#DEVOTING YOURSELF TO PROTECTING THIS CHILD AT ALL COSTS.

[bartxnhood]

i’m still your boy | a.s.w

anakin skywalker x fem!pregnant!reader

summary: after obi-wan tells you of your lovers betrayal, anakin seeks your forgiveness.

warnings: lots of crying, no happy ending, overall angst

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: hi guys ! i decided to test the waters with this fic. i know it’s short but i just wanted to see if i anyone would be interested in me writing for star wars. let me know! also, ive been working hard on the san francisco book, go check it out if you haven’t !

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you stand overlooking the city but you can’t make out anything from the tears blurring your vision. your hand gently caresses your stomach, unable to fathom what obi-wan had just told you.

killing younglings? turning to the dark side? no. it’s impossible. how could your anakin, the chosen one, the one you had given everything up for? he couldn’t possibly do that to you.

you heart began swelling with an unfathomable amount of pain, your robes felt suffocating, and the room felt as if it was closing in on you. Suffocating your senses and making it difficult to breathe.

your heart races and your palms begin to feel sweaty, a sense of mounting anxiety washing over you as the words of obi-wan repeat in your mind.

the once cozy and familiar space now feels claustrophobic and oppressive, mirroring the turmoil within your mind and heart.

your hand clenches your chest, continuing to stare out the window as you hear footsteps approaching.

knowing it was anakin you didn’t look back to face him, you couldn’t possibly.

instead, you stood there, making out his stature in the reflection of the window.

“obi-wan has told me…horrible things..”

there’s a silence that feels the room, the tension growing by the millisecond. anakin looks at you through his eyebrows at the mention of his master, or; previous master.

though, anakin still looks at you with so much love and affection. a love so forbidden but anakin doesn’t care. he’s so full of love for you he’d do anything for you, including joining the dark side to protect you and the child.

he devoted his life to you and the force, but the premonitions, the nightmares, it was all too much for the mighty jedi.

anakin knows what he did, but you didn’t have to.

“do you believe him?”

you turn on your heels finally deciding to face him. he had an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes examined you. eyes taking in your beauty before trailing down to your swollen stomach. his heart does backflips at the thought of having a child, but he knows it would do no good if your life was in constant danger.

anakin needed to protect you. at all costs.

“i don’t know what to believe..” you mutter, eyes wavering with worry. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him. “did you?” you ask.

“i have to protect you.”

you shut your eyes as he confirmed your worries. your hand guides your body to the sofa, unable to stand much longer. the pain in your chest growing by the second. you can’t bring yourself to face him, not when he’s looking at you that.

“my love..” he coos, falling to his knees in front of you. his gruff hands feeling the soft touch of your silk gown. “please…this is all for you..” he whimpers, the tears staining his cheeks, he has so much love for you it’s turned him into something unrecognizable. evil. dark.

“to protect you,” he repeated. he needed you to know that he would walk through fire for you.

anakin couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you. the visions, the premonitions he was having. every night it felt so real, he was losing you every time he closed his eyes. every day he could feel you slipping away.

“no..” you mutter, your bottom lip begins to quiver at the sound of his voice. you shut your eyes tight, turning your head to face him, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“ani..if this is about your visions..” you begin looking into his eyes. the anakin you knew wasn’t there. this was someone else. “they’re not real..i’m right here..” she frowns, taking his face in her hands and wiping away the tears staining his cheeks with her thumb.

“i’m real, ani. i’m right in front of you.” you beg him. your eyes searching in his beautiful blue eyes only to notice they were the same eyes you fell in love with.

anakin doesn’t budge, he shakes his head. “n-no..i have to do this, i have to protect you..” his hands find yours on his face, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “i have to protect our little one” his hand moves down the sides of your body and rests on either side of your stomach. “i can’t..i won’t lose you, y/n.”

the heat from his hands radiate through your silk gown, almost a burning sensation on your stomach, protecting your child from whomever anakin has become.

you shift away from his touch, protecting your unborn child from his touch. “no..” your bottom lip quivers, a stray tear escaping your eye. your hands wrap around his wrists removing them from your stomach.

anakin panics, he’s becoming frantic. he’d do anything for you to follow him, to be with him. he needs you. “y/n, we could have everything we’d possibly want. we could rule the galaxy together.”

your brows furrow as you look into his eyes. “ani…i have everything i could possibly want. i have you, our little one, i don’t want to rule the galaxy.” you tell him, hoping he’d come to his senses.

“we could leave this place, go to the lake. no one would know..we could be at peace” you plea with him, staring into his eyes searching for anything. anything at all that would tell you he’d let go and leave with you. anakin doesn’t budge. he takes your hands in his again, hoping you’d see his reasoning. “you’re going down a path i can’t follow.” you whimper. your eyebrows knit together as you squeeze his hands. “you’re not the man i married, ani.” you sniffle.

anakins eyes flicker between yours, his brows furrows and his lips part. “he turned you against me..”

his voice was low but held so much anger and resentment to his master. holding anakin back, subsiding his powers, his voice. anakin would never become anything.

at least that’s what he thought.

anger fuels his emotions, he stands up from the floor and removes his hands from your grasp. his hands ball into fists by his side, taking in a deep breath and holding it in. his face twists, looking down on you.

you didn’t recognize him. this wasn’t the same man you awoke to this morning. this man was consumed by his anger, aggression, and fear.

anakin eyes you, “no. i won’t have this.” he says and turns away from you towards the exit, his hand hovering over his lightsaber.

every step be took was fueled by a fierce sense of determination, tinged with an undercurrent of aggression. mixed with a cold, burning hatred that seemed to radiate from his very being. as he walked away, her every movement was a testament to a man on the brink, with a fire burning in his soul that threatened to consume anyone who stood in her path.

“anakin!” you yell as your stand from the sofa, wanting him to stop and come to his senses but he doesn’t. instead, he flips the hood of his robes over his head and you watch his silhouette disappear.

you felt your stomach turn, thinking of the unimaginable. the stress of the situation was taking a toll on your body, and you felt a sharp pain in your stomach.

your hands instinctively went to your belly, a protective gesture as you tried to catch your breath.

your anakin, the chosen one, the one you loved with all your being was gone. the dark side had taken him from you and the child.

a broken sob escapes your throat as you fall back onto the sofa. you cover your mouth as you cry, unable to contain the sadness.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Daddy’s Princess

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!Princess!Reader

WORDS: 3,014.

SUMMARY: Based on this anonymous request…

WARNINGS: incest, mentions of death/war/suicide, mentions of depression, dark!Aegon ii, thigh riding, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, cream pie, breeding kink, Daddy kink, praise kink, dom!Aegon ii, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii. mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - posted this originally on my side kink blog [ @aegoniiwifey ], however since it’s not so explicitly kink-related and I’m also really proud of this fic, I thought I would post it here too ☺️ hope you all enjoy this naughty read!

credit to the original creators of the artworks/images.

The Targaryens were undoubtedly known for their “queer” customs, this had been widely yet sceptically recognised. Your own grandmother, the Dowager Queen, even uttered the words herself, despite having played a major role in marrying your late, beloved mother, Helaena to her elder brother, your father and the rightful King, Aegon the Second.

The Dance of the Dragons had begun to churn, when you were still nothing more than a child, however it progressed well into a few solid years throughout your adolescence, only for your father to come out victorious against his treacherous half-sister and her family of “bastards and traitors”, as he spat. The Gods had answered your endless prayers, regardless, rejoicing in success.

Once the Dance had reached its end, you had transformed into a young, modest woman, of the age two-and-twenty. Your handsome father, fifteen years your elder, conceived you during his own youth, robbing him of freedom and instilling responsibility instead, likewise with your dear mother. You had always been plagued with the pestering thought of feeling like a burden unto the young couple, as their firstborn, however your father reassured you otherwise, that you were nothing more than a blessing to him, otherwise.

Regardless, the fearsome battles determinedly fought throughout the decades, came at an inconceivable cost: the cost of the innocent, defenceless lives of your younger siblings who tragically perished in horrendous manners. Your late mother, Queen Heleana, wrought with mad grief and depression for the witness and loss of her babes, she could not bear the reality of life itself, taking her own life as a means to end her suffering.

Excluding yourself, you had no one else other than your grandmother, the Dowager Queen, who kept much to her seldom self these toiling days, isolated in her lonesome chambers, and your father...

Throughout the entirety of the ceaseless quarrels, your dear father had always ensured keeping a close eye and ear on you. Warmly reassuring your frightful self, that he would burn the world before any harm could be done unto you. He kept you close by him at all times, if he had not attended the battle himself on dragonback, Sunfyre close by your chambers, despite having a broken wing, with your own hatchling, Morghul, constantly beside you. It tore him to pieces when he made the harsh decision of having to entrust you to Larys and his unsavoury men, to sneak you off to Dragonstone where he would meet you eventually.

The most skilled guards posted ceaselessly hours on end, day and night, outside your chambers, not a single action went by without Aegon knowing, for all matters regarding your whereabouts went directly through him. During this time, you had solely instilled a perpetual trust in your father's decisions, that laid foundations in your bond with one another, which lingered even post succession of the war. It would be an understatement, that you had become heavily reliant on him, most of the time having been denied the autonomy to think and decide for yourself at such a young age, you grew to much prefer your father taking action, trusting him and only him with decisions regarding your own life. He was highly protective of you, in a way no lord nor knight of the realm could pledge and devote their lives to. You were his kin, his blood, his possession: you became his sole purpose and will to survive during the Dance.

There was, however, only one decision, you had ever made purely yourself, that would change the dynamic of the realm itself...

"Come, my sweet angel. Come to Daddy, and let me ease your mind..."

Despite the realm returning to some ounce of normalcy and peace, the nights you still endured adversity with. Troubling nightmares engulfed your slumber mind of the haunting memories of the Dance. Stirring you awake in a state of distress and panic, sweat beads drenched your forehead and mottled hair, your exposed, plump breasts accentuated in your silk, white nightgown, heaving with every haste and dense breath. Despite the adoring, relentless company of your dotting father by your side in bed, he immediately awoke in tune to your disruptive motions, persisting to remain awake, until he was assured you were comforted and sound of mind, lulling you himself back to sleep.

"Baby, sit on my lap. That's it- Another nightmare, my love?"

"Y-Yes, father."

"I know the feeling all to well, precious... Do you wish to speak about it?" Aegon huskily uttered, as his rough hands gently whisked away the odd strands of hair out of place, his other hand caressing soft circles at your lower back.

Since his heroic return from battle, despite the brutal injuries sustained, and since recovering, your father found himself constantly at your side, even in the late hours of the night. He dared not to trust many despite promisingly pledging fealty to their King, Aegon could only open up to you without the reason of duty, intimidation, or responsibility binding him to you. He wanted you. Since losing Helaena, despite never having been openly romantic with her, he had lost a companion, and had always considered you more of one than a daughter, as you grew wise with age.

Your strong-willed father had always been a man with brawn, unlike your late Uncles, Aemond and Daeron. Aegon was portly and having been raised by him, you grew familiar with his shameless, gluttonous habits. These habits exacerbated during his recuperation, as the maesters including yourself had taken to encouraging your father to eat copiously, often hand feeding him yourself with generous amounts of delicacies, rationalising that it was to regain pure sustenance.

You took pride in his recovery, aiding the maesters to heal your father back to good health, he openly stated that it was your devoted presence and love that made him whole once more. Deep in slumber with milk of the poppy to ease the pain, only he could hear your sweet, angelic voice in the blissful distance, yearning for him. Your gentle touch, as you religiously applied naturopathic ointments to his fresh, raw burns, that eventually healed his scars. He soaked in your warm presence thoroughly, mirroring your reliance on him, he too, became deeply infatuated with you.

Since becoming a mature woman, having grown into your Valyrian-esque features and physique, Aegon saw you in a fairly different light now. You noticed by the manner in which his violet, stern eyes lingered over your body for far longer than what was used to, even if it was for a few, fleeting seconds. You became a distraction in council meetings, as he vowed to have you attend, even if you were merely a cupbearer, standing aside though in proximity of him, a mere shadow: his unfazed attention oogled over you, his mind pondering over lustful, sinful thoughts, only to be beckon called back to reality by the repetitive call of his title, your Grace.

You had always admired your father, and believed there was no man that could exceed the expectations he set in stone… You were made for him, as he had sought to it himself. Blood of his blood, the Gods kept you both alive for a reason, you had discreetly believed.

"I do not wish to speak of it right now... I just need you to hold me, just for a little while," You weakly whispered with a shaky breath. Aegon, with a new found strength, a fuller and sturdy frame, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap, as he laid himself back to rest against the wooden bedframe.

"That's okay, my sweet girl. It will get easier, I promise..."

Adjusting yourself atop of Aegon's wide, meaty thigh, as you gripped and rested your head against his broad, fleshy shoulder, the friction stirring as your bare cunt grinds against his clothed thigh, slowly igniting a familiar, throbbing ache between your inner thighs.

"Hmm, how will it get easier, Daddy? Will you make it easier?" You utter, your lips lightly grazing over his plump cheek, gently guiding his head to turn in your direction: eyes inevitably meeting, your lips passionately crash against his. Aegon does not resist in the slightest, relishing in the kiss, as he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, swallowing your taste, before his teeth teasingly bite and pull at your lower lip.

"I can distract my baby. Give her a pleasure no other man in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms can. I'll give my princess the finest treatment she deserves... But only if she listens and obeys her Daddy, like the good girl I know she is."

"Mhmm, yes, Daddy-" A helpless plea closely mistaken for a moan escaping your mouth, Aegon's pudgy hands, steer your legs to spread apart: you find that you can only spread wide enough to saddle one thick thigh at a time. Without needing to spell it out for you, you begin to sway your meek frame, rhythmically bucking your hips backwards and forwards, as Aegon harshly yanks your gown up, enough for your bare cunt to be completely exposed more thoughtfully, and in contact with his thigh.

"Deeper baby, you know you need to push yourself deeper or else I can barely feel you on top."

With haste obedience, you try to plunge your weight deeper against him, your arms embracing Aegon’s stocky frame tighter. His swollen, bloated gut pressing flatly against your own chest, earning a sensual growl from your father.

“Good girl… My good, little princess. Going to listen to every word Daddy says, so I can make her feel so much better.”

Your whimpering moans, and slow nods in agreement, as your head instinctively rocked back, eyes closing with pure pleasure, you could feel Aegon’s rough hands exploring your waistline, before one snaked behind your spine, keeping you steady by a careful grip on your neck. The other began to tug and pull at the silk strands of your nightgown, loosening the knot, to expose more of your obvious, ample cleavage.

“Look at how beautiful you have become. My little princess is not so little anymore, such a divine grace, a woman. No other beauty roams the Earth, as you do.”

The outstanding appraisal oozing breathlessly from Aegon's plump, blush lips, echo in your thoughtless mind with intense gratification. Treasuring each word, he worshipped you dearly, often placing you on a pedestal as great as the Iron Throne itself.

"Yes Daddy, t-tell me more."

