#my god the spelling mistakes in these tags oops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 years

Text

The Silver Dragon (43/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 18,112 (OOPS, but not really)

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond return to King's Landing. Arianwyn tells the Vale the truth.

Warnings: self-harm

Author's Note:

So sorry for the delay! After seeing some new BTS from episode 10, my brain sprang to life with some new things I could incorporate here. And my beta is on vacation, so if you saw any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, please let me know so I can fix it!

We are now officially leaving show canon behind...

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men @slavicvvitch @crazymusicgirl104

(Please let me know if your tag isn't working, and I'll do my best to correct it! And if you would like to be added to the list, just shoot me an ask!)

Three Days, Part III

On the 25th day in the ninth month, 136 years after Aegon’s Conquest…

The moon was tauntingly full and bright, and the clouds had long since dispersed. There was nowhere to hide. Anyone who looked toward the sky could clearly see the monster flying above them.

The monster, and the dragon he rode.

“Skoros emagon ao gaomagon?” Aemond whispered, far too quietly for Vhagar to hear over the roaring wind lashing at them as they raced back to King’s Landing with a speed he had never seen. What have you done?

He did not know if he was asking her or himself.

He was not sure if he had actually said anything at all, or so much as moved his lips. His throat was painfully raw from shouting through the storm – he may not have been able to produce a sound even if he wanted to.

But he must have said something, for Vhagar responded with a proud twist of her head and a victorious roar.

Gods save him. There was still blood on her teeth.

The blood of that poor young dragon whose name Aemond did not know. And…

Luke’s blood.

The pain that had been steadily growing within Aemond’s skull suddenly burst forth like a mighty wave crashing through a dam.

Even the sapphire – Aria’s sapphire – felt like it had come alive and was trying to claw its way out of his skin.

The vision in his good eye went blurry, and it was only thanks to the dozens of straps and chains tying him to the saddle that Aemond did not fall off Vhagar’s back and plummet to his death on the peaks of the mountains below.

He wanted to cut the straps away, break the iron chains with his bare hands. Anything to get away from the beast he was shackled to in body and soul, even if it meant his death.

Would it be anything less than he deserved?

But the pain was too great for him to wrap his hand around the hilt of his dagger.

Each beat of his heart brought on a new pulse of pure agony. With each surge, his muscles tensed until he was sure they would snap.

The only thing he could manage was to cradle the burning scar.

His eyepatch was not there, though he did not remember removing it himself, nor it falling off in the wind.

It was just… gone.

When another wave washed over him – the pain more intense than when he was first given the wound – he pressed into his hands, desperately seeking relief.

But it did not come.

The sapphire was as cold as ice – colder than anything he had ever felt. So cold that it burned the skin of his palm.

Aemond shrieked at the pain.

Vhagar echoed the noise, nearly coming to a halt over a mountain peak. But she recovered faster than her rider and began to fly faster still – so fast Aemond could not believe it – towards King’s Landing.

Towards home – to Aria.

Aemond collapsed against the saddle, not caring when the leather and chains bit into his skin as he strained against them.

His next cry came not from pain, but realization.

It wasn’t his scar that was hurting him so deeply.

It was the sapphire.

The jewel – the purest expression of Aria’s love he ever possessed – was fighting against him.

Burning him.

Hurting him.

Rejecting him.

He was unworthy of such a gift. Unworthy of Aria’s love and the protection her Runes offered.

She was so good, so pure, so perfect.

He was a monster.

Worse, a kinslayer.

Wearing her gift was an affront to her, the old gods, and indeed all gods and men. He could not be allowed to possess it any longer. His very touch marred its goodness irreparably.

He pulled his hands away from his face just enough to curl his fingers into claws – the same claws Vhagar bore.

Skin broke on the first strike.

Then again.

And again.

Over and over until his hands, and the sapphire that now sat within them, were coated in hot red blood.

Aemond squeezed his eye shut, unable to bring himself to look as he opened his hands and let the sapphire fall.

Then he screamed anew.

And he did not stop.

Sleep, restful sleep, had eluded Arianwyn, leaving her bleary-eyed as she watched Emrys bristle in the garden below. Her poor dragon was quite upset that his first-ever adventure had been ruined by the arrival of Vermax – almost as upset as his rider was by the arrival of Jacaerys.

Had it not been for the arrival of her stepbrother, they would currently be preparing to leave, if they had not left already.

Instead, Arianwyn was tugging half-heartedly on the satin belt of her dressing gown, wishing it was the leather lacings of her cuirass – freshly replaced after Aemond ripped them only days ago.

Emrys –just as averse to early mornings as his beloved rider – was not stretching his wings in anticipation of their long flight, but folding them tightly over his head to block out Vermax’s unceasing chirrups.

As she loosed her robe and sat at the end of her bed, Arianwyn bowed her head in prayer. “May the Crone guide me this day, that I may speak with wisdom and grace. If it is the will of the gods, allow my petition to be successful. And if it is not…”

She opened her eyes and gazed out into the gardens, where Vermax was excitedly sniffing at a large rose bush. If she ignored who the little green creature was bonded to, she could almost let herself be amused by the sight.

But she couldn’t ignore it, nor how Emrys was slinking closer and closer to her window, examining its stone walls as if trying to figure out a way to slip inside. It would never work, of course. He was so large that he couldn’t even fit his whole snout through.

When he finally figured it out himself, he dejectedly rested the tip of his chin against the windowsill and whined softly.

Arianwyn rose from the bed with a sympathetic smile and stroked his nose. “Nyke gīmigon, byka ossȳngnon,” she cooed as he leaned into her touch. “Lo jaelā naejot jiōragon qrīdrughagon hen zirȳla, kostā jikagon sōvegon ondoso aōla. Vermax iksis byka, se daor olvie adere, kessa daor gaomagon bē.” I know, little dread. If you want to get away from him, you can go fly by yourself. Vermax is small, and not very fast, he will not keep up.

Emrys snorted solemnly in reply, sending a small burst of smoke into the bedroom. No, he would not leave her now. Never when she was so upset.

“Kirimvose, dōna mēre,” she said with a kiss to his warm scales. “Avy jorrāelan.” Thank you, sweet one. I love you.

She could almost swear that as Emrys grumbled, there was a voice speaking in the back of her head that sounded eerily like that grumbling. It told her it loved her too.

“Kostagon jān arlī naejot ñuha jorepnon sir?” she asked playfully. Can I go back to my prayer now?

Emrys blinked and, with some difficulty, removed his snout from the window. Vermax immediately noticed the movement and began to approach the older dragon.

Arianwyn laughed as Emrys slumped against the wall, wrapped his wings around his face again, and pretended to fall asleep.

“Sȳz biarves,” she called. Good luck.

She did not return to her prayer immediately, for she did not know what to say next. So instead, she took off her nightgown and began to dress for the day. Jeyne had offered to send a maid, but Arianwyn found she enjoyed managing alone for a few days. Besides, she did not want to have to explain to someone new how to deal with her mass of curls.

When Brynna told her she had packed five dresses for the journey, even though it was supposed to take only three days, she had thought her maid foolish and unreasonably over-prepared.

But now, she was grateful to have options to choose from. It made her feel like a knight selecting which weapon to carry into battle.

She had already worn two of the gowns, leaving her with three options:

First, there was a heavily structured dress of deep blue silk – Arryn blue. The shoulders bore embroidery reminiscent of wings, a nod to the sigil of her godsmother’s house. But to wear something so obvious would feel dishonest. Too much like begging.

Arianwyn was not an Arryn. She was a Royce – and a Targaryen. She would not pretend to be anything else.

She would not rely on her connections to the Vale or the throne to make her argument. If she was to win Jeyne’s allegiance, it would be her logic and the brutal honesty of her story that won it.

So, the black and bronze gown – the one she had worn her first day back to King’s Landing – was also rejected.

There was only one option left.

A surcoat and linen underdress, like the one she had worn during the little game she and Aemond played the day before they left.

But this was far simpler than that one. The coat was made of soft, undyed wool, with voluminous sleeves to protect her from the cold mountain wind.

Its only decoration was the embroidery along the edges – intricate depictions of the beautiful flowers that graced the fields of Runestone. Campion and marsh. Cornflower and primrose. Foxglove and snowdrops. And Arianwyn’s favorite – meadowsweet.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt perfect. Soft, but regal. Stately, yet not too imposing. She was every bit the Princess and Lady she now was, but she was still herself.

All that was missing was a ring on her finger and her husband on her arm.

Suddenly, she knew how to end her prayer.

“I know that I am on the right path, and my cause is just,” she whispered aloud, feeling that the words were too important to keep inside. “But the path you lay out for us is not always so clear. If I am to fail today, I ask only that I be allowed to return safely into my husband’s arms, that we may face whatever is to come together.”

The very earth trembled as Vhagar landed just outside the King’s Gate. She had flown so far and fast that, by the time she started her descent, she was too exhausted to land well.

The talons at the tips of her wings and her claws had caught the stones of the city wall as she tried to slow herself, sending broken shards of brick raining down on the gold cloaks standing guard at the gate. She had landed with such force that her back legs dug deep rivets into the ground below her.

It hadn’t helped that as soon as the city was in sight, Aemond took up the reins for the first time in hours to try and steer her directly toward the Red Keep.

“Skoriot issi ao jāre?” he had rasped when she pulled against his commands. His voice was practically nonexistent after hours of ceaseless screaming. “Gūrogon nyke lenton.” Where are you going? Take me home.

Vhagar ignored his commands. She knew there was nowhere she could land in the city itself that would not result in the injury or death of some innocent. After how he reacted to the righteous death of that little dragon and its rider – the same hateful boy who had maimed her Aemond on the night they claimed each other – who dared to threaten him, she would not put him in place to be hurt again.

In the years she had spent making him fierce, she had never thought him soft. None of her other riders had been so.

Thankfully, he was far too weak from the flight, his self-inflicted wounds, and whatever demons were roiling within his mind to fight against her in any meaningful way. Not that she would obey, even if he could. She would follow no order which might put him in danger.

“Kostilus,” he begged hoarsely as she turned toward the tourney grounds. “Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon lenton. Nyke jorrāelagon naejot jikagon naejot zirȳla. Nyke jorrāelagon zirȳla.” Please. I need to go home. I need to go to her. I need her.

She let out a sympathetic growl but continued to descend on the great stretch of grassy fields outside the city, frightening the smallfolk for how close they came to their roofs.

Aemond was not surprised by her disobedience. He had begged her to stop when she began to pursue Luke on her own after that dragon – barely more than a hatchling – had loosed a weak burst of dragonfire on her. And she had disobeyed.

Of course, she had. Who was he to command the Queen of All Dragons?

Compared to the paragons of his house who had ridden her before him, Aemond was nothing.

He was not an almighty conqueror like Visenya.

He was not a brave and beloved Prince like his grandsire, Baelon.

He was certainly not like Laena, adored and admired by all.

No, he was only a wretched, monstrous, broken excuse for a prince – for a Targaryen.

He had never been worthy of any dragon, much less Vhagar.

Allowing him to claim her had been some cruel, cosmic joke. A way for the gods to amuse themselves by watching him fail so miserably. Or a punishment, perhaps. For the darkness that had always lived inside his damned soul.

Oh gods.

He was damned. As a murderer, a monster, a kinslayer.

All because of the dragon – the abomination created by his Valyrian ancestors with their infernal blood magics – that he had bound himself to.

He had to get away from her.

The moment she came to rest in the middle of the road leading out of the city, Aemond began frantically removing each of the restraints keeping him in the saddle. It took him longer than it should have, as his bloodstained hands still trembled. His chest was heaving painfully with each panicked breath, and without the chill of the wind to numb it, his empty clawed-open eye was starting to burn again.

When he was finally free, he scrambled down the rope ladder on Vhagar’s side quicker than ever before, despite the pain circling his legs. Somehow, on the flight back, he had pulled so hard against the leather straps and chains that they had dug into his skin. He had no doubt there were bruises, and knew it was more than likely that blood had been drawn.

But he didn’t care. He just wanted to get away, to run back to his rooms and into the awaiting arms of his wife.

He didn’t want to acknowledge Vhagar at all. But when he began toward the guards at the King’s Gate, each of whom was staring with wide eyes as the fact of who was limping toward them and covered in his own blood sunk in, she let out a low, pleading whine.

His exhaustion and devastation faded instantly, replaced with an enormous, unquenchable rage.

“Gaomā daor jiōragon naejot sagon zūgagon syt nyke!” Aemond shouted as he whirled on her, causing his left leg to buckle. He only just caught himself before falling into the upturned dirt. “Emā ojūdan bona paktot.” You do not get to be worried for me! You have lost that right.

Vhagar shied away from his anger, her orange eyes wide with bewilderment. How could her dear rider treat her like this after all she had done to protect him?

“Gaomagon ao sesīr gīmigon skoros emā sepār gaomagon?” he asked, ignoring the calls from the guards offering him aid. Do you know what you have just done?

The dragon only whined again – a feeble, wounded noise.

“Ao ossēntan zirȳla! Nyke mērī jeldan naejot sȳngagon zirȳla – hae ziry istin gōntan naejot nyke. Yn ao ossēntan zirȳla!” His voice cracked like a raging fire as he roared, his throat raw and aching. You killed him! I only wanted to frighten him – as he once did to me. But you killed him!

“Īles iā riña! Īles ñuha lentor, se ao ossēntan zirȳla!” he shrieked as pain began to well once more in his empty eye – the result of the salty tears pooling within and stinging the open wounds he had inflicted himself. He was a child! He was my family, and you killed him!

He almost collapsed as each one of his wounds began to throb as one. “Emā vēttan nyke iā letnor sēntys! Se syt bona iksan qrimbrōstan! Ñuha gīs kessa zālagon isse se trūmāje hen Sīkudi Nopāzmi ēva se mōris hen jēda… se kesan gūrogon ziry.” You have made me a kinslayer! And for that I am cursed! My soul will burn in the deepest of the Seven Hells until the end of time... and I will deserve it.

Vhagar dropped her chin to the ground and moaned, her best attempt at appearing innocent and coy. But Aemond could still smell the sharp tang of blood on her breath and see the faint traces of rusty brown embedded between the scales of her snout.

Another pang had Aemond stumbling into the dirt, the impact sending licks of fire up his injured legs. Several guards at the gate began to run for him, but reeled back when Vhagar, too, surged toward her rider.

“Daor!” Aemond ordered with the last of his remaining strength as he fought to try and stand. “Umbagon qrīdrughagon!” No! Stay away!

The massive dragon winced at the sheer fury contained in the command and began to slink away like a scolded pup. As she retreated, the guards once again began to cautiously approach the Prince.

“Eminna daorun tolī naejot gaomagon lēda ao,” Aemond spat with a fading voice between shaky breaths. “Jaelan ao naejot henujagon. Skoriot jā daoriot jemagon. Hēzīr, iksā daorun naejot nyke. I will have nothing more to do with you. I want you to leave. Where you go does not matter. From now on, you are nothing to me.

He did not look at Vhagar as he finally stood, turning to the three gold cloaks now surrounding him. They looked at him like they had happened upon an injured shadowcat – something at once pitiful and deadly.

“My Prince…” the eldest among them said sheepishly. “Are you alright?”

Aemond did not so much as glance at the man as he began stumbling toward the gate. He could feel his mind, which he had only just regained as he came back to solid ground, begin to slip away again. If he looked at the man’s simpering face, no doubt full of pity, he might very well lose it again.

“I need a horse,” he growled.

“Of course,” the guard said, running ahead of him to the guardpost. The other two fell into an awkward formation behind the Prince.

It took a humiliatingly long time for Aemond to actually arrive at the gate, by which time a horse was saddled and waiting. Mounting the damned thing when every muscle he had screamed in protest was one of the most challenging things he had ever done.

As he gripped the horse’s reins, Vhagar made another woeful noise – a last attempt to try and ply him.

With the sound, he felt the last remaining dregs of his consciousness begin to melt away. He had to return to the Keep quickly, before losing himself entirely. Indeed, it was already becoming hard to focus his vision on anything beyond his horse’s ears.

But he still held to his anger at his damned dragon.

“Lo nyke mirre ilagon laesi va ao aril…” he hissed, his lone violet eye bloodshot and filled with disdain. “Nyke dōrī jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao arlī. Mirre.” If I ever lay eyes on you again... I never want to see you again. Ever.

He did not wait for her reply before driving his heels into the horse and setting it galloping through the King’s Gate and into the bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Vhagar’s doleful wails were heard by all within the city’s walls, save for her rider. His mind had already begun to pull him away from reality. All he could hear was the pouring of rain, the cracking of thunder, and the horrible crunch of bones between Vhagar’s teeth.

If Arianwyn had thought hours of listening to the old men of the Vale debate over dams and crops and visitation schedules was miserable, having to stay still and silent and keep her face neutral as she listened to Jace speak on behalf of Rhaenyra was surely a punishment from the gods themselves.

It certainly didn’t help that he looked at her with that stupid smug smile whenever he thought he made a good point.

Perhaps she should have prayed more for the strength to endure her stepbrother rather than just for the success of her own petition.

Jace had begun with a rather monotonous history lesson detailing the Targaryen family line from Aenar to himself. But, of course, he had incorrectly listed the late Ser Laenor Velaryon as his father.

Arianwyn had let her impassive façade slip for a moment when a few disbelieving chuckles and jeers echoed through the hall at the assertion. But the ever-watchful Gerold had spotted her slight smile and quickly corrected her with a gentle pinch on her elbow.

To his credit, Jace had not let it deter him. Instead, he smoothly transitioned into detailing how and why Viserys had named Rhaenyra his heir. Then to a fumbling and faulty explanation of the Widow’s Law and how he thought it supported his mother’s claim.

Arianwyn listened closely, making a note of each inconsistency, vaguery, or inaccuracy – whether it be intentional or not. While the bulk of her argument would rely on the revelation of Daemon’s character and past crimes, she had to first counter whatever Jace said.

There was ever the possibility that some, perhaps many, would not believe what she had to say about her father. If they did, she would still need to say whatever she could to convince them.

“There is little more to say, my Lords,” Jace proclaimed. The self-righteous lilt in his voice grated on Arianwyn endlessly. “It is clear that by both law and my grandsire’s wishes, my mother Rhaenyra was always the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, whatever the would-be usurper may say.

“I never had the good fortune to meet my mother’s mother, Queen Aemma, but I have been raised on stories of her goodness. I am proud to bear her blood, her Arryn blood. Though I have been here not yet a day, I can feel the land here call to me, as I am sure it does to my mother as well.”

Arianwyn considered her restraint in not rolling her eyes at that to be nothing short of miraculous. She would have to commission a bard to write a song commemorating the feat.

Jace turned to Jeyne and gave a short, almost solemn nod. “Rhaenyra is not only your cousin and your Queen, my Lady, but your peer. Those who would try to usurp her throne do so for no reason other than that she is a woman, and for that, they consider her unworthy of her birthright.

“I ask only that you honor the oath you took some twenty years ago by acknowledging my mother as your Queen and pledging your support to her cause. With good fortune, this farce will not come to bloodshed. However, I cannot deny that having you declare your support for the Queen, with the might of your armies behind you, would do much to dissuade my usurper uncle from pursuing this any further.

“But I am willing to wait to receive your answer,” he said, turning once more to look at Arianwyn with a smile almost too genuine. “For my sweet sister has come to speak on my uncle’s behalf. I find myself quite curious as to why she has done so, seeing as she is, herself, a ruling Lady. Nevertheless, my affection for her is nearly as great as my respect for her intellect, so I will humbly stand aside and allow her to speak.”

Another subtle pinch from Gerold signaled Arianwyn to bow her head in thanks to her stepbrother and give him a grateful smile. Though she would never admit it, she was surprisingly touched by his praise, underhanded though it was.

“I commend you for your eloquent speech, Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne said from the throne as the light smattering of applause, led by Lords Sunderland and Corbray, finally quieted. “It is true that I have found myself in a similar predicament to your mother. Thrice have mine own kin sought to replace me, and thrice they have failed. My cousin Ser Arnold is wont to say that women are too soft to rule. I have him in one of my sky cells, if you would like to ask him yourself, or simply meet another long-estranged cousin.”

The gathered crowd laughed with her at that – including Arianwyn, despite her nerves.

