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theforgottenmcrmy · 7 months

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Oaths~ Part 3/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 23 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of past character death, general Ser Criston Cole hatred

Summary:

Would Lord Corlys turn his back on Rhaenyra, when in doing so meant he severed his relationship with his granddaughters? Moreover, would Princess Rhaenys continue to steadfastly stand by him if he did? The love the typically stoic Targaryen princess held for them was a secret to none.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this past few parts.🖤 I hope you enjoy this one. The next parts will probably be posted close together as well, but may be titled two separate chapters (as opposed to part 1/part 2, etc.). I'm tossing around the idea of "Second Sons" as one of the next chapter names if that's indicative of anything. I hope you all have a great rest of the weekend 🖤

"... It is said that they have been executed.

More hushed whispers ensued.

This was news to Harwin. It was most unfortunate that what Queen Rhaenyra alleged, while foul, was not entirely beyond belief. Particularly not when one considered the likes of Lord Otto Hightower and, Harwin could only assume, his snake of a brother Larys, could have been acting in the Usurper’s interest.

You kept your voice even, but Harwin still felt the shock of the news as it registered within your mind from his place several paces away. “Executed? …At whose command?”

“It is said Lord Otto Hightower has my half-brother’s ear. He has been named as the Usuper’s hand, after all.”

You said nothing, still reeling.

With undisguised disgust lacing her tone, Rhaenyra pressed on. “However, it is rumored that the dowager queen’s sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, contributed more actively in carrying out Otto Hightower’s decrees.”

Just the mere mention of Ser Criston Cole’s name was enough to get Harwin’s blood burning. However, the implication that Ser Criston Cole was further besmirching the name of the White cloaks, and all knighthood alike, by playing the role of judge, jury, and executioner as he saw fit, and without any repercussions? That was downright infuriating.

A flash of a memory filled Harwin’s mind. The night of what was supposed to be the opening feast celebrating then Princess Rhaenyra’s nuptials to Ser Laenor Velaryon. The rage, pure unbridled anger as Ser Criston Cole pummeled one of the guests to death with his bare hands. How such a horrific act had gone not only unpunished, but rewarded by continued service under Queen Alicent’s protection was beyond Harwin’s ability to comprehend. Ser Criston Cole should have been stripped of his cloak right then and there- if not worse.

The words were out of Harwin’s mouth before he had a mind to stop them.

“It seems Ser Criston Cole’s bloodlust has not diminished, even after all these years.”

As he had not stepped forward, Rhaenyra had to physically turn her body to look at him. When she did, their eyes met with an understanding Harwin had seldom reached with any other. For their own multitude of reasons, the two of them shared a mutual hatred for Ser Criston Cole.

“It would seem so, Lord Strong.”

What Harwin would do to have one more shot at the poor excuse of a man. Perhaps, in time, such an opportunity would present itself... Perhaps Queen Rhaenyra would arrange such an opportunity for him. Needless to say, regardless of how fate provided him with it, Harwin would not squander it.

Rhaenyra opted to forgive his outburst and did not rebuke him for speaking out of turn. When she turned back to the Painted Table to address you and the rest of the group at large, she was reinvigorated with purpose. “Rest assured, Lady Y/N, when I reclaim King’s Landing and ascend the throne, I will have justice for Lord Beesbury, Lord Caswell, and all others who were wrongfully slain for upholding their oaths to me. Rest assured, Lord Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole will be dealt with.”

Harwin wondered whether Lord Otto Hightower would be given a trial. Despite his egregious treachery, the queen’s supporters would likely demand he be given one, if only to put him through public humiliation before his demise. And any supporters of the Usurper would cite the lack of a trial as an example of supposed tyranny on Rhaenyra’s part.

But Harwin did not think Prince Daemon would so willingly pass up the opportunity to feed Lord Otto to Caraxes…

To the room at large, Rhaenyra proclaimed, “As my first official act as queen, I have decided to declare Lord Otto Hightower and Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower as traitors to the realm. They, and all of their supporters, are a danger to the stability of the Seven Kingdoms, and their rebellious acts will be met with justice- the queen’s justice.”

“Hear, hear!” Lord Bartimos Celtigar bellowed, to the audible agreement of many around him.

“And as for the others we have mentioned here today- Ser Criston Cole, Lord Larys Strong, Lord Tyland Lannister, Lord Garrett Redwyne, and any other individual found to be acting in support of the Greens’ cause or otherwise aiding the false rule of my half-brother- it is my will that they be apprehended and made to stand trial, where the extent of their crimes will come to light. May the appointed jurors and the Seven have mercy on their souls.”

“A wise decision, Your Grace,” Lord Gunthor praised, stepping forward and up to the Painted Table once more.

“Agreed!” Lord Bartimos concurred. “An iron fist against against this Hightower treachery is certain to set the tone for your reign.”

Across the Painted Table from him, Lord Rydan stepped forward. “And what of the Usurper, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra’s response to the posed question was not immediate. As she visibly deliberated within her own mind, her entire council watched her expectantly. Finally, she said, “I will not have it be said that the Greens were more generous and willing to prevent needless bloodshed than I. If they wish to offer terms in the hope of a peaceful resolution to this mess, I shall meet them halfway. Maester Gerardys?”

The man in question broke through the remnants of the observing crowd, his chains rattling softly as he stepped forward once more. “Yes, My Queen?”

“Send a raven to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra commanded him, before pausing. After a moment, she added, “And send a second to Oldtown, addressed to my youngest half-brother. Inform them all that I have declared Lord Otto Hightower and the dowager queen as traitors to the realm. Make very clear my intentions to have everyone else who has aided in the unlawful usurpation of my throne arrested until they may stand trial. As for my half-brothers, Daeron, Aemond, and Aegon, as well as my sweet sister, Helaena… they have all been led astray by the council of evil men. Let my siblings come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness. I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart. They are my own blood, and I will not be made to be a kinslayer.”

The implications of the queen’s orders took their time resonating within the minds of those in the room. And for several long moments, a silence fell upon the room.

Lord Rydan was the first to break it. He cleared his throat, and raised his eyebrow. Not without caution, he inquired, “Is that wise, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra turned to look at him with mild surprise. “Are you questioning me, Lord Bar Emmon?”

“I would not say so, Your Grace. ‘Tis just, while your inclination to be merciful is admirable, I worry about unforeseen consequences that may arise by leaving these challengers to your throne alive.”

“If my half-brothers renounce their claim to our father’s throne, they will no longer present a challenge.”

“Your Grace, we have already witnessed how little the Greens value their oaths,” Lord Bartimos interjected carefully. “Even if he agreed and bent the knee to you, could the Usurper truly be trusted to keep his vow? And what of the younger two? Rumors persist that Aegon fancies spending his time drinking and gambling, and that he much prefers the company of whores rather than courtiers. But Aemond is said to be studious, cunning even. Who is to say he would not bend the knee to appease you, if only to- perhaps quite literally- stab you in the back the moment you lowered your guard?”

“There is also Daeron to consider,” you chimed in softly, visibly more reluctant in voicing your concern that Lord Celtigar and Lord Rydan had been. “I do not think Daeron would oppose you of his own accord, Your Grace. By all means, he has seldom had a chance to come to know you, let alone grow to despise you. But he is surrounded in Oldtown by those who would whisper poisonous thoughts into his ear. And though he is young, and only a squire, I’ve heard it said that he is quite brave, and bold... Should anything befall Aegon and Aemond, the Greens would not have a difficult time shaping him into the kingly pawn they so clearly desire.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, placing her palms downward upon the Painted Table as she regarded her advisors through the hoods of her violet eyes. Her next words were spoken with severe conviction. “I will not have Aegon killed, nor any of my other half-brothers for that matter. I will commit no such act by my own hand, nor do I wish to command it of another’s. I will not be a kinslayer.”

“The Usurper is not to be touched,” Harwin insisted, stepping forward as well. “Nor Aemond, nor Daeron.”

He took several strides over, resuming the same place at the Painted Table where he had stood shortly before. You looked up at him as he came to a stop beside you. Beneath the large stone slab, his fingers brushed yours lightly.

“If blood is to be shed, let it be Aegon who bloodies his hands first,” Harwin urged, looking at the surrounding lords and ladies imploringly. “Let our queen’s hands remain clean of that filth. No matter what region or customs we each hail from, I imagine we can all agree that no man, or woman, is as accursed as the kinslayer.”

“If you do not mean to have the Usurper killed, and if he does not agree to bend the knee, where does that leave you, My Queen?” Lord Bartimos countered, now mildly vexed. “What is our next move to dispose of the Green boy and reclaim what is rightfully yours?”

The queen pulled herself up, straightening her back and leveling her shoulders. “That is the reason I have called you all here, My Lord Celtigar. Remaining idle in Dragonstone is no longer an option- time is of the essence. Any reinforcements the Greens plan to send for, or any they have already sent for, will advance close to King’s Landing with every sun set.”

“You need to act,” you insisted seriously, the words slipping from your mouth before you had a moment to question whether to silence them. Respectfully, you added, “And with haste, Your Grace.”

“I agree. But the problem in doing so remains thus- the extent of my allies are, as of yet, mostly unknown. It would be far easier to devise a strategy if all the pieces upon the board were apparent. The majority of those who have already declared their support for me are present in this very room, and yet, as Prince Daemon reminded us all the other day, the amount of swords at our immediate disposal would not be nearly enough to take the city… Still, I am not without hope that a possible solution to my problem merely has not yet come to light.”

