#long lost retribution timeline;

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

The timeline of their marriage confirms what was the dealbreaker for Hyunwoo; it wasn't Haein's family, it was her and her careless treatment of him after the loss of their child. They got married on May 2 and the baby wasn't due until October 31 next year.

When speaking to the therapist, he mentions that Haein's family has been treating him like trash since the very beginning, meaning that one year after their wedding, when he learned about Haein expecting their child, he was still happy DESPITE her family bullying him.

He could really endure all the abuse as long as she treated him lovingly, Haein's love that she gave him OPENLY kept him going, but the moment she put up emotional walls between them after the miscarriage, it went all spiralling down for him, and he put up actual walls as a result.

What gets often lost in the conversation is that he lost Haein TOGETHER WITH THEIR CHILD, the woman he loved pushed him away, and with it the only reason to stay in this marriage.

He never wanted her money, he wanted her, so he married her in spite of her money; so when she stopped showing her love to him, there was no longer any reason left for him to put up with hers and his in-laws abuse (it's actually probable the bullying from his in-laws worsened the moment they noticed the terrible way she started treating him, if someone as dense as her brother could notice, the other vipers could as well and took it as an invitation that they're free to treat him like trash) other than the fear from their retribution.

#queen of tears #kim soo hyun #kim ji won #kdrama

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms: Aemond POV

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Four

“Do you realise what you have done?!”

In the darkness of the dimly lit room, shadows danced across Alicent's horrified face as she listened to Aemond's revelation. Her brown eyes, brimming with tears, betrayed the shock and anguish she felt upon hearing the news. Upon learning what her son had done, what he was capable of.

The King’s apartments exuded a somber atmosphere, the darkness of the room mirroring the weight of the news that had been delivered. Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint flicker of candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Lord Otto, Aemond’s grandfather and the Hand of the King, also looked momentarily horrified by the revelation. His usually stoic expression faltered, betraying the shock he felt at the news. However, as the political ramifications of the situation began to sink in, his face hardened once more, his mind already whirring with calculations and strategies to navigate the turbulent waters ahead.

“War was declared the minute Rhaenyra refused to bend the knee,” Otto sighed, before returning to his seat at the dining table.

Lucerys was dead, killed by his own uncle over the shores of Storms End in a brutal clash between their dragons. It was a confrontation fueled by vengeance and simmering animosity, one that would inevitably ignite the flames of war between the Blacks and the Greens, tearing the realm apart.

Internally, Aemond grappled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that came with finally avenging the loss of his eye at the hands of Lucerys. The young prince, just fourteen years old and riding a much smaller dragon, had been no match for Aemond’s prowess in combat. It was a brutal and one-sided fight, but in Aemond’s mind, it was a long-overdue reckoning for the injustice he had suffered.

Yet, amidst the satisfaction, there lingered a sense of guilt and remorse. Aemond couldn’t shake the knowledge that what he had done was not honorable or just. Lucerys may have wronged him in the past, but the boy was still just that—a boy, with his whole life ahead of him. Aemond struggled to reconcile the desire for vengeance with the knowledge that he had taken a life that would ultimately plunge the realm into chaos in the process.

But in the end, Aemond found solace in the belief that justice had been served, albeit in a cruel and merciless manner. With Vhagar as his instrument of retribution, the prince convinced himself that Lucerys had gotten what he deserved, and that his actions were necessary to protect his family and restore honor to his name.

Returning to King's Landing, the one-eyed Prince was drenched from the storm, the rain chilling him to the bone. Yet, amidst the physical discomfort, his mind was consumed by the weight of his actions. The contemplative journey home allowed him to come to terms with what he had done. Though another piece of himself was lost in the darkness of his deeds, he couldn't deny that it felt worth it—necessary.

Upon his arrival, Aemond instructed the servants to inform his brother, the new and rightful King, as well as his mother and grandfather, about what had transpired. He requested some time to settle from his journey and change into dry clothes before meeting with them. When he faced his mother, the dowager queen, Aemond felt a pang of anguish at the disappointment and shock he saw reflected in her eyes. It was a look he had never before witnessed from her—a stark departure from the usual pride and adoration. Her silent judgment cut deep, serving as a haunting reminder of the gravity of his actions.

In contrast, his grandfather's reaction was more predictable—stoic and calculating, his mind already strategizing the political implications of the situation. Yet it was Aegon's response that truly bewildered Aemond. The new King had thrown a feast in Aemond's honor, his demeanor brimming with genuine pleasure at the news of what had happened at Storms End.

“Come now, Mother, do not fret so. This is a cause for celebration,” Aegon declared from his seat at the table, a chicken leg in hand. Alicent’s gaze remained fixed ahead, refusing to acknowledge her son’s callous words, but Aegon persisted, his voice dripping with disdain. “Mayhaps my old whore sister will now relent and swear her fealty to me,” he quipped, his words laced with mockery and arrogance.

Beside him, Lord Otto nodded in agreement, casually sipping from his wine as he echoed Aegon’s sentiments. Alicent let out a defeated sigh, her weariness evident as she grappled with the weight of her sons’ actions. But Aegon was not content to let the matter rest, his tone growing even more sinister as he proposed further acts of brutality. “Or else we could simply slaughter her other bastard sons. What’s a few more?” he chuckled.

The sound of Alicent's quick footsteps, as well as the slap striking Aegon's face, echoed through the room, a sharp crack that shattered the eerie silence that followed. Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he witnessed the regal and poised woman lose her composure. It was heart-wrenching to see his mother, who exuded grace and strength, succumb to such raw emotion.

He knew deep down that the blow was a result of his own actions, yet Alicent would never deliver such punishment to him. Aemond was her favored son, the embodiment of everything Aegon was not—the family's protector, his mother's confidant, and the pillar of strength that House Targaryen desperately needed in these tumultuous times.

Despite the one-eyed Prince’s frustrations with his brother's lackadaisical attitude and apparent disregard for his responsibilities, he understood the weight of Aegon's birthright. As a Prince of the Realm, it was Aemond’s duty to defend his brother's claim to the throne, even if he harbored doubts about Aegon's ability to rule effectively without the support of those around him.

“Do you know what that makes us? What that makes you?” Alicent demanded, her voice trembling with emotion as she turned to face Aemond, who stood at the opposite end of the room, his expression one of uncertainty and conflict. His mother then uttered the next word with bitterness and disgust. “Kinslayer.”

Without missing a beat, Aemond asserted his defiance, his voice filled with resolve as he spoke through gritted teeth. “No bastard of House Strong is my kin,” he declared firmly, his gaze unwavering as he met his mother’s eyes.

Aegon raised his glass in a mocking salute to his brother, a smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in the tension that hung in the air. But Alicent’s scoff betrayed her disbelief, her incredulity evident as she struggled to comprehend the callousness of her sons’ actions.

“She is still your sister. And those boys were born from her womb… regardless of their blood. That is how the Realm will see it,” she stressed, her words a stark reminder of the consequences of their actions and the stain it would leave on their family’s legacy.

“What’s done is done, daughter.” Lord Otto's firm declaration prompted Alicent to lower her gaze uncomfortably, her expression reflecting a mixture of resignation and unease as she took her seat at the table beside Aegon and her father. With a sense of authority, the older Lord turned his attention to his grandsons, his tone commanding their attention.

"What matters is what we do next. Did you secure a pact with the Baratheons?" the Hand of the King inquired, his gaze fixed on Aemond, who nodded in response, his single violet eye reflecting his demeanor. Marriage for political reasons was an inevitability for him as a second son, and he accepted that without hesitation. He resolved to treat his future Lady wife with respect and perhaps even kindness if she proved worthy, but his sentiments would not extend beyond the necessities of their union.

"Excellent. I will begin liaisons with those who could ally with our cause," Lord Otto announced decisively, his demeanor resolute as he momentarily left the room.

Upon his return, the Hand of the King unfurled a map on the dining table, its sprawling expanse depicting the realms of Westeros and Essos, as well as vast stretches of open sea. The intricate details on the map hinted at the complexity of the political landscape and the myriad opportunities for strategic maneuvering.

"Dorne, the Iron Islands. Even Essos if needs be," Lord Otto declared, his voice echoing with determination as he outlined their potential allies.

Aegon, having finished his food, cast a casual glance at the map, his expression thoughtful as he considered their options. "The Vale are with Rhaenyra, as are the North. Stark's never break an oath, even if it means to the death," he remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of admiration for House Stark's steadfast loyalty.

After a moment, Aemond joined his family at the table, his demeanor cautious yet focused. He settled beside his grief-stricken mother, Alicent, who nervously chewed at the skin on her fingers, a visible sign of her distress. With a sad glance in her direction, Aemond then turned his attention to the map, his one-eyed gaze fixed upon it as he prepared to weigh in on the political discussions that lay ahead.

"And the Riverlands?" The Prince inquired, his voice steady despite the weight of uncertainty that hung in the air.

"Divided," Lord Otto replied gruffly, his expression betraying his frustration as he addressed the complexities of the political landscape. "The Tully's swore to you, my King, but his sons and grandsons are wavering.” The Hand of the King then pointed his finger to the border of the Crownlands. “Lord Larys is with us, yet his relatives are cowardly, and will swear to Rhaenyra because of her offspring," he explained, his tone tinged with disdain for those who wavered in their allegiance.

At the mention of House Strong, Alicent snapped out of her daze, her brown eyes focused intently on the map before her. "Harrenhal is a war fortress, and dangerously close to us," she stated, her voice laced with concern as she glanced briefly at her family gathered around the table. "If the entirety of the Riverlands, along with the Vale and North, march on us, that castle is the only thing standing in their way."

Aemond and Lord Otto hummed in agreement, acknowledging the dowager Queen's astute observation. A moment of contemplative silence followed, broken only by Aegon's sudden movement as he shifted in his seat, his finger jabbing decisively at Harrenhal on the map before fixing his gaze on his younger brother.

"Go there and find out where House Strong's allegiances lie," Aegon instructed, his tone tinged with a hint of mockery as he spoke of their potential rivals. "To the first-born son of Viserys, their rightful King. Or to a pretender, the whore of Dragonstone," he added, a smirk playing on his lips.

All parties, including Aemond, nodded in agreement with the plan. It was clear that securing Harrenhal's allegiance was vital for the Greens' cause, especially considering its strategic importance in the Riverlands. With the matter settled, Alicent rose from her chair, excusing herself for the evening, her untouched plate a testament to her preoccupation.

Concern etched on his features, Aemond couldn't help but voice his apprehension as he addressed the dowager Queen. "Mother..."

"I think it is for the best, Aemond," Alicent interjected firmly, her disappointment evident in her gaze as she turned to face her son. "Maybe some time away from the Capital will do you some good."

Aemond nodded in acquiescence, his composure steady but his heart heavy with the weight of his mother's disappointment. With a final glance at the empty chair where his mother had sat moments before, Aemond returned his attention to the table, where the men continued their discussions in her absence.

The next morning, Aemond couldn't bear to remain in the suffocating presence of the Keep any longer. The weight of his mother’s disappointment and judgment felt like chains around his neck. The entirety of the Seven Kingdoms saw him as a monster due to the scar that marred his face. But never his mother. Yet Aemond feared now, after slaying Lucerys, that the dowager Queen was too of the same opinion as the Realm.

Seeking liberation from the stifling atmosphere of King's Landing, Aemond made his way to the Godswood to find his loyal mount, Vhagar. The majestic dragon lay nestled within the verdant sanctuary, her colossal form stretched out as she slumbered. With each exhale, her breath stirred the leaves of the surrounding trees, creating a symphony of rustling whispers. Vhagar's scales shimmered in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy, a magnificent display of green and bronze hues. Despite her age, she exuded an aura of indomitable power, her presence commanding reverence and awe.

As Vhagar sensed her rider’s approach, the great dragon stirred from her slumber, her orange eyes snapping open with a keen intelligence. A low, rumbling trill emanated from her throat as she regarded Aemond with a mixture of recognition and familiarity. The Prince approached the beast, his gloved hand reaching out to stroke the side of face, the texture beneath his touch reminiscent of the night they first formed their bond.

“Skoro ao gaomagon ziry?” Why did you do it?, he asked her in a hushed tone. The Prince searched Vhagar’s gaze with his single violet eye, acknowledging the weight of responsibility that rested upon both of them. It was Vhagar’s actions that had led to the death of Lucerys, but their bond remained unbroken.

In that poignant moment, Aemond realized that a dragon was not merely a tool of war, a beast to be commanded, but a reflection of his own desires and convictions. Had he been unencumbered by princely duties or family honour, he would have taken Lucerys’s life himself. Vhagar had simply acted upon the instincts that he himself harbored, making the choice for him. It was a sobering realization, one that spoke volumes about the bond they shared and the depths of their connection.

The Realm may have branded him a monster, and even his own mother may have shared in that belief, but Aemond knew the truth. He was not a monster; he was a dragon. And he would embrace that identity with all the ferocity and power it entailed. With a resolute expression, Aemond acknowledged his strengths. He was skilled with the sword, well-versed in history and philosophy, and he commanded the mightiest dragon in existence; Vhagar, the legendary dragon that had once served his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, now stood by his side, a testament to his lineage and power.

To be a dragon meant to embody fire and blood, to wield power and instill fear in both kin and foes alike. Aemond no longer harbored guilt or hesitation. Instead, he felt a fierce determination coursing through his veins, urging him to prove himself even further and leave an indelible mark on the annals of history as one of the most formidable dragons to have ever existed.

