#also Lady lives!!! everyone lives!!! I am god!!!

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hey there! I might have an oddly specific request, but like. I am craving a trope but I am too lazy to write anything myself. Feel free to not accept this :"D

Could you write maybe like a *micro* oneshot about Boothill finding his past lover (from before his planet got nuked), but here's the thing, the lover did an ftm transition, so Boothill may have not realised at first.

And secondly, there is a child. Boothill's, but he had no idea.

The circumstances under what they reconnect is up to you. Wether it's fluff or angst, also.

Thank you in advance, cool writer person!<3

🌑felt that first part😭 ALSO this idea is so good rAAAH I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IIITT (idk if this sucks but i hope i did this wonderful idea justice my dear, i poured all my love into this ❤️)

ALSO ALSO listened to 'Would you fall in love with me again' on loop writing this cuz the vibes are immaculate :)

Warnings: Spoilers for Boothill's backstory, mention of reader pre-transition as 'her' once but by male descriptors everwhere else, I have no experience writing ftm reader's so forgive my ignorance and let me know if I did good if you can 🥺

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠

The saloon is lively, crowded, not Boothill’s usual scene but fate or whatever sorry god is in charge of his path brought him here. His mission is complete and he’s exhausted – so out drinking he goes, even though he can barely feel the drink’s effects anymore. He supposes it must be the principle of the thing, a sort of tradition that helps him not lose his mind along the way.

Boothill scans the room by instinct, seeing dancing couples fill the entire room up to the corners – some slowly, some so fast it’s as if the universe is about to implode. A flash of a memory stings at the back of his brain, but he ignores it.

“Uhm! Mister!” Chirps a high pitched voice from below, clearly directed at himself. Looking down he spots a chubby-faced little girl, at which he raises a brow. Why a girl her age would ever think to approach him of all people in the saloon, he cannot imagine.

“Can you help me up, please? I wanna ask for some water,” she asks, polite but determined.

“Oh, well of course little lady!” He responds, gently holding her up and placing her onto the stool, once the cloud of nostalgia is gone from before his eyes. She just looks so familiar… The particular shade of brown of her eyes–

“Thank you mister!” The girl says brightly, sitting all cute and proper as Boothill waves the barkeep over, “It’s no trouble. Whatcha doin’ here, anyway? Y’ain’t alone, right?”

“Oh no mister, I’m here with my papa!” She replies cheerfully, pointing to the center of the room where the most people gather. Between swaying bodies he finds who she points at – twirling a giggling old lady is who Boothill suspects is the girl’s ‘papa’.

The cyborg cowboy no longer has a heart, nor a chest really, but it feels as if it stops in that moment. You don't spot him yet, lost as you are in your own little world, twirling around as sweat builds at your hairline.

But to Boothill everyone else fades as the pieces click into place – a grassfield beneath a starry sky, the love of his life before him, his flesh and bone hands around her blushing face… your face… no matter how you’ve changed, it’s you, he’d recognize you anywhere.

He must be seeing ghosts, surely. The girl’s father must just look like you, that’s it, it has to be, you’re dead… you have to be.

But Boothill knows in his soul that it is. You’re right there, dancing without a care in the world, changed and yet the same.

“Mister?” The little girl to him again, grasping at one of his sleeves and he turns. Her eyes, that particular shade of brown… it’s his, from when he was still flesh and blood. His head hurts. He feels drunk and crazy, maybe he should stop drinking after missions.

“There you are! You should’ve told me you wanted to rest,” You lightheartedly tell the girl, panting as you wipe sweat from your brow. From this close he’s sure it’s you, but Boothill still feels a little crazy for his thoughts. “Made a friend–?!”

The moment your eyes meet his, Boothill is finally sure it’s you. And he can tell you remember him too. Both of you seem stuck in time, gazing at each other like you’ve seen a ghost, which maybe you have, all things considered. The both of you should be dead.

Your mouth opens to speak but no words come out and you’re aching for a glass of water of your own. He’s here, alive and…

“You’ve… changed.” Boothill says lamely – so many things he wants to say, things he should’ve said long ago, things he would’ve said if he knew you were alive all this time.

“S-So have you!” Your voice cracks as you gawk at him, “You’re all… metal?”

Boothill chuckles, nerves eased by the familiarity that settles over the two of you – seems you haven't changed where it counts. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, all I have is time.” He can tell you’re still upset with him, perhaps you will be for a while– heck! He’s upset with himself! He should’ve gone back for you, checked, double checked, triple checked!

“Just tell me one thing first;” The cyborg asks, watching as the girl sprints off towards who he assumes is a friend of hers, “Is she…” he points at himself.

“... Yeah. Her name’s Julia.” You tell him, sitting where she was, shoulders still tense as you watch him closely. He’s still as handsome as always, more rugged perhaps, more tired and grim, but the sight of his face still makes your heart stutter with affection. 

Boothill sighs heavily at the information, like the air’s been punched from his lungs, slumping over the bar and covering his eyes. You, alone as your planet burned while he went off to punish the ones who did it, was a heartbreaking enough picture to paint, but with a child? His child?

If they hadn't taken his tear ducts, he’d be filling the saloon up to the ceiling with his tears.

“Hey now, you can cry about it later, ok?” You say awkwardly, knowing you might start crying too if he does. 

He does as you ask, finally raising his head to look at you properly. You’re as beautiful as he remembers, of course you are. You could never stop looking so unfairly stunning to him, never.

Squirming in place as his cybernetic lock onto you, you feel the need to fill the empty space between you – as much as you wish to act like nothing had changed, a lot had, “How did you… recognize me?”

He finds it to be an odd question, of course he’d recognize you, yours is the only face he seems when he closes his eyes, haunting the few dreams he does have like a siren’s song beckoning him to linger within the memories of a better life before he became what he is now, “Y’haven’t changed that much.”

You blink at him, suddenly self-conscious, “... haven't I?”

Oh no, you look upset. He should’ve just said what he was thinking instead of whatever that was, “I– I didn't mean it like– I mean, you look great! Fudge I–”

You’re laughing, open and bright and lovely. Laughing at him no doubt, but laughing, “W-what– why do you– Fudge?”

“Ah, well, that’s part of that long story I told ya’bout.” He replies bashfully, because yeah, it would be strange to hear that coming out of his mouth to you.

Catching your breath and wiping the tears from your eyes, you smile fondly at the cowboy, “Sounds to me like we have some catching up to do.”

The farm boy in him wishes still that nothing had changed, that he could wake up from his dream and lay in the field beneath the stars again, hold you against his warm chest like always and have no IPC blood caked under his metaphorical nails, only dirt and sand from a hard day’s work. But the galaxy ranger he is now likes it better this way – change is inevitable and all things considered, this is one of the more fortunate outcomes of your story. 

You’ve both changed, but not where really it counts.

“That we do, sweetheart.”

[chippedcupwrites]

Sansa Stark │Character Creation (in/sp)

HERE are screenshots of the whole set, if you wish to read the little details.

[ramen8008]

Tony having a list of habits of the avengers that annoy him yet also altering the entirety of the compound to meet those habits.

Tony: You realize how annoying it is to have you in my vents?? Just let me breathe my 5 million dollar air in peace

Also Tony installing a proper scanner which doesn't ring any alarms if Barton is in the vents but instead just makes in a video compilation of each time he falls.

Tony: Thor I swear to the Gods. If you take one more Pop tart from me I wil-

Also Tony bulge buying Pop tarts for every time Thor visits.

Tony: Cap how do you not kn- No being frozen for 80 years is no excuse. This is vital part of history, No I don't care that it's "just a show" this changed lives

Also Tony installing a "Cap is confused again" Protocol on FRIDAY for each time there's anything Steve doesn't understand which might be basic knowledge to everyone else so FRIDAY can give him a summary of it all.

Tony: Nat you need to stop hiding weapons everywhere. I can't be going around finding machetes in the compound!

Also Tony providing her as much space she needs for her weapons in each room if that's what she needs to feel safe.

Tony: No! No magic. Wanda you go through my head again and I swear you'll regret it. My therapist quit, you think you can handle it? Nuh uh this is a magic free household young lady.

Also Tony installing a whole new simulation based training room so she can practice her magic properly.

Tony: Bucky, I know I'm rich but can you please stop crushing my equipment and cups

Also Tony very gently talking to Bucky about everything he is doing step by step as he checks up Bucky's arm. Giving him his own room with open windows so he doesn't feel trapped with every bit of little hobby he might pick up from knitting to painting to playing the piano. A bookshelf with the entire limited edition of The Hobbit and every 40s music he might like. And some more recent songs in case he decides to "stop being old".

Tony: Strange I need you to stop doing that shit. I understand you're a wizard but don't they have rules for that? Like no magic outside of Hogwarts until you're 17? None of that weird stuff in the tower... ever.