“How can we best aid you, Your Grace?” you asked.

“I have called you all here as my counselors in my time of need,” Rhahenyra said simply, looking at the many faces about the room once more. “Council me.”

“I still maintain that a swift, precise show of force would bring this farce to an end.”

Lord Bartimos’ impassioned argument re-commenced for what you thought might have been the fifth time. In all honesty, you had lost count after he had repeated his proposed strategy thrice times over.

Rhaenyra remained at the head of the Painted Table, though instead of standing, she now sat in a chair that had been placed there for her. She fiddled with the armrest absentmindedly as her counsel argued amongst themselves around her. You had also lost recollection of how much time had passed before she had given up on having an active voice in the discussion, when she eventually succumbed to the seemingly undeterred will of the loudest participants in the room.

Still, if she so desired, Rhaenyra could silence them all, and cease what she may have hoped would be fruitful dialogue, but what had ultimately become an unproductive squabble. But Rhaenyra’s mind was elsewhere. Where her thoughts might have laid, you dared not to speculate. Few other of her councilors seemed to even notice her straying attention, save you and Harwin.

Many of the other lords and ladies, though almost all had taken a turn to provide their input at some point or another over the last hour, had resigned themselves to the outskirts of the room once more. Many indulged in wine or engaged in frustrated whisperings with one other as disagreement after disagreement had shifted the tone in the room from one of promise to one of dull despair.

But as for Lord Bartimos Celtigar and Lord Simon Staunton, they had remained standing at the Painted Table. Each insisted the superiority of their own plans of attack loudly before the others in the room, despite the fact that most everyone else was no longer paying them much mind either.

You and Harwin had also remained at the table. Though your intent of support had been declared, neither of you had the resources with which to offer immediate help to remedy the queen’s unfortunate circumstance. Because of this, the pair of you had opted to remain relatively quiet thus far.

But as Lord Bartimos droned on once more, you realized your patience had grown incredibly thin. And as Lord Simon eagerly pointed out a flaw in his proposed plan- again- you finally came to the conclusion that the very least that you and Harwin could do was to try and regain some control of the room while the queen mentally worked to regather her bearings.

“You must use what the gods have gifted your house, Your Grace,” Lord Simon was saying, though Rhaenyra had not looked in his direction for several minutes. “Dragons.”

Lord Bartimos nodded enthusiastically, suddenly amenable to Lord Simon’s proposal. “Use them, Your Grace, and the Usurper will have no choice but to oppose us with his own dragons. Our nine must surely overwhelm his four.”

“And as the dragons clash in the skies above, how many innocent lives shall perish in the flames below?” you demanded, glaring at the two men across from you.

Lord Bartimos and Lord Simon turned to you readily, eager to have yet another challenger present themselves to the forefront of their debate.

Lord Bartimos gave you a small, wry smile, and chuckled dryly. He took the break from his self-imposed ramblings as an opportunity to finish off his goblet. A serving boy stepped forward to refill it with wine.

Lord Simon was not so subtle in his own response. “I would not expect you to know of such matters, Lady Tyrell, given that you are both far younger than I, and of the fairer sex. But this, in all but name, is a matter of war. And in war, people die.”

“The purpose of war is to fill graveyards,” Lord Bartimos added, his freshly refilled goblet of wine swishing around precariously in his wrinkled hand. “And the trick is to put more of their men in the ground than your own.”

With a commanding edge to his voice that he had seldom had use for these days, Harwin argued, “If you rush King’s Landing with dragons now, the majority of casualties will be the citizens of King’s Landing themselves, not Green soldiers, or even our own.”

Your husband’s authoritative tone was rather effective on Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos, who had suddenly lost their smug expressions and had yet to find another. They blinked blankly a few times as Harwin continued.

“We want to rule the city, not burn it to the ground. All of this talk of brute shows of strength is futile; our queen will have ample time for feats such as those later on in her reign. Perhaps the solution to our immediate problem lies in a far more… subtle approach.”

The attention of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos had already turned to Harwin, but at your husband’s rather curious wording, your interest was piqued as well.

Half-cautiously, half-disbelievingly, Lord Simon requested, “What exactly are you suggesting, Lord Strong?”

Harwin’s eyes fell upon the Painted Table, his hazel hues fixating on King’s Landing. “I am very familiar with the halls of the Red Keep. I know of its integral strengths, and I could speak to more than a few of its weaknesses as well.” He looked up, meeting the hard, questioning glares of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos in turn. “But I am even more familiar with the inner workings of the city. I have spent many hours and countless nights patrolling its many streets and alleyways. I believe that all we would truly need is one night, and a few good men. We could take the city from the Greens by surprise, not force.”

Lord Bartimos raised an eyebrow. “My Lord, do you know of the queen’s shield, Ser Criston Cole?” It was not a question; the entire room had heard Harwin’s snide remark not but an hour before. “They say has been made Lord Commander of the King’s Guard.”

This was news to you, and as such, you knew it had to have been news to Harwin as well. But Harwin was unphased, and his deadpan reply to Lord Bartimos was delivered with such flippancy, you had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to break your reserved composure.

“All the better, then. Ser Criston’s exorbitant hubris will have undoubtedly created ample opportunities for us to spot the weaknesses in the White Cloaks’ patrols and allow us to capitalize upon them.”

Behind you, Selwin was not so successful in halting a short laugh that slipped out from his lips.

“I believe Lord Harwin’s idea has merit,” Prince Jacaerys announced, joining the conversation.

Like his mother, he too had opted to say little. Unlike his mother, Jacaerys seemed intently focused on the many conversations happening around him, as though he sought to digest all of the information being presented.

“Thank you, My Prince,” Harwin nodded to him graciously.

Jacaerys returned the gesture stiffly before turning back to Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos. “We ought to explore Lord Harwin’s idea further, see if we might be able to devise some sort of plan. If spilling blood can be avoided, especially if it is to be the blood of our subjects, then that is a route that must be pursued at all costs.”

Lord Bartimos looked absolutely tickled at the young prince’s suggestion. “Might I remind you of how your ancestors claimed the Seven Kingdoms, My Prince?”

On the other side of Harwin, Ser Erryk Cargyll suddenly stood to attention, his focus captured by something across the room.

“The Lord of the Tides, Lord Coryls Velaryron, and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

The announcement, quickly followed by the tapping of a cane upon the stone floor, caused the heads of everyone in the room to snap over towards the entryway, including your own.

There, accompanied by Princess Rhaenys at his side, and trailed by his granddaughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, the infamous Sea Snake himself descended down the stairs to fully enter the chamber. He walked step by step with his wife, publicly and proudly displaying to all who were not keen enough to already know that the pair viewed one another as nothing less than equals. The two emitted a sense of authority that no man or woman in their right minds would dare challenge. And when they moved, the rest of the room gave them the respect they had silently commanded, with various nobles bowing their heads as they passed.

Lord Coryls used the support of a cane, and his neck was wrapped in bandages. The true extent of his injuries were never made known to you, but the physical remains of the treatments that had been deemed necessary all but confirmed in your mind that they could have been as fatal as the rumors had suggested. The fact that Lord Coryls was upright, walking, and seemingly of his right mind thus far was incredibly fortunate.

You had not seen Princess Rhaenys since Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s petition in King’s Landing, and that had been some weeks ago. Though she looked much the same, she also looked refreshed, reinvigorated, and positively pleased to be back at her partner’s side.

Lord Coryls had been fighting in the Stepstones for the better part of the last decade. If you were forced to gamble, you would wager that Princess Rhaenys had not seen her husband in all that while. The thought of being separated from Harwin for such a span of time was not a welcome one in the slightest, and it only served to increase the amount of respect you held for Targaryen princess, for the Queen Who Never Was.

“My Lords, and Ladies,” Lord Coryls greeted the room, sounding mildly winded. No one would dare comment upon it.

“Lord Coryls!” Rhaenyra had risen from her seat, watching the every movement her father and mother by law made with earnestness. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

The Sea Snake looked genuinely touched from her words. “I am very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man.”

As their elders exchanged greetings, Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena slipped away, weaving through the various lords and ladies in the room to take their chosen places besides their betrothed. You noted, not without amusement, that the faces of the eldest Velaryon princes were visibly enlightened by the ladies’ mere presence.

Lord Coryls looked about the room, as though making a mental record of every face present. “Where is Daemon?”

“There are other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” Rhaenyra replied simply.

Though Lord Coryls looked as though he wished to say more, he let the matter go. Cane in hand, he continued to meander over to the Painted Table, and the lords and ladies who were in his way silently parted to free his path. He looked down at the stone depiction of the Seven Kingdoms appraisingly.

“Your declared allies?” he surmised.

“Yes,” the queen confirmed, crossing a few paces to resume her rightful position at the head of the Table.

Lord Coryls hummed. “Too few to win a war for the throne.”

The reminder, though blatantly apparent to all who had been present in the room for any period of time that morning, was no less disheartening to hear when spoken aloud. But you could tell the gears in Rhaenyra’s mind had once more begun to turn.

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses of Arryn, Baratheron, and Stark-”

“Hope is the fool’s ally.”

“Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house, but all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower, if I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys.”

