn't know what it was, but it felt good. Bro that's when I noticed something else, my body was moving under my clothes, I lifted up my shirt and I had abs, abs bro!"

He took the opportunity to point at his obvious abs, flexing as he did.

"Once I connected the dots I practically ran back to the tub and dug back in… and before I knew it I looked and it was half gone! I knew I had fucked up, so I ran to the bathroom to check out the damage."

"My clothes were pulling apart at the seams, huge fucking peaks ripping through the arms, pecs busting out the front." He flexed each muscle group as he called it out. "Fuckin' delts, abs, quads, lats, traps, my god bro, you have no idea how good it felt, how good I feel!"

I recognized some of those words as he said them, using his obvious context clues for the ones I didn't. I had no idea Anjay was so knowledgeable about muscle.

"I didn't want to completely freak you out." Mission decidedly not accomplished. "So I tried to find something to wear, but the only thing that would fit were those posers… when I slipped them on bro oh shit, they felt so good, I looked so good, but then something else happened. My mind started filling with all this new knowledge… muscle groups, workout routines, diets, supplements, cycles, poses! Before I knew it I was a champion bodybuilder, through and through!"

"Yeah, you can say that again…" I said acknowledging the physical embodiment of his statement. "I'm worried those posers might of sucked some knowledge out of you Anjay, since when do you use bro as a punctuation mark?"

"Haha, don't be silly bro, I've always talked like this… and call me AJ."

AJ? I sat there just wishing for my friend Anjay back, not this beefed up bro'd out version of him. Hesitantly I continued, "Ok… AJ, I just didn't know you were so into muscle?"

"I wasn't…" he paused "at least I think I wasn't, but I mean look at me bro, who wouldn't want this?" With that he raised both of his arms up to flex. As he did his lats? flared out and brushed my shoulder. "Shit, I didn't even know you could even have muscles there."

"Bro I got muscles everywhere and then some. Look at the class on my badge, super heavyweight… damn right! Fuck, I'm so pumped, I'm gonna crush it!"

Anjay… I mean AJ, had his bare foot on the ground before I had even come to a full stop upon arriving. Again I followed in tow. Unlike at the apartment, the sight of a muscleman clothed only in a shiny pair of posers was of shock to no one inside. It's what they're all here to see, what I was here to see I guess?

He led us straight backstage, scattered around were other men and their own companions all getting ready for their time onstage. Looking around I was shocked to realize that AJ was the biggest of any of them.

"Bro, take this," he handed me the bottle of tanning oil "you gotta help me tan up."

I was taken aback "I uhh… well I mean, I don't uhh." I looked around, elsewhere many men were doing the same, but I couldn't I mean, we're friends, but I.

"Fine," he grabbed the bottle back "I'll get started."

He dotted the bronze tan across his chest and started rubbing it in, following it up with his legs and arms. If you thought he looked insane before, with the shimmery coat of tan his new freakish form really popped. Halfway through, I heard his gut grumble, he turned back to grab something else, the peanut butter.

---

"Seriously Anjay you're eating more of that stuff? Look at yourself, do you really think you need more? You're practically bursting out of your skin already."

"I told you bro, call me AJ. Anjay sounds so… formal. As for this," he says as he gulps down a spoonful "I'm lickin' this baby clean…" "Now, I've done as much as I can, I need your help buddy, I can't reach my back." He contorts his arms up and over or behind and up showing just how far he is from reaching.

"I guess there's one downside to all those shiny new muscles," I quip.

"I wouldn't call it a downside, not when I have a bro like you…" with that he made a little pouty face unbecoming of his brutal form. I relent and swallow my awkwardness. "Hand me the bottle." His eyes light up.

I walk around AJ, and I mean around, and find myself staring at the contrasted light patch of his wide back. Man, I really wish I had gloves for this, I lament as I squirt a dollop into my palm. Distributing it between my hands I took a deep breath… here goes nothing.

I feel a jolt of electricity run though me as I make contact. Something's changed, something's flipped. I watch myself as I spread the bronze coating. The back in front of me is the same, but the interpretation has changed. It's not shocking, nor disgusting, it's a thing of beauty. I zoom out in my head, my god, the whole thing is, he is, AJ is. I feel my hands gliding over the many ridges of his back, turning perfection into more perfection. That's when I notice something else, the effects from the latest bite of peanut butter… he's growing. I can see his flesh expanding between my fingers, I can feel it press ever so slightly more against my hands. I've never felt so connected to AJ and I know he can feel it too. The world around us taking a backseat to our own shared reality.

I reapply and venture my hands further down south ensuring that his colossal glutes get the attention they deserve. I pull down his posers, ensuring every inch gets covered. Before I know it my fingers found themselves deep inside as I gently tease his hole. Electricity shoots through me again as I watch him squirm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure coming in hot to our left. Fuck, we're busted, I think, followed up quickly by a different thought, wait, what the fuck am I doing?

The figure comes into focus, it's a frantic respectfully beefed up man in an official looking polo.

"There you are!" he yells out to us as I casually snap AJ's poser back into place. "You missed check-in, you better come with me right now if you don't wanna get DQ'd."

Not allowing for any protest he grabs AJ's hand to lead him away, muttering under his breath as he does, "These lunks, the big ones can't hold a thought in their head outside of their next rep…"

AJ grabs the peanut butter as he stumbles, then walks away. In between bites he shouts back "Grab a seat bro, I'll be lookin' for ya!"

With nowhere else to go I follow his instructions and find a seat in the amphitheater. In the relative calm I have a moment to process the events of the past few hours. Here I am, sitting at a bodybuilding competition waiting for my best friend to walk onstage and show off his insane muscles. I thought about how I feel about that, I have a vague recollection of being scared and confused, but now it seems clear. AJ's got muscles, he's a bodybuilder, of course we're at a bodybuilding competition. The only thing I feel now is anticipation.

I flash back to backstage as I sit and wait. I can't get the image out of my head. His muscles… so big, so hot, muscles are hot, AJ is hot, fuck! AJ is hot! I can't wait to see him again, to touch, I shiver. Almost on command the lights in the amphitheater lower to signal the start of the show.