Also Tony creating a special meditating room for Stephen with Pink Floyd playing where he can just calm down for a while in the tower and somehow a room in the mirror dimension when he really wants peace and quiet.

Tony: Vision I know you're an AI who is very interested in human nature and I am flattered but I swear if I hear one more explosion because you tried to learn knitting or the piano I will find an off switch whether or not you have one.

Also Tony making every single hobby Vision wants to pick up possible in the best way. Providing him his own kitchen to getting him a piano teacher because he wanted to experience "learning by being taught"

Tony: Banner I get that you have everything under control which is great but my lab is not big enough for The Hulk

Also Tony making his lab big enough. Getting him his own lab. Making sure he had everything he needed to calm down when he couldn't control the Hulk. Labeling him as the "strongest avenger". Getting him a therapist. Making sure he never feels alone yet always has peace

Tony: Rhodey you need to understand that when I say I'm fine I'm fine. You act like such a party pooper you know that?

Also Tony who trusts Rhodey with his life and everything. Making sure Rhodey never feels lesser than. Who couldn't be more grateful that Rhodey stuck by him throughout everything and always stayed. Tony always turning to him for advice and no matter how much he acts like Rhodey is being a bummer always takes his words to heart.

Tony: Peter.... Don't walk on the ceiling! Oh my God don't die! What the hell kid please don't explode your homework again! Your aunt is going to KILL me! You mess with the suit again and I- No , you can't borrow my suit what do you mean? I told you to stay back, tell me what you interpreted that as? No the adults are talking.

Also Tony doing everything that kid wants no matter what. Making sure his suit is so safe that he might as well be immortal. Buying him everything he even remotely suggests to liking. He has his own room in the tower cause of all the time he spends in the labs.

"You want to test out this new thing with your webs but it requires this extremely expensive and toxic chemical? As long as you wear proper protection!"

"you said you had to write about a famous place you went to but since you haven't travelled much you were gonna write about the Stark exhibition or times square.....So I got you these world tour tickets. I think they hit every landmark , just message me the ones they don't and I'll handle it. And don't worry there are two so your aunt can go with you"

[a-lurking-fae]

◇ SYNOPSIS ¡ — in which a girl is born, only to live in conplete and utter tragedy.

◇ WORD COUNT ¡ — 1.4K

◇ SERIES ¡ — BATFAM X FONTAINE! NEGLECTED READER

The sounds of a baby's wails plague the halls of the Wayne Manor, Richard Grayson— the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, who watches on his father's misery. His mother, well, adopted mother, has just passed away from childbirth. Her child (Name) is being held by their most trusted butler, Alfred.

Bruce holds his wife's hands as if it was his only lifeline, his screams of anguish mirror the infant’s cry for their mother. The night is filled with horrible memories, forever to be remembered.

────୨ৎ────

(Name) walks the halls quickly and quietly, afraid of the monsters that may take her if she is not careful. She opens the door to Jason's room. He was recently adopted by Bruce and was a delight to be with. Jason was her only refuge for warmth in this cold manor, although she was not oblivious to their… nightly activities.

She smiles at her brother, who just came from a mission, holding a book in her hand. “Hey bub! Do you want me to read you that one tonight?” Jason beams at you. A cute little sister to see him after he gets home? YES.

Jason lifts you to his bed, setting you near the wall to make sure you don't fall. He picks the book up and starts reading. After lulling you to sleep, Jason kisses your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams.

Jason is dead. That is what you can think about. Your father held a funeral for him to honour his memory. You hold onto his stuff. Sometimes, you sneak in his bed and sleep in it. The remnants of him were preserved in that room. You wished he could have seen you sing the songs dedicated to him on stage.

Tim came into the picture. He saw you as a weakness in the family. You could easily be kidnapped, an innocent civilian never meant to be here. But he cared for you in his own ways, how could he not? You were a bit younger than him, a cute little thing with doe eyes and chubby cheeks.

He maintained his distance, making sure not to get attached. He never really knew how to handle things like family after all. Barbara came to the manor sometimes, although you both never really had much interaction. Damian came into the picture. He was cute but a demonic thing nonetheless.

Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke came to the family, with them being Orphan, Spoiler, and Signal. You were pretty jealous of Cass. She always seemed so… loved. You truly wanted to bond with them all.

They always spend time with each other, and heck, Dick sometimes came to the manor to spend time with Damian! He had time for everyone except you. Jason? He's avoiding you like the plague! You don't really understand why though, did you do something you weren't aware of? Tim, the boy barely interacted with you!

Damian? Nope. Barbara? Too busy for you, apparently. Cassandra? She's a bit scary, but she's fine. Stephanie? Also too busy! Your own biological father (who should definitely just be called sperm donor), ignored the fuck out of you.

You went to the beach to let out some stream. After all, can tears be seen and shed underwater? You swim to the far sea, the waves soon taking you deep. You try to reach the surface, but you can't. You breathe and— wait, breathe??

You open your eyes to unfamiliar waters, you see land and quickly swim towards it. Coughing up some water, you see two men, a flying snowball, and a very pretty lady. You feel dizzy, your eyesight is blurry, and… you lose consciousness!

You wake up, lain in soft silk sheets that definitely beat yours. You look around to see some people surrounding you. “Hello, dear. I am Furina de Fontaine, the Hydro Archon, God of—” She gets cut off by the snowball, “Just get to the point already!” she huffs in the air, kicking in frustration.

“Fine, fine!— Man in blue, My Iudex, Neuvillette. Man in black? The Duke, Wriothesly. Blondie, Lumine. Flying pet, Paimon.”

“I am not a pet!—”

Ms. Lumine— you believe, covers her mouth and takes her away with Mr. Wriothesly behind them. “Right, back to the topic, do you know this person, little one?” Mr. Iudex points to a painting, and you froze.

The painting looks hauntingly like the woman plastered on the walls of the manor— “Mom…” they both look shocked at your response, nodding at each other. “I am your grandmother, my dear. He is your grandfather. Do you think you could tell us what happened?”

“I… She's dead. She passed away after giving birth to me.” You look away. They're sure to hate you, too. Furina embraces you tightly, tears roll down her cheeks. The loss of a child is never light. Neuvillette pats her back, and you hear a light drizzle outside. It quickly becomes a turbulent storm, as Iudex weeps as well. The three of you embrace each other, unwilling to let go.

You eventually figured out how to get between the two worlds with your mother's diary. It was kept by Iudex, and not an inch of dust has reached its pages. You read about her adventures, how she ended up in Gotham, and how she decided to leave Fontaine.

“Your mother was a cheerful person. You certainly took after her the most. ”Neuvillettes's eyes softened at you. “My dear, do you truly have to return to that place? You could simply stay here—” Furina looks at you, you were an adventurer, she never really had the ability to keep you down. After all, she knew what that felt like.

“Nana, I like to explore, a trait from my mother. I have two vast worlds that allow me to see magical places. Who am I to refuse such sights?” You stuff your mouth with cake, it was your favourite flavor.

“The abyssal corrosion is taking me slowly, I believe I have enough time to explore more. That is my wish, nana.”

You smile at them, their expressions are unreadable. Neuvillette clenches his teacup, nodding at you. “If that is what you desire, then so be it my dear.” Tea time soon ends, and you return to Gotham.

You lay in your bed. ‘One last chance, then I'll stay in Fontaine forever.�� You think your performance was coming up soon. If they didn't come, then that is it.

The next few weeks were certainly nerve-wracking. On the day of the show, you get up on the stage, and do your absolute best. You sang your heart out like never before, people shed tears during your performance. They were nowhere to be seen. You should have expected this.

“Great job, (name)!” A stage designer came up to you, handing you some gifts from the crowd. You adorned a smile, pearls on your neck lit up at the lights. There are so many praises from people you don't know, yet not a single family came.

You return to the manor, quickly writing a letter to Alfred. You knew it couldn't be helped. You make your way to the beach, Alfred came home right when you left.

The letter sat on his desk, opening it shook him.

Dear Alfred,

It has truly been a delight to be with you. It is hard to simply leave you, so I leave you this letter. I hope that you may find your peace in this manor, thank you for all these years.

Truly yours,

– (Name) de Fontaine.

Alfred quickly went to the batcave, calling everyone on patrol. He accessed every camera nearby, trying to find you. Were you trying to kill yourself?

“Alfred?” Dick spoke first. The rest listened. “Ms. (Name) might be trying to kill herself, I'll try to find her.

Bruce is shook. What parent wouldn't be after hearing that. He doesn't know where to start looking, so he and Damian search the places your mother would go to.

Alfred finally finds you heading to the beach. You loved that place. “She's at xx-road, heading to xx-beach.” They all rush to the coordinates, hoping they weren't too late—

There you were, in a white dress, you could get sick in that! “Goodbye.” You start to turn to foam. They rush towards you, but they are too late. Your shawl floats to Bruce. He grabs it, trying to find a semblance of you. They'll find you soon, just wait for a bit.