Jeyne’s held up a hand to quiet the room once more. “As Jacaerys says, there is another here to speak to us on this matter. While she is not my blood as Rhaenyra is, she is my family in both the eyes of the gods and in the affections of my own heart. For this, and for her place as the Lady of Runestone, I now invite her now to make her petition on behalf of her good brother, Aegon.”

The silence in the room was so heavy that as Arianwyn walked to the center of the hall to stand before the Weirwood thrones, she felt as though she was moving through sand. But she swallowed her fear and willed her racing heart to calm.

Otto Hightower would not have sent her here if he did not believe her capable of succeeding – nor would any member of the Small Council, even Aegon. She reassured herself that she had not only their support, distant as it was, but that of the law, the gods, and her husband. With all that behind her, how could she fail?

“Lords and Ladies of the Vale, it is an honor to speak to you today,” she began, pleasantly surprised at the strength of her voice. “I ask that you please be forgiving should I not be particularly eloquent. I have never addressed a court before nor had any real oratory experience, and I find myself quite nervous to do so now.”

She laughed slightly, expecting others to laugh with her, at least out of pity, but none did. So, she took a deep breath and continued. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting most of you personally, so I will begin by introducing myself. I am Lady Arianwyn Targaryen.”

“Princess, my dear,” Gerold reminded her with a grimace from where he stood by the base of the throne.

Arianwyn winced. This was precisely why she had prayed this morning. She did not possess a silver tongue. Indeed, at the moment, hers felt much more like lead.

“Yes, forgive me,” she stuttered. “I am still not used to that title yet. It was granted to me only seven days past – or eight, maybe? I actually do not know what day we were wed. It was around midnight. But I am not quite sure whether it was before or after.”

“Aria?” Gerold’s call was unsubtly covered with an obviously false cough. When she looked at him, he widened his eyes to let her know she had already begun to ramble.

She swallowed, taking a moment to straighten her skirts and gather her thoughts. “My apologies, again. I, um… I became a Princess only days ago when I was wed to Prince Aemond Targaryen. Naturally, as it comes from my husband, the title is quite dear to me. However, dearer to me is that which I inherited from my mother, who was well known and, I hope, well-loved by all of you: Rhea Royce, Lady of Runestone.

“That title was given to me on the day of my birth, as it was also the day my mother died,” she fell silent then as all those gathered in the Throne Room bowed their heads in remembrance. Much to her surprise, Jace joined them.

“I am here to speak on behalf of my good brother, King Aegon, Second of His Name,” she looked to Jace then, copying the smug smile he had already given her several times that day. Perhaps it was cruel of her, after he had just offered respects to her mother, but she could not help herself.

“Five days ago, Aegon was crowned by Lord Commander Criston Cole of the Kingsguard in accordance with the laws of the realm and his father’s dying wish. Of course, there are those who would point to the Queen being the only audience to the proclamation as proof that it is untrue. But I have heard the tale from the Queen herself, and I believe with absolutely no hesitation.” She could sense, more than see, the sour expression on Jace’s face at her words.

“It is no secret that King Viserys was long ill,” she continued. “As such, he was often confined to his bed and unable to govern the realm himself. In his absences, it was Queen Alicent who most often sat the Iron Throne in his place, where she proved herself to be wise, kind, and above all else, honorable.

“It would have been well within her right to dispute Rhaenyra’s position as heir from the moment Aegon was born, but she did not.” At least, not publicly, Arianwyn thought. She had overheard more than one conversation suggesting Alicent had brought it up to the King privately. “For years, she steadfastly supported the King’s attestation that Rhaenyra was his heir, despite its dubious legality. I can offer no better proof to the veracity of the King’s change of heart than that.”

A slight nod and a half-smile from Gerold indicated that she had made her point well.

“However, it must be understood that despite the King’s insistence in Rhaenyra’s place as heir for many years, despite whatever oaths he had the Lords of the Realm make, she did lose that position when Aegon was born.”

This was the part she was most nervous about.

“The ruling of the Great Council was clear: a male heir is preferable to a female. Even before the Council was called, this was well understood by law and men. It is why Princess Rhaenys was passed over in favor of my grandsire, Prince Baelon, following her father’s death. And it is why the Great Council voted so overwhelmingly in favor of Viserys’ claim.

“According to the very precedent that gave Viserys his throne, Rhaenyra stopped being the heir from the instant Aegon took his first breath,” she declared.

A murmur made its way through the crowd, and Arianwyn was gratified that most of them seemed to agree with her. However, seeing the dejected expressions on several Ladies’ faces pained her, knowing she had likely just affirmed their deepest insecurities and fears.

She avoided meeting their eyes and instead looked to Jace. “My stepbrother has brought up an interesting point in his interpretation of the Widow’s Law. He is correct that it prevents a man from disinheriting his children from a first wife in favor of the children born to a second wife, but I am afraid it is not actually applicable to the current dispute.

“The purpose of the Widow’s Law is to prevent rightful heirs from being cast aside in favor of their younger half-siblings. But a man’s eldest son, regardless of whether his mother was a first, second, or any other later wife, is the lawful heir before any daughters. Nothing can pass to the daughter so long as there is a son. Therefore, a younger son from a second wife inheriting instead of an elder daughter from a first wife is not a dispossession.”

Arianwyn paused to see Jace’s reaction. He stayed silent and watched her carefully and with more than a little contempt.

According to the plan she had made with Jeyne the day before, she should now tell the court of the dangerous precedent that would be set should Rhaenyra insist that Jace – a bastard – was her heir.

She shouldn’t feel bad about it. It was true, and everyone knew it – even him.

So, why was she now hesitating?

Perhaps it was because many of the Lords in the room were already nodding along as she spoke. If they already agreed with her, she would not have to bring it up. She would not have to hurt him, Luke, or sweet little Joffrey to win the day.

For a heartbeat, she thought she might not even have to speak of Daemon.

But as she examined the crowd to assess how many were already with her, she found there were still more than a few who looked doubtful. It was to win them over that she swallowed her fear and continued.

No, she had to this for more than just winning the Vale. She had to do this because it was, and always was, the right thing to do.

“Of course,” she said with a sweet, placid smile, “you are all wise and intelligent men, with far more political experience than my stepbrother or me. Everything I have said thus far is only a repetition of what I am confident you already know.”

Arianwyn bowed her head and took a deep, steadying breath. “There is one thing more I must tell you before I end my appeal. Something that you do not know. Something that, until now, you could not know. Something concerning my mother and my father.”

Anyone whose interest in the proceedings had waned was suddenly brought back to attention.

“I imagine you all know the story of my mother’s injuries that led to her unfortunate death,” Arianwyn said as she looked around, but none met her eyes. Of course, they did not want to be reminded of something so terrible. “Perhaps some of you even saw them. I must admit, I do not envy you if you did. The descriptions I have been given are enough to curdle my blood, so I will not repeat them here. But I will tell you the story of how she was wounded. For the truth of it is far different from what you have been told, I am afraid.

“That day, my mother set out by herself to hunt, as was her habit. Ser Gerold tells me that she savored the time she spent alone. How she was never happier than when she was in the hills and moorlands of Runestone. Words cannot describe how much it pains me that what happened to her – no, what was done to her – was done in the place she loved so well.”

Arianwyn took another pause to calm herself as a flurry of whisperers flew through the crowd at what she was suggesting with that one little word.

“You were told that her horse startled and fell upon her, leaving her paralyzed and injured. And that it was a miracle that my father happened to be flying nearby when he spotted her, rescued her, and brought her home. That she was so charmed by his heroism that she finally consummated the marriage and fell pregnant with me. I do admit, it is a good story. Like something that I would read in my books.” She laughed slightly – a light, blithe chuckle entirely out of place amongst her solemn words – though she did not know why.

“But that was a lie. My father did not save my mother. He killed her.”

Arianwyn tried to continue but stopped when the clamor rising amongst the crowd grew so loud that she could hardly hear her own voice. She looked frantically to Lady Arryn and Gerold for help, but neither seemed as concerned as she did – they did not seem concerned at all. Rather, they seemed more than happy to let the Lords and Ladies have their moment of panic.

It wasn’t until Arianwyn again looked to Jace that she understood why.

His face was twisted with shock and rage, all directed at Arianwyn. She had just accused the man he so admired of the vilest of crimes – kinslaying. The gravity of such an accusation was not lost on him.

Nor was it lost on the Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Those standing near Jace were now shuffling away, as if the crimes of his stepfather had tainted him as well.

Arianwyn did not pity him.

Why should she? For years, he had ignored Arianwyn’s fear of Daemon, even when it was abundantly obvious.

It was clear in how she blanched whenever her father would look at her. How she would avert her gaze and stand to the side when she encountered him within the castle. How she flinched every time he raised his voice or slammed a hand on the table at dinners.

What did Jace think happened when Daemon dismissed them all from dinner only days ago to speak to his daughter alone? Was he truly so blind he did not see her fear the next day? Had Daemon so thoroughly deluded him that he actually thought her bruises were the work of Aemond’s hands?

Even Jace could not be so stupid.

“Silence!” Jeyne called from her throne. But even she could not wholly calm the chaos that had erupted. “You will all be silent and let the Princess speak!”

Eventually, the room was silent again, as all assembled decided their desire to hear more outweighed their instinct to rage at the accusations.

“I confess I do not know his motivation,” Arianwyn said when she finally began again, “but my father came to the Vale that day to kill my mother. In his cruelty, he apparently decided he would rather her die slowly and in agony than kill her quickly. Raping her was just another insult. He never intended for his seed to find purchase or for me to be born. Indeed, he has made it quite clear to me that his only regret is that I did not die alongside my mother in the birthing bed.”

She went on until she had told them everything.

How Daemon never acknowledged her until Lady Laena’s funeral. The cruel words he had said to her then. How he had taken her to Dragonstone not out of fatherly duty but to punish her for fighting with his other daughters. The neglect she endured on the island and the threats he made against her there.

The details of how Jace and Baela had treated her, she left out. It would serve no purpose to share them. And besides, he knew as little of this story as the rest of them – that much was clear from the abject horror growing on his face with every passing moment.

But she did speak of Rhaenyra. How she ignored Arianwyn for years, even after she became her stepmother. What she had said in the garden at Dragonstone, revealing that she knew what Daemon had done while belittling it and calling it merely “regrettable.”

How the would-be Queen had only stood there when Daemon wrapped his hands around Arianwyn’s throat. How she said nothing when he called her a ‘whore’ and a ‘virgin cunt’ to be sold for his own advantage. How she had stared blankly when Daemon threatened to kill Arianwyn.

Just as she had in the Throne Room while Daemon spun his horrible little story about Aemond, trying to pass the blame for his own attempt on Arianwyn’s life to her new husband.

Rhaenyra had only stepped in when it became clear Daemon was coming dangerously close to exposing himself – and her.

Arianwyn fell silent then. She could have continued, released all her anger in one fiery burst, and shouted so loud the gods could hear that Rhaenyra was unfit to be Queen and that Daemon was an even worse choice for King.

But she did not.

Revealing the story to the world, at last, had exhausted her body and soul. Besides, there was nothing she could say that could possibly make her case more convincingly than the simple truth.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jeyne broke the silence. And with it, the spell of horrified shock that had enveloped the High Hall – perhaps the entire Eyrie.

“I will offer only one correction,” Jeyne said, her voice as raw as though she had been crying. Perhaps she had, and Arianwyn just had not noticed. “There was a miracle, dear Arianwyn. It was a miracle that Rhea survived long enough to deliver you.”

“Where’s Aria?” Aemond grunted as he slid off his borrowed horse once he was in the courtyard of the Red Keep.

Faintly, he could hear servants working, people chattering, and even the low bleats of sheep. But his ears were still echoing with the sounds of the storm.

He stumbled as he stepped away from the horse, cursing his mind for abandoning his body like this. Thankfully, someone was there to catch him.

“Aria?” he sighed in relief. That was Rune-etched bronze armor before his eyes, perhaps the most comforting sight in the world.

But the voice that came from his rescuer was deep and gruff.

Not Aria, then.

Aemond couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. It sounded as though it was coming from behind a thick wall of stone.

“Take me to Aria,” he commanded, pushing away from whichever of his wife’s guards had caught him.

He stumbled again as he climbed the steps into the Keep but caught himself before he fell. It would not do to let the servants and courtiers see him in such a state, to see him weak.

He was Prince Aemond Targaryen, son of King Viserys and brother to King Aegon II. He was a warrior. A scholar. The rider of the largest dragon –

Dammit.

The thought of Vhagar brought another bout of pain and nausea coursing through him. He dove into the first alcove he saw and doubled over, emptying what little was left in his stomach onto the stone floor.

An armor-clad hand came to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. “My Prince?”

Aemond shook it off, growling. This time, he caught a glimpse of brownish hair – the guard had removed his helmet. Still, he couldn’t tell who it was. His vision was too blurry.

“Do not touch me,” he moaned half-heartedly. Then, summoning all his strength, he stood once more.

Every step towards his apartments took the whole of his concentration – every remaining drop of his strength to hold whatever was left of his mind in place.

He likely would have failed had each beat of his heart not whispered to him: “Aria. Aria. Aria.”

All he needed was to reach her, collapse into her arms, and all would be well. She would make everything alright again. She could wake him from this nightmare and banish the darkness from his heart.

He just needed to get to her.

After what seemed like hours, he finally reached the dark wood door to their chambers.

The Runes he and Aria had carved into them years and years ago seemed to be lit from within, as worn as they had become over the years. Aemond ran a hand over them, and with each line, his resolve seemed to strengthen.

He was so close. She was right behind the door.

The metal of the door handle was cool, just like her touch – the touch that would soon soothe him.

But as the door creaked open, his heart sank, and his stomach roiled.

The hearth was empty. The fire unlit. The curtains drawn. The room dark.

Aria was not there.

“Where is she?” Aemond hissed as his weak, traitorous, broken body began to tremble and shake. “Where is my wife?”

He turned slightly to the guard that had followed him here – or guards? There appeared to be three of them now. Or perhaps his vision was multiplying.

“The Princess has not yet returned, my Prince.”

Aemond’s body went unnaturally still at those words, as his mind returned to him for only as long as it took for his world to shatter.

A small but not insignificant number of Lords had immediately made an impassioned plea – or, more accurately, demand – for Jeyne to declare war upon Rhaenyra and Daemon, not for their false claim to the Iron Throne, but for the rape and murder of Rhea Royce, and for the mistreatment of her daughter.

They had flocked to the base of the Weirwood throne shouting their demand the moment Jeyne finished speaking, forcing Arianwyn to retreat back to her place by Gerold’s side.

“Is this… good?” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the display before her.

Gerold wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I think this is perhaps the best outcome we could have hoped for, my dear.”

“So, you aren’t upset with me for telling them?”

He laughed as they watched one of the Lords surrounding Jeyne, a man who looked as old as time itself, start brandishing his cane like it was either a sword, a magic staff, or both.

“No, Aria,” he assured her. “I was quite nervous about what it would prompt Daemon to do, but I cannot deny its effectiveness. And if he does seek reprisals against you, I think all we must do is send Lord Upcliff to defend you. Gods, I thought he could hardly walk any more – just look at him!”

Indeed, the once doddering old man looked as though he was ready to lead the Knights of the Vale into battle himself.

As amused as Arianwyn and Gerold were, Jeyne’s smile at the reaction from her men had long since faded.

“My Lords!” she shouted again as her guards tried to pull the men away from the throne. “There will be no war today! So please – calm down!”

While the guards continued dispersing the irate Lords of the Vale, Arianwyn let her eyes drift across the High Hall to Jace.

He had said nothing since she revealed the truth. He had not even moved. His eyes were wide with shock and horror, his mouth hanging slightly open, and his brow furrowed. When he met her gaze, his expression hardened into one of anger.

Not at Arianwyn, as it had always been, but for her.

She could not bear the weight of that look, yet she could not turn away from it.

“Prince Jacaerys,” Jeyne called, breaking him away from his ceaseless staring. “You are the only representative present from Dragonstone. In the interest of justice, I here offer you the opportunity to defend your stepfather against the accusations levied against him. Have you anything to say to the court?”

Jace’s mouth opened and closed, words forming and then dying on his lips. Finally, after a moment of fruitless scrambling for something to say, he glanced back to Arianwyn, and his face crumpled.

“Nothing, my Lady,” he whispered as he looked down to his feet, weakly shaking his head.

“Then I think we can forgo any further debate or discussion,” Jeyne declared. “As well as the lengthy process of a formal vote on this matter. I feel that we have heard more than sufficient evidence to know what we must now do without a doubt.”

Jeyne pursed her lips before looking back to the Lords suspiciously. “But, of course, I have the utmost respect for our laws and traditions. So, I will tell you what I propose we do. And should any of you wish to disagree with me, I will allow you to explain why before I ignore you and do what I believe is right anyway.”

Arianwyn almost laughed aloud while Jessamyn sighed and rolled her eyes. But no one else acknowledged the humor, so they both remained silent.

“It is my intention to declare my support for Aegon Targaryen as King,” Jeyne proclaimed, her voice once more that of the Lady of the Vale. “While I have always believed that in this world of men, women must band together, I cannot reconcile myself with Princess Rhaenyra’s abysmally poor choice of consort.

“Even if the law were on her side, and the Iron Throne was hers by right, it is my belief that her willful association with Daemon Targaryen renders her unfit to rule. It is most unseemly for a woman to stand by a man who has mistreated women – women I love – as severely as Daemon Targaryen has. I cannot forgive her complicity in his crimes. That is in the hands of the gods, though I have my doubts that even the Father himself would pardon such sins.”

With a deep, steadying breath, Jeyne braced her hands on the arms of her throne and looked imperiously over the men she ruled. “Is there any who would oppose this decision?”

Lord Sunderland began to speak but swiftly changed his mind. Then, though it obviously pained him, he bowed his head in acquiescence.

“Then it is decided,” Jeyne proclaimed with a wide grin. “The Vale and all its people hereby recognize Aegon, Second of His Name, as the rightful heir to his father, King Viserys, and as the one true Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She paused to allow applause – louder than it had been for Jace’s petition – to again sweep through the room as her steward led chants of ‘Aegon the King.’

But she did not move to dismiss the court. Instead, she turned to her godsdaughter. “Princess Arianwyn?” she called, only continuing when the girl was again standing before her. “You have presented yourself well today. You should be proud.”

Indeed, Arianwyn was filled with such pride and relief that she felt her chest would burst for it. But she tried to remain humble as she bowed her head. “Thank you, godsmother.”

“You are very welcome, my dear,” Jeyne cooed fondly before slipping back into her more regal demeanor. “But your mission is only half-accomplished, is it not?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Arianwyn said quickly. “The King has asked that I negotiate for the support of your troops, should they be needed to defend his crown.”

“I do not think ‘negotiation’ is necessary,” Jeyne laughed. “I have only two requests of our new King, and I do not imagine he will object much to either. Will you hear them?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

“First, I ask that he use every tool at the Crown’s disposal to bring Daemon Targaryen to justice and ensure that he is punished in accordance with the severity of his crimes.”

Arianwyn nodded eagerly, too overwhelmed by the ferocity with which Jeyne spoke – a ferocity which suggested she would tear Daemon apart herself if given the chance – to say anything.

“My second request may be somewhat more difficult, I am afraid. Should war break out, it will be fought with dragons. Now, I have no fear of armies. Many and more have broken themselves against my Bloody Gate, and the Eyrie is known to be impregnable. But you,” she nodded to Jacaerys as well, “the both of you, have descended on us from the sky, as Queen Visenya once did during the Conquest, and I was powerless to halt you.

“The decisions I have made today, and truths that were revealed in my keep, will no doubt reach Daemon’s ears. Should he come seeking retribution, I must not be powerless to defend myself and my people. Send me dragonriders.” There was a flicker of genuine fear in Jeyne’s dark eyes as she spoke. Fear that her people would suffer the consequences of her actions – however righteous they were.

Arianwyn understood that fear. It was the same that had kept her and Emrys from escaping Dragonstone for all those years.

“I will do what I can, my Lady,” she said, hoping it would be enough. “I have little involvement in matters of war, but should it be necessary, Emrys and I shall come and defend the Eyrie ourselves.”