Your helpless moans begin to sob from your mouth, filling the void of the vast room, other than the faint crackling of the dying fireplace. Your eager pace quickening, feeling the burning sensation erupt from the friction against your tender skin. Your body leaned forwards with Aegon's generous shove, as he in turn plunged his handsome face between your sensitive breasts. Feeling his lips trailing across your soft skin, hungrily suckling and lapping down to your nipple, as his other hand playfully massaged and kneaded at your other tit.

"Does princess want Daddy to fuck her stupid? Make her so full of me, she'll be dripping, begging for more, for nothing to be spared? All the princess needs to do is ask Daddy, like the polite girl she is."

"A-Aeg-"

"Words, princess. My cock isn't even inside you yet, and you're already hopeless. Didn't I teach you to use your words?"

"Hmm, Daddy, I-I need your cock, I-I need you inside of me, p-please."

Incoherent, you knew how weak and feeble you felt against your father, a formidable man, both inside and outside the confines of the bedroom.

"My beautiful baby, using her manners, makes her Daddy so, so proud. How did I get so lucky, being blessed by you?"

"D-Daddy blessed me."

Your hands clawed their way across his muscular shoulder blades, nails sharply dug into Aegon's bareback, as he often enjoyed sleeping shirtless, his natural body warmth radiating from his scarred body. Now one hand snaked its way into his short, unkempt hair, avidly tugging at his silver strands, begging for more.

"Easy baby, so needy for her Daddy, huh? Never change baby, Daddy's always going to take care of you okay? No one can take care of you, like I have..."

"N-No one. Daddy protects me from cruel monsters, a-and evil men. I-I could never leave, D-Daddy."

Groans and growls pooled from Aegon's lush mouth, as his tongue teasingly lapped and pulled at your perky nipple.

"My perfect princess. That's right, baby... Now, you ready to take Daddy's cock? I'm feeling pretty big, princess. You've been getting me as hard as Valyrian steel."

His hand found yours, firmly guiding it down to where his stiff, rigid cock throbbed densely with enthusiasm, beneath his pants, desperately aching to be taken.

"Y-Yes... Only I deserve Daddy's cock."

Rightfully earning a low, jovial chuckle from Aegon, scoring his mutual amusement and agreement, nodding to your proud notion.

"That's right baby... Only you."

Heaving himself and you atop with such vigour, you aided Aegon in pulling his pants down, as his cock sprung into full action. The sight made you shiver and whimper instantly, how its reddened tip flashed in the dim light, with pre cum already oozing generously from the raw tip. His length modest, its width had always been a wondrous vision. Regardless of the preparation or the amount of times you had taken Aegon before, you could never quite adjust to his glorious girth.

"Easy baby, that's my good girl. D-Don't be afraid, I got you. You can take it, I know you can. Making Daddy so, very proud."

Carefully positioning you atop, as you began to gently settle down, the sharp jolt of pain, as its tip etched between your silk folds, made it subtly easier for him to slip his full mass in.

"Wet for me already, my cock's practically drowning baby... So tight for me, my sweet princess. I can feel you swallowing up my fat cock."

Witlessly yet diligently, bobbing up and down on Aegon's lap, as your father vigorously thrusted his heavy mass upwards, craving to shove himself deeper into your slick folds.

"Good girl, Y/N. Daddy's going to fuck you so hard, fill you up to the fucking brim with my seed. Want to carry Daddy's babes, like a good princess? Make Daddy so proud, huh?"

"Y-Yes, I'll do w-whatever Daddy says, whatever D-Daddy wants. Anything to m-make you proud."

The rough texture of Aegon's battle-torn hands, cooed and caressed at your back, one hand gripping your neck once more, keeping you steadily mounted against his body. His other hand, continued to firmly squeeze at your tender breast, almost mimicking a wringing motion, as though anticipating for milk to ooze.

"Making me the proudest Daddy in the realm, princess. But you are far from being done with your royal duties... I'm going to fuck you day and night, till I see your belly swell greatly with child, with our child... Not till we fill this entire keep with the future leagues of the Targaryen dynasty. And if anyone dares to question our customs... They can play the fucking fool and answer to me."

Aegon, in a breathless, heated rut, finally reached his almighty gusto. His fresh, hot seed spilling up into you, as it oozed out of your tight crevices, clenched around his achingly, pulsating cock. In turn, your cum released in a liberating gesture, pouring over Aegon's rigid, thick cock.

"Hmm, Daddy spoils me s'good. Blessed I am th-that you want me to carry your heirs. Blessed I am to be carry on your legacy, Daddy."

Just as you were about to dismount from Aegon's sturdy lap, and tense cock, still stretching out inside of you, did you feel his strong embrace pulling you back down, keeping you situated over him as you were before.

"Daddy's not done yet, princess... I told you, I am fucking you endlessly till I see this belly-" His palm lightly grazing over your lower stomach in circles.

"-swell and these beautiful tits, leak with milk as I knead and suck. I will fuck you day and night, till you reek of my scent, exhausted of pleasure, and drenched in my cum and sweat. Princess belongs to Daddy and the whole realm shall know of it. I won the war, and I shall win the heart of the realm... That is you, my angel."

The remainder of the night, into the sleepless, bright dawn of the morrow, Aegon had kept his rigid cock buried deeply, and warmly planted inside of you. As the hours nudged on, you could feel yourself repeatedly peaking inside, as did your father, growing more and more numb to the cramping sensation. Your wincing and whimpers did not go ignorantly unnoticed, as Aegon would lull you, praising how proud he was of you for taking him so well. The only time he released was to clean up the god awful mess strewed across the sheets, and the minor bleeding pooling from your inner thighs.

In the morrow, he commanded the servants to fetch you a warm, floral scented bath, with the condition that he bathe you himself. Breakfast was brought to you directly, as you remained bed bound resting and recuperating.

"Now it's Daddy's turn to take care of his princess. Just as you took care of me during those dreadful months. My sweet, precious angel never left her Daddy's side, like an obedient, loyal girl. And Daddy will never leave you, okay."

Words had spread like wildfire, as your belly and tits had swollen healthily with a growing babe inside. The maesters to confirm and seal your fate, Aegon and yourself could not have been happier. Despite the relentless, whispering gossip alongside the timid side glances, no one dared to speak against Aegon's decision to marry you lawfully in tradition of your Valyrian customs, otherwise. Blessing the King a long-awaited, hearty male heir, the prophecy his late father often uttered about in his ill, deluded state: Aegon believed the Prince that was Promised, would emerge from his bloodline, thanks to you.

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you]- @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/saradika

[i-restuff]

yow! Here's the Official in-depth look at all the turtles by Nickelodeon themselves.

more descriptions below ;

Leo

Leo is your classic oldest sibling. He’s a little bit bossy, but he firmly believes he has everyone’s best interest at heart! As the oldest, Leo considers himself the leader of the brothers. He loves his family more than anything, and is willing to go to great lengths to protect them. Leo is deeply devoted to Splinter’s teachings, and encourages his brothers to follow all of Splinter’s rules to a T. Leo can be a bit more serious than the rest of his brothers, which sometimes (believe it or not) annoys Raph, Mikey and Donnie. But at the end of the day, he loves to joke around with the crew too - especially if they don’t break any rules in the process!

When Leo meets April O’Neil, things change in a big way. Before meeting April, Leo was content to live in the shadows and stick to the rules that Splinter laid out for him and his brothers, the most important being avoiding humans at all costs. But after meeting April, Leo is willing to bend those rules - especially if it means spending more time with her.

FAST FACTS ABOUT LEO:

Leo (aka Leonardo) is the oldest of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Leo is played by Nicolas Cantu in the Mutant Mayhem movie.

Leo in Love? Pssst, can you keep a secret?! Leo has a HUGE crush on April O’Neil, the Turtles’ human friend! April is voiced by Ayo Edebiri.

Namesake: Leonardo Davinci! Davinci was a true Renaissance man, and a highly skilled painter, inventor, sculptor, and more. He’s best known for painting the world-famous Mona Lisa.

Weapon of Choice: Katanas. Leo is a highly skilled swordsman!

Ninja Turtle Color: Blue. Each of the brothers have a different color mask, so it’s a great way to tell them apart if you get confused!

Most Likely To: be the brother making the plan! Leo is great at strategy and always thinking ten steps ahead.

Describe Leo in three words: Disciplined, Hardworking, and Respectful.

Raph

Meet Raph, aka Raphael! He’s always ready for a fight, and ALWAYS ready to lay it all on the line for his brothers. Raph never shies away from his enemies, and is definitely an act first, think later kinda Turtle. He’s a bit of a hot head - you could say he’s always seeing red (and not just because of his red eye mask!) Generally speaking, Raph is one tough turtle - but he’s got a soft spot in his shell for his beloved bros.

Raph may be the best fighter of the bunch. He’s got some serious ninja skills, but doesn’t have a whole lot of stealth going on. Raph is also a true master of the sai… let’s just say you wouldn’t want to find yourself in a fight with this guy.

FAST FACTS ABOUT RAPH:

Raph (aka Raphael) is the second oldest of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Raph is played by Brady Noon in the Mutant Mayhem movie.

Namesake: Raph is named after Raphael, a 16th-century Italian painter. Kinda weird fun fact? The painter Raphael had serious Renaissance era beef with the painter Michaelangelo, who Raph’s brother Mikey is named after!

Weapon of Choice: Sai, or special Ninja weapons that are like swords you wear as gloves! He’s also in general, a very good fighter (with or without his Sai).

Ninja Turtle Color: Red! Each brother has their own color mask.

Most Likely To: Act first, think later! Raph is known to be a little bit of a hot-head, and often dives headfirst into action without making a plan. This, believe it or not, drives Leo NUTS!

Describe Raph in three words: Passionate, Tough, Protective.

Donnie

Donatello, aka Donnie, is your classic middle child. He may be younger than Leo and Raph, but everyone knows he’s got the smarts. Donnie is brilliant with a super-sharp wit, and can be a bit sarcastic. He’s a true asset to the Turtle team, thanks to his ability to always see a few steps ahead of everyone else. Leo may be the man with the plan, but Donnie is the man pointing out the holes in the plan - whether or not his brothers want to hear them.

Donnie's weapon of choice is a bo staff, which he can twirl and bash around with serious skill. He’s got a razor-sharp ability to analyze his opponents and know what their next move might be - something that comes in handy in the heat of a big battle!

When Donnie isn’t helping his brothers save the day, he likes to unwind with the finer things in life: video games, anime, and of course, K-Pop!

FAST FACTS ABOUT DONNIE

Donnie (aka Donatello) is the second youngest of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. That makes Leo and Raph his older brothers, and Mikey the youngest.

Don is voiced by Micah Abbey in the Mutant Mayhem movie.

Namesake: Donnie is named after Donatello, a 15th century Italian sculptor best known for his ability to make his sculptures look insanely realistic! Donatello the sculptor is widely regarded as a genius, which fits Donnie well, since he’s sorta the brains of the brotherly operation.

Weapon of Choice: Bo Staff. You do not want to be stuck battling Donnie when he has a staff, hockey stick, giant pencil, or anything else remotely staff shaped.

Ninja Turtle Color: Purple! It compliments his shell, don’t you think?

Most Likely To: Have a favorite K-pop star.

Describe Donatello in three words: Brilliant, Inventive, Awkward.

Mikey

Mikey, aka Michelangelo, is the youngest and by far the funniest of the four brothers (his words, not ours.) Mikey is kinda the wild card of the bunch, and would almost always rather hang out and have a good time than train. He deeply respects Splinter’s teachings and his rules about humans, but Mikey can’t shake the feeling that humans would probably be more accepting of him and his brothers than his father expects.

While Mikey is an absolute legend when it comes to battling with the nunchaku, his true happy place is posting up with a large pizza and a super funny stand-up comedy special, not a ninja brawl. All he really wants to do is make people happy, so if he has to kick some mutant butt with his brothers along the way, so be it!

FAST FACTS ABOUT MIKEY

Mikey (aka Michelangelo) is the youngest brother out of all four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, aka the baby! But don’t tell him we said that.

Mikey is voiced by Shamon Brown Jr. in the Mutant Mayhem movie.

Ninja Turtle Color: Orange! As in, ORANGE you glad Mikey is here to save the day?

Most Likely To: Order a pizza to battle. What? Like he’s not gonna be hungry after fighting off bad guys and protecting life as we know it?

Namesake: Mikey is named after Michelangelo, one of the most famous Renaissance artists of all time! Michelangelo was a sculptor, painter, architect, and poet known best for iconic works of art like the David, the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling, and more.

Weapon of Choice: Nunchaku and a winning sense of humor.

Describe Mikey in Three Words: Ordering. A. Pizza.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

Saturday 9 p.m. [February 18, 1950]

Here I am at last, back home - and in bed again. But I cannot detach my thoughts from your house and from you. When you receive this letter, you will be alone and it's a thought that hurts me. Alone after these long and heavy days that I will not have shared with you. My poor, my dear love, my little girl, can I help you at least, and how? You will need a lot of courage in the days to come. And I know your heart enough to know that you will have it. But I also know the cost of the effort. And it is this new effort that I fear for you. That's when you'll have to entrust yourself to me. 

Throughout this afternoon in Nice, I walked along the overheated streets and thought of you, your life, the singular destiny that is yours. It seemed to me that I understood you to the core, that I was you, in a way. I would have liked to kiss your hands, to tell you my regret and my tenderness. My dearest love, let yourself go above all. Do not stiffen, cry, cry, if tears come to you. Write to me if you can, letting your heart speak. If you can't, don't worry about me. The idea of weighing you down at this moment is intolerable to me and this morning on the phone when I realized that I could add to your pain I lost my voice. Just think about you. 

I will write to you every day, awkwardly as today, but with all my heart. I will call you tomorrow morning on the phone. Forgive me in advance for all the stupid things I may say. I am so anxious and so sorry that it seems to me that I won't be able to speak naturally to anyone. But you don't doubt my devoted heart, of the distraught love that fills me, and of the tenderness above all, oh yes, the inexhaustible tenderness that I send you, my darling child, by kissing you for a long time.

Sunday 4 p.m. [19 February 1950]

I'm adding a few words to complete what I said to you wrongly on the phone. Don't worry. I'm in pain, that's all. Life seems revolting to me when I think of you. And to love you without this love being able to spare you the suffering, without being able to revive those you love is very bitter. But at the same time, I find in this pain a resolution. Think more about yourself and less about us, I mean to help you as much as I can in the little things in life. Yes, I think of you with sorrow, but with a love even more devoted. I love you and I cherish you. 

Take care of yourself, rest, don't let yourself be invaded by all the intruders. Preserve your silence and solitude. I will be back soon, and if I now have the absolute will to heal definitively, it is to be able to bring you all my strength and to make it serve your happiness. But I won't talk to you about all this anymore. Write to me whenever you feel the need. Call me whenever you want. I am thinking of you and of our meeting. I kiss you as I cherish you, with all my tenderness.

8 p.m.