You return to Fontaine, going to Palais Mermonia, munching on some pasta Furina made, as they both work.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

NOTE : Whew, so that was chapter 1! I'm loving the gradient hehehehe. (If I learn more I will become unstoppable)

[ironunderstands]

Ngl I despise stupid ass tweets like this

There is a time and a place for talking about sexualization, but like you cannot be serious.

It’s shorts. She’s wearing shorts. I know part of the reason why her thighs are exposed is because people like to look at thighs, but oh my god. For 5 seconds, 5 goddamn seconds can the people in this fandom not treat women’s bodies like they are some inherent sin? ITS SHORTS.

Based off this tweet you would assume she was dressed like THIS or something (although this one has SOME armor LMAOO)

But not just by hoyo standards, but by normal people standards, Feixiao is wearing a regular outfit, especially considering the climate she lives in is probably fairly warm, and she’s not a normal human being, so all that extra armor wouldn’t be doing much for her anyways.

Hell, this is a universe where shit like the antimatter legion exists, and I’m sorry, but a few pieces of metal really aren’t going to do much against the stuff that Feixiao might be facing, and considering how restricting armor can be, a pilot such as herself would prefer lighter clothing. Honestly if we want to have a discussion about practicality or realism, the flowy/longer parts of the outfit should be the ones under fire, but that’s not the complaints here.

And I get where this person is coming from.

I understand wanting to see an armored lady, especially considering her male counterpart seems to possess that, but this is not the way to approach it at all.

But calling it misogyny? AND SOFT PORN?? SHORTS??

SHORTS

Like do you hear yourself? You sound like a puritan right now? Honestly I’d prefer Feixiao having her thighs out over hearing someone talk about them like they only exist for gooners to gawk at.

Moreover, considering the absolute nightmare that was the copy-past female Luofu designs, I’d say that hers is a breath of fresh air

Also, if you supposedly can’t take a woman seriously because her legs are exposed.. get help dude. Please.

I don’t even think it’s ridiculous to believe that her design is sexualized, especially with the garter, but like, why like this?

Oh, and Jingyuan’s design is sexualized as well, it’s just not through exposed skin. He has a whole ass corset and thigh garter and he’s imposing and has a deep voice and glowy ass eyes and long hair and he stares at the camera in his splashart like That and you get where I am going with this because HES MEANT TO HE HOT TOO. He just has a different kind of appeal

For fucks sake his lightcone literally has him lounging in a chair legs spread eyeing a bird sleepily as the light hits him like that and his face looks like that wand you expect me to believe this game isn’t trying to present him as attractive? For fucks sake he practically has an adoptive son. This is the dilf older man fucker final boss and yet a woman with shorts is what sends you spiraling?

Don’t act like you didn’t see the TikTok comments of people wishing they were his bird when he got released. Or the master stroke jokes? Or everyone and their mothers (literally according to Cyyu) drooling over his EN voice? “I AM the reinforcements?”

If you want to talk about non-sexualized generals and pull up a picture of Jingyuan I will (and currently am) laugh in your face because to be honest more revealing clothing would make him less horny because the uniform is part of the appeal.

I rest my case

[shapelytimber]

i noticed obimaul isn’t in the “one killed the other” category in your sapphic au character sheet! does obi-wan not kill maul in this au? :0 (btw you’re doing god’s work)

Nope ! I really like Maul's canon death, but alas I love Obimaul so the bitch can stay around a bit longer :)

Didn't really refined the details, but the broad idea is Maul came to tatooine to kill Obi wan but couldn't bring herself to do it, and Obi wan could 't do it either.

Maul after losing everything and years of loneliness not being able to bring herself to kill Obi wan, the most important person in her life.

And Obi wan alone on tatooine, having lost everything and everyone she ever knew can't bring herself to refuse Maul's company. The jedis are dead, and Maul might be a dark side force user but not really a sith lord, why refuse the company of the only one left from her previous life.

Two sad touch starved old ladies living together in the desert <3 oh nooo Obi wan's shack only has one teeny tiny bed, guess we *have* to sleep on top of each other.... Wdym in the 15 years we lived together we could have bought another one >:( shut up

Very much "you are my greatest ennemy my hatred for you kept me alive long enough to realise you are literally the woman of my life" vs "the one night stand that killed my dad and I bisected 20 years ago came back to haunt me. I don't have it in me to keep you away and I've seen enough people I've known die so you can stay. Also if I have you under my roof that's one less potential threat to the skywalker shaped child living 30 minutes away, you did try to run little Anakin over with your shitty little bike once. Keep your loved ones close and your ennemy closer am I right- wait"

By the time the original trilogy rolls around, Maul passed away tho. Peacefully in her sleep, of an anevrism, falling down some stairs idc she just isn't around for Luke Skywalker and co bullshit

(hehehe thank you <3<3)

[arc-misadventures]

Can we have Jaune and Coco rag on Cinder for her outfit she wears to blend in at Beacon? Its not very good looking.

(Also is it offensive to have Coco do a gay disappointed stare?l

We Need To Talk

Cinder: Alright, we've got our uniforms, now it's time to blend in with the rest of the students.

Mercury: This should be easy enough to do.

Emerald: They'll just see us as any other student.

Neo: (Rolls her eyes as she fellows these three imbecile)

Cinder: Alright, now all we have to do is mingle a little so we don't stand out as a bunch of loners. Let's ming...?

Jaune: ...

Coco: ...

Cinder: Uhhhh... Hi...?

Jaune: You are wearing... a school uniform...?

Cinder: Of course I am. I'm a student of, Haven Academy, so of course I wear their school uniform.

Jaune: ....

Coco: ...

Coco: It doesn't fit her.

Cinder: What?

Jaune: And, yet... it does?

Coco: It's her face.

Jaune: Partly.

Cinder: My face, what's wrong with my face?

Coco: She looks too old to be a student.

Cinder: Old?!

Coco: But still, the school uniform does fit her.

Jaune: In the porn film category?

Mercury: Pfft!

Coco: Yes, that's why it fits so well! She looks like she's the star in a porn film!

Cinder: EXCUSE ME?!

Jaune: But, not the bland crap you'll find in, Atlas: Girl with pigtails being done in by the school jock.

Coco: Of course not! She has too much class for that! She is more like the kind you find in, Mistral. Where she seduces the shy classmate with a massive package, or is seduced by her teacher showing her how much of a daddy complex she has~!

Cinder: A what complex?

Jaune: Or, she's the milf seducing her daughters schoolmate while wearing her old uniform.

Coco: Nice~!

Cinder: W-W-What...?

Mercury: Piftails?

Emerald: Daddy complex?!

Neo: (Silent laughing!)

Jaune: Overall grading?

Coco: Seven out of ten. She looks good in that school uniform, but she doesn't look that good in it. You?

Jaune: Six out of ten. She just looks too old. Like five years to old to be in school.

Coco: Agreed.

Jaune: There you go, six point five out of ten. Congratulations!

Cinder: Thank you...?

Coco: So, lunch?

Jaune: Yes, I am quite famished.

Cinder: W-What just happened?

Yang: Whoa, that was close...

Cinder: Close?

Yang: Yeah, those two are part of, Beacons Fashion Trio. They judge everyone's fashion, and based on their verdict. You can suffer grave consequences based upon your fashion choices.

Emerald: They judge you based on your fashion taste; What do they do, say really mean things?

Mercury: write you a strongly worded letter?

Emerald: Pfff!

CEM: Hahahahaha!

Yang: They water boarded me.

CEM: HAHA-Ha...?!

Emerald: T-They did what?

Yang: They waterboarded me... for wearing fucking crocs.

Cinder: Y-You're kidding me...

Yang: By the gods I wish I was... So you lot better be careful. If you dress unfashionably... You will learn true fear...!

CEMN: ...

Emerald: The fuck is with these people?!