Competitors start marching onstage, they all have nothing on AJ, I think, only confirming more as they continue to appear. The stage slowly fills as each hits their mark. Still no sign of AJ. I briefly worry something happened to him.

But then, the backlights of the stage are snubbed out by a hulking figure. It steps out under the stage lights. It's unlike any other man up onstage, it's hard to believe it's man at all. It's AJ.

A hush washes over the amphitheater. You couldn't just see, but you could feel his movements, you could hear him coming. The thuds of his footsteps, the stretch of his posers trying to hold back the mass he's become.

He hasn't even flexed a muscle yet but all eyes were on him. I had no idea a man could be so beautiful. He is absolutely bursting with muscle. Every limb, every surface stacked with veiny glistening meat. I find myself getting hard. I stroke my cock through my shorts and make note of many other men in the audience doing the same.

AJ is wearing a cocky smile confirming that he is aware of all our gazes. He coyly takes his place in the lineup, pretending that there's any possible way the show will go on as planned now that everyone has seen him.

To their credit, they did attempt to run though a few poses, but even those onstage found it hard to hold form when their attention was quickly snapping back to their muscled colleague. Noticing this, AJ steps forward to give everyone what they wanted, his juicy up body, up close and personal.

AJ goes through an entire routine like he's spent ages perfecting every pose. His front double bi threatens to encase his head in delt and bicep meat. His ab and thigh positively does. And those thighs, wide sweeping drops of muscle, transforming into carved marble columns as he stomps down.

He turns around to face the other competitors, winking at their astonished faces as he does. It's time to give everyone else the a view of what they've been seeing. His lat spread seems to just go wider and wider without any sign of stopping. And his glutes, my god, they're absolutely planetary.

Spinning back around, AJ playfully takes a customary bow indicating the end of the show. It was indeed the end of the show and he needn't move from that spot on center stage. Not wanting to keep the godlike figure waiting, officials rush out and crown him champion.

There's no lineup. Second, third, who cares, everyone else is a blur. He's first, second, and third both in size and perfection. Medals in hand, AJ turns and leaves the stage, leaving the crowd to reflect on what they just witnessed.

I find AJ backstage, swarmed by all types, attendees, officials, media, competitors, they all couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get close enough to him. He sees me and pushes his wide body through the crowd like it's nothing. He doesn't even skip a beat as he scoops me up and carries me out of the room.

I can tell I weigh nothing to him. I'm a warmup weight. Even without being terribly stressed, his muscles were putting on a show for me. I watch his biceps and pecs bulge to hold me, just taking in the sensation of being cradled by muscle. We lock eyes and smile knowingly.

AJ whisks us away into a side room away from the crowd and gently sets me down in front of him. The room is bare aside from us and the plastic taped on walls and floor for tan smearing muscle beasts like AJ. Not exactly what you'd call ambiance, but it didn't matter. We have all we need.

Without saying a word I step forward and place my hands on his chest. He flexes in approval. I feel a jolt run though me as I feel his pecs shift from beautiful pillows to striated boulders. I lean down and press my cheek against his cobblestone abs. I linger just feeling the motion of his gut contracting and expanding with every breath.

I bring my hands down to his posers and slip them down, his dick pleasingly flops out already semi-hard. As he comes to full mast I realize it's larger than I remember. It didn't grow as much as everything else, but it's still impressive. A stiff golden rod setting itself out from his dark bronzed quads.

I wrap my lips briefly around just the tip before taking it in deep with a skill like I had done this hundreds of times before. I'm in ecstasy as I feel AJ fill me so completely, as I hear him moan with pleasure while I hit all the right spots, as I watch his quads twitch up close and personal with every suck. His movements and breaths become sharply staccato as I take him to climax.

AJ grunts with gorilla-like intensity as he rockets three hot, huge, loads down my throat. I stand up and wipe my lips as AJ comes back down to earth. Once he does, he chooses to finally break the silence with, "It's your turn now, bro." His voice booms deeper than I remember, the statement hitting me like a ton of bricks. He turns around and fully drops his posers, struggling briefly against his quad meat as he does.

My already erect member twitches even harder at the sight of his uncovered ass. Even more so when he leans forward and his massive cheeks split. I hastily drop my pants and am practically pulled in like a vortex. I place my soft hands on AJ's granite glutes before inserting my cock into his waiting hole. I'm glad I went in so deep with the tan earlier, it serving as rudimentary lube.

As I begin to thrust, I watch the dancing mountainous landscape of AJ's back in front of me. His ass is magnificent, so firm and tight. Every few strokes he squeezes his mighty glutes ever so little sending pleasure rocketing through me and also reminding me that he could crush my dick to smithereens in a single flex if he wanted to, this only serving to rile me even more. Regardless, it's clear who is in control in this moment, he wants this just as bad as I do.

I collapse forward onto AJ's back as I cum. We both stay in this position for a few seconds while we catch our breath. Standing back up, we make ourselves as decent as we can. AJ pulling his skimpy poser back into place and me pulling my pants back up and trying and failing to wipe the stripes of bronzer now all over my skin and clothes.

I laugh as I look up at AJ. "What?" he asks.

"Sorry, I wore a spot out on your tan, haha."

AJ chuckles to himself as he turns to face me. "Oh shit bro, but look at you" I'm practically covered in splotches of bronzer. "Honestly, doesn't look to bad on ya, have you ever considered bodybuilding?" AJ heartily boasts. We both chuckle with the silly question serving to encapsulate the wild ride we both have been on.

"Something tells me there's a lot more of this to come, but first… this tank bro" AJ slaps his bloated muscle gut, "she's gonna need a lot more than peanut butter to fill 'er up."

With that we head back out together in search of what I assume is an ungodly amount of food to fill up my hulking best friend… boyfriend? possibly.

We're a total mess, anyone looking at us would have no trouble putting together what we just did. We hold our heads high regardless, because who gives a fuck, like you wouldn't if you could. But you can't, so might as well flaunt what's mine. Besides in reality no one is giving me a second glance next to him.

