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wonderbias · 10 months

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Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) - Chapter One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Visenya Targaryen)

Warnings: MDNI, +18, language, violence, manipulation, sexism (style a la medieval), blood, angst, kinda dark?, kinslayer Aemond.

AN: The dividers are from @itbmojojoejo. Their work is awesome, and they make one of the prettiest dividers I've seen. Any questions/asks/any kind of message, feel free to contact me. Enjoy!

Dearest daughter, I've accepted the terms. You are right, as always, and this war will only lead to more losses. I cannot say that your father is of the same opinion, but I managed to convince him. We've lost too much…and I am a selfish woman, I cannot bear to lose another one of my children. I'll be seeing you in two weeks and I only pray for the time to go by faster. All my love for you, my sweet girl. Mother.

Visenya, All is fucked, sister. Mother and Daemon are devastated, she took the only thing that kept him away from his grief: the war, and he's fucking pissed. Joffrey pulled a joke on him…didn't work. Baela cut her hair short…nobody bat an eye. Rhaena, I'm so worried for her, before he was her betrothed Luc was her friend…the tear marks seem like they are permanent on her face. This war has taken their strength to live and, honestly, I don't give a shit about the Throne (like, Aegon can get impaled on a sword and I wouldn't care) when my family is suffering. I wish things were like before. All of us playing on the beach, Luke alive and you not married to the Kinslayer. I've tried…like you asked me, but he took our brother Vis…and, as much as I wish for him to be dead, I know it wouldn't be possible without hurting you in the process. So I'll be visiting the Red Keep for one last time…and you're welcome to visit me and Baela (she misses you too) in Driftmark. I need you. I need my sister. I miss you. But don't ever ask me again to make a truce with Aemond. Jace.

The Red Keep had never been livelier.

The walls had been covered with more heraldry of the Seven but also the old Targaryen and Valyrian decorations had been placed back. Servants ran quickly through the halls, carrying food or clothes; the King's Guards armor had been polished until it shined like silver under the sun.

The new Targaryen heraldry hung proudly at the entrance of the Great Hall, and inside it was filled with more. It was truly a lavish and expensive Targaryen party, a banquet and hunting celebration for the newfound peace in the Realm.

But Aemond paid attention to the details…

Like the green drapes, or the green tablecloths. The maids and servants were also in green, and the whole family had expensive clothes made in green for the occasion.

It was a Targaryen party, yes, but the Hightowers were the ones celebrating the rendition of Rhaenyra.

When he walked into the Great Council, everyone turned to look at him. An already drunk Aegon smiled -the same disgusting smile he had given Aemond before making fun of him-.

"There he is, Mother. Ask him and don't bother me," Aegon said as he raised his cup to be filled.

Her mother's tense gaze found his eye, "Is it true?"

His tongue poked his cheek while he sat down, his grandfather calculated eye didn't leave him, "Is what true?"

"That Alys Rivers has come as the Lady of House Strong," there was a plea in Alicient's eyes.

His face was devoid of any expression, "Aegon legitimized her and she's an ally. I don't see any problem." His fingers moved to touch the pad of his thumb. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Alicient's face fell, her heartbeat pounding in her ears and desperation creeping up her muscles. Her face turned to her father, but he didn't return her look, Aegon seemed preoccupied by the fact that the wine didn't last too much. Was she the only sane person here?

"Aemond, if they find out-"

"I'm taking her as a second wife. The official version will be that Visenya is barren…and that she wasn't able to give me an heir," his tone was flat and devoid of any kind of emotion.

His mother looked like the Stranger had appeared in front of her eyes.

Then Aegon laughed, a loud and unfunny sound, one that the maids knew well when he forced himself upon them, "You fucker! You're really humiliating our sister! Oh, Aemond, I never knew you were this funny!"

His mother grabbed her necklace, the points of the Star digging in her skin, "This isn't right. Rhaenyra will think that this is an insult…all of this will be for nothing…"

"If I may speak, my Queen," Lord Larys whispering voice was finally heard, "It is not a bad idea. It would weaken Princess Rhaenyra's claim even more."

"Rhaenyra and her family are coming to sign a peace treaty. We are walking on thin ice with them, and it is only by your wife's intervention that we have come to this point. If she comes to sign and finds her only daughter, unhappy and surrounded by rumors of infertility, with her husband taking a second wife…I'm afraid she'll have enough reason to put our heads on pikes," Alicient remarked, her voice trembling at the thought of everything going wrong.

There was a silence in the room, only interrupted by Aegon sipping sounds. For a King he has the manners of a drunken peasant.

"Prince Aemond will wed Alys Rivers a fortnight after the signing of the treaty. You must not be seen in public with the woman," the Hand finally spoke, calculating eyes fixed on Aemond.

Alicient's mouth went agape, "Father you surely-"

"This is for the sake of the Realm, my Queen. Besides, the Princess has no lands to her name…while Lady Alys does. Your son will be the next Lord of Harrenhall…you must think with perspective," the tone of his voice made Alicient blush and sit back on the chair.

From the corner of his eye Aemond noticed Aegon's smile…he took great joy at seeing his mother reprimanded like some little girl. Maybe that explained why he let their grandfather rule in his name.

Aemond stood, "If that's all, I shall retire. My King."

He didn't wait for Aegon's dismissal to leave.

As soon as the door opened, Aemond was greeted with the sun peeking through the curtains and the room filled with his wife's perfume.

They had been moved to bigger chambers after their marriage, ones that his mother had cautiously decorated in black and red, to try to make Visenya feel at home. The last rays of sunlight made it look more spacious and the view to the Blackwater Bay gave the sensation of being on the edge of the world…where nothing could stop you and nothing could reach you.

He walked into the room, his footsteps resounding in the emptiness of the chamber, and stopped at one of the chairs in front of the window.

"Wife," was all he said.

The woman in the chair turned, "Husband."

Visenya Targaryen was everything a woman of their house was supposed to be. Her beauty could only resemble that of the Goddesses of Old Valyria, with high cheekbones, plump lips and a soft straight nose. Her hair was the same shade of her mother's, but longer and always styled with intricate braids, while her eyes were a bright purple.

Sometimes Aemond wondered if her beauty was what made her so hard to love.

She was ethereal, a true beauty with impeccable manners, a proud daughter of Old Valyria.

He had been ecstatic when their engagement had been announced. Aemond Targaryen, the scarred prince, was to wed the most beautiful maiden House Targaryen had seen in years? A pure Valyrian bride just for him?

It was as if the Gods were compensating him for his losses, for his place in birth, for the lack of love he had.

So he had married her. Bedded her. Made her scream his name in pleasure, over and over again.

He had found a partner, the friend he had always needed, and a lover…all in the same person.

They were happy.

But shit happens.

After his father had died, his mother had ordered for her to be locked in their rooms. Visenya had asked him, day after day, to set her free, to let her write to her mother, to use her as a messenger and a bridge for peace.

Otto had dismissed her and so had Alicient, when she had asked for reason, to let her intervene. Aemond had talked with his wife, over and over again, trying to convince her to stay quiet and to obey.

But she was too much like…them.

And then, Storm's End had happened.

Water dripped from his thick coat and from his hair while he walked through the hallways to their chambers.

He knew he had a report to make, but right now he needed…he needed peace.

When the doors closed behind him, he started to undress, his clothes leaving a puddle of water on the floor.

He needed them out. It…it felt like the water was pulling him down like…

Like the tides over Luke's body…

Gods…he hadn't meant to. No, no, he didn't kill him, Vhagar attacked Arrax…yes, Vhagar had defended herself and her rider…she was old, surely everyone would understand…and she was a war dragon…she had tried to protect him…Arrax should…should have flown faster…but…maybe it was Luke's fault…who takes a dragon like that in the heavy rain? Yes, it…it was Luke's fault…

"Aemond…?" her voice sounded from the spot on their bed. "Aemond what…? What happened? You're dripping wet!"

Her footsteps resounded in their chamber and, suddenly, she was in front of him, her hair shining gold from the light of the candles. Her hands helped him take off his clothes quickly and covered him in dry clothes, her mouth moved but he couldn't understand her words.

He shook his head, trying to focus on her soft voice while her hands worked on him.

"...and you're gone. What's happening? Please, Aemond, tell me…I'm going mad and my husband leaves without telling me to Gods only know where and-"

"Storm's End," was his shaky answer. Gods, he was freezing.

Visenya furrowed her brows and moved him closer to the fire, her hands rubbing his chest to warm him, "What were you doing there?"

It was obvious she was deceiving herself, she knew what had happened the past days…there could only be one reason for his presence in Storm's End.

Still, his mouth and his mind weren't in the same rhythm, he had never been this cold, "Allies…Luke."

Her brows furrowed even more as she understood the meaning: he had been sent by his brother to seek an alliance with House Baratheon, her mother had apparently had the same idea so she sent Luke there too.

"Oh…" what more could she say? Every word she spoke about this matter left her in a more dangerous position. "I'll give you some wine to warm you up."

She moved off him and went to the little table where the pitcher and two cups were, after filling one she returned by his side and helped him drink, "Well…maybe this…this will bring a peaceful solution. I'm sure Luke will-"

"He had an accident," the wine had helped him get warmer…and to make his tongue loose.

At that, he felt her body stiffening and she moved to look him straight in the eye, "Luke…what? Is he alright?"

"He fell off his dragon…to the sea," was his only answer.

A gasp left her lips, her hands already shaking, "What? H-How?!"

When he didn't answer, her hands went to the collar of his shirt. The tears were already coating her beautiful face…she looked like the statue of The Maiden crying for losing her virtue, "What happened Aemond?! Tell me?!"

His hands gripped her wrists, his voice coming now a little more stable, "Calm down, woman. It…it just…happened."

Her cries were heartbreaking, "Why?! He…He was just a child! How…how did it happen?"

He moved to wrap his arms around her, her tears wetting his neck, "He fell off his saddle…Arrax was already dead."

They stayed like that for a few moments, hugging each other tightly. It had been a horrible accident…but Luke had should known better than to fly with-

"What do you mean that Arrax was already dead, Aemond?" her voice was only a whisper, her hands slowly falling from his shoulders while her head moved away from his neck. When her eyes found his she pulled away, eyes wide open and her lips curved into a sinister sneer, as if she couldn't control her face and emotions.

"I-I…" his mouth opened and closed, not knowing how to answer his wife. What could he tell her? "He…Arrax came too close to Vhagar…and his fire hurt Vhagar so…she chased him…"

Her nostrils flared and her eyes still shined with tears, "You fucker…tell me the truth."

Suddenly, their doors opened and Alicient came running , followed by Aegon and the Hand, the older woman's face contorted in pain and…anger.

"What did you do?! You cursed us all!" his mother's hands grabbed his face painfully.

"Mother I-" she didn't gave him time before a slap hit his scarred side.

Aegon was already laughing, delighted in the pain of others, "Oh, niece. My condolences. If you miss your younger brother search in Vhagar's mouth…some people say that his Velaryon cape is between her teeth. Keep it as a memory, your King allows it."

A toe curling scream was her only answer, her hands going to her chest…as if wanting to rip her heart out.

After that he had given her space while he distracted himself with his brother's duties. After a few weeks she had allowed him to touch her, some weeks later she had finally allowed him to bed her again. But there was something missing…

After that, fucking her had become something distant, her presence a memory of his new gained title and, slowly but surely, every little thing about her that he held dear in his heart just…turned into things he despised.

That's why when he had met Alys it had been easy to let her into his bed, and not only her some other women too. He found himself enjoying their touch upon his skin, his confidence coming back. After all…what better thing than to carry a Targaryen bastard?

Alys had been so different to Visenya, always answering his demands and searching for his company.

Alys knew the hardships of the world, knew how unfair it was and how hard one had to fight to be heard. Her drive and ambition was what had pulled him to her, the fact that she was everything that his mother would hate in a woman made it even more exciting, a witch that wasn't afraid to play with magic to get what she wanted.

Visenya wasn't like that.

She had been handed everything in a silver platter. Name it, she had it. Love, richness, luxurious clothes and people kneeling at her feet.

A mother that loved her, a grandfather who had loved her even more than he had loved his own daughter, three father figures that protected her and loved her fiercely.

A dragon. Because of course that Visenya had to claim Silverwing at seven namedays.

(His father had thrown a feast for a week after that. Everyone already calling her "the Good Princess")

Even his own mother loved Visenya, her hate always directed to the bastards, one could see it in the way Alicient's eyes shined with nostalgia and love every time the Queen looked at her.

He took a deep breath and sat beside her, "Visenya, I need you to listen-"

She held up a hand, she didn't like to be interrupted when writing.

He closed his mouth and pressed his lips tightly, for a few seconds the only sound that was heard was that of her quill against parchment. His fingers tapped rhythmically the arm of the chair, impatiens growing on him.

The door opened and two servants walked with their hands full of clothes, but they knew better than to be seen or heard. Their light footsteps were added to the sounds in the room.

Finally, her quill stopped moving, "Sorry, Aemond. I didn't mean to interrupt you, please, tell me."

His jaw clenched a few times, "Tomorrow your mother arrives and, I'm sure, she will hear of our troubles-"

"Troubles that all couples have," her lilac eyes were soft. This is weird.

"Yes. But, as I was saying, if she's displeased, the Peace Treaty is in danger and we can't afford that, can we?" his tone was condescending, as if speaking with a child.

Because you are a child, always sticking your nose where it isn't called.

To his surprise her hands moved to grasp his softly, "Aemond…I'm sorry."

"F-For what?" just what was she saying?

"I haven't been the best wife for you. I placed a blame on you because I was angry and torn with grief, and that was wrong and uncalled for. Day by day, I ask myself 'what could have been if…?' but recently I have started to ask myself 'What can I do now?'

But now I know: we have to work for our future. And my future is with you, giving you babies and loving them. And loving you…I have never stopped loving you. So, I'm asking you for another chance, to give our marriage a second chance for love."

His mouth was closed but his eye was wide open, confusion and surprise mixed in the lilac of his eye, "I…"

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.

