#(( *YEETS this directly at your face* ))

[egophiliac]

starting off with an amuse-bouche of some of my initial favorite bits! y'all, this update was WILD.

[burning-fcols]

Husk didn't remember much from his time alive, after a certain point it was nothing but booze and gambling until the day he died, never caring if that day would be his last. He did remember pieces of his youth though, small things that were just a flicker in his mind, more of a feeling than a full memory. It was funny, ever since him and Angel had grown closer, there was this...odd sense of deja vu that he couldn't place. He chalked it up to those nights where his dreams were pleasant for once, filled with the comforting touch of the spider long before he thought himself allowed of such a thing. Watching Angel now with a soft smile on Husk's face where he leaned an elbow on the bar, he felt another round of familiarity as he watched Angel converse with the other patrons across the room. It was a simple wave that broke everything apart, one moment Angel smiling Husk's way after catching his eye, and the next his vison grew fuzzy, blurred with the sickening dread of realization that had tears falling down his cheeks before he knew what was happening. "Angelo..." Pet name spoken in Italian, Husk's voice quivered as he breathed it into the air like a man dying, Angel's face gave a flash of the human he had once been before being obscured by the tears. Then, he was laughing, a manic, heart wrenching thing that had Husk slumping onto the bar as his knees gave out. 《 "How did I not know it was you? You were my reason to live, my angel-" 》 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ʜᴇʟʟꜱ-ꜰᴠʀʏ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Angel's memory has been fucked to Hell and back... Be it because of drugs and drink— or ever-dependable dissociation —he can scarcely trust what is real or merely a fabrication of a tormented mind. His past an unreliable menagerie of anguish and brief, but POWERFUL flickers of bliss. Feelings he can't always grasp the source of, but has clung to through the decades nonetheless. Partially as self-punishment, even the brightest memories encased in the shadow of his sins.

The clearest of these fragments of who he used to be involve his mother and twin sister. He can trust those the most... Even if Angel wonders how much has been encased in rose-tinted lenses. Time and torment have a habit of twisting the past, making Angel doubt how high the bar was for a ❛ heavenly ❜ moment when living in the pits of personal Hell. How much of what he recalls is the manifestation of wishes painting over reality. In the midst of those flashes of care, there's— an oddity. Emptiness that he KNOWS was filled. Spawning from when he was a child; a face he can't recall. A name lost to time. A presence, so important... and so painful.

A person forgotten, his actions and the feelings he brought... still lingering. Part of Angel wonders whether that man ever existed. Maybe he's a figment, a fantasy to try and give Angel something to take solace in. To believe he was cared for, was LOVED at least once in his shitty life... Or maybe, it's to crush him beneath unearned guilt. Paranoia gnawing at Angel's mind as he wonders whether he left that man alone to suffer in a Hell they used to at least share. He doesn't know what's worse. For his first love to be a lie... Or for Angel to not even recall the name of the man he betrayed.

Husk... Bo— is an undeserved second chance.

It's no wonder Angel rushes over at the first sign of distress.

Practically tripping over himself to get to Husk when he sees the other break for what appears to be no reason, only a hasty ❝ I can handle it— I said I can HANDLE it! ❞ is offered to the other patrons, Charlie having learned enough to assist the spider by ushering their friends away to another area. When it comes to Angel and Husk ( especially as a pair ) it often pays to give them space to breathe. Needing to trust that, should things be too much for either of them, help would be sought out rather than forcing it upon them. Besides, Angel is more capable than people believe...

Concern clouding his mind, Husk's heartbroken rambling's don't register. Placing his hands upon the feline to try and ground him, lower limbs help keep Husk upright while an upper rests on his shoulder, a free hand instinctively cupping the other man's cheek ( like he often did when they were alive ) Gently trying to ease Husk to look at him, voice is comforting even with its panicked edge, ❝ Hey, hey— I'm here, it's alright... Ya hear me, babe? It's alright... ❞ It's hard to tell if his words are getting through, Angel leaning down to kiss away the tears dampening his boyfriend's face. Shushing softly through the affection, he encourages, ❝ C'mon, baby... Jus' breathe. Breathe fer me. ❞

Moving back so he can study Husk's face— only the two of them left in the room —Angel quietly asks, ❝ What's wrong, Bo? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

I just binged your Challenges of raising a demon in a day and I love how wholesome it is <3 Your last entry was great too. Like when Al tossed reader off the bed XD...can you ppplllleeeaaaassssseee write it from Alastor's POV?

Thanks, much love!

Hey again Anon 🙂

sounds really interesting so let's try it lol

...

It was approximately 1 am at the Hazbin Hotel by the time Alastor managed to walk into his shared suite to find the lights in the bedroom off and that you had already put your fawn to bed in the ajoining room. The you shaped lump on the bed stirred slightly so he quickly, but silently, made his way to the bathroom to rid himself of the day's stench.

A heavy sigh huffed through his nose as red chunks of viscera easily melted away from his skin in the hot shower. Knowing you'd disprove, he had only told you that he'd be away into the late evening on overlord business in the city and to not wait up for him. Truth is that he went to hunt down the cretins that had whistled and made lewd remarks about you a day earlier. He found out from Niffty, who had accompanied you to the grocery store, and it had made his bood boil.

No one may talk to The Radio Demon's mate in such a disrespectful manner, though he was more than willing to make examples should anyone need reminding.

Coming back to the bedroom, Alastor took a moment to look down onto your beautiful visage laying surrounded by a halo of your curly hair. Your face was completely serene and he could see how well the thin nightgown clung tightly to your more endowed features. He felt, as he always did in these quiet moments, a strong sense of pride that this goddess had accepted his proposal to mate.

Your husband slid into the crimson sheets and leaned over to gently brush his fingers over the wedding band on your slender finger, however, you stirred again and turn away from him on your side. Now that he could clearly see your curves, Alastor couldn't stop himself from reaching out to drag his claws slowly down your side to better feel your plush shape.

But it still wasn't enough.

He found his arms slipping possessively around you as he settled his body close to the soft skin of your back and inhaled your neck. An excited smile cut into his face as the smell of pomegranate and cedar wafted from his wife directly to his crotch. God, you always smelled delightfully of nature. Sweet and dignified, yet wild and unpredictable.

It didn't take long before his excitement made itself physically known and he snapped away his confining clothing, so that, his entire body could press against his beloved doe. You awoke from the feel of his alternate head standing at attention and eagerly sought his lips upon turning in his arms. Alastor felt hands wandering ever downward until you grazed his pelvic bone with a sigh when you understood that he hid nothing from you. He couldn't help but smirk at the blush on your cheeks as your doe eyes looked into his own.

You were still so adorable and his heart skipped a beat when you whined for another kiss ❤️

Alastor, mind fogged by loving lust, completely melted into his mate's sweet sounds and needy touches as he happily reciprocated. You had begun straddling him as he had finally had enough of your nightgown and began to thread it over your stomach when you suddenly froze.

He didn't understand why you whipped your gaze away from him until his blood deprived ears picked up the sound of a pacifier. He's ashamed to admit that he panicked and immediately pushed you off his lap, however noticing that he was too forceful and his goddess was yeeted over the bedside.

But before he could ask if you were alright, the tiny deerling intruder had already began climbing her way up onto the bed.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Ffffuuuucccckkkkk!

He was explicitly aware that his body was completely uncovered still, except for the blanket that did little to hide his persistent arousal, and quickly snapped on a set of pajamas.

"E-Evie, my darling.", he hated how his voice trembled, "What is it that brings you here so late?"

His only answer was a weak whine as his daughter rubbed her tear stained cheeks, but his instincts picked up on how her ears were folded back and she slightly folded in on herself to seem small.

"Was it another nightmare, sweetheart?", Alastor knew which one and had experienced it himself several times. Deer demon often dreamt of predators lurking around them and of being eaten alive if caught. He could only assume it was because prey animals needed to stay sharp even when asleep. Though, his heart broke for his daughter just the same and he was about to take her into his arms when you had crossed the room to do the same.

In the end, the Radio Demon didn't mind falling asleep wrapped around the two most important people in his life. In fact, he had never felt more at peace than when holding his girls and knowing they were protected in his arms.

...

If this Anon is who I think it is, then I'm pleased to have spent a little extra time on your request and I appreciate you taking the time to send me these asks. 🙂

I really hope you enjoyed reading!

-SSPR

[sunfyresrider]

Love & Ruin 2

Synopsis: After being hidden away for most of your life your mother decided to stop being protective. However, there is one rule you cannot break, DO NOT associate with your uncle Aegon. Of course, it's the first thing you do, and you both quickly realize you will be each other's inevitable downfalls.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x You (daughter of Rhaenyra) Warnings: cursing, smut, dubcon, more smut, manipulation, possible murder, obsessive tendencies, incest, SEVERE mental illness, helaemond is canon, failed plots, a disaster wedding, just targ things, too many warnings to count honestly Word count: 10k Note: I am a bad person. Im sorry it took me so long to finish but my life is a cluster fuck of bad and worse and it is a blessing I havent yeeted myself into hell. Pt three is alr in the works unlike this one. PS Helaena's and Aemond's plan did work. I just didn't directly mention what it was...yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy (if you're still interested) Tags: @lovelykhaleesiii @caffein8me @llearlert @introverbatim @ladybug0095 @yazzzmints @heavenly1927 @rinirinse @aelora-a (srry it didn't let me tag some of you.)

“Be quiet,” Aegon growled into the ear of the whore he chose to warm his bed this morning. The squelching sounds of his thrusts slamming into her cunt echoed throughout the room. She stifled a moan and dug her teeth into the pillow below her head. Her voice did nothing, only reminded him he wasn’t you. Aegon tried to get girls who resembled you but none pleased him the same. 

Today was an especially bad day for Aegon and mayhaps he was taking it out on the whore too much. Her cheeks were stained red from his slaps and surely her cervix would be bruised by how hard he was pounding himself into her. He had good reason though; you were returning home.

It took five years, but he almost was able to move forward with his life. You still plagued him in his dreams and there was a constant tugging at his heart everytime your name was brought up. You simply existing reminded him of the only time he was ever happy, and he clung to the memory like a baby clings to their mother's tit. 

His family was very determined to keep you away. It worked successfully, he hadn’t heard nor seen from you at all. Every letter, every flight, every potential unsavory way of stalking your whereabouts was immediately dispelled. That was only within the first year, at some point he gave up. Aegon knew you would come back at some point; you were in love with him. But days, weeks, months, and years passed and still he received nothing. 

The idea they had turned you against him murdered the last bit of hope he had. It was one of the many things that formed him into the ‘monster’ everyone believed him to be. The first was being born the first son yet being ignored for his elder sister his entire life. The night at Driftmark was the second trauma that seared a mark into his heart and brother's face forever. The third was the forceful marriage to his sister.

Aegon scarcely remembers that day or the night afterwards. He used milk of the poppy to ease his mind to the point he could hardly stand during the vows… he doesn’t know if he actually attended the first dance. He does remember the bedding and it makes his skin crawl. 

He was forced to walk into and perform his own rape. He didn’t want it and would never want it. There was no daydream or drug strong enough to make him forget. It was awful in every sense of the word. Aegon cried during it and then he cried after it. No matter how much he scrubbed himself in the bathing chambers he could not free himself of the feeling of disgust. Then there was the overwhelming guilt that came after. 

Aegon never touched her again, never really interacted with his own children. Why would he? He was an accomplice in her suffering as much as his own. She didn’t want to marry him either, she didn’t want to bear his children. He could never be a good husband, lover or anything of the sort to Helaena. She deserved it, he thought, to have someone who could care for her. Someone who could love her like a wife… not like a sibling.

But that would never be him and it ate him alive like the disease killing their father. She was too kind, too pure for him or any other man at court. She was stupid, yes, but with a larger heart than any of the women he’s met combined. Yet, he never brought himself to do his duty to stay loyal and cherish her like Alicent told him to. The only good thing he ever did for Hel was leaving her alone, it made her happy to be free of him. In truth, it would make everyone happier if the world was rid of him completely. 

Maybe his life wasn’t over yet, maybe there was still a shred of hope for him left in the world. The reason he used to be happy was returning to him. Even if it was to marry another man… He could sort that out easily enough. When Aegon first heard the news, he wasn’t as calm. He 

He could take back what was his and become the man everyone wants him to be… Or he’ll drag you down into his depravity with him. It didn’t matter, either option was a severe improvement from the existence he was currently suffering. 

“Are you ready to be back?” Jacaerys inquired whilst trying to tame the loose curls on his head. The carriage ride from the doc to the keep had proved to be dreadfully long and boring. Luke was seeping anxiety that made the entire car tense. ‘Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, he’s gonna take my eye! He’s gonna kill me if I go back!’ The chants of a scared kid really did threaten to send you over the edge. ‘Just apologize, Lucerys... He’s not going to do anything while grandsire is alive. Nothing is going to happen, just say sorry before it does.’ 

Everything you said fell on deaf ears. His fear was expected, he took his uncle's eye and received no punishment. Granted, after hearing both sides it seemed inevitable for someone to get gravely injured. You still genuinely believed or at least convinced yourself a simple apology might just keep Luke alive for a few more years. “No brother, I would rather be at home,” you muttered in a near whisper. 

Jace, always the obedient son, was oozing confidence completely unbothered by the situation. He learned that from Daemon, never let them see you falter, especially the Hightower cunts. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?” 

Your heart clenched, a sorrowful reminder of your childhood beginning to boil to the surface. A whirlwind of memories threatening to break you. 

You learned how truly codependent you were on your uncle. Without him you had become a shell of whatever it was you once were. Your insecurities reigned supreme as you had an insatiable need for approval from everyone. That meant doing everything you were asked and then some to become the greatest version of yourself you could be. You took care of people, especially your brothers whom you felt the full burden for. You were the eldest and you allowed them into a situation that got them hurt and another child maimed. 

It wasn’t just your insecurities; your moods would take a turn quicker than before. At the drop of a hat, you could be raging or hysterically crying. Sometimes you didn’t even understand why. You became obsessive over little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. For example: how your dresses were fitted, how your hair was styled, and what you ate and drank. It wasn’t in the front of your mind at the time, but you did things in the way he always preferred. 

Without him, deciding on things became hard. You never needed to think before because he did it for you. Not only that but you became a chronic liar. It wasn’t on purpose, sometimes things would just slip out. You were great at denying any problems you had and chalking them up to your blood moon. You denied any relationship with Aegon and defended him more than he deserved. Especially since he so carelessly abandoned you. No letters, no visits, he left you with fucking nothing. You started to convince yourself you never loved him; it was just pity. You had a burning desire to rescue him and mistook it for genuine affections. 

Four years ago, almost to this very day the invitation to the prince and princess’s wedding had just reached your doorstep. You learned that day just how much you did love him because when the letter was read you cried so much you vomited. You stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped doing all the things you love and rotted in your bed waiting for the pain to subside… Or for the stranger to take you. 

The image of him touching her the same way he did you, the idea of him whispering the same things he did to you, the way she would cry out his name like you did… It made you want to rip your hair out and peel your skin off. She probably had an extremely elegant dress; the throne room was probably filled with music and guests, and they would ride their dragons together to show off their union… You tore all the clothes he liked to shreds and punched a hole in your mirror… 

Originally, you never had any disdain for your exceedingly kind and misunderstood aunt but now it was pure untamed hatred. The jealousy was incredible, truly you would be confined to a prison cell if you acted on the things you thought up. 

You could kill both of them and end the war before it even started. You prayed she would miscarry the twins, it didn’t happen. You prayed he would get too drunk and die from alcohol poisoning, obviously it didn’t happen. You prayed the entire keep would be set on fire and everyone within it would die burning in flames just as your father did… it did not. 

You were never good enough for him. He abandoned you and left you to rot after taking something so important from you. You were a fool, a naive idiot. The fear of being abandoned personified ever more when your mother gave birth to two legitimate children. Everyone was going to abandon you and it was driving you insane. You had mastered the art of pretending, no one was able to tell what was underneath the surface. 

Jacaerys was really the only person who noticed the change. He was the only one who saw through your lies and facade. And he was the only one who genuinely helped you overcome the complete insanity you had sunk into. He pulled you out from drowning in a sea of madness and kept you afloat ever since. In turn, you felt a little guilty for your wicked thoughts and desires, but you were atoning for them by good will and actions. 