---

In that first stroll together as an item out in the world, AJ and David find themselves in a place of pure joy and contentment, ecstatic about their budding new reality and relationship. Little did they know what was coming next.

Waiting innocently on their doorstep… another package… Wonder who it's addressed to?

#muscle morph #hyper muscle #mg story #muscle growth story #bodybuilder #sannidhya bisht

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glitter-gummy-bears · 1 year

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New idea for a Danny Phantom DC crossover fic!

Danny always knew that he was adopted. His parent's had always been open with this fact and always made sure he knew they loved him just as much as Jazz. What they failed to mention was that they found him in a crashed spaceship while camping!

"You were so small and scared," his mom told him with a sigh, "We couldn't understand anything you were saying, the only thing we understood was your name."

"Sooooo you're saying Daniel is my alien name?" Danny asked in complete disbelief.

"Yep! But you said it kinda weird for a while," his dad chuckled like this whole situation was completely normal, which admittedly calmed Danny's nerves a bit. "You would point to yourself and say Dan El! Dan El! Gosh, it was adorable."

Danny felt his face heat up. His dad ruffled his hair and laughed, "I miss those days, now my kids are both moody teenagers! I'm starting to feel old!"

Danny found himself laughing lightly. Honestly, this whole thing would be pretty cool if he wasn't still freaking out. He was an alien. A freakin alien. As if being half ghost wasn't strange enough!

Danny could only pray that his life wasn't about to get even more complicated.

900 miles away Clark Kent sat at his desk at the daily planet.

As he typed about local long-lost sisters reuniting after years apart, he couldn't help the depressed, bitter feeling swirling around his stomach. Growing up Clark had always wanted a sibling, someone to play with and help him with chores on the farm. Someone who understood him.

So you can imagine his shock and delight when he learned he actually had a sibling! An older brother!

They were sent to earth in separate ships but should have landed at around the same time!

Clark did what anyone would do and searched for his brother. Then he started college but would still look. Then he got a job but would still look. Then he became a superhero, he didn't have much time to look. Then he joined the Justice League... he didn't look much anymore, and when he did he wasn't hopeful.

Clark was just about done with the article when a beep let him know someone from the league was trying to get ahold of him.

He quickly left his desk and headed for the hallway. Pressing the button on his earpiece, Clark couldn't even get a word out before a familiar brooding voice echoed in his ear.

"I looked."

Clark felt a chill go down his spine, "Did you find anything?" he demanded, sounding more like Superman.

There was a pause.

"You're gonna want to see this."

Clockwork watched as all the pieces finally fell into place. He waved his staff and saw the event that started it all play across his screen. Two Kryptonian ships heading to earth when a portal opens up, a portal Clockwork himself created, and swallows one of the ships.

The portal opens up again over a decade later, spitting out the same ship.

"Yes, everything is how it should be."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom fanfiction #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom superman #superman #clark kent #justice league #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom crossover

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themotherofblood · 1 year

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

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

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

Dark!Daemyra x Daughter!reader

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

7.8k words

A mistake, a grave mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your kepa and I are to be wed!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a sham. You weren’t a sham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thwack!

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

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

#daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader #daemon #young rhaenyra #queen rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader #daemon au #ruie writes

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whitedarkmoonflower · 10 months

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Hi I haven't read too far into the books. I'm on book two so far. Sihtric is my favorite and he needs more recognition. I didn't like how the film just forgot to even mention his family. I would love a story where his wife and children are safe although he is panicking searching for them. One of his daughter can find him on the road coming back and tell them and attack has happened.

Lost

Pairing: Sihtric x reader

Authors note: my very first fic request! Oh gosh, oh gosh! I am so excited! Thank you for trusting me to write a story for you! I loved it and I hope you will enjoy it too. In the books Sihtric’s children are mentioned only a few times and he apparently has daughters and two sons, so I took the liberty to add a son to the story. As for the name of his wife I also decided to stick to the one that is mentioned in the books.

Warnings: mention of death, violence, murder and blood.Quite a big portion of angst.

Word Count: 3,407

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The screaming started suddenly and out of nowhere. You looked out of the window and saw people chaotically running in panic. And then amidst the chaos you saw them - the strangers who had previously caught your attention in the village.

With swords unsheathed, they trailed behind the fleeing women, children, and a handful of elderly men. Along their path, some invaders forcefully barged into houses, and you saw one of them violently dragging a woman by her hair out of her own home. He callously through her to the ground and bellowed something at her, gesturing towards the gathering crowd near the modest church. Fear etched across her face, the woman mustered the strength to rise and sprinted in that direction.

Another man entered the house across the narrow street. He emerged, pushing an elderly man before him. Suddenly, the stranger struck from behind, causing the man to stumble and collapse onto his knees. Another warrior approached, stooped down, forcibly seized the pendant hanging from the man's neck, and violently tore it away. The sword shimmered through the air and the man’s lifeless body crashed to the ground, blood spurting from his throat.

You knew that there was almost nobody there to stop the invaders. Uhtred had left with his men to Eofervic to rescue his daughter and aid his son-in-law, Syggtriger, to recapture their city from Brida and her followers. Hardly any warriors remained in Rumcofa. Sihtric went with Uhtred. They had left behind no more than a dozen of Uhtred's men to oversee the ships sailing up the river and collect tolls. Nothing had forewarned them of the necessity for additional defenders to safeguard Rumcofa. After all, the Danes were far away, and there had been peace for five years already. However, the men you saw through your window were not Danes – they were Christians, as you had plainly seen the crosses hanging on their necks. You had counted twenty of them, but there might have been even more.

You had seen enough. There was no time to hesitate. You knew the children were in the backyard and the threat was closing in. Being a warrior’s wife had taught you a lot of things and one of them was the importance of being prepared for life to be turned upside down in a flinch of an eye. With urgency, you dashed towards the chest, where your ever-ready saddlebag lay stowed. Seizing it, you hastily fled through the backdoor of the house.

You called on your oldest son – a tall twelve-year-old boy who bore a striking resemblance with Sihtric, your husband, with his dark, curly hair, broad forehead, strong jawline, big eyes, and straight nose.