Cinder: Don't worry, I'm certain nothing bad will happen. Afterall we all dress fabulously~!

~~~

Cinder: BERERERE!?! GERGHERGHERH?!!

(Splash)

Cinder: Bwah! (Cough, Cough, Cough!)

Coco: A leather vest, a leather pauldron, grey tight sports pants, high heel shoes, and fingerless bicker gloves... What the fuck were you think that, that was fashionable?!

Cinder: It was just an outfit!

Jaune: It was a crime against fashion!

Coco: And, don't even get me started on the bandages you're using as a bra! Lady, ditch the bandages! There isn't even anything to show!

Cinder: Hey?!

Coco: Why are you even associated with this walking trash bag, Roman? I thought you had better taste then this?!

Cinder: Roman...?

Roman: Hey, she threatened me into working with her! I've been trying to get out of working with her cronies. You think I want to work with this slob!

Cinder: You betrayed me...?

Roman: I may have made a lot of money working for you. But, the threats to my, and Neo's lives..

Neo: (Smiles, and waves~!)

Roman: And, your plans to destroy, Vale have soured my moods to keep working with you. But, your taste in fashion?! That's too far for me missy!

Cinder: What?!

Glynda: She was going to do what? Roman, why didn't you tell me, I would have dealt with her?

Roman: Her fiery red dress was fashionable enough I let it slide, but this! This thing crosses the line!

Glynda: Understandable. Now tell me what it was she was planning, and I'll get you a plea deal, to avoid a lengthy jail sentence.

Roman: Deal!

Cinder: TRAITOR!

Roman: Oh, pish posh. I was never on your side to begin with. The only side I'm on was mine, Neo's, and fashion!

Cinder: When I get out of here, I am going to gut you like a...?!

Roman: Blah blah blah! Dunk her, Neo!

Cinder: Wait no!

(Spash!)

Cinder: BERGERHUR?!! DURGEHEREDEREDGUR?!!! BUDERDGHER?!

Glynda: She's holding her under rather violently...

Roman: Bitch melted her ice cream.

Glynda: A true monster...

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: loads and loads of tension in the air!!!!

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did - I am excited to see what you think about it!!!

After supper, Daemon found her lurking around Caraxes, she shined like a beacon in the dark of the night.

During the meetings with the riverlords, Lúthril had been by Daemon’s side, keeping her distance from everyone around her, only interfering to offer Daemon her wisdom or when Daemon asked her to provide her opinion on certain matters. Even though she kept saying that she had no King, in front of the little lords of the Riverlands, she did indeed act as if she had pledged her loyalty to Daemon as her king.

In everything she did, she was just too perfect: the way she carried herself ever so gracefully, the way she talked, her choice of words… It felt somehow wrong, making Daemon feel uneasy around her. Of course, at such moments, he would remember that she was no human and the uneasy feeling would go away. Deep down, he knew it only made sense for her to be perfect after having spent many years with the Gods.

Others in Harrenhal were mesmerised by her beauty the moment they saw Lúthril for the very first time that day – Daemon could swear he had seen Simon Strong drooling. Many tried to question her about where she came from and who she really was but Lúthril had a way with words – before they even knew it, she would brush the questions under the table, changing the subject or offering her wisdom about something completely irrelevant.

Before supper, Simon Strong had ordered the servants to prepare a room for the Lady to use as her chambers. Daemon could only imagine how different it had to feel to finally have a bed after hundred years of imprisonment.

As he approached Caraxes, the memories of the conversation earlier haunted him once again that day. Lúthril’s knowledge of his darkest deeds unnerved him. She was not just an advisor. She was a force—one he could not yet comprehend. But whether she was his salvation or his undoing, only time would tell.

“You give me the feeling that you enjoy the presence of my dragon more than my own, my Lady.” Daemon said, causing Lúthril to raise her head to meet his gaze. Throughout the day, he had got used to addressing her as my Lady to make the riverlords believe that she was some lady from somewhere. “Have you ever seen one this close before?”

Lúthril nodded as she placed her right hand on Caraxes’ scales. To Daemon’s surprise, the dragon was actually allowing her to touch itself, to come near itself. Daemon had no information about the Valargon’s relationship to the dragons; however, the view in front of his eyes was enough to intrigue him.

“We lived in Valyria amongst the dragonlords for a long time,” she responded, “but long before Daenys the Dreamer had her visions about the Doom, our Seers told us that we had to move to Westros.”

“So you can speak High Valyrian,” Daemon swiftly switched to his mother-tongue, causing Lúthril to giggle as she walked towards him.

“Of course I can,” Lúthril responded in High Valyrian. “Back then, the wealthiest dragonlords of Valyria could also speak the language of my people.”

Daemon took a few moments before continuing the conversation – the way Lúthril spoke the language had him mesmerised. The way the words rolled off her tongue, how High Valyrian added even more grace to her (as if it was possible) made Daemon want to stay there and just listen to her speaking in the language of his ancestors for the rest of his life.

“What about the dragons? Why do they know you?” Daemon asked, trying to gather his thoughts on the present moment but it was hard not to drift away. “Your people were no dragonlords, yet Caraxes seems to recognise your blood somehow.”

“Do you know how Targaryens became dragonlords, Daemon?” Lúthril asked, switching to the common tongue. Her intense gaze was causing different emotions to rise within Daemon, which had been confusing him ever since he met her. He didn’t really know her and yet, he was feeling the strongest attraction he has ever experienced in his life. It was exhilarating and also unsettling.

Daemon followed her when she started walking. “Of course,” he said, trying to understand where she was headed with this question. “They used blood magic – even Targaryen babes know about this.”

Lúthril sent him a confident look as she slowed down her steps. “And who do you think taught them how to carry out the blood magic to bind the dragons to the descendants of Valyrian blood?” Upon seeing the change in Daemon’s expression, she laughed. “I believe you now know the answer.”

“So it was your people?” Daemon asked, he found it hard to believe that the Valargon had played such a huge part in shaping the Targaryen dynasty – by teaching them how to be dragonlords. “That made us kings?”

She shook her head, causing her long hair to sway. “No, we simply taught you how to bind the dragons – the rest, you have accomplished yourselves.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against Caraxes’ scales, her feet stopping. It was astonishing that Caraxes was allowing her to get that close to him and that Lúthril was not getting any burns since the scales of a dragon tended to get very hot, even steaming during cold nights. “We gave you dragonfire, which eventually became our death. Destiny works in funny ways.”

Standing behind her, Daemon kept still for a moment, trying to decide whether he should listen to the wicked whispers crowding his thoughts. His reason was screaming at its lungs, telling him it was wrong, flashing him memories with Rhaenyra to make him feel awful about himself. However, the yearning after Lúthril and the desire to touch her skin was way stronger, coming from his very essence. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he would forget about Rhaenyra in a heartbeat.

At that instant, all Daemon wanted was to have her.

Listening to the whispers, Daemon took a big step towards Lúthril, resting his hands on either sides of her head, which still leaned the warm scales of Caraxes. The dragon’s hard scales were warm against Daemon’s skin, still leaving his hands unburnt. Upon realising the movements around him, Caraxes raised his long neck in an uneasy manner; however, upon seeing Daemon, the dragon let itself rest again.

“How interesting that might be, it still doesn’t answer my question – why does Caraxes recognise you?” Daemon whispered in her ear in High Valyrian. The way Lúthril shivered when his warm breath reached her ear was visible to Daemon as well, causing the edge of his lips to curl upwards.

“It is not just Caraxes,” She responded in High Valyrian, still her back was facing Daemon. “All dragons recognise us – the Valargon blood has been known to them ever since the first hatchling flapped its wings. They can smell our magic and realise its similarity to theirs.”

With slow movements, Daemon raised his right hand for a brief moment to gather Lúthril’s hair on her right shoulder. Then, he leant in for his lips to be on a level with her ear. His warm breath licked her exposed neck, causing her to take a deep breath. “In that case, I am certain Caraxes would gladly let you fly with me.” Daemon’s words were lower than a whisper. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?”

Lúthril paused for a moment before speaking, Daemon wished he could know what she thought at that moment or how she felt; however, she had a strong grip on herself, trying to show Daemon as little as she could. Well, the Rogue Prince always welcomed a challenge – the harder it was to unravel her mysteries, the more satisfaction the prize at the end brought.

“Flown I have,” Lúthril switched to the common tongue as she slowly turned inside Daemon’s arms to face him. The small distance between their bodies felt like it could burn any moment with the tension heavy in the air. “But not on dragonback.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet her gaze. She seemed to know how to play this game as well; however, her moments of hesitation were more visible to the naked eye than his. “I believe you have to provide me more details as to how it is possible to fly without a dragon.”

A smirk found its way to her lips as she pushed back a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Daemon Targaryen, you do forget who I am often enough,” she spoke with a playful tone. “Why should it puzzle you that a being able to see your past, present and future can fly too?”

“I have never seen a person floating on their own in the sky,” Daemon responded with his quick wit, following the same playful tone Lúthril has set. He leaned in even further so that his lips were brushing against hers when he spoke, “have you?”

Even the brief touch of their lips in that single moment sent a shiver down her spine, Daemon had to try hard not to put on his victory smirk. He wanted to make her desperate for himself for he enjoyed this little game more than he could put into words.

He felt… alive after a long, long time.

Lúthril’s response took him by surprise. “It saddens me that your mind insists on restricting me to the fragile human body.”