Still, sometimes late at night when you were alone, he would come back. The memories would come flooding in and sleep would evade you. He had burned a scar into your heart that never fully healed and probably never would. According to your mother who said the first heartbreak is always the worst and most memorable. You didn’t want to come back. You didn’t ever want to see Aegon Targaryen again. 

“No, it’s because- ” You hit your head on the back of the car, knocking the air out of your lungs. The carriage came to a halt, catapulting Lucerys forward into the other seat. Jacaerys bursted into uncontrollable laughter as he rubbed his forehead from the impact. 

It was a great start to a visit, a crash landing. Surely, not foreshadowing the rest of your adventure. As you unpiled from the carriage a welcome party stood there waiting for you. It was unexpected, seeing your grandsire there in decent health, you heard he was much worse. 

Then there were the Hightowers, looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but here. Your eyes scanned over them one by one, Alicent wore her plastered fake smile as usual, Otto stood too stiffly and only looked at Daemon, Aemond looked ready to murder you all. He was far different from what you remembered, tall, slender, and handsome even with one eye. 

Then there was Helaena… Completely disassociated from whatever was happening and mumbling under her breath. You smiled, the rage you felt before when you imagined her was gone. You had actually healed and successfully moved forward. This was good, so great you could even hug her… 

Until your eyes moved to her left. The sunken feeling in your chest blossomed into a new monster threatening to devour you. Your smile faded; your heart began erratically pumping blood to all parts of your body. Your knees locked in place trying to keep your balance. 

Aegon… Aegon was only ten feet away and yet there seemed to be miles between you. It was a joke, a great joke, he looked more gorgeous than he ever had. His hair was cut to frame his face perfectly, his jaw was more defined, his dark circles brought out the beautiful sea blue that surrounded his pupils. 

The smile that adorned his face was larger than any you had seen him wear prior. His eyes twinkled with childlike glee. The corset you wore became suffocatingly tight and the heat in King’s Landing began to make your head spin. Your breathing was rapid, a million emotions coursing their way through your head. 

Aegon took a step down the stairs, your body wanted to flee but you were frozen in time. Another step, all the air in your body left you. A third step made all the bile in your stomach rise to your throat. His feet touched the ground, and he strode towards you, the world started to spin, your mind racing with the worst possible outcomes. 

You blinked, for a mere second. You reminded yourself it had been five years; he had no hold on you anymore. He was a monster, a terrible man and a worse son. Aegon was not going to get under your skin, you were not going to falter in front of him. You were better now, you moved on, you were mentally healthy… 

You opened your eyes, inhaling a deep breath. He was one pace in front of you, “Niece.” 

Disappointment, Aegon was riddled with it every day and today was no expectation. He was so excited his soul wanted to jump out of its skin. But no, the second he approached you passed out and all the sudden he was the villain. What could he have possibly done a foot away to make you faint? 

Unless you were too excited to see him, your heartbeat too fast and you fainted. It would make the most sense, reuniting with the person you truly love would send anyone over the edge. It almost made him faint when he first laid eyes upon you. 

Gods you were so much more beautiful than he could have imagined. You had grown into a gorgeous woman, easily the prettiest one at court. Your eyes sparkled like diamonds, your hair flowed perfectly down your face, and your cheeks still flushed bright pink when you saw him.  

Your dress hugged your figure in all the right places and the things he imagined laid beneath made him insatiably horny. Control, he had to remind himself it’d been years and he needed that. It was hard considering the two days you’d been here he had only seen one glimpse. One quick glimpse in the courtyard before you were stolen away again. 

Your chambers were only a few hallways away and he could see you anytime he wanted. And yet, Aegon had to plot when to corner you. There was not only a hoard of guards following you around every step you took but Jacaerys clung to your skirts like a lost orphan. 

So, he waited and waited… and fucking waited until he was practically ripping the hair from his skull. The lack of your presence was okay on the first day, the second it was tolerable but by the third day it became suspicious. Impatient and spoiled, his mother’s words rang true more and more each day. 

It was increasingly clear that it wasn’t just them keeping you from him, but you were putting extra care into avoiding him. What did he do wrong? The stalking? The letters? The gifts that were never opened. It was all obvious professions of love… Why would you be uncomfortable with that?

Aegon was nursing another goblet of wine as he sunk to the floor. His face felt wet as if he were crying… Was he crying? His body to the point of numbness he could not tell any longer. Sadly, it seemed the wine was not working to cure the ever-disheartening thoughts in his mind. 

You were going to get married and forget all about him. They hadn’t given him a single opportunity to attempt to carve his way back into your heart and most likely weren’t going to. What was the reason for living at this point? The one thing he yearned to touch was so close yet so far. 

He scoffed at himself. Aegon was no tragic poet, but he was beginning to sound like one. It was the alcohol, a new type probably causing his episode. He went to grasp the corner of the table to stand up, but his legs could no longer withstand his weight. The contents on the table along with his own body fell to the floor. 

Not one of his proudest moments to date.  

“You’re pathetic,” an irritating voice laced with superiority drew him out of his head. “Brother, have you come to visit your- I mean my children? They aren’t here.” Aemond clenched his jaw once, twice until he let out a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with Aegon, there was no winning against someone fueled by pure delusions. 

He would never come to see his- Aegon’s children in his room. They would be with their sweet mother far away from the monstrosity they called dad. “We’re all being forced to attend her wedding tourney.” 

“When?” Aegon’s eyes lit up and the sunken expression finally lifted. “At dawn,” Aemond took a step back before the smell of wine, sweat and uncleanliness of three days seeped into his nose. “For the love of the seven take a bath!” 

Hope, there was still hope left in the world! All of the sudden he had awakened, the whimpering pathetic mess he was a few moments ago was long forgotten. The gears in his brain began turning… 

As Aemond strode out of Aegon’s chambers a new plan formed into the mind of the monster himself… “Little brother,” he sang with a cruelty only Aegon could possess. “Will our dear uncle Gwayne be participating?” 

-

Aemond did not loathe his brother as much as everyone believed he did. Yes, he was jealous Aegon the wastrel was first born, and he was not. Yes, he was jealous Helaena was forced to marry the pig instead of him. No, he did not blame his brother for any of this. Solidarity was exceedingly important in times like these, future succession wars and all. 

What he learned was, Aegon hated being married to Helaena as much as she did. Aegon didn’t want to be king and would gladly give it to Aemond if the time came. Lastly, as sad as Aegon could be he was fiercely loyal to his family. If it came down to it Aemond knew his brother would die for them… or take an eye instead. 

“Has he stopped wallowing in his sorrow?” Even when she insulted people Helaena’s voice sounded like angels in his ear. “No, though he has come up with another borderline war crime plan.” She let out a deep sigh as she fiddled with the needle she used to sew. “Should I ask?” 

“He’s urging Gwayne to kill the Fiance before they have a chance to wed.” Helaena stifled a laugh; she should be offended he would dishonor her or even vengeful since her husband dare tried to intervene on another woman’s affairs. Instead, she bit her lip from smiling, “I should be glad she is not as deranged as him or I may not be here today.” 

Aemond rose from his seat and sat down next to her. His long fingers gently caressed the side of her face, pushing back the strands that obscured his view of her violet eyes. “I would kill her before she could ever lift a finger.” 

Helaena gently tugged Aemond’s hands away from her face, cupping them in her lap. “Aems you are far too serious. She’s still as sweet as a rose I hear…” 

There was a sudden silence between them, not uncomfortable in the slightest but eerily still, nonetheless. If Helaena was being honest with herself, she felt terribly for you. She couldn’t imagine what pain he had caused or what exactly he had done to cause you to faint at the mere sight of him. 

She could imagine, Helaena simply wished not to burden herself with those thoughts. You were her savior in a weird sense of the word. Because of your existence her brother did not attempt to bed her or force heirs upon her, he did not touch her, he did not bother her unless requested of him. You kept his mind preoccupied, so she wasn’t completely trapped in a horrid marriage such as her mothers. Aegon was a good brother and only a brother… Sometimes she worried what would happen if you ceased to exist. 

Still, she was trapped in a marriage. Aemond and Helaena had two vastly different reasons for wanting you around. Helaena wanted to see Aegon content, happy even if they were lucky. And if things happened the way it did in her dreams… Their marriage would be annulled and you two could wed and she could continue to do as she pleased with the father of her children. A fairytale but she was known for being the dreamer. 

Aemond simply wanted his brother to get off his fucking ass and do something with his life. He wanted him to stop whoring, to stop pushing away duties, and to start taking matters seriously. The only way he was going to do that was if his favorite toy was promptly returned to him. You also kept Aegon far away from his beloved Helaena, that was merely a bonus. 

If he had to choose, obviously he would have not chosen his brother to become obsessed with one of the bastards, it couldn’t be helped anymore. The seeds of whatever drug Aegon made you take to enjoy him had already been planted. The spell you used to seduce him had already begun working. 

At the very least you defended them… somewhat. It was enough to make him wish you were dead even less. He had to remind himself, though you were a bastard and related to his sworn enemy, you were also just a woman. As his mother once said, ‘all women are created in the image of the mother and to be spoken of with reverence… And to be treated as such!’ 

Aemond let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “We’re going to find a convoluted way to help him, aren’t we?” Helaena hummed to herself for a moment, was there any way they could really help you? “Do you believe she is distant because she believes he abandoned her?” 

They gazed at each other for a moment, a silent agreement. You were easy to read, at least to the dreamer herself… “Yes Aems, I think we are.”

The dress you were forced into was unbearably tight, the summer sun had seeped through the red fabric and your blood felt as if it was boiling. The royal stand was too crowded, too many unwelcome faces and bodies suffocating you. The noise of horses and knights preparing to show off for your favor made your ears ache. Unbearable, that was the best way you could describe your current predicament. 

The fainting spell was enough to have your mother confine you to chambers. She knew, your brothers knew, the Hightowers knew, everyone in the entire keep could see through you both. At every single turn you were specifically swayed far away from your uncle. Absolutely no contact, especially since you were to be married. 

That’s what the entire day was for, to celebrate you being sold off to a son of Dorne. If the heat in King’s Landing doesn’t kill you first, then surely the sun there will do the job. You hoped your death would come sooner rather than late. 

If the day could not go any worse the sound of someone taking a seat next to you caused you to flinch. You could smell him, practically taste the wine emitting off of him. Then there was the seat to your left, the scent of flowers filled your nose. Your eyes stayed glued to your hands. You didn’t dare move or breathe… 

A gentle hand that was as soft as a feather pillow touched yours. “Don’t be nervous.” Helaena, of all the people in the world you did not expect her to say such. Especially now, since you were separating husband and wife or did, they purposely do this to torment you further? “If I’m sitting in your place I can move, princess.” 

You kept your head turned to her, trying your hardest to ignore the one sitting far too close to your right. Where was your mother? Your brothers? Where was your family to rescue you? “Nonsense! I purposely asked Jacaerys to let me sit next to you.” To the right, you could feel two violet eyes burning holes into the back of your skull. 

“How lovely,” you muttered out trying to find your family from the corner of your eyes. How in the seven hells was he next to you? You turned your body towards the crowd, an invisible shield in your mind blocking you from turning the other way. 

Behind you, your entire family was in the row above staring daggers into Aegon. Of course, he stole Lucerys seat before he had a chance to protest. The sound of trumpets blaring, and the weakened voice of your grandsire distracted you, momentarily from the hell you were living in. 

A warm and soft hand was placed over your own. Dragging your nails from tarnishing the skin around them. “Afraid your husband to be is going to lose?” It felt as though a bolt of lightning shot down your back. You bit your lip, no you wanted him to lose and potentially be stabbed in a duel. You actually want to be stabbed too right now.

Milk of the poppy was your savior. That’s what had been prescribed to keep you grounded. It’s why you’re not currently on the floor unconscious. It's why you decided to engage in conversation instead of keeping your mouth shut. It's why you let his hands caress your own and bask in the warmth they provided. It wasn’t you; it was the medication. 

“Why aren’t you participating in the tourney?” You could feel a smile curve onto his face, though you swore not to look. “Why would I? Do you want me to compete for your favor?” You turned to look at him, shocked by the accusation you would want him of all people competing for you. That was a fantasy of children, a dead one at that. 

A mistake was made when you glanced at him. Gods, he was beautiful in the most pathetic way possible. The dark circles, the smug smile, the unruly hair, the piercing eyes and the jaw with just a tad of baby fat encompassing it. You forgot his lady wife sitting next to you, you forgot your family watching you. For a moment, it was just you looking at the pretty monster who ruined you. A shimmer of hope, a memory of childhood championship bubbled to the surface. 

“No Aegon, I think you would lose,” you jested. His eyes sparkled; his subtle grin turned into a wide blinding smile. “I think I already have your favor.” Your mouth parted to speak, cheeks brimming red from the implication.

Down below the sounds of cracking shields and screams of pain stifled by armor were becoming the loudest noise. A Blackwood had just begun a duel with a Bracken and�� his entrails were staining the tan colored sand a dark shade of crimson. You felt bile rising up in your throat as you unconsciously tightened your drip on Aegon’s hand. An act that didn’t go unnoticed and was quickly returned. 

“Not a fan of bloodshed?” His voice sounded softer, almost kind versus his usual unserious tone. He was staring at the side of your face and his eyes shone with mild concern combined with amusement. Aegon was always one for violence, not you.  By no means were you against it, seeing the insides of someone’s stomach simply didn’t suit your fancy. 

“And the day grows ugly…” Helaena let out a deep sigh as she gazed at the scene below. Her voice made you quickly realize how disrespectful you were being towards their marriage. In a second, your hand was ripped out of his grasp and placed firmly on your lap. Avoid, you avoided both of their looks and your gaze moved strictly forward. 

You could have sworn you saw a flash of Aemond’s eyepatch and his fingers patting at her knee. Oddly enough, you were very suspicious of brother and sister relationships considering the family you were born into. Thank heavens you were amongst the normal ones… almost. 

“You’re not wrong, Hel. You’re not wrong.” Aegon’s voice had lost all its original sympathetic tone as his lips formed into a pout like a spoiled brat. “Princess! Your favor would surely help me win this tournament if you could be so kind.” 

The sound of your fiancés voice made you want to sink into the abyss of your mind and let it swallow you. Maybe even feed yourself to Vhagar much like your late aunt Laena did. Aegon looked worse, enraged and annoyed to the utmost level. 

His body moved slowly towards your fiancée, and you swore if looks could kill he would be dead. You didn’t flinch or falter this time. You no longer frowned at the sight of the man you were supposed to marry. In fact, you were bubbling with joy.

The second Martell son held a huge smile while he waited for you to place your favor on his lance. You did your best to make a spectacle out of it, wishing him luck as loudly as you could. Your mother was smiling proudly, surely congratulating herself on a fine match she had made. 

She didn’t understand, you weren’t happy because of him. You were happy to see Aegon leaking envy from his pores with the most miserable look on his face. Now he was feeling exactly what you did and it felt fucking fantastic. You gracefully sat back in place with a smile that went ear to ear. 

“Would you like to place a bet on who will win, uncle?” He shifted in place, his eyes following the black mare your fiancée rode. “I don’t intend on betting coins, niece.” An awfully smug look creeped onto his face. “What are we betting?” 

Aegon leaned into you, so his mouth nearly brushed over your ear. His breath was heavy and laced with confidence. His whispers sent a shiver up your spine that glued you in place. “If Gwayne Hightowers knocks your beloved husband off his horse I get to claim you in front of everyone.” 

“…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as the world paused. Heat rose from the tips of your toes to the very top of your head, radiating in all directions. The drugs were no longer keeping your very unstable emotions at bay. Your cheeks were not just flushed by the idea but from the crushing reminder he was not yours to claim. He was stolen from you and didn’t mind until you showed back up. No letters, no secret rendezvous, no gifts on name days or holidays… To Aegon it was always just a game. 

A game he was still fucking playing at your own expense. Could he not see he had done enough? He had ruined what sliver of self-respect you had years ago? What else was there for him to take besides your life. Your original despair turned into something hateful, “My husband will win and when he does you have to stay away from me for as long as I’m here.” 

