the king is madman because he thinks he is a king

Jon “bending the knee” was a stupid as fuck decision that should come back to bite him in the ass-

Look, I love Jon Snow. He’s one of my favorite character on Game of Thrones, but I will criticize any character from any show, no matter how much I love them, when they deserve it, and he definitely deserves it right now.

So here’s the thing. Jon doesn’t have any actual claim (by birthright) to be King in the North that he’s aware of. Yes, he is legitimate and his mother was a Stark, but he’s unaware of that. He is King because his people chose him, partially because they believe his father to be Ned Stark, partially because of his actions at the wall and north of the wall, partially because his brother, the last King in the North, supported Northern Independence, and that’s important. It’s important because Jon is an elected King. He is not claiming a title out of birthright, he doesn’t know he has any, and as such, he can be replaced. He was chosen because the Northerners believed he would truly listen and act in the interest of the North and what the people of the North want. What they want is not a Targaryen Queen who flew across the ocean to take back a legacy she believes is hers. They want a Northerner. They’re tired of Southern Kings (and Queens). And they chose Jon. But because they chose Jon, they could take it away. Jon is not untouchable.

Unlike Daenerys (who has advisors and armies but currently no nobility) he has people he needs to please. He has people he needs to listen to. His armies are comprised of his bannermen’s forces. He can’t just go around ignoring all their wishes and expect them to fight for him. They follow him because they believe he will do what’s best for the North and because they want Northern Independence, just like they did under Robb. If he fails them in that, he could be replaced, they have Sansa right there, a legitimate Stark heir.

So, while I would not like it, I could understand Jon finally eventually bending the knee from sheer desperation at a critical time because otherwise his people will be immediately wiped out, but I cannot respect his choice to bend the knee when he was no longer being asked to. That was just fucking dumb. He still needs the support of his Northern Lords. If he wants to have this debate with them after the white walkers are dealt with, if he wants step down as King, whatever. But right now, he needs their support and he needs Dany’s help and he had both and then he threw one away. And honestly, I’m pissed as hell at him for it.

Here’s another thing, because I’ve seen people saying that it wouldn’t be “fair” if Dany agreed to help the North and Jon didn’t give her something in return. So let me very clear- Jon doesn’t owe Dany shit for agreeing to help. Jon isn’t just trying to save the North, he’s trying to save everyone, when he asks for Dany’s help he’s not asking for it in order for him to gain power or status or anything, he’s asking for her help to literally save all of Westeros because he doesn’t want everyone to die. She’s not doing him some sort of favor by helping out. She’s literally agreeing to help save the lives of (in her mind) her own fucking subjects. Sure, she could sit back and let the North be wiped out first, but it would only be a matter of time before she’d have to face the white walkers anyway if she wants to rule Westeros. And Daenerys, if she truly believes she is the rightful ruler and this is her land and her people should want to help him regardless of how Jon & the North feels about her because it’s her people she’s saving. She shouldn’t have to be sweet talked into protecting and saving her own subjects. Because, if she thinks she is the rightful Queen, that’s what the people are, all of them, whether or not they have yet to recognize her as so.

And on that topic, it should not be up to a people to prove their humanity and worthiness of life to their ruler  (or potential ruler) in order to be protected, it should be up to a ruler to prove their intentions and worthiness as a leader. Honestly, if Dany wants to be Queen and she wants to be different, then she should be proving herself to the people, not the other way around. Why should literally any of them want a Queen whose father was a tyrant and madman who enjoyed torturing people? No sane person would want his daughter on the throne without some proof that she legitimately does want to protect and help them, not just rule them. I understand Dany not wanting to help when she didn’t believe, or fully understand, the scope of what they were dealing with in the white walkers, but now that she’s seen them, of course she should help regardless of who is or isn’t calling her Queen and Jon should not in any way feel obligated to then call her Queen because she’s doing what a Queen should do in her position. Anyway, this isn’t Dany coming to support Jon against some small threat to just the North and him repaying her by acknowledging her as Queen, this is Dany agreeing to try to help stop a massive threat from wiping out the continent she wants to rule, it’s absolutely in her interests as someone who wants to be Queen to do this, even if Jon and the North weren’t involved. So, long story short, Jon doesn’t and shouldn’t owe Dany one single thing for joining the campaign against the white walkers and it was a stupid decision to bend the knee to Dany and one that I cannot respect him for making.


Faraday Cage: A container made of a conductor, such as wire mesh or metal plates, shielding what it encloses from external electric fields.

Looking at them, it didn’t make sense. Ramsey’s pseudo-son and heir apparent, with the violent man he could barely control.

Tall and broad, skull mask, arms crossed in motorcycle leathers, Ryan was a silent menace in the corner of the room. He didn’t need to make a sound, because his presence was a promise, but when he did it was a vague threat, or a high, maniacal laugh. But Gavin was the centre of attention, a wide, friendly grin and an easy manner. He dressed in the very best – the most expensive shirts he could find, or they were bespoke, commissioned in whatever fabric cost most by the yard that day – and his hair gelled to perfection. Gavin smiled and charmed, he put people at ease. Ryan could never do that. Even out of the heavy, durable black, and his face on show with all the face paint scrubbed off, there was something standoffish about him, something coiled tight and waiting to snap.

But there was something slightly soft, something slightly fond, at the corner of his shark smile when Gavin tripped over the coffee table.

It hadn’t take long for the rest of the criminal fraternity to figure Ramsey’s weakness, his Achilles heel, as the young hacker in the gold sunglasses.

It hadn’t take them much longer after that to learn that Ramsey’s madman, the Rottweiler of Los Santos, could make even the most desperate man realise Gavin wasn’t worth the payout.


No one knew what Ryan had been doing before he found them. He’d been drawn to the city out of curiosity. For the mayhem they caused, the rumours of death-defying stunts. Of the word of one officer in the LSPF who had been forced onto administrative leave for insisting he’d shot the Fake’s pilot between the eyes  only for her to be seen grinning broadly into CCTV the day after.

The detective had gone missing soon after.

He’d found them in a seedy bar.

“They say you’re the crew that won’t die,” he’d said.

“What of it,” said Geoff.

“If it’s true,” said Ryan, “then I’m the man who can’t be killed.”


Ryan scared them from the start. In a world where there was nothing left that could kill them for long, he scared them. He was old, they knew. Old enough to see empires grow and crumble. Old, and used to being alone.

They think it drove him mad.

There was something in his eyes. Something like a dark, empty blankness, like he wasn’t really there. Sometimes there was a rabid fury and unstoppable need to hurt.

He was so old…so ancient compared to them. He never told them when he first died, and they never asked. Looking at Ryan had the uncomfortable feeling like they were looking into the future.


Once, woozy from blood loss from a shot to the gut and half-delusional from the pain of oozing stomach acid as they waited for him to die and come back, he’d mentioned a kingdom, and a throne. The king who had been shy and kind and fair. Who’d grown his influence through diplomacy and wit, not violence. A farmer king with a fondness for sweet, sticky dates and harvest festivals, stories around a fire.

A week later, they’d watch the kind king behead a man with an axe, laughing as the blood splattered his face.

They wondered what it was that had driven the kind king mad. 

Too many deaths, his own and loved ones, too many centuries alone, or just too long alive.

Man was not made to live forever he’d once said.

When would they begin to feel their own worlds tremble. That moment when they had died too many times or seen too many days and they would start to unwind.

And then then there was Gavin.

Gavin, charismatic, far more likely to charm a mark than threaten them.

Gavin, who got queasy at the sight of blood.

Gavin, who after the first time Ryan had gone rogue had tracked him down to a warehouse full of bodies, panting and snarling and barely recognisable as human. Gavin who had put his hands on his hips and complained that Ryan was ruining his evening. Ryan had promised to play mario party with them. And now he’d seen all these bodies and used-to-be-people he didn’t feel like his dinner and he’d been looking forward to it all day.

Jeremy watched as Ryan’s chest rose and fell as he breathed heavily and his face tight with rage. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Geoff and Jack began to slowly reach for their pistols.

Jeremy watched how, in one breath, it was gone. Whatever had been there had vanished.

“Sorry Gavin” he’d said meekly.

Jeremy watched how, like nothing, they all went home.


But Gavin had a violence all of his own.

Not the bright red temper of Michael’s rage, or Ray’s pin-point precision. Not Jeremy’s careful but childlike curiosity, pushing the boundary each time to see how far he could go. Not Ryan’s black endless chaos.

Gavin was the plan to sneak into the police precinct in the dead of night to cut the ropes of their parachutes the day before a training jump. Gavin was the kind who’d send an ally into a gunfight with a pistol full of blanks, just to see what they would do. Gavin was the warm breath on his ear as he leant over from the passenger seat and said, “there’s a biker. Run them over for me Ryan.”

And it was chaos, pure and simple. But it a chaos that resonated at the exact opposite of Ryan’s own, anarchy against his wild disorder. It grounded him, in the eye of the storm.

It was like Gavin had looked at his prison sentence and taken it as a challenge.

Man was not made to live forever? Sit back and watch me.


How does he put up with Gavin’s constant annoying chatter, they wonder. His never-ending what ifs and “for a million dollars…”, hypothetical questions always patiently answered by a man with a low boredom threshold and a knife.

“He talks enough for the both of us,” Ryan says in his version of a friendly voice, and they all laugh along.

But Gavin gives him knowing smile.

Because they don’t wake up to Ryan screaming, muscles tight and shaking hard. They don’t see one of his large, scarred, calloused hands being covered with two smaller ones. The quick and clever fingers gentle as they tug him away to the couch, where they sit curled up on the couch under a blanket, tv on with the volume at the lowest, and Gavin talks and talks until the sun starts to rise, and there’s a heavy head asleep on his shoulder.

Because Gavin’s voice was like white noise, level and regular, cutting through the loudness in his own head. The two sounds struck together and cancelled each other out. He didn’t put up with Gavin’s chatter, his compulsion to fill every space with noise and conversation. No, he relished it, listening to Gavin talk so he could enjoy the silence.


Why does he put up with him, they ask Gavin.

Why set your sights on a man as unpredictable as the sea, who was as likely to grenade his friends as he was their targets.

“Cause it’s fun” he’ll say, “not like he can kill me is it.”

It’s a perfectly acceptable lie, and easy to swallow. But it’s so much more than that. Gavin loved mayhem, and loved Ryan’s chaos, and thrilled at having the man’s attention. Knew that people lived or died at Ryan’s hands depending on his mood. Because at Ryan’s side he truly feels like the untouchable immortal he is.

Sometimes even Ryan will ask. Why him. Why, when he could have anyone. Why waste time on someone who, on a bad day couldn’t tell what century he’s in or what language he’s supposed to speak.

“Because you’re not your bad days”, Gavin will say,” because in your own way you’re kind and funny and caring”

Because I’m old as well, he doesn’t say. Not as old as you, but compared to the others, I’m ancient. Because I’ve buried too many and been forgotten by more. Because my tongue has started to trip over words I used to dance along.

Because sometimes it’s nice to tell a story and see someone smile and say, “Yes, I remember that too.”


It was hard some days, because of course it was. Sometimes it was like he was in a storm, thunder clashing so loud in his ears and the rain so thick and icy that he could see anything around him, and his skin was numb and soaking wet from the cold. He couldn’t see and he could hear what he was doing but kept pushing forward, knowing the ground would crumble under his feet if he stopped.

Other times it was like sex. Sweat pouring, heart pounding and full of life. Every gun shot, every scream was all part of it, so much like another thrust or moan, and he time he fired or stabbed or punched, it was like he was getting closer, so much closer to release. But no matter what it was always one step away and it felt like he would never reach it and it made him more and more desperate. More screams, more pain, more anything. He needed to fall apart, but he was too stuck together, the pieces all jammed in in the wrong places. He needed, he needed -

But then Gavin would wrap his arms around him from behind, and rest his chin on his shoulder. The storm rolled back. It was still there, still howling wind and freezing, clattering rain, but it’s like he’s watching from inside, watching as water hit in a relentless but deadened patter against the glass. He could hear the wind but it no longer buffeted him, threatening to knock him off his feet.

“It’s beautiful” Gavin said, his arms tight and possessive around him as they watched the city burn.

When it had been long enough, he found Ryan’s hand, prised the lighter from his tight grip and then threaded their fingers together.

“Come on,” he said “it’s time to go home.”

The monster calmed, and allowed himself to be led away by the bright smile of his Faraday,

ten years in the making;

Here’s my day 1 entry for @promptisfanweek  ! 

Combined Prompts: realization + ten years later

Noctis is awful at speeches. He’s always hated them. It’s the one skill that his dad had tried to instill in him, and had absolutely given up. He’d had extra tutoring sessions with Ignis, then with whoever they’d been able to drag in to try and deal with him. It just didn’t work. Even when he was spoon-fed something to read, Noct just… he had always hated it, as a small kid, and now, too, as an adult.

He’s definitely nervous. Prompto can tell, too, by the way he’s nervously adjusting his tie, fidgeting ever so slightly. He looks very much like the king he is, today. Yeah, he’s still a bit too thin. The years haven’t been kind to him, especially when he’s missed so many of them. Ten years later, ten damn years down the road, and Noctis Lucis Caelum, King, the dawn bringer, they call him in whispers, is finally about to give a damn public speech.

Keep reading

More than this - [Björn x Reader]

Request by: Anonymous

Request: Björn meets a servant that was serving under king Aelle that they have taken for their own. She is frightened of most the Vikings until Björn and her meet. He is kind to her fer she is a beauty unlike anything he has ever seen before. Björn descides to take her for himself. Refusing to share her with anyone. He maybe falls a little in love.

Warnings: Alcohol, slavery, a little fluff

Words: 1377

The great hall was filled with laughter, coming from many viking warriors. There was a reason to cheer, just as much as there was to drink ale. Northumbria was many treasure poorer, and Kattegat was many treasure richer. Björn fell a strong smack on his back, and he couldn’t help himself from smiling when he saw a drunk Floki dancing around him. “Look, Björn.” He said with a giggling hiccup and took some sort of golden crown from the pile of gold on the table. “I’m king Aellle.” Floki breathed in a big amount or air, made his stomach expand with volume and blew his cheeks bold. Björn started to laugh out loud, a deep, rumbling laughter that made Floki burst out of his character. They chinked their cups and looked at each other with a wide smile on their faces. “Sköll.” - “Sköll.” Floki emptied his cup in one drink, and looked at the ceiling while turning around his ash. “When are you going to..” Floki couldn’t finish his sentence because of his bursting laughter. “What?” Björn asked, and grabbed Floki by the shoulder to prevent him from falling. “You know what I mean.” He said and giggled yet again. “You are drunk, Floki.” Björn said with a soft scoff and took a can of ale to give the madman another refill. “Yes I am, Björn. But not drunk enough to not get him up.” Floki took another sip and pointed towards his crotch. His moustache became wet with ale because he moved to much while drinking. Björn stroke through his hair, slightly embarrassed about what Floki has said. He knew damn too well what he was talking about. Every man talked about it: Having a woman after battle. “So, when are you going to..? I’m not going to repeat myself little Björn.” All of a sudden Floki sounded dead serious. “I have no woman to share a bed with.” Björn admitted and took another sip of ale to hide his slight frustration. “No woman?” Floki almost yelled. “You can bed every woman. You are Björn Ironside. Women are on their knees for you.” He giggled with his own joke. “Just pick one.” Floki pointed around them. “Any woman you like.” And then he frowned his eyes, thinking about his own words. “Except for my Helga. No, my sweet Helga stays with me.” With a smack Floki placed his cup on the table with gold. The fluid poured over the edged, but he didn’t care. Instead he placed his hands on Björn’s shoulders and started to push him towards the other side of the great hall. “There is one treasure worth more than gold.” They arrived at some kind of circle, and Floki made sure that the viking warriors stepped aside to make place for Ironside. “Take her. Enjoy yourself.”

The Vikings all looked at Björn, like he was some kind of threat to them. And then he saw why. In the middle of the circle there was a girl on her knees, dressed in a torn apart, linen tunic. From whatever Björn could hear, she was crying. “Who’s she?” He asked to nobody in specific. “One of king Aelle’s whores. We picked out the finest one.” Some old viking said and crossed his arms for his chest. “I’m not a whore.” The girl shouted and raised her head. She looked from behind her hair, straight into the eyes from Björn. And by that he was stars struck. “She definitely has some temper.” The same old viking said and laughed softly, an evil, grotesque laugh. Björn was still looking at the girl as if she was the most beautiful treasure he had ever seen. And in fact she was, even when she was crying her eyes out. “Why is she here?” Björn asked. He felt bad for standing around her, as if she was some caged animal. His question made the Vikings in the circle laugh. “We’re choosing who’s going to fuck her first.” And by that answer Björn frowned his forehead. A rage of anger filled his veins, and he looked at the viking who had answered him straight into the eyes. “Nobody is laying a hand on her.” He snarled from between his lips. His sudden anger surprised the older Vikings and some of them widened their eyes. “But we..” - “Nobody!” Except for himself. He repeated himself in fury and straightened his back. In the end he would always be Björn Ironside, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and other Vikings would respect him. “Go fulfil your needs somewhere else.” He gestured with his head towards the other space in the great hall. “Go.” And with that command the older Vikings started to take off, leaving Björn with the captured girl from Northumbria.