“Ah,” Daemon spoke as he took a step back. “A shapeshifter, then.” It was a thought which has not occurred to him before; however, given everything the enchantress could do with her magic, shapeshifting was really not so surprising. “Which body does my Lady prefer for a pleasant flight?”

A giggle escaped her lips as she followed Daemon on his way to Caraxes’ saddle. “An eagle,” she responded, “a white eagle.”

[POV change]

You wrapped your hands tighter around Daemon’s waist as Caraxes flew through the night sky. Even though you had flown yourself, dragonback was a far different experience – far more thrilling and far more terrifying – even for someone like yourself.

In Valyria, conquering the skies amongst the dragons used to be one of your greatest pleasures in life – but that was another time, another life, when fire had not yet consumed your world, turning everyone you once held dear to ashes.

The wind tugged at your hair, the cold air biting against your skin and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of Daemon’s body through the leather garments he carried. Strange, you thought. He had a fire burning within him, one that not even the flames of his dragon could match.

And yet, he did not know how easily he could be consumed by it.

Perhaps I myself, too, do not know how easily I can be consumed by it. The fire burning with the dragon.

For centuries, you had been untouchable, even in your imprisonment. Men, mortal or otherwise, held no sway over you. Yet, this one—Daemon Targaryen—made you question your restraint. His touch was a flame you didn’t wish to extinguish, though you knew it was dangerous to let it burn too brightly.

Your fingers, so accustomed to cold distance, now gripped him as though clinging to the last rays of the eternal light. Vulnerability, once alien, now crept beneath your skin like an uninvited guest, and you wondered how long you could allow yourself to burn.

Knowledge made it even more sweeter, the taste of the fruit. Knowing that the connection between you and Daemon had been woven into the very fabric of the time.

Is this why I find it impossible to walk away from him? you thought as you inhaled his scent, which somehow brought peace to your mind. Or is it something else?

Being close to him was becoming more intoxicating each time – you could not even recall the last time you had experienced such feelings towards another person, Valargon or human. It felt… exciting, in a different way. Despite knowing his past, present and future; Daemon was still a mysterious new book needed to be read – you had to let yourself get lost between its pages to taste its mysteries.

Desire was, indeed, quite hard to put a leash on.

“You have been quite,” Daemon spoke, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”

“I am simply enjoying the skies,” you responded with a content tone, “it is truly wonderous – exploring the night sky on dragonback.”

For a quick moment, Daemon looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze, his purple eyes shinning with joy. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself, my Lady.”

After a short pause, you spoke. “I do enjoy your presence, too, Daemon Targaryen.” A soft chuckle followed. “Not just your dragon’s.”

Daemon’s laugh sent shivers down your spine, you found it hard to believe how much you had grown you like that sound. It was utterly enchanting, leaving you wanting to crawl into his arms.

After dismounting Caraxes, you both stood next to each other, looking at the cursed castle of Harrenhal in silence. The night was still calm but the wind was getting colder and the full moon was slowly leaving its place to the waning crescent, its light reflecting from the diamonds on your dress.

Upon feeling his gaze on yourself, you turned your head to the left, Daemon’s purple eyes awaiting you. The flirtatious aura he normally had around himself was quite thin at that moment; all you could see in his eyes was… adoration. You couldn’t recall the last time someone looked at you that exact way.

“The diamonds on your dress,” Daemon spoke slowly as he raised his right hand. His fingers brushed against the diamonds adorning the neckline of your dress. “They make me feel like as if they have captured the light of the stars inside.”

A small smile formed on your lips. “You are not entirely wrong,” you responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “These diamonds were forged under the light of thousand stars, during the brightest night in the Land of the Gods.”

Daemon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, the ghost of his fingers trailing down your left arm over the fabric of your silver dress, giving you goosebumps. You took a deep breath. The effect of his touch on you was terrifying – your heart was on a race, breaths getting deeper, your body aching for more.

“So they did capture the light of the stars,” Daemon muttered as he gently held your hand. “Any less wouldn’t do your beauty any justice.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The distance between your bodies seemed to get less and less, until you stopped yourself – you knew today was not the right time. Upon seeing the confused look in Daemon’s purple eyes, you placed your right hand on the side of his face, your left hand holding his right one.

“Not today,” you whispered, your lips slightly touching his as you spoke. “The stars move in their own time, Daemon. Let us not rush what’s already written.”

Standing on your fingertips, you left a kiss on his left cheek, a chuckle leaving Daemon’s lips. “You are a strange kind of woman,” he spoke as you stepped back.

With a smile on your lips, you turned around to head back to the castle. “Good night, Daemon.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa @superintenseart @immyowndefender @claud012 @ayamenimthiriel @vavafaure1994 @ilovegrishaverse @avadakadabra93

[ragingbookdragon]

She feels the warmth flooding down the front of her gear as the frigidness seems to crawl up from her fingers and toes. Her breathing labors as the man pulls her inside the crumbling building under the veil of night and cradles her against his body, her back pressed against his chest. His fingers find their way underneath her vest, and she knows she should feel pain where his fingers press against, but all she feels is a numbness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters.

“Ghost,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’m scar—I’m scared, Ghost.”

He shakes his head a single time. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“I don’t wanna die,” she says more to herself than to him, panic setting in. “God, I don’t wanna die now. I don’t wanna—”

“You’re not dying,” Ghost growls. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Ghost—”

“You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna fix this. I’ll fucking fix—”

“Simon,” she stresses, shifting enough to see his face from the corner of her eye. “I’m dying.”

He swallows thickly and gazes at her for a moment before the lump returns. “Fuck, I—I’m not ready.”

“Neither am I,” she smiles, blood staining her teeth, and leans back, her temple to his chin. “Will you…will you stay with me?”

Simon presses harder against her, cursing the tears that sting his eyes. “Yeah, love, I’ll stay.”

She settles then, flightiness stilling in her veins as she relaxes against him. “This isn’t how I imagined going.”

He doesn’t want to ask. Doesn’t want to hear all the fanciful bullshit she’s about to spew about how they grow old and gray, but Simon also knows he’d rather hear her voice all he can before he can never hear it again unless it’s through a speaker.

“How’d you imagine it?” he forces his throat to open.

Her smile is like the stars in the night sky. “Old. In bed together. In our sleep.” She shuffles a bit. “Our kids find us, cuddled close, safe.”

Simon grits his teeth, cracking them under the strain, his jaw aches. “How many kids?”

“Two boys. One girl. Simon Junior, we’d call him SJ. Jonathan Kyle, after Price, Soap, and Gaz.”

“And the girl?”

“Aphra Emeline.”

He nods. “Good name. Strong. Built for a fancy lady.”

“She’d run everyone over.”

“With your looks and my attitude?” he jokes. “Of course. She’d strike ‘em dead with one withering look.”

Her lungs are starting to fail her, and she shivers. “Simon, marry me.”

He can’t stop the tears this time and they drop down his cheeks onto her head. “Who’s gonna officiate?”

“Me. All power vested in me.” She sucks in a breath. “Do you take me as your lawfully wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish, through sickness and health, until death do us part?”

“I do,” he promises. “And even after life, I will.”

“I take the same. I now pronounce us husband and wife.” She turns with the last bit of failing strength she has, pulls his mask down, and says, “Kiss me.”

Simon’s calloused hands are gentle as he cups her face, brushes his thumb over her cool skin and presses his lips to hers, tears mixing on each other’s faces as he kisses her with everything, he has in him. All the things Ghost is not, he gives in this moment to her. All his hopes, all his dreams, all his love for a better ending. He gives it up in this moment as he burns it into his mind that Simon Riley will never live after—only Ghost.

“I love you, Simon,” she whispers against his lips, and he shakes his head.

“I love you too,” he manages between hers. “I’ll stay,” he promises, pulling away to press his forehead to hers, staring at her. “I will stay.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you will.”

He memorizes the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose, the feel of her skin beneath his hands, every detail he can about her, and it’s only when her head tilts forward, forehead bumping his lips that he knows.

Simon inhales and exhales one time, a single, agonizing howl.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[simpingland]

Love is patient.//Aegon Targaryen II x wife!reader.

Moments before the coronation, Aegon's wife recalls her first memories with the Prince. Patience was key on this journey to make things right. And this patience let love to grow easily between them.

A/N: angst, Diane's assault does not happen here because It's the only way I can write this. TGC is the loveliest person ever, im(r)o.

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

The first time you saw Aegon drunk was the first time you met him. And you knew from the start that the journey you were being forced into would not be an easy one. The prince was a little older, but a single word came out of his mouth, and you were the one who felt mature. The glory of the Targaryens, with their distinctive faces, their airs of divinity, did not show in any of Aegon's features. His mother scolded him for cutting his own hair on the very day your chariot pulled into the Red Keep. He gave you an awkward kiss on the hand and talked more to his brother Aemond than he did to you during the entire presentation dinner. The night was a disaster. You almost fell asleep in your own seat, with not a single charitable soul to speak to you.