His mouth hung agape as he was trying to debate this completely unfair bet. Aegon was going to make a jest, defend himself or anything really before the trumpets blared loud enough for the deaf to hear. “Hmph,” you turned in your seat, stone faced, chin held high, completely ignoring his presence to watch the knights begin to mount their horses.

Ser Gwayne Hightower was wearing a suit of armor and a green cape. Gwayne’s helm was in the shape of a lantern… It looked completely ridiculous. His horse wasn’t stupid, it was a powerful white charger, and his lance appeared to be held firmly in his grip. From all the stories you’ve heard, he was an amazing knight. He’d won many tourneys in the past and nearly knocked down Daemon once. 

Your fiancée was on the other side, and he certainly did stand out… The golden decor on his armor was perhaps a bit much and he refused to wear a helm. His horse was beautiful albeit not as powerful as the charger. It wasn’t looking very good.

You were too busy praying to the seven for mercy when the two horses took off. In a flash their lances connected, and poor Quentyn was nearly thrown off. You heard a snicker from the corner, and you whipped your head to stare at the smirk plastered all over Aegon’s face. “Heh look at that!” No fucking way, no way in the names of any god would he get to do anything with you. “Fuck you, uncle,” the venom laced words seeped out of your mouth before you could contain them. Your perfect facade was beginning to break so quickly. 

“That can be arranged.” You gritted your teeth and your nostrils flared. Seeing him win in anyway made you want to snatch a sword and shove it right between his fucking… 

“We have a winner!” 

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, and you forgot whatever your last thought was. You stood up from your seat to gaze at the ground and surely enough… 

“Quentyn Martell has won the favor of the Princess!” 

Heh heh heh…. You turned to look at him with a smirk only the divine could wear, “I win.” 

He miss stepped, Aegon had completely misread the situation at hand. Her mind had been completely poisoned by those… those cunts! And Gwayne completely fumbled the fucking tourney. This added more layers to the issues already at hand. Firstly, her husband needed to go and fast. Secondly, he had to untaint her mind. Thirdly, how the hell was he going to keep her here with him? Aegon only had a single day and night to do it… 

CRASH

Another empty goblet of wine was thrown into the wall. The small shards covered the floor like winter snow tainted by red droplets of wine. The prince was raging and drinking… ceaselessly. “For the love of the seven will you sit down!” Aemond watched unamused, on the edge of storming out himself at this display. It was getting annoying how easily irritated his brother was becoming. Aegon stomped across, “We have to kill him… Preferably sooner rather than late.” 

“We could tell the truth about her virtue and have a Septon annul the marriage… avoid making any unnecessary enemies.” Aegon pivoted to stare at Aemond, face void of any signs of agreement. “Yes, and besmirch her reputation in the process… Ha! That will surely make her crawl into my bed.” 

Aemond really fucking hated sarcasm above all forms of conversation. “Oh, great manipulative tactician, what exactly were you thinking?” His steps paused as he toyed with the knife he kept on belt. He wasn’t a genius nor was he overly capable of manipulation like his grandfather…

“It can only work if she is obsessed with me again.” The younger brother let out a groan, rubbing his face with both his hands. “What exactly are you planning to do?” 

A wicked smirk curled its way onto his lips. His pupils momentarily turned dark, “Not I, dear brother, what are you going to do.” Aemond lowered his hands, so his eye picked through, raising an eyebrow. 

—

“This won’t do,” Rhaenyra declared as she tossed another necklace laced with jewels onto the floor of your chambers. “Mother!” you gaped as the expensive piece fell to the floor. She pursed her lips together, fingers grazing the delicate jewelry laid before you. “My first born, my only daughter is getting married… Tacky crystals won’t do.” You sunk deeper into your chair, twirling your wet hair in between your fingers. 

Rhaenyra closely examined a few more pieces, none of which suited her exquisite taste. She turned to you, her eyebrows creasing together. “You look more pale than usual.” You looked up at her and her eyes were laced with concern. One thing about your mother is that you could never lie to her. She knew you more than you knew yourself. The slightest bit of discomfort she could snuff out and exile it from your mind. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well as of late.” Her gentle hands went to comb through your hair. “If you changed your mind and don’t wish to get married, I could always have Daemon, take care of it.” You choked up a laugh, “threatening murder on my wedding day? How very festive.” 

A small smile made her lips curve upwards. She let out a breath, plucking a necklace off the counter and holding it to your neck. “Is it him?” The dragon necklace made of diamonds laced with gold details seemed to taunt you. “No, he hasn’t bothered me at all.” A bold-faced lie that your mother could see through instantaneously. Rhaenyra wrapped the necklace around your throat and clasped it in the back. “Really? He seemed to bother you at the tourney.” 

The necklace seemed to be choking you though it wasn’t tight at all. It would have been something you wore if you were getting married to him instead. A golden dragon paying homage to Sunfyre… “Just playful banter. Honestly it went far better than expected.” 

She looked as if she was about to contest what you said but three knocks at the door caught both your attention. It slowly creaked open revealing a maid no older than fifteen. She stood meekly in the entrance shifting eyes between your mother and yourself. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb you; the king requested your presence.” Your mother raised her brow, questioning the situation at hand. You gave a nearly unnoticeable nod, reassuring her everything was all right. She clapped her hands together, “You’re not disturbing anyone! My love I’ll return shortly.”

Rhaenyra strided out the door with the confidence only a queen could possess. You envied the way she carried herself no matter the situation. You slumped back down into your chair staring at yourself in the grandiose mirror. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having Daemon rid you of your husband… If anything, he would probably take pride in having something to hold over your head.

But a war was brewing, it was an inevitable fact that no one could deny and soon it would be impossible to ignore. You needed the dornish alliance, and you were the perfect bargaining chip… Curse the seven for making you a woman. 

“You look like you’re in agony. Already getting the wedding blues?” It’s no use asking how he snuck in, it’s no use asking why he was here, and it’s absolutely no fucking use to start panicking. “Uncle, I thought we had an agreement.” His steps were light, almost frolicking to stand behind your seat in front of the vanity. Aegon’s face was the ideal image of serenity, you couldn’t say the same for yourself. 

“It’s your wedding day! Surely, I can offer my congratulations on this joyous day.” There wasn’t an honest way you could describe the pain within your chest. It felt as if a blade had carved a hole within your heart that refused to heal. A dark abyss threatening to swallow you whole. He wasn’t meant to be happy; you were supposed to be cheery. Aegon was meant to pin after you until he died… Not move on and get married, have children, and celebrate your own wedding. 

You didn’t feel the tears quietly falling from your eyes or the way your lip was quivering. His hand moved to graze your shoulder, but you jumped out of your seat, snapping your head back to face him. “Don’t touch me!” He put his hands up in mock surrender, “W-woah…”

“Did you come here to torment me some more? Do you revel watching me be so miserable?” He stumbled back, muttering some incoherent apology that fell on deaf ears. “You abandoned me! You left me like a dog and went to go playhouse with your perfect fucking family, perfect fucking wife and two perfect children.” 

One of the many things you were shouting must have triggered something within him. Aegon grabbed your shoulders with such force you almost buckled under their grip. He shook you like a child would shake their pet if it stopped listening. “Perfect? Have you become fucking delusional? What part of a forced marriage to your sister sounds perfect to you?!” 

“Let me go! Don’t- fucking touch me!” You shouted in between sobs. “No! You’re telling me you’ve been ignoring me for years because you’re fucking jealous?” You swatted at his face, attempting to grab him by his hair to pull him down. Poor idea, Aegon always thought violence was exciting. Somewhere amidst the fight you ended up wrestling on the ground shouting curses at one another. 

“I hate you! I would never be jealous of you!” Aegon shiftly straddled you and began fighting to grab your wrists again. To make it all the more unbearable the bastard was smiling. “Bullshit! It’s seeping off of you.” You bit down on his hand that came just a little too close to your mouth. He growled, slamming on wrists behind your head. “Seven hells will you calm down and listen!” 

You writhed underneath him, albeit with less screams of curses. This rather pathetic display went on for only another minute before he forced his lips onto yours. It was rough, mainly teeth clashing together and lips fighting against one another. Part of you wished it could continue, to relive your past one more time before you were sold off. 

The other part of you bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Aegon relented, a droplet of blood staining his swollen bottom lip. Whatever spell he had put on you had worked; you were quiet and unusually still. “Look at me.” You turned your head to face the wall, refusing to be trapped by those damned eyes. “Look at me!” Begrudgingly, after being shouted at, you looked at him. “My marriage is not happy. I swear on my own life I only bedded her once. I was so drunk I can’t even remember if it truly happened…” 

“More lies… You have two children.” He scoffed, looking around the room as if asking the seven for patience. “Oh, for the love of- Do you really think those are mine? Just look at them!” Aegon appeared unbelievably desperate for you to believe him. His eyes frantically searching yours for any comfort… 

The twins did appear more similar to one brother than the other… Jaehaera herself was a spitting image of Helaena only. “I don’t believe you…” His face dropped as if you had taken an arrow to his heart. “But it wouldn’t matter if I did. I’m getting married tonight.” A foolish course of action on your part because you gave him hope. A dangerous thing if given to the wrong people and he was by far the wrong person. 

He pressed his mouth against you once more, this time his soft lips caressed your own gently. The taste of wine and iron coated your tastebuds, and it wasn’t at all displeasing. It was comforting, like a hug from an old friend. He pulled his right hand away from your wrist, almost giving you time to escape. But the second your arm moved he grabbed it with his left. A gentle, almost comfortable, kiss was turning into a desperate one. 

Aegon’s tongue slid into your mouth doing circles with your own. Your breaths quickened as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and then kissing it before letting go again. His hands slid down to your thighs, cupping them firmly in his warm palms and massaging their shape. You shivered when his fingers brushed against your most sensitive area, it had been so long since anyone had touched you. 

The wedding you were supposed to be attending today became a distant memory as he kissed you senseless. His lips trailed across your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his nose grazed yours again you found yourself trembling with need. 

“You have missed me,” he whispered breathlessly. You wanted to say no, that your body was betraying you but when his fingers grazed your unclothed cunt all you could mutter was “ah, ah, ah~”

His tongue flicked out and traced up the side of your neck, then back down. He slipped his tongue inside of your ear, and then swallowed down all of your words. His fingers began gently teasing at your clit, sliding between your wet folds, rubbing it painstakingly slow. You whimpered into his mouth, begging him to do more.

Aegon wasn’t supposed to give it all to you so easily but… Forcing in a few fingers was far from all he could do. He began thrusting his fingers in and out of your slick folds, making sure to tease your clit each time. His eye had a wicked gleam to them watching you come undone underneath him, “you think you’ll be happy with another man? You think he’ll be able to please you like I do?” 

You opened your mouth but all that came out was a muffled cry. “No one knows your body like I do. No one can ever please you like I do.” His fingers moved swifter curling up to hit the sweet spot inside of you. Your legs buckled around him as you began to moan ceaselessly. A wicked smile took over his features, “be honest with yourself everytime you try to fuck another man you’ll be imagining me, my lips, my tongue, my fingers and my cock inside of you.” 

Your arms fell limply by your sides, the world spinning in circles as a delicious haze descended upon you. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against his fingers as he continued to push them deeper inside of you. “I’ve already ruined you, what other man could want you?  Who do you belong to? Say it!” 

“Y-You! Aegon! I belong to you.” You cried out in pleasure, your voice echoing through the room. He pressed his lips against you once more, swallowing all the noises you made as your cunt tightened around his thick fingers. “That’s a good little girl,” He purred as your orgasm washed over you.

“Aegon…” You breathed, your head lolling to the side as he pulled his fingers out of your quivering pussy. He sat up, face returning to its usual expression of complete nonchalant. “I’ll give you time to get all dressed up, recite vows you do not mean with a stranger, dance until your heart's content and then I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine.” 

He leaped off of you swiftly, lazily fixing his hair and wiping the blood from his mouth. You propped yourself up on your elbows, “What in the seven hells?” Aegon smiled at you, but it wasn’t one of genuine joy. It was sick with cruel eyes behind it. “You’ll see.” 

The seeds of doubt had been planted into your mind and had already begun to sprout. The once joyous occasion was quickly turning into a fucking nightmare. To be Frank, you really wish you were dead instead of standing up here reciting vows you did not mean. It was awkward, unbelievably awkward. For five years your beloved had been pining for you and you were too blind to see it. 

Or it was all a sick joke being played on you. Which one was worse you did not know. Your entire family stood there, smiling, your mother nearly on the verge of tears seeing her only daughter preparing to start a family of her own… Gods, is this how Aegon felt all these years knowing he was the disappointment? You had been completely soiled and yet here you stand with your new husband… Aegon’s scent and markings weren’t even fully off of you! 

The entire ceremony was eerily calm. No random bursts of violence or protests to your union.  Which means your uncle may or may not intend to murder and or maim this man tonight. Any sound of mind woman would be sick at the thought and run for aid… Obviously you were not at all that type of girl. Currently you were jumping out of your skin waiting for him to finally arrive and rescue you. 

The only issue was, he never did show up. Not for the first kiss, not for the first dance, not for the speech his father was barely able to make or the feast itself… Did he intend to ignore you until it was all over? 

____________________________________

Aegon was unbelievably late to the wedding celebration. It was on purpose; he had a few loose strings he needed to tie before he arrived. For once he was sober and painstakingly polite as he walked in. It is fair to mention he had the servants meticulously fix his normal disheveled appearance so he could make an impression on you. 

When Aegon first entered the great hall, his eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room, where a grand table adorned in the finest gold sits on a raised dais. The royal table is flanked on either side by rich red tapestries, ornately embroidered with the sigils of the houses respectively. If only he could burn all of the dornish banners with Sunfyre.

As he moved throughout the room, Aegon was struck by the attention to detail. Everywhere you looked, you saw the sign of the union between two powerful houses, a testament to the joyous occasion for which this room has been decked out. It was fucking disgusting and Aegon wanted to puke on it.

The throne room was filled to the brim with Lords and Ladies alike from all across the realm. In the center, just in front of the throne sat the royal table. On the opposing sides of the room were the packed tables for the highly esteemed guests. The middle of the room was cleared for dancing and eventually the marriage itself…

He wished he could throw himself into the spikes of the throne. Instead, he had to slither his way through the crowds to make way to the table. Aegon was tired of waiting, He was tired of hearing your family gawk at the well-made match and he was especially tired of doing nothing. Your husband would be dealt with in due time, but he hadn’t the patience to pretend not to be itching to speak to you, to touch you, anything but sit here and fucking watch. 

He finally pulled himself up onto the podium and marched his way in front of you. You seemed stunned, miserable, in awe of his beauty. All of which were better than you being happy to be wed. "I'm insulted you have yet to ask me to dance, uncle." His lips twisted into his usual overly confident smile. “didn’t want to disturb the happy couple so soon.” 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you stuck out your hand waiting for him to take it. There were stares from certain people of course, those who knew what happened at Driftmark and potentially before. You didn’t really care anymore. 

For a moment, he was the perfect gentleman. Placing his hands in only the proper places and spinning you around the floor with ease. If you were a normal family, this would be a sweet interaction between relatives… But you were twisted and Targaryens. “You know, I’m putting more effort into this dance than my own wedding.” You scoffed, “Oh joy, surely no one will find this suspicious at all.” 

Aegon’s face mirrored disgust as he glanced around you. “Is something the matter?” He rolled his eyes, "Your dearly beloved is gawking." You stood on your tiptoes to glance over his shoulder. Surely enough, the pretty dornish prince was smiling ear to ear watching you…"Do something about it." 

The mischievous look Aegon always wore as a child made its reappearance. It was quick, his hands grasping onto your face and pulling you so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “You would let me dishonor you in front of all these people, bad princess.” You whined trying to lean up into his face, but he pulled back, “tsk tsk, can’t let your husband see you so needy for my affection now, can we?” 

You wished he would stop referring to him as your husband. You wished he would stop reminding you of what waited for you after the night ended. “Sister… Prince Aegon.” Jacaerys appeared from behind like a thief in the night. Immediately souring any positive mood Aegon could have been in. He stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Nephew.” He gritted through his teeth with a subtle bow. 

“Princess, would you dance with me?” You glanced between the two and felt the humiliation of the situation beginning to seep in. Your mother was on the high podium with a faux smile and a death grip on her fork observing you… “Of course! Let’s go little brother.”

