#I know they were in a life-or-death situation

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[m3ridiem]

once then we’ll talk again like we used to. — VI

notes: this fic takes place in alternate universe, which is not the main universe of arcane. we're on the universe where everyone lives but vi's dead. angst... i would say.

Eight years. Eight years since the day she left you and everyone else.

Mourning her death for so long won't bring her back to life, and you knew that. But God, you wish it would. You swore that you would do anything to bring her back to life, you have a lot of regrets about her. You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest with your head nestled between your arms, you’re crying again as you recall the last time you spoke to her.

“You broke the mirror, Vi! You know I made that for hours!” Your breath shakes as you hold back your tears and look sharply into her eyes. Your hand grips the broken mirror with the broken wood carving around it.

Vi's eyes soften, she has apologized a hundred times since she accidentally dropped the mirror. She tried, she tried to calm you down, but you always took a step back, as if she'd break something if she came closer. “Look, I’m really sorry, okay? C’mon, I...”

You shake your head, sniffing. "I don't... I don't want to talk to you right now," you hurry outside, slamming the door before you actually leave Vi alone in the room.

Neither of you have started a conversation since then. The two of you never spoke again, ever. Not even a single word comes out.

A week later, she went to Piltover with the others. Thanks to Powder, who told you about it the day before. You planned to apologize for ignoring her when they got back from Piltover, so you prepared everything. You fixed the broken mirror and wrapped it into a silly gift for her, you even decorated your room with lights you got from Benzo, and you sat in your room for hours waiting for her to come back.

“Vi’s dead.”

“Is this some kind of joke she made because we haven’t been talking again for a week?”

Mylo frowned, “No, she’s fucking dead, y/n.”

You couldn't comprehend what he was saying. You refused to believe, not until you saw her body. Cold and lifeless. You never thought you would see Vi again, from a distance, in a different situation. She's gone, forever. She left you without a goodbye message. The long sentence of apology you prepared, and another long sentence about your feelings, you can't do anything but bury them deep. Let the words sink as well as her body.

You grew up. Eight years and you still count it every year. Good news, you already talked to Vi. Bad news, she'll never speak or hear your voice again. You never took down the decorations you made for her, because you always feel like you live with her, especially with the lights. The mirror is still nicely placed in the gift, you never open it. It's been eight years since Vi died, and you're still crying every night, wishing that the fight had never happened so that the two of you could talk to each other again.

“You can break the mirror again, Vi. I promise, I won’t mad like the last time.”

You looked around, the Last Drop was different than before. They were all laughing, smiling freely as if they didn't have anyone to mourn. They've all moved on, but you're still here, stuck in the past, not even willing to accept the truth that she won't come back to life.

You wondered, in another universe, does she alive and talking to you? Of course, you clung to that hope. But you have no idea what happened there. You lost Vi in this universe, but Vi would lose you in another universe.

don't be allergic to happiness guys, xoxo

[slowcatsisland]

Trafalgar D. Water Law; Ideal Type Deep Dive

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first thing that comes to my mind is that audio - “ I need to find my darling husband!” “What do you see in that guy?” “He makes me laugh.”

Law absolutely needs to be with someone who can make him laugh.

Throughout the post time skip arcs, it has been shown that Law -

Has a fear surrounding accepting and giving love

Believes that there must be a reason for earning love/giving love to someone

Law’s character had the most development in Dressrosa and Wano that could propel him towards healing with the defeat of Doflamingo, the revenge of Corazon’s death, and the closure statement that Sengoku says to him: “Don’t try to find a reason for someone’s love.”

Law has to heal first, or have a partner that will help him heal. To me, Law wouldn’t even think of committing to a relationship until the end of Dressrosa/Wano.

Law surrounds himself with goofy people, so it makes sense for him to fall for a goofy person.

This person would probably be on his crew as his trust issues wouldn’t allow for him falling for someone that has other loyalties that could easily be prioritized over him and end up betraying him.

Law is strict about subordinate dynamics, which is why you being on his crew may also hinder him from wanting to pursue something with you because he’s supposed to be your boss essentially.

Law would want someone that is smart, textbook smart like he is, but I also see this not being important if he truly runs into the ‘one’ that brings him the most peace.

I mean by that if you can’t hold and add to a conversation about idk the anatomy of the human body and the effects of a certain ailment, you’re not totally disqualified from his radar.

Someone who could hold emotional conversations with him is good. Even if he probably wouldn’t want the conversation. He’s kinda icky with feelings. Someone that could tell him how he feels, how they feel, and how that changes the context of whatever situation they are in. He needs someone like that.

I used to be opposed to the thought, but I believe Law needs someone truly soft. That means you could still fight if needed, but would rather not yk. It’s okay if you’re not out here swinging a machete trying to bloody the streets with your foes. That aspect of humanity that you have is something Law needs more prevalently in his life.

I remember reading an analysis of Law’s type and the creator said something similar to “Law needs someone who wouldn’t pull the trigger, just like Corazon didn’t.” I don’t know how much I agree with it but I think it’s worth mentioning.

Someone patient, but stubborn. Someone who is willing to wait for him to be ready to accept his feelings and won’t leave him when he makes a mistake (trust me he will make many mistakes in a relationship). Someone who also won’t be an idle figure in situations, you have an opinion and will voice it even if it doesn’t agree with Law’s perspective. You think the crew should help him on something rather than wait on the submarine and him go off alone? Tell him and make him listen, even if he shuts you down.

Law needs someone positive that can look at things with a glass half full mindset. Someone who looks at the rain and thinks about how the plants are getting water, someone who watches the snow fall but are commenting about how Penguin and Sachi are making snow angles and Bepo is really comfortable in the temperature. You even out his pessimism and bring light.

You’d have to get along with the other crew mates, especially Bepo too. Bepo is so important to Law, and if Bepo didn’t like you it already taints Law’s image of you.

You were always kind to him. Even before he invited you onto his crew, he identified your nature and could make a note about how you’re different from the majority of people he’s met.

Preferably, you’d be goofy, but not too loud. I feel like Law gets uncomfortable around those that are crazy extroverted- kinda like Luffy. Sometimes it reminds him too much of the Donquixote Pirates with all their flamboyance. That doesn’t mean if you have this quality you’d be off the list, he would just need it in smaller chunks or around the crew to be acclimated to it.

Grr, someone that ends up reminding him of Rosinante. Someone that Law knows is just a good person, regardless of their past.

If he asked you “why do you love me?” And you couldn’t give him an answer, you’re perfect.

He needs someone to be his safe space. Someone that could sit in his office while he works, content in the shared silence. Someone that he could ramble about his coin collection to without the worry of being judged. Someone that he could let touch his chest and have them run their fingers through his hair without worry that he’ll be harmed. Someone that will soothe him after he has a nightmare or read out loud to him until he falls asleep.

