#NEEDED to draw her slaying a dragon

[formulanni]

Dragon Slayer

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[hauntingblue]

I have connected two dots... yamato kaido and momo (and kinda shirahoshi with her top) have clouds above their shoulders... and luffy in gear fourth has them also.... I can see the signs

[dolicekiss]

From Friend To Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.” Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

[wilsons-journey]

I'm a sucker for daddy Jormag. (I really adore their voice)

Based on that "Be not Afraid"-Meme / Comic.

Bonus, branded Nektarius + some more Lore:

I decided the blue things on her horns is not energy / magic, but ice crystals! They still remain after she got cleansed from Jormags influence. Just like some ice magic. (She mostly uses to keep her drinks cold,...)

You see these crystals growing when Nekt is emotional - be it stressed or just very happy. Its a fuel to this remaining magic. And depending on her mood this ice shapes changes. When stressed for example, the ice is all spiky and sharp and dull While content / happy the ice is more smooth and shiny. Maybe a little prismatic, thanks to Aurenes cleansing.

Little Sidefact to the Headpiece: When she was under Jormags Influence she wore this mask you see in the Screens - to keep everyone around her safe. She feared she would harm her closed ones, with her new gained power - the cold breath and aura that emanated from her.

Jormag used her as Spy - but due to Nekt connection to the Champion (Vale) she was a very open Spy. Both sides tried to use this to their advantages - but it didn’t really brought any benefit to any of them. In the end Nekt tried to find a way to safe the dragons, than slaying them. She failed. But that's okay.

Some more lore, if you're interested:

At one point I need to draw her using the ice magic - or just with some icy horns. As a treat. I really love my lil gremlin. She really grew on me, after I forgot about her for many month,...

[koscheys-skull]

Deities, Figures, And Spirits of Rebellion, Revolutions, and Resistance.

While Tensions are High and emotions flood the body and mind, I like to think back to time and how history has birthed incredible and magnificent people throughout its unforgiving march forwards. And I think of those figures and people or those gods and stories, and I remind myself of their presence and how they shook the time and the eras that they occupied. I’m in love with them. And I admire them. Whether they are trickster Spirits that stand against Authority and embrace strength against adversity or fighting against authority and resisting the status quo, I often admire and think of them. I think of them fondly and I nod to them through Space and Time, and by thinking of them, I carry them in my heart. And I am motivated by their Light and the Inspiration that they have brought across the ages. I know that they are *there*. Eons apart from me or in spaces and spirit that I cannot grasp anywhere but within my very spirit. They are there. And I am holding them in my spirit and heart and they are holding me. And I move with their spirit and their awareness. And I nod to them. And they, to me. I wanted to provide a large list of Figures, Saints, Gods or other individuals and Beings commonly venerated, worked with or worshiped as icons of resistance and overcoming trying times. History is steeped in trials and circumstances where the oppressed and hunted have overcome great adversity or stood against the tides that seek to bring harm unto them. Here, I will list figures that you can draw upon or look to in your hours of need. If you seek a Revolutionary, you may find one Here. (feel welcome to add some as this crosses your path!)

Some Saints:

St. Michael the Archangel – Known as the chief warrior angel, St. Michael is often invoked for protection and strength in battles and against evil.

St. Joan of Arc – The French saint who led her country in battles against English forces during the Hundred Years' War. She’s celebrated for her courage and conviction against overwhelming odds.

St. Jude Thaddeus – Known as the patron saint of lost causes, people turn to him in desperate situations for help in overcoming challenges that seem impossible.

St. Sebastian – Often depicted as a martyr who survived multiple executions, he became a symbol of strength, resilience, and steadfastness in the face of persecution.

St. George – Known for slaying a dragon, St. George is a symbol of overcoming evil and oppression. Often associated with courage in adversity.

Deities:

Sekhmet (Egyptian Mythology) – The lion-headed goddess of war and healing, Sekhmet is revered for her fierce power and for defending the oppressed.

Morrigan (Celtic Mythology) – The Celtic goddess of battle and sovereignty, Morrigan embodies both the power to protect and to incite change. She is often seen as a guardian of the land, appearing before battles to inspire or instill fear in the enemy.

Kali (Hinduism) – Goddess of destruction and rebirth, Kali represents the destruction of evil and is often invoked for overcoming difficult circumstances and for protection against oppressive forces.

Oya (Yoruba/Orisha Tradition) – Goddess of winds, storms, and transformation, Oya is a fierce warrior who stands up against oppression and is often turned to for protection and resilience. Ogun (Yoruba/Orisha Tradition) – The god of iron, war, and labor, Ogun is a force for justice and is often invoked in situations requiring resilience and the strength to overcome oppression. He’s seen as a revolutionary spirit for those seeking to break free from their constraints. Eshu (Yoruba/Orisha Tradition) – Known as the divine messenger and trickster, Eshu brings both disruption and opportunity. As a god of crossroads, he’s associated with challenging authority and initiating change, reminding followers that revolution often begins with unexpected choices. Yemaya (Yoruba/Orisha Tradition) – The mother of all life and goddess of the sea, Yemaya is often associated with resilience, protection, and the healing of generational trauma. As a nurturing and revolutionary spirit, she is frequently invoked for personal and collective strength. Queen Nanny of the Maroons (Jamaican Folklore) – A legendary figure and spirit in Afro-Caribbean culture, Queen Nanny was a leader of the Maroons who resisted British colonial forces. She’s honored as a warrior and symbol of independence and strength.

Huitzilopochtli (Aztec Mythology) – The god of war and the sun, Huitzilopochtli led the Aztecs through harsh conditions to establish their empire. He symbolizes endurance, perseverance, and overcoming obstacles.

Inanna/Ishtar (Mesopotamian Mythology) – Goddess of love, war, and justice, she descends into the underworld and returns, representing survival through dark times and resistance against forces of oppression.

Manjushri (मञ्जुश्री) (Buddhist Bodhisattva) - Manjushri is venerated across the Buddhist world as an embodiment of wisdom, with devotees seeking his guidance to develop the courage and insight necessary to face personal and societal challenges. Manjushri holds a flaming sword that symbolizes the cutting of ignorance and illusion, a powerful symbol of spiritual revolution and awakening. He represents the transformative power of wisdom and the courage to overcome ignorance, delusion, and societal conventions, which align with themes of inner revolution.

Susanoo (建速須佐之男命) (Japanese Shinto) – The god of storms and the sea, Susanoo is known for his rebellious nature against the heavenly order, and he’s often venerated for his unyielding spirit. He’s remembered for protecting people by slaying a great serpent, representing courage and the ability to challenge authority.

Amaterasu (天照大御神 / 天照大神) (Japanese Shinto) – Though primarily known as the goddess of the sun and order, Amaterasu withdrew from the world when her brother acted destructively, only returning when lured back by others. Her story reflects the themes of resilience and the power to restore light and hope.

Guan Yu (关羽) (Chinese) – A legendary general deified as a god of war and protection, Guan Yu is known for his loyalty, bravery, and sense of justice. He’s widely worshipped as a guardian figure who defends the oppressed and inspires people to uphold righteousness and loyalty.

Nezha (哪吒) (Chinese) – A child warrior deity known for his rebellious spirit, Nezha is celebrated for resisting oppression, particularly against tyrannical figures in the heavens. He represents youth, resilience, and defiance against unjust authority, often empowering those who feel marginalized or oppressed.

Xiwangmu (西王母) (Chinese) – Also known as the Queen Mother of the West, Xiwangmu is a powerful goddess associated with healing, protection, and transformation. While not a revolutionary in the typical sense, she embodies resilience, independence, and the power of women in a traditionally male-dominated pantheon.

Zhong Kui (钟馗) (Chinese) – Known as the demon slayer, Zhong Kui is a spirit of justice who fights against evil spirits and brings protection to those who feel haunted by oppression. He is venerated as a deity who can help people overcome fears and defeat obstacles that seem insurmountable.

The Eight Immortals (八仙) (Chinese) – A group of legendary Taoist figures, each with unique powers, who often challenged the social order. Figures like Lü Dongbin and Zhang Guolao used their abilities to help people and protect them from corrupt rulers and evil forces, embodying the spirit of defiance against oppressive systems.

Sun Wukong (孙悟空) (Chinese) - The central figure in the 16th century novel “Journey to the West (西游记) but also a figure in Mythology, Sun Wukong stands against authority and inspires both resistance and strength as well as dynamic growth. 

Demons:

Lord Lucifer - The Adversary and Illuminator. Lucifer is a longstanding figure of bearing the light in the darkness and fighting against overwhelming oppression and control of powers that deem themselves tyrants. Lucifer fights and battles against forces that subjugate the oppressed. 

