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tobiasdrake · 3 days

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Fun Fact: Goku fights smarter. Vegeta fights harder.

As a martial artist, Goku's developed and cultivated his skills over the course of his life, mastering a variety of creative techniques and, more importantly, honing his mind. A quick-thinking and analytical counter-fighter, Goku prides himself on a creative and clever dismantling of his adversary's capabilities.

This is where Goku excels as a fighter. He's a formidable martial artist in his own right but when pressured, he falls back on a generally high understanding of violence and a creative mind for opening solutions. He reads his opponent's style and abilities, finds its weaknesses, and exploits them.

This, incidentally, is part of what what made Majin Buu such an insurmountable hurdle for him.

Majin Buu is a taffy monster made of magic who defies even this universe's conventional physics. He has no fighting style; He just does things, and his infinitely regenerative body and supreme liquid flexibility leaves no weaknesses to exploit.

He cannot be fought the way Goku fights.

For his own style, Goku has one particular signature technique and a couple other moves he's picked up from others. His mainstay is the Kamehameha. But he's innovated a wide variety of ways in which the Kamehameha can be used, based on the needs of his situation.

Goku's used the technique in a variety of ways, such as using it for propulsion instead of as an attack.

Bending it around the opponent's defense for a surprise attack.

Making stationary torpedos that he can fire at will to startle and disorient his adversary.

The coolest attack in Dragon Ball history YES I SAID IT. Learning to teleport? Cool. Kamehameha? Cool. Teleporting in while charging the Kamehameha in order to throw it directly under your opponent's guard before he even has an instant to react? Top-tier.

Point is, this is who Goku is as a fighter. Brilliant and innovative, bringing a great deal of cleverness and creativity to his fights. He breaks down his opponent's technique and adapts himself to the needs of the situation at hand.

Vegeta is also highly observant and analytical. Do not mistake me for calling him stupid. He makes plans of his own, and his greatest asset is his ability to follow everything happening on the field at once. It is next to impossible to get the drop on this man.

Vegeta pays attention.

Vegeta is always paying attention. He splits his focus incredibly well and quickly interprets what he's seeing and hearing with a critical eye. He misses nothing.

He is. Always. Paying attention. The one time someone actually managed to get the drop on him - and I cannot stress this enough - it was a person Vegeta did not know existed because he had not been a part of this battle up to this point.

Am I saying that Yajirobe's cowardice saved the world by not revealing his presence to Vegeta until this fateful moment? Yes. Yes, I am saying that. We literally have a counter-example from someone Vegeta did know and account for to contrast it with.

Vegeta is always paying attention. Unless he doesn't know you exist.

So. Yeah. Vegeta is incredibly brilliant and observant. But what he's not is a martial artist. Vegeta, instead, is a soldier. He's comfortable in the realm that overwhelming power creates.

Vegeta hits hard.

He hits very hard.

He hits very, very, VERY hard.

In fact, Vegeta hits harder than Goku does. That's not to say that Vegeta is stronger than Goku; Vegeta and Goku go back and forth on who's stronger in the given moment over the course of the series. But Vegeta's attacks are stronger than Goku's.

To understand what that means, you need to understand that certain kinds of ki attacks have a multiplying effects on their user's strength. Attacks such as the Kamehameha or the Makankosappo, which concentrate ki before firing it, produce a much greater level of ki than their user's standard power output.

When charging a Kamehameha, Goku's battle power reading on the Scouter rises dramatically. This is the secret of techniques like the Kamehameha: they concentrate ki into a point before releasing it all at once, like pulling the pin on a grenade.

As concentration moves go, the Kamehameha isn't actually that great. The versatility and creativity that Goku brings to it is what makes it so formidable. Pound for pound, it kinda sucks. Piccolo's Makankosappo here makes the Kamehameha look like noob shit.

This kind of ability is non-standard among ki attacks, which are typically like throwing long-range punches. In fact, it's super-rare among the Planet Trade to be able to do this. Raditz had never even heard of a move like this.

Vegeta had. He knew of exactly one.

I am so sorry to do this to you but we're going to have to talk about battle power numbers here for a moment. Vegeta's clocked at 18,000 BP as of his battle with Goku on Earth; it's brought up a few times in the Namek arc.

Goku, iconically, is OVER 9000 8000!!!

At the moment Vegeta and Goku's attacks meet, Goku is channeling the Kaio-ken x3 which is exactly what it sounds like. He's inflated the ki inside his body to 300% capacity. The drawback is that his body is now an overinflated balloon ready to pop at any moment from all this swelled and bloated ki inside of him. But the gain is that he's outputting 300% power.

At this point in time, Vegeta has a battle power of 18,000. Goku, formerly >8,000 is now >>>24,000. Goku, further, is using the Super Kamehameha rather than the regular one he used against Raditz, which brings with it a higher level of power multiplication.

Nonetheless, the Galick Gun is winning against the Super Kamehameha. Goku is forced to resort to a x4 Kaio-ken - which does leave his body utterly destroyed and incapable of continuing the fight - in order to have enough power to overcome a superior magnification from a weaker opponent.

We see another direct comparison between the two in the Cell arc. That killer Warp Kamehameha fired point-blank into Cell when he least suspects it, which hits him dead-on and unloads its absolute maximum power into him? It does this.

Brutal. If Cell didn't have both Frieza's ability to survive ludicrous levels of harm and Piccolo's regeneration, it would have been over right here. Meanwhile, a glancing blow from Vegeta's Final Flash left him looking like this.

Despite Vegeta being far less powerful than Goku was when he fired that move, the effect is about the same - With implication that if Vegeta hadn't pulled the Final Flash back at the last second to avoid destroying the Earth, he would have erased Cell completely.

Goku's shot hit Cell point-blank and full-on to do about as much damage, albeit with deadlier aim in terms of killing a humanoid being.

This is the distinction between Goku and Vegeta as fighters. Vegeta is very smart, and Goku is very strong. Neither of them is lacking in intelligence or power. But they are philosophically very different fighters.

Pound for pound, Vegeta's moves hit harder than Goku's. He is the unparalleled master in taking the power he has and channeling it into as much destructive force as humanly possible.

On the flipside of that coin, when backed into a corner, Vegeta falls back on outputting as much direct force as he can. Goku gets to thinking his way around the problem at hand and devising a creative answer.

Goku is a surgical scalpel. Vegeta is a warhammer.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #son goku #vegeta

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vintagerpg · 11 hours

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I’ve long been vexed by this cover painting by Jeff Easley (annoyingly, it is credited to Caldwell inside). It appears in the Art of Dragonlance and I could never parse it because it doesn’t line up with anything in the books, really. It lines up slightly with some stuff in here, and in the next adventure, but it still ultimately remains enigmatic for me. Perhaps entirely because I think the constellation watcher is supposed to be Paladine, but I can’t parse it as anything but “glowing tree man.” I dunno man, Dragonlance does weird things to my brain.

Anyway. DL13: Dragons of Truth (1986). Hickman’s last writing gig in the series. It amounts to exactly what it is, the thirteenth episode of a fourteen episode series. It’s all set-up. It tries hard to be clever, and often succeeds! But it is, nevertheless, set-up.

Basically, the players go to Paladine’s house to be tested. If they pass the test, they get the answer to some very big questions and an idea of how to defeat the dragon queen in the next module. The module uses the tarot cards to randomize the three potential tests and six different plot outcomes. Is Fizban actually Paladine? What’s the deal with the weirdo with the gem in his chest? And where is Huma? Pull a card and find out! Part of me feels like I should complain about this not being weighty or something, but I rather like it, honestly. Its a good way to randomize the end game of the modules (only one outcome exactly matches the novel, but I feel like at least three kinda sorta match the novel?).

I dunno. Sometimes the set-up is the best part? This is maybe my favorite of the DL-series? It’s all anticipation, it hangs together well and you don’t have to worry about resolutions, which almost always disappoint. It’s a module about possibilities. That’s cool, especially in a series that has been so choreographed to this point.

