#Emrik

[valravnocs]

Dorin, Achim, + Emrik (x)

[sandythereadingcafe]

REVIEW 

EMRIK (Lunar Uprising 6) by Cyndi Friberg at The Reading Cafe

‘The fast paced premise intriguing and entertaining; the romance is fated and subtle‘

https://www.thereadingcafe.com/emrik-lunar-uprising-6-by-cyndi-friberg-a-review/

[thereadingcafe]

[loveallthegays]

Chance Hurstfield as Danny Dixon in A Million Little Things 5x03 In The Room

[inkibuni]

🫣

So… I have been working on a tiny project…

Still working out the kinks (and fighting both my lazybones antics as well as overly critical thinking that makes me change things over and over again smh 🤦🏻‍♀️) but I’m going to post my babies on here because I want to share them lol

Under the cut has nothing spicy or anything but because it will be a spicy content story minors DNI!!!!! MINORS, children and anyone under the age of 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Go away! I do not want y’all here. DNI with my tumblr account and me I Repeat Do Not Interact.

Alright with that psa over 💁🏻‍♀️. I’ve yet to decide where I want to have this game/story published. I originally had the Dorian app set up but idk I’m starting to think maybe making it on ren’py buuuuut I can’t code to save my life so this may take a lot longer.

Also might redesign all the characters again too maybe simplify my art.

Anyway below the cut is the cast of

Creeping 👀 Crushes

A story about a tired cfo who retires early to move out into the woods and pursue their spooky podcast dreams.

They were over telling other peoples creepy encounters with the occult and paranormal. So they decided to move out into the woods known for being the most haunted forest in the world. Ferrymen Forest. After an incident with your now ex.

Your colleague and new cfo best friend try’s their best to change your mind even while you’re getting into your truck. But you’ve made up your spooky lovin mind and are ready to move out of Fenzal City!

Your forest cottage is beautiful your bestest boy pupper named Goose happy to be with you.

Your first night in your new home goes without a hitch. As you walk around your new property and let Goose go potty. Your ex texts you wondering where you went. They then call you to berate you over your “lame podcast” telling you you’re crazy. But you’ve saved money and have everything planned out your selling merch and your podcast already has a large following plus retirement check is a bonus. Your set and he down need to worry and should really stop you warn about blocking him again. 

Your ex still upset & trying to convince you to go back to the city saying you can move in with him 🤮 you laugh and tell em to fuck off and NO!

Hell no! he cheated and made a fool out of you. At a work event. Getting caught sucking face in a photo both during your most important speech of your career really hit the sharpest nail into the coffin that is your relationship. You’ve had your suspicions about them. That night through the tears you looked at your savings and there was far more than you had planned. Plus early retirement and your podcast. It was time to do what you truly wanted!

As you yell into your cellphone at the audacity of your ex. You feel eyes on you. But not just one but multiple glares. You can feel it in your bones. You hang up on him, they try to keep calling you back. You got the silent button.

You call for Goose, but he doesn’t respond. You hear leaves rustling and you turn. A forest ranger pops out of the woods. Goose trailing behind them. To your relief but you still feel the eyes they’re less intense now. But still…

The ranger apologizes for scaring you but warns about Goose running around, should still leash him just in case.

You apologize back and say he usually doesn’t run off like that. Something must have really caught his attention

They cut you off their face serious.

“Honestly I don’t think you should live out here by yourself. There are strange things out here. You should go back.” Your taken aback, they’re tone isn’t like it was two minutes ago. And now you feel scared.

Duhn duhn duhhhn!

These two are the mcs, you have your masculine and feminine mc. I plan to make more options with two more skin tones and a non binary option too they’re in the works but these two are fleshed out. 💕

On to the fun part the LI 😈hehehehe

Meet Chuy, a Jersey devil 👹they/them

Meet Zilar (pronounced z•eye-lar) Alien👽 he/they

Meet Atlus, Moth man 🧚🏿 he/him

Lastly meet Emrik, forest spirit/Leshen 🦌 he/him

[nujavlar]

Bebis

[bikerboyfriend]

screenshot dump from my new save

[fragmentedink-archived]

I think one of my favorite things is emriks favorite animal is a cow. he likes big sweaters and chicken nuggies. he's a sweetie who also happens to eat ppl when he's scared but no one's perfect

[universeofgalacia]

Emrik Devine. Bee hybrid. Pro hero Bee Plus.

[coronoidea]

Emrik

[scentedpepper]

Of Crowns and Chains

AEMOND TARGARYEN X MALE SERVANT OC!