Lord Asmodeus – Known in demonology as a figure representing strength, ambition, and power, Asmodeus is sometimes invoked for resilience, drive, and confidence to overcome personal and external challenges.

King Belial – Often associated with independence and personal power, Belial is sometimes venerated for helping people stand strong in their own beliefs and against unjust authorities.

Mother Lilith – A figure of independence and resistance, Lilith is revered in some traditions as a symbol of feminine power and autonomy, especially in standing against oppression and patriarchal structures.

Lord Buer – Demon of healing and knowledge, called upon for mental strength and overcoming illness or hardship through wisdom and resilience. Promotes mental health and healing as well as encourages growth through overcoming your mental blockages.

Lord Leviathan - The Lord of Shadow Working. Lord Leviathan helps you navigate the deep and dark waters of your mind where you may feel overwhelmed and drowning. Lord Leviathan can bring you clear waters and help support you when the tides feel like they may pull you down. 

Secular Saints & Venerated Figures, Other Folkloric figures and Revolutionaries:

Harriet Tubman – Though not formally canonized, Harriet Tubman is often seen as a symbol of liberation and resilience, escaping slavery and leading others to freedom.

Malcolm X – An icon of strength, self-determination, and resistance, especially in the context of racial oppression. His life inspires resilience and the fight for justice.

Hypatia of Alexandria – Known for her wisdom and intellectual resilience, Hypatia became a symbol of strength and survival in a time when powerful figures often sought to silence knowledge.

Nelson Mandela – Revered globally for his resilience and role in overcoming apartheid, Mandela is a secular saint for many, representing strength and the spirit of resistance.

Frida Kahlo – Known for her resilience through physical and emotional pain, Kahlo’s life and work are often venerated as symbols of strength, personal power, and survival against all odds. Cuauhtémoc (Aztec/Mexica Tradition) – The last Aztec emperor who resisted the Spanish conquistadors. He is remembered as a hero who fought courageously to protect his people, embodying resilience and the spirit of resistance in Mexican culture.

Emiliano Zapata (Mexican Folk Hero) – Though not a deity, Zapata’s revolutionary spirit against oppressive forces has made him almost a legendary figure in Mexican folklore. He’s revered as a folk saint and a symbol of the fight for social justice and indigenous rights.

Hua Mulan (Chinese Folklore) – Celebrated for her bravery and willingness to challenge gender norms, Mulan fought in her father’s place in the army. Her story is a symbol of courage, resilience, and overcoming social constraints.

Kumari (Nepalese Tradition) – Known as the living goddess of Nepal, the Kumari is believed to embody divine power and protection for the people. She serves as a symbol of resilience and cultural endurance in the face of modernization and outside influence.

Zumbi dos Palmares (Afro-Brazilian Tradition) – A leader of a community of escaped slaves (Quilombo dos Palmares) in Brazil, Zumbi is honored as a hero and symbol of freedom, resistance, and African heritage in Brazil.

Yue Fei (岳飞) – A historical general from the Song Dynasty who became a symbol of loyalty, patriotism, and resistance against foreign invaders. Despite betrayal and wrongful execution, Yue Fei is venerated as a hero who embodies loyalty to one’s people and the fight against oppression.

Li Shimin (Emperor Taizong of Tang, 唐太宗 李世民) – Known for his role in overthrowing the corrupt Sui Dynasty, Li Shimin played a crucial role in establishing the Tang Dynasty. He is respected as a revolutionary leader who brought stability and cultural prosperity to China.

Chen Sheng and Wu Guang (陈胜, 吴广) – These two commoners led one of the first rebellions against the Qin Dynasty’s harsh rule, sparking what would eventually become a larger revolt. They are remembered as symbols of the common people’s resistance against an oppressive regime.

The White Lotus Goddess (白莲教) – Associated with the White Lotus Society, this goddess represents spiritual resistance against corruption and oppression. The White Lotus sect played a significant role in several uprisings throughout Chinese history, including revolts against the Mongol Yuan Dynasty.

Chi You (蚩尤) – A figure from ancient mythology, Chi You was a tribal leader who fought against the Yellow Emperor. He is often depicted as a warlike figure who stood against established order. Though he was ultimately defeated, he became a symbol of rebellion and bravery in later cultural narratives.

Lü Zu (吕祖) – One of the Eight Immortals, Lü Dongbin (or Lü Zu) was known for challenging both heaven and earth, and he often sided with the poor and downtrodden. He encouraged people to resist worldly corruption, especially among the rich and powerful, inspiring resilience and self-cultivation.

Madame Zheng Yi Sao (郑一嫂) – Often called the Pirate Queen, she was one of the most powerful pirate leaders in history and led a massive fleet that defied the Chinese imperial government. Madame Zheng embodies resistance against oppressive authorities and is celebrated for her intelligence and revolutionary spirit.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine riding with Mithrandir to fight off the Nazgul and escort Faramir back to Minas Tirith.

Faramir: 'Mithrandir, Pethryn, they broke though our defences. They've taken the bridge and the west bank.'

Y/N: 'Battalions of Orcs will be crossing the river as we speak.'

Iorlas: 'It is as the Lord Denethor predicted.'

Y/N snaps towards the voice, eyes hard and angry.

Y/N: 'That old weasel didn't predict anything. He is a coward.

Iorlas: 'Long has he foreseen this doom.'

Y/N gathers her reigns to turn to Iorlas.

Y/N: 'Foreseen and done NOTHING.'

Gandalf gives a short nod of agreement whilst Faramir notices Pippin Took.

Gandalf: 'Faramir?'

Faramir continue to stare.

Gandalf : 'This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path.'

Faramir shakes his head.

Faramir: 'No.'

Pippin: 'You've seen Frodo and Sam?'

Gandalf: 'Where?!'

Y/N: 'When?!'

Faramir: 'In ithilien. Not two days ago.

Y/N breathes out a sigh of relief, turning to smile at Gandalf and Pippin.

Faramir: 'Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale.'

Y/N: 'But that would lead them...'

Gandalf: 'To the pass of Cirith Ungol.

Faramir nods.

Pippin: 'What does that mean?'

Pippin turns to Y/N.

Pippin: 'Whats wrong?'

Gandalf: 'Faramir, tell me everything. Tell me all you know.'

Y/N and Faramir enter the throne room of Minas Tirith.

Denethor: 'This is how you would serve your city? You would risk it's utter ruin?'

Y/N steps forward but Faramir shoves his arm infront of her.

Faramir: 'I did what I judge to be right.'

Denethor: 'What you judged to be right.'

He snarls.

Denethor: 'You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfing.'

Y/N grits their teeth, deciding if it's worth keeping the old man alive.

Denethor: It would have been brought back to the Citadel to be kept safe. Hidden, dark and deep in the vaults... Not to be used. Unless at the uttermost end of need.

Faramir: I would not use the ring. Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her.

Denethor: 'Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious. As a king of old.'

Denethor sneers.

Denethor: Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift.

Y/N grips the handle of their sword tightly.

Y/N: Boromir is dead. And You are no king.

Faramir: 'Boromir would not have brought the Ring. He would have stretched out his hand to this thing and taken it. He would have fallen.'

Denethor: 'You know nothing of this matter.'

Faramir: 'He would have kept it for his own. And when he returned, you would not have known your son.'

Denethor stands up, gesturing wildly.

Denethor: Boromir was loyal to me! Not some wizards pupil!

Y/N: You-

Y/N draws their sword and Denethor falls against his seat, whimpering.

Faramir walks towards his father to help him up.

Faramir: 'Father?'

Denethor hallucinates seeing Boromir behind Faramir.

Denethor: 'My son!'

Faramir realises this and looks away from his father. Denethor's face crumbles and he flares at Faramir.

Denethor: 'Leave me.'

Y/N draws her sword, taking strides towards Denethor.

Y/N: 'You absolute scum. You bastard! You have a son and yet you do not see him! You miserable coward!'

Y/N is dragged back by Faramir as he struggles to keep Y/N from charging at Denethor.

They move outside and see Pippin.

Pippin: 'What were you thinking, Peregrin Took? What service could a Hobbit offer such a great lord of men?'

Y/N: 'He is neither great, or a man. He is a sniveling snake.'

Faramir: 'It was well done. A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel. You are to join the tower guard.'

Pippin: 'I did not think they would find any livery that would fit me.'

Y/N: 'It once belonged to a young boy of the city. A very foolish one. Even now. He wasted many hours slaying dragons instead of attending to his studies.'

Y/N grins.

Pippin: 'This was Faramir's?'

Faramir: 'Yes it was mine. My father had it made for me.'

Pippin: 'Well, I'm taller than you were then! Though, I'm not likely to grow anymore, except sideways.'