He kneeled down next to her, tried to catch her eyes with his. But she was too upset to even look up. “What is your name?” Björn asked and tried to stroke her hair out of her face. The girl flinched beneath his touch and crawled to the side. Again she looked at him from beneath her hair. “Your name?” Björn asked again, this time a little more rough. In the end she was still a slave, and she had to obey him. The girl swallowed away her sadness and wiped her hair out of her face. “Y/n.” She answered softly and felt a lone tear rolling down her cheek. “You are coming with me, y/n.” The girl brought her hands to her face, trying to prevent herself from crying again. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” Björn rose the corner of his mouth and reached his hand towards her, opening up. After a few seconds of hesitation, y/n placed her fragile hand in his. Together they stood up, and Björn guided her towards the sleeping quarters. “Where are you taking me?” She asked, whispering. “Somewhere quiet and safe.” The girl listened careful to his words, and felt how his presence made her feel more calm. “You are different.” Her voice was more stable as they walked inside Björn’s room. “Different how?” He asked with a friendly grin on his face. He closed the door behind them. Slowly he started to unbuckle his holster and looked the girl in the eyes. He pointed towards his bed, and carefully she took place. “You have a greater meaning than them. You are younger, yet they listen.” Björn laughed softly because of her answer. “Will you?” He asked and raised an eyebrow while waiting for an answer. “Listen?” She asked. Björn nodded his head. Y/n looked at the floor, already realising what he was going to ask from her. “I will.” She finally whispered and started to slide the linen tunic from her shoulder. This was what men wanted, after battle. Björn was watching her carefully and tilted his head a little. He was torn between wanting her and respecting her. If he was anything like the other vikings, he would turn her on four and fulfil his own, male needs. But like she had said: He was not like the others, he was different. Both of her shoulders were bare naked, and Björn could feel his arousal towards her. But when she started to untie the little ropes by her neck, he stopped her. “Stop.” He said with a deep undertone in his voice. For a second he looked away, trying to control his desire for her body. With a surprised look on her face the girl looked up. Björn pushed the fabric over her shoulders again and took a deep breath. “Get some sleep, okay?” The girl frowned her face, not really understanding what was going on. “What do you want me to do?” She asked him, not certain if she had heard him correctly. “Get in bed and get some sleep.” Another deep sigh, and he raised his hand. The girl watched it carefully as he placed it on her cheek. “We’ll talk again tomorrow, about what we want and what we do.” Björn bit his lip, realising what he let slip through his fingers. The girl nodded, and felt a soft kiss on her cheek before Björn left the room. She was just too special to waste over only one night.

The Kissing Scene

A/N: Hey y’all! Sorry for not getting this out sooner. School has been pretty hectic this week and I wasn’t able to get much done but now it’s out lovelies!! I hope y’all enjoy it. :)

Request: (anon)  Hi! Your writing is amazing!! Can I PLEASE get a kg3 x reader where they’re in a play with a kissing scene but they hate each other so they’re dreading it but then in a practice they actually fall in love and F L U F F YAY.

Pairing: (King) George Frederick X Reader

T/W: slight angst if you consider calling someone out and a bit of yelling angst but it gets very fluffy

Word Count:1,209 (wowza that’s long)

Time Period: Modern High School AU

Theater has always been your favorite thing. Your outlet from all the nonsense that lies in your home. From all the fake friends that stepped all over you. A place where you could be practically anyone you want.

Theater was perfect.

Except for the fact that George Frederick was in it. He has always wanted people to call him “King George” because of all the leading parts he gets. On top of that he is a jerk. Selfish beyond words. He believes that he’s better than everyone, being popular because of his father’s business. And everyone just lets him step all over them….. Except for you. This probably also has to do with the fact that you like… Okay like isn’t the right word. Love… George Frederick. 

You have always refused to be degraded by his words. He hates you beyond anything and you hate him way less than he knows. You two always make everything a competition. Everything

Math? A competition. PE? A competition. Theater? A competition.

You stood in front of the casting list taped firmly onto the door in the auditorium. A mixture of anger and shock immersed throughout your body. 

Romeo and Juliet Rewritten Casting List:

Romeo: George Frederick

Juliet: Y/N L/N

You ignored the rest of the cast sheet simply staring at the words before you. You have to kiss George Frederick. This cannot possibly be happening. You sat down in your usual seat contemplating what you just read. You are the first one to read it. Of course

George strutted into the room glancing at your angered face for a split second, smirking. Ha. That fool probably thought that you were angry about getting a “small part”. Joke’s on him. He reached the casting sheet, staring blankly at the list before him. You could see the red emerge on his face, you being the same shade.

He turned to you and you two made eye contact. He looked angry. You are almost positive that you looked the same. He rolled his eyes at you before sitting….. Right. Next. To. You. You turned to him, a smirk getting planted on his face. You rolled your eyes. “Why are you sitting next to me?” You practically hissed. 

George made an over dramatic face acting offended, placing a hand on his chest. “So now I can’t sit next to you? Didn’t know that was enforced. Although….. You do understand we will eventually have to get more intimate than this?” He smirked at you. You blushed. You were flustered. Because of George Frederick. You cursed yourself before responding.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Although……You seem rather excited to kiss your rival. Do you not….. Georgie?” You smirked, using the nickname he despises. His eyes narrowed, his face flushing slightly. 

“Why must you always call me that? I do not enjoy being called that and you know it.” He hissed, you flinching at his words slightly. You immediately smirked back to him.

“Well of course I know that Georgie. But ya’ see. I don’t like ‘King’ much more either…. And I also kind of enjoy making you angry.” You smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, getting cut off by the students rushing into the classroom. He sighed, sitting in his regular seat.

The teacher, Mr. Washington, walked out of his office, staring at the students scattered throughout the room in their seats. He smiled at everyone before beginning to speak.

“Hello students! As you have probably seen, the cast list for ‘Romeo and Juliet Rewritten’ are up! Congratoulations to the two leads. Y/N as Juliet!” He exclaimed. You beamed, smiling at everyone. “And George Frederick as Romeo.” Mr. Washington practically sighed. You giggled at the way he said George’s name, to find George glaring at you. Well, speak of the devil.

It has been 1 week since getting the casting sheet. You have already learned your lines while George was having some trouble. You sighed, walking up to the puzzled George staring at his script.

“I see this is taking you a while to learn. Need any help?” You sighed, taking the empty seat next to him.

“I’m rather fine. Thank you…. prick.” He hissed, bringing his eyes up to meet yours before looking back down at his script.

“You’re such a jerk.” You sighed, getting up to leave. George scoffed behind you.

Excuse you.” George said angrily. You slowly turned around, anger in your voice.

“Excuse me? Excuse you! I have stayed strong with every single cruel thing you have said to me! Do you know how hard that is George? The person you love degrading you everyday of your life?! Why do you think I call you names? Why do you think I make fun of you? It makes my coping easier. I make fun of you to spend time with you idiot. And now I’m nice to you for once and you call me a prick?” You shouted tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

George’s eyes widened at you, blushing like a madman. “I-im sorry.”

“Whatever.” You sighed, walking away from him.

It has now been two weeks. Time for your first practice all the way through. Meaning….. Kissing Scene. It was already at the kissing scene. That was fast. You looked at George who was blushing like a tomato, but who are you to judge when you look the same?

You stared into his dark brown eyes as he stared into your E/C eyes. He looked nervous and his hands were shaking. You leaned in for the kiss before he jumped away quickly. “Wait! Y/N can I speak to you before we do this?” He asked, biting his lip. You turned to Mr. Washington who nodded in understanding as you walked close behind George to an empty room.

“W-What was that for?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. He turned to you, his eyes glistening slightly.

“I was thinking and……. D-Did you say that you loved me last week?” He asked. You flushed completely, remebering that you did, in fact, confess your love the week before. Crap. Your eyes widened slightly. 

‘U-Um… You remember that?” You said nervously, your hands fidgeting as you looked down at the ground.

“Well. Of course. Considering I do love you quite a lot as well.” He smiled genuinely to you. Your eyes widened even more if even humanly possible.

“R-really?” You asked nervously. He nodded.

“I don’t just stop making fun of someone unless I love them. If I do remeber correctly I have stopped making fun of you.” He laughed, causing you to giggle a bit.

“But why did you force me to come in here with you Georgie?” You smiled. He rolled his eyes playfully at the use of the nickname..

“I wanted to kiss you. Before we have to kiss as actors. If that makes sense.” He stated, losing his smile which turned into a worried frown.

“W-well. What are you waiting for Georgie?” You laughed. His eyes widened and he stepped towards you planting a passionate kiss to your lips. When you both pulled away you smiled at each other. You intertwined your fingers with his before walking back to the stage.

Maybe this kissing scene won’t be as bad as you thought.


Stuff that happened when Green Day were in London on February 8th 2017

- everyone singing along to bohemian rhapsody before Green Day came on
- the bunny at the beginning
- them coming on to the good bad and ugly theme
- which went straight into know your enemy
- that girl from the audience who sung know your enemy and then jumped into the audience but it took a couple of tries because she was scared
- the stadium going pitch black and Billie shining a torch round the audience during holiday followed by Billie and the audience chanting ‘no Trump’
- ‘the representative of England now has the floor’
- the acoustic beginning to blvrd, all of the lights in the audience, the audience singing part of blvrd before the pause where everyone chanted ‘Green Day’ followed by Billie saying ‘it’s so, so nice to be back in London’
- having the union jack hanging over his guitar during blvrd
- blvrd going straight into longview where Billie got out his old guitar
- that guy in the superman hoodie who came up and sang longview and was running around the stage like a madman. When he hugged Billie, Billie grabbed his butt, and he did not hesitate in running and jumping into the audience
- Tré skipping across the stage to throw his sticks into the crowd, and then doing a pirouette and skipping over to Jason Freese on the keyboard and thrusting in front of him during waiting
- before 2000 light years, ‘who in here is a hardcore Green Day fan?’ que everyone cheering
- all the fucking around in hitchin’ a ride: ‘Eeennggalaaaand’ etc
- the beginning of cristie road where there was just a spotlight on Billie
- minority that went straight into are we the waiting, where there was low lighting and the audience singing most of the chorus
- which went straight into st. jimmy
- Billie running out of breath in the last chorus of st. jimmy and then standing on a platform with his arms out under loads of lights and staying like that for a good few minutes before shouting 'and don’t you fucking wear it out!’
- Billie going through Mike’s legs during basket case
- Tré didn’t have his bra and hat on during king for a day ;-;
- Mike had sunglasses, Jason White had the mike mask, Jason Freese had a pharoh’s hat, Billie wore a flat police hat
- Someone throwing a rainbow flag at Billie, who then held it up and briefly wrapped it around him like a dress during the instrumental of king for a day
- the audience chanting 'king for a day’
- the call and response part with the sax and Billie playing a golden kazoo, which he then threw into the audience
- Billie waving his arms during the sax solo and putting the union jack on Jason like a cape
- Jason having a spotlight on him during his sax solo, where he played the careless whisper sax solo and conducted the audience who sang the last bit of it, which he found very funny
- the way Tré came down from the drum kit to do his 'I say waaaaaaaaaiiitt a minute’ in the mic
- the way Tré kicked his legs during his part and Billie played the drums
- 'little bit softer now’ as the stage went dark and they all lay on the floor
- Billie softly singing always look on the bright side of life and the audience singing the 'doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo doo’, followed by teenage kicks where Billie held the mic up from the floor and the audience sung 'this teenage kicks right through the night, alright’ where Billie added an extra 'alright’ on the end
- Billie, while on the floor, saying 'this is why we love coming to England, because you guys feel the same way about music as we feel about music’
- Billie then singing I can’t get no satisfaction, followed by hey jude, where there was a massive cheer after the first 'hey jude’ and the audience singing the 'naaaa naa naa na na na naaaaaa, heeeyyy juude’ and inbetween each na na na part, Billie singing some improv 'juuudy juuuudy judy judy go’
- 'little bit louder now’ as the lights turned back on and they all got off of the floor
- 'this song is called forever now’ followed by a massive cheer
- them going off stage and the audience chanting 'Green Day’ again
- Billie getting down on his knees and praising the audience when they came back on stage
- the audience singing the beginning of american idiot
- Billie screaming 'fuck you Donald Trump!’ at the end of american idiot
- Billie making the audience hold on the 'hooooome’ part in jesus of suburbia with his hands in the air
- the acoustic set up for ordinary world and good riddance, where there was just a spotlight on Billie with an acoustic guitar and all of the lights in the audience
- the confetti and Tré and Mike coming on at the end of good riddance
- the little group hug the trio had at the end
- the t-shirt cannon ('who wants a t-shirt?’) during one of the songs, where a shirt came very close to us
- the two hoses at either side of the stage that Billie used to soak the audience
- the many times Billie went 'eeeeeyyyy ooooohh’ and the audience replied
- the 'eeeeeeyyyy oooooohh’/who can cheer the loudest competition between the two sides of the audience, where Billie conducted each side and made each side boo at the other (I think we won tbh)
- Billie raising his arms when he wanted the audience to make noise and then be quiet when he lowered them, and then cracking up when he gradually got faster and ending up going so fast the audience couldn’t keep up
- 'is that your cellphone? hey just to let you know one thing, if you’re looking at me through your cellphone, you’re not looking at me. This is an experience of a lifetime! You get to see Tré Cool!’ (he said this while looking in my direction and I was filming and there was like 1 person in front of me on the floor who also had their phone out plus I was pretty visible plus he was looking up and not down to the audience on the floor so I’m like 95/100% sure that he was saying this to me)
- 'this is our own private underground’ 'this is for all the weirdos out there, because I was a weirdo once too…and I still am a weirdo’ 'I don’t wanna see a selfie because I don’t care! I wanna see your beautiful face’ some finer quotes of the evening
- Billie running and jumping off of that platform at the front of the stage when there was a big finish to a song
- Tré went through a total of 8/9 pairs of drumsticks, because after some songs he would throw them behind him and magically pull another pair out of his shorts, he threw a pair into the audience during waiting and another at the end of forever now and the last pair were dropped into the audience when he bowed at the very end
- The disabled girl who came and played the guitar (with Billie’s help) and then was shocked to tears when Billie said she could keep the guitar

The White Princess Quotes
  • Promises are always made, and they are always broken. Always.
  • All my life I have been good. I have been biddable. I've been quiet. I married who I was told to marry and I thank God every day for you, I do, but...I will not be biddable anymore.
  • You must tell him there is no curse.
  • A widow and a virgin hurling oaths against their enemies because words are all they have.
  • You have the look of our mother. That doesn't please you?
  • I hated her ambition. What it did to us. Nothing else mattered but power.
  • She was a queen.
  • By all the saints, I wonder how you walk in a straight line, your wits are so dismally few.
  • Summon your men, my Lords.
  • She does not come near me! She does not speak to me! She does not speak for me! Nobody listens to her.
  • She killed the rightful king, and put me on the throne.
  • Men are weak, swayed by beauty. Women must be stronger.
  • I am tired of being a trembling flower and hoping it might make them feel their conscience.
  • We are none of us fearless, ma fleur tremblante. But we are women, and we do what we must do.
  • It is hard I know. But the world in which we move, we cannot see an infant as he is but as he will become.
  • But there is fear in your eyes.
  • How will you explain all that blood on your hands?
  • I have no power anymore.
  • How can I prove that I am with you except to ask you not to die?
  • I kept my promise and now you will keep yours. We will be happy.
  • The boy is just a boy. A pawn for an adult game he that he doesn't understand.
  • Maybe you cannot understand, being told your whole life what you are, with never any chance to think about it for yourself.
  • What have they done to us?
  • We are their creatures.
  • I feel as if I've aged a thousand years.
  • If my mother raises an army, how can I choose between my mother and my son?
  • What would he know of politics?
  • The child is not your own. He belongs to the throne.
  • I have no love of war, but I do not like your king.
  • They smile into my face and then behind me draw their knives.
  • You make it look so easy. You know just what to do to make them love you.
  • You reap what you sow.
  • Your moves are far too obvious.
  • Your smile is almost convincing.
  • Burn them. And ban the snow from falling.
  • I am to be the spoils of war, the wife of a marauding madman whose mother even murdered children just so he could snatch the crown.
  • It's intended as a show of strength.
  • You need do nothing. Except consent, and look delighted.
  • All I have wanted, all my life, is to marry a man for love.
  • You think you have a choice? You think you have free will in this?
  • Well, if I am a whore, you will not wish to wed me, will you?

anonymous asked:

Sorry if this question has already been asked to you but what do you think Jaime menant when he says: "There are no men like me. Only me."? I honestly love this quote so much but it''s so hard to determine what he meant by that. Some people think it's arrogance, but I don't think it's arrogant to say that we're not like others, because we're all unique in our own way. I personally felt a great loneliness from this quote, what do you think?

actually no no one ever asked me that specifically so… *cracks knuckles*

first thing: I love that quote to pieces I mean I loved jaime like woah before then too but at that point it was just cemented xD that said hahaha nope arrogant my ass. okay here comes another episode of ‘janie’s unpopular opinions about jaime lannister’s true character TM’ brace yourself

okay so, let’s see the entire context and let’s recall that at this point the guy is somewhat drunk since I think he was at the point in the exchange with cat where he was fairly beyond tipsy.