A sigh left her lips and her hands gave him a soft squeeze, "Think about it, please. We…can take one step at a time…so that we can remember why we fell in love with each other."

She stood up and grabbed her letter, then leaned down to kiss his forehead, her sweet and fruity perfume invading his nose.

When the door had closed behind her and the maids, he went in search of the pitcher and took a great swig of wine.

What the fuck was that?

Rhaenyra arrived the next day.

On dragon back, obviously.

He saw his mother swallow and close her eyes in a quick prayer at the roaring of the dragons, Helaena beside her with her usual disperse demeanor and Aegon sitting on the chair at the head of the table looking…well, absolutely miserable. The only one who looked truly happy was Otto: he could swore he had never seen his grandfather's smile. The rest of the Councilmen were present, the Lords barely holding their excitement at the perspective of "Maegor with teats" kneeling.

The Great Hall was covered on Aegon's and Rhaenyra's heraldry, a symbol of the union and peace between the two factions of House Targaryen, and a huge banner of the red dragon in a black background was displayed behind Aegon. Just for this occasion, they all were wearing black and red.

"You should have brought your wife, Aemond. That would make Rhaenyra feel…at ease," whispered Alicient, her hand against her chest.

He bit his tongue before answering, "She didn't want to be here, mother."

Visenya and him had spoken the night before about this and she had expressed her desire to not be present at the moment of signing the treaty, a frown and sadness in her face as she said it.

Just then, the doors opened and then his half-sister appeared, followed by his uncle and their offspring. It was evident that no one except Rhaenyra wanted this: Daemon had a expression of disgust and his hand was at the pommel of Dark Sister, ready for a fight; Jacaerys seemed like he would rather swallow shattered glass than being here, and his betrothed had the same expression, and Lord Corlys looked absolutely furious…another chance lost for the Velaryons for their "blood" to sit on the Throne.

The expression on Rhaenyra's face was…shocking, to say the least. She looked like the shell of the woman he had met and heard of, her lilac eyes seemed…lifeless.

He was surprised to see the twin of Ser Erryk move forward, "Queen Rhaenyra, first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms. Protector of the Realm."

They all watched as she walked forward, followed by two members of her Queensguard and Daemon, until she was face to face with Aegon.

"Brother."

"Sister."

In an extremely surprising act of manners, Aegon had offered his sister his arm. If Rhaenyra was shocked by it she hid it very well, the only sign of her surprise was a slight twitch on her mouth corner, and her hand placed on top of his arm, accepting his offer.

When they finally reached the table, where two parchments and two quills waited for them, Otto couldn't hold back and finally spoke, "It is a wise decision Princess. You are preventing unnecessary bloodshed."

Daemon looked ready to go over the man and make mincemeat out of him.

"Then my baby and my son were blood that needed to be spilled?" her voice was filled with anger despite it's tone.

She turned around to look at Aemond, pure hate in her eyes. It was obvious that Otto had fucked up and the treaty hung on a thin thread.

Alicient moved forwards as a last attempt to stop violence before it began, her hands clasped on the front of her gown and already bloody, "No one is implying that, Princess. We mourn the deaths of Princess Visenya and…Prince Lucerys, we are family after all."

Daemon scoffed and muttered "fucking cunt".

Taking advantage of the distraction, Aegon's Master of Laws moved forward, "If I may interrupt, your highnesses, we should proceed with the signing."

He handed Rhaenyra her copy of the treaty and motioned to a chair. After her eyes scanned those of Aemond and Alicient, she moved and sat down on the offered chair. Her eyes moved along the parchment, her face still devoid of any emotion as she analyzed the contents. After what felt like hours she reached for the quill.

That was it. That was the moment they were all waiting…the moment where she would finally renounce any claim for her and for her line.

"Is there any reason why my daughter is not here?" she asked no one in particular.

Alicient's eyes opened wide and her mouth opened and closed a few times.

"My wife didn't want to be present," Aemond stepped forward.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

Rhaenyra placed a hand on the parchment and looked at the Dowager Queen, "I will sign…but I would like to see my daughter. Surely you can understand…"

The soft and broken lilac eyes melted Alicient and she found herself incapable of denying a mother that simple plea -after all, Rhaenyra had lost two children and her only daughter was the one that tried to mend things between the two factions-.

The Dowager Queen searched Aemond's face but it was Aegon who gave the order, "Brother, go and fetch your wife. Now."

Aemond took a deep breath and nodded, before turning on his heels and walking out of the Great Hall, the path to the chambers on Maegor's Holdfast took him some time.

The door was unguarded -he had ordered all the white cloaks and yellow cloaks to be on guard earlier that day- so he twisted the knob for himself.

The chamber was dark, someone had pulled the curtains blocking the sunlight, "Visenya? Your mother requests your presence…"

Silence.

He walked in and tried to navigate, as best as he could, in the darkness of their room.

"Visenya?" He repeats again.

Nothing.

By the corner of his eye he noticed a thin strip of light, so he walked to it and extended a hand, making contact with the thick cloth of the curtains.

With a movement of his arm, he pulls the curtains away, light invading the room and hitting every corner. Things are just like he left them this morning: a linen shirt on the back of a chair, the teapot and two cups on the table against the window, and one of his daggers on the nightstand.

But there's one thing that has changed.

His wife is nowhere in sight.

The sixth day of the seventh month - 127 AC I proposed. I have never heard of a woman who propositions a man -not a decent one, at last. But I did. I proposed to my uncle. And he said yes. His beautiful purple eye opened wide in shock when I asked him…as if he couldn’t believe it and then he grabbed me by my neck and asked if I was playing a game, that he would take one of my eyes if I kept on teasing him. I was not. I confessed my feelings. How I had always loved him -first as a sweet boy, now as a woman can love a man-, how I mourned for him when my brother took his eye, and how I wished for him to be my King Consort when my mother died. I told him I loved him. He kissed me, and was not soft, his mouth on mine was demanding, but his hands on my hips were gentle, as if I was made of the finest porcelain. He is the only one I desire. The only one I will love for the rest of my days. Even if he does not know it, my heart already belongs to him.

Taglist: @snh96

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x ofc #mine

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snarkythewoecrow · 3 months

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snippet from my untitled hob/dream wip

this is part of extremely angsty and heavy long-shot about love and misunderstandings, some serious Hob whump, and a protective, apologetic (and possibly vengeful) Dream

this story is roughly summed up to say that we have an OC named Calvin who has discovered Hob's immortality and become obsessed with him, experiencing delusions where they are together and culminating him drugging and trying to make those delusions real (including some non-con behavior), Dream will eventually see the aftermath of this and come to the incorrect assumption that Hob has betrayed him---so cue even more angst but so much comfort later

this snippet is a bit of a spoiler for those that want to wait--but it shows the how Hob finally shattered Calvin's delusion enough to make him leave -- no warnings for this scene--it's just some dialogue

@buckybeardreams @kydrogendragon @thefangirloutof-time

Calvin’s lips were moving, his face contorted. “You love me! I know it!”

“The fuck I do—you stupid fucking child!” The bat shook. “Do you have any idea—what you’ve done—what you’ve taken from me?”

“I know the truth!”

“You don’t know your ass from your elbow. Christ, you really, really don’t.” A scream itched at his teeth. “Do you really think you have anything on him—the one that I’ve always kept my heart beating for—waited for? My fucking king—because that’s what he is, the kind of impossible being that makes the moon and the stars humbled to simply be reflected in his eyes—but you? Fuck, you? You’re just as ordinary as those shit jumpers you stole from my bin.”

Hob sighed, so fucking tired, shaking and barely able to stand. “Just go the fuck home, kid—wherever that is—enjoy what few good dreams you got left before the man I really do love comes knockin’ at your door—because I got no doubt he will.”

And for a few oozing seconds, Hob began to suspect that they were about to start fighting again, but then, like a startled rabbit in the brush, Calvin bolted from his room, bee-lining for the front door before ripping it open and charging down the stairs, leaving it to creak as it bounced into the wall.

#snippets #my wips #dreamling #hob gadling #the sandman #i swear this bitch will be done soon-ish #but we are already well over 6k and not even half way #but it's fine #i cry in tears of words cuz my muse is kinky bitch and loves to watch me break #snark writes #dreamling fic

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blizzardstarx · 13 days

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had to rewrite this shit TWICE cause tumblr is an idiot

more dragon wolf war rp and pontalo stuff!! @castiels-destiny

soo my old discord account had the first part of the DWW rp, and it got hacked, but heres an old screenshot my friend took a long time ago

apparently tiger shark dolphin shapeshifter and bat were actually in the rp!! i had forgotten

hammerhead was a hydrowing royal

basically part one was that my friends oc Quint was working with three others, including Halfmask, to get the dragon crystal from one of the Light Tribe’s big bases, a castle, and the crystal provided protection and power to them

Quint wanted the crystal to kill all the evil dragons and he didn’t know that the Light Tribe was basically the opposite

they kept attacking them and even the BloodWings attacked too

then, they get defeated, Quint dies by Halfmask (who betrays him) and Knight stabbing him in the heart with his sword

Then, second part happens, Quint is partially revived by my friend’s oc Angel (who was in the Angel and Taqqiq (my one fox oc) rp that takes place in the same land) and Wildcat, who finds him.

The original Shadow Tribe cult in Creature school was led by Shruikan (also stolen from Eragon) who was defeated by Halfmask, Knight, and a couple of others, and when it fell apart, Wildcat came back after they left and made a new cult, leading it. The cult wasnt introduced until the second part

Wildcat and Quint part, and Quint attacks the dragons again and again (the cult attacks sometimes also), almost stealing the gem but them snatching it back, then severly injuring Dauntless (Knight’s sister). Halfmask finally knocks some sense into him about how the Light Tribe isnt his enemy and that they werent evil, and the Shadow Tribe was

Quint and Halfmask team up to destroy the cult, Halfmask lending him a bit of his power, and Halfmask gets corrupted by Raven and Wildcat at one point. Quint kills Raven and controls Wildcat into freeing Halfmask. Then, Halfmask frees Wildcat from the Shadow Tribe’s control.

It ends when Quint becomes a hero (his redemption arc is kinda bad and rushed) and gets pyrokinesis powers from a small part of the dragon crystal.

sooo yeahhhh this took ten years after the Shadow Tribe cult thing in Creature School (i stated it somewhere in our discord dms)

Timeline goes: ShapeWing Genocide, Paradox crashes on rp land, gets amnesia, gets adopted by some nightmare fire wolves and turns into a pup named Flame, her adoptive parents get killed by an assassin named Lightning (a SkyWing i think, but actually Abaddon who’s a shapeshifter), turns into a phoenix, and attends the creature school

then things threaten the school, like the wolf that hired the assassin, this one guy named Scar, etc, they then go to a new school, something else happens to the school, (theyre adults at this point. Well Paradox was technically already one but… idk) they travel to Pyrrhia because they find out about this SkyWing group called the Hybrid Assassins, some get captured like Flame and Eclipse and they escape with the help of Torrent, who they met there.

They travel to Pontalo and find out about the BloodWings and King Diabolos, etc. They help the FireWing queen’s dragonet who was sick with a disease caused by the BloodWings, and then ‘defeat’ the real Abaddon.

They leave Pontalo, Flame gets her memories back and becomes partners with Torrent, they rebuild the school, Misty and Fang and Paradox and Torrent have pups and dragonets. Portal plot happens, Abaddon (he was originally a protector of the portals but got casted out and sought revenge) opens up portals that other creatures from other universes come in from and they have to send them back to prevent the universe from collapsing, killing everyone. Then school plot, something else plot, and Shadow Tribe cult plot. There were lots of miniplots and stuff scattered throughout, but thats were the Creature School rp got abandoned.

Ten years later, Angel and Taqqiq rp + DWW rp part ones happen around the same time, then part twos.

I probably forgot a few things because i had to rewrite this twice soooo yeah

There was a prequel to the DWW of Quint and Halfmask’s backstory basically, where Halfmask took up a new mission in something, (idk how to describe it but this prequel is confusing because apparently it was part of the Shadow Tribe, and Quint didnt know about it in DWW even tho he was in it) and this was before their crew in DWW part one. It was actually focused on their mutual friend named Raptor whose my oc and my friend’s oc Jack, but it did feature Quint and Halfmask quite a lot. It was also a prequel to the Angel and Taqqiq rp.

#blizz’s nonsense #Pontalo!!!#Halfmask!!!#Wildcat!!!#ocs #im actually pissed from having to rewrite this twice 😭😭😭

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simons-twsted-children · 2 months

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Hi there! I’m Simon and my TWST OCs and writing fits in with @twistedwonderlandarcaneexchange! I tend to work with @cyanide-latte, @ramshacklerumble, @tixdixl, and @inmateofthemind, and a lot of my characters’ lore is intertwined with theirs!

My “spicy” tag is “#simon gets spicy” if you want to block it for any reason

My ask box is always open!

More info about my characters under the cut!

My OCs:

STUDENTS:

Sidney Larkspur

(they/she, but will respond to pretty much anything as long as they know you’re talking to them)

Twisted from: Elizabeth Swann (POTC, along with some aspects of Will)

RSA/NRC

Octavinelle

Human mage

Signature spell: “A Pirate’s Life For Me”

Originally an RSA student pretending to be a cis guy, searching for a treasure supposedly hidden in their vaults— the compass of Jack Sparrow. After finding and successfully stealing said compass, it leads them to join the second arcane exchange. After outing themself in the course of protecting a fellow student, Sid ends up inadvertently joining NRC’s student body on a more permanent basis (thanks to Crowley’s “infinite generosity”, and him overlooking their gender in favor of pocketing another mage on the path to Overblot). They officially join Octavinelle dorm, and work part time at the Mostro lounge. Their biggest dream is to follow in Elizabeth’s footsteps and become the Pirate King, after reading about her in an old family journal, and being told stories about her from their maternal grandmother. They manage, somehow, to become a member of Copper’s crew aboard the newly-resurfaced Black Pearl, but this is only the first step on their journey towards their dream. (Easily the most developed of my student characters)

Eventually becomes the captain of the Flying Dutchman, with Dirk Hawkins as their first mate.