Y/N and Faramir chuckles.

Faramir: 'It never fitted me either. Boromir was always the soldier.'

Y/N shakes her head.

Faramir: They were so alike, he and my father. Proud. Stubborn even. But strong.

Pippin: I think you have strength, of a different kind. And one day your father will see it.

They enter the throne room again, Y/N flowers at Denethor and he tries to ignore Y/N's eyes. Pippin pledges his allegiance and Denethor takes a seat, putting food onto his plate.

Denethor: 'I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defences.... Defences that your brother long held intact.'

Faramir: 'What would you have me do?'

Denethor: 'I will not yield the river in Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be taken.'

Faramir: 'My lord, Osgiliath is overrun.'

Denethor: 'Much must be risked in war.'

Y/N: 'And I suppose you think your son's life and the lives of your people are worth the risk?'

Denethor: 'Is there a captain here who still had the courage to do his Lord's will?'

Y/N steps forward before being interrupted by Faramir.

Faramir: 'You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived.'

Denethor: 'Yes, I wish that.'

Faramir: 'Since you were robbed of Boromir. I will do what I can in his stead. If I should return I hope you would think better of me father.'

Denethor: 'That would depend on the manner of which you return.'

Y/N points at Denethor as Faramir turns to leave.

Y/N: 'You shame Boromir's death with your ignorance. Your line may continue and you shall be henceforth be stripped of your title. Your vile attempts at power will reward you no longer. This, I swear unto you.'

As Faramir begins to leave Y/N and Gandalf chase him.

Gandalf: 'Faramir! Your father's will has turned to madness.'

Y/N: 'Do not throw away your life so rashly.'

Faramir: 'Where does my allegiance lie if not here? This is the city of the Men of Númenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom.'

Gandalf: 'Your father loves you Faramir. He will remember it before the end.'

Gandalf turns to Y/N and they nod.

Y/N: 'I must meet Aragorn and the others. When the time comes, Mithrandir. Do not let him burn.'

Y/N hoists themselves up onto their horse and rides out with the troops before turning away, heading for Dunharrow.

Hello! I have returned with another installment of the Pethryn Series! As always Pethryn means Narrator (I think) in elvish! ENJOY!

[stardust-does-things]

QSMP

I'm so upset that none of my friends are into the qsmp. Like, what do you mean you don't care about gay minecraft roleplay???? How could you not be completely invested in a 36 year old man's fake platonic husband and their two egg children in a minecraft server??

The worst part is they won't even let me mention them. I can't make any damn references to anyone without getting confused glares. Like, sorry you refuse to watch every vod from every creator on the server and don't understand the lore.

It's so cool because of the amount of people on the server, like there are SO many perspectives to see things from and so many different story lines to get invested in. Personally, my favorite storyline was Ph1lzA and the Enderking thing. I've always loved the concept of a character being corrupted or possessed and forcing them to hurt their loved ones(don't question me). Tallulah and Chayanne's admins did SO good. So did Phil, he sounded like a whole different person. And Phil was the best person to do this to. He's practically everyone's dad on the server, so seeing such a caring and fun guy to get aggressive and threaten his own children was scary and a great arc for him to experience.

I also absolutely LOVE the ships. Like you can't TELL me that you don't absolutely love Roier and Cellbit's relationship. Pac and Fit? OH MY GOOOOOD. I love the fanart and fanfics of them 😭 (I ship the characters in the actual server, not the content creators). I love Deathduo. Missa x Ph1lzA forever. They make such a good duo with how they interact around each other and the eggs. Roier and Cellbit have such a cute dynamic, I loved that one time Cellbit was running away and trying to blow himself up, and Roier went, "No, you can't kill yourself! You're too sexy!" They are so silly together, and I just think they're so cute.

Also the fandom is absolutely beautiful. I love all the fanart and memes, the fanfics and animatics. OH MY GODS. I really wish I had the confidence to make fanart or fanfics, I'm too nervous that I'll get info wrong or have a bad headcannon lol. I adore looking at the way people draw the eggs. My favorite designs are when they're bipedal dragons or like they're half hatched and their legs are sticking out of the shell 😭 its so cute!!! I still don't mind when they're just drawn like kids but with dragon features.

I loved Tallulah and her story, including Wilbur. I don't like Wilbur for what he did (even if it might be fake I genuinely don't know anymore) but I like him as a character in the qsmp. I love all the clips of Wilbur and Tallulah. Like when Lullah brought a gorilla into the garden and she was just so happy but Wilbur was absolutely terrified was so funny. The way he basically gentle parented her was adorable, like he didn't know how to raise a kid and just wanted her to be happy. (Wilbur is a horrible person, if the allegations are true, and I don't support him. I just like his character in the story but still understand why some people wouldn't like his character)

The humor is probably the best part. There are so many quotable things. One thing that I specifically remember was when Phil went to wake up one of the eggs (when they were all in hospital beds or smt IDK-) with Pac and someone else, Phil got downed by a warden and Pac went up to him and said, "Philza. I am here." in an overly manly voice, or something like that. Also I love just randomly saying quotes and pretending like everyone understands and thinks I'm cool. "we are all going to die. the sun is a false god but a true threat." -Gegg "IN THIS WORLD THERE ARE 2 GENDERS, PAIN AND SUFFERING" -Dapper "Geez abuelito I didn't know you were into drama omg slay" -Tallulah "heaven is homophobic motherfucker son of a bitch" -Roier

Anyways, I need more QSMP obsessed friends to talk to <3

(part 2 coming soon <3)

[anyamaris]

Easy Mode

Word Count-3789

Summary- Complete the quest...? What kind of adventure was this?

Pairing- Mingi x f!reader

Trope-Adventure AU

Warnings- Vulgarity, unprotected sex (wrap it up), overstimulation, Mingi has a big cock, dirty talk, mild restraining (using his hands/body)MINORS DNI 18+

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @babesindestroyland @lemonhongjoong @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @thelargefrye @kwanisms @sanjoongie

Library of Illusions Masterlist here.

Tysm @cafekitsune for the banner below!

As you pass through the rows upon rows of books, you can't help but feel a tingle of excitement as you read "Adventure". You always loved adventure stories growing up, and you were actually on your own adventure right now.

Of all of the genres, your brain ran rampant at the thought of what awaited you. Pirates on the high sea? Lost in a jungle, looking for treasure? Climbing a mountain to get to the peak?

You smile as you go to grab a thick novel but then a small, thin book falls to the floor in front of you. Frowning you pick it up, accidentally letting it fall open in your hands.

"Oh fu-"

Sunlight warmed your skin as you sit up, rubbing at your eyes. The smell of grass and springtime assailed your senses. All around you was fields of grain, and other random vegetables and fruits.

You inhale the fresh air, standing up and dusting off your clothing. You'd woken up beside a dirt road, and you finally spot a small village in the distance. As you take a step, suddenly a small screen appears in front of you.

"What the..." you mutter, focusing on it. It was a small screen, much like you'd see in a video game. But this was a book? The words on it read:

Objective-Speak to the villagers.

That was it. Nothing else. Shrugging, you sigh, trudging towards the tiny houses.

After what seems like longer than it should have been, you approach the people there. As you draw closer, you notice they are about a foot shorter than you and they were busy hustling around, with small wagons, or baskets of food items.

Approaching, some stop and stare at you, hesitant. You put your hands up at their wary eyes and smile. "Good afternoon...I um....seem to be lost and I was wondering if you could help direct me....?" you start, not exactly sure what else to say. The quest wasn't giving you many details.

An older woman, by the looks of her greying hair and wrinkled eyes as she smiled, approaches you. "Where ye be headin, pretty lady?" she asks, hefting her basket up against her hip as she studies you.

"I am unsure, but I've been traveling for awhile now and I was wondering..." you think momentarily, and then inspiration strikes. "I am just passing through and was looking for food and shelter...but I have no coin. Would there be any jobs that need to be done to receive either payment or a warm bed and food for the night?"

You'd played countless games so you decided to treat this like one, given the whole quest screen thing. This could be exciting, maybe you needed to slay a dragon or rescue a princess!

The small woman eyes you, seeming to decide you were harmless then nods, spitting to the side. "There be a task, for sure. Mayhap you could earn your stay."

Smiling, you thank her and then your quest screen pops up once more.

Objective-Speak to the Villagers COMPLETE!

New Objective-Accept the quest.

Following the woman to what looks to be an inn or tavern of sorts, you are guided to a small wrinkled man behind the counter.

"She be wantin to stay this eve...and take on some work for her keep." she nods at him, and he grunts, clearing his throat. He studies you much the same as the woman, taking in your appearance.