The Sea Snake was a fierce man, one who had never shied away from speaking his mind, or from demanding answers for difficult questions. He had the respect of many throughout the Seven Kingdoms because he had earned it. But Rhaenyra Targaryen was not merely some spoiled princess making frivolous demands, either. You had to admit, it was rather interesting to bear witness to their exchange of dialogue as they attempted to assess one another.

Lord Corlys did not seem interested in granting Rhaenyra’s insinuation a response. Instead, his critical gaze turned upon you and Harwin. “Lord Strong, Lady Tyrell.”

“Lord Velaryon,” you acknowledged, as Harwin bowed his head in greeting beside you.

“The pair of you are a far way from home, are you not?”

“It is most fortunate,” Rhaenyra interceded, “that Lord Harwin and Lady Y/N were already in the midst of traveling to Dragonstone for a much overdue visit. Houses Tyrell and Strong have both reaffirmed their allegiance, Lord Coryls.”

Lord Coryls’s eyebrows raised. “Those would be some significant numbers of men added to your cause, Princess… ‘Tis unfortunate that any mustering of significant force from Highgarden or Harrenhal is likely to take more time than can be afforded.”

“Rest assured, Lord Coryls, if summoned, our men will ride with purpose to aid our queen,” Harwin countered.

This seemed to amuse the Sea Snake. His gaze lowered, his focus settling across the Painted Table. He started with King’s Landing, then moved upwards towards Driftmark, Dragonstone, the Eyrie, and all the way up to the Wall in the North. His attention left the Painted Table then, moving towards his granddaughters, who stood beside their betrothed at the far end of the table.

He, perhaps more than anyone else, save his lady wife, had to see in them what was plainly apparent to almost all others. Baela and Rhaena were each the image of their mother, and by extension, House Velaryron, in their own ways. Though there was little doubt that Baela and Rhaena offered their grandsire the respect that many others did, you could tell by the resolved looks on their faces that little would sway them to abandon their betrotheds’ sides- physically or figuratively.

…

Just as Lord Corlys’s silence had begun to cause you apprehension, the Sea Snake looked back towards Rhaenyra once again.

“Your father’s realm was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood, and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand. You have the full support of our fleet, and house… Your Grace.”

As Lord Coryls bowed his head in respect to his queen, you felt the shock of his words settle into your mind and amongst others in the room.

Pun aside, the Sea Snake’s declaration was truly a change in the tides. With the larger numbers of the combined Lannister and Redwyne fleet already at Aegon’s disposal, the support of the seasoned and battle-tested Velaryon fleet was absolutely essential to Rhaenyra’s cause. And now, it was officially hers.

Though she masked it well, the queen was still wide eyed. “You honor me, Lord Corlys.” Her eyes softened as a thought struck her. She turned behind her, addressing one of the few other Targaryens in the room. “Princess Rhaenys.”

You dared to wonder if the support of the Queen Who Never Was meant more to Rhaenyra than the indomitable naval support she had just been handed. Ever graceful, Princess Rhaenys’s small smile was as unwavering as her strength.

The queen offered a gentle smile of her own, but when she turned back to the Painted Table, it faded just as quickly as it had come. “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

You silently offered up words of praise to the Seven that Rhaenyra had not taken any of Lord Bartimos or Lord Simon’s deadly suggestions to heart- at least not for now.

Lord Coryls looked befuddled by her assertion. “You do not mean to act?”

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast,” Rhaenyra corrected him. “I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Though the lords and ladies within the room had disagreed with one another on many issues that morning, all were hard-pressed to protest the queen’s reasoning.

Even Lord Corlys accepted her answer without further inquiry, nodding to himself. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he said, “A consequence of my near demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborn travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

You felt goosebumps run the lengths of your arms, sheerly covered with the fabric of your gown. If what the Sea Snake said was true, the Redwyne and Lannister fleets were as of much use to Aegon as the men in and around Highgarden who waited to be roused by you were to Rhaenyra. They could not tilt the scales in the Usurper's favor if they were unable to sail to King’s Landing.

Princess Rhaenys stepped forward. To the queen, she volunteered, “I shall take Meleys and patrol the gullet myself.”

Though Lord Bartimos Celtigar had been a proponent of charging the Red Keep with dragons not but a moment before, the latest developments had caused a major change of mind within him. “When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Green surrender.”

Could it be that simple? You narrowed your eyes at King’s Landing in thought. The plan- if successful- had the potential to minimize the overall loss of life, for the citizens of King’s Landing, the soldiers sworn to those in the room, and the very beasts the Targaryens had built their dynasty with.

Though the queen looked somewhat hopeful, she also seemed to restrain herself. “If we are able to completely seal off Green reinforcements from reaching King’s Landing, by land or sea, and if we can strategically make use of our men and dragons at hand, perhaps it could work… But a siege can go on for weeks, months even.”

“The Red Keep would be more than prepared for a siege.”

“It certainly is,” Lord Corlys acquiesced. “But if it is made known to those within that aid will never reach them-”

“Days could feel like weeks, the weeks months,” you realized out loud. “The Greens would grow desperate.”

“Even if the Velaryon fleet could restrict movement of the Redwyne and Lannister fleets in the Narrow Sea, King’s Landing is still accessible by land on all other sides,” Rhaenyra noted, before looking at you expectantly.

“I shall write to my uncle at once, and give the order to start mustering our men,” you avowed. “If we act quickly, and with the right intelligence, the Tyrell army could cut off any Hightower forces marching from Oldtown and up through the Reach.”

Rhaenyra nodded understandingly, the traces of a small, grateful smile lingering on her face. She cleared her throat, looking to others in the room as she did so. “Even if we could deter the main Hightower forces, there is still the possibility that others within the Seven Kingdoms will join the Greens’ cause.”

“Not all of them would be as far away from King’s Landing as Oldtown,” Lord Corlys agreed. “And if they were not, they would pose a more immediate threat to our siege than a Hightower army ever could.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but out of determination rather than anger. “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, and to truly eliminate any chance of the Usurper and the Greens receiving aid, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eerie, and Storm’s End.”Maester Gerardys offered, “I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”

“We should bear those messages.”

All eyes turned to the eldest Velaryon prince, and now heir to the Iron Throne, who had spoken for the first time in a long while.

Prince Jacaerys, palms facing downward on the Painted Table, did not buckle under the sudden attention his proposal had drawn. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens, and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Lord Coryls did not take care to hire his proud smile as he beheld his grandson. To Rhaenyra, he said, “The prince is right, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at Jacaerys for a moment, then to Lucerys, who stood silently beside his brother. The second Velaryon prince did not look as confident as Jacaerys, but that did not take away from the determination you saw in his brown eyes. You did not doubt for a second that if his mother asked it of him, Lucerys would readily join his elder brother to act as her envoy in an effort to reclaim her throne.

“Very well,” Rhaenyra conceded. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north, first to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly fourth to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon.”

For the first time in hours- or perhaps days- an undeniable sense of hope had fallen over Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra declared, “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore… And, the cost of breaking them.”

You watched with something akin to glee and fondness as the room erupted into enthusiastic conversation. You had known the truth of it since you were but a girl, when your father traveled to King’s Landing and made the oath before King Viserys himself. But now, witnessing the moments leading up to the truth being made real, and for all in the realm to behold with their own eyes- it was another matter entirely.

The Seven Kingdoms was to finally have its queen.

A/N: 🖤🖤🖤

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oddsconvert · 2 years

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Day Three: "A Hair's Breadth from Death"

Gun to temple | "Say Goodbye" | Impaled

Whumptober Masterlist!

CW: Corrupt Caretaker, Numb/Vengeful/unhinged Whumpee, Whumpee turned whumper, whumper turned whumpee, guns, death threat, revenge, begging, pistol whipping, blood, implied kidnapping/captivity/torture, ambiguous/implied character death, adult language

@whumptober

"Whumpee-"

Hollow eyes, devoid of life, flit up to stare into Caretaker's. Eyes that have seen a thousand horrors. So numb, so exhausted. The fire raging within them long extinguished, leaving a pitch-black darkness and snuffing out all the light.

Caretaker presses the muzzle of the gun deeper into Whumper's temple, their finger hooking just around the trigger. Eager to pull it, to blow the bastard's brains out and finally put an end to Whumpee's suffering.

Close this chapter of their life and help them turn the page to the next.

"Say goodbye to Whumper."

Caretaker grins from ear to ear, their fist coiling in Whumper's hair and tugging it as they groan out, pulling at their handcuffs, thrashing about. Their knees grind into the rough stone beneath them, and all they can see is Whumpee standing dead ahead. That same soulless look about them.

Judge, jury and executioner.

"Fuck! No!" Whumper bellows, wildly swinging their head in an attempt to pull away from the gun. They resign and stare up to Whumpee's looming frame, towering above them.

It's weird. It's too fucking weird for Whumpee to have all the power, and Whumper to be begging on his knees. Like the poles of the earth have swapped, the laws of nature have vanished - and now he's bottom of the food chain.

"I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Oh come on, Whumpee. You don't want this!

A nervous twitch flickers in Whumpee's eye as they stare down at their captor. Squeezing their fists with rage. The audacity of them to beg and bargain, after they refused Whumpee's pleas time and time again.

"No…" Whumpee mumbles to themselves, a montone grumble, looking to Caretaker and the gun in his hands, "It's too quick. Give me the gun."

Caretaker falters for a moment, his hand curling defensively around the handle, wanting to keep Whumpee's hands clean of any blood.