The dance was alright… But you couldn’t get your mind off of the Lannister girl who was practically drooling at the sight of Aegon. He had slept with her before you knew this much. A secret part of you kept track of the whores he buried his cock inside, at least the rich ones. What happened next was honestly a blur, you couldn’t remember a thing. Except that you may or may not have called her a whore and threatened her life if she dared to touch him… She scurried away with her hands on her and tears in her eyes. 

You weren’t jealous at all, only defending Helaena’s honor. 

____________________________________

“Prince Aegon, pleasure to finally meet you,” If the night couldn't get any better the man of the hour had just willingly approached the man plotting against him… “Prince Quentyn, nice of you to believe this is a pleasure.”  He smirked, “Your wife looks very beautiful.” Aegon patted his shoulders, “as does yours.” 

Quentyn winced, a rather noticeable scowl growing on his face. “She’ll never be yours, my prince.”

“You’ll see later tonight whose name she calls out while your cock is inside her.” He smiled a crooked grin. Quentyn’s fists balled up next to his sides, Aegon wasn’t one to directly fight, he was more behind the scenes type of criminal. There was no denying that he was strong, strong enough to crack this man’s skull. But that wasn’t part of the plan… His feet moved fast, swiftly connecting his fist to Aegon’s jaw. 

The crowd erupted behind them, lords and ladies screaming trying to escape the violence. Suddenly, Aegon stopped trying to attack and let the dornish cunt take charge. He tackled him to the ground and landed hit after hit… Was this really worth it, he thought to himself as blood started to trickle down his face. “You- fucking- wastrel-” Aegon was laughing hysterically whilst getting his face beat in… All according to plan, he told himself. 

“Get off of him!” You screeched in horror pulling at the man assaulting your lover. It wasn’t meant to take a turn like it did. Quentyn, not recognizing you, turned and landed a hit square to your cheek knocking you on your ass. “Protect the princess!” Some guard shouted from behind whilst dogpiling onto your husband. He stared in horror at what he had done, you were gripping your cheek mortified, and Aegon was laying there covered in blood laughing his ass off like a psychopath. 

The maester was applying ice to your cheekbone as you nervously picked at the seams on your dress. “We’ll have the marriage annulled by tomorrow.” Rhaenyra paced inside the room. “On what grounds? Aegon was obviously egging him on,” Jacaerys groaned from the corner. “I could kill him and fix this entirely,” Daemon muttered watching his wife rage on. 

The rest of the argument was drowned out, the only noise you could hear was the sound of Aegon’s jaw cracking. You didn’t feel despair that the wedding was ruined, you didn’t feel depressed that your husband had hit you… No, you felt completely fucking enraged. 

Seeing Aegon harmed had awoken something in you. It was hateful and could not be quelled by a simple apology. He fucking beat him to a pulp in the midst of your wedding then had the audacity to lay a hand on you… It may or may not have awoken something because seeing Aegon laughing whilst covered in his own blood made your core heat up. 

“Could I be given some milk of the poppy for the pain, mother?” Rhaenyra looked at you with the most sorrowful expression she could muster, “oh my sweet girl.” She cupped your cheeks in her hands and rubbed at the bruise that was forming. “Go fetch some tea for my daughter, Maester… Now!” 

____________________________________

You were returning to your chambers in a rather dumbed down state. The medicine made your mind hazy, and your body feel light as a feather. It was like wine but far better with less of a hangover. The corridors were dark, all the excitement from tonight was far over. You hummed to yourself lazily, dreading the return to where your husband lay. Until you felt a hand wrap around your mouth and yank you into a hole in the wall you never knew was there. 

You tried to scream but were quickly shushed by a voice that could only belong to one man. “Aegon? What are you doing?” He smiled at you, rubbing the bruise on your cheek. “Will you go out for a walk with me?” You raised your eyebrow in distrust, “To where?” Aegon grinned, almost too enthusiastically to trust, “the dragonpit.” 

The most unexpected event of tonight wasn’t the wedding brawl nor the injury that befall you. It was the fact you were riding on Sunfyre again, with Aegon holding onto your waist as you soared through the stars. It was a wedding gift, he claimed. As far as you knew Aegon never let anyone touch his dragon let alone ride with him, except you. 

It was indescribable, the feeling of the wind rushing past your cheeks. The view of the city and the moon shining above you reflecting off his scales. You were giggling uncontrollably the entire flight listening to Aegon tell jests you hadn’t heard in years. Whatever injury he had gained was long forgotten the second you took off. Whatever drama or chaos in the keep didn’t exist outside. In the sky, you both were completely free. 

You couldn’t say how long you spent outside. Mayhaps it was an hour or two before Sunfyre descended onto a nearby beach surrounded by the most beautiful rock formations you had seen. “Is this your version of bridenapping me?” You teased while he helped you climb down the saddle. “It’s only kidnapping if you fight back.” 

He grasped your hand leading you across the sandy beach, showcasing the stars he supposedly, desperately wanted to show you. “I have an actual gift for you too.” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, “Is it a ride home on Sunfyre?” Aegon laughed, genuinely laughed for the first time since you’ve returned. He dug in his pocket searching for something… “I had it made years ago but never had the chance to properly give it to you.”

In his hand was the most beautiful golden ring in the shape of a dragon. “A ring? A Sunfyre ring?” Aegon grabbed your hand and slipped it on with ease, “I’m not that creative, you know this. it was meant to be something to remember me by when you left.” Tears were prickling your eyes once more. The fool kept the damned ring all these years and never mentioned it. “Aegon… Be honest for once with me please. Do you still love me?” 

He paused, searching tirelessly for the right words to say. “I… There hasn’t been a day in five years where I haven’t thought about you at least once. There hasn’t been an hour that something has not reminded me of you. There hasn’t been a single night I’ve slept without seeing you… It isn’t normal, it’s twisted and sick and cruel just like I am. No matter what you do to others, to me, to yourself. No matter if the world ends in a freeze or we are in the midst of a war of the ages… I believe I’ll always feel this… And I don’t think I’ll be able to stop until the seven hells take me.” 

You sniffled; he always had such a roundabout way of saying things. “I’ll always love you too.” He smiled genuinely, pulling you into a kiss so gentle yet so firm it made you forget all the dangers of the world, the drama, the potential war, your husband, everything was irrelevant except for you two, right now under the stars.

“We still haven’t done the bedding ceremony.” You whispered against his lips. His eyes lit up, “Have you always been so needy for me?” You didn’t have time to protest before he was passionately colliding his lips against yours once more. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him closer into you, making sure no part of you would ever be apart from him again.

His arms slipped below your waist as he lowered you onto the ground as gently as he could. Your legs fell open instinctively and his hands began to explore your body. It was vastly different from every other time you’ve been together. It was gentle and loving, passionate and pleasurable without the pain. 

Your bodies started to move in sync with each other, stripping away the clothes that hid your most intimate parts.  His hands held you close to his chest, keeping you warm while you were exposed to the elements. You moaned into his mouth, kissing him passionately with a hunger you had forgotten existed.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air. You opened your eyes to see the moonlight reflected off his face, sometimes Aegon Targaryen looked more God than man. He moved to suckle on your neck as he ran his length against your slit. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He murmured huskily against your ear. He slowly pushed inside, filling you with his thickness. You gasped from the sudden sensation. He was so deep within you, so far reaching you almost felt like you could reach out and touch the stars.

His kisses trailed down your neck, nibbling, sucking, biting. He took his time thrusting inside of you with slow movements, appreciating every moment your bodies were entertained. He stopped mid-thrust, holding himself deep within you.

“I love you, Princess.” He whispered, his voice so tender and soft. You blushed like a child; it was silly to think his cock being inside you didn’t make you feel as embarrassed as him telling you, his feelings. “Always.” You murmured back. He kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping past your teeth.

You clung tight to his neck, your nails digging into his skin. He moved faster, his breaths coming in shorter and quicker. You moaned, your thighs trembling from the feeling of fullness. His fingers traced circles on your inner thigh, and then he moved to your clit. 

He worked you effortlessly, eliciting soft whimpers and moans and love confessions. The world was a blur of fluorescent colors and smells, nothing mattered but you and Aegon. His climax came swiftly, almost right after your own. You begged for him to cum inside you, to fill you with his seed and he always did as you asked. 

He collapsed on top of you, his weight heavy on your shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his back, feeling him relax. “Aegon…” You spoke his name softly, your head resting on his shoulder. “Mhmm?” He said in a daze. “Again?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his neck. He smirked, his cock twitching inside of you.

____________________________________

[drgrlfriend]

@brilcrist created this lovely art depicting a scene from my fic! My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend

Excerpt:

That is … definitely a guy fighting with a bow and arrow.  He’s tall and blond — could probably pass for Steve at a distance, but maybe even a touch taller and built a bit leaner — wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a fancy-looking recurve bow in his hand and a quiver strapped slantways across his back.  He’s got his back to a giant maple tree, and is firing arrows in a blur of motion while ducking lasers from the bots.  These ones look a little like the Daleks from that show Tony and Bruce love — vaguely conical and stumpy, with what seems to be a single laser on each.  

“Why ain’t he gettin’ up in that tree?” Bucky wonders aloud, revving through the preserve.  “It’s a better tactical position.”  He’s starting to see scattered bots now, and he slaloms a course through them, swinging his metal arm and sending them flying as he zooms by.

“Not everyone has sniper training,” Sam suggests.  “He’s probably just some archery hobbyist, or something.  Probably doesn’t know the first damn thing about fighting.”

A bot has gotten close up on the guy’s flank, and he seems to realize just in time.  He somersaults sideways, coming up with an arrow in his hand and jamming it directly into the bot’s side just as a shot from Redwing finishes it off.  

“I don’t know about that,” Steve says dryly.  “Seems to be doing pretty good to me.  Either way, we’re almost on him; Bucky, I’ll take the right side, you take the left.”

“Copy.”  There’s a line of bots advancing on the guy and Bucky pulls up with a sharp twist, planting his left foot and letting the rear of the bike skid sideways so that the back wheel takes out the bots like a row of dominoes.

Out of the corner of his eye Bucky sees Steve hurtle over the handlebars of his own motorcycle and yeet the whole damn thing at a cluster of bots.  No finesse, that guy.

Bucky jumps off his bike, swinging at the bots closest to him.  He’s just about dealt with that cluster and is only a few paces away from the archer when the guy’s eyes widen.  He lunges toward Bucky, pushing him aside just as one of the bots on the ground fires.

The man yelps and staggers, pressing a hand to his side.

“What kind of idiot are you?” Bucky growls, pulling the man back and putting his own body between him and the bot.  “Let me take the hits!” 

A furrow appears between the man’s brows, his mouth gaping for a moment, and then he seems to shake it off, nocking another arrow and loosing it.  It skims so close to Bucky’s face that it stirs his hair, and Bucky whirls to see another bot was sneaking up on him.

“Jesus, these things are everywhere,” Bucky complains, drawing his Glock and firing, taking out the laser of the one on the ground.  

“There’s a weak spot in the armor plating on the left side,” the man yells.  

Time seems to stop for a moment, Bucky’s heart stuttering and then kicking into overdrive.  The air around him suddenly seems crystal clear — Bucky can see every individual leaf on every tree, can hear the sighing of the wind and the rustle of the leaves, the whirring of the bots and the heartbeat and panting breaths of the guy as he ducks another laser.

“Bucky, did he —” Steve starts over the comm.

“Not now, Stevie,” Bucky manages.  He shakes off his shock and forcibly shoves the revelation to the back of his mind in order to focus on the task at hand.  Time seems to lurch back into a normal speed and Bucky concentrates on blocking the man from the line of fire of the largest cluster of approaching bots.

“I’ll make an opening, you run for it,” he shouts.

“I’m not leaving,” the man shouts back.  Jesus christ, another vigilante-wannabe.  They’re coming out of the woodwork these days.  Was this guy even in the park when all this started, or did he come looking for a fight?

“Watch your back,” Bucky instructs with a mental shrug, and then there’s no more time for words, the two of them fighting fiercely against the oncoming wave of bots.  

[kyberblade]

Say That Again…. Please. (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: Idk. Don’t even look at me. It just happened, okay? (I’ve read over this so many times to proof read it, but I add to it each time, so now we’re just going to yeet it into the universe and hope it’s not gibberish. Okay? Okay.) I think this happens sometime after Part 18? I’m not sure, but I think inadvertently it just ended up there in my mind. I always thought they were kinda closer way before this, but also, not? Idk. I make no sense even to myself. Plot wise this is where it makes sense, so we’ll go with that.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Word count: 2,767

Warnings: Din is an absolute menace like always. Maybe some language? I can’t remember. (Look, I’ve read over this so many times, I can’t remember where I landed.) Absolute tooth rotting fluff. Suggestive language and behavior, but nothing directly stated, just absolute menace behavior once again. Helmetless Din…. Sort of. What? Who said that? 🤨 Copious amounts of me slipping the phrase back to you into sentences in ways I think are sly and endearing.

Synopsis: Here we find a wild Mandalorian and his Mesh’la in their native habitat…. Here in this throwback to the first time things got a little frisky between these two. (Don’t worry, it’s still PG-13. 😉)

A huge thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for once again reading this 5,000 times and saying I’m not insane.

| Series Masterlist |

Xxx

Crowding you back into the bulkhead, Din chuckled softly when you let out a quiet huff of air as your spine hit the cold metal of the hull.

The familiar press of beskar came to rest against your forehead, making you grin as your eyes fluttered shut. But all too soon, the cool touch of steel was rolling down and away, accompanied by a mechanical hiss that made your brows screw up in question. 

Before you could say a word or even open your eyes, the warmth of Din’s breath cascaded across your chest, making the last of your oxygen leave you in a rush. The prickle of his facial hair tickled as he lightly mouthed at your neck from bottom to top, taking his time as he went. 

It took you a moment, but you realized he had tilted the helmet back just enough to expose the lower half of his face, like he did when he ate with you and the kid in the privacy of the ship. Try as you might, your breath continued to stutter in your chest, and you felt the upturn of his lips in response as he made his way upward. 

He stopped just behind your ear, his lips surprisingly soft as they rounded to catch your lobe between them, the blunt tips of his front teeth coming out to play as he nipped at the flesh softly. “Mesh’la…..” His quiet voice came, whispered just for you to hear. “So beautiful…..”

“D-Din,” you tried softly, the Mandalorian groaning at the sound of his name on your lips as you attempted to clear your throat.

He let go of your ear and tucked back into your neck, his helmet riding back a little higher with the movement, exposing the tip of his nose to brush just right behind your ear. “Say that again…. please.” His hands began to pull your own up toward the armor on his chest, and further up onto his shoulders.

“Din,” you grinned at the unabashed groan that tumbled from his unmodulated lips, “are you sure? I don’t want to-”

The bounty hunter went stiff in your arms, his upper body and face pulling back and away from you just enough that you could see the slight downturn of his features. Nothing concrete, as he was too close, and you quickly averted your eyes down to his neck out of habit, but in the blur of your peripherals, you saw the rough curve of facial hair trying to conceal a saddened expression, but you were quick to wrap him in your hold, reassuring him with your words mumbled into his shoulder. 

“No! No, Din,” even now he let out a quiet hiss through clenched teeth at his name from your lips, making you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head. “I only meant, you giant Tin Can,” you snaked your hand that rested on his chest plate up and around the back of his neck, tracing light figures on the warm exposed skin there as he melted into your palm, the rest of his body quickly closing the distance he’d pulled away and molding back into you, his hands landing softly back onto your hips. “I don’t want,” you reiterated with emphasis before carding your hand up into the small tuft of his exposed curls and giving them a gentle yank that made his breath stutter deliciously, and the side of his mouth quirk up to meet a dimple in your peripherals as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in front of your face. Your voice went soft. “I don’t want to go breaking your Creed for just a moment of-”

“You’re worth it,” he cut you off, your hands suddenly pinned at your sides against the wall, and his face once again tucked into your neck mercilessly. Any inch of skin he could touch, he was. It was like it was his mission. And he always followed through. Mando always got his man. “Besides, I know what I’m doing, mesh’la.” 