"I won't be askin ye how ye got here, but if yer willin to help with our...neighbor....I can give ye a warm bed and some stew to warm yer belly."

"Ok, you just let me know where to go and I'll go do what needs to be done!" you say enthusiastically. The man just nods, pulling out a piece of parchment.

"This 'ere be the map to the cave o'er the hill to the west. Could ye go chase off the beast that done took up livin there for us?" he asks and you look over the map as you take it from him.

"A beast? Do you know what kind of beast?" you frown down at it. It's a very crudely drawn picture, mostly with an arrow pointing to the left and a circle around where he wanted you to go. This is like a children's drawing, you think, sighing.

"He be huge, hulkin'! He done skerred off our game and lurks in the shadows!" he says, his eyes darting around. Excited you nod at his description. I'll just have to get some kind of weapon and go for it! you think, smiling.

"I'll do it!" you say and set out of the tavern, deciding to see what the distance was for this map. You could walk over the hill and see if you could even see the cave from a distance.

Objective- Accept the quest COMPLETE!

New Objective- Deal with the beast to bring peace back to the villagers

What you hadn't expected was to walk about 20 minutes up the hill, to crest it and see the cave about 100 meters in front of you. What the actual.....

Shaking your head, you trudge forward, slowly wondering if this was even going to be hard. You could just drive whatever creature it was off with the stick you'd grabbed along the way.

Finally reaching the cave, you are shocked to see the remnants of a fire pit, along with some makeshift tools fashioned out of wood and rock.

Venturing into the dark cave, you see it's not large at all. Nor is it empty. You take in the crude bed with hay and some rough fabric, a badly built chair that was broken and a few....books?

What in the world was going on? you think before you hear a crunch behind you. Spinning around with your stick at the ready, you are completely unprepared for the sight in front of you.

Instead of a large hulking beast you are faced with....

Well he was definitely large. Maybe even hulking.....

Your eyes scan the giant man...yes he was a man. He was shirtless and wet, eyeing you warily as he sets down his pail and the pieces of wood under his arm. Running his hand through his hair, he gives you a moment to take in his form.

He was tall and lean, but very...very fit. His thighs were hugged by some kind of leather, his stomach flat and you kept having to force yourself from following that line all the way down...

Clearing your throat, you shake some sense into yourself. Finally focusing on his face, you relax a bit. He had beautiful brown eyes, dark hair and his frown produced a dimple on his cheek as he studied you in turn.

This man was gorgeous, you think then he speaks finally. You weren't prepared for the deep richness of his voice as he says, "Are you hungry?"

"So they sent you to chase me off." he says, frowning. You nod, sighing. This wasn't the adventure you'd been hoping for. Just a big man scaring the smaller townfolk because...as you learned through talking to him....he was shy. Mingi, he'd said his name was.

He kept blushing as he glanced at you, his cute laugh making you want to cuddle him. He explained that the villagers scared him with their torches and screaming when he'd tried to approach them.

"I guess that's fine, I can just go find another place. It's not like this is exactly...." he says, waving around, ducking his head again.

"I feel bad...why don't you just go talk to them? Maybe I can help?" you say, laying a hand on his arm. His head shoots up at the contact, his eyes flashing momentarily. Then his dimples pokes out again when he smiles at you brightly.

"You'd do that for me?" he asks and you can't help but smile back, his sweetness so adorable. "Sure. I don't see why not? But it is getting dark...maybe I can come back in the morning and we can go talk to them together?" you say, rubbing his arm lightly.

You feel his skin prickle as he bites his lip, his head tilting, glancing at the setting sun. "Could you...would you....stay with me tonight? I...am...lonely..." he says, a small pout forming on his lips.

Was he...flirting? You couldn't actually tell, given his seemingly innocent demeanor so far. You didn't see how it could hurt to keep him comfortable....just for tonight....

"I can stay, if you'd like." you say, as he grasps your hand, his excited reaction making you have to bite back laughter. He was just so cute.

After a warm meal and helping him clean up, he directs you towards the cave. You rub your arms as a chill makes you shiver. "Oh..." you murmur, looking at the bed. He comes up behind you and you can't help but be affected by his nearness, his natural scent intoxicating.

His low voice hums as he moves around you, adjusting the bed. He slips in, then looks up at you. Realizing he wants you to get in with him, you blink.

"Aren't you cold? I'm sure....I can....keep you warm...." he says, smiling. Without a second thought, you crawl in with him. His big arms immediately pull you into him, engulfing you and pressing you against his chest. Oh hell yeah.

You are reminded of his naked chest from earlier and you feel your body react. Suddenly you're looking up into the face of this beautiful man, the innocence you'd seen in his eyes earlier replaced with curiosity mixed with what could only be desire.

"You...smell really nice..." you say, feeling heat creep up your neck. He brings his head down to your neck and inhales, causing you to stiffen up. "You smell good enough to taste..." he whispers then his tongue is on your skin, licking a trail up your neck.

Gasping, you grip his broad shoulders. This wasn't the adventure you'd expected but fuck if you weren't going to indulge while you were here. This man was luscious and you were too horny to care about your objective at this moment.

"Mingi..." you sigh, and then suddenly he's on top of you, his huge form hovering above you. "I love when you say my name..." he moans, settling his hips between your legs, his thick thighs pushing yours apart. "I need you..." he groans out, and you can feel his thick length proving that need as he grinds himself against you.

"Please-" you whimper, feeling your panties soak through at his low noises. He leans up and tugs your pants down, discarding them. You pull at the strings on his as well, and he removes them quickly, settling back between your legs. The weight of his huge cock on your mound causes you to mewl out, suddenly wondering if you were going to be able to take him.

"Mingi..." you moan again, as his length slides against you, your slickness as he rubs against your clit making you arch up. His large body covers yours as he grabs you behind one of your knees, pressing your leg up and to the side.

"I'm going to show you what kind of beast I really am...." he growls into your ear as he rams his enormous girth into your eager pussy, stretching you painfully. You scream out as he sheathes himself completely, the sting of pain and pleasure mixing to make you dizzy.

He doesn't even hesitate before he's grasping both of your wrists, yanking them over your head, holding you down. "You're all mine now, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't even think anymore..." he murmurs, his hips thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. It's not long before you feel the build of your first peak, taking you by surprise as your body trembles beneath his.

The weight of him holds you down, actually drawing out the high at the feeling of helplessness. "Fuck yeah, baby, just like that. Scream for me...." he's groaning, the slap of his balls against the wetness seeping out of you causing him to bite his lip and rut into you even harder. He holds himself up to look down, so he can see his large cock burying itself into your tiny hole.

"Such a pretty pink little pussy," he's panting, then he yanks your top up, his lips encircling your sensitive nipple, grinding his hips down into you. The pressure has your legs shaking again, another coil about to burst in your abdomen.

"Mingi! FUCK!" you scream, your aching walls clamping down on him. If he wasn't so heavy and his weight was holding him into you, the force would have ejected him. You watch his jaw clench when you can keep your eyes from squeezing shut, enjoying his reaction to your noises and body.

"Going to make you cum all night around my dick." he states, huffing and beginning to sweat. He pulls out of you, the feeling of sudden emptiness eliciting a cry from you. But then he's lifting you as if you weigh nothing, turning over to seat you on top of him, facing away.

"You want more of this cock?" he asks, seating you so his thickness is rubbing against your slit, slapping it against you. "PLEASE!" you moan out. He chuckles into your ear, one of his hands cupping the weight of your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling.

"Beg me..." he murmurs and you can't help but sob his name, crying out for him. "Fuck me, oh my god...please...I want you to tear me in two with your big fat cock!" you whine. "Mmm that's what I like to hear..." he groans, leaning you back so he can guide himself into you.

As he forces his way deep into you again, he grabs your arms and holds them behind you with one hand, his other slaps your sensitive clit, making it sting.

"Cum on me, do it." he growls as you whimper and bounce on him, the sense of being torn apart never felt so good to you. His long fingers slap against your nub once more, but then he's pinching and pressing on it, ripping yet another orgasm from you.

"Oh my god....how long....can ..you...last-" you gasp out, almost collapsing from the countless times you've cum tonight. "Mmm, do you want me to fill you up, baby? I can fuck you forever if you'd like...." you plead with him, tears falling down your face. Your poor body overused and shaking from overstimulation.

"One more..... this time- cum with me while -I fill- you up.....going- to make you- burst from the amount of- cum I have for you..." he's moaning, his mouth on your neck. His grunts start to pick up as you bounce faster, his hand letting your arms go to grip your hips.

Your head falls back against him as he sucks on your nape, leaving a mark as you start to feel yourself quaking. He murmurs incoherent pleased noises as you clench around him yet again, but this time he grits his jaw, a gutteral noise coming from his throat as he pulls you down one last time, and you can feel his thighs tremble beneath you.