“Nothing would make me feel safer,” Jeyne agreed. Then, with a dramatic sweeping of her skirts as she stood, she descended her throne to take Arianwyn’s arm and begin leading her from the High Hall. “Speaking of your delightful dragon, I believe you are past due to fly home to your equally delightful husband...”

“Where is she?” Aemond demanded. His body had begun to shake again, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Only one thing mattered.

Arianwyn.

He felt the uncomfortable sensation of hot, salty tears pooling in his empty eye.

Oh gods. The sapphire was gone, as was the patch.

How many people had seen his true, monstrous self?

Aemond’s feet began carrying him to the bedchamber before he heard the guards reply – if they had replied at all. He pushed open the door so hard the wood cracked, but he did not stop.

Not until he reached the mirror.

The one he had set into the eastern wall. So that he could see his sapphire every morning and think of Aria. So he could see himself as she would – as she did – as the man, not the monster.

There was nothing left of the man in his reflection now.

His skin and hair were stained with his own blood, only interrupted by the clean tracks left by his tears.

His one eye was wide, wet, and bloodshot – the eye of a cornered, feral beast, not a civilized man or Prince.

His lips were so dry they had begun to crack and bleed, and the remnants of his sick were still at the corners of his mouth.

The wounds he had inflicted on himself were savage and deep. They would likely scar, but he did not care.

Aemond recognized the monster reflected back at him.

It was him, as he truly was, behind all his masks and lies.

“Where is she?” he asked, though he did not know whether the guards had followed him. “Why isn’t she here? I need her.”

He needed her so badly.

He would die if he did not find her.

He would die and go to the deepest hell, where he belonged.

He would never see her again.

She was good. Her soul was pure – she would not be sent to the hells.

While he suffered for eternity, she would live in bliss alongside the gods.

She would forget him, the broken man she had felt enough pity for to shackle herself to him in life.

Aemond hoped she would forget him quickly. He did not want her to suffer on his behalf.

He did not want to shadow her beautiful soul with the darkness that lived in him.

He screamed, the harrowing sound coming from the very depths of his broken soul, as he threw his fist into the mirror with all his might.

It shattered into a million tiny shards of pure silver, exploding throughout the room.

Each new cut on his face and each sliver of glass embedded into his hand at once anchored Aemond to reality and pulled him further into his distant, dark soul.

Suddenly, a hand brushed his shoulder.

He was so entirely consumed by the monster staring back at him that, even through the mirror, he had not noticed anyone approaching.

His training kicked in, and he moved on instinct.

He shoved the hand on his shoulder away as he turned, reaching for his assailant. Finding another arm, thin and fragile, he seized it with all his strength and twisted, twisted, twisted. Until he heard them scream in pain.

But he knew that scream.

Kirin.

At once, Aemond’s mind came racing back, and he was what was before him – what he was doing.

His hand was wrapped around Kirin’s arm – his bad arm – bending and pulling it past its natural limits. His manservant’s face was distorted in pain as he screamed, but his blue eyes were filled only with concern for his master.

Aemond pulled away the moment the guards burst into the room. Ser Conin and Ser Christor grabbed Kirin as he fell, immediately rushing him out of the apartments. To the Maesters, no doubt.

Ser Warren remained behind, his dark gaze fixed on the Prince, assessing him as a threat. But then, the old man saw the wounds on his face, the tear tracks through the blood, and the fear in his eye.

“My Prince,” Warren said, his voice soft and careful, as though he were trying to soothe a rabid dog. “Princess Arianwyn has not returned. She is expected tonight. Is there someone else I can summon to… help you?”

Aemond took a step back into the broken shards of the mirror, wishing that one of them would break through the leather of the boot and cut him. He needed more pain, worse pain, anything to anchor him to reality until Arianwyn was back.

“Get out,” Aemond whispered, his voice too broken to shout again, as he wanted to. “Get out. Leave me alone. If anyone other than Aria comes in here … I will kill them.”

Not a threat, exactly, but the expression of genuine fear. If he could hurt Kirin – his trusted servant and friend – he was capable of hurting anyone.

Except Arianwyn. Never her.

Ser Warren nodded and left quickly, muttering something about stationing guards at the door.

Aemond staggered through the rooms to the door, falling against it and ensuring the lock was turned. Only Arianwyn held the key to unlock it – only she could free him from this cage.

Or perhaps she would leave him in here. It would be safer to keep the monster contained, where it could hurt no one.

But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t even see him as a monster.

For once, the thought brought him more pain than comfort.

He didn’t want to be anchored to reality, he wanted to escape it.

He stumbled across the room once more. Not to the bedchamber, but to the cabinet he knew had been recently stocked with Arianwyn’s favorite wines. Flavored with fruit and flowers, their taste was as delicate as the woman who loved them.

His body was so out of his control that he ripped the door off the cabinet rather than opening it. It didn’t matter. He had what he needed.

He had always hated that loss of self and control. It was why he had always avoided wine for so long. And it was precisely why he needed it now – to hasten his mind’s retreat and keep him far away from reality until Arianwyn was here again.

Aemond grabbed the first bottle he could reach, ripped out the cork, and began to drink.

Jeyne, Gerold, and Jessamyn were the only ones to accompany Arianwyn to the gardens to say goodbye. Emrys, who had fallen asleep too quickly the night of their arrival to greet anyone, was thrilled to see Gerold again, and even more so to meet his rider’s godmother and her companion.

While Gerold was already acquainted with the dragon and knew how to approach him, Jeyne and Jessamyn wore twin expressions of equal delight and terror as they strode toward the great beast. Thankfully, Emrys was one of the friendlier dragons in Westeros, especially when the new people he met approached hand-in-hand with his rider.

Still, Jessamyn’s knees buckled when she first touched his smooth black scales, requiring Jeyne to catch her before she fell. Emrys immediately swiveled his head to check on her, prompting an outpouring of laughter from everyone.

Laughter that ended the moment Arianwyn spotted Jacaerys enter the gardens, lock eyes with her, and begin to walk her way.

“I’m leaving,” she hissed to Gerold as she started to climb into the saddle. “Right now.”

“Arianwyn,” Gerold scolded, grabbing the back of her armor to halt her. Even when he had not been training for many months, he was still much stronger than her, allowing him to hold her still despite her protestations and wriggling. “If he wants to say goodbye, you should let him. He is your cousin and stepbrother. And you all but humiliated him today. You owe him this.”

Looking to Jeyne and Jessamyn for support was useless, as they both muttered their agreement with Gerold.

“Please?” she begged pathetically as Gerold hoisted her from the stirrups and set her gently but firmly back on the ground, making her feel like she was no more than a ragdoll.

Again, it was to no avail. Jeyne stepped forward to tuck away a few strands of hair that had already come loose from Arianwyn’s braid as she whispered, “You have proved yourself a skilled diplomat today. Consider this but one final test, yes?”

“Will you stay with me?” Arianwyn asked, leaning into her godsmother’s touch.

Jeyne sighed and kissed her godsdaughter’s forehead. “No, my dear. I think you need to do this alone. There is more between the two of you than what happened today. If war is coming, you should make peace while you can.”

Arianwyn could not quite see the logic of making peace in preparation for war, but reluctantly agreed. Not wanting to show weakness, she held back her tears while she said goodbye to her cousin, godsmother, and whatever one calls their godsmother’s secret lover.

Then they left, passing Jace on their way back into the Eyrie. Jeyne and Jessamyn only politely dipped their heads to the Prince as they walked by, while Gerold stopped and grabbed his arm to whisper something to him before moving on.

Emrys growled as he approached, angling his head and wings to hide Arianwyn as best he could. At least he supported her.

“I want to talk to you,” Jace pled after several minutes of trying and failing to outmaneuver the dragon.

“And why should you ever want that?” she hissed, her voice muffled through the membrane of Emrys’ wing.

“I think after what you just said in there,” he huffed, “I deserve some answers.”

“Mmm,” Arianwyn hummed, fastening her bag to Emrys’ saddle a little too tightly. The dragon grunted, though he directed his frustration not at his rider but at the bastard Prince that was upsetting her. “I didn’t think I left any room for questions.”

Jace groaned in frustration. “Aria…”

“Do not call me that!” she shouted, abandoning her preparations for departure and bursting from beneath Emrys’ wing to round on her stepbrother. When she reached him, she shoved him as hard as he could. “You do not get to call me that!”

He stumbled back but did not move to retaliate. Instead, he held out his arms to try and dissuade her from attacking again. And to placate Emrys, who was viciously baring his teeth.

Arianwyn was disappointed. For a moment, she thought she might get to use the dagger Aemond gave her, now strapped to the belt of her riding leathers. She did have a better record with live targets, after all. But whatever her desires, she would not attack unprovoked.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped back to Emrys. “You may speak until I am ready to depart. I would be quick about it if I were you – I am anxious to return home.”

Jace scoffed as he took a cautious step forward, “To your one-eyed beast of a husband?”

That was provocation enough for Arianwyn.

She drew her dagger and whirled around. Rather than try and bring the blade to his throat, she grabbed his collar and pulled him to the blade. It worked much better than the lunging attacks Aemond had forced her to practice. She did not press hard enough to cut, only to apply enough pressure for him to think twice before talking again.

“My ‘one-eyed beast of a husband’ taught me how to use this,” she spat. Only partly true – he had taught her how to hold it. They had not had much success past that. But she understood the concept of the dagger well enough. She did not need much training to know which end would cut. “Would you like me to show you, bastard?”

At the pain that went through his dark eyes at the word, she almost regretted the insult. She had never used it before – she always thought she was in no place to judge someone on their parentage.

But she would not endure insults to Aemond. Especially not from Jace.

He and his brother were the cause of so much of Aemond’s pain. What was a single cruel and undeniably true word against what they had done to him? To what he had said to her on Driftmark over the past six years?

She could not decipher the expression on his face as he pulled as far away from her blade as he could. His eyes were sorrowful, but his mouth was curled in a sneer. “Do you really hate me that much?”

Arianwyn was taken aback, so much so that she released his collar and let him stumble away from her dagger. “What?”

He looked to be almost on the verge of tears as he looked at her beseechingly. “Do you hate me, Arianwyn?”

She expected him to accuse her of lying about her father and his mother. To demand she recant all that she had said. Or even to try and stop her from leaving.

But, true to form, he had asked her another stupid question.

“You spent our entire childhood making Aemond miserable,” she said, her voice thick with anger and confusion. He moved to refute or argue with her, but she raised her blade again to stop him. “He never did anything to you, yet you took every opportunity to torment him – whether Aegon was there or not. It was you who brought the knife to that fight!”

Jace looked away from her, lips thin with anger. But he said nothing as she continued her tirade.

“You had to know it was him.” she dropped the hand holding the dagger to her side as tears welled in her eyes. “When you came to the tunnel. Rhaena was with you, so who else could it have been?”

She began to laugh as her tears fell, and she waved her hand, in which the dagger was now only loosely gripped, as she spoke. “You saw Vhagar and knew it was Aemond. And you were not as desperate or ill-educated as Rhaena. You knew that he had not ‘stolen’ her,” she spat, the word that had long caused her animosity with her youngest half-sister disgusting her still. “You knew it was his birthright to claim a dragon.”

Arianwyn had never intended to say so much to him, having responded to his taunts with as few words as possible for so long. But he had somehow unearthed a rage buried deep within her, feelings toward him that she had not known were there.

“It had been his birthright to have an egg to warm his cradle – as you and I both did – but he was denied that, as he was denied so much by his father,” she laughed again. “But what would you know about that? Viserys always loved you and your brothers so well. And you have been blessed with an excess of fathers: Laenor Velaryon, Harwin Strong, and now Daemon.”

Her laughter faded, and her bitter smile fell. “It’s disgusting, you know. How you follow Daemon around like a dog, begging for his attention and praise. What is it you expect from him? You don’t really think he’ll let you inherit anything, do you? He has two trueborn sons with Rhaenyra. Not even you can be so foolish as to think he’d let a bastard take the throne before them.”

She took a heaving breath, fully intending to continue her tirade, but then Jace moved. He snatched the dagger out of her hand, sending it clattering across the flagstones and into the bushes. When her silver gaze finally left him to stare at it in disbelief, he grabbed her but the shoulders.

“Arianwyn,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “I just want to know – ”

“Why did you bring that knife?” she screamed with all the breath in her lungs, then fell silent.

She had not known it, but that question had burned in her mind for more than six years. It had fueled every frustration she ever held for him. It was the reason his every word grated on her – why she had always bristled under his gaze.

Luke’s hand had stolen Aemond’s eye, but Jace’s knife made the cut.

Jace did not answer, though he did let go of her. As she glared at him, he could not meet her eye.

“What did you plan to do to him?” She asked, as still as the stone of the mountains surrounding them. “If I hadn’t been there, what would you have done?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, his lip curled in a scowl. “I just… I wanted to scare him.”

“Why?”

“Because I did not like him.”

“He had never done anything to you, or anyone,” Arianwyn said, still not understanding. “He is your uncle – he wanted to be your friend. At Laena’s funeral, he tried to tell you he was sorry about Ser Harwin’s death. Why did you dislike him so?”

Jace released his grip and turned his back on her, so all she could see was his dark hair blowing in the breeze as he looked at the statue of Alyssa Arryn, only steps away.

“He had you.”

Arianwyn had never felt so lost. Her mouth hung open as she stared at him, desperate for him to say just one thing that made sense. “He ‘had’ me? What does that even mean?”

“You were always with him!” he shouted as he whirled around to her again, though he never met her eyes. “At meals and parties, in your lessons, in the library. Seven hells, you even came to watch him train even though you hate fighting!”

“He was – and is – my best friend. I was always with him because I liked being with him,” she countered, brow furrowing tighter. “Just like you were always with Luke and Aegon.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jace said, laughing darkly and shaking his head.

Arianwyn scoffed, “I don’t even know what the ‘thing’ is!”

“It – ” the muscles in his jaw were so tight they seemed about to snap. “It was… frustrating to me. That I could never talk to you without him being there.”

“Still, it never seemed to stop you,” she said, crossing her arms. “Or Aegon.”

He had the courtesy to look mildly regretful. “That wasn’t talking.”

“No, it was ridicule.”

“And it wasn’t you that we were – ”

“It might as well have been.”

“Can you please just – ”

“What do you want from me, Jace?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I love you, dammit!” he roared.

Arianwyn felt as though she had woken suddenly from a nightmare. She stumbled back until she hit Emrys’ scales, then slid down until she was slumped against him with her head in her hands. “Tell me this is just another of your stupid jokes, or I am going to vomit.”

Jace grimaced and kicked the tip of his boot against the side of a loose flagstone. “I’m sorry.”

While she didn’t vomit, Arianwyn let out a miserable, guttural groan that sounded quite close to vomiting. “How can you love me if you don’t even like me?”

“I do like you,” he answered, still not daring to approach her or her angry dragon. “I’ve always liked you.”

Arianwyn finally raised her head, leaning against Emrys’ hot scales as she looked up at her stepbrother. “You don’t treat people you like the way you’ve treated me. You’re cruel to me.”

“No,” he sighed, stepping toward her just enough to earn a warning growl from Emrys. “It’s not cruelty, I promise. It’s jokes, teasing – that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“But we aren’t friends, Jace,” she countered, hating herself for feeling badly when he looked hurt by her words. “We never have been.”

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t nice to me!”

“You wouldn’t talk to me if I was nice to you!”

“How do you know? Did you ever try?”

Jace opened his mouth, but what came out was more of a quiet squawk than an actual word. Arianwyn could do nothing but look at him in bewilderment as he recalled their every interaction. His face scrunched like he was trying to solve some great mystery.

“You didn’t,” she answered for him, lacking the patience to let him figure it out for himself. “Even once I was on Dragonstone, where Aemond couldn’t ‘have’ me, you were never nice to me. None of you were, except Rhaena. She’s the only one who ever apologized to me for what you did on Driftmark.”

He stared blankly at where Emrys had wrapped the tip of his tail around Arianwyn. A gentle touch of comfort, protection, and possessiveness from a beast capable of such awesome death and destruction.

She closed her eyes and let herself imagine that the touch was not Emrys but Aemond. That it was his warmth she was feeling. But if Aemond were here, if he heard what Jace was saying to her…

Perhaps it was a good thing her husband was so far away.

“So, you do hate me,” Jace whispered as the revelation finally came to him, “and… I deserve it.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes, prepared to say something cutting, but then she saw the devastation and self-loathing on his face. She swallowed the retort, along with the slight pang of guilt in her chest. “Well, maybe not ‘hate,’ exactly. Just… very, very strong dislike.”

“That is the definition of hate,” he replied with a sad laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Arianwyn said, and despite herself, she meant it.

He shook his head, shoulders drooping. “No, don’t do that. I should be the one to apologize to you. For how I’ve treated you, for the things I’ve said, and for… everything with Aemond.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. It was not forgiveness, for that would require more than a simple apology. All she would – could – give him was acknowledgment. That she had heard his words, that she understood him. That, perhaps, forgiveness was possible.

Sensing the tension disappear, Emrys rose from his protective crouch and flexed his wings. He stretched a bit, testing the weight of all the saddlebags – and the sword, Lamentation, carefully attached to the side of Arianwyn’s seat. There had been a place for a weapon built into his saddle, but it had never been used until now.

“I think he’s ready to leave,” Jace sighed.

Arianwyn stood and looked back to her mount. He certainly was. She could tell by how he leaned down on one side – his way of asking her to climb on. She smiled, stroking his side before gripping the first handhold of the saddle.

“Can I…” Jace started, making her stop her ascent for a moment. “Can I ask you one more question before you go?”

Emrys bristled at the further delay but did not make any other attempts to intimidate the boy. Arianwyn didn’t respond until she was settled in the saddle with the leather straps around her thighs fastened. “You may.”

Jace looked up at her, brown eyes pleading and shoulders squared. Arianwyn knew that whatever he was about to ask, the answer was monumentally important to him.

“If things had been different,” he began, never breaking his gaze from hers for more than a blink, “if I had been different – been better… could you ever have loved me? Chosen me, instead of him?”

Arianwyn froze. He had just given her the power to break his heart.

She knew she should think about her answer, should try and imagine a world where Jace had been kind and sweet. One where it may have been him to spend those long days in the library with her. Or one where, once they were on Dragonstone, he changed to her and became the Prince to rescue her from her tower.

But none of those imaginings could even begin to form in her mind.

For each time, her mind instead conjured an image of a story she’d so often been told. Two white-haired babes – one swaddled in green, one in bronze – meeting for the first time. Smiles breaking across their still-pink, chubby cheeks as they reached toward each other with clumsy arms.

They had never stopped reaching for each other. And they never would.

“No,” she said. She knew it was the answer he was dreading, but no matter what he had done, he deserved the truth. And this was a truth etched into her heart, her soul. “It was always Aemond.”

Though his eyes began to water, Jace smiled tightly as he nodded. “I am very happy for you, that you are so happy. And… I will try to be happy for him as well.”

Arianwyn knew that ‘try’ was the most important word in that sentiment, but she smiled back anyway as she grasped Emrys’ reins. “Thank you, Jace. I will pray that you and Baela can find the same happiness in your own union.”

She meant it. When the betrothal was announced, she saw how excited Baela was. How her half-sister had looked so deeply in love the night of the dinner. If Jace would allow himself to, they could find genuine love together.

He pursed his lips in a way that usually meant he was about to make some snide comment, but he bit it back with a twitch of his head. Then, he stepped away from Arianwyn and Emrys, giving the dragon ample space to take flight.

“The next time we see each other,” Jace called, his voice sodden with regret. “We may very well be true enemies. It will be my duty to hurt you. Or kidnap you. Or...”

“I think it is more than likely, I’m afraid,” she agreed.

Jace was silent for a moment, looking down at his shuffling feet. “Aria?”

Though she still bristled at hearing him call her that, she did not comment on it. “Yes, Jace?”

He took a deep breath and looked directly into her eyes. “Promise me that whatever happens, you will stay far, far away from Daemon.”

So, he did believe her story.

To her surprise, she felt no instinct to gloat. On the contrary, she was touched by how worried he was about her.

“Don’t worry,” she said in consolation, allowing herself a slight grin. After all, she was most comfortable around Jace when she was teasing him. But now, her tone was far more playful than spiteful. “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

Then Emrys took to the sky, hollering in delight that he was finally going home –where Arianwyn knew her husband would be waiting for her.