As Aemond confronted Lord Simon Strong at Harrenhal, he felt the familiar surge of rage and anger coursing through him. The old lord's refusal to acknowledge his brother as King ignited a fire within Aemond, compelling him to take action and cleanse the Realm of such traitorous defiance.

With a cold determination in his eyes, Aemond challenged Lord Simon to a duel, knowing full well that this would not be an honorable fight, chuckling to himself as the foolish old man actually accepted the challenge. Yet he was reminded of the words of the Lord Commander, Ser Criston Cole; when steel is drawn, a fair match is not something anyone should expect. In moments, Aemond's sword slashed through the air with deadly precision, cutting down the old man like gutting a fish, leaving no chance for mercy or redemption. It was a brutal and swift end, but in times of war, fairness and honor often fell by the wayside in favor of victory.

Looking over the lifeless body of Lord Simon lay at his feet, Aemond ordered his soldiers to dispose of the remains by feeding them to Vhagar. It was a grim display, but to Aemond, it served a practical purpose. Why waste valuable sustenance when it could nourish his mighty dragon? The fear and dread emanating from the onlookers only fueled Aemond's sense of power and dominance, reaffirming his status as a force to be reckoned with in the eyes of all who dared to oppose him.

But the slaughter did not stop there. In a cold and calculated manner, Aemond issued the ruthless decree that every man, woman and child with Strong blood, true-born or bastard, be put to the sword, as punishment for Lord Simon’s treason. The screams and pleas of those sentenced to death fell on deaf ears, as Aemond remained resolute in his belief that such extreme measures were necessary for the stability and security of the Realm.

Despite the flicker of remorse that briefly crossed his mind at the thought of innocent babes meeting the same fate, Aemond forcefully suppressed any hint of weakness or sentimentality. He knew that typical morality had no place in the harsh realities of war and power struggles. The future threat posed by the offspring of House Strong outweighed any fleeting feelings of compassion.

As the day at Harrenhal descended into darkness and chaos, the floors became slick with blood, serving as a grim reminder of the brutal cost of Aemond's actions. Yet amidst the carnage, Aemond couldn't help but find a twisted sense of beauty in the scene, likening the splatters of blood to the blossoming of spring flowers, a morbid juxtaposition of life and death.

In a grim display of brutality, Aemond's soldiers meticulously searched the castle, rounding up the bastards among the servants and executing them with ruthless efficiency. Even as the heads rolled and blood stained the floors, Aemond remained impassive, his resolve unshaken by the horror unfolding around him.

Amidst the chaos, Aemond's attention was drawn to a woman being dragged outside by two soldiers. Despite her struggles and screams, she was overpowered and brought before the executioner's block. Aemond's violet eye narrowed as he observed her, noting her dark hair and captivating green eyes. There was a fleeting resemblance to someone from his past, a ghost of memory he chose not to dwell on.

As the woman fought fiercely against her impending fate, Aemond couldn't suppress a snicker of amusement. To him, she was like prey caught in a trap, defiant to the end. With a cruel smirk, Aemond raised his arm, signaling to his men that he would personally deliver the final blow. It was a moment of twisted satisfaction for him, relishing in the inevitable demise of his prey, just as he would during a hunt. To see the light of life leaving her eyes would be a joyous end to a productive day.

Forced to kneel before the block, the woman locked eyes with Aemond, her expression unreadable. “I see a maelstrom surrounding you, my Prince,” she spoke, her voice steady despite the imminent danger. Aemond cocked his head, amused by her attempt to stall her fate.

“It is drowning you, tearing you apart from the inside out,” she continued, her words laced with cryptic meaning. Aemond rolled his eye, growing impatient with her theatrics.

“Hold her down,” he commanded the soldiers, his tone cold and authoritative, as they pressed her head against the unforgiving block.

Yet, even in the face of imminent death, the woman remained unnervingly composed, chuckling softly to herself. “You want her so badly, it is consuming you,” she remarked, her words hitting a nerve with Aemond.

“Silence,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin as he cleaned the blood from his sword.

Raising his sword to deliver the fatal blow, Aemond was taken aback as the woman’s smile widened, her green eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “A girl with a stripe of Old Valyria in her hair,” she uttered cryptically, her words sending a chill down Aemond’s spine. “The Lady Maera.”

Aemond froze in place, his grip tightening on his sword as the revelation washed over him, leaving him stunned and uncertain of his next move. Despite the passage of three long years, Maera's name was like a jolt to his system, stirring memories he had buried deep within. He wondered if Maera would even recognize him now, given the darkness that consumed him.

He recalled the sparse updates he received from his sister Helaena about Maera's life. She had acquired more siblings through her father's latest marriage and was now undergoing strict tutelage from a septa to mold her into a proper Lady of the court. Aemond couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the notion; the idea of Maera conforming to the expectations of highborn society seemed incongruous with the spirited little girl he once knew.

However, his amusement quickly turned to a frown as recalled another update from Maera’s life. Rumors had reached him of her supposed indiscretions, tarnishing her once pristine reputation. Learning of Maera’s alleged liaison with a knight in her father's service stirred a complex mix of emotions within Aemond—disgust at the scandal, curiosity about the truth behind the rumors, and a disturbing twinge of jealousy at the thought of Maera being with another man.

"What do you know about a minor noblewoman from the Stormlands?" Aemond's voice dripped with mockery as he kept his sword poised above the woman's head.

The woman met his gaze squarely, her expression unwavering. "More than you think," she replied, her tone devoid of fear or hesitation.

Aemond lowered his sword, a mixture of curiosity and disdain evident in his demeanor. "So you know of her? What use is that to me?" He queried, tilting his head in disbelief. "Are you so desperate that you resort to pleading through my childhood connections?"

Kneeling down, Aemond leaned in close to the woman's face, his sneer evident. "You know nothing, you stupid whore," he spat out contemptuously.

But the woman remained composed, her eyebrows arching slightly as she held his gaze. "I know you want her. And I can help you obtain her," she stated calmly.

Aemond's past with Maera flashed before his eyes at the woman’s words, causing him to feel a pang of longing mixed with discomfort. The moments of laughter, camaraderie, and shared adventures seemed like distant echoes from another lifetime, impossible to grasp in the harsh reality of the present. It was unsettling to glimpse his old self in those memories, a stark contrast to the ruthless and hardened man he had become.

The woman’s assumption that he desired Maera was met with incredulity from Aemond. How could she be so delusional, especially now that Maera's reputation had been tarnished? Yet, despite his efforts to push aside any lingering feelings, he couldn't deny the tug he still felt at the mention of Maera's name. It was as if a tether bound them together, pulling taut in her absence and refusing to release its grip on his thoughts.

In his mind, Aemond resolved to entertain the witch for a moment longer before exacting his vengeance. Perhaps torture would be a fitting punishment for a woman who dared to presume such audacity. With a cold determination, Aemond straightened up and turned to the guards. "Bind her and bring her inside," he commanded, his decision made as intrigue mingled with skepticism in his gaze.

The room where Aemond and the woman sat was small and unadorned, a far cry from the opulence of his quarters in the Red Keep. Dimly lit by the flickering flames of the hearth and the muted daylight filtering through a lone window, the atmosphere was somber and oppressive.

Seated opposite the woman, Aemond exuded an air of quiet menace as he twirled his dagger skillfully in his hand, the glint of the metal casting eerie shadows across the room. His one-eyed gaze bore into her, cold and calculating, as he prepared to extract whatever information she possessed.The woman, bound by metal handcuffs, sat hunched and disheveled, her simple green dress torn and stained with mud and blood from her rough handling by the guards.

Despite her predicament, there was a defiant glint in her eyes as she met Aemond's smirk with a steely resolve as she revealed who, and what, she was.

"A witch?" Aemond chuckled incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. "Gods, you are not a seer if you think pretty spells or appeals to my caring nature will sway me. I assure you, I possess no such thing."

Alys met his gaze with a cold stare, unflinching in the face of his skepticism. "A caring nature, perhaps not," she remarked icily, her tone cutting. "Especially considering the slaughter you've wrought here today.” She then paused, tilting her head. “And young Prince Lucerys."

The cocky smirk on the Prince’s face vanished, contorting into a frown of frustration and suspicion. How could she have learned of it so quickly? The possibility of a fast raven seemed improbable, given the remote location of Harrenhall and the lack of urgency in disseminating such information.

"But you have a heart, and it belongs to her," Alys continued, a sly smile playing on her lips as she knew the Prince was aware to whom she was referring. "And you hate yourself for it."

The mocking tone in her voice irked Aemond, prompting him to lean forward, his grip tightening on her shackles as he pressed the tip of his dagger against her throat. How dare a lowly whore, a bastard no less, mock him? The ridiculous insinuation that he was driven by feelings for his childhood friend Maera, feelings he adamantly denied possessing, caused Aemond’s rage to boil over.

"Thus far, you have said nothing of use," he sneered, applying pressure until a bead of blood trickled down. “And your tongue will be the next thing I take, before your head.”

Alys winced at the pain but remained defiant, her cat-like eyes locked with Aemond's as she spoke through gritted teeth. "Dragon fire melts the steel to bridge the gap between sky and sea."

Aemond’s single eye widened slightly, and he lowered the blade from her throat. The words struck a chord deep within him, stirring memories he had long tried to bury.

“The words of your sister, the Queen, are they not?” The witch asked him in a confident tone. The Prince vividly remembered the moment Helaena had spoken those exact words to him, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty as he escorted her down the aisle on her wedding day. It was a private moment, shared between siblings amidst the grandeur of the ceremony.

How could Alys have known those words? They were spoken in the hushed intimacy of the Great Sept, far from prying ears. The distance between them and the echoing music should have rendered them unheard by anyone else. Yet here was Alys, repeating them as if she had been there that day, standing right beside them. A sense of unease settled over Aemond as he contemplated this unsettling revelation, his mind racing with questions and suspicions.

The Prince’s anger and frustration simmered beneath the surface as he grappled with the mystery of how Alys had such intimate knowledge of his past. With a firm shove, he released her from his grip, pushing her back into her chair, but keeping his dagger pointed at her as a silent warning.

As Alys exhaled a breath shakily, Aemond observed the dance of light from the hearth across her face, casting her features in an ominous glow. Despite her apparent calm demeanor, he sensed a tension lingering in the air, a palpable unease that matched his own. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and veiled threats. Aemond's mind raced, searching for any logical explanation, any clue that could unravel the enigma before him.

Alys cleared her throat before speaking, her tone confident yet oddly soothing. “I understand that mere words of prophecy may not be enough to earn your trust, Prince Aemond,” she began, her eyes locking with his. “So, allow me to offer you a gift—a demonstration of my power, if you will.”

The Prince couldn’t help but scoff at her words, his fingers idly toying with the hilt of his dagger. “And what could you possibly offer a Prince of the Realm?”

A knowing smirk danced across Alys’s lips as she leaned forward slightly. “On the eleventh day of the sixth moon, the Jewel of Rainwood will await you in the Keep gardens,” she declared, her voice carrying an air of certainty. “I simply ask you to go and see for yourself.”

Aemond’s gaze drifted downward as he pondered her proposition. Could it be possible that Maera would be waiting for him there? The thought both excited and unsettled him, stirring emotions he had long tried to suppress. Yet, he remained wary, hesitant to believe the witch’s claims without proof. Sensing his inner conflict, Alys continued to press her case, her words calculated to appeal to his doubts. “I will await your return in the dungeons. If I am deceiving you, you may take my head. But if I speak the truth, you will allow me to serve you.”

Aemond glanced up, meeting her gaze once more, his expression guarded yet contemplative. The prospect of uncovering the truth about Maera’s presence in the Keep gardens was too tempting to ignore, but he knew he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. The Prince regarded her with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “And why would you wish to serve a man who moments ago was prepared to take your head?”

Alys's response was simple yet cryptic. “Because it is part of the Gods' divine plan, my Prince,” she replied, her tone laden with conviction.

Aemond's decision to humor the supposed witch and entertain her claims was born out of a need for answers and a flicker of curiosity that refused to be extinguished. He knew that once order was restored in Harrenhall, he would have to return to King's Landing anyway. What harm would it cause to check if Maera was actually there?

With a curt nod, he signaled his tentative agreement, though his mistrust lingered beneath the surface. As the soldiers entered, Aemond ordered the witch to be imprisoned under strict observation whilst he worked on bringing order back to the castle and nearby town.

In the weeks that followed, the one-eyed Prince busied himself in rebuilding and fortifying Harrenhal, anticipating the looming conflict between the Blacks and the Greens. Stone masons were commissioned to repair the ancient walls, and additional guards and experienced commanders were stationed within the fortress to ensure its defense. He hoped that he would prove himself to be not only a ruthless Prince, but an adept one.

Weeks later, before his departure for Kings Landing, Aemond descended into the cold, stone dungeons to visit Alys. The dim torchlight cast eerie shadows across the damp walls as he approached her cell. Despite being the one to confine her, Alys greeted him with a drawn expression, yet she still managed a smile as she curtsied to the Prince. Aemond observed her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, wondering what secrets she might hold, and how they might serve his own ambitions.

“The executioner’s block should be dried out by the time I return,” the Prince declared teasingly from the outside of the cell. “I hope for your sake that your blood need not be spilled when I come back.”

The witch did not seem intimidated, nor shaken by his words. Instead, she simply smiled. “I look forward to your return, my Prince.”