"It's your duty," your father had told you over and over again. "You have a good chance of being queen."

"You don't need to scare her," your mother corrected him. She took your hand for the last time and said the words that were always echoing in your head. "He is a difficult man, and I understand that. But love can be many things, my dear. This love may be patience. Be patient and patient to welcome the good things with joy and to know how to overcome the bad things with peace of mind. Just...be patient."

Very few lords attended the wedding, and not even Rhaenyra and her family came to the ceremony. And you were glad to think that few were those who saw the humiliation of not receiving a single kiss from your now husband. When it was all over and the feast began, the music filled the room with joy, with Aemond and Helaena dancing, while your siblings found different partners to share the song. And all you had was Aegon beside you, who wouldn't let go of his cup for a second. From the corner of your eye, you could see that this drunkenness was unlike any you had seen before. He was faded, his eyes clear and glittering with sadness.

"Aegon," King Viserys trudged over to your seats, and you alone rose to pay him a courtesy. "Why don't you take your beautiful bride out dancing? By the gods, you'll bore her to death sitting here!"

You wanted to say you didn't have to, but contradicting the king was very wrong of you, and lying to yourself was also a bad habit. You really did want to dance, and you really did begin to die of boredom. When you looked at your groom, you saw him turn to look at you, his eyes still half closed, heavy with alcohol. Still, he stood up and offered you a hand. Your walk to the centre was full of applause.

"I warn you, I am not in my best powers of coordination, my lady," he warned you himself in a whisper.

"I hadn't noticed, my lord," you gave him a half smile, his hand dropping quite a bit into yours.

When the music began, the song was perhaps too lively for what you would have wished, and certainly for what Aegon would have wished as well. His steps were clumsy, and the rhythm of the music was too lively for what you might have wished. His steps were clumsy, and the pace was beginning to make him dizzy. He stepped over a few lords, and when he had to approach you, he would push you back by accident. Already bordering on embarrassment, you could see your parents blushing and looking at the scene with concern. And you could also see Alicent and Otto look at Aegon angrily. The old king looked confused.

"I can stop this," you whispered to him when you had him close.

"No," he replied. "I'm being a good husband."

Then he danced on. And soon what he was waiting for happened, Aegon fell to the ground. Everyone held back an exclamation, some of them hiding their laughter very badly. The prince was slumped on the floor, and before long he was vomiting up what was only wine. The sight was pitiful. One of your sisters approached you, as Ser Criston and Alicent approached Aegon. And when your sister tugged you away from the pool of wine, you broke free, moving closer to the prince who stirred slowly on the floor.

"My dear, you'll stain your dress," Alicent said.

"Let me help, Your Majesty." You replied.

With a handkerchief borrowed kindly from a nearby lord, you wiped Aegon's face and let him lean on you to slowly rise. His hands rested on your shoulders and yours on his arms. His face was red, and he seemed to regain some sense of shame.

"I think you should rest for a while," you said. He nodded.

And then Criston took over, putting the Prince's arm over his shoulder and leading him out of the room. Alicent walked behind, and as they walked away you could see Aegon turn his face to look at you. With a last glance at your family, you followed the Queen's path, straight to your husband's chambers.

"I asked only one thing of you, Aegon, just one," Alicent was saying to him on the way. She seemed to hold back quite a bit in your presence.

Criston left him sitting on the bed, and Aegon tried not to fall into it as his mother spoke to him.

"Tomorrow we will talk further." And then he turned to look at you. "I'm so sorry about this, love. I will tell the guests the bedding will be private."

"Oh, thank you, Your Majesty."

When Criston and Alicent left, they expected you to follow them as well, but you stood in the room.

"Have you not been shown to your rooms yet?" Alicent asked, quizzical.

"Yes, yes, I've located them... but I'd like to stay here a while longer. It's our wedding night, isn't it?" You sounded totally nervous but determined.

Alicent could only nod and force a smile before leaving with her knight. As the doors closed, you could hear Aegon finally collapse onto the bed.

"I wish to give you no offence... and the gods know I am the most willing man to do our duty that you will ever meet," Aegon said, and it was the sort of compliment you should learn to accept. "But tonight, I do not think I have the strength to achieve our goal," he said.

"I was not here for it, so I will take no offence."

Aegon turned his head to look at you, and he seemed much more alive than before.

"That's a pretty dress," he reached out to brush the fabric of the gown. "I'm sorry you got it stained with...my vomit."

"Don't worry, my prince. I could never wear it again."

You heard a laugh from him, which even startled you. But it was tender and unexpected, and it made you proud. Aegon repositioned himself better to give you a place on the bed and tapped his side, asking you to lie down beside him. Before you did, you picked up a tray of fruit and filled a glass of water. And before you lay down, you offered Aegon the water.

"The Maesters say that alcohol should be compensated with water." You watched as Aegon sat up so he could drink his glass without choking. And though he hesitated at first, he ended up drinking it whole and with need.

"I did not remember the taste of water..." he put the glass back in your hand. "And it's a disappointing taste."

When you finally lay down beside him, Aegon enjoyed the fruit on the tray, offering you some grapes.

"Is it always going to be like this?" You asked. He stopped chewing to look at you. "This humiliation. Are you going to be drunk every day of our lives?"

At your hurt tone, Aegon did not know what to answer, but he sounded remorseful, trying to compose an apology or some excuse. He swallowed his food before speaking.

"I have never had reason to be sober, my lady. No one has given them to me."

"Is your mother not worth it? Is your father not worth being proud of you?"

"What my father wants of me is very different from what my mother wants of me. I will never do well in their eyes."

"And at what point is it a much better option to wander around the castle blind with alcohol?"

"It's the only thing that makes me forget how useless I really am."

You couldn't help but run your hand over his face, trying to get him to look at you. His eyes were shining again, but they seemed much more alive than in the room.

"We all have our duty to do. And not all of us are good at it, but we all try."

"You seem like a person suited to this kind of life."

"I'm responsible. I like to think I am, at least. But don't you dare think that I don't wish I was somewhere else right now, with my horse and music nearby. I don't like to pour water to drunk men or stain my clothes with their vomits. But I do it because, somehow, It's now my duty. I will fulfil it for my family's name's sake. I would like to start a family and I will need your help to protect it. Just as you are going to need mine. It is what I believe is right."

You watched as Aegon nodded. He stroked your hand on his face and got out of bed to rummage through his wardrobe. You watched as he stumbled over his own mess but managed to pull out a long white shirt. He left it on the bed for you.

"This will do, so you can change into something clean." He stood expectantly.

"I already have clothes to change into in my rooms," you turned him down, but with a coy smile.

"Oh... all right," he looked disappointed. He looked sweeter than you had ever seen him, still dressed in his groom's robes. His suit was blue and gold, like his dragon Sunfyre. He went to pick up the shirt when you changed your mind, placing his hand on top of it, preventing him from pulling it away.

"Although...I don't trust my sense of direction around the castle in this darkness. Do you mind if I stay?"

"No..." You saw a soft smile appear on his lips. "Not at all... you are already my wife."

You changed in a dark corner of the room, and though Aegon said he would not spy on you, you caught a glimpse of him slyly rolling his eyes, trying to make out your figure in the gloom. The shirt made you look rather unattractive, in your opinion, but the loose hair and lack of tight fabrics made you feel so comfortable that you forgot all about your appearance. Aegon also shed the tight jacket and breeches and was left in a camisole similar to your own.

"Thank you for lifting me up in the hall..." he said after you had mocked the dreadful attire you had witnessed throughout the day. "It's not the first time I've fallen down. But it is the first time someone has helped me as tenderly as you have helped me."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry I humiliated you."

"I don't want your apology. I want you to promise me that you will try to change."

"And how can I change?" He sounded surrendered.

"With patience."

"I'm not patient, I'm afraid."

"Well, I am... I'll share some with you."

"Oh no... you're going to make an annoying wife, aren't you?" He joked, making you laugh. "You're going to ask me out dancing a lot. And I'm going to have to greet a lot of gentlemen and lie about how pretty their wives are..."

In the comfort of shirts and bed, a few hours passed as exhaustion begged you to sleep, not yet having consumed the marriage. You granted him a kiss on the lips. They were the taste of one and figs. After that night, it took you a long time to even set foot in your room.

The days passed more quietly, with Aegon showing you his favourite parts of King's Landing, trying to avoid the whorehouse, though you knew he had visited it a hundred times. You never reproached him, for since you were married, he had hardly left your side. In fact, he was the annoying husband. He asked you a thousand times to fly over Sunfyre. The only thing you insisted on was that he should not refill his wine glass during lunches and dinners. It was as simple as holding his hand fondly as he approached the decanter. The next day, you noticed that the lack of hangover manifested itself in long expeditions to which you went half-dragging. Soon, you understood what Aegon meant by his father's wishes and his mother's. Viserys enjoyed Aegon's Aegon. Viserys enjoyed the more talkative, joker, and absent side of him, the one who was a good spare heir behind Rhaenyra and her children. He barely paid him any mind, always reminiscing about his eldest daughter and his late wife. Then there was Alicent, and close behind her was Otto. The Hightower wanted in Aegon the malice that could reside in him, the malice that wanted more than to be a prince. They compared him incessantly to Rhaenyra and to Aemond, who was younger than he was, and therefore even more humiliating.