Edgar Allen “Snowball” Taylor

(he/they, transmasc)

Twisted from: Mittens (Bolt)

NRC

Savannaclaw

Black cat beastman mage

Signature spell: None (so far)

Talked mad shit to his Savannaclaw dorm mates when he was accepted into NRC about how “badass” his signature spell was; doesn’t know what his signature spell is. He made a deal with Azul to give him illusion magic that has the look of a powerful spell charging up, in exchange for doing his bidding whenever called. A certain Jamil Viper found out his secret, and from there on, Snowball lost use of his free time, becoming the lackey of not one, but two of NRC’s most powerful mages. (Warning, probably won’t go into too much detail on chunks of his story as it tends into NSFW territory and I know a lot of people aren’t comfy with that)

Endgame is with Jamil Viper

Roddy Sheperd

(he/him, cis)

Twisted from: Bolt (Bolt)

NRC

Pomefiore

White dog beastman mage

Signature spell: “Superbark”

A teenage actor and idol, running in some of the same circles as Neige and Vil, who’s signature spell is powerful but hard to control. Was supposed to attend RSA to gain better control over his magic in order to continue upholding his pristine image, but a mix-up occurred, and he ended up at NRC by mistake. No one batted an eye, and he was sorted into Pomefiore without issue. His abusive manager is repeatedly stalled by Crowley in his attempts to locate and contact Roddy, who hardly knows himself outside of the roles he is constantly forced to play.

His manager’s name is Louie Kincaid, and he’s somehow even more scummy than the agent in Bolt.

Endgame at the moment is Silver, though admittedly I haven’t done as much to develop that as I’d like to and it’s pretty up in the air right now.

Klaus Hassenkamp

(he/him, cis)

Twisted from: The White Rabbit (Alice in Wonderland)

CKS

Heartslabyul (temporarily during the exchange)

White rabbit beastman mage

Signature spell: “I’m late/You’re late” (name not 100% settled)

Best friend to Fiamma Trein, bugle boy and first chair trumpet player for Corlux’ band, this bunny might look shy and unassuming, but there’s a sassy streak hiding under his initially quiet exterior. Somehow, one bunny draws the attention of not one, not two, but three separate princes.

Endgame is an OT4 with Malleus, Leona, and @inmateofthemind’s OC Kentigern

Marcel Hamelin

(he/him, transmasc)

Twisted from: Remy (Ratatouille)

RSA (scholarship)

Savannaclaw (temporarily during the exchange)

Grey rat beastman mage

Signature spell: Symphony of Flavor (no I don’t know what it does, but I’ve been stuck on this as being the spell’s name for weeks now)

His family historically works in the sanitation industry, a fact which his father and elder brother are deeply proud of. Marcel, however, has loftier dreams. He wants to eventually become the head chef of his own restaurant in Fleur City. He is extremely skilled at balancing flavors and mastering difficult cooking techniques, but his prejudice and stubbornness get in the way of his progress. Marcel tends to disregard food from cultures outside of Fleur City as “less than”, and has a lot to learn when it comes to expanding his horizons. His rivalries with Ruggie and Jamil might just finally put him on the right track— both with cooking, and with people.

Endgame is with Ruggie Bucci and @oathofoaks’ Bobbi St. Robins!

Kelly Archer

(he/they, transmasc)

Twisted from: Flynn Rider (Tangled)

NRC

Pomefiore (initially; transfers to RSA after his freshman year)

Human mage

Signature Spell: (undecided)

Kelly is one of my newest babies. He was an orphan from a young age, barely remembers his parents, but found his own family in books and old adventure movies. Definitely a giant flirt with low self esteem, probably some flavor of autistic. From the same town as @tixdixl’s Emil, and bonds with him over food and culture when he’s feeling particularly homesick.

NON-STUDENT:

Alicorice “Ali” Leroux

(She/her)

Twisted from: Vanellope von Schweetz (Wreck-It Ralph)

Sentient/Sapient/Self-aware AI as the result of a magic accident coinciding with a power fluctuation. Can cast magic as a result of the accident/her bond with her creator, but there’s something Off about it.

Signature Spell: Glitch in the Matrix (I have a vague idea of what this does, but it’s hard to explain)

Ali was originally one of the main characters in a VR blastcycle racing game that was in development called “Sweet Tracks”. Her creator had a deep love for her, and put more work into her character’s AI than was common or necessary. Before the accident that created her, Ali had a similar level of autonomy and awareness to Mira, Vil’s chat assistant. But thanks to a power fluctuation, a strong discharge of magic (possibly healing/light magic? Or maybe the use of her creator’s signature spell to try and protect Ali’s code?), and her creator’s strong love for her, Ali became as aware, feeling, and free-thinking as any human. What she wants most is a real body, like Ortho’s, and to become a real life blastcycle racer, and she and her creator will do damn near anything to see that goal accomplished. Her creator finds out about Idia and Ortho on the net, possibly from Azul selling Ortho’s old parts secondhand, and they resolve to track down the tech prodigy and secure his help, one way or another.

Dirk Hawkins

(He/him, cis)

Twisted from: Jack Sparrow, James Norrington (POTC)

Human, some weak magic, mostly parlor tricks.

Dirk’s father, Seymour Hawkins, (Cutler Beckett expy) is the head of a large shipping company that Dirk’s older brother, Irving (Ian Mercer expy) is set to inherit. Seymour Hawkins is an absolutely cutthroat businessman, hungry for money and power in equal measure, and who takes notice of tales that most modern men consider to be no more than myths and hearsay. When he hears whispers that the captain of the legendary Flying Dutchman is seeking out a successor, it’s not something such a man could ignore. He sends Dirk, his youngest son, to become that successor by any means necessary.

Dirk himself is one of my favorite OCs, if not my favorite altogether. He’s initially more insecure than he’d ever admit, his entire self-image wrapped up in his complicated and unhealthy relationship with his extremely demanding and controlling father. He and Sid first meet when they’re both investigating rumors of the Dutchman’s captain, though for very different reasons.

Over the course of this, Dirk and Sid form a complicated rivalry/friendship, relating to each others’ struggles with their parents and their desire for freedom. When Sid is chosen to be the Dutchman’s successor, they take Dirk on as their first mate.

Second Gens:

Cassiopeia “Cass” Hawkins

(AFAB, loosely transmasc, pronouns tbd)

The result of a one-night stand Dirk had long before joining the crew of the Dutchman, discovered when the Dutchman made port to resupply. Cass is about right when Dirk first meets them, and is around the same age as @cyanide-latte’s Talesin.

They’ve got a lot of grumpy in a small body.

Cass has a focus in cosmic magic and a strong association with stars.

#TWST #disney twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #my ocs #twst oc

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bellamer · 2 years

Text

Princess Style (Poly!The Lost Boys x OC)

(David ran over Lenora's foot and the rest of the boys laughed. They all face the consequences.)

"Alright, Marko, you can have a break, hand me to David."

"I just had a turn !"

"You said you'd make it up to me for running over my foot with your bike, now less talkie and more carrying."

David sighed in annoyance as Marko plopped Lenora in his arms.

"Then why are we included in the punishment ?" Paul whined.

"Because you all laughed when he ran over my foot !" Lenora said with a glare. "So now you all will carry me around this boardwalk."

Dwayne rose his hand in objection.

"You might not have laughed, but I saw that smirk, Dwayne ! You're not getting out of this."

Dwayne lowered his hand with a grumble.

"I don't see what the big deal is, you're a witch, can't you just heal your foot with magic ?" Marko asked, rolling his eyes.

"I could, but I prefer you all face the consequences of your actions." Lenora said with a hum. "And besides, you're all vampires, you all have super strength, I probably only weigh a bunch of grapes to you guys." She said, throwing Marko's logic back in his face. "And don't pretend you all don't love holding me like a princess."

"It'd be much more convenient for us to just piggyback you instead of carrying you princess style." David complained.

"You said you'd treat me like a princess to make it up to me, so I want the full princess package." Lenora said, rubbing her hand against David's cheek. "Besides, Davey, don't you like being my prince charming ?" She asked, innocently batting her eyelashes.

"I'd much prefer to be your king." David husked, leaning in close to Lenora. "That way, you can be my queen."

"Hey, if David's the King, then what are we ?" Paul asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"Our pretty little harem boys." David answered matter of factly. "Ain't that right, Len ?" He asked, turning to look at Lenora.

"Yeah, they'd all be cute harem boys." Lenora said, fondly. "They'd worship us and we'd spoil them."

"Damn, we can't even be princes ? We got demoted to harem boys ?" Marko asked in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest. "I see how it is."

"I mean, I think I'd make a great harem boy." Paul shrugged. "I'm all up for the spoiling part of it anyways, wouldn't it be nice to be laid down, being ravished by the king and queen and getting gifted diamonds and gold and shit ?"

"That does sound nice." Dwayne piped up, unexpectedly, making everyone look at him, Paul chuckling while Marko looked at him with a smirk.

"Is there something you wanna tell us, Waynie ?" Marko asked, failing to stifle his laughter.

Dwayne then shook his head and shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I like what I like, don't shame me."

"Alright, pass me to Dwayne." Lenora said to David, making grabby hands towards Dwayne.

David passed Lenora to Dwayne, acting like it was such a relief, even though he didn't actually want to pass her to someone else.

Lenora pressed a kiss on Dwayne's cheek and buried her face in his neck, making Dwayne grip her tighter.

"Just because the two knuckleheads laughed at you, after you pass me off, you're exempt from the punishment." Lenora pressed a kiss on his neck. "You're forgiven, 'wayne."

"Aww, what ?!?" Marko exclaimed. "So he gets forgiven just like that and he gets all kissed up ?!?"

"What kinda bullshit is that ?" Paul asked, throwing his arms up.

"Careful, Len, we're starting to suspect that you're playing favorites." David warned.

"Favorites schmavorites, Dwayne is just the least aggravating out of all of you." Lenora said, rolling her eyes. Even though him being the least aggravating was why he was her "secret favorite".

But she wouldn't let the boys know that. She didn't want to start a fight.

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys fanfiction #tlb #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #marko tlb #the lost boys paul #david tlb #tlb dwayne #marko the lost boys #paul tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys oc #black oc

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residentdormouse · 1 year

Note

For the Cursed and Deranged ask game! #2, 5, 9, 14 annddd 17! ^_^

💖💖 Thank you for the Asks!! 💖💖

2 - Do you write porn from the perspective of the character you want to be or the one you want to bang?

My POV’s are usually a blend of 3rd person with insights to one specific character in each section. For the scenes I’ve written already, it's mostly coming from the OC perspective. All Hayden/Glen scenes are with Hayden insight so I guess I can confidently say POV is who I want to be there, but the other pairs are a hit or miss. Max has POV on 1 of 2 scenes. Harold, Steph, and Gwen each have a POV scene as well. But really, Glen is my guy, so you might say, with those other pairings, I don’t really have a horse in the race.

5 - Who’s the sexiest non-human character in your current fandom? (must actually diverge from human sexual characteristics - no elves or asari)

Like canon fandom? Because Flagg wins on default. He’s really the only supernatural being in play there. And I mean, it is Skarsgård. I started watching this for him, and I’ll go down on the Eric Northman ship any day. Flagg himself though? Dude needs a good punch to the face, and for somebody to mess up that stupid hair and get him out of Denim Dan mode. But good luck having sexy time without going bat shit crazy or knocked up with CK demon spawn.

If we’re talking about the world I created in Diving and OCs are in play…? Vampires may not diverge enough, but if they do, Gwen would most likely take the trophy. Laufey may wrestle that bitch away for their own though, and would have more of a divergence claim to count in their favor. The image I had for Shay would also put her in the running too, although she doesn’t play to that dynamic.

9 - Who/what are your inspirations for truly fucked up content?

I mean, my fandom source material is pretty fucked. Stephen King and all. I lean more to the Buffy end of things. Give me baddies, but I want the white side to have a bit more control in it all, or have the end favor it more. And I also love seeing a good redemption arc. So in that mindset, SK is much darker than I could ever be. I also think I may be pulling some vibes from Dean Koontz too, because I really liked his Odd Thomas and Fear Nothing series. In my head, he’s kind of SK light. Still a 'thats fucked' vibe, but less of a lingering 'fuck you - why did you do that?! You let him alone!' screaming outbursts. I like my horror, but it's because I want to see a ‘Doctor Who’ jump in and save people. So my fanfic is trying to do just that. Fuck you, let Glen alone, I love him.

14 - What’s your favourite way to emotionally destroy your favourite character?

Perceived loss and the helplessness to stop it. I absolutely enjoy a good ‘may hell rain down upon you’ when one character thinks another character is in danger or dead. I want to see the villains have the ‘oh… oh shit…’ moment when they realize what they brought on. I want to watch it get destroyed, and I want to cheer them on when they do it. Burn it down.

17 - If you could steal one fic from any other writer and claim it as your own, what would you take?

Hey @asirensrage wanna give up Tammy? No? Thought not. You know my undying love for this fic.

(Cursed and Deranged Fic Asks)

#thank you for the ask!#mouse's tag games & reblogs

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cdragons · 1 year

Text

Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered

Chapter 2: You are my Best Friend, the Family I Chose, the Home I Found

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

A Robb Stark X Yi Tish Reader/OC Story

Author's Note: The Reader/OC will be mentioned but not written in this chapter, but she will make an appearance in the next one. I do not own Game of Thrones or ASOIAF or any of GRRM works. But please no hate, but please comment, like, or reblog if you liked reading this story and want me to continue! Also the OC's name and her pet's name are not in Mandarin but in Romanization because the characters in this chapter are thinking in English.

Also many thanks and love to @valeskafics as my beta! Check out her work if you don't follow her already, she's amazing!

Warnings: sexual content, sexual abuse, mentions of SA and r*pe but no descriptions, violence and violent themes, depression, suicidal actions, mentions of PTSD & survivor's guilt, offensive and racist terms, GOT canonical misogyny & sexism, angst (so much angst), and dark/yandere attitudes.