You can say that again, you found yourself thinking, feeling your stomach sink into your feet when Din chuckled in response. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Instead of dragging it out, Din mercifully went back to the subject at hand, and you let out a thankful breath as you listened. “No Creeds will be broken.” He moved his kisses across your clavicle to your right side. “No vows,” he worked his way up, “No promises….” He was right over your lips now. “But just to be absolutely clear, like I said….” His voice had trailed off to a low murmur. “You would be worth it.”

You couldn’t take the breath you were trying to manage as you stared at his askew helmet. “Don’t say that,” you whispered. Try as you might, your eyes landed on his lips and wouldn’t look away, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

He was partly cast in shadows from the way his helmet was seated and the lighting of the cargo hold. You couldn’t even really tell a shade if someone held a blaster to your head. 

But, oh, the way they turned upward.

It had your stomach doing stupid things.

“It’s true,” Din smirked.

Oh, this won’t do at all.

Slinking your leg between his, you switched your weight and threw him to the ground. Landing on top of him, you let yourself feel a short burst of pride at the soft oomph! he let out on impact. 

Ignoring the desire to look at what was exposed of his now well lit face, you stared at the diamond in the center of his chestplate. Your hands were braced on either side of it in an attempt to hold him down, as you straddled his waist.

“Din, you're not thinking straight.” 

In an instant, the Mandalorian had flipped the two of you over so he was on top, your wrists pinned to the ground in his grasp on either side of your head as you glared up at him. 

“This would be much more menacing if your helmet were on straight.”

Din only smiled a tight lipped grin, like he was trying to hold it back, the curve of his mouth turning up one side more than the other in a lopsided smirk of amusement while he continued to hold you down. He was backlit now, so once again you could only vaguely see, but Din’s emotions always seemed to have their own tone. It wasn’t much of a leap.

The bounty hunter adjusted his weight, moving his lower half so his legs that were one between yours and one outside by your hip, were now between both of yours and applying just enough pressure to keep you down. 

“Can I get up, please?” You bemoaned, lightly struggling in his grip.

“Do you really want to?” He jibed, gently rolling his hips into yours and making your eyes go wide at the soft groan that fell from your mouth unbidden. “Besides,” his voice lowered as he did, his face now inches from yours as he lifted your hands and set them on his pauldrons. “I think now you’ll actually listen to me.”

“Think again, flyboy,” you whispered. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you attempted yet again to flip the two of you, but Din kept the momentum going and once again landed on top, the same lopsided grin twisting up his face as you pointedly stared at his equally lopsided visor.

Despite his obvious amusement, his tone was dry. “That was cute.”

As he brought your hands to rest on his pauldrons once more, you sighed, rocking your head back and forth, your eyes falling to rest on the glimmering beskar covering his chest. “No. No, Din. I’m not going to be the reason you-”

“That’s right,” he cut you off, bracing his weight on his right forearm and reaching across with his left to press a button on his vambrace that sent the cargo hold of the Crest into nearly complete darkness. “You won’t be.” 

As you stared at the blinking red, green, and white lights of a panel on your left to let your eyes adjust to the new twilight, the quiet thud of beskar on the hold floor pulled your attention back to him. Once again, your breath caught in your chest.

All you could see was his silhouette, the hold of the ship only illuminated by several barely lit panels, their various array of blinking colors casting the ship in an odd mood that seemed to breathe as the light faded in and out, trading one color for the next. No features were available in the dull light, just shadows, but still you closed your eyes on instinct, your face screwed up from the effort. 

Din let out a snort of amusement. “Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

You winced. “Din….” 

This time you both groaned, and it quickly devolved into quiet shared laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

Din’s voice was soft. “Mesh’la…. Open your eyes. It’s okay.” When your eyes still remained shut, Din sighed. He almost sounded sad. Or was that hopeful? Could they be the same thing? “I trust you.”

As you slowly blinked your eyes open, both to adjust to the low light and to make sure Din was absolutely sure, the Mandalorian guided your hands to his armor for a final time, helping you through the foreign motions of removing the beskar plates. 

He’d never had you help with this before. Sure, you’d watched a time or two when he had to make repairs on a single piece, like that time the whistling birds became the multiple random flying projectiles that ejected whenever they wanted on the tiny ship in hyperspace. 

Or when he was about to step into the fresher when you were staying somewhere going after a bounty…. He’d often remove most of it, and you’d quickly busy yourself with the kid or cleaning your blaster, or he’d start to, then notice you were making a point of averting your eyes and he’d quickly step into the fresher to finish the job.

You always felt bad when he’d duck into the tiny little rooms to finish, they usually barely offered enough room to even breathe and stand in, let alone remove armor and store it somewhere until after your shower.

But you just weren’t willing to be the reason he broke his Creed, no matter how relaxed he was. Or trusting. One wayward glance, and his entire way of life was gone. No matter how badly you wanted to just turn around and smile when he cracked a joke during these times, or would fuss over the kid…. Or say your name. It’d be so easy to just turn around, and….

No. It was easier to just never look the other way. Never look back toward him.

Now, however, the Mandalorian was right in your line of sight, or rather his silhouette was, and he was doing everything he could to keep you from looking the other way. To keep your eyes on him, your hands busy with his armor as it fell away piece by piece.

As the man beneath the metal slowly came into view beneath your fingertips, you smiled. 

He was just like you pictured.

What you could feel through his flight suit…. Warmth, muscle, the raised edges of a scar and a concealed weapon…. He fit every bit the picture inside your head, and the grin on your face continued to grow.

“What?”

You startled at his voice, eyes darting up to where his face should be. “You can see me?”

His silhouette shook its head. “Don’t have to. Your breathing changes when you smile. Always has.”

Brows knit together as your expression turned into something slightly sour, you looked up at him through your lashes. “That’s only slightly terrifying, Shiny,” you mumbled, disengaging the left pauldron as he chuckled.

Din leaned in closer to you, his nose nearly brushing against your own as his warm breath fanned out against your face. It made you startle just a bit, the feeling of a living breathing being beside you aside from the kid a foreign and frightening thing in the darkness surrounding you. He seemed to understand immediately, and was quick to soothe any remaining jitters away, shifting his weight up slightly and shimmying off his gloves right above your head so he could cup your cheeks with his bare hands.

As his calloused fingers wound into the hair right above your ears, you were shuddering for an entirely different reason.

“I know everything about you, mesh’la.” His bare forehead fell to rest on yours, the warm touch of his skin in place of the usual cold kiss of beskar you were used to instantly melting the scowling crease from between your brows, and causing your eyes to flutter. “That’s my job.”

Looking up at him through your lashes once again, you snorted out a laugh. “As what, my traveling companion?” Your hands moved to his chestplate. 

This dance had gone round and round for the two of you for so long you’d lost count, now. Admitting feelings, admitting caring, but never exactly what. It was driving you mad, honestly.

Sure, it was shallow, trying to find out this way what exactly you were to the Mandalorian, especially when the two of you were in the…. Position you were currently in. 

But needs must.

“That, and,” he said in a voice that said he knew exactly what you were trying to get at, as he helped you disengage the large piece of beskar across his torso, leaning back just enough to remove it himself and set it off to the side before he was back to trying to burrow under your skin and into your very bones.

Leaning your head to the side to give him better access, he made his way up and down your neck with soft kisses that were making your toes begin to curl inside your boots. “Yes?” You prodded when he didn’t go on, your voice surprisingly strong despite how distracted you felt. One of your hands came up to thread through the curls at the back of his head, your fingertips massaging his scalp lightly to try and bring his attention back to you.

“Sorry,” he chuckled softly, pulling back to look at your face. Your hand still tucked in his curls slid down to the side of his neck with the movement, and he turned his face into your forearm, mumbling into your skin, “Got distracted.” After he offered the inside of your wrist one last lingering kiss, Din turned back to face you again, and lightly ran the tip of his nose along the left side of your own. “Yes, your traveling companion, but also your friend. Partner.” He pulled back just enough that the tips of your noses were barely touching, his voice dropping lower in both volume and octave. “Lover.” Din moved after a moment to brush his nose along the right side of yours, softly kissing the apple of your cheek before adding the words mumbled against your skin, “You’re my other half, mesh’la.” 

You couldn’t help the grin that was climbing up your face. 

Sliding your right hand that was still resting on his neck up to cup his cheek gently, you let it fall down to clutch at his cowl that was still draped around his shoulders, shrouding the two of you in a familiar warmth you hoped never actually disintegrated like you always joked it might.

The smile only grew as Din chased after your palm once it left his face, a small frown turning down his features against your left hand still cradling his face when he could no longer feel your touch. But it quickly melted to match your own joy when you tugged on the fabric to pull him further down into you like you always did, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

Pushing him gently, you rolled so you both were laying on your side facing one another, still so close you could share the same breath if you needed.

Turning into his neck, you whispered the words into the warm skin there. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum…. Ner riduur.” ("I love you…."; lit. "I will know you forever…." “My partner.”)

Din shuddered, cradling the back of your head in one ungloved hand and pressing your face further into him gently as he quietly moaned, “Riduur….” He let out a shaking breath. “Say that again…. Please.”

Xxx

Tag list to come!

[the-chessboard-is-personal]

people have hyped this up so much I'm scared (ii s2 post-s3 liveblog)

(/silly)

ahem. hi. post-watch Knight here, with a big tw: there is a suicide mention and intense death wishing at the end of this post. you can guess who it's directed towards but if you've already seen the episodes I don't think you'll get it wrong.

since there's only 3 episodes this one is going to work slightly differently, I'll have Big Text separating each of them and timestamp each different part of the liveblog. there will also be screenshots.

15:

(intro) wait Taco's trying to steal the win without even being a contestant? (4:48) "Don't Mention That Again" I've said it before it just feels like he speaks in capitalized words sometimes

(5:08) song?? THE SONG FUCKING SLAPS???

(8:02) hold on a moment I need to do someth[finds the song in isolation and adds it to the playlist Good Music]

(10:19) taco!! come on, bringing up beef at the show!

(12:48) "yes :)" oh what a bitch /affectionate

(15:49) tbh I agree with Knife here, if everyone respawns anyway, why is murder so bad? (<- building a death game in Minecraft)

(18:01) DAMNN holy shit, to think this isn't even canonically a scripted game, for Taco to say that?! aough

(19:45) HUH?? TACO CRACKED??? oh. OH she- she fucking died from stress- literally. oh shit. I- tbh I...can relate. I did that once. long story and I can't explain it here but.... holy shit.

(22:46) he's on a platform! MePad teleported him onto a platform!

(27:44) MePhone giving the "next time is the finale" speech rneanwhile there's two episode lef- oh shit

- after episode -

well that was a fucking cliffhanger. OH. MY. what!! WHAT!! COBS?? oh yeah also I don't hate Taco anymore. and the outro music slaps sdgkjhf

oh fuck I'm scared, onto the next episode!

16:

(1:00) HOKAY WELP RIGHT INTO ACTION. that was the same MePhone 3 from 4's memories wasn't it? were those other ones MePhone 2s??

(1:39) hough the parallels, I love this episode so far

(2:38) [his literal worst enemy is repeatedly trying to contact him directly] MePhone 4: [treats it like a minor annoyance]

oh also YIPPEE YINYANG IS THERE!!

(4:17) "are you offering?" lmao I wouldn't have even asked-

uhh

..? why is s3 so bad for Suitcase to hear about..?

(5:30) WHy is he HERE??

(7:28) what HEY IS PICKLE GONE FROM THE INTRO

(15:22) OH IT'S THE GUY. OH IT'S THE GUY o h OJ!! oagh but like. imagine that with humans. your friend starts panicking at something you can't hear or see, screams and then sUDDENLY THEIR FUCKING FACE IS GONE. that would be a neat analog horror actually

(18:32) he's just like me. he's just like me for real,, (<- also has trigger words)

(21:30) OH FUCK HE GOT NICKEL TOO

(23:42) wait- first Pickle then OJ, Nickel- no but OJ never got eliminated in s1. hm.

(25:30) wait- doesn't quite know what a frown looks like? d- does that rnean- wait wait nonono that was Cherry that yeeted Marshmallow-

(27:17) wait WAIT THIS HAPPENED WITH CABBY TOO DO NONE OF THEM HAVE PARENTS?? 27:27 no. nonon NO DON'T SAY IT DON'T YOU DARE DON';T YOU FCUKING DARE TELL ME [unpauses] AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAKDSGJFK AGDFJKHAT'S WHY FAN GHLITCHEDD ADJKGF JAHLOUIAHF OSJHLKF HLA

- after episode -

OH MY HOUSEMATE WAS RIGH T I'M GONNA BR EA K OHH WHAT THE HELLfuck

hokay. okay. okayokayokaoyuayojoaykokoykaoykaokaoauuauhghhh

I am sane. I am normal. that's how he knows things. I need a break- okay so after like an hour, onto the next ep! wait is this the finale-

17:

(1:39) WHA- oh I misheard Knife as Knight.

(2:10) NO NOT TEST TUBE! (3:50) oh they're all going to-

(5:14) NO DON'T YOU DARE

,..,,.,why them,.., b.. but,theyre my favorites,,.

(11:34) wait they need to get that wire out of MePhone. that would stop MePhone X, right? but he doesn't know that..shit

(13:08) yeaAHHWHAT- oh. oh what

(15:14) let me guess Paintbrush got X'd while Fan was rambling. oh nvm. OH THE OTHER EGG IS PART OF MEPHONE 4?? oh that almost made me cry too- welp there goes lightbulb

(17:47) HUH??????????????? TOILET?????? wh a t .the fuck

(21:17) "cause that was pretty reductive!" oh they addressed it!

(22:48) o h. wh- what the HELL IS COBS'S PROBLEM?? LIKE WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM DOES HE NOT THINK MEPHONE4 IS ACTUALLY SENTIENT OR SOMETHING? DOES HE LIKE TORTURING HIM? EVERYONE'S FUCKING DEAD

(25:40) ohh no.. Bow probably can't be X'd anyway, does she really have to do. that. to someone .....sighhh. if Apple's okay with that happening (somehow) I guess it's not as scary. I won't understand the opinion but I don't really need to tbh.

(sorry no more timestamps I watched the whole rest of it speechless)

- after episode -

I- wh-

h-

but- he-

h-

h-

he- but he just- there was no- winner- Cobs- what about MePhone 3GS?? what abou-

h. hold on

hold on I need to. make an editr ealquick. just

relworld cursor editor almost crashed trying to save this

[ironmandeficiency]

sending memes

pairing: legolas / modern!reader

word count: 2153

summary: it was remarkably easy to fall in love with the elven prince. unfortunately, it was somewhat harder to actually convey said feelings. that’s when you decide to use memes

req: can i have legolas x reader with "sender quotes a poem that reminds them of receiver"? -@micheleamidalajedi

a/n: leave it to me to turn soft romance prompts into bullshit 😂i had to tweak it just a smidge but i think it's fine. mistor is gn sindarin for strayer/wanderer, aluon is gn sindarin for wholesome, & meril means artist or poet in woodelven sindarin

in the beginning, the elves had no idea what to do with you. you were far too brash and loud for court and had very little formal training in just about anything useful. your clothes were strange and there were dozens of words in your vernacular they didn’t understand, and several of your mannerisms threw the elves of the greenwood into tizzies.

your consensus was that they tolerated you simply because you knew things you shouldn’t, like the events of the first age and personal details about king thranduil that never saw the light of day.

some elves surprisingly enjoyed your presence very early on and jumped on the opportunity to learn about where you came from. of this number was legolas, a very adept learner who was easy on the eyes (and your heart, but that’s neither here nor there).

you’ve been in middle earth for a few years now, having jumped on the chance to stay and never return to a world slowly deteriorating. once you told the elves about various tragedies that had struck your earth in the past hundred years alone, even thranduil was terrified at the prospect of sending you back.

so now you were somewhat fluent in sindarin and best friends with a prince; oh, how the turntables.

“mistor!” your elvish name was cheerfully shouted across the training arena. “watch this!” aluon’s voice was immediately recognized and it brought a smile to your face. he had been one of your very first friends in middle earth and despite his youth (for an elf), was placed on your royal guard for if you ever ventured beyond the greenwood. he was what you would call a cinnamon roll.