Sadness for this day that ends. I love you, I'm thinking of you. May my love protect you from now on, my little girl. I embrace you, tightly.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, February 18, 1950 [#201]

[poisonous-honey]

Genshin Masterlist

X-X-X-X-UNDER CONSTRUCTION-X-X-X-X

(Collection links don't work on the app yet!!)

Honestly assume it’s SAGAU unless stated otherwise

3.3 Tier List Mayhem

Scaramouche- I guess you should say Wanderer, has finally been released, and you’ve used him all week. After you’ve basically drowned yourself in content surrounding him after the Sumeru Interlude Quest you feel an update to your tier list is in order

36-Stars Of Jealousy

After a year worth of grinding you’ve finally conquered it, but at the cost of Venti’s exclusion. He should be happy for you, but can’t break away from his seething jealousy and sadness.

Cats On Crack (Collection)

Luck never seems to be on your side. You always seem to end up helping other unlucky souls on their own journey, as if fate itself thought it was your job to be a substitute guardian angel. Maybe that’s why you find yourself standing in front of a group of cats protecting one of their injured. It doesn’t matter if it’s Lady Luck or the Goddess of Fate condemning you to this role, but you hope they step on a Lego Brick. (Not SAGAU)

Child of the Otherworld

ASK: Hello, could I request a SAGAU + Child!Creator!Reader (Platonic, of course) - And since the people were expecting their god to be of adult size, all of (Reader)’s robes are too baggy, and their sleeves drape over their hands, but everyone finds it cute so no one cares lol - And I would just like to see some scenarios about them being overprotective of (Reader) not in an obsessive way, just in a parental way

Inspired by this ask. There was more to it, but it heavily relied on the Reader being the creator, which I did not do, so a lot changed and didn’t work.

The Cruel Act Of Breaking The World

They try their hardest to keep you entertained. To keep you within their realm of ones and zeros, so your immersion doesn’t fall, and their mind doesn’t shatter. They know their walls are fake and lives are merely code, but that doesn’t make seeing the out-of-bounds any less harsh.

Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander FR

Childe’s treatment in the Fontaine Archon Quests puts you in a terrible mood

Garden Of Eden

The world has ended and there was nothing they could do about it. Xiao and Aether share a quiet moment in a sea of flowers. (Not SAGAU || Illusions to God Reader)

Genshin Is Crossing Over (Collection)

where all the crossover fics are kept (i.e. The Venti Parable, Does Having Animal Ears Make You A Pokémon etc.)

Genshin Incorrect Quotes (Collection)

Silly and crack. Basically what the title says.

In The Abyss We Learn To Worship

Why does Childe seem to be your most devoted acolyte, even surpassing that of the Archons? (KINDA CULT AU (ALSO OLD))

Irodori Festival

Little blob!

Just Unbuilt, Or Am I Unwanted?

As you try to improve Xiao’s build for the 100th time, some of the others finally lose their patience

Losing Your 50/50

ASK: I’d love some headcanons (or a scenario) about SAGAU(and SAHSRAU if you can) hearing the reader yell and cry of frustration about this. Like: “I’M DONE I’M SO FUCKING DONE!! CAN I JUST HAVE THE ONLY THING I’VE WANTED FOR WORKING AND WAITING THAT HARD!!?? FUCK ALL OF YOU I HATE MY LIFE!!!!”

Nahida’s Precious Tailor

The little lord of Sumeru calls upon your aid as she wishes for a wardrobe change.

Naming Wanderer Something Silly

ASK: I was reading your sagau fics and suddenly remembered that I named Wanderer Omega.kitten as a joke… how do you think he and the other characters would feel about that?

Red In Stones

After a lot of begging and promises of farming (and swearing to a few you wouldn’t just up and abandon them the first opportunity you got), they finally agreed to let you explore other game worlds. As long as a few of them came with you and you had to start with a simpler game within your library. Not that you were complaining. Now you’ve been having a blast in Minecraft for a few days with a handful of other people who were willing to join you for your journey. Unfortunately, you broke your only way to communicate with the others so you've been forced to stay at base.

SAGAU Darling That’s Been To Other Games

What if for the SAGAU Darling doesn’t end up in Genshin first, but in a different game. Or maybe they were in multiple different games before they landed in Genshin. (HAS IMPOSTER AU IN IT (AND OLD))

Skipping Dialogue

What do the characters do when they find out you’re not paying attention?

Soul Crushing Guilt

The Knowledge That You’ve Been Controlling Real People With Thoughts And Feelings Has You At A Loss

Twins In SAGAU

For the self-aware Genshin AU there have been some slices where Darling has a twin and the twin either isn’t respected as much or in the villain au they’re treated as the imposter. That’s cool and all, but what if the twin worked for Mihoyo (KINDA CULT AU (OLD))

Why Are Their Designs So Complicated???

You thought Kaveh would be an easier character to draw. At a glance, his outfit is much simpler than a majority of the casts, so you thought he’d be a safe pick for fanart. How wrong you were.

[alberivh]

devotion (ROYAL AU) — pt.1 : realization.

Butler! Diluc X GN!Reader . Royal! childe (as supporting character), butler! Kaeya (supporting cast ; in pt2 story line)

contains : heavy angst, comfort/hurt, isolation, arranged marriage, major character death, mentions of blood, injuries, execution, abusive relationship, abandonment, ‘consumption’, false accusation, blades

summaries : arranged marriage has always been one of your family ruthless tradition. You were allowed to love them you couldn’t reach, yet the feeling of being abandoned once and for all by those who you truly treasured was more than numbness could ever describe. Diluc who’s your lover need to accept this tradition, yet he, himself need to get his life down for your future sake.

A/N : thank you for 100 followers!! It has been a wild ride since i’ve just joined this community. Thank you very much and as a rewards, here’s a token of heavy angst for y’all. I have a really bad writing block right now, so this might took more than you think hehe. So once again, thank you very much! ( i actually hate this, tyvm)

“Your majesty…please allow me to hold y—“

“No. I simply do not have time for people pleaser, please let yourself be out from here..” , you cursed your future-husband out of from your bounties. It startled all of the maids and butlers in your room, it even make your somewhat-fiancé looked awful. You were pissed by him, by the structure of his eyelids, the heavy breathe from who-knows-where and many more part of him you don’t even want to recognize.

There’s no reason to deny that you hate this, all of this, Known as the maiden of the family, you were nothing but their only pry. It pissed you, it really does. How come you are holding the throne at the age of 25? Aren’t you supposed to check your garden instead taking all of your well-behave throne and the awful arranged marriage your family has made? No? What an unlucky person you are, the butlers thought.

“Diluc please guide master tartaglia to the upfront door, i have no intention to see him now. If you already had brought him downstairs, get back to my resident immediately.”

“this is the main reason why everyone despis—“

“Please leave Immediately. My master have no further interest to speak with you, master tartaglia.” Diluc shouted your internal response to the group of scums in front of your sight. He heard enough of this small talk your future-husband has been talking about. Diluc wasn’t jealous, he was simply too disturbed with your disgusted face everytime tartaglia walks around your residence. just how much pressured you had been under to make you act so ruthless in front of the man you’ll called husband in no time?

he silently observing him down the hall. Not wanting to have a talk with a scum like him, he avoid any sights of his ‘particular’ interest. After all, in his eyes, tartaglia doesn’t deserve any part of you. He acts too normally, there diluc suspicion of your fiancé grown. There must be something behind his motive. Tartaglia have recognize diluc’s gaze for a while now. Though, he pretend none of those bothering suspicion triggered his rage. And so, he fired him up with a quick straightforward awareness. Or as the citizen say, A threat.

“mr. Butler..stop loving my future partner or tomorrow you’ll have the consequences..got it? And do not touch them..i’ve warned you when you were alive, i like my future partner to be a virgin ins—“

“master tartaglia i have no relationship with the majesty, how come you assume such a thing from a humble butler like me? I was just simply following orders, hope you could understand, master tartaglia.” , answering his rage. Tartaglia found his emotion drains wild. It look like those bothering emotions he hide finally show diluc their true intention to spoiled you. Diluc’s eyes met your fiancé terrifying visions, the murderous aura in it explains his true intention. Diluc could only plea inside, let my majesty be safe.

“don’t you dare say anything to your master, mr butler. My partner has been mine all along, stay away from our relationship or tomorrow would be your last day…”

“Though, i simply wouldn’t mind, ajax.” , he gurantees tartaglia’s eyes.

The night came. the breeze flew through your open windows, leaving chills through your spine. it was an unsurprisingly beautiful night, you quoted. Diluc was preparing your bed, as you humm through the southed area of your room. The melodical sound of your humming have always soothes his grudge from afar. It was always been his favorite sound.

“ your majesty, the bed has been done. You may rest peacefully now..so please excuse m—“

“Diluc…stop making it seems like i’m the only one who loved you..just stay here, i missed you a lot..” , in a sudden your arm was attached to his body, his dirty and ordinary body. You embraced him so tightly, as if diluc were going to some place you wouldn’t want him to cross. You were scared of losing him. You don’t want any of this marriage, you don’t want tartaglia to even acknowledge your presence. You just want diluc to stay by your side, even if you both have considered how selfish it is.

You clunge onto his chest, pressing gentle kiss on his cheeks. Not wanting him to leave nor to leave you behind. So desperate of you to feel this way.

“you’ve been doing great darling,i’m proud of you..”

“please stay like this for a while, i love you. So please, don’t go..don’t go..” , diluc watch your flattering smile turns into a small-sobs, it cracks him, he doesn’t want to let you go either. He was simply following your fiancé awareness, he doesn’t want anyone to harm you, even if it meant for you to see him in agony. Diluc Carries your figure into your bed in return, not wanting to bare any of his emotions. Feelings are fragile and so do he. giving soft and gentle kisses to your forehead as he wiped your tears, whispering a ‘goodnight’ before he left you again. If he was being honest, he wants to be more selfish, he wants to be with you, forever.

“hmm..i’ll be waiting for you, goodnight my beloved..”

“What’s with the inconvenience…?” The loud atmosphere greet you with chills. What time is it? You don’t even know. All you know is the sunrise have yet to grown out from the wave of the clouds. but why must all of your maids gather themself on your room, something important? But why must them gather at the edge of dusk..? Did your mother fucked up again? But actually, what happened?

At the same time, you mumbled a form of question. Where’s diluc? You asked yourself.

“Y-Your majesty! d-diluc have now been courted by the queen, i-i don’t know what happened but please stay put i shall help you! Yes! I-i—“ courted? In sudden, you dropped your glasses. The broken piece of the glasses shard scarred your leg. It was painful, but you didn’t care. The blood shed of your scars leave the carpet of your resident turn into a red motives of blood. What did diluc do to make himself courted by your own mother? All he did was to love me, mother. The maid beside you were in all panics, trying to brag your arm from leaving the room. Although you declined the embrace of it, you were still running in pain, it made the maids panics turn into vomits.

Rushing through the open corridor of your resident in sweats and blood shed, You found diluc. His hands tied with a rope, a slight red bruises covered his face. He was Courted by your mother because of an unknown letter that has been sent to the queen herself, it was dumb for her to court an innocent person like him. Though, at last, you found yourself screaming his name. The pain which hold onto your consciousness leave your body in a second. diluc was aware of this, Everything. His hands wanted to touch you and lead you to rest. but he couldn’t, the execution would be in front of his eyes in no time.

“you did harm my child don’t you? Look at those blood on their legs! How come a butler like you harmed my precious child..?! They are unconscious because of you filthy butler. Know your degree, h—“

“you abuse them, your highness. You abuse them, ever since their father die, you abandoned them and break them to pieces. How come you only care about them dying when their time to hold the throne came? They were dying because of you, those consumption they witness are all because of you. And you dare to tell me what to do when all i did was just to love them?!” He quoted every single words you wish you could say to your mothers face. You wished you have the audacity to tell her the truth, yet your weak body refuse it’s urge to make diluc out of the execution lines. I’m sorry, i’m really sorry.

silence fill the room. You were laying in pain, as you heard diluc’s defense and your mother’s lies. You realized once more, you were nothing to them. Just a pry for the throne. none of the guards have pitied you either, they are too focused on never-letting diluc’s eyes or hands meet your figure in this state of time. Those scarred glasses on your legs have made you lose too-many bloods, it scared diluc. After all, as a lover he is, he has devoted himself to protect you in all cost. let them be safe and take me away. It’s his last hope for you to stay awake for him.

“no execution needed. I have no reason to pay attention to fools like you. so isolation it is. This is all because of you, my child is dying and you’re the one at fault. Noticed how they haven’t even called your name again? They died because your lack of responsibility.” , spitting her mucus in diluc’s knees. You could barely saw diluc chills which you usually saw in his eyes. He’s about to cry..you think.

“Guards, please take my child away and let them rest in their bed. And so for this butler, put him in the isolation room, make sure to let him eat only once in a day, understood? Ah..don’t let my child see him, i don’t want them to see an abuser like him crawling out their life’s on my window.” , orders from your mother are none to first. They couldn’t be disobey and you understand them. You understand how ruthless it is, you understand it. But why must diluc? Why him? You saw the sight of him, blades are all over his neck. For what reason actually? To let him never see you again.

carried by the guards to your room and diluc was gone from your vision. He is not wrong, your highness. So why must those who loved me left my side, mother? Why won’t these bruises you add to my flawless skin never leave me? Is it because i’m a procession of your own sin? It was a cursed to fall in love with those you could barely reach.

PART 2 : COMING SOON

this is shitty, really shitty in fact. Though, thank you very much for reading this. Part 2 will come soon, if i had some energy to write the readers mother personality without getting pissed off. But anyways, see y’all soon at part 2 <3

[goldpomegranates]

solid grip

007!Male!Reader x Bond Boy!Tom Hiddleston

Rated E for explicit sexual content, dubious consent, & voyeurism WORD COUNT: 2.2k also on AO3.

Playing wrangler to another double-0 would normally be child's play, but when a crime lord sets her eyes on Mr Hiddleston thanks to his natural charm and insistence of being a gentleman, the assignment gets dicey. He plays the role of seductor to perfection, and much to your dismay, all you can do is watch.

—x.

MI6 gives him a gun. It comes as no surprise really, following the events at Monte Carlo and the narrow escape that cost you two months’ worth of off-duty physical therapy in order to regain feeling in your right arm. No doubt he’s learned how to use it in that time, has eased into how his own limbs should move in close-quarters-combat. He’s sharp-eyed, quick witted, and one hell of a fast learner. A little bit much for just being a secretary shipped off to play Bond Girl to your 007, but you’ve never complained.

Thomas certainly has, but he forfeited the right to do so the moment he took that gun from Q. Packing power beyond most conventional handguns, the Beretta is tailored to his specific biometric data, its grip and barrel modified to sit comfortably in his hands. The way his long, slender fingers wrap around the polished surface, forearms straining against the recoil during target practice has been distracting, to say the least.

Unfortunately, the gun is only the start. At times, he is his own deadliest weapon, if even by no choice of his own.