But this is their pain, their life that's been stolen and torn apart. They should be the one to do this. They hand it over, and Whumpee near enough snatches it.

"You can be the better person in all this" Whumper pipes up, panic clear in his voice, "Walk away victorious, head held high knowing that you bested me. You escaped my clutches. Bravo. We'll never meet again."

"If I do that, I walk away as a victim. As nothing. Because of you. I won by chance. I won't let anyone else lose to you."

Whumpee crouches down before Whumper, dropping to one knee, using the muzzle of the gun to lift Whumper's chin high in the air, exposing their bobbing Adam's apple as they swallow thick nerves.

The barrel travels over Whumper's wobbling lips, he stays deathly still, his breathing rabbit fast. Whumpee slowly stuffs the gun into his mouth, the muzzle grinding against his teeth, metal resting on his tongue as he whines around the gun, squeezing his eyes shut. But he lets it happen, not wanting to anger Whumpee - playing along with the little power trip they're on.

"I think I've been the better person for long enough. I've sat quietly and let you do whatever you want to me. I screamed when you wanted me to. I cried when you asked me to, I begged for something, anything, when I had nothing."

Whumper shuffles uncomfortably on his knees at that comment, knowing he's entirely at his prisoners mercy right now. Whumpee rises to his height, scoffing at the pathetic sight before them.

They're stomach churning when they see themselves in the poor excuse of a man knelt at their feet.

"Why shouldn't you suffer for once?"

The second the words left their lips, Whumpee felt all the built up rage spill over. All the hatred and despair, charging the brutal blow that Whumpee brings down on Whumper's skull with the butt of the gun. Thwacking him over the head and ignoring the cries of pain, the splitting skin and pooling blood seeping out with each swing.

There's no stopping, it's relentless and it's unleashed something malevolent within him. Even when Whumper is a gasping heap on the floor, flinching and crying out with each hit. A splitting headache ripping through his skull, warm blood gushing out as Whumpee carries on their onslaughting attack.

And Caretaker lets it happen. Stands idly by and watching. Until Whumpee decides they've had enough, Whumper is sufficiently hurt and terrified, laying on their side and heaving for breath they can't draw in. Trembling.

"I've said and done my piece. Put him out of his misery" Whumpee chucks the gun over to Caretaker, just catching it before it clatters on the ground.

With a nod to Caretaker, the gun clicks off safety. The sound so small but feels deafening when Whumper hears it, jumping at the sound and their eyes darting up, growing wide with fearful realisation.

"You owe this to them, Whumper. You took Whumpee away from their life. Now they get to take yours from you."

"Wait-!"

Whumpee exhales a deep sigh of relief.

"Goodbye, Whumper."

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday @sparrowsage @whumperfully @wolves-and-winters @ha-ha-one @mannerofwhump @no-terms-and-conditions-apply

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nightswithkookmin · 1 year

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As for Tae, I think when Jimin suffers and does something self-harmful, he will cry and say stop to his fan but it will be too late. I don't mean to be pessimistic. I hope God will protect Jimin, but he is human and he has endured enough

Jimin is stronger than he looks but yea we all have our breaking points. he's human after all and the constant pestering and negativity can take a toll on him.

And it's funny you mention this cos somewhere in my drafts there are several posts I've made talking about this very topic in regards to two POCs I know out here who keep going at it with eachother.

Some people don't know when to stop and will keep going and going till they've inflicted maximum damage on others. It's not cute.

There's constructive criticism and there's badgering and hammering down on people and that's equally as toxic and harmful as the supposed evils we seek to correct in people.

Many words won't fill a bushel. A word to a wise is enough. If your intention is to draw a person's attention to their mistakes, you don't go pestering them with it. And humans have brains and hearts for a reason, give them room to reflect on their actions and do the internal work they need to do and once that is done learn to forgive them and not hold their mistakes over their heads especially if they grow from it. But we all seem to have lost the plot.

Somehow in this community, it's always aha that person slipped that one time I'm gonna weaponize that and use that as ammunition to drive them out of this space so I'm the last one standing. It's nuts.

And it's true not everyone is like that in this space, there are a couple of bloggers out here who I don't fuck with yet they'd slip into my DMs every now and there to ask for clarification or let me know Hey you said this and that's quite problematic.

I just thank them and post clarifications here on my page. I respect those accounts you know. Cos you can tell they don't have ill intentions towards me.

Thus it's difficult for me to equally start tearing into them out of the blues on my platform- I'd rather send them a private message to talk- if I care enough about it but most of the time I don't care💀

What someone chooses to do with their platform is none of my business really unless they wanna @ me then let's go. I will stab you in the guts and bug spray your eyes. Don't play with me.

Tumblr staff are paid to moderate the platform and keep people in check. If an account violates their community guidelines then it's their problem not mine.

But that's just the problem isn't it? We see ourselves as a community and thus some have assigned themselves moderators of this community and have appointed themselves judge jury executioner passing judgements based on ambiguous virtues and arbitrary social rules- very high school of us in here.

Quick segue- that bitch going around people's blogs screaming I'm evil because I'm a "Ted Bundy stan" WHAT'S GOOD? It's the she was "exposed" and the "she lied" for me. Bitch if you don't shut up.

If I have to deny being a fan of something then am I really a fan of it at all?? Have you met me?

Like no, imagine that for a moment. Me. Scared to admit I like something because.... wait for it

Ita so deviant I'm afraid it will offend a bunch of strangers I've never met on the internet and they will not like me for it???

If I'm a Stan of Mr O'Brian Bundy WHO'S GONNA CHECK ME? YOU? ANON 2297 HIDING BEHIND AN ANNOYMOUS BLOG TO CRY LIKE A LITTLE BITCH ON PEOPLE'S BLOG POSTS?????

I THINK THE FUCK NOT.

I promise you YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO'S GONNA CHECK ME.

I'm a fan of True crime FOR SURE said that ones I'll say it again but Ted Bundy is not the hill I'm finna die on I'm sorry. He is the least interesting serial killer out there. Yawned my way through a stranger besides me- read it twice and yet I still hate the Author💀

Just because I hate the Author, again DON'T MAKE ME A FAN OF TED FREAKN BUNDY- that's just insulting. he's so bland. BORING

For the record, I AM obsessed with BTK and have since fell down the rabbit hole of serial killers who leave erotic poems behind for their victims.

SUE ME.

Oh here's one I think you'll love!!!!!!

It's called "Oh, Nancy Anna why didn't you appear"

T' was perfect plan of deviant pleasure so bold on that Spring nite.

My inner felling hot with propension of the new awakening season

Warn, wet with inner fear and rapture, my pleasure of entanglement,

like new vines at night

Crime literary analysts have described this quatrian as remarkable and have compared it to the works of writers such as James Joyce.

"The poem is in many ways remarkable because of the levels of meaning that BTK suggests in the words he uses. Reminiscent of James Joyce's epic, Finnegan's Wake, BTK uses words that suggest several meanings. Starting with the very first line in the poem, the T with the superscript 1 is used in scientific research to designate the beginning phase of a study. Subsequent phases would be T2, T3, etc. On another more ordinary level, the superscript 1 could be interpreted as an apostrophe to create "T'was" except that "T'was perfect plan" is missing a word, like "a" or "the." It appears as though whatever BTK had in store for Anna was something "bold" and new."

Oh no, she's a fan of serial killers let's cancel her

You do that Karen, I'm gonna be here and do me 💅🏾

People have their heads so far up their ass all they breathe is shit.

You place a lot of responsibility on Tae when you expect so much of him as a friend and colleague to JM. He's equally just an Idol and like JM he has his own crucible and haters and people out to get him.

I seem to recall him going on a love all seven campaign right before they announced their Solos. Let's give him credit. Cut him some slack.

We all disappointed with the way things unraveled these past few weeks. And some of us might never really move on but like I said life goes on.

Don't know why Tae went silent on us, but with time the reason shall come to light. Personally I'm not too happy with him for that. He broken my vmin heart. I won't ship them together for a while but yall feel free.

Okay who wants to hear about a serial killer who drew a picture of his penis on a victims night stand

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moonlit-ocs · 17 days

Text

Leila Wayne-al Ghūl

Layla - Derek and the Dominos

um…duh? really though, i find that this song plays through her love interests’ heads. whether its wally or roy or some other redhead

Who Is She ? - I Monster

ooooh she wears so many masks. the mysterious assassin and vigilante of gotham are her main ones, which i feel leads the song so well. but there is this drop in the song at “somewhere across the sea of time” where i like to imagine her entire life pass by and all those different masks. from her as a child training with the league, to an assassin, her as batgirl, demonspawn, a student, the ghoul rebrand, a billionaire’s daughter, party girl, the wayne enterprises exec, galas, the ceo as her hair greys and when the song ends on “immortal she, return to me” i see her as old, wearing green robes with her family sword and leading the league of shadows after a lifetime of fighting them

Safari - The Breeders

this specifically i relate to arkham knight jason todd and their sibling bond, her mourning him while he’s planning on destroying her city and getting back at bruce. but he still longs to see her again and misses her and he’s ashamed of himself. he wonders if he could follow through once he sees his sister again. if she would even accept him—love him—knowing what he planned to do.