“okay, i’m watching!”

aluon was currently practicing with his throwing knives, his bow resting against the side of a training dummy. for all the praise a bow and arrow got from elves, he preferred his knives just a bit more.

he threw one last look over his shoulder to make sure you were indeed watching him before throwing the blade in his hand with a resounding “YEET!”

the knife landed directly in the bullseye because of course it did.

you could barely congratulate him on his aim and joke execution for your cackling, arms holding your stomach as if your body were truly coming undone. his laughter joined yours soon after, the two of you leaning on each other while trying (and failing) to catch your breath.

-

legolas has known you long enough to know that where boisterous laughter is heard, you’re likely the culprit. this is why his footsteps guided him to the training arena in the royal wing, the one reserved for himself, his father, and their most trusted friends and guards.

to his non-surprise, you and aluon were wheezing on the ground at some unknown joke. he approached you both with a smile of his own, sturdy hands helping you to your feet. “mellon nin, what lightens you so?”

“aluon was throwing knives and went ‘YEET!’ and he hit the center of the target!” the cackling returned with renewed strength as you mimicked the motion and raucous screech of the four letter word.

ah, the practice of yeeting. you explained the word to him very early into your presence here and he found himself using the term on the odd occasion, much to your delight.

but legolas, as polite and regal as he was, felt the embers of friendly competition light in his chest. it wasn’t about the aim of aluon’s throws, as logical but slightly unfounded as that claim would have been.

it was truly about your laughter. he wanted to be the reason you lit up with such mirth, he wanted to be responsible for the joy in your eyes.

with all the princely decorum he could muster, he armed himself with his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly directly into the wooden handle of aluon’s blade.

then, with a straight face, he dabbed.

-

tauriel was a hard elf to get ahold of. as captain of the guard, she was always busy, flitting about while completing all sorts of duties.

but finally, two weeks after legolas made a show of dabbing in the training arena, you found her in a rare moment of rest. you knocked on the door to her rooms and when she opened it, you walked right inside and plopped yourself on the nearest chair.

“ugh tauriel! finally, i’ve been trying to talk to you for ages!”

she smiles warmly, always having been one to enjoy the mannerisms that made you so intensely human. “it’s good to see you too, mellon nin,” her chuckle is soft and sincere. “what do you need?”

you sighed, snatching a throw pillow from the chaise you were on and reclining back in a way reminiscent of a therapist’s office. “i need advice about legolas.”

her smile turned to a knowing smirk. “ah, so you finally see what the entire kingdom already knows.”

“what do you mean ‘the entire kingdom knows’? what do they know?!”

“ah, i see i was mistaken.”

your resulting floundering was amusing to the redhead.

“i’m serious tauriel, i need your help!” you thought it useless to play coy and being vague would get you nowhere, so you told her exactly what you needed to know. “i need to know how to go about asking him on a date, or whatever it is that elves do when they’re interested in someone.”

“well,” she began, “if i know him as well as i think i do, he wouldn’t want you to conform to elven traditions to please him.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” at this point, you were beginning to question why you came to tauriel for help, seeing as she was being ridiculously cryptic and strangely unhelpful. “in case you forgot, he’s royalty. i can’t exactly woo him with ridiculous memes and call it a day.”

she nodded. “why not? if that is a regular human courting tradition where you’re from, why would he not find it acceptable? it’s part of who you are, and one could only call themselves a worthy suitor if they appreciate those things about their intended.”

okay, she had a little bit of a point. not that you would tell her so, of course. “but i can’t text him memes at ungodly hours of the night, there still is a lack of cell phones to contend with.”

for someone so smart and otherworldly, tauriel thought, you were rather oblivious when your feelings got in the way of your common sense. “then do those things in a different way. as you’ve told me before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

after a few moments of silent pondering, you realized what she was hinting at. “i can draw the memes! or, well, i can ask meril for assistance in the matter, since i’m not quite used to using quills and such.” tauriel thought she could see the gears turning in your head (if that was indeed the right analogy).

she shouldn’t have been surprised when you leaped from her chaise and wrapped her in a tight hug. humans in your world must be a bit more affectionate than the ones she was vaguely familiar with, “thank you thank you thank you! i’ll let you know how it goes! bye!” with that abrupt exit, tauriel watched you fondly as you sprinted from your rooms, probably heading to the library where you could find meril.

-

legolas was fletching arrows when a courier appeared in his line of vision with a bow. “my prince, a letter for you.” he accepted the outstretched letter with a nod, wondering what it could possibly be.

the parchment was familiar to him, being the very same quality that occupied his own writing desk in his chambers. the only momentary pause was seeing that the few words were written in westron, underneath a drawing of a radish with a tiny face.

“you’re… radishing?” it took him a moment to dissect the pun, shoulders shaking minutely when the meaning fully registered. then his eyes caught your signature on the bottom of the page and his smile grew wider. he folds your letter neatly and tucks it into a pocket. when he goes back to his rooms next, he will deposit it securely on his desk to keep it safe.

the radish is the first of many of these pictures he receives from you, he soon learns that in the world you came from, they’re called “memes” and can convey any number of things depending on the content and context.

during dinner one evening, you passed him a napkin that he unfolded to find another vegetable drawing, this time a smiling carrot, with the words “i carrot a lot about you” that turned the tips of his ears pink. if his father noticed the blush he gave no indication of it.

your memes varied in artistic talent (he would know meril’s penmanship anywhere) but all carried the same intention, which seemed to be making him flustered at the most inopportune times. another thing he learned about memes was that they were frequently sent back and forth between two people.

his own visit to meril seemed to be long overdue.

-

meril has lived for several thousand years in service to the greenwood. yet, in all her centuries of knowledge and experience, she’s never seen two beings dance around feelings with the same grace as prince legolas (or lack thereof, where you were concerned).

you taught her what memes were and provided descriptions of what you deemed “templates” for her to draw,  master copies of a certain type of meme where the meaning of the meme changed depending on the text. it was a very interesting affair, if she did say so herself. they became more popular throughout the kingdom thanks to your influence, so much so that the prince himself came to her one day with an odd request.

“i need you to help me compose a meme worthy of mistor’s laughter.” he looked serious as he ever did, grim determination set in every pore of his face. none would know that he was simply trying to make a meme.

“you need to be more specific, your highness. your dear mistor can find humor in nearly everything around them. in fact, yesterday afternoon, they spilled nearly a month’s worth of ink onto a single piece of parchment and laughingly called it the thirteenth reason.”

legolas smiled at the story before his mind fully processed what she said. “they’re not my- thirteenth reason for what? what were the other twelve?”

meril shrugged, walking towards what became your desk in the library soon after your arrival. many of the templates were strewn about its surface haphazardly, half-finished memes next to their matching templates. “you should find everything you need here, your highness. if mistor arrives before you’re gone, i shall keep them occupied.”

“thank you. i greatly appreciate your help.”

finding blank parchment and a quill, he dipped into your ink jar and quickly got to work.

-

you generally never got letters. any missives you received from various elves were dubbed simply as messages that just happened to be written, which is why being told there was a letter for you had you perplexed. it wasn’t like modern earth discovered how to send carrier pigeons to middle earth in the few years you’ve lived in the greenwood.

instead of asking the courier several questions about the contents of the letter, you simply bid him thanks and quickly tore into it.

the wax seal of the royal line was recognized in seconds. thranduil wouldn’t waste his time writing anything out that he could simply tell you in person with a summons to wherever he happened to be.

that left legolas, and the thought made you giddy just thinking about it.

you registered that there were words written to you, but paid them no mind for the moment. what truly gave you surprise was the fact he used a template. you knew this because you recognized the format; a young girl standing in front of several other people who were giving her audience, a display board just behind her.

this bitch sent you a lisa simpson meme.

after a moment of bewilderment, you actually read the words that were just behind her.

“mistor’s laugh makes the plants grow stronger and could replace the sun with their joy”

you could tell that towards the end he worried about having enough room for all the words in the square with how they got just a smidge smaller. but that didn’t matter to you in the slightest, not when he wrote such a romantic sentiment solely for you. your giggles were the furthest thing from dignified but you didn’t care.

you had a prince to find (and hopefully kiss, if things went your way).

[nowoyas]

it just makes sense (NSFW) - nishinoya/reader

m.list - read on ao3

A/N: yeet

Summary: Vacationing with your boyfriend is fun. You especially enjoyed getting to play beach volleyball with him.

Warnings: smut, blowjob. no thoughts head empty. reader is fully gender neutral in this one

Word Count: ~1600 words

“Are you feeling me up right now?”

Your hand stills where you’d been lazily dragging a hand along Noya’s upper arm, entranced with the slight muscle definition you found there. “No,” you answer, but your hand does not leave his arm.

It’s interesting, traveling with Noya. You’d been together only a few months, good friends for much, much longer. Gone to separate high schools and kept in touch as much as possible while he threw himself into volleyball. Reuniting had been easy enough, and then you were together like it was nothing: he saw something he wanted and went after it, loud and unabashed in his pursuit of you. Lucky for you, you saw something you wanted, too, and now here you are.

You’d slotted into each other’s lives in a romantic and sexual sense with ease. It had just made sense.

His fingers find your hair and begin gently untangling a knot there. The soft laughter that leaves him vibrates through his chest and directly into the ear you’ve pressed against it. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

It’s a rare moment with him—a long day, lots done in the city, a few rounds of beach volleyball with the odd duo that is Hinata, one of his friends from the volleyball team, and Oikawa, who apparently he had not been friends with and neither had Hinata, and now, the oddity of coming back to the airbnb and just sharing a few quiet moments cuddling on the couch together. It’s rare because it’s Noya, and Noya never slows down or drops his voice unless it’s with you. It’s also rare because you’re never the restless one.

“Hey, don’t stop on my account,” he teases. You obediently, maybe too eagerly, wrap your hand around his bicep properly, which earns another laugh from him.

“You’ve got really nice arms,” you mumble. “And a nice back. ‘N shoulders. Your shoulders are really pretty.”

His fingers twitch in your hair, the only sign that, for once, you’ve managed to catch him off guard. You dare a glance up at his reddening face and stifle a laugh of your own.

“T-that so?”

“Mm. I’m glad we met up with your friend. Even if I apparently suck at volleyball. Was fun getting to play with you.”

“You probably don’t suck that bad. It’s not your fault your first time was with two good volleyball players. And Oikawa.”

“Or that I was distracted,” you mumble.

You can hear the eyebrow raise in his voice. “I hope you mean I was distracting you.”

Your teeth catch your lip as you deliberate. Fuck it. “Yeah, someone took his shirt off at the start and made it really hard to think straight for most of it.”

“Does that have anything to do with the reason someone can’t keep their hands off me?”

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“It’s a lot to me, actually,” he replies, but he’s yawning as he says it, stretching out underneath you languidly.

“Can I—“ You cut yourself off. It’s been a big, high-energy day, which somehow only makes the embarrassment worse when you realize where, exactly, that sentence was going. Noya’s the unashamed, impulsive one in the relationship. You’re the brain cells.

“Mm? Finish the question.”

“N-nevermind.”

“[name]…”

Fuck. You know that tone. You should’ve known the second you started asking that you’d have to finish. Still, it’s not quite you to not at least try to give him an out. “’Snothing. I don’t—I don’t know where I was going with that.”

“You stammer a bit when you’re lying.”

“It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

“Baby, tell me.” He wraps his arms around you, pulls you in tight like he knows you’re about to try to slip away and hide from him until he forgets what you wanted to ask. You whine in reply, burying your face in his chest with a mumble.

A snort. “What was that?”

Sigh. Pull your face out of his shirt just enough to free the noise from your mouth as you repeat the question. “Can I suck your dick?”

He freezes. “Oh.”

And yeah, oh. You’re both still new to this—he’d mentioned, just before you’d gotten together, that he hadn’t ended up dating at all during high school, and while you’d had one or two failed relationships, the sex was, well…

You can’t exactly recall impulsively wanting to suck any of your ex’s dicks at any point before, during, or after dating them. You can’t even really say you liked it all that much. But here you are, the question hanging between you, and you really did mean it.

For just a moment—stupidly at that, you blame vacation brain—you think he might actually say no. Then his hand is back in your hair, tugging just enough to force you to look up at him and send heat pooling between your legs. His cheeks are flushed, eyes lidded, and yeah, no, there’s no fucking way he’s about to tell you not to suck his dick unless he’s come up with a better idea.

“I’m not going to lie to you, that is not where I thought you were going with that sentence.”

“…please?”

His eyes close slowly for a moment, a controlled inhale. “Are you trying to kill me right now?”

“I’m actually just trying to suck your dick,” you say, bolstered by the tug at your hair and how he’s not even trying to hide how turned on he is. “Come on, I said please. I just—I wanted—I mean, you’re pretty, and I got a really nice show today, and—“ Your hands come up to cover your face. It’s sort of amazing how quickly your confidence drains.

“And…?” He’s grinning. The bastard is teasing you. It’s working.

Asshole.

“—I just wanted something in my mouth,” you admit. The words come out muffled.

He laughs in disbelief. “Say that again?”

“If you actually make me repeat that, I swear to god I’m hiding all of your hair shit when you fall asleep tonight.”

“Noo—“ He tosses his head back with laughter, and when he’s done embarrassing you, you catch his lips in a kiss. He wastes no time slipping his tongue into your mouth—you waste no time in moaning around it.

You really needed something in your mouth, apparently.

He pulls you into his lap proper, already hard and pressing into your cunt where you land on him. It’s here you settle, for just a moment—sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue nearly down your throat, your hands roaming his chest and shoulders just to feel. When you part, chests heaving, he flashes this shit-eating grin that almost has you changing your mind on principle.

“All this because I took my shirt off for a little while?”

“Shut up,” you groan and shuffle off both him and the couch entirely.

“Alright, alright—fuck—“

Your hand slips beneath his shorts, finding his dick and pumping it slowly just to hear him groan.

You don’t bother trying to get his shorts off, merely pull his cock out and lean forward, flattening your tongue against his length. Already he has a hand winding into your hair, pulling deliciously as you wrap your lips around him.

And yeah, this is what you needed. You had to watch him show off all day and once again with him things just make sense. Bobbing your head down his length, sliding your hand across the rest as you let your eyes drift shut. His groans and swears reaching your ears as you lose yourself in the action of sucking him off, the twitch of his cock on your tongue as you swirl it just so.

At some point, it shifts from trying to get him off to an almost lazy pace—you just need to enjoy this, just need to feel your Noya’s cock gliding between your lips.

That’s about when the grip in your hair tightens and he starts fucking your throat.

Remember what I said before? Scratch that. Strike it from the record. This, the tip of his cock causing you to gag and choke, his hand fisting into your hair, unable to pull away if you wanted to, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, is what you needed. Your free hand, the one not desperately grasping at whatever it can grip onto, snakes down between your legs. One final thrust has ropes of cum hitting the back of your throat, your head held in place as far down his cock as you can rest comfortably, and when he releases you, you gasp for air a little, head fuzzy.

The tight grip on your hair releases. Moves, instead, to stroking the top of your head softly. Too softly, given how your throat is already sore from the treatment. You rest your head against his thigh sleepily as he tucks himself back into his shorts.

“Thank you,” you sigh.

“You know we’re not done yet, right, baby?”

Tired eyes flick up to him. “Mm?”

“Climb up here. Let me take care of you, too.”

“’Sokay. Just needed that,” you manage. Your voice sounds a bit hoarse.

With a little effort, he maneuvers you up onto the couch, eyes dark. “And I need this. Can I?”

“Oh?”

“Please?”

And, well, who are you to argue with that?

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

If you'd like to be tagged, feel free to let me know what in (all works, character-specific, etc.)! If your url appears on this list but is not underlined/you didn't get a notification, please ensure your blog is set to appear in search results in your blog settings or consider subscribing to my ao3 (Icarus_Drops) for a notification! After three unsuccessful tagging attempts, you will be removed from the taglist.

As always, thanks for reading! <3

[dareactions]

Been reading your reactions on your blog and its 3 am rn but I have two requests I'll probs be sending them both in seperate asks but first one, okay so I have been playing a dwarf inquisitor for the past week or so, he's 2 handed warrior

I also had a warrior dwarf in my old DnD club before graduating but anyways, how would the companions react to a dwarf 2 handed inquisitor stareing directly into Iron Bull's eyes and with the most serious tone asking if Bull could PICK them UP and THROW THEM to the enemy, how would the other companions ESPECIALLY Bull react to just watching their inquisitor get full on YEETED into enemy lines So all they see is this short dwarf with an AXE bigger than their body coming at them at 90 MPH just a ball of rage who wouldn't be terrified?