Someone that cares for him- this loops back to the stubbornness. Someone that tries to make him go to sleep, to make him eat, to make him take breaks from working. To make him live happily, something that he’s starved himself of truly ever since he was 10. He prolly won’t act like it, but you showing you care for him makes his heart bleed suffocatingly.

Someone that can show him how to love again and what it feels like to love again omg. The destruction of Flevance and the manipulation of the Donquixote Pirates so cruelly changed his perception of love.

Law wouldn’t want you to be a big shot in canon. If your bounty was rather substantial compared to his crew and him, or you had a crazy ability- it would make him worry awfully. He’d probably try to keep you out of harms way even more than he does with the rest of his crew.

Someone he can tell everything to and trust that they’ll keep it a secret.

Someone that likes the cold, likes the ocean. Living on a submarine as a pirate kinda requires this lol.

Omg imagine you’re from the North Blue too. He picks you up around the same time he does Penguin, Sachi, and Bepo. You’re one of the original members. The connection I feel like he would have with you would make him more willing to fall for you…

I feel like Law would like someone with longer hair. If he could watch them brush it, curl it around his finger, watch them create a hairstyle for the day. Small acts of domesticity in life.

Someone with large, doe eyes. He can see so much emotion through them, they hold so much weight. It reminds him of Bepo. (lol)

Someone aware of their own emotions and are in tune with their wants and needs.

I feel like he would fluster really easily if you had a gummy smile. Yk those big, pure smiles where the gums showed. When your eyes crinkly and your teeth are bared so naturally and without malice. It’s so beautiful to see.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He’s so broken

Mwah 😽

[dakota1435]

Moonlight – Vampire!Sylus X Reader ✩₊˚.☪︎ ⁺₊✧

word count: 2K (short)

tags: mention of violence

previous chapters here! x

Chapter 8

You don’t dare to draw a single breath. Those who were originally looking now turned away, knowing this was Sylus’ business now. For a second, it felt like time was frozen. Nobody moves, even Sylus. Caleb was going to get himself killed, all because he came to ‘save’ you. You still didn’t understand how he knew you’d be here, with Sylus. How he even knew somebody like Sylus in the first place. You exhale shakily, trying to calm your nerves. Your lips part, about to speak, before Caleb inserts himself. Not good!

“What have you done to her?” There’s emphasis on each word, through gritted teeth. Never in your life have you seen this side of Caleb. Despite Sylus’ overwhelming presence, Caleb doesn’t back down on his death glare.

“To think someone like you came all the way here…You must have quite the confidence to take what’s mine?” Sylus said, his voice calm and collected. You could feel the pressure of his hand on you tighten a bit. Internally, he must be seething. 

“She’s not yours!” Caleb yelled back, uncaring for the situation unfolding. You had to say something, you had to get him out of here. Out of every possible outcome, it would be the best course of action. Caleb looks at you, hesitant. 

“Um…Caleb…Please. You should leave,” you beckoned, your hands shaking by your side. Your voice doesn’t feel as strong as theirs. Clearing your throat, you speak again. “Caleb. I’ve been safe. I promise.” You hope he takes you seriously. He looks at you, astonished, before returning to the same angered expression. 

“He’s brainwashed you! He’s bit you, hasn't he? After all these years of protecting you, I am not going to give up. He’s been trying to find you this whole time.” Caleb doesn’t give you a chance to react before he speaks again. “He’s a monster. He’s trying to turn you into a monster, too. Listen, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I haven’t told you. But trust me when I say–”

“You have a lot of nerve to stand in front of me. The only reason you’re still breathing is because of her. I suggest you leave, now, before I do something about it,” Sylus warned Caleb, his grasp feeling tighter on you. Oh, he was definitely angry now. Caleb’s words ring in your head, making you question too many things. But no matter how it made you dizzy, you had to do damage control now before there was bloodshed. Seeing how Caleb is now, you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to fight Sylus. Worst of all, you knew Sylus would win against a human within the blink of an eye. 

“Stop!” You called out, the first thing you could think of. You turn to look back at Sylus. His eyes glared and his expression troubled. “Let’s leave,” you muttered to him. Your face pleaded you didn’t want to experience another moment of this. Even if it meant leaving Caleb, again. Forever, this time you’re sure. It broke your heart, but there was nothing else that could be done. Caleb heard your words, his mouth open with shock. He doesn’t say anything. Sylus calms himself at your words, removing his hand on you. 

“Very well,” he said, his voice rather curt. He leans down close to your ear, his eyes still burning onto Caleb. “Hold tight.” He wraps his hand around your waist. You spare Caleb another look before Sylus takes you, vanishing within a second. 

For a moment, you thought you saw Caleb reach out. It was too late. 

As quick as disappearing, you and Sylus arrive back at his estate with ease. But the event, the entirety of tonight, made you feel sick. You hunch over, for fear of actually getting sick. Your mind and everything around you spins uncontrollably. How? Why? Why?

“Sylus…” You began speaking. A part of you was afraid to meet his eyes. Was he angry? Did he think you knew about Caleb coming? Your mind suddenly recalled Caleb’s words; he’s been looking for you. 

He rests his heavy hand onto your back. It felt…supportive. “It seems I can’t let this kitten out of my sight,” he said, his tone amused. You were relieved he didn’t sound angry anymore, but it still didn’t put you at ease. Your dress was uncomfortable now, your jewelry feeling heavy. The choker around your neck felt suffocating. When you didn't respond immediately, Sylus spoke again. “Are you hurt?” 

“No…I just…I don’t understand anything right now,” you said quietly. Your face flushes with heat and suddenly you feel like you could cry. You couldn’t recognize your own emotions and it made you feel like a foreigner in your own body. You still don’t look at Sylus, hesitant to show him such raw emotion. You begin to walk away, expecting Sylus to stop you. But he doesn’t, instead he watches you go to your room. You change, the weight of tonight’s clothes bearing the turmoil of what happened. Slipping into something more loose and comfortable, you decide you will ask Sylus your questions. You leave the room and expect Sylus to be in his dining room. As you walk, you try to gather the questions in your head. You won’t let him be vague this time, because there’s something definitely going on. 

You push open the heavy doors of the room, finding Sylus gazing out of his massive window. He couldn’t be more beautiful in the moonlight, but he doesn’t turn at your arrival.

“We need to talk,” you said with newfound confidence. You needed answers. Your heart raced, never speaking to Sylus in this way before. 

“Oh? What about?” He still stared at the window. You figured he was still irritated over Caleb. You sigh, walking over to him as he sits in his large leather chair. He glances up at you, something playful in his face flickers for a moment. He liked seeing you stand before him. 