“Your crimes will have earned you a place of torment in the deepest of the seven hells, if the gods are just.”

“What gods are those, Lady Catelyn? The trees your husband prayed to? How well did they serve him when my sister took his head off?” Jaime gave a chuckle. “If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?”

“Because of men like you.”

There are no men like me. There’s only me.”

There is nothing here but arrogance and pride, and the empty courage of a madman. I am wasting my breath with this one. If there was ever a spark of honor in him, it is long dead.

now, first thing: obviously cat does not know jaime’s backstory and we know that she’s fairly wrong about pretty much all of her evaluation - like jaime has a lot of pride obviously and he’s arrogant, but his honor is far from dead as you can see later in asos and he’s not a madman. actually, he’s the only one actually speaking sense in this exchange - obviously not from cat’s pov, but tbh his reply is pretty dead-on. he is alive and ned is not, and we all know that killing aerys is what turned him into the cynical pseudo-heartless person he thinks he is these days and that he’s presented as in the beginning (pseudo-heartless because he’s not but never mind), and he’s probably spent a lot of time thinking over the fact. like it’s also obvious from his confession to brienne, but he really fucking resents having been judged that harshly over aerys. I mean:

The water had grown cool. When Jaime opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the stump of his sword hand. The hand that made me Kingslayer. The goat had robbed him of his glory and his shame, both at once. Leaving what? Who am I now?
The wench looked ridiculous, clutching her towel to her meager teats with her thick white legs sticking out beneath.
“Has my tale turned you speechless? Come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. Something.”
“If this is true, how is it no one knows?”
“The knights of the Kingsguard are sworn to keep the king’s secrets. Would you have me break my oath?” Jaime laughed. “Do you think the noble Lord of Winterfell wanted to hear my feeble explanations? Such an honorable man. He only had to look at me to judge me guilty." 

wow. he’s totally not angry over it still, isn’t it?

thing is: no one else in the kingsguard at least in recent times as far as we know has murdered their king as he did. he has never gone and tried to correct it with anyone else because everyone judged him on principle because of it and at that point let’s remember that he had guarded aerys for two years and when he burned people in front of him he was most likely dissociating so having to kill aerys was probably the straw breaking the camel’s back to jaime’s feelings about questioning his role in the kingsguard and the likes. I mean, don’t forget that he had been questioning the whole ‘why don’t we lift a finger if the king is horrid to his family’ rules for a long time and no one else saw fit to either do something about it or voice their concerns if they had any. there’s literally no one like him because as far as we know he’s been the only KG member who ever put the entire system into question. and as far as he knows he made the right decision (he doesn’t really regret killing aerys even if he has conflicted feelings about it ie his glory and his shame) but no one else does.

now, after that he thinks that the whole oaths/honor talk is bullshit for obvious reasons and that’s why he doesn’t give a fuck (externally) if people think he has no honor. he’s gonna embrace it if that’s what they think even if deep down he loathes it - or he wouldn’t be telling that story to brienne who’s, guess what, the One True Knight & Honor Personified Except That She Is True To It And Not A Fraud in the entire continent. this stated, let’s look at the first exchange.

cat is basically telling jaime that his crimes have eternally damned him and she obviously means pushing bran, killing aerys and possibly banging his sister, but as far as jaime thinks the only one out of the three he might consider a crime is pushing bran, not loving his sister (as far as he’s concerned) or killing a madman (and I’m saying he’d consider pushing bran a crime because before he pushes him he says ‘the things I do for love’ with loathing, which would suggest he KNOWS he’s doing something shitty). so hey she’s doing exactly the same thing ned did with him ie judging him without knowing the entire story or the reasons why he committed most of his supposed *crimes*. he gives her a perfectly logical answer that also complies with his character development - at that point he’d hardly care about gods whatsoever and he hasn’t for a long time most probably. also he’s laughing the entire time which would suggest he’s finding it all hilarious in the way it is when you’re drunk and you’re already cynical in the first place. anyway, ‘why is the world so full of pain and injustice’ isn’t just aimed at cat, it could be aimed in general, because that’s most likely a question he’s asked himself since he got into the KG. it is the question someone who has to serve aerys and hates it would ask themselves.

and she replies ‘well, because of men like you’, supposing that he is the kind of horrible person that makes the world full of pain and injustice while actually the guy had to live for years serving someone who made the world full of pain and injustice and made everyone a favor when he killed aerys. so basically she went and told him that he is the same as aerys which I’m fairly sure jaime wouldn’t agree with since they’re absolutely not.

and then he tells her that there are no men like him. but like that’s literal truth - there aren’t. no one has done what he has done, no one has been reviled for it as it happened to him, no one went into the KG at fifteen and no one did the things jaime did in that specific context and he’s just telling her the truth. he’s telling her that not only he’s not like aerys, but no one else could have done the things he did and he doesn’t really want to be likened to aerys in the first place.

and as you said there’s obviously the loneliness part of it since if you look at the whole picture, jaime’s basically kept that story for himself until he told brienne. but like he kept that secret for more than ten years also because no one would have cared to hear his part of the story, and he didn’t share it even with cersei when one presumes he would since at that point he still buys into the ‘we are the same person etc’ mantra. but he doesn’t. he never has. and he’s probably felt the burden of it for that entire time, and then again if he never told others it probably was also because he thought it wouldn’t change anything. (and guess what when he tells brienne it actually does change things but never mind.) also jaime tends to keep a lot of things that end up eating him from the inside ie he never tells tyrion about tysha or never tells anyone about aerys and the likes. of course there’s no one like him. because no one’s had his experiences and no one bothered to understand them and he’s not the kind of person that makes the world a horrible place but everyone thinks he is and at that point of the story he had sort of embraced it in the ‘well they think that of me fine I’ll deliver’ sense. he meant all of that, but obviously cat was not the right interlocutor for it since she thinks he’s insane when he’s the one out of the two of them that’s talking most sense. it’s not that it’s arrogance (he’s arrogant in other ways), it’s just the way it is.

(mind that jaime is one of the few people who tends to say things straight and tends to not bullshit in his povs and grows more self-aware with the narration rather than being unreliable - he’s like one of the most reliable narrators in asoiaf tbh if you don’t count the part concerning his feelings for cersei, but he also gets progressively self-aware in that sense as well. so like he generally means 90% of what he says unless he’s deliberately lying and you know when he is, it’s his pov most of the times. I think you can generally take at face value most of the things he says and this one also counts.)

Thorin x reader: more than just an everyday lass

Summary: you fell in love with thorin during your journey, but when the dragon illness struck him, he hurt you and you left. After the battle (he, fili and kili survive), he realizes what he did and tries to find you but can’t. It was unknown to him that you weren’t actually who you said you were, but of course a certain wizard knew. ps. You are kind of half hobbit, half elf.
Pps. I turned you into mia thermopolis, just roll with it please XD

Warning: this fanfic is longer than I expected it to be XD
Words: 2056

Thorin POV

It has been weeks since the battle. And I still haven’t found her, but I will, eventually, even if it’s the last thing i’ll ever do. I couldn’t believe that I actually did what I did. I missed her, Emilia, my Mia I searched for hours on end, but her body was nowhere to be found on the battle field so I refused to believe she was dead, so she must have snuck away, back home. I had asked bilbo baggins where she lived but he said he did not know, ‘She only comes to visit the shire every once in a while, she never talked about herself.


your POV

it’s been days, and all he does is waste away among that godforsaken treasure of his. He doesn’t sleep and hardly eats at all.
We all gathered in the throne room where thorin sat on his throne, and again we tried to talk sense  to him, hopelessly.
‘Since when do we forsake our own people?’ Dwalin says.
Thorin only continued to mutter to himself about the gold.4
‘Many die in war, life is cheap. But a treasure such as this cannot be counted in lives lost. It is worth all the blood we can spend.’
‘you sit here is there vast halls’, Dwalin says, ‘with a crown upon your head and yet you are lesser now then you have ever been.’
‘Do not speak to me as if I was some lowly dwarf lord, as if I were still, Thorin Oakenshield, I AM YOUR KING.’
‘You were alw ays my king, you used to know that once. You cannot see what you have become.’
‘Go’, thorin says, ‘get out. Before I kill you.’
‘Thorin please’, you say, barely above a whisper, ‘don’t you see what this place is doing to you? It’s bewitching you! We are not your enemies? Thorin, we need to fight against our real enemies and those are right at our gates…’
‘SHUT UP!!!’ he snapped at you, he never snapped at you! ‘You have no say in this, woman. You were never one of us. You… were a burden.’ ‘What?’ Thorin looked at you, he had a scary look in his eyes, the same you would see in a madman. ‘Then again, I guess you never really belonged anywhere, did you? Half elf, half hobbit, people would even see you as a person, you are a creature.’
‘Enough!’ you snapped, ‘How dare you say such a thing? I have saved you multiple times during the journey, don’t you dare tell me I am a burden, Thorin Oakenshield!’
Then something happened that you would have never imagined. Your face shot to the side as thorins hand came in contact with your cheek. Your cheek stung as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You looked him dead in the eye and the man you saw was someone you didn’t recognize anymore.
‘You are not the same man I met all those months ago, you are not the same man I grew close to during the journey, you are not the same man I fell in love with.’
The entire company gasped in surprise, this was as much of a surprise to them as it was to Thorin. It seemed as if Thorin broke through the dragon illness because he tried to take your hand but you wouldn’t let him. You ran away, straight to the main gate, that was the last time Thorin saw you.

*end of flashback*

thorin POV

We were in the library I was lost in thought while I should be listening to what Balin had to say. The main reason why I couldn’t focus was, books, libraries, they reminded my of Mia. The way her eyes lit up when she walked into a library, her smile when she browsed the shelves.
However my thoughts were interrupted by fili and kili running through the door followed by Gandalf. ‘Uncle, you may want to see this’, fili said. He handed me a piece of parchment and I unfolded it:

(A/N: before you read the letter: yes I went there XD )

‘King under the Mountain,
I, Jon Snow, King in the North, hereby invite you to the coronation of my eldest daughter. The ceremony shall be at midsummer’s eve at sunhigh. It would be with deepest pride and greatest pleasure to welcome you into our home.
We all hope to see you there.
Jon Snow, King in the North
and soon-to-be Queen Emilia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi’

Soon-to-be queen Emilia?!?!? I looked around me in shock before passing the letter on to Balin who shared the same look as I had. ‘I’m guessing Emilia isn’t the lass we have come to know. Turns out Mia is more than just an everyday lass.’ Balin said (slightly amused might i add).
‘Midsummer’s eve, that’s in 3 weeks.’ kili said, ‘but the journey to the North takes is long especially in that territory.’
‘We shall leave immediately, and the entire Company is coming along, I have searched for Mia for so long, now that we found her, I am not going to lose another minute.’ I said while walking out of the room, getting ready to leave as soon as possible.

no one’s POV

Thorin Oakenshield and the Company traveled the harsh conditions of the North in hopes of arriving in Winterfell on time. They had some trouble along the way, if they were lucky, they would arrive just in time for the ceremony. Which they were, they had just enough time to clean up and change into the proper clothing for the coronation. In the main hall he and the company pushed themselves to the front of the crowd, hoping to get a good view as to where you were.

Meanwhile a certain princess was in her chambers nervously passing, awaiting the upcoming ceremony. Even though she had been preparing for this moment her whole life, she could help but debate with herself whether or not she’d make a good ruler. The maids were helping her get into a gorgeous gown made by the finest seamstresses in the North.
Her mother come into her chambers, ‘Hello darling, now I know you have been preparing for your coronation but I want to go over one last lesson with you.’ Mia nodded thinking it would keep her thoughts at bay. ‘today we’ll be learning the art of the fan.’

(A/N: please excuse my laziness XD, the lesson comes down to that, except the grandma is the mother)

your POV

It was almost sunhigh, after your mother left the maids came in to help me dress into a beautiful gown I will be wearing during the coronation. After that, paolo came in to do my hair, it looked absolutely beautiful.


you and your mother came in from opposite sides of a two way staircase, when you both had walked down the stairs, a member of your fathers counsel, Davos, helped you onto the steps where the throne stood, where you now sat on while holding the traditional scepter and orb. After this Davos took the crown from your mothers head and put it on your head while another counsel member of the counsel spoke: ‘Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Genovia, according to the statutes in parliament agreed on,and the respective laws and custom of the same? Will you, in your power, cause law and justice and mercy to be executed in all judgments?’
You swore: ‘I solemnly promise so to do.’
With that you stood, and walked through the middle of 2 lines of guards who rose their swords so you could walk under them. When you got to the front, the counsel member proclaimed:
‘Presenting Her Majesty Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Queen of the North’

(A/N: just in case you don’t get what i explained, here is the video:

that’s when you saw him, thorin oakenshield himself. And the entire Company along with him. You tried to conceal your surprise and keep a straight face, as your mother had thought you, to be honest, you barely could but I managed.

*behold, for I am the lady of time skips*

during the party, you were even more nervous than during the preparation of the ceremony. I constantly looked around me not to cross paths with the Company, or worse, Thorin. But that plan didn’t go as you had hoped, when you felt a hand on both your shoulders? You jumped and turned around to be greeted by the one and only Prince’s of Durin, Fili and Kili.
They smiled at you but with a slightly sad look in their eyes.
‘Hello Mia, you look beautiful.’ fili began.
‘I must admit, Mia, even though you always looked like a princess to me, I would have never imagined you’d actually be one too, if I may be so rude.’ kili followed.
‘But, Mia…’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ both of them looked a bit hurt.
‘I didn’t think anyone would believe me… and Gandalf made me promise not to tell.’
‘GANDALF KNEW’ the brothers yelled, getting some weird glances from the surrounding lords and ladies.
‘Yes, he knew.’ the boys looked at each other with a surprised look.
‘anyway Mia, we actually came to talk to you about something else’, kili said.
‘When you left’ fili continued, ‘Thorin completely came to his senses, he has been looking for you ever since.’
‘He wanted to contact you contact you but he didn’t know where you were staying.’
‘And when we got that letter, he was overjoyed that he had found you and now we wants to make up for what he did and said to you, Mia.’
‘That’s true, amrâlimê.’ you suddenly heard from behind you.
You turned around to find yourself face to face with The King under the Mountain. You didn’t dare look him in the eye, you looked towards the ground. ‘We’ll give you some space’, the brothers said.
‘Mia, I am truly sorry for the things I said to you and that I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear by all the gods, it’s the last thing I would ever want to do. When you were gone I tried everything to try and find you but I couldn’t, I thought I had lost you forever. But when I read that letter and I had found you again, I knew I had to come here.’
You did not know what to say, nor did you look at him yet. You could hear him step closer to you, suddenly you felt his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His beautiful blue eyes locked on yours. ‘Please, Mia. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I love you with my whole heart and when I watched you leave that day, it was like a piece of me left me as well. I need you by my side, my love, please forgive me.’
His apology left you speechless, he loved you? During the journey he had never shown that kind of interest in you and now here he stood. You had to admit to yourself, you never stopped loving him, and something told you you never would. Unable to say anything you let actions speak for themselves. You cupped his cheeks and kissed him, not a second passed until he kissed you back while holding onto my waist. From around us I could hear gasps from the surrounding lords and ladies, but I didn’t care, all I cared about was Thorin here with me, right now.
After a while we had to part for air, Thorin whispered to me: ‘Will you be my queen, amrâlimê?’
‘Yes, I will’, I whispered back.

Wrong Number

A/N: Hey y’all! Requests are closing soon so make sure that if you have a request to request it! Thanks for all the requests I’ve recieved so far!! This is more of a texting fic than anything so brace yourselves.

Pairing:George Washington X Reader

Request:(anon)  a modern! gwash x reader where the reader tries to confess to gwash over text but accidentally texts “king” george and george eacker before getting the number right and eventually texting gwash with “WHY IS EVERYONE’S NAME GEORGE”

T/W: none hun (unless a bit of king george X samuel seabury is a trigger) 

Word Count:823 (SO SHORT MY BAD)

Time Period: Modern

Contact Names: So the contact names are all just George…..

You took a sharp deep breath as you sat on your couch, your phone at the ready. You had promised yourself to confess your love for…. George Washington. He is by far the best person you have ever met. Just thinking of him makes you blush. 

Now, we all know that confessing over text isn’t the best descision but it was the only way you could do it without becoming a flustered mess. It has happened before.

2 weeks before

You sat in the coffee shop awaiting your ‘best friend’ George Washington. Today was the day you were going to attempt to confess your feeling for the guy. You sat, your hands fidgeting. 

Finally George walked in looking great as always. He took the seat in front of you. “Uh. George can I tell you something?” You said as confidently as possible.