You keep an eye on him from behind Q’s desk, the camera feed unrealistically crisp for a tiny lens perched in a nondescript corner of a cramped room. The audio feed is less grand, and the situation is dicey.

In the back room of a nightclub in London, another double-0 is playing the good girl card, her voluptuous chest and thighs barely reigned in by the sleek red evening dress she’s wearing. Tom hangs on her arm like a protective boyfriend, trying to sell the ruse to the crime lord currently dealing them an offer. Drugs, weapons, state secrets, the usual.

Said crime lord, also a lady of astonishing build and beguiling presence, eyes them both with interest beyond the professional kind. She’s playful, waving baggies below their noses as her hulking bodyguards wield assault rifles by all exits. It’s meant to be a reconnaissance mission, a quick in-and-out, but she’s taking too long to crack, and your people are getting antsy.

“Get me a name, double-0,” you say, applying just a hint of pressure. Neither reacts, but you know they’ve heard you.

You are not a handler, neither are you a supervisor, but this was meant to be your assignment had you not taken a bullet for the secretary. Q was, miraculously, on vacation, and as devoted to Queen and Country as MI6 is, the true voice of the people was the five hundred pound note. Especially the five hundred pound notes you swiftly slid into the home team’s pockets in order to grant yourself a say on the mission.

“—another type of payment,” the lady says, a feedback loop leaving your ear ringing.

Tom steps aside, awkwardly wringing his hands as the crime lord takes the double-0 by the hips and kisses her cheek. You make nothing of it, all agents have trained for this kind of scenario, but it dawns on you that Tom isn’t, in fact, an actual agent. He’s a glorified sidepiece, a decorative charm planted, in this case, to make his female counterpart come off as powerful.

You’re about to offer a warning but he interrupts the two women, hands to his chest with concern clear across his face. The mics are barely holding on and, had the Quartermaster been at HQ, he would’ve found a way around the problem. Instead, it’s just you on visual, a gaggle of runts on the ground, a double-0 in a bind, and a secretary who thinks he can retcon a potentially disastrous situation.

“Sinclair, don’t let him,” you tell the double-0. “Hiddleston, I’ll make sure this is the last field mission you ever see.” In hindsight, you figure that was exactly what he wanted to hear.

There’s a reshuffling of people, quick conversations, and snappy commands, and you watch in abject horror as the bodyguards mill out of the room with the double-0 in tow.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You are usually a tad more composed in these kinds of situations, but you have zero faith in Hiddleston getting the name you need when oftentimes doing so requires techniques you know the man won’t be able to stomach.

To inflict torture, one must first be subjected to it.

The bastard was too much of a gentleman to even consider the option, but his English sensibilities were definitely questionable when you witness him curl a finger beneath the crime lord’s chin, slowly tipping her face up to look at him. Her hands grip the front edges of his jacket, her blood red lipstick glossy under the room’s lighting. She smiles at him, eyes squinted with copious amounts of suspicion, but she seems appeased for the time being.

She sits on the couch in front of him, her legs crossed, and beckons him forward with a finger.

You count the hidden weapons in the room.

It shouldn’t bother you. You’ve seen it before, have sat through far more grotesque situations. You’ve trained for this. You all have. It’s your job to give it all for the assignment, no matter the cost.

In some cruel twist, the mic picks up everything. The rustling of fabric as acrylic nails play with his belt, the ripple of a zipper, the shocked gasp. You could take the headset off, but you don’t. You shouldn’t in case she breaks and gives up the name of her supplier.

“Very chivalrous of you,” she says, and you can see the movement of her elbow, can imagine her hand wrapped around him, “giving yourself up to protect your girl’s honor. Although was that truly the reason?”

Tom’s back is to the camera, his feet wide apart for balance. She leans forward and his head tilts back, eyes fluttering. You can’t see that last part, but you’ve had him in a similar situation, beheld the way he wore pleasure when teased.

“The world needs more men like you,” she continued, before the sound of a moan around a mouthful came through the headset. She pulled back, putting her hand back to work. “Whores, I mean. Good looking ones with proper manners and a deep-rooted desire to get thoroughly fucked.”

He makes an indignant sound and retaliates by taking a fistful of her long hair. She takes it in stride, leaning into the grip as she jerks him off.

“Do you have anyone back home? No offense, but you and that woman hardly have any chemistry. You couldn’t fool a blind woman if you wanted to.”

She goes in with her mouth again, this time staying there for a long moment.

You look away from the screen, disgusted by your interest. The hot, heavy pulsing between your legs something you will have to program out of your system in the near future.

You have played it fast and loose these past several months, courting Tom in some sort of acquaintanceship with benefits fantasy. Despite never truly sleeping with him, always stepping away when things got too heated, this nagging possessiveness grew exponentially pervasive.

It’s not part of the job. It could never be a part of your life while on the job. The only friends you could afford to name were your Quartermaster and M, and those were just your work buddies at the most. Lovers were few and far between, the occasional hit and run to let off steam, something that has become unnecessary when training and field work were just as effective.

But here was Mr Hiddleston getting under your skin, getting felt up by someone else under your supervision, apparently enjoying himself going by the way he enthusiastically removed his jacket.

And the sounds he made. Maybe he was adept at torture, just not the painful kind.

You look back at the monitor out of the corner of your eye and see that they’ve moved. For the love of everything holy, he’s sitting on the couch, trousers undone and cock in hand. She’s hovering over him, knees on either side of his thighs, dress bunched up in her hands.

You can’t bear looking anymore, but you do. You do. The way his hands hold onto her back, guide her in a graceless bounce that looks as sloppy as it sounds, the way he thrusts up to meet her has you gripping the edge of the desk.

The rub of fabric over the mic is grating, but it isn’t enough to obscure his thoughtless ramble and her vicious whisper. A whisper that puts you on high alert again, eyes and ears open. “Quite the show for your mates back at MI6, I reckon,” she says with a laugh, cradling his face in her hands. “Should I tell them?”

“Don’t,” Tom says, momentarily clear.

“Should I tell him?”

Your knee stops its jittering, your entire body going still. It has to be a coincidence, you tell yourself, digging through the scene in front of you. She’s cunning, everyone on the case knows this, and she will say anything to get under anyone’s skin. Just because she is able to read him doesn’t mean she knows him.

“So, it is a boy,” she says, gasping, breathless. “Is he as charming as you? Oh! Is he a double-0?”

Through the haze, Tom’s eyes momentarily flicker to the camera. She doesn’t seem to catch him doing so, but you do. Your finger hovers over the metaphorical panic button, the one that will send everyone in the vicinity crashing into that fucking room and run damage control. The situation has now gone from precarious to dangerous, and you refuse to get another red mark on your ledger.

“Is he watching us right now? Can he hear us? Why don’t you go ahead and tell him how tight I am, how hard you are inside of me?” She leans back, her hands on his knees for leverage. And that’s good. Her hands are preoccupied, nowhere near a weapon. “Is it me? Or is it the thought of him watching that has you dripping?”

You cross your legs, expression schooled despite the absence of eyes around you. Maybe Medical was right and you should have taken a proper leave, at least until the remnants of painkillers and whatever other substances had left your body. You spare a thought to James and how he would have handled the situation, or any other double-0 for that matter. Hell, you even consider reaching out to Moneypenny for advice and your thoughts are drifting.

The headset crackles with the sound of a voice that isn’t Tom’s, but someone else on location. You catch a hint of your name, and a choppy question you take to mean whether or not they should move in. The answer makes itself impossible when on the other end all you can hear is the debauched cries of two people—one of which you wish was you and that is a problem. That is a big fucking problem. Playing around with the secretary is one thing but getting defensive about said secretary clearly enjoying a quick shag on the job is so far out of bounds you momentarily consider reassignment.

“Do not engage,” you say, and in return you get Tom’s sweet gasp.

The lady has wrapped herself around him, and while his hands rest at her back, pressed together, he’s staring at the camera. His gaze is steady despite the sultry part of his lips, his movements slow and measured. He leans back enough to lift her dress and show you where they meet, the slow glide of him moving in and out of her, the heavy weight of pleasure on his face.

You dig deep for that iron control that landed you the position. Back ramrod straight, you tell yourself the reason why you’re resting a hand over your thigh is for balance, a grounding touch, and not at all because you came close to pressing a palm against your groin. Shifting in your seat provides no relief, accidental pressure sending you to your feet.

Leaning over the desk, hands firmly splayed over the high-tech surface, you breathe evenly through your nose as you continue to listen. The woman’s frantic panting, Tom’s pleading as his voice goes higher than you’ve ever heard it before, and you want it. You want him.

The finishing blow leaves you lightheaded, his long and ragged moan stroking the deepest parts of you until it echoes inside of your stomach. The aching throb between your legs has not gone away and you will do nothing to remedy it, just suck it up and keep going, get your agents home safe.

“Disengage,” you say over the headset, ignoring the waver in your voice. “If she’s not giving it up after that, there’s no use in pursuing. We’ll find another way.”

The crime lord whispers into Tom’s ear, and you can see the moment it happens, the triumph in his eyes telling you that he got it, that she broke at the last second, but you know better. There’s no dick good enough to surrender an empire over. Whatever that woman has up her sleeve will come at a steep cost. But some bridges can be allowed to stand through the night.

“Get yourself cleaned up, Mr Secretary. Our men are on the move.”

[theculturedmarxist]

>But 2021, 2022 just put on display the bankruptcy, utter moral decay of the Democratic Party and the chattering classes, the upper middle class in the US whose liberalism is only, only ever the fair weather variety. 17/

>They will fucking shiv you for their comfort. 18/

>From @DrLeanaWen to @ashishkjha to @drlucymcbride to @DLeonhardt, these folks have staked out the pandemic as a lifestyle brand--got what you need to protect yourself, your kind? Then it's all personal preference, individual choice, your own adjudication of risk. 19/

>They would mock Paul Ryan and GOP-ers for their devotion to Ayn Rand, but these folks reject communitarianism faster than you can say Howard Roark three times fast. 20/

>When trade-offs come, it's none for us, all for the "little people." 21/

>From Martin Luther King Jr to Paul Farmer, we should have known: the white or white-adjacent liberals will always fuck you over. They are all for social justice but only when it can be performative, at no cost to themselves. 22/

>And I've been lying low, because it's clear: THIS. IS. WHO. WE. ARE. 23/

>We have the monsters. The GOP, but we have something worse. 24/

>A set of people whose version of liberalism is constricted demographically and geographically. As long as they are safe in their enclaves, the rest can go fuck themselves. 25/

>This has set me into a tailspin for the past few weeks. 26/

>We have the GOP. Then we have the American liberals, who are really nothing but "lite." 27/

>You're gonna get fucked up, but we'll make it pretty. 28/

>These people pay lip service to justice. 29/

>But are all about the virtue of selfishness. Ayn Rand is back: COVID edition, new 21st century liberal varnish. 30/

>And I'm depressed because these are today's winners and moreover they love, love rubbing it in our noses. 31/

>But I'll tell you this. I've met more good people over the past two years than I have in four decades of doing this work. 32/

>We don't have the financial support, the infrastructure to win tomorrow, but we have almost everything else on our side. 33/

>So, we've got to think now how to out-organize these fuckers. 34/

>Because lives depend on it. 35/

>What is happening now is setting us up for catastrophe. 36/

>Whatever COVID19 brings us, climate change is going to make it all look like child's play. And we've failed. 37/

>The capitulation to SARSCOV2 tell us that we haven't learned that the urgency of normal got us into this mess in the first place and pimping for the status quo is going to just rack up the body count as we move forward. 38/

>So, I've just been so sad over the past few weeks, trying to regain some composure. 39/

>But I won't be like them. 40/

>I won't collaborate with all this. I will not consent for the sake of comfort. 41/

>am not sure what to do next, what happens now, but I do know that for some of us, some of us, we're all in this together. end/

[effei-s]

anderson and his paradox:

about the duality of a man.

(aka see me rambling in this 1500-words long essay about how much i love him)

the first half of his paradox: he’s more than capable of love. i would even dare to say that love is a driving force behind 99% of his actions.

let’s look at examples:

adam’s mom (aurora):

i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again: he worshiped the ground she walked on. it’s a fact. it’s what adam said about him in unravel me: i know he loved my mom. it was always her, everything was about her.

her death was probably the worst thing that happened to him, the loss that made him truly suffer, hence him constantly talking about how he wants to shield warner from it. that whole thing with lena is not about control itself, it’s about warner not making his own mistakes. there’s a genuine desire to protect there.

evie:

considering how little information is given about them it’s honestly amazing how much there lies between the lines (can mafi write everything the way she’s written them, please?).

they’re the perfect example of my favourite type of soulmates. he’s actually second worst person on this planet, because first place is already taken by her. there’s no one who knows him better then her (she knew about adam = she knew about aurora). there’s no one who understands him better than her (them being two vital parts of the RE from the very beginning). it doesn’t matter how much they fight, he trusts her with his life no questions asked: he comes to her before ignite me and asks her to make him immortal. considering evie’s words in defy me about how she was ready to kill him for trying to kill juliette in unravel me it was very risky of him (because if there’s one person that could slit open his throat and kill him for good, because he let his guard down, it would be evie). he trusts her to do her job and has no doubts about her capability to succeed. his first reaction to her death is ‘what? it can’t be real!’ because evie for him is almost untouchable entity ‘if they couldn’t hurt me, they sure as hell won’t be able to hurt her’. when he realizes that it’s true he’s terrified.

and anderson doesn’t do terrified.

/i really don’t know what can scream LOVE louder than this/

warner:

we can’t not talk about warner here.

warner betrays him and he still saves warner life. you need to remember that the only reason why warner is still alive in defy me, after he committed treason, is because anderson protects him.

by that time in restore me/defy me anderson, who technically lost his position as a supreme, still managed to save warner’s life /because he’s cool like that/.

“I had to call in a number of favors to have you transported here unharmed. The council was going to vote to have you executed for treason, and I was able to convince them otherwise.”

even evie doesn’t dare to fuck with warner because she knows anderson will come at them with the wrath of god.

“If Aaron were anyone else’s son,” she says, “I would’ve had him executed. I’d have him executed right now, if I could. Unfortunately, I alone do not have the authority.”

anyone else’s son.

so yeah the problem here is not that warner is one of the heirs of the RE. the problem here is that he’s anderson’s son.

plus his entire conflict with juliette is rooted in the fact that she

a) tried to hurt warner

unravel me:

I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him.

restore me:

The monster we’ve bred has tried to kill my own son.

b) tried to take warner from him.

restore me:

Worse, she’s become a distraction for Aaron. He’s become—in a toxic turn of events—impossibly drawn to her, with no apparent regard for his own safety. I have no idea what she’s done to his mind.

and then in imagine me he declines warner’s offer.

“You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth? Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

/i dare you to tell me he didn’t love warner, i dare you/

juliette:

as a cherry on top, there’s juliette, of course.

when we’re talking about hate we’re talking about juliette, no questions asked. i truly believe that his hatred for her was stronger than his love for aurora and evie combined. and still what brings him down for good is not hate for her but adoration of her (oh irony, my irony).

after 12 years of hatred, after 12 years of her being ‘the bane of his existence’, he still ended up spending his dying breath to make sure she will be safe.