“I need answers. Caleb said you have been looking for me forever. I asked you if you were the reason I was put up at auction and you said no!” Your voice raises, frustration bubbling inside of you. Whatever feelings you had that you buried were now coming alive. You didn’t like it, you didn’t feel like yourself. Sylus cocks an eyebrow, surprised at your energy. 

“I don’t lie like mortals do,” he sneered, “I have been looking for you, yes. I only found you because of the auction. I had no part in any of it.” He still stares at you from his chair, watching you unfold. That familiar feeling of pressure forms in your face again, tears urging in your eyes. It was almost equally embarrassing and frustrating. 

“How does Caleb know you?” You clenched your fists, trying to control your emotions. 

“I don’t know him personally. I know he’s been with you since you were a child. My name is everywhere, though. It does not surprise me,” he said, matter-of-fact. He was starting to be vague again, the one thing you were not going to let him do. He notices your hand tightly closed and gently touches your hand with the back of his fingers. You started to question everything, you backed away from his touch. He didn’t like that. “I was going to ease you into things, but it looks like that man ruined it,” he said, sounding disgusted. He waits for your reaction for a second, then grabs your wrist. “Sit. You will want to sit for this.” You don’t protest as he pulls you into his lap. You adjust, sitting comfortably. He strokes your cheek, tenderly, as if to prepare for what’s to come. 

“He is right; I have been looking for you. He’s done a very good job at hiding you, until recently.” Sylus hold on you is possessive. He speaks slowly, letting each word sink into your mind. “That man was against your former profession, wasn’t he? He could no longer keep you away. You’ve wanted to know the unknown, haven’t you?” Sylus was right. Caleb was like your brother, but easily overbearing. When you took on your new job, going on missions, he was unsupportive. Little did you know that Caleb knew Sylus would get 

you. 

“Why…” is all you could mutter out. Your life from the start felt like a lie, and you weren’t sure what to believe. Your eyes said it all. 

Sylus wears a troubled expression. “I don’t expect you to believe me. Trust me when I say I do not lie.” He takes a breath, making you nervous. “Long ago, there was an experimental research factory. They discovered aether cores and used human subjects, as young as five.” 

          He pauses, his words slow and concise. Your stomach churns, as your brain tries to fill in the gaps.

        “I was one of their subjects. They were cruel, and inhumane. They wanted to create a human with power, strength. Countless humans died and I happened to be the one to survive. I came out, exceeding their expectations. They made me an artificial vampire, whether that was their only goal or not, I survived.” The silence after his words were heavy, almost deafening. You continued to listen as hearing Sylus speak of himself was rare. “I was unstable, uncontrollable. I escaped, leaving myself to the horrors of the new world. The organization of vampires knew about these experiments—them being heavily against it. They found me and made me who I am today.”

“What about the research facility?” You questioned. Your mind thought about all of the possible pain and torture Sylus went through, at such a young age too. 

“Nobody, including myself, would predict my capabilities. I was stronger than a human, yes, but found myself to be more powerful than a pureblooded vampire. I took that power and ascended. I returned to the facility, knowing they still continued with their research. I single handedly killed every member of that facility and burned their notes.” Sylus stares at his fingertips, as if reminiscing the blood stains. “There were only a few human subjects this time. Two of them were beyond saving, but there was one human left; you.” He gently touches your side, his comfort minimal but it kept you in reality. 

Upon hearing this, you couldn’t believe it but deep down in your gut you knew Sylus was telling the truth. If you were standing, your knees would’ve fallen weak. You run your hands through your face and hair, making sure you are still real. That, all of your entire life, was real. When Sylus stopped speaking, you could hear your heartbeat drum in your ears. You could tell Sylus was still trying to ease you into it all, trying not to overwhelm you, but you were already at that point. 

“…Tell me everything,” you said, voice muffled as you lay your face in your hands. 

“You were the youngest subject they ever had; you were born with an aethor core inside of you. You grew up in the lab healthy, alive. It seemed that you weren’t displaying any change but before I did anything, the lab was raided by government officials. I withdrew, immediately knowing you would be taken somewhere better,” he explained. He clenches his jaw as his eyes burn into yours. 

Your world was cracking around you and you felt heavy with confusion. Your brain tried remembering a shred of anything, any form of memory or feeling of being at a lab. You were raised by your grandmother until she passed, and your older childhood friend Caleb was around after that. How could it be possible? The same thing that created Sylus was buried in you, somewhere. The same thing that made him desire blood and crush anything in his way. The thought of all of it made you tremble out of fear and anxiety. 

“...You have been monitored by government officials your whole life. They feared I would come back to finish you off, but I have been searching for you because we are the same. I want to show you the potential you have, not those selfish fools.” Sylus strokes his hand down your hair tenderly and his actions ground you to reality.

Everything is falling out from your feet, your brain scattered with anxious thoughts– answers you’ll never know. It’s too much, too much, too much.

We are the same.

[aesteries]

⋆✴︎˚。⋆ ─ ❝sweetling❞ ─ aemond targaryen and original female character. ❝alicent hightower's youngest daughter, haera targaryen, has returned to king's landing after eight long years in old town and aemond finds himself inexplicably drawn to the girl kissed by the moon and with the eyes that seem to only look at him.❞

how could i not love eyes that see me in all my forms as beautiful?

〔incest, innocence and fantasies, fluff and romance, smut, virginity, events of blood and cheese, family rivalry, disabled main character, hints of book!aemond, modified show!timeline and events.〕

words: 1k. series' masterlist.

                 BLOOD AND CHEESE. 

The news of Lucerys Velaryon's demise spread like wildfire over the realm, igniting the fury of Rhaenyra Targaryen and her supporters. Yet, somehow, within the Red Keep, they basked in their perceived victory, blissfully unaware of the plans made against them brewing on the horizon. The Green Council believed that they had secured their claim to the Iron Throne as more houses pledged their support for their side, growing in power. Little did they know that the ancient walls of the Keep held secrets far more dangerous than they could ever imagine.

Helaena Targaryen, as the newly-crowned queen, had long since established a nightly ritual where she would lead her young children to the chambers of the former queen to be greeted with warm milk and storytelling. This routine was well-known throughout the Keep, with even the low ratcatchers making way for the royals as they walked through the halls towards their destination. On this one fateful night, however, there was a change in the formation. The usual maids that accompanied the queen on her routine had asked to be dismissed, and instead she was followed by her younger sister, Haera. The usual guards that kept watch at the front of the room had been changed as well, replaced by newly-appointed young men. As they settled into the warm embrace of the Dowager Queen's chambers, the tranquillity of the moment was soon to be shattered by a darkness that would forever change the course of their lives.