“Of course Y/N. Anything.” He smiled. His smile made you blush like a madman.

“I-uh. I like coffee!” You said nervously, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Ookayy…..” George said, chuckling softly as you began to blush even more.

That memory alone makes you flustered. You grabbed your phone off of the counter next to you and sank into the couch cushions as you pressed in the pin. Your heart began beating out of its chest. You were nervous. Very Nervous

You finally got to Georges’ contact. Or so you thought…..

Y/N: Hey George! Can I talk to you about something. Just here over text. :)

And Send. He responded almost immediately catching you off guard a bit.

George: Sure.

You were a bit puzzled by his shorter message, considering George always sends you longer replies in at least a full sentence. You shrugged it off telling yourself that he was probably feeling lazy.

Y/N: I love you. There I said it! :))

You texted back, your hands shaking while typing every word. You became flustered before checking for a new message.

George: You do know that I am Samuel Seabury’s boyfriend. Correct? Also…. I do believe we hate each other. Also correct?

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. You had accidentally texted George Frederick. The “king” of the school. You and him have always had a rivalry since you met as children which has never really died down.


You typed back frantically. The look on your face was absolutely priceless as your arms flailed around out of utter embarassment. You quickly changed his contact to “George Frederick” so that this would NEVER happen again.

George Frederick: Mhm.

You were practically scarred and almost decided to give up. Practically. Almost. But not yet. You went to the next George, believing this was the only other George in your contacts. Boy were you wrong.

Y/N: Hey Georgie! Can I talk to you about something? Okay nevermind i’ll just say it. (or text it. Whatever.) I LOVE YOU.

Your phone pinged seconds after you texted, your eyes widening at what he said.

George: Knew you’d come around eventually babe. ;)

You were disgusted until you realized….. This isn’t the George you were looking for.

Y/N: ugh which george is this?

George: Eacker, baby.

You groaned, nearly throwing your phone against the wall. You didn’t even answer him back. You just changed the contact name to “George Eacker (Reminder: Never Text).” You finally found the George you have been looking for, making sure this was the last George in your contacts. 


You typed, frustrated at the fact that you just confessed your love to 2 people that weren’t the ones you loved. 

George: I don’t know dear. Pretty good name. Is it not?

You laughed at his response. Now, this is the George you know and love.

Y/N: Very good name. Btw I love you. :)

You internally cursed yourself because of the stupid way you conffesed, giggling at his next text.

George: wait what

Y/N: Do I really have to type it again?

He never did respond this time. Instead, he took the 20 minute drive to your apartment, using the spare key you gave him to come in. You whipped your head around to find him standing there. You jumped up and attempted to make yourself presentable, completely forgetting that you were wearing some random onesie.

He chuckled quietly at your choice of clothing which made you blush.

“G-george why are you here?” You questioned, giggling slightly. He smiled at you, walking dangerously close to you.

“I just wanted to say i love you too. Oh! I also wanted to give you this!” He smiled, pressing his lips to yours.

At first you tensed up but soon melted into the kiss, smiling against his lips. He pulled away, picking you up by your waist and twirling you around.

“You do not even know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He smirked.

“Trust me. Me too.” You smirked back.


The Problem of Valter

So, I realized while I studying for the MCAT (lol) that a lot of my beef with Valter has very little to do with his creepy factor and more with how it’s used. I’m going to put all of this below a cut because I want to talk very frankly about the horribleness that is Valter of FE8 and how (surprisingly) I think that the narrative as it stands shortchanged him as a villain.

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buffalomj  asked:

Is there any evidence explicitly denying that Cordelia literally is the Fool in King Lear? I know they never share the stage, and many people posit that the same actor could play them, but I mean an actor playing Cordelia playing the Fool. For me, it makes so much sense that she would stay close to her father despite the way she denies him at the start of the play.

I see where you’re coming from, but the idea that Cordelia dresses up as the fool to follow her father is quite unlikely for a number of reasons.

As you say, it’s very possible that the actor playing Cordelia doubled up as the fool, but I don’t think that Shakespeare suggests that Cordelia becomes the fool to stay with her father the way that Kent becomes Caius to remain with Lear.

For one thing, there’s evidence to suggest that the fool existed before Cordelia’s banishment. When King Lear calls for his fool for the first time, one of his knights answers that ‘Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away’ (1.4.71-2), which pretty explicitly suggests that both Cordelia and the fool were in Lear’s court at the same time.

The other rather serious thing to consider is how Cordelia could have raised a French army if she never left with France. From her commanding attitude, it’s rather clear that she is a leader of the French forces, a fact that would be rather unlikely if she had spent the duration of the play with her father rather than in France.

Kent also makes it clear in Act 2 that he’s in communication with Cordelia while following Lear around as Caius. Of course, you could say that she could be sending him false letters while being the fool, but that’s rather far-fetched. And when Cordelia returns in Act 4, she says ‘Soon may I hear and see him’ (4.4.29) which again suggests that she hasn’t seen him in a while.

The most important thing, though, is that characters who disguise themselves in Shakespeare, and certainly in King Lear, tend to make it very clear to the audience that they are in disguise. Take Kent, for instance, coming in in his new attire as Caius:

If but as well I other accents borrow
That can my speech diffuse, my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I have razed my likeness (1.4.1-4)

He explicitly says that he’s putting on a different accent and that he’s shaved off his beard. And if that wasn’t enough, he calls himself ‘banished Kent’ to make sure the audience is in no doubt about his disguise. Edgar is the other one, and he’s remarkable because he makes his transformation into Poor Tom on stage; so the audience can see him donning his disguise. Disguised characters also end their disguise through a proper reveal. For example, Edgar tells Albany ‘The bloody proclamation… taught me to shift into madman’s rags, t’assume a semblance / That very dogs disdained’ (5.3.182-87), and says he ‘revealed [himself] unto [Gloucester]’ (5.3.191). Even Kent tries to reveal himself to Lear even though Lear’s well past knowing anything: ‘I am the very man – … That from your first of difference and decay / Have followed your sad steps’ (5.3.284-7)

Part of the reason for this very deliberate way of informing the audience is that the acting troupes weren’t so big and doubling was common, so that if an actor changed clothes without saying they were a particular character disguising themselves, the audience would just assume that they were now playing a different character.

Now, I think the only textual reason for thinking the fool might be Cordelia is when Lear says ‘And my poor fool is hanged’ (5.3.304). It’s not really clear what happens to the fool, and it’s actually Cordelia who’s been hanged, so there are a number of possible interpretations. One possibility is that Lear is using the word ‘fool’ to refer to Cordelia as a term of endearment (and it could be used that way); alternatively, he’s getting the two mixed up in his grief. It could be both, but I don’t think the words of a dying madman are quite enough to support the possibility that Cordelia was literally the fool.

It does seem to me that, even if the fool is not Cordelia in disguise, there is a parallel between them, either emphasising the fact that the same actor is playing both, or indicating that they’re kindred spirits. They are linked in a number of ways; for instance, the first time Cordelia is mentioned after she leaves for France, her name is coupled with the fool: ‘Since my young lady’s going into France, sir, the fool hath much pined away’ (1.4.71-2), the same quotation suggesting that they were close to one another. The fool is also honest with Lear like Cordelia is, and Lear is fond of the fool the same way he was fond of Cordelia. So in some ways, the fool acts as a replacement for Cordelia while she isn’t around. She may not have dressed up as the fool, but the fool is there in her spirit.

All in all, it seems to me that while it would be consistent for Cordelia to follow her father around after her banishment, she doesn’t. She chooses to help her father in a different way, and leaves the companionship to Kent and the fool.

Wicked Game

Hiiii, I’m back! Since I’m stuck in my house rn I can only sit around and write and edit stuff… So here’s a Jonerys one-shot inspired by Wicked Game(you know the song let’s make it the offical Jonerys anthem), so um read this if you want to and tell me what you think, send me suggestions, ideas requests, I’m up for anything really…

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.

Jon Snow liked to think he’s a reasonable man. Today, he was not certain if he was a fool or an idiot. Walking along the shores of an island that was once the ancient seat of the house that once brought Westeros to its knees, he was greeted by Tyrion Lannister and a woman he had never seen in his life before. He climbed the stairs of Dragonstone and was, ironically, almost eaten by a dragon. Tyrion joked how they never eat Northerners because their meat is too tough even for a dragon, sparking a laugh from Davos. Whether he likes it or not, he must persuade Daenerys Targaryen to help him with her armies and dragon fire, or else they will be lost. They’ve gotten off to a rocky start, but the day she promised him to kill the Night King in the small cabin of a ship, he knew he’d never be able to repay the debt.

It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do.

-Dragonglass? Why would anyone need dragonglass? –

-Apparently, it kills White Walkers.-

She shook her head.

-We just lost two of our allies!-

-HE might be a potential ally, my Queen! Give him something by giving him nothing!-

Daenerys looked through the windows. She tried her best to understand that odd man who calls himself King in the North. He was like an enigma that had no solution, she felt like she’s stuck in a never-ending mental battle with him. And now he wants to mine dragonglass? What is wrong with him? She did the math and realized that she has nothing to lose. She’d remember her decision the day we killed a walker to protect her with a spear made out of the particular stone. She knew he could have died and that rushing to save someone that way is the doing of either a madman or a man in love.

I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you.

He grabbed her wrist and carefully guided her toward the cave paintings. No man has ever been allowed to touch her like that. And he even walked behind her, guiding her! Inhaling his scent, she was almost dizzy. His words woke her up from her slumber and they looked up and stared at the carvings. She could feel his eyes on her and she had to use every fiber in her body to resist the urge to look back at him. If I look back, I am lost.

And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you.

Sitting in front of the room where Catelyn Tully, Lyarra Stark and countless other Ladies of Winterfell have given birth, Jon was on the edge. He was not allowed in the birthing chamber, only to be shaken by his wife’s screams. The Silver Queen’s voice echoed through the house of the old Kings of Winter. Jon could have sworn that even they are trembling now in their graves. Arya poked him about becoming a father, reminding him that he doesn’t even know what a diaper looks like. Sansa told her to stay silent in this scary moment. Jon knew the truth. The birthing bed was a woman’s battlefield and he knew that many women lost their fights, one of them being his grandmother, Lady Lyarra. He remembered how Daenerys’ mother died and he couldn’t take it anymore. He ran into the room, Sansa and Arya following him. Dany was sweating, her forehead glistening. She was panting and looked at the end of her strength. 

-Just one more push, my Queen! I can see the head! - The midwife shouted.

-Your Grace, you might want to leave… This is a difficult time for her… - Said the other midwife while putting down the warm water and a towel.

-No, I shall never leave her… - Like in a trance, he walked over and took her hand, kneeling beside the bed. She saw him through a fog of tears and sweat and smiled. He kissed her hand and whispered the words of thanks and love. Sansa rolled up her sleeves and took of her cape and started heating the additional water herself. Arya started heating up a blade. Daenerys screamed for a final time and she was joined by their baby’s scream. Jon smiled and Sansa and Arya hugged each other. But Dany just close her eyes. Jon felt cold sweat on his brow and started shaking her.

-Dany! No, no, wake up! You have to meet our baby! Dany! Wake up!-

For 5 minutes, the room was frozen. The only sounds were the screams of father and child, which woke the dragon up. She opened her eyes and started panting.

-Water! Bring her some water! - Sansa gave him a cup and he helped her drink.

He kissed her brow and she smiled weakly at him.

-He’s perfectly healthy. Congratulations!-

Dany picked the little boy up. He was pale and soft, with light hair and soft features. He was still wrinkled and red, but he was the most beautiful little sight Jon has ever seen. Sansa and Arya both smiled at the new family.

-Hello, little one… - Said Dany. She gave him to Jon and his eyes started tearing up. They had their little moment together and then Dany looked up at the girls and she waved them to come closer.

-Would you like to hold him?-

-I never held a baby… - said Sansa fidgeting the edges of her belt.

-Neither have I. Come, I’ll help you. –

Dany took their baby from Jon and carefully put him into Sansa’s arms.

-I hope he grows up and doesn’t mope like Jon. – Said Arya staring at him. Jon pretended to be offended for a moment. He leaned on Dany and whispered into her ear.

-Thank you. I would have never forgiven myself had something happened to you.-

No, I don’t want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)

She was a sky full of stars and he was the stargazer on the ground, watching her, soaking in her beauty. She turned around, the wind messing up her otherwise perfect pleats and braids and just smiled at him. She was beautiful, and her eyes were kind. He was washed over by this sensation of peace, security and warmth. As death has been cold, oh so cold, her hands were warm. That had been their first kiss, first of many. He was barely walking now, feeling himself slip into the indulgence and selfishness to fall in love and a time like this. If he’s going to die, at least he could say he died as a man in love.

No, I don’t want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)

“Three fires must you light: one for life and one for death and one to love… three mounts must you ride: one to bed and one to dread and one to love… three treasons will you know: once for blood and once for gold and once for love…”

For love? What was that even? She may have felt something for the Great Khal once, but the rest of them weren’t even worthy. Was she unworthy of love? She recalled her dreams about a young lover, or the pained looks Jorah Mormont would give her once in a while, making her heart ache because she knew she’d never love him in the way he wants to. She stared at the man lying next to her, soundly asleep, dark curls tumbling down his forehead. The only love she truly ever understood was the love for her children and the thought of losing them killed her. He crawled into her heart without a warning, taking up more space than she ever believed someone could. Tears formed in her eyes on the thought of losing him. And he was such a beautiful man, inside out. He had these fine, sharp, noble features and the darkness of the Starks. He was the one thing she could have never predicted or seen coming and she knew she’d fight ferociously for her love. It felt like two disparate pieces finally came together, the ice to her fire, the calm to her storm… She kissed him while he was asleep. No one will take this moment away.

With you, with you (this girl is only gonna break your heart)

Standing in that small cave and directly into her eyes, Jon had to fight every urge to kiss her and take her, right there. Thankfully, the flaming torch prevented him of tasting her lips. Dany looked him in the eyes. The deep darkness sucked in her in and she never wanted to get out.

What a wicked game you play to make me feel this way.

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Tyrion was tired of their little games. In fact, he was beyond them. The two monarchs constantly argued about ridiculous things, always biting at each other like dogs, as if they are ready to either fight or fuck.

The King in the North got up and wanted to break some important news.

-I have to say something you will disagree with…-

-Since when do you ask?-

The Hand of the Queen yelped. Davos Seaworth just chuckled.

-Anyway, I don’t think transporting the food by White Harbor is safe. The ships will be too easy to intercept. We need to think of another way to transport them. –

She tapped the carvings on the table. Jon, who was sitting next to Dorne, walked over to Eastwatch, where Dany was sitting.

-Karhold, is of course, too far, the grain could freeze. I know White Harbor is the best option, but raiding is too easy at this proximity.-

-And what do you propose instead? That we somehow sail around the continent?-

-No, that would take up too much time and it would mean passing next to King’s landing… -

-What if we were to mask our ships with foreign flags? No one can attack a ship from Bravoos or Pentos, especially considering the fact that Cersei own large sums to the Iron Bank.-

-And Euron? He doesn’t care about the flags, he will plainly simply raid them, no matter who the captain is.-

-What do you want me to do? To escort your ships with my dragons?-

-No, that would be ridiculous. My step-uncle, Endmure, has retaken the Riverlands. We can transport them by land, all we need is wagons.-

-And those won’t be easy to intercept?-

They broke into an argument. Again. In the end, Tyrion proposed a solution. The ships will harbor in the Vale of Arryn by secret, carrying neutral flags. There the food will be distributed through the northern territories by the Manderlys and Karstarks.

At dinner, both of them were silent. Daenerys was tumbling the food on her plate and Jon was just drinking water. Tyrion tried to break the ice by telling a joke or two, but alas, it was helpless. The next two days were filled with silence and angry stares while the Northerners continued to mine. Jon was overlooking the mining, accompanied by Davos.

-Your Grace! – shouted a man downstairs.


-There’s a bloody heavy rock, we don’t know how to move it. I mean we know, but we need more men.-

-Oh, seven hells… You’re testing me, aren’t you? - He said, looking up at the sky.

Davos chuckled.

-Seems like you will need to make peace with your lady wife.-

-She is not my lady wife!-

-Forgive me, your queen-wife.-

Jon just walked away and went straight to the Imp.

-You see, I want to help you. But I don’t speak Dothraki and they are complex people, as they follow strength and their worthy Khal, as you see.-

-And who is their Khal?-

-You know the answer. Oh, stop brooding! Talk to her! She isn’t as hostile as one would think!-

And he had to knock on the doors of her chambers. He heard a muttered enter and went in carefully. He was greeted by a room that must have belonged to Aegon the Conqueror himself, because it was large and grand. She was wearing a simple, rosy robe. Her hair was down and it was wet, probably because she just took a bath. He felt a bit uncomfortable talking to an almost naked woman, but it had to do.

-I came to ask of something of you.-

She leaned on the arm on her chair, causing the robe to slip a bit, revealing her breast partially.


-I need help. Men, people… Just to move a large rock from the cave.-

He turned his head to the fireplace, but it wasn’t working. Why was it so hot there?