"God yes, fill my pussy! Fill me up until I can't take anymore!" you're screaming, his hand dipping between your legs to rub you where you both meet. You cry out yet again as he lifts you briefly to pull you back down, his thick fluid seeping out from the motion. "Fuck yeah...." he moans, repeating the motion one more time, the sticky mess coating you both.

His hand goes to your mouth, his fingers forcing themselves into your mouth. You can't help but suck the mixture of the both of you off of him, reveling in the bitter salty taste. "Fuck I hate letting you go again..." he murmurs and you frown, too dazed and exhausted to say anything. The last thing you remember is him cooing at you, laying you down with him as you drift off to sleep.

Waking in the morning, everything seems like a dream. Minus the soreness between your legs. It seemed that he'd bathed you with something while you slept, as you were clean and reclothed. You rub at the nape of your neck, realizing that your whole body was aching.

Worth it, you think, taking in the form of the big man as he comes to tell you he's ready to go meet the villagers.

Finally setting out on the very short trip back to town (grumbling under your breath about the lack of actual adventure), you turn to Mingi on the outskirts.

"It's probably best if I go speak with them first to explain, then we can go from there. How does that sound?" you ask, looking up at the large man. He just smiles at you brightly with his cute dimples, giving you a nod.

Sighing, you turn to go talk to the villager who gave you the quest in the tavern. The switch from the animalistic beast last night to the adorable innocence and happy puppy dog personality has you rubbing your head. Who the fuck wrote this 'adventure'? you think, grumpily. Minus the sex, it was horribly boring.

Walking into the town, you notice the villagers gathered to greet you. A few are wringing their hands, worry on their faces that turns to relief as they see you approach them.

"We thought ye'd done got ate up!" one of them calls and the rest murmur their agreement. The tavern keeper pushes through and you look down at him. Clearing your throat, you address him and everyone around.

"I did meet the ... creature you all sent me to handle. He is indeed very large." Mutters of agreement and gasps escape the crowd. "How did ye survive?!" they ask and you put up your hands.

"This so called 'beast' is just a tall human man who was just too afraid to come to your village to speak with you all. He thought he would be fine where he was, but I explained to him the issues it was causing." you explain.

"How do you know he tells the truth!?" a voice calls out, echoed by others nearby. Sighing, you smile and gesture to yourself. "I spent an evening with him, and we shared a meal. I am in one piece and was not ravaged by him." you say, doing your best to hold back the snicker that threatened to escape you at that particular comment.

"Tis true, she do be livin." they all whisper amongst themselves. "Listen....I have spoken with him and he has expressed his desire to speak with all of you on his own, and explain himself. Perhaps you all could reach an agreement for him to live there and he could help you all around the village?" You're met with some shocked looks from some of the more wary people, but others are pondering the idea.

The tavern keeper walks forward and eyes you up and down. "Does ye trust this beas- this human?" he asks, squinting at you. "As much as I can trust someone I only met for one night, yes. He seems genuine and I believe he's not here to cause any harm. He's quite shy." You say, motioning to the outskirts of town where he waited.

"I've brought him here to speak with you all, if you'll allow it. But he's agreed to leave if you are uncomfortable with it." you explain before they can all freak out.

"I mean...he came all this way..." someone says, then others are nodding, while others are reluctantly kicking the ground expressing their doubts. "I'll go meet him!" a small woman says, coming forward.

"Momma!" the tavern keep says, pulling on the older woman's arm but she shoos him away. "Big fraidy, you all are. He wants to help, I say we talk to him." "Thank you," you smile at the woman and she just gestures you on to go meet him.

"His name is Mingi," you tell her as you both approach. You definitely don't fail to notice the entourage following behind as you both go to greet him.

As Mingi watches you approach, he ducks his head a bit, holding onto the little bucket hat he'd brought with him. "So ye be the so called "beast", Mingi?" the woman says, walking right up to him. She stood about as tall as his hip.

He looks down at her shyly, and nods briefly. "I'm sorry for causing any issues." he says quietly and she just throws back her head and lets out a loud guffaw.

Smacking him on his rearend, she grabs his hand and drags him with her to meet the others. "No need for 'pologies her, mister Mingi! My you're a big boy, I bet we 'ave lots o work for the likes of ye...." you laugh as he looks back at you, shocked as he's forced into the crowd of little people.

Once the greeting was over, and Mingi seemed like he was finally warming up to all of them, the tavern keep comes to speak with you.

"Well, it wasn't what I sent ye for but you done did deal with the issue. Looks like we got ourselves a new townsfolk. Thanks to ye." he nods. "That bed and meal are still yers for the takin'." he says, patting your arm as he walks away.

"Seriously?" you sigh out. "This easy mode shit is what I get for my adventure?" you kick at the dirt path, but then let your gaze wander over the gorgeous man you'd spent the night with.

Well...you'll take it, you think. Suddenly the quest screen pops up and you clap.

Objective- Deal with the beast to bring peace back to the villagers-Quest Complete!

"Yay! Quest complete!" you cry, drawing Mingi's attention as you reach out to let the key fall into your hand.

Momentarily before things go black, you hear, "NO! DAMN YOU HWA AND YOUR STUPID GAME TUTORIAL BOOK-"

You open your eyes to the familiar dim light and the rows of books. What a weird story for adventure, you think. You turn around to the sound of a cat yowling softly, slowly slinking away with it's odd, sad noises.

This place was so strange.

You open your small box and notice there are six slots. Sliding the key into one of them, you shut it and look around.

Smiling as you think upon your 'adventure', you touch the mark on the back of your neck, oddly the only part of you still sore before you make your way onwards.

[axolistic]

Wings of Fire thingy

I loved doing this, it was really fun. I couldn’t fit everyone I wanted to, I may do this again with more dragons, I just thing the book series is pretty neat. Some notes about the designs and the characters in general:

DARKSTALKER: I hate him, but I think he is quite interesting, I want him to die in very horrible ways, and to study him under a microscope. Regarding his design, I tried to make him green because of Foeslayer, and also wanted to nod to Arctic with the diamond shaped scales, instead of the teardrop ones. Also i gave him huge pupils, to make him more creepy i guess.

GLORY: I just think she’s neat, I didn’t change much about her design, since its pretty recognizable and cool. Her book is my favorite one out of the first arc ones, I really like when she first entered the rainforest, she’s just badass overall. Glory honestly slayed the whole book and I kinda hate how Tui gave her a love interest, i just feel like it wasn’t necessary and it just annoyed me lol.

PERIL: I honestly kinda hated her at first, but she’s one of my favorites now. Her story is very interesting and I think that her whole character growth journey is very endearing. Her design was always pretty cool, But i added some more light blue accents because i think they just bring the design together better.

ANEMONE: She is just neat to me, and i really like her design, mostly because of her colors. I always imagined her with glasses for some reason, I didn’t add them because I don’t know how to draw them lol. Something I didn’t like about her character, was that the only reason she had animus powers was because of Turtle, i really hated that.

SNOWFLAKE: I just related to her, like quite a whole lot. I would like to see more of her, I feel like they could do more with her character. I gotta be honest, i hate drawing icewings, they all just look the same to me.

SNOWFALL: I really liked her book, probably my favorite out of arc 3, I really liked her story and personality, her interactions with Lynx were also very entertaining, her warm tones are based on the cover of her book, i know its just the lightning but i felt like it was something worth nodding to.

FREEDOM: She was a very entertaining antagonist and the only reason i like Luna’s book to be honest…. She’s pretty tragic and I find her interactions and whole dynamic with Cottonmouth really funny. I felt inclined to give her antennae like the silkwings but ultimately decided against it. Her personality reminds me of myself and we have same vibe.

PYRITE / HAILSTORM: They are just… tragic, And I crave for more of her story, its just left unfinished (at least that what it feels like to me) I just need to know what happened to her after the whole duel with Winter, I need to know what happened, Its just- DCBUDHCJSKSMLX.

[asha-mage]

Would love to hear five fun facts about an AU where one of the other Two Rivers boys is the Dragon Reborn - Mat or Perrin, the choice is yours.

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

Going with Mat here-

Since I have such a hard time separating the idea of Rand from the idea of the Dragon, as both mythological figure and for LTT reasons, I'd probably approach this from the angle that Mat is the 'champion of the light' in this specific turning, i.e still the Gambler/Son of Battles archetype, but whose past life resulted in the Breaking of the World, and who must now redeem himself through defeating the Dark One in the present era, and re-sealing the Bore. I would keep the trickster fox symbolism, but mix in heavy elements of Loki (in particular the bits surrounding the death of Balder, and the murder of his sons Nari and Vali as punishment/use to bind him). I would also replaced Callandor (which is an OG exaclibur refrence) with Lævateinn, one of Loki's mythological weapons, an draw heavy parallels with both Gungir and the arrow crafted to slay Balder of mistletoe.