#roleplaying game #tabletop rpg #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #Dragonlance #DL13 #Dragons Of Truth

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fanficapologist · 2 days

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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 Eight

“You do not know what you are asking for, but make no mistake, you are asking a great deal.”

Aemond found himself back at Harrenhal mere hours after the ball had ended, seeking solace away from the hustle and bustle of the Red Keep. As the first rays of light filtered through the window, they flickered off his sharp features, casting shadows across his furrowed brow as he leaned his head against his arm, his silver hair falling forward.

In the quiet of the room, Aemond felt the weight of desperation pressing down on him. Time was running out, and with Maera's reputation restored and the allure of the Master of Coin's dowry drawing every nobleman to her side, the Prince knew he needed to act swiftly. He couldn't afford to lose her to another suitor if he was to secure his great destiny.

Alys's penchant for speaking in riddles only served to exacerbate Aemond's frustration. Despite her purported great powers, he found her presence irksome. Her dull, long dark hair and cat-like green eyes got on his nerves, as did the enigmatic smile she always seemed to wear. The fact that he was entertaining these fantastical notions of magic and prophecy grated against his sense of logic and reason. Yet, the overwhelming desire to claim Maera for himself had clouded any semblance of judgment he had left.

"A daughter of a minor House will never be betrothed to a prince, especially during times of war when marriages are needed to secure allies," the Prince proclaimed with an edge of exasperation as he rose from his seat, his movements agitated as he inspected Alys's array of trinkets on the nearby table. “She needs to have something of use to the crown.”

Turning to face the witch, who lounged in her chair beside the hearth, Aemond's gaze bore into hers with intensity. "I don't care how you do it but find a way," he commanded, the tension in the room thickening with each passing moment.

Alys furrowed her brow, her green eyes meeting Aemond's with a piercing intensity. After a moment of contemplation, she broke the silence. "She has an aunt, does she not? In Morne?"

Aemond nodded curtly, acknowledging the mention of Maera's maternal aunt. "Her mother's twin, married to Lord Byron of the Fortress of Fog," he confirmed, his tone clipped with anticipation.

"Lord Byron controls quite a fleet," Alys continued, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone as she retrieved a scroll from her shelves and unfurled it to reveal a world map, laying it on the table beside the Prince. "And while the Lannister fleet is strong, the fleet of Morne possesses superior knowledge of the East Waters, akin to the Velaryon fleet."

The Prince shook his head in disbelief, a furrow deepening on his brow. “Lord and Lady Morne have children. The fortress and the fleet would pass to them,” he stated firmly, his voice edged with incredulity at the suggestion.

Alys merely shrugged in response, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Not if something were to happen to all of them,” she retorted, her tone tinged with an unsettling confidence.

Aemond recoiled slightly, taken aback by the brazenness of her proposal. “You’re talking about erasing an entire House,” he protested, his words heavy with disbelief and moral indignation.

The witch's smile only widened, her gaze unyielding. “I’m talking about securing the fleet to Lady Maera’s dowry in order for her to be your bride,” Alys persisted, her words cutting through the air like a blade. “Or do you not wish the prophecy to come true? For the King of Kings to be born?”

Aemond's eye flashed with frustration and anger, his jaw tensing as he struggled to contain his emotions. “I know, witch!” he snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. He turned away from her, his gaze darting around the room as he grappled with the weight of Alys's proposition. “She will never forgive me. Lady Viserra is the last connection to her mother. She writes to her.”

Alys remained unmoved, her demeanor devoid of any semblance of empathy or remorse. "Her heartache will pass," she declared coldly, her words ringing out with a callous certainty that left Aemond feeling unsettled and conflicted. “You will be King. And she will be your Queen,” the witch reminded him. “Through the binding of a son and daughter the King of Kings will be born, to unite and conquer the world.”

His jaw tensed as he contemplated the ramifications of Alys's plan. While Aemond didn't care about wiping out an entire House, he couldn't ignore the fact that the news would devastate Maera. He remembered her speaking fondly of her Aunt Viserra, the twin of her late mother. Losing her mother at such a young age had already inflicted enough pain on Maera, and the thought of causing her more suffering didn't sit well with him.

However, Aemond couldn't deny the strategic advantage their deaths could bring. Maera would inherit the fleet, a valuable asset for the war effort. This would give Aemond a reason to marry her, fulfilling the prophecy and potentially bringing forth the King of Kings. It was a tough decision. But Aemond also thought about all the years Maera had not been in his life, all the dark and twisted turns fate had led him down. He could not lose her again.

“Just see it done,” Aemond relented through gritted teeth, his frustration evident in the tense set of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

The witch grinned wickedly, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I will need something from you. After all, the Gods need payment for granting you this path.”

“Fine,” Aemond said tersely, dismissing her request with a wave of his hand. “More hair, more blood, whatever, just take it.”

But Alys shook her head slowly, a coy smile playing on her lips. “No, my Prince,” she replied, her voice taking on a sultry tone that sent a shiver down Aemond’s spine. “I need something much, much more valuable.”

As she attempted to brush her finger across his jawline, Aemond reacted instinctively, seizing her wrist firmly to halt the contact. His grip was firm, his violet eye flashing with a mixture of anger and suspicion as he stared into her emerald gaze. “The bloodline will come from your seed, my Prince,” she continued, undeterred by his reaction. “Therefore, that is where we must start. We must join together physically, to enable old magic and the blood of old Valyria to bind together as one.”

Aemond’s grip tightened further, his nails digging into her flesh as he struggled to contain his fury. “You expect me to lie with you?” he spat, his voice laced with contempt. “A witch, a whore?” With a forceful push, he shoved her hand away from him, his gaze burning with indignation and disgust. He could not believe she had the sheer audacity to ask this of him.

Stooping so low to sleep with a whore was one thing, but the potential consequences of this was an entirely different matter- children. Illegitimate children. Bastards. Aemond thought back to all the times his mother received news that another silver-haired babe had been born in a brothel in Flea Bottom. The shame and disappointment that would cloud Queen Alicent’s face was a horrendous sight to behold. There was no way Aemond could let that happen.

And then there was Maera, the woman he would be doing this for. If a child was born from lying with the witch, there would be a high possibility she would never know. However the thought of that ate away at his soul. It would be the ultimate blow to her. To kill her family in order to secure him to his side, and bring a bastard into the world through doing so?

"I will have no bastards running around the Riverlands," Aemond spat, his words laced with venom as he glared at the witch.

Alys met his gaze with equal fervor, her expression hardening as she retorted, "I can have no more children. My last birth damaged my womb, nothing can grow there."

Aemond's resolve remained unshaken, his tone resolute as he declared, "I am not risking it. The answer is no."

Turning away, he moved toward the chair where he had been seated moments before, intent on gathering his belongings and leaving. But Alys's voice cut through the silence, her words dripping with malice. "Very well. I am sure Lady Maera will make a gracious wife to Lord Warren Tully. If he is named Lord Grover’s heir, she will be the Lady of Riverrun. And she will give him many children."

Aemond froze mid-step, his muscles tensing as he processed her words. Memories of the harvest moon ball flooded his mind—the way Maera and Lord Warren exchanged smiles, the subtle blush on her cheeks, the intensity in the Lord’s gaze when he spoke to her. Despite the pain it caused him to even consider Alys’s proposal, the thought of Maera in the arms of another man felt like a stab to Aemond’s stomach.

A cold fury boiled within him as Alys continued to taunt him, her voice like a dagger twisting in his gut. "Then you can return to being the second son, the loyal lapdog of your brother, carrying out his duties with no thanks or rewards to show for it."

Unable to contain his rage any longer, Aemond stormed back across the room, his movements swift and purposeful as he seized Alys by the throat, his grip firm and unyielding. Despite Aemond's firm grip around her throat, Alys remained composed, her defiance unyielding as she continued to provoke him. "You are angry because I speak the truth. It is a hard thing to swallow, isn't it? Reality?"

Aemond's silence only seemed to fuel Alys's audacity, her taunts cutting through the air even as his fingers tightened around her neck. But she met his gaze with a steady smile, undeterred by his fury. "Your time is running out. This is your last chance."