Notes: so, here is Aemond’s first meeting with the witch of Harrenhall. Stay tuned 🖤

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

#maera wylde #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #chapters #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #house wylde #hotd helaena #house of the dragon season 2 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #alys rivers

[ratlivesonblog]

I wonder why sans does battle us if we even spare one monster. And i don't think it's because of the promise, he doesn't kill us at the start because of it. But later on? When we wiped all his friends?

I truly don't know if its because he adapted papyrus mindset and thinks people can be better. Because even in one neutral ending he tells you that you could do better(even if i really think he was being sarcastic or something) so maybe he has that mindset but in a more passive way and still has some hope to get out. That is, despite him saying he lost hope long ago in the geno route. But we are unsure how long long ago is since it's a pretty relative term.

Or maybe is it because of Chara's influence? They are clearly driven by our actions but even if we reach 19 exp and go to him, he does not battle us, unless we are locked in a geno route. Which i find very odd because does that mean there's a connection? Is he truly so lazy? Does he think there's still some hope? Does he want us to kill him? Why the fuck does a bleed?

A lot of facts make his character intresting and unique. Like he is aware of the timelines and likely he may even remember them (es, secret secret word, expression on your face) but it is untrue wheatear he is fucking with us just to not make us sure. He very likely comes from another world (in geno he says he lost hope to go back and ALSO the surface doesn't appeal anymore) along with papyrus, we're not sure if that world is deltarune, but he is the only character there with no differences from his ut sprite.

He has a strange lab behind his house and a photo with people we don't recognize.

Why is he the only one using karmik retribution(KARMA) in a fight? How is he able to make our invincibility last nothing? Is it really possibile that it would've been his turn forever had he not fallen asleep?

Why the fuck does he bleed?

Gaster blaster, W. D. Gaster, the man who speaks in hands, 17th lab record, both fonts, both scientists.

Who's this "our" You're talking about when saying our records showed a massive anomaly in the time-space continuum. You and alphys? Yours and gaster? Yours and papyrus? Asgore since he seems to know about it?

Why do you BLEED BLOOD. WHY DO YOU DUST OFF SCREEN?? DO YOU EVEN DUST??

His whole character is full of jokes but in reality he is a space-time bending nerd who got stuck in an infinite loop he is aware of being in, he became so self-deprecating and a apathetic he manages to not care, he doesn't act or stop you from doing anything even if you kill his brother. He is spiteful about it but won't do anything. He judges you but won't do anything, can't do anything? He holds his promises really near his heart. He probably lies a good amount. When he does something to stop you is because you threaten to erase the fucking world. And he dies only because you fucking cheated. He managed to dodge your knife even while asleep. We shouldn't have been able to double slash.

He cares a lot about his brother yet he doesn't stop us from doing anything, only judges it for us. Not even mentioning it a lot of times. He steps down to an apathetic leven where he probably only feels emptiness and sometiems spite at the loss of papyrus. In neutral endings he keeps living on without him.

His letterbox is full.

Flowey says if we let him know anything about us it will not end well in taht timeline. Yet he didn't kill us sooner because of a promise.

Why does he care so much about a promise from a lady behind the doors? Is it because he trusts her/her judgement 7?

IS IT KETCHUP? DOES HE BLEED FUCKING KETCHUP??

#Sans #sans undertale #Undertale #veo's rambles #analysis #Kind of a bad one though

[mischiefandmedicine]

Very Full - Chapter 1: Confrontation at the End of Time

Summary: At the end of time, Loki, guardian of the multiverse, is confronted by Saoirse, his daughter, who seeks answers and retribution for her mother's absence. Their tense encounter reveals a deep well of shared pain and unspoken history, hinting at sacrifices made for greater purposes. Overwhelmed by the truth, Saoirse's anger gives way to a vulnerable quest for understanding as Loki prepares to unveil their story.

Word Count: 2,372 words.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, a hint of someone having died.

A/N: Bear with me as I get used to how I want to lay everything out. This is my first fan-fiction and I loved this story idea. I have a Spotify playlist that acts like a soundtrack for this entire story. For each posted chapter, I'll share a link to songs that I listened to and/or were referenced in each chapter. Enjoy!

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Inspirational Music: Can't Fight the Moonlight

---

Previous: Prologue

___

Chapter 1 - Confrontation at the End of Time

In the vast expanse at the end of time, where timelines converged, and infinite possibilities shimmered like echoes of forgotten moments, Loki sat upon a grand throne of his own making. The luminous emerald-colored threads of the multiverse danced around him, woven together in a breathtaking display reminiscent of Yggdrasil, the world tree, all with Loki as the powerful epicenter. His gaze, usually calm and all-seeing, rested upon the glowing strands that danced around him.

            The weight of his existence bore heavily into him. Loki was not the ruler of a once-proud Asgard floating among the stars. He was not the ruler of the nine realms. He had not replaced Odin as king. He was no longer the god of mischief. He was something else and now he sat on his gilded throne, countless timelines in his grasp. They all breathed because of him…because of his sacrifice.

            A subtle longing tugged at the edge of his consciousness, a wistful yearning for connections that once illuminated the recesses of his solitary existence. Memories of love, both found and lost, dance like wisps in the cosmic winds, leaving a lingering ache in the depths of his being. Thoughts of Sylvie, Mobius, and other intriguing friends he had left behind, hovered over him like distant constellations across the sky at the end of time – remnants of bonds forged amidst the tumultuous symphony of his life. Their faces were etched in the mosaic of his recollections, evoking a bittersweet blend of camaraderie and longing.

This was his burden to bear and his alone. For all time.

Loki had carried the weight of his loneliness letting the time pass ensuring the timelines were stable just long enough to give the Time Variance Authority time to achieve what it needed to. But there was no expiration date on these duties. He would remain, lost amongst the emerald-glowing strands, for as long as the multiverse needed him.

            As he contemplated the harmonious chaos before him, a sudden disruption jolted the tranquility. In the distance, Loki could make out a figure, cloaked in shadow and mystery, appearing at the gangway leading to his throne. The hooded silhouette emerged, standing resolute, yet shrouded in obscurity. A voice, tinged with a mix of determination and haunting familiarity, echoed across the boundless emptiness.

            “I am Saoirse of Midgard,” the figure proclaimed, their voice carrying an all-too-familiar power and rage, “and I am here to avenge my mother…and myself.” These words held a cadence that mirrored Loki’s own epithets as he had arrived on Earth to claim the Tesseract. This unexpected arrival, however, resonated with its own sense of purpose and determination.

            The former god of mischief, with his piercing gaze that twisted with intrigue and an inkling of recognition, looked upon the cloaked figure stoically. He did not speak but watched the figure through narrowed eyes as its form remained obscured by the depths of its cloak. For a moment, the silence between them seemed to echo across the infinite expanse that was the end of time.

            Loki, ever the master of words and wit, parted his lips to respond, but the charged atmosphere lingered, pregnant with the reticent turmoil of their intertwined destinies. The impassioned plea reverberated in his ears, a fervent cry seeking recognition from the god perched on the throne.

            In the cavernous expanse where time’s echoes converged, Saoirse’s impatience and rage swirled like tempestuous winds in the silence. The lack of response from Loki ignited a fierce blaze within her, stoking the flames of indignation and uncertainty. Her resolve wavered not; instead, it solidified into an unyielding determination as she flung off her cloak, long black wavy hair draped around her shoulders, held out of her face by a single, solid gold headband.

            “Say something, asshole!” Her voice was laden with raw fury and pain as it boomed across the celestial chasm, punctuating the vast emptiness with a desperate plea. The powers she wielded came with the vocal projection, a manifestation of the strength it took to find Loki and bring herself here to the end of time. Loki himself remained quiet, his gaze unwavering, veiled behind a mask of inscrutable calm, yet he scrunched his nose playfully at the sound of the insult thrown at him.

            In a moment that shattered the stillness and infinite space between them, a manifestation hurtled through the expanse. Down on the gangway where Saoirse stood, a projection materialized – a mirrored image of Loki – crafted from the essence of his cosmic presence. This apparition mirrored his countenance and mannerisms, a visage brought forth from the depths of his consciousness to address Saoirse’s impassioned call.

            Though Loki, in his corporeal form, remained perched on his sparkling throne, he maintained an air of whimsical defiance, an enigmatic smile splayed across his lips. His silence, a calculated choice, teased at the depths of his cosmic power and the intrigue that coursed through his perplexing persona.

            “Asshole? Really, Saoirse?” the projected image of Loki intoned, his voice a melodic blend of playfulness and veiled confrontation. “Impatience does not suit you…daughter.”

            Saoirse’s furious gaze met the illusionary Loki’s, her eyes widening in a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of recognition. The word “daughter” hung heavily in the air as the various glowing emerald strands of timelines floated past the pair.

            “Don’t you dare call me that!” she shouted past the projection towards the corporeal Loki seated on the throne.

            The Loki projection maintained a serene yet arrogant countenance about him amidst the brewing storm. “You seek me out, yet deny what you might be,” he teased, the gleam in his eyes hinting at a cryptic knowledge.

            Frustration etched deeply into Saoirse’s features as she seethed with unresolved emotions. She stood nearly as tall as her father, so she could stare his projection down, eye to eye, reflecting the pain that tore into her as she searched for some semblance of regret in his eyes. “I came here for answers, not games!” she shouted angrily, voice quivering with a potent mix of longing and resentment.

            “Answers?” the projection raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side before continuing. “But do you truly desire them, or are you merely seeking a mirror to reflect your anger?”

            Her patience waning, Saoirse’s anger surged forth, fueled by years of the void that her mother’s absence had created. “I want to know why you left her! Why you abandoned us?!” Her voice cracked with the anguished accusation, the tremor betraying the depth of her emotional turmoil.

            The projection of Loki regarded her with an eerie calm. “Blaming me won’t bring her back,” he countered, his voice nearly at a whisper.

            “Your actions, rather, the lack thereof…they led to her death!” Saoirse fought back tears as she fought through the words she had come all this way to say. “In all your infinite power, how could you just let her die like that?!”

            Loki remained speechless, unable to find the words to quiet his daughter as she stood before him, long black hair flowing down her back, framing her face. She was, no doubt, his daughter. The anguish and pent-up rage that surged from within were caused by a father who had seemingly all but cast her aside. As he studied Saoirse’s face, Loki could not help but think that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother; the thought of whom pulled the playful smirk from his face, softening his gaze.

He thought of the movie reel Mobius had shown him of what would become of his own life had he continued along the sacred timeline. All the lives he had destroyed and the Loki he had been when trying to take New York as his own. He did not want that life for his daughter but could not possibly tell her of all he had sacrificed for the sake of the greatness that she could become. He had changed from the angry tyrant demanding his subjects kneel before him. He was something else now that he had taken on the responsibility of keeping the timelines alive.

Saoirse’s anger broke Loki from his thoughts as she materialized a pair of long, thin bronzed blades in her hands in a flash of purple light. “Give me answers, Loki, or I will take them by force!”

As she wielded her blades, her eyes flashing with determination, the tension between them escalated once again. Her blades crackled with energy, eyes reflecting a storm of emotions surging within her. The projection of Loki observed her with a blend of intrigue and caution, a veil of godly poise masking the concealed complexity of his intentions as a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. Pride surged within Loki, a silent acknowledgment of his daughter’s innate strength and proficiency in the mystical arts. But with that sense of pride came a father’s pained recognition of her anguish.

“Saoirse,” Loki began, his voice soft and arms outstretched as if attempting to calm a lion ready to pounce upon its prey. He sought to bridge the chasm between them. “I understand your anger, your pain. But there are truths that remain buried within the complexities of duty and sacrifice.”

“You had a duty to her! To me!” She yelled. “What about that?”

Loki paused, gathering his thoughts amidst the tumult of emotions. His posture sank as he thought of the words that would calm the daughter standing before him ready to take his head off with the gorgeous blades she had conjured for herself. That is, if it were his corporeal self standing before her.

            “You wield your powers with the grace and strength of Asgardian lineage, your grandparents would be so proud,” Loki intoned. Sensing that Saoirse was rightfully losing the limited patience that she had brought with her to the end of time, he continued, “Your mother lives within you.”

            “Oh, yawn!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re going to tell me that I remind you of her and that I should be satisfied with that. None of that changes that she’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

            “Daughter,” Loki’s voice held a gentle plea, tinged with regret and a profound longing to ease her pain. “Your mother’s absence is a wound that cuts deeply, a void that cannot be easily filled.”

            He paused, the weight of her accusation heavy upon him. “I cannot erase the pain of your loss, nor absolve myself of the burden that my duties thrust upon us.”

            Saoirse’s face pinched into a scowl upon hearing Loki’s words. His expression softened, a paternal yearning beneath a mask of composure. He was, after all, a god with a purpose. “I do not expect you to find solace in vague resemblances or platitudes. Your anguish is valid and your anger justified.”

            Loki’s projection, an echo of his essence, bore the weight of remorse as it showed on his face. “I sought to protect what remains of our fractured existence, sacrificing what I held dear. But it was not a choice I made lightly, nor one I made without sorrow.”

            A quiet desperation colored his voice, looking at Saoirse with a depth of sorrow mirrored in his eyes. “Know that you are not alone in your pain. I may not have all the answers, but I am here, Saoirse.”

            With the sound of her name falling from Loki’s lips, Saoirse collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the blades she once wielded clanged to the gangway floor. The Loki apparition knelt to look his daughter in the eyes, tears forming in his own eyes as he watched her sob. “Tell me, daughter, what do you know of your mother and me?”