“I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”

“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”

just like defy-me warner, imagine-me juliette survives ONLY because of anderson.

he even apologized to her at one point.

“You know, I realize now that I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve put you through too much. Tested your loyalty perhaps too much. But you and I have a long history, Juliette. And it’s not easy for me to forgive. I certainly don’t forget.”

anderson??? admitting??? that??? what??? he??? did??? was??? wrong???

and not because he needs to get off the hook, but because he actually feels like it was too much???

ALERT THE MASSES, THE WORLD NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

btw, do my eyes deceive me, or did this ‘not easy to forgive’ mean that he actually already FORGAVE her for trying to kill him?

anyhow if that wasn’t enough look at this:

“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes.”

do you see it?

it’s the same thing that happened with evie: no one here is strong enough to hurt her (oh, i can see some PROJECTIONS here happening).

it’s funny how the way Anderson acts is EXACTLY what I expected from Warner. he isn't just talking about how she can do anything, when moment comes he ACTS.

Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.

i’d still prefer for her or him to kill ibrahim but even without it... he says you can burn this place to the ground, I don’t care as long as you’re safe, he chooses her over not only the RE, he chooses her over WARNER.

/and you expect me not to ship this??? sure, jen, i’m not gonna/

conclusion number 1: yes, my beautiful people, everything Anderson does in one way or another tied to love.

the second half of his paradox: love doesn’t make him a better person, it doesn’t even make him fully human. you’d think that if person capable of such strong feelings there’s supposed to be something worth saving, just like castle’s said:

“Of course he’s a regular person, son. That’s exactly the point. We’re all just regular people, when you strip us down. There’s nothing to be afraid of when you look at Anderson; he’s just as human as you or me. Just as terrified. And I’m sure if he could go back and do his life over again, he’d make very different decisions.”

(castle is a fucking idiot, never listen to people like him or you’re gonna end up neck-deep in shit)

but at the end of the day anderson remains a fucking monster.

his love for aurora doesn’t stop him from marrying another woman and having a child with her because it’s the easiest way to social climb.

his love and devotion to evie and re (mostly evie, because evie is the reestablishment) doesn’t stop him from playing games with juliette and putting everything and everyone at risk just because he’s bored.

i won’t even start commenting on warner’s situation, because otherwise we’re gonna sit here for days and i’ll end up with 100k words essay about them.

and even his enamourment with juliette doesn’t actually protect her from his violent nature. even this perfect, absolutely perfect juliette still has to prove herself (cut off her finger to show her loyalty). it still very easy for him to hurt her.

conclusion number 2: him being in love, him caring about someone, him trusting someone doesn’t change his fundamental nature. he still remains a destructive force put into a human body.

he’s a fucking satan.

and that’s exactly why i love him.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Love, fear, peace.

My Masterlist  

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: “I wanted to request an imagine where the reader and Ivar have a 4-5 year old daughter. And while Ivar is usually very cruel, he'll do anything for his little princess. And she asks to paint his nails and have him join her for a tea party, so he does, as long as it's a secret between them but the reader ends up seeing them and her thoughts on it? I'm in a big mood to read Ivar fluff”

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A lil bit of angst, my best attempt at fluff, just soft stuff all around, probably ooc

A/N: My friends, may I interest you in an AU where all five sons of Ragnar are alive and happy? We call it ‘denial’ where I’m from, but yeah, in this universe they’re all alive, Sigurd married off to some Saxon Princess, Ubbe in Dublin, Ivar King of Kattegat and Hvitserk with him with a family of his own goddamit, Björn fuck-knows-where avoiding commitment like he was born to do, and that’s it. Ta-da.

Ástríðr is a name derived from the Old Norse elements áss "god" and fríðr "beautiful, beloved"

Taglist: (If you wanna be added or removed lemme know!) @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​   @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​   @chibisgotovalhalla​ @receptionistfromhell​​ 

Hvitserk greets you with a kiss on your cheek, and you thank the gesture with a smile, though your eyes are scanning the main hall.

“Where’s Ivar?” You ask as he walks at your side, greeting a few people with false smiles and courteous nods.

Hvitserk only shrugs, “I thought he was with you.”

“No, we were supposed to talk with one of the earls about the effect of a high tide, but he wasn’t there.”

“And how was it?”

“Dull,” You reply sincerely, “But I have an idea of where my husband is.”

The other man betrays a smile, “Can you blame him? It is hard to say no to her.”

Oh, you know that. She has him -and you- powerless to deny her anything since she first came to this world.

Try as he might to deny it, to keep the idea of the ruthless king that loves nothing alive, to mantain the façade of how nothing makes Ivar the Boneless falter; your daughter is an adorable force to be reckoned with, capable of making even the King of Kattegat surrender.

It is no secret, for you or any soul that encounters your husband, that Ivar loves his family, his wife and daughter, like nothing else.

The world will never forget the battles he’s won and lost, the wars he started, the kingdoms he reduced to ash, the lands he conquered. The world will never forget of all he did in the name of his ambition, in the name of his fame.

But the world will never forget what he did in the name of love either. Countless deals made, countless fights, countless plans devised and even more sacrifices made so that he could grant his daughter the safeties she deserved; so that he can give her the world and, when time comes, have her step sure, knowing the very earth and the very skies are hers.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you blink past the sleep that weighs on your lids. You find yourself as you were, resting comfortably on a seat that has progressively become just a pile of pillows and furs since the start of winter.

You still feel the comfortable weight of Ivar’s head on your lap, and you can make out his voice speaking quietly. Looking down you find him talking to the small bump on your stomach, the evidence of your child growing inside of you.

At the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, Ivar looks up and offers you a smile, before scooting even closer to your stomach.

“Tell your mother to go back to sleep. You and I aren’t done talking, Princess.”

A part of you is tempted to taunt him about how the might Ivar the Boneless is so smitten by a child not even born yet, but you choose instead to bask in the softness in his expression, in the happiness that curves his mouth.

Still, after a few moments, you offer, “They could be a Prince. Ivarsson.”

Your husband hums, presses a kiss against your stomach and settles again on his back with his head on your lap.

“We will have sons, I know,” He tells you, smile faint as he closes his eyes, “But first, we will have a daughter.

He speaks with such certainty that you cannot help but huff a laugh. Still, it is a nice thought, to have a Princess to call your own, a little girl, blessed by the Gods.

“She will be just like her mother, and she will be ours to spoil and take care of.”

“You speak as if you wouldn’t spoil our sons, Ivar. Someone else might believe that lie, but not me.” You tease, eyebrows lifted.

“Mhm, but a father grows jealous of his sons, and their fame, their triumphs.”

“No daughter of mine, or of yours, will be content without her own triumphs and conquests.”

“I know,” He replies without hesitation, proud smile widening and eyes opening to gaze up at you, “Like I said, she’ll be just like her mother.”

It was never a secret, a surprise, for you to witness Ivar love your child before she was even born; to feel his joy and his anticipation and his love in the way he spoke of that daughter you’d have, and all the sons and daughters that would come after.

You learned to love him years ago, and found beneath the cruelty and venom and bloodthirst a man that loves intensely, that willingly gave his heart to you to keep safe the day he made you his wife. So his love doesn’t surprise you, his devotion to his family doesn’t make you falter.

There were still many things that made you falter, that made you see everything with new eyes, during those months while you carried Ástríðr and in the years you’ve been fortunate enough to have her.

One of them was how the sons of Aslaug, much to your surprise and despite all their other failings, had been raised to be utterly devoted to their families. Hvitserk was almost giddy at the possibility of a niece or nephew that he could keep close to him, unlike Ubbe’s children all the way in Dublin. Ubbe, always the father figure, visited more than once and kept watchful eyes not only on you and his brother, but on everything, as if from Dublin he could look over all of you like he did while growing up. To your surprise, even Sigurd, past the animosity between him and Ivar -and all the disagreements he has had with you over the years, of course- sent word from Northumbria wishing you three the protection of the Gods.

Another of those discoveries, sadly not as heartwarming, was to witness the burden your husband carried and not being able to do anything about it. The more easily-soothed fears, like what your daughter would think of him, or whether she would be born healthy, were quietened by your voice promising him over and over that any child of yours would love him like no other, or by the soft kicks of your daughter against where his palm rested on your stomach, making tears shine in Ivar’s eyes every time.

There were deeper fears, and fears that plagued you too, that you couldn’t so easily soothe. The whisper in the back of his mind that happiness is nothing, that everything you love eventually you lose, that all his cruel ways and his mistakes would one day cost him what he holds dear. The blue eyes of the man you love, so used to seeing what others cannot, so used to planning ahead and seeing the world like his enemy does, seeing a world where at any time his fame and his conquests could cost him your life or your daughter’s.

For a man as cruel and vicious as Ivar, it is easy to forget he is not something otherworldly, some demon like the Christians say, some beast like your own countrymen claim. Sometimes, in all his rage and all his chaos, it is easy to forget he is a husband, a father, a man.

And like any man with a beating heart, especially a heart so wholly owned by his wife and daughter; Ivar fears.

Ástríðr blinks big and strikingly blue eyes, and you smile widely, unable to keep yourself from bringing your daughter closer and pressing a kiss on her head, delighting yourself in the familiar and comforting smell of your baby.

“Good morning, little one.” You whisper, and she coos in response, as if she understands.

“Is she…is she alright?” Ivar asks, moving closer to you and looking at her over your shoulder.

“Of course she is,” You smile down at your daughter, your finger tapping the tip of her tiny nose. “Our beautiful girl, she’s more than alright. She’s perfect.”

“She was…coughing.”

“That’s something babies do, Ivar, she’s fine.” You reassure him, only slightly bothered by the fact that he woke you up because your daughter coughed. You adjust your grip on Ástríðr, let her nuzzle against the column of your throat and find her sleep again.

Ivar drops his head to your shoulder, sighing against your skin and laying quite a bit of his weight on you. You sit there, your daughter against you and your husband letting you hold him up as he releases a tension you didn’t realize was there, and feel a pang of something in your heart.

After a few moments, you hold back a sigh, you try biting back your worry, and whisper, “You should sleep, love.”

“Mhm,” Ivar mumbles, but it is an argument, even if he doesn’t find the words to voice it yet. “Later.”

He has taken the awful habit of not sleeping at night. Each night when you settle in bed with Ástríðr nestled close to you, and Ivar holds you both close in his embrace; he remains awake, vigilant and expectant, watching the shadows for ghosts and enemies. You’ve noticed him faltering during the day, worsening his pain by not letting himself rest like should.

And it has only been worse since Hvitserk has been gone.

You know there are few people Ivar trusts fully, even fewer he entrusts the safety of his wife and daughter to. With just being here, Hvitserk granted his brother a peace nothing else can, a certainty that there was someone’s back to lean his own against, a promise that he could lower his guard and rest assured he wasn’t alone.

It is just a matter of days before Hvitserk returns, but you refuse to let Ivar run himself ragged.

So, you use your and not holding Ástrídr to wrap around his waist, and slowly move the three of you, as well as you can manage, back to lay on the bed.

With a slightly startled breath Ivar opens his eyes, focuses almost frantically on you and Ástríðr. You sigh again, but make use of the loss of his weight against you to settle against the pillows, holding your daughter better against your chest, your hand covering her back and holding her gently.

When you’re certain she’s comfortable, you lift your free arm and run your fingers through Ivar’s hair.

“You’ll rest.” You order, your eyes on your husband’s. He wants to argue, you know he does, a war between exhaustion and stubbornness, but it seems the pull is strong enough to even make him cave.

Ivar settles on your opposite shoulder from your daughter, his hand warm and rough as it settles over yours on her back. You chase tension off his back by running your hand up and down his back, and as both he and your daughter sleep safe and warm against you, you allow yourself a whisper of gratitude to the Gods.

You never knew what the Seer had meant when he told you so many years ago that ‘he can only use one hand and chooses to hold the sword, and for that you’ll need to hold the shield’, but now, as you hold your world close against you, you dare think that you understand the Ancient One’s words.

Eventually, the fear of something stealing her in the middle of the night passes. It always returns, that irrational fear he has that he will lose it all, that frantic paranoia that if he doesn’t plan, if he doesn’t prepare, they will take you both from him.

But as Ástríðr grows healthy and lively, the fears dwindle, or maybe they just change. And for a man that scorned the very uttering of the word, Ivar finds peace.

Through the halls, you follow the familiar sound of Ivar’s war cry, though quieter, and the adorable giggles of your daughter. Walking into your rooms, you make sure to remain hidden as you watch Ivar on the floor, holding himself up on his arms, mocking a taunt towards your daughter, daring the little shieldmaiden to attack.

A part of you is glad that this is a secret, a side of your husband, of your family, that the world will never know of. The world needn’t know of how easily Ástríðr makes her mother and father cave to her every wish, the world needn’t know of how fiercely and uncondicionally she is loved; only she needs to know of it, andn you and Ivar have made sure she lives a life knowing how loved she is.

You lean your shoulder on a pillar near the door, arms crossed over your chest but still betraying a smile.

Ástríðr brandishes a wooden sword at her father, big eyes strikingly alike Ivar’s when she focuses and finds her determination.

“I will defeat you!” She exclaims, the seriousness in her expression making your chest warm.

“You’re just a shieldmaiden, you can’t defeat me!” Ivar replies without missing a beat, faking a monster’s swipe with a hand that tries grabbing at her small foot.

Your daughter jumps out of the way with a squeal, but quickly furrows her brow adorably and lifts her chin, stubborn and arrogant.

Gods, Ivar is right, she looks so much like you.

“I am Ástríðr Ivarsdottir, I’ll always win!”

“Ah, you will, won’t you?” Ivar teases, letting go of the role of whatever beast he was supposed to be, grabbing onto your daughter and falling on his back with her in his arms, lifting the girl up and making her giggle. “Mighty shieldmaiden you’ll be, my sweet.”

“I know.” She replies without hesitation, startling a laugh out of you.

Two pairs of blue eyes turn to you, and Ástríðr wastes no time in calling out for you, squirming her way out of her father’s grasp and skipping towards you.

You kneel on the ground and welcome your daughter’s enthusiastic embrace, even if it was only this morning you last saw her.

“Did you defeat him, little one?” You ask her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Of course I did, mama.” She replies, almost offended. Of course, look whose daughter you’re asking about a victory in battle, imaginary or not.

You catch Ivar’s eyes and whatever intent you had on chastising him for leaving you to deal with the earl alone vanishes at the softness in his gaze at he looks at you both.

Not many know of Ivar the Boneless’ love. Even fewer know of his fear.

But there’s only a few lucky ones that have seen his happiness, his peace.

You two share a look, a look that speaks not only of gratefulness for one another, but of gratefulness for this perfect blend of the two of you, of your stubbornness and his drive, of his eyes and your hair.

Ivar betrays a small smile and his eyes go to the discarded wooden sword at his side.