The Prince hesitated, biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Despite his disgust at the idea of sleeping with her, he couldn't deny the power of her foresight. It was thanks to her abilities that Maera's reputation had been restored. Yet the urgency made him feel that he was being backed into a corner, like a trapped animal. He despised the idea of succumbing to Alys's demands, but he couldn't shake the allure of what her plan could offer—a marriage that would lead to glory, perhaps even happiness.

With a dark glower, Aemond released his grip, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions as he grudgingly acquiesced. "Let's get it over with."

He made his way over to Alys's small bed in the corner of the room, feeling the contrast with his own grander accommodations in the Red Keep. As he lay back, Alys climbed atop his lap, straddling him as her hands moving to unbutton his doublet, a sly smile on her face. With a scoff, Aemond shoved her back, refusing to let her touch him more than necessary. He felt a surge of revulsion at the thought of being intimate with her. This was a means to an end and he would not bear himself before her.

Instead he slid his hand down to his dark trousers and unlaced them, releasing his cock and began pumping it quickly to make it hard. His gaze flicked up momentarily to Alys, who watched him with bated breath. The look on her face caused him to recoil, and he tore his gaze away from her, focusing on a distant point in the room. After a moment he looked down, to see that his body had reacted to the stimulation before his head hit the pillow in defeat.

The Prince could hear the rustling of Alys's skirts, and feel the warmth of her hovering about him had him desperately trying to find a way to occupy his mind, focusing on anything but the situation he found himself in. Yet as he felt her move his cock and her slowly slide down on it with a groan, he froze. It was all too similar to his first night in the brothel with Aegon. The seedy atmosphere, the unfamiliar room, the feeling of being trapped underneath someone. It was too much to bear.

He steadied his breathing, knowing if the task was to be completed, for the spell to be cast, he needed to focus. Alys’s gasps filled the air, yet the sound transported him somewhere more pleasant. Aemond vividly pictured Maera's ferocity with the sword, her determined expression, and the intensity of her breath as she faced him in the courtyard for the first time a few moons ago.

He recalled the moment he had pinned her beneath him, forcing her to yield. The flush on her face and the glistening beads of sweat on her forehead were captivating. He remembered how he had sliced her tunic, revealing more of the expanse of her chest, a sight that had stirred something within him.

And then, he remembered the cut he had inflicted upon her, just above her left breast. The image of the blood staining her turquoise tunic and running gracefully across her pale skin remained etched in his memory. Gods, if it had not been for the crowd of onlookers, he would have bent down and ran his tongue across her soft skin, tasting the coppery red liquid with glee. To see her completely submitted to him in that moment stirred something primal within him, and it was a sight he wanted to behold every day until the end of his days.

With a quiet groan, Aemond released his seed, Alys continuing to rock against him until he was completely spent. Once it was done, he shoved Alys aside and rose abruptly from the bed, his demeanor cold and distant as he stuffed his cock back into his trousers and began gathering his belongings.

"You are leaving?" Alys inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity, and slight hurt.

Aemond shot her a disdainful glance, his lip curling in a sneer. "Well, I certainly would not stay," he retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. "I need to bathe before I return to my duties."

As he made his way to the door, Aemond paused, casting one final glance back at Alys sitting on the bed. "This was disgusting and it will never happen again," he spat, his words laden with bitterness. "And you better pray that it will work. My patience has reached its limit." With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

After a number of days of attending to duties on his idiot older brother’s behalf, Aemond soared through the sky on the back of Vhagar towards Kings Landing, the setting sun painted the horizon in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape below. Despite the beauty of the scenery, Aemond's thoughts were consumed by the disturbing memory of his encounter with Alys.

The image of Alys climbing atop him, her touch repulsive and unwelcome, made his stomach churn with disgust. He felt a profound sense of regret and shame for allowing himself to be manipulated into such a degrading act. Even as the wind whipped through his hair and the rhythmic beating of Vhagar's wings filled the air, Aemond's thoughts remained troubled. He couldn't rid himself of the unease that lingered, casting a pall over what should have been a serene flight home.

When the dragon began her descent, Aemond's keen eye caught sight of a vivid splash of turquoise atop the sand dunes below. His heart quickened as he recognized the color, knowing it belonged to Maera's distinctive attire. However, his excitement turned to a bitter taste in his mouth as he saw her accompanied by a man, their figures silhouetted against the setting sun. Fuelled by a mixture of curiosity and a rising tide of jealousy, Aemond commanded Vhagar to land behind a cliffside, seeking a vantage point from which he could observe discreetly.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Vhagar gracefully descended, her massive form casting a shadow over the rugged terrain below. As her claws touched down on the sandy ground, Aemond dismounted, his mind racing with questions and uncertainty. As the Prince ducked down towards the ground on his approach, his determination to observe without being seen intensified. The sound of Maera's lively chatter reached his ears, carried by the gentle sea breeze, stirring up conflicting emotions within him.

Peering up, Aemond's gaze fell upon the man accompanying Maera, and a surge of anger coursed through him. It appeared the wretched Tully cunt had used Aemond’s absence to sink his claws even further into Maera, demonstrated by their apparent courting on the shoreline, chaperoned by her newly appointed supposed protector. The sight of them together fueled Aemond's frustration, and he could no longer stand idly by. With a determined stride, he made his way towards them, his anger barely concealed beneath his stoic facade. His tense jaw and piercing stare locked onto Maera's, betraying the tumult of emotions raging within him.

The Lord and Lady stood to acknowledge Aemond's presence, and the Prince couldn't help but notice the irked expressions on their faces. Ignoring the tension, Aemond enjoyed the momentary satisfaction of seeing Lord Warren bow respectfully and Lady Maera curtsy, and decided to play along with the ridiculous charade for a moment.

"It is a beautiful evening to be walking by the sea,” the Prince commented, gazing out to the shoreline momentarily before setting his gaze back onto the couple.

"Indeed,” the Tully Lord concurred eagerly. “Though the night is not half as beautiful as Lady Maera."

Each word the trout spoke grated on Aemond, fueling his frustration as he dug his nails into his palm to suppress his rising anger. Seeing Maera's receptiveness to the compliments only intensified his inner turmoil, causing him to grit his teeth in frustration.

As Aemond's frustration mounted, he found himself not only seething at Lord Warren but also at Lady Maera. Why was she so obstinate in resisting the potential fulfillment of their shared destiny? Though she remained unaware of it, Aemond couldn't help but feel that the Gods should be guiding her towards him, not away.

Eager to disrupt this mummers farce unfolding before him, Aemond began sarcastically divulging information about Lord Warren's courtship of other ladies at court. He could not be seen as the valiant attentive lover that he so obviously was not. Lord Warren was a vile little serpent, like every other ridiculous man who appeared at court and wanted to gain power.

Observing Maera's reaction, Aemond noted the fury in her eyes, yet it wasn't directed at Lord Warren as it should have been. Instead, it was aimed squarely at him. Despite her anger being misdirected, Aemond found himself strangely grateful for the intensity of her emotions. Being the recipient of her fury felt like a peculiar blessing, amplifying his resolve to assert his claim over her.

As Lord Warren stepped forward, matching Aemond toe-to-toe, the Prince stifled a laugh. They were of similar height, but Aemond exuded a quiet confidence in his own prowess. Oh, how he longed for Lord Warren to make the first move so he would have an excuse to gut him like the fish he was, right in front of Maera.

However, fate intervened in an unexpected manner. Suddenly, distant shouts pierced the air, drawing everyone's attention. Out of the sky descended the wild dragon, Ēbrion, its deep blue and black scales glinting in the sunlight as it landed on the beach with a resounding thud.

The beast skulked along the sand towards them, its scales gleaming in the fading light, each step seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet. Its massive form cast a daunting shadow over the four figures below, its wings folded against its back, and its orange eyes fixated on them with an unsettling intensity, glinting with a primal intelligence.