-Ask Missandei to talk to the Dothraki. I saw them once or twice using a complex system of ropes to erect statues twice the size of a horse.-

-The Dothraki rely on their horses for everything? And would you mind opening a window? It’s very warm here…-

-They respect a god called the Great Stallion, they live, make love and die on their horses… They have no problem with nudity, death, intercourse in public… My first wedding gift from my husband was a white horse. Khals never cut their hair, except when they’re defeated. –

She walked over and opened the window, causing the light to illuminate her body, making the thin robe almost see-through. It was too warm now. She turned back to her chair, crossing her legs.

-Anything else?-

-Thank you again. And I wanted to apologize for the things I said two days ago…-

-I appreciate you much more now, Jon Snow. Most people would apologize first and then ask me for something. Thank you for being honest.-

The robe was now dangerously low on her shoulders. He knew if he’d stayed one minute more in there, he’d pass out from the heat. He thanked her again and left.

That night, he dreamt that she actually took of her robe, and climbed on top of him. He was sweaty and tired and just realized he hadn’t had dreams like this since he was a boy. He groaned into his pillows, cursing the wicked Daenerys Targaryen and her thin robes.

Nobody loves no one.

In one of his dreams, she brought him blue winter roses and told him how much she loved him, he hadn’t had the courage yet to say those words to her. That morning, he woke up early and plucked a small dozen for her and put them on her bedpost. With a war coming, at least this would brighten the day. She smiled at them and picked them up, inhaling their scent.

-Is this the first time you’ve seen flowers like these?-      

-I don’t think so… Oh wait, I did. In the House of the Undying. But that was a long time ago…-

He looked at her puzzled.

-It’s a long and tiresome story… But thank you, these are beautiful, I love them.-

-And I love you…-

She looked up from her bouquet and kissed him.

-I love you too.-

Queen of the Water (4)

Bucky x Reader

Summary: A normal girl gets thrown into the Royal world. Royal AU

Word Count: 2.8k+ 

Warnings: swearing, two punches in the face (this chapter is a roller coaster of emotions omg)!


Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Originally posted by gregorybtw

Let’s get one thing straight, everyone at St. Mark’s Preparatory School are snobby two face bitches who flaunt their status and wealth (there’s always a few exceptions to the rule, like Y/n and Steve). Y/n was the outcast in the school, the American Princess. She was stuck in her roots. She refused to fit into the mold everyone wanted her to squeeze into. Unlike everyone else on casual Friday’s, she wore jeans and her competition surf t-shirts. She took casual seriously unlike everyone else. Everyone else wore proper Royal clothing. Expensive dress pants, silk skirts, and everything else in between.

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The Joker x Harley Quinn - Mephisto: Part 13

Hiya guys! It’s me again. Just so you don’t know, this is part includes the last bit of the child’s story, so get ready to learn the little one’s identity.

 Sadly, due to my pc’s condition -still-, I am currently using a device that makes it a lot hard for me to use italic writing: so don’t be alarmed when you read the child’s story. And I will write the characters thoughts like ‘this,. So, enjoy.

WARNINGS: Ok I need a lot of warnings for this part, NSFW, smut, though it is more like a sex scene in a movie than downright porn, weird usage of grape soda, and lets warn you about a more important part, DOMESTIC ABUSE, sadness, horror, drugs, more sadness, p.s. I don’t know if it is scary since I can’t be scared of reading something even if it’s horror, AGAIN MORE SADNESS


The King of Gotham reached out for the handle of the door belonging to his purple Lamborghini, a grin adorning his face, to get his dear queen out of the car. Pulling the handle towards himself, the Joker opened the door and held out his hand for her; earning a flirty giggle from the insane Mephisto. As soon as she took his hand, the madman forcefully pulled her towards himself. A squeal escaped Harley’s mouth as she tripped on the long skirt of her red dress and fell forward, landing on the Joker’s bare chest.

She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips on his. He kissed her back, savoring the warm and wet sensation on his lips; slipping his tongue in.

After a few passionate seconds; the Joker broke the kiss and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the stairs going up to the majestic entrance of his mansion through the pathway surrounded by trees.

The building was located in the outskirts of Gotham. A forest consisting of larches was surrounding it, making it almost unseeable to the outsiders. Of course; the Clown Prince of Crime rarely chose to spend his nights here, as he always had some mischief to cause somewhere in Gotham, which needed him to have multiple hideouts in the city. The only times he got to stay in this luxurious residence were the times he waited for everything to cool down. Like, when he got out of Arkham; or blew up the national bank… the time when those commoners would be keyed up, waiting for his next move. The Joker would make them wait on purpose, just to raise the level of psychological torment of being the prey.

Above all, this was the mansion Harley brought him after she had broken him out from the Arkham Asylum. A memory the Joker did not remember, mostly because he was drugged as hell by the same woman. This intrigued him in a different way, he wanted to see how this woman did business. Not only she had found his main hideout, she also knew that was the place he would have to stay after a breakout from Arkham. He unconsciously eyed the woman walking beside him as he couldn’t help but smile, ‘You really know everything don’t you?’

The Joker leaned towards the intriguing woman as he got his lips closer to her ear, and whispered: “I really hope you weren’t bugged this time. I have still got that itch to scratch.”
Harley grunted in annoyance: “I’m not. I’ve double-checked myself and double-threatened Harry. He wouldn’t dare to interrupt us this time.”

The Joker chuckled as he chimed, “Well, you’ve managed to get rid of him while coming to the club; a small bug isn’t that important…” They stopped in front of the entrance of the mansion, as the Clown Prince of Crime’s childish behavior suddenly turned into a cunning one. “…I was planning on strip searching you myself anyway.”

Harley giggled in delight, “You’re always so skeptical Mr. J…”

They heard multiple cars’ engines roaring as they entered the mansion. Frost and the other henchmen who had beeen escorting them from a safe distance had arrived. Even when they had been on the road, Frost was extra careful to not to approach to his Boss and his lady too much;  not leaving them without any guard as well; for he knew Boss wouldn’t tolerate any interruption during his private moments with the goddess of assassins. With a single movement of his hand, the goons came to a halt, waiting near the cars patiently. They all knew they were waiting for the King and Queen to go upstairs, where all of them except Frost was forbidden to go.

His hand on the small of Harley’s back, the Joker escorted her through the halls soaked in gold and sprinkled with gems. Together, they climbed up the wooden stairs, embroidered with golden ornaments of harlequins and jesters.

The end of the stairs was opening to a giant lobby, furnished with dark purple leather seats, a plain grey carpet and three gigantic hyper realistic paintings hanging on it’s cream-colored walls. The paintings might had been looked like photographs for an unknowing eye, but Harley knew it was otherwise. The first painting was of a little girl, holding a gun which was too big for her hand, while pointing it upward. The second was of a young boy, who seemed to be praying to the Donald Duck figure floating on his bed while he crouched near it. The third one, Harley knew, was a self-portrait of the artist himself; screaming through the breaking glass as half of his head was covered in bandages, the tines of two forks pricking his eyes out.

“You love Gottfried Helnwein too, huh?” muttered Lady Snowblood, just when the Clown Prince of Crime was about to proceed to the door at the end of the lobby. The Joker threw a surprised glance at her: “You know him?”

“Yes. Actually, he’s my favorite artist. Too bad I couldn’t see these when I came here before, it must probably be because I entered your room from the window.”, she muttered.

“Ha!” laughed the madman. “He’s one of my favorites as well.” he exclaimed as they passed through the artworks, stopping in front of the door at the end of the lobby. The door had a hand-print scanner attached to it. Harley glared suspiciously at the security device and smirked: “Well, that thing doesn’t worth a penny when your enemies know how to climb a damn window.”

“For your information milady,” mocked the Joker. “That window also was tightly shut, designed to be opened only from the inside and had a titanium shield covering it; as well as being connected to a deafening alarm system.” he listed as the door opened. He stepped back and held the door out for her, as he curtsied dramatically with a sarcastic grin plastered on his face. As Harley passed by him, he leaned on her ear slightly and whispered: “That enemy must be very eager to enter my bedroom if she is willing to struggle with a window that much.”

Lady Snowblood playfully bit her lower lip and eyed the man slightly, before turning towards him and trapping him between her body and the jambs of the entrance. “Although I must admit I was quite eager puddin’…” she giggled, as her hand slowly went down; stroking the bulge on his pants playfully. “I didn’t struggle at all, you know I have my ways.”

“Oh, I know you have your ways darling…” the madman purred, sliding his body away from hers, easily getting away from her grip. “But you must know that I have some ways to punish a person who blows up my windows.”

He quickly linked her arm with hers, squeezing it tight; while she squeezed his back. “Oh goodie, I like the way that sounds.”, she chimed and rested her head on his shoulder as she snuggled to him closer.

The room they entered was a king suite, the bedroom of the infamous Clown Prince of Crime. It was connected to the office of his, the place his formidable ideas were notoriously created. The luxury which the rest of the mansion possessed, wasn’t fit to hold a candle to the flamboyance in that suite. The walls were cream colored, with black colored “HA!“s scattered hither and thither. A king size bed with satin purple covers was standing with all it’s glory, just right beside the window in question; which was opening to a grand terrace. There was a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which wasn’t doing any kind of work to lighten the room at that moment.

The red and yellow colors dancing in the fireplace were doing it’s work temporarily. A toxic green leather sofa was placed by the fireplace and between them, laid the come-hither bearskin rug. There was a wooden bucket filled with ice and multiple bottles of grape soda near the rug. Harley gazed at the scene and smirked, “Well aren’t you a romantic, baby?”

She kicked her heels off and sat on the fluffy rug. The Joker followed her and did the same, sitting right next to the bewitching Mephisto, leaning on the leather couch behind him. He took the two bottles of grape soda and handed one to her as he downed a huge nip. “Where does Edgar think you are right now?”

“A mission in Boston.” whispered Lady Snowblood and took a sip, licking her lips after.

“Good.” growled the King of Gotham. “I’m not planning to release you for a while.”

Harley giggled and snuggled towards the madman. He pulled her in his embrace as she whispered in his ear, “Tell me puddin, does it always feel this good to be your prisoner?”.

The Joker purred, sending shiver down to Harley’s spine; “Only for you my harlequin…”

Their lips instantly collided and their movements started to become more like their heartbeats: fast and filled with pure lust. Their tongues tasted the grape juice and longing in each other as they fought for dominance: Harley passed her fingers through the Joker’s green hair, pulling them harshly, making him throw his head back with a grunt; exposing his neck to her. Her lips brushed his alabaster skin before she started sucking, placing sulphureous kisses on his neck, aiming to give him a hickey. The Joker placed his hand on her hips, pulling her towards himself as his hands moved down to grab her by the thighs, pulling her on his lap. After a harsh slap which made her squeal on her behind, his hands moved upwards; one held her golden locks away from her back while the other unzipped that maddening red dress of hers.

She lifted her face up from his neck and smirked. The top of the dress fell down loosely from her shoulders. Harley quickly freed her arms from the tight red velvet and stood up from his lap agilely. She swayed her hips left and right as if she was dancing to an inaudible beat, letting the fabric slide down her curves. She winked at the Joker when the dress fell down completely, earning an impatient growl from him.

The madman eyed her dazzling body in black lingerie and downed the rest of the grape flavored drink completely. Harley giggled, throwing her hair on her shoulders and reached back to the clasp of her bra. The Joker growled impatiently again and grabbed his cane laying beside him. He held his cane out and propped the handle of it on the seductive Mephisto’s loin. He forcefully pulled her towards himself before she unclasped it, like he did to get her off the stage. Harley fell on him, a quick yelp escaping her lips, before she settled on his lap once again.

The madman laughed at her surprised expression and pulled her face closer towards his, grabbing her chin. Harley started grinding on him as their lips met, feeling him grow even stiffer in his pants. She smiled into the kiss as he started purring. Oh how much she loved to tease him! Although her lips parted with his, she continued tracing his addictive skin down with wet kisses while continuing to grind on him. She planted a kiss on his jawline, before tracing his neck again. She bit his collarbone, earning a hiss from the madman as another slap landed on her behind. She giggled and slowly started taking his shirt off as her tongue started swirling on her chest. His shirt was already nearly unbuttoned, but she couldn’t resist the urge to tear the buttons apart completely. The silk fabric slid off the Joker’s muscled shoulders easily after that.

As her lips’ soft brushing danced on every part of his naked chest, she slowly slid off his lap and placed herself in front of him, on her elbows and knees. She struggled with his belt buckle as her tongue traced the line between his abs, going downwards. Harley unzipped his pants and reached under the two coats of fabric. The madman threw his head back as her hands wrapped around his stiffened member. He started caressing her hair as he purred, synchronized with each stroke she gave him. She giggled at his reaction and planted a soft kiss on his foreskin as she reached towards her bottle of grape soda. While still being propped up on her elbows, Harley sloppily attempted to drink it; pouring it on both of them in the process. “Oops, sorry puddin…” she giggled, looking at the madman innocently.

The madman chuckled at her theatrics and reached forward to caress her cheek. “Oh my, aren’t you a freaky one pumpkin?”

She giggled in response, licking his soda covered shaft from bottom to top in one swift motion.

The Joker held his breath uncontrollably as he felt Harley’s lips closing around himself. He held her head by her hair as she started moving her head back forth. The madman purred as he felt her tongue swirling around him. His purrs made Harley shiver to her core and she picked up the pace, taking him balls deep, eager to get more sounds out of him. Without any theatrics this time, Harley took the bottle of soda and poured the rest of the drink on him; before continuing to work her tongue on him even faster than before. After the Joker’s purrs slowly started to turn into fierce growls, she moaned and playfully grazed her teeth on his member; slightly biting the tip before she continued.

She yelped as the madman suddenly tugged her hair back, making her rise her head up. The Joker was quick to grab her by the chin, pulling her on his torso. He then rolled over in a swift motion and trapped the Mephisto of his between his chest and the bearskin rug.

He kissed her then, unclasping her bra and before throwing it god-knows-where. His hand grasped her breast as his lips lingered on the sweet spot on her neck while his mouth moved downwards. When the Joker’s hands found her hips, his started wandering on her breasts, instantly finding her nipple. He bit her hard like she did to him, earning a yelp from his Harley. He tasted the small drop of blood he had drawn from her sensitive skin, before he continued sucking.

This was just like the dreams the Joker had before. Her heavenly figure under his hands, his figure under her devilish gaze… Though this time, the intoxicating scent filling his nostrils and the soft whimpers filling his ears were very real and true.

He planted a soft kiss on her belly, gazing at the temptation of red and yellow lights taking over her soothingly creamy skin. After his face was lowered enough to level with her hips, the madman tugged the side of the remaining part of the lingerie with his teeth like he did in the dreams of his; never breaking eye contact with his Mephisto.

Harley raised her legs up a little bit, as the lace piece slowly slid through them, going down to her ankles. Still holding the fabric between his teeth, he harshly tugged it off and threw it away; before settling himself between her legs.

Harley placed her thighs on the madman’s shoulders and couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his hot breath lingering on her throbbing core. Their gaze interlocked for a second, before a vulgar growl ripped from the back of the madman’s throat.

Soon, his mouth was on her womanhood, his growls slowly turning into pleasant purrs. Lady Snowblood’s body twitched from the vibrating sensation, making the Joker’s grip get tighter on her hips as she whimpered, earning a slap on her behind by the madman. His tongue moved around, drawing zigzags on her clit. He removed his right hand away from her hip and inserted one finger in her, working it around. Harley couldn’t help but let a trilled moan out. The Joker inserted a second finger as well and without moving them around, he started to slowly make in and out motions, tormenting Harley as she started twitching under his touch, begging for more. The madman did nothing but giggle at her desperate begs. He quickened the movements of his tongue and she softly started to caress his now messy hair, as the madman continued to eat her out voraciously while fingering her. He slowly picked the pace, earning more moans from his Harley.

When the Mephisto’s moans started turning into ferocious grunts which she could not fully let out due to the strain formed in her throat’s muscles, the Joker suddenly pulled away from her.

Harley whimpered with dissatisfaction, longing the hot feeling of his touch on her skin.  But almost instantly after that, the Joker was on top of her again; this time, their eyes on the same level. Their foreheads touching; although their lips were dangerously close to each other, they didn’t kiss. They just stopped for a brief second, their breaths getting even more heavier than before; as Harley threw her arms around the Joker’s shoulders, feeling his hot member on her pelvis.

Their gaze interlocked and they both held their breath as he slowly entered her, their muscles straining at the impact of the vertiginous sensation. The Joker, surprisingly, gave her some brief seconds to adjust to him; but as soon as he got the signal to continue, he took Harley’s breath away, starting to pound into her. Harley’s walls clenched around him even more as he started to move faster. His movements were stern and rough; Harley had tears swelling up in her eyes. The Joker’s grunts were mixing with her loud moans. She was holding onto his body like he was the last piece of wood in the vast ocean, the only thing that could possibly save her from drowning.
The Joker lifted his head up, separating their foreheads and kissed her before burying his face in her neck, biting her hard. He slowed down for some brief seconds for he felt her muscles clenching around him even more. “You…” he pounded into her again. “…can’t…”, he grunted. “…come…”, he bit her ear. “…before I tell you to do so.”, he inhaled her scent for a moment as her moans turned into silent whimpers. She nodded, agreeing, trying to catch her breath. He kissed her neck multiple times before putting his forehead on hers one more time.