Lights Out - Mindless Self Indulgence

disclaimer: yes he very much is a POS we do not support him. anyways i think this captures leila’s more brutal side, and leila is not a batbrat! she tries to follow bruce’s rules, but she was still raised by assassins for some time and still agrees with their ways to a degree. but she builds a reputation as a vigilante, and foes fear her greatly because she carries deadlier weapons and causes more damage and pain. she just calculates much more carefully. bruce doesn’t like that she thinks she can be the judge and jury, but she refrains from being the executioner for his comfort.

Pa Pa Power - Dead Man’s Bones

this is such a gotham ass song it almost doesn’t belong here but i relate leila with gotham so heavily compared to my other OCs. only time she’s not a gothamite is in the YJ timeline but other than that shes a gotham girly. i like thinking of arkham knight!leila and the gotham evac here, so a bit of jason and also bruce and dick and tim and barbara but imagine the streets burning from below where riots prevail and shes stuck on saving the city and her family from certain doom. NOW IMAGINE THE DLC WITH RA’S AND NYSSA AND IT BEING HER CHOICE look it up that game is a masterpiece.

Me and the Devil - Soap&Skin

leila has a lot of ethical dilemmas. of course she returns to the league several times. she’s the oldest grandchild, if not the only child in some storylines. and ra’s sees her potential despite his reluctance to let a woman take over. he wants her on his side. he’s ashamed that she’s turned her back on them and taken up with the scum of gotham, but when she returns to the league she is treated like royalty and it feels so wrong to her. being beside ra’s is painful for her, but sometimes she needs to prove to herself that she made the right decision protecting gotham and in some cases, the world. building a reputation with the assassins does help her in the long run.

Cities In Dust - Siouxsie and the Banshees

gotham vs shadows thats all i will say

[leila]

#leila wayne al ghul oc #leila wayne oc #leila al ghul oc #ghoul oc #demonspawn oc #dc comics oc

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shellalana · 2 months

Text

“Does that honestly matter, old man? I see the way you look at me.” Serana cast aside the sword in her hands, the metal clattering against the stone ground.

His suspicion — and the hands on his staff — remained, however.

“You still see her. Your beloved. The woman you couldn’t save. You think you can do that with me and earn the forgiveness you believe you deserve.” Serana’s face twisted into a mock expression of hurt. Teshin remained steadfast.

“But you won’t find it, you know. Because you’re the reason she is ashes scattered amongst the stars.” Another step closer. “You’re the reason she gave up everything to keep you alive.” Another. “You’re the reason you’re alone.”

Teshin found himself taking a step back now, her verbal assault taking him off-guard, putting his deepest fears and concerns into solid, tangible form to hang between them like a guillotine. Had the Drifter really been thinking these things about him all along?

He wanted to tell himself it was the Scoria at play, taking the things he’d shared with her in confidence and twisting them tightly into needles and daggers to puncture his flesh.

But the gem was supposed to wipe away memory, not manipulate ones already there. So where was this coming from, exactly?

“Say you’re right,” he finally replied, his throat parched from shock and disuse. “Say it is my fault. Have you come to be my judge, jury, and executioner?”

Serana tilted back at the waist and laughed, so melodious yet so cold at the same time, reverberating off the cave’s walls. It made Teshin’s blood run cold.

“Oh, no no no. I’m none of those things. You do all of that to yourself already, don’t you?” She took yet another step closer, leaving Teshin with no more room to escape. “No, I’m just here as a reminder of how much you continue to fail.”

Teshin swallowed hard against the ache of her words. Here, he thought he was doing some good. Being the sounding board for her concerns, allowing her to share her thoughts with someone she believed understood her plight. He’d shared some of himself too, he believed, enough to put them both on common ground.

Maybe he’d been wrong about that too.

#spilled ink #prose #fanfiction #warframe #teshin #drifter #an unused portion of my fic #I didn't want it to go to waste

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heyhazelnut101 · 2 years

Text

The Scales of Justice

(based on one particular Twitter post of GrimReaper!Cyno THAT I CAN'T FIND ANYMORE but I think it's by @11eyedangel on Twitter.)

Cyno x Alhaitham oneshot, 2k words.

EDIT: It's also on AO3 if you prefer that format of reading!

- - -

Cyno has seen it all.

As judge, jury and executioner of the afterlife, Cyno has been faithfully executing his duties for the past millennium. Reaping souls when their time comes, weighing those souls on the scales of justice, and sending them to the afterlife that they deserved - all of it came as naturally to him as breathing now.

So what can he begin to make of this... exasperating man who has cheated death more times than anyone else has bothered to count (it's fourteen, by the way, Cyno did count)?

Cyno reminisces on how it all started around six years ago, when he was alerted to a wavering soul on the brink of death in the nation of Sumeru.

Truth be told, Cyno preferred collecting souls from Sumeru, his homeland years and years ago - it gave him a chance to revisit the nation of his birth and check on how it has been flourishing. But the frequency at which he had to go back on account of this one maniac of a man was absurd.

The first time Cyno met him, he was digging around an old domain in Apam Woods, puzzling over something that caught his interest. Grey locks of hair stood frizzy on the researcher's head, due to the rainforest's humidity, and pale turquoise eyes gleamed with the excitement of uncovering arcane knowledge.

However, the gleam of satisfaction in those curious eyes quickly turned to one of fear when he took a step back to survey the runes on the rocks, only to lose his foothold on a slippery patch of moss.

A researcher led to death by his own curiosity. Typical, Cyno's eyes took in the scene before him unamusedly as the man before him let out an alarmed cry before plummeting into the ravine below.

People who are too smart for their own good constantly venture to the fringes of danger, Cyno muses as he is spurred into action, to find the body of that researcher at the bottom of the ravine.

Once he reaches the bottom, however, a peculiar sight greets vermillion irises - the researcher is lying unconscious on a thick sprawling bed of vines that had cushioned his fall. Unconscious, but alive.

Cyno's body materialises back into the limbo between life and death, where he knows the soul of the researcher is waiting.

"You got off lucky," he states bluntly, drawing the bewildered researcher's attention.

"I... suppose it's not my time yet," the researcher eventually manages to let out a wry chuckle. "Would be a pity to die this early into my new career as the Grand Scribe of the Akademiya."

Cyno narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly. Did he really need to brag so casually? He opens his mouth to give voice to his thoughts, but is interrupted by the sound of the scale tipping.

The researcher's turquoise eyes are drawn to the scale. Ever curious, he asks the reaper of souls what the scale's function is.

"Right now, the scale signifies that it's time for you to wake up now. As for its function... you shall find out when you die and meet me in my office."

"Hopefully that's not any time soon," the researcher says blithely as his soul begins fading out of the limbo space.

- - -

"Well, it hasn't been that long since I've been here," the Scribe takes in his ethereal surroundings again, this time with more amusement.

"You got off lucky for the second time. Interesting, the way you keep cheating death," Cyno crosses one leg over another, leaning back in his armchair as he takes in the dishevelled state of the man before him.

"Perhaps I was too agile for the quicksand to take me," the Scribe lets a smile play out on his lips.

The scales tip, the quiet metallic sound reverberating throughout the space.

"So, you said I'd get to know the function of those scales the next time I come here. What do they measure?" The glint of curiosity reappears in the scholar's pale aquamarine eyes.

"I haven't gotten the chance to reap your soul yet, so you don't get to know the answer," Cyno huffs, a little put out. "Perhaps they measure your stupidity and carelessness for putting yourself into such life-threatening situations in the first place."

"Or perhaps they measure my good luck and resourcefulness to stay alive," the Scribe raises one perfect gray eyebrow as he begins fading out of limbo again.

- - -

This is the sixth time Cyno has seen him. It is, frankly, starting to get annoying, the number of times that Cyno has to constantly materialise all around Sumeru for the sake of this stupid, stupid man.

Okay, admittedly that isn't true, Cyno concedes. Alhaitham is one of the smartest people he has met (and the reaper has met countless erudite souls).

He's intriguing and irritating at the same time, with the sheer number of amusingly pretentious statements that leave the scholar's lips.

Cyno fires back with witty retorts of his own every time, his resolve to reap this elusive soul growing ever stronger.

- - -

The eleventh time that Alhaitham has the audacity to not die, Cyno is left wondering if the scribe is secretly immortal.

Objectively, he knows it cannot be true, because no immortal apart from himself has ever crossed this barrier between life and death.

So how is it that Alhaitham, with his stupid turquoise eyes that hold pure rationality in them, cheats death so often it's the furthest thing from logical?

Here he is in front of Cyno again with the most outlandish reason to boot so far - he fell off a cliff while reading some book on physics. He only survived because the wire of his hearing aids (from that unfortunate tenth occasion he went too close to an exploding barrel) got caught in a tangle of Kalpalata Lotus vines, breaking his fall enough to allow him to scramble for purchase.

"This is getting tiring, Alhaitham," Cyno deadpans at the man before him, who just smiles serenely at him.

"What, can't the judicator of souls keep up?"

"I will reap your soul one day," Cyno vows, vermillion irises flashing with unfettered resolve.

"I wouldn't have anyone else reap my soul but you," Alhaitham answers, gazing into Cyno's eyes with such an intensity that leaves Cyno momentarily stunned.

The scales tip and Alhaitham fades from limbo, just as Cyno frantically demands, "Alhaitham, what's that supposed to mean?"

- - -

Cyno's lips inadvertently curl up into a smile whenever he thinks of this madman who has escaped dying fourteen times.