Aemond, feeling an innate urge to move, positioned himself in front of Maera, his stance protective and resolute. His muscles tensed, ready to react to any sudden movement from the dragon, his single violet eye narrowed in focus.

Glancing back at Maera, he observed her reaction closely. Her lips were slightly parted in silent awe, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her green eyes fixed on the gigantic beast hovering above them. Despite the looming danger, there was a curious glint in her eyes, a hint of fascination mixed with a steely resolve.

Aemond attempted to command the dragon, his voice firm but futile against the creature's primal instincts, the beast responded with a low, bone-chilling growl. Its massive form remained imposing, its orange eyes burning with a wild intensity, as if challenging any attempts to control it.

Uncertain of what would happen next, Aemond felt a sudden movement behind him, the sensation of someone reaching for his belt. Whipping around, he saw Maera standing there, a dagger in her hand, her gaze fixed on the dragon with an unexpected calmness. It was a sight that left Aemond, along with Lord Warren and Ser Arryk, utterly astounded.

Maera's demeanor was strikingly composed as she gently shushed the dragon, as one would soothe a restless child. Her actions defied logic and expectation, yet there was an undeniable air of authority in her presence, a quiet confidence that seemed to resonate with the beast. As Aemond watched in awe and admiration, Maera took the dagger to her palm, slicing through it with a swift motion. Blood began to drip onto the sand below, and despite her wince of pain, she remained resolute.

Stepping in front of the Prince, Maera presented her palm to the dragon, her expression determined yet strangely serene. Aemond held his breath, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene, his heart pounding in his chest. Studying the dragon's response intently, Aemond noted the subtle changes in its demeanor. The beast's pupils dilated, and its tense muscles seemed to relax ever so slightly in response to Maera's soothing efforts.

Ēbrion slowly leaned forward, bridging the gap between them, Aemond watched in amazement as Maera reached out to touch its snout. The dragon seemed to inhale deeply, its nostrils flaring as it took in the scent of her blood. Despite the inherent danger, there was an undeniable sense of trust in the air.

Aemond couldn't help but release a shocked laugh, a mixture of disbelief and awe. His understanding of dragon body language, honed from years of experience with Vhagar and extensive research, confirmed what he was witnessing. The blue dragon was accepting Maera's presence, calmed by her command in a way that was truly extraordinary.

As the beast seemed content and began to depart, his massive form turning gradually, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The tension in the air began to dissipate as the dragon made his way back towards his cave lair, leaving them behind on the beach.

However, Aemond's attention quickly shifted when he heard Maera let out a shaky exhale. He turned to see her momentarily losing her balance, causing her to step backward. Acting on instinct, Aemond reached out and caught her, his hands gripping her upper arms firmly. In that moment, he offered her support after the harrowing encounter, silently reassuring her with his presence.

She had a faced a dragon head on, yet Ser Arryk and Lord Warren hovered around Maera, fussing over her like she was a fragile creature, causing Aemond to roll his eye in annoyance. The sight of them coddling her as if she couldn't handle herself grated on his nerves. It was ridiculous. Despite the commotion, Maera let out a shaky laugh, her emotions still raw from the encounter with the dragon. Aemond couldn't help but admire her resilience, even in the face of such danger.

Growing tired of Lord Warren’s familiarity with Maera as he cupped her face, Aemond forcefully shoved him aside and stepped closer to her. With a soft touch, he tilted Maera's chin up to inspect her face, concern evident in his one good eye.

After a moment more of shaky laughter, Maera synchronized her breathing with Aemond's, a gesture that helped to calm her nerves. As they settled into a shared rhythm, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with her, as if they were in sync not just in their breathing, but in their understanding of each other.

Lost in the depths of her forest green eyes, Aemond felt a silent understanding pass between them. It was an unspoken bond that seemed to transcend words, a connection that he couldn't deny. In that moment, with his finger lingering beneath her chin, Aemond felt as though the Gods were with him, guiding them both towards a path they were meant to follow.

"She's just a bit shaken, but she'll be fine,” the Prince assured the knight and lord.

Lord Warren, however, was far from pleased. His anger flared, and he retorted sharply, emphasizing Maera's wounded hand. "She has a gaping wound on her hand; she needs the Maester to look at it." His words were laced with frustration.

Aemond, his patience wearing thin, responded with equal vehemence. "Maera is tougher than she looks, and she doesn't need a mere trout like you to protect her," he spat out, the tension between the two men palpable, their gazes locked in a silent battle. But Maera intervened, her voice steady as she insisted that Aemond was correct. It was merely shock, and she was fine. She expressed her desire to continue her walk with Lord Warren, her words serving as a diplomatic bridge between the two proud men.

Aemond, in response, repeated the phrase he had spoken to Maera at the ball, coveting it in High Valyrian so Lord Warren could not understand; "Se zaldrīzes se klios gaomagon daor rholagon.” The fish and the dragon do not mix

With a stoic face, Aemond accepted Maera's request for him to leave, acknowledging silently that he had achieved his goal of disrupting her time with Lord Warren, and that was enough satisfaction for him. With a curt nod, he bid them farewell and turned to walk away.

However, as he strolled away, an inexplicable feeling urged him to linger for a moment longer, to observe the couple from a distance. Aemond made his way towards the dragon keepers, using the opportunity to scold them for their lack of control over the massive blue dragon. Yet even as he chastised them, his lilac eye remained fixed on Maera and Lord Warren in the distance, unable to shake off the curiosity and concern that gnawed at him.

The Prince watched as Maera glanced in his direction while Lord Warren conversed with her, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing he had captured her attention. Yet his satisfaction was short-lived as his expression twisted from gleeful to enraged. Maera extended her hand to cup Lord Warren's face, muttering words before boldly pressing a kiss to his lips. Aemond seethed with fury, his fists clenched at his sides as he stormed away from the dragon keepers who were still talking to him.

With swift, purposeful strides, he marched along the beach towards the Red Keep, the sand crunching beneath his boots as his mind raced. He was done being tested by the Gods, by the witch, by Maera, by everybody. It was time for Aemond to once again seize control of his destiny. And the first step would be getting rid of the trout. He needed to go.

Night descended upon the Red Keep, the torches lining the corridors flickering to life, casting dancing shadows that seemed to stretch and sway with the gentle drafts of air. The once bustling halls now grew quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading into the background as the inhabitants of the castle retired to their chambers. In the depths of the Keep, where the shadows clung eagerly to the stone walls, the darkness seemed to deepen. The torchlight struggled to penetrate the gloom, casting eerie silhouettes that lurked in every corner and crevice.

Alone in an alcove, Aemond sat with his back against the cold stone, his fingers absently tracing the intricate patterns of his dagger's hilt. The soft glow of torchlight barely reached him, leaving him enveloped in a cocoon of darkness as he grappled with the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

The Prince’s one-eyed gaze flicked up as he heard the telltale sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. His jaw clenched instinctively, anticipating the source of the intrusion. As Lord Warren's figure came into view, striding purposefully down the corridor, Aemond's lip curled with disdain. The ridiculous smile adorning Lord Warren's face only served to deepen Aemond's irritation, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he realised the Lord was making his way to the Master of Laws’ chambers.

In the dimly lit corridor, Aemond emerged from the shadows, his voice carrying a casual yet pointed tone. "A little late for political visits, do not think, my Lord?"

Lord Warren, with a hint of exasperation, turned to face him, plastering a forced smile on his face. "With a matter such as this, my Prince, I do not think it can wait."

Aemond took a deliberate step closer, his gaze unwavering as he pressed further. "And what matter would that be, hmm?"

Lord Warren chuckled softly, his expression shifting to one of sincerity. "Speaking with her at the ball piqued my interest," he began, his smile growing warmer. "Spending time with her this evening has only made me more sure."

As Lord Warren bid the Prince a respectful nod and made to depart, Aemond halted him with another question, his tone laced with skepticism. "You think yourself worthy of her hand?"

The Tully Lord pivoted back around, meeting Aemond's gaze with a confident demeanor. "Do you, my Prince?" he countered, closing the distance between them until they stood face to face. His smile took on a sly edge. "I only ask because you seem very interested in her."