“Oi, shieldmaiden!” He calls out, and Ástríðr turns to him without hesitation. “You never leave your weapon behind. It is the one thing, besides your mother and me, that you can trust blindly in this world.”

Ivar motions for the sword, and your daughter dutifully goes to pick it up, only to be ambushed on the way, Ivar’s eyes trapping her to his chest.

She is startled, and lets out a loud and adorable laugh as her father once again drops to the furs at his back, his smile blinding.

“You see? If you’d had your sword, no monster would have gotten you.”

Ástríðr grumbles an argument, but Ivar only snorts a laugh. His eyes lift to yours, and he lifts his hand, calling for the touch of yours, calling for you to join them.

You sigh, but still walk to them and stretch on the furs near the fire, accepting the embrace Ivar offers you when he lifts his free arm.

You nuzzle your nose against his throat, reaching with your hand and taming Ástríðr’s wild hair.

“Do you think one day I could defeat a dragon, like the warriors you tell me about?”

“Mhm, of course. You’ll be the most famous shieldmaiden who has ever lived.” He promises her, pressing a kiss against her hair, his arm tightening and trying to bring you closer even if it is impossible.

___

I struggled a lot writing this, I don’t really know why bc it was a lovely request. I tried my best :)

I hope you liked this, lovely anon! And I’m sorry it took me so long to get it done! I love you!!

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere uh,,, Polun,,,breaking wheel,,,, but like, their ‘Three Faced God’ skin hcs-💳💥I beg

Lmao, Sure.

- Maybe you worshipped the god in your village, having to participate in sacrifices to keep them 'happy'.

- Yet, your own village casts you out and you're the next sacrifice.

- You're scared. Fear fills your body at the thought of the god you worshipped smiting you down for judgement.

- Waiting at the alter is silent. All is still.

- Nothing but the breeze of wind for the longest time.

- Then there's a bright golden glow. It burns your retinas so you look away.

- Once it clears, they are in front of you.

- "Your judgement has come, child."

-.....

- It turns out when you're "sacrificed" the god doesn't decide to kill you.

- They judge you well and deem you worthy of living.

- For a cost, of course.

- You are to be watched over by the god, as they have taken a liking to you one way or another.

- You may come back to your village, all of the villagers surprised to see you in one piece.

- They claim you must be blessed to have the god return you.

- You're grateful you yourself are alive, but at what cost.

- Scenario End -

- In this AU, Polun is a god of judgement.

- You're given to them as a sacrifice and they judge you well enough to live on.

- Polun could of fallen for you by how devote you are, or your nature, either way they take a liking to you.

- You are watched over by them in your daily life.

- Eyes are on you all the time. It's a lot to take in, after all, the god you worship has blessed you.

- The villagers treat you like you are their god's closest disciple.

- You too are worshipped by them.

- Other villagers, may get jealous.

- Their god chooses you? What if they just kill you?

- Killing you is out of the question.

- Polun will not hesitate to strike down anyone who wishes to harm you.

- You have been chosen by them and they will protect you.

- You are granted great power at the cost of giving the god a simple desire.

- A human emotion that they like to experience as a treat in a way.

- Affection, Love is a sweet thing even your god likes.

- They treat it as a drug or candy, it gives them a warm fuzzy buzz that makes them crave more.

- You are a great source of this feeling, so they will cherish you.

[creacherkeeper]

im getting a little too in my family feels today and so INSTEAD of feeling those im just going to ramble for a second about why i fucking love paladin!aelwyn because. im. just like this i guess im coping leave me alone

cw for discussions of child abuse, maladaptive coping, drugs and alcohol, self harm, destructive tendencies, basically everything we see in canon and the implications

aelwyn is ... SO interesting to me because for as much of her interiority as we see, as much of her as we think we understand, as much as i could ramble about her character for hours, we know ALMOST NOTHING about her in actuality?? (besides ... one key thing)

(this is like 2k and probably incoherent someone please stop me)

okay. listen. almost everything we see aelwyn do in s1 is maladaptive rebellion against her parents and home life. the drinking, the drugs, the partying, perhaps some of kalvaxus (though i dont think we fully understand how much of that was forced on her as well, kalina WAS watching her when she was talking to adaine about it). you can say like, oh aelwyn is a party animal, she's impulsive, she makes risky decisions, she's bitchy and rude, and its like. okay but IS SHE ACTUALLY. because under her parents thumb she had an EXTREMELY limited amount of freedom, and usually when people are suffering from very little control over their life, they WILL act destructively over the tiny bit they can, either harming themselves or their environment or people lower than them in the pecking order, because in a way, that feels like a reclamation of autonomy. saying "you have so much power over me but can you stop me from hurting myself and destroying what you havent managed to claim yet?". its just like, kind of what human brains do and frequently has little to do with a persons actual personality or impulses, its just. desperate brains trying to control SOMETHING because autonomy is a fundamental human need and when thats taken away we get. very bad off. (this is one big reason eating disorders are SO common with abused kids.) so i think a lot of the s1 aelwyn we see is like. this is a very desperate, abused teenager "acting out" in the only way it is possibly somewhat safe for her to do so because, on a psychological level, the self destruction is weirdly the only emotional tether and its either this or just dissociate all the time (something we do see she has problems with in canon)

and yes, she did treat adaine horribly in s1. she fully did. obviously what we get in canon is what happens but a moment thats interesting to me is in episode 1 where adaine has attacked aelwyn several times, who either does nothing or just bounces it back, when she says "i never cast spells at you" and siobhan immediately retcons it and says "yes you do, all the time" (i havent gone back and watched this bit so i might be wording this wrong). obviously its an improv show and the canon is built between performers as they go, but that was interesting to me. that brennan hadnt intended for her to have fought back in that way. she definitely feeds into the emotional abuse from their parents and participates in all the toxicity there, but we know in canon that she did that because of overwhelming fear and self preservation. and that her self hatred because of it just fed back into the cycle and made her feel like she wasnt good enough to even try to break free from it. this is very common in golden child/scapegoat sibling relationships where the golden child SEES what the parents are capable of and becomes a participant in the abuse out of fear for their own standing. in any way siding with the scapegoat child not only directs abuse at themselves as well, but frequently makes things WORSE for the scapegoat because the parents will take out the challenge to their power on them even more. so, if aelwyn DID ever try to defend or help adaine when they were small, she would have VERY QUICKLY learned that made things worse for everyone. and just. sectioned that part of her brain off, as she's done with so many other things. (and i dont think im reading too much into the forest scene with the abernants to say their parents were VERY QUICK to turn abuse towards aelwyn if she stepped out of line even a little. like, you dont flinch when a hand moves unless. you know. dont need to say it just something to think about. as far as we saw in canon, she had done everything they asked of her leading up to the forest, and we DONT KNOW what happened in it but we do know brennan specifically called out how in broken spirits she was when adaine was summoned, even though they did the ritual to avoid all of the nightmare bullshit)

(the house party is literally a whole separate post but i think its fair to point out that 1) she was super under the influence when that was happening which DEFINITELY is in no way an excuse for her behavior but worth remembering when trying to analyze that 2) her losing that fight did canonically have DRASTIC consequences for her and even if she didnt know exactly how that was going to turn out, i think she knew how bad it might be. and she did not know adaine or any of the bad kids were going to be there in the first place)

all that said, it feels in some ways counterproductive to say that aelwyn is an extremely devoted and protective person (yes we're getting to the paladin shit i know i've been rambling a while) but i think that thats strangely ALL WE ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT HER. because we've established that her self-destructive and abusive behavior in s1 is almost entirely psychologically scripted for her by her parents, we dont know how much of her villain shit in s1 was LITERALLY UNDER THREAT OF DEATH because we know at least killing the oracle was and we dont know how much of the rest of it was mandated by either her parents or kalina other than that she probably was under orders not to tell adaine the truth, and we know participating in all of this caused extreme self loathing in her that she refused to show to anybody and was too terrified to act on in any way

so, like. what does that actually leave us?

here's what we do know about aelwyn:

- of all the schools of magic, she went into abjuration

- the entire bbeg plan from season 1 hinged on aelwyn's complete faith that her level 1 sister was the most prodigious diviner in the world

- right after (?) the house party, she locked her memories where only adaine could find it with a note basically saying "theres so much bad blood between us but i know only you could find this"

- she desperately wanted to protect adaine and the fact that she was too afraid to do so made her hate herself (and her knowing that adaine now knows this is the turning point in their relationship)

- despite everything, even in the nmk forest, she still loved her parents

- the SECOND she is shown genuine love and affection and care from adaine, and adaine says whatever you do, i am here with you, all her actions from there forward are just about protecting adaine from their father, very nearly at the cost of her own life

- with what she probably thought were her last words (and would have been if adaine hadnt given her the tincture), all she wanted to communicate was how to help adaine and the bad kids, and how despite everything she had always believed in her

- at five levels of exhaustion, unconscious, she used her first spell slot after nine months of torture to build a shield around adaine

NOW we get to paladin!aelwyn. because, once everything is stripped away, the abuse and the control and the maladaption and the threats and the torture, EVERYTHING we ACTUALLY can glean about aelwyn's personality and inner core is that she's protective and devoted. and of course classes arent locked by personality, but that just screams paladin to me. its her WHOLE THING. adaine even says "wizards dont have heals, we dont care about other people" and of COURSE that isnt true for either of them, but? mechanically? aelwyn chose the wizard school that DID let her protect, and DID let her help, but i dont think, at this point, going forward, thats really going to be enough for her (and we could also talk about the parallels between them, how often adaine uses her portents to help other people)

i think a lot of the different reads on aelwyn come from this fundamental disconnect between her actions and displayed personality vs who she actually is and what she actually wants. and i think there are very different interpretations of what thats going to look like for her going forward. but i think, for a girl who's most hated characteristic about herself was her self preservation at the detriment of others, her perceived selfishness, and her fear ... isn't choosing to be braver and more selfless and more protective and shedding that self-preserving instinct for the betterment of others ... and MECHANICALLY being able to act on all those things ... the logical next step? i think its going to be a LONG TIME before aelwyn can love herself, but what other way is there to try? if adaine loves her, and adaine believes she can be better, isnt being better because she trusts adaine kind of a form of self love? saying, i dont believe in myself, but i believe in the person who believes in me, and maybe, in a roundabout way, thats the same thing. she was never able to TRY to be better before, because trying to improve even a little, even when people arent watching, when a harmful force has so much power over you and your actions ... like, the mental dissonance is honestly TOO much to even try, thats WAY more terrifying than letting yourself be bad, to the point where thats psychologically impossible for a lot of people. but now she actually has space and freedom and CHOICE and she CAN embrace the instincts she always had to shove down, she CAN be the person she knows her sister needed her to be

i dont know, i think theres an inherent love letter to yourself in wanting to be better and wanting to improve, even if you justify it by saying its for someone else. and now aelwyn actually CAN improve, and thats probably going to be extremely awkward and scary and there will be set backs and backslides for sure. but. i dont know. i think she wants to make up for lost time. because she never wanted the time to be lost in the first place. and if a protector is who she always wanted to be, whats stopping her from being that now?

[fandom-thingies]

TECHNOBLADE YOU FOOL

A CAPSLOCK “ESSAY” ON WHY THE 16TH, DOOMSDAY, AND ALL FUTURE POSSIBLE TERRORISM IN THE DREAM SMP IS NOT ONLY MORALLY WRONG BUT ALSO JUST AN OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE IDEA.

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL I’D LIKE TO STATE THAT BLOWING UP NATIONS IS EXTREMELY RUDE AND MORALLY HORRID AND YOU SHOULDN’T DO THAT, BUT I CAN’T ACTUALLY FOCUS ON THE ETHICS OF THE SITUATION FOR LONGER THAN FIVE SECONDS WITHOUT BEING IMMEDIATELY DISTRACTED BY YOUR APPARENTLY ABYSMAL UNDERSTANDING OF HUMAN NATURE.

I AM NOT GOING TO ASK IF YOU HAVE EVER HEARD THE SAYING “WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER” BECAUSE I KNOW FULL WELL YOU’VE HEARD THAT SAYING.

A MORE ACCURATE WAY TO STATE IT MIGHT BE “WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU MAKES YOU MORE DETERMINED”. SPITE IS A VERY POWERFUL MOTIVATOR AND I CANNOT HELP BUT FEEL LIKE YOU’RE UNDERESTIMATING IT JUST A TAD, WHICH IS HONESTLY OUT OF CHARACTER BECAUSE YOU’VE CLEARLY FAMILIARIZED YOURSELF WITH GREEK MYTHOLOGY AND 90% OF WHAT HAPPENS IN THAT IS FUELED BY SPITE.

LET ME ASK YOU THIS, TECHNOBLADE:

WHAT ARE HONESTLY HOPING TO ACCOMPLISH HERE BESIDES DESTRUCTION, DEATH, AND MAKING YOURSELF FEEL BETTER?

DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT BLOWING UP L’MANBURG WILL STOP THEM? DO YOU REALLY THINK EVEN DEATH WILL STOP THESE PEOPLE FROM BEING FANATICALLY DEVOTED TO THE COUNTRY THEY’VE FOUGHT AND BLED AND KILLED AND DIED FOR?

KILLING THEM AND DESTROYING THEIR HOMES ONLY MAKES THEM MORE DETERMINED. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS.

IT MIGHT WORK WITH A LARGER NATION, BUT L’MANBURG IS LITERALLY LIKE 20 PEOPLE AND THE TACTICS YOU’RE USING WEREN’T BUILT FOR THAT SCALE.

YOU KNOW WHAT THE SUNK COSTS FALLACY IS AND YOU SHOULD RECOGNIZE IT IN ACTION.

EVERY TIME YOU MAKE THEM HURT FOR THEIR COUNTRY, THEY BECOME MORE ATTACHED TO IT.

YOU CALL TOMMY “THESEUS” AND TELL HIM HE SHOULD DIE IF HE WANTS TO BE A HERO, AND WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO YOU GIVE HIM?

EITHER HE RENOUNCES EVERYTHING HE’S EVER CARED ABOUT TO ADOPT YOUR FLAWED PHILOSOPHY OR HE ACCEPTS THE TITLE AND IT ONLY MAKES HIM FIGHT HARDER TO PROTECT WHAT LITTLE YOU’VE LEFT HIM WITH.

MAKING YOURSELF INTO A VILLAIN ISN’T HOW YOU CONVINCE PEOPLE OF YOUR RIGHTEOUSNESS.

KILLING 16 YEAR OLDS IS NOT HOW YOU SWAY OTHERS TO YOUR SIDE.

THERE IS A REASON YOU WERE HUNTED DOWN AFTER YOUR “RETIREMENT” AND IT’S NOT YOUR VICTIM COMPLEX.