XD this hit me after remembering in a session where my friends Orc paladin suggested throwing my character towards an archer up on a hill got a fucking NAT 20 AND IT WAS GLORIOUS

i hate to admit we've done this in my dnd group too, and i fear my players will soon too bcs i gave the kobold a fucking nuke. why did i do that? oh god everyday is stressful.

Cassandra: She stops, and she stares. For a moment she truly wonders if maybe the rage demon in front of her stops in confusion too, because its actions become stilted and slow for a second- it's the second she needs to cut it in half as she turns towards the Inquisitor. ''Are you out of your mind?'' Is the only thing her mind can conjure up as she in absolute dread watches The Iron Bull listen to them. Why did she agree to this, why did she start the Inquisition. She should've let the world end, why are they all like this. It doesn't matter how impressive it is to her deep down, she wants to retire.

Solas: Well, that is certainly not what he had expected. His eyes narrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, just to close. It could work. That's the worst part, honestly, that he could see it work and can't even find it in himself to question the tactics. There's a moment where his spellcasting is far less controlled, more lazy in hitting its targets because he is simply far too busy watching the Inquisitor go flying. He can't even laugh, he probably would if it weren't for the fact he watches them covered in blood stand back up after cleaving half of their enemies in half. For a moment he rethinks his plans. Just for a moment.

Dorian: He yells out in glee at this, it's the funniest shit he has heard for months personally. Because Dorian Pavus for some reason, doesn't think the Inquisitor and Bull will go through with it. There's no way, absolutely not, it's ridiculous for all intents and purposes! Except the Inquisitor flies past him at an alarming speed just seconds later and Dorian finds himself lucky he has the sense to not send a spell after in pure shock, staring in awe as he ignores Sera's loud cackling to his side. He probably shouldn't tell Cassandra he found that impressive, he has a feeling she won't share the sentiment- but he looks over at Bull who just grins in pride. No wonder people were horrified of them, were they all normal people they probably would be too.

Sera: She is a cackling mess, leaning against Dorian trying to gasp for breath as Cassandra goes slack jawed. It's too funny to be impressive, it really is. The Inquisitor goes flying and she can feel her stomach muscles start cramping as people drop in front of them. Was death supposed to be this funny? Is there some kind of demon for people who die horribly hilarious deaths? She isn't sure but she has to be calmed down because breathing becomes more difficult by every second she laughs. ''Do it again! Do it again right now!'' Her request isn't appreciated by Cassandra, but Sera doesn't care. She just needs to see the confusion on these things faces one more time, just once more !

Blackwall: He shares Cassandra's retirement sentiment. It's impressive, really, it is. But at the same time he has to wonder how healthy it actually is, getting launched at such an intense speed- what if an ally had gotten in the way? Even so his mouth tugs with a smile, his eyes stay focused on the remaining enemies in front of him but- maker, why did the Inquisitor have to spin? He takes a deep breath and steels himself, this is fine. It's fine. He doesn't break out laughing until after the battle is done and Cassandra starts yelling at the Inquisitor, and they have the audacity to go ''Well, it worked didn't it?'' at her. He isn't sure if he is older than Cassandra anymore because she seemingly ages in front of him from it all.

Iron Bull: If you ask Bull, he was born for this moment. Everything has led up to launching a small violent dwarf with a giant axe in the air through enemies, this is why he was put in this reality. He is gleeful like a child receiving gifts, excitedly screaming as the Inquisitor cuts down foes mid-air. It's fun and he feels the surge of adrenaline from pulling a stupid stunt and somehow succeeding. His hands itch and the Axe he was wielding himself gets picked back up in seconds, slicing through enemies with a new eager ferocity. He fucking loved his job. This was the best job ever, fuck everything else, he'd just launched his boss in the air to kill things!

Vivienne: It's all very barbarish, isn't it? She frowns from the back where she is carefully weaving magic to her will, really, throwing the Inquisitor? Even so she can't exactly argue with how useful it is, seeing as the long line of dead things sort of counter any argument she might have. Even so she scoffs at the blood bath, rolling her eyes at delighted yells and laughter from some of her allies- this is absolutely barbaric. No, she is not smiling to herself, absolutely not. ''Do well in not getting blood on me, dear.'' Is her only comment on the matter, as she just shakes her head and moves through the battlefield. Children, she works with children.

Varric: His first reaction is just the words ''Don't ever think I'll do that.'' to Bull who laughs heartily, clearly not understanding that Varric very much has no intention to ever become a projectile. It's funny, something straight out of his books and he is for sure putting this in one- even if nobody will ever believe him. It makes him wonder just what else is possible if you have sheer stupid will and dedication, and how the hell Hawke didn't try that trick years ago.

Cole: He stares in confusion at the spot where the Inquisitor just was, eyes narrowing at the now empty plot of grass. They were just here, and then he looks up and just sees the spinning ball of absolute carnage that is flying through the air. He lets out a tiny ''Oh.'' because what else can he do? Cole just stares for a second longer before nodding, alright. He supposes that works too, and the Inquisitor is happy, so it can't hurt.

[valoisfulcanellideux]

Transcribed highlights from Pix and Zloy's "Chicken Block" series [Ep.1 & Ep.2]

Since I've been re-watching this hilarious series, I thought I'd transcribe some of the highlights, because these two are just so damn good together. Funny stuff from episodes 1 and 2 can be found behind the cut.

Ep.1

Zloy: [sings, to the melody of the 'Transformers' theme] "Log chicken. Chicken who's a log."

-

Zloy: "I'll need you to surround me in a pen with them [the chickens]. Don't worry, I'll blend in." [looks like this, so yeah... he will]

-

Pix: "I like the fact that you've just committed to your life in this new chicken commune now." Zloy: "Look, I have a boat. I can escape whenever I want." Pix: "That sounds like what somebody with Stockholm Syndrome would say." Zloy: "This is the prison of my own making!"

-

Zloy: "Hey! Hey, look! It's our first log that was pooped by a chicken!" Pix: "Nice! Can we call them organic now? Is that what we're allowed to—" Zloy: "Pixlriffs, ALL logs are organic." Pix: [laughs] "Responsibly farmed!" Zloy: "Show me… show me a single log that would not be an organic one." [giggles] Pix: "I wanna make some kind of, like, pithy remark about fossilised wood at this point, but I dunno." Zloy: "Fossilised wood would also be organic! Because guess what? It was still grown as wood. In a tree." Pix: [laughs] "This is a fair point. I concede."

-

Pix: "I can't tell if these logs inside this enclosure were pooped out by a chicken, or if they are just… logs that fell from this tree." Zloy: "I wanna say it's probably a community effort."

-

Zloy: "Oh! There's a skeleton! There's a skeleton! There's a skeleton! And it—" Pix: "Oh no…" [skeleton self-yeets off the one-block-wide bridge from the mob-spawning platform] Pix: [loses it] Zloy: "DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Pix: [loses it some more] "It just went! It was like 'Nope! Can't be bothered with you!' It saw you riding a chicken towards it, crown upon your head, glasses on your face, and decided, 'I'm not gonna mess with that guy'."

-

Pix: "One other thing I will always appreciate about Bedrock Edition over Java is the fact that the sky darkens around you when you're looking directly at the sun, because of how bright the sun should be. It's, like, the one lighting effect that actually makes sense in this version of the game." Zloy: "Also, the eyes don't start bleeding, but that's an… entirely different thing." Pix: "Yes. That's an add-on that I imagine people could make." Zloy: "You look up and there's the Rick and Morty sun, screaming."

-

Zloy: [to stream chat, as he looks at the assorted chickens] "Okay. Anyone want to give me a breeding pair?" [pause] Zloy: "Anyone who says 'Zloy and Pixlriffs' will be banned from every single channel on Twitch."

-

[Pix goes out toward the mob spawning platform with a sword] Zloy: "You don't have to wait between the swings." Pix: "I know, I know." Zloy: [giggles] "Hehe. Silly Java players! Hehehe!"

-

Ep.2

Pix: "I have coal!" Zloy: "YAY! Pix: "I have coal. Can make torch. Will make torch now."

-

Pix: [having farmed a bunch of wood] "The log chicken just gave me another log, as if to say, 'Why are you even bothering?' [addresses the chicken] I'm bothering 'cause you're not productive." Zloy: "Pick up the speed. Clench your… whatever muscles you're using." Pix: "Tighten your buttcheeks!" Zloy: "Yep. Push, lady. [pause] Don't actually push ladies."

-

Pix: "There is now a zombie with a gold hat who seems to be… okay, there are two of them; they seemed to have claimed the ship." Zloy: "They boarded the ship!" Pix: "We've been boarded." Zloy: "Oh noes." Pix: [grabs a sword] "I'm gonna go and defend us. I have lost the ability to sprint, though, so I'm not exactly charging into battle, but…" [walks toward the zombies] "GET OFF MY SHIP, YOU DINGUS!" Zloy: [giggles] Pix: "Oh hey, he dropped his hat! Yay! I have armour." Zloy: "You have a crown." Pix: "You have your crown, I have my crown." Zloy: "The matching attire." Pix: "It gives me Fire Protection 1, as if that's even an issue." Zloy: "MINE GIVES ME DIGNITY, DARN IT!" Pix: "I have no dignity."

-

Zloy: "Hey look! A spider." Pix: [laughs] "It's a string chicken." [they both laugh] Pix: "After a while everything on this map just becomes a chicken to me."

-

Pix: "I spawned with you in the cauldron. Which looks even more soupy now that it's filled with rainwater." Zloy: "Exactly! We're gonna be delicious!"

-

Pix: "Every time the honey dripping sound happens, I just feel like it's slime. I'm like, has a slime just spawned? Nope. It's just the scarecrow dripping."

-

Zloy: "I have, like, twenty dirt. Place it responsibly."

-

Pix: "Oh, a zombie villager! Haha, yeah!" Zloy: "WHAT? No way!" Pix: "Let's see what we can do about him." Zloy: "I mean, we have a boat." Pix: "Yeah, that is true. That is true." Zloy: "I already decided that his name is gonna be Grephew. Which is a very bad idea, because I can see there's another zombie inside of him. He probably will not survive." [Pix creeps out toward the zombie villager, who self-yeets off the bridge. Pix runs back again] Pix: "There's a tiny one! There's a tiny one behind him! He has a son! There was a child!" Zloy: "Grephew Junior! Yaaaaay! I… don't want to go near him. Okay, Grephew, son of a gun, you're making me do this. Here are full blocks to preserve you." Pix: "Oh man. It's super creepy that baby zombie villagers have the same sound as regular zombie villagers. It's like a child with an unnaturally deep voice." Zloy: "They just have a very deep voice, okay?"

-

[Zloy builds a shelter around Grephew, out of oak fences with an oak plank roof] Pix: [laughs] "He has a freaking abandoned mineshaft over the top of him now."

-

Zloy: "A skeleton on this platform. So… potentially bones. And I apologise, but also potentially getting boned, so…" Pix: "Yeaaah… 'bout that… I'm fine taking the risk. I have fire protection on my helmet." [I'm struggling to resist the innuendo on that one…] Zloy: "I also am fine with you taking the risk."

-

Zloy: [musing] "So, mycelium would be… a log and dirt, all right." Pix: "Consult the notes!" Zloy: "I have them on my lap. The entire whiteboard. It's not a big whiteboard. But it does obstruct my view so I don't see the keyboard and my own teacup. So there's a disaster waiting to happen." Zloy: [laughs; probably at a suggestion from stream chat] "Consult the book of armaments! Oh my god." Pix: [laughs] "Hold thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. Four shalt thou not count. Neither countest thou two. Unless, in counting two, thou proceedest to three." Zloy: "Are you still speaking English?" Pix: [laughs] "I'm just quoting Monty Python. Which is probably the most English you can speak." Zloy: "Are you still speaking English, or have you transcended into communicating only in Monty Python quotes?" Pix: "It's touch and go." Zloy: "Yeah."

-

Zloy: "This is the Grephew Island." Pix: "The Grefuge." Zloy: [cracks up] Pix: [laughs] "I'm sorry!" Zloy: [giggling] "That's going into the episode title. Like, you're ruining my SEO, but that's gonna be the episode title."

-

Pix: "We have four apples in the chest now. Which is nice. I'm still not eating any of them, because I enjoy chat freaking out about the fact that I have no health left." Zloy: "There is no reason to eat. Just DIE!" [they have Keep Inventory on] [long, awkward pause] Zloy: "There is so much political commentary in that one phrase I just said..."

-

Pix: [peers across at the spawning platform] "I keep looking at stuff over there and thinking, 'Is that a skeletal chicken?' and it turns out it's just, like, a sapling and I can't really see. Oh, yeah… ENHANCE!" Zloy: [laughs] "Crying out loud, I was waiting for you to remember that one. What do your elf eyes see, Pixlriffs?"

-

[Zloy is about to boat a chicken along a one-block-wide bridge] Pix: "Do you need a bit more space on the platform, or is that enough?" Zloy: "No, no. But I would appresh you taking out the spooder [spider]. I dragged a shulker this way, through the End, over the void, for thousands of blocks. [whispers] I think I can manage with a chicken. [pause] Mostly because the chicken is not actively trying to kill me."

-

Pix: "Oh my god! Phantoms have started to spawn, and they're skinless chickens!" Zloy: "WHAT?! NO!" Pix: "I DID NOT EXPECT THIS!" [both start laughing] Pix: "Yes! Oh, this map is good. This map is so good!"

-

[they kill a chicken-phantom] Pix: "Oh, it dropped feathers! What?" Zloy: "IT DROPPED RAW CHICKEN!" Pix: [absolutely loses it] "So phantoms are actually chickens?! What?! Oh, that's so good." Zloy: "They're regular chickens that came for vengeance!" Pix: [cracks up] "That's incredible." Zloy: "I just realised that they're gonna burn in the daylight and drop cooked chicken." Pix: "I mean, in theory. They could not do." Zloy: "Yeah, they couldn't." Pix: "But yeah, if they drop cooked chicken, that's like… actual genius." Pix: "Look at it dive. Look at it dive, like a graceful swa— [chicken-phantom bursts into flames] Nope, it is burning. Yes!" Zloy: [cracks up] Pix: "Self-cooking chicken!" Zloy: "Yes! We finally found the Kentucky Fried one!"

[seeyouonsaturn]

...Livewire and Havoc. grabby hands emoji

❄️- How do you and your f/o react to the first snow of the season?

🌿- Would you or your f/o hang mistletoe? How would they react if you pulled them under it, or vice versa?

Wooo thank youuu!! Ilysm merry crimsis 💖🎄

Havoc especially is gonna be a lil hard bc I've only had her for a day and I don't actually KNOW Whirl in canon yet but I'm very happy you're as obsessed with them as I am. They occupy my every waking thought.

❄️- How do you and your f/o react to the first snow of the season?

Livewire: Livewire would be so perplexed by the whole thing. She hasn't been on earth very long yet, and there's a good chance no one told her about snow. She's familiar enough with rain, but then one morning she wakes up and goes outside and it's just... white? What?

She doesn't turn out to be a big fan of it for the most part. It's a sludgy cold and wet mess, and hard to drive in without sliding all around and getting it all over your gears. No thank you.

That said though... she can be convinced to join Sari and Bumblebee in a quest to pelt everyone with snowballs. They initiate her into the ancient art of snowball fights (as if Bumblebee hasn't just learned about it himself a little while ago) and it turns out she hates getting snow all over the gaps between her panels UNLESS it's in the form of heavy artillery. Her and Bee definitely also make a game out of who can drift/slide the farthest on the icy road.

Ratchet comes outside to tell them to be careful because everything is slippery and Primus even knows what they're throwing at each other (there may be ROCKS in that snow!!) and he is NOT in the mood to be fixing their sorry afts up. Huge mistake on his part, because now Livewire has found A Target. The rest of the snow season is spent trying to get Ratchet to have some fun for once in his life and join the snowball fight, which he is decidedly not planning on doing, but he can no longer leave the base without getting snow in his face. He can't hide inside either. They'll bring the snow to him. There's melting puddles all over the base floor now. He really has to live with these people. He needs a vacation. Preferably somewhere tropical, with no chance of snow.