A secret passage in Princess Haera's chambers creaked open, revealing the entrance to tunnels that had once served as a safe escape for the royal family. Two figures emerged from the shadows, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Unnoticed by the guards or ignored by them, they slipped through walls towards their goal. Princess Haera had been teaching the kids a lullaby, an ancient melody from the citadel, when she was silenced by a cold blade pressed against her delicate neck. A rough hand forced her back, grabbing a handful of her head to keep her in place. Blood and Cheese made their appearance, introducing themselves as justiciars, agents of vengeance for the death of Lucerys Velaryon. They demanded a life for a life, a son for a son.

Blood and Cheese allowed the Queen to choose between her sons—to give one of them up and save the other. In tears, she named her youngest, believing him to be too young to understand the situation. Helpless, the younger princess cradled her nephew, Maelor, while the eldest boy stood nearby, fear etched on his innocent face. Helaena, in desperation, offered her own life as a sacrifice instead of the life of her children, but the men's hearts were hardened by a thirst for blood, and so they turned their attention to the children. They taunted the young child before the true horror unfolded. With a swift, brutal strike of a sword, Jaehaerys' head was separated from his body, his blood splattering over the women in the room. The room was filled with the sickening sound of steel against flesh, the muffled cries of the child, and the piercing shriek that followed.

As the assassins vanished into the darkness, carrying the severed head of the young prince as a grim trophy, Queen Helaena wept over her fallen son, her heart shattered. Dowager Queen Alicent, overcome with grief and rage, rushed to summon the guards, but it was too late. The Keep drowned in chaos, with guards swarming the halls with faces taken by fear and confusion as they accused each other of negligence. Swords were drawn, and tempers flared as they searched for answers to the impossible question: How had the assassins managed to infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, undetected?

Alicent clung to her broken daughters, heavy with grief as she shielded them from the sight of the child's body. Helaena's cries pierced the air, a shattering song that would haunt them for years to come. The younger sister, traumatised by the event, fell to the floor, foam spilling out of the corners of her mouth, yet no one could calm her. King Aegon turned into a shell of his former self, having to be contained in the throne room, where he had been spending the night with his companions while his family witnessed the murder of his heir. He threatened violence over anyone who dared to touch him.

A sole figure emerged from the chaos, strangely peaceful. Prince Aemond Targaryen's presence commanded silence. Was it for the intimidation of his temper or because of the reason why such a crime had been committed against an innocent child? With a single glance, he cut through the throng of guards and made his way to his sister, Haera. Gently, he took her into his arms, only offering her comfort in the face of the tragedy. As he carried her away, his one eye fell upon the lifeless body of Prince Jaehaerys, covered by a white sheet. Some say that a cruel smirk played upon his lips, a silent acknowledgement of his role in the boy's demise, while others claim he offered a sombre apology, taking responsibility for the horrific event. Regardless of the truth, Aemond's presence was a stark reminder of the dark forces at play.

Grief and despair marked the days that followed, with the Red Keep shrouded in sorrow. The city echoed with mourners; people who had never met the prince shed tears for the tragedy of his demise. In an attempt at showing some sort of reaction to the crime, the city's ratcatchers were rounded up and executed, their bodies hung from the walls as a grim warning. Otto Hightower replaced the human ratcatchers with an army of felines, whom he believed to be more honourable than men in the end.

Queen Helaena sank deeper and deeper into madness while the king raged, drank, and raged.

[silentmouthpiece]

AND ANOTHER THING

1) Jimmy is not naturally sadistic. He's an asshole of epic proportions but he's not a sadist. Nor is he a senseless killer. Would Jimmy have killed Anya if he had access to the gun? It's likely. We dont know that for sure, but if he were to kill her there would be too many questions, too much time left on the ship to avoid facing immediate consequences (and lose respect from the rest of the crew) and he'd have to fight and kill everyone else. That's just too much for a man who's concerned about his image. If he killed himself though... no matter what happens afterwards he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout.

Crash the ship and everyone dies? No fallout from the crew or consequences.

Crash the ship and everyone but the captain (who was in on the plan until the last second) comes out unscathed? "It's Curly's fault! I'm good, he's not!" and Jimmy gets to avoid that fallout for a bit. And then Anya starts talking and fuuuuck, he cant get out of this one now can he? But he's captain now, so he's gonna take this second chance and not let anyone take it from him. Granted... Granted he did cause the crew to die, but the only intentional death was Swansea's. I dont think Jimmy would've put Curly in the cryopod if he understood that Curly would freeze to death so there's that, too.

Jimmy is manipulative but he's also delusional. This man believes in his bullshit and that made him so dangerous.

He wasn't always just doom and gloom. We mostly only saw him after getting the worst news of his life twice and tossed into a pressure cooker hell of his own making. That he swore he wanted, btw. Delusional. He was weird but chill before the Pony Express announcement.

This man's main coping mechanism is when he's not in control of a situation is denial and when that doesnt work he lashes out. How can anyone confront him when he doesn't even want to confront himself? I know his mind goes blank before he makes all kinds of excuses for his mind to eat up. It's that panic. That moment of realization that lashes at his hind brain and he has to build a wall to protect it. When the wall isnt enough he has no idea where to channel that frustration except through outburts and violence. Someone should've given him a journal or some shit.

Jimmy was hallucinating Daisuke's grave before the kid even died, lord have mercy. He did not mean for that to happen and the guilt was attacking him immediately. He still went in denial mode tho, trying to save him with that damn mouthwash. That being said, the denial mode was weakening and the guilt was coming for Jimmy tenfold. He couldn't even commit to the whole "It's Swansea's fault" bit. Reality was breaking through his denial door and Jimmy couldn't stop it. And it was thus when he lashed out at Swansea with the gun.

And damn... that speech Swansea gave him. A reality that Jimmy couldn't accept. If Jimmy was in a better state of mind maybe he would have understood what Swansea was trying to tell him, but I think Jimmy heard Swansea say "this ideal life I worked so hard and so long for wasn't what I wanted" and Jimmy's first thought was "I'll fix it... with a gun".

... Makes me think how long Jimmy thought death was a way of fixing things.

[emeritusemeritus]

hi lovely, can i make a request? reader and fred are together. readers father recently passed away and it's readers first christmas without her dad, she goes missing and fred is frantically looking for her and he finds her at the top of the astronomy tower just before midnight and it ends with them saying merry christmas to each other? mainly fluff and protective

Hi dear Anon! I hope I did okay with this request and that you enjoy! If this is specific to your real life situation then I’m sending you my biggest condolences and a warm wintery hug, or if it’s just a request then you can still keep the hug! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of death (readers father), grief, sadness, Fred being an incredible boyfriend, protective Fred. Not beta read nor spellchecked.

Word count: 1.9k

Merry Christmas Baby

You'd done so well all day, even if you had stretched yourself beyond your means; masking up to your eyes until you couldn't pretend to be fine anymore.