In the span of a thousand years of fulfilling his role of the Judge of the Afterlife, Cyno has never met such an oddity that challenged him at all times, verbally sparring whenever they meet in limbo, and busy eluding death in the mortal realm.

It's as fascinating as it is annoying, that Cyno often looks forward to the times that Alhaitham's soul would flicker into limbo and then fade out again to rejoin the world of the living.

And yet, even with the number of times the scholar cheats death, the ways in which he does so are unpredictable and thrilling.

Cyno doesn't know whether the desire in him stems from wanting to fulfill his duty and reap the infuriating man's soul once and for all, or from something else entirely.

But for now, he'll focus on his judgement of other souls, and perhaps, maybe look forward to meeting him again.

- - -

It's the fifteenth occasion where Cyno meets Alhaitham again, but this time, it's no longer in the limbo space that they've come to share. Alhaitham's form is more tangible, less immaterial and unlikely to fade back into the world of the living.

Somehow, this knowledge sends a current of worry and alarm through Cyno's veins.

"What... what are you doing here?" Cyno breathes, trying to keep his jackhammering heart under control. "Every time I see you, we're always in limbo."

"I guess my luck ran out. Congratulations, Cyno," Alhaitham offers him a sincere smile. "You finally get to reap my soul."

Cyno's mind races. In all the time he has met with this absolute lunatic of a man, his one goal was to finally get the chance to reap his soul. But after weighing his soul and sending him to the afterlife, Cyno knows he will never get to see Alhaitham ever again.

He will never get to exchange witticisms with Alhaitham, never get the sudden urge to chop off that one turquoise-tinted lock of hair that always stands up comically at the top of his head, never get the chance to glare challengingly into those intelligent aquamarine irises again.

Somehow, even in the face of finally reaching his goal, Cyno cannot bear to have the one unpredictable variable in his structured and rigid existence disappear.

"Cat got your tongue?" Alhaitham's smooth voice breaks Cyno out of his haze of thoughts.

Cyno scowls, gesturing to the jackal ears of his headdress. "No, a dog did."

To his utter surprise, Alhaitham lets out a genuine laugh.

Cyno wishes he could listen to that melodious chuckle for eternity.

The idea strikes him as soon as that thought did.

"Alhaitham..." Cyno begins, uncertain. "You know, I don't think I want to reap your soul after all."

"I died, didn't I? Are you not duty-bound to reap my soul?" Alhaitham tilts his head questioningly, strands of grey hair brushing against his collar as he does so. "And here I thought the judge of the afterlife adhered so strictly to his principles."

"If I send you to the afterlife I'll never see you again!" Cyno bursts out, his tanned face rapidly colouring even further.

"Oh? So you've come to enjoy my company, I see," Alhaitham's self-satisfied smirk makes its way back onto his blushing face, though he coquettishly averts his eyes from the latter.

Cyno hates how the familiarity of that expression makes his heart squeeze.

Cyno hides his expression by turning his face towards a drawer in his desk, pulling out a scroll made of parchment. He tosses it to the man as quickly as he can - anything to draw the attention away from his flaming cheeks.

"If you are amenable to it, this contract here allows your soul not to be reaped."

"Where would my soul go then? If it's not an afterlife I'm sent to, and I'm unable to go back to the land of the living..."

Cyno can practically see the cogs in Alhaitham's brain turning as he skims through the contract, and he relishes the moment the latter's beautiful eyes light up in understanding.

"Never knew you of all people would want to have me by your side for all eternity," Alhaitham quips even as the tips of his ears burn red.

"Never knew you of all people would want to stay," Cyno retorts fast as lightning.

Alhaitham grins, taking his own sweet time walking up to Cyno's desk until he is face to face with the judge himself.

"The audacity that you have," Cyno murmurs as Alhaitham takes up an elegant quill pen and signs the contract without breaking eye contact.

The moment the Scribe sets down the quill, he captures Cyno's lips softly in a kiss, earning a pleasured sigh from the normally straitlaced reaper of souls.

After they finally pull away, a wicked grin tugs at the corners of Cyno's reddened lips. "The reason why you kept cheating death... it's because you wanted to meet me more times, isn't it?"

"Deflate that ego of yours a little. Maybe it's because I wanted to know more about those scales," Alhaitham runs a slender finger down the sides of the golden set of scales on Cyno's desk, inadvertently making them tip.

The quiet, familiar metallic sound reverberates throughout the space once more.

"You're one to talk about ego. And as I said, no afterlife, no answer," Cyno raises his eyes to meet Alhaitham's again in a challenge.

"Alright, keep your secrets, I won't pursue them. You got off lucky," Alhaitham throws Cyno's first words to him back at the man.

A spark of realisation lights up vermillion irises, and Cyno cups the back of Alhaitham's neck to draw him back into another kiss.

"I certainly did."

- - -

#genshin impact #genshin cyno #genshin alhaitham #cytham #oneshot

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 11 months

Note

Hello, God, it's me again ahhh! I think I may have another request for you after rereading the demon! weston boys request you did for me for the hundredth and tenth (mayhaps?) time >-< If it's okay, could I request demon! Doll, Beast, Bravat, and double Charles with a human s/o? They've been on my mind for a while now because not only do I love them to bits, but I would also love to read more of your content for them; after all, you do such a great job writing them!

-💙🌹

YESSSS PLEASE I love the demon AUs so much!! <3

thank you aaa you're so sweet~

She’s probably your stereotypical ‘femme fatale’ type of demon. Her image, of a pale beauty with ink-black hair, red lips, and dressed seductively with hellfire in her heels, is what most people picture when they think of a female demon. Not only is she the perfect image of one, she has the confidence to match. She never writes cheques with her mouth that her fists can’t cash, as they say.

Isolation has been her whole life, aside from a group of other demons who she meets up with regularly. They don’t live together, they’ve spread out for safety to cover more ground across England, so she’s lonely. Perhaps that’s why she’s taken up with a human? Others would tell her she’s too desperate for company that she’d take anything. In turn, she’d give them the whip for daring to question her S/O’s value as a person.

Talking to and manipulating animals is basically her demon power. So, well… if (Name) doesn’t already have pets, they’re probably going to. Unlike, say, Sebastian, her affection isn’t limited; she loves all animals. While she’s partial to the ones she can cuddle with, especially with her S/O present as well, she doesn’t hate any animal and is appalled by anyone who abuses any kind of animal. (Though, maybe insects are an exception. Pesky bee!) If her S/O has pets, she likes to spend her days talking to them and taking care of them. One has never truly lived until they’ve seen a scantily clad demon woman reclined on a sofa, baby-talking to her lover’s furry, feathery, or scaly friends.

She goes by Beast because that’s what other demons call her as a reference to her powers. But if (Name) manages to gently take down her walls enough to reveal her softer heart, they’ll get a quiet confession that she picked a ‘human’ name for herself. Most other demons think that’s silly. She thinks she can trust them with it, though. Her name will be very safe in their mouth. And it’s Mally. And if they start to call her that frequently, they’ll see her unravel in the best way.

This man is powerful enough on his own… and also incredibly lazy outside of serving his masters. While he does share their goals, he’s more like the executioner rather than judge or jury. He wouldn’t go out and do things to pursue those goals on his own, nor would he have ever thought them up on his own. He’s very dreamy, very head-in-the-clouds, and he does have some out-there ideas… but he needs motivation and fuel to create things. Else, he’ll simply lay around with his head in his S/O’s lap, playing with crystals and tarot cards all day.

… Has a bit of a fascination with blood? His own, and other people’s. Some of it might come from his masters’ influence and plans; some of it is just a curiosity. He’s especially interested in how other creatures’ blood differs from his own. Now, while he absolutely will not draw blood from his S/O, if they happen to be injured, he’ll be sure to lick at some of it as he patches them up. This has the potential to creep even other demons out — however, he views it as a form of bonding between himself and (Name). There’s nothing that makes one more close with another than literally consuming the other person’s blood, is there?

He comes across as quite fake to other demons, and indeed a lot of humans. The near-constant smile, the saccharine compliments, the unfailing friendliness to other people. (Name) sees it as genuine, and it is genuine, and their opinion is really all that Bravat cares about. Why care about anyone else’s? He’s not sharing his life with everyone else; he’s sharing it with his lover. It’s comical for them to watch at times, of course. He could have just been run through with a sword, and he’d just laugh and say, “Oh, dear! (Name), darling, could you take this out for me, please?”

Stargazing with his S/O is one of his favorite things to do when he isn’t being prodded at by his masters. This is one of the reasons he loves the human world. The stars. Despite being a demon, he can look up at that big sky, dotted with millions of little crystal-sparkling stars, and feel small. Powerless. He actually loves that feeling. It’s especially prominent because stargazing with his S/O, he can feel small and powerless… and immediately curl up in their lap to feel protected. It’s a strange and beautiful dichotomy that he can’t get enough of. Will they do that with him every night…?

Their yearning for a so-called ‘normal’ life is even stronger as a demon than it would be as a human. It’s like an aching in their bones that refuses to go away, and it hurts, so bad. Being among humans makes them feel so out of place, but… they want the life they see humans living. Marriage, children, friends, hobbies, games. It’s all so mundane and they couldn’t love it more. It’s probably why they decided to pursue a human S/O rather than another demon.