Aemond waited.

And waited.

Still, Arianwyn did not come.

How long had he been sitting on their bedroom floor amongst the shards of shattered glass, just waiting?

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Years?

An eternity?

He blinked slowly, his eye dry and heavy. And far too blurry to see where he had put his bottle.

So, he reached out blindly, discarding the empty bottles he found and savoring the clattering sound they made as they rolled across the floor. The pain it caused his aching head reminded him that he was alive and served as the beginning of the punishment he deserved.

Finally, he found a half-full bottle and brought it to his lips. Then, after another long gulp, he rested it against his heaving chest.

Night had fallen – or fallen again, if he had indeed been here more than a day. Moonlight shone through the window, reflecting off the pieces of mirror sprawled on the floor as it had once reflected off his sapphire.

But Aemond did not look at the moonlight. He could not appreciate its strange beauty.

He could only stare at the impenetrable darkness in the corner of the room.

It seemed to have emerged from within his broken soul.

And from within, staring at him like a wolf in the night, was the horrible, simple truth that he felt infinitely more guilt for hurting Kirin than he did for killing Luke.

It was that truth that made him a monster.

“Aria…” he whispered, his voice hardly more than a breath. Even as he drank, he did not dare look away from the darkness as he called out for his wife.

And he did not stop.

Next Chapter

110 notes · View notes

incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

An anti dressed up as a shipper, an idiot, and a terf all walk into the same bar.

It’s the same picture person.

A lesson.

Warning: if the title doesn’t give it away, queerphobic content comes up in this from the other party being documented.

So, some of you may have watched a twitter exercise yesterday.

It started simple: concern trolling white knight “for the writers” comes in to angrily declare fans doing something tagged in support of them about Destiel was “out of line.” She claimed things like “Misha was gaslit into supporting Destiel”, and pulled all kinds of stunts.

She immediately got on a soap box yelling “I HAVE A LIT CRIT DEGREE, I KNOW AUTHOR INTENT” of course implying she knew better than EVERYONE around her how to read text. She then pulled, of all things, @chill-legilimens ‘ article about the network gods gutting the show out of the internet, and somehow misread it SO FUCKING BADLY -- SO FUCKING BADLY -- she thought it aligned with HER. She argued that fans influenced the writers, essentially, and basically pulled the exact opposite of the very clearly delivered message there out. When it was pointed out we know this author and even sometimes help edit their pieces, and she was, flat out misreading it while bragging about how good she is at deciphering text, it turned into a SHITSHOW.

I had watched her give a large group of queer people 2 days of runaround, while they tried to be polite, and similarly tried to prove everything while she proved nothing. Just preached. After 2 days of them exhausting themselves on her, I came in doing my blunt & savage thing, because fuck civility culture when it’s used by oppressors. Of course, she immediately started tone policing, while herself being an arrogant shitbrick the whole way.

She continued to preach author intent and talk down about “headcanons.” You see, she knew the authors very well. Berens’ name was mentioned in passing, and she came back with. “Who’s Berens? Is that the author of the article?” after Deirdre’s name had been directly cited in associated with it about 15 times.

(credit: @judgehangman )

But it gets better. She started pulling the “authors have said Dean is straight.” line. Now, at this point, we had already sourced her at least four pieces of information (quite formally too: SPN Official DVD Collection Season 8 episode 13 creative commentary, Edlund and Sgriccia; Dissent Magazine The Attack Queers Bob Berens review; the books in the office with screenshots, and more.) So we issued one simple request: Okay. Source.

For the next-- I shit you not-- 10 hours she bricked the thread to death, finding any and EVERY rabbit hole she could try to venture down. For the first hour or two a few of us tried to actually debate her newly raised points, but still gave reminder that we were waiting for her source. Every tweet was an opportunity for her to drop a 15 tweet thread trying to derail onto a new topic, and often clarifying she had no idea about any of it (Edlund, Sgriccia, Berens, Dabb--who she couldn’t spell the name of--and Deirdre all became an amorpheous blob in her retelling that she swore she looked at sources and wasn’t convinced, while she crossed all the data and comments about the sources). She tried to challenge that anyone could know all the writers and episodes just because she proved she couldn’t, even when multiple people expressed it to her extremely rapidly with not just author and director listings, but cross references on when they overlapped and major elements (like the 15.20 shot 19 tree being the Kim Manners memorial tree). She randomly babbled about Kripke once. Lied her way through and claimed those sources were vague. Etc.

But at some point, I decided, we’re not playing this distraction game. You wanted a debate, you claim you have a lit crit degree, and thus know the entire art is Argumentation. A source, if you’re declaring knowing author intent. One source. Any time she dropped a distraction tweet, I replied to her thread with things like a list of our sources vs her lack of any and a reminder. I installed a counter ticker. How many times had she been asked to either recant her point or give a single source?

Someone made a list of the logical fallacies she used in the argument. It was two tweets long and still missed several obvious ones. That didn’t stop her. Neither did the dozens of requests for a source or a recant. Onwards, she marched, derailing time and again. She brought in a buddy to try to distract, but he fell out real quick when he realized “the burden of proof lies on the arguer” shot him and her both in the feet in record time and he ducked out.

Other greatest hits came out like “Dubs (Dabb’s) fanfic books”, and calling the ability to list authors and episodes “headcanons.”

Over time, the dialogue shifted: see, she came in trying the snide “enjoy your headcanons” downtalk, but as time and time again she was pulverized on every point about the show, or the authors, or anything else while STILL never even giving a single source to even her FIRST POINT and running distractions, it became a reality-- she was told, “We’ll enjoy our canon and author intent. You can enjoy your headcanon of... Dabb’s fanfic books and Lord Barons and the writers being collective hallucinations and whatever else in your hot takes about the show content itself” and she FLIPPED SHIT.

As the ticker for sources approached 100, she started becoming flustered. Before that, even, she started repetitively misgendering Ezra (no tumblr to link in), and Ezra screenshot their bio of they/them and asked them to adjust. Ignored. Ezra linked this request and asked it to be addressed again, and again, and again. 13 times. Ezra linked it 13 times. She even replied to several of them. No avail. No change. Not until literally any and every tweet in her vicinity either had “source?” or “address gender?” for her to reply to did she flee there, and write some giant write-around of “oh, I didn’t see this, sorry” but still refused to actually use it. Or “I’ll use the right one now.” No, just completely strickened pronouns from her vocabulary with Ezra moving forward, after not one mistake, not two, not five, but 13 answers.

At this point, I notice a trend: throughout the entire conversation, she had flip flopped on my pronouns, clearly confused as to what to call me. As I generally don’t care (honestly I prefer he but meh), it didn’t ping me as something to react to while she switched religiously between “he” and “she”. But I realized now, despite all of that confusion: she never once thought to use “they.” Also earlier we found tweets of hers that, while now declaring herself bisexual, she used troublesome wording in the past to blur the line on if she was an ally or, as she phrased it “maybe less than 100% straight in the bell curve” in other conversations.

I mutter about this on the side to Ezra and some friends, but continue on towards the 100 ticker that was the goal to show people in this digital terrarium how disingenuous most people you argue with are -- an exhibit for the class. They know they’re lying and have been caught, but will not cede to admit “oops, I guess I was wrong.” but rather stick, unironically, to their own headcanons about things. After all, they vaguely sorta apologized even if suddenly just refusing to use any pronouns at all on Ezra after that. And she’s so quick to disappear into 15 tweet bombs of distraction trying to play victim for being held accountable at this point, we just didn’t jump to a conclusion on that, alarming as it is.

So. You know. Source.

At this point, she RANDOMLY starts evoking the fact that like, How Dare, She Watched Gay Men Die To AIDS, She Is A Great Philanthropist How Dare How Dare.

I’m sorry, did you just evoke the blood of our dead to run away from the most basic scrap of accountability in what is literally the first wave of a lit debate because for the last 10 hours you have refused to take the necessary steps to move on to the next point? Did you... just... evoke the ghosts of gay men that were genocided to, essentially, pull up a smokescreen and run away from being party to queer erasure? Or even just? Giving a source? or admitting you were wrong on one point in a debate? Wow, you really just did that.

Naturally, people involved got pissed. Her Sources ticker hit 100, but at this point, all that haunted her was how completely fucking vile and inappropriate that was in this discussion.

She got blocked. She then tried to glom onto anyone that hadn’t blocked or muted her and run the same argumentation points she had earlier been decimated in the argument with, while yelling “I ship Destiel too! I wanted them to have sex too! Why does this make me the bad guy?” around the block and hoping nobody actually read the thread. She tried to pitch the “headcanons” point of view again, hoping a new audience would lick her boots. She was, largely, ignored; given a few more comments about her leaving the conversation losing all points and only covered in the blood of our dead she was so proud of; blocked by a few more. (unsurprisingly, if you check her actual tweet history, she seems more invested in Megstiel but)

This is when CommaSameleon -- a professor with two lit degrees and a primary focus in teaching the art of Argumentation -- literally -- stepped in. She initially tried to engage the fact that, well, this woman not only can’t argue out of a paper sack but wasn’t even arguing, she was just running in circles and distracting from all the points and hadn’t addressed a single lit point directly while preaching down at people. But Sam, also, noticed something. This woman kept changing things like “queerphobia” to “homophobia.” Sam mentioned this kinda puts off TERF vibes (I think Sam picked up on the gendering thing herself too.)

Her response? Which she deleted since? But Discord’s embed helpfully saved?

Her inacted non-apologies remain weak, especially in any form of debate be it lit or now queer topics.

Oh I’m sorry, let’s recap her viewpoints: TERF is a slur. “They” is made up and should be avoided at all costs. The blood of dead gay men are a token to use in a lit debate you’re avoiding responsibility in. After this, “authors are headcanons” is suddenly not your worst take, but fascinating that you 13 times didn’t even read the blatant ass screenshot. And I mean, these weren’t subtle or easy to miss these 13 times.

100. She had 100 chances, literally, on a timer, to give a source or shut up with her platforming until she had one. Instead, she chose every rabbit hole she could manifest to disappear into, only to be met by another request for a source, and not moving on until we address the first points. We’ve given ours, now you give yours. Instead, you choose this. This is the hill you choose to die on, rather than admitting, “Sorry, I guess I was wrong” or “I guess I heard that somewhere, my bad.” 100 chances. 13 direct QT requests to address gender which she replied to but didn’t reply to until cornered (and still didn’t, truly, reply to), and “TERF is a slur.” Oh, and after waving around the dead men’s blood she also suddenly Can’t Be A Terf Because She Adopted Two Trans Kids. Lord help those children. Or, you know, the more realistic thing is she’s just manifesting all kinds of bullshit at this point to save face, which is probably why she deleted all the related tweets that show she’s a giant-ass TERF.

So anyway, this is very much a lesson on:

Paying attention to how people manipulate conversation to erase genuine discussion and debate.

Paying attention to WHY they do it. Motivation on methods and tactics will clear up a lot.

Figuring out HOW they try to sound woke about shit and when it’s entirely fucking vile and inappropriate to pull

And by all above points, figuring out that these people are among us, and how NOT to let them influence your conversations.

I don’t care if it’s about a discussion on a ship or show or anything else. People do this. A lot. Extremely dedicatedly, if the 100 asks doesn’t make that clear.

Stop letting people railroad your conversations with disingenuous bullshit.

So anyway in honor of this I made everyone a gif

Use at will. It’s tagged anti-terf if you want to use the search feature on it.

UPDATE:

Just went and checked. She went and deleted literally her entire side of the conversation, hundreds if not thousands of tweets. Luckily, Ezra mentioned repeatedly -- and I do trust them inherently -- that they were saving the entire conversation, so that zip file exists somewhere. How fascinating, after she accused us that we would want to delete tweets. Someone realized they had a bad look and giant failure all around.

Also, a related anon that links to an earlier part of this conversation I didn’t even document where she was crying about “cis erasure” [x] This shit went on so long I legit forgot about that.

#supernatural #spn #destiel #anti-terf #debate

170 notes · View notes

simply-sams-things · 4 years

Note

Helloooo Hope you’re having an amazing day i loved shower with luke and since i saw you were accepting requests i was wondering if you could do one with 1D where the reader is one of them’s sister and she’s secretly dating one of them and her brother doesn’t know but he finds out and goes over protective of the reader. i’m really sorry if it’s too complicated. p.s. if there’s something you want to talk about i’m always there. have a great day.

Tag list:

@impossibleapricotlampbat

Umm hello YES i would love to do this my best friend and i were talking about this the other day and we just DIED becuase of it so im going to do it with liam and harry if thats alright with you and also im always open to talk :) I also just had coffee adn its 2pm were i live so im pumped - Sammy

masterlist

Overprotective much?

Okay so maybe dating your brothers band mate wasn’t a great idea but you see at the time it was and you both wanted to keep it on the down low anyways because of his whole being famous thing.

You and liam had been dating for a year today, which has been an amazing year and you both are surprised on how well it had been kept a secret from everyone else, that is until about 30 minutes ago.

Since it’s your one year you both decided to order take out and stay inside your apartment for the weekend with no interuptions. You told your family that you were having a girls weekend with your best friend and liam told the guys and he was with his sister Ruth and her family for the weekend. It was all going well until your idiotic brother decided to crash “girls weekend”. Around 10 there was a knock at the door and thinking it was your best friend who said she was coming over to grab her stuff from a few days before you and Liam both walked to the door not expecting it to be your brother.

“Hey- OH MY GOD YOUR NOT Y/BF/N” You shouted

“Liam what are you doing over here at Y/N��s without a shirt. Wait. WHERE IS YOUR SHIRT” Harry said as he stormed into your apartment. He started yelling at you both about how wrong it was to be together especially behind his back.

“You told me you were having a girls weekend and last time I checked Liam wasn’t a girl so tell me how long have you been trying to get in my sisters pants Liam!? Ever since we got together as a band because I swear to g-”

“HARRY” You shouted to shut him up. Harry was mad and it was understandable, but he was about to wake the whole complex up and you weren’t ready for another noise complaint just yet. “Liam can you go put your shirt on while I talk to him please?” you asked looking at your boyfriend who nodded and left giving you one last glance but didn’t bother to look at Harry who had been glaring at him since he walked into the apartment.

You looked at harry and gestered him to sit down on the couch and he di looking up at you. “Liam and I have been dating for a year Harry today is our anniversery thats why we told everyone we were doing something else so nobody could bother us.” he tried to cut you off. “But why-”

“Harry don’t, let me finish, we wanted to tell our families at first but when we started to date we wanted to see where it would go becuase you guys were still on tour, and then tour ended and we got so used to being in secret that we decided that we would wait till after today.” You sat down next to him.”We wanted to tell you, mum and Gemma first next weekend and then Karen, Geoff, Ruth ,and Nicola after you guys and then the rest of the boys we were going to tell after them. Thats why this weekend was to ourselves so we can discuss how we were going to tell you all and also celebrate our 1 year. And i understand why you’re mad at him for dating me but Har, I’ve never been more happy with someone he makes me so happy and I really love him H. I haven’t been this happy in a long time and you know that. We saved each other in some type of way

“Just please don’t be mad at him, if you want to be mad at anyone let it be me I was the one who said yes to our first date a year and a half ago. He was so nervous Harry because he didn’t want you to be mad at him. So please don’t be mad at him.” You finished and began to nervously play with your hands while waiting for your brothers answer.

“I’m not mad at you guys dating I’m upset because for over a year my baby sister has been happy and I couldn’t see that she that it was because of one of my bestfriends, and now that i think about it you guys make it really obvious, but if he makes you happy then i guess im alright with it also Liam you standing there behind us is really creepy mate” he said.

“Sorry” Liam said and sat down next to you and grabed your hand “but are you honestly fine with it Harry I mean I understand that because I’m your band mate but i really love her and I don’t wanna lose her” he was staring at you when he said the last part and yoy started to get teary eyed.

“Liam I’d rather have you date her than anyone else because i trust you” Harry explained “But that doesn’t mean I wont beat you up if you break her heart” He then got up and motioned for you guys to do the same and then procedded to pull you both into a hug.

“I could never break her heart H she means to much to me, if i did i would beat myself up for you”.

“Stop it you two before I cry even more” you chimed in giving out a watery laugh.

Harry let you go and headed to the front door, you and liam following along. “I guess i should say I’m sorry for sort of ruining your anniversery”

“I mean you sort of did but we forgive you besides its an all weekend thing for us, and Harry I swear if you tell anyone else before we get too I will murder you myself and blame Louis” you told him opening the door.

“Okay first off didn’t need to know what you guys are doing this weekend and second of all I won’t buggy, I trust you guys will when you are ready, Oh and also does Y/BF/N know? Because I really can’t have them winning-”

“Seem’s you’re already losing Harold” Y/BF/N said giving him a smirk. “I’ll get my sytuff some other time Y/N it’s not really important. Come on Harry lets leave the gross in love people alone” They said grabing his hand and walking away with Harry shouting

“HAPPY ANNIVERSERY YOU GUYS LOVE YOU BOTH AND hey will you let go of my hand- BYYEEEEE” you closed the door and laughed alongside Liam.

“You do know that if he told us to stop I wouldn’t have never let that happen right?” Liam asked after the laughing fit calmed down, you turned to him and went on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss.

“I know which is why everytime I say I love you I truly mean it bubs”

“I love you too my love” he leaned down again and kissed you and then he playfully grabbed your butt and you shreiked into the kiss and he started to laugh your favorite laugh.

////

I hope you like this i honestly had so much fun writing this ! - Sammy

also i didn’t read through it so there probably is a lot of spelling mistakes oops

#liam payne x reader #harry styles x sister!reader #liam payne #simply-sams-things

52 notes · View notes

stripper-patrick · 5 years

Text

Gallery🖼 Hardin Scott

Warnings: language, fluff, smut, light spanking, I liked this one😁

Tags: @mrsbanreswillseeyou

Relationship: Hardin Scott x black plus sized reader

“Y/N are you ready? We’re gonna be late” I finish touching up my hair making sure it looks nice. This new color has me self conscious.

I look in the mirror one last time at my overly thought out outfit. I nod in approval of the way my butt looks. I grab my purse and strap on my heels heading downstairs.

“You look nice” my mother smiles.

“Thanks”

....

We arrive at the huge mansion of the Scott’s. His father Ken Scott is the chancellor of England and somehow can still be in the states. Not my business. I’m dreading this because me and Hardin have had a small fling before. Ok by small I mean we caught feelings and by flint I mean talked and fucked multiple times but never dated. I haven’t seen him since I left for college last year.

I step out of the car and my father gives the valet man the keys letting him park it. I walk inside the house on my own seeing art displayed everywhere. They buy the art and either sell it to a different gallery for a smaller price or sell whatever money they make to charity.

Upon arrival I’m handed a glass of champagne. Granite I’m under the age but they don’t need to know all of that. I thank the waiter and walk all the way in. I take a sip of the dry liquid cringing at the burning sensation.

The glass gets taken from me by my mother “really”

“I know I’m more of a fireball kinda girl” I hear a snicker and that’s when I see him. Hardin Scott. The one who left my guts in another state and my heart broken. He looks nice in his maroon red button down and light grey pants with some white shoes.

“Sorry. Uh I’m Hardin you must be the Y/L/N’s pleasure to meet you” he extends his hand to mine making eye contact and I shake his hand staying quiet.

He shakes my dad and moms hand smiling at them. Ken comes over with a drink for my father which he gladly accepts while his mother Trisha accompanies my mom.

I look to see Hardin already staring at me “would you like to at the art?”

“Yes please” he takes me to the back where there are these huge extravagant pieces. I’m just in awe.

“These are amazing” I smile “I love this one” I point to a painting of which could easily represent black excellence. It’s so beautiful. I look at the price tag and see $23,000 on it “OOP never mind”

“You are still so beautiful” I look at him

“Don’t do that” I say

“Do what? Try to make a conversation after you left? I miss you if I’m being honest”

“You can’t miss me if you’re the one that wanted to end whatever it was we had”

“Well I regret it and I admit to my wrong doings” he steps closer to me “you still smell of vanilla. I wonder if you taste like it too”

I clamp my legs together involuntarily biting my lip. I’ve missed his tongue game.