He returned to his rough way again straight after and the Mephisto’s whimpers turned into a mixture of moans and screams, which only made his movements quicker and harsher. One of his hands reached down and started rubbing her clit. Harley buried her face in his shoulder to silence a moan and planted kisses on his jawline after. Their grip was growing tighter on each other as the seconds passed and they knew they were both their limit.

Harley shut her eyes tight as she hissed through her gritted teeth, “Daddy… I…”

That word and her walls clenching around him made the Joker’s movements get sloppy. Harley opened her mouth to let out a scream as she came but choked on it, she just stiffened in his embrace and shivered as he grunted, following her; loosely resting his left cheek on her right one as he moved slowly inside her, feeling her throb around his shaft. Harley felt him coming in her and slowly caressed his hair, waiting for him until he recollected himself.

The Joker then rolled over and collapsed right next to her, both of them trying to catch their breath. They looked at each other as Harley spoke first, giggling. “Wow…” she mumbled. “That was…”

“Wild.”, the madman continued, looking at her with a smirk plastered on his face. Harley giggled, “Yes, daddy…”, she winked at him and planted a quick butterfly kiss on his lips when he started purring again. She stood up in a swift motion before he was able to catch her; holding her hair away from her face. Kicking her black high heels out of her way, she had just started heading to the bathroom when all of a sudden, she stopped and turned her head towards the madman.

“Care to join me for some more fun puddin?” she chimed playfully.

“Oh, pumpkin…” the Joker sang, gazing at her heavenly form, “I am definitely not insane enough to turn down that offer.”

And the King of Gotham stood up, taking his pants off completely as he followed his Queen to the shower, long red nail-marks distinguishable on his tattooed back.


It had been five hours since the beautiful woman known as the night had worn her black dress. It’s pitch back color was blocking the rays of sun from lightening the streets. And the moon wasn’t there to help that day, since the woman known as the night had chosen to not to wear her pendant for some reason.

But it was still fine, the child could still see the path with the help of the dim lights emanating from the street lamps. It didn’t feel as safe as the sunlight, but it would have to do. No, the child needed the sun for another reason; a reason bigger than the darkness.

The cold.

With nothing but gossamer pieces of clothing on, the little one had been wandering through the streets of the neighborhood alone for nearly the whole day. The choice of not returning to the house was becoming more impossible as the seconds passed, but the five year old did not want to make the critical decision of turning back.

‘You were always destined to turn back from the start…’, the voice echoing in the little mind spoke. ‘You just don’t want to be a quitter.’

The voice was right, there was no way a five year old could strive in these streets alone. The child was shivering from the cold, hadn’t drunk or eaten anything since the night before and the fact that the house wasn’t that far away made it even more irresistible to go back.

And it was scary outside, the fact that there could have been even more dangerous creatures than the “it” lurking around made the child feel nauseous.

It was mandatory to go back that hell.

Sighing, the little feet turned back and started running towards the house where all of the nightmares were born. 'I won’t stay…’, the child thought. 'I will just grab some food and clothes without waking them up.’

Passing through the streets, only one threat was still lingering around the child’s head: the “it”.
He usually invaded the house at night and if he caught his runaway offspring the consequences wouldn’t have been pretty. Nevertheless, the child continued to run; it was not like there was a chance of staying outside that hell. If there was, all of the siblings would had done it by that time.

As soon as the roof of the house was visible to the eye, the child stopped running. Instead, walked slowly; for preventing anyone to notice the unfamiliar movement in the neighborhood.

Tiptoeing towards the garden door, the child realized it was impossible for a person in this size to open the door by themselves. The heavy door could creak and waste every struggle of staying quiet as well.

So, instead of passing through the entrance, the child climbed up the cold bricked wall. It wasn’t as hard as it looked, but coming down wouldn’t have been that easy. Holding the edge of the wall, the little figure jumped and hanged from the edge of the wall. Careful to not to make a sound, the child dropped onto the smooth surface of wet grass, tiptoeing towards the back of the building to find an open window from which one can sneak in after standing up.

The child knew there was an open window, because big sis always slept with her window open. The child reached to the back of the house, praying while looking around to find where big sis’ bedroom was. Seeing the window wasn’t closed, the little one squealed in delight: now all that was left to do was to sneak in without waking big sis up.

The window was quite high, but not as high as the wall that had just been climbed. Jumping as high as possible, the little one held onto the windowsill and pulled the small body up. After throwing the right leg in the room, the child pushed the little weight forward.

But the force applied was apparently too much.

The child fell forward with a loud thud, crashing onto the wooden parquet head first in the process. Moaning in pain, the small hand rubbed the little head as the child grunted and wobbling, barely managed to stand up. The little one had to wait for the dizziness to go away for a few seconds.

It was then when the child remembered that it was dangerous to make any noises.

Panicking, the horrified eyes started searching the room for any person who noticed the existence of their sibling; though there were absolutely none. Big sis wasn’t in the room. The child bent down and looked under the bed, just for insurance. She wasn’t there either.

Then where was she?

The impact of the realization hit the child like a brick as the small frame froze while looking at the empty bed of big sis.

There could be a few reasons why she wasn’t there. She could be in the toilet, or she had been thirsty and went downstairs to grab some water. Both of those possibilities were very slim since the children of the household were always forced to be extra careful about the times they left their rooms. The “it” could enter that house at anytime and no one would have wanted to be the first person he came across under no circumstances.

The other possibility was that she was hiding. Hiding with the other children, from the “it” himself. The child couldn’t hear mommy’s screams, that probably meant the “it” had already started looking for them. The game of hide and seek had already begun.

Just to be sure, the child exited big sis’ room to look at big bro’s. Much to the child’s dismay, big bro was nowhere to be seen as well. Then that meant it was dangerous to be alone at that moment. Wanting to find where the others were, the child stepped into the empty hall. This time the little one knew where to start: the baby’s bedroom.

Passing through the red carpet covered halls, the child was all ears in case of an emergency. The baby’s room was upstairs, so the little feet headed towards the stairs; scared the wooden parquet might creak any time. As soon as the first step was taken, a blood curdling creaking sound echoed through the halls; making the child freeze abruptly. Thinking that the “it” had probably heard it and was getting closer anyway, the child immediately started running up the stairs. After the little one finally made it to the second floor without getting caught, the little one’s ears were pricked up; knowing the “it” probably was heading towards the staircase.

The child quickly proceeded to wobble towards the baby’s room, but realized something was off.

There was no sign of the “it”.

That monster usually couldn’t walk straight, for someone who was that sloppy he was awfully quiet that night. Suddenly, the reason dawned on the child.

'He is waiting for me somewhere.’

Tiptoeing on the soft carpet, the child approached to the baby’s room, shivering in fear. It’s door was closed and not a single sound could be heard behind it. The child propped the little ear on the wooden surface and listened… everything… which was nothing.

Faintheartedly, the child’s hand clutched around the metal handle as it was pushed down. The door slowly opened, quietly creaking as the little one looked around for anything out of ordinary in the ink dark room.

The only reason one could see anything in that dark mess was the dim light emanating somewhere from the street through a small window. Thanks to that dim light, the crib of the baby was partially visible. In the crib, one could notice an odd silhouette. The child thought it was the sleeping form of the infant at first, but quickly changed the absurd thought; as the smudgy form of darkness laying on the mattress was a little odd to be of an human child’s. It possibly was a heap of clothes, scattered around in the crib.

The child looked around to see any clues pointing to the siblings’ presence in the room though, there weren’t any. 'Then…’, the child wondered. 'If they’re not here, where are they?“

The little body turned around to face the wide open door, aiming to exit the overly dark room to find the other children.

It happened right then.

Suddenly; a small, round object was thrown at the little one’s arms. With a quick reflex, the child caught it; wrapping the arms around the round object. It was impossible to deduce what it was in a darkness like that one, but the child didn’t care about the object at that moment.

The place where it was thrown from was far more concerning.

The frightened eyes opened wide when the door moved. A nerve racking creak resounded in the room as blood curling giggles filled the child’s ears. It wasn’t necessary to lift one’s head and look, in order to know who awaited behind that door. Now that the mysterious identity of the person who had thrown the object was solved, the child was more interested in what the object was. The round, warm… and slightly wet object.

The sudden impact of a strong beam of light, hit the child right in the eyes; stopping the little fingers’ quest to identify the round thing under them. The child’s eyes were squinted as everything was lost in a mass of whiteness for a couple of seconds. When the eyes finally got used to the luminescence; the child distinguished the "it"s figure, sticking out his head from behind the door as he chuckled at his offspring’s helplessness. He held a torch in his right hand while he was pointing it at the little one; laughing like the high madman he was as he started to turn it’s switch on and off intermittently, making the light flicker on the horrified face.

The flickering beam of light kept the child’s attention on itself, until the hypnotized eyes noticed the thing he held in his other hand.

There, he had grasped a bloody kitchen knife by it’s handle.

Gasping, the child faintheartedly looked at the round object as the little hands started shaking, afraid the things that would have been seen.

The thing the little one saw was a nightmare come to life.

Frozen look, red stained wet skin, stopped movement and unbearable silence… those things were what the object was. The child, still clutching onto the warm and wet bundle, turned towards the silhouette on the crib; now, under the light of the torch, saw the red stains. That thing was indeed a human baby, the only reason the child thought it couldn’t be was…

The fact that it didn’t have a head.

As everything downed upon the child, a lamentable shriek erupted from the small mouth. As the round thing fell onto the parquet, a loud thud was heard.

That thud was the thing that brought the child back to life and without thinking, the little feet sprang forward to flee away from the room. The "it” swung the blade in the air as the child was about to escape, creating a deep slash on the narrow back. That didn’t effect anything, since the child was unable to feel anything at that point. Screaming, the child fell down the stairs. A cracking sound resonated through the house, but the child didn’t feel it, couldn’t see a thing and didn’t hear anything but loud whimpers. The only image that could be seen was the baby’s frozen look on it’s eyes, still lingering in the little one’s mind. The only thing that could be felt was panic. The only way to stop the whimpers was beating the panic and frankly, that was not going to happen.

The child stumbled through the halls of the first floor, having a hysteria attack, having no idea where to head. The monster was close, still giggling and the child knew there was no escape this time.

He was going to have some fun.

The little feet stumbled on the carpet, as if everything was nothing but a horrible dream. As the whimpers slowly started to die down, one could hear the giggles getting closer. The child didn’t have any power left in the legs and the eyelids were slowly closing.

'Come on, you can’t faint now…’

 But the child collapsed. Not due to losing consciousness, no… but due to tripping on something.
Looking at the thing blocking the hall, a sob escaped the little one’s lips.

There, lied down the lifeless body of mommy. Her hair scattered around and her clothes torn here and there, she looked more pitiful than she had ever been before. The child’s attention was caught by the deep slash on her throat, where her blood stopped oozing from long ago. A pool of dried blood had formed around her, emanating a nauseating smell. Through her torn shirt, the child distinguished the handle of her butterfly knife; though not a single drop of blood was staining it.

'Even when he was slaughtering your children, you just couldn’t bring yourself to harm him, could you?’

Taking the butterfly knife with shaking hands; the child ran away then, without sparing another glance at mommy. Heading towards the living room, the little one was clueless about what to do. Maybe it was possible to flee from one of the windows there before the “it” had even more fun.

But as soon as the child took the first step into the living room, all of the possible plans of escaping were erased from the horizon.

It was mommy’s knitting kit, the bag had fallen down, the contents inside scattered on the floor. Big bro was lying near the contents, a visible slash on his cheekbone, bleeding from his head; as his eyes were wide open. A little amount of blood could be seen on the corner of the table as well. On the grey sofa near him, someone else -big sis- looked like she was sitting. But her eyes also were wide open and she moved no more. The child, world spinning around the little head, approached to big sis’ body. Then saw it.

A knitting needle was stabbed through her neck. Not “on”, but “through”.

The child couldn’t resist the shock anymore. Screaming, the small frame collapsed on the knitting kit’s pieces. Some of them pricked the sensitive skin, drawing a little amount of blood. But neither the pricked skin, nor the broken bone or the deep cut on the back could separate the child’s eyes with big sis’ wound. While still sobbing, the “it"s raspy voice was heard:

"Oh don’t be so surprised my birdie… What? Did you really think I wouldn’t punish everyone who let my successor get away? Put the empire I built at risk?”

'They’re dead because of me…’ thought the child, mentally in pain. 'If I didn’t escape, they…’

Finally remembering the “it” was coming close, the child ducked behind the sofa; some of the pieces of the kit rolling towards the child along with it’s body. The child heard footsteps coming closer, as the monsters’ voice filled the room.

“I am starting to think that even you are not worth of my time birdie…” he sang as he twirled the knife around in his hand. The child felt the butterfly knife get heavier in the little hand’s grip as the “it” approached to the sofa, whistling. He already knew his offspring hid behind it. He wanted to play with the child a little.

All of a sudden, a silver light flew past his ear.

The “it” slightly jumped in terror, looking at the butterfly knife struck in the wall behind him, dumbfounded. After looking at the knife which had almost killed him for a few seconds, he cracked up. Holding his stomach, the “it” started laughing like a maniac; god knows why.

Freezing behind the sofa, the child knew it was done. The only weapon that could be used to defend the little one against that monster was thrown away. It didn’t even manage to cut his skin a little. The child shivered in fear, at loss of what to do next.

The madman chuckled as he stumbled towards the sofa, where his daughter’s corpse sat on with a knitting needle in her neck. He could smell the five year old’s fear; he could hear the clinking sound of the glass bottle holding his offspring’s sanity, wobbling on the edge of the precipice known as madness, ready to fall just with a little push.

So he started singing, making up the words; he had heard his late wife humming this melody before to the children; probably a sweet memory for them. The “it” would make sure that wouldn’t have been the case anymore.

There was a little birdie always wanting to fly,
So it jumped from a tree that was way too high.
When the next day came and the animals looked around,

 They found little Harleen bleeding on the ground.

Something snapped right then, in little Harleen’s mind. Her silent whimpers died down, the trembling in her hands stopped, the tears flowing down her puffy cheeks started to dry. She didn’t try to run away, though she didn’t continue staying behind that sofa. She just abruptly stood up and came out from the place she had been hiding. Standing right next to her sister’s corpse, she faced her father.

The man who she had thought 'was’ a terrifying 'ghoul’ which visited their house to haunt them every night, rather than her 'father’; looked at his creation in the eye. He’d be proud of the state she was in normally, but his drug induced mind and her hatred towards him didn’t allow him to do anything but kill her. He had tried to change Harleen before, make her like himself. He’d injected tormenting drugs into her body; including one which was used in World Wars, to permanently damage the mind of the enemy’s soldiers by pain, in order to obtain more information from them. The soldiers whom were given this injection were far from being able to control what they said or did, turning them into human puppets.

When he injected this drug he obtained to little Harleen; she screamed in pain, obviously, the drug was doing it’s job.

But instead of turning into a puppet of the madman; the girl became violent, almost like a wild animal, attacking everything on her way. She was not giving in, she could not be controlled.

That wobbling bottle was never going to fall into that precipice known as madness like he wanted it to.

But the “it” hadn’t realized that something snapped in Harleen seconds ago. Her long and curly hair disheveled, covering most of her face; clothes torn and covered in blood; blue eyes screaming murder and knees trembling from the blood loss… the “it” admired the blood staining her almost snow-like skin, she finally started to look like him… too bad she had to die.

“You want me to be your heiress daddy, be like you?”, the little girl chimed.

Her voice startled the “it”, for two reasons. First, she never called him daddy; second, her voice didn’t sound like her, it was too… high.

“Well, I figure you do.”, Harleen continued. She looked at her right, where her sister’s corpse stood. She reached out and touched the tip of the knitting needle buried in her neck and giggled. Weird, since the “it” didn’t see her smile or move her mouth as she did that. “But you must have been careful about what you wished for.”, she grabbed the needle by it’s tip as she grinned at the madman. “You of all people must know better about who my father is, who 'you’ are…”

Harleen suddenly pulled the blood soaked knitting needle out. The madman didn’t have much time to react, her first attack was too quick. He felt a stinging pain on the hand he held the knife. The knife flew back as he threw it in pain, hitting the wall and falling on the floor. The “it” looked at his hand, hissing as he saw the place Harleen pricked him.

Growling, he decided he’d do just fine, attacking her bare handed. He lunched forward, grabbing the child by her waist as his other hand held her hand holding the needle. He lifted her up, trying to yank the weapon away from her hand. The needle was on their eye level, with it’s sharp end pointing towards the madman. They struggled for a few seconds, as the child managed to resist him by pulling the needle towards herself with both hands. After a few seconds, the “it” started to wonder why Harleen was smirking.

All of a sudden, she let go of the needle.