The most enthusiastic, full-of-life person (Name) has ever met, including other humans. Especially considering they’re a demon, though, they’re incredibly vivacious. They’re always going, always doing something. They wear their poor S/O out at balls, because they want to dance to every single song! They don’t require food or drink so if they don’t absolutely have to stop, they don’t want to. That said, they’ll take breaks if only to try food and alcohol. They just… adore dancing. It means they get to cozy up to their beloved for a long time, in public, and move in sync. They’re just existing with one another, so close; it’s like an odd healing to Freckles’ dark, broken little soul.

Candy!!! Fire and brimstone, sweets are this demon’s biggest weakness. Their S/O can bribe them to do something by setting wrapped sweets out in a trail to whatever activity or room or what-have-you that they’re trying to lure Freckles toward. Freckles will follow them happily, despite that they’ll probably be a bit irritated when they find out they’ve been tricked. They can’t stay too mad, really, considering that (Name) just shoves a lollipop in their mouth. Sugar keeps them strangely docile.

They can float in midair, at greater heights unassisted and for longer periods than many other demons. Several of England’s citizens may have reported someone who looked like a tightrope walker, except doing so in the sky. Oops. They’ll just have to be a bit more careful, particularly due to the fact that they’re physically frail. Whenever they tumble or even fight another demon, they end up with some scrapes that don’t heal as quickly. There’s a positive to that — they get endless kisses on their wounds from their S/O just by claiming it will make them feel better!

… One whole showboat demon, and he doesn’t even care. He’s just very careful about when and where exactly he lets loose. Fighting other demons for food or territory just comes naturally, so why should he wage war on his instincts? Those instincts are there for a reason, after all. He’s just find slashing his sword at another demon if he wants the soul they’ve cornered, or if they get a little too close to his S/O.

His possessiveness is maybe a little more intense than the average demon’s. For whatever reason, he doesn’t like anyone who seems to have the slightest bit of romantic intent around (Name). Whenever he’s somewhere he has to act like a human and blend in, that side of him doesn’t just vanish. He makes sure that everyone knows his S/O is spoken for. Anyone who doesn’t get the message or insists on approaching anyway will be straight-up challenged to a duel; he gives no fucks and pulls no punches. He’s also quite fond of calling his S/O ‘my human’. (There are many humans, but this one is his!)

He’s one of those demons who is scared right down to his core of angels. Sure, most angels leave demons alone if there’s no reason to get involved… what about the sadistic ones, though? It’s something he’s seen in person, an angel deciding to either obliterate a gathering of demons or systematically hunting down demons to kill. If an angel shows up, expect him to suddenly cower behind his S/O. Unless there are other demons around and he needs to protect his reputation, he can’t pretend he isn’t terrified. The white light they give off makes him sick. However, if an angel threatens (Name), Grey is very capable of wrangling his fear away so he can defend them. The power of love!

That stomach of his is still a bottomless pit even as a demon. The only trouble is, there are only so many souls to go around. He doesn’t want to be needlessly cruel, so he usually only targets criminals who were slated to die anyway, or people committing crimes who are unlikely to be brought to justice. He can’t just slaughter humans indiscriminately, both because of his own moral code and because it would attract attention. Being that he’s living with a human, permanently, he cannot attract that kind of attention. The good news is that if he manages to get his hands on a soul, he has a special power that will let him magnify the way it nourishes him. He can pretty much double the time it will sustain him… something to be grateful for when other demons in similar situations are often literally starving.

He’s really a much more quiet, submissive demon than his peers. At any rate, he’s not what many people imagine when they think of a demon. He isn’t keen on fighting unless he has to, he doesn’t hurl taunts and insults at the other party even when he does fight, and overall he’s just sort of… passive. If you put him in a room with white wallpaper, whilst he’s dressed in white, you probably would forget that he was there. That’s how he likes it; he views himself as an ambush predator. If he keeps a low profile, he’ll get everything he needs using his mind, without attracting any unnecessary (and likely negative) attention.

Prefers to simply sit with his S/O and sew, or do some kind of craft. He has a friend who is also a demon (cough Grey cough) who teases him mercilessly about his ‘boring life and unsatisfying hobbies’. Those things are things that Phipps just takes in stride, because to him, a boring life is a safe life, and his hobbies are actually quite fulfilling, thank you. Other people might not see the appeal in the life he wishes to live, but that’s fine. He isn’t living it for anyone aside from himself and his S/O. Anyone who thinks they can pass judgment on it or (Name) will quickly find out that a passive demon is still a demon.

Actually, he doesn’t mind if his S/O wants to dress him up and take him to balls. It’s amusing to watch the way humans interact with each other… so much goes on behind closed doors, doesn’t it? People who claim to be the best of friends will turn around and say horrible things about each other once one person’s back is turned. So-called loyal employees will silently plot the downfall of their superiors. Politics and intrigue is something that, while he wants it to stay far away from his own life, is something he very much likes to watch. All in all, a ball is just free entertainment — he gets to grab a glass of wine and take in a show.

Humans in general, and especially his S/O are… fascinating to him in general. It’s all the little things for him. Feeling the texture of their hair as he runs his hands through it or plays with it in some other way. Seeing the way their face flushes either bright red or with a more subtle shade of pink when he flusters them. Their body language, their voice that is uniquely theirs, the feel of their skin as he dances his fingers across it. His favorite things are when he lies next to them at night, wide awake as they sleep, and he holds them. He can rest his head on their chest and hear the lullaby their heartbeat creates, and feel the gentle puffs of warm air as they breathe. They’re so… wonderful. He feels so very lucky that he gets to be in their life.

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Beast #Bravat #Doll/Freckles #Grey #Phipps #headcanons #romantic #drama #fluff #💙🌹 anon #AAAAAAAAAAA /DEMON AUS/#everybody gets one! you get a demon AU! you get a demon AU! YOU get a dmeon AU!!!#one hell of a queue

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eclipsehotline · 1 year

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the major arcana of toshima

this post reminded me i actually made a whole ass assignment lineup all the way back in september with explanations and all bc what's better than one obsession? two of them mashed together

the fool - akira protagonist syndrome overdrive! but it really is his journey after all. and despite his somewhat mature appearance he's oh so naive at the beginning of it, saying things like he's not afraid of death and wants to see it up close. and then he gets to toshima and understandably freaks out the moment he bears witness to true unadulterated violence. and grows in every way there is as a person along the way

the magician - motomi he's the miracle worker of the story! i'm still kinda in awe of his part in rin's route when he fuckin'. blew up arbitro's arena and led akira and rin away and forged papers for them in a span of a day. is there something this man cannot do? i don't think so

the high priestess - yukari her role in the story is a small yet important one, that of a passive yet powerful bearer of faith. she's the one who gave the rosary, symbol of purity and kindness, to takeru

the empress - motomi's wife am i really going to give a card to a character that has neither a name nor a design? absolutely. call that a motomi bias. but i feel like she used to be quite caring and nurturing, judging by what motomi's told akira of her

the emperor - shiki i mean, il re. the law of toshima. what else is there to say (sorry shiki fans but i am not too big on the guy. you've seen one edgy dark-haired swordsman, you've seen 'em all)

the hierophant - tomoyuki it's a bit of a stretch but one of the meanings of the hierophant card is community, and i feel like tomoyuki really strives towards that, with him being the leader a whole new gang of his own after pesikoshka fell apart

the lovers - keisuke (and akira) (duh) i mean. I MEAN. if there's anyone who's a hopeless loverboy in tnc it's keisuke but there's also so much more to the lovers card than what it says on the tin and everything about it fits keisuke like a glove. lovers are also about choice, a brave decision coming from the heart, and that's exactly what keisuke makes as he decides to follow akira into the dark

the chariot - rin i once read a very good point abt the dichotomy of hard control vs soft control in the chariot and strength and i feel like it really is a fun thing to point out in connection to tnc as well so, rin is hard control. he's energetic and brave and daring and, if anything, careless and rash. there's a storm inside of him, yet like hell he's gonna let anyone know of it. not until he is fully in charge, at any rate

strength - keisuke and keisuke, au contraire, is soft control. he may look (and be, most of the time) timid and clumsy, but he can and will put his foot down when it really matters. he's got a big and loving heart and and he's not afraid to show it

the hermit - nano ever the lonesome and elusive one, nano's had it up to here with society and is now the one to pick solitude over company (and run the society that's wronged him into the ground while we're at it but that's a story for another day)

the wheel of fortune - akira he's rolling with the punches, man. and he's at the wheel at the same time, making conscious choices to be with the people he decided he'd be staying with

justice - emma the judge, the jury and the executioner. she doesn't play fair by any means, but the rest of the meanings fits her well. she's stern and pragmatic and willing to set a course for the future

the hanged man - akira and the unlawfully sentenced. bound by circumstance, the only thing left to akira is holding on. he neither asked nor did anything to deserve this, and yet, he's there. and he accepts his fate because well, what else is there to do

death - gunji and kiriwar death in tarot is so much more than what it says on the tin (hell, i'd argue it's everything but) but these two sure fit the bill for the quote unquote grim reaper card

temperance - motomi another dichotomy time! with motomi being the angel to arbitro's devil and it fits him so well in more ways than one. he's been through a death arguably more painful than one's own - the death of his son and wife, and at his own hands (to some degree) at that, and yet he's found a way to make peace with that and live on and temperance is a card of wisdom and changing your way of thought, which is exactly what motomi comes to do whenever actually facing nano (and akira, who manages to lead him away from the path of revenge)