“Hardin”

“I miss you more than you’ll ever know. No ones had my back the way you did Y/N” he leans down kissing the side of my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck fully kissing him.

“Meet me in the sun room” he smiles. Hardin kisses me one more time before dipping off into the crowd.

I make a left and go to the sunroom where there are a lot more paintings. By his mother it’s one of her hobbies. After about 10 minutes I’m about to get restless and leave. This was a mistake.

I stand up and I’m about to touch the door knob when it turns and the door opens. I back up and see Hardin walking in “we’re you about to leave”

“Yes I thought you weren’t coming” I fold my arms

“I’m sorry I got caught up handling some business” I roll my eyes and he puts his hand on my waist pulling me closer. “I’m sorry but what I just did you won’t regret”

He kisses me again. Gotdamn it I’m under his spell again. Hardin pushes us back until we fall on the bed. He lifts my dress and smiles at me in the middle of the kiss.

I can feel his pants straining at his hard-ok just waiting to be released. I move my hand between us and rub him through his tight pants. He moans in my mouth and now it’s my turn to smile.

I flip us over and focus my attention to his pants. Hardin sits up and slides my dress over my body. He kisses my collarbone and rubs my dripping pussy through my thin underwear. I finally get his pants undone and I unbutton his shirt. The artwork on his body never ceased to amaze me. My favorite was the tattoo on his hand. So intricate. I grab him stroking him a few times before going in his wallet and grabbing a condom. I grab the dick and slide it into me moaning. It feels like home when I’m with him... or in this case on him. Like he was meant to be with me.

He wraps his arm around my waist and thrusts upwards into me while I bounce down on him. The chatter of outside is luckily loud enough to cease everyone else from hearing our moans.

“Fuck Y/N” I loved when he moans my name. I own him now.

I rock on him harder occasionally swirling my hips. I’ve missed this feeling of him being inside of me. I never knew I’d have to admit that.

He slaps my ass gripping it afterwards making me moan. Hardin leans back on the pillows and I put my hands on his chest riding him harder. I let out a breathy moan.

“You’re so beautiful” I huff a ‘mhmm’ feeling the sunlight warm my skin.

“Don’t stop” I’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. He was always the dominant one and it was seldom if I took control like this.

“I miss you so much oh my god” I moan

“Look at you so beautiful on top of me” he moans. His grip on my hips will definitely leave a bruise. Hardin sits up again this time thrusting harder into me. I moan louder and just before I’m at the point of screaming he covers my mouth. He sucks a patch of skin and my legs begin shaking nearing my climax.

“Awww are you about to cum on me?” I nod moaning. He lets go and holds my butt cheeks open and starts drilling me.

“H-Hardin I’m cumming” I moan. That billsful moment that I haven’t felt in a long time. It always feels different with him.

“Make a mess all over me darling” he closes his eyes and grunts. I watch his stomach tense as he empties his load inside the condom.

My legs are still shaking feeling the aftershock and I smile at him. His beautiful eyes look at mine and he seals our space with a kiss.

“I wanna do this with-“

“Hardin?” I hear his father calling for him.

“Hold on” he yells back. I get off of him and slide my dress back on while he re-buttons his shirt and fixes his pants.

“Can you zip me back up?” I ask. He zips my dress and kisses my shoulder

“I wanna do this with you Y/N. For real this time”

“I don’t wanna be hurt again Hardin” I say “go out first”

He looks at me nodding before walking out first. I lean on the door sighing. “Where were you?” His father asks

“I needed a minute to myself” he lies

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Bathroom maybe?”

I wait a couple minutes before I emerge and sneak behind my parents. “There you are. Did you see anything?”

“I saw a lot” I smile

....

It’s been a week since me and Hardin’s rendezvous and I haven’t called him. What if I get hurt again? What if it’s just like last time?

I’m sitting in my room listening to music when I hear someone knock on the door. “Come in”

My mom emerges with a huge package and a smile “it’s for you”

I sit up and she leaves it on my bed. She shuts the door leaving me along again and I see a note attached to it.

‘I hope this proves that I won’t hurt you H’

I open the box and see the painting I fell in love with at the galley. I gasp and pull it out all the way. This is really mine.

I grab my phone and call Hardin. He picks up on instant and I can hear the smile in his voice “hello love”

“Hi Hardin. I just got your package”

“Ah that is the one you wanted right?”

“Yes but I- I don’t know what to say H. I can’t possibly take this”

“Nonsense. It’s yours and that’s the bottom line” he chuckles “it’s a peace offering”

“So me letting you be inside of me wasn’t enough peace?”

“It was but that was physical I want your mental and emotional peace. I want you”

I smile looking down “then you got me”

#smut #fluff #after #hardin scott smut #hardin scott #after we collided #feb 17

178 notes · View notes

just-random-obsessions · 5 years

Text

Funny Moments In Thor The Dark World

Find Thor 1 here

Find Avengers 1 here

This is the second part of me watching all three thor movies and the avengers movie and comparing the humor pre-ragnarok to the humor in the 3rd Thor movie. And, as before, I’m writing this on my computer where the I and U keys don’t work so sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Tag List: @nikkoliferous @fyrecrafted @lokijiro @miskiett @darthxerik @icyxmischief @iamanartichoke @juliabohemian @official-and-unstable-satan @melodylnoelle @just-another-human-2019 @fandomsfanfiction @mentallydatingahotcelebrity @cateyes315 @burningarbiterheart @imnotacreepijustlikeyou @usedtobegoodfriend96 @alexakeyloveloki

Official-and-unstable-satan and fandomsfanfiction weren’t tagged sry

Anyone who wants to be added/removed to the tag list please let me know! and if I missed someone please also let me know. Sorry this post is so long

~ “Hello Mother. Have I made you proud?”

~ “Please don’t make things worse” “Define worse”

~ “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about”

~ “Just like you”

~ *That smile!!!!*

~ “I’ve got this completely under control!” “Is that why everything’s on fire?”

~ *About the Scary MonsterTM: “All yours”

~ *Thor says hi to the Big Scary MonsterTM*

~ “I accept your surrender”

~ “Anyone else?” *All the people simultaneously: NOPE*

~ “Perhaps next time we should START with the big one”

~ *Odin obviously shipping Thor and Jane* (idk I got a kick out of this)

~ *Jane awkwardly avoiding her date*

~ *Date: hi*

~ *Him awkwardly talking about his ex*

~ “And the fact that she kept sleeping with other men” “NO!”

~ *Darcy being mistaken for a waitress*

~ *Darcy mouthing “Cute” to Jane about Richard*

~ *Darcy embarrassing Jane by talking about Thor*

~ “Is there a point to all of this cause there REALLY needs to be a point to all of this”

~ “That’s what I said!”

~ “That’s what I did!”

~ “He’s not interested” “I’m interested” (Am I the only one who feels like his awkwardness was actually kinda cute?)

~ “He’s my intern.” “You have an intern?”

~ *Intern is fucking adorable like Richard*

~ “I have totally mastered driving in London!” *Has not mastered it at all*

~ *Selvig running around Stonehenge naked*

~ *Darcy keeps calling Ian ‘Intern’*

~ *Darcy calls Jane cause she didn’t wanna shout*

~ God I fucking love Darcy she’s so criminally underrated

~ “I am not getting stabbed in the name of science”

~ “It’s okay, we’re Americans!” “Is that supposed to make them like us?”

~ “We’re scientists-well I am” “Thanks”

~ “That doesn’t seem right”

~ “I wanna throw something! Jane give me your shoe!”

~ *Jane ignores Darcy*

~ “Give me your shoe”

~ “Were those the car keys?”

~ *Ian’s face when he realizes he threw the car keys to another planet*

~ *If you have to bury so many people then you’re doing something wrong you hot dumb fuck* (I mean that’s basically what Heimdall said right?)

~ “Typical” *after being left behind while Jane goes to talk to her boyfriend*

~ *Jane! Love of my life and most talented and beautiful person in the world oh how I love yo-SLAP*

~ “As excuses go, its not terrible”

~ “I know” “You do?” “Do what?”

~ *Darcy interrupts the KissTM*

~ “Um I’m pretty sure we are getting arrested”

~ “How’s space?” “Space is fine”

~ “He’s my intern… My intern’s intern”

~ “Holy shit!” (after Jane went up in the Bifrost)

~ *Heimdall calmly dodges the car*

~ “We have to do that again”

~ “Hello”

~ “What’s that?”

~ “It’s a soul forge” *No I’m pretty sure that’s a quantum field generator*

~ *Jane being ready to fight Odin for comparing her to a goat*

~ “You told your dad about me?”

~ “It must be so inconvenient, them asking about me day and night”

~ “Please meet my mother” *Jane shies away from Thor*

~ Loki casually tossing the thingamajig in the air like the cute little shit he is

~ Lord, he’s so damn pretty

~ *Kurse being like: Lol I ain’t touchin’ that boy with a ten foot pole*

~ “It’s as if they resent being in prison”

~ “There’s no pleasing some creatures”

~ *Loki calmly reading a book while all Hel breaks loose*

~ “You have my word that no harm will come to yo-” nvm bitch die

~ *THAT look between Sif and Jane*

~ *Frigga immediately seeing through Odin’s bs lies*

~ *Heimdall: I have defeated the big space ship!! The bigger one behind him: Bitch you thought*

~ “WITCH!!!!” *Now I know who Loki gets his amazing aforementioned smile from*

~ *Selvig using shoes to explain complicated science*

~ *Selvig then using pencils*

~ “Any questions?” “Yeah, can I have my shoe back?”

~ “What’s SHIELD?” “It’s a secret”

~ *Darcy’s cute af face when she sees that Selvig is in the mental hospital*

~ “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather punch your way out?”

~ *Loki shapeshifting into the guard*

~ “Mmm Brother, you look ravishing”

~ “Costumes a bit much”

~ “So tight!”

~ “I can FEEL the righteousness surging!!”

~ “HEY wanna have a rousing discussion about truth?”

~ “Honor?”

~ “Patriotism?”

~ “GOD BLESS AMERICA!”

~ “At last. A little common sens-”Bitch are you really fucking kidding me? (What do you mean that’s not what he said?)

~ “I thought you liked tricks”

~ “I’m Loki, you may have heard of-” SLAP

~ “That was for New York”

~ “I like her”

~ *Loki gazing lovingly at Jane in the background*

~ “Betray him, and I’ll kill you.” “It’s good to see you too Sif”

~ “If you even think about betraying him-” “You’ll kill me? Evidently there will be a line”

~ “I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing.” “I said how hard can it be?”

~ “Whatever your doing brother I suggest you do it faster.” “Shut up Loki

~ “You must’ve missed something.” “I didn’t, I’m pressing every button on this thing”

~ “Well don’t hit it. Just press it, gently.” “I aM pReSsInG iT gEnTlY AND ITS NOT WORKING!!!”

~ *Thor starts slamming buttons and it starts working*

~ *Volstagg: Oh fighting is much fun- OH SHIT IM FALLING!! HELP!!!*

~ “I think you missed a column.” “Shut up”

~ “Why don’t you let me take over? I’m clearly the best pilot”

~ *Bitch I’m the one who can actually fly*

~ “Oh dear. Is she dead?”

~ *Thor knocks over a column* “Not a word”

~ “Now they’re following us”

~ “Now they’re firing at us”

~ “Yes thank you for the commentary Loki, it’s not at all distracting”

~ “Well done, you just decapitated your grandfather”

~ *Seriously, whoever wrote the escape scene is a genius!!!*

~ *Loki yelling at Thor about how thIs was a bad idea you dumb fuck- wait wtf are you doing AAAAHHHHH!!!!1*

~ “You lied to me. I’m impressed”

~ *That smile again snfnejaihfeqrqrsbdsalxdjewonjfeq*

~ “For Asgard!” YEET

~ “Nothing personal boys!”

~ “If it were easy, everyone would do it”

~ “Are you mad?” “Possibly”

~ “TADAAA”

~ “Oh yeah, my father. Eric Selvig”

~ “And these” “yeah… those”

~ “How did you find me?” “You were naked on television”

~ “I don’t get paid enough. I don’t get paid at all”

~ “What’s happening? Birds? Birds are happening?”

~ “All right are you ready?” “I am”

~ *phone rings* “It’s not me”

~ “Why are there so many shoes in here?”

~ “I’ll just text her”

~ “So who’s Richard?”

~ *Thor hanging his hammer on a coat hanger*

~ “Where are your pants?” “Oh he says it helps him think”

~ “Loki is dead” “Oh thank God!”

~ “Better get my pants”

~ “Do you even know what these things do?” “No” “…Neither do I”

~ “Ooh get the guy with the sword!”

~ “Oops”

~ *Ian’s high-pitched scream*

~ *Does car insurance cover My Car Was Sucked Into Another Planet Due To A Cosmic Event That Only Occurs Once Every 5000 Years or no?*

~ *Thor and Malekith fighting between worlds and poor little Mjolnir trying to keep up*

~ *The two of them against windows*

~ *AAAHHH*

~ *Awww! Look at the cute little Jotunheim monster! He’s so adorable I wanna pet him so much!’

~ *Darcy and Ian kissing after he saved her life*

~ “Darcy?” “Jane!” “Ian?” “Selvig.”

~ “Myuh Myuh!!”

~ *Thor ends up on the subway*

~ *The girl taking 50 photos*

~ *Thor and the woman colliding into eachother*

~ “I’ve come to accept your surrender”

~ *Malekith gets crushed by his own ship. Now that’s some lovely karma right there*

~ *Darcy and Ian go back to kissing*

~ “He kinda committed treason on our way out” oops

~ Jotunheim Puppy chasing birds

Wow I’m so sorry this was so long. But guess what? It’s gonna get even longer. Sorry, again.

So one of the differences between the first and second Thor movies is that Thor 2 has humor in the climax whereas Thor 1 doesn’t. This is because of the differences with who is the villain. In Thor 1, Thor is having to fight his brother. To quote Avengers, they “played together and fought together” for several millennia. Of course there’s not going to be any humor in it cause there shouldn’t be. The climax at the end of the movie isn’t supposed to be some epic battle between the forces of Good TM and Bad TM. It’s supposed to be tragic that he’s having to fight his own brother because Loki lost his mind due to so many factors. The last joke in the film is “You’re an amazon liar brother, always have been” “It’s good to have you back”. There’s nothing else till the end credit scene. That’s because Kenneth Branagh knew that this was supposed to be viewed at as being sad a hopeless, not some awesome upbeat battle.

Thor 2 on the other hand, is exactly that. Thor has known Malekith for.. what? 2 days? Maybe 3? His relationship and dynamic with Malekith is different than with his brother. To Thor, this is just another enemy attacking Asgard. And I’m not sure whether this was intentional or not (because I remember reading somewhere how Allen Taylor had a bitch of a time in the editing process so I think the movie came out different than he intended) but the lack of any personal relationship will Malekith means the film can make really funny jokes and still have it fit with the film. If anything, I might even argue that the humor helped the film to maintain a very nice positive vibe. Idk I can’t think of the right words to explain it but the jokes actually fit the film very well.

However, then we move on to Ragnarok. With Ragnarok, Thor is fighting his sister. While (just like Malekith) he has only known her for two days, that still doesn’t take away the fact that he is having to fight his sibling. And I’m not a film director but if I had the option of approaching this situation and taking it the Thor 1 route or the the Thor 2 route, I’d go with Thor 1. Because it’s actually incredibly tragic that Hela has been driven to insanity like Loki (though ok a different level) due to Odin’s shitty parenting. She is the horrible way she is because Odin made her that way. And that could’ve been an AMAZINGLY complex story with the audience feeling so much sympathy for Hela like we did with Loki in Thor 1, but the narrative just falls flat for two reasons. 1) Taika admitted he didn’t want the film to be emotionally complex so 2) The humor in the climax completely detracts from the seriousness of the situation.

Also, some side notes: Yes, this is edited from the original. I accidentally deleted everything and then had to go back and add everything back in. So I also had to re-tag people too. And I also added a bit more explanation at the end. I meant to do so when I originally posted but it never got done till now. Sry. Also sry that it’s so long

#dr badass jane foster #anti ragnarok #anti thor ragnarok #my meta #thor the dark world #thor 2 #thor #loki

83 notes · View notes

despressolattes · 4 years

Text

AFTERMATH | CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE | LEGACIES

book masterlist » book one masterlist

< previous chapter

———

"Did Emma slip everyone fucking happy pills?" wondered Lilah to herself, noticing almost everyone acting kind of loopy. She was sitting with Hope as her cousin mixed up the spell the teacher wrote on the board, "HEALING WITH MAGIC," the instructions for a "Quick healing gel" following.

Rafael walked in slowly, feeling awkward and a little out of place, his hand on the one strap of his backpack that was actually on his back. He took a seat with Lilah and Hope.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she smiled. "Thanks for coming to help my cousin."

Rafael showed up on Lilah's request: a note in his pocket asking him to come to the classroom she was inside of. With the Saltzman twins acting weird and Hope not wanting to ask Landon since he wouldn't heal on his own, Rafael was really the only person Lilah talked to.

MG and Kaleb had crossed her mind, but she hadn't gotten that close to them. She herself couldn't be the one Hope performed the healing spell on since she healed a lot faster than everyone else.

"Anything to avoid the wolves talking about that stupid talent show," he replied.

All three of them laughed, Hope's sounding more forced than the other two.

"Apparently, deciding what we do is a alpha thing," he explained.

The teacher started talking, saying, "Once you have your gel mixed, make a shallow cut on your volunteer."

"Do you trust me?" Hope asked, looking up from her mixture at Rafael.

He looked at Lilah, then to her, his voice cracking as he nervously said, "Kind of."

"Well, if this does work, Lilah will just kiss you better," Hope said, before quickly bringing her hand to her mouth to cover it. "Oops, that was my inside voice."

That was a Lizzie thing to say... Lilah thought, wondering what the actual hell was going on with her cousin.

"So, what're you gonna do?" Hope asked as she started to place the gel onto the cut she placed right below Rafael's face.

"Huh?" he asked nervously.

"About the talent show?" Hope asked.

"Oh, um, one of the wolves said he was gonna teach me, to-to juggle."

"Juggle?" snorted Lilah.

"Come on, you should do something bold, spontaneous, totally unexpected."

The cut on Rafael's face closed itself, and the teacher congratulated Hope on her good work. Rafael touched his face, and Lilah reached over, grabbing his chin to have him face her so she could get a look himself. His lips were slightly open, watching her intently while she inspected his face.

"See?" Hope said. "Okay, you two, sorry to bolt, but I gotta go figure out what Landon and I are good at together. Besides making out."

"Baaaarrrfff," Lilah said dramatically.

Hope got up to leave, leaving her cousin and the werewolf in the classroom together.

"Something is seriously wrong," Lilah told Rafael. "And I have no idea what because the magical pony is still in it's trap with Dorian."

—

Whatever happened at the talent show, Lilah missed it. Whatever it was that Rafael had said, she wasn't there to hear it. But he said something, and because everyone was acting to loopy to remember and Landon sure as hell wasn't going to tell her, the chances were that she was never never going to hear it.

"Raf, Raf wait up!" Landon said, running after his best friend. "Raf... something you wanna talk about?"

Rafael stopped walking and said, "You know I had that thing in my ear, making me say weird things. I don't even know what I said."

"You were saying some pretty weird things about someone that's pretty much off limits," Landon said. "She's my girlfriend's cousin, but not only that, there's a lot of hurt in Lilah right now. You... you know that right? And Roman can walk through that door any day, and I'm betting they'd be together again. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to see her break anymore than she already has, either."

"Like I said, I have no clue what I said, so if I said something about Lilah that I shouldn't have, don't worry about it," Rafael told him, trying to shrug it off.

What Lilah did see was what looked like an intense conversation between the brothers, watching as they did a bro-handshake and went their separate ways, a gloomy look on Rafael's face as he told Landon they were fine. He left out of the room, and Lilah went to follow him.

He stood right outside of the entrance to the library, pressed against the wall looking sad while people passed by.

Lilah was off limits, he was trying to tell himself. She's got a lot of hurt in her right now...

"Rafael?"

His head snapped in the direction of her voice, seeing her standing there. Her face showed the concern her voice was dripping with.