Previously in “Like the Wave, She Broke; But Like the Sea, She Persevered”:

“A place where she would meet another Greyjoy, but a different Greyjoy, a better one. A Greyjoy whose blood was Ironborn, but his heart would be northern. A northern boy whose blood carried the salt of the sea, but whose heart and soul were strengthened and bathed by the snow, the trees, and the winds of northern land. A boy who she distrusted before slowly and surely becoming her found brother, and she becoming his found sister.”

Theon’s POV:

Theon Greyjoy was somewhat of an enigma to most people, and to himself if he dared to be honest. He was known as Robb Stark’s best friend and brother, but Gods Old and New help him if he forgot that he was young Lord’s, no sorry, the young King’s inferior. He was the rakish and obnoxious ward graciously taken in by the honorable Eddard Stark, late Lord of Winterfell and House Stark, Warden of the North. But the term “ward” doesn’t hide the fact that he was their captive, their hostage. A hostage who at the age of ten, was robbed from his family, his culture, his home, after witnessing hundreds of Iron Island sailors and civilians being completely annihilated, just to be plopped down in the middle of a frozen mainland where no one likes him. Ned Stark may never have beaten him, but that didn’t mean the fact that he could with full jurisdiction send Theon to the gallows with a single word, and no one would bat an eye. He was supposed to an Ironborn, except he wasn’t, not since he lived amongst mainlanders for the past decade. He wasn’t a Northerner and couldn’t be a Stark, and he certainly wasn’t an Ironborn and he despised being a Greyjoy. He wished he wasn’t one the moment he stepped foot on the mainland, since he was brought to Winterfell, since he felt the gaze Lady Catelyn Stark’s cold and righteous eyes. But by the Drowned Man, he never hated his family name so much until he knew you.

Oh gods, you. He couldn’t help the sheer pride and love in his smile thinking about you, even in his sorry state. Because despite how his body still healing from the wounds brought by the ambushed arrows, the pure elation and shock from you storming the shit-stained Frey keep with five-thousand men (if he wasn’t so fucking plastered, he would’ve cried) and saving Robb and most of their asses, with minimal losses of only 157 men 158 if you include Talisa. You had even managed to subdue both Roose Bolton and Walder Frey before dragging their asses to the prison cells, along with the rest of their traitorous kin. However, there wasn’t time to celebrate their (really your) victory as you immediately put everyone to work. For someone who worked in the shadows, you looked so natural in organizing the camp to sections reserved for healing those who survived, and preparing the burials for those whose lives were lost. After that, you rushed every lord whose mind was just lucid enough in the largest empty tent. You insisted that finding whoever assisted the Frey’s in this ordeal, as Walder Frey may have been a vile greedy cunt, he wasn’t a tactical mastermind. And while Roose Bolton was an apathetic amoral sociopath, he could never possess the imagination for something so grand scale. After countless sleepless hours, the pieces were all put together, and ice that froze every lord’s blood in learning that this was a premeditated trap engineered by one fucking Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. The chaos and fury that followed was a sight to be memorized and passed on for years to come, any lost morale before that moment came back by a thousandfold strong. The southern snakes had really done it now, even if the plan had worked, the North would only drawback until they could strike once more. If there was one thing about the North that would always remain true, it was the fact that the North and its men never forget, especially an act as sacrilegious as what they now call the “Red Wedding”.

Every lord was shouting and screaming out blame, whether it be the execution of Lord Karstark, the release of the Kingslayer, the broken oath to the Frey’s, and on and on did they go. They didn’t stop until Lord Umber blamed on Theon for his father’s invasion to the North (despite that 1) he didn’t even know about the bloody invasion, and 2) he never left the fucking camp), and the usually mild-tempered Daiyu leapt on the table and knocked the Greatjon Umber on his great ass in retaliation. The sight of you in command will never leave him, not even when he had forgotten his own name and was too feeble to wipe his own ass. Even in your most irritable state, you dared not publicly showcase your emotions. But everything from the cold fury in your eyes to the raw determination in your spine, was enough to freeze a dragon’s fire. By reminding everyone while nothing can change the past, this event only further proves how there is no limit to the Lannister’s teachery, and that it was imperative to secure the North’s independence from the Southern leeches. You then told them of how you learned of the plan through a deal with a stranger wearing a red tunic and grey cloak, and that if they managed to survive the treachery, they were to immediately send word to Dragonstone.

“Dragonstone,” shouted out Lord after Daiyu grew bored of him and was now contently purring against Theon’s legs as he stood by you, “why in the seven hells would we send word to Dragonstone? So that we can get pissed over by Stannis Baratheon? How do we know you didn’t just make up the deal so that we could bend the knee to Stannis, or perhaps you’ve been working for the Lannister’s with the Boltons and Frey’s? Well? Answer me you chink-”.

Theon drew out his sword the second before he could finish, “You take those words back and beg for my sister’s forgiveness right now before I cut your tongue out and feed it to my falcon, you rancid shit.” Theon could allow disrespect against him, he grown used to it after all; but he would be flayed, eaten by hounds, and broken to a shell of a man before he allowed anyone to utter a word of disrespect to you, let alone that word. Each of the bannerman’s eyes shifted between the men, as most knew better than insult the mysterious spy from the far orient in the presence of the young Kraken. If Theon was not with their king, he was by his sister’s side, arm over her shoulders and her head on his, more often in silence as words were never needed in order to take comfort in one another.

And the girl was no different in her devotion to her brother, as her protection over him was as ruthless as it was creative. More than once had there been instances of soldiers throughout the camp making claims ranging from mad visions in their sleep to horses stampeding them throughout the woods to those who spoke ill of the Stark’s ward. The bannerman would have demanded their king to call for her head hadn’t her punishments been more amusing than irritating. Not that it would have worked, if there was only one thing the two young men had in common, it was the devout protection they showered the stoic spy. Even when the young king broke his oath to the Frey’s to marry his pretty foreign healer, did he remain true in his defense if anything it only grew. Such was the case with his own direwolf, who although remains steadfast in guarding his currently comatose companion, adored the Yi Tish girl far more than the now late queen if they were honest, as he was often seen being petted and fed scraps by her and even playing with her shadowcat. However, they just reasoned it was due to being acquainted with one another since the pup’s arrival at Winterfell shows what they know.

You placed a hand on your brother’s wrist, stopping any further action on his part towards Lord Umber. Theon’s eyes immediately darted down to your hand, and then looked at you. To an outsider, the act would look no different than a scolding to a child; however, those who had watched the two grow together, like one Lady Catelyn Stark, recognized the interaction to be one of the many of silent conversations between the two of you. Her eyes darting down to her late husband’s ward’s wrist, eyeing the rather poorly made charm bracelet you had gifted him for his name day so many years ago. Being a ward to one of the seven great houses, Theon was gifted many precious things, from expertly made blades to fine cloaks; but that little…thing was the item he treasured more than life itself, that and his loyal falcon, Ari. A falcon abandoned by its mother, was found by Theon and was assisted in healing the poor creature by none other than you.

A moment passed, and another had gone by, followed by a few more before Theon reluctantly lowered his arm and sheathed his sword. You turned your gaze to Greatjon once more, hand still holding on your brother’s wrist, before speaking in a loud and clear manner, “I will graciously ignore you accusing that I would ever betray House Stark, even going so far to suggest that I would ever switch loyalties to a southern house I had never cared, but may I first ask you what is the purpose of the North’s campaign to the South?”

“Pah! Aye, I can tell you, to march down to King’s Landing and swing our steel at enough of their piss-haired inbred to free the North-,” Greatjon was interrupted by the slamming of your fist to the table.

“WRONG!” You exclaimed, “Our goal from the beginning, our true purpose was to free our Lord Eddard Stark and his daughters from King’s Landing, and upon his death, we swore to avenge him and rescue his children! Have you forgotten my lords, forgotten Ned Stark, late Lord of Winterfell, the man you swore fealty to when you bent the knee to his house? Now we stand, fighting in a war, leagues from our North, miles from King’s Landing, from his daughter who he loved and cherished so dearly that he confessed to crimes he did not commit in attempt to save her from the lion’s den? Does Ned Stark stand here, does his daughter Lady Sansa? In fighting for the North’s freedom, we had forgotten our first goal, our true purpose! To avenge the blood of House Stark, to fight and protect their children! And as a result, the Gods have punished us for forgetting that purpose to the state we see ourselves in now. We have lost our greatest bargaining chip, half our men in taking Lord Karstark’s head, and now with greater losses in numbers with the betrayal from both House Frey and House Bolton. We may have regained one wolf, but such a miracle cannot be claimed by us as it had been Ser Sandor who brought her home.” Your words brought the attention of Sandor Clegane, who was standing in a corner. He was observing the scene unraveling before, in both shock that you thanked him for his act, and cursing you for bringing any attention at him at all.

“And do not ignore that another young wolf still remains at the lions’ mercy. And if Sandor’s words of her treatment hold truth, then I fear that her livelihood is at more risk than ever when word reaches the Red Keep that Tywin Lannister’s plan had failed.” Your voice grew more somber and quieter as you finished your speech. It seemed as if time had stopped, shame overtook every lord’s and lady’s face at your words, and Lady Catelyn knelt on the ground, sobs overtaking her body. The relief and joy in being reunited with her Arya, was overshadowed by the realization that still had one daughter far from her arms. Greater grief struck her in learning that her sweet Sansa had been routinely beaten and ridiculed at court by Joffery’s orders.

Ever so carefully, you knelt beside her, and gently placed your hand on her shoulder before grasping her to stand while allowing her to take comfort in your strong but gentle grip. You quickly called for a squire to fetch some cool water before handing Lady Stark a simple but clean handkerchief to wipe her tears. Such an act of familiarity to a highborn from a lowly spy would never be tolerated in normal circumstances, but no one dared to point this out, fearing that their Lady would fall apart had it not been for your support. After what seemed to have been an eternity to pass, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island stepped forward.

“The girl is right.” Her voice left no room for argument, “In fighting for our freedom, we had forgotten our people, our past leader, and his own blood. We lost sight of our true goal, and in doing so we allowed ourselves to be vulnerable to our enemies. Right now, Stannis Baratheon is our best hope in retrieving Ned Stark’s daughter. And we need all of the hope we can get, be it in numbers or supplies.” The next words coming out the fierce Mother Bear of House Mormont shook everyone to their core, “I can sacrifice our independence, I can bend the knee to another Southerner, but I cannot call myself a northerner if I forget my oath in avenging the Quiet Wolf, along with Jory Cassel, and the rest of the northern men that died in that rotten keep.”

“But how can expect Stannis to hope true in his word, is he even aware such a deal took place?” Lord Rysell rose from his seat, his voice filled with trepidation. “After all, was it not Stannis who killed Renly, his own brother, his very own blood? How can we expect a Southerner, nay, a KINSLAYER to hold even a weight of honor after witnessing the mutiny we all had barely escaped with our lives? And what of the cost? What was traded for such information?”

“Stannis Baratheon along with Jon Arryn had been running King Robert’s kingdom throughout his entire reign. While Jon Arryn tried to reign in Robert, Stannis was the one who had actually proposed new laws in attempt to benefit the kingdom. This was a man who at age of 17, held his brother’s castle at Storm’s End and ate shoes and rats rather than surrendering to a hopelessly superior army from both land and sea. He, who ensured that his men, smallfolk, and his little brother were fed before him. And more importantly, Stannis has ships, ships that can lay siege to King’s Landing by targeting Blackwater Bay, should he want for an alliance.” Theon couldn’t keep the pride out of his eyes, here you stood, recounting the accomplishment of one man, stunning every lord by your extensive knowledge of military history in perfect clarity. Those hours spent in the Winterfell library and extensive lessons with Maester Luwin seemed to have paid off.

“As for the matter of honor, this war will not be won through honor, no this is war that will be done on the matter of duty.” Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you braced your body in continuing, “Ned Stark’s duty as Hand of the King was to the kingdom. In choosing his honor, he lost his head. Robb Stark chose love over duty, and it cost him the lives of his wife, his child, and nearly 3000 of our men. Our duty to the North was to avenge Ned Stark’s death and protect his children, and in that we have failed miserably. Whether Stannis Baratheon is honorable remains to be seen, but it was his devotion to his duty had made his men so loyal to him and his enemies call him a man ‘truly just.’ As for the matter of proof, I would hope that this message that bears his seal to provide some comfort.” You hand a creased letter to Catelyn Stark for confirmation. After vigilant investigation, she confirmed that it was indeed written in his hand and that seal bore House Baratheon’s sigil, along with the seal of Dragonstone.

“And I can assure you my lords that the price was more than fair,” your confidence was slowly diminishing as you chose your next words carefully, “all that was asked from the stranger was that I sail from Seagard to a locate an individual and escort them to somewhere Beyond the Wall, afterwards I would be told more details of my mission from there.”

“What comes after you get those details and finish escorting them?” Theon didn’t recognize his own voice. “Do they send you somewhere else, who’s this person, where are you going?” Seven hells, is that panic in his voice? “When do you come back?”

You looked towards your precious brother, eyes trying to convey a hidden message you don’t dare to speak aloud. You take a deep and shaky breath before clearing your throat in an attempt to keep your voice steady and clear, “I don’t.”

And just like that, chaos erupts once more.

Theon doesn’t realize he was asleep before being so rudely pulled out of his dream…memory?

“Well, memory it may have been, but a nightmare to relive it once more.” Theon thought as he tried to focus on his surroundings, before seeing the reason he was awoken in the first place. On his chest, stood a majestic falcon gazing into the eyes of his owner. Despite being a first-class hunter, one would think this bird of prey that feeds on both fish and birds alike by swooping at tremendous speed with little to no sound, was really a smaller parrot if others knew how spoiled Ari was for attention and treats. “Forget Robb, the real challenge will be in keeping this little fellow from going mad from losing his main benefactor,” thought Theon as he lovingly stroked a finger on Ari’s head, the falcon sweetly preening from attention from his beloved savior.

“THEON!” A familiar voice bellowed as the footsteps whom Theon was sure belonged to one auburn-curled king grew louder as they stride closer to his tent.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Knowing what will soon come, I only hope to find a barrel of ale to drown my sorrows in afterwards.” And with that being his final thought before rising from his cot and just finished dressing himself before his tent’s flap flew open, and in came the Young Wolf with a fury so terrible it would bring down the Wall.