“Strangers are in the town. Murdering. We must flee,” you explained hastily, “Take the fastest horse and ride to Eoferwic. Tell your father and Lord Uhtred, that Rumcofa has been ambushed by Christian men. Go, go quickly! I will take care of the girls. Let your father know that we will be heading to Winchester.” With that you pressed a kiss on his forehead and swiftly turned to make your way towards the small garden behind the house. You knew the girls were there gathering herbs and vegetables for lunch. Your son had already leaped to his feet, sprinting toward the stables, while the sounds of screams and cries in the village centre grew increasingly louder.

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“Father!” a familiar voice called out, prompting Sihtric to abruptly pull the reins of his horse, bringing it to a halt. Uhtred followed suit; his eyes filled with astonishment. They turned to witness a rider approaching from behind. Sihtric instantly recognized his son, his face draining of colour as alarm flickered in his eyes.

“Sig, what are you doing here? What has happened?” Sihtric asked anxiety lacing his voice as the rider reached them. Dismounting, he took hold of his son’s horse by the reigns, the boy swiftly jumped out of the saddle, and they embraced.

“Rumcofa, father! We were attacked! Christian men started slaughtering all the Danes in the village. They overwhelmed us. There was nothing we could do," the boy panted heavily from the strenuous ride, his words tumbling out in a rushed torrent. “Mom told me to ride to you. She took the girls and wanted to flee to Winchester”.

"What?" Sihtric placed his hands on his son's shoulders, his expression shifting from alarm to sheer dread. "Did you see them leave? Do you know if they are safe?" Sihtric was desperate for more information.

“I don’t know, father. I did as mom instructed me. I rode as fast as I could to Eofervic, to warn you and Lord Uhtred,” the boy replied, his words laden with uncertainty.

Sihtric turned to face Uhtred, anguish contorting his features. “To Rumcofa, as fast as we can,” he declared and Uhtred nodded in agreement, urging his horse forward.

It was two days ride to Rumcofa and they were riding like mad. However, as evening approached, they were forced to pause and allow the horses to rest, otherwise they would not withstand until the end. They made their camp in the wood, slightly off the main road.

Anxiety consumed Sihtric, causing him to pace around the flickering fireplace like a captured wild animal, his fists clenched, struggling to maintain control. After a while, he leaned against a tree and gradually slid down until he was seated on the ground, his hands gripping his knees, his head bowed. Uhtred approached his friend and settled beside him.

“We will find them. You’ll see, they are safe,” Uhtred was trying to comfort Sihtric. “Ealhswith is cunning and resilient. Don’t lose hope.”

“I wasn’t there, Uhtred. I wasn’t there to protect them. I failed her once again,” Sihtric whispered, his voice trembling with despair and anger. “I promised to protect her. You remember, after Heasten kidnapped her, and when we finally rescued her, I vowed to always be there for her, to never let any harm happen to her again. But I wasn’t there. I can’t bear the thought of losing her and the girls. I will never forgive myself, if something has happened to them.”

"If anyone is to blame, it's me," Uhtred objected, “"I should have made better decisions. I should have left more men to safeguard Rumcofa. I can't comprehend how this could have happened. Where did all this chaos come from?"

"We need to rest and sleep. Tomorrow, we will have answers," Uhtred consoled, placing a comforting hand on Sihtric's shoulder. "Your son is already snoring. He's a brave and clever boy. He managed to find us all on his own."

Sihtric remained seated by the tree, his head buried in his hands, his mind running wild with worry, thinking about all the different possibilities of what could have befallen you and the girls. He drifted into a fitful slumber, only to be abruptly roused by Uhtred, what felt like a few hours later. They swiftly gathered their belongings and resumed their frenzied ride towards Rumcofa, arriving as the evening was already casting its shadows. It was unusually quiet, the eerie silence enveloped them and not a single soul crossed their path.

Sihtric rode on, his desperation urging him forward until he reached his house. Disembarking from his horse, he dashed to the door, only to find it ajar, hanging precariously on a single hinge. With urgency, he stormed inside, calling out your name, only to find the room completely ravaged – benches strewn about, the table shattered, and the cupboard upturned. His eyes widened at the sight of such devastation. He continued to cry out your name, the anguish creeping into his voice. Racing up the stairs, he discovered another room in ruins. Descending hurriedly, he burst out into the backyard, where his gaze fell upon a silhouette lying near the stables. His heart thundered in his chest.

“Oh gods, no! No, no, no…. Please, gods, do not be so cruel!” he cried out, hastening toward the figure on the ground. Although he recognized it to be you after a few steps, he desperately clung to the hope of disbelief. His heart sank with each stride as he was approaching your body, lying peacefully, as if in slumber, just outside the stable entrance. He sank to his knees.

“No, no, please no” Sihtric whispered, his hands rising to grasp and tug at his own hair. “My love, please look at me. Please, open your eyes. I am here. I will never leave you again, I promise,” he whimpered, his hands trembling as he wrapped them around your shoulders, cradling your upper body and head against his chest.

“Please, no, my love,” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. His trembling hand caressed your hair, as he leaned in to place tender kisses on your forehead, closed eyes, cheeks, and lips.

“It can’t be true. You can’t leave me. I can’t live without you. Please, come back to me, my love, my sweet girl, don’t leave me!” he pleaded in despair, his voice choked with grief. He clung to your lifeless body, pressing it against his chest, burying his face in your hair. Taking your hand in his, he kissed your palm and pressed it to his cheek. Time stood still for Sihtric, and he couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there, cradling you in his arms. As the harsh reality of the irreversibility of what had happened began to sink in, he reluctantly loosened his grip, allowing your body to slide back onto the ground. He leaned his head back and let out a wild, heart-wrenching howl that echoed across the yard.

In that very moment, a sudden realization struck Sihtric. The girls, where were the girls? With a fierce growl, he sprang to his feet. His eyes scanned the surroundings in complete astonishment, as he found himself back in the woods, the dawn light casting its glow. Uhtred, awakened by Sihtric's cry, gazed at him with questioning eyes.