The Prince’s lips curled into a knowing smile, a facade concealing his true intentions. He refused to give the satisfaction of confirming such a notion to someone so beneath him. The dragon need not concern himself with a the opinion of a mere trout.

“You wish to be Lord of Riverrun, do you not?”

The Tully Lord furrowed his brow, silent for a moment before stating, “I only wish-“

“Spare me,” Aemond waved his hand dismissively, cutting through the man’s excuses like a sword through parchment. He had no interest in hearing platitudes about family, duty or honour; in Aemond’s view, all men of the court were nothing but power-hungry leeches, and Lord Warren was no exception.

During his two weeks away from King's Landing, Aemond was diligent in attending to his duties. Despite the regrettable encounter with Alys, he remained focused on the matters at hand, which were a welcome distraction. At Harrenhal, Aemond had established a miniature council of nobles to assist him in overseeing the war effort. This council served to keep him informed on war plans and to delegate tasks effectively.

Among its members were the sharp Lord Peake, the elderly Lord Vance, and the skeptical Lord Butterwell. It was Lord Butterwell who had just provided Aemond with an important update in regards to House Tully, an update that the Prince could use in this moment.

"I have information to secure Riverrun for you. Information about your cousins and their whereabouts," Aemond declared confidently, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Lord Warren responded with a skeptical smile and a disbelieving laugh. "You do not," he countered, his tone tinged with doubt.

Aemond tilted his head, his gaze steady and unwavering. "You find that so hard to believe?" he questioned. When Lord Warren offered no immediate response, Aemond pressed on. "The crown is at war. We receive information about our enemies much quicker than you do."

There was a brief moment of hesitation in Lord Warren's expression, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. After a beat, he relented. "What do you know?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity.

Aemond's smile widened, sensing his advantage. With a mockingly playful gesture, he wagged his finger in the air. "Ah-ah. On one condition," he declared, his tone laced with cunning. Lord Warren furrowed his brow, awaiting the stipulation. Aemond's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he delivered his ultimatum. "Abandon these notions of proposal to Lady Maera. And swear by the Seven that you will leave at first light."

Lord Warren's gaze flickered between the corridor leading to the Master of Laws' room and the path back to his own quarters, as if weighing the potential outcomes of his decisions. A sense of conflict danced across his features, mirrored by the uncertainty in his eyes.

"You want her for yourself," Lord Warren accused, his tone edged with defiance, as he turned his attention back to Aemond.

Aemond responded with a dismissive roll of his eye. "Do we have an understanding, my Lord?" he pressed, his voice firm and resolute.

Lord Warren held Aemond's lilac gaze with his own blue eyes, a silent battle of wills passing between them. After a moment of tense deliberation, the Tully Lord relented, dropping his gaze and nodding in defeat.

"Good," Aemond sneered, a smirk playing at his lips as he cleared his throat. "Your cousins have set up their base near High Heart. There is a weakness of guards on the east side of the camp."

Lord Warren sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his decision, before offering Aemond a respectful nod. With a resigned air, he turned on his heel and began to make his way back to his chambers.

As Lord Warren departed, Aemond couldn't resist one final taunt. "Go now, little trout," he called after him mockingly. "Return home upstream."

With Lord Warren manipulated and Maera's suitors thwarted, Aemond's plan was falling into place. The prophecy was on the verge of realization, and all that remained was to seek the King's approval for a marriage proposal. Maera would soon be his.

Notes: whoooo this took a while to write. It was hard to write, I feel so sorry for our boy. I feel sorry for Maera. I feel sorry for everyone 🤣

Tags: @0eessirk8 @magicseahorse @blue-serendipity @abecerra611 @saltedcaramelpretzel @marvelescvpe @watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @thelastemzy @kckt88

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 #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction

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thewitchqueenofharrenhal · 9 hours

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I’m sorry but Rhaenyra fighting in the war is Mary Sue behavior and if true will prove once again the writers …will likely be unable to write a compelling women.

Which is a real shame because I love book Rhaenyra.

They would rather do the usual people are just mean and hate a girlboss shtick then have to write about the nuances of a woman trying to become the first Queen in her extremely cut throat dynasty.

A woman dealing with the ramifications of (likely) postpartum depression. A woman who was meant to rule since she was a child and instead she is now recovering from a traumatic agonizing birth. A birth where her own husband ignored and later assaulted her. Who is going to protect her now that her father is dead? What does it mean to be a Queen when you have suffered beyond belief in childbirth and now you cannot even ride your dragon, that dragon that marks you as “better”, no your male children must fight for you. Then die for you.

The woman lauded as the Realm’s Delight who told her fierce aunt who did fight not only for her own rights but Rhaenyra’s that the realm denied her as Rhaenys the Queen Who Never Was but bent the knee to her.

What’s the difference between The Queen Who Never Was & The Realms Delight?, what’s the difference between a Queen who fought and one who didn’t? and what does it mean that they both ended up dead?

A woman who becomes increasingly paranoid and fearful (rightfully so) after being wronged so many times. A flawed woman, a woman who’s entitled, a woman who wants to rule but has internalized misogyny. A woman who believes she’s above the rest. A woman who has never had any physical training in war or battle because she has always lived in the lap of luxury and privilege and now finds herself in a war.

So she dresses up in the style of her warrior ancestress despite never taking up arms. Is it for comfort? Or strength? If she could ride her dragon would it matter? When Syrax like her has only ever known peace and her son’s murder rides her warrior ancestresses own mount Vhagar. A dragon that helped win Seven Kingdoms against one that has never known violence?

Things weren’t suppose to be that way, and every wrong makes for a crueler and angrier woman. She won’t die in battle she means to sit on that throne.

She never wanted to make a better world, she simply wanted to enjoy the rights every other entitled man of her lineage has had but instead she must go to war? Saera Targaryen was punished for thinking she could have multiple partners like the men in her family. Rhaenyra Targaryen is punished and compared to one of the worst men in her lineage.

What does it mean for a woman to be vile and STILL have been wronged and STILL have been robbed of what was hers because of her gender?

Why must she be this paragon of perfection?

For better or for worse the writers are terrified of making Rhaenyra unlikeable and it’s just so boring.

#rhaenyra targaryen #hotd #asoiaf

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flightfoot · 2 days

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Any feligami fic recommendations?

Felix is Fine by SortaArtsy

Felix wakes up sick, but is determined to keep it under wraps. Kagami refuses to be fooled. Feligami fluff. Implied past trauma/ abuse, though nothing explicit. Set post S5 so there are SOME SPOILERS!

If you want a Felix sick fic, this story’s the fic for you! I like how Felix and Kagami actually talk about why Felix is so determined to keep the extent of his illness hidden, what caused him to feel like he needs to do that, and Kagami’s understanding about it. Colt sucks.

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to assess the equation of you by ThisKwamiNeeds-aNap

“I’m not a wanted fugitive,” she said, dryly. “You could change that.” She wasn’t sure if he was joking. Wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be joking. She stared for a long second, as if she could read more into his intent in the pupils of his eyes. They stayed there for a long second, unblinking. OR: Félix and Kagami try to talk about that after credits scene in Pretension

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the awful felix saga by chivalrousamour

It should be noted that Félix was not exactly the most normal of people. He was idolized by others and popular, yet never had many friends. His social skills mostly amounted to knowledge of how to smile and speak politely enough that people let their guard down around him. As a result of his tendency to ignore or hate most people, he only had the few loved ones, and he'd commit murder for them. Like literally commit murder for them. Several murders, even. He did not have good knowledge of boundaries or restraint. So it should really say something that Félix, of all people, looked at Adrien's phone, and immediately said "oh, what's wrong with this guy." Because, like, dude. Why did Adrien have so many pictures of a girl he wasn't even dating? Even Félix knew that cropping group pics to be just the two of them was a weird thing to do.

