#NO EXCUSES GO FIGHT THOSE DAMN DRAGONS

[sparrowinkk]

i went to a gay social group and none of them had ever played skyrim. I had to *explain* what it was to one of them. 12-21 group. I think i had a breakdown right then and there.

[the-fiction-witch]

I Am Your Wife

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader + (Mentioned) Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Aegons Wife) Rating - Sad + Sweet Word Count - 6875

Y/n marched inside the royal chambers, she soon saw Aegon lying in the bed half drunk still from last night, she stood at the foot of their bed in her emerald gown, her arms crossed as she waited for him to speak,

Aegon recognised that look on her face immediately as it was a look she had very often,

He rubs his eyes with a hand, then tries to comb his fingers through his messy hair to look somewhat presentable, rather than the unkempt bird’s nest it had become after last night’s activities. “What is it?” He mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

"where were you?"

Aegon sighs deeply, knowing exactly what this is about. He runs a hand along his jaw, scratching over the skin. He had hoped to wake up earlier than her to avoid this whole dance, “Do you really want me to answer that?” He deadpans.

"Aegon you were supposed to be back to tuck Marcus into bed"

Damnit. Aegon grits his fangs together at the reminder, having hoped at least one of those responsibilities had been forgotten about. “I lost track of time, alright?” He mutters, avoiding her gaze and staring at the bedsheets instead.

"you could have at least apologized to your son at breakfast for not putting him to bed like you’d promised"

Guilt flares in his chest at that; he knew this was just as much about Marcus as it was about him. “I’m sorry.” He manages to get out, voice still hoarse from sleep. Aegon glances up at her, meeting her eyes and searching her face to gauge her reaction.

"well sorry doesn't make him sleep, he was up all night waiting for daddy to come and tuck him in and he's been crying since sunrise"

Damnit. Aegon groans, frustration and guilt battling in his chest. He knew that was what she’d say, that she’d use it against him. He should have come home last night, he should have tucked Marcus in and stayed the night in his own damn bed. He rubs his hand across his face, sighing again. “I’ll go and apologise now, how’s that?” He mutters.

"no. You won't disturb him. He’s gone for a hot bath and the maids are taking him to the dragon pit so he can spend time with his dragon"

Aegon deflates completely at that, guilt and disappointment coursing through him, his head hanging slightly as he lets his chin rest on his hand. “Right.” He mutters quietly in response. He knows a reprimand is coming from her, and he knows it’s fully warranted. It doesn’t stop the pang of irritation though, and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I have one damn night off, and that makes me a horrible father?”

"one night off? You do this constantly and have been for months"

Aegon tries to keep his expression stoic as her berates him, doing his best to not look like a wounded and scolded puppy.“It’s not-” He began to say, then stopped himself with a shake of his head. No, there was no point in making excuses or attempting to justify himself. “It’s just been a busy month.” He sighed instead. “We have a lot going on and I-” He cuts himself off again with a frustrated groan. Damnit, he wanted a fight, but he knew her were completely, utterly right with his one.

she sighed and turned to leave

Aegon sits and watches her go, feeling like an idiot. “Wait!” He calls out, wincing at how pleading he sounded. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, and stands up and goes after her, catching her wrist before she can stride out of the bedroom doors. A hint of vulnerability crosses his features as he gently pulls her to a stop, forcing her to face him. “Wait.” He repeats in a low murmur, his hand still holding firmly to her wrist. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between her. “Don’t go.”

"There's no point arguing with her Aegon. It doesn't fix anything. If you want to spend your nights drinking and whoring, then don't make promises to your children" she said pointedly but it was clear she was exhausted by arguing with him "or me." She adds before leaving

Aegon watches her leave, feeling utterly defeated. It was true, he’d broken more promises than he could count, but it hurt seeing the disappointment on herr face, and the resignation in herr voice when her gave up arguing with him. But more than that, it hurt that Marcus had been crying the entire morning, waiting for him, his father, to come home and tuck him in. He was a shitty father, he knew that, but it hurt knowing that everyone else realised it too. Damnit. Aegon lets out a frustrated huff, resisting the childish urge to kick the bed frame. He glances between the door her left through, and the bed he had been so comfortable in just moments ago. He knows he could just go back to sleep. It would be so much easier than having to deal with the aftermath of the night before. But he can still feel her wrist in his fingers, and hear the resignation in her voice when she spoke of him breaking promises. With a resigned huff, Aegon grabs his clothes from the floor and shrugs them on.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach the dragon pit, walking through his usual route without pausing to greet the guards or nod to the courtiers he passes by. The guilt still gnaws at his chest with every step he takes, but he tries his best to ignore it. He just wants to apologise to Marcus, and hopefully stop him crying. He finds his son in the dragon pits, as she said he would be. He smiles slightly seeing Marcus, now dressed in riding leathers, standing by Sunfyre looking up at his golden scales.

Marcus was always fascinated with Sunfyre, Marcus loved Sunfyre perhaps even more than he loved his own little dragon Silvercloud. Marcus let tears slip looking at Sunfyre.

Aegon couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh of disappointment at the sight of the tears on his son’s face. It hurt more than anything seeing his son so upset, and knowing it was his fault. He hated the fact that there was no one to blame but himself. His smile fell at the realisation of how his young son looked at his dragon. It stung, knowing that Sunfyre had a better relationship with Marcus, than Aegon had with his own son. Aegon forced himself to walk closer. He stopped a few feet away from Marcus, not wanting to come any closer and startle him. His gaze flicked over the boy, checking for any signs of injury, although something told him he wasn’t crying because of anything physical. With a deep breath Aegon called out, his voice quiet but firm. “Marcus?”

"good day" he sighed moving to pet his own small dragon SilverCloud still too young for him to ride after the dragon had hatched him Marcus's cradle

Aegon flinched at the words, and at the complete indifference in Marcus’s voice. When the boy failed to turn to look at him, Aegon felt a pang of guilt stab through his chest. His shoulders slumped slightly, trying desperately to ignore the hurt he felt from his son’s cold response, especially after the entire morning he had. Aegon cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking closer to Marcus. “Can I talk to you?”

the boy shrugged Petting his small dragon

Aegon took a deep breath. This was all so goddamn uncomfortable. It was rare that he got this nervous talking to anyone, let alone his own son. He cleared his throat awkwardly again, trying to figure out what exactly he should say. “I just- uh- I-” Goddamn it. Why was this so hard? Aegon forced the words out through his teeth. “I just wanted to uh… apologise. For not being there last night.”

"your never here."

The words stabbed through Aegon, more painful than any physical wound. Because it was true. He’d broken another promise to his son, yet again. Damnit. He knew this would be hard, that it would be difficult to have to admit his fault. But actually hearing the words from his son hurt more than expected. Aegon swallowed, trying desperately to keep his expression passive. “I know.” He managed to mutter out. “I’ve messed up a lot, and I keep messing up. I’m… I’m sorry.”

"you always say that! And then you never do what you say you're gonna do! It's not fair! Not fair to me. Or on Marybelle. Or mother." The boy shouted, "... Words don't mean anything, actions do." The boy said before taking his dragon back into its cave "I hope things are better... For baby" Marcus said which froze Aegon to the core as he heard no word about babies

Aegon was stunned into silence, his throat tightening so badly that he thought it might snap. Aegon couldn’t hear anything else over the rushing of blood in his ears. Baby. No. Please gods no. With unsteady, shaking hands, Aegon took a step forward, eyes wide in panic. “What… what baby?”

"Mother is having another baby..." Marcus answered

Seven hells no. Please no. Aegon almost stopped breathing altogether in that moment. Another baby? He took another shaky step forward, trying to quell the panic rising within him. “But- how do you know- you’re sure?” He managed to croak out.

"she told me and Marybelle were getting another brother or sister"

Aegon’s insides twisted themselves into a knot, his eyes wide and breathing shallow. Not again. The thought of another child, another baby. It wasn’t even the child itself he was afraid of. It was everything else. Aegon stared at his son, eyes boring into him, desperately hoping that it was some elaborate prank. “you’re sure?” He repeated. Tell me this is a lie.

"she told us both, and she's having a new crib made." Marcus nodded before he took his dragon away

It took everything in Aegon’s power not to collapse at those words. He stared at the cave that Marcus had just retreated into, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady and his mind straight. He’d just discovered that she was having another child. Another child that he’d probably fail to be a good father to. Aegon stumbled slightly out of the cave and towards a nearby wall, leaning against it for support as he forced his mind to focus. He stood against the wall, hands clenched into fists and breathing deep. Aegon could feel the panic and dread flooding through his mind, drowning out any logical thought. No. No. This time would be different. He’d promised himself so many times before that things would be different with Marcus. But it hadn’t worked before. He couldn’t even keep a goddamn promise with Marcus, and now there was a new one on the way. A new little baby that he’d likely fail to provide for. A wave of nausea crashed over Aegon, making him clutch at his stomach in an attempt to keep it down. He couldn’t go through this again. This time he’d have three children to look after, he didn’t have the energy or time to keep failing as a father. Aegon took another shaky breath, pushing away from the wall and attempting to remain upright.

He needed to talk to her.

He needed to know everything. He needed her to tell him every word she had said to the kids, every detail about this new baby.

Aegon headed back to the red keep, As he entered the library and found Y/n and Marybelle working on the embroideries, a fresh wave of panic and nausea coursed through his body. He swallowed, hoping that neither of her could see the turmoil that was raging within him. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can we… can we talk?”

"go on?" Y/n shrugged as she helped Marybelle work

Aegon hesitated, he felt oddly like a child about to confess to breaking something. With a sharp breath in he forced himself to speak. “It’s about the baby.” He said, the words feeling like lead in his mouth.

Y/n looks up at him and sighed, she did a final stitch placing the work on the table and lifting little Marybelle off the seat in her pale green dress "Run along now sweetling, go find your brother and go play in the garden Alright" she told Marybelle who happily ran off with her maids shutting the door behind them, Y/n sighed and ran a hand over her stomach "Go on Aegon."

Aegon watched as Marybelle left the room, leaving the two of them in silence. He forced his eyes back on her, staring at the hand she had placed on her stomach. His mind was racing, his heart was racing, his stomach was in knots. He wanted desperately to look away, so that he didn’t have to confront the baby that was inside her. “How… how far along are you?”

"four months"

Aegon felt his stomach twist once more at her answer, this time so violently that he was worried he might actually throw up. He took another deep shaking breath, trying desperately to calm his mind enough to figure out what to say. There were too many thoughts racing through him; anger, fear, dread, guilt. “Why?” He whispered, the word coming out more like a gasp than a question. “After everything… after the other two… why?”

"what I do with my children is my business"

Aegon bristled at her response, he didn’t like hearing those words. her children. Like he had no claim to them. He took a step closer, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side. His eyes bore into hers, and the fear was evident in his gaze. “They’re my children too.” He muttered lowly. “I have every right to know.”

"well you know now don't you,'

Aegon felt his blood boil at her nonchalant attitude and sharp words, his fear slowly being overtaken with irritation and frustration as the two of her stared each other down. “Yes I know now! Because Marcus told me!” Aegon snapped, gesturing back at the door. “Why was I the last to know?!”

"Because your never here! You never ask! You never ask how I am, or talk to your children, or talk to me."

Aegon hated when she was right, although he would never admit that aloud. Her words stung, hitting him in a way that he wasn’t expecting. He’d only just begun to feel the weight of his absence, and now her were shoving it in his face. “I- I-“ he sputtered, trying to force the right words out. “That’s not the point. You should have told me.”

"Why would I? her have no interest in the children" she snapped "I am having another child because they make me happy. They are all I have in this world as you show me no attention or affection at all, they are all I have and without them, I would be sat alone waiting for you to wonder home drunk"

Aegon’s face fell at her words, his mind going blank as he heard her say that, It hurt worse than a punch to the gut, and made him feel a thousand times more guilty than he did before. He opened his mouth several times to say something, but each time his words got stuck in his throat and he shut his mouth with an audible click. Finally, he managed to croak out. “You… you have me.”

"do I?" She asked a tear slipping from her eyes "My husband prefers whores to his marriage bed, my husband drinks a barrel of wine a day, I never see him, we never speak, we only ever argue over his failed promises to our children”

Aegon fell speechless as he saw the tear slip from her eyes. He’d seen her cry before, of course, but never like this. This wasn’t over anger or frustration. This was pain, real pain. He wanted to go to her, to wrap his arms around her and pull her close in an attempt to fix everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to move, or even look her in the eye. Because everything she said was true. And he hated himself for it all. “I…” he muttered, trying once again to force words out of his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

How could he defend himself against the truth? He did drink too much, he had spent more nights in brothels than he would care to count. He did fail to keep his promises to her and the children. Everything she said was completely true, and no amount of excuses could cover it up.

"you never do" she answered wiping her tears "you need not worry yourself over this baby, not like you'll care when it's born anyway"

Aegon flinched at the last part of her sentence. She was completely right. He had failed to be there for the birth of Marcus and of Marybelle, and he had failed to provide for them in the way that they deserved. And now there was another coming. Another child to make him feel even more guilty, and another child that he would fail to take care of. It was a vicious cycle that he didn’t know how to break. “That- that’s not true.” He protested weakly. “That’s not- I would care.” He muttered though he himself didn’t really believe it. There was something about seeing her there in front of him, a tear making a track down her face. Something about knowing that there was a baby inside of her, It made him feel sick to his stomach to think of how he was going to fail this baby too.

she shook her head "You need not worry over it."

“Stop saying that.” Aegon snapped, irritation bleeding into his voice. her kept telling him not to worry, telling him that everything was fine. “I can’t just not worry! There’s a baby… there’s our baby… and you keep telling me not to worry, like I don’t have to, and like everything is fine.”

"it's not your baby!"

“Excuse me?!” What did you just say? Aegon stared at her, shock and anger written all over his face. “Not my baby?” He repeated. “It’s a child that we created. It was my seed that started this child’s life. How is it, not my baby?!”

"It wasn't your seed. Aegon you haven't touched me since Marybelle was born, too busy with the whores to spend a night with your wife"

Aegon was silent after that. He couldn’t argue against it. her were once again completely right. He hadn’t touched her since before Marybelle’s birth, he could have sworn one or two nights he had made it to his marriage bed before unloading his seed and passing out but even of that he wasn’t sure, and he hadn’t given a second thought to her or how she felt about it. He’d been too focussed on the whores, the wine, his own needs. Shame and self-disgust washed over him, and he found that he couldn’t look at her for a moment. “That…” he began, trailing off as his voice grew hoarse. A wave of shame crashed over Aegon, making his stomach twist with guilt and nausea. He swallowed, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Aegon. You are not the father of the child inside me. You haven't touched me. I know this child is not yours"

It was like a dagger through the heart. her said it so casually as if it was just a simple fact. But he heard the pain in her voice, the hurt that he’d caused by not being there for her. And he could see the truth in her eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself and say that the child was still his. But a sick feeling of dread was already pooling in his gut as he realized the truth. He wasn’t the father of this baby. He’d made sure of that himself. Aegon’s throat felt like it was closing up again, leaving him staring at the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to keep his breathing steady. He felt weak. He felt sick. He felt guilty. “You… you slept with someone else?” He managed to force out the words, his voice low and shaking.