Already having been pulling the needle towards himself for a while, the madman did not expect the sudden disappearance of the counter force that used to keep the weapon in place. So, he could not do anything as he, himself, pricked his own left eye by pulling the needle towards himself. He let out a vehement scream as his grip on the child and the weapon loosened, yet, her grip on him didn’t.

Holding on his right shoulder with her left arm, the child used her other hand to press the needle deeper in his eye. She felt the spine chilling feeling of his sphenoid bone being scratched by the sharp end of the needle. She then pulled it off quickly and jumped down, as the madman stumbled back in pain; hitting the wall behind him. He slumped down on his butt, one hand pressing on his bleeding wound as a ear deafening shriek was heard. Harleen approached him, like an eagle flying towards a snake.

The “it” looked at the monster he had created, with the eye he could still see with. Her eyes had lost their focus point, her knees were shaking, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was smiling.

It was like the times he gave her that drug. She had turned into a bloodthirsty animal.

Harleen launched forward, with the knitting needle still in her hand. She stabbed him in the shoulder, using both of her hands to bury it deep enough. The madman tried to get her off himself, but was stopped with a terrible string of pain caused by Harleen suddenly pulling the needle out. Everytime he tried to push her away, he was met with the sharp end of a blade. When he tried to protest, the little girl waved the weapon around randomly and god knew he didn’t want to loose his other eye as well.

Then he noticed the kitchen knife. The knife he threw away when Harleen first pricked him. The knife which fell on the floor after it was thrown at the wall.

His fingers creeped towards the knife’s handle as another stab landed on his thigh. He gritted his teeth, trying to bear the tormenting pain and grabbed the wooden handle of the knife. He smiled to himself, thinking he’d finally win. Until he felt someone’s stare.

He turned towards Harleen, who had noticed the knife he held in his hand. Her look was frozen, like there wasn’t any kind of soul behind those blue eyes. Her gaze landed on his eyes, her face having the same soulless expression. They looked at each other for a bare second, then both of them attacked.

Raising his arm, the “it” aimed to bury the knife in her chest before that knitting needle could do any more harm. He knew Harleen was dead the point he got the hold of his knife. There was no way a five year old could be faster than him.

But the feeling of the pointy metal on his Adams apple proved him wrong.

And that was one of the only sensation he ever got to feel after.

An animalistic growl ripped from the back of Harleen’s throat as she pushed the needle deeper. The monster’s knife holding hand froze in midair, a wave of pulsation passed through it, as the “it” grunted in shock. He moaned, without being able to speak, but clearly begging his daughter to stop.

But the child’s mind was oblivious to any kind of outside context at that point. The individual behind her eyes was locked up deep inside. Unable to show any mercy.

Not that she would show any if she was in her right mind anyway.

So she pushed it deeper, as she started screaming. She couldn’t hear the man’s grunts, she couldn’t hear the flesh being torn apart; although it had been her only dream to feel him suffer. Soon, his body went limp under hers and his hand which grabbed the knife fell on the floor with a loud clack. His fingers around it’s handle loosened when Harleen pulled the needle out in one swift motion.

Tears concluding her vision, her own screams and sobs echoing in her brain and the wet and sticky feeling of blood taking over her skin; the child did not realize he was already dead. She didn’t even remember the difference between the dead and the alive.

So she continued, not caring about the blood loss and nausea, she just continued pricking him. Harleen couldn’t stop anymore; she stabbed his chest, his other eye, his forehead… over and over again as multiple sobs shook her body.

When her mind had snapped, the bottle didn’t fall down into the precipice of madness, as madness wanted it to. It all backfired, so instead of falling; the bottle engulfed everything inside, including the precipice. But now; since it engulfed everything else, the bottle stood there…
In the middle of a mass nothingness.


Edgar Beowulf had been a dead man for fourteen years. Was he sick? Yes, very. Was the problem in his liver since he had been drinking a lot for the past couple of years? Maybe, not incurable though. Was the real problem in his heart? Yes, he swore he had a hole in the middle of it. He knew alcohol wouldn’t fix it but if he was drunk enough, he could still imagine his heart was a whole.

He had been trying to find where that missing piece went for fourteen years, but after all of his struggles he always came back empty handed. The great Severe Edgar; who was known for knowing  everything, did not have a clue about where that missing piece of his heart had gone. His henchmen worked so hard to make him happy, since they had a great amount of respect for the mafia boss, but no one could. They couldn’t even make themselves happy.

Since the piece missing from Edgar’s heart was also a part of their hearts, they missed it.

Therefore, the great empire of Edgar Beowulf had been dying like it’s emperor and their main hideout that had always been the symbol of power had turned into a funeral home.

The old man refilled his shot glass one more time, immediately downing the tequila right after. He was in his office, where no one could see anyone due to the thick cigarette smoke. He had bags under his eyes and his eyebrows were knitted, making him look at least ten years older than he actually was. His hair had turned completely white and he had scars on his wrist. He was humming a melody, a pleasant memory from the times of his youth. He remembered the days he sang this nursery rhyme to the baby in his arms.

The little treasure of his life.

That little girl of his, was always worth a lot more than his great empire of knowledge. She had grown into a beautiful woman as the time passed, admired by all mafia organizations. She was known by the nickname, “Silver”. She had the ability to draw her knives out so quickly that all one could see is a silver light, shining in front of their eyes before they gave in to the eternity of darkness. Edgar could remember the days he taught her how to use a knife: the little girl would wake him up in the middle of the night; ecstatic; to tell him that she would finally hit the hundred points on the target board this time, as he patiently watched her, trying not to burst her bubble. He’d then have to comfort her as she cried, after hundreds of unsuccessful tries.

Damn, just how much he had missed those days…

It had all started with that man… the bastard was nothing more than an undisciplined drug lord. The thing he wanted to hire Edgar for was elementary for an emperor like him and it brought him easy money. So, he accepted his job offer.

Oh, how foolish he was then…

That rookie had started to hang out with his daughter too much, always trying to impress her. At first, he hadn’t interfered; thinking his princess wouldn’t even spare a peasant like him a single look. His thought didn’t change until he caught them making out in his office.

Edgar and his daughter had a huge quarrel that night.

Let’s be honest, Severe Edgar was a jealous father. But he wasn’t a five year old, he was sensible. If he had found a lamp with a genie inside of it, granting him only one wish; he would wish for his daughter’s happiness. Therefore, if she fell in love with a man that really cherished her; he wouldn’t try to keep her away from him. In his fifty three years of lifetime, there were two things that made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive. First was, falling in love with her mother and the second was having her in his arms. Why would he want to prevent her from being as happy as him? He would prefer to be dead if his existence prevented his daughter from being happy.

But he knew that bastard wasn’t the “one”, he was a sociopath who just wanted a pretty face to look at. And Edgar Beowulf wasn’t stupid enough to believe he just “sold” those drugs. He would harm his daughter, for sure.

So, the next day; after he woke up, when he found a note that was left by his daughter saying she had run off with him to get hitched he wasn’t that angry…

He was absolutely terrified.

It wasn’t the feeling of the disappointment and anger after you lose a match, it was when your three year old came dangerously close to the fireplace and reached out it’s little hand, because the fire looked so appealing to it.

But that fear had only lasted a minute or two. Suddenly, Edgar realized who he was. He could stop them before everything went too crazy, he knew everything. He could find where his daughter ran off to. The rookie who took her away was a stupid youngster.

But it didn’t turn out to be as easy as he expected it to be.

No matter what he and his henchmen had done, it didn’t work. His daughter and her good for nothing lover had vanished into thin air! Who in the world could hide something from Severe Edgar and become successful keeping it?

It didn’t matter, his daughter was gone.

Harry Cooper watched as the man he admired sulk in his chair, tired of living. He wasn’t his henchmen before his renowned daughter’s disappearance, so sadly, he only had gotten to see his hero in this state. He had been a part of this empire for just two years, he was still a rookie in the job. He was an expert in infighting and he was quite smart; but sadly he was nothing but more than that, he wasn’t qualified to be his henchman. The truth is, Harry’s father and Edgar used to be best friends in the army, before his father was shot to death. So, when he met Harry two years ago, waiting to be hired as a bodyguard without becoming successful; he took him in with him.

His father told Harry a lot of heroic stories about the man known as Severe Edgar before he was killed, so when Harry met the childhood hero of his in that state; he swore he’d find his daughter and make him happy again. He owed him that.

And he had been working hard for two years without becoming successful.

Until that moment.

His friend had been injured and broke his leg last week, being hospitalized in a small hospital in Gotham for a few days. When he went there to visit him, he saw a woman running past the halls while crying and he could swear she was identical to the one he saw in those photographs hanging all around in the office of Edgar. When he asked a nurse about the woman, all he could get was that she was just here to visit her daughter who was also hospitalized here.

But he didn’t stop there.

With the right amount of money, he managed to make one of the rookie doctors speak. Harry learned that the little girl was in a bad condition and everyone knew that her father had beaten her up this way. But no one could speak up since everyone feared him for some reason. He also managed to get the family’s home address from the patient’s file when the doctor wasn’t looking.

He cleared his throat suddenly, making Edgar Beowulf raise his head faint heartedly to look at him.

“I have a lead, sir.”


Forty five armed men had surrounded the house, waiting for the signal to attack. Twenty snipers had broken into other houses to have a better view of the house. There seemed to be no movements inside, so everyone was probably sleeping. They didn’t want to wake the whole neighborhood up, since it could just be a false alarm; so they climbed the wall surrounding the garden and looked for other entrances that didn’t involve blowing up the front door.

Harry was the first too see the open window.

With a signal of his hand, Edgar and twenty of his henchmen crawled on the wet grass with guns in their hands, like a swat team. Harry climbed first and looked at the room he was in. It seemed like a teen girl’s room by the looks of it, but it was empty.

“Clear.”, he whispered as the other henchmen continued to pour inside. Just as he was about to exit the room, Edgar put his hand on his shoulder; leaning closer to him as he whispered: “Take ten of them with you.”, he pointed at the goons, “…and search the first floor. We will cover the ground floor.”

Harry nodded and signaled half of the twenty men to escort him upstairs. They exited the bedroom together, passing through the hall covered in red carpet. Fortunately, the hall opened directly to the staircase. Two of the henchmen got ahead of Harry as they held their guns in shooting positions. As soon as one of them took his first step on the stairs, the goons were startled by the creaking sound which echoed through the halls. Almost immediately, the three men on the back of the crowd; turned back as they aimed their guns at the obscurity of the darkness, guarding their back in case someone dangerous had heard the creak.

The two goons at the front checked the floor and signaled Harry and the others to come. Harry clenched his fist, climbing up the stairs as he cocked his ear for any kind of sound. The seven other men climbed up the stairs as well and looked at Harry, waiting for the gesture of his hand.

As soon as he gave them the permission, ten men invaded the floor; splitting up into two and running to the ends of the hall. They would start searching from the ends, till they would meet in the middle. Room by room, the goons quietly opened the doors to see if anyone was inside.

Harry waited them in the middle, where the staircase stood, he had to guard the stairs. He aimed at the stairway, waiting for any unknown face to appear.

But the door behind him, right in the middle of the floor ;which was slightly left ajar; weirdly intrigued him. Even after the years that would pass, Harry would never be able to explain why he left guarding the stairs; but instead opened that door to check inside. It was as if the room was calling him, telling that something wrong had happened there. So, as his instincts kicked in, he reached out his hand and pushed the door open.

His feet hit something soft after he walked in there. He tried to see what it was, but the room was too dark for him to see anything at all. He grabbled around for a light switch on the wall. When he felt the cold plastic at the tip of his fingers, he pressed on it as the room filled with light. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, as the other goons noticed the light.

Then they heard Harry gasp.

They ran to him, panicking; when they found him in the room, staring at the ground in shock. Three of them pulled him out of the room, getting ahead of him as they unknowingly pointed their guns at the object he was looking at, thinking it was something dangerous.

The one with the long hair vomited first.

There lied a severed head of an infant. With her blue eyes, staring right at them, her jaw was slightly dislocated, blood dried on her neck area. Ten men were hypnotized and frankly, frightened; they couldn’t get their eyes off the baby, until Harry woke them up from their trance.

Walking towards the crib, Harry got the attention of all the goons in the room. In the crib, laid the baby’s headless corpse; wearing an onesie decorated with yellow baby chicks. The henchmen held their guns down, completely forgetting their own safety as they watched the traumatizing scene unfolding in front of them. Until another nightmare woke them up from this horrible nightmare.

Edgar Beowulf’s animalistic scream.

They immediately ran to where the sound came from. They all knew the scene they would see, but still, they were not ready for it. As they came closer, hearing the sobs, they knew their biggest nightmare had come to life.

The thing they saw first was Edgar’s trembling body, crouched down. He held a woman in his embrace, they could see her legs. After Harry saw the baby upstairs, he didn’t want to see the corpse of the woman. Everyone understood who she was. The ten goons headed towards the other crowd of henchmen, finally seeing what they never wanted to see.

Edgar hugged his dead daughter’s corpse, caressing her hair while having a breakdown. Her throat was slit, blood staining her father’s clothes. All of the henchmen were looking at their boss with visible worry in their eyes. Severe Edgar closed his daughter’s eyes with his fingers as he kissed her fingertips one by one. It was right then, he saw that thing.

The wedding band on her ring finger.

Roaring like a madman, he took the ring off and threw it away. He left his daughter’s lifeless body on the hall’s carpet, heading towards the only place he hadn’t searched: the living room. His goons shouted in terror, it was dangerous for him to go in head first, without having his weapon ready, in that state. Harry, knowing nothing would stop him at that point, ran towards him; aiming to assist him. Quickly, the others followed; barging into the living room together.

The first thing they saw with the help of the light emanating from the window was the teenage girl’s body, bleeding from her neck. Then they noticed the young boy on the floor, laying on top of colorful yarns and needles scattered around. They stared at the horrible scene in front of them until they heard the sound.


A weird, disgusting sound; coming from right beside them. One of the goons turned on the light switch as where the sound came from was revealed.

A little girl, in a blue dress, hair disheveled leaned onto the body of a… man. Though at least a thousand witnesses would be required to call that tattered and torn mass of human flesh a “man”.


The girl had done it again. Raising the huge knitting needle in her hand, she stabbed the mass of human flesh; making the goons understand the reason of the man’s corpse’s condition.

The girl had riddled him to death. Harry wondered how many stabs it took to turn his body into that state. His attention was then turned towards the huge slit on her back, blood still oozing from it. The girl seemed to be dizzy from the blood loss, yet, she didn’t stop.

Edgar was frozen in his spot, unable to move. He stare at the scene before him. Had this little girl killed his daughter? Impossible… Who was she? Why was she doing th…

His thoughts were disturbed by the thing he saw. The riddled man’s corpse. He looked at his hand, seeing the wedding band and the knife resting on top of his palm. No doubt it was used to slit his daughter’s throat. He stumbled towards the corpse and it’s killer, stuttering:

“Stop… you killed him already.”

The girl turned her head towards the men standing before her in one swift motion. Her eyes were full of determination and hatred, but her expression changed into shock soon after. It was like… she hadn’t realized they had been here for a while. She looked at Edgar with the same expression on her countenance, then turned back to what she was doing; as if she stilldidn’t realize he had been already dead.

Edgar gasped when he saw the child’s face, a complete replica of his daughter’s. He felt weak on the knees and fell on them as he continued to look at the blood leaking from her back.

Harry saw the little girl get dizzy, when her hand trembled as she was about to stab the corpse one more time. He launched forward, to yank the weapon away from her hand. The girl saw what he was doing out of the corner of her eye and jumped off the corpse. She waved the needle at him while she screamed like an animal, cutting his hand as he was yanked away by the other henchmen in the room.

It seemed his action had awakened something in her. Without stopping screaming, she held the needle with both hands an started pricking the corpse faster. She landed a stab on him every second and every time she landed a stab on him, she grunted. The henchmen noticed her lips quivering and her left eye twitching as a shriek escaped her mouth. There was no emotion behind her eyes, except hatred. Harry regained his composure as he approached the girl to try one more time, but was stopped by the trembling hand of his boss.

Edgar had slowly crawled on fours towards the child. As she was fully focused on killing the monster completely, he reached out and put his hand on her head; slowly caressing her hair. The girl’s body stiffened for a second and she opened her mouth to scream again, but was stopped by Edgar’s agonized voice:

“I’m sorry…”

Her body shivered as the pauses between her stabs became longer. Edgar crawled towards her, getting even closer. He caressed her cheek gently, before holding her hair away from her face. The next time he spoke, the tears in his eyes were audible in his voice, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner…”. The girl was started silently sobbing as well, the hateful expression on her face changing into a surprised one again: she couldn’t understand why she was crying, she didn’t know who these men were, she didn’t know what she was doing.

She didn’t know who she was.

“You can stop…”, he continued.

No, she didn’t want to stop. He was a curse, the moment she stopped he would haunt her again. She didn’t want to see his face, she was afraid she would remember it all again.

A stab landed on the man’s face.