Sihtric’s heart raced, cold sweat covered his forehead, and his eyes filled with fear and desperation. “It was just a dream, just a dream…” he murmured to himself, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the lingering dread of that nightmare. Determined, he headed straight for the horses, preparing to saddle them.

Sihtric’s tension and anxiety intensified as they neared Rumcofa. He urged the exhausted horse to go faster, his muscles taut, jaw clenched, and his hands gripping the reins so tightly that his knuckles turned white. As the familiar outline of Rumcofa emerged on the horizon, he completely lost the last remnants of his composure and self-control. With a forceful kick, he spurred the horse, propelling them in a frantic gallop towards the gates. Uhtred closely followed his frenzied ride. The gates stood open, allowing them to pass without hindrance.

As they reached the central square, where Uhtred’s house stood near the small church, a horrifying scene opened before their eyes. Dead bodies lay strewn on the ground in front of the church –Uhtred counted thirty, each covered with blankets in preparation for burial. A man sat on the church steps, his head bowed and his hands supporting his weary frame. Startled by the approaching hoofbeats, he stood up, lifted his head, and gazed towards Uhtred and Sihtric, his face etched with pain. It was Finan.

Without a moment's hesitation, Uhtred and Sihtric dismounted and hurried towards their friend.

“Finan, what happened here?” Uhtred spoke first, while Sihtric stood frozen, his gaze lingering on the lifeless bodies. His handsome face contorted with anguish and his eyes flickered with despair. Among the bodies, he noticed some smaller ones, but none appeared to be as small as his three- and four-year-old daughters would be.

“Ethelhelm,” Finan managed to utter, before collapsing back onto the steps, his head buried in his hands. “Osferth is dead,” he continued, his voice breaking with each word. “It is my fault, Uhtred! I should have been more cautious, more wary of those men. They were no ordinary traders… It’s all my fault,” he repeated, pulling at his hair in anguish.

A voice emerged from behind them. It was Ingrid, approaching with a sombre expression. "There were approximately thirty men," she explained. "We were vastly outnumbered, and there was nothing you could do to prevent this," she addressed Finan before turning to Uhtred. "Finan fought like a madman, as did all our men, including Osferth. But there were too many of them."

Finally tearing his eyes away from the corpses, Sihtric found his voice, hoarse and laden with fear. "Where is my family? What happened to them?" he asked holding his breath.

"They are not among the dead," Ingrid replied. Sihtric let out a loud sigh of relief and turned to hasten towards his house. However, as he approached, his steps became slower. The vivid memory of the dream he had the previous night flooded his mind, causing his heart to race uncontrollably. Sihtric reached the entrance and stood still, his gaze fixed on the open doors, hanging askew just as he had seen it in his dream. A surge of anxiety threatened to make his heart leap out of his chest.

Summoning his courage, he approached the door cautiously, pushed aside the damaged frame, and entered the room, dreading what he might find. His eyes moved slowly across the space, but apart from the broken door there was no other evidence of a struggle. The furniture remained undisturbed in its rightful place. "Ealhswith ," he called out, yet there was no response. Sihtric searched the entire house frantically, repeatedly calling your name, but to no avail. The house was empty. Determined, he made his way to the back door and pushed it open.

"Gods, please," he prayed silently as he stepped into the backyard. "Please, do not take them away from me!"

Holding his breath, Sihtric scanned the area before the stables where he had seen you in his dream, but the yard was empty. Relief flooded over him, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He rubbed his eyes vigorously to wipe them away, as he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Sihtric turned to face his son.

"They are not among the dead, and they are not here," Sihtric told him, attempting to speak with conviction, although his voice quivered. "I am heading to Winchester immediately. You will stay here and help Uhtred and Finan to bury the dead. They have a four-day advantage, but if I ride swiftly, I may be able to catch up with them." Sihtric's voice was laced with worry. The relief of not discovering you and the girls among the dead was now replaced by anxiousness about your safety as you travelled alone with two small children to Winchester. His mind spun with the myriad of dangers you could encounter on such a perilous journey. His mouth grew dry, and a lump formed in his throat.

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Sihtric stood outside your sister's house in Winchester, mustering his courage to knock on the door. It was the only place he could think of where you might go. The uncertainty gnawed at him, pushing him to the brink of madness. If you weren't there, he didn't know what he would do. He didn't even want to think about it, so he hesitated. Sihtric raised his hand once more, preparing to knock, but before his hand could make contact, the door swung open. Someone emerged from inside and dashed forcefully into Sihtric's chest, letting out a cry of astonishment as he obstructed the doorway.

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You had arrived at your sister's home in Winchester two days earlier. She was pleasantly surprised to see you, but when you revealed the reason for your unexpected arrival, she was utterly shocked. Thankfully, the journey had been relatively smooth. After discreetly escaping from Rumcofa, you followed the old Roman road to Winchester and soon enough you were lucky to meet a kind elderly couple travelling in a wagon along the same path. You told them a made-up story about your mother's critical condition, that had made you to leave in hurry with your both children to reach her side before it was too late. Seeing you with two small children alone on the road they instantly offered you a ride. And although you were safe now in your sister’s home, your heart was heavy with worry for your son, and you prayed to the gods that he had safely reached Sihtric. This morning, as you hurriedly stepped out the door to fetch some cheese from the market, you unexpectedly collided with a solid, muscular chest. Startled, you let out a cry of astonishment and looked up to meet the gaze of two mismatched eyes that could belong to only one man in the entire world – your beloved husband and the love of your life.

Sihtric let out a heavy exhale, his eyes fixated on the person who had bumped into him. "Ealhswith!" he exclaimed with pure joy, a radiant smile illuminating his face. In the blink of an eye, he enveloped you in his strong arms, effortlessly lifting you off the ground and twirling you around. With a gentle descent, he placed you back on the earth, drawing you close and pressing you against his chest. Sihtric, so strong, resolute, and handsome as always and you had missed him so much!