"you were gone. You never touched me. If you can take your nights sharing beds with a hundred common whores... I see no reason I cannot find a company of my own”

Aegon stiffened at her words, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He was a hypocrite. How many whores had he slept with while he’d been away? More than he cared to count. And yet here he was, getting upset over her having found someone else. He didn’t know how to respond. He felt nauseous and his mouth had gone dry, but he tried to speak anyway. “Who… who was it?”

"... I ... I don't wish to tell,"

Aegon clenched his jaw at her response, irritation and anger bubbling up within him. “Why not?!” He snapped. “you just told me that the baby isn’t mine, that you’ve been with someone else. And now you’re refusing to tell me who it was?”

"what does it matter? Are you going to sit and tell me the names of every whore you've been with? Tell me each name of every bastard down silk row you've fathered? So why should I tell you"

“Because-” Aegon stopped short, his response dying on his tongue. He wanted to deny it, to insist that it did matter to him. But deep down he knew she were right. He had no right to ask her to tell him who she found comfort in. Not when he himself had bedded countless whores over the past years. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he swallowed thickly as he tried to figure out what to say. “Because…” he began again, his voice low and shaky. “I don’t care about the whores. I would never care about them.” He took a deep breath, forcing the words out of his mouth. “Because… this is different. Because this one is different, because I… I…” He trailed off, his voice trembling as tears formed in his eyes. He’d never seen the situation from her perspective before. He’d failed her completely, and left her alone while he went off to whorehouses.

she sighed and stroked her stomach "... Jacaerys. Jacaerys Velaryon."

Aegon froze, his eyes going wide with shock. Jacaerys Velaryon.

Of all people, it had to be him. He felt his hands shaking, and his stomach threatened to upheave. He knew Jacaerys had been spending a lot of time with her, but he had just assumed it was his imagination. “Jacaerys?” He repeated, his voice a whisper. “you… you slept with… him?”

"... He was my betrothal once. Before you and I were married, Jacaerys and I were betrothed. You ignore me these days and his bride prefers the company of women... We find comfort in each other"

Aegon felt like he was going to be sick. He knew that she and Jacaerys had been betrothed. Everyone knew that. But he hadn’t considered the possibility that she would turn to him for comfort. The thought of the two of them together made his stomach churn. He couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching her, holding her, looking at her with desire in their eyes. “you’re… you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

"how I feel about him is irrelevant. I am your wife. I am your bride. I will do my duty as long as I live. But I will find my comfort as you find yours.”

Aegon felt his heart shatter in his chest as she spoke. She was his bride, his wife, and the mother of his children. But she did not love him, not anymore. She loved Jacaerys. “Why him?” He rasped. “Why not anyone else?”

"We find comfort together, we each have a partner who doesn't care for our needs and desires. And he's always been so sweet to the children"

Aegon clenched his jaw at her words. He didn't want to hear about how Jacaerys was, how sweet and caring and loving he was. Jacaerys was everything that Aegon wasn't. He was thoughtful, he was sweet, he was kind. He didn't spend his days in brothels or drunk in taverns. Aegon wanted to say he would change, he wanted to try and make things better between the two of her. But would she even believe him anymore? Or would she run back into Jacaerys' arms the first chance she got? “Do you…” Aegon began, his voice a whisper. “Do you love him?”

He didn’t want to hear the answer. He hoped that she would say no. That she would say she didn’t love Jacaerys, and that she only found comfort in the idea of being with someone who actually cared about her. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He knew she loved Jacaerys, more than she had ever loved Aegon. And the thought of that made him want to die.

"... I am your wife." She repeated,

Aegon hated that answer. It wasn’t a yes or a no. her weren’t denying it, but weren’t confirming it either. He had always prided himself on the fact that he could tell when people were lying to him, but right now she was unreadable. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “That’s not an answer.” He growled.

"I am your wife. And I'm here. If I didn't love you don't her think I'd have packed my things, taken the children and flown to Dragonstone to be with Jacaerys!" She shouted "But no. I am here. I am your wife. Mother to your children, your heirs. I stay. Because I love you. I have remained through the humiliation of your behaviour because I love you. I have sat here knowing there are bastards throughout this city any of which have a claim over my true-born children if you so much as legitimised them." She explained through gritted teeth "I am here because I love you. I have endured all of it because I love you."

Aegon’s face fell further as she spoke. She stayed by his side the entire way. Despite the whores, despite the bastards, her were still his wife and she’d stayed. He felt small and shamed under her gaze. her had done everything for him, she had loved him, and he hadn’t done the same for her. “Then… then why did you sleep with Jacaerys?” He mumbled, the words feeling like ash in his mouth. “If… if you love me…”

"as I said. We give each other comfort. No different from the comfort you find with your whores"

Aegon flinched at her words. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to say it wasn’t the same at all. But he knew He had no excuse, no justification for why it was different when he went to whores. His shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor, avoiding her gaze. “It’s not the same.” He mumbled weakly.

"how is it not the same? The only difference is that he doesn't throw me a gold coin when we're done"

Aegon winced. That was so much more different than he had expected. His jaw clenched and he clenched his fists, irritation sparking through him at her words. “It’s… it’s different because they’re whores.” He muttered. “They’re whores. Not… not…”

He trailed off, unable to find the words to defend himself. She was the mother of his children, his wife. His queen. Compared to them, the whores were nothing.

"not what?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He wanted to say that they meant nothing to him, that the whores were just a means to an end, just a way for him to forget his troubles for a few hours. But he knew that wasn’t true. The whores were his vices, his weakness and he’d let them take over his life. “They’re… they don’t mean anything to me.” He tried weakly. “They’re just whores, that’s it.”

"and jockeys mean nothing to me. I love you, I am your wife. We simply find comfort together when we cannot get it from our marriages"

Aegon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, her words washing over him. It was a bitter pill to swallow. He didn’t want to hear her talk about Jacaerys that way. He didn’t want to think about her spending her nights with him, finding comfort in his arms. Not when she should have been finding that comfort in his arms. “And… and is that all it is? Just… comfort?” He asked lowly, barely keeping a hint of anger from his voice.

"that is all it is. And if you had given me such comfort I would not need to see him at all"

Gods damn it. Aegon wanted to argue. He wanted to insist that he would have given her that comfort if she’d just asked him. But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew that they’d barely spoken to each other in over years, never mind sharing any sort of intimate moment. He swallowed nervously and looked down at the ground. “And if… if I started trying to give you that comfort?”

"then I would have no need to visit him"

Aegon felt a small flicker of hope at those words. If he tried, if he made an effort, then maybe she would see that she didn’t need Jacaerys in her life. That she didn’t need to cheat on him and break their marital vows. He took a shaky breath and swallowed thickly, looking up at her. “…and you would stop seeing him, then?”

"I would if you did provide the comfort you are promising... However, you have broken many promises before so... Don't assume I would trust you. And if you were to not seek comfort in your whores. Perhaps you'd have the time for your wife"

Aegon felt stung by the last part of her comment. He wanted to flinch at the thought that she didn’t trust him to give her what she needed. But why should she? He hadn’t exactly given her a reason to trust him in the past. He sighed and nodded. “I…” he began, his throat dry. “I won’t go to whores anymore. I promise.”

"words don't mean anything. Actions do" She said the same words Marcus had said to him, showing where the boy had gotten such a phrase

Aegon felt his jaw clenched at her response. He could promise and vow over and over that he would stop seeing whores, but it didn’t mean anything until he actually did it. He took a deep breath, the thought of going without a whore for that long made him shiver. But he was determined to prove to her that he meant what he said. He nodded again, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right.” He mumbled. “I… I’ll do it. No whores.”

"and so long as her see no whores I shall not see Jacaerys. At least not intimately, I may have to see him socially"

Aegon’s expression soured as she spoke. He didn’t want her seeing Jacaerys at all, no matter how “socially” it was. But he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had agreed to stop seeing whores, and she had agreed to stop being intimate with Jacaerys. He couldn’t afford to jeopardize that. He nodded again, forcing the words past his lips. “Fine. But I don’t… I don’t want her alone with him.”

"I promise I won't be alone with him, I shall only see him if social events call for it"

Aegon felt some of the tension leave his shoulders at her words. He still didn’t like the idea of her spending time with Jacaerys, social or otherwise. But as long as she promised her wouldn’t be alone with him, he could deal with it. “Fine. That’s… that’s good enough for me.”

He mumbled. “I won’t go to whores, and she won’t be alone with Jacaerys. That’s the deal.”

she nodded

Aegon clenched his fists, his knuckles going white as he tried to maintain his composure. He didn’t really want to have this conversation. The thought of discussing the child her were carrying, Jacaerys’ child, made him feel like he wanted to be sick. But he knew it was a conversation that needed to be had. “What… what do you want to do about it?” He asked, forcing the words past his dry mouth.

she shivered her hands stroking her bump "I would like to keep it, I understand if he must be treated differently, as a bastard, sent away when he's older. But I would like to keep him... unless you want me to.... rid... myself."

Aegon clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He didn’t want the child. The thought of seeing this bastard every day, a reminder of her time with Jacaerys, was more than he could handle.

But he knew he couldn’t demand she rid herself of it. He couldn’t force her to terminate the pregnancy if she didn’t want to. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Keep it, then.” He mumbled. “Raise it how you like, it’s yours.”

"Aegon, I don't want to keep it... if he will have a hellish life. if you will hate him."

Aegon shifted uncomfortably at her words. A part of him wanted to insist that he would try to love the boy. That it wasn’t the child’s fault they were a bastard, and he wouldn’t hold it against them. But another part of him knew that it wouldn’t matter. Every time he looked at the kid, he wouldn’t see anything except a reminder that she had cheated on him. He swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t think… I don’t think I’ll be able to love the child.” He mumbled quietly.

"Never?"

Aegon clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her as he spoke. “Never.” He mumbled. He hated himself for saying it. He knew the child was innocent, it wasn’t their fault they were a bastard. But he just couldn’t bring himself to love a child that would be the constant reminder of her infidelity.

"... I understand," she nodded sadly "Even if I was to have him? and send him away?"

Aegon’s heart twisted at the sadness in her tone. On one hand, at least if she sent the child away then he wouldn’t have to look at it every day. There would be no constant reminder of her infidelity, no need to try and love a child that was a product of love she gave to another.

But on the other hand, the thought of her giving up the child because he didn’t want it… it broke his heart, to think he would force her to send her child away. “Send it away when he’s born.” He mumbled.

Y/n nodded, trembling her hands on her belly as fears began to flood down her cheeks but she made no sound

Aegon felt a pang in his chest as he saw the tears begin to fall down her cheeks, his heart clenching at the sight. A part of him wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and comfort her. To tell her that he’d changed his mind, and that he’d come to love the child. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The thought of lying to her, of saying that he could love the child just to see her smile, was too much to bear. He stood there, frozen and unable to move, as the tears continued to fall from her eyes. His chest felt tight with guilt and regret, his mind screaming at him to say something, to do something to make her smile. But he was frozen in place, forced to stand there and watch as she cried in front of him, knowing that he was the cause of it. “I… I’m…” he stammered, the words dying on his tongue. He took a step towards her, his arms itching to reach out and hold her. To pull her against him and tell her it would be alright. But he stopped himself, clenching his fists at his sides instead to stop himself from reaching out. He knew she would likely pull away if he tried to touch her. “I… I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn’t know what else to say, how to comfort her.

Y/n hugged Aegon tight in her arms crying into his chest, taking comfort from him in a way she hadn't done before in their marriage, and it became clear to Aegon just how much she loved her baby, just how much comfort she needed and how little he had given her

Aegon froze as she hugged him, her arms wrapped tight around him. It was the first time in months, maybe even years that she had hugged him, He slowly wrapped his arms around her in return, his heart twisting at the way she trembled against him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so vulnerable before.

"Is there anything I could do... that you would let me keep him here with me?"

Aegon swallowed and closed his eyes, his arms tightening around her. she trembled in his arms he realised the truth… there was one thing she could do. He took a deep breath and leaned his head down, his cheek resting against the top of her head. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, guilt and excitement battling inside him. “There is something you could do.” He mumbled against her hair, his grip on her waist tightening slightly.

When she nodded to indicate that she was listening, Aegon took another deep breath and continued with a low voice.

“I… I would allow her to keep the child here with you…” he began, before pausing to gather his thoughts. “If… if her promise to never see Jacaerys again. Or… or anyone else.”

"I promise, I promise on the lives of all my children"

Aegon felt his breath catch in his throat as she made the promise.

A part of him was still fearful, still waiting for the moment she would go behind his back and continue her affair with Jacaerys. But another part of him, a deeper part, desperately hoped that she was telling the truth. That she would allow him a second chance. That she would stay faithful to him from now on. He nodded and exhaled shakily. “I… I believe you.” He mumbled.

"Thank you Aegon," She nodded giving his forehead a soft kiss, and hugging him tight

Aegon tensed slightly as she kissed his forehead, his heart thundering in his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time she had kissed him, Even before the affair, she had never been the most affectionate partner. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed those little acts until they were gone. He held her tightly in his arms, revelling in the feeling of her in his embrace. He buried his face down into the crook of her neck, his arms tightening around her. He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of lavender and lemon that surrounded her. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her scent until now. After a moment of holding her in his arms, Aegon finally spoke. “We should eat,” he mumbled into her neck. “you and the baby need nourishment.”

she nodded and wiped away her tears "Would... would you carry me? like you used to when we first got married? When I was pregnant with Marcus?"

Aegon’s breath hitched as she asked him to carry her, his grip on her tightening slightly. The memories her request stirred up were almost painful to think about. The early days of their marriage where they had been happy and in love, before the years had dulled the feelings and led to the situation they were in now. He nodded without hesitation. “Of course.” He mumbled, crouching down and sliding his arms underneath her, lifting her up into his arms with ease He held her close, his arms wrapped around her body carefully. He was suddenly reminded of the times when he would carry her like this when she was pregnant earlier in the marriage, how his heart would ache with love and pride at knowing her were carrying his child. Now, holding her in his arms and feeling the now familiar, but unwanted, bump bump against his chest, Aegon felt none of that love or pride. Just anger, sorrow and bitterness.