He was unstoppable… she would be as well. He would follow her to her dreams, turning them into nightmares again. She was the only one left for him to hurt. The only one… that’s right… he couldn’t hurt mommy anymore, since mommy could love him no more.

“He can’t hurt 'you’ anymore.”, Edgar sobbed.

The needle in her hand fell down, as soon as those words left Edgar’s mouth. Harleen turned towards the old man and looked at him with tears in her eyes, those eyes pleading him to tell her those were all just terrible dreams.

But Harleen didn’t need to hear the truth from his mouth to see it. Her eyes just focused on the sofa behind the man, where she saw her sibling’s corpses. Her eyes glued onto the hole on her sister’s neck, she suddenly remembered how she got her weapon.

And then screamed in terror.

Edgar Beowulf  took his granddaughter in his embrace, holding her wrists to prevent her from clawing her own face and burying her face in his chest as he patted on the little girl’s hair. Intermittent sobs were shaking her whole body, as she was having an hysteria crisis. As dizziness started to overpower her consciousness the whimpers died down. Edgar left her wrists, as they embraced each other while crying, in front of the monster who took their life away from them. The old man wiped the blood away from the snow white skin as he kissed her cheek.

The henchmen were at loss of what to do, before Harry Cooper came forward: taking off his jacket as he loosely put it on them. He looked at them for a few seconds, until he felt a slight movement from behind the window.

He turned towards the window, the white things he saw filling his heart with even more sorrow.

And at that night, the Emperor embraced the only thing left for him to continue living, as the first snowflakes of the year landed on the roof of a giant cemetery.








Guys, I am so sorry if I made you sad, but since the first chapter this kinda was my plan. Either way, did you think the child’s story would turn out this way? Do you understand the reason behind Edgar’s protectiveness? I hope you’ll be happy to hear that you’ll get to learn Chaos’ identity in the next chapter. Btw, let me clarify: the drug the “it” did was meth; which, against common belief; causes only minor hallucinations due to sleep deprivation. So, when he heard Harleen giggle when in fact she hadn’t moved her mouth; when he heard her voice a couple notes higher and when he saw her smirk as she was pulling the needle away… those were all minor hallucinations, Harleen wasn’t that creepy…

anonymous asked:

I know ur busy but can I do a star crossed myth request where the me is an extreme yandere and when the gods are about 2 get hurt MC appears out of nowhere and begins 2 go yandere in front of her god? I understand if u cant make this cuz ur busy!

I will do our lovely Gods Leon, Scorpio, Zyglavis for this.

                                                Accepting Requests!

Normally it would always be your God who saves you but, what would happen if you were in the Heavens on your way to see your man, when you see him fighting and not just fighting with anyone he was fighting with a Goddess. Why? Because he wouldn’t sleep with her and was mad he was with a human instead of her, you see he isn’t really fighting back though because she is a Goddess. You start to run over and when you hear the Goddess shout “Just cheat on her” something came over you like a madman. Before you knew it, you or him are not sure how you did it but you stepped in front of him and used yourself as a shield “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” you hear him scream at you from behind you but your didn’t care, you were pissed with this Goddess and you begin to walk over to her “Don’t come any closer!” she shouts getting ready to attack and you begin to laugh “You wont do anything”. Why weren’t you scared? Who knows but now you were face to face with a Goddess, she smirks getting ready to use her powers but out of nowhere powers raised within you, throwing her sending the goddess back a few feet. She was in shock and quickly got back to her feet running away. You were also in shock and still heated and you feel a hand touch your shoulder causing you to jump and as you turn around your God stood there stunned.

“Who knew my little goldfish could be so jealous” he said with a smirk, he kinda liked this new jealous side of you and it turned him on a bit the way you handled that Goddess. You blush looking up at him, he probably thinks you are crazy but when you stare into his eyes there was a glow in them that you knew all to well. “I know we might get called to the throne room due to powers awakening inside you but now I want to enjoy you” He smirks picking you up in his arms and he carried you all the way back to his bedroom.

Shocked for him doesn’t happen much but it explained how he felt at the moment. He takes you in his arms calming you down and wants you come back to your senses you hold him back. “I..caused problems” he cups your face and smiles “even if you did that was interesting to watch, I hate women but you are the only one I like and will always have eyes only for you” he kisses you softly as you both walk hand in hand to go speak to the king about the powers that raised up inside you.

He was confused and shocked as he looked down at you, and you felt a lecture coming on from him, he was going to tell you it was dangerous and such. But as you were looking at the ground you heard him speak “ This may cause problems but that was brave who knew you could be so obsessive” you snap up and meet his smirking playful gaze and you blush. “I..I just didn’t like her” you try making a excuse and that’s when he wrapped you up in his arms, “We will go back to my room until the king calls to see us” he kisses your temple as you both hold hands walking through the palace back to his room.

The Little Known Story of Aerys II and the “Targaryen Madness”

   I know this won’t be popular, but hear me out, especially if you haven’t read the books because you don’t have all of the facts. There’s a strong case for Aerys II being driven mad by external circumstances, and while he went totally insane, I think after what he went through, most people would go insane.

   As a boy, Aerys was actually expected to be a solid king. He was quite generous and resolute, and most found him to be quite charming. While he was quick-tempered at times and a bit vain, a bit of vanity is to be expected out of a prince and a lot of young men are quick-tempered, even in the modern day. Teenagers are just like that. As book readers and show watchers alike know, he ended his reign cruel, abusive, and obsessed with burning King’s Landing to the ground, so what went wrong? How did a generous young man full of promise turn into an evil madman?

    A few years before Aerys II’s reign began, Summerhall burned to the ground, killing his grandfather Aegon “Egg”, uncle Duncan, and Lord Commander of the King’s Guard, Ser Duncan “Dunk” the Tall, among many others. The gathering was to celebrate the coming birth of Aerys’ and Rhaella’s first son, Rhaegar, who ended up being born during the fire. It’s not known exactly what caused it, but it had a profound effect on Rhaella and Rhaegar, who had been there, and Aerys, as the gathering was for his family. The first, large portion of his reign was peaceful, and the realm was doing very well. He brought some fresh blood into the court and was found of music, dancing, and holding balls. He had a lot of plans to make Westeros better, well-meaning if not entirely realistic. His marriage wasn’t happy, as neither he nor Rhaella wanted to be married, and he had many lovers, but he wasn’t violent or cruel with them. Much like Robert, he had fallen in love with another before he was married: Joanna Lannister, who married his best friend Tywin. Tywin was his hand, and while he did like his friend, Tywin got most of the praise for any good in the realm and rumor had it Tywin was really ruling the realm.

    While Tywin was getting the glory, the woman he had wished to marry, and fathering two healthy children, Aerys was trying to comfort his wife as they lost child after child. He eventually became paranoid she was cheating on him, and that’s why all of his children kept dying, and so he locked his wife away so she couldn’t cheat on him, as he was desperate for his children to live, and he was sure all the miscarried children couldn’t have been his. I’m not saying that wasn’t awful and completely crazy, I’m just saying that in his own mind, he thought he was ensuring that he would have living children after all of them kept dying. He actually went back to how he was when his son Jaehaerys was born alive and wasn’t mad for a time, but of course, as everyone knows, there was no Jaehaerys in the show or in most family trees. He died as a baby and Aerys went off of the deep end and killed the nurse he was sure poisoned his baby. 

   He then realized that maybe all of his children (five by this point) were dying because he was unfaithful, so he went to the Sept of Baelor and swore he would no longer be unfaithful, and he wasn’t. So when Viserys was born he had guards near him at all times and refused to let anyone be alone with the baby. He wouldn’t let anyone give him gifts and even had food tasters to taste the net nurses. Insane, yes, but this is a man sure that he lost five children in a row due to poisonings and misdeeds, and wants to ensure who one could harm this baby. We can’t be sure that Aerys would have returned to his old, not mad self, once he realized Viserys would live because he was kidnapped and held hostage for over a month, threatening to kill him constantly.

    It’s no surprise then, that following being held hostage for a period, he was paranoid it would happen again. It’s not known what happened to him at Duskendale, but I would be shocked if there was no torture involved. He grew so paranoid he wouldn’t even leave the Red Keep or let Viserys leave. We all know what happens next, he goes crazy and burns Brandon and Rickard Stark, and tries to burn the city to the ground. Aerys II died a cruel, evil, and insane man.

    What many people don’t realize is that Aerys ruled for over 20 years, and more than half of that time was peaceful and prosperous. He was slowly driven mad by a series of events: being forced into a loveless marriage while his best friend was married to the woman he wanted to marry, part of his family burning due to mysterious circumstances in their own pleasure castle, his best friend getting all of the credit for all of the good brought to the realm, the deaths of five of his children in a row and finally being held hostage for a month and likely tortured. It didn’t help that he was too afraid of poison to even eat.

    I’m not defending his actions, what Aerys II did was horrendous, what I’m saying is that so many people think that he was just mad because he had the “Targaryen Madness”, while in all actuality he was slowly driven insane by a series of traumatic events. Most instances of this so-called “Targaryen Madness” follow this pattern, a person that wasn’t at all mad until they were driven that way by some pretty horrible events.Just look at Viserys. He was actually a perfectly fine little boy until he became orphaned and was forced to sell all momentos of his family while running from assassins.  

    While I primarily used Aerys II, the most well known of the “mad” Targaryens, I would argue that in 300 years of history, there were only two genuinely, malevolently mad Targaryens: Maegor I and Prince Aerion, son of Maeker I. All of the rest considered “mad” were either odd but harmless or driven mad by circumstance. That’s hardly a coin flip in a known family tree of over one hundred members.

anonymous asked:

I read something that claimed Tywin was always going to declare for the rebellion, no matter what happened on the Trident, and take King's Landing anyways. The logic was that Tywin wouldn't have marched from Casterly Rock *before* the Trident occurred, unless he saw that the winds were blowing for Robert. Also, that Tywin wouldn't have benefited from Rhaegar coming to power and would be better off under Baratheon kingship. What would you say to that?

The problem is that neither side benefits Tywin, and so he wants to be on the winning side of the war. Now, given that Aerys repeatedly insulted him, Tywin is certainly not going to be a fan of Aerys, and he made that known as far back as the Defiance of Duskendale. Rhaegar wedding Elia too, stings Tywin’s Lannister pride badly, so there’s no love lost between Tywin and House Targaryen.

Certainly, Tywin would have had to be moving quickly, Casterly Rock is much further than the Trident, and we don’t know how long the delay was between the end of the Trident and the start of Eddard’s march south. We can explain this way with the usual GRRM is bad at travel time, but maybe that was intentional on this part. We’ll have to ask him what he thought for sure.

If it came down to a forced choice, Tywin would have probably sided with the rebels because he wants to visit the most brutal reprisals for those who slight the power and prestige of House Lannister, and if one side has repeatedly besmirched his family and the other has no strong interaction one way or the other, he would definitely side with the rebels. It’s also possible that he thinks Robert is either easier to manipulate than the madman Aerys or the gloomy Rhaegar, and that would make things easier to be on the winning side and using his money and power to influence Robert’s court.

But I still think that whoever won the war, Tywin wanted to be on their side, and move to increase Lannister power from there.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

anonymous asked:

Talk to me about Alexander/Hephaestion and that whole "Without me, you would be nothing" incident? I feel like that's the only time the two of them have clashed so equivocally in public, and I'd love to hear your thoughts about how that fucked up their dynamic and/or made Hephaestion secretly bitter or resentful? Do you think they resolved their differences, or was it always simmering beneath the surface from that point on?

this is possibly one of my FAVORITE INCIDENTS, EVER,

from plutarch’s anabasis, 47.5 - 7:

Moreover, when he saw that among his chiefest friends Hephaestion approved his course and joined him in changing his mode of life, while Craterus clung fast to his native ways, he employed the former in his business with the Barbarians, the latter in that with the Greeks and Macedonians. And in general he showed most affection for Hephaestion, but most esteem for Craterus, thinking, and constantly saying, that Hephaestion was a friend of Alexander, but Craterus a friend of the king. For this reason, too, the men cherished a secret grudge against one another and often came into open collision. And once, on the Indian expedition, they actually drew their swords and closed with one another, and as the friends of each were coming to his aid, Alexander rode up and abused Hephaestion publicly, calling him a fool and a madman for not knowing that without Alexander’s favour he was nothing; and in private he also sharply reproved Craterus. Then he brought them together and reconciled them, taking an oath by Ammon and the rest of the gods that he loved them most of all men; but that if he heard of their quarrelling again, he would kill them both, or at least the one who began the quarrel. Wherefore after this they neither did nor said anything to harm one another, not even in jest.

me @ perseus: what a shit translation, dont u know that the RIGHT translation should be ‘alexander-loving’ and ‘king-loving’, maybe if you went to school for these things you might have a better grasp on the ancient world, etc.

anyway, way more than if these two kissed and made up (which we’ll get to in a sec!!!) is the political context around this incident which, lemme tell u, is a killer

like, this is a fun thing to talk about because yes, you’re right, this is pretty much the first and only time they’ve ever clashed in public, and its also interesting because this is like, the only time hephaestion has a personality in any of the accounts w/o andrew chugg inferring the shit out of the sources. but what’s necessary to note is that, on the indian campaign in probably about 326 b.c., alexander was in a really precarious political situation - the court had split pretty decisively down the middle post the parmenio/philotas liquidation and the murder of cleitus, the only difference is now that people are kind of scared of being openly critical. craterus takes over from cleitus in being the proponent of the old guard, and hephaestion is very staunchly pro-alexander. and this is an interesting incident bc it actually runs p close to another account of plutarch’s about another one of hephaestion’s feuds, this time with eumenes, alexander’s secretary. 

that particular feud apparently kind of exploded after hephaestion put a flute player in eumenes’ chambers in babylon, which is likely to have been an actual deep rooted political conflict that exploded over something really trivial. that’s really what this reads as: that craterus and hephaestion, as heads of opposing factions at court, literally pulled out their dicks - sorry swords - over something really small. alexander publicly chastising hephaestion, while craterus gets spared the humiliation is another interesting tidbit - and personally, i think its likely that, you know, alexander already being accused of surrounding himself with sycophants like an Eastern Gay Feminized Tyrant made a specific point of rebuking hephaestion in public instead of craterus, which could have inflamed his faction even more. note that plutarch says that this is more than just a fight in the middle of the camp - their ‘friends came to aid’, which means the opposing factions, which means that this could very well have broken into a riot, or outright mutiny.

keep in mind, as well, that this is before his army refuses to go any further into india - tension would have been running high, they’ve been on campaign for ten years, etc etc. alexander has an iron fist around his men, but i dont think he could have afforded at that point to antagonize the old guard which still, even at this point, makes up the bulk of his infantry. ergo, make a point.

but what’s also interesting is the CHOICE of rebuking - he tells hephaestion that without him he is nothing, that he is a fool and a madman. alexander, throughout his career, has favoured ‘new men’. some people think its an oedipal reaction, some people think that it’s just tactically advantageous to be the nexus of your court - if they have no prior loyalties and owe everything to you, it’s much easier to extend control. either way, chugg and renault and some others actually have a theory that hephaestion might not have been native macedonian - literally no traces of his family extend beyond his patronym, amyntoros for amyntor, which is a form of the macedonian name amyntas that was more common in athens, not to mention that there is literally a temple in the athenian acropolis called ‘the hephaesteion’ etc etc. if that theory is correct, then the ‘without me you’re nothing’ thing really takes on new meaning.

in any case, i… dont think this is the kind of thing that people get over? i do think that like, they’ve spent more than 20 years of their lives together, so it’s easy to forgive. at this point, i do think that alexander wouldn’t have done anything to hephaestion even if it was politically expedient, just because he literally lets him get away with shit that no one else would have been able to get away with. having craterus killed would antagonize a huge part of the court, and would make up the third incident in the pattern, if we’re going by moscow rules, but having hephaestion killed - hephaestion, who had a shittonne of enemies in the court - may not actually have been that bad. so yeah, the fact that hephaestion came out of this incident unscathed really shouldn’t be overlooked. what also shouldn’t be overlooked is that shortly after this, in 325/324, alexander sends craterus back to macedonia, while he marries the persian princess to hephaestion - therefore making him his brother-in-law, theres also a really gay part in like, i think it was green or chugg, that says its because alexander wanted them to share a bloodline, like bitch…  - makes hephaestion chiliarch, etc etc. like… honestly people usually just buy some flowers and make some carbonara, boy really goes all out w giving the bae widesweeping executive power like damn

so in conclusion

yes, it was a Dick Move, but also i think it had underlying political reasoning, based off circumstantial evidence, that plutarch just never went into. i don’t think something like that was ever really forgiven, since it resembles public humiliation so much, but one thing that stays constant about alexander is that he really has a flair for the dramatics, for saying the right thing at the right time, and leveraging other people’s sentimentality back at them in the most vicious way possible. and right there? in the middle of the camp on a testy campaign, where tensions are running high, and they’re on the verge of breaking into a riot and he has to shut things down fast? whats the thing you say that would make someone go cold instead of hot? make him shut down instead of furious? what do you say to someone like that, who gets described as philosalexandros? 

its a very very effective way to handle a situation, is all im saying.