So this is part of a series. I put that series on my top ten completed fics of 2023 list. I think you can mostly understand what's going on here without reading the other fics in the series, but I highly recommend you do read them, because they're hilarious! But this fic should at least give a taste of the tone of the rest of the series and give an idea whether you'd like to read the rest.

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The Peacock and the Dragon by TheVioletThread

kagami reflects on love, past and present, lost and won. felix destroys everything he has ever loved.

This is a three-chapter story, with the chapters being mostly independent, rather than naturally leading into each other.

The first chapter is from Kagami's POV, delving into the mindset she's grown up with due to Tomoe's parenting.

The second chapter, on the other hand, is from Felix's POV and mostly follows his horrific backstory, the abuse he suffered at Colt's hands, and his mindset even after Colt died.

The third chapter goes over Amelie's life, how she thinks of being the one left behind to deal with her parents' expectations, how she does, in fact, abide by them, basically being sold away to the highest bidder, and the despair as she's unable to do what she was "purchased" to do: provide an heir to Colt.

There's some beautiful prose here and exploration for Felix, Kagami, and Amelie, I highly recommend giving it a look!

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one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

So this is mostly a Lovesquare fic, but there's lots of different perspectives here, including Felix's and Kagami's. They may not be the main couple, but they still have more focus and development here than you're likely to find in most other fics.

Which is especially impressive since Feligami was one of the major pairings in this fic even BEFORE the Miraculous season 5 bible got leaked. Wackus was clairvoyant on that front.

#ask #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #feligami

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aemonds-fire · 1 day

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The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Reader Part One - The Night Before

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Word Count: 708

Warnings: Canon character death.

Enjoy! Reblogs and Comments are appreciated.

Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

The Night Before

21st day of the 5th moon of the year 130 AC

Aemond paces restlessly, watching his lover, Alys, stare into the flames of the small fire he has made for them. They are camped under a full moon at the edge of the forest, near a clearing large enough for Vhagar to rest in. He remains silent, hesitant to distract the witch while she searches for visions.

Only when she leans back slightly, searching through the bag she brought, does he stop. “Tell me what you have seen,” he demands. The months of maddening rage at being outmaneuvered by Daemon eating away at him, along with his obsession for Alys, and the terror he is now unleashing upon the Riverlands, slake his thirst for vengeance to any degree.

“You will fight Daemon in the skies above the God’s Eye, and he will die, but not before he kills you,” she ominously tells him as she lays out herbs, oils, and other magical items beside her. "But I can change that fate." Alys looks up at him, smiling darkly, the glow from the fire casting shadows over her face. “Give me your sapphire eye, and I will cast a spell on it. You will feel the pain of your wounds, but the magic I will put in the stone will heal them. You will survive your injuries, while your uncle will not.

Impetuous and unrestrained fury replaces rational thought as Aemond removes the sapphire from his eye socket and hands it to Alys. “You are certain my uncle will die?” he asks irritably, driven by a savage need to deal a death blow to Rheanyra’s side by killing her husband and greatest weapon.

She places the sapphire in a bowl, then adds the other necessary items. She then draws her dagger, looking up at Aemond. “I have seen it; now give me your hand,” she says, holding out her own to him.

Without pause, he extends his hand to her. He does not flinch as she takes her blade to his palm, letting his blood flow into the bowl. Alys begins to speak words he does not understand, chanting them again and again before pouring the contents into the fire, causing the flames to dance higher while changing to unnatural colors. This continues through most of the night, until she returns the shining stone to him, neither undamaged nor soiled by the flames, as dawn approaches.

“Nuncle, I hear you have been seeking us,” says Aemond.

“Only you,” Daemon replied. “Who told you where to find me?”

“My lady,” Aemond answered. “She saw you in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fires we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more, my Alys. You were a fool to come alone."

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” said Daemon.

“Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, Nuncle."

“On that much, we agree,” Daemon replied.

As the two mighty dragons claw and tear at each other with flames so bright, it looks as if the clouds have caught fire. Daemon leaps from his dragon to the other, driving Dark Sister into Aemond’s blind eye and forcibly dislodging the sapphire from the socket.

It was upon the twenty-second day of the fifth moon of the year 130 AC when the dragons danced and died above the Gods Eye, and two men, two dragons, and a sapphire stone fell into the waters of the lake.

Some years later, after the end of the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Aemond’s armored bones are found still chained to his saddle, with Dark Sister thrust hilt-deep through his skull. His remains and the skull of Vhagar are brought up from the lake bottom and returned to the Red Keep. By Targaryen tradition, the dead are burned by dragonfire, but there were no more dragons and no one left alive who would mourn the Kinslayer, so his bones are placed in a stone sarcophagus in a chamber deep beneath the Red Keep, to be forgotten for centuries.

The sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye was not found, lost beneath the murky waters of the God’s Eye.

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dismas-n-dismay · 2 days

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Hi! It's me again (I'm transferring to a bachelor's in biology this fall and I love the science that goes into the series so I love that you're exploring this)

Do either of them have hoarding instincts or dietary preferences or are they pretty much human in that regard?

They'd possibly be born with baby teeth, at least in Haze/Hazel's case, would that change anything? (Hazel would probably fit better because Falin is half French on her father's side from what I remember from the Adventurer's Bible and it feels even that they'd both get to name a kid but that's just my opinion)

Haru with his mouth full: Checkit!! Blegh!! Haize: Gross. Good job, Haru, you're a natural hunter!

Welcome back to part 10,000 of me talking about my silly ocs. Hi. hello. Thank you sooo much for coming back with more biology questions for these two hehehe >:]c

Diet Preferences?

These two are quite the oddballs. Haru is an insectivore by simple dragon nature while Haize is a carnivore by hers, though their elven and tallman sides balance them out to be closer to omnivores! Light dragons commonly eat bugs as they're the easiest prey to attract when ur big and flashy though this keeps them very lithe and they typically have more slender builds, though the proteins do help a lot. Conversely, red dragons being mostly carnivores results in their larger build and their obvious frequency to be the most dominant and persevering dragon species- y'know. Because they murk the other ones due to their weaker diets and builds.

Haru started to eat bugs right around the time it was warm enough for him to go outdoors without getting sick, I imagine he would've eaten a butterfly or a dragonfly much to Marcille's horror. Like that vine of the pug eating the butterfly with his owner screaming no! Backtracking a bit though to give some cool facts about baby light dragons because I decide the lore. I'm making them weird half mammal half bird-lizards because I think the variety is cool but this also means that - up until baby light dragons can open their eyes and properly attempt to hunt - they drink milk from their parents! (Whether or not this is crop milk like birds produce is entirely up to the reader's imagination, I will not judge but I will choose either one if asked)

So up until he started going outside, Haru was perfectly content just drinking milk like any other baby- Haize was not. Unlike Haru she was born with baby fangs!! Just little milk teeth to help her get a headstart for the world and such, but she grew hungrier for something more diverse than milk very quickly. Red dragons, unlike light dragons, don't do the whole milk thing so Haize was only partially satiated due to being part elf and tallman but the minute she was allowed to eat soft meats she basically refused to go back. So just imagine like a 1 year old eating various lunch meats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Honestly it was probably for the best, Haize's fangs bit into Marcille a lot and they were worried she might grow a taste for blood if she kept accidentally nicking her mom while trying to eat. She probably would have and it would've been a really bad habit to get rid of because she hadn't developed that big girl brain to be like "Hey maybe drinking blood isn't super cool."

All in all, the Touden-Donato sibs have slightly preferenced diets! Though Haize prefers meats, nectar, and citrus fruits while Haru prefers bugs, ground vegetables, citrus fruits, and any/all milk based desserts (he just really likes them). God if these kids ever got their hands on sorbet it would be a disaster, Falin and Marcille would literally spend a week trying to explain why they cant have ice cream for every meal and have to deal with whining dragonets the whole time.