Havoc: Okay let's just assume they are on earth, or any other planet that has snow, and not question it any further. Okay? Okay.

Oh god you think Whirl can walk in this shit with those fucking legs of his? He'd be stalking around like a bird in a bog (picture a heron. Gotta make the most awkward big steppies). Flying probably sucks ass in the snow too. He looks like he'd slay at ice skating though. Meanwhile Havoc is big, bulky and has an all-terrain vehicle alt mode. Will he make her carry him once he gets tired of having to deal with this? Probably. She will do it, but she's gonna complain the whole time. Until he says something wrong and gets dropped in the nearest snow heap. No mercy.

I can picture him seeing some kids or whatever have a snowball fight and decide that looks like a great idea, except he can't exactly make snowballs with those claws so instead he gets a shovel or something and just yeets formless lumps of snow at people. Who then respond by punching him in the eye. Fuck it, let's forego the snow part altogether and just start beating people up. Merrily. Because 'tis the season!

Havoc meanwhile can't even enjoy the snow day because she's busy fixing up the victims of these snowball-free-snowball-fight escapades. Again. And again.

Until finally she does manage to sneak away, only to amass the biggest ball of snow known to man and bot and launch it directly into the back of an unsuspecting Whirl's head. This mother of all snowballs is enough to knock him off his pedes. He can't even chase her in all this snow, and she's laughing her aft off from a distance while he's tripping around and getting stuck in snow drifts and hurling insults at her. The image almost makes up for having to deal with all his crap. Gotta have some fun in your life (you know deep down he thinks it's funny as fuck too).

🌿- Would you or your f/o hang mistletoe? How would they react if you pulled them under it, or vice versa?

Livewire: As soon as Sari tells her about the whole mistletoe thing, Livewire would be SO all over it. She was just presented the perfect excuse to smooch that old man on a silver platter. She immediately decides she LOVES Christmas season.

Next time she and Ratchet walk anywhere she very inconspicuously guides him into a slight detour, which is toootally just for no reason. He can tell she is up to something, but doesn't realize what it is until she suddenly stops and points upwards and just goes "oh dear, look at that, how'd that get there ~"

"Are you fragging serious." He just stares at her. Deadpan.

She looks back at him with a big ol' innocent face.

He's so tired. Why is she doing this to him. "No."

"Aww, but you HAVE to, it's TRADITION!"

"We're not even from this planet."

Livewire is looking at him with her best impression of what she's been told is called puppy dog eyes (she's learned it from Sari) and Ratchet just growls and (after glancing around to make sure no one is watching) briefly tilts her chin up and gives her a quick peck on the lips. It's tradition, after all. Then he walks away without any further word, leaving her to reboot her processor because it seems to have just shorted out. Yes, this was literally the plan. That doesn't mean she really expected it to work.

Havoc: Once again let's just pretend that is is a thing these bots do and are familiar with. Don't think about it too hard just go with the Christmas spirit.

I don't think either of them would hang it, at least not with any intention other than simply decoration, unless Whirl is trying to fuck with people by making them uncomfortable on purpose with the prospect of having to kiss him. However, they might still just end up under one that someone else hung up, possibly somewhere in the med bay (let's be real, it's where they spend at least 90% of their time together).

Whirl just points at it and laughs, teasing "ooohh, you have to smooch meee", expecting some sort of witty retort as usual. Instead Havoc (who is clearly not shy) just basically goes "Hm. Okay." and simply does it. Just like that. Like it's nothing. He doesn't have a mouth, but she'll place a kiss to the side of his helm and leave him stuck mid-tease, unsure if he should make fun of her for this or? What's the proper reaction to this? Does he want to be mean about it? Yes, he does, he definitely wants to be mean about it because otherwise what?

Except he can't make fun of her for it because she's not even sorry. How dare she. He eventually gives up and stalks away, grumbling, looking like he's probably going to end up back in the med bay sooner rather than later anyway.

[eriexplosion]

These will probably get broken pretty much immediately but. Last minute double feature predictions:

Identity Crisis

Tech comes back, but he's not Clone X. He's just back. They had to go get him and he's maybe injured, but he's alive. Seems too simple? Well. Continuation of that.

Hunter knew that he was alive, gathering intel on Eriadu. And didn't tell anyone, least of all Omega.

The reasons for this theory: 1. Hunter is the only one to have never directly brought up Tech, in our one shot of him with the goggles he doesn't actually look at them, he looks past them at Lula. (Extra tinhat moment too but there is a light positioned behind the goggles that make them look like they're on, implying Tech is alive.) 2. Hunter also is established in season two as calling Tech every time he falls and receiving the confirmation 'we are alive' - but Omega is conveniently unconscious for an undetermined period of time. Long enough for Hunter to have commed Tech. (Also as a 2.5 - we could even wrap Plan 00 into this, if Tech told him 'I am alive, plan 00' or something of that nature.) 3. Hunter has a SIGNIFICANT track record of withholding information. The first thing he does in this show is lie to Crosshair about being sure that the jedi kid fell to his death (lol) and he doesn't tell Omega about trying to send her with Cut and he doesn't tell Omega about Echo planning to leave with Rex and it's implied he might not be planning to tell Omega about her being force sensitive. 4. Reflects War Mantle when Tech was the one to make the decision to leave Hunter like he was told to.

Anyway Omega is Pissed. Hunter told her Tech didn't make it (technically true) and let her grieve, alone, in a cell for months. No he couldn't have predicted she would be taken, but that's what the results were.

The identity crisis is Omega wondering if she's even a real batcher if she's not being treated like one of the team that deserves to be told things? Something as important as WHETHER HER BROTHER WAS ALIVE?

Also Omega deserves to be mad okay she's been building up her Upset for seasons let her explode please.

They do at least manage to make it back to Pabu but she's still Pissed

Point of No Return

Of course they make it back in time for the Empire to invade Pabu because HEY REMEMBER THE THING VENTRESS TOLD Y'ALL VERY CLEARLY TO YOUR FACES?

Things Are Very Bad, Pabu's residents are being rounded up/several are killed

Shep and possibly Lyana are captured and arrested (I still think that shot in Juggernaut is of Wrecker carrying Shep)

Omega gives herself up hoping that it will mean saving Pabu and because APPARENTLY self sacrifice is what you DO in this FUCKING FAMILY

They do take Omega but they continue wrecking the place including blowing up the Marauder

They escape via an imperial ship after Hunter yeets several stormtroopers off of it.

Everything Is Very Bad.

[unpopularvivian]

3

2

1

Go!

Murdoch: You didn't head the warnings now you'll know and face the consequences!

Thomas: You just fucked up I'm at my limit now I'll return with the force of a thousand Bullieds!

Murdoch: You pushed the big red button now I'm done maintaining my defenses!

Thomas: You'll end up in a scrapyard, ripped apart and rusted through!

Murdoch: I'm about to blow, scattering scrap E2's screaming!

Thomas: Put you in the scrapyard since you were doomed too diesels!

Murdoch: Failed at distance failed at shunting it's the last thing you'll be hearing!

Thomas: Built for preservation you don't deserve it you god damn FAKE!

Murdoch: Bud you think a man like me could just give up or just retire?

Thomas: Think those lies will work on me it's all you were ever built for!

Murdoch: Now I'm at wits end and I'll end this brawl in nuclear fire!

Thomas: Now you've earned your death and I will rip you to shreds that's my desire!

Murdoch: Don't try and flip the script I'll rip your ears and leave you bleeding!

Thomas: Bets are off you back off better watch out now, I'm getting mean!

Murdoch: Hope your insurance covers that wee woo wagon you'll be needing!

Thomas: Hope, those nights spent alone were really worth the peace and quiet!

Murdoch: Breaking and entering, breaking it down y'all broke into my personal bunker!

Thomas: Lemme break this down, I didn't come around, to be put down I came for someone to prove my worth!

Murdoch: You and Ryan better get down I ain't a chump you'll be burned alive!

Thomas: May not be a demon, But I'll raise hell you've now, brought this out of me!

Murdoch: Bet you've been sent here just to end me!

Thomas: Know that I won't stay friendly!

Murdoch: Got you in a contract paying debts?

Thomas: Lonely motherfucka that couldn't even keep a cat!

Murdoch: Whats your deal you could leave any time now?

Thomas: Things have got real personal right now!

Murdoch: Kid your just real pathetic!

Thomas: Just like your old red paint yeah!

Murdoch: You've pushed your luck!

Thomas: You motherfuck-

Murdoch: Shut the hell up!

Thomas: You walking sub!

Murdoch: I'm now your problem!

Thomas: Too fucking long!

Murdoch: Kid please get a life!

Thomas: No one here loves you!

Murdoch: You make things worse!

Thomas: I'll keep fighting!

Murdoch: Kid just back off!

Thomas: I'll keep rapping!

Murdoch: Can't admit defeat!

Thomas: Fast as lighting!

Murdoch: Just won't call it quits!

Thomas: Your a big walking failure!

Murdoch: Don't you understand the danger?

Thomas: May be small but my threats are bigger!

Murdoch: Keep this up it won't end peacefully!

Thomas: Ripping up your damn hopes and dreams!

Murdoch: Doomsdays here there's no way out now!

Thomas: By now should seen my true skills!

Murdoch: Rest in pieces kid you earned your death!

Thomas: SHUT UP I'LL THROW THAT BACK AT YOU!

Murdoch: Better pick your final words carefully, fought for long don't waste them on screams!

Thomas: Ain't gonna be the one who screams better hope this is a strange and scary dream!

Murdoch: Might be a dream fight, promise your not sleeping! But in a minute you'll sleep for all time!

Thomas: Taking me down? Yeah right I've been keeping tally and for all our fights I've matched all your rhymes!

Murdoch: Oh dear god what is this pressure!?

Thomas: Take your rhymes return to sender!

Murdoch: Just a pain, stuck on my chest!

Thomas: Shit has now hit the fan!

Murdoch: I'm not giving in now try this on for size!

Thomas: Backed you in a corner now lets go for one last ride!

Murdoch: Light it up lets do the solo!

Thomas: TIME TO END THIS ALL OUT BRAWL! *Yeets Mic directly into Murdoch's face and begins rapping without it*

Murdoch: Don't know what you thought would happen when you challenges me to rapping, I had made it clear I was doing alright out here you had lots of time to learn you wasted it on sad ice cold burns you've reached the end of my damn rope now show me how you could possible clutch this solo!

Thomas: Think I'll take that Bullshit sob story? I just challenged you I'm napping I learned from through the best on the mainland now I'll put you through the pain man, I never thought we'd get this far all my bars hit hard like cars! Think you can parry me I'll show you how if used to be! Rotten smog and sludge to run on you think you had it bad? I grew up years ago on my black out branch line days I went through true pain! Built after world war 2 you never knew those days, we were run ragged and now I've given you just a glimpse!

Murdoch: I don't care about your lessons just know you ain't Edward!

Thomas: You shut the fuck up I'll shake the earth!

Murdoch: Don't you even try got a lot more to hide from focus on what you started!

Thomas: The number one don't deal with this shit think it's time I departed!

Murdoch: Even if you started running now you wouldn't get far!

Thomas: Least my voice doesnt sound like a broken thrift shop guitar!

Murdoch: Damn that's actually a good one stop right there make those your last words!

Thomas: DROP THE TOUGH GUY YOU'VE PLAYED WITH FIRE NOW FEEL THE BURN!

*Heymaker hard punch to the stomach*

Ryan: *Drags Thomas' arm and starts running* LET'S GO!!!!! LET'S GO!!!!! WE'VE PISSED THIS DUDE ENOUGH ALREADY!!!!!! RUN!!!!!

Thomas: Hey!!!!! HEY!!!!!!

*Within seconds, Thomas and Ryan were nowhere to be seen*

Murdoch: I swear on Lady's railway, I am going to find you two someday and make you pay...

[beevean]

((this is a spoiler to CoD but I really wanna say this))

One of the things I hated the most in NFCV is how they literally reduced a Devil Forgemaster's power to only necromancy... When they're SO much more powerful than that. They can LITERALLY MAKE WEAPONS just from the RAW ELEMENTS ALONE. And the fact that Hector could fight Death and Dracula! He literally REDUCED Drac's curse in the end!! ((Also his sassy response to Drac is "I'm the Devil Forgemaster. I can make your curse into a harmless thing." Alhdkahsja I love him so much)). I HATE how they make them so... Useless??? I don't understand they're so much cooler than the show made them out to be

(CoD will turn 18 this November, don't worry about spoilers lmao)

So, I'm a bit torn on this because I actually don't mind the change in NFCV... in theory.

Do I think Devil Forging in canon is absolutely fucking cool and badass and underrated and ripe with potential? Yes. There is a reason I made the crest my icon :P I love that Hector calls it blasphemous in PtR, I love the idea that they're literally spitting in God's face by creating cursed life!

Devil Forgemaster

A blasphemer who can manipulate magic and life

^ tell me that isn't the rawest way to describe Devil Forgemasters, PtR doesn't shy away from the religious symbolism and it does so in a much more tasteful way than NFCV

I love that it's Dracula's magic itself that they're manipulating, which explains how Hector and only him could nullify the Curse! (and this is also why I believe Isaac was really spreading it, and it wasn't just Death's lie)

Human beings embued with dark magic directly from the Dark Lord himself. Tell me it isn't the coolest thing in the Vaniaverse.

And yes, they are absolute beasts that can forge their own weapons with alchemy and fight with all sorts of weapons. Normal swords? Rapiers? Zweihanders? Axes? Spears? Electric guitar? Hector has it covered. I wholeheartedly believe that both of them were the terror of Wallachia when they worked together: how do you defend yourself against multi-disciplined, super strong, super tough knights that can literally sic dragons on you?

also yes Hector vs. Dracula is so fucking raw, Hector is the ultimate gigachad and I will die on this hill. He literally asks "Have you forgotten that I'm a Devil Forgemaster?" with the smuggest tone in his voice <3

Catch me I'm swooning <3 Hector literally turning Dracula's hard work against him <3 oh ho ho I bet he regretted having a protégé <3

I also personally love Isaac's "Do not equate a Devil Forgemaster's power with that of an ordinary sorcerer!" dude's so mad that trevor dared to underestimate him and his ex. i love him too <3

However. I recognize that, without the gameplay element, they would have been a little too OP. I am perfectly fine with the nerfing of Devil Forging in the show: not only limiting them by tying their powers to a weapon would have been an interesting obstacle to overcome, but the promotional posters of S2 gave them a very low Strength stat.

Basically, the idea, I suppose, was to make them squishy wizards: they're not proficient at all in physical fights, but they don't need to be, when they can control a whole army of demons. And as for the necromancy aspect, well, it would have emphasized even more the dark, cursed nature of their power. It's a facsimile of life, nothing more.

The problem is that, of course, nothing was done with this. Isaac can simply... stibby stab people in a row, and with no effort at all they become night creatures. Yeeting him into the Sahara would have been a great opportunity to make him lose his knife, and force him to live as a vulnerable human, and maybe learn about the value of human life that way, but nooooo can't make the darling babyboy of the narrative suffer even a little! He has Deep Speeches about How Much Humans Suck to make! 🙄 And we barely see Hector actually do his job, only for Carmilla's sake, which will never stop make me wonder, why did Dracula and Carmilla want him so much to the point of resorting to manipulation? Nothing in the story shows me that he has any usefulness! He's not smart, he's not physically strong, he's easy to manipulate, we have little idea of how good of a Forgemaster he is... some General he is! Isaac could have easily run the whole castle by himself, for how badass and invincible they made him!

In retrospect, giving Isaac a lower Strength stat than Hector was a bold lie. By all means, Hector should have been the more talented of the two even in this version: he was the child prodigy who was resurrecting dogs as a child, while Isaac had to study hard to catch up. But no. Hector was relegated to torture porn. Okay.

Oh, and never forget that the plot forgot about the "dark, cursed" part of their power when Carmilla needed a priest to bless the water :^) because what's consistency when we have to favor our babyboys and girlbosses :^)

(also eh i guess being too op didn't stop sypha from literally steamrolling her way through the show, so yeah, the point's moot anyway)