Robb’s POV

After arriving at the camp, Robb immediately jumped down his horse and demanded a steward to take care of his steed before he marched forward with only one person in mind, Theon Greyjoy. His father’s ward, his best mate, his brother without blood and in-arms, and the brother to one particular Yi Tish girl that was sailing further and further from where she belonged. If there was one person who knew where she was going, it was Theon. He had to know, Li and Theon had a bond between them. A bond that Robb loathed to admit many times, as it was that bond that could not be easily shattered or poisoned as such with the bonds of mere companions or even lovers. For companions, some periods of time apart would often do the trick, but even on the most drawn-out operations his father sent you out on, time only proved to strengthen the bond as you would return with tales of the people you were sent out to watch, and even come back with small gifts as tokens of fond remembrance. Every single one of those gifts, no matter how often Theon would act as if he were given something burdensome, were treasured and placed inside a wooden box that he secretly commissioned one of keep’s craftsmen to create in order to store them. Even if you two were lovers, however painful that would be for him, it would be of great comfort to Robb knowing that it such affections would one day pass. No matter how great the flames of passion arose, they would usually die out, especially in one’s youth. In your case, hopefully in a way so spectacularly horrendous that it would kill any hope of rekindling those flames ever again. But no, instead you two stubbornly remained siblings, and your bond was that of great platonic love and adoration. It baffled Robb to no end as to why the two of you remained so insistently loyal to one another, but it was the same answer every time Robb brought out his frustrations.

“He is my brother,” you would say without fail. “He is the family I chose to love and cherish, and so I will choose him. I will choose him every time.” You would look directly at him, with your big brown almond-shaped eyes, so warm and frank, as if you were stating so completely plain and obvious to a tempering child.

“Can’t you choose me? I would choose you. I could be your family.” Robb exclaimed in great exasperation at your persistence. After all, why couldn’t he be your family? He who saw how well you played and calmed his younger siblings when he, his mother, his father, and even the septas were too busy; who would always help you whenever you stumbled upon a difficult word that you couldn’t spell or pronounce; who would show you the secrets of the Winterfell Keep that he would not even show to Jon or Theon; he who saw your secret smiles and hidden protection you bestowed upon the many strays and smallfolk children in the village town. By the Seven’s sake, he was to be the Lord of Winterfell and of the North after his father, who better than him to take care of you?

“No,” you stressed out, “No Robb, you couldn’t. You and I could never be each other’s family, not the way that he and I are, not in the way you want us to be.” You looked at him with your eyes, your big, brown, warm, cruel eyes; eyes that looked so genuinely apologetic that it almost made him forget his anger, almost. “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Robb was sure that he sounded pathetic, but he needed to know, to understand, why he couldn’t be the one for you. Was it the differing status between you both, did his mother speak ill to you when he and his father were unable to witness it, or was it because you had feelings of love for someone else, someone not him? Oh gods, he could feel his young heart breaking at that final thought.

“Theon and I…”, you tried to find the words that could capture the meanings you didn’t know the words to, words that were not in any of the languages you had learned and spoken, “he and I are bonded. In a way that goes beyond words, beyond simply moments and memories. It is built on an understanding that only the two of us know of, something you have never and I pray that you never will understand, because it is a pain that very few our age knows about, and that is really all I can say of the matter.” With that being the final word, you turned and walked away, leaving the young heir more lost and aggravated than ever.

“Oh Li, my sweet, darling Li.” Robb thought as he admonished your words with tender childing. “How could you be so blind to your so-called brother’s selfish and arrogant ways? Do you not see how he would ruin you, how he would twist your naïve and tender heart with his cunning words and leering eyes?” After all, brother or not, Robb was not as stupid as many would like to him to be. Yes, he would admit that marrying Talisa was in poor taste, especially in letting her believe that she meant far greater to him than her original purpose. A purpose to strictly bring physical comfort and to destress after hard-fought battles, as well as to help him forget that he was to marry one of Walder Frey’s daughters and to forget about you. While he had never meant in their affair to go so far, he will admit that he got carried away with her. He got lost in their conversations and banter, in her altruistic warmth and kindness, he allowed himself to give into the idea of championing love and how it would conquer any obstacle set before him. But most of all, he longed for the idea of sharing a love with someone new, someone who didn’t know him from his youth. He wanted to love someone who didn’t know of the many insecurities that plague his mind whenever he planned for his next battle. He pined at the idea of someone who didn’t see the vulnerable boy he hid away to project the undefeated wolf marching towards the lion’s den. He was desperate for the warmth and frankness that would be rewarded to him from a woman whose love was sweet and generous and easy.

Talisa had been all of that, and more, so much more. She was opposite to you in every way, physical and emotional. The only similarity that could be shared between the two of you would be that your hair was dark, but even in that there were too many differences. You had routinely cut your hair to your armpit, whereas Talisa’s hair flowed past her midback. And upon further inspection, one could see very things streaks of silver and grey as a result of stress, meanwhile there were no such signs in his late wife’s dark locks. Both of your faces were beautiful and similar in some features but your beauty differed in hers not only in the regions of birth, but in evidence of treatment. Both of your faces had a straight nose, downward turned lips, and almond-shaped eyes. But Talisa’s elegant and angular visage contained no markings or blemishes of any kind. There were no crow’s feet, or scars. Even after witnessing her most laborious treatments and amputations, did she contain an angelic maturity that would envy the wealthiest of highborn women. Everything about her… her willowy and pliant frame… unblemished reddish hue complexion…angelic lips…legs that stretched for miles and were connected by full hips…all of it in the form of one truly mythic beauty.

Whereas you…if Talisa’s beauty could be compared to an angel that glowed compassion and wisdom, yours was that of a survivor that radiated the hardships from years of regimented training for an enduring body and great mental fortitude. Your shoulders and rib cage were broad, but your stomach was slim with a taut core. Your arms were a bit trim, but years in learning how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, along with varying combat made them toned and fine. Your calves were strong and thick and they stretched your trouser legs, and while many insisted you looked more man than woman, you relished in their power in action. Your waist was sinched in a way that showed off the fullness in your hips, and perfectly gave way to your marvelous ass that he stared at more times than he likes to admit, especially with Theon’s overly protective gaze following him no matter the time or place. But he had remained respectful in his gaze if you don’t count the number of times, he spied you while swimming in the springs with the sheer small clothes as your only barrier, or when he watched you bathe in your quarters in the secret compartments or whenever he stroked his cock with an unwavering gaze as you rubbed your clit calling out his name.

While Talisa’s skin bared no markings, there seemed not to be a single patch of skin on your outer framework that didn’t contain a fading mark or scar. Even your proportional facial features: with downward lips that usually remained stoic, and straight framed nose that rarely crinkled even when it was red in the harshest of winters, and eyes that seemed unemotional until one paid close attention in order to see the carefully guarded mirth and gentleness that brightly shone in your peace; were littered with marking brought by you whenever you spied a pimple and removed it, letting it bleed and fester before it healed and scarred. This aggravated his mother and sister Sansa to great lengths, especially Sansa as she would insist that you were spoiling your own beauty and that no man would ever want to marry a woman with such awful scars on her face. You would turn to her stating that you would likely never marry in the first place, nor did you want to leave. Marriage would mean leaving Winterfell, the Stark family, and your new friends, including her who gave you your first gift. This shocked and flustered Sansa, as that “first gift” was a poorly embroidered handkerchief she just wanted to throw away, but instead gave it to you. Not long after, Sansa gifted you a much prettier embroidered handkerchief, one that had little blue flowers sewn across the borders. She insisted that you throw out the first, but you told her that she made both, so both were too important. So, you bought a small wooden box from your meager savings, and tucked both away neatly and lovingly. She still chided you something fierce whenever she caught you picking and scratching your own face. But sometimes Robb would pass by Sansa’s chambers, and double back in shock seeing the two of you conversing (well, more akin to Sansa gossiping and fantasizing about the South while you gave monosyllabic responses) on her bed while she practiced braiding your hair.

This brought up the most glaring difference between you and Talisa, although neither of you were born in Westeros, let alone in the North. But Talisa would never, could never be a Northerner, not in the way he and his family were Northerners as they were Starks, not in the way you grew to be a Northerner. She would never be able to adapt to the bitter cold and snow, could never love the harsh and biting winds, take comfort in the fresh air and scent of smoke wood burning in a hearth the way you had when you were brought to Winterfell by his father. There was no doubt that she would be respected, admired even, but the North and its people would never take to her in the way they took to you. You, who after weeks of careful interrogation and healing, took off running in the Godswoods, climbing its trees, breathing in its holy air, sitting before the weirwood tree with no fear as if you knew it your whole life. While it took a good while for you to gain the castle’s staff trust, it hadn’t taken much time for the village folk to look after you, despite being a foreigner who barely spoke the language. Granted there was the occasional drunk and youthful miscreant who still called after you in offensive terms, but they were quickly taken care of by Theon (who was the third in the keep to take you under his wing, after his father and Maester Luwin).

In return for their kindness, you became somewhat of a silent guardian. You made sure that no wild animals harmed anyone, even those who lived outside the village and in the deep forests; ensured that no child was lost after dark, often returning with bitemarks and long bleeding scratches; and fought off cruel men to the women working in the brothels and the barmaids in the Smoking Log. You even went so far as to “educate” the men who crossed your ire with you... somewhat disturbed skillset from the streets of Qarth. These particular teachings brought you much favor with the town’s women, none more so than Ros (who just so happened to your brother’s favorite whore). So much so that she liked to refer to herself as your “best friend,” a sentiment you returned wholeheartedly, as she was one of the few who heard you laugh, not just a giggle, but a full-bellied laugh, and seen you genuinely smile more times than anyone (besides your brother of course and him). And animals, gods. Don’t even mention to Robb about the animals, he could go on and on about how you seemed determined to take in every stray that wondered around aimlessly, hoping for some scraps of food or a place with walls to keep out the cold. In the first year you were brought, Robb could name over a dozen separate occasions you brought in a stray to care for before being found out. His father had hoped that by letting you keep your beloved shadowcat, you would stop this habit. This caused the very opposite of his hopes to happen, as you had no intention to stop taking in every stray that looked you with sad eyes. You only made sure to hide them in more…discreet locations, mostly in Jon’s and Theon’s rooms, as they shared a fondness for a singular cute creature with sad eyes (you).

But even that was not the limit of your protection. You even provided help to the wives whose husbands abuse them in cruelties beyond imagination, to where these men’s cruelties extend to their own children. These circumstances were tricky to say the least, as there was little to be done as the wife and children belonged to her husband and father, as he was usually the main provider of the family. Very few women dared not indicate any signs of abuse to anyone, much less towards his lord father. Robb was in his father’s solar at the time, learning about his future duties when in you barged in, holding a thick stack of evidence and documentation of not only the alleged offenses, but also proof in showing that these women willingly came to you to bring forth justice, knowing that their Lord Eddard Stark could only do so much. Not only that, but you also found evidence of reports of similar offenses being thrown out, meaning that you took the time and energy to fish out the documents from every trash heap in order to properly present your case.

This is where your true talents laid, in your relentless empathy and your perseverance for change. You may hide your heart in guarded walls made of heavily forged iron, but that didn’t take away the fact that you cared, you cared so deeply. You would use the skills you tirelessly trained for the purpose to protect those who cannot demand protection from those in power and cannot afford to bring attention upon themselves. In presenting the evidence, you asked whether this would be enough to request a change in policy regarding the protection of women and children in not only Winterfell, but across the North. Your body in steeled posture, expecting refusal and rejection, froze in shock in hearing that he would immediately establish a new policy regarding the treatment of familial relations, and punishment in violating that policy would result in amputation or beheading. Immediately, you raced across his desk and hugged him so tightly that Ned Stark was sure you had been possessed by a strange benevolent goblin. Noticing your precarious position, you straightened yourself out and apologized profusely before thanking him and swiftly exiting his solar. When brought up to House Stark’s vassal houses, many protested, though none more so than Lord Roose Bolton, as rumors of him leeching and torturing his wife and smallfolk were legendary in infamy. He questioned why such Lord Stark felt it necessary for such a policy to be implemented, but Robb’s father remained firm in keeping your anonymity, knowing you would be targeted for serious punishment if the lords knew of your identity.

“Being a Lord is like being a father, except you have thousands of children and you worry about all of them. The farmers plowing the fields are yours to protect. The charwomen scrubbing the floors, yours to protect. The soldiers you order into battle.” He paused before continuing, “But it seems, I have forgotten what it means to be a father to many others. I have evidence, of hundreds, if not thousands of reports stating the mistreatment by a family head’s hands. Reports that were never brought to me by men I thought I could trust. As Warden of the North, it is my duty to care for these women and their children, but I have failed in my duty. That is why I have created this law, and any violations of this law will be brought to my attention by the official guards of each house’s town. However, any knowledge of these violations going unpunished will be informed to someone else, someone personally placed and hidden that not even your best spies will find. They will be my eyes and ears; they will be my messengers. Should you bring your own twisted sense of justice upon them, I will know, and as you all know, I’ve never been one to use a headsman to do my beheading.” With that being the final word of the matter, Robb’s father dismissed his men, and called for the ravens to carry out the new law across his land. Robb would never forget those words for as long as he lived.

True to his father’s words, reports of these violations were kept in the known, and the Northern houses were expected to carry out the law’s sentences. Wicked men who violently struck their wives and children without proper justification had their hands chopped off. Those who starved their families were thrown into the dungeons without food or comfort for varying periods of time. And vile rapists had public castrations, and were also faced with beheadings. The lords ceaselessly hired the best spies and sellswords to find Ned Stark’s eyes and ears, but nothing came out of it. Soon enough, crimes of not only this offense, but other unrelated offences started to cease. Time continued forward, and the number of reports continuously dwindled until women felt it safe to walk at night without the need of a dagger, children felt it safe to play with outside after dark, and those with wickedness in their hearts learned what it meant to act properly without needing intervention of a higher power.