the devil - arbitro who's the lecherous, self-serving asshole of toshima? he is! there's actually so much more fun to the devil card (and i like it quite a lot), but not much more to arbitro, so let's just leave it at that

the tower - takeru poor takeru. he's climbed way too high up and is on his way to a painful downfall. he couldn't live with the things as they were a second longer and rushed towards change, yet ended up making a deal with the devil by taking rein and paying way too high of a price for that mistake and he may have died alone, but he's never going to be forgotten

the star - rin this card is such a perfect fit for rin at the end of his route. it stands for a distant, yet true promise of a better tomorrow, and that's how him overcoming shiki feels like. there's still such a long way to go, and yet he's starting to make peace with what he's lost. and whatever it takes, he's gonna fulfill his promise and find his way back to akira. not to mention his whole connection with the skies and the stars

the moon - keisuke here's to the one who's lost his way. who bought into the promise of strength out of insecurity and fear, who who strayed into the darkness of rein and needed a guiding light to find his way out and it was there. akira was there for him in the darkest night, holding his hand and leading him into the dawn

the sun - motomi remember that one illustration of motomi as a kid smiling from ear to ear in a field of sunflowers? yeah, that there's been everything in motomi's life, good and bad and terrible. and yet he's still here, wholeheartedly enjoying his new life with akira, full of thrill and free of revenge there's also such thing in tarot as reversed cards - when you get one, it means the original meaning of the card has been distorted in some way. some cards, however, are believed to retain their original meaning even in a reversed position, and the sun is one of them. and in my head it fits so well with motomi's role in the story and in akira's life. every other partner has hurt him in one way or another, but not motomi. even when they argued, motomi always showed him compassion and warmth. even with clouds of judgment on the horizon, he's never betrayed akira's trust. and i love him so much for that

judgment - shiki the penultimate card, the penultimate route. it's the last test of character in the major arcana, and fate tests shiki as well. will he succumb to his fear and drink nano's blood, or will he prove himself better than this? will it be a fresh start, or will he descend further into madness and drag the whole world along? (i'm no expert on shiki's character but i've heard that his drama cd implied he was supposed to bounce back eventually after the good end. maybe he'd be a half decent person after that whole experience)

the world - nano the true route of the story and the key to its questions, the one with whom everything's started and the one with whom everything ends. his life has been shit since god knows when, but now, with akira at his side, he's free to choose his own new color

#togainu no chi #moon writes #i'm no expert in tarot but i know a thing or two so. yeah #also fair warning i have my favorites in tnc and it SHOWS

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megamindsupremacy · 2 years

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Reverse Robins AU: 29

Masterpost

Duke (11), Bruce (29), and Mia (12) more or less have an established Thing going on for them. Duke is Signal and Mia is starting to show up less and less in the Cave, as Bruce’s databases have proven to be not comprehensive enough for her interests. She starts interacting in person with Gotham’s occult circles directly, with the codename Maps. Bruce, having kinda learned his lesson about trying to stop very stubborn children, tries his best to teach her how to stay safe when interacting with those kids of people, disregarding the fact that A) Gotham, B) she is twelve, C) she is female, and D) Gotham. Duke throws Mia a mini-party when she shows up in the Cave one day and triumphantly announces that she broke a grown man’s arm when he was trying to kidnap her and figured out a rough location of the portal to Hell under Gotham, at the same time, all by herself.

Talia (30) appears in Gotham with Damian (12). Bruce tracks her down, and Talia more or less throws Damian at Bruce, says something like “the one who is all has deserted, war is brewing, oh yeah this is our kid, he is SO not safe anymore, looks like the one you adopted hasn’t died yet (unfortunate), but that means you are clearly capable of keeping children safe, yours now, gotta go before anyone follows me here, bye”, and dips. Bruce is left to figure out what the hell to do with this son he apparently has. He is 100% sure this is not actually his son, as he and Talia never had sex. The paternity test and every single other subsequent genetic test says otherwise.

Damian spends the first four months (ish) of living at the Manor trying to murder Duke, who goes from avoiding the murder child, to fighting back against the murder child, to trying to murder Damian back (“he started it!”). Bruce sits them both down and has the whole “Batman doesn’t kill, who are we to play judge jury and executioner, if you start then you will never stop killing” speech. Duke goes “but i’m not Batman, so i can do what I want”. Damian goes “but I’ve already killed people??” and starts panicking. Bruce also starts panicking, because at the age of almost 30 he has STILL not figured out how to deal with children. Eventually Alfred comes in and mediates everything and gets everything all sorted out. Damian promises to stop trying to kill Duke. Duke is a little shit about it and makes him apologize, at which point Damian again tries to kill Duke. Bruce sighs very deeply and takes an Advil about it. He makes Damian and Duke call a cease-fire for the night so he can go Batman alone. Mia pops up again (he is certain she has a tracker on him but cannot find it) and declared that she FINALLY found the exact location of the portal to hell under Gotham, wanna come see? Bruce goes back home and makes Alfred pinky promise him to never let him adopt any more children.

#mads posts #mads official reverse robins au #reverse robins #bruce wayne #damian wayne #duke thomas #mia mizoguchi #alfred pennyworth #dc #bruce is so tired and he's only like three kids in

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lovely-but-tired · 2 years

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I was stumped on some Jeronica headcanons so I just decided to fill out a questionnaire. From @Imaginative OTP Imagines and I was so happy with how easily it all came to me. Thought I'd share.

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

Both there both pretentious ass holes who spoil each other.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Veronica loves stroking Jugs hair while he's asleep. It's so soft and warm. And Veronica will curl up in his lap when they're watching shows and fall asleep.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

Surprisingly it's Jughead who starts stripping out of his suits and dress shoes the moment he enters his home.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Veronica Jughead is a complete night owl and will wake her up in the middle of the night. It drives her nuts. She can also tell when he hasn't gotten enough sleep and makes coffee for him in the morning.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

Veronica can not cook she is just to privileged (but if it's cold she's got a chance.) Jug doesn't make cookies but he will make them coffee or if it to late for caffeine (Veronicas opinion NOT his) hell make tea

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

Veronica. She will wear his shirts, his flannels and even buys skirts or outfits that will compliment them.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

Jughead Jones gets. shit. done. Rent? It's paid in advance. Groceries? Veronica get random text asking her to pick up whatever organic or whole food thing she wants. Random things that come up he's got "rainy day money' and 'end of days' accounts locked and loaded.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

Neither it's New York Ubers, taxies, or personal driving is their mode of transportation. Sure Jug owns a motorcycle but he'll be damned if he ride it around the crowded streets of new york

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

Jughead sees Veronica as a muse for his writing if that counts

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

…shouldn't even have to be said

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

Veronica will 100 percent get smashed when she's out on a girls night while jughead will nurse a glass of aged scotch for about 20 minutes

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

With the new found cash he has laying around Jughead will leave little things here and there. A meal showing up at Veronica 's office. A new book laying on her nightstand. A new toothbrush in the holder. Veronica loves them all

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

Jughead, it started out as a joke when they first got together since Veronica changed her last name to Luna when she started college he suggested he change his too. It sounded weird but he will find himself introducing himself as Jughead Luna or Forsyth Luna. (Veronica's Abuelita absolutely adores it)

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

100 percent neither Veronica will demand it die for it's crimes of simply entering her house while Jughead will place it outside claiming she can't play 'judge jury and executioner'

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

Veronica Luna in Jughead's serpent jacket is 100 the most common sight on a chilly morning/day/ night. Jughead himself actually loves her capes he says it's like a 'portable blanket'

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

Sure Toni topaz Sweet Pea and Cheryl aren't older or siblings but they sure as hell don't mind throwing out threats on behalf of keeping their family safe. Which one they protect you decide.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

It was admittedly a waiting game… and a long drawn out domesticating process. Oh Veronica left her reading glasses on the night stand again. I'll bring them up to her with some lunch if she doesn't ask for them sooner.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

Childhood trauma and promises of being better make them strive to be the best parents while also being the best partners.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

Both they will only use 'got 2 go' to get on the others nerves.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

Both can be slandered and the other just sits back and watches the verbal smackdown that's coming the bully's way.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Jughead/ Veronica people are pretty sure it's a contest

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

Veronica though Jughead's not that impulsive it probably happened once

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

Jughead 100. Being a night owl dating a early bird she will fall asleep before him and he's carried her to bed more times then he can count before and after they got together.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

This is a perfect description of the couple when Jughead makes a breakthrough from a bout of writer's block. Veronica will literally stare at him with big heart eyes when he starts tapping away at a rapid pace because she knows.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

Veronica! And she will send it to the family with the caption 'see he does sleep'.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

Veronica will be painting Jughead's nails while on the phone or watching a show. She loves putting little touches of 'subtle but dramatic' makeup on him. He's actually pretty good at doing her make up routine.

29: Who will hold the umbrella?

Jughead cause he's taller

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

Jughead was horrified of Velvet (V cat) who haunted the poor man's dreams for a good amount of years. He still was devastated when he died.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

Paris because it's the place of romance and Veronica loves to speak French and have people understand her. Not many picture usually done by Polaroid

#jughead jones #veronica lodge #jeronica nation #jeronica #vughead #cute #head cannons #just thoughts to help me write #i hope i got this accurate

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