Mat struggles a lot more then Rand with certain aspects of being the savior, less so with others. He's far, far more resistant to accepting his fate especially in the begging, and the story would need to force him into a position where he had the illusion of choice. Rand could be compelled by duty and compassion to accept he is The Dragon- Mat would defiantly refuse just to spite fate.

I would keep the idea that Mat was born outside the Two Rivers, but not make him Aiel born. Instead I'd probably make him Seanchan born- instead of the Aiel War twenty years ago, it was the First Seanchan invasion, with them being beaten back at the Bloodsnows instead, in a decisive (but costly) Westlands victory. Instead of Maiden of the Spear, Mat's biological mother would have been a Deathwatch Guard, likely someone also originally from the Westlands, with a parallel story to Shaiel'sl. His father would have been an Imperial Prince (an adoptive brother of Radhanan's/potential threat to her power) placed in charge of the invasion as a suicide mission/punishment for disgrace.

Conversely it is the Seanchan that Mat has to bind to aid him rather then the Aiel- something he struggles with a lot more then Rand did with the Aiel, though he also feels a lot less guilty about upending their culture and social order then Rand did. This also means he spends TSR/TFOH journeying to, then having to directly confront the Court of the Nine Moons et all, where has to reveal the secret lies of which the Empire predicates it's strength. This leaves Tuon in Couladin's approximate role: the rallying point of Imperial opposition, attempting to pry loose Mat's grip on power.

Because I am, in my heart of hearts a filthy Cauthor shipper- I would have Rand remain at Mat's side as confidant and guardian through to the bitter end. In my head he ends up taking up the dagger in order to protect Mat from Mordeth, and almost consumed by it in a similar way before breaking free/being healed. Though I wouldn't have him Aiel born, I probably would give him an parallel Aiel Training Arc to both help get over Dagger Withdrawal Syndrome and find his niche (assuming he can't channel in this turning).

[adraarts]

...Warning. The following information is classified... Subject SS04: Simela Simeonidis Age: 28 Gender: Female (She/Her) Nun of the Eye of Michael & Gung Ho Gun The Dragon "...Subject was scouted from the orphanage in December for Sister Mirofora's Melee Weapons Project. The fourth subject and only successor to survive and achieve outstanding results from The Spear's training regimens, programs and testing..." ...Error. Board clearance required to read further information. Access denied...

Character Information Spotify Playlist O.C Tag Please click on the images for full view and the ALT text for a little bit more information! Further artists notes beneath the cut!

PLEASE NOTE: - That the head scarf that my O.C is wearing on her head is known as an 'epimandylion', otherwise known as the 'apostolnik'. A lot of her imagery is drawn upon Christian Eastern Orthodoxy (Particularly the Greek Branch). E.g. Her gun lance, Ascalon, named after the spear that Saint George used to slay the dragon. - While the only thing separating Simela's appearances between her Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 and Trigun: Stampede looks is the Eye of Michael symbol on her nun's habit for Trigun: Stampede, the difference is mainly in the personality. In Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 she is a lot more reserved with her true emotions, thoughts and feelings, she is a lot more cold. In Trigun: Stampede, she is very open with her thoughts, feelings and emotions, and actively goes out of her way to be assertive and stand up for herself. Not to say that her Trigun: Maximum/Trigun: 1998 self doesn't, it's just that the Trigun: Stampede version is more extroverted and a little bit more brash.

But boy.

What a passion project this was.

I feel like I don't have the words to accurately describe how much this O.C has healed me.

This whole thing was almost a years worth of progress, and one of the many contributions involved in my journey of falling in love with art again and wanting to draw more after many years of not drawing and/or being inconsistent and unhappy with my art. Making Simela after a particularly rough December 2022, and discovering Trigun in 2023, was what I needed. I needed to make an O.C that was equal parts me and the things that I loved; The NieR series, One Piece, Pontic-Greek culture, Greek culture, Dragoons from the Final Fantasy series, strong female characters, the list goes on. There was a time in my life where I was made to feel ashamed for putting cultural and ethnic aspects of myself into my O.C's; what representation was for me out there, as a person of Greek background, in anime? None. This is where my Trigun O.C came in and turned my goddamn life on my head! Thick brows? Check. Dark, thick hair? Check. Hip dips? Fuck yeah!

Making and further developing this O.C (Along with being in the Trigun space in general) has made me discover parts of myself that I otherwise would have never known of/discovered. Fuck, Trigun made me write again freely without any restrictions or rules, it made me make art again.

Thank you Trigun, and the people I have met in the fandom ;v;/

[acewritesfics]

Family Day Out: Part 01 | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Fluff, a little swearing, dad!eddie.

Word Count: 1,441

Tag List: Open - acewritesfics taglist sign up

Stranger Things Masterlist

Part 02 | Part 03

Four Years After Vecna 

The sound of a thump coming from her daughter’s bedroom causes Y/N to stop washing the breakfast dishes. When she hears her husband, Eddie letting out a groan and Sophie’s boisterous laughter fills the two-bedroom trailer, her curiosity grows. She walks to Sophie’s bedroom and leans against the door frame after drying her hands with the dish towel. 

“What’s happening in here?” she asks, gaining the attention of her husband and daughter. Eddie and Sophie exchange glances before looking at her.  

She surveys the bedroom. The floor was littered with wooden blocks and Eddie’s Dungeon & Dragon’s figurines. The container in which the blocks were stored was tipped over. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“I slayed the dragon and saved Daddy!” Sophie exclaims with delight. 

“You did?” She moves into the bedroom and kneels beside Sophie. She draws her into a hug and smothers her with kisses all over her face. “ Mommy is so proud of you and thanks you greatly.”   

Sophie continues to giggle as she tries to push away. “Mommy, stop!”  

Y/N kisses her cheek once more and leans to share a quick kiss with Eddie. “Are we almost ready to depart for our fun day out? Is that what you’re wearing to day?” 

Sophie was wearing her purple princess dress and a denim vest that looked “just like daddy’s one,” complete with patches all over it. She was wearing her little black biker boots and Eddie’s old black and white skull bandana was wrapped around her head to keep her mess of dark curls—which she also inherited from Eddie along with his deep drown eyes—out of her face. The plastic sword that Uncle Dustin gave her for her third birthday is in her right hand. 

“Yes!” Sophie applauds. “Can I bring sword?”  

“The sword is staying at home today, sweetie,” Eddie replies.  

She sets her sword down and gestures to Eddie’s sock-covered feet, “Daddy shoes.”  

“I’m going to put them on right now,” Eddie says, standing up. He extends a hand to Y/N and helps her to her feet. 

“And you can help me pack your bag,” Y/N tells Sophie, offering her hand to the three-year-old, who takes it immediately. Eddie is followed by the two his two favorite ladies as they leave Sophie’s bedroom and walks into the living room.   Sophie grabs her muppets’ backpack and passes it to her mother, who takes it into the kitchen and begins packing it with snacks and a change of clothes for the small girl. She made sure to pack some toys for Sophie to keep her occupied in the van. The Munson family was on their way to the park as soon as they were ready. 

When they arrived at the park, Eddie helps Sophie in get out of her car seat and lifts her up, carrying her on his shoulders. “Gentle,” he softly reminds her as she clutches fistfuls of his hair to hold on to him. Eddie holds her legs to keep her steady as she releases his hair and throws her tiny arms around his head. As she walks behind the father-daughter duo, Y/N grins.  

She believed that Eddie deserved all the wonderful things that came his way because of everything they had gone through since learning about the existence of the upside down, which had happened in the most dreadful way. He had been implicated in all three of the horrific killings that had occurred in 1986 and had witnessed two of them. Most of Hawkins had turned their backs on him, not that they had given him the time of day before Jason Carver rallied an angry mob of hicks to go after him. Y/N, his Uncle Wayne, and Dustin were the only three people who didn’t need to be convinced from the start that he didn’t do it. The others had their doubts until they found him and he had explained what had happened to Chrissy. 

Before the Hawkins Upside Down group made the decision to take Vecna on themselves, the few days he had spent in hiding felt like some of the worst. Y/N had been paired with Dustin and Eddie, and everything went smoothly until Eddie decided to play the hero. When Y/N and Dustin found Eddie lying in the middle of the road, surrounded by dead demobats and bleeding profusely, it quickly turned into the worst day of her life. However, by some miracle, they had been able to pull the wounded three time senior from the upside-down and find a person who would help him. With more than one eyewitness and no concrete proof that Eddie was responsible for the murders, his name was cleared and he was able to finally graduate. However, it wasn’t enough to keep him in Hawkins. 