Y/n smiled and cuddled up to Aegon as he carried her giving his cheek a kiss as he carried her though the castle, "I really do love you Aegon, truly,"

Aegon felt his breath catch in his throat as she spoke, her words taking him by surprise. He didn’t think he had the right to hear those words anymore. Not after how many times he had driven her to tears. He swallowed heavily and held her tighter, forcing his voice to work. “you… you do? Even… even after everything?”

she nodded

Aegon continued carrying her in his arms, still somewhat in disbelief that she could still say that she loved him. He exhaled shakily and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “And… and I love you too.”

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY IRON BULL  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

hey, don't top from the bottom.

next time you're free, why don't you come grab a drink?

didn't figure you were the kind to bed your way to power.

love is all starlight and gentle blushes. passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.

do you want your silky underthings back, or did you leave those like a token?

you're the toughest, wisest, most beautiful person i've ever met.

these big muscled hands could tear those robes off you while you struggled, helpless in my grip.

i will never hurt you without your permission. you will always be safe.

you don't need to be afraid... unless you want to.

you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you're inclined to do the forbidden...

you want to watch, don't you?

make sure you undress him with your eyes... respectfully.

i'd offer to help you get rid of that frustration but, you know... i'm in a committed relationship.

next time we're alone, i'm going to pin you down and do things your body won't believe.

all that crap made sense to you?

i can't tell you how proud i'm gonna be, watching you out there, addressing them... with this big, old love bite on your neck.

wait, i'll flex a little for you. make it easier.

that staff's in pretty good shape. do you spend a lot of time polishing it?

i can see you don't want to talk about it. bet you looked good doing it, though.

how do you manage that while staring up at everyone's ass the whole time?

you and i are fine as long as you don't do any weird crap.

i'd pin you down, and as you gripped me, i... would... conquer... you.

oh, for shit's sake.

good. i like that energy. stoke those fires, big guy.

all i'm saying is... you ever want to explore that, my door's always open.

worked that out on your own, did you?

you're not as flashy as most mages.

wait, did you "forget" them so you'd have an excuse to come back? you sly dog.

i didn't say it was healthy.

you don't actually like thinking about hurting people, do you?

if you do that, everyone knows you're a spy.

still waiting for me to do something sneaky and spy-like?

we probably won't try down to burn down a city this time.

really not sad i missed that one.

you're lucky then. it was awful.

you only lack the will to get more blood on your hands?

enjoying the great outdoors?

this area's low on dancing girls, sadly.

i've always liked fighting.

i'm not sure you know what you're asking. not sure if you're ready for it.

well, that's a fucking relief.

i'm fine. hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.

so, you going to let me have it, [name]? or do i get to wait and wonder?

you really kicked the crap outta that guy.

it's pretty hot where we're from.

it's not a secret. it's just too big for a quit chat.

you get that thing i asked about?

maybe you should stand in front of me.

you ever get the asses mixed up?

you're a damn fine marksman.

i fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the gut.

all right, now you're just making it weird.

nobody fights well when their clothes are on fire.

i... didn't mean to offend you.

that hurts, [name]. that's hurtful.

i may have done it a couple of times on purpose.

i cold 'cause it freezes them, and then they break into little bits when i chop them in half.

with the magic, do you prefer fire, or lightning, or cold, or what?

you don't need to worry. i have no intention of trying to leash anyone.

are you gonna write me into one of your stories?

it's just daring somebody to try to attack it.

when that breaks, you fix it. like we're doing now.

in theory, they're no different from anyone else.

anyone who takes that burden and lives a good life with it has many respect.

you're pretty tall for a human.

the bloodstains are good for scaring enemies.

could you make it sound angrier? "love" is a bit soft.

tell me more about the coat.

i don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.

you're really good with that bow.

it's just friendly. i won't step in your business.

what i'm saying is, please stop stealing my kills.

we should get shirts. probably need different sizes.

i think you're confusing. how can you just pick and choose what parts you believe in?

you know, i really like hitting things.

who has sex smelling like roses?

hey, i don't hate you. you and me? we're good.

hey, no-pants fridays is a cause.

it's a difficult thing you've done, turning your back on one life to live another.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kuro Ryuko

The world shook.

Screams. Panic. Futile commands filling the air, as what Royal Warriors still lived, tried desperately to fight back. What was the point? Didn't they realize? They had brought this on themselves. We all had. I... I had TRIED. Powerless as I was. Trapped as I often felt. I had TRIED.

In the face of The Black Dragon... I knew it to be no excuse.

My soul burned beneath it's cry. That terrible roar, which echoed condemnation. Damning. Our crimes could not be hidden. Our sins unforgivable, rotting behind the pretty lies we had told ourselves. It SAW us for what we were. Beheld our very SOULS.

The Dragon was DISGUSTED.

All I could do was run. Weep. Cling to the hands of the other serving girls, as we tried desperately to survive. Forgotten in the panic, by so called greater men, we had only ourselves to count on. The servants pathways were already choke points. Death traps. Several had been hit, if the pillars of smoke were coming from where we thought the were.

The world shook. Hanako choked on her scream, two girls down. The subtle face paint she was always so proud of, a mess, streaming like tears of ash down her lovely face. Aiko had fainted. Tried so, SO hard not to. Clung to consciousness with vicious painted nails. But the panic had been to much, her health too poor. Her sister carried her now.

The world shook. We were going to die, weren't we? A crowd of forgotten things. Not even good enough to be people in the eyes of our masters. Just maids. Serving girls. Born peasants and dead property. Caught beneath the wrath of a Dragon whose eyes saw us, but who mercy could not comprehend the complexity of mortal cages. The chains we could not see.

Crashing. Fire. Roars.

The World Shook.

It was excuses, in the end. We had a choice. Simple as it was. Obedience or Death as it may have been. To the Dragon morality? We were to have chosen Death. There is no compassion for cowards. Mercy for the cruel and self-serving. Not even, if it is all you can do, to survive. Perish instead, die proudly, Be Dragon, says the Black Dragon.

Of all the Dragons, THEY are not the kind one. Not the merciful nor sweet nor wise. THEY are Justice. Vengeance. Debts paid as they are due. They were feared but no one could get rid of them. For who could rightfully argue against Justice? Debts paid? What, people would ask, did you have to hide?

Everything. They always did. And they DISPISED the Dragon for it. For being impossible to fool. Impossible to bribe. Their Champion's an avatar of their Will. Endlessly carving paths of destruction through sin and debauchery, usually paid for at the cost of those who served. To see the Black Dragon? Was to know Justice was coming.

Like the fist of a wrathful God. The mauling of a beast. Burning through like a wildfire, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

It was an isolating life. Terrible. I... I remembered, Before this life, Another. Bits and pieces. Disjointed at first. Yet over the years I have come together. Social isolation is a torture. I KNOW this. People go insane. And... and a dragon is not human. Could not possibly be enough, even if they WERE excellent companionship. People need support structures.

So I tried.

Volunteered to be the one to bring Kuro Ryuko her meals, much to the relief of others. Tried to sneak treats and festival snacks in. Little toys and books borrowed from the central library that maybe they would like. I tried. Again and again. Everything I could think of. Quietly and subtly, so as not to get punished. So I would not be stopped. And...?

It amounted to nothing.

Silence.

Did I become too comfortable? In my habits, too arrogant? That I forgot exactly how DANGEROUS the forces I meddled with, truely ARE? At worst... at WORST, I expected her to ignore me. She had such even temperament. A calm, smooth voice. Still and ponderous, like deep waters. How? HOW?! I could not-! Did NOT-!

Not far behind our group, a great expanse of wall exploded to the side, as a god-like section of the Black Dragon's body crashed through it. One small part of a single twinning loop. Insignificant compared to the full beast, which seemed to consume the sky itself.

It was MASSIVE.

We would have died instantly.

Choking on our screams, desperate not to attract notice, we threw ourselves forward. Nearly tripping on our skirts. Two of us DID, but were instantly hauled back to their feet by friends or nearby survivors before they could fall. No one. NO ONE, was getting left behind. It wasn't long now. W-we could do this. We HAD to do this. Survive. Escape. Whatever comes next, so be it.

There were supposed to be other Dragons. To Balance each other. Had they turned on us too? Were they dead? Did it even matter anymore? None of us had ever been so glad for Madame Shimei's secret gaurd lover before, the one we all knew about but all pretended we didn't. They were cute together. Everyone hoped they would marry.

I...I hoped he wasn't dead. It would break her.

There! The outer wall! I could sob with relief. The secret side entrance was open. Madame's Gaurd still there, alone. Frantically searching until he laid eyes on her. Desperation melting into unspeakable relief. He starts forward. We... we are so close...!

CLAWS.

The Dragon's hand, smashs down between us. Crushing everything. Cutting us off from any escape.

Now. NOW we scream. There is no point not doing so. We have been found. Barely visible, past the crushing force, Madame's gaurd appears alive. Unhurt. Refusing to run and leave her. They are not young, it was no grand tale of beauties, but in the face of certain death? He has shown what sort of man he is. She begs him to go. Live. It sounds so very far away, as I follow the line of that limb. Up and up and UP.

Titanic and seething, the Black Dragon's eyes glow. My soul laid bare. Every failing, every mistake, each injustice. How... how worthless I am. I... I deserve this. How dare I run. How dare not pay for my sins? I deserve to burn. We all deserve to pay for our-...

"Not that one. That one's mine."

I am on my knees. Tears streaming down my face. The others weeping, cowering, praying around me. Only a few made the mistake of actually looking the Dragon in the eyes. The others beg them to wake up. They won't. Trapped in a terrible trance, they weep. It take me a long moment to even register my freedom. The source.

Kuro Ryuko. I know that voice. Who else could it be?

She stands, the picture of Judgement and Cold, Calculated, Wrath. Long black hair, blowing in the wind generated by the Dragon's mere presence. Their mere WEIGHT upon the world. Her eyes glowing like suns from within. Golden beacons of light, inhuman marks of absolute power. She... She is looking at me. Why is she looking at ME?

"I have decided No More." Her voice echos in the silence like a command, the declaration of an empress. "They will not listen. Think they can hide. Pester and pander, seek to cage me even as they poison me. Enough. I have tolerated this insolence long enough! It burns, all of it. They may start again from the ashes."

"Now come here, Mouse. We are leaving."

There are certain commands you can twist and some you can not. Some you can argue and some you can not. It depends on how reasonable the person speaking. What they will DO, should you defy them. The cost you would pay. If... if I DON'T heel like a pet? My eyes flick to the other maids. Madame makes eye contact, her horror clear. Experience has taught her EXACTLY how this must end.

Through tears, I offer her a smile. It... it will be okay. Somehow, some way, it will be... be okay. Live. Survive this. K-keep going, alright? Promise me? We have not spoken. Just gaze alone. But the grief and determination painting her face? Tells me she understands.

I'm so, SO sorry.

I get up. Face Kuro Ryuko. A perfect servant's pose. Head up, but not so far as to be haughty. Shoulders back, but not so far as to thrust out the chest. A smile that is pleasing but promises nothing, does not entice. Hands folded, ready to serve, artful not idle. Measured steps as I move forward. I remember my lessons.

Terrified. I am... I am so... so unspeakably afraid. I move regardless. Smile politely. What is one death? If the others survive. I may shake, my soul may howl and tremble, b-but my friends get to LIVE. A-And... and have I not lived before? I am being selfish. This fear is selfish. They get to live. Repeat it. Gods, we must repeat it.

They'll get to LIVE. T-They'll get to LIVE. D-Don't b-be... be...

I can not let myself cry. Refuse to show weakness NOW. Here, at the end. Before this terrible, terrible thing. Tears have no use before a beast with no mercy. I have so little dignity left. The least I can give, can HAVE, is my final memories be one of strength, in the minds of those who loved me. Lie as it may be.

There is blood on her cheek. I can see no wound. And from the angle it stains her? It can only be splatter. Shines, just faintly, with the golden sheen of an Avatar's gift. Their blessings. I guess I know, now, why Shiro Ryuko has not risen to stand against them.

They can not.

I wonder if they are wounded or simply gone.

The Black Dragon has moved its focus to me. Adjusting it's stance to do so. It clears the path and, with despair, the others flee. I... I hope they live long lives. Good ones. Would give anything to join them. But here and now, I do not turn my head. Stare straight ahead and think of nothing. Pretend my hands do not... do not shake.

I am fine.

This is fine.

Kuro Ryuko moves, jumping through the air in a way that denies reality it's laws, it's limits. What are physics to a god? Mere gravity to a DRAGON? She moves as she pleases and the world bows to her will. Touching down with the grace of a frightful hunting bird, weapon swept elegantly to her side, as she rises to regard me. We have never stood so close. Some vaguely hysterical part of me notes... huh, I'm taller then her...

"Hello, Mouse, I am your mate. We are going to be together, forever. Come." There was no uncertainty in her voice. No asking. Just absolutes, command. Her hand expectant as it hung, outstretched towards me. "This place is filthy and does not deserve you. I will find us a better one. Flowers, perhaps? A luxurious bed? You will tell me on the way. Give me your hand."

What else could I do? But obey here? So close, the Black Dragon's every breath rolls across me like waves of heated death. A subtle reminder of at who's mercy, I stand. Her skin is almost too hot to touch. Hand calloused from a warriors training. I am dragged close. Against black silks with golden trims and embroidering. A possessive arm, like steel, sliding around my waist.

She takes a moment. As though to savor holding me close for the first time. Her other hand flicking her weapon up into the air, leaving it to float, weightlessly. Just so she can bury it in my hair, which had half fallen from it's styling, during the run. Pressing her face against the side of my head. Nearly hard enough to hurt. Dragging in air, all but hissing it, through her nose and gritted teeth.

Like it's not enough. Like it will NEVER be enough.

Like she wants to craw inside my skin and wear me. Needs me. Wants to CONSUME me.

Her hands have claws. I can feel them prickling, five painful little points, on each one. Where she holds me still. Bruisingly strong. A pleased hum that rolls like a growl. Pressed close against my skin like a secret.

"Mine. Just mine now. No more patience. No more 'behave'. Just MINE. You and me. My Mouse. Pretty fidgety MY Mouse. Shy and nervous and MINE. Gonna take such good care of you. Give you everything you need. Love you, Mouse. And you'll love me."

"No matter what. I'll make sure of it."

[fieldsofwriting]

With Hayden having Henrietta and Juniper having Dozy, what do you think is every love interest's ideal pet? I feel like a good amount of them would wind up being cat people to be honest lol

You are very right, I think everyone would be very ride or die with thier pets tbh. Like there is friendly debates at the Tavern over who is the best. They'd have a best in show every year. Head cannons below the cut!

Balor:

This man is a Cat lover through and through. There is no convincing me otherwise.

I could see him having the sweetest little black cat- ya know to add to they mystery vibees.

He would love to have the cat run around with him, and when he's out and about I can see it curling up around his shoulders.