            Saoirse took a moment to gather her words before snarling back at Loki, “All I know that she loved you more than anything but neither she nor I were enough for you to stick around.”

            Loki’s face fell. “She didn’t tell you anything about us?”

            “She didn’t have to, Loki. I learned enough from everyone else around me. Loki of Asgard who was burdened with glorious purpose. Loki who rained chaos upon New York. Loki who disappeared with the Tesseract! Am I getting every detail?!” she inched closer to his projection, fire and rage growing within as she continued. “Loki who reappeared years later to con my mother into sleeping with him only for him to disappear when she needed him the most. What good is all this power if you could not use it to save or even be with the one woman who was supposed to be everything to you?”

            Each and every one of Saoirse’s words stung Loki as she shouted them into the endless void. The Loki projection spun on his heels as if to look up at the corporeal Loki who sat upon the throne, infinite timelines in hand, disappearing with a neon green glow. God Loki looked down upon his daughter, tears forming in his eyes. He longed to comfort his daughter, his flesh and blood.

            In a flash of lightning, god Loki used nearly every ounce of magic within him to wrap himself in a tapestry woven together with the strands of time, carrying himself down to the gangway in labored steps until he reached his daughter. Loki, god of the throne at the end of time, keeper of the timelines took Saoirse’s hand, gesturing for her to stand. As she rose, Loki whispered with a single tear falling, “My dear daughter, you don’t know anything.”

            “What don’t I know, Loki?” Saoirse sneered through gritted teeth.

            Loki removed his crown and gestured to a pair of velvet green armchairs he had conjured behind her. “This is going to be a long one. Shall I pour us some tea?”

            “Keep it, I need something stronger than tea,”Saoirse scoffed at the offer.

Saoirse turned to take a seat as Loki wordlessly gestured towards the chairs once more. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

            “I do hear they call me the god of stories on some of the timelines,” Loki said with a smirk to lighten the mood. “This story – the story of your mother and me – it is the best one of all.”

#loki #loki series #loki laufeyson #loki season 2 #loki mcu #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki imagine

[ourobororos]

RAINBOW ROCKET: RETRIBUTION AU

it has occured to me that i havent really explained my whole au well enough like in a contained post SORRY IF THINGS ARE CONFUSING! i talk about it a lot. this post will serve as a summary of everything with some links lol ill try to organize things better one day

Rainbow Rocket: Retribution (RR Retribution for short. RRR?) is a rainbow rocket au i made in which most of the bosses have been basically supernaturally or cosmically Fucked Up and cursed for their hubris! giovanni and ghetsis have joined to form rainbow rocket in secrecy after the failure of both of their previous missions, and with assistance from colress and the aether foundation they have used wormhole technology to locate timelines containing the leaders of other (once) powerful criminal organizations- with unusual supernatural power sources! if a new team is formed uniting all these evil guys with cool powers, they can take over the world easy peasy! right? well everyone sucks and is a loser and they all hate each other so no. it sure is funny though

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF EACH BOSS BELOW THE CUT !! this might be a long ass post ill try to keep it brief

GIOVANNI: there he is theres our guy <3 a year or so prior to the formation of RR, team rocket had recaptured mewtwo and was being used in experiments to calculate its psychic power and to possibly extract it and transfer it to other organisms- giovanni wanted that power for himself, to see if it was possible to make himself as strong as mewtwo, so after lots of tests his brain was connected to mewtwo and the experiment went underway- it also went really badly. mewtwo overworked the circuitry and broke free, escaping the hidden rocket facility and blowing a lot of it up in the process! gio survived but was in a brief coma he was preddy badly injured by the shrapnel and like. the psychic powers. hes fine though AND he has some of those abilities himself now! some of his motor abilities were impaired and getting around is harder so he uses a cane, but now he has telekinesis and other cool psychic powers- he has his limits though, and gets killer migraines... and his lifespan was halved. oops

MAXIE: in another timeline, maxie had woken groudon with the red orb and it underwent primal reversion- however it refused to listen to his commands and went berserk, causing mt. chimney to erupt and the cavern to be destroyed and flooded with lava- killing maxie and anyone else in the vicinity. groudon was eventually quelled by may ofc, but maxie’s body fused with the red orb and came back to ‘life’, fully powered by the orb’s essence and essentially undead. his body temperature is hundreds of degrees and rises with his temper, and he can raise the temperature of things in his vicinity at will- he’s potentially very dangerous. he spent months in hiding, frustrated and regretful of everything that happened- and later when hes dragged into a wormhole and into rr headquarters, it does not get any better.

ARCHIE: in a different timeline, but coincidentally the same situation as maxie wow! kyogre was woken with the blue orb, went primal and flooded/destroyed the seafloor cavern and everything around it in a horrible storm, flooding sootopolis. archie and others present were swept up and killed in the waves, but archie’s body fused with the blue orb and he woke up in the aftermath undead and able to breathe underwater. he can manipulate water around him and even make its temperature drop to a freezing point, and can swim crazy fast. if he goes too long without swimming or being in water, he dries out a little! for some time he was hiding in the seas of hoenn, feeling so much guilt and grief for the destruction and deaths he caused- but like maxie, hes then dragged into another timeline with a bunch of other insane ppl lol

CYRUS: after the events of platinum, cyrus was trapped in the distortion world for years on end and essentially lost his mind, giratina saved his life and decided to make a deal with him- giratina would send cyrus back to his world, but essentially taking giratina along with him in his body and serving as a vessel for this god to reside in (giratina can’t have a physical form in the main reality unless it has the griseous orb, in which it becomes the altered forme- its goal is to make cyrus search for said orb so it can exist on this plane and not rely on cyrus as a host anymore) cyrus returns to his normal timeline for a while post spear pillar, exhausted trying to readjust to gravity and time flow AND housing a powerful god in his mortal body as they are bound together by the red chain. cyrus himself has no powers, but when in sync with giratina it can use its abilities through him- phasing through objects and walls, phasing into shadows and reflections to hide for brief periods, distorting reality around him... it takes a lot out of cyrus though, the intense pressure and presence of an incomprehensible god makes his eyes and nose bleed and wipes him out quickly. after a year of searching alone for the griseous orb, he is taken into the RR timeline with the other bosses... unfortunately.

GHETSIS: ghetsis is... actually the only one with no powers LOL he and giovanni are also the only ones from the base timeline! after losing to 10 year olds twice in unova, ghetsis is on his own with no team ... and travels to johto to find team rocket and strike a deal with giovanni to unite and form a bigger, better team (and to eventually take it over himself and control everything and take over the world bc its ghetsis) giovanni does agree so he works as the second in command and oversees a lot of the process of bringing all the bosses over and all that other stuff... also hes got a whole new team of rlly strong pokemon AND ALSO he trained a lot on his own to be a really good swordsman. dont fuck with ghetsis if you value your life

LYSANDRE: lysandre comes from a timeline of the events of x, where the ultimate weapon is powered by xerneas’ life essence and ends up destroying both itself and the entire flare hq. not many in the hq were able to escape in time, and most were killed by the crushing debris- lysandre himself as well, but due to being directly connected to the ultimate weapon and xerneas’ powers of life, it revived him to a state of not-quite-living but not-quite-dead. he now has the ability to harness the life energy of other organisms, mostly effective on other people, and can sap their energy to refuel himself. he can do it in concentrated powerful bursts and wipe out multiple people, but even in a relaxed state he is constantly slowly siphoning life force from those around him. as the only ‘survivor’ of the flare hq incident, and seeing so much death and destruction by his own hand, he strongly regrets his actions and wandered the empty corpse of the flare hq like a ghost... before being taken to the RR timeline with the others eventually </3

COLRESS: colress is an honorary member, not quite a boss but the lead scientist- hes in charge of testing all the bosses and putting them through experimental procedures (which most of them hate bc they are Not Fun) but its for science!! its fine... pushing them to their physical and mental limits is fine its finding their true power!! its fine

there is a general plot that happens, involving several of the members secretly working against RR with outside help to take the operation down from the inside. it is not easy though. lots of funny and fucked up things ensue but the main thing is everyone fighting all the time LOL hope all of this makes sense *bows*

#rr retribution au #this will be my new pinned post sorry saturn smoking a fat dart #pkmn #pokemon #rainbow rocket #im not giving this a million tags TBH itll show up in enough searches

[serharwinbreakmybones]

hold me like we're going home pt 3

first part here second part here

Summary: He hates that it takes him looking around the room at these people who are supposed to be adults, who are supposed to care, to realise that if they don't look after eachother then no one will. It's why he doesn't deny it when Aemond names him as the one who spread 'rumors' of their dear sister's boys being bastards. It's why he only nods at Aemond when no one is looking and takes the blame that would have been aimed at him. It's why he slips into Aemond's room after his mother and the maester have taken their leave and stays awake all night as a guard.

or, Aegon has spent most of his life running away from the responsibilities he never asked for, and too long hurting the people that he should be standing united with. It takes a loss of an eye to wake him up.

Pairings: Aemond x Aegon, minor platonic side pairings included.

Trigger warnings: None, will update if any become needed.

Side note, everyone's ages and certain events have been altered on the timeline for this, so aside from the first part, everyone is several years older.

Chapter Text

“I don’t want to marry Helaena,” Aegon says, laying back on the grass and staring up at the trees above them. The light filters down through the leaves, casting alternating shadows and pools of golden light across the grass, and when Aegon turns his head to look at him, just for a second, he almost looks like one of the characters in Helaena’s romance stories, especially with the gold catching in his hair and turning it into spun gold. Aemond looks away, back down to the book in his lap, before he can be caught staring, ignoring the heat that flares in his face. Nothing on the page catches his interest, but it’s better than being backed into talking about why he’s already looking whenever Aegon glances at him.

This isn’t the first time Aegon has said something like this. They’d had a similar conversation at Driftmark the day Aemond lost his eye, but it had been more scornful then, as if the ridiculous part wasn’t that he was expected to marry at all but that he was expected to marry Helaena, of all people. Now, Aegon just sounds tired. It’s not just Aemond that Aegon has been trying to make amends to, he’s noticed all the things Aegon has been doing to make up for how he treated all of them over the years, not just him. It’s easier with Helaena. She’s always been the most forgiving out of all of them, except for maybe Daeron, who is still easily placated with toys and trinkets.

“I don’t want to be King either, no matter what mother says,” Aegon continues, and if they weren’t away from the city, the same place that they always visit when they need to get away from the suffocating tediousness of the court, Aemond would have already told him to keep his thoughts about it to himself. Three years ago, they’d been in this same spot when they’d told each other about the dreams they’d had, the things they had seen, and it’s become something of a sanctuary ever since. Something just for the two of them. “I would make a horrible king, everyone knows it. Yet she would put the crown on my head just to save herself from the consequences of publicly denouncing Rhaenyra’s brood. As if I’m nothing more than a safeguard for her to keep her head firmly on her shoulders.”

It used to bother him, the disregard in Aegon’s voice whenever he spoke of their mother, but it’s been a long time since he bothered trying to rein it in. Aemond has seen the bruises that bloom whenever Aegon is ordered into a private audience with their mother, the redness of his eyes for hours afterwards, the way he flinches if anyone moves too fast around him. He hasn’t seen it happen for himself, not yet, but he knows what it all means. He hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. When his eye had been taken from him, she had been the only one to insist that the act deserved retribution, she had attempted to do the deed herself, no one else had taken his side so completely. At least not until Aegon had found him hours later. She loves them, he knows. She must, or she wouldn’t be so worried about them, she would’ve cast them aside years ago like their father had, but as he grows older he understands more and more that her love didn’t make her a good person, or a good mother.

“Helaena will make a good wife, and a good mother.” It isn’t what Aemond wants to say, not truly, but it’s what he says anyway. It’s not a lie, she would make a good wife, and when the time comes Aemond knows she will make an excellent mother. He’s even almost gotten over the jealousy that fills him when he thinks about it, or so he likes to tell himself. Truthfully, the thought of the wedding that will take place once Helaena comes of age makes him feel like he’s going to either scream or lose his mind entirely. He does neither and keeps how he feels about it locked inside his chest, determined never to let anyone see it.

“If that’s what I wanted, I could find that anywhere. That isn’t what I mean,” Aegon huffs, pulling a handful of grass out of the ground roughly, strands of green poking through his closed fist. They flutter down to the ground in the wind when he opens his hand like falling leaves, and for a moment neither of them speak as they watch.

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to do something more than live out the life that mother and grandfather have decided for us? Something you’ve never told anyone else, something you’d like to do for you and not someone else.”

Yes, “No,” Aemond carefully turns a page in the book, though he doesn’t register anything on the paper as he does. He’s already read this one before, yet another recollection of the histories of their House, but he cannot for the life of him remember what it says right now. Not with Aegon leaning up and staring at him, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. It’s a side effect of the not drinking, it has to be, because Aegon was never this observant before. Or maybe he was and just never bothered doing anything with the things he saw that most others would miss.

“You’re lying. Come on, little brother, what have you always wanted to do but wouldn’t dare? Run away? Fly away to Essos and live the rest of your life as a member of the Golden Company? Brave the ruins of Valyria? Wait, I know. There’s someone you have your eye on, but you’ve talked yourself into thinking they won’t want anything to do with you.”

It hits uncomfortably close to the truth. Aemond hasn’t told anyone, not even Helaena, but he’s sure that she knows something about it, if the knowing looks she gives him across the dinner table is any indication. Still, they’ve never talked about it, and if the Gods are merciful in any way, they never will.