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there overwhelmed by the feeling of relief and happiness that all your loved ones were safe mingled with your deep sorrow about what had happened in Rumcofa and your grief about people you knew there and were surely dead now. It all spilled out in uncontrolled wave of sobs, your shoulders shaking and your entire body trembling. You covered your face with your hands and hid it against Sihtric’s chest.

"You're alive, and you're safe! And the girls? Are they with you? Are they alright?" Sihtric's voice exuded a blend of elation and concern.

"They're safe, we're all safe. Sig found you, didn't he? Is he here with you?" you managed to utter through quivering sobs with tears streaking down your cheeks.

“My love! My life, my everything! I was getting insane from the worry about all of you! Sig is fine. He stayed with Uhtred. I was terrified that I have lost you and the girls,” Sihtric whispered, holding you tightly against his chest and gently stroking your hair, while you just couldn’t stop crying. Cupping your face in his hands, he tilted your head back and gazed into your eyes. Seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks, he began to kiss them away, placing tender kisses all over your face.

“Please, my love, don’t cry! I know I’ve hurt you. You must hate me. I have failed as a husband and father. I broke my promise. I wasn’t there when you needed me. I couldn’t protect you,” Sihtric murmured into your ear, his voice filled with remorse.

Suddenly he went down on his knees, clasping his hands tightly around your waist and burying his face in your clothes.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart. I will never leave you again! Please, forgive me!” he begged, “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

Gradually, you regained composure, gaining control over your emotions, and noticed the astonished gazes passers-by directed at the two of you.

"Sihtric, my beloved, " you finally managed to whisper, "I have never hated you. You couldn't have foreseen something like this would happen. You left us in the safety of our home," you held his head and gently guided his gaze to meet yours. "The only thing that matters now is that we are all safe. Sihtric, I love you. I do not blame you for anything. I am not that vulnerable and silly girl from before. Don’t make promises, you know you will never be able to keep! I have been a warrior’s wife for fifteen years now and I would never want to change that," and with those words, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a passionate and intense kiss.

Later, as you finally made your way inside, the girls came running, leaping into his open arms, shouting "Daddy!" and you quickly wiped away the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes again. Only this time, they were tears of pure happiness as you watched your husband, the love of your life and the most handsome man on earth, embrace and shower the girls with kisses, his eyes shining with sheer bliss.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #tlk fic #sihtric x you

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greatcheshire · 1 year

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What is the deal with Twin Peaks Season 2?

Oh gosh so

Twin Peaks season 1 was a huge surprise hit for ABC, which obviously the executives loved. What they didn't love was the fact that the show, which focused on finding the killer of Laura Palmer, ended its first season without revealing the killer of Laura Palmer. In addition, the show was also such a big hit that they ordered 22 episode for season 2, about three times as many as the 8 episode first season, which meant a lot more space that needed to be filled.

There's also another thing here where season 2 also marked David Lynch putting more... Lynch things in the series. Season 1 had touches of supernatural or surreal elements, sure, especially compared to other TV shows at the time, but for the most part could still be enjoyed or viewed as a standard small town mystery soap opera by a wide amount of its audience. Compare this to early season 2, which introduces spirits, a cream corn ghost child, and sunglasses that possess you and make you smoke cigarettes. A lot of people were put off by this turn, either by it getting too weird for them or for simply not liking the more overt supernatural tone the show was taking.

For what it's worth, in my opinion, the first 9 episodes of Season 2 are phenomenal. Some of my favorite stuff in the series. The moments where Twin Peaks really becomes its own beast. One thing about this section is that this is where ABC was really pushing for Lynch and Frost to reveal the identity of Laura Palmer's killer, something they had never wanted to do but ended up having to do anyway. The end result is the killer getting revealed 1/3 of the way into the season, and the final three episodes dealing with the reveal of the killer and the aftermath are honestly amazing. Fantastic work. Episode 7 has probably my favorite TV moment of all time. It's that damn good.

But then a problem came - the killer was found. The central mystery had been solved.

And there's still 13 more episodes left of the season.

What happened next is one of the most famous quality drop offs in television history. Lynch, both due to his frustrations with ABC and also due to his obligations with filming his movie Wild At Heart, took a step back from the show, letting other writers try to fill in for him. The result was disastrous, with writers struggling to figure out how to replicate Lynch and Frost's style and what Twin Peaks could even be about without the Palmer case.

Some plotlines that are in Twin Peaks season 2, I shit you not:

A business owner gets PTSD and believes himself to be a confederate general, forcing everyone around him to recreate the Civil War with miniatures

David Duchovny shows up as a trans woman FBI agent

The show's Hannibal equivalent disguises himself as a horse and tranq darts a military general involved in classified Area 51 material

The show's Hannibal equivalent kills some random guy and stuffs him in a giant, house sized chess piece as a calling card

Local cool biker James Hurley leaves Twin Peaks, discovers a woman who is trying to scam him into killing her husband but that scam is also a scam from the husband who is also her brother to convince some boy to do a fake scam and attempt to kill him or something and it takes up five episodes and nothing happens and then James leaves the show

The main planned romance arc was vetoed by one of the actors so they had to come up with new love interests solely so fans would stop shipping the two of them. The two new love interests are played by Heather Graham and Billy Zane. They get nothing to do. Heather Graham is a suicidal nun named Annie Blackburn. Billy Zane is a cowboy named John Justice Wheeler

A 40 year old woman with an eyepatch and super strength gets amnesia and believes she's a high school cheerleader. They let her onto the wrestling team because of her super strength and she starts dating the jerk jock there because she's able to dom him

A woman becomes a door knob

They decide to host a beauty pageant to raise money to save a pine weasel. This is the plotline for the final few episodes.

We begin to learn more about UFOs and aliens and the existence of a dark dimension called the Black Lodge

Two men compete to see who is the real father of the sheriff assistant Lucy's child. At one point, they believe he might be the spawn of Satan.