"I'm okay, Lilah," he said, starting to walk through the corridor but he heard her footsteps speed up and arms wrapped around him from behind. He stopped walking, feeling the girl's arms wrap around him as she pressed herself to his face, her cheek near the bottom of his shoulder blade.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm here," she said, not letting either of them move. His hands went to her arms, holding them. "In a matter of months, a lot of things happened with me. And I'm glad I can always count on you. So... just know you can count of me, too."

————

With the commotion that was the unicorn, the urn went missing, and Alaric was frantic because he was sure he had something to do with it. Trying to find it wasn't easy.

"You asked Kaleb to go to Maple Hollows with you guys? Why?" Lilah asked, looking at Alaric with a confused look as she sat on her bed, watching her cousin pack.

"He didn't go home for spring break, and I'm not too sure if I can trust him with MG," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "And since you didn't want to come with us or go to New Orleans to see Freya, are you sure you don't want to go see your mom?"

"I'm positive. Now back track, what else did I freaking miss? What about him and MG?" she asked.

"Lots," Alaric chuckled. "You stay safe and out of trouble. Hope, I'll see you downstairs."

Alaric smiled at the Mikaelson girls before leaving.

"Why aren't you coming with, anyways?" Hope asked, folding the clothes she picked out for the the Saltzman Spring Break trip to Maple Hollows, which turned into a monster hunting trip, Dorian, Emma, and MG all tagging along, too.

"Someone has to hold down the fort with all the adults I trust gone," Lilah chuckled. "I'm cool off of leaving the monster chasing to you. Just... no killing the Saltzman twins, alright?"

"Are you sure you don't want to go home to see Freya?" she asked.

"If I do, I can always just leave," Lilah replied. "I'll be fine. I have Rafael, Landon, I can go and actually talk to MG more. I feel like he and I haven't even talked since Landon and Raf first got here, and he used to be one of my best friends. I was today years old when I found out there was drama between him and Kaleb. I feel like I'm missing out on everyone's lives too much already."

"Okay, you watch our boys, I'll watch the girls," Hope said, turning around to hug her cousin. "I'll see you in a week. Gotta go fix my mistakes since I thought a unicorn was cute."

Lilah laughed, plopping back down onto her bed as her cousin left through the door with her luggage.

"Bring snacks!" Lilah yelled behind her. "Try to win the Saltz twins over with food!"

—

"Okay, boys, I need Rafael to pack up!" Lilah announced, walking straight into Rafael and Landon's room, without knocking.

When she realized Landon was not in the room and Rafael was changing, she also realized she probably should have knocked.

"Oh, God, I am so sorry," she said, flushing a bright red as she turned around quickly.

Rafael frantically tried to get his pants on, but was struggling now that he was flustered.

"What is happening here?" Landon asked, walking towards his bedroom to see his girlfriend's cousin standing there red while his foster brother was pantless.

"I entered without knocking," Lilah said, still embarassed. She cleared her throat as Rafael said she could turn around, Landon walking past her into her room. She turned on her heels, clapping her hands together and pointing at Rafael. "Yes, as I said. Pack."

"For what...?" Landon trailed off.

"Damon and Elena Salvatore, yes I said Salvatore, as in the Salvatore school, anyways, they want to go on a little romantic date, and want me to watch their kids for a few days," Lilah said. "And I was wondering if Raf wanted to come with me."

"I'll come," Landon said.

"Really bro, you and kids?" Rafael asked his foster brother with disbelief.

"Hey, I'm not the one with known anger issues here. I think I can babysit some children," joked Landon.

Rafael picked up one of his pillows and threw it at Landon.

"Doesn't matter, the more the merrier," Lilah said. "Both of you back for like three days. Thanks!"

She hurried away, glad she got some extra help. Stefanie was eight and easy to take care of, but Lexi, their youngest, was a peculiar two year old that only ever wanted Elena or Damon, and never Lilah or Hope when they babysat.

———

CHARACTER FILES

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

And since we never know what Landon and Rafael were doing that spring break when Kaleb, Hope, Alaric, Emma, Dorian, and the twins went out of town and got quarantined by Malivore, Imma just have them go with Lilah to babysit the Salvatore children. I have no idea Stefanie's age in the show, and I also made Lexi up, named after Stefan's wonderful bestie.

#the originals #the originals fanfiction #the originals imagines #the vampire diaries #The Vampire Diaries RP #the vampire diaries imagines #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries headcanon #Legacies #cw legacies #legacies imagines #legacies fanfiction #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #mikaelson #hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

talkingismylifewrites · 5 years

Note

Super self indulgent but here goes- king au ot4 where both of the girls get pregnant at the same time? How would that work between them and the band and such?

okay so this already kinda exists in the og ot4 au!!

going back through my notes i realized i barely mentioned it which is...my bad

but basically there are the twins-that-are-not-twins (lovingly given names so that their initials when put together spell HAHA and are hereby usually referred to as such)

(ex: HAHA have a dentist appointment at 12)

this is due to dom and ronnie being pregnant within 12months of each other, therefore having irish twins

buuuuuuuuut lets have fun with this, shall we??

it starts with johanna sitting the four of them down and she’s like, guys, i have good news: i’m pregnant

regina: oh fuck

turns out, johanna is pregnant and so is regina

ron and dom are on one hand over the moon, but also nervous as shit

because johanna has hooooorrible pregnancies like homegirl is always sick and tired and bloated and emotional as fuck

like it takes a lot out of her so it can be pretty brutal

meanwhile, regina has the core strength of an olympic god so she’s got the easy pregnancies where if she had the opportunity she’d still be touring until her water breaks

when the others find out that regina and johanna are both pregnant at the same time, they’re all like ofc you horn dogs

(but there’s like, a month?? difference?? like regina is due before johanna so it wasn’t from one extreme sex night its just being unlucky)

it manages to fall during recording so they can take longer breaks while johanna writes songs next to a bucket because SOMEONE (ratty) brought in a tuna melt for lunch

the other three really kinda dote on johanna?? because she’s just a fucking wreck with the pregnancy

like uber emotional and always getting weird cravings in the middle of the night (yes, jo, it’s weird as shit to mix marmite and kettle corn ya nasty)

(”literally you cannot talk,” says johanna as she watches regina dribble applesauce over strawberry ice cream)

(”it’s like apple pie!” shrieks regina)

the good news is with two women pregnant there are two men with four hands between them to rub their swollen ankles

one runs to the store to get the god awful cravings while the other placates the hangry wife and watches the children

plus like, have you ever seen a man try to build a crib?? they never use the goddamned directions, but hey two idiots are better than one

so finally, it comes time for regina to go into labor

and here’s where the drama starts: regina has an easy pregnancy but homegirl has the WORST labors

like, we’re talking for her first born she labored for 33 hours and that is considered her easiest labor

so regina goes into labor and the four of them rush to the hospital

(chrissie and mary tag team watch the other kids)

regina gets immediately checked in and she’s in bed just like, fucking dying like she has the labor in her back, she’s sweating, throwing up, she’s just dying

and johanna is there holding her hand and brushing the hair back from her face

dom is feeding her ice chips and reminding her of her lamaze breathing

and ron is timing the contractions like a fuckin’ champ

and then, twenty hours into regina’s labor, johanna’s water breaks

suddenly, they’re at defcon one

the doctor is notified that uhhh now there’s two babies getting ready to be born for the same family, and johanna gets rolled into a bed next to regina’s

so now the both of them are in labor only, there’s one slight hitch

johanna’s pregnancies suck but her labors? walks in the park

labor is just a piece of cake, its like she went through hell for ten months only to be granted a reprieve the moment the baby’s ready to come

baby’s like, hey mom, sorry i was such a dick to you, lemme make it up to you by just yeeting myself out of your vagina toot sweet

meanwhile regina is like begging for drugs while jo’s like oh boy, just had a big contraction, oops, its over

jo’s baby comes in like, six hours

dom and ron ro sham bo it out for who gets to cut the chord on this one (dom wins)

dom makes the mistake of being like, jesus, jo, that was a rough one!!

regina, trapped in the other bed, dilated five centimeters, numbed from the waist down: when i can move again, i’ll kill you

they let regina hold the baby despite her being in active labor and on one hand she’s like i love this baby so much??

but on the other she’s like this baby is my mortal enemy how dare it mock me and my unborn child with its speed and efficiency

jo: this baby sure as shit ain’t ron’s, cuz he’s never early for ANYTHING

regina: i’m definitely having ron’s and let me tell you, he’s a DEAD MAN WALKING

so, fast forward to hour 49 and regina finally manages to get the kid out

in the meantime, everyone and their mother has been by to see twin #1, so twin #2 is born to, well, not an audience, but there is an adoring crowd awaiting it

melina: they’re a proper drama queen, darling, just like you!!

regina, exhausted, spent, furiously sucking down pure oxygen and trying not to pass out, still manages to raise one hand to flip her off

basically, they have two babies, four times the love, and regina has enough shit to complain about until the next baby

(i could have made this hella angsty but decided to keep it light but if anyone’s interested in the angstier version lo and i came up with hit me up) (felt like being nice for a change)

#ot4king!au #ot4 #john/veronica/roger/dominique #hc #caro talks #answered ask

6 notes · View notes

edenfalling · 6 years

Text

[Fic] "Free Time and Other Unicorns" - MCU (Defenders)

sholio said: MCU Defenders, Colleen and Misty (or your choice of MCU Defenders-verse ladies if those ones don't click), "Magical Creatures." Finding some kind of unexpected magic animal, or having to fight one. (1,675 words)

--------------------------------------------- Free Time and Other Unicorns ---------------------------------------------

"Unicorns," Misty said flatly, crossing her arms as she leaned against her kitchen doorframe, still slightly irritated at the unexpected disruption of her day off. Her plans had involved catching up on her Netflix queue and then an hour or two down at her salon getting her monthly dose of hair care and gossip, not whatever nonsense New York's gaggle of vigilantes had stumbled into this week. But it was better to be in the loop than to get blindsided by the aftermath, however inconvenient that level of involvement could be on occasion.

Colleen made a sympathetic face. "I know, it's ridiculous. But I swear one of the tourist-trap cabs has a horse with a horn and nobody seems to have noticed."

"Except you?"

"I think after you exposed to enough weird stuff, all the other weirdness sort of... loses its ability to slide under your attention. Or maybe it's just the Iron Fist." Colleen shrugged, hands still stuffed into the pockets of her windbreaker as she hovered near Misty's front door.. "That's one reason I want you to come help me check it out."

Misty laughed. "Token Muggle's a new job description, but what the hell. I've got a few hours before I need to be anywhere. Unicorn hunting in Central Park's as good a way as any to pass the time."

"Unicorn investigation," Colleen corrected. "I checked with Karen Page -- you remember her, right? -- and she didn't find anything that sounds like a pattern of trouble around Central Park. Plus neither of us meets the, uh. You know. Traditional unicorn bait requirements. Or at least I assume not?" She flushed and didn't quite meet Misty's gaze.

Misty raised her eyebrows.

Colleen's flush deepened.

Misty took pity on her, and smiled. "Yeah, point taken. I think that was always kind of metaphorical, though, and anyway, aren't Asian unicorns different? Who says this one's European?"

"Me. Nobody could mistake a qilin for a horse. Trust me on that."

"Always," Misty said. "Let me dig out some shoes and we'll hit the road."

So much for her Netflix queue, but she could probably still make it to the salon in the afternoon.

---------------

Thirty minutes (and one delayed A-train) later they stood on the curb of 59th street, hands shoved into the pockets of their jackets against the early spring chill, and watched a black equine figure with an oddly reflective coat shift idly in its traces while the cab's driver scrolled through something on her phone. The sharp, spiral horn was unmistakable, and yet nobody else seemed to have noticed.

"That sure is a unicorn," Misty said, just loud enough for Colleen to hear over the general background noise of the city streets.

"Uh-huh."

"Do you think the driver knows?"

"Beats me."

Misty sighed. "Figures. Guess we'd better go ask."

"You think that's safe?" Colleen asked.

"Of course not. But it's a lot more honest than stalking the poor woman or hiring Jones or Page to ransack the internet for her life history and all her company's records, and if she does know it'll save a lot of time. I'm a big fan of the direct approach."

Colleen tipped her head sideways in acknowledgment. "Fair. And this is more your thing than mine. Just let me take point if it goes bad -- your arm is cool, but sometimes it takes, uh--"

"Weird glowy shit to hurt other weird glowy shit?"

Colleen made a face like she'd just smelled rotten leftovers, then laughed. "God, that sounds so undignified. But yeah."

"I am more than happy to leave the weird glowy shit in your hands," Misty said. "Oh, green light. Here we go."

They hurried across the street toward the waiting cab. The driver seemed to catch sight of their approach in her peripheral vision, and looked up from her phone. "Hello! Are you the Johnsons?" she called, straightening her top hat and tucking a flyaway strand of blonde hair behind one ear.

"Not the last time I checked," Misty said. "And we're not doing a walk-in request either, sorry."

The driver dropped about two-thirds of her customer-service cheer and shrugged. "Eh, not your fault. I just hate no-shows, and these dumbfucks are already ten minutes late. Anyway, you're here for the horse, not me, yeah? You can pet Sugarplum if you want. She's a sweetheart. Just make sure she can see you coming and don't touch her until she gets a chance to check you out a little, okay?"

"Do you get a lot of people wanting to pet the horses?" Misty asked without moving to take the driver up on the offer. She'd never had a horse-mad phase like a lot of her friends, and even if she had, unicorns were a whole other story.

Colleen, typically, broke into a huge smile and acted like petting a giant magic animal that could crush her to death with a careless step was the best thing since sliced bread. She took a careful step toward the unicorn -- and what kind of name was Sugarplum anyway? -- and extended an open palm for the animal to examine. The unicorn rolled its eye as if giving Colleen a professional once-over, and then turned its head to snuffle at Colleen's skin with its fuzzy lips and oversized teeth.

"Sorry I don't have any snacks for you," she murmured into the unicorn's ear. "But you're wonderful. Yes you are."

Misty had a sudden surety that Colleen was one of those girls who'd had a horse-mad phase.

She turned back to the driver. "Thanks. Um. This is going to sound a little weird, but, are you aware that your horse, uh--"

She trailed off. The driver looked politely inquiring and not at all impatient. (She gave good customer-service face, Misty noted.)

"Sugarplum's a unicorn," Colleen said. "Yes she is, aren't you? A wonderful unicorn with a sharp horn and strong hooves, and you could skewer an asshole right through a brick wall, couldn't you? I bet you could."

Colleen's attraction to Danny Rand -- also fuzzy, arguably adorable, out of place in a modern city, and unquestionably dangerous -- took on an interesting new dimension in Misty's head. She promptly shoved that thought aside in favor of watching the cab driver's customer service face melt into tired exasperation.

"Fuck. The concealment charm's wearing off again, isn't it? And my old magician retired so now I have to go deal with that complete jerkwad Strange to get it refreshed. How is this my life." The driver pulled off her top hat and raked her fingers through her hair, dislodging even more strands from her already disheveled braid. Then she paused and shot Misty a sharp stare. "...Nobody else is reacting. The spell can't be fraying that much. So how did you two see through it?"

Misty glanced at Colleen, who shrugged unhelpfully. She sighed, and turned back to the cab driver. "We've been through some weird shit. Our current working theory is that that makes us more likely to notice other weird shit. If you've got a better explanation, I'd love to hear it."

"I just want to know where and how you got a unicorn," Colleen said. "And why you brought her to the city. Shouldn't she be running around wild in the mountains or something?"

The cab driver sighed. "Okay, A, no, I think that's how it works. Lots of people can get mixed up in one weird thing and it just rolls off, but two or more and weirdness starts to sort of stick to you or something. And B, Sugarplum's been with my family for three generations now, and I brought her to New York because the Appalachians are fucking boring and I wanted company and good luck. Also guaranteed protection against muggers," she added, grinning at Colleen. "She can skewer dickwipes right through a brick wall. I've seen it, and it's beautiful."

"Awesome," Colleen breathed, and stroked the unicorn's cheek with slightly worrisome glee.

Misty shook her head fondly. "Yeah, that's some weird shit. Speaking of which, do you mind if we tag along when you go get your... concealment charm, was it? When you get that repaired. I have a feeling a magician is the kind of person I ought to be keeping tabs on."

The cab driver looked down at her phone, then shrugged. "Yeah, why not. Weird shit solidarity and all that. And the Johnsons are now late enough that I don't need to keep waiting for them, so that's me done for the day. Let me unhitch Sugarplum and get the cab put away, and we'll head off to Bleecker St."

"With or without the unicorn?" Misty asked. "Because I've gotta say, walking a unicorn down the street is not the kind of thing that goes unnoticed, even with magic in the mix."

"That's what you think," the driver said. "Bet you ten bucks nobody blinks twice."

"Deal," Colleen said instantly, and then started interrogating the driver about how exactly a concealment charm worked and whether she could buy one for herself.

Misty quietly wrote off any chance of making it to her salon that day. She wasn't sure why she'd thought that might be possible -- she knew by now that both vigilante and supernatural weirdness expanded to fill all the available time and then slopped over to claim even more.

Sugarplum the unicorn nudged her shoulder with its soft, fuzzy lips and blew warm, horse-scented breath into her ear. "You keep your magic snot out of my hair," Misty told it sternly. The unicorn snorted and lipped at the collar of her jacket.

"Rude," Misty said, but she could feel a smile pushing at the corners of her mouth as she raised her flesh and blood hand to stroke gently along the unicorn's nose. "Why is all the weird shit rude?"

Rude, and inconvenient, and hazardous to life and limb, as she could attest from very painful experience.

Still worth it, though.

"Yeah, okay, good horse," Misty told the unicorn, and let the smile win.

---------------------------------------------

End of Fic

---------------------------------------------

That got away from me slightly, and also involved significantly more background research than I intended. Oops? :)

#liz writes stuff #mini ficlet prompt meme #ladies bingo #mcu #defenders (mcu)#misty knight #colleen wing

6 notes · View notes

omnifatal · 3 years

Text

Locals Report 12/5/21

Finally, in person locals again!

This time the venue was Card Exchange in Seattle, and I piloted DPE Striker to a 1-2-1 finish.

R1 vs Josh with Eldlich: We said at the beginning of the round we were going into time, and by god were we right. Game 1 I believe I resolved a fusion destiny and hit the Gozen. I ended getting a couple engage +1s before Josh conceded after revealing 3 traps off his Prosperity. Game 2 he was able to establish a board with Fairy Tail Luna making me mill my 2nd Hayate and resolving a 2nd prosperity quickly depleting my ed resources. I wasn't able to keep the Lord of the Heavenly Prison and Luna beats from getting me in the end. Game 3 we had about 5 minutes to play, and in the confusion of resolving a fusion destiny, I forgot my Shizuku search, which is the whole point! In the end I tried to desperately get hayate to attack, but I was blocked by an IDP and a Rivalry. I ended up attempting to go into Kaina for game (with my Hayate banished in BP I tried to tag out of Raye in MP2), but I didn't have any striker names in hand, so we shook on a draw.

R2 vs Chaos Live Twin: This dude was an anime protagonist. I sat down across from the OCG Live Twin mat, and he told me he had two twin daughters who liked blue and red. He started Game 1 with a password for "full combo", but then tripped me up with the prog staple of "I'm going to banish a light and a dark." His chaos monster of choice was the Chaos Creator, which, combined with his Trouble Sunny, was backed by an Imperial Order. Luckily, my hand was "Oops, all Raye", and I was able to get into Verte for DPE, however I was dead on the crackback to actual factual BLACK LUSTER SOLDIER - ENVOY OF THE BEGINNING. He told me it represented him in the deck, which was really cute. Game 2 I don't remember as well, but as it turns out banishing the links with shark cannon isn't that good if they just get to resummon it off Chaos Creator over and over.

R3 vs Roger with Roger (Vendreads): Originally I was paired against a different person, but as we were sitting down we got informed that we were to be re-paired. This ended up with me sitting across from Roger, much to both of our dismay. I lost the die roll and Roger looked at his opening hand, passed, and conceded. Game 2 I was made to go first and didn't have enough negation to prevent an OTK. Game 3 I was in the drivers seat for most of the game, illegally re-summoned Raye after resolving an Evenly Matched, and asked Roger to take a play back. We both were doing a bit of trolling. I ended up picking it up in the end.