You'd made it through the morning, through waking up alone in your dormitory, your other dorm mates all spending Christmas at home with their families whilst you remained at school, practically homeless and without a whole family to return to. You'd bathed, gotten dressed and had spent an hour in quiet contemplation in your room before making your way down to the common room.

Beyond Harry and the Weasleys who were staying at school over Christmas, there were very few other students that remained, meaning that you practically had the Gryffindor common room and the entire school to yourselves. The elves had prepared an even more lavish feast than usual and you'd happily eaten the meal until you were full to bursting. You sat beside Fred, his hand entwined with yours in a silent form of support as you joined in with the jokes and the laughter as a form of escape from your grief.

You knew staying at school was the best option, though some could argue it was only running away from your problems, the first Christmas without your dad was easier to face indirectly from the comfort and familiarity of your school and your friends.

After dinner you'd all waddled back to the common room with belts and trousers loosed and collapsed in various chairs around the room. The fire was lit and it was calm, with most of the other attendees having a mid-afternoon snooze after their dinner but you couldn't seem to nod off. You stared into the fire for a while, watching the flames rise and fall, the flickering shadows projected around the room that danced with the flames. Fred was lightly snoring against your shoulder as you lay draped over him at his insistence, his long legs acting as the perfect stool for your own. Your shoes had been long since pulled off as you lazed about, thankful for the warmth of the fire. There were so many things you were thankful for this year, trying to remain positive despite the dark thoughts threatening to intrude upon your day, always in the back of your mind like a dark cloud hanging overhead. You were thankful for Fred and George, for your friends, for the school that you loved so much, for your magical abilities and for the family that gave them to you. You were thankful for the years spent with your dad and thankful that you had somewhere to go this Christmas knowing that home was no longer an option.

It was early evening when various people began to wake from their Christmas siestas, with George waking first and Fred following in almost alarming synchronisation. The rest of the night was spent playing chess and exploding snap, occupying yourselves in whatever way you wanted. You felt yourself slipping into yourself more and more throughout the evening, with less input to conversations, your laughter decreasing until you were barely chuckling even at the funniest of quips. At first you were perplexed by your sudden low mood, thinking that perhaps your social battery had run low but it wasn't the case at all, you wanted your friends around you. It was inevitable really that your sour mood would finally take over, the undeniable thoughts of grief, of sadness, wouldn't be able to be held back forever. You suddenly felt claustrophobic in the cozy common room, surrounded by too many people and too much happiness that you were inevitably going to bring down the mood by staying.

You looked at Fred, seeing that he was currently occupied in a rather intense battle of exploding snap with Ron, briefly checking around the room for anyone else paying attention to you before you grabbed your shoes and slipped away. You walked out of the portrait hole and out to the corridor, placing your shoes on and walking aimlessly around the castle. The portraits wished you merry Christmas  as you walked past and you offered them festive greetings in return, just wishing that you could slip away unnoticed without having to interact with anyone either in person or in portrait.

You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket with you as you walk out of the doors into the courtyard, seeing a thin sheet of ice and snow on the ground that once seemed to make it look more beautiful, more magical. You hugged your arms tighter to yourself, fighting back an involuntary shiver as you made your way around the courtyard without any specific destination in mind. You felt better at escaping the common room, taking some time away to allow those thoughts and feelings to surface in private. The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene, or bring down anyone's good mood and good time, which they so rightfully deserved. You let the slew of tears finally come as if right on cue, your father's face occupying your mind completely as you think of past Christmases, of past memories with him that you'd never get to experience again.

Back in the common room, Fred celebrates his landslide win over Ron who sits back in his chair with a face like thunder, arms crossed like a petulant child at losing to his older brother. George cheers and celebrates with his twin as he scoops up the two sickles that he'd won from Harry in their bet. Fred turns to find you, confused at the lack of cheers he hears from your mouth, his constant cheerleader, but finds your seat no longer occupied. He frowns, looking around the room in hopes of spotting you but doesn't see the figure he is so familiar with.

"Gin, have you seen y/n?" He asks his sister as she walks down the steps from the dorms and bathrooms. She shakes her head with a slightly confused look, eyes whipping around the room just as Fred's had moments before.

"Can you."

"On it," she replies with a nod, cutting him off already anticipating his question as she turns on her heel to go back up the stairs. When she returns a few minutes later, she gives Fred a definitive shake of her head and momentarily considers that this is the first time that she's ever seen him look so concerned over anything. His eyes are full of worry and anxiety, body rigid but fidgety as he paces the length of the room, mind working overdrive to where she might have gone. He shouldn't have been so stupid leaving her alone whilst he played his game, knowing that the day was undoubtedly going to catch up to her.

"I've got to find her," he says to no one in particular as everyone watches him exit through the portrait hole and disappear. He runs down the corridors, not listening to the portraits that shout at him to slow down, to not run in the hall, the only thought in his mind being you. He searches all your usual places, even making his way to Hagrid's hut only to find that you hadn't been there all day. With each place he looked and didn't find you, he grew more frantic until he was almost sprinting to the next place, quickly running out of options. He stopped in the courtyard to catch his breath, watching the steam pour out of his mouth from the frozen air around him. The bell rang out to signal that it was midnight and he felt completely defeated and upset at the fact that your Christmas Day had ended exactly as he didn't want, with you feeling alone.

Only when he'd resorted to returning to the common room in the hopes of your return, did a faint but present light flicker from the top of the astronomy tower, making him realise that he hadn't checked there. He bolted quickly, his feet leading the way with his head lagging behind slightly, spiralling thoughts filling his mind with each step closer. He climbs the spiral staircase with deep heaving puffs falling from his lips, the physicality of his chase now catching up to him. He pauses briefly, seeing the figure of you through the slats of the wooden floor and exhales a sigh of relief, head dropping on his shoulders momentarily. He doesn't want to scare you, to catch you off guard especially in your emotional state and so he ensures his ascend up the stairs is as loud as possible, old worn trainers banging on the stairs with every tread.

He watches as you turn towards him as he steps off the staircase and onto the platform with you, a soft, calming smile on his face. He remains silent as he creeps forward, moving to sit beside you on the floor without any words spoken. He notes how cold and unrelenting the floor beneath his arse feels and a frown appears between his brows, thinking of how long you must have been sat here. His hand takes yours and he frowns deeper at how cold you feel to the touch, both of his hands wrapping around yours to try and give you any warmth he can of his own.

He doesn't know what to say that hasn't already been said, something that would fix the hurt and help to comfort, but nothing comes to his mind. He's always been an actions kind of man, with George taking care of the more sensitive words, and right now he's wishing he had his twin's gentleness.