They take Cooper out of the FBI because he went to Canada without permission and place him in Lesbian Flannel for the rest of the season (The only time Lesbian Flannel is a downgrade for a character)

The mayor's 80 year old brother, who investigates UFOs, dies by getting fucked to death by his 20 year old wife. The mayor brings a shotgun to the sheriff's office and plans to shoot the wife for killing his brother with sex and witchcraft. The police solve this by locking them both in the room together until they start to have sex and announce their plans to adopt

And this is just the simplified version of it! All of this caused Twin Peaks to drop HARD in the ratings. Like literally from the top of the charts to the bottom. This stretch of episodes aren’t entirely bad. There is some good stuff there, the lore is important for future things, and the episodes start to pick up when the Hannibal equivalent Windom Earle gets introduced. But as a whole... OOF is it hard to watch. Lynch would come back again to direct the season finale of season 2, hoping to generate enough interest from viewers and executives in giving it a season 3. He tossed out the script that was written by the season 2 writing team and made his own thing and it rules. The finale for season 2 is one of the best episodes of TV ever. A high mark of Lynch’s career. It’s so fucking good. It’s so good, it’s worth season 2 despite it all. And it ends on one hell of a cliffhanger.

Only to get cancelled.

Lynch was given the opportunity to do a movie to end the series properly and resolve the cliffhanger. Instead he made a prequel. A move that angered many at the time. And then 25 years later, Twin Peaks finally got a third season, one that was so good, it was named the best movie of 2017 by Sight & Sound. But the effects of season 2 live on, the way that it alienated audiences and put Twin Peaks solely into niche territory one baffling decision at a time.

#Twin Peaks

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thesimquarter · 10 months

Text

Some Unused Urbz (GBA) Dialogue

I was looking through the string table in the Urbz for GBA and noticed some dialogue that goes unused in the actual game and decided to catalogue it and share it because I just love things like this.

If you see an '@1', in the dialogue, that's just a placeholder for the player's name (or at least for all of THESE. Sometimes it's used for other things.)

As a side note, the dialogue for this game is pretty well-organized and all the characters have distinct enough voices (TS2GBA DO NOT INTERACT) that it's incredibly easy to figure out who said what. There's also a lot more unused strings, but I'm just focusing on the dialogue right now

First of all, all characters, not just those you can have as a roommate, have roommate acceptance dialogues. So, here are all the unused ones.

BAYOU BOO: Gosh, that's fine idea. Don't mind if I do. BERKELEY CLODD: Sure I'll move in with you. What a splendid way to meet a whole new set of clients. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Sure, I'll live with you, buddy. But be warned: I stay up late. CRAWDAD CLEM: You know, It'd be real fun to share accommodations with you for a bit. Sure. EPHRAM EARL: To haunt your house with your permission, this I will do. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Sure, so long as you help me memorize my lines. HARLAN KING: Of course I will. How wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: Okay! That'd be killer! We're going to have such an awesome time. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sure, why not. It'll be just like college all over again. MAMBO LOA: I would gladly share accommodations with you. When do I move in? Now? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sure, why not? So long as you don't mind the smell of bleach. OLDE SALTY: You're darn tooting! I'd be your roommate any day. CRYSTAL: Okay! I can't wait to redecorate your dumpy pad. POLLY NOMIAL: Yes. To maintain a domicile with you would be most enlightening. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: Why not, right? It'll be loads of fun. I'm moving in today! ROXANNA MOXIE: Sure, why not? It'll be fun, you know? A real laugh. THERESA BULLHORN: Yes! I would love to share your life of glamour and fame. DARIUS: Heck yeah, dawg. We can kick it together. DADDY BIGBUCKS: You betcha! DET. DAN D. MANN: It's an interesting proposition. Hm… Consider it done! LILY GATES: An excellent plan! Your place is much closer to where I work! KRIS THISTLE: You want me to move in with you? After all I've done? Wow. You're great. GRAMMA HATTIE: What a grand idea. Your house will be a great place to hold meetings.

There is also an unused set of rep group-related dialogues. These ones most likely being used if you managed to get an exceedingly poor rep with your rep group.

DARIUS: Hey, @1. Check yourself before you wreck your Rep. The Streeties are getting sick of you hanging around. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Sorry to be the one to break this to you, @1, but the rest of the Richies think you're getting a tad uppity. Clean up your act or we'll boot you. POLLY NOMIAL: Our patience with your gradual assimilation into our social sphere is waning. Progress or be excommunicated from the Nerdies. ROXANNA MOXIE: A few words of advice @1. Shape up or ship out of our group. End of story.

These MAY not be unused, but I've never heard of anyone getting any of these messages, and, for the life of me, I could not get them to activate through my own twiddling. There exists no dialogue for actually kicking you out of the rep group. So even if this WAS used, it would just be an empty threat. (I mean… it's implied that it was your rep group that picked you up after you crash landed in Miniopolis, which is why you're apart of it despite not really knowing anyone.)

As a side note, when I was going through getting to -10 rep points with the Richies, after about -6, every time I lost a rep group point, Roxanna Moxie kept on giving my silver plaques. RICHIE silver plaques. Using the Artsie silver plaque dialogue. By the time I was done testing things out, I had five of them. Strange glitch?

So, the Urbz GBA, for whatever reason, doesn’t let us romance the elderly. That doesn't mean that there isn't flirting and kissing dialogue for the unromancable characters! The first dialogue is flirting, and the second one is refusing to accept a kiss.

EPHRAM EARL: A piece of human interest seems to be the loving way. EPHRAM EARL: I cannot kiss that which I cannot touch. HARLAN KING: Eh? Does that have a saucy secondary meaning I am not aware of? HARLAN KING: Ugh! No! Your breath smells like everything but fresh! OLDE SALTY: Arrr, you've cracked my barnacle encrusted heart! OLDE SALTY: I'll kiss no one! Not until you proves your devotion! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Hello there… do you mind if I buy you a small island? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Get away from me, you pest! I'd sooner kiss a sneezing dog. GRAMMA HATTIE: Stop it this instant. I know you're just trying to fool with an old woman's mind. GRAMMA HATTIE: Ack! Help! Help! Police! This boy is trying to inhale me!

Related, when a character accepts a hug or a kiss in-game, they don't say anything. However, there is actually unused dialogue for this event. Almost all of it is just "Aw!". However, there's a few exceptions.