2. Hoarding Instincts

They do have hoarding instincts! Though this is one of those things that differs from dragon to dragon on how they react with it. Light dragons tend to go for the flashiest treasures to make themselves more appealing and alluring, naturally they like the attention they draw in just from an instinctual standard. They frequently discard rusted, unpolished, or just not as eyecatching treasure all the time. They really just arent particular about the whole thing unless they see you have an interest in something they were previously disinterested in- then they're smug assholes who see their treasure as still having some renewed value. So essentially Envy = Worthy to them, but they arent extremely vain creatures despite their hoarding preference and are actually particularly generous within reason. It's very common for light dragons to gift their young, mates, or siblings with treasures from their own hoards or that they've taken for themselves to gift. Typically though the gifting of treasure is to help younger dragons start their own hoard and have an idea of what to go for when out and about for themselves.

That being said, Haru is a greedly little fucker who wants every single new treasure possible, fuck you. He's very grateful for being part elf and tallman because he's aware that he can make his beautiful treasures last long if he polishes, dusts, and cleans them! So his hoard isn't too huge if only because he's good at maintaining things. Still, if he sees something he tends to want it and is often reprimanded for trying to steal shiny gems, jewels, or artifacts just because he likes them- as Haru often gets tired with his new finds extremely quickly if they begin to bore him or don't compare to his other treasures. When it comes to his hoarding he essentially has the dragon equivalent to having eyes bigger than your stomach.

Haize, however, has your more traditional dragon's hoard of miscellanous treasures, artifacts, coins from birthdays, and prized family gifts. Much of her hoard consists of trinkets Haru grew bored with but that she still saw interest in and wanted to give renewed purpose, she isn't nearly as picky but is very curious and likes to inspect an item before taking it in. She'll often let Haru have a treasure knowing that he'll get tired of it within the hour- though she has been known to assert her place as the eldest sibling if there is a gift for her she particularly wants and Haru usually shies off. Haize doesn't assert herself as the eldest often so he knows it's business if she does for things like food or treasure. Haru keeps her hoard partially in and around the her nest as well as the family nest in Falin and Marcille's room! Her nest in the guardian is where she keeps most of her baby clothes, toys, trinkets, and cloths/blankets. She just feels they're safest there and prefers to sleep near them <3.

Also, fun tid bits on how dragons train their kids to gain treasure!: Typically young dragons get the urge to grab and snatch at shiny things as soon as they're able to crawl around functionally and protect themselves- which is pretty early due to them being predators of a mythical variety- so they'll often try and steal treasure from their parent's hoard! Older dragons use this as stealth training for their young and will often guard their treasure, sitting stop or nearby and continuously removing their children until they manage to sneak by successfully to take a trinket. Typically the larger/shiner/whatever is more impressive for the type of dragon you are is what is most rewarded for by parents but they do punish thinking a bit too big. It's good to know your limits! better to have 5 gold coins than 5 gold bricks you cant carry.

so Falin was very often having to train Haru and haize to amass their own treasures which was much easier for Haize due to her slinky and stealthy body allowing for quicker and quieter movement! Haru had to learn to fight, due to his regular baby limbs and range of movement, which didnt really work because he's so itty bitty but the thought was appreciated by Falin, learning to stand your ground is good too!

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sparrowrye · 2 hours

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 4

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 4: new things

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We have several trackers on some of the trucks," Vox explained, gesturing to the wall of televisions. Some were stand stills of city road entrances, others seemed to be on someone, and others were obviously underneath a car.

"You couldn't have told me this over the phone?" I questioned. I was adorned in my dark maroon outfit again. My Dragon Demon persona was shining through like gold.

"You're a distrustful person. Figured I'd have to show you in person," he answered, glancing over at me, "besides, it's not like you visit very often."

"I have no reason to," I shrugged.

"What exactly is your plan?"

"Follow them to their factory. Then destroy it."

"Why don't you just interrogate one of them?" he questioned. I had been texting him specific instructions to not intervene with any of the drivers. "The workers keep mentioning two specific names: Azrael and Esdras. Maybe they're at the head of this operation now."

"Are you tracking their route or just their location?" I inquired, ignoring his suggestion.

"Both."

"I want all the trucks to go back to the factory to get new shipments. Then let them send out again."

"Why?" He sounded disgusted at the idea.

"Anyone can carry on Blackwater's legacy if they slip through the cracks. You don't have the location of all the trucks. Destroy the factory and not the workers and they start up again a decade later."

"So just let them get their re-supply and give more of those devices out?" He crossed his arms and faced me. The workers in the room had their headsets on and were listening to possible conversations through the cameras.

"No. That's where you'll come into play." I slid my hands in my pockets and leaned my weight on one leg. "When the trucks get to the factory, make sure each and every one of them has a tracker. Follow each truck well away from the factory before taking it. Then wait a few days in case there's another wave of trucks and do the same. Kill the workers as they come out of the hive."

Vox hummed and glanced up at his screens. "Once we have taken all the trucks, then what?"

"I sink the factory."

"What about all the machines still out there?"

"You get them as you find them. Shouldn't be a problem in your territory with all the cameras."

"I've got a lot of land now," he said smugly.

"Not my problem." I shrugged.

"Oof, cold hearted per usual." He made a fake pained gesture over his chest. I made no comment. "You ought to get out of that haven more. Relax a little."

"With you?" I questioned with a sideways glance.

"That's certainly an option." He took a step closer.

"You forget I'm soul bonded." This wasn't the first time Vox had tried to poorly flirt with me or encourage me to leave my haven for anything other than business. I could feel Alastor's hot eyes watching through mine.

"To a soul who abandoned you."

I rolled my eyes, head turned away. "He'll return."

"Maybe not for another fifty, sixty, or a hundred years. You should get out and explore. Experience more of the world."

"I don't think Alastor would be too happy if I were to go out drinking with an enemy in his absence."

"We've already got a deal together. What's wrong with a little drink?"

I turned and lowered my head so my eyes casted up in a glare.

"You."

The pained look was exactly what I was hoping to see. His recover was quick, though, as were his movements as he stepped into my personal space.

"If you can manage to be with Alastor of all Demons, you'll find me more susceptible." The static of his screen was making the hair on my neck and arms stand up.

I brought my tail up to push him away by his chest. "Like Alastor, I'm afraid I don't reciprocate the feelings."

"You're unlike Alastor in a lot of ways," he pressed.

"Good thing he and I compliment each other then."

"You seem awfully defensive about a killer Demon who abandoned you without a word for eight years. And so suddenly too."

I didn't comment. My smile was a half smile and my hands were still in my pockets. Vox had terrible timing for himself. I could feel Alastor melting with my own shadow, ready to pounce.

"Has he returned?" Vox asked. My expression must've given it away because his smile came back full force. "Finally returning after all the hard work is done?" He sounded excited.

He stepped in my personal space again but when I put my tail up, a thick wire snaked out of the wall and wrenched it to the floor. My eyes darkened as I bared my teeth in a snarl, claws ready to cut wires and scratch screens.

"Tell me, dear, how's it feel to know that all your hard work will be for nothing?" He went on, "No one will challenge your haven now that he's back and defending it. You won't need our deal anymore but you're still bound to it. You might even be forgotten as news picks up on his return," he reached a blue claw towards my face, "after all, who can trump the Radio Demon?"

"Not you." Alastor's contrasting red claws gripped his blue wrist before he could touch me. Vox's eyes widened as did his smile.

"Good to see you back Alastor," Vox greeted him as Alastor roughly shoved his hand away. I yanked my tail out of the cord's hold.

"I'm disappointed in you, old friend." He placed his cane on the floor and examined his other claw. The workers had noticed his arrival and turned in their chairs. "Attempting to attract my soulmate in my absence? How ill will of you."

"Says the one who left them without a word."

"My reasoning is none of your concern and all of ours."

Ours. It sounded strange coming from him.

"If you came here to nix our deal, I'm afraid that's out of the question."

"I'm not." He stepped directly in between us, back to me. "I'm here to remind you she may be bound by your deal, but I am not."

Vox scoffed. "If you attack me then she'll have to fight you."

"There's always a backdoor to every deal." He took a step closer. "And I'm great at exploiting them." He backed away and placed a claw on my shoulder. "Do enjoy the deal while it lasts. It won't be for long."