When he feels your head shift to rest on his shoulder, he knows that he's doing something right. He rests his chin on the top of your head and you sit there for a few moments with nothing spoken between the both of you, the only noise being the gentle whistling of the wind as it whips past the astronomy tower.

"Freddie," he hears to say quietly and adjusts his head so that he look down towards you. You look like you'd been crying, your eyes rimmed with a pink hue that matched the shade of pink on the top of your nose. The pink around your eyes only seems to make your eyes more vibrant, the colour astounding Fred as he looks upon your face. "Thank you. For today, for everything really. I know you didn't go home just to stay here with me."

He blushes under the praise, your grateful words affecting him more than he shows. Truthfully, he had chosen to stay at school during Christmas for you, not wanting you to be alone wherever you were, knowing that there was no such thing as home for you right now. George had naturally decided to stay with Fred and Ron hadn't wanted to leave Harry in the first place, leaving Ginny who didn't want to be left at home without her siblings.

There's nothing to be said. Fred for once remains silent, his actions doing the talking for him. His right hand slips from yours and he pulls it around you to wrap you in his heat, pulling you close to his body. He senses a calmness in you now, head no longer filled with only sad thoughts. You look like you're coming out of your negative headspace, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you snuggle down into his jumper.

"Merry Christmas Fred."

It's the only thing that needed to be said in the moment, a fine summary of your gratitude, your thankfulness and of your love for him.

"Merry Christmas baby."

[asktheritochampion]

You know...now that I think about it, it's interesting you claim Link wouldn't have walked away if Zelda didn't intervene...but... did you ever stop to consider that if Link didn't stop mid swing after deflecting your arrow...he would have chopped you in half...Wow Revali you were literally seconds away from death, and it would have been from Link of all people. Did you sleep well that day? I think you're a lot more shaken up than you let on.

I slept like a baby that night.

Do you have any idea how frequently I am seconds from death? I'm the greatest warrrior of my people. I spend most of my waking hours fighting hoards of monsters ten times my size.

If I wasn't in life threatening situations at least fifteen times a day I'm fairly sure I'd be bored stiff. That skirmish, if anything, was merely entertaining for me.

I'm eager to repeat it so that I can go all out this time. Win or lose, it would be a fight for the ages, and I'd finally get the satisfaction of knowing which of us is best.

[jennycalendar]

“ngl i thought you were the weak one of this friend group but your whole life just went to complete shit around you and somehow you’re still acting the same so if you want to be weak you can be around me” au

This is not even au for Jaheira and Khalid this is just them lmao

THIS IS JUST THEM!!!! ended up writing it as literally just them bc it. It is just them.

It is not a walk-it-off sort of injury. Khalid’s arm is barely attached to his body. Their cleric is a good distance away, and the state of their party after this battle is dire enough that his injury simply is not highest-priority right now. Jaheira, who was paired with him for his first mission, who was therefore responsible for protecting him as he found his bearings, is trying very hard not to let guilt and shame take her over, because neither are constructive emotions, nor will they calm him when she removes his helmet.

He has not moved. He is slumped against a tree. She lifts the helmet to check his breathing, expecting to see the pain and fear of a green Harper realizing how truly serious their foes are, and instead he meets her eyes with gentle concern. Raises a hand to her face, which is hardly the sort of thing that—that is, they have not known each other for very long, and—

“You look,” he coughs, speckling her front with blood, “w-worried.”

Jaheira says, slightly hysterically, “Your arm is nearly severed.”

“Oh, that,” says Khalid dismissively. He pulls a face. “I’ll walk it off.”

“You’ll walk it off?”

“Got worse at home,” says Khalid, and smiles like he thinks this is funny. Jaheira is struck with the urge to beat him to death before realizing that this is possibly counterintuitive, and also possibly not at all what she wants, long-term. What she wants from him is less familiar and much more frightening. “Petra, she’s—taking care of Wyn. Yes?” When Jaheira tries to bring her healing magic to her fingertips, he says, gently reproving, “You’re, you’re out of magic. Wait.”

“I cannot.”

���Wait.”

How is he so calm? He is delicate, nervous, shy and unsure in absolutely all situations they have been in up until now. He defers to her and to other senior Harpers with a sort of quiet relief, as though the concept of taking charge himself is not something he is at all comfortable with. She has been preparing herself for the arduous task of either forcing him to toughen up or illuminating to him that this is not the life for him, and yet—yet even in those moments of contemplation, turning over strategies to reach him and make him realize the importance of bravery, all of her thoughtful theories felt hollow. There always felt like there was something she was missing. She thinks that she is seeing it now.

Khalid squeezes her shoulder with his good hand. He says, calmly, “I’m fine,” in the thin, thready voice of a dying man. How is he so calm?

Jaheira has known him for two weeks. The thought that flits through her mind is more terrifying than the blood soaking into the grass: I just found you. I cannot lose you now.

Petra sprints over, white-faced, healing potions clinking together in her bag. Jaheira allows herself to be pushed aside. She is thinking about the space in her own satchel that she usually reserves for her own complicated alchemical concoctions, and what it might do to instead save a healing potion or two for Khalid. Just in case. 

Petra straightens. Khalid is sitting up, both arms attached. Jaheira wants to throw herself at him, which is not an emotion she has ever experienced about another person before, and the fear holds her still. She curls her fingers around her satchel and waits, mouth drawn tight.

Khalid picks up his dented helmet from the ground, examining it ruefully. He looks back up at Jaheira and the corners of his mouth soften. “Saer,” he says. “I’m fine. No need to worry.”

Petra scoffs. “As if Jaheira’d worry over you!” she says, a laugh in her voice. “Or anyone! We know that face well enough, little Harper; that’s the face she makes when she’s too mad to even speak. You’d do well not to charge in ahead like that next time. She can take care of herself.”

Like a lightning strike, Jaheira realizes what she had not caught in the heat of battle: he had taken that blow for her. She can think of a thousand cutting reprimands that a senior Harper would bark in this moment, but a lost little girl from Tethyr, never once protected, can only shut her mouth and stare hungrily at him with a thousand things she will someday figure out how to say.

[prouc]

Hiiiieeeeyo!! This one’s self indulgent 😣!! But a ghost/aparation/poltergeist whatever-you-wanna-call-it reader x Art?? And even more self indulgent, they were lovers when the reader was alive?

OF COURSE!!!!!!! I LOVE THE IDEA SO MUCH

AFTER DEATH DO US APART

I have always been an atheist, I lived laughing when people promised me that there was an afterlife, or some kind of omnipotent god who was always watching, but after being dead for almost ten years now, the only thing I can say, is, I wish that was the case.

Instead of the black hole of nothingness I expected when I died in that car acident, I was met with the fate of being an entity, not a zombie as I first supposed, as no one could exactly see me and I couldn't have contact with anything. I ended up with a fate worse than death itself, the absolute boredom of just being able to watch...