THIS MAN SPOILS HIS BABY.

So much, this cat wants for absolutely nothing.

If he gets it after his D&D sessions- it have a silly name like Snickelfritz. For the vibes.

Reina:

She strikes me as a dog girlie honestly.

I think she'd like using her dog as an excuse to get out of the kitchen every now and again and just go on walks with them.

I think she'd have a chocolate lab- yes because of the name but I also can't see her having a little dog.

She would spoil the shit out of the dog too- this dog gets so many homemade treats.

Not to mention Hemlock would feed him table scraps. And Luc would love to take them out too for bug adventures.

I could also see her being the kinda dog owner to give them cute little bandana's and everything to wear.

They'd also probably have a food name tbh.

Celine:

I think she could go either way. I can definitely see her having both cats and dogs growing up.

But once she's moved out? I think she's got a bunny.

She'd LOVE taking them out to her garden and letting them roam.

She'd also love being able to give the bunny farm fresh foods!

I mean look at her and tell me that she doesn't look like she'd hold a bunny in her arms and walk around town.

She'd make it a little flower crown and everything too.

She'd get Ryis to help her make the best most lavish bunny cage there is too.

I think she'd give the bunny a cute name like Petal.

March:

Okay- hear me out. As a kid? I think he had a bearded dragon. He would have thought they were SO COOL. Alright?

But now, as like an adult? I think he wouldn't hate any animal. Mans a big softy under that hard exterior.

I think though- he'd prefer Dogs over cats.

MOSTLY because the dog would remind him of Olric

Also you've seen those arms. I think be a crime to not get him a dog so you can throw a stick to them.

He'd pretend not to care at all about the dog- but then he'd fight so hard to make it have a cool name. (He'd probably try for Copper.)

You know those dads that are like "Don't bring home any damn animals!" And then bonds with the said animal. That's him.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! Let me know if you want me to do some of the other characters too!! And thank you for your request! :3 Requests are open!!

[aquilapolariz]

memento mori (trafalgar law x reader)

Summary: You can’t help but notice Law’s obsession with death.

Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for Law’s background, headcanon HEAVY, happens right after Punk Hazard

Word Count: 1.6k | Read below the cut or on Ao3 here!

“I’ll be damned,” you started, “so Luffy really can rope anyone into his schemes. Even a Warlord.” You walked over to him, finding a spot by his side aboard the Thousand Sunny. “Ah, excuse me, ex-warlord.”

He looked at you in the corner of his eye, his head refusing to turn away from the shore Punk Hazard. “It’s out of necessity,” Law mumbled.

“My captain wants the same thing you want- necessity and coincidence are all you need.”

Law grasped his sword, holding it tight, trying to seek some comfort. “It’s only the second time running into you Strawhats, but both those times have been…chaotic. Feels like a little more than a coincidence.”

You think back to Saobody and seeing Law for the first time in the flesh; he was handsome, cocky, and intriguing. The holder of the Opu Opu no Mi, and a doctor no less- the perfect complement to his devil fruit, you noted.

Power gravitates to power. Luffy seemed to pull in both Eustass Kidd and Trafalgar Law when they fought off the Navy outside the Celestial Dragon’s auction house.

Intellect gravitates to intellect. As the Strawhat’s Devil fruit researcher, you knew that the Opu Opu no Mi was one of the most versatile fruits to exist. As Law fought, you observed. With just one word he established a room and stood in the same spot in order to fight, separating people’s limbs from their bodies. Why is he tossing some Navy guy’s head in his hand like a baseball? What a weird guy. You laughed to yourself, letting the three supernovas effortlessly take out the marines.

A long two years later, aboard the Sunny, and Law looked as handsome as ever. But his weariness was revealed in his constant scowl. He was tired, seemingly ready to throw his life away. Even the setting sun, fiery and blazing, couldn’t seem to melt the ice in his cold eyes.

“Must be fate then,” you concluded. Rather, intervention for Law’s state of mind in the form of your crew.

Your attentive gaze was always noticed by his own, even at Saobody. You looked at him with curiosity as if you could read his every thought, as if you desperately wanted to. If this was a battle of observation and wit, then so be it. Law was a complex man, and you would love to pick apart his brain, and as much as he was loath to admit, he would love to pick apart yours.

“Chopper told me you healed the kids from Caesar’s drug. Thank you,” you said kindly as the Sunny drifted away from Punk Hazard, the children and the Marines waving goodbye.

“You shouldn’t thank me. They still have to go through painful treatment,” Law said.

“So the Opu Opu no Mi has limits?”

“If I could cure everything, I would. Those children have been consistently consuming that drug for over a year. It’s part of their bloodstream at this point. They’ll have to deal with withdrawals, their abnormal body sizes, reintegrating back into society, and any residual effects we don’t know about.”

You breathed in, savoring the salty air that you missed during the chaos at Punk Hazard. “They will suffer, true. But at least…it’ll be a little less than it was before. Their families have missed them.”

Law gritted his teeth. He felt ashamed, complicit in those children’s pain for so long. How dare he call himself a doctor?

“Why do you, as a doctor, have the word ‘death’ on your hand?” Your hand shot out to grab his wrist. You brought it close to your face, studying his tattoo. “A little contradictory for someone who seems to take his job seriously.”

“It’s a memento mori of sorts,” he replied vaguely. Your hand on his sent unfamiliar- and unwanted- shivers up his spine.

“A reminder of mortality, huh?” Law nodded, impressed.

He nodded, “It’s also plastered on the side of my submarine.” It’s been a while since he’s seen his trusty yellow vessel, his Jolly Roger painted black next to the word “DEATH,” just like his own tattoos.

“That I believe. Wait, you have a submarine?” Law noticed your eyes light up as they looked at him.

“Yeah, the Polar Tang.”

You hummed, imagining how wondrous it would be to see the depths of the ocean every single day at sea. “Did you become a surgeon before or after eating your devil fruit?”

“After, I guess.” He called himself a surgeon ever since he extracted White Lead Disease from his own body. A doctor since the age of twelve, only by necessity.

“You guess?” You questioned.

“I guess,” Law smirked.

“You said your devil fruit has limits…?”

“Of course, it can only do so much.”

“I think…I get it now.”

Law raised an eyebrow.

“With your fruit, you are the perfect doctor. But even then…” Your eyes traced the letters on Law’s fingers.

He slowly took his hand out of your grasp. “People still die,” he said.

“Doctors know death better than anyone, huh?” You said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened. After being constantly surrounded by idiots, being in your presence was refreshing, enjoyable even. “Did your research, it seems.”

You shook your head. “Research alone wouldn’t tell me something like that. Plus, I’m sure I’m missing some details.”

And you were. Law knows Death all too well. Death from sickness. His sister, his parents. Death from murder. Corazon. Death by his own hand. The hundreds of pirates whose hearts he gave away to the Navy. The death he hopes to deliver to Doflamingo. To stray away from death would be to stray away from his identity, so clearly conveyed in the ink on his fingers.

“My tattoos constantly remind me of what I’m trying to get my patients to avoid. Sure, it’s a memento mori, but it’s not only for my own sake. It’s for everyone’s, especially the lives I hold in my hand, both as a captain and a doctor.”

No one ever questioned the presence of his tattoos, his fascination with death. Many assumed he just wanted to be an edgy doctor-pirate, living up to his unsettling name of Surgeon of Death. But those inquisitive eyes of yours seemed to see right through him, down to the depths of his very being, past all of those preconceived notions. You seemed to hang onto every word he said, urgently and desperately, making him feel like he was the only person in the world when you spoke to him.

“It’s just that,” he felt his breath catch in his throat, “it’s always a good thing to remind ourselves that we’re not immortal. Even if I help some live longer, it’s only just that. Death is the one thing I can guarantee everyone- I can’t promise life.”

The fiery sunlight danced upon the waters of the ocean, closer than ever to melting away Law’s icy gaze.

“So…how’d you end up a surgeon?”

“My father was one,” he said dismissively, “and I just happened to eat the perfect devil fruit for that line of work.”

“A mighty coincidence,” you noted amusedly, well-aware that Law wasn’t telling you everything.

And Law, too, was aware that you could see that.

“How’d someone as observant as you end up on a crew of idiots?”

You shrugged. “They’re not all idiots though,” you said, glancing at Franky tinkering with his latest device as Robin watched.

“Could join my crew instead.” Law cringed at his own words as soon as they left his mouth. Would he even be alive when all the dust has settled in Dressrosa? What would be the point of you joining his crew if he wasn’t there? But his body and mind, under stress and anticipation since Luffy arrived on Punk Hazard, knew he needed someone like you, now more than ever. And so he spoke it without a thought.

How quickly curiosity gravitates to curiosity.

You rolled your eyes. “Gotta give me something worth leaving this for,” you gestured broadly at the Sunny.

“Like I said, I have a submarine. It’s a whole other world down there.”

“You’ve probably seen things that no pirate has ever even dreamed of seeing, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like Fishman Island, multiplied by a thousand.”

“Fishman Island really was beautiful…I would like to visit your Polar Tang one day. As a visitor,” you clarified. “There’s a reason I’m on this crew- everyone helps each other to live life to the absolute fullest.” A sting of jealousy pierces his heart as Law watches you look at your crew fondly, with all the love in the world. He feels his heart skip a beat despite your expected rejection to join his crew. You sighed. “Law, it’s like you said. Death is sure to happen but…in the meantime, we can’t forget to live.”

But how could he do that when he had a soul to avenge? Corazon’s soul- a death that weighed heavy on his heart, one that he swore to never forget.

“To live?” He asked, his voice shaky as veins in his hands started to feel like pins and needles.

“To live is to laugh…is to cry, to love, to feel.” You tore your eyes away from the crew to look at the broken man before you. “It’s to be free.”

Those words sounded oddly familiar. Corazon’s last words echoed in Law’s mind: “You are now…truly free.” Looking at you, the ice in his eyes started to thaw. With every blink, the details in your face were becoming blurry, the Sunny feeling like it came to a full stop.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Law as he stared at his tattooed fingers. As he squinted at them, the five letters on each finger, spelling out the word DEATH, started to blur. In his vision, those same letters started to waver, each one morphing into entirely new letters. With you in his periphery, he mumbled out the new word that it formed:

“Alive.”

~bonus:

“…Is this…how (Y/N) flirts?” Usopp asked Nami as they hid behind the tangerine trees.

“Through an interrogation? Yeah, seems about right.”

“Hey, what are you guys whispering abo-?” Luffy said.

Nami pulled him behind the tangerine tree. “Shhh!”

“Why does Tra-guy seem to only like talking to (Y/N)?” Luffy frowned.

“Because-“

“Could join my crew,” Law said to you in the distance.

“OH SO HE’S TRYING TO STEAL THEM FROM THE CREW, GUM-GUM ELEPHANT GUN!!!!!!!”

Usopp and Nami threw themselves onto their captain to prevent him from transforming, “LUFFY NOOOOOOOO.”

[tonberry-yoda]

Cupid - Hanzo

notes: (reader and Hanzo are in an implied relationship <3) happy valentine's day folks!! i figured that i'd write a cupid hanzo fic because well... he needed it. i hope you all have an amazing day and get all your favorite gifts!!! <333

word count: 641

You sighed and slumped down on the couch. Even on Valentine's day, Soldier 76 had you working your ass off. You knew you were needed, especially considering that a lot of the heroes were either taking the day off, or doing other Overwatch things, but damn, you didn't want to have to fight this much.

You finally got at least a minute of break time though, which was good enough for you. There was nothing like the air conditioned air of the Overwatch HQ. Especially with you covered in sweat. Speaking of, you felt gross and wanted all of this smelly sweat off of you. You hoped that Soldier would let you take a bit of a longer break this time so you could take a shower. You ran to your room and scooped up some clean clothes and a couple towels. You started to run to the bathroom, but almost crashed into someone on the way out.

You apologized, but snorted when you saw who it was. "Hanzo," you burst out into uncontrollable laughter when you saw what he was in. "What the hell are you wearing?!" You laughed so hard that you were completely out of breath, falling to the ground.

Hanzo groaned and tightened his fluffy ponytail. "Nothing. I'm just... excuse me." Hanzo's face went bright red as he tried to push past you, but you weren't going to let him go that easy.

"Oh, no you don't, mister." You grabbed the back of his tunic and turned him around to face you. It took everything in you to not just burst out into laughter.

Your eyes trailed over Hanzo, noticing that his nails were painted a light, barely noticeable, shade of pink. He was wearing a short tunic that showed a small pair of black shorts, showing off his thighs that were covered in strappy boots with wings on them. You smiled and tucked a thick piece of curled hair behind his ear.

"Are those... wings?" You turned him around and not only noticed two small pink wings on his back, but that his arrows had hearts on them too. And god it took everything in your power not to topple over in laughter once you saw that bright pink belt.

"Jesus Christ, Hanzo, what is this?!"

"Look!" Hanzo's face was pinker than the roses on his new tattoo on his arm that replaced the dragon one. "It's for an ad, okay?! I was hired to do some ad dressed as Cupid and they offered a lot of money. Like a lot. I couldn't say no."

You crossed your arms and gave him one more lookover. "You looks stupid..."

"Thanks," Hanzo said sarcastically, blowing the annoying piece of hair out of his eyes.

"You didn't let me finish," you said, putting your index finger over his lips. "You look stupid, but you look adorable. I'd let you shoot me in the heart any day."

"Shut up."

You laughed. "What kind of ad?"

"Shut up!" Hanzo went to run off, his little wings bouncing.

"What kind of ad?!?!" You ran after him and he turned to you and you just noticed that he was wearing a tinted lip balm that turned his lips both shiny and dark red.

"A perfume ad, okay?!"

"So do I get to see Cupid Hanzo everywhere this February?"

"I hate you."

"Sure you do, Hanzo." You pressed a kiss onto his cheek and cupped his face in your hands. "Have fun filming that ad, okay?"

"Whatever." He grumbled, pulling you into his arms for a hug.

"I wouldn't go to a perfume ad filming after hugging me. I smell like sweat."

"I don't care." He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and ran off, knowing for a fact that you would snap pictures if he wasn't fast enough.

He knew you so well.

<3

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist | pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #4 - Reticent

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: DRK Level 58 quest spoilers

Summary: Amid the skies of the Churning Mists, Aelita Tirasch witnesses a flood, and finds herself reflected in its waters.

“The little one must be Rielle, which would make the big one, Sid, right?”

Aelita watched Sidurgu’s face contort in annoyance, already weary of more magical nonsense.

“...Yes. I presume that would make you one of the “tiny beings” the dragon spoke of.”

A stony silence fell over the four of them as Sid seemed to be waiting for something. Something that Rielle seemed reticent to give to him.

“Rielle, say something to the moogle.” He’d tried so hard to be gentle, but Aelita could plainly see he was fighting an uphill battle. 