Eddie announced to her that he intended to leave Hawkins and never come back three months after he had physically recovered. Even after his name was cleared, Eddie was still not accepted in the town.  He couldn’t go anywhere without people sneering and constantly harrassing him. Every week, his uncle’s trailer, where they stayed with him, was vandalized. The young couple told Wayne of their decision, packed up the little amount of belongings that they owned, and left Hawkins, but not before promising the others that they would call as soon as they could. 

For four months, they lived out of his van and the occasional hotel room until they had enough money from their new jobs to find a place to live. It didn’t take them long to find the trailer in which they currently resided. A month after leaving Hawkins, Y/N found out she was pregnant with Sophie. They were engaged five months later and eloped at the courthouse, with Wayne, who was visiting them at the time, as a witness.  

And now, here they are four years later, happily married, with a beautiful daughter who is Eddie’s twin, making do with what they must provide for their daughter and any future children they may have. Despite not having much, she considered what they have to be everything they need.  

“Mommy, look!” Her daughter’s delighted squeal cuts through her thoughts. She glances to see where she’s pointing from her father’s shoulders and sees a mother duck swimming in the water with her ducklings. Her favorite animals, second only to dragons, are ducks.  

“Mama duck has babies,” she exclaims as she steps beside her husband, lifting Sophie off his shoulders. 

They approach the pond and take a seat a few feet away from the water’s edge. While watching the ducks and ducklings, Sophie curls up on Eddie’s lap, pointing out when they would bob underwater and then come back up, and getting excited when some of them came back onto land.  

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Eddie begins, breaking the silence. They had been at the park for about thirty to forty minutes when Sophie cuddled up against Eddie’s chest and dozed off as he ran his fingers through her hair. 

“About?” she wonders, her gaze shifting from the water to her husband.  

“I’d like another one,” he confesses.  

“Another what?” she asks, perplexed.  

“Another baby,” he says. “I’d like to start trying for another one. I think it’ll be nice to have another one and to give Soph a baby brother or sister.”  

She appears to be thinking about something as she nods her head and chews on her lower lip. She agrees that that did sound nice.  "What if I told you we don’t have to try for another one?“  

It was now his time to appear puzzled. "I don’t understand.” 

She can’t help the grin that appears on her lips. “I was going to tell you tonight, but since you brought it up, this morning’s phone call from the doctor was to confirm that I’m pregnant again.”  

His expression quickly shifts from confusion to surprise and then to pure excitement and joy. “We’re having another baby?”  

She confirms what she just said with a nod of her head.  

“I love you so fucking much,” he says softly as he pulls her into a kiss, careful not to wake their sleeping daughter. “Holy shit, we’re going to need a bigger home.” 

Y/N chuckles. “We have approximately seven months to find one.”  

“I love you,” he says again, kissing her. “And I love you,” he continues, kissing Sophie’s head. Y/N grins as she watches him put his hand on her stomach. “And I love you.”  

“We all love you, too,” Y/N says as she kisses him this time. 

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups | @alexxavicry

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden…. 

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile 

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.  

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here 

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

     

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor)  or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.  

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.  

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.  

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.    

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.

[catinflight]

WOuhhhg got around to drawing amalgam-Murtagh

(Amalgamtagh??????? Murtgam???? Hsgshsud))))

L a rge

Lazy sketches that I don't really like BUT OUUUUGHHH I need to complete the trio of murtagh au's

It's mandatory for all the scrunkle characters I obsess over

ANYWAY, yapping lore (sorta,,,, i don't actually have a lot of stuff nailed down.)

Probably one of the weaker au's since I haven't really thought alot abt it BUUUUT

Basically, Thorn & Murtagh do the whole

"visit the Draumar and get captured by bachel,"

but instead of bachel keeping them as her prized rider, she corrupts the sacred bond

(as commanded by Azlagûr, big scary lizard under ground or something)

and basically Mish-mashes the two together

(think of it like crudely stitching the halves of two diffrent dolls together)

then traps them under some large mountain in Nal Gorgoths' mountain range for like a couple of hundreds of years before- ERAGON‼️‼️‼️ ERAGON⁉️⁉️ ERAGOOOON🔥🔥🔥

ough h anyway, yeah Eragon gets there because, like, at this point literally everyone he has cared about (not counting Arya or any of the elves) have passed away at this point because- yknow- he's immortal they aren't.

Eragon has assumed murtagh must also be dead / missing, and so instead, he's the one who stumbles upon the Draumar and bachel and yadda yadda you know the deal by now.

Some stuff happens, Eragon snoops around, and BAM

AMALGAMTAGH UNDER THE MOUNTAIN‼️‼️

Eragon is pissed, amalgamtagh is pissed, and bachel is

Well

Bachel.

So far, I haven't thought about much else since murtcat and shade-murtagh have been consuming all of my brain power.

Oh, a little silly I should mention, in the au, Morzan suffers a similar fate, where in his battle with Brom, instead of Brom killing his dragon, Bachel's freaky bird skull amulet that galb gave morz to wear activates, he gets amalgamated with his dragon, and from almost dies trying to slay him, but that part is purposefully left out of the folktale bc THATS CRAZY‼️‼️

Anyway, imma go get some shut eye y'all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk

[thegreeks]

The Warmth of Home

Prequel to An Affectionate Rebellion Warnings: Child in marriage Synopsis: Joys of an aristocratic life with your husband Mr. Darcy and son Edward

In the years following the tumultuous events of the Hertfordshire ball, the formidable Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and his newlywed wife, you, found solace in the thriving heart of Pemberley. The grand estate suited the fell sweep of the mountain backdrop, but within its well-manicured gardens lay an intimate world where whispers of affection and longing flourished unseen.

The life of an aristocrat was laden with expectation—dinners to attend, invitations to accept, and the scrutiny of society to endure. Yet, amidst these realities, you had forged a bond with Darcy unlike any other. It was a connection that twined your hearts together, and now, two years into your marriage, you cherished not only your love for one another but also the delightful mischief of parenthood.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” you greeted cheerfully as he entered the drawing room one autumn morning, sunlight spilling over the polished surfaces of Pemberley, casting a glow on his elegant form.

“Good morning, my dear,” he replied, a smile breaking through his usual reserve, one that held the warmth of a shared secret. It was a smile reserved only for you and their son, Edward, who was not yet two years old but already exhibiting the determination of his father.

As if summoned by your laughter, little Edward burst into the room, clutching a toy horse adorned with the Darcy crest. His tousled hair and wide-eyed excitement were an irresistible sight. You felt a swell of affection for both your husband and your son, an experience both profound and heartwarming.

“Papa, look!” Edward exclaimed, galloping towards Darcy, his small feet pattering on the floor. “I am a knight!”

Darcy knelt to the boy's level, his expression softening further. “A knight, you say? And what is your quest, young sir?”

“To rescue Mama!” Edward declared, brandishing his wooden sword with all the seriousness befitting a two-year-old knight.

You stifled a laugh, knowing how seriously Darcy would take this. “It would seem I require rescuing regularly,” you teased, glancing playfully at your husband.

Darcy’s brow arched in mock severity. “You shall have to inform me of any dragons that need slaying, madam, for I believe my son is more than capable.”

With that, the morning filled with laughter and delightful banter, the three of you embarked on a treasure hunt of sorts around the estate. While Edward sat astride his imaginary steed, you and Darcy quietly planned the day’s small social engagement—an invitation extended by Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had become infrequent in her visits yet maintained her presence as far-off thunderclouds do on bright days.

“You must remember, Fitzwilliam,” you said, fixing him with an affectionate but serious gaze, “Lady Catherine’s comments on your estate management are relentless.”

“I shall endure,” he groaned lightly, shaking his head. “But I cannot promise to enjoy it.”

“Perhaps we can make a pact?” you offered, snatching Edward’s hand. “For every complaint she makes, we could take a delightful excursion together. Perhaps the lakes?”

A flicker of mischief lit his dark eyes. “You venture them far too close to comfort, my dear, and it tends to attract her ire. However, the idea is easily tempting.”

As the hours passed and the day turned ever closer to your evening engagement, a sudden knock at the door startled the three of you from your game. A footman entered, bowing deeply. “Mr., Mrs., and Miss. Bingley have arrived, my lord.”

Darcy’s expression morphed into one of mild annoyance, yet he hid it well. “How very timely,” he replied, sliding into his role of the unfazed gentleman.