Summary: EMRIK FROST, NORTHERNER, AND LONG TERM PERSONAL ATTENDANT OF PRINCE AEMOND TARGARYEN ARRIVES AT THE RED KEEP EARLIER THAN EXPECTED. HE TRAVERSES THE LAND OF TAKING CARE OF A PRINCE DISTURBED BY HIS OWN EXISTENCE, THE SAME AS HE DOES EVERYDAY, YET, HE FINDS HIMSELF BURDENED BY HIS NOBLES NEW FOUND WISH.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Desc. of wounds & effects

Date: The Early Morning of S1E8 “The Lord of the Tides” HOTD — 130 AC

Author Notes: None :p

Chapter 1-1. The Servant Without

Eyes shrouded in heavy exhaustion when the morning comes.

This much, Emrik Frost knows he will see upon entrance.

When the first peak of light turns the sky a light blue, the boy, aged ten and eight, arrives at the castle on horseback. He is alone. A black vest, lighter than the ones he wears during the winter, is situated across his chest with a white dress shirt beneath it. He holds the reins of a brown rouncey horse when he enters through the gates of the Red Keep, exchanging brief greetings to the guards before departing with nothing of value but an insignia of House Targaryen attached to his garments.

The staircase to the royal chambers is much more dimly lit than the grand entrance hall despite its frequent visitors, there are thinner banners lining the twisting walls as you go, all containing the fire breathing three headed dragon and the colors of red and black. It's quiet, empty and far from as bustling as Emrik usually knows it.

The sound of Emrik’s footsteps bounce around the walls as he walks with a speed dedicated to efficiency, his back straightened in a fashion even too proper for the nobles residing in the castle.

He is the only presence within the halls aside from fellow servants, and kingsguard, amounting to their duties at each royal apartment, from King Viserys all the way down to Prince Aemond Targaryen, tucked in the curve of the hallway.

This is where Emrik is headed when the discourse of Ser Cerys Oakheart and Ser Seraphis Dayne strikes his ears. Their voices are quieted, as if any louder may render the castle to disease. –Perhaps, speaking of the Prince's nightly troubles was not far off from that.

“...all night. “

“That bad?”

“Even from halfway across the castle, you could feel the weight of the boy's night. I’m not certain he managed much rest, if any at all.”

Ser Seraphis carried his Dornish accent at the top of his throat when he spoke, and if it wasn't the tanned skin and deep brown eyes that gave him away, it’d certainly be the way his voice grumbled in his chest as words sounding more concerned than demeaning left his tongue.

“Good morrow, Ser Cerys. “ Emrik’s steps paused as he bowed to the two knights. “Ser Seraphis. “

“Emrik. “ Ser Seraphis was as warm as he always was, addressing the curly haired boy with a kind regard that bordered on excitement. Emrik was the closest resemblance of his son in the Red Keep, his character familiar to that of Dornes.

“You’ve heard our discussion, I gather. “ Ser Cerys speaks, knowing the pinch in Emrik’s brow had to count for something.

“Yes, it is a misfortune to hear of the Prince's torment. How many nights has it been now?”

“Twelve. “ Ser Cerys says, voice heavy with emphasis. “Twice what it was last month. “

Emrik can't help the breath he releases at the sound of the Prince's seemingly worsening condition, his dark eyes flitting to look at the doors behind the two knights, mulling over his thoughts. "I’ve spoken with the maester, " he says, a moment of realization crossing his face. "Let us hope the ointment arrives ere noon, yes?”

The knights nod to Emrik in fluid agreement before they part, allowing him to place his hands to the large wooden door and push it open where he is immediately met with the flood of busied people, most of them gathered around the tub, just beginning to pour steaming pots of water into the porcelain.

The faces of the servant women are familiar, some younger looking than others as they coordinate with each other, a clear way of teamwork established amongst them.

In the back, a separate woman stands at the wardrobe, one who Emrik recognizes the long black locks of, tied loosely behind her. Tania sometimes left her post in the kitchen for a short time to wake the Prince, call the others and gather his clothing, subbing in for another that otherwise would have taken Emrik’s duties up since he usually doesn't arrive until later in the morning, when the Prince has dressed and is going about his regular activities.

Today, as expected, would have been no different from that. So when Tania looks to the heavy opening entrance, a befuzzled expression befalls her face at the sight of Emrik and her rushed movements inside the wardrobe pause.

Their exchange is brief at best, because there is a more pressing matter and it is sitting slumped on the foot of the bed, groaning.