R4 vs Going 2nd Swordsoul: My opponent won the die roll and chose to go second, which already had me a bit nervous. I set up my standard stuff with a couple interruptions, and ran straight into a Lightning Storm. He was able to OTK me straight after. Game 2 my opponent passed the first couple turns and I was able to get my value engine in full swing, with a live multirole and multiple floodgates set. I chose to set a widow anchor with my multirole, which set me up to get blown out by the turn 5 lightning storm. Despite my opponent being well within accesscode range, I wasn't able to get through his baroness board and lost.

As mentioned at the top, I ended with a 1-2-1 record, which is a result I'm not entirely upset with. I pulled an Ulti Droplet from my OTS packs, which certainly brightened my mood at the end. Really though, I think everyone won since we got to see our friends again, and play some Yugioh as it was meant to be played, in person.

DPE overperformed this weekend and I think I'm gonna be keeping him in. I think I lost a decent amount to poor play (overextending into that LS was a big mistake that I regret to be sure), but I also was caught super off-guard by the chaos monsters in Live Twin. Something I may consider for next time is re-introducing Judgement in the side to counter the spell-based board breakers (Harpie's Duster/Lightning Storm especially).

#yugioh #tournament report #sky striker

0 notes

urdearestmom · 6 years

Text

100 Questions

Tagged by @bob-newby-superhero thanks!!

1. What is your nickname? Sari, Sarita, Sarinha

2. How old are you? 18

3. What is your birth month? December

4. What is your zodiac sign? Sagittarius

5. What is your favourite colour? Green!

6. What’s your lucky number? 17 because it’s my birthday lmao

7. Do you have any pets? No but I really want a cat. Everyone in my family has dogs

8. Where are you from? I’m Luso-Canadian (my family is from Portugal but we live in Canada)

9. How tall are you? My driver’s license says 160 cm but the doctor told me 163. Either way, around 5’3”

10. What shoe size are you? Uhh depends on the shoe but usually 6.5-7

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Many, but I always wear the same shit lol

12. Are you random? Sometimes, I guess

13. Last person you texted? I texted myself pictures from my mom’s phone. Last message in general was to @eljane-hoppers

14. Are you psychic in any way? Haha sometimes I think I am, but my mom is more >:^)

15. Last TV show watched? Saw an episode of Four Weddings on TLC this morning

16. Favourite movie? The Book Thief or The Greatest Showman

17. Favourite show from your childhood? iCarly!! Used to watch it religiously after school every day it was on

18. Do you want children? Yes, but definitely not right now lmao

19. Do you want a church wedding? Kind of yeah. It’ll depend on who I end up marrying but it’d probably be some kind of disgrace if I didn’t get married in a church

20. What is your religion? I am Catholic

21. Have you ever been to the hospital? Yup tons of times, whether for myself or other people

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope, I am a Child of God™

23. How is life? Could be better, probably, but it’s pretty chill right now

24. Baths or showers? Showers, but I also really like baths

25. What colour socks are you wearing? Bold of you to assume I’m wearing socks at all

26. Have you ever been famous? I mean if you google my name the results are me. I was on CBC because I was in the national spelling bee in 2012

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? I feel like it’d be fun and cool for a while but then I’d get tired of it. I don’t like having people all up in my business and that seems like what life is like for big celebrities :/ But having a lot of influence would be awesome

28. What type of music do you like? Literally anything except country music (I’m not all that into rap/trap music either, but I can appreciate it from time to time) here’s a playlist of my favourite stuff it’s like seven hours long but if you go through it you’ll see it’s really all kinds :)

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Maybe and I don’t remember? My childhood was a questionable era

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2, both under my head

31. What position do you usually sleep in? I usually fall asleep on my side but I almost always wake up on my back so I don’t actually know how I’m sleeping

32. How big is your house? 2 stories and a basement

33. What do you typically have for breakfast? Cup of milk with something else, usually a bowl of cereal or bread/croissant with Nutella

34. Have you ever left the country? YeET I’ve been to Portugal a bunch of times, Spain once, and to France on a 5-hour layover but we didn’t leave the airport and I don’t remember it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

35. Have you ever tried archery? Does it count if it was on Wii Sports? And yeah once and I was terrible at it

36. Do you like anyone? I think so and it sucks because he’s my friend :(

37. Favourite swear word? Probably fuck, I say it a lot. But I also say shit a lot so I mean idrk

38. When do you fall asleep? Oof regularly past midnight, but the time varies

39. Do you have any scars? A giant burn mark on my leg and a very faint lil thing on my right hand from this time I accidentally did an entire flip in my driveway

40. Sexual orientation? Was previously sure I was straight but I’m kind of starting to question that?

41. Are you a good liar? I like to think that I’m a very convincing actress

42. What languages would you like to learn? Mm I already speak Portuguese (if you ever wanna learn something hmu), and I learned some French because that’s mandatory in Canada but I dropped it and I want to get back into it. So, French! I also learned some German this year and I might continue with it. Also maybe Spanish, I can already understand some

43. Top 10 songs? Umm

Love Is A Battlefield - Pat Benatar

Rock You Like A Hurricane - Scorpions

Theme From New York, New York - Frank Sinatra

True Faith - New Order

Age Of Consent - New Order

A Million Dreams - The Greatest Showman OST

Second Waltz - Dmitri Shostakovich

Power Of Love - Celine Dion

Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry

Halo - Beyonce

44. Do you like your country? Canada? Yeah, I love it except for the stupid ass weather. I get sick every fucking time the season changes

45. Do you have friends from the web? Yeeee!! They’re all awesome people

46. What is your personality type? INFP- there’s more info here if you want to know what that means

47. Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw ftw bitches

48. Can you curl your tongue? Yesssss

49. Pick one fictional character you can relate to? Buzzfeed told me that, based on my music taste, I am “a student of classic rock like School of Rock’s Dewey Finn” (but actually HA I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I LOVED JACK BLACK IN THAT MOVIE)

50. Left or right handed? Righttttt

51. Are you scared of spiders? They don’t scare me as much as induce some kind of panic, but it really depends what kind of spider. Really little ones are actually kind of cute, but big spiders send me into cardiac arrest

52. Favourite food? Akjsnfskd PASTA

53. Favourite foreign food? Idk man I’m already picky af with my food. If I live in Canada does that make the Portuguese food I eat on a daily basis foreign because if so I loooooove me some fuckin barbecued chicken

54. Are you a clean or messy person? Fairly clean. If I wasn’t my mother would hurt me lol

55. If you could switch your gender for a day, what would you do? Idk probably figure out how to pee standing up, maybe make use of the ability to lie on my stomach without hurting my chest :)

56. What colour underwear? I think this is turquoise

57. How long does it take for you to get ready? Depends what I’m getting ready for. On a regular day, ten minutes tops. If I’m going out to an event it can be upwards of an hour; sometimes less, sometimes more

58. Do you have much of an ego? Idk if it’s ego so much as me being confident in myself. Anyone who has a problem with me and decides to be rude about it can suck my non-existent dick

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? I try to suck them but it never lasts for long, I almost always bite them unless I’m really concentrating on not biting

60. Do you talk to yourself? Lmfao only ALL THE TIME

61. Do you sing to yourself? Yeee

62. Are you a good singer? I don’t think I’ll blow out your eardrums but I know I’m not the best either. I’ll just say I’m not terrible

63. Biggest Fears? Heights and deep water

64. Are you a gossip? I live for drama does that make me a gossip

65. Are you a grammar nazi? Yeah if I’m talking to someone I’m very comfortable with (my cousin for example) or if I’m trying to be petty

66. Do you have long or short hair? Long! I’m growing it out so I can be really dramatic and chop it all off later (also thinking of donating it)

67. Can you name all 50 states of America? I can name almost all of them but I always forget a few. I think it’s pretty good considering I was never taught American geography

68. Favourite school subject? Instrumental music and history were my favourites

69. Extrovert or Introvert? Idk I guess extroverted introvert? Is that a thing???? I’m really awkward and panicky in social situations with people I don’t know but if I have friends around I’m just here to have the time of my life

70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No

71. What makes you nervous? Having to talk to people I don’t know (it literally makes me panic it’s horrible)

72. Are you scared of the dark? Sometimes, yeah

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Lmao ok this depends on who the person is and if I’m in that kind of mood (but when I was a kid I used to correct my teachers)

74. Are you ticklish? Yes very

75. Have you ever started a rumour? No

76. Have you ever been out of your home country? Yes, I’ve been to Portugal a bunch of times, Spain once, and France on a layover

77. Have you ever drank underage? Chugged a cup of beer by accident when I was 6 oops

78. Have you ever done drugs? No but even if I had I don’t think I would say it here unless it was something minor like weed

79. What do you fantasize about? Travelling the world!!!!! And like, being a successful adult because right now I have no idea what the actual fuck I’m doing with my life

80. How many piercings do you have? Two, one in each ear

81. Can you roll your Rs? You gotta in Portuguese! I’m also fairly sure my French and German pronunciations are pretty much on point most of the time so I can do those types of R sounds as well

82. How fast can you type? Pretty fast on my phone and not slow on my laptop either (when you’re a writer you end up learning to type faster than you thought you would lol)

83. How fast can you run? Oof I’m not slow when I first start off but that only goes for like max 10 seconds

84. What colour is your hair? Dark brown

85. What colour are your eyes? Also dark brown

86. What are you allergic to? Bigots

87. Do you keep a journal? I have a diary I’ve had since I was like 10 but I don’t write in it very often. I also have a notebook where I write down fic ideas and outline plots

88. Are you depressed about anything? I actually think I might have seasonal depression or something but I’m not sure

89. Do you like your age? Yeah I guess being 18 is cool

90. What makes you angry? People who refuse to listen to reason

91. Do you like your own name? Yes it means princess!

92. Did you ever get a foreign object up your nose? No but I ate lead once

93. Do you want a boy or a girl for a child? No preference as long as it is alive and healthy

94. What talents do you have? Uhh I can play two instruments and will be learning a third does that count? I just remembered I can also balance a spoon on my nose

95. Sun or moon? Moon

96. How did you get your name? My mom had a friend named Sara when she was a kid and she always liked the name so here I am having been named Sara

97. Are you religious? Kind of? I don’t go to church very often but I think I believe in God (I believe that there’s something, at least). I’ve also received all the Sacraments that I can (as of right now that’s baptism, first communion, and confirmation)

98. Have you ever been to a therapist? Nope

99. Colour of your bedspread? Right now it’s just plain white

100. Colour of your room? Bright green!

Yeet I’m finished! Took forever ‘cause I kept getting interrupted but oh well

tagging: @eljane-hoppers @hannahberrie @mikeywheelerr @queer-deckovskij

#yeet #look at all this information about me #what an interesting person i am #SIKE

2 notes · View notes

giraffles · 7 years

Text

Blaze of Glory

the second of two non-finale compliant The Adventure Zone fics I wrote in a mad dash before that episode dropped, so spoilers up through all of Story & Song and all that. shout out to my friends who came up with this ridiculous, yet so in character, fic idea. parts got a little more angsty than I intended but I’m real good at that oops.

content warning for stuff like drug use, murder, and everyone being completely unashamed about such things. listen. it’s ya boys. do you expect anything less??

Blaze of Glory (side Barry/Lup, please check those tags)

One last mission for a dear friend who can't do it himself, a plate of special macarons, and absolutely no dogs on the moon.

you can also read it here on AO3!

"You sure this is the way?" Merle asks for the third time, attempting to peer over the edge of the parchment. Taako shoos him away, pouring his concentration into trying to figure out if the map was right way up. He should have brought a compass. Or someone with any sense of direction. But there weren't many people he trusted to come along on the mission, and even fewer of them who would approve of it. It was a sensitive topic concerning a secretly sensitive man; one who would never quite understand what they were doing, regardless of the fact he had made them promise to carry out his will. Magical memory loss was a funny thing like that; because how can you miss something, be angry about something, feel any emotion, if you couldn't remember it? Even now, with visions of multiple lives he's lead all clear in chronological order, there's still that headache that comes with it. The bitter guilt and anger over not knowing something so important. Which was why it was just him and Merle-- No Magnus, as strange as it felt not to have him there, because Magnus didn't know any more. "This is definitely the right way." Taako says with confidence far beyond his means. Fake it 'till you make it, he always said. (Or was it Lup who had come up with that one? Maybe things were still a little jumbled.) "Neverwinter is right over there. Beyond that hill." Merle gives him a look that says 'whatever you say, bucko', but only crosses his arms instead of protesting. The dwarf has tried to keep the mood light, and Taako appreciates that, lest the enormity of the situation overtake them. It's one thing to kill bad guys, to strike down jellies and undead and gods-know-what still hid in the dark corners of the world. It's quite another to be actively seeking out someone to murder them. It's not even the murder part that has him distracted. That's easy, and the scumbag deserves it, deserves it a hundred times over for hurting someone so dear. What's got him a little shaken in their part in this new era they've accidentally created. The Day of Story and Song will live on in the collective consciousness of so, so many planes of existence, and they'll always be at the center of it all. Any where they go now, people know. They know of the Starblaster crew, their journey through universes, they know their faces and deeds and some of the stupider things they've done. It makes a lot of things simpler. It makes tracking down a tyrant-ex-governor really fucking hard. Taako resolves to kill him extra dead for making them trudge through all of these swamps. At least anything with two brain cells knows to avoid the two of them, and anything too stupid to get in their path doesn't live long. He can't believe he ever forgot this power, these things that make up his very core, and it's good to burn off a little steam on twig blights and awakened bushes. And now with a decade of extra adventuring under his sleeve, it's only compounded his magical ability. It's the same with all of them. Anyone would be hardpressed to find someone equal to the seven aliens that helped fight tooth and nail for their reality. "D'ya think he's okay?" It's a rhetorical question at heart, yet Merle asks it aloud anyway. "Pff, he's fine." Taako insists as he climbs over a fallen stump and tangle of exposed roots. He has to stop and pull Merle out of the snare when he inevitably gets himself stuck. "I'm sure he's carving ducks or playing ninja or whatever." It's almost too good, how he's able to lie to everyone. Including himself. Because it still feels wrong to be off gallivanting without Magnus. They'd been together for so long, been through tailor made hells and cosmic turmoil as a team. It feels wrong. Merle sighs. "I know, I know. It's for the best. I still feel bad though." "He's fine," Taako repeats, "I made sure someone would be there to keep him busy." And it had been such a trial to arrange everything. Because he had to do it in a way that kept Magnus in the dark while also not raising his suspicions. Luckily, Magnus had been willing enough to accept excuses and place enough trust in them to not notice anything. And maybe that's really what has him in a bad mood, the fact that him and Merle had to betray a man so open and honest. A man who nearly stumbled into their secret meetings about plans and intel one too many times. Taako can't wait to find Kalen and pop one in his ass.

He doesn't catch what Magnus says, but whatever it was, it has Lup laughing hysterically, nearly wheezing as she rolls off the bed. He should really see if she's okay, but judging by her muffled giggles, she's fine for the moment. Barry puts his hand in the cheeto bag, only to come back confused and cheese-less. Had they really finished the whole thing already? "Shh, shh!" Magnus attempts through his own snickers, "You have to be really quiet or it won't work!" "What won't work?" Barry asks. Instead of answering, Magnus rolls onto the floor beside Lup. She's trying to catch her breath, but breaks down any time she tries to look at the fighter. Barry joins them only because Magnus produces a tin of pringles out of somewhere, and certainly not because he felt left out or anything. Certainly not because it's real nice to lay next to Lup and just be, while she's vibrant and warm and very much alive. A lightning strike in mortal form, brimming with destructive potential and yet so sweet in a way that nearly broke him when she didn't come back. Nah. He's here for the pringles. "Lavender." Magnus declares, and Lup loses it again. "The cookies?" They had been vanilla lavender macaroons, right? With enough of each to cover up the pungent drug Lup added to the batch. Where did she even find weed on a moonbase? "Those were chamomile," Lup sounds almost offended, "He means what you sound like, babe." However that doesn't lend any clarity to the statement. "Shhhh!" Magnus places his hands over both their mouths, "You can hear color." The concept is absolutely absurd, because senses don't work like that, and yet he's seriously considering it. Time has already gone a little funky, slipping sideways and slowing to a crawl. The scholar in him has a little voice that pipes up to say that it's just the altered state they're all in-- but it's soft and hazy, and goes quiet even as he tries to chase the trails of academic thought. Lup is laughing again, and it reminds him of the conservatory, of the way the sun caught her hair on an illuminated afternoon, how they shone like strands of gold. Golden and warm and all wrapped up in each other. "Holy shit." Barry says. "I can do you one better," Lup interjects, "Don't move." "Why not?" "Just trust me." She pats both of them on the arm, though she lingers on his. And they're still for a moment, and then another, even though there's a sensation that the world is trying to move around them. He could stay like this for the rest of the night actually. Even fall asleep, maybe. "Woaaah," Magnus sounds blown away by some secret revelation, "I can feel the ground moving." "I know, right? Fuckin' crazy." Barry isn't convinced that's what they're feeling, but he lets it go. No reason to contest the fact. Not when "Operation Distract-Magnus-For-As-Long-As-Possible" was in effect. So far, so good. Hopefully they would be a little less wasted by the time that Taako and Merle got back. Hopefully, they'd be successful in their own mission, and no one would be the wiser. Then again, he had watched them work for a year. His confidence in them might be a little shaky. But that was a problem for future Barry, not high-as-hell Barry.

"We are not lost!" "It's okay to admit you made a mistake," Merle tries to be comforting, "But this isn't the right street." "We. Are. Not. Lost." Taako spits out from behind gritted teeth. The truth is, they're lost. Again. At least this time they're in the city. The really shitty part of the city. Neverwinter is still rebuilding from the ravages of the Hunger, which is heartening to see, and also made their entrance easier. Whole sections are still in ruins however, broken and sad as people try to pick up the pieces, but no one notices the two strangers in their midst. Taako had the brilliant idea to cast a camouflage spell on both of them, lest they be recognized before they could find Kalen. He's so used to having one on normally that it hadn't occurred to him at first. He played it off as waiting for the right moment. Somehow, true to their usual adventuring luck, they'd stumbled into the seedy side of town and gotten turned around. He's not scared of what anyone might try to do to them, not when Merle could backhand them into a wall with divine vengeance. It's the principle of the matter, and the fact that they're wasting time that would be better spent fulfilling a blood oath. "Just ask for directions." "No." "Taako," Merle sounds desperate, "Let's just get this over with so we can go home." Taako takes a deep breath. He's right. If anyone out of the three of them was to be the voice of reason-- Two. The two of them. "Fine," he concedes, "I'll ask the next piece of riffraff we see, but I'll have you know it's not my fault if they steal all your gold." Merle makes a comment that it's usually Taako himself doing the stealing, but he barely hears him as they round a corner and nearly collide with a group of rough looking men. He has a moment of regret for making himself look like some sort of ethereal beauty. Merle looks like an unassuming and grubby halfling with the spell, mostly because he thought it would be funny. But now they're staring down three humans and someone who might be half orc, looking at them like treasure has just fallen into their laps. "Hail and well met, my dudes," He forces a smile, "Would any of you happen to know the way to the Cheap Rat?" "That's not a place for the likes of you." One leers at them, at least a full foot taller than Taako. He also smells like he hasn't showered in a week. Gross. "Full of dangerous pieces of riffraff, it is." Oops. Him and Merle make eye contact.

Suddenly, it's show time. He can say later that it was a badass, almost graceful fight, but it was really a lot of screaming and spell casting, over nearly as soon as it started. Merle even gets a hit in with Smoosher for good measure. Taako steps over their unconscious and bloodied bodies with disdain. At least they're not dead. He's pretty sure they're not dead. The amount of fucks he has left to give are approaching a dangerous low. "God, can't ask for one easy job." Taako complains as Merle wipes his warhammer on one of the thug's shirts. "I dunno, that was pretty easy compared to other times." "I'm not sure if anything can top some of those 'other times'," Taako air quotes, "Good shot at his knee, though." "I wasn't aiming for his knees." Merle mutters, and he drops that thread of conversation.