“Rielle.” Still nothing. “Rielle!” He raised his voice, maybe sharper than he'd intended, if the regret that flashed across his face was any indication. 

Aelita saw something in Rielle’s expression shift, something familiar. It warned her of the impending explosion, but not with anywhere near enough time to stop it from happening.

“...I'm sick of this charade.”

With those five words, a dam had finally burst inside Rielle. The cracks were there all along, invisible to the naked eye.

The emotion just poured out of her, in a way Aelita knew only too well. In each exclamation and intonation she heard a little more of herself on that fateful night, almost fifteen summers ago. Aelita had experienced firsthand that primal fear, that yawning sadness, that gnawing frustration. All the feelings that came with the knowledge that the person who looked after you might not be able to look after themselves, and that one day would likely be their last. 

Rielle just let Sid have it, and Aelita simply let the flood run its course. She took no joy in it, no sense of superiority, but she knew it was necessary if those two were going to stick together.

She watched as Sid floundered in the rising tide, struggling to come up with the response he thought Rielle might want to hear. But the raging current didn't care for his excuses. 

“And you!” Sid exclaimed, pointing at Aelita, “Say something, damn you!” He was desperate, thrashing about in search of a lifeline.

And yet, just as quickly as they'd come, the waters of Rielle’s rage subsided, leaving her once again reluctant to speak. The moogle that had stood out of the way of Rielle's wrath took it upon himself to occupy the silence, charging both Sid and Aelita with some thinly veiled excuse to do chores.

Aelita knew the errands could wait, though, and there was someone who couldn't. She let Sid start off on his search for the herb that Moggie had sent them after, and then when he was far enough out of sight, she gingerly approached Rielle.

“Rielle, I…” She knelt down to Rielle's level, not wanting to lord her years of experience over the girl. “I can't say I know exactly what you're feelin’, but I've got a pretty good idea. I've watched my parents sail off into the sunset when I was still a kid, wondering if they'd ever make it back… I have to imagine that seeing that happen over and over every day doesn’t make it any easier.” The beginnings of tears had started to appear on both of their faces, and Aelita reached out for Rielle's hands. “And I can't speak for Sid, Navigator knows he's got his issues to sort out, but… I think he does care.” Aelita gave a goofy smile. “Even if he's too much a scaredy-cat to say it.” That got a laugh from Rielle. “If he ever gives you any more grief, run right on over to Ser Aymeric’s office in the Congregation, and he'll give me a call. I'll scoop you right up and you can stay with me and my friends, okay?”

Rielle nodded and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “I will.” 

Aelita tousled Rielle's hair a little, and then stood to go get started on the impromptu Moogle chores.

“Aelita?”

“Yeah, Rielle?”

“... Look after him, will you?”

Aelita gave a thumbs-up and a grin, and went off to find some pomwort, whatever that was.

[ficbrish]

A Tumble

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 19th - Biting/Scratching, Piercings, Marking]

[[TW/CW: Injury, cptsd, blood, gore, alcohol, food, scar trauma]]

Summary: Vistri falls in battle, and Astarion wants to savor her survival.

Early in Act II, a while before the confession.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri!” he shouted her name so sweetly the other night, and now it crawled out of his mouth as something misshapen and wretched.

It wasn’t the first time Astarion saw her fall during a fight. She was a sorcerer; her type only ever brought robes and the raw, unlimited fury of the weave to battle.

Dropping to his knees, he sent another fiery arrow after the shadows and knelt beside her fallen form, like a paladin at the altar of their god. Vistri was crumpled like a rag, unmoving.

The others could handle themselves—She needed someone now! Astarion left the rest of the fight for them to finish up, wrenching the pack off his back and reaching into it with trembling hands.

Too many scrolls. So many fucking scrolls! There was one for poison, another for grease traps—for gods damned spiderwebs!

None for revival.

“Get up! Gods damn you!” he cried, still searching through his pack, “Get up!”

There was blood on her neck, but it was wrong. It wasn’t from his fangs at her invitation. The shadows did that to her.

The darkness in these woods was of a different kind; thick and overbearing, like the moment just after something horrible happened. The very air around them clung to their throats with every breath, coating their airways with heavy gravity. Such a perpetual night was hard to get used to and threw off all their senses, even for the vampire and the drow.

A ragged draw of breath by his knees stopped Astarion’s heart mid-beat. Vistri’s stillness had been deceiving. Quickly, he stuffed the scrolls back in and pulled out a bright-red potion instead.

Gingerly, reverently, he lifted her head up into his lap, mumbling prayers to gods who never answered. Astarion dabbed a bit of the serum onto Vistri’s lips, coaxing her to drink the rest. As she did, magic and dragon blood rapidly closed her wounds.

A bit of color came back to her periwinkle cheeks.

Vistri coughed, “Hello dear.”

He sighed into the sight of her living eyes and bent over to kiss her. Their lips were upside-down, and despite the inherent silliness of such a position, Astarion kissed her with ever grateful fervor. Vistri laughed and kissed him back as if she hadn’t just been ripped open and unconscious.

Feeling something creeping up behind him, Astarion unsheathed a knife from his thigh and excused himself, “Wait here a moment, love.”

He set her gently to the side and rose quickly with a twirl. His blade stuck immediately into the belly of a shadow cursed Harper, burrowing deep in its gut, and twisting for a mortal wound—Or mortal again. Face to face with the old corpse, Astarion stared into its blank, rotten eyes. The death on it was rank, stinking of at least a hundred years. Not having seen his reflection once these past two hundred, it made him wonder whether he had those same dead eyes.

One glance back at Vistri allayed him of those fears.

“Come back to my side at once,” she pouted, arms crossed.

In his rush to oblige, Astarion stabbed the undead creature through its brittle skull. Its face shattered and the whole decayed body shook with renewed lifelessness, collapsing on its own weight. It toppled over and crashed into his shoulders like a perverse greeting.

Regaining his balance on his back foot, Astarion pushed the rotting cadaver off him with a disgusted, “Eugh!”

His trousers were going to tear at the knee if he kept sliding on them, but it got him to Vistri’s side that second faster.

Which was worth it, “You blasted!” He kissed her about a million times, grumpily and gratefully, “Hag!”

“Hey!” she protested as he clung to her cheeks.

Astarion interrupted his flurry of pecks to chastise her, “Stop dying, then!”

“I didn’t die! Exactly...” she stubbornly insisted, refusing to ever take anything serious, seriously. “I just fell over!”

“You almost died!—Not that I care anything about it.”

Vistri couldn’t help but smirk at the way he turned his face away like a miffed housecat. His tones and expressions overflowed with shifting emotion, painting the loveliest picture of his heart, before settling into bitter denial. She might not have many memories, but Vistri was sure she’d never had this much fun with anyone else before.

“There’s something so dashing about the way you pout.”

Her little compliment made Astarion’s expression shift dramatically once again. He tried his best to frown, and faced her again just to turn his nose up, “Don’t try to flatter your way out of my concern.”

“Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t!” he scoffed.

“Oy! Children!” Karlach called out, emerging from the gloom with her flaming greatsword flung lazily over her flaming shoulder, “Lend a hand next time, will ya?”

She and Wyll were strutting towards them out of the near dark, obviously smug about having felled the last of the foes on their own.

“I am no child!” Astarion spat, “I’m over 200 years old!”

“Act like it then,” she winked cheekily.

Ally or not, he was ready to jump up and fight until Vistri reassuringly squeezed his hand. Reaching to him through their tadpoles, she explained, Karlach’s only teasing for fun, love. It’s a rough and tumble thing! She wouldn’t be teasing if she didn’t respect us.

Astarion dropped his shoulders. He knew that sort of thing. That’s how they all talked to each other all the time. But something about the way she said children reminded him of a much colder heart. If it weren’t for Vistri’s interference, he would have acted out of line.

Perhaps out of embarrassment at that recognition, Astarion decided to compensate with an extra level of what was expected of him.

“You hear that, my dear?” he quipped, sheathing his knife, “Karlach thinks we should act more… adult.”

Demonstrating his obvious innuendo, he scooped Vistri by the waist to bring her closer. In full view of the others, Astarion had his way with her tongue.

“Ah, love,” Wyll remarked dreamily, pretending to appreciate their display.

“Don’ know if I’d call that love,” Karlach groaned, “More like bragging if you ask me.”

With a teasing grin, he countered, “What is love if not life’s greatest braggart?”

“Should write that down, mate.”

“Really?” Even though it was only in jest, Wyll was a bit flattered, “You think so?”

Karlach winked, “I’d say you were a poet, and ya didn’t even know it.”

The lovers paid their banter no mind, hearing nothing but the breathing and humming singing across one another’s lips. There was nothing else in the world. To Astarion, it was all taste; savoring Vistri’s very existence. She’d come so close to disappearing; her soul slipping though his very fingers...

Her lips were warm. They were so warm.

“Um, guys?” Wyll cleared his throat, “Can we go now?”

Vistri hummed dreamily as she tore herself away, and spoke still gazing into Astarion’s flustered face, “If I can yet stand on two feet.”

“If you can’t, I’m sure prince charming down there would be happy to carry you.”

Karlach guffawed, the very idea of him carrying anyone absolutely hysterical to her, “As if!”

Astarion stood up abruptly with an offended stomp, “As if?!”

“Come on, Fangs! Be real about it! Carry someone? All the way back to the inn?”

Before she knew what was happening, Vistri found herself swept up and thrown over Astarion’s shoulder like a heavy sack. She squealed with a mixture of terror and delight. Her head still light after her injury, the world spun.

“I’m not as useless as I may seem!” Astarion grumbled, tossing her around a bit as he adjusted his hold.

Exchanging raised brows, neither Karlach nor Wyll argued. But they were irritatingly smug about their silence.

Shrieking was common in the Shadow Curse lands, but Vistri’s was startlingly out of place. It had laughter and happy shock ringing brightly through it, “Your face is right by my bum!”

“Is that a bad thing, darling?”

“But what if I fart?!” she asked, breathless with laughing abandon.

“Don’t you dare!” he scowled.

Her ribs felt weak, “Quit jostling me about then!”

Knowing their antics could go on forever, Wyll accepted that their leader was distracted and turned to lead the way. As they walked back, he and Karlach stuck close, leaving the lovers to trail behind them in their own world.

He leaned in with a teasing comment, “Aren’t they sweet?”

Snickering, Karlach nodded back in sardonic agreement.

In a sense, they were sweet, both all charm on the surface and poison underneath. They just fit!

Mirrors don’t always fall in love, but those two fools obviously had. Everyone but them seemed to accept that fact. They were too smart to be clueless, but if they were aware, they stubbornly fought it like doomed fingers desperately grasping the edges of a cliff. As dangerous as they seemed to think it was, the worst that could happen was happiness. Such a blessed doom was sweet.

But they were loud! A constant buzz, bickering by daylight and shouting by moonlight. Annoying as they were, it was a good thing they were easy to poke fun at.

Impressively, Astarion managed to carry Vistri the whole way. She may have cast Feather, but they left out that detail when he bragged about it to the others back at Last Light. He was determined to prove everyone wrong about his strength—They should see how he was normally, before the tadpole traded away some of his powers for sunlight. He was a fearsome thing, and everybody should know it!

Vistri thought it was quite an impressive feat regardless. She’d smiled the whole way over, bouncing awkwardly, enjoying the warmth of his back. His hands strongly grasping the back of her thighs was a bonus.

She also managed not to fart.

After he paraded her around like the village braggart toting fresh-caught venison, Astarion finally set her down. There was a strong sense of regret when she left his arms, as if they’d lost something precious. Trying to pay that no mind, they stood blankly across from each other. Not knowing what to say or how to address one another.

“Well… Thank you,” she said, breaking their brief silence.

“For saving your life, or for carrying you?”

“Oh, there’s a list?” she chuckled.

His smirk was equal parts mischief and self-satisfaction, “You’ve been incurring a lot of debts lately, my dear.”

Vistri pretended to be startled, “Have I? Oh my! However shall I endeavor to pay them?”

Lifting a thoughtful finger to his chin, he mused, “Hmmm, what a dilemma!”

Imagining what naughty thoughts hid behind his sly, teasing eyes made Vistri shiver with something delicious. Her feeling wasn’t apparent from the outside, but Astarion had a sense of her growing anticipation regardless. He made her wait for as long as he could bear, then said, “How about I think on it a while? Best not to make any rash decisions.”

“Take your time,” she giggled, “Just make sure to get back to me with something goo—” Her stomach gave a loud, obnoxious growl.

She blushed at its interruption.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion said, “We should fix that, shouldn’t we?”

When they returned to camp, Vistri noticed he was being uncharacteristically subservient and sweet. He refused to let her do anything other than sit by the fire while he fetched her a bowl of something hot. He even brought a blanket to throw over their legs and sat there with her as she ate.

Vistri gazed at him, startled.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head to clear it, answering, “Nothing,” and started eating.

It was a very plain stew with fish and beans, but it was everything to her on a night like this. Or was it even night? They had no sense of time in the Shadow Curse lands.

Astarion dipped his finger into her bowl and licked it.

“Hey!”

“Just wanted a taste.”

Her glare turned into something heated at his smile. Looking at him now, you’d never think his face held any worry. Well, minus the dark circles. And the haunted depth of his eyes… Whatever! In little flashes like this, he was brand new. No more heaviness. Vistri may have grown up with a sorcerer’s might, but she never felt more magical than when such an expression sat on his face.

“Oh, I’ll give you a taste,” she stated suggestively, tilting her neck to be perfectly clear about which kind.

Astarion was practically salivating.

“Oy! You two!” Karlach warned, “No blood where we eat—Including robes, Gale!”

“It was one time! And it was only a splatter on the hem!”

She rejected his excuse with an arm-wave and a chuckle.

Again paying their companions no mind, Vistri and Astarion remained locked in a stare. Sharing a paradox, their look was as intense as it was casual. It said, I’ll eat you up, as much as it whispered, Hey there.

“Make room for me,” Shadowheart demanded from above, standing over them with a bowl of stew in hand. She placed her spoon between her teeth, waiting for them to scoot over.

They moved to the side, so she could come sit in the middle.

“Thank you,” Shadowheart said, taking her place. They all worked together to adjust the too-small blanket across them. Once they were comfortable, she turned to Vistri, “Heard you fell out there.”

“She did!” Karlach answered before anyone else could.

Shadowheart pretended to be shocked, “And to think she insisted on leaving the cleric back at camp!”

“Fangs was there though. Quick responder, that one was.”

Shadowheart turned to him, teasing, “Are you blushing, Asti?”

“No,” he scoffed, “Vampires don’t blush!”

Everyone could see that he was contradicting his point.

Vistri mischievously chimed in with, “Yes, they do.”

Karlach and Shadowheart burst into laughter.

