#trashcollected

Her mind had wandered far away from the vine latticed stone walls and black packed earth that created a sort of gilded cage for her. She hadn’t left the safety of the walls in quite a while and was beginning to go stir crazy. Prior to this position as a fake newly married Lady she was running wild, going where she pleased and doing what and who she wanted. But she understood her assignment would not be completed until the true Lady’s uncle and his forces were eradicated.

But it became increasingly difficult the longer she repressed her urges while having to listen to the Lord and the true Lady sing their carnal calls throughout the night. More times than not she rose to wander the secret passages or the grounds within her stoney prison to fantasize about the man at King’s Landing. There had been an undeniable connection that sparked a light within her, illuminating a reflection of who she truly was. She wanted to feel that familiar warmth course through her veins again and tell him the truth this time. An offer had been made to shelter him dare he try and rip away from the lioness’s grasp but dogs were loyal and she did not have the gold to compete. Still, what if?

worst part of fanon

ACCEPTING !

ONE. I'm not sure how to exactly answer this question, so we'll go with what I can think of.

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of Danny's backstory in canon. There's a reason why I throw it away, why this blog is canon divergent. Honestly, I think his character would have been strengthened if his backstory had been kept a mystery. There's nothing more petrifying than a killer whose entire life outside of the mask is unknown.

TWO. I genuinely don't pay much attention to deebeedee fanon. I saw enough of the marvel fanon back around 2012-2015 to be content with completely ignoring fanon everywhere, anywhere for the rest of my life dskgnks.

BUT I do dislike when I see people turning GF into nothing but a meme. I think he can be a meme, and I do indulge in that on occasion myself; however, he's not defined by that. I think it detracts from his character when it's done consistently, especially in fanon spaces.

Who’s he? The friend in school who always carried gum, Tylenol or Kleenex for somebody else. Pot-bellied, and cockroached by niggardly wages from the great liberals.

“ you know, ” theo begins, treading carefully, a hidden minefield beneath their feet. it's dangerous to make assumptions of people, and they have learned by now when to be bold and when to be subtle. ignoring their instincts is a shortcut to regret.

they scent steel, blood, a history that they aren't privy to. it isn't reassuring, but it doesn't stop them from speaking their mind, either.

“ people who say that often aren't over it. it's the same as insisting you don't care. aggressively insisting it doesn't matter to you is the same as admitting that it does. ” they study him from beneath the long fan of their lashes, lips in a thoughtful line. “ is that true for you, as well? ”

worst part of fanon

the ghouls in ghost, as far as we have seen in Terzo-era youtube videos, are actually just guys and gals in masks, per canon. the fandom has just made them demons, which is far more interesting.

There was a tremor in his hands now, one that he could no longer distinguish if it appeared due to his nerves or if was it the torture that had made it impossible to make his fingers stop twitching on their own. The bathroom mirror was unwelcome as he stood looking at the water that he was to wash his face with. Long silver strands of hair framed a face he no longer recognized. Lucius had hardly slept, his body felt beaten, each part aching in a different way if he dared move.

The only reason he had forced himself up from his bed, was to accompany Narcissa as some guests would arrive at the Manor for breakfast. Long brittle fingers moved under the surface of the water, wishing to submerge himself fully but having no longer the fake bravado to even pretend, to his own pathetic reflection that he would be capable of doing anything other than becoming another ghost, hardly any different to the portraits lining the walls, the same ones that now nagged far less, and looked and peeked when he would walk by, hushed worried voices that taunted him.

As soon as he was dressed, his cane in his hand, he made his way to the bedroom door, he needed to go down but his body refused to move. What horrors did await him today? What torture would he survive? Would he? A prisoner in his own home, brought down to beg and hope.

Turning the knob, the door revealed the hallway, to his left there would be the stairs that would lead him to the first floor and the dining area, but before he could take two steps, another crossed his path. “ You are not supposed to be on this floor. ” What bite and aggression he once had, was lost. His voice felt distant and alien, without any authority or conviction. It was as if someone else had spoken for him with a weak attempt at copying his voice.

Lucius's knuckles are white on his wand. "You are less use than my worthless house-elf." Lucius has never polished anything in his life, but it can't be that bad if Dobby can manage it in good time. "And that fool doesn't even have a wand." Too many things have gone wrong today: the menu had to be changed twice, Draco was lost track of, and one of the peacocks tried to eat a decorative fairy and nearly choked to death.