The Cheap Rat is a semi-famous pub in the Rogues Quarter of Neverwinter. It's famous for it's booze, hard-to-find location, the no questions asked policy, and again, the cheap booze. Taako has collected multiple reports of a man matching the slimeball’s description frequenting the establishment. He's reasonably sure this is where they'll find him, and if not, maybe they can get a lead to follow. It's a dingy, beat-up looking place, but is surprisingly crowded and filled with joyous voices within. Another day he might have even considered grabbing a drink there. Taako and Merle turn a few heads when they walk in, but they don't find any trouble beyond having to push through throngs of people to reach the bar. Merle is delighted to find that the bar stools are specifically designed to allow shorter races to climb up them, which is explained when he realizes the woman behind the counter is a halfling. She's installed runners along the back of the bar so she can stand level with even tall elven patrons. "What'll it be, boys?" She asks in a sing-song voice. Another halfling darts behind her with multiple overflowing glasses. As tempting as it is, getting lit probably isn't the best plan. Spell casting while tipsy is a big no-no. "Nothing for me, thanks, but listen, darling," She raises an eyebrow at the pet name but he continues on, "We're looking for a friend of mine." The word 'friend' in this context is like acid on his tongue. Taako smiles through it. She pauses, then leans on the counter towards him. "What kind of friend?" "I thought people didn't ask questions here," Merle pipes in, "Or was that a different rodent-themed bar?" The halfling laughs, and starts pouring a glass of whiskey. "No, you've got the right one. Why don't you two come on back and we can talk?" That sets off a red flag or seventy, but he's not sure he wants to risk trying to read her mind on the off chance the spell will fail. For once they can't rush in and take things with brute force. And he doesn't want any collateral damage, heaven knows Kalen has already caused enough of that already. Magnus wasn't the only one who lost someone when Raven's Roost crumbled. "Alright." He agrees tersely, and Merle follows as the halfling pulls them into a backroom. The door shuts behind them and the sounds of the Cheap Rat instantly cease. Taako senses a warding barrier, typically used against eavesdropping both mundane and magical, and he tries to calm the danger alarms going off in his head. Merle shifts nervously. "I know who you are," She pulls a necklace from under her shirt, "This little baby negates most illusion spells. And may I say, I'm honored to have you both!" Her eyes sparkle with admiration even as he's running through three different escape plans. Like the idiot wizard he was, he never thought that someone might be able to counter something so simple, ruining their disguise and with it the element of surprise. Hundreds of near misses rattle around his head with the chorus of what if, what if, what if; And that's not mentioning the times things went horribly wrong regardless. Merle kicks him. Knocked out of his near-panic trance state, Taako recovers. "Well, uh, that saves us a lot of trouble then." "I'm Tuge," She offers, "Who are you looking for and what can I do to help?" They do their best to explain the situation without giving up too many personal details. The incident at Raven's Roost isn't often talked about, but Tuge already knows about it. Her face darkens when he tells her who they're chasing and why. "That motherfucker," She fishes a key out of her pocket and tosses it to Taako, "Up the stairs, fourth door on the left. Try not to get blood on everything, yeah?" "Loud 'n clear, miss," Merle nods, "Thanks for your time." "Let me know if you need anything else!" Tuge calls after them as they slip out of her warded room and bolt up the tavern stairs. Stealth is neither of their's forte, so he's thankful now for the ruckus of the bar customers below. Even so, they creep along the wall, moving as only fast as they dared to. Taako can barely focus past the rapid fire pace of his heart, ramped up on adrenaline and fear and maybe a little thrill. They reach the fourth door on the left. He places the key in the slot and turns it slowly. They both slip in before slamming it shut behind them. "What the hell?" Snaps a man at the desk. He's aged, but still looking well off enough to maybe pass as nobility. Graying. A little fat. "Who the hell are you?" Taako dismisses the camouflage spell on both of them. Kalen's eyes go wide. "Your worst nightmare." He takes out his wand and Merle casts zone of truth. Because of course he does. At least he's good at it. "It's not--" "Oh no," Merle waves Smoosher, "Oh no, you don't get to try to explain yourself. End of the line, bub." "We were asked to do one thing, and one thing only," Taako snarls, "And that was to kill you fucking dead. This is for Julia." Kalen doesn't have time to grovel before he's shredded by a high-level magic missile.

The trip home to the Bureau of Balance headquarters is done in relative silence. He doesn't want to admit how good it felt to murder that bastard in cold blood. He doesn't want to think about how exhausted it all made him. They sit in the ball in the carrier bay for longer than they need to, quiet, until Avi raps on the glass door. "Uh, guys?" "We're comin'." Merle sighs and pushes the hatch open. Taako follows, mostly on autopilot as Avi chatters about something or other-- "Wait, back up, Magnus is what?" "Crying in the middle of the quad," Avi confirms, "I'm not sure why. The Director-- I mean, Lucretia, she's already there." He groans. He asked Lup to do one goddamn thing. Today has already dragged on too long. Taako braces himself for what they might find while they hurry up to the main level. Lucretia is indeed there, looking more exasperated than concerned, with Magnus sobbing on the grass and Lup gently patting his shoulder. Barry looks like he's asleep face down under a nearby tree. Other employees are giving them a wide berth, with no one even attempting to come close to find out what's wrong. It's a very suspicious scene. "There you two are," Lucretia looks relieved, "He's been like this for the past half hour." "What even happened?" "I promise I'll take care of it and everything!" Magnus weeps, "I can even build a fence so it can't run off the edge of the moon!" "I told him he couldn't get a dog," She explains, "And I really just meant he can't go while he's so... intoxicated? Honestly, I'm not sure what the three of them got into." Taako has a pretty good idea. "It's okay buddy," he hears Lup begin, "I'll go steal you fifty puppies. How does that sound? As many puppies as your big arms can hold." Magnus sniffles. Then he starts crying harder. Lucretia rubs her face. "I guess he's mostly fine." Merle says. Taako tries not to laugh. "I can't protect that many puppies!" Magnus wails, "How am I supposed to protect them all?" "Yeah," Taako agrees, "I think he's gonna be just fine."

#the adventure zone #taz #taz fanfic #blupjeans #sorta #fanfiction #ao3fic #drug cw #murder cw #weed cw #I'll never come up with a better title in my life #that's it I'm all tapped out forever #go home kids #and 420 BLAZE IT #anyway #giraffles

9 notes · View notes

mishamoonberry · 7 years

Text

Onmyouji AU

you would (always be by my side) CH. 1 - AO3/FFN

This AU is inspired by Shounen Onmyouji and some spirit AUs in the Naruto fandom.

This is also written for the Kakasaku Month 2017 Week One – Myth/Fairytale AU (and can touch the yukata prompt too tbh bc feudal eraaaaaa). Please do check out other KS Month works by other people on tumblr and AO3/FFN (they're tagged usually so it's easier to find them!) and give them the feedback they deserve! Make this month enjoyable for all of us KS shippers!

Okay, enjoy reading!

They say there exists a spirit that guards the town’s oldest and most beautiful cherry tree.

They say there exists a cherry tree spirit that watches over the people living in town, remembering their names and their deeds.

They say, the spirit is lonely.

XXX

“You have the demon’s eye,” is the first word she says to him, full of wonder and curiosity. The man blinks. Looking left and right and finding nothing, he looks up. On top of a large cherry blossom tree in the middle of the district, on the particularly sturdy branch, sits a woman wrapped in a white kimono with pink red floral patterns. Her hair is pink, reaching her waist and decorated with a simple sakura kanzashi. Her hair is parted in the middle, showing her forehead decorated with a strange purple diamond shaped tattoo.

If Kakashi doesn’t see the ethereal and mystical glow that seems to surround her, he’ll think of her as a random woman too bored with life that she decides to take tree climbing as a hobby.

But no, he recognizes that aura.

She’s a spirit.

And Kakashi is willing to bet his left ass cheek that she’s the spirit of the tree she’s currently sitting on. Spirits—the friendly ones anyway—don’t like to mess with other spirits’ territories after all.

Kakashi stares at her, left eye closed and expression blank, choosing not to answer her simple statement of his ‘demonic’ eye.

It’s not like she’s wrong.

He’s an Onmyouji, one of the practitioners of the Onmyoudo. Basically, he’s one of the specialists in magic, spells and divination. Onmyouji are known to be able to protect other people from evil spirits, and although not all of them may have the sixth sense, Onmyouji are trusted to protect the capital and the people inside it.

One of the largest clan known for their strong onmyouji is the Uchiha Clan. While the civilians simply think that they are blessed with a strong sixth sense, it is merely an excuse to hide the fact that they are cursed.

The tale—probably true or not, although many spirits claim it is true—said that it started with the ancestor, named Indra, who had an actual sixth sense and fucked up real bad during a quest in a mountain, angering the mountain God and thus him and his kin are forever cursed with the Sharingan, the red eyes that enable them to see and feel the spiritual world around them.

It’s perhaps a blessing for those who want to become an Onmyouji. But becoming an onmyouji requires both dedication and talent, not just an uncannily strong sixth sense.

Also it explains why civilian Uchihas are often very skittish when they are out of their warded homes. The spirits are everywhere, whether major or minor, tame or evil, little ones that like to prank or big ones that cause destructions, or ones that are simply bored.

Just like the spirit who is staring at him right now.

“Are you an onmyouji?” She asks, titling her head. “You don’t look like an Uchiha, their aura feels different. Why do you have the demon’s eye?”

“I,” Kakashi drawls, “have no reason to answer that.”

It is her turn to blink.

“Why not?” She presses on, then, “it’s not like I have anyone to tell anything to. You do realize I’m this tree’s spirit, right?”

“I have no interest to tell you anything,” the silver haired man continues pleasantly, smiling a sweet smile so fake his teeth will rot if he keeps it up much longer, “now if you would excuse me.”

“What?” Kakashi ignores her confusion, humming as loud as he can while he speed walks away. He doesn’t want to deal with a nosy spirit, no matter how pretty she is. “Hey!” The spirit calls, indignant. “Where are you going? I’m not finished talking to you!”

She is left ignored.

“You’re such a rude human.”

Kakashi jolts from his seat on the porch of the Onmyoudo’s dorm, turning around with frantic heartbeats to find the spirit from a few days before floating there, arms positioned on her hips in the typical scolding manner.

“Ha…” the Hatake breathes out, bewildered. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you bound to that tree?”

The spirit has the gall to roll her eyes and scoff. “Don’t mistake me for a cursed spirit, human, I am free to wander as long as I do not bother the Gods.”

“You are…” He trails off, gesturing with his hands, “…bothering me, you know.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you a God?”

“…No…”

“Then I can bother you as much as I please,” she concludes pleasantly, lips quirking up in triumph. Though Kakashi can’t understand what is so very good about bothering a non-Uchiha with the Uchiha demon’s eye, the eye that—contrary to expectations—he did not want. If his best friend could rise back from the dead and take back his eye, Kakashi will give it back happily. The Hatake Clan has had members with sixth sense before, Kakashi included. He doesn’t really need the Sharingan other than that it makes his sense stronger than ever.

Seriously, though, what the hell. He doesn’t understand the spirit’s motivation for even one bit. What is it that she wants from him? She is, as she says so herself, a simple cherry blossom tree spirit; the kind of spirit that causes no prank or malice to other creatures, the kind of spirit that is free and probably loved by everyone.

There is absolutely no reason for her to bother him.

He says at much.

“Well, you can see me, so I have a reason to bother you, now!” She counters, her smile showing her teeth.

Kakashi twitches.

“Repel,” he says, muttering out strings of spells. The spirit jerks, then, looking panicked.

“No, wait!”

It’s too bad that Kakashi is having none of that.

The spirit is forcibly thrown out of the area, and all is peaceful for the Hatake once more.

“You,” comes a snarl from behind him, and Kakashi sighs behind his book, “are very rude.”

“The rude one is you, you know,” he doesn’t take his eye off of his book, “you’re the one who bother me.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can just repel me! I landed thirty kilometers away from my tree, you asshole! If I had landed on an unfriendly spirit’s territory, I’d be dead.”

“Oops,” he says, thoroughly unrepentant, and finds delight in how the spirit seems to try to withhold her furious shriek. Minutes seem to pass afterwards, with the spirit staring at him intently and Kakashi being very content in ignoring her existence altogether. Who knows, maybe she’ll disappear if he ignores her long enough.

Probably not.

“Why are you so against in talking to me anyway?” She says, then, “your life is so boring. You only study, train, read that porn of yours, and patrol. Isn’t it nice to have somebody talking to you?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer, simply flipping the page of his book—and it’s not porn, thank you very much! It’s romance, the spirit must be quite dumb not to recognize romance—and continues on ignoring her.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Junko is being very loud in this scene, he’s afraid Akiko next door will be able to listen in to their—er… nightly activities.

“Hey… Hey!”

…No matter what people says, he really is reading this for the romance.

“Hey, don’t ignore me! Hey!”

…Really. It’s the romance, not the porn.

“Ugh, you’re unbelievable! Hey! I just wanna talk!”

Well, the sex scenes are definitely a plus, he thinks, and also the insight about an onmyouji’s life is very detailed here. As much as he’d expect from the Legendary Traveling Onmyouji Jiraiya. Nevertheless, Junko is truly a beauty, although Jiraiya could have added more description about her face and expression rather than her bulbous—

“…If you don’t answer me, I’ll throw that book into the pond.”

Kakashi’s finger twitches.

She doesn’t seem to notice.

That’s good, because if she actually does according to her threat he’ll not only have her repelled, he’ll have her bound to the tree forever.

“…Hey, hey, come on. Talk to me? Please?”

…Where was he again? Oh, yes, Junko is really a beauty. He wonders if Jiraiya got this inspiration from somewhere. Not Tsunade, because she’s obviously the model for Akiko, whose description could fill in a whole page. Perhaps from some of the women he met on the streets? Or a spirit? Though the thought of seeing a spirit and using her as a romance novel material is a bit—

“Hey, I’m sorry if I was rude but it’s rare for people to be able to see me that are not the Uchiha and I just want to have someone to talk to, you know? The Uchihas have sticks up their butts and they are not good conversationalist, so I just thought you can be a nice person to chat with! That’s all, really! I don’t have any malicious intent, I promise.”

She could’ve talked to some other spirits, why is she so keen on talking to humans? And the Uchiha? Only a few of the Uchihas are as non-Uchiha as they can be; case in point, his dead best friend and a little bugger called Shisui who cracked his head a few days ago because he was lured to the cliff near Naka River by a mononoke called Danzo. It was a wonder he’s still alive.

Ah, why is he even focusing on what she’s saying? It’s better if he just go back to his book, truly.

“…Are you going to continue on ignoring me?”

Well it’s not like he ever wants to talk to her in the first place.

“…”

Has she left?

“I’m just…”

…Nope. Nevermind. If she’s going to ramble again, he’ll just go back to his book, easy peasy. He’s done this ignoring thing since Obito and Rin died, he can manage this, no matter if this is a spirit, not a human and certainly not Gai (although he can never seem to manage to ignore Gai, but he digresses).

And then, she says—

“…It’s lonely, you know?”

The whisper is like a fluttering wind, and probably is not meant to be heard by him. Despite himself, he can’t help but to be intrigued, and thus he finally looks up from his book to look at the spirit properly.

But she’s already gone, leaving the space she previously floated around somehow empty and achingly lonely.

XXX

For the next few days after that, there is no nosy cherry tree spirit trying to talk to him.

However, ‘nosy loud spirit’ seems to have upgraded into ‘nosy stalker spirit’ because she’s been following him around for days. The only places she leaves him alone are the Onmyoudo’s dorm and the Hatake Clan’s compound, in which it’s probably because the latter is warded against unfamiliar spirits.

He’s not even kidding. The pink haired spirit is always at least five meters away from him, peeking from behind the tree or wall or window or anything, looking at him with a pout and that sad kicked puppy look on her face…

…He likes puppies—has like eight of them but shhh—and that look on her face is just unfair.

And so, Kakashi finally relents. He sighs, staring balefully at the spirit that stares back at him with both hope and ferocity that could’ve made a lesser man melt, and motions her to get closer.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, because surely to be persistent, this spirit—however non malicious she may be—must want something from him. He’s had some spirits chasing after him so they can eat the Sharingan, and he wonders if such a pure spirit such as hers would also think of Sharingan as a delicious meal…

The spirit lands in front of him, an almost frown forming on her lips. “I just want to talk,” she says, and when Kakashi raises as a disbelieving eyebrow, she presses on. “I’m serious! The city has been boring for quite awhile and while I can wander, I can’t leave the city lest the tree dies and then I’ll die, talking to small spirits gets boring after a decade and, well, I miss talking to a human.”

Kakashi’s interest is piqued, and he asks, “you’ve talked to a human before?”

“A little boy, this little Uchiha tyke,” a soft and undeniably fond smile is present, and Kakashi figures the boy must have left quite the impression on her. For a spirit that says the Uchihas have sticks up their butts, she seems to be quite fond of this Uchiha. “I haven’t seen him for more than fifteen years, I presume; since he had to move to a neighboring city for Onmyoudo practices.” Then her eyes turn sad, as she whispers, “I think he’s dead.”

“Maa,” Kakashi drawls, “that’s mean of you to think so.” Very rarely Uchihas die out of town, mainly because they prefer doing jobs for this town that is already big enough as it is, other because when they’re taken to other towns, they’re more than capable to protect themselves.

Accidents can still happen though.

(That, or a reckless teammate that ultimately brings your demise).

(Kakashi restrains himself from touching his left eye).

“I’m serious!” She exclaims, sounding offended, “he didn’t go back with the rest of the group that left with him. And the Uchiha did a funeral afterwards; I can’t see the tombstone to make sure of it because the place is warded!” And then, softer, “he promised to come back. Obito never broke his promise.”

Kakashi very nearly bites his tongue off.

“What?” He almost demands, staring at her wide eyed.

“What?” She parrots, blinking. “I said he didn’t come back.”

“You said Obito,” he whispers, jaw trembling. It couldn’t be—

“Yes,” she confirms, “Uchiha Obito,” her expression clears and she lights up, looking hopeful. “You know him? Have you seen him anywhere? Is he well?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer. He isn’t able to. Here in front of him is a spirit who knew of Obito, his (dead dead deadeaddead—) best friend, the one who gave him this eye she seems to be interested in. She doesn’t seem to realize that the eye in his left eye socket belonged to Obito; or perhaps she unconsciously does, which explains her efforts in getting close to him.

Spirits are, after all, sensitive by nature and when they cling to something they deem precious, they will always cling onto it. The only reason she probably allowed Obito to leave the town is mostlikely that she’s not a malicious spirit and has quite the understanding of responsibilities an Onmyouji has.

She belongs to the oldest cherry tree in town; he’s not surprised if she knows some stuffs.

But—

But she doesn’t know of this. She doesn’t. Because Obito never returned and the Uchiha grounds are fucking warded from bottom to high ground and not even a non-malicious spirit can get close; only gods and their blessings may touch upon the Uchiha grounds. She has no way to know and she looks so excited, so happy and—

Has she been waiting for Obito this whole time?

The spirit, probably seeing his deafening silence, lets her excitement fall. She watches his expression, as he seemingly opens his mouth behind his mask and closes it again, at loss on how to reply.

Oh.

Her eyebrows furrow, and with a downcast expression, she asks the question she fears the answer of.

(But she knows the answer already, doesn’t she?)

(Because Obito never broke his promise).

(And Obito never returned despite his promise).

“He’s dead, isn’t she?” She whispers, eyes watching the silver haired Onmyouji’s every move, and when the man flinches as if struck, she knows her worst fear has come true—has been true for the past decade.

She closes her eyes.

(I’ll be back, Sakura, he said with a wide smile. He looked manlier than the scrawny little kid that long time ago scuffled toward her tree to ask her to be his friend).

(I heard the neighbor town has these pretty kanzashi on sale, so I’ll buy you one, he promised, a hand grasping her own. With a teasing smile, he said, and then you can finally replace the one I bought for you long ago).

(I’ll be back).

(I promise).

He never comes back.

XXX

Is that hints of past ObiSaku? It is. I am a multishipper, I ship Sakura with a lot of people.

I apologize for the lack of Kakasaku in this chapter, but it will happen next chapter, I promise!

This story will be short, probably only having three or four chapters before it’s completed. I hope you can enjoy the ride as much as I do.

Review please!

#kakasaku #hatake kakashi #haruno sakura #naruto #kakasaku month #misha writes #onmyouji au

22 notes · View notes