“Yes, yes! It was very dashing of me to save you!” Astarion rolled his eyes, “Want me to regret it?”

“You know,” Gale started, “It is a quite common misconception that vampires don’t blush. Cursed undead they may be, but!” His finger shot up on the word, but, “They still have all the same systems they had when they were alive. How they work though, now that’s the tricky part of it all. Because it’s different per classification of vampi—”

“Gale!” Astarion interrupted.

“What?”

“You’re not helping me, my friend.”

“Ah, right.”

Vistri found his irritation too delicious to drop, “Blood rushes to other places of yours, darling. Why not your face?”

Astarion leapt across Shadowheart to tickle her in payback. Shrieking, Vistri wiggled away from his reaching hands. Stuck in the midst of their struggle, Shadow’s bowl got knocked to the ground.

“Children!” she shouted in grief over her spilled stew.

Gale sighed, standing up, “I was getting seconds anyway.”

“Oh no! Shadow! Your stew!” Vistri gripped apologetically.

“Yes, Vistri! My stew! Your antics murdered my stew!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t upset her,” Astarion scolded, “She almost died today!”

Everyone paused to stare at him, startled by his voracious outburst. His tone came out of an aching heart, and there was a sorrowful tremor to it. Vistri was shaken by his sincerity; Shadowheart by his audacity. The others were just vaguely thrown by his display of giving a shit about anybody who wasn’t himself.

He cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” Vistri insisted to throw the focus off him.

Pretending he was totally cool this whole time, Astarion smirked, “I made sure of that.”

She scratched her nose to hide her smile behind her palm. It wasn’t right that everyone got to stand there and watch them have feelings.

Shadowheart, still trapped between them, had suffered enough, “I’ll just go catch up to Gale.”

“Really now! That’s not necessary!” Vistri protested.

“Yes, it is,” Astarion said, grabbing her close as their friend vacated the space between them. With his arms around her waist, he covered her cheeks in a series of pecks.

She squealed delightedly, “Get off! I’ll drop mine too!”

“Balance, dear. You’ve got this.”

“No,” she shook her head laughing, “No, I don’t!”

“Fine,” he let go of her.

She leaned against him, and he threw an arm around her shoulders. Vistri loved the relaxed weight of it. The pressure on her shoulders seemed to calm her, and his warmth, the magic of how he always felt—Against his chest, under his arm, nestled against him—

“What are you smirking about?”

“Hu-What?”

“You’re thinking about something, I can see it, but I can’t hear it. Care to tune me in?”

She really, really didn’t.

“Maybe I was thinking about you,” she smirked.

“Hah!” he tossed his head back, “Good one.”

It was a tried-and-true trick of hers. Wave a secret in people’s faces, and they go searching for anything but that. She silently congratulated herself.

Vistri attempted to sound cheekier than relieved or self-satisfied, “Hah, indeed!”

“Say you were thinking about yours truly…”

FUCK!

“What would you be thinking about?”

Arsehole!

Vistri made a show of pretending to think really hard about it, to buy herself some time to think of a way around it, “Hmmmmm…”

Astarion, just trying to make a bit of a game, helped her out, “Could it be my… mesmerizing stare?”

Hoping to distract him, Vistri tackled his lips.

He chuckled as she broke their kiss, “You taste like fish stew.”

“I hate you!” Vistri shrieked happily, slapping his arm.

Even with that scowl on her face, she leaned into him just as before. Nobody really bothered them, so they just sat there as she ate, staring distantly at the fire. They spent the rest of the evening (if it was really evening) like that, peacefully snuggled until it was time to wash up.

Because of his scars, Astarion preferred to bathe alone. Once Vistri learned about them, however, he altered his habits to allow for one companion.

Alone in the shallows of the shadowed riverbank, his heart ached on his lips and found hers. Moaning, groaning, teeth, and tongue.

It was, take me and you’re mine. It was life again after centuries of destitution.

“Fuck,” Vistri muttered as he pulled away.

Astarion’s eyes were serious, “Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” she stated it so vehemently, it was half a laugh. She gave a serene sigh as he cradled her chin.

“And what do you particularly desire?”

To be loved by him across centuries. To never want or need anything else ever again because together they’d be whole. They’d keep each other safe from the world, and the world safe from them.

“I want you to take and take until there’s nothing left of me.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

He shook his head slowly, “I’d like to leave a little something for later, if it’s all the same to you.”

She moaned as he kissed her again. His hands traveled from her waist to her thighs.

“I’m hungry,” he growled. Nestling the bridge of his nose into the crook of her throat, Astarion could already feel the warmth of her blood on his tongue in anticipation. He reached out for her skin, tasting her on the tip of it.

On the side with her tattoo, that blue rose.

“Darling, have I ever mentioned how much I love this?”

It set her trembling in his arms. It wasn’t just his touch, and gods, was his touch… Vistri shivered. Astarion’s tongue reached out and kissed her skin. His warm breath melted her like chocolate over a raging fire pit.

And his words rang in her ears, bouncing around between layers of consciousness, “... how much I love this…”

This dhamphir was in her head. Louder than the other screams.

“... lovely blue rose…” he muttered, referring to her tattoo as he kissed it.

She could feel his tongue tracing it. Lingering over every line. He first kissed the petals. Licked along them like a painter, bringing their design into existence with his warm, wet strokes; Vistri his groaning canvas.

And it was torture for him too, to linger on her neck like this. His fangs ached for a taste of her beating heart. Drowning under Vistri’s spell, he longed to sup on her lifeblood like it was coming up for water. Astarion refused his reflex to indulge, burying her groans under his.

With his hands snaking up her back, Vistri sighed, surrendering herself to his embrace. Throwing her head back in delight, exposing her neck, she called out his name, “Astarion.”

He kissed her throat. The side of her neck.

Vistri begged, “Bite me.”

“Let me ask you this,” he said, just to linger there a little further, “A riddle.”

She whined, just slightly, under the spell of his torturous anticipation. It made his smile wider.

“What is it that every rose has?” His voice broke directly over the one inked on her neck.

“I don’t know,” she murmured thickly, guessing, “Thorns?”

“Yes,” he moaned, eliciting a moan from her in response. Clinging to his body, shivering. He had Vistri exactly where he wanted her.

He wanted her.

“I think yours is missing a few. Would you like me to add them?”

Throwing back her neck a little further, stretching it as far as it would go, she echoed, “Yes.”

He knew he could fuck her, right there and now. Vistri gave herself completely.

In whatever way he wanted.

Tracing down the stem, licking every line of leaf, just as he’d done with the petals, Astarion worked at making their longing worse; determined to drive them both to madness.

He swallowed, and licked his lips. Aligning his mouth along the stem, he dragged his fangs across her goosebumps so they sat in place. Then he sank himself into her, drinking down the trickles of her heart’s river.

His bite left two weeping crimson thorns along the rose’s stem.

“Shall I add more?”

Vistri shook her head, “I think we should get back to your tent as soon as possible.”

Squealing with poorly withheld laughter, they rushed out of the shallows, their movements slowed through water’s thickness.

Approaching the shore, they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder, with Astarion a bit ahead. He cheated anyway, despite already winning. As his knees broke the surface of the bank, he gave her a playful shove backwards.

“Bastard!” she shouted, and it was met with a high trill of laughter from Astarion, who was halfway across camp by the time she made up the stolen distance.

He took one look back to catch her delicious frustration, then closed in on his target. Breathlessly, he yanked open the tent flap.

She was sitting right there.

“Misty Stepping is cheating!”

“Shoving me backwards is cheating!”

Growling, he tackled her. They laughed as they rolled, still naked and dripping, over his tattered blankets.

For some reason, Astarion’s mind superimposed the brightness of her current expression with the shocked stillness of earlier this evening. It sunk all his features and dulled the sensation of power he’d just drank from her.

“Astarion?”

He smoothed the hair off her forehead with two damp palms. It looked like he was about to say something important.

Then he kissed her. Diving ungracefully forward, catching his lip on her tooth. But he didn’t care, and righted his mouth between hers without further thought, with the same intensity.

How fragile life was. It was easy to forget that after two hundred years of wishing to be rid of it.

It took just a slight tap of his thighs to spread hers wide apart for him. He reached down to drag a nail slowly up the inside of her legs. They obeyed his every touch, belonging to him.

“Fuck me and have another bite,” she offered, grinding against him.

Who was he to argue with that?

His hand clamped over her mouth as she cried out. Its sound broke muffled by his fingers. In almost the same movement, Astarion turned her head to the side and gave her rose another pair of thorns.

Vistri licked and sucked the fingers held against her lips as he drank her down. Her head grew lighter as his thrusts grew rougher. Until the sensations made her eyes roll back in her head. Until his sides were red and raw from her grasping scratches.

I love you, rang so loudly across her consciousness that it whispered into his. Too many feelings, guilt and a long-dead dream among them, stirred up from the dust of his heart for Astarion to pay it any attention. Instead, he sharpened his focus on the familiar rolling of their hips.

More of her blood would stain his blankets, but they didn’t care. Her neck dripped past their notice, leaking down the side of her rose and pooling behind her.

Astarion just wanted to take what he didn’t lose.

“Cum for me again, pet.”

Like a spell’s evocation, his words had a physical effect. Vistri started pulsing around him, clenching her legs around his waist in a vice grip.

“Shit!” he sputtered. His control ran away with hers. The push and pull of his hips started to slow, lazy with pleasure as he spilled into her.

Locked in their embrace, they both shook from a mighty force, like blades of grass trembling in a rough breeze.

Coming back to reality, they looked around at everything but each other.

“Are you all right?” Astarion remembered to ask.

She was grinning stupidly, “Great.”

He smiled back until he noticed the mess.

“You’re like a leaky peach!” he scolded her in concern. Haphazardly, he grabbed the nearest sufficient bandage, and pressed a stained, silk pillow to her fresh wounds.

“Don’t fret,” she insisted, “I just need a bit of wine.”

Halsin fussed at him about that a few days ago, but what did the wood elf know about that anyway? A druid too? Health freaks, the lot of them! Halsin be damned, wine was good for anything! Astarion turned hurriedly to fulfill her request, grabbing a nearby bottle.

“Thank you,” she said after he popped the cork and passed it to her. She took a deep sip.

“Better?”

Vistri still felt rather dizzy but nodded anyway, hoping to ease his concern. Then, suddenly struck by an idea, she adopted a playful tone, “Although…”

“What is it?” he asked, eager to make her more comfortable.

“I could be better,” she smirked.

Astarion was happy to play her game, but a bit confused about where she was going with it. Vistri seemed satisfied enough, even though they’d been a bit brief tonight. She frowned, and he tried so hard to read it. Her pout was teasing, but not in a heated way. Her relaxed eyes were dreamy with affection and twinkled with fey-like mischief.

“I don’t know what it is, but I’m missing something.”

“Oh?”

“Hmmm, maybe if you moved a bit to the side?”

His version of “a bit” was a very conservative estimate. Vistri frowned. So Astarion inched just the same but in the other direction.

“No! The other—That’s it,” she directed, “A bit more. No, more.”

Scooting closer and closer at Vistri’s behest, Astarion was eventually pressed up against her side.

“Better?” he asked, grinning with amusement. Still wondering about her intentions.

“Yes, but not quite… Better, but I could be better.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

“Please! Now, lift up your arm.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, but stop making that face.”

“What face?”

She chuckled, “I don’t know, whatever that face was you were just pulling.”

“I was not pulling a face!”

“You were! Now shush and lift your arm back up!”

Vistri did the same thing, beckoning Astarion to move further and further into a position she had in mind. Pretending it wasn’t quite right and adjusting him until it was.

Until he held her tight, his arms around her shoulders.

“Better now?” he whispered.

“Better now,” she said. But her words caught in her throat, and she coughed at the end of them.

“You okay?”

“Throat’s just dry,” she nodded, sitting up, “Pass me the wine again, love.”

“You have it next to you.”

“Right.”

He took a swig after her, and they both settled back into their cuddle.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked.

Vistri nodded. She wrapped her arms around his, pulling him tighter and sighed, “I feel better now.”

This time, they let the moment sit for a while. At least until it was too painful.

“I know your secret,” Astarion whispered naughtily against her shoulders.

She panicked, wondering what manner of secret he knew.

He giggled before he got his words out, “You farted on the way over.”

Blushing and laughing at the same time, Vistri struggled in his arms, shrieking, “You liar! I did not!”

The more she struggled, the firmer he held his grasp, “Yes, you did.”

“No!” she gasped, kicking at the air, “I did not!”

Even his tone was smirking as he teased, “A little toot by my ear.”

“I hate you!”

Astarion ceased his own laughter to plant kisses along her spine, on the back of her neck. Enough of them stilled her. Instead of fighting, she melted into him.

“Do you hate me now?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. Then he took a risk, “Because I don’t hate you either.”

His words gave her wings, but she ripped them right off.

“You should.”

“Yeah, well… That goes both ways. Next time you run into a vampire, hate it for your own sake.”

Vistri chuckled, “That goes both ways too! Next time you camp with someone who dismembers a bard, run!”

They giggled. Then silence took over again, neither knowing what to do when they weren’t fucking or killing anything.

Speaking about nothing was more bearable than anything else. So they traded mindlessness back and forth. It looked like a conversation, but nothing was said. But speaking just to speak, they were discovering, was its very own thing.

His head nestled against hers, Astarion began casually nibbling on her earrings as she droned on and on about the creepy shadows. He closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her voice, not really listening. He was at peace, and so was Vistri, with the white rabbit on her shoulder nibbling away at her ear.

The gentle pressure calmed her. Vistri hadn’t ever felt anything like it. Eventually, she liked it too much to speak.

Focusing on the sensations of each other turned into its own type of meditation, which eventually faded into proper trance. Not a typical reverie or void, they recovered from the day within that awareness of one another.

Astarion existed through the slight breakage of breath across his wrist.

Vistri was the cursed heartbeat at her back.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

[zai-doodles]

Hey, in your Fairy Tail story, when natsu and gajeel fight the twins, could the natsu and gajeel lose? honestly, I was disappointed Natsu defeated those two easy, I get it was supposed to be a "comeuppence", but it wasn't as fun as the fight between Elfman and Bacchus. In fact, is the whole tournament arc going to be reworked, the whole dragon situation seems overkill and pointless.

I was thinking abt rouge and sting so here

I want to hammer home the power of friendship and themes of celebrating differences and second chances

So to me, sabertooth was a v uniform guild, they all were trained in their specific magics and paths but it's v ridged and by the book ig?