Smallfolk across the North sung praises to Ned Stark, for his kind and noble heart, for his true sense of justice, for being a man with true honor and knew the meaning of a lord’s duty of his people. But the women and children of Winterfell knew the truth, and it was you they silently revered. After all, only you listened to their cries, to their pain and anguish. You who searched for proof and evidence until the amount grew so great that you knew it could no longer be ignored. Things were not perfect, no far from it, but they were better. They were so much better, and they had you to thank for that. You were their paragon of justice and truth, someone who pushed for action in their lord’s idleness. One young man came up to you in privacy, and cried his thanks. He revealed to you that he and his brother were raped by their mother since their father’s death, but he could not tell anyone the truth, he could not bear the shame. But thanks to you, that wretched cunt was beheaded, and he could finally take his siblings far down south, where they would hopefully find better work and start a better life. You were silent until you carefully asked the young man if you could have his permission to hug him. When he granted it, you carefully and slowly placed your arms around him before both of you were sobbing and wishing good fortune to one another.

“No,” Robb thought as he almost reached Theon’s tent, “Talisa would never be accepted as his queen, not when you had taken the hearts of Winterfell’s inhabitants.” And as much as he felt guilty for her death and how he wouldn’t truly love her, he knew that this was for the best in the long run. Talisa was intelligent, and kind; but the coming winter would be ruthless, and her warmth would be swept out long before spring would arrive. He did mourn for his child, but he knew that with you by his side, there would be plenty of opportunities to create new heirs, and soon enough Winterfell will be run amok by little wolf pups and laughter once more. “Even if you do not understand it now, you cannot hide your feelings from your mate, little dragon.” As furious as Robb still was by you running from him, he knew that sooner or later that the two of you would find each other once more, and in finding each other, you would rule by his side as his queen and the North would only prosper in your reign together. A reign that would come a lot sooner than later, if he knew where in the seven hells you were off to.

“THEON!” Robb shouted before he stormed into Theon’s tent, he watched with furious eyes at his oldest friend and greatest enemy when it comes to you as Ari off his shoulder and perched on top of Grey Wind’s head. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flared in barely veiled anger, as he vented out the words, “Where is she?”

“With all due respect, your grace,” Theon quipped out as he began to pour himself some water, inhaling it in a few gulps before continuing, “you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t have the faintest idea of who this ‘she’ would be?”

“Oh, so that’s how he wants to play this out,” Robb thought out as he took a deep breath. He should have known better than to expect Theon Greyjoy of all people to give a straightforward answer. He quickly sent Grey Wind out to guard the tent, and not anyone in before curtly replying, “Don’t act dull. You know exactly whom I am referring to.”

Theon sat at his desk before pretended to ponder with his chin in one hand, and elbow in another, before continuing, “No, no, I’m afraid not, your grace. ‘She’ could really be anyone, would ‘she’ happen to be your mother? No, no, no…how about Arya, or perhaps Sansa? No, Arya just got here, and Sansa’s still not here, no thanks to you…Oh! Might ‘she’ be your late wife? The one who you fucked, then married and got killed- “Robb grabbed his throat before he could continue on, fury finally getting the better of him, and slammed the back of Theon’s head on top of the desk.

“Don’t you start with me Greyjoy,” Robb could barely contain himself, but he knew he had to, if only to get the information of where you were heading. He swallowed his pride before loosening his grip, and spoke his next words through clenched teeth, “Where is Long Li going? Don’t even think of lying to me!”

Theon’s eyes softened at the mention of your name, before whispering out, “Are you demanding an answer as my king?” His eyes and voice hardened to prepare saying the next words without spitting at the man above him, “Or as my brother?”

“Aye, I am your brother, now and always, but right now, I come to demand you answer me,” Robb’s voice grew stronger as he stated his next words, “as the man who intends to take her as my future wife and mother of my children and future heirs.” As he finished speaking, Theon felt anger surge throughout his body, and he gripped Robb’s doublet with both hands and flipped him onto his back.

“What makes you think I know?” Theon venomously spat out with a bit of condescension, “And for that matter, what makes you think that I would ever tell you? The boy who threw duty for love, that’s what everyone’s calling you. And for good reason too. Robb Stark, King in the North, the Young Wolf that never lost a battle, almost got 3000 men killed for love, and did get his wife gutted for it.” Theon let out a mocking laugh Robb, who struggled to get out of his grip, only to remain pinned on the desk. “If it weren’t for Li, we’d all be dead, bodies thrown into the river, rotting at the bottom. And because of you, she’s gone, gone with some mad man who could do anything to her.” Theon could feel his throat constricting, but didn’t bother to restrain his worst fears. He wanted Robb to bleed out more than when Roose Bolton shoved an arrow to his chest, “She could be gutted, maimed, or raped by now, and it’d be all your fault.” Theon released his grip and quickly turned away as he wiped the tears running down his cheeks at the thought of you getting hurt, and him not being there to protect you. Recalling your tearful goodbye, filled with gripping hugs and sweet words, and refusal to acknowledge the fear of never seeing each other again. The thought of you, the only person he truly, completely, and unconditionally loved, gone forever killed him. He tried to not completely fall apart as he remembered the final look you gave him before urging your horse into a gallop to put as much distance between you and the camp on your way to Seagard.

“I begged her to not go. I told her that no duty was worth her, that she’s done enough for others and that she should just stay here, where she could be safe.” He let out a bitter laugh before persisting while pacing around his tent, “But she wouldn’t hear of it, said that she had to go, and worst of all, I couldn’t go with her. She said that she needed me here, to make sure that you had your head an’ wits still with you after you wake up. She told me, ‘Robb’s lost too much already, and you’re his best friend. He just lost the woman he loves and their child, he’s going to need you to keep him grounded more than ever now.’” He poured more water, and swung it back before continuing, “‘Keep you grounded’, yea’ fat load of grounding I did before, eh? No matter what me, your mother, or Li told you…you still married your pretty healer queen, because you thought you were entitled to more happiness than the rest of us. Some king you are, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Theon finally stopped before sitting on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, sounding so tired and small that Robb wouldn’t have believe it was him if he weren’t right in front of him, “My sister is gone and might turn up dead and it’s all your fault, Robb Stark. And even if she’s alive, she can’t come back. You’re a shit king for making her doing this, for everything she did so that you’d and your family be safe.” Theon looked up, tears still streaming down his eyes, and stared directly at Robb as he scoffed out the next words, “She left feeling guilty, for so many things, all out of her control. First, for being too weak and injured to outfight the Tarth bitch; second, for not guarding those Lannister boys well enough, and the final part? The last’s the worst ten times over, because she thinks it’s her fault that Talisa and your child got murdered, that if she were just a little quicker and a little smarter and a little better, she’d get there earlier and both of them would make it out breathing. She almost went mad over it you know. I almost had to talk her out of throwing herself off the fucking Frey bridge, as if she hadn’t lost enough of her sanity already.” Both of them went silent after that, only until Robb walked over and sat by Theon and broke the tense silence.

“I didn’t love Talisa,” he rasped out, “I thought I did, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” He looked at his feet, shame overtaking him as he only just realizes what Theon had lost as a result of his selfishness. “I cared for her, I loved our child, but I didn’t love her. I couldn’t, not when I already love Li, not how I will always love Li.”

“I know,” Theon responded, “I know.” Because while he was still angry, he knew Robb was genuinely sorry, even if he was an entitled prick.

“So,” Robb looked over to ask his old friend, “what happens now?”

Theon took in a deep breath, eyes closed in careful thought before answering, “We get out of this tent, execute some Bolton’s and Frey’s, meet with the bannermen, and make the preparations to Maidenpool to meet with Stannis to bend the knee or some shit.” He then turned his head to look at Robb with his trademark smirk and quipped out, “But before that last part, we’re going to find the biggest barrel of ale we got, and then drain the whole damned thing.”

Robb barks out a quick laugh, and tries to grip himself together in saying, “Perfect, what comes after the ale and before Maidenpool?”

“After the ale, we fight some more, drink some more, and then probably piss ourselves in our sleep.” Theon lists off before the two young men erupt in laughter, both tired of being mad at their best friend. “And before you ask, we’re meeting Stannis at Maidenpool because we got no bloody ships, and it’s going to be you, me, Arya, and Blackfish.” He saw the confused look in Robb’s eyes before going on, “The note asked for me specifically, probably to call me out for treason in being a Greyjoy or something. You’re coming because you’re the King in the North, Arya because two Starks are better than one in this case and your mother is in no state to continue on, my guess is that the bannermen probably want to send her back to Winterfell. And Blackfish is going because he’s a Tully of Riverrun, but he’s not your fuckup Uncle Edmure Tully of Riverrun.”

Robb chuckled out, “Aye, at least he’s not Edmure. And it’d be good for my mother to return to Winterfell, she likely wants to see Bran and Rickon more than she wants to see Sansa.” Satisfied with everything out in the open, the two men got up and called for their animal companions who guarded the tent from onlookers as they had their squabble.

“Come on now,” Theon slapped his king’s back as Ari flew to his right shoulder, “let’s spill some traitor blood and finish this meeting quick. Ale waits for no one.” And Robb laughed and smiled, remembering how good it felt to be laughing with Theon like he had in Winterfell. When everything was alright, his father alive and well, his sisters bickering but together, his mother with all her children, him with Jon and Theon in the training yard teaching Bran and Rickon how to shoot. No war to fight, no battles to be won, and most importantly, you were still by his side.

Please like, reblog, or comment your opinions if you want to, but please remain respectful. If I missed any warnings, let me know.

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descendant-of-evil · 1 year

Text

My Disney Descendants OC:

Her face claim is Elizabeth Olsen:

OC's Outfit and Sword:

Information about my OC:

°Full Name: Lilith Ombretta Cheronobog

°Aliases: Lily, Etta, Little Darkling, The Sinner's Bane, Umbra Insulae (the shadow of the island), Vindex (punisher), Diabolique, Discordia...

°Gender: Female

°Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

°Species: Demon/Demigod hybrid

°Age: ???? (demons age differently so technically she's ancient but she physically looks 21)

°Status: Immortal

°Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (leaning towards evil)

°Hair Colour: black as her soul (sometimes dyed as dark blue ombre)

°Eye Colour: chartreuse (but when she uses magic it turns an eerie yellow)

°Complexion: deathly pale

°Personality: Lilith is a chaotic pessimist made out of sarcasm. She's so very unapologetic with what she says and she uses dark humour as a coping mechanism. She gets aggressive around some villains (like Gaston and Frollo) but turns docile around some of the villainesses (cough... Maleficent... cough... Helga Sinclair). But besides that she's surprisingly very helpful (but only when it suits her😏)...

°Family: Chernabog (father, estranged, dead), Eris (mother, estranged, alive)...

°Love Partnership Interest: ☠️ (Flirt and flounce but when they want to settle down... bounce...)

°Friends Allies: The Core Four, The Sea Three, (sighs) Yen Sid, The Anti-Heroes Club, Dizzy Tremaine, Hadie, Hades, Dr. Facilier, Celia Facilier, Freddy Facilier, Diego DeVil, Harriet Hook, CJ Hook...

°Enemies: Most of the adults on the Isle, King Beast, Queen Leah, basically all the Vk haters...

°Hobbies: Beating the shit out of the sinners of the Isle (mostly Gaston and Frollo...), Protecting the younger Vks from their abusive parents, Annoying Yen Sid, Hanging out at Dragon Hall (because you're never too cool for school), Flirting with the MILFs of the Isle 😏...

°Occupations: Substitute Teacher (at Dragon Hall), Babysitter (for younger Vks), Manager (at the Bargain Castle shop)

°Pet: a fruit bat (named Alucard🦇)

°Powers & Abilities: Umbrakinesis, Chaos Magic, Dark Magic, Demon Summoning, Bloodbending, Flying (with wings or when she turns into a swarm of bats), Shape Shifting, Allspeak, Super Strength, Fast Reflexes, Heightened Senses, Super Intelligence...

°How she ended up on the Isle: Well... she volunteered to go with Yen Sid to the Isle, so that they could teach the children of the Isle how to live without magic (and to also make sure that the villains don't tear him apart)...

°How her life was before the Isle: Lilith grew up isolated, in a cave at the Bald Mountain, so she immediately left for adventure when she was old enough to take care of herself. She travelled many realms and had many romances and misadventures, meeting strange people along the way... one of them was Yen Sid.

They didn't get along at first but eventually they became frenemies of sorts (more like civilised enemies) that engage in friendly banter whilst fighting each other (kinda like the Merlin and Mim dynamic). They only became true friends when Lilith helped Yen Sid and Mickey Mouse defeat Chernabog in an epic final battle on Bald Mountain. After the battle, Chernabog's remains was buried beneath the Island that would later be known as "The Isle of the Lost"...

"Death is inevitable, suffering is optional..."

#descendants #original character #oc #alternate universe #disney #disney descendants #descendants oc #chernabog #the isle of the lost #isle of the lost #ai art

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gritsandbrits · 10 months

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Are there any OCs you'd like to tell us more about

Well since we're 100 days until the disney celebration let's talk my homemade disney princesses!

Alma Mater a pink tow truck and niece of mater who studied under Doc Hudson as an apprentice. Got bored of her small town life then when Lightning arrived she saw it as a chance to leave, she'd help him get out of trouble and he make her his mechanic. In the 2nd movie she inherits Doc's shop after his death and nearly works herself to death so Sally forces her to go with the crew to Japan. It's where she meets her feature beau Finn Mcmissile. She ends up joining CHROME, and in Cars 3 she and Finn prepare for their wedding. Her Princess Trait is Ambition

Maza is the shy eldest daughter of Pacha; she goes with him to convince the emperor not to destroy their town and out if curiosity and confusion she gets mistaken for one of the bridal candidates. She defends the other candidates when Kuzco roasts them & Kuzco's like "wow she got sauce" and makes her the new empress. She doesn't get turned into a llama, she like Yzma is pretty into science and magic(?) So she ends up being the royal scientist as she and Kuzco doesn't rush to get married. Her Princess Trait is Ethics.