On nights when you returned from those uncomfortable dinners, Aegon would become extremely nervous, and you could not stop him from asking for a large flagon of wine. Your words did him no good, but you remembered your mother's advice. You had to welcome bad things with patience. And you watched him drink in front of the fire and asked a guard to watch him when he moved drunkenly around the castle. The next day, you helped him freshen up with a bath and get rid of the horrible headache.

On one of the nights when it happened again, you went to extreme measures before he ordered his alcohol.

"Perhaps a walk with Sunfyre will clear our heads, Aegon."

"'Our'?" He looked at you quizzically.

When you nodded, his face changed completely, and in the dead of night, he asked for his dragon to be prepared for a ride. Aegon was so pleased that he barely noticed that you were terrified. And you didn't say anything, of course, you liked seeing him so happy. Sunfyre was beautiful and quite a good boy, but that didn't take away your terror at the heights he could reach.

"Come on, wife, the tingling in the stomach is what makes it fun."

"I disagree."

As he laughed at you, he put your hands around his chest. He was quite a fit man, and over the past days and flirting, you found yourself more and more wanting to touch him and hold him close to you. Perhaps the dragon was a good idea, after all. Sunfyre led you to Kingswood, a place you mentioned you had never seen. And the whole flight was spent in places whose names Aegon made up to distract you, surprising you with the absurdity of the game. There was the odd surprise pirouette that he couldn't avoid, making you scream and squeeze him. But all in all, it was quite fun.

It was in the forest where you wandered, talking about unimportant things that kept your mind off all the crowns and iron chairs. It was that night when you consummated the marriage. You gave him the kiss that set it all on fire, the deepest kiss you had ever given each other. And he continued it with even more passion, clearly the more experienced of the two. He undresses you right there, and you undressed him as well. In the soft grass, only the moon could see you become one at last. You awoke at dawn and returned to the Red Keep with red faces and dishevelled hair.

"You're glowing," he whispered to you before he had to leave you to attend a meeting, pulling away your hair to give you a kiss on the neck.

All those memories flashed through your mind as Aegon leaned against the carriage window, on his way to be crowned King, his sister unbeknownst to their treason, his father recently dead, and war knocking at the door. They had dressed you too, and the thought of being queen made your stomach churn more than it already did.

"I'm afraid," Aegon suddenly confessed to you. "I'm not going to be good for this."

"I'm afraid too..." You took his hand. "We have to be smart, Aegon. We must protect ourselves."

"You should run while you can. I can order Ser Arryk to send you away... until all is safe again."

"No!" The thought horrified you. "I can't abandon you. We need you."

You brought your hand to your belly. You watched as Aegon's eyes widened with surprise.

"Gods..." he knelt before you, his head close to your knees, the din of the city seemed to hush inside the carriage. The light through the windows rattled on your skin, and the scene seemed like something out of Aegon's imagination.

"We must flee."

"It is too late now." Tears were falling, and your husband wiped them away, overwhelmed. "They won't let us scape this, you know that."

The carriage finally stopped, and Aegon had to bolt the door, which would only hold the guards for a second.

"Then, wife, I will do my true duty to protect our family. But as you said that day, I need your help...it is what I believe is right. Let us have hope. Never before I have felt this love for anything. Never before has anyone ever shown me as much love as you. I'll do everything in my hand to keep us safe. The only thing that matters to me is you and everything that involves you. My only friend is you."

Trying to regain your normal breathing, wiping your cheeks, you nodded as Aegon gave you a kiss on the forehead, another very soft, slow kiss on the cheek, which you couldn't help but drop your face to his touch and essence, and a kiss on the lips. Before removing the latch, he gave you a last kiss on your belly, making you giggle.

A look of complicity and a final sigh to enjoy a moment of peace before your heads held the crowns.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Ladies, if you are being penetrated by him, he must know himself as a God. Even if your lover (no matter the gender) does not say those words or refer to themselves as such, you will be able to sense it in their daily actions. When I speak about masculine energy, that God energy, I'm not speaking about the performance like how a person's postures themselves or their overall banter. When I speak about masculine energy, I am speaking about tactile external structures like what are your lover's main focuses in life? How does your lover treat their body? Is your lover on social media all the time? What is their attention focused on? How does your lover manage resources including their money and "free time" like are they only playing video games, watching TV or sitting around in other ways when not working? I think of someone like Nipsey Hussle, who practiced semen retention, an archetype of human power who didn’t just carry masculine bravado, but organized and directed energy into a practice that procured success, those masters of our time who lived in more elevated ways. Other masculine archetypes I connect to are David Goggins, Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lee, Sun Ra, and many female and male athletes like Angel Reese and Deion Sanders. Too many woman have dead men/masculine energy hanging around their root, which means that they have very weak masculine energy entering their bodies and lives. Weak masculine energy makes you broke and tired because it makes no space for your actual feminine energy to shine and thrive. Weak masculine energy negatively affects your physical structure and taxes you financially and emotionally, like the lack of confidence or willpower you will have to move through discomfort or hard times. You must find ways to exalt the masculine energy within you if you want to excel in the this 3D energy. It is masculine energy that helps you to not only say the thing, but the become the thing. It is this energy that makes you completely comfortable with being the villian in another person’s story and not need to please everyone. This was one of my biggest coming-into-maturity lessons of all time. Goddess energy is lovely, the subtle and internal are deeply essential, but they are only truthful when God energy has been integrated. How can you raise the God in you? This is one major reason that I have been weightlifting nearly every week over the last 20 years. Even when I travel, I also grace the local gym as part of my traveling adventure. It’s the God in me that allowed me to confidently workout at Lee Haney’s gym on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta back in the day in the part of the weightlifting area where mostly big burly muscular men went as they stared at my ass while I squatted. It was a little icky and annoying at times but it was that God in me that mandated me to not tiptoe around or shrink like a little girl and only leave this area of the gym when I was done with what I came to do. Getting stronger not only helped my mental health and made me more confident, it is helped to dissolve a lot of the recurring low-grade depressive energy that was often part of my life. Strengthening my belly, my solar plexus, my sense of self, has been my discipline, one way I exalt the God, H.I.M., the masculine, within me. I never consciously realized that I tend to go into a gym feeling like a God until this morning--like "I can do this; I'm ready,” especially mustering this energy up on days when I don't really want to go, when going to the gym feels hard. Ultimately you can only attract God when you know yourself as a God, not intellectually because you read the Bible (many people who only read the Bible all the time stay broke and broken), but the God living in your own body and treat yourself accordingly. You can’t receive what you haven’t given to yourself. It's simple math. 1+1=2. -India Ame'ye, Author

[crepesuzette2023]

Before I forget: Paul live in Paris, Dec 4, 2024

At some point, there was real life and having to take care of 1001 things in order to come here, but I can't remember. The Stadium is enormous, the view clear, the sound sublime. As the venue fills, a DJ creates a set of deep cuts and remixes from Paul, Beatles, & Wings that paints a broad but incomplete mural of the man's music. On the screens, an endless building scrolls past: a castle or a tower, inhabited by all these friends and lovers—only to culminate in the birthing of two Höfner basses from—flowerbuds? Star nurseries? I don't remember. Anyway, it's appropriately lusty Gemini symbolism. Earlier, my seat neighbor @i-am-the-oyster spots an angry skull in the QR code innocently leading to Sir Paul's website. Also with us are @packyourromanticmind, @s-l-martin a little further away, @crumblingcookies down on the floor, and next to me Mr. Suzette.

Can't Buy Me Love. We're underway. It's over almost before it begins. More more more. • Junior's Farm. My God, that figure down there is really him. These delicate wrists, bright white shirt, but also — these hands on the strings? Above all, a musician. • Letting Go. Red Lights, throbbing beat, sleazy bassline thrumming. I bet this is a personal favorite of his. • Drive My Car. The thrill of singing Beep Beep M Beep Beep Yeah in sync with thousands. • Got to Get You Into My Life. Damn, his voice his soaring. • Come On to Me. What? My fiction brain supplies so many "everyone comes on Paul, and Paul returns the favor"-scenarios. • Let Me Roll It. The first taste of actual ecstasy. Paul switches to guitar. Too far below me, a sea of people is swaying and singing. He gave me loving in the palm of my hand.

Getting Better. How dare he jump from the churning vortex of Let Me Roll It into the happy, skipping optimism of...this? Of course it works, and he sings it well. • My loudest scream of the night goes to Brother Michael in Let 'Em In. This one feels like a sibling of Getting Better—that relentless, easy rhythm, stripped of Lennon's edge. • My Valentine. Elle est ici. This one's for you, Nance. Dark, old, honest love song in black and red, with the voice just this side of breaking on this love of mine. • Still behind the piano, Sir Paul feels the need to bounce on it, and does so with Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five, no holds barred. • Since we're going insane, why fight it? Maybe I'm Amazed, absolutely a highlight so far—the piano, the shredding guitar. The screams and falsettos.