V military esque

Bc of sting and rouges magic being so niche and so similar while being opposites, they were only ever taught to fight together in near perfect unison

Their moves sets are all the same and any combos are predictable after the first few times and if you separate them, they fall back on very basic moves

They're a set that need to be together in order to win

Meanwhile natsu and gajeel work together *because* of their differences

They make random plans on the fly and barely practice anything together, they don't train together at all but due to heightened dragon slayer senses they're good at staying out of the others way or figuring out what the other is planning

They embrace their differences and once they figure out all of sting and rouges' movesets gajeel is fr like damn it's not fun if I know what they're gonna do, I'm gonna sit this out

Bc go me gajeel is more adrenaline junkie, he liked crazy unpredictable fights, nothing boring

So natsu is like damn ur gonna make me do all the work??? Fuck u???

And by then sting and rouge r tired bc they aren't good at pacing themselves in fights, they threw out their strongest moves first and the ones that hit didn't do as much as they're use to on normal wizards

It all comes down to them not being as experienced and relying too heavily on each other, leaving no space for imperfection so they aren't adaptable like natsu or gajeel

So natsu kinda just separates them with a fire wall type thing and clocks them individually

He starts with rouge since he can't do much with shadows with so much light and by the time sting and get to him he's already done

So that just leaves natsu w sting and he cleans up easy

Gajeel laughs at him like I could have taken them out without separating them loser and natsu gets all huffy like EXCUSE U

And yeah I hate the second half of the gmgs arc, it's lame I'm sorry idk how I'm gonna rewrite it but so much of it gets overhauled in my mind

[bazooka-overkill]

MR SANDMAN BRAINROT EUEUUUGGHHH

okay yay brainrot won the poll. also i might psot dragon chan headcanons requested by wallet becuz yaaaaaayyy

uhhh also i dont really gaf about timelines. so if something doesnt line up time wise. ignore it. shh

ermmm cw for child fighting!! mr sandman didnt have the best middle school experience

BAZOOKA'S THOUGHTS:

i need this man so badly PLS MR. SANDMAN ONE CHAAAAANCEEEE

who typed that omg…

GENERAL SANDMAN INFO (canon + headcanon)

full name: isaiah joseph banks

birthday: april 12th

age: 31

height: 6’5” (197 cm)

weight: 284 lbs (129 kg)

origin: philadelphia, PA, USA

gender: cis male

sexuality: bisexual (might be in denial lmao. men say theyre fighting demons and the demons r bisexuality LMFAO)

family:

victoria banks, mother, alive

george banks, father, alive

no siblings

HEAD CANON TIME:

- insomniac. goes between sleeping for 11 hrs during the day and not sleeping at ALL, also explains the eyebags in his TD

- incredibly horrible sleep schedule. stems from his childhood

- also stems from his childhood but not exactly the best at socializing w other people

- somehow is friends w glass joe. don't ask me how it works they just ARE (and they may be a little. fruity.)

- has one of those light up squishy things that u hit to change the color. yeah he either fucking SLAMS that thing or gently pats it when he wants to change it. it’s a bunny for anyone curious

- goes thru the 5 min nap to the 5 hour nap pipeline. “oh im just gonna take a small nap,” then wakes up w the blankets all over the fucking room, the god damn windows r open, he’s somehow upside down, etc etc

- him and the ref have beef after his TD victory animation

- was one of those kids that would be on his knees near some mulch playing w the roly polies on the playground. he'd have like 20 in his palms in 5 minutes

- if u catch him right when he wakes up (like. RIGHT right when he wakes up) he accidentally calls people “baby.” it’s a habit he picked up from his mom and he’s pushed it back into his mind, but it slips when he isn’t exactly thinking (totally not projecting my own habits onto him guys)

- adding to the above that the person who originally found this out was glass joe. take that as you will

- he sends some of his boxing money to his parents to support them (he’s a mamas boy LEAVE ME ALONEEEEE)

- doesn’t exactly search for a relationship, believes that when he decides he’s ready for one the right person will find him

- gets dragged into world circuit outings by either super macho man or aran ryan. on the rare occasion it’ll be soda. one time they all went bowling and sandman watched aran ryan throw a bowling ball like a fucking baseball and it broke the ceiling

- knows how to make a MEAN philly cheese steak. will be mentally freak out (positively) if someone mentions they’ve never had one before. if he wasn’t so stoic he would be jumping up and down and going “YAAAAAYYYYY🎉🎉🎉” becuz he finally gets an excuse to make one for someone

- has 100% almost broken the world circuit ring's ropes (see his intermission animation in contender)

- his locker in the locker rooms is either completely spotless or dented to hell and back. bonus points if theres like. a fake succulent in there or some shit

- luvs animals. takes pics of cool animals he sees anywhere

origin backstory thing under cur bc its long

origin:

isaiah joseph banks, known as his boxing alias mr. sandman, was born on april 12th to victoria banks and george banks in the Doylestown Hospital. born to loving parents, isaiah grew up as an only child.

isaiah learned to keep to himself and care for himself very early on, as both of his parents were usually at work. they worked hard to provide for isaiah and themselves, but always put their son first. they

the time they spent at work would be made up at home, albeit this time could never be fully made up for a young isaiah. he had spent more time with babysitters and nannies than his own parents. of course, isaiah knew his parents loved him, but all the bonds that were supposed to be formed hadn’t; the time frame had passed.

the time they did spend together was… memorable, really. not in a bad way, but every moment— every waking minute— made isaiah into the man he is today.

every night, when his mother was home early enough, she would sing him a soft lullaby. when she wasn’t, his mother had recorded this lullaby onto a tape for him to listen to. this lullaby was the song that made mr. sandman: Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes. it wasn’t a typical children’s lullaby by any means, but by god he loves that song— present tense intended.

then, a problem arose: school. starting middle school is one thing, but isaiah found out how cruel children could be.

isaiah was big, to put it lightly. five foot six at age 12 was enough ground for bullying, and being dropped off by a few different babysitters/nannies in the morning only added to the ammunition.

with how big he was, the bullying never went farther than verbal harassment. soft giggling every time he talked in class, glances from across the classroom, the bullying was subtle except for the occasional direct blow to isaiah.

his boxing interest began when he was thirteen, where his parents enrolled him in a self defense class that revolved around boxing and the sort. they had found out about the bullying from the babysitters, as isaiah had been reporting what they had been saying to him. there, young isaiah learned the basics of boxing: dodging, punching, and jabs had been added to his arsenal.

isaiah had always relished in the safety of knowing that he’d never get attacked at school, but unfortunately this was false.

it was brutal really; the poor boy had been caught in the bathroom and was attacked from behind, slammed his face into the sink, and assaulted from there. it took around two minutes for teachers to hear the commotion, but they were two minutes too late.

there, isaiah was brought to the hospital. no one truly knows the full extent of his injuries, minus his parents. if you look closely at mr. sandman, his top teeth are a little crooked.

nothing exactly eventful happened other than he moved schools, and everything was smooth from there.

his boxing career began to take off when he was 17, when he met an old babysitter of his— one who had taken care of him up until he was 13. he had become a boxing coach and offered to take isaiah up as a student.

if you ever ask mr. sandman in an interview about his boxing idol, he’d most likely say his coach. that man taught him nearly everything he knows, and even taught him the dreamland express move that mr. sandman is most known for, albeit modified.

mr. sandman picked up his alias when his coach told him about the WVBA and their boxers. it was almost inevitable he’d choose mr. sandman in honor of his mother.

he had his first fight at age 18, where it went swimmingly well. records of this fight have been lost to time, but, according to word of mouth, mr. sandman nearly killed the poor man.

i gotta be honest w u all idk how to continue this. umm mr sandman meets a wvba recruiter and then uh yah.😁😁😁

[purplehairedwonder]

Chapter 1083: By Any Means Necessary

Color me shocked, but we’re actually following up from last chapter to learn the truth about Reverie!

But first, that cover.

On the surface, it makes me laugh a bit. But, upon further reflection--and I’m going to look way too deep for a cover request--this makes me think of the way Doffy took in children. He’d find these heavily damaged children like Law and Baby 5, he’d wrap them in his coat (give them a place in the Family, make them feel wanted and needed, make promises about the future) while offering only the barest care for their actual trauma, like the bandage here. (In fact, he was actually making the trauma worse.) 

See? Way too deep for a cover request 😅

Anyway, on to the chapter:

So, the Revolutionaries had three main aims for infiltrating Mariejois:

I can only imagine that cutting off the Celestial Dragons’ food reserves is going to lead to some dark things. (I mean, even cannibalism hasn’t been off the table so far in One Piece, so...) While the Revolutionaries aimed to help as many slaves escape as they could, you know they didn’t get them all. And the ones left behind are really going to suffer from this.

Excuse me, why does this silhouette of God’s Knights look like Shanks?

It’s probably a misdirect (we all know how the silhouettes of Kaido and Big Mom looked before we met the actual characters, after all) but considering the background for Shanks that we got from the Film Red material and the fact that the Five Elders were willing to meet with him... it doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility. (Or maybe one of Shanks’s family members?)

Side note: on a shallow note, I really like this panel of Sabo:

Anywho, Dragon acknowledges that Cobra was actually a kind and benevolent ruler, but that doesn’t matter for the cause of the Revolutionaries. For the greater good is the type of attitude that leads to those who rebel against the corrupt to become the very thing they were fighting against once they are victorious.

“Unfortunately, misinformation spreads faster than nuances like that” is such a true line.

And Sabo...

The boy is fine being seen as Cobra’s murderer because it’s potentially helpful to the cause. It’s nothing more than a cold calculation for him. It’s also such a contrast to Luffy, who focuses on the individual people he cares about and the things that matter to them rather than the bigger picture; for instance, liberating Dressrosa wasn’t about the importance of freeing the people who’d been living under Doflamingo; it was because Doflamingo hurt Law and Rebecca, people he cared about. Freeing Wano was for Momo and Tama and the others he’d come to care for (and because he wanted a good fight against Kaido, ha.)

It’s interesting; we think of Luffy as being so selfish that he’s practically selfless. He fights for selfish reasons but ends up doing selfless things like freeing countries as a result of his actions. 

On the other hand, Sabo is, arguably, so selfless that he’s selfish. He doesn’t care about the consequences for him in all of this because it redounds to the Revolutionaries’ benefit, but at the same time, he’s willing to let others--like murder victim Cobra, for instance--suffer for the purposes of the mission. It’s selfish.

 I can’t help but think of Makino’s reaction to seeing the newspaper:

And now we know what she was looking at:

To be fair, this is a pretty damning picture (though Sabo easily could have just come across Cobra’s body when this picture was taken). And Sabo being willing to be seen in this light shows just ties into his selfless selfishness. 

Moving on, we start a flashback to a month earlier in Mariejois. The Revolutionaries are attacking and causing enough chaos to bring down two admirals. 

On a random note, Karasu’s Devil Fruit is just perfect for his aesthetic, and I love that for him.

It’s also very funny to me that Ryokugyu, who we saw as being incredibly bullheaded when he attacked Wano, is holding back to avoid causing damage in Mariejois...

while Fujitora is pulling his best Ivan Drogo:

😂😂😂

I completely forgot Bonney snuck into Reverie. Whatever happened there is clearly tied into how she ends up in the water for the Straw Hats to find her.

And my girl, Vivi. Fiery Vivi is the best Vivi. I love her a lot. 

I’m interested in, between this flashback and Egghead, where Lucci’s character is going. It feels like he’s becoming disillusioned with the orders he’s been following; he’s a definite wild card.

It’s interesting that Cobra is going in to meet with the Elders without anyone with him--almost like he knows what’s likely to come of this meeting and doesn’t want to drag anyone into it.

I’m looking forward to seeing how we get from this to Vivi and Wapol, of all people, hiding out with Morgans.

With all these revelations, we really are in the final saga, aren’t we?

[horizon-verizon]

Do you really think that the realm will support Jacaerys's claim eventually? After all the rumors about his bastardy are really strong and most TG stans claim that since Jace is a bastard he can't inherit anything, Jace needs to be legitimized first. I really like Jacaerys character and I'm new in this fandom, so this matter is so confuse to me.

Btw your post are amazing ❤️

Thanks, anon!

Answer to Question #1

1)

I have many, many posts about bastardry and the boys' illegitimacy vs legitimacy: HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, & HERE. Basically, Jace is not really illegtimate bc illegtimacy must be "proven" and he was never proven to be. People have to argue/prove for it more than people having to argue whether or not one's hair is red or not. And

2)

Jace was actually respected outside of his family (A Son for a Son"):

3)

Several of those greens stans are not reading the damn text and refuse to see that Jacaerys was actually pretty admired by one of Rhaenyra's biggest supporters, Cregan Stark ("A Son for a Son"):

Also, Alicent had been, FOR YEARS, trying to get more people on her side and denounce or pressure either Viserys into removing Rhaenyra and her sons from the line of succession (both bk and show) or just get MOST of the lords at court and beyond to denounce Rhaenyra and her sons...and yet she had to resort to a usurpation, imprisoning courtiers and servants to withhold news of Viserys' death, pressured the council to crown Aegon after many lines of persuasion buttressed by Cole & Otto's input and wild accusations and assertions about Rhaenyra's sons, Daemon, and Rhaenyra not being actually the Queen...

I'd say that Alicent failed to convince anyone to really go against Rhaenyra by depending on the boys illegitimacy.

Answer to Question #2

Do you mean if Rhaenyra had ascended peacefully (no war at all, no usurpation) or had won the war with Jacaerys still alive when she did? Yes, he is her heir and the lords fought for her...they were a package deal. If you didn't want to have Jace as the next ruler, you would not fight for the person who names him as heir. Rhaenyra would have consolidated her reign and ensured her line's future better.

Now if we're talking about DURING THE WAR, Jace somehow survived but Rhaenyra did not/lost, I think there would have been a bit more difficulty without Cregan Stark, Jeyne Arryn, the Blackwoods, Vyprens, other lords who respected that their vows applying to Rhaenyra applied to her heir as well (bc again, they came as a package deal politically) and without as many dragons as the blacks had. Since most of the lords didn't swear to him but just to Rhaenyra, maybe some lords would use this as an excuse to defect or leave the war altogether because it stil costs them resources, some still will use this to justify how a male line goes before a woman's line, and/or they are just greedy AND cowardly and see this as they way to flagrantly ally themselves with the greens.

in the beginning. Bc the actual named heir/undoubtedly trueborn person is no longer there to enforce/support Jace's claim.

And once again, Cregan Stark made his Pact with Jace [2nd pictured quote above]...Cregan was a beast after the war and northerners are mad about their vow-taking, arguably more than "southern" folk. Cregan also liked Jacaerys very much from what's written about them--some fans theorize romantically, but whatever. He also had a higher emotional stake in it, which is an amplifying motive to the primary one about the Pact.