“I’m the second son,” Aemond says, as evenly as he can, “I might not have the expectations on me as you do, but it doesn’t mean I get much of a choice in-“

Aegon flops back on the grass with a groan, cutting off the same rehearsed speech Aemond has been giving for years whenever Aegon tried to start this conversation. He can’t tell the truth, and so he sticks to the facts. When he marries, if he marries, it will be for a political advantage, not because he wants to. His future marriage, if there is one, will be used to strengthen alliances or ensure loyalty, and any feelings Aemond might have about it won’t matter even a bit. Yet another way their mother has shown her hypocrisy.

“You tell me, then. What would you do, if you had the chance to do anything?”

“Run away,” Aegon says without hesitation. “Somewhere far away where no one has ever even heard of King’s Landing. I could live the rest of my life without anyone looking at me like they know who I am, and no one would be around to tell me what I can and can’t do. No crowns, or weddings, or anything I didn’t want to do. Just me and Sunfyre.”

Aemond doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. He can’t say he doesn’t understand. Aegon has been talking about leaving for years, but for now, at least, he’s never gone through with his grand plans. Aemond just doesn’t know if he stays because he would miss them, or if he stays because he knows the cloaks would find him if he tried. He’d like to think it’s because Aegon wouldn’t leave them, but part of him still doesn’t believe that this new version of his brother isn’t just some elaborate, grand joke.

“I would come back to visit, of course, I couldn’t leave you all to deal with mother and grandfather alone.”

“Of course,” Aemond echoes, and stands up abruptly, crossing the clearing to the stream in the far corner. It’s as good an excuse as any, refilling the water pitcher, and it means that Aegon cannot see his face with his back turned and his hair making a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Of course, it doesn’t matter anyway, because Aegon follows behind him like a shadow, and it’s hard to escape him when he drapes himself over Aemond’s back like a cloak.

“So, when are you going to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t.” Lie. But it’s not his fault. He can’t exactly admit the real reason, and he has no desire to hear the scorn that would be aimed in his direction if he said it out loud.

“You have.”

“Can we not do this?”

When he turns around, Aegon is still right there, and it shouldn’t be amusing that Aegon now has to tilt his head back to look up at him properly but it is. For a second, they just stand there staring at each other, and he’s surely just imagining the way Aegon’s eyes flick down to his lips. Right?

“I think we should. You’re always so repressed, it’s not healthy, little brother, you’ll turn yourself into diamonds if you put yourself under so much pressure,” Aegon grins at him, taking a half step closer, and Aemond clutches the pitcher of water to his chest like a lifeline before he catches himself and lowers it, taking a step back.

Aegon matches him step for step, he really should have expected that, and soon enough he finds himself with Sunfyre warm at his back, Aegon in front of him watching him with sharp eyes, face set into something more serious now. Long gone are the days when Aemond was afraid of anything, and he’s never been nervous of much since he got better with his sword work, so he really has no other excuse for why he breathes in shakily now except the proximity. He hasn’t been scared of anything Aegon could do to him since the night they made the promise to each other to look after the other, so he can’t fall back on that excuse either.

“You look nervous, Aem. Want to tell me why?”

“I’m not nervous.” Damn the shakiness of his voice. The soft fingers on the sides of his face don’t help, especially when a thumb starts to brush along the bottom of the scar that snakes down his cheek. He’ll deny the way he turns his head and sighs for the rest of his days.

“Then tell me the truth. Haven’t you ever wanted to just take what you wanted, damn the consequences?”

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x aegon #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #this is a repost from my ao3 under a different name #hotd aegon #hotd aemond #canon aegon doesn't exist to me idk him

[dairugger]

1 and/or 18 and/or 22 for the choose violence ask game cute emoji

i'm indulging so you get answers for both aa and ze. thank you grace you know how i love to complain about shit being underrated

1 - the character everyone gets wrong

i'm deadly serious when i say i've never seen a diehard klavier fan who grasped his character as written in canon. his black-and-white sense of morality makes him SO disloyal and unintentionally leads to him having a lot of interesting flaws wrt how he perceives guilt and innocence, esp in situations like turnabout serenade. the game doesn't really go anywhere with it tho which i think is why people miss it. but i think it's a really underexplored character flaw of his and honestly a lot more interesting than "lonely because he's famous" lol

it's not that people are wrong about clover per se, but i feel it's pretty rare that she's given the same depth afforded a lot of other characters, despite the fact that she - along with her friendship with junpei - is like, the pivotal difference between a lot of the ends. clover figuring things out kind of changes the whole course of the game and i feel like she tends to be portrayed as either straightforwardly bubbly or, you know, axe end. which i feel does her a disservice as a genuinely kind, somewhat timid person who's terrified and in a desperate situation. i think her tendency in both games she's in to cling to and try to follow along with the one person she knows says a lot about her as a person

18 - it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

apollo and ema have like the funniest workplace dynamic and the game does quite a bit to insinuate that they're friends by the end of aa4 and i like. never see content about this because it doesn't fit neatly into either "ship" or "siblings." like they're work besties this is such an essential type of relationship to have in your 20s and YET all the good work besties dynamics like this are SLEPT ON!!!! sorry i will take every opportunity i can get my hands on to spread this propaganda

for ze, the profound tragedy of alice's character and how much she was fucked over by vlr's nonary game in particular. everything that she lost and was taken from her and she got like.....no say at all in the retribution or the fight against that. alice is a character who's been through so much but i feel like she's rarely discussed in any actual depth. similarly to clover actually lol. but i feel like she's even less deeply explored in favor of the Cool Spy Girl angle which is such a shame because i feel like her story in particular fits in with a lot of the themes of vlr as like, how much akane has changed and how much she's willing to fuck over people in situations a lot like she once was in, as long as it's for the greater good

22 - your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

the great ace attorney

i think...it's less that people ignore them, but i think a lot of the "other" endings in zero escape are really interesting in terms of their implications after the credits roll. one thing i think about a lot is how akane escaped in a hope of two end but didn't come back for diana and sigma. and radical-6 never got out in that timeline, so akane technically achieved her goal, but she wouldn't even be able to be sure of that until that april. what was that like for her, to leave that place the sole survivor and wonder if this was really the best timeline? things like that really plague me but i don't see too much direct discussion of it

#i am not tagging this god bless #that would be a swinging the bat at the hornet's nest move #joshathan.txt #999 spoilers #vlr spoilers #ztd spoilers #long post

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Rise of the Emerald Archer

by ArlyssTolero After giving his life defending the quantum tower on Earth-38 from the Anti-Monitor's army of Shadow Demons, the last thing that Oliver Queen ever expected was to find himself back at the beginning of his journey as a hero, on the day he returned to Starling City, and given the mandate to inspire those heroes who had remained in the shadows even as the Crisis raged. Oliver decides that the best way to accomplish his mission is to fix his greatest failure and the reason why he could never accept the title of hero rather than simply calling himself a survivor and a vigilante. Armed with the knowledge of what is to come and more than willing to change the timeline that he remembers if it means saving the lives lost in the Undertaking, Oliver sets out to stop Malcolm Merlyn's intentions to destroy the Glades and all who live there in retribution for the death of his wife in 1993 and ensure the man faces long-overdue justice for all of his crimes. Words: 5564, Chapters: 1/44, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Forging A Better Future Fandoms: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), Supergirl (TV 2015) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Oliver Queen, Moira Queen, Walter Steele, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Malcolm Merlyn, Slade Wilson, Dinah Lance (Arrow), Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, Sara Lance, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Lucius Fox, Jacob Kane, Frank Chen (Arrow TV 2012), Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Arthur Curry (DCU), Diana (Wonder Woman), Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells, Aztar | The Spectre (DCU) Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Moira Queen/Walter Steele, Tommy Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Malcolm Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen & Slade Wilson, Dinah Lance (Arrow) & Laurel Lance & Quentin Lance & Sara Lance, Malcolm Merlyn & Slade Wilson, Oliver Queen & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane Additional Tags: Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover Event (CW DC TV Universe), Good Parent Dinah Lance, Felicity Smoak Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence via https://ift.tt/fxKwnAX

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

[lilcrespin]

I wouldn’t call myself that -

In this time of frame, I believe in a way we are own nihilistic person. So many lost causes and a few spaces to let something in. I don’t know if anyone reading this will be able to understand what I’m writing about but I’ll try my best to explain it. There’s a society and it’s counted or tagged as a group or representation of a word. Nihilism, empathy, empowerment, or freedom. Seeking different differences in life. How a mother seeks adulthood in there child, how teachers seeks education in purposes, how even a teenager seeks retribution and a foot in the door. I’ve spent most of my time in the background, building my own personal foundation, it’s a cluster fuck of feelings. Regrets with one, trauma in the other and numb to feeling okay because I simply wouldn’t understand what it means to be okay. I would say take life head on because I haven’t felt like I’ve had before, an other person would say don’t, take it easy and let things fall into place because they haven’t had it like that before. Anyways knowing that there is a timeline and a day where I’ll go away forever, I want to leave one thing behind. Literature, thoughts and thoughts, piled on top of each other for days and poems and songs that reminisce on life. Life for what it was for me and the ones close to me. I’ve cried, nearly a million times, these tears signify sadness, loneliness, a never ending burden. I just hope when I do reach the age I’m able to pass it on. A book, a tale or even a copy of a song. In this time frame, I believe we are own nihilistic person and a different kind of person, more human than we know. A kind of human that makes tears not so sad. A kind of human that can make writing this not so bad or embarrassing. A kind of human that let’s it all be, a kind of human that sees things as a bigger picture. I’m sorry for being an odd ball, but I would never be sorry for expressing myself. It can be wrong, it can be hard to understand, it can even be just fall out dumb. I’m just so human I’m numb to think twice about a mistake, an effort or any kind of accident. I’ve dealt a hand of cards that was no luck Death in , having my own scared I realized one thing before my eyes turned closed. I never really got to share this human side of me, this life of mine. The songs and endless amount of literature, from praise to poetry, an autobiography of a good friend. An autobiography of a young kid who said fuck anything or anyone in the way I’ll do what I exactly want to do even if it means killing me. Words so powerful aren’t they, I’m in it for the long ride or a short ride if it means giving up because I won’t. If you’re here right now just know that I’m not okay. I’m in pain with a bleeding smile. Walking these miles don’t seem dumb anymore. I’m not a nihilist, I’m not a forgiven, I’m a subject of something that’s bigger than me. So I wouldn’t call myself that, I’d call myself a writer even an influencer, influencing a new audience that won’t make the same mistakes that cost me and my friends, or family. Kindness is only shared when happiness is the outcome these days. I’m only pictured as a bad guy when I stand up to the temptation. I’m here to say I am a person that stood up to it all, tribulation, passages, time in hell, where the hounds yell into the night. The other end of a barrel. If you ever read the finale pages of the Bible, you’ll stumble upon “The revelations” or “ REVELATIONS” talks about a good man leaving a women behind for another and it sparked the end of the world, day by day hell came upon them. Changing the world day by day, hell finding its way onto the planet. The good man didn’t even bother to feel regret but just took it on, head strong, not giving up. Four horsemen, angels and demons, satan slaughtering, Catastrophes one after another. You can say I’ve experienced it. Four people, starving one period of time, sick for another and depressed and deprived in another. Satan taking advantage of my kindness taking me closer to hell than ever before. I might just be stuck in my own head, an imaginary nightmare

F

[longlostretribution]

Having fun while solidifying designs and drawing some of @annoyinghorse‘s Fyn

#fyn; #holy iret; #draco; #ladyette; #sketch; #long lost retribution timeline; #character design; #character reference; #concepts; #character concepts;

[themarinianpress]

i love... kodi and the vessel.... so much

#sketch #long lost retribution timeline #character concept #my ocs #concept #my art #kodi blunder #the vessel

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A Loki TVA / Lokane fic that snatched a tempad. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 4

This time around, he feels but the faintest glimmer of surprise as he steps out of the doorway and onto a busy sidewalk in Midtown Manhattan.

A few people stop dead in their tracks when the door materializes out of thin air, but the throng of commuters headed to and from Central Station is so dense, Loki’s appearance goes mainly unnoticed.

Dull resignation washes over him.

The tempad is officially broken. Its coordinates locked onto this little planet where, in his own timeline, he has known nothing but defeat.

Without bothering to look for a newsstand, he reasons there’s a strong probability it’s the year 2014. It would seem the damn gadget is slowly counting backwards, while refusing to take him anywhere else in the universe.

Above his head, a billboard flashing on the side of a high-rise building confirms his suspicions.

Incredibly though, the tempad still not out of “juice”. The battery life seems to be making a mockery of his failed attempts to direct the itinerary.

Taking a step out of the moving sea of people, Loki sees little in way of construction sites along the street.

On his timeline, this would have been two years after his attack on the city with Thanos’ army, but if that ‘highlight’ of Loki’s less than acclaimed villainous career took place in this reality as well, the mortals have effectively tidied up after him.

He tries not think of the countless faces frozen in terror that had looked up at him.

Of the lives lost because of his crazed ambition to prove himself - and to destroy something of Thor’s.

Almost if Loki had been transformed back into the chronically jealous five-year-old child who once stole his golden, annoyingly joyful, perfect brother’s favorite model toy - a grey wolf made of clay - and deliberately let it roll down the steps of the throne when their father (his NON-father) had been away.

The toy had broken into pieces and Thor had been inconsolable. Gripped by immediate remorse despite his initial intent, Loki had tried to fix it with his budging magic powers. Only for the wolf to melt to a sticky puddle on the stone floor.