Emrik is struck by the sight, feeling an accustomed familiarity run over him as he thinks of the Princes brother's usual state of consequence from the night before. Which– are most days.

The boy shares another look with Tania, this time etched in the same concern Ser Seraphis’ posed when he talked just outside the door, before he began his approach.

As he nears closer, he can hear Prince Aemonds stifled noises of pain clearer. The boy's hair has frizzed, draping a curtain between him and Emrik as he leans in on himself, hands pressed to his eyes in an effort of futile suppression. His skin looks almost dewy underneath the faint light flooding through the window and if it were any other day, Emirk may have thought this to be nothing but Targaryen beauty. But Aemond’s skin did not glisten in the way a bird's tweet brought solace, but rather, it shone like the greasy foods the Prince so often found his lip turn up at, lining the long feasting table as if the gardens had nothing better of substance to offer.

“Good Morrow, My Prince. “

Aemond did not meet him immediately, refusing to move from the way he crammed himself into his own body. The pads of his fingers touched tenderly to the inflamed skin around his coarse and ruined flesh, the pulsating twitches in his sockets a constant no matter what position he took on.

“I gather you have not engaged in bathing activities?” Emrik went on, observing from above with boring eyes that left a heavy weight on the Prince's hair.

Aemond shakes his head slowly in a negative answer to the prodding and he sighs, fingers still curled into his forehead as he looks up, posture slightly improving. “No..I have not. “

The words come slower than his head shake, quiet and strained as if speaking any louder may judder his brain too quickly and shatter the walls of his skull. His violet eye appears darker under the shadows of the room and his eyelids droop slightly more than usual. The weight of exhaustion has a clear grip on him as he holds Emriks gaze for a few moments less than intended, his head gradually moving back to its hung position, fingers pressing against his face once more.

Emrik watches him curiously, his body moves as if it is ten times heavier than it was yesterday, the collar of his nightshirt has been stretched widely enough to fit the rest of his body through if he so sought wish to and his veins seem even more apparent through his bordering sheer, pale skin.

“Very well. The water should be cooled enough in a few moments, My Prince. “ Emrik passes glance to the women at the tub as he turns on his heel, striding to the wardrobe where Tania still stands, having watched the Prince with just as much intensity as the man.

“He is not well, is he?” Tania says in a hushed tone, tearing her gaze away from the white haired as she passes the already gathered clothing items to Emrik. Their faces sink into the depths of the wardrobe as they speak, supposedly busied by the grand task of picking out Prince Aemonds uniform black on black outfit.

Emrik sighs quietly, running his fingers along the silky material of a proper shirt. It has become a common question between them, how the Prince is.

There is a brief silence between the two before Emrik replies.

“No. “ His brow furrows as his hand moves down to the knob of the drawer containing small clothes. “Ser Cerys Oakheart says it is worse than last month. “

Tania nods, the skin between her brows crinkling as she glances at the Prince who looks as if he may blow away with the wind. She is older than the two of them, perhaps wiser than both, far browner than Aemond and even Emrik. She’s been around the young Prince since before his eye was taken, and yet, she finds herself lost on words when it comes to the vitality and wellness of the Prince. It is Emriks job, after all, not hers.

It is then, she exhales a deep sigh indicative of clear dread at the prospect of what Emrik can only suspect is a task within the kitchen. He looks at her from his peripheral, closing the drawer softly.

“I must go. “ She tells him and she looks toilworn already.

Emrik’s lip tugs as he gives her a commisertaive nod and the two leave the wardrobe, Tania parting for the doors first as he makes for the bed moments later. He folds the clothes soundlessly beside the Prince, his gaze returning to the hunch of his body once more, noticing the slight shake in his arms.

The boy does not register the footsteps of his Chamberlain until the matured woman is close beside him, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks to him in caution of the Prince, her head tilted upwards.

Ameonds eye remains shut tight despite the murmurs. He doesn't speak, nor does he make any movement as the two discuss him right beside his form, a topic that was once foreign to his ears. But now, after the loss of his eye, Aemond is privy to every word exchanged between Emrik and his fellow workers. He hears it, and he is aware, that this is what they think of him. That the boy with the missing eye is a shell. A call for concern. That he is the living corpse, the embodiment of a man who has died before death even found him.

Perhaps they are right, and he is a ghost, but it does not mean the pain he feels is any less.

The footsteps go in a group, sounding faintly of hoofbeats as the serving women exit the room, leaving only Emrik to bathing duties, as per instruction of the Prince.