As for Jeyne Arryn, she was steadfastly loyal to Rhaenyra's cause because she was blood through Aemma, she would be helping to make sure her own position was securer from male relatives who already tried to oust her, and because Rhaenyra was a woman--like her. Women in a man's world an all that ("A Son for a Son"):

(Cregan also was interested bc he was having trouble with an uncle trying to oust him...succession things). Thus it could get easier for Jace to default back to him having been Rhaenyra's heir, he's never been "found out" to not be Laenor's , and he's a male dragonrider. again, this is if he loses most of Rhaenyra's supporters, bc it's still possible that he'd reatin the bigger and important ones.

Also, if Daemon somehow by some miracle managed to dispatch Aemond and come back...they'd likely fight with and for Jace anyway because Daemon is just loyal &--by reputation and action--brutal like that. Jace--less likely...key words--loses that many supporters of Rhaenyra's.

[mcflymemes]

ALISTAIR THEIRIN QUOTES *  dialogue from dragon age: origins, updated version

excuse me while i begin projectile vomiting.

you were the first person i ever spent the night with, and if i had my way... you'd be the last.

do you think you might ever... feel the same way about me?

will you miss it once it's over?

i care for you so much.

i love you. more than i ever thought possible.

i wish i could be better at this.

you know that i've never done anything like this. with anyone.

i guess i was raised not to take this sort of thing lightly.

it's just like being home again.

i can't run away from it anymore.

given the circumstances, things could have been so much worse.

i locked myself in a cage once, when i was a child. for an entire day. ah. good times.

i'm willing to... give it a shot. if you are.

aw, that's sweet.

you're beautiful. i am a lucky man.

i know it might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but i've come to... care for you. a great deal.

now's as good a time as any to talk, right?

i'm so grateful that you're... you.

let's get back to... what we were up to before.

i hope it hasn't... put you off.

anyway, uh, sorry about that. i'll take it from you right now.

great. they just love me.

i was just thinking about you! isn't that a marvelous coincidence?

now that i've handled that with my usual deft brilliance, time to move on! and take a cold bath, maybe.

locking the door and throwing away the key was plan b.

is it just me, or did i do really badly back there?

don't look now... but. well. look now!

i don't think we're alone. i really don't think we're alone.

all right! let's go!

oh? you want to... right now? well, who am i to refuse?

um... that sounded better in my head. i just meant to say that i can't imagine having done this without you.

we're not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury here.

you feel that? it's actually colder up here.

is this place even on a proper map?

look at it all!

i'll be... standing over here. until the blushing stops. just to be... uh. safe. you know how it is.

maybe it likes you?

swooping is bad.

what is it, then? rats running amok? cheese supplies running low?

i see you can't sleep, either.

i was just thinking... here i am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself.

why are you smiling like that?

that just seems so excessive.

are you just making these up right now?

now that's dedication!

it's all been death and fighting and tragedy.

make fun of you? perish the thought.

old books. you think any of those might still be readable?

do you get the feeling things are just getting worse as we go up?

more crazy? i thought we were all full up.

i thought maybe i could say something. tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness.

they say you can get anything here. i once got pick-pocketed.

this is where the nobility come to get drunk and debate who's the most self-important of them all.

we get lost, people die, and the next thing you know i'm stranded somewhere without any pants.

now that's just unnecessary.

have you ever licked a lamppost in the winter?

can't... keep my eyes open. someone... pinch me.

where do you think they get all this stuff?

oh! here i am! and there you are! you just disappeared!

why do they call it a brothel? there's no broth. or is there?

we're not going to be mobbed, right?

now that is a big tree.

i hate you. you're a bad person.

i'm not falling asleep again!

we seem to be heading... up? yes. i think these caves are going up to the surface.

can we expect more of those?

what is that smell? fish? and something else. oh. more fish.

uh oh. i'm terrible at puzzles.

i know most guys would probably leap at the chance to be with you, but i don't know if i'm ready for that. it's a big step.

maybe i should touch them. or stand on them?

pleased to meet you. nice campfire you have there.

let's try not to get lost here.

bluff called! damn! you saw right through me!

i think there's something ahead. something big.

you have my condolences.

and here i was going to name one of my children after you.

you seem more "ooh, pretty colors!" than "muahaha! i am princess stabbity! stab, kill, kill!"

i gazed, glanced in that direction, maybe. but i wasn't staring. or really... seeing anything, even.

what? lead? me? no no no. no leading. bad things happen when i lead.

they're really quite tasty.

we take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color.

watch as i thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!

i will overpower you with my rosy scent!

i was looking at your nose.

your desire is my command.

i guess that must make me sound like an idiot.

just what every man wants to hear.

now if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, i'd appreciate it.

[onedayimgonnasnap]

The Game Of Lies

Chapter 3: Simon Says

Yandere Malleus x reader

Make sure you read the full warnings please.

Warning: Blackmail, extreme manipulation from the reader, cursing, inappropriate language, details of somewhat smut happening, mentions of violence and dark themes.

Read below if you’re ok with it please.

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You found yourself in a room full of multiple mirrors, specifically different kinds of them. Some were small, others were big, some wide and some thin.

You were basically surrounded with them in general, they were over and below you each of them showing you a vision of yourself with different scenarios, seemingly from different timelines and realities.

You squint your eyes on one of them. In particular it caught your attention in general. It showed a scene of you surrounded by green flames all around you, behind you was a black large dragon with green eyes. It seemed pleased you were there in general.

You seemed to be wearing wedding attire, something you’d wear when you would get married. It was ripped, your hair was a mess. You had bags underneath your eyes. You also saw claw marks all over those tips on the clothes, on your face and arms.

Despite all of this the thing that stuck out to you the most was how you had chains everywhere connecting to the finger of the dragon. The chains were on your neck, around your waist, each planted on your neck and ankles. You also could see you were wearing a muzzle on your face as if you were a dog.

You started to panic over that one particular image in that one mirror slowly back away from it and moving your eyes anywhere else.

But atlas everywhere in each of the mirrors showed that one specific image, it filled you with rage and frustration over the fact that this could happen to you.

You refused this fate.

———————————————————————————

You woke up in a cold sweat, you felt absolutely disgusted over this. You knew you’d have to keep your calm til then and figure out a way out of this damn kingdom.

You decided to go to the bathroom and take a quick shower to get your mind off of all of these things.

When you walked in you noticed the bathrooms were not as advanced as the ones you were used to. It seemed from the Victorian Era.

You quickly took a bath since there was no shower unfortunately.

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After you were done and got your clothes ready for the day there was a letter from someone floating towards your chest. You grabbed it and started to examine it.

It was from the Queen herself, Malleus’s grandmother; Maleficent.

You quickly had this excited feeling knowing this was a chance to get more knowledge from her. You’d know your chances to escape the possessive man.

You opened it in a hurry to read the letter.

“The Queen From Briar Valley demands you meet her at a tea party by noon, you shall not arrive there shall be consequences.”

In all that reading you could tell there was most likely rage in writing this, you knew that she was already not fond of humans with the knowledge you gained from your original world.

You’d have the upper hand knowledge in knowing this information.

You smiled knowing they had a fight knowing it was about you.

But of course, you have decided to look around for any clues that would help you with this journey of escaping.

———————————————————————————

Malleus was talking to others about having your wedding ceremony, he didn’t want to wait. He wanted you to rule besides him when he became king. He’d turn you immortal, so you’d live on forever.

He wanted a wedding based on both of your cultures so the Faes could embrace that you were once a human.

However a familiar voice came to speak to him.

“Lord Malleus, I apologize for interrupting your planning. However there is someone important I have to tell you in private about your little pigeon.” Lilia smiled in a way that would bring anyone to shivers.

Malleus soon excused himself and followed Lilia.

Lilia decided to warn Malleus, how dangerous you were and keep more caution. He knew that just because you were a human doesn’t mean you’re harmless.

You were emotionally manipulated, he noticed while he stalked you.

You were able to figure out someone’s intentions really quickly

You used others and treated life like a game. Anyone and anything could be dangerous when given highly intelligence.

You even managed to get Sebek to flip out and locked up.

And now Malleus mentioned in a happy tone of innocence how you loved him.

It was obvious to Lilia you didn’t love him, you had other motives with Malleus’s fantasies.

Of course he had found out something about you, you were disgusted over the idea of touch, love, and getting sexual.

He had a plan for it all, soon warning Malleus and advising him on testing you.

——————————————————————————-

You decided to wear a suit and just to comb your hair for the occasion of meeting the queen, you were of course being accompanied by a bunch of guards besides you making sure you get there to the garden.

The sky was gloomy, it’s been a while since you finally went outside. It felt less suffocating than being in a room, defenseless like a bird waiting for Malleus to come back.

You soon saw the Queen sitting elegantly, she had her posture well done, and the Raven on her shoulder seemed to glare at you.

You wanted to smile knowing they both didn’t like your presence already,

“Good afternoon your majesty.” You have a fake smile and a bow.

She seemingly made a gesture for you to sit down on a chair.

With permission you sat down, and the both of you made awkward eye contact. Even the bird felt uncomfortable and scared.

Maleficent gave one look at you just from looking at you, how you did not want to be there.

You didn’t love her grandson.

You didn't care about the rewards of ruling alongside this sad kingdom.

You looked like a bird trapped inside of a cage, once so happy but now faking happiness in order to leave.

She felt pity for the first time in a long time. Unfortunately for you her bratty grandson took you away selfishly, she herself hated humans because they were selfish and arrogant.

But her grandson was the same if he took you away like this out of “love”. It was selfish.

“How about this ‘Beasty’.” You looked surprised at the nickname like she all of the sudden changed her mind about you.

“I’ll help you leave this kingdom, after all there is nothing good about keeping you here to rule alongside Malleus. Humans are absolutely disgusting. “ She told you.

You felt surprisingly relieved after a long time, nothing was better than this to you. Nothing.

You both soon came up with a couple of options to leave, and you left back in your dorms knowing you made an unlikely ally.

——————————————————————————

When you walked back to your chamber, Maleficent told the guards to back off and leave you to walk back on your own.

Of course they listened, however there was a maid seemingly looking around for something valuable. You smiled at this opportunity in front of you.

“Hello, is there something you are looking for? Maybe I can be of assistance.” You smiled looking at her frightened face.

Unfortunately for her you were going to take advantage of her to help you. You needed a dog after all.

“Back off, I wasn’t doing anything.” You could tell rumors have spread all around with Sebek.

She was so scared she had a dagger and pointed it at you, you walked closer and grabbed the dagger still in her hand and cut your own face leaving a deep cut.

She knew she was screwed at that moment.

“You know I suggest you start taking my orders from now on dog.”

You said coldly, she was gonna be your insight dog from now on and give you whatever you requested and information on whatever you needed.

———————————————————————————

In the NRC Headmaster Crowley held an assembly meeting on your disappearance, he made sure to hold every single Diasomnia student in an inescapable room where it’s extremely hard to get out of.

Every single student there had started discussing why Malleus would kidnap you and ways to get you back.

They all cared about you no matter what.

Eventually Crowley in the front slapped a book in front of him. He smiled, “I so generous have finally found a way to bring MC back home.”

Everyone soon got on board using that information.

———————————————————————————

After you patched up the wound on your face, you decided if malleus asks about it you’d tell him that you clumsily fell over on one of the thorn bushes. The cut wasn’t that deep so it was believable.

You sat down on your bed waiting for his arrival.

He eventually teleported in the room, you gave him a fake smile and got up to go greet him, however he looked cold.

“Is something the matter Malleus?”

“Yes there is indeed ‘child of man’, you put on a pretend show for me. Telling me you love me but let’s be honest, you however don’t.”

He spoke in a strongly asserted tone, you now knew he was serious.

Tears filled up your eyes on command. “Is there any way I can convince you?” You spoke desperately out.

He stood there staring down at you coldy then spoke up. “Perhaps there is something you can do child of man… prove to me that you love me.” His eyes showed desire.

You felt yourself disgusted at the thought, but this had to be done, Lilia might as well have given him advice as he was much wiser than Malleus was.

You walked over to him with a flustered look on your face, you stood before him and kissed up passionately he returned the kiss turning it more selfish to him.

You both had a heated makeout session, you put Malleus’s hands onto a part of your body. Showing him you ‘love and desired him’.

This was enough to prove to him but however this wasn’t going to change his mind to fuck you during the whole night.

[mystery-salad]

She's just so!!!!!!! She can't be fixed! She's so fucking broken and her life is such a tragedy, and there is no redemption path she can ever find.

He life trajectory was determined by so many other people and she knows this and she hates this, but there's no way to undo it and she can't trust anyone else to do better by her even when they've been shown to try...

And despite all of that, she still ended up attaching her feelings to another. She didn't want to, and god she wants that connection gone, when someone mentioned it once she nearly killed that person then and there.

She was once defined to help the Commander, her wyld hunt was once to work at their side with another, help save the world help end the dragon cycle. If the nightmare raid hadn't happened she would be loved and cherished and have a family

But instead she was abused and warped and in a twisted way tied to the dragon cycle without ever once stepping foot near any of it. All it took was too much raw magic saturation in the air...the tests done on her turned her into a generator, trying to create and manage so much leyline energy that her body wasn't meant for. All it took is one too many dragons dying and *pop*

And you'd think that would be the end but *it isn't*, because those fuckers and whatever they did to her aided in her healing abilities. The magic coursing through her body constantly degrading her also helps keep her going. Unable to move unable to scream, laying in a crater that was once the tiny sliver of space she called an excuse for a home until that one person she attached her feelings to came to check on her and found her in that state.

And they couldn't do anything, Strair's a spy not a medic by any measure. They can patch up a quick injury her and there but they have their own shit coping methods and a damn good healer friend to make sure they don't die in turn from their own deal. But that medic is busy right now, tied up with the Pact. With the commander. With the people that Illiadde was once...meant to be with...

So they take her there, a wanted criminal with a past tied to the Commander already in ways that no one could blame Laighe for turning them both away.

But she doesn't, she's had her own long fight her own endless traumas...she and illiadde are closer in understanding than they've ever been, not that illiadde would know. Not that she'd ever *let* illiadde know. All illiadde knows is she wakes up on another operating table. Like when she was young and everything lead to more pain and more tests

So she does the only thing that makes sense to her, she rips off a restraint and fucking throws the medic working on her hard enough to tear their arm off. They barely make it out of the room and she's locked down in it until she runs out of energy and passes back out to be restrained again.

She keeps trying. She can't stay here and there is no reason to her that anyone would help her. It's never been done, it's not an option. Ever. She knows she won't be helped, more than can't.

She gets lucky though, the sylvari she was once meant to work alongside to help the Commander, who remembers her from their dreams...she doesn't recognize them those memories don't even exist for her any more. But all it takes is some unlocked doors, some diverted guards. And she's out again. And she's alone still. And still broken in a way that can't be fixed and all that help did was prolong it, her life saved but no progress made.

She'll only ever be a weapon and she will keep losing everything.