Lady Zellis a woman from Earth who stood up to Zurg when he tried to invade. Overtime she proves to be pretty knowledgeable in politics and her toughness. She becomes the new queen of Planet Z. Her core trait is Diplomacy

Cosmica another oc who is a space ranger and Nebula's daughter. A friendly type who ends up being Ty's partner and love interest. Nebula is super protective of her much to her annoyance. Her main trait is Kindness.

Caroline a woman who becomes the first human employee at Monsters Inc. She was Boo's babysitter who was watching her while her parents were away when the events of the movie occur. She gets transported to Monster world and meets mike and sully. Caroline discovers the anti human/child is just propaganda spread by the government and rich capitalists to keep humans and monsters from unionizing. She is sully's love interest. Her main trait is Growth.

Kendrix originally my ben 10 fankid she has an alternate version in Tangled as the holder of the Moon Drop. She met Rapunzel and Flynn during their travel and becomes like a sister to Rapz. She gets a sidekick in a bat named Ozzy.

Amari, a lioness of the Night Pride who ends up in a very forbidden romance with Nuka, Kovu and Vitani's brother. In my take on Lion King 2 Nuka survives the movie and realizes his mom is a piece of shit. So after Zira's death Amari and Nuka leave to rule over the Outlands on better terms with the Pridelands.

Sra. Mára the main heroine in my encanto sequel a seamstress and designer who moves into the village and befriends Mirabel and Bruno. She's pretty regal and serious but overtime it becomes evident she's dealing with deeply rooted insecurity because nothing she did was ever enough for her family. Her core trait is Self Actualization

Her villain is Don Damian, her late sister's husband wants to destroy/steal the magic of Casita out of bitter jealousy over not having magic himself. He has Mára's niece and grandniece hostage but the Madrigals do rescue them. So essentially a Classic villain and the worse case scenario for Mirabel Bruno and Mára.

Kirsten a snarky and intuitive exile who travels across the regions with her pet artic fox Shiver and reindeer Anders. She meets the fugitive Prince Hans, and because she already knows about his attempt on the royal sisters, keeps him as a hostage. Over time they develop a weird friendship based on survival and ✨traumabonding✨ Kirsten uses a magical mirror which was a plot device in the original Snow Queen story. Her core trait is Redemption.

#gb asks

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violetjedisylveon · 2 years

Text

Gailine Margay

Little Cat :3

Eda raises two gods AU link here. Clover Margay, her mom, here. First appearance here.

This is Gailine, she's a new oc for the Eda raises two gods AU, her mom is a therapist, she's going to be Enzo's only friend eventually, one of the two people they trust outside of Eda and King. She wants to be a beast keeper when she grows up, she loves animals and is very good with them. She 100% has ADHD and is a wild child.

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 6 in image, 14 when the time the human comes.

Sexuality: baby pan

Species: Ocelat

Palisman/pets: 2 Cat Snakes, a scorpion dogish beast demon, an echo mouse and a Blossom Bat. Later she gets a Griffin buddy and a Sea Wolf.

Family: Clover Margay(mother) Eibhlín(other mom)

She was born with phocomelia, it's a condition that causes someone to be born without limbs or with under developed limbs, she was born without her right arm from her shoulder down so she uses an abomination prosthetic.

She absolutely loves animals of any kind and is always able to connect and make friends with them. She wants to be a beast keeper and she thinks the beast keeping coven is the best and she will fight anyone who denies her on it.

She is the animal kid. She is always reading up on animals and their behaviors and how she can best befriend them and ways she might communicate with any animal. She knows a lot of random animals facts that she sometimes blurts out because it's so cool that Sea Wolves (not a canon creature, I added it) can swim in the boiling water without getting hurt at all.

She could info dump about animals for days.

She'd love to meet Eberwolf and just talk with them about all the animals and things she's figured out that you can do with beast magic and all these animal thing, she would absolutely lose her shit if she got that oppertunity.

She can sometimes be a bit much in terms of her personality and how she expresses herself and says what she's thinking so she doesn't forget it but she is a really caring, sensitive person and if you just tell her that something is bothering you, she'll do whatever you need and wait til you're okay. (How her adhd is expressed is based on the way mine expresses because that's what I know, I do have a friend and cousin with adhd but my friend has other stuff that will effect her behavior and I'm not around my cousin all the time to understand how hers expresses, I'm sure I will soon though.)

Gailine's also got that oh so nice adhd fuck me and my problems, let me avoid, take care and help you with your problems, mine can totally wait.

She likes to help people and animals and she's very friendly.

She's going to be Enzo's one and only friend outside of the owl house once they meet and start talking. They will bond over animals and being gremlins sometimes.

There's an explination of her species, Ocelats, on the post about her mom, Clover.

Yes, the background for the two images is the same, I made a decent one and decided to just go with it for both. You'll probably see it again cause backgrounds are hard for me.

If anybody has an experience with things like phocomelia and could give me tips or advice in how to write and approach it from a writing stand point, it would be greatly apreciated!

I wish you all a good day, whatever that is for you.

VJS out!

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khaidrate · 2 years

Text

Please Let Me Keep Him

Warning! This isn’t really lore accurate, this is just what I wanted to see from the Arkham Knight. So I wrote it! There is an OC in here, their name is King. The only thing you need to know is they work for Bruce and used to be Jason’s friend.

It’s been two years since Jason died, the truth of his unfortunate demise only now coming to light as Bruce traveled through his worst nightmare of a night. If he really sat down and thought about it, Bruce only wanted to see his son again. One more time. Bruce Wayne never sat down though, his anger keeping him afloat while one thought in the back of his mind burned him through and through, “please let me see him again.”

Bruce did his best to focus on his footsteps, the loud clanging of metal on metal, echoing through the flashing halls to bring an even sharper ring to his ears. The red lights and fizzling circuits; it was all enough to distract anyone else.

Not Bruce Wayne.

His head was echoing with horrific laughter, screams of those he barely recognized. Every reflection he caught of himself reminded him that he was going paler than paper, his eyes a horrific green that he only saw in his worst nightmares. The screams would get louder; and he fought the urge to snap the next person he saw’s neck. The voices built to a high, until one scream cut above the rest. A shrill, broken sob, screaming for mercy, screaming for someone to save them - for Batman to save them.

He stopped. He blinked away tears he didn’t even know he could shred, and gave a harsh breath. For so long he had maintained his dark and brooding persona and it was starting to crack, making him wonder whether or not he had been lying to himself for years - whether or not this was the true Bruce. He shook his head, cursing himself for letting such thoughts distract him. The subtle vibration of his gauntlet buzzed with a red light, catching his attention. He slowly raised his arm, preparing himself for the stone facade he once again had to maintain. He clicked a button.

His screen flittered to life, revealing a young adult sitting in front of the batcomputer. Soft freckles on a sharp face with white patches of skin, as well as their heavy bags, illuminated by the light. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Ulysses.”

“Doing good, thanks for asking. You?”

He didn’t even blink. “Why are you in the Batcave? It’s too dangerous.”

Their dark curls fell from their bun as they unpinned it, covering their shaves on the side of their head; painfully reminding Bruce of the bat symbol shaved in, courtesy of Dick. “Nightwing reached out. Shit, Bruce, why didn’t you let us know?”

This time, he did blink. “Too dangerous. You’re too… ”

“Don’t even try to say I’m too young,” they sighed. “At the very least, Damian deserves to know. Do you know how many times Dick thought you had died in the last twelve hours?” His only response was a grunt, and he continued to move forward down the hall. “Whatever. I’m helping you. Do you want info or not?”

“What do you have?”

King rolled their eyes. “Of course, my pleasure. Two signatures up ahead, behind the chonky door.”

“Please do not say ‘chonky’ on comms, King.” Dick’s voice cut in.

“One is definitely unconscious,” they continued, “One… huh. Bats, I’ve never seen a system so close to yours, they have all of Gotham marked down in the same way the computer mark's things. The Arkham Knight definitely knows you, like they said. I’ve also locked onto some of the Arkham Knight’s voice patterns.”

“How?” Dick asked, “Our systems couldn’t even pick it up. Taj must be one damn genius.”

They hummed, then hesitated. “It’ll take me a minute to hack it, also, I don’t think you’ll like who’s voice it matches.”

“Who?” Batman asked, more in the form of a demand.

“Well, I have three candidates, but… I’m sorry, are we not gonna talk about how you locked up Tim? Isn’t that the point of a sidekick, to help? I mean, shit, Bruce. He’s gonna be crying about it for weeks.”

Bruce contemplated telling them to refrain from unnecessary talk on comms, but refrained to keep them in a decent mood. Bruce stopped in front of the metal door, reaching for the lever, but stopped when the red lights threatened to reveal his position if he pulled on a locked door. “King,” he started. The door’s light suddenly turned green and Bruce could almost hear King’s smirk. Bruce turned off the screen and stared at his hand. He only thought to himself for a moment, deciding that there was no more time for unspoken words or games, only justice. He yanked the lever down, moving to stand in the middle of the door frame as it slowly opened, the light from the various devices pouring in.

“More red lights. What a shocker,” King mumbled.

Bruce took in the room before him, only managing to register that it was a room before running to a tied up Jim. He went through his mental checklist in less than a second; he’s breathing, he looks to be unharmed, he sensed no danger around him, only the prickling sense of paranoia he always carried with him. With no more than a grunt, he moved to untie Jim.

“Room scanned. Approaching from behind,” King warned in a flat voice.

A different voice cut in, “Turn. Around,” the voice said, debilitatingly slow. The same voice that managed to irk Bruce everytime he had heard it, the voice that rang a loud warning in Bruce’s mind; “I know them.” The same voice he had been unconsciously chasing the entire night. Bruce slowly did as he was told, turning face to face with the Arkham Knight, a gun pointed at him, his white eyes glowed harshly against his mask.

“Who are you,” Bruce almost growled.

The Arkham Knight didn’t shift his posture, not even moving to straighten his neck. He only said, “You have no idea…”, trailing off as he moved his free hand to the side of his helmet, slowly pushing it up, and as he finished his sentence, “Do you, Bruce,” his voice modifier finally let the Knight’s real voice slip through, young, dark, and crisp.

Bruce stared, eyes widened and lips slightly parted, feeling his heart spike, drop, and break in the same motion. His breath held, he only stared, feeling the Joker’s ringing laughter split through his head. “Jason,” he almost stuttered, “But… you’re dead.” His mind tried so hard to comprehend what was in front of him. Jason’s eyes, once full of a fire he could never describe, now haunted him, looking empty and tired. His whole face had hardened, scars covering his entire face. Bruce’s first instinct was to tell him he looks fine, that he is safe and whole and how happy he was to finally see him; but the melded skin on his face, the one in the shape of a certain letter. Oh, how it stood out, swallowing his vision whole, the mark of the Joker.

The Jokers laugh cut in once again. “Let’s not fall out here, Bats! I might have told you a teeny, tiny lie…” Bruce’s mind was sharply telling him to shut up, but he appeared from behind Jason’s large form, moving in front of him. “But c’mon, look at the boy,” he exclaimed while ducking underneath Jason’s outstretched arm while he circled Bruce. “You did good. We did good! You should be proud,” he smiled the same smile that crawled around in his brain at night. Bruce was practically scratching at the walls of his mind, pleading for Joker to get away from him, to leave Jason alone.

“What’s the matter,” Jason taunted, “Lost for words? I expected more… I’m hurt.”

“Holy fuck.” King murmered, an octive so low their words could hardly be comprehended.

Bruce didn’t know what to say. “Joker sent me the film… I,” he fought a voice crack, “I saw him kill you.”

Jason’s nose flared, “Don’t you dare lie to me,” he shouted, moving forward and emphasizing his threat with a pointed movement of his gun. “How long did you wait before replacing me? A month?”

“No…” Bruce whispered.

Jason angrily persisted, ignoring Bruce’s denial, “A week? I trusted you… and you left me to die!”

“Jason… no,” Bruce started.

“You always told me, Bruce. Focus on what I want to achieve and it’ll happen. Well, you know what I want now, huh,” He moved forward. “I want you dead.” He shoved his gun underneath Bruce’s chin. Bruce reacted before he could think, slapping away his gun and slamming his head into Jason’s, followed by a mechanical hiss. Jason stumbled back for only a moment, before he reached into his holster to take out two more refined firearms. He angrily shot forward before regaining his surroundings. Bruce was gone. He breathed hard, anger seeping into every muscle of his body. “You can’t hide from me,” he shouted. “I will hunt you down!” The gun in his right hand whirred, elongating to form what seemed to be the upper receiver of a sniper rifle, his other gun forming into a long barrel and snapped onto the other piece with ease.

“Holy shit,” Dick breathed over comms, “He’s got two pistols that can turn into a sniper?”

“Noticed,” Bruce grunted, looking over from his new hiding spot. Jason looked around for a moment, a noticeable scowl forming onto his face before he ripped off the outer visor and once again covered his face, this time the helmet forming the faint shape of a skull. He grappled away, his form exactly like Bruce’s, just the way he taught him.

Neither of the three knew what to say, not knowing how to even comprehend such a horrid situation. None of them knew how to begin to address it, to question how he might had been alive. A beat of silence offered no moment of clarity or explanation. “So,” King started, offering some ease to the air, “Jason’s alive and hates you. Fantastic. He’s taken a sniping position up on that ledge. His guns are good, really good. I’d say you have four shots before it kills you.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Gray, four.” They turned their attention back to Bruce, fingers lightly tapping over a keyboard, “I’ve highlighted all suitable hiding spots and ledges, they’ll be your best shot at Jason.” Bruce grunted, slowly moving over and peaking out of his hiding spot. “Also,” King started again, “I’m going to look at the photage Joker sent to us. I never ran it through a check before because… in any case, I’ll have that soon.” Bruce didn’t get to reply because in a split second, he ducked back under, a shot whizzing above his head.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t look me in the eyes?” Jason smirked to himself before shouting, “Come on!”

“Your goal is to not get shot at, Bruce.”