BAYOU BOO: Aw! BAYOU BOO: Plant one right here, girl! BERKELEY CLODD: Come hither and embrace me, @1! BERKELEY CLODD: Ah! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Come here, you! LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Oh! EPHRAM EARL: If arms were ribbons consider this my bow. EPHRAM EARL: Ah! EWAN WATAHMEE: Hugs are free, yes. But they are also round. EWAN WATAHMEE: Ah! PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: It's so good to see you too! Let's do lunch. PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: Ah! LOTTIE CASH: It's fun to be this close to me, huh? LOTTIE CASH: Oh! LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Wrap your arms around me, baby. LUTHOR L. BIGBUCKS: Yeah! MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: You washed your hands before you hugged me, right? MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Eek! CRYSTAL: Gee, thanks. You're sweet. CRYSTAL: Oh! OLDE SALTY: That's right, give poor Olde Salty a nice hug. OLDE SALTY: Yay! DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people touch me if they're not wearing an expensive coat. But for you'll I'll make an exception. DADDY BIGBUCKS: Normally I don't let people kiss me if they're not wearing fruity lip gloss. But for you'll I'll make an exception.

The first dialogue here is accepting a hug; the second is accepting a kiss. All characters not listed here just has "Aw!" as a response to both being kissed and hugged.

There seems to be a scrapped interaction, most likely called 'Talk about Pets.' from the subject of the replies and the fact that it was tucked between 'Talk about Ninjas' and 'Talk about Politics,' which would make the placement alphabetical. I wonder why it went unused!

Not every single character had a line for this. The following characters do not: Bayou Boo, Crawdad Clem, Ephram Earl, Ewan Watahmee Harlan King, Luthor L. Bigbucks, Mambo Loa, Misty Waters, Olde Salty, and Theresa Bullhorn. Some of these characters do have other lines that refer to owning a pet; they just don't have a dialogue here.

BERKELEY CLODD: I looked into buying a talented chimpanzee, but very few know how to pick pock- er, pick their nose. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I have my pet rabbit to thank for my interest in journalism. Why? Well… isn't it obvious? PRITCHARD LOCKSLEY: I was so proud my pet lizard Harvey was cast as the lead in a new gladiator film. Sure he beat me for the role… but he was wonderful! LOTTIE CASH: I have a cute little pug named Paris. You don't think I'll get sued for that, do you? I hope not. MAXIMILLIAN MOORE: Sooner or later, every disease that pets get will jump to humans! The end is near! CRYSTAL: I totally want a pet dolphin so it can protect me from sharks. PHOEBE TWIDDLE: My mom was a cat lady and my dad was a dog guy, so I learned to love pets very early on. But I'll never forget the smell. POLLY NOMIAL: Your colorful colloquy is highly amusing. GIUSEPPI MEZZOALTO: If I tell you I like snakes, you'd better not make any jokes. Got it? ROXANNA MOXIE: Come by the carnival sometime! There are lots of needy animals there. SUE PIRNOVA: I'm not organized enough to take care of another creature. The best I can manage is feeding ants. DARIUS: I like goldfish. What? DADDY BIGBUCKS: Yuck! There is nothing worse that a sniveling, drooling, hairy servant who cannot follow orders. DET. DAN D. MANN: When people don't clean up after their pets, who do you think has to do it for them? Huh? I'm asking you because I don't know the answer. LILY GATES: Every time I buy a pet, I get so busy I forget to feed it. And then… well… I shouldn't own any pets. KRIS THISTLE: Don't remind me! My landlord doesn't allow pets, so when I moved here I was forced to sell my ferret. CANNONBALL COLEMAN: I owned a crow a few years ago. He made enough noise to scare ghosts away. I miss that old bird. GRAMMA HATTIE: I'm definitely a cat person. And a dog person. And a chicken person too. I'm really a pet person. DUSTY HOGG: I used to own a small python and a small dog. Now I just own a bigger python.

'Talk about Pets' does not show up in the list of interactions earlier in the string set.

Lincoln Broadsheet has some mission dialogue that, again, may not be unused, but I have never seen, and I have never seen anyone else talk about it.

YOU: Mister Broadsheet, would you help me write a thesis? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Gosh, I would if I wasn't so busy. Tell you what I can do though: I'll let you use my computer to log in to my research database. That should give you some good ideas. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Hey, have you heard the recent news? A local TV station is filming a new Reality Television Show. YOU: Interesting, but I don't watch much TV. LINCOLN BROADSHEET: Me neither, but don't let that stop you from going up to Paradise Island and signing up. If you do well I could write a big article about you. YOU: Are they still letting people sign up? LINCOLN BROADSHEET: I think so. Head up to Paradise Island and see for yourself. And if you do well Id love to write an article on you.

Note: I have been informed that the first two lines in this section actually can happen in-game!

It is also appears he would have given the player the Reality TV Show plotline.

And finally, ‘The Bad Ending.’

DADDY BIGBUCKS: People around here call me Daddy Bigbucks. If you like what you see in Miniopolis, it's a good bet I own it.

This is actually listed next to all the character introductions, so this would have been how Daddy Bigbucks introduced himself, if he were to actually introduce himself. There are placeholders for the other characters who don’t get to say a proper introduction as well (Kris Thistle, Det. Dan D. Mann, Crawdad Clem, Harlan King), but they’re just placeholders. No text of relevance.

#urbz #the urbz #sims handhelds #gba sims #OH and i didn't personally extract all the strings from the game #someone posted it somewhere (i forgot who and where at) and i saved itttt ages ago #was just looking through it and noticed some unused dialogues and decided to share it!#i'm looking through the TSBO string ATM and ngl there isn't very much in the terms of character dialogue #-- AND SOMETHING ELSE. so a few characters in the urbz have dialogues referring to being arrested for passing out #in the sims 2 for gba (a game where you are sent to the medical center if you pass out) there are a few strings referring to #getting arrested for sleeping on public property. but there aren't any in the Urbz whichhhh #i think it's kinda interesting there are references to that in TS2GBA and not this game!

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