And then he's suddenly standing in front of the stage singing I've Just Seen A Face. Infuriating. • In Spite of All the Danger. This holds up, lifting the entire stadium with its gentle melody—until it's time to lose it when Paul plays George's guitar solo. McCartney—Harrison. • Love Me Do. George Martin name drop! No more audition nerves; this is a now a singalong tune. Excellent harmonica playing by Wix Wickens. • Michelle. In Paris! Makes me think of Ivan Vaughan's wife, who helped with the French. So much history in this room, in this work. The I Love You's are for everyone present. • Dance Tonight. That's right, get up and shake it! Palate cleanser.

Blackbird. I know: a forever song. The simplicity of him with a guitar. His hands. This is still that body. • Here Today. His voice is more firm singing this than it was in the past, not as close to tears—but if anything, it makes the line I Love You even better: strong, sure. Let's hear it for John. (Applause.) (Demanding gaze.) (More, louder applause.) That's right. • Now And Then. I miss John's voice. The vibes of this song are: It was beautiful, now it's over. Oof. Thank you, John, for giving us the beautiful song.

Enough of this. Sir Paul escapes behind the colorful piano. Lady Madonna time! • And right into Jet. Why not? A bit jarring, but hey. Triumphant fucking song, and just what we need now. • Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! At this point you're just fucking with us, Paul, and we let you. Disturbing to discover the lyrics to this song reside in the same brain that seems to be incapable of remembering actually crucial information with real life consequences. • Something. And like that, the heart is pierced again. It's just Paul and the ukulele at first, and thousands of voices singing for George. The man was loved. And the song is genius.

Me, before the concert: I could do without Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da. Me, during the song: goes nuts. • Band on the Run is a cool song, and it makes you feel good inside. It's time we all admit this. • Ram it home Paul, we want it: Get Back. What a song to play live. Gift of the gods.

Another change of pace as Paul sings Let It Be, surrounded by glowing wish balloons and the stars of the audience phone lights. Incredibly gorgeous and cathartic. My mother's second name was Mary and she died much too young; don't expect me to be normal about this song. • Live and Let Die. Okay then. Time to just surrender to the insanity of it all. I had *heard* of the fire show, seen it on small screens. I am not prepared. Not to mention the musical...orgy. • Hey Jude. This is my chance to come down a bit. What a peaceful melody. And then he screams and hollers during the ad lib section like the One Hand Clapping sprite he is...!

Encore: I've Got A Feeling. Paul and John sound crisp together. John looks so, so beautiful. Also, Paul still has the energy to almost scream in tune at this point. • Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Reprise. Nooo, don't go! Also, Sgt. MF Pepper's exists because of this man and his bandmates. And it's just one song of the encore. Have to make choices, right. • Time to pull all the stops, and there's so much left. Helter Skelter. No, we will not take it down a notch. • Golden Slumbers. Damn you, Paul. • Carry That Weight. The first signs of the voice possibly being done for the night, but who cares when everyone sings along? • The End. The guitar solos! All this man wants to do is make music, either alone or in a good band. Both are fine with him, really.

When he's done, he's pretending to be humbled by the applause while actually soaking it up, and leaves the stage with a spring in his step, waving coquettishly at the camera that follows him for a bit. Is he kissing the camera? I forget. I think I remember the end. We see it all on the big screens: that lithe, white-haired figure, weaving past others until he's truly gone. Touch Me. Not a chance.

[auggieblogs]

From mine to yours | Max Verstappen Instagram au

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ Max does not hide his blatant favouritism!!!

Author's note: HAPPY DIWALI TO EVERYONE CELEBRATING!!! I hope all of you are doing good. This smau is a service to all my brown girlies, (and @maxiepinkz) consider it a Diwali gift. Also, my non-brown girles, all of you can read it just for the funnies (I like to think I am hilarious). Anyway, I love you all so much. Happy reading, my loves🤍

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 124,789 others

yourusername Happy Diwali🪔

tagged maxverstappen1

comments:

username parents if I may

username MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A BLACK KURTA THIS IS NOT A DRILL HSJAHDSG

username me and who

landonorris Diwali is my favourite festival actually

maxverstappen1 We'll send over the leftover sweets Lando, don't worry landonorris good because Oscar was worried oscarpiastri EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL- yourusername It's okay Osc, we know it is actually Lando landonorris NUH UH

username Y/N, meri jaan<3 (Y/N my beloved)

username this could be us but you don't even know what is Diwali

username dear god when I get to hell please let me bring Y/N and Max

username Everyone should thank Y/N for getting Max out of his rbr merch bc he looks fucking delicious in that kurta

username Thank you Y/NNN username Thank uuuu, Y/N you're doing god's work username we owe you Y/N😭 yourusername You're welcome my bacchas mwah😘 (You're welcome my babies)

maxverstappen1 I love you kaafi zyada (I love you a lot)

yourusername more than redbull sugar-free? maxverstappen know your limits (yes)

username damn this making me feel a different typa lonley

martingarrix Sick party, sick music and I WON THAT GAME OF CARDS

yourusername Martin puh lease🤚🏼🙄

charles_leclerc I need that party playlist Y/N I'm begging

lewishamilton +1

lilymhe omg me too!!!

yourusername anything for my favourite lady🫶🏼

username Y/N making all the firangis (foreigners) dance on desi music like yessss queen reverse colonisation or something

username ik my goat

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 450,314 others

maxverstappen1 Happy Diwali, from mine to yours❤️🪔

tagged yourusername

comments:

username this is heartwarming awh!!!

username snshsj I love them

sophiekumpen Beautiful, Y/N💕

*liked by maxverstappen1 and yourusername*

yourusername Thank you so much, Sophie🥰

username I absolutely adore the Diwali vibes✨

username he posted 6 pics and 3/6 of them is Y/N I AM ON THE FLOOR

username down horrendously

username can you blame him though???

username I genuinely understand.

yourusername I love you, Max. Kaafi zyada. Bohot zyada. HADD SE ZYADA. (I love you, Max. A lot. Like A LOT. Beyond limits)

maxverstappen1 And I love you usse bhi zyada (And I love you more)

yourusername sharm aa gyi mujhe hehe🤭 (I’m blushing)

username Max learning Hindi for Y/N can be something so personal

username his side quests are getting out of hands

username bro probably did it to impress the in-laws

yourusername he knows 3 languages, what’s one more?😼

maxverstappen1 I am a romantic like that actually😊

username pretty pretty

username nahh this mf keeps winning on and off track annoying asf🙄👎🏼 ( I love them so much)

username oh to celebrate Diwali with my white boyfriend😭🙏🏼

username jokes aside, I want to know what max looks like up close with that kurta on

yourusername rishta material fr🤤 (marriageable)

danielricciardo It's the way we all were at the celebration and you managed to post just Y/N.

maxverstappen1 I do not hide my favouritism

username my desi girllll

username Y/N is living all my f1 driver x desi reader fantasies and I love it for her

redbullracing Hopefully we're invited to the Diwali party next year😁

landonorris nahhh no way after the ladoo incident

alexalbon Y/N is going to pull out her hair😭

yourusername uhm I'm actually conflicted tbh.

username WHAT IS THE LADOO INCIDENT?

Diwali, also known as Deepavali, is a Hindu festival celebrated with great enthusiasm across India and various other parts of the world. It symbolizes the victory of light over darkness and good over evil. Diwali typically involves lighting oil lamps or diyas, decorating homes, exchanging gifts, and enjoying festive meals with family and friends. The festival holds cultural, religious, and social significance, promoting the spirit of joy, unity, and hope.

A ladoo (also spelt laddu) is a popular and traditional Indian sweet. It is a round-shaped sweet ball made from various ingredients, including flour, sugar, and ghee (clarified butter). Ladoos are often prepared during festivals, celebrations, and religious occasions in India. They are considered a symbol of good luck and are distributed as a gesture of joy.

Needless to say, it's my favourite time of the year😁

[ohbabydollie]

currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once

then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!

you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.

he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.

“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”

“finish your essay.”

also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon

ofc, welcome 🥥 anon

before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.

from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.

single, with multiple failed dates under his belt

then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.

he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.

he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.

then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely

the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.

“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile

“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red

“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open

and just like that you were gone as soon as you came

and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you

the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.

“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.

they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”

he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.

over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.

as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”

you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.

“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book

“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile

“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.

once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.

“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again

“finish your assignment before i fail you”