“Bruce, let me take it from here,” Dick grumbled. “Look a little behind you, to your left.” Bruce did so, eyeing a subtle ledge out of Jason’s sight. Without another word, he grappled onto it. “If you can get down to the platform by gliding when he even glances away, take the chance.”

Bruce eyed Jason for a long time, patiently playing the waiting game that he had taught Jason so, so long ago. A memory flitted to life. His bright eyes pierced his mind, his devious smile as he sat and watched Bruce stare right back at him. Jason managed three hours before finally becoming restless; his mood brightening when Bruce took him to get ice cream afterwards. Bruce’s eyes almost clouded with tears, so he sank back into his emotionless front.

Just like two years before, Jason grew tired easily, his eyes flickered in another direction and Bruce took the opportunity. He had no time to glide; he fell down, silencing his landing when his cape caught the air.

“Nice,” Dick commented. “All you have to do is make a run for it, get underneath him, grapple up, and take him down.”

“You sound too sure,” King added.

All three of them didn’t say anything afterwards, a silent acknowledgement that Jason was too tough to go down with one on-the-fly plan, but Bruce sprinted forward all the same. Staying directly out of his sight, he slid under his position and grappled up to the ledge he stood on. Bruce easily caught him by surprise, grasping the barrel of his gun with one hand and his forearm in another, he moved in a blur. “Jason,” his voice stern and cold, “I can help you!”

Jason grunted from the struggle, “There’s no…” another grunt, “Helping me!” He fired off a shot, causing Bruce to let go while Jason fell below, setting off a smoke bomb.

“King!”

“Getting a read, Bats.” King clicked a few times while Bruce’s vision quickly recovered. “He’s gone. On the other side of that wall.”

“How do we get behind it, sis?”

As if Dick had timed it perfectly, the wall suddenly flew up, revealing a longer sector of the room, and a shot flew past Bruce. He quickly fell, rolling to a stop, and moved behind a wall. He noticed drones; two of them, and Jason perched on another ledge. Bruce already knew what to do, he synced his bracer to his remote hacking device and scanned.

“I got it. Blinding it now.” King said.

Jason cursed under his breath, “You’re not the only one with sidekicks, Batman!” The drone quickly recovered and shot at Bruce, taking him by suprise. He easily rolled out of the way, barely dodging another shot from Jason as he ran to find cover. He silently hoped King would read his mind with both drones now shooting at him, feeling the painful shock of the bullets bouncing off his armor. His blood spiked, he was panicking. Bruce Wayne was panicking. All the thoughts of wanting to save Jason and save Gotham at the same time sent shockwaves throughout his entire body. He continued to run, dodge, roll, anything he could do to stay a step ahead of a swift death. He almost took another shot from Jason when King finally managed to regain the controls of the drones, silencing them. Bruce tried to calm his own heart rate, his own composure was slowly crumbling away. He had no time, no breath, no thoughts. He stayed under his newfound cover of a concrete blockade.

“Do you even know what he did to me?” Another shot whizzed above Bruce’s head. “The games he used to play? This is mercy compared to what he put me through.”

Bruce did his best to ignore Jason as he once again pondered his surrondings and saw the highlighted grates. Grates meant good cover, good cover meant an easy route to get to Jason. Good, he was thinking clearly again. “King, can you buy me any time?” King responded with something about how they practically owned time, he didn’t listen, and moved the drone to a shooting position. Jason was quicker, he shot at the drone before it fired, releasing another shot at the last drone to send it tumbling to the ground with a loud snap. Jason was fast, much faster than either of the three remembered, but Bruce managed to use the distraction to get into the grates, crawling through the narrow vents as he tried to get the image of a broken and bloody Jason out of his mind. Once he deduced that he was in a suitable position, he silently shuffled out of the grates, taking his time to not make a single noise. He looked up, seeing the perfect window of opportunity to grapple up, bursting through the glass, and managing to land right in front of Jason. “Joker got to you! I know what it’s like!” Bruce tried, struggling to match Jason’s strength as he tried to wrestle the gun away from him. He was so much stronger than he remembered, the thought threatening to send him back to memory lane.

“Don’t pretend to understand!” Jason shouted every angry insult he could think of during the battle for the upper hand. Bruce almost let out a sob thinking about losing Jason again to the madness of his own mind, but Jason quickly managed to break an arm away in Bruce’s moment of weakness, setting off another smoke bomb that stunned Bruce, once again disapperaing.

“Dammit,” Bruce muttered, grappling off to a more clear ledge. He looked around; Jason was gone again. No taunts, his thermal scanners didn’t pick up his signature. He almost wondered how Jason could get away that quickly, but he remembered that he taught that skill to him when he was young. When he was just a boy, a boy who didn’t deserve to be thrown into a never ending war, dragged into the depths of the darkness where Batman had dwelled for years. He once again blinked, trying to settle his mind back to the situation at hand.

“Bruce, did you hear that?” Bruce said nothing, so King continued. “He’s emotional, vulnerable.” Bruce nodded in understanding. He had used vulnerability in the past, manipulating others' sorrows to get what he wanted, his reasoning always leading back to the justice of Gotham. He could do that to Jason, who was already broken and fragile. He could hurt him more, scream everything Bruce thought about himself to Jason to enrage him. He already had hundreds of plans in his head on how it could go.

But he could not bring himself to do it.

“Another plan, King. Now.”

“Shit, then,” King grumbled. “Alright, I have an idea that builds off of the last one.” Bruce listened carefully as he snuck around the various obstacles, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon as he moved through to the next sector, everything perfectly captured by the skylights. “I could hack onto his comms, connect him with you, or me. It might be enough to talk him off of the ledge.” They paused, “I have so many things I want to say to him.”

“Me too.” Dick quietly chimed in.

Bruce gave it a thought as he rolled from one position of cover to the next, searching for any signs of Jason’s whereabouts, quickly and quietly knocking out the few militia that roamed. After dragging a body to a spot out of sight, “Don’t hurt him,” Bruce said in a low whisper. Neither King or Dick spoke for a moment, taking in the idea of Batman, Bruce Wayne, showing emotion. Bruce couldn’t help it. He felt the cold facade crumble into tiny bits, slowly wearing away the more he thought about Jason.

King finally responded, “I wouldn’t dream about it, Bats,” they flatly said.

“Do it. Dick, get me Jason’s location.”

“On it.” He proudly exclaimed. His search only took a few seconds. “Uh…”

“What?” Bruce breathed out harshly.

“It says… shit! It says he’s above you!”

Bruce didn’t even register what he said as a large weight brought him face to face with the ground, a few bones popping as he went down. Jason quickly got off of him, kicking him in the same spot he had shot Bruce in that sent his vision to straight white. Blinded, he tried his best to roll over, but Jason was quicker. He straddled Bruce, one hand squeezing his neck as the other pummeled his face, angry grunts following directly after each punch. Bruce struggled weakly to force Jason’s hand off of his throat - when he suddenly stopped trying. He didn’t know what was happening to him, he felt as if he almost deserved the pain. He wanted to shoulder all of Jason’s pain. He would rather take thrice the suffering Joker brought upon him then see Jason like this, fist beating the near life out of him, tears building up in his eyes. He heard faint calls of his name over the comms, no doubt Dick trying to bring him back from the corners of his mind, but he didn’t care. It was almost as though this was Bruce’s version of peace, as if he didn’t deserve any better.

“Jason?” A clear voice cut into Jason’s helmet, stopping his punch in mid-air. He frantically looked behind him, then around him. He stood off of Bruce, grabbing his sniper and aiming it wildly around the place.

“Who fucking said that,” Jason shouted with a newfound, deeper anger.

“Do you remember me?” King asked, voice weak.

Jason stumbled backwards slightly, giving Bruce enough time to recover, whatever that meant in his condition. He tried his best to sit up, gripping his neck in pain. Jason trained his gun on Bruce’s movement, but King cut in again. “It’s King, Jay. It’s your friend. Do you remember me?”

“Kingsley?” His gun drooped downwards, staring off into space as Bruce got up, still holding his side and wipping away the blood oozing down his lips. Jason almost seemed in a frantic daze, “What are you doing… where are you? Are you safe?”

Bruce fought through the ringing in his ears and his body’s pleas to stay down, somehow managing to stand up. As if Bruce managed to get a grip on Batman’s persona once more, he shot forward, sweeping Jason off his legs with a swift kick, and grappled away to a safer position with the distraction. He heard Jason roar with anger as he fell out of sight. “King, you’re working with him!” Jason’s visor once again lit up, searching for Bruce with a new ferocity. “You traitor! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend, Jay, but this? This is all wrong. You’ve gotta stop.”

“Stop?” He was practically screaming at this point. “How long was it before he stopped looking for me? How long before he gave up on me!”

“He never gave up on you. It took two years, Jay. We convinced him to give up the search, but never on you. He was starving himself, he never slept…”

“No! Stop lying to me!” He shot in no paticular direction. “I can still hear him! He is still in my head, he’s laughing and it’s all his fault! Joker ruined me to spite you, Bruce!”

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” Dick cut in.

“And you! I was just your fucking replacement! Could never live up to the brilliant Dick Grayson’s legacy! Always in your damn shadow!”

Jason continued to shout into his visor, when a message flicked on Bruce’s own screen.

You’re connected.

His breath was once again caught in his throat. He tried to breathe out slowly, thinking about the words he would say to Jason. He thought about begging for him to forgive him, to tell him that he was all that gave him hope and laughter, the small moments with him gave him such a calm and happy demenor. Like he himself, Bruce Wayne, was happy. He couldn’t stand another minute reliving the moment where all of his joy had been stripped away for those long, long two years, the very second he had died. He gulped and cleared his throat. “Jay?”

Jason stopped shouting, his face flickered in confusion, then rage. “Where are you, you fucking bastard! Come out here! I promise I’ll make you suffer,” His voice ended in a growl.

“Do you remember what we did for your thirteenth birthday?” Jason stopped every movement in its tracks, Bruce continued to peer out from behind the railing he was hiding behind. “I took you to a baseball game, do you remember that? You went through a nine month long baseball phase, we were always playing catch instead of training. You almost wanted to become a baseball star instead of Robin…”

Jason’s angry scream cut through the air. “Don’t call me that! That’s not who I fucking am anymore!” He flailed around, aiming for anything in sight.

“Do you remember the time I let you drive the batmobile and you almost crashed it into the river? You wouldn’t stop telling King and Dick the story for weeks.”

“Shut it and come out and fight, old man!”

Bruce exhaled a long held breath, moving to come out from his hiding spot. Jason immedaitely trained his gun on Bruce, his hands in the air and slowly moving towards him. “Jason,” he started, “I just want to tell you the things I wanted to say when you went missing.”

Jason gave a dry and sadistic laugh, not moving his gun. “What? Finally gonna tell me that you wanted me to suffer? That I was a sacrifice?” Jason shot at Bruce, and he let it hit, chipping into his armor that covered his shoulder. Bruce didn’t even flinch as he continued to move towards Jason. “The Joker made me hate you, and you fucking let him, Bruce!” His voice was cracking.

The walls continued to pick, pick, pick down.

Bruce continued, almost unphased by his words. “I want to tell you that you’re all that brought me joy for so long.” Bruce took a step forward, Jason taking one back and firing another shot that ricocheted off his stomach, the two of them locked in something of a step off. “I want you to know that I am shattered because of what happened. I tried so hard just to protect you but I failed.” Jason fired off another shot, this time hitting him right on his bat symbol. “I can only think about all the times I swore that it would be okay. I’m nothing but a liar.”

“Stop!” His voice broke, “Stop talking to me!” He threw down his gun and sprinted towards Bruce, tackling him.

That was it. The walls were down, emotions flooding his mind as every thought hit him at once. He had just heard Jason, who he truly admired for his strength and endurance, scream at him with all his willpower to be quiet. When his voice cracked in anguish, Bruce felt his heart split in two, but he kept going. He stood up, weakly blocking Jason’s half hearted punches. “I know I put you through a nightmare,” Jason swung again, a cry scratching to rip out of his throat. Bruce quickly dodged and pushed Jason away. “I caused you so much pain.” Jason tried once again, giving the loosest punch of the night. Bruce moved to the side, only slightly, and gripped Jason by the shoulders before moving his hands to wrap around his head. “I took you for granted. I’m so sorry, Jason.”

“You did this to me!” Jason flailed against him, hitting him with almost no force. Bruce ripped off his visor and aggressively cupped his face, forcing Jason to look at him.

“I love you, Jason.”

Jason scoffed, tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried his best to form a coherent sentence, his face flashing from anger to sadness over and over again until he finally broke down in a sob, his knees giving out. Bruce was there to catch him, bringing him into a tight embrace as he felt his own tears escape, slowly dripping onto his mask.

“You left me to rot in that abandoned wing of Arkham for over a year! With him!” His fingers dug into Bruce’s armor with enough strength to leave small indentments as he buried his face in Bruce’s chest.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bruce shushed as he lazily combed over Jason’s unkempt hair.

“You left me. I always feared you would.” His voice was now strained, soft and broken.

“Jason, I’m here now. I’m never letting you go again.”

Jason seemingly nodded against his chest, but he didn’t know why. Jason just knew that he had finally felt comfort in Bruce again, the flame of anger subsiding for only this moment. “I thought you’d finally be the dad I’ve been wanting.” Jason almost scoffed to himself, but he couldn’t over his tears. “I was young and dumb. Maybe I’m still dumb for thinking that.”

Bruce shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’d be a lucky man to have you as a son.”

Jason finally huffed out a happy sigh, but it soon faded away. “I can’t forgive you, Bruce.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“Can we try again anyways?”

Bruce didn’t verbally respond, only tucked him in even tighter. Jason smiled against his chest, the soft beat of his heart through his layered armor lulled away the voices in his head that barraged him for not getting his revenge. He didn’t care. He never knew this was the closure he needed.

Bruce knew it would be a long road to recovery for Jason, for them. He expected the screams, the yelling, the punching. He expected Jason to let his anger out on him every day until he wore himself out. He knew how long it would take Jason to forgive him, if he even could, and yet he could only mumble the same prayer over and over again as he clutched Jason tight.

Please let me keep my son this time.

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