IF YOU REALLY WANT THEM TO STOP SUPPORTING GOVERNMENTS, YOU SHOULD USE PROPAGANDA AND CULTURAL REFORM INSTEAD OF BEING A TERRORIST AND AUTOMATICALLY ASSOCIATING YOUR IDEOLOGY WITH CHILD MURDER AND CARPET BOMBING, HOLY FUCK.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part IX

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,883

Note: Sorry for the delay :(

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8

“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you or your friend.” Tyrion poured himself some wine and you accepted to drink with him.

“Me too.”

“I know you are a hero but I sense something else here... why you keep taking those risks for her?” He curiously asked.

“She has no one...” That was true, still, you were trying to keep your feelings buried.

“You love her.” You hid your blush behind the silver cup. He chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She seems to be a good Lady. With all that your brother has done to her having you is a blessing.”

“You... you’re okay with it?” Loving her in secret was one thing but saying it out loud to someone was a different one.

“Of course! I could never judge you. You don’t dictate your heart, you have all my support, Y/N.” He warmly smiled, you bent down to hug him. This is one of the many reasons you love your uncle so much.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Now I fully understand why you did that yesterday. Does she know?” He walked to the balcony gesturing you to follow him.

“No. And maybe it’s all in my head.” You brushed it off. “She sees me as her very good chum who saves her from my horrendous family.”

“Or perhaps she’s just afraid to admit it. After all, you are the princess. It’s not that easy. You’ll figure it out.” He tapped your shoulder. Could Sansa really feel the same? Nothing’s impossible, you just have to give it time and be patient. But with the way she looks at you... how you find comfort in her embraces... how she gently touches your hand...

You made your way to the Stark girl’s room to check on her just to find the door wide open and a scared Sansa with the bed stained of blood, her nightgown had red stains too.

The Hound was there, you scowled. You knew he was going to tell Cersei, and that was the last thing the redhead wanted. Shae arrived shortly.

“Good morning.” You said.

“Princess.” Sandor and Shae greeted. Your gaze landed on Sansa, the tears were threatening to come out. She didn’t say anything.

“I will inform the Queen.” He stated and left. Sansa threw herself into your arms. You could feel her tensing and quivering.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine. He’s not gonna touch you.” You promise her, you would do anything to keep him away from her, even if that meant being punished.

“You should take a bath before you meet her grace.” The young handmaid said.

“I’m going to wait outside until you are finished, then I’ll escort you to my mother’s chambers. Don’t worry, my lady. I got you.” You assured. Her features relaxed and you gave her a small nod.

You tried to come with excuses for your mother to not force her to carry Joffrey’s babies immediately but nothing with a valid point seemed to be compelling enough.

After she was done you headed to her big room. “How is your wound?” You added to soothe the hike.

“Better. You are a very good healer.” She shyly answered.

“One of my many gifts.” You winked to ease her nerves. The Queen Regent was already expecting her, yet she was not very surprised when you showed up behind Sansa, you let her entered first.

“My love, what are you doing here?” Cersei asked you, raising her eyebrow.

“I... thought I’d give Lady Sansa some advice, I flowered almost two years ago. I know it is grubby at first.”

“It certainly is. But her mother prepared her, didn’t she?”

“She told me. I thought... it would be different.” Sansa confessed.

“In what way?” You both took a seat.

“I thought it would be less... less messy.”

“Wait until you birth a child. You’re a woman now, do you know what that means?”

“I’m fit to bear children for the King.” Yes, your heart was breaking again.

“Is there any rush?” You intervened and Cersei faked a sympathetic smile.

“The sooner the better.” She made a flick for you to keep your mouth shut. Your jaw tensed. “A prospect that once delighted you. The greatest honor for a queen. Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I labored one day and a half to bring him into this world. You cannon imagine the pain. I screamed so loud I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood.”

“His grace was not with you?”

“Robert was hunting. Whenever my time was near, he would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. The only time he was with me was when Y/N was born. I’ll always remember how she wrapped her little hand around his finger, she smiled at him and that was the only time in my life I saw a tear fell from his cheek. It was too emotional.”

You missed him so badly, the stories he used to tell you about Westeros, the adventures he had when he was a young Lord, the thrill in his eyes when he saw you swing the sword for the first time, he taught you all about archery, about bravery. When you were feeling low because of Joffrey and your mother he would carry you in his arms and then ride far from the city in your horses. You missed those days cause in the dark moments he was your hero.

“You never told me that before.”

“You were your father’s favorite.” Then she referred to Sansa. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion. You may never love the King but you will love his children.” She told her calmly.

“I love his grace with all my heart.” Sansa lied in her usual innocent voice.

“That’s very touching to hear. Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice.” Was it so hard for Cersei to love you as much as she loved your siblings? To support you and be there for you?

“But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”

“You can try, little dove. My sweet daughter here, she will be marrying some Lord very soon. I think it’s time for you to start your own family.” The blonde abruptly added. Sansa felt her stomach twist itself into an uncomfortable knot.

“That means I will have to leave you, mother.” You complained. Cersei doesn’t want to end up alone, Jaime is a prisoner, you don’t know if you’re going to see him again. But she doesn’t want you to abandon her, deep down does she care? A question you often ask yourself.

“You grew too fast. You are my oldest daughter, any man who has your heart will be very lucky. Many of them are interested in you.” Your eyes were set only on Sansa Stark, even if you couldn’t be together.

“But I’m not interested in them.” You pointed out. Was she trying to send you away just because you were willing to keep protecting Sansa at all costs, or did she really wanted to get rid of you?

You and the northerner walked out. You let go of those thoughts. Focusing on her again you broke the silence. “There’ll be a battle soon. My uncle’s army will arrive anytime. Joffrey is going to be busy. I’m always here for you, Sansa.” You reassured once more, for her to know she’s not alone.

“I feel trapped. But when you’re around... you make everything better.” Hearing that made you feel a wave of joy. She blushed and gods, your face was the color of her hair too.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You said smiling sincerely at her. She smiled back at you.

The following days passed so very fast, now you were helping uncle Tyrion do some researching on books to find information to use for the incoming battle. The King himself apparently is occupied torturing people and animals to care for his Kingdoms. Bronn was there too, your uncle thought he’d come with some ideas for the defense of the city.

You were distracted, to say the least, your mind wandering in the redhead beauty, in how she seemed to be troubled almost all the time.

“Dear niece, I need your cleverness.” You came out of your trance.

“We are very lucky to have you as Hand of the King, uncle, otherwise we’d be doomed. And I mean it, no sarcasm. I want to join you in the field.” Tyrion wasn’t expecting to hear that statement. You knew you could be effective.

“What? Absolutely not. The last time in the riot the gods were good and you were unharmed. This is way different. I know you are brave, just like Robert was, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let alone the fact your mother won’t allow it.”

“I can take care of myself. Joffrey won’t last a moment there. Maybe I can coax him to fight along his men.”

“I wish you could. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

“So stubborn. My brain might explode before I find something helpful. ‘A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros.’ By Archmaester Shevelathin. Shevelatesh.”

“Ch’Vyalythan.” You corrected him.

“Are you sure?” You shrugged.

“My Princess. Lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloak’s performance last few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?” Lord Varys said entering the room.

“How did you accomplish this?”

“Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.” Bronn nonchalant replied.

“For questioning?”

“No. It’s just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Have you ever been on a city under siege? Maybe this part is not in your books. See, it’s not the fighting that kills most people. It’s the starving. Food’s worth more than gold. The thieves love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed they steal all of it. By the time it’s all over, they’re the richest men in town.”

“Yes, I believe extreme measures are warranted. Ah ‘The Great Sieges of Westeros.’ Thrilling subject, shame archmaester Ch’Vyalthan wasn’t a better writer.” Varys referred to the big book on the table.

“Uncle Stannis knows King’s Landing, he knows where we are the strongest and where we are the weakest. We need to be cautious. Take him down before he arrives at the gates.” Now you were focusing, strategy was essential.

“That’s it! The Mud Gate. A good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it’s only fifty yards from the water. That’s where he’ll land.” Tyrion affirmed certainly.

“If he does attack at the Mud Gate, what is our plan?” Varys curiously inquired. Tyrion looked at you, and then back at him.

“Wildfire.” He said.

After discussing the tactics you went to share some time with Sansa, she is one of the few people who gives you peace. Little Tommen was on his reading lessons. She was embroidering a red scarf with two lions on the top. Your heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Shae is not here?”

“I dismissed her an hour ago.” Then she stood up. “A present for you.”

“Why do I owe the pleasure?” You admired her flawless needlework.

“Because you always save me. You are always there for me. I don’t know how can I ever repay you.”

“You don’t have to, you know I do it cause I love you I’m your friend. But I appreciate the gift though. It is a very fine design.” She flushed, seeing her like this is very cute.

“You think... your brother is going to defeat Lord Stannis?”

“Brave men will fight. I have faith in them and in my uncle’s plan. I-I might... get involved.”

“Is this a bad joke?” She looked at you perplexed.

“I’m afraid is not.”

“Y/N, you could die! You are strong but still too young to go to war. And you are a princess.” Sansa winced. You squeezed gently her arm.

“I won’t die. I heard uncle Renly had in his Kingsguard a female warrior. And what about Visenya Targaryen? She was a fantastic skilled warrior as well. She fought alongside Aegon in his conquest, and in the First Dornish War. Also, she was a dragon rider, she bonded with the one called Vhagar. And had a Valyrian steel longsword named Dark Sister. I wish I had one.” You commented, utterly excited. Sansa didn’t really like the topic but her eyes lighted up every time you talked about something you were passionate about.

“You never cease to amaze me, you know so much about these things. I understand now why Arya and you got along so well.” And it’s true, you wished she was here, you missed the youngest Stark girl running around the castle. “But still, I don’t like the idea of you being out there. It’s too dangerous. You said you weren’t going anywhere.” She mumbled the last sentence.

“Trust me.” You held her hands on your own.

“Just be careful, please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will be. And I’ll never leave you.”

You were walking side by side with the King, Varys, and Tyrion on the eastern walls.

“If my uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King’s Landing, I’ll ride out to greet him.” Joffrey smugly spoke.

“A brave choice, your grace. I’m sure your men will line up behind you.” Tyrion subtly jeered.

“They say he never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile from ear to ear.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance against him on his own. Lord Varys and your uncle began to converse with each other.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you want to join us in the fight.” He said in a mocking way.

“You think I’m not capable?”

“Exactly. You are a woman. Not that I really care about what happens to you. You’ll die out there.”

“You have little faith in me, big brother. But still, I’m way better than you in almost everything.” You squinted your lips. “No! In absolutely everything. Don’t worry, I’ll pray for our victory.”

“I already know your whore friend has flowered. I’ll come to visit her right after I kill our uncle.” He hissed and you didn’t punch him right away right there cause you held back your fury. He was provoking you, you would get your knuckles bloody for Sansa if he goes too far.

“...They say he burns his enemies alive to honor the Lord of Light.” You joined the conversation between the two men.

“The Lord of Light wants his enemies burnt. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?” Tyrion wittily questioned.

“In the Summer Isles, they worship a fertility goddess with sixteen teats.” Varys responded.

“We should sail there immediately.” You smirked.

“Lord Varys, do you know anything new about the Targaryen girl?" Some nights you wonder, if your father hadn't won the Rebellion she would be here, this would be her home, she was exiled so she could survive, she was forced to marry a savage, her family is dead, the world is such a cruel place... and when you are a helpless girl it gets worse, what if things had turned out differently? And you were the one on the other side of the world, maybe that's one of the main reasons why you sympathized with her.

“This morning, I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives.”

“That’s a relief.” You said.

“A relief? She has three dragons. But even if what they say is true, it’ll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide.” Varys argued.

“She’s on the edge of the world, the least of our problems.” Uncle Tyrion tried to sound unconcerned.

“Three baby dragons? How is that possible?” They were extinct for almost three hundred years. How she managed to bring them back?

“Princess, do you consider it was wise to let her live? If you knew then what you do now... would you persuade his grace to give the order? She might be a threat soon enough, she will claim the throne-“

“Maybe she’s not interested in it. Not everyone is. Especially the rightful heirs. She did nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“I don’t regret my choice. I wouldn’t change it if I could.” You were confident, she’s innocent, one game at the time, you thought. Just because her ancestors were evil doesn’t mean she is evil too.

“You are so selfless, and good. Westeros might need a Queen like you.” Varys remarked.

“I’m no Queen, my Lord.” The throne belongs to you more than to Joffrey that was for sure, but how can you overthrow snakes that know your weaknesses and can use them to sting and hurt you the most?

[onelastbreath-writes]

I’ll Meet You There (Part 1)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions child loss, loss of a spouse, survivor’s guilt, vague references to suicide/suicidal thoughts after loss of child (all located in the first 500 words, so it’s brief and not too dark, but please take care) and violence, swearing, and action/fighting.

Summary: What if Marcus’s wife didn’t actually die? What if she and a few others were kidnapped during an attack on Heroics’ HQ, and then held captive for years without realizing? If the only thing you “remember” from your past is that your husband and daughter were killed, well, you surely wouldn’t want to go back to the people who you believe did it. But maybe, with the help of a tenacious child and some re-awaking parental instincts, you’ll be able to break through the brainwashing and forced amnesia, and find your way home.

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry

A/N: This is my first We Can Be Heroes fic, and first reader fic, so please be gentle. I’ve got the rest of the story outlined, so I hope I can get down to writing and posting it soonish, but my RL is busy and doesn’t leave much time/energy for quick updates. If you like it and want me to do a taglist, let me know so you can know when I update again. Also a big thank you to the amazing Jay @disgruntledspacedad​ and her fic The Right Thing for inspiring this one, and for allowing me to use her wife!reader idea. Please go check her blog out, and give her some love <3

AO3 Masterlist

---

“You’ve been in a terrible accident, Doctor, and I regret to inform you of your husband’s and daughter’s passing. Our rescue and recovery efforts after the incident were unfortunately unsuccessful, and you have our deepest sympathies.”

It took months for those words to even sink into you; months before you even remembered anything about who you were... the accident, or the attack, as it was more commonly known by you and the other victims, took your entire life away in an instant. You survived, physically, but at the cost of your partner? Your child? All the memories of your life together? How could you be worth it?

“Your transcripts and accomplishments are phenomenal, Doctor, and I’m in need of talented and capable individuals such as yourself to help right the wrongs, and demand justice, from those who have committed such heinous acts against us. The Heroics are murderers, destroyers of peace, and they have gotten away with their crimes for far too long. They’ve been praised and applauded and worshipped as gods while all they truly are, are terrorists. How many more innocent lives can we allow to be lost to their carelessness? ‘For the greater good’ is quite the insult when the people saying such things aren’t the ones losing their families to the chaos, wouldn’t you agree? Join me, Doctor, and we can make a difference.”

It was easy decision for you, even in the early days of your recovery. From the distant and foggy memories of your past, your anguish in what you could recall, you knew that if you could stop someone else from having to feel the loss and pain that comes from losing their spouse and children, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Your husband had been an incredible man, your Everything, you would imagine, going by the ache in your heart when you thought of being without him. His name, his appearance; that was all lost to you when you lost him. His existence in what could be healed of your memories was just a shadow, a shade, the vague impression of the man you loved. You remembered his warmth, his kindness and gentleness, his love and devotion to you and the child you created together.