His magic and shadows surrounded me as he teleported us out of the station.

****

I started cooking dinner early while Alastor made his first broadcast in eight years. I had texted Vivian to keep Nym and Thatcher a little bit longer after school and to keep the radio off. Nearly every building had a radio.

Only a select few in the haven were given phones as a means of fast communication. Access to the internet was granted via our library or Internet rooms -- secluded rooms in a single building with several computers and phones.

My deal with Vox was to keep his stations safe from attacks so long as he promoted us in a positive way and never came into, listened in on, or observed the haven through his technology. This allowed anyone to access the internet safely from home.

Putting the wooden spoon down, I looked out the kitchen window at the empty ocean. I moved from the stove to lean on the rim of the sink. My claws tapped the metal carefully.

"So much is going to happen again," I whispered.

The first day of Alastor's return hadn't even finished yet. We 'made up', he met the children, Charlie showed him the town, he and Vox antagonized each other, and he was making his first broadcast in years.

I was truly starting to believe he wasn't a hallucination as I heard the muffle of his voice through the floorboards. He felt like a missing puzzle piece fitting back into my life but not so smoothly, almost as if I was second guessing if that piece actually fit in there or was just the right size and shape.

I wanted to cry.

I let out a loud grunt and went back to the stove. I had been wanting to cry since Alastor and I made up. Things weren't back to normal and probably won't be for a long time. I was still so angry, so hurt, and still confused. Just because he didn't leave on purpose didn't negate the fact that he still left me alone. I was someone different, someone new. Would he still care about me once he actually got to know the new me? He was clearly already upset with me about the children.

You're soulmates, I reminded myself.

Dinner was a simple mixed gumbo recipe I often used when I didn't have anything planned or when I needed to feed a lot of mouths. I wanted to have everyone sit down and have dinner together, hopefully to clear up confusion and negative feelings, but Reagan and Lucas already had plans and I wasn't going to attempt to encourage Alastor to talk with the two younger ones yet.

Speaking of which, the two of them came bolting in the front door. Thatcher ran right for my legs to avoid his sister who was carrying something cupped in her hands. Her love for nature wasn't shared with her younger brother who hid at the first sign of something with more than four legs.

I wrapped my tail around Nym's front to keep her away from him. She didn't fight me hard but was laughing and taunting Thatcher from the safe distance. I bore with it for only a minute or two before instructing her to let the poor creature loose and wash her hands.

Alastor remained in his office for a long time. I ate dinner with the two kids, listening to their chatter about school and the drama that came with it. It didn't get interesting until they mentioned one of the male teachers spending the after school hours in Ms. Vivian's room chatting with her. I would poke my friend for more information the next time we saw each other.

I procrastinated seeing Alastor. I hadn't changed his room much, really at all, since he disappeared, but I had gone through his office a few times and accidentally rearranged his bookshelves. So I washed the bowls, pot, and utensils as slow as I could.

Maybe a peace offering.

I went into the freezer and pulled out a tightly wrapped package. I unwrapped the meat and broke small pieces off, stirring them in a single bowl of the gumbo and using magic to make it hot again. Since Alastor disappeared, I had to hunt and harvest my own meat. It kept the strain and pain at bay but every now and then I would experience horrible withdrawal symptoms from a lack of his blood. It wasn't until three years later that I was able to go months without the horrible withdrawal, so long as I consistently had some other kind of blood, typically of a Demon.

Was Alastor's body the same as when he left or did it also suffer the wraths of time? Would he crave blood of some kind soon? Regardless of the answer, I needed to do something nice for him.

So, with unsteady feet, I climbed the creaky staircase to his--our--bedroom. I heard shuffling from his office and stopped early, gently knocking on the wood door. I waited only a moment before he opened it, red eyes glowing in the dark ambiance of the upstairs hallway. I needed to put more lights up here.

"I brought you some dinner," I offered the bowl. His toothy smile didn't change as he stepped aside to let me in. He closed the door behind me, my ears picking up on the click of the lock, and took the warm bowl from my hands. His claws brushed against mine as he did and I clasped them behind my back.

The smell of smoke and cedar wood was finally returning to the room. It had lost his scent after the first few months.

"Something wrong, my dear?" He placed the bowl on his desk and motioned for the single chair by the fireplace. He sat in his desk chair as I took the empty one and wrapped my tail around my ankles.

"No. Should there be?"

"You seem anxious." He sounded so nonchalant as he crossed his legs, elegant as ever, and examined the contents of the dish.

"Perhaps awkward is a better term."

"How so?" His expression gave away nothing as he began eating the meal.

"Are you upset with me?" I asked instead.

His pause was short. "There's a lot I'm currently managing."

"Such as?"

His eyes flicked up to mine. "Am I being interrogated?"

"What? No--I'm just...I'm curious."

"About?"

Why is this so difficult? I inwardly groaned.

"I'm worried about your thoughts on the house and on the children."

"I am not a fan of children. That you are aware of."

"I know that and..." I glanced down at my claws. His intense stare was difficult to meet. "I won't leave them or kick them out of the house."

"That was expected."

I fell silent. What was the point of me coming up here? I was getting nowhere with him.

"I will not do anything to them, if that is your concern," he added.

"I didn't think you would," I said quickly, "but...I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You have done nothing wrong."

Why was he being so nonchalant with me? Usually there was some kindof emotion poking through when we interacted. It felt like his eyes never left me. I never once saw him looking elsewhere.

"I didn't change much with the house," I tried next.

"I noticed. Though you seem to have spent a lot of time in my office."

"I'm sorry."

"I was not looking for an apology."

His contrasting personalities were confusing me. I noticed dials moving on his motherboard. Maybe he operated much like me in having different personalities for different aspects of his life. Maybe he was still in Alastor the Radio Demon persona.

"I read a lot of your books," I said.

"And made your own abstracts."

"I was supposed to remove them from the books before you came back."

"What for?"

"I know you said that's something you enjoy doing. So I didn't want to take that away from you."

"I enjoy reading your handwriting. Though I must admit," he licked his yellow teeth from the meal, "it looks like chicken scratch."

I crossed my arms and leaned back in the seat. "I never wrote anything until you disappeared. We didn't exactly need to write in the fighting rings." My face was hot with embarrassment. I shouldn't have come up here.

"Indeed. Maybe cursive would do you better."

"I struggle to understand your handwriting."

"Practice makes perfect." He placed the empty bowl on his desk.

"I guess." I crossed my legs and picked at the tips of my claws.

Silence hung over our heads for awhile. To my surprise, I felt myself actually relaxing in it rather than feeling more awkward.

Master of silence, I thought to myself.

I heard the patter of footsteps as Nym and Thatcher came looking for me. On weekend nights they often went to play with friends or spend the night in their homes.

"Well, I should go see what they need." I stood and took the bowl from his desk, his eyes following my every move. "They probably want to go see—" he caught my wrist "—their...friends..."

His grip was firm but kind. I could faintly smell his sweet, cedar wood scent. His back had come off the back of his chair and lips covered his sharp teeth.

My face was warm.

A single claw rubbed along my wrist.

My chest felt tight.

And my lips were dry. Too dry.

My tongue darted out to wet them, daring a fleeting glance at his lips.

He noticed.

I hadn't even realized his other arm had moved until his claw found the back of the my head. He pressed and pulled, bringing me closer and causing me to bump knees as I shifted my weight.

His scent was so overwhelming it made my nose pinch. He gently pressed his warm lips against mine in a soft kiss. My eyes closed as I leaned my weight forward a little more. I loved the feeling of his claws threading through my hair.

It had been so long since I last felt someone touch my hair like that.

I hadn't realized until now just how touch starved I had been, how much I craved his gentle touch. There was danger in those claws but they were kind and careful on me, never daring to do me harm again.

Maybe things would be okay. I thought to myself as I leaned my weight on the armrest of his chair and pressed harder into the kiss.

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Author's Note:

I'm so excited for this act! It's time for all the sweet (and smutty) things to happen. I promise the goods are coming ;)

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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