I decided to ''make the most'' of my situation and follow my family around, while also trying to decipher what the hell I was, I didn't think ghosts existed, but it also appeared I was the only one too with this sick fate....Was this some kind of punishment from the same god I mocked years ago...?

I don't know, but I felt lonely, of course I would, there was no one to talk to... or to even touch. I said earlier I tried to follow my family around, making sure they were doing okay, but one person I wasn't being able to find was my boyfriend, I got into the car accident with him but after years of searching, or stalking my family waiting if they said something about him, I was met with nothing, no words were spoken, his name vanished from their tongues, from their memory...But how could that had happened..?

Was he also a ghost...? Was he some kind of creature now..? I could feel my (not-there) head hurting somehow each time I thought too much in the matter, and I decided to drop it. While deciding to investigate some new faces from my childhood neighborhood, I ended up ''staying for dinner'' with a family of four, the couple had a little girl and a boy, and they seemed happy enough for me to stick around to lift my spirits (get it?). I was laying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about my old life, how I missed my dairy cup of coffee, touching myself, my boyfriend's lips on my cunt as I gripping his hair-...You know, the pleasurable things about life.

While I dreamed off my existence, I didn't hear the front door being slammed open, when I finally noticed someone was inside the house was when I heard screams from the mother of those kids, telling them to run. I immediatly fell to the floor, and as if the intruder could see me, I hid out of instict behind the couch I was laying pacefully before. Peeking out when I saw the little girl hiding in a cupboard on the floor, seeing a male walking towards said cupboard, he had probably heard her sobs through the wood, shit.

I stepped out, I knew I couldn't touch anything or anyone, let alone save that poor girl that was going to be murderer by what appeared to be...a clown...?

It was wearing a black and white pattern costume, black fluffy pom poms and a small top hat, but was made me widen my eyes was the blood that tinted and drenched the costume and the man, he was gripping an axe, wriggling his fingers on it as he silently made his way to the cupboard the girl used as hideout. Maybe it was the shock or my memories, but right away, I didn't recognize such familiar costume...

As the clown opened the cupboard, I threw myself on him, and surprisingly, my fingers made contact with the back of costume, my arms quickly wrapping around his shoulders as I made both of us fall down on our back. Maybe it had been a bad idea, because for the first time in ten years, that hurt like shit. I coughed and tried to roll on top of him as the girl ran through the opened front door, I strandled his hips, jaw clenched in pain and tension as I sat on top of him, my hands grabing his collar when my heart dropped.

''What the actual fuck-?'' I asked to no one as my head decided to iluminate me with the recognition of my boyfriend from ten years ago, the one who supoosedly died too...But now was changed- Now was covered in blood, Shit- his fucking costume. This was his costume when he acted on the circus-

The clown stayed in what appeared to be shock too- before he dropped his widened eyes and parted lips, which were now painted black, clenching his jaw and hardening his glare immediatly, kicking my side, and surprisingly again, it made contact. I was threw to the floor next to him and clunched my side, coughing.

''Damnit- What the hell are you doing, Arthur-?!'' I asked, not letting myself froze in shock from this whole ordeal. He then turned the tables, me strandling him but under, him between my legs, the axe forgotten on the floor too away from me to stab some sense into his head.

I looked at him with ragged breaths, gulping softly as he just looked down at me, eyes devoid of any emotion apparent, black holes staring into my own, frightened from what I have seen him covered with, imagining what he had done to that poor family. We tayed in silence for what appeared to be a long time before his right hand shoot up, I flinched, gasping softly and almost daring to close my eyes when his hand made soft and gentle contrast with my skin...The first time in a long time I have been touched this gently...like he used to. I could feel my eyes softening, almost forgetting in what ways we had met again. His face hadn't ''changed'' but it was as if his facial features were more pronunced, as if they were prosthetics, his eyes dead and his face decorated with the exact same makeout he did for his shows, those same shows I attended...

''What has happened to you, my love...? Where have you been...? I have- I have searched for you so much...'' I said softly, he ''seemed'' angry, serious or just silently devoid of any emotion, but the way he caressed my cheek, his thumb on my lower lip, slightly parting my lips as he used to...He had changed, and I was sure he also wasn't human, but right now, when his eyes also softened and changed when I spoke, almost looking gulty but still not parting his lips to explain himself, to tell me what has happened.

He shook his head silently at me, his eyes holding the first emotion I have seen on him since I met him again, sadness. His eyes slowly lifted from my figure to my own and he leaned closer, his hands coming down to my shoulders, as if he was trying to hug me, as if that motion he had done again and again years ago, it was now unusual, as if he hadn't hugged in a long time...

I instinctively hugged him back, almost crying when my hands made contact with something again, with him...

''Why...Why don't you-'' I gulped again, feeling a knot in my throat from all the unspoken emotions from the two of us. ''Arthur...Why don't you speak to me...? Are you okay...-?'' I tried again, and i could almost feel him flinch the moment i mentioned his name, his head resting on my chest as he did years ago, his hands ever so slightly trembling as he cradled me, and he shook his head again.

''You can't...speak?'' I asked in a whisper, almost scared of the answer, afraid that something had happened to my love...even if he was trying to kill a poor girl moments ago.

He nodded, his grip becoming tighter before he lifted his head, black eyes looking into mine. I furrowed my eyebrows in worry, this time it was my grip which tightened, I parted my lips shakily to speak, my hand caressing his cheek as he looked up to me, he felt broken, like someone had corrupted him, taking away the soul of my Arthur, using it to create such crimes...

''Please tell me what happened- I thought you died...There has to be away for you to...tell me.'' I said in barely a whisper, but he heard me, looking away furrowing his eyebrows tightly, a thin line as his mouth as he shook his head, as if he couldn't tell me anything.

I parted my lips to talk again, not understanding anything at all. How was it possible that he could touch and see her while everyone else couldn't, why was he alive and why was she not able to find him after all these years. Why the fuck was he hurting people, were those prothetics...? What was he now...?

But before I could make a sound, as if he knew what I was going to interrogate him with, he lowered his head again towards my chest and collarbone, and I thought he was just going to ignored me before I gasped from the sudden sensation on my higher collarbone. His grip tightened around me, and I could feel my thoughts being ''ripped apart'' from my brain to focus on the kisses and little nips he was giving me.

''Art-Arthur...-! Wait- We have so much to talk-'' I bit my lower lip at the rather ''hard'' nip he gave to my neck on my pulse point, my legs wrapping around his hips as he began to suck and tease all my collarbone, his hands grazing my sides, almost impatiently. It was as if he had changed, no, as if he had been modified, corrupted into a much harsher Arthur...and it almost felt wrong to call him that.