And your beautiful baby girl... if thoughts of your husband left your heart aching, then thoughts of your daughter left you in unparalleled agony, completely inconsolable. You tried to avoid thinking of her, if you were being honest, tried to leave all what-ifs and could’ve/should’ve/would‘ve’s behind... you had worked with people, mothers, who had lost children before, had seen them tear themselves apart in their grief, taking the blame for something that was in no way their fault; you had seen them destroy their lives with their hoarded guilt and perceived crimes... you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for that, those falsehoods, you had to be alive if you wanted to honour your child and husband’s sacrifice.  

“We will make them pay for what they’ve done to us, Doctor, I promise you that. Together, we can get justice for your husband, for your little Missy.”

---

Marcus knew something was wrong as soon as his commlink started transmitting static instead of his teammates’ conversations. The Heroics had been deployed to stop a hoard of rogue security androids that were infected by a virus or something (he couldn’t usually follow the technobabble), which had led them to escape their testing facility and target nearby civilians with their advanced weapons technology.

Evacuating the citizens trapped in the line of fire was the team’s first objective, and once the area was cleared of potential victims, they moved onto the containment and neutralization of the enemy combatants. The Heroics team was decently cohesive; they could work together to ensure the protection of innocent lives while in a firefight, but once the civilians were in the clear and the stakes not so high, the supersized egos of the members emerged with a fiery passion. This particular firefight was no different.

“Hey ‘Legend, bet you a week of incident reports that my count is higher!” Miracle Guy’s voice broke out over the ‘link, as eager to show-boat as ever, from where he was steadily piling up his deactivated attackers.

“I’ll take that action, Miracle, easy. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” Crimson Legend wasn’t the type of person who could ignore a bet, especially one issued from Miracle.  “You’re probably so behind already that you don’t even stand a chance, ha!”

Of course, they just had to make it a game, keep the superiority contest going; like a single mistake couldn’t cost them a life or a limb. And just to further prove how amazingly mature the rest of Marcus’s team of Adult Superheroes were, they all started in on the bet too.  

“If I beat your totals, I want a week off from training!”

“Ha! Like any of you have a chance of winning against me! I want my on-call weekend, off”

“If I win, you’re all my personal slaves for the rest of the day!”

Did Marcus say Adult Superheroes? He meant infants.  

And they had started the mission so well, communicating and strategizing, actual teamwork instead of bickering and joking around like children. Hell, even their children didn’t get into as much trouble as their parents could.  

“Guys, it’s really not the best time to be playing around. We need to focus on-” He was cut off by the loud static burst of an out-of-range radio. Shit. That’s not good. If his comms unit was fried, he couldn’t direct his teammates, couldn’t keep track of them, couldn’t help them.

They were pretty spread out by now, giving everyone room to use their powers without worrying about another Heroic getting caught in the blast zone. He knew from their most recent locational sound off that Crushing Low and Invisi Girl were working together near the intersection two streets over from him, and if he could make his way over to them, he could figure out what was going on.

Marcus needed to know if it was just his commlink that was out of commission, or if their entire network had gone down. The former scenario was a minor inconvenience, the latter was a major issue. Either he’d have to lead his team by correspondence, or he’d have to worry about them being completely alone in the field, without support from HQ, and without any chance of backup or rescue.  

He couldn’t worry about the details now, he had to keep focused on finishing off the seemingly endless wave of androids. Androids with guns. Androids with guns that he was trying to kill with a pair of katanas... Maybe he hadn’t thought his primary weapon for this mission out very well... It was just something that he’d have to come back to later. For now: sword, robot, teammates.

---

They didn’t pay him enough for this. He should have gone into acting like he had planned before his powers manifested. This sort of shit didn’t happen to actors.  

Marcus had destroyed all the androids delaying him from reaching his nearest teammates and was finally able to move to their location with relative ease and only minor distraction. He could see Crushing Low laying waste to the few remaining functional robots in the area, and could assume that Invisi Girl was around somewhere, disabling any downed but not dead enemies while protecting ‘Low’s back.  

He was proven right when he heard a feminine voice call for him to “hit the deck, Moreno!”.

“Thanks Vis! You two doing alright? What’s your comms sitch?” He stood back up straight, just missing being nailed in the head by a flying metal limb had it not been for her heads-up.

“We’re a-okay! Comms are out though. No known damage to them, no knocks or surges, might be the tech, or it might be the channel. We’ll have to see what Tech-No thinks.” She was still invisible, but Marcus could imagine her animated expressions and movements. She was one of the most... normal... of the Heroics, if normal could ever be used to describe any of the team. Reliable and observant, with a good sense of battle strategy. He greatly appreciated her skills and efficiency in the field; she and Tech-No being the most down-to-earth of the Heroics, most willing to help him keep the peace between the rest of them.

“I’ll watch Low’s back if you can go find Tech. We need to know what’s going on, ASAP. If all the comms are down, and Tech can’t get them back up, I need you to find everyone and tell them to meet back at the robotics facility. Get Miracle and Fast to help if you can. If anyone’s injured, they’re your first priority, okay? Thanks, Vis.”

---

Getting every member of the Heroics team back together took nearly an hour, all coming fresh from the fight but thankfully not too banged up or bruised. They set up a perimeter once enough of the team had arrived to their meeting spot, allowing Tech-No to deep-dive into  investigating their communications malfunction.

“It’s the network, not our comms. We’re dealing with a drop either from HQ’s side, or a forced drop here from RFI. But considering the standard distance and all the buildings and stuff around us, a radio frequency jammer wouldn’t be able to block our communications network as far out as we were. We must assume that the problem comes from HQ. which presents further concerns, obviously. I designed most of the technology there myself, so I know exactly how much work it would be to take down the whole system. We need to consider this as part of a bigger plot, and plan accordingly.” Tech-No’s eventual explanation hang heavy in the air, no one willing to break the silence following it... If something had happened to HQ… Their co-workers were there, their friends, their children…  

Marcus thought of his daughter and wife. They were both there today. His wife worked in the medical centre, and they brought their daughter there for daycare. If something happened there... shit. If he was panicking about his family already, his teammates were doing the same. He had to head this off. He couldn’t let this get out of control. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. It was time to be Marcus Moreno the leader of the Heroics, not Marcus the husband and father. Lead by example, they’re all counting on you.

“We have no proof that anything is actually wrong, and until we know for sure why we can’t reach them, we need to do our jobs. Finish the mission. We’ve always trusted our people to hold down the fort at home so we can help people out here, and they’ve never let us down before. We are not going to doubt them now, understood? Whatever happened? We know HQ is doing their best to keep our loved ones safe. So, we finish up here, quickly and thoroughly, and then we head back to base. Let’s get moving,” He met his teammates’ eyes, allowed them to witness his own fears, but also his stubborn determination. He wasn’t asking them to ignore or dismiss their worries, but rather, put it into finishing the mission so they could go home sooner.  

No one fought him; thankfully just picked their tasks and headed out.  

“Tech, we need transport. Now. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done, alright?” Marcus refused to acknowledge the slight tremble in his voice, tried to breathe around the lump in his throat and the dread sinking in his stomach. He desperately stopped himself from thinking about coincidences and probabilities. This was all a fluke, a random string of events that didn’t mean anything more was going on. They’d be able to laugh about it when they got home and saw everything was just as they’d left it. He had to believe that. He didn’t have any other choice.

—-

Transport home turned out to be a military helicopter big enough to fit the whole team, in addition to the fully outfitted squad of soldiers already inside.

“According to the press release your director gave, there was small but powerful group of gifted individuals who invaded Heroics’ Headquarters, intending to either kidnap or kill certain “important personnel” within the building. Didn’t specify much more than that, other than that your organization would be dedicating as much manpower as they could to bring “those who would cause such destruction and terror” to justice. The address was filmed in the parking lot, but there were a lot of emergency responders and vehicle in the background. I’m sorry we can’t tell you anything more, but well, we were scrambled to your location ASAP, barely had time for the news we got...” The staff sergeant sitting across from Marcus briefed the team about what the intel they had on the HQ attack. And that was what it was. An attack. The thing they all feared most.

“Thank you for the information, and for the ride back home; we lost communication in the middle of a battle, with no clue as to why. Now, at least, we have an idea of what we should expect when we arrive.” The mention of “important personnel” jump-started Marcus’s heart into overdrive. That was the code phrase they used when describing their most vulnerable people to the public, non-combatants and injured persons usually; a smokescreen meant to dissuade targeted attacks, and shift attention away from those who couldn’t protect themselves in the case of an emergency. It was also the code that frequently represented their children.  

The families of the Heroics were classified as high-risk targets; villains and enemies of their organization didn’t often have the moral decency to leave their loved ones out of the fight. So, to afford as much anonymity and protection possible, any time the team had to reference their partners and children in physical records and documentation, it was under that code phrase.  

This attack was centred on their kids.  

What kind of monster do you have to be to go after a bunch of kindergarten and primary school children?

Fuck.

The only good news was that there was no mention of the attack being a success.  

So, all the Heroics knew for certain was that a group of villains had tried to get to their children, and while obviously causing significant damage to HQ, they had been stopped. Were unsuccessful. The Home Team had saved the day again.  

Marcus thanked every deity he could think of for keeping his and his friends’ kids safe.  

The rest of the flight home was quiet. Him and teammates finally able to get some rest after all the fighting and panic, and the soldiers conversing just loud enough to be heard over the headsets and hum of the chopper’s motors.  

He was pulled back from the edge of unconsciousness he had been drifting along for a while when the pilot gave them their five-minute ETA.

They were home at long last, and everything was going to be just fine.

---

[Next Part]

[doingthingsthewriteway]

shakedown pt. iii

Summary: A suspicious package arrives 

warnings: stalking 

A/N: cross posted from my ao3. taglist available! 

Taglist: @jhay-fangirls​

Nearly two weeks passed before Bucky was able to introduce himself. Things got chaotic, they always did when Loki and his brother Thor were involved. Bucky spent days strategizing and negotiating before a pleasant peace treaty and paycheck were in his favor. His priorities might not have included you, but he certainly found himself thinking of you.

In the beginning, he devote considerably time to pondering the simple, innocent things about you. Did you prefer coffee or tea? (Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, iced preferably) What books did you like to read? (A sucker for a gothic novel, something old with rich language. Beautiful modern writers including Toni Morrison were not uncommon on your bookshelf) How did you smell? (The shift to the more personal. A juicy apple scent from some college girls store).

Then, especially on nights when he retreated to his empty brownstone and had just a bit too much bourbon, he let his thoughts wander. Were you a virgin? Seemed innocent enough but maybe you had that sexy librarian thing going on behind the scenes. How did you taste? How did you feel? His hands wound jerk the belt off his slacks, yank the zipper down, and trail his hands down to pull on his dick. Fuck he was lonely and you were there.

After the fourth night of desperate moans and tugs by his own hands, he decided that it was time to visit his apartments. He made the arrangements in advance, taking great care to order the exact teacup and fork over the cost of rush delivery so it would arrive just in time. Scott was all too eager to have Buck swing by, still in awe and in gratitude for his position.

"Hiya boss!" Scott wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans as he fumbled around the leasing office in a effort to meet Bucky at the threshold.

Bucky flashed a genuine smile, clapping Scott on the shoulder. "How's Cassie? Hitting the books?"

The beam of pride that radiated off Scott was enough to spark that underlying instinct that echoed through Barnes (an heir? A princess that followed after him? A momma's boy that clung to his mother's leg in the kitchen? A family to protect?)

Bucky retreated to the desk to balance the books, Scott filled his boss in on Cassie's collegiate achievements. "Couldn't have done it without you boss!" There was the ego boost he wanted. A dismissive hand wave followed.

"She's a bright young woman, happy to help." Yeah, he was a regular ol Robin Hood. Brooklyn's answer to everything. He glanced over the bridge of his nose to the stack of packages waiting to be collected. "Lotta mail."

"Called the tenants this morning about it. Most stop in after work."

Bucky made a sound of approval, returning to the papers before him. The jingle of the bell by the door drew his attention, blue eyes scanning the lobby wildly for the object of his affection. Bingo.

"Howdy Scott!" Howdy? That was awfully endearing. No one he knew in Brooklyn was charming enough to say howdy. You weren't from around here. Family issues? He certainly wouldn't mind you calling him Big Daddy.

"Said you had a package for me?" The element of surprise was evident. There was excitement in your voice. Maybe you thought someone sent a care package, that those doors shut on you weren't sealed forever. Oh to see the look on your face.

Scott eagerly handed you over the package. An inconspicuous little brown box that Bucky had used painstaking detail to forge. Not to mention the hours he spent searching for the right teacup. Blue light had strained his eyes late into the evening as he scoured the Internet. But he found it in a little antique store just off 3rd.

"Can't remembering ordering anything." You mumbled lifted the box for good measure, mindful of the fragile sticker on the packaging.

"Hopefully something pleasant then." If there was a growl in his tone, you hadn't heard it. Big y/e/c eyes focused in on him with the innocence of a deer. Bambi meeting the grin of the big bad wolf.

"Where are my manners? Y/N this is my boss, so I guess that makes him your other landlord huh? This is my boss, Mr. James Barnes."

Bucky stood from behind his desk, navy suit on full display. He took your outstretched hand and just the small touch was enough to nearly make him unravel like a goddamn teenager. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes."

"It's only Mr. Barnes when someone owes me something. Call me Bucky, sweetheart."

Bucky, how cute. Certainly didn't match his persona of the almighty landlord but sure. You'd bite. "Pleasure to meet you, Bucky."

"Got time to chat?" Scott wasn't as stupid as Bucky had thought. He deserved a pay raise.

"Not today. I'll bring some cookies by to make up for it."

Was he disappointed? Yeah a little, but he made much more progress than he had anticipated. Besides, there was only so much he could do before you caught on, and he decidedly wanted to gain your trust before you got too spooked.

You seemed to skip away, carrying the small box with the eagerness of a child. Greeting your neighbor-a fumbling college student (Peter?) a little younger than you- with a flashy grin, you tucked inside your apartment. Keys placed in the dish by the door, heels kicked off with a freeing groan, purse hung on the coat rack.

Grabbing the scissors from your desk, you sliced open the tape. Sorting through the dainty pink tissue paper, you felt a thump in your chest. Your heart pounded against the ribcage that ensnared it. No.

Cocooned in the protective layers of paper was your teacup. Well, a replacement anyway. The shattered remains you had managed to salvage from that night were immediately tossed away as a means of cleansing yourself. But now, here was one in tact. Any other occasion, the white porcelain with gold trim and tiny blue forget me nots would have brought a smile to your face. Now, you struggled to silence a scream.

This meant they knew. Whoever or whatever was happening in the alley below knew you had been out on the balcony that evening. They were cashing in now, pulling you into whatever was happening and it terrified you.

Perhaps what was more immediately terrifying was you were alone and yet you felt that you hadn't been in a long time.