Thor had wailed so loudly, a passing servant had thought him seriously injured and called for their mother, and Loki had been made to apologize, his usually pale cheeks burning scarlet. Then he had been grounded for the remains of the day.

The humiliation had stung, and so had the regret that his magic had failed him.

Not for the first time, the anger had turned, unwarranted (Loki knew then too), towards his brother.

From then on, it had just gotten slowly worse and worse and more malicious right up until that horrible moment of rage no more than a few days ago (a week?), when Loki had driven one of his daggers into Thor’s side on top of the Stark tower.

And twisted it.

The mix of bottomless sadness and shock in his brother’s blue eyes had cut through Loki’s heart with such force he might as well have sunk the blade of his other weapon into his own chest.

But instead of abandoning his pathetic scramble for power and hold Thor, instead of attempting to heal the wound with his magic that has become so formidable in adulthood, Loki had let the poison drown the remains of his sanity.

Of course, shortly afterward, the green monstrosity had effortlessly and repeatedly smashed him into the concrete floor of Stark’s living-quarters until Loki had thought he heard every bone in his supposedly immortal (right!) body break and his skull crack open.

To the outside, it had surely been a suitably entertaining show of retribution, but as he had lain there in the crater of rubble, unable to utter a moan, it was as if all the anger had been knocked out of him.

The link to Thanos’ ungodly servant had been severed and Loki had felt more like himself than he had in a long, long time.

When Thor, looking grimmer than ever, had dragged him to his feet in front of the ragtag band of ‘heroes’ and cuffed him, Loki had found himself strangely elated, on the verge of giddy.

His legs had been so shaky from the beating that Thor had had to hold him by the arm so he wouldn’t fall, and Loki had felt the heat of his brother’s huge hand penetrate the many layers of his own armour.

For a few delirious seconds, Loki had wanted nothing more than to lean against his brother’s strong frame and just close his eyes.

Instead, he had started cracking jokes until Thor had slapped the muzzle on him, as if he were some dog (that gesture had embarrassed him more than anything that had gone before). Unable to keep up his sarcastic commentary as they rode the elevator down, Loki had fleetingly wondered if he was suffering from a psychosis or actual brain damage.

Now, standing on the street so close to where it happened, the memory oozes fresh guilt.

But he redeemed himself.

In his mind, Loki goes through the TVA reel once more to remind himself of the images of his brother later in life, smiling at him.

Right before the end came.

If he is to spend the rest of eternity on Midgard - or at least until the multiverse crumbles - he will try to find solace in the good his future self managed to accomplish.

For Thor and, in another, brighter reality, for her.

The riddle of her part in his life now remains unsolved, but as hard as Loki tries to release the ghost wrapped in his arms, it merely squeezes itself closer to his chest.

He could try to find her here, on this timeline.

She will be with Thor, that much is certain, but since the reel of Loki’s fate had shown him only his own path, he knows not whether Thor and Jane shared a life on Midgard, or somewhere else, up until the brothers reunited (for lack of a better word) on Asgard.

What would Loki even say to her?

That, while at the bureau that controls all space and time, he saw her face on a roll of film of his supposed life, and now he aches for her more than anything? That on an alternate timeline a few hours ago, she kissed him?

Thor would not approve of that exchange.

Also, with Loki’s luck, Thor might be a frog in this reality.

He could still try to use the tempad to transport him to Svartalfheim and his own life’s story, seeing as he is now only year from where he feels so strongly he must go.

But finding the proper timeline is like shooting an arrow into the endless vastness of space and hoping it’ll hit the right comet.

He realizes that now.

An arrow.

Somehow, somewhere, on two timelines no less, variants of him had …

Loki’s head jerks up.

The tower.

It’s a desperate idea at best, but from the (very) little Loki knows of his character, Stark’s superior technical skills go hand in hand with an endlessly hungry, inquisitive mind. And pride.

Much like Loki, Stark is a man who needs to be the smartest man in the room. And like Loki, he probably is, most of time (in fact… no. Don’t go there).

Maybe Stark will listen.

Perhaps he can even help make sense of the tempad if Loki can somehow win his trust and appeal to his curiosity and (he winces a little) heroism.

Was it not Loki’s actions who had helped Stark “realize his best potential”, as his TVA file put it?

He spots the imposing structure further up the street, noticing the huge “A” at the top (is that new?), and sets off towards it at a brisk pace, darting in and out of the crowds on the packed sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

As he reaches the large glass doors he briefly experiences a dizzying deja-vu, when suddenly a man’s voice calls out to him.

A frighteningly familiar, agitated voice.

… With a particular brand of anger bubbling underneath, that Loki had hoped he’d never have to witness up close ever again.

//

“What the hell are you doing here??”

His dark, curly hair has a few more streaks of silver. The checkered shirt is slightly crumbled, the glasses a bit askew. He clutches an armful of papers to his chest.

And he’s wearing a furious expression although, thank the Norns, a mortal complexion.

For now.

“Didn’t Tony explicitly tell you not to come here?! Are you that intent on causing everyone to lose their shit again?!”

Worry is all over Doctor Banner’s screwed up face.

“Seriously, Loki, is this funny to you? Clint is actually in the building right now and, in case Tony didn’t already inform you, he’s made it very clear that he’s quitting the team if you were to stroll through the front door!”

The Avenger has started shaking, his eyes wild (too wild).

This is heading in the wrong direction fast.

Mustering all the calm in the world despite his racing pulse and the nauseating sounds of bones breaking echoing in his head, Loki puts on his most courteous and, he dearly hopes, un-cocky charming smile.

“Bruce, please relax. I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Right, you just happened to be in town and wanted to stop by for coffee? Loki, this …”

Loki gently interrupts him.

“I merely came here to have a conversation with S- … Tony. Perhaps you could let him know I’m here? I promise you, I will not set foot inside. In fact - “

Loki adopts the form of one of the security guards he can see pacing inside the foyer.

“… I’m not even here.”

Bruce jumps a little and clutches his papers even tighter.

“Oh god, I hate when you do that, man. If you think showing off that trick makes anyone any less nervous around you…”

“Doctor Banner - Bruce. I have something …”

Loki searches for the words, quickly trying to decide on how much to reveal to the man-beast who’s now looking at him with urgent expectancy.

He sighs and bets it all.

“Okay. Bruce, what I’m going to say will sound mad.”

The man scoffs.

“Coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.”

Bruce shakes his head and looks to the sky in exasperation.

“Please - please - don’t tell me you’ve gone and changed your mind about the whole not conquering Earth business. Really, Loki, none of us understand how transforming you into ‘an asset’ became Tony’s pet project over this past year, or why Fury went along with it. But I’m sure both are going to be pretty damn disappointed if their new alien BFF decides to embrace his inner psycho again.”

Loki almost chuckles. It’s all too ridiculous.

“I won’t … embrace my inner ‘psycho’, I swear.”

“Then what?”

The God of Mischief draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Or rather, the security guard’s nose.

Then he surrenders to the absurdity of the situation.

“Bruce, I kindly beg of you, is Tony here? Or … (is there hope?) Thor?”

Bruce still looks at him with deep disdain, but his immediate anger seems to have subsided.

“No, Tony’s out of town. Took Pepper somewhere on holiday. They’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Her words. And Thor … I should think you of all people know perfectly well why he’s not likely to hang around at the time being. Jeez, you guys and your endless family soap opera … I can’t even.”

Naturally, the universe again blankly refuses to extend any hands to Loki and his doomed quest. Sadly, once again, he is not surprised.

Wait - what?

“What do you mean, ‘soap opera’?”

Bruce looks like he’s about to throw his hands over his head and all the papers with them.

“Oh, come on! What is this?! You want approval? Confirmation of your little victory? Doesn’t the very lovely embodiment of that currently walk around in your apartment or wherever it is you live now? Loki, I’m done here. You have to leave. Bye.”

To hell with Stark – Loki wants to grab Bruce by his shirt collar and shake the little man till he explains what in all of Yggdrasil he’s talking about.

But he cannot afford to tempt the beast. Quite literally.

“Then … can you and I go somewhere to talk? Bruce, you’re a man of science. This is science … related.”

Loki feigns a smile.

Bruce sizes him up. No doubt considering whether to let the other guy continue the conversation.

Then his shoulders drop.

“Okay. Okay. For a creepy megalomaniac, you somehow tend to end up with some very cool people defending your case. Just know that those people are absolutely the only reason, you and I are still talking. Ugh, I’m too nice … “

Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder into the foyer, appearing to consider their options, when a man exits the glass doors – and shuffles up to them.

“Bruce! How nice to see you. You look well.”

The old man (those eyes …) grins warmly and pats Bruce on the back, then looks from him to Loki and back again.

“Everything alright out here? Is there a security issue?”

Bruce composes himself and smiles back.

“Hi, Lee, good to see you too. All fine. Earl here was just updating me on, eh, the new security procedures.”

He shoots Loki a stern look.

“Ah, yes”, Loki nods seriously. “Doctor Banner had some trouble operating the intricate open and close mechanism of the doors. The elevator doors, especially.”

He can’t help himself. It’s somehow both immensely tragic and life-affirming.

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow (he looks … but he’s not quite …something is off).

“Will I have to get a new security card? I rarely come in these days, but in case …”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Lee. Because, because … like you say, you’re hardly ever here, so …”

Still smiling awkwardly, Bruce waves a dismissive hand, almost dropping the stack of papers (the man’s a terrible liar, Loki thinks).

“Speaking of”, Banner continues, “you must be enjoying retirement up there, huh, Lee? Must be nice to live by the sea. Good … air quality?”

Loki sighs inwardly.

The dog sniffing at his ankles looks up at him.

He stares down at the round, fluffy thing as if seeing it for the first time.

Which he is and he isn’t.

The old man is saying something to Bruce about the countryside, when he notices the dog wagging its tail at Loki’s feet.

“Oh, he likes you. You’re lucky, he normally doesn’t care for strangers. No, you don’t, do you Fenris”, the man coos.

Under coats of thick white fur, the animal looks eagerly from owner to Loki.

“Okay, well, I’ll be off,” the old man says, finally. “Come see me sometime, Bruce. My neighbor actually just put his house on the market, in case you’re looking for a weekend retreat…”

He nods at Bruce, then at Loki who barely notices. The dog whines unhappily at being dragged away.

It’s the same timeline.

Of course, it is. The tempad has locked itself on a sequence.

But why the different locations …?

“Yes, thank you, Lee. Take care now. Earl, shall we?” Bruce signals to Loki to follow him round the side of the building.

“We can continue our discussion about the security issue in the garage”.

//

“So, let’s hear it. Tell me what you came to say, so I can tell you why it’s a catastrophically bad idea.”

Bruce sits himself across the small table from Loki and dumps the stack of papers in front of him. The top sheet is covered in coffee mug rings.

They are in an anonymous, windowless office somewhere below the vast tower parking lot and numerous in-house repair shops.

The place is a gigantic maze and Loki has just shut himself in a tiny room with the very monster that turned him into ragdoll. The deep slash on his forehead has only just healed.

He does not fear many beings in the universe, but the mild-mannered doctor’s alter ego makes the hit list with the worst of them.

Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (why did this seem like a good idea?), Loki drops his disguise and takes a seat on the cheap plastic chair. Not much of that flashy Stark glamour down here.

“Okay.” Loki takes out the tempad and puts it in the middle of the table.

He is not quite sure where to start, so he decides to begin with the purely technical aspect.

Bruce might appreciate being given a few ‘scientific’ details before any mentions of giant smoke monsters and alligators.

In fact, the fewer magical creatures and castles in the sky, the better.

“This is called a tempad. It’s a device that makes it possible to travel anywhere in time. You type in your destination, and a doorway opens. I did not make it myself. It was, er, given to me by a large and very powerful organization … in space.”

Bruce is leaning forward to get a better look at the tempad but makes no attempt to reach for it.

As he’s says nothing, Loki continues.

“This is where it gets, uh, weird, but try to believe me when I tell you, I’m not the Loki you know. I’m from another, similar timeline and -“

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just stop, Loki.”

Bruce is leaning back on his chair again. He looks tired.

“I don’t know if you’re supremely bored of domestic bliss already, or just being your supremely annoying self, but I won’t engage. You’re not Loki but a time-traveler from space? Yeah, it’s -“

“No, Bruce, I am Loki. Trust me, I know this seems -“

“Trust? You wanna talk about trust again?” Bruce takes out his phone.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He taps a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice has a sharper edge to it than he intended.

The Avenger stares him down.

“Oh, I’m just calling someone. This guy I have in my contacts under God of Lies”.

Please, no …

Briefly, Loki considers whether another variant of him – the one he encountered at the house by the ocean, most likely – would actually be of more help.

Or if he, the variant, would try to kill him.

It was one thing reasoning with and trying not to get killed by Loki variants who at least understood the concept of variants, but how would he have reacted upon being confronted with a twin before the TVA?

No, not a twin … Because this variant has her.

None of the variants in the Void – the grown-up, human ones – had mentioned versions of her.

Either this variant has successfully taken out every Minute Man ever sent by the TVA to arrest him (in which case, Loki concedes, he may be the superior Loki), or this whole timeline has only just blossomed at the opening of the multiverse.

Why else would he, who apparently also gave his phone number to Bruce Banner, get to live a life so vastly different from the typical arc of a misguided Jotun prince?

Loki feels light-headed.

On one hand, he wants to know everything there is to know about his double, on the other, he fears what and who he might find.