My hands grabbed his shoulders and I tried to push him away before I gasped in delight as he pushed himself higher, kissing ever so softly the side of my lips, one of his hands quickly going behind my head nad pushing my lips agaisnt his own eagerly, as if he had also been waiting for this, and also wanted me to forget about what had happened.

I fluttereed my eyes close as our lips finally made the contact I had been dreaming for years, my hands weakening instantly and going up to cup his face, making out with him in a gentle but familiar way we both learned to love, at least ten years ago. His other hand eagerly caressing down my body before stopping at the hem of my pants, I could feel my pussy throb the instant he decided to put his hand around the hem of the constricting clothes, and pull them down, leaving me in my shirt and undearwear, my pants forgotten on the floor. He never once stopped cupping the back of my head, remembering the movements he had to make with his lips in order for me to melt in his touch.

His bloodied fingers ripped my underwear, his new eager and harsh side showing, and I don't know if I should like it this fucking much- My eyebrows furroweed in pleasure as my legs were parted open by him, two fingers finally finding my clit, instantly moving them in circles, making me buckle my hips from the friction I needed after years of being a fucking ghost and moans escaping my lips between kisses. I didn't open my eyes, I didn't need to look up to know how fucking bad he was grinning, as he always did, knowing how to make me drunk of his touch and abusing that power while also teasing me about it. In this moment, I didn't care that he had probably killed that family, they could go to hell for all I care...

After everything I have been through, I only wanted one thing, and it was him. Even if he had changed, even if he was now a damn monster who killed for fun or who knows why, if that was my Arthur now...then so be it.

I didn't see him smile, but I felt it between kisses, as he began to move his fingers faster, almost too painful for my unused and needy clit. My core throbbed again, harder this time, advising me that I was going to come, and rather quickly, but that was normal considering I hadn't been able to touch myself or be touched for a fucking long time.

''Art-'' He stopped me with a kiss, I could taste his black lipstick at this point, and I probably looked like a mess.

''I'm going- fuck, please don't stop, please don't stop....'' I whispered like a mantra, finally teethering against the edge after so long and letting out a whispered moan, my hands gripping his shoulders, hips shaking, my moans silenced by his lips.

While I came down from my orgasm, he continued kissing and nipping my skin, backing away to glance into my hazy eyes and parted lips, panting raggedly, almost not registering the sound of his costume being pulled off.

As he put himself betweem my legs again, I subconsciously parted my legs and wrapped them around hips, my hands grabbing his jaw and lowering his face towards mine, immediatly kissing him again, more needy this time, my hands behind his head, feeling how he positioned himself agaisnt my wet and aching folds. Unspoken emotions and words being thrown as kisses, as touches, as his hips slowly but securely pushing himself inside of me, forcing a pained moan to come out of my lips, furrowing my eyebrows slightly, nipping his lower lip out of pain.

He was finally halway in and it felt as if my pussy had missed him, streching itself to adjust to his girth, aching uncontrollably and making him groan without any sound against my lips, slowly moving his hips to enter me completely, the head of his cock caressing my walls each time he moved, pressing himself tighly against my cervix before he backed his hips and began to snap forward, repeating the movement without mercy for my sensitive cunt.

''Art-Arthur- fuck- it feels so good...so fucking good'' I repeated, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I gripped his shoulders, nails digging in his skinw ithout shame, but he seemed to not care, just focused in rolling his hips in the way I used to love.

I don't even remeber how many times I came, how much I moaned his name, how many tears rolled down my cheeks from overstimulation. But him being between my legs, huffing silently, kissing my tears away gently as he pounded into me, grabbing my body with his hands tinted with the blood of that family, it felt right, as if I could only be seen, be touched when it was him who handled me,who placed his gaze on me, as it was.

Okay, finally finished!

Disclaimer: It is bad, cringe and poor written, I know.

Explaining: I will explain what really happened, Arthur (Art) and the reader (you) had a car accident ten years ago, resulting in the death of both of you, but an entity (probably the same entity who grants Art immortality in the movies), makes a deal with Arthur before he dies, if he follows his commands, turning him in a puppet to commit crimes, he will keep you safe, and will eventually see you again. Both Arthur and the reader begins to lose their humanity, their memories, the feelings of the real worlds but in diferent aspects and intensities, until they meet again.

Art can't tell the reader anything as it was a deal he made with the entity and decides to distract her by the way he used to when they were alive.

Art is then the only one who can see and touch the reader, as it was promised and granted by the entity, that's why she is a ''ghost'' until Art touches her.

[underthetree845]

What I wouldn’t give to be in Connie’s position

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Was thinking about your au and realized that whichever neighbour wakes up last is in for a very awkward reunion

Imagine waking up to your entire neighbourhood being in an apocalyptic scenario, and you’re the last to find out about it-

technically the last neighbor is Sally BUT Julie is the last "normal-sleeping" neighbor to wake and yeah! she sure has a hell of a time! i mean tbh it's kinda her And Barnaby? they wake up within a week of each other (the neighbors wake via Pacific Rim kaiju rules) so their breakdowns overlap <3

[wonder-worker]

"As for the government of the kingdom, [Edward V] had complete confidence in the peers of realm and the queen."

"According to the Crowland continuator, [Elizabeth Woodville] seems to have taken the king's place in listening to his council immediately after Edward IV's death. It does appear that she expected to have some role in her son's kingship, and the Crowland continuator’s report of the letters sent to her by [Richard of Gloucester] indicates that she had good reason to expect to be able to work with him and the other councillors: 'the duke of Gloucester wrote the most pleasant letters to console the queen; he promised to come and offer submission, fealty and all that was due from him to his lord and king, Edward V, the first-born son of his brother the dead king and the queen'."

"[However], in what was Gloucester's first coup, Edward V was separated from his household and Woodville advisors. When the young king questioned the move, Buckingham was reported to have told the boy 'It is not in the business of women but men to govern kingdoms'. The blunt remark referred to the authority of Elizabeth Woodville as queen and the power she must have anticipated within the new political climate left by Edward IV's sudden death [...] While the veracity of this scene is questionable*, the words attributed to the duke no doubt seemed plausible to Dominic Mancini who believed they exemplified the popular sentiment held by men [...]."

-Dominic Mancini, The Usurpation of Richard the Third / J.L. Laynesmith, The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445-1503 / Alexander R. Brondarbit, Power Brokers and the Yorkist State, 1461-1485

*One of Mancini's key sources seems to have been Edward V's own doctor, John Argentine, who attended to him in the Tower. It's very likely that he was the one who recounted this scene to Mancini, which suggests that it should probably be considered more credible than not.

[simptasia]

my mum died last night

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Okay no one talk to me bc I haven’t watched the race yet but I just finished Nightbane by Alex Aster and am currently Losing It. I need the third book rn.