Emrik has set the clothes on the couch, beside the flicking flames of the fireplace by the time the room has emptied and he carries his weight carefully back to the foot of the bed, his touch featherlight along the Prince's shoulder as he beckons him forth. “Come, My Prince. “

Ameonds body is tensed when the touch meets him, he barely registers the warmth from Emriks fingers as his eyes crack open and he stands, discarding the sheet wrapped around his waist. His brows are furrowed as his head enters a new space in the air and he walks past the small sofa, thin nightshirt draping haphazardly over the armrest.

His hair falls far down his back, mingling with the muscle and the shoulder blades beneath it as he undoes the button on his trousers.

Emriks expression remains unremarkably plain as he watches the Prince conduct the task of undressing on his own, his eyes moving away as he too, walks to the tub, rounding the sofa on the opposite side of the Prince.

The air is silent as Aemond steps in, the water reaching his thighs and Emrik can see the visible release when he submerges fully, the warmth sloshing quietly around his collar bones.

This is their routine, the Targaryen boy has not bathed in front of another since he was 14, a year after Emrik came into his service. It was his mother, Queen Alicent, who insisted that he needed a companion with whom he could share the most intimate parts of his life, his body, his mind, his soul.

Aemond thought it shit. Now, he still part way does. He was not a child, and even as a child, the thought of anyone else helping him, especially another boy, made his stomach churn.

But Emrik was different.

When Aemond looked at the boy, he saw no one. Not a lord, not an heir, not a Prince, not the future King. Just a boy. With the same amount of problems as he. A boy with the same amount of fears, the same amount of wants and the same amount of needs. More, even.

Aemonds tilts his head back against the porcelain, his eye shut in an attempt to relieve the pain behind his lid. The bath is hotter than the ones he normally takes, his muscles are taut and his breathing has slowed to an almost painful rate as his lungs expand beneath the water.

“You're early. “ He says after another moment, dismissing the sponge in Emriks hand with a wave.

“My shift has been moved to an earlier time, My Prince. “ Emrik explains as he sets the sponge back into its place, taking up a seat on a small wooden stool beside the tub. "It seems my position in the bakery is no longer needed. "

The Prince opens his eyes to look at the boy, the dark curls of his hair framing his face, his matching eyes boring holes into the floor as his hands settle atop his lap.

Emrik is a boy who does not smile, his face is as serious as Aemond imagines his own. But he is not angry, nor is he cold, rather, his demeanor is that of a blank canvas, and he paints upon it, with strokes that tell Aemond exactly what his mood is.

He can sense his discomfort, the way his shoulders have slightly curved in and the way his mouth hangs just a bit lower than usual. Aemond is no fool, and despite what Emrik believes, the way the skin underneath his eyes are just a bit more purple, the way his curls have grown a tad longer, the way his skin has dulled just the slightest, are all signs of fatigue.

His brow furrows deeper.

"What happened? "

"I do not know, My Prince. The details weren't explicit. " Emrik's gaze finally leaves the floor as he looks up at Aemond, the crease in his brow has smoothed a bit, but it is still prominent. “Are you well, My Prince?”

Aemond pauses, his good eye looking away as he mulls over the details of his night. He knows the answer from the moment Emrik asks, but he cannot bring himself to answer it truthfully, nor linger on the topic of his well-being for long. “I am fine. “ He answers. “You do not have to call me ‘My Prince’ anymore. “

Emrik blinks.

“You are a prince. “

“You are my personal attendant, not my servant. “ Aemond looks back at him.

Emrik is silent for a moment.

“They are one in the same, My Prince. “

The water begins to slosh again as Aemond sits up, propping his elbows on the edges of the tub, his hair sticking to his shoulders.

"You are not. "

"If I was not, then I wouldn't be here. "

The statement is blunt and honest, and Aemond feels the corner of his lip tug into a partial smirk, straining against the pound in his head that has somewhat subsided since his sink into the hot water.

"Very well. " He says. "Then only when it is us. "

"Yes, My Prince. "

"Aemond. "

"Yes, Aemond. "

[roffe-otto]

HELP I UNINTENTIONALLY MADE HIS COLOR SCHEME THE FUCKING ARO FLAG 💀💀💀

ERIK

EMRIK

[harillen]

Nevarres cake with hazelnuts.. the cake, the recipe of which Lukanis got from Emrik.. the first cake of the year.. It will be interesting.

[loveallthegays]

Chance Hurstfield and Emrik Lopez in A Million Little Things 5x11

[formlab]

Kollage is a housing project that also contains a foodstore, two studios and a loading station. Model 1:50 by Carl Fredrik Emrik