You don’t belong here. Find your own timeline. No more Lokis.

Focus. Explain.

He raises his one hand in a placating gesture.

“Give me a little time to try and explain this, Bruce, and then, then … You can call whoever. Call everyone! But please just -“

“Oh, what do you know,” Bruce puts his phone down, “there’s no answer. What a surprise.”

He crosses his arms.

Loki inhales and tries again, speaking as evenly and as calmly as he can while his frustration mounts:

“There is no way of telling you all or any of this without it sounding utterly ludicrous, so you’ll have to hear me out. Five minutes uninterrupted from now, okay? Yes, we’re talking time travel, but compared to what’s really at stake, even time travel is a pretty basic technicality. Also, I promise you, in a few years’ time from now, the concept of time travel won’t seem all that laughable to you and Stark in particular. Provided this reality exists in a few years’ time seeing as -“

Bruce sighs dramatically.

“Yes, okay, so”, Loki continues, “Two years ago, I attacked New York, right?”

“If you’re about to roll out some outlandish excuse – another one! – I don’t care to hear it.”

The other man is narrowing his eyes as a fresh look of undistilled loathing creeps into his features.

So it did happen on this timeline as well.

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, let’s save that. When you captured me, in my timeline, I escaped from the lobby with the Infinity stone. I know it seems impossible from your end of events but - “

“Impossible?”

Bruce gives him a strange look Loki can’t quite interpret.

“Yes, S… Tony dropped the briefcase with the Infinity stone, and I picked it up and -“

Bruce pushes his chair back. The plastic scrapes loudly against the stone tiles of the floor.

“Loki, I can’t. I thought I had the patience to at least indulge you but turns out I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re losing your mind, but either way, you’ll have to take it – this, whatever it is – up with Tony instead when he gets back. Maybe bring that sweet lab partner of yours along if you’re going to talk time travel. With her field of expertise, I’m sure - “

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

Without thinking, Loki slams both his hands into the table. Papers go flying and Bruce staggers backwards.

Horror dawns as Loki realizes his error, but it’s already too late.

Bruce doubles over in spasms and a deep, much too deep, growling sound escapes his lips. He grips his head with his shaking hands as if trying to contain the explosion within, and Loki feels his own brain go numb with panic as one of those hands triples in size and a sickly green hue rapidly spreads.

There is no way out.

Bruce is blocking the door and soon his bulk will be taking up the entire room. He falls to his knees, arms thrashing wildly and his shirt ripping across his back. The table sails over Loki’s head, one of the chairs lodges itself in the soundproofed ceiling, causing the panels of fluorescent light to flicker madly.

Are there no security cameras?!

There are screams, but they no longer sound human.

Loki has nowhere to hide.

He has to gather his magic around him, but terror is completely scattering his focus, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

It is a matter of seconds before the transformation will be complete and the monster attempts to tear him limb from limb. With no heroes to stop it.

Cold.

He has only consciously reached for it once before, but now the thought barely registers before ice rushes through him as if by instinct. Bruce is not the only one with an abomination lurking under the surface.

He doesn’t have the casket of his birth father, but he has strength.

There is no time to consider if it’s enough or nothing at all. No time for crippling self-loathing or shame.

In front of him, the Hulk lifts its crazed, bloodshot eyes to meet his.

The green creature cannot stand upright in the office, and the first fist goes through the ceiling with the force of a wrecking ball. The next lashes out at Loki, who dodges it just as his own skin turns a deep, brilliant blue.

Little black ridges and markings rise on his arms and face and though his sight doesn’t falter, he feels the instant his eyes go from green to bright red. The fabric of his clothes chafes his new skin and waves of adrenaline surge through his body. Multiple foreign senses come alive and drown his fear.

But he has not a breath to spare to get used to his true form before the Hulk shoves him against the wall so hard, the bricks shift against his side as if they were made of a child’s building blocks.

The impact makes him gasp for air, yet the pain … the pain he can manage.

He just has to last long enough get out of here. And the cold is crystalizing his focus to let the magic flow easily, powerfully through his hands.

His blue hands.

If he had used this when …

Loki pushes himself off the wall (out of it) and almost collides with the Hulk (there’s no space left to maneuver in) who, instead of smashing its way out, seems hell-bent on squashing the only living thing in its line of sight first.

Loki swiftly crouches down on one knee, puts his palms together and, faster than the blink of a brilliant crimson eye, conjures a rotating orb of ice and chaos energy that explodes in a blinding flash of white light as he hurls it square into the monster’s chest.

The Hulk falls back, breaking through the wall to the parking lot on the other side and crashing into a row of cars, while a sheath of ice spreads from its chest and up its neck. The being that is not Bruce howls and claws at its skin, but the smooth ice thickens and as it reaches the head of the beast, it slides right into its eye sockets – and momentarily blinds it.

It will probably only last seconds but it’s all Loki needs while the Hulk shakes its head furiously.

He makes to flee when he spots the tempad on the cracked floor.

He can’t leave it.

As Loki dives for the gadget, the Hulk simultaneously knocks itself in the face with both fists, splintering the ice into a rain of tiny spikes. With a roar to match the sound of a spaceship engine taking off, the creature lunges.

Loki’s fingers close around the tempad.

He feels a buzz.

The door appears in front of him.

He doesn’t stop to think before throwing himself through it.

The Hulk punches into empty air.

Part 5

#loki #loki series #tva loki #lokane fanfic #lokane ff #lokane #loki x jane #marvel #loki ff #loki fanfic #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #loki laufeyson

[astoryinred]

The Color of the World -- planning the Manila verse Les Mis AU

It's about time I put together all the scattered bits and pieces of the stories that comprise the "Manila Verse", and made a more coherent (even if non-linear) narrative of it. This includes long-published stories such as "Cities We Call Home" and newer additions such as the "Caminar" stories. It might exclude more outlandish tales such as the "Limits of Logic", which is definitely in the realm of horror.

The storyline basically tracks the characters through the years 2007 to 2022, beginning from when Eponine and Cosette enroll in the same university. Of course this is how they meet Marius, Enjolras, the rest of the Amis, Musichetta, and other characters. The story opens during a time of rising social unrest, student disappearances, and massive exposes rocking the government --- and that's only within the first 1-2 years of the storyline. The whole timeline will cover some truly distressing events such as the Maguindanao massacre (considered one of the single most deadliest incidents for journalists), Typhoon Ketsana and Typhoon Haiyan, the resurgence of vigilantism and populism after the 2016 election, and eventually the COVID-19 pandemic accompanied by climate crisis. For the most part, the story will be history-compliant, though I may need to make some divergence in the 2022 timeline for my own sanity.

Everyone has interesting backstories as to why they have French names/extraction, and are running around Metro Manila. It goes back into a long history of expatriates, colonialism, and foreign intervention. What's going to be fun is breaking the bounds of usual modern day AU, and giving the characters different trajectories grounded in the realms of development, labor, and environment. These trajectories and some backstory will be below the cut:

Eponine Thenardier: The oldest child of Marcelo and Rosanna Thenardier, Eponine has seen the most of her family's itinerant lifestyle, and does not have a "home" of her own. She makes Metro Manila her home as she takes up psychology as a scholar and working student (it would have been nursing but she hates blood). Her plan is to finish school, go into HR, get her siblings to live with her, and maybe go overseas. That's until events and curiosity thrust her into the middle of the hellstorm that's the 2007-2008 wave of activism.

Miguel Enjolras: The son of a French student and a college girl from a certain area of the Visayas, Miguel Enjolras actually lost his parents as a young child (a mysterious accident in their hometown, but everyone knows it was retribution). Enjolras was brought up by his maternal grandparents, who sent him to school in Manila. Much to their dismay, he chose to take Developmental Studies, in accordance with his parents' wishes. This puts him right in the network of many things going on in school and the wider world outside, and connects him to the activists of their time.

Cosette dela Cruz: Fantine's only child, Eponine's some time classmate way back in grade school days. Cosette has always suffered from having only "one surname" (read: not born in wedlock). But she's determined to put that behind her as she pursues her dream of being a secondary school teacher. That's easier said than done when dealing with the educational crisis that's just beginning to foment in her time.

Marius Pontmercy: The son of a French-American soldier and a local belle, Marius was also brought up by his grandfather after sending his father away and his mother to a convent. Marius is in the city to take up International Studies with hopes of becoming a diplomat. Although he is good with the languages part, other parts of the course disturb him---in the best way possible --- and have him reconsidering his options towards international law. He ends up having to work his way through law school because of this.

Joshua Combeferre: Combeferre is from a rich family in the south of the Philippines, with some political hold on his mother's side. However he has no liking for politics, and wants nothing more than to be a doctor. Oddly enough this leads him to study Physics as a premed course, but events have him wondering if becoming a prosthetics expert is what he wants, and if public health is much more to his liking.

Alan Courfeyrac: Descended from a Basque family that's gotten muddled up with Gascons, Courfeyrac seems like your typical upper class brat at the university taking up Marketing. His cavalier manner is a veneer for a generous heart and passionate soul that makes him essential to many a plan for like-minded students changing the world

Jean Prouvaire: Also descended from a southern French-Spanish clan, Jehan is also born to privilege but with a lot less drama. This, he jokes, is his reason for writing it all the time. He is a literature major, of course, but one who has other things to do than run around with the school's literary publication. No one is sure how he manages to get published every quarter in multiple folios, both in and out of school.

Andres Feuilly: A native of the slums of Tondo, Feuilly is not sure why he has a French surname, but takes pride in his given name Andres (he shares a name with a hero from the area). Feuilly has managed to work through the alternative learning system and get some vocational credentials. Though barely out of his teens, he is involved with the unionization of his current workplace, a certain factory.

James Bahorel: Bahorel is also from a rich clan down south, with properly traced European roots. He is probably the student with the longest stay at the engineering college, and by this time everyone is sure he's doing it to remain connected to his extensive network. He does eventually finish, and is immediately caught up in massive development work after 2010 that serves to hearten and disillusion him in one go.

Patrick Joly: The son of two renowned Filipino clinicians, Joly has known no other path than to be a physician. He's sure he'll get there once he stops making a patient of himself, and if he can only finish his Biology studies.

Carl Lesgle: Born north of the capital, Lesgle or Bossuet as his friends call him after a mishap in polsci class has left his solid north problems behind. He goes through the whole polsci as a pre-law thing, till realizing that law isn't for him...but journalism is.

Lawrence Grantaire: Grantaire is of an artistic family, and started off taking communication arts. He sometimes wonders if crossing the street to pursue a fine arts or design degree would be a better use of his time, but who needs that when he's got friends like he has? Inevitably, Grantaire finds himself employing his art talents and his comms training in ways he did not expect.

Musichetta Santos: Musichetta was born actually as Valentine Santos, but she hated the name and changed it out. Chetta, as she is fondly called by her friends and lovers, finished high school north of Manila and came up to work while hopefully saving for a part time course of study. As of 2007, she's employed in service crew work, but that's going to change.

Azelma Thenardier: The second of the Thenardier kids, Azelma is a senior in high school, about to graduate, when the story opens. She does not make it to college right away but manages to work odd jobs till she joins Eponine in the city. She eventually uses the open university system to also pursue multimedia studies.

Gabriel "Gavroche" Thenardier: At the time the story opens, Gavroche is finishing up his elementary studies. He just manages to make his way through high school but isn't intent on going into higher education. Eventually he does join his sisters, but it's their friends who prompt him to pursue his own dreams in athletics.

Jean Valjean: The son of sharecroppers, Jean Valjean's whole world in the 80s was the plantation he was supposed to live and die in. Famine and social unrest, plus a horrific massacre that killed several agitators drove him away from the land and into an itinerant life. After being jailed for petty crime and released for good behavior, Jean Valjean fled to Manila to start over. He was successful in the informal economy of Manila...only to get into a heap of trouble when being caught up in a younger generation's affairs.

Fantine dela Cruz: An orphan who grew up on a tenant farm, Fantine was given her name by the storeowner who took her in. In the 1980s, Fantine went to the city to make a better living and hopefully make it abroad. Instead, she ended up with a child and working several jobs just to make ends meet. As of 2007, Fantine has put up a small food business, enough for her and her daughter Cosette to get by while the latter is on scholarship.

Francisco Javert: The disowned child of a French expat and a woman from the city of Bacolod, Javert took up a career in law enforcement and criminology for the ease of social mobility back in the 1980s. As a cadet and young enforcer, he was unfortunately involved in several massacres and killings in the twilight days of the Marcos regime. Javert has since stayed on with the police force and was only too happy to be reassigned to Metro Manila...where he finds himself confronted with someone he swore was dead.

The Thenardiers: Marcelo Thenardier was originally born with no surname, but applied as a 'late registrant' when he needed grade school documentation way back in the 1960s. This was when he was given the name "Thenardier" by a local civil register who was joking around. Marcelo carried this surname, gave it to his bride Rosanna Gonzales, and sired five children under this name (3 living, 2 presumed dead). As of 2007, Marcelo and Rosanna Thenardier were living in a city north of the capital, doing odd cons and schemes. By 2015 they would move into a career of disinformation, much to the discomfiture of their now adult children

#manila verse #les mis AU #the writing process #fic writing #enjonine

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Rise of the Emerald Archer

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fxKwnAX by ArlyssTolero After giving his life defending the quantum tower on Earth-38 from the Anti-Monitor's army of Shadow Demons, the last thing that Oliver Queen ever expected was to find himself back at the beginning of his journey as a hero, on the day he returned to Starling City, and given the mandate to inspire those heroes who had remained in the shadows even as the Crisis raged. Oliver decides that the best way to accomplish his mission is to fix his greatest failure and the reason why he could never accept the title of hero rather than simply calling himself a survivor and a vigilante. Armed with the knowledge of what is to come and more than willing to change the timeline that he remembers if it means saving the lives lost in the Undertaking, Oliver sets out to stop Malcolm Merlyn's intentions to destroy the Glades and all who live there in retribution for the death of his wife in 1993 and ensure the man faces long-overdue justice for all of his crimes. Words: 5564, Chapters: 1/44, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Forging A Better Future Fandoms: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014), Supergirl (TV 2015) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Oliver Queen, Moira Queen, Walter Steele, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Malcolm Merlyn, Slade Wilson, Dinah Lance (Arrow), Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, Sara Lance, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, Lucius Fox, Jacob Kane, Frank Chen (Arrow TV 2012), Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Arthur Curry (DCU), Diana (Wonder Woman), Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells, Aztar | The Spectre (DCU) Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Moira Queen/Walter Steele, Tommy Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Malcolm Merlyn & Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen & Slade Wilson, Dinah Lance (Arrow) & Laurel Lance & Quentin Lance & Sara Lance, Malcolm Merlyn & Slade Wilson, Oliver Queen & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane Additional Tags: Crisis on Infinite Earths Crossover Event (CW DC TV Universe), Good Parent Dinah Lance, Felicity Smoak Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/fxKwnAX

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

[fyreb1rd]

my writing masterlist

Oneshots - Odd Alliance "Tubbo knew there was only one person in the whole SMP who could help him get rid of Dream." . When Deception Teams with Retribution There’s a tale, one that parents tell rowdy children. This story is reserved for those kids who enjoy running off, who enjoy getting in trouble for the adrenaline rush and the thrill. It’s the story of the consequences of the only time someone tried to deceive a young god, whose realms were still unknown. It’s often called ‘When Deception Teams with Retribution.' . Two Lives Down Tubbo had only initially been scared about losing a life, but when the inconsistencies with his wings begin to stack up, his trouble grows. . We're Just Kids After they teleport to the secret room, Ranboo finally snaps at everyone for the lives that have been endangered far too often. . Floral Reminders (possible future chapters) Karl knows the more he travels the more he forgets, but for some reason he also knows he needs to keep traveling. Even if he forgets himself entirely. . Handmade Memories Phil knew the kid was familiar from the first day he'd met him in L'Manburg. He had a pair of red and green heterochromatic eyes that seemingly danced with the star's light; it was almost impossible to forget him if Phil actually thought back on it. So why didn't the kid remember him? . "I like this player. it played well. it did not give up." Karl knew he could lose his mind time traveling, but hadn't realized he could also lose his life. Karl awakens in an unfamiliar room. Two unfamiliar voices speak to him through soft whispers and echoing, combining tones because two certain immortals refuse to let this happen this way. . . Series - Brotherly Races (almost complete) Tommy should know better than to tag along with a near stranger to an undisclosed location, but Dream promises they're going to see a drag race, with fast cars and illegal bets, and he also promises to let Tubbo tag along. Wilbur is also not too happy to see his younger brothers somewhere he's not even supposed to be. He's really not happy at all. . Protege (updating slowly) Ranboo had really just wanted to mine, but a book led to a panic attack, which led to what might have been some sort of hallucination. Dream's original plans for a protege had failed. . Kainophobia (but I want to join you) (updating slowly) Ranboo can't be a deviant. He's designed specifically against it. But why is a renegade feeling burning behind the tight-lipped procedure he's forced to endure, all because of a deviant and the child he carries. . The Clairvoyant and The Illusionist (updating slowly) Life in The Greater Dream SMP lands is fine if you're human or an overworld hybrid. As Schlatt's power begins to weigh down on some of the hybrids within the lands, a small rebellion begins to form, unbeknownst to even its members. But they won't stand for this tyranny anymore, not after countless lives are lost in petty games and rules are broken by those who should enforce them. Tubbo and Tommy have no idea what they're getting themselves into as they fall into the care of Philza and his small group of outcasts (plus the nations highest militia leader) but they certainly don't expect to learn about the secrets of a bloodline and a curse they didn't even know their training in Alchemy had exposed them to. . A Letter From Logsteadshire (updating slowly) Tubbo was overwhelmed enough with the Butcher Army, the new build plans for L'Manburg, and trying so desperately to remain peaceful. The letter that Ranboo delivers does nothing but make everything else seem minuscule. In the shock, he doesn't really think of how out of character this seems for his long-time best friend. Someone takes that obliviousness and puts it to good use in their own plan. . Butterfly Weeds (updating slowly) Wilbur grew up hiding his own, and his brothers, abilities of Wind Elemental Magic. He does fine up until the L’Manburg war, when the young man is given no choice but to expose his magic to save his people. After the win for L'Manburg,

their joy is short-lived as diplomacy is shoved aside for the greed Dream holds within his heart. Friends speak of the horrors he commits, which only grow after he makes a shady deal to block out the one goddess keeping him sane as he thinks she's limiting his power. And Death sends someone new, someone fresh, to save the timeline she cannot grasp anymore. . London's Finest (updating around once a week) Tommy got adopted, bitten by a (probably) radioactive spider, met his town's version of Emmet Brown, and became spiderman all in one week. While he'd like it to stop there, a new villain working with a local Engineering company Roxxon, topples part of the town hall, trapping his foster father inside. So of course he has to go save him and fight the bad guy guarding the place at the same time. Once the news catches wind of a new hero, they're locked on, and Roxxon doesn't seem to like the idea of their picture-perfect take over being ruined.

#tagged post #ok to be reblogged #writing masterlist #long post

[noneatnonedotcom]

Rwby earlier

so the basic question this story asks is what would rwby be like if it was set earlier in the timeline. this time i focused on jaune, who’s the last son of a knightly house that has since been betrayed by the kingdom of vale. he’s not a huntsman. that terminology only came at the end of the great-war. jaune’s a knight. the last of his kind and a hero...

of sorts

hope you enjoy

Jaune surveyed the battlefield before him.  It was dry relatively flat though there were small rises and dips. All in all a good bit of ground he’d managed to lure his enemy into. 

They needed every advantage they could get.

The Faunas Rights Revolution as they were now calling it was… well, it was a disaster. Incompetent generals on the human side, brought on by the destruction of the nobility after the end of the great war and the loss of the warrior culture, basically won the war for the animals.

The only reason Minstral and Atlas had held on as long as they had was because of him and the Vale Expeditionary Force fighting the battles for them. And still, it was down to just them now. He’d not been recalled from the field and as a knight of vale… as the leader of vale forces rather, those lofty titles and ideals were dead now.

Much like everything else good in his life he could see its blood purely on the hands of vales former king. 

He watched the wind sweep across the field making waves in the grass and flowers of the beautiful vista. In the distance past the forest, the mountains rose majestically. The fall of fort castle had secured a line of attack on Minstral itself. The subsequent sacrifice of Minstralian troops on the altar of stupidity was the final nail in the coffin for humanity.

Or it should be, this field would be the place where the future was decided. Weeks of following the Herd of faunas had been leading up to this very moment. Now he had a chance and with it, he would exact a bloody tax on the animals for the rape of Castle Town. and for all the evils they had committed.

To his left, he had two formations of heavy cavalry. In years past they would have been knights. Their armors were polished the beautiful colors they covered themselves with and their horses stood out especially in comparison to the drab colors of the faunas most being poorly equipped and trained. But their natural advantages, numbers, and human incompetence had let the animals run rampant across the countryside.

His men were well trained, all had their auras unlocked and the warhorses they used had not only been specially bred but had been trained to use aura as well. The act of unlocking their aura had made them intelligent enough to use the new abilities they’d gained. 

He’d argue that each horse was smarter than your average tax collector.

His enemy was confidant, the only challenges he’d faced so far were poorly trained human militias led by incompetent officers. He outnumbered jaune two-hundred to one. And jaune had made a point to have the enemy think they were chasing him. This wouldn’t be a battle.

This would be a slaughter.

He let his enemy mass his troops, his polearms at the front with a few cavalry off to the flanks. Nodding at the knight commander of his second formation he signaled the man to lead his hundred men to chase off the mounted enemies. His only worry was the muskets that the enemy had stolen. Luckily it seemed they had no real idea how to use them beyond the very basics. 

Jaune watched the battle, one hundred men charged a great mass of the animals on horseback. actual numbers were impossible to guess since the creatures didn’t organize themselves. The advantage of numbers though was soundly in the favor of the enemy. 

The initial shock of the charge nearly won the contest outright but they rallied. The knights not killing nearly as fast as they should have. As the left flank came to join his first formation fled from the fight. The enemy cavalry giving chase. It would appear that the first part of the battle was over.

At the very least the enemy cavalry was off the field. The last hundred men shuffled nervously and jaune reached down to pat the white destrier he was riding. Snow was a fine stallion and he was thankful to have his friend at his side now. He took a deep breath enjoying the relative peace of the moment as the enemy began marching towards him. 

This would be a good day.

This is how he would mark himself as a hero. 

“There is not much to say about the situation but I nonetheless feel some words must be spoken.”

The didn’t truly march, they more ambled in a vague formation. Jaune smiled at the sight.

“I do not believe in the superiority of humanity, in truth I see no real difference physically between the two of our species” 

The front ranks seemed to get nervous as they approached the last line of knights. A block ten men across and ten men deep. This wasn’t at all like the previous foes they’d fought. But they were pushed forwards by the ones behind them. Bunching closer and closer together.

“But those are not faunas you see before you, they are not human, they are animals! Animals who would rape and murder the women and children of Minstral the same as they did for those of Castle town!” he felt his fury seep into his voice “they are animals who when offered a peaceful end to hostilities asked for more. Knowing that the councils couldn’t grant them that!” snow stomped into the ground sharing his hatred “they are animals who came from Managerie purely to harm others! I remind you, men, that this is not a battle!” his voice carried over to the herd now and jaune felt his aura unfurl across himself and his hundred men “THIS IS A LONG OVERDO EXTERMINATION!” he cried to the heavens as his knights cried out with him. “TRAMPLE THEM BENEATH OUR HOOVES AND RUN THEM DOWN! FOR VALE! FOR GLORY! FOR HUMANITY!” his lance tilted down “CHARGE!”

And the sound of thunder echoed across the valley on the bright sunny day

In his mind jaune said a prayer

My body is a cage of flame

The burning yet verdant giant

Retribution, a shrine that presides over human affairs and purifies them.

I am the one who destroys

THE WICKER MAN!

Moments before the impact he saw in his mind ruby rose, she was sitting in the garden trying to learn to sing from her friend Weiss. It sounded more like screeching in truth, but the love song was meant for him and it was more beautiful than anything he’d ever heard. And he remembered her sitting on that very same marble bench in the golden light streaming through the trees when she’d said she loved him as he loved her and his soul sang with the memory.

His lance killed a man as Snow plowed through the line of men heedless of the polearms bouncing off the now unlimited aura. Men flew through the air and were trampled into the soil now becoming mud with the liquid of their blood jaune thrust his lance down again and again as snow stomped and bit and kicked and men all around him did the same.

Time lost meaning to him for a long while the auras of him and his men unbreakable as jaune held onto that beautiful golden memory as the animals cried out in pain some drowning in the bloody mud others grasping at deep wounds from the lances.

In time the animals turned to flee, jaune and his knights gave chase. But disaster struck for the animals when the first formation fo cavalry from before came back. Now with double the knights coming from both sides, the animals sought to surrender.

Quarter was not given to the people of Castle town.

And the animals were slaughtered in their entirety. 

The entire main army of the faunas was destroyed. Twenty thousand killed off in a single day by Jaune Arc the Butcher of Anima. The council would condemn him. And most of all an old man name Oswald who was the head of the Beacon Academy had said he was little more than a monster. 

Apparently he’d tried to convince Ruby to leave him after the news of his victory broke. She’d outright refused. 

Apparently, jaune was now quite hated by the Circles the old man frequented. Whether this was because of his actions or the fact that Jaune was more important to the last known silver-eyed warrior in Remnant was unknown. 

In the nights jaune still had dreams, dreams of men trampled beneath the hooves of horses and those screaming for mercy as they drowned in the mud of the battlefield. Of monsters who came for his beloved wife . Of old men striping what light his life had away from him.

And every time jaune was woken by the embrace of his little rose, a hero in her own right. And they would lie in the darkness of their room and she would sing that sweet lovesong that he remembered and he would cling to her like a lifeline.

And then in the morning they would sit in the garden and watch the children of his sisters play and thoughts of war were forgotten. 

 so yeah jaune in an earlier age becomes a hero, he stops a great atrocity but commits one of his own. something that haunts him well into the later events of the story btw ruby and jaune are both cannon ages for this, they just got married earlier than most. (they are basically still in the medieval ages lol) Ruby’s also one of the first batch of huntsmen to study at beacon. jaune’s not allowed in. and Oswald is the incarnation before Ozpin. 

jaune’s real struggle is not with his capabilities but rather how able he is to live up to his ideals to be a knight. his victory in Anima was a moral failing for him and he most certainly pays the price for it. but the people he was stopping weren’t exactly good guys either. they were an undisciplined mob who thought they were owed. just look how the french revolution turned out

let me know what you think the song ruby sings for him should be btw

#lancaster rwby #lancaster #ruby rose #Jaune Arc #rwby au