You smirked quietly, knowing that neither of you would mind the company of their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. They had an avid fondness for Edward and always brought a lively spirit into the house. And though Caroline Bingley’s presence often came with trials—gravitating as she was to all upper-class propriety—her brother, with his soft-hearted nature, was what you truly cherished.

As you descended the staircase warmly welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Bingley into your home, Darcy stood behind you, a hand on your back, lending support as you navigated the balance of pleasure and decorum of the gathering. Edward took his place, corners of his mouth twitching with excitement, caught between the allure of new guests, ready to be the center of attention.

For that moment, you felt invincible, together in your beloved family, even amid the weight of societal expectations. As laughter filled the room and you exchanged glances of conspiratorial delight with your husband, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, your bond would emerge bright and steadfast, like a beacon against the backdrop of the Pemberley night.

It was a world of privilege, yes, but it was also yours: a landscape filled with love, laughter, and the gentle chaos that parenthood permits—a bubble in a society that could stand to remember what truly mattered most. In the heart of it, Mr. Darcy cherished the quiet moments, the gentleness of family gracing his once-lonely estate—now thriving with the laughter of a child and the warmth of love that was always intended to be.

As the evening stretched on, laughter echoed through the halls, enfolding the surrounding lushness, a kingdom built not upon wealth alone but upon the heart’s true treasures—a partnership between you and Mr. Darcy, eternally intertwined under the watchful gaze of the stars adorning the English sky.

[falmerbrook]

An Equal (Miraak Oneshot)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53165962

Summary: Miraak revels in his fight against the Last Dragonborn, and in the end she grants him a moment of mercy.

Basically I've just had this idea in my head of the LDB last minute dragging a dying Miraak back to Nirn with them.

-

At some point the fight turned into a game; the sort of play-fighting two dogs would indulge in.

            Miraak was supposed to be fighting for his life—his freedom—but the thrill of battle had gotten to his head. Every fireball that whiffed by him, every shout that was countered by an equally powerful cry, and every soul of a dragon he felled that surged into his own soul energized him in ways he hadn’t been energized in millennia. Hell, in ways he hadn’t been energized ever. He’d fought hundreds of battles over his mortal life, many against his fellow priests with a perfect mastery of the Thu’um, but none had ever felt like a true equal. A challenge, sure, but there was never someone who could match Miraak in his understanding of the dragons’ tongue. They had treated it as a simple language, a skill to practice, a tool to use for their gain, but for Miraak it was a fundamental part of his world. It shaped him and everything around him. Face to face, spell to spell, with another Dragonborn was different. While her skills were obviously less refined, her use of the Thu’um held a natural, instinctual punch. She wasn’t shouting out of strategy, but out of frustration, arguing with Miraak in the way only a Dov could. Her sharp eyes dug into his with the same hatred that he looked at her, but the animated way she steeled herself for his next move betrayed that she was equally exhilarated as him. While he had the experience over her to pummel her with his Thu’um, he couldn’t help but respect her as an equal.

[continued under the cut]

He never wanted the fight to end, but he knew he would eventually have to draw it to a close and slay the young Dovahkiin. The thought of losing the opportunity to keep around someone who mirrored himself, even as a rival, sent a sour pang through Miraak’s chest, but the threat of losing his millennia of planning and his freedom was too great. He had lived as the only Dragonborn, and he could continue to live that way.

For now, though, he was in control. Her lack of experience was reflected in the way she overexerted herself too quickly while he had been holding back. He could let this dance play out for a while longer. Her upper hand was in her magic, a skill Miraak had admittedly practiced little in during his imprisonment, but while powerful, she was sloppy, and was already starting to slip up and fail her casting. He, however, was as strong as he’d ever felt in Apocrypha.

Sahrotaar, the last of Miraak’s servants, circled above them. Miraak’s strength was not waning—it couldn’t, as far as he felt—but he was starting to tire of the fight. The younger Dragonborn’s growing carelessness as she threw increasingly hasty and brash spells his way disappointed him. She had shown so much promise, so much potential, but he had overestimated her. There was no point drawing this out anymore. He needed his freedom, and he needed her dead.

As Sahrotaar circled above Miraak, hovering so close Miraak could feel the heat of the dragon’s breath, the Dragonborn turned his head to the dragon, his longtime companion, and reeled back for a shout, “Sahrotaar, ziil-“

“GOL HAH DOV!”

The younger Dragonborn’s voice was growing hoarse, but the power behind it still shook Mirrak’s concentration for a moment, and something instantly changed in Sahrotaar’s usually vacant gaze.

“Krii Miraak!” she cried out.

Sahrotaar immediately swept down and knocked Miraak off his feet with a swift arc of the beast’s head, launching him across the arena. He landed harshly on his knee and was forced to brace himself on his elbows against the slick floor with a gasp as the wind left his lungs.

“VEN GAAR NOS!”

The other Dragonborn seized the opportunity while Miraak was down to throw him again against the far wall with a burst of wind. Before Miraak had even slammed to the floor, she threw a flurry of haphazard, but powerful spells at him. His vision was blinded with the flashes as they collided with his armor and singed his robes. She may be losing her battle, but she had not lost her determination.

His senses were screaming, but he managed to squeak out a desperate whisper, “wuld nah kest.”

Miraak was freed from the bombardment with a burst of wind, and the ache in his body forced him to pause as he hit the thick water of the pool in the center of the arena. He had rushed past the other Dragonborn and Sahrotaar, who was already descending on him. As the burning sensation of the spells faded, a different burning filled his core. How dare she! How dare she go against him. How dare she stand between him and the only thing he’d ever wanted. How dare Sahrotaar fall to her will so easily. How dare Hermaeus Mora teach her Bend Will. How dare that slimy bastard so easily give her something he forced Miraak to spend decades proving himself to acquire like some stupid child.

“SAHROTAAR, ZIIL LOS DII DU!” her roared, readying the deadliest spell he could manage across his fingertips, never taking his gaze off the other Dragonborn. In his peripheral vision, Sahrotaar’s body fell limp and disintegrated as the dragon’s soul flew into Miraak’s, energizing the man as the spell stirred even more powerful in his palm. The bitch in front of Miraak just stood in place, staring at him with what he was sure was an unseen mocking gaze behind her mask. He would relish in wiping it’s bloody remains across the walls of his temple.

But something suddenly changed. The burning was extinguished, and the spell died in his hand. In his core grew a sinking chill, which crawled up his spine to curse his head with a lightheadedness. It was as if he was floating—wait, was he? His feet no longer touched the ground.

"Did you think you could escape me, Miraak? You can hide nothing from me here.”

Hermaeus Mora’s sickening drawl filled his core with dread. And pain; excruciating pain that was now flooding his abdomen. It hammered at his skull, blurring the sights and sounds around him. Miraak doubled over, his mask tumbling off as he saw the tentacle protruding from his stomach, it’s mucous mixing with his blood.

“No matter. I have found a new Dragonborn to serve me."

So, this was it. All his preparations vanquished in an instant. Miraak knew there was no point struggling against Mora.

“May she… be… be rewarded for her service… as… I am," Miraak responded as thick liquid, he couldn’t tell what it was, tumbled from his mouth and garbled his speech.

“Oh, you nasty, sadistic…”

The other Dragonborn’s taunts, ones Miraak assumed were directed at him, became distant as the full feeling in his abdomen invaded his thoughts. He could hear the woman and the Daedric Prince go back and forth for a time, but the meaning of the words was too much for Miraak’s mind to concentrate on. He couldn’t even dwell on his failure in these last moments, only the invading feeling in his body. The one thing that could rip him from his daze was the harsh grasp of a smaller hand in his, paired with the swell of the noise around him and the slither of tentacles as they embraced him and dragged him into a Black Book.

---

The feeling of Nirn hit him harder than Mora could have ever; the crisp winter air in his lungs, the cold crunch of the snow settling below him, the bellow of some beast echoing in the distance, and the taste of bile and blood gathering in the back of his mouth. Each breath simultaneously refreshed his core and sent shocks of pain through his entire body and soul. As his eyes adjusted to the soft colors of Solstheim, for the first time taking in anything other than harsh greens and blacks, the sky above spilled with the soft colors of the northern lights and freckled stars.

He was laying down.

His sense of orientation, and pain, was returning as feeling returned to his body. He flexed his fingers in the snow beneath him, the crunching and crumbling between them bringing a sort of comfort to him he hadn’t felt since he was a young child. As he took deeper breaths, savoring every smell and taste of the clean mountain air, he almost choked on the dryness tickling his throat. He was used to the dank humidity of Apocrypha.

The soft crunch of footsteps through the snow grew louder in front of him; a noise he hadn’t heard in millennia. He wanted whoever it was to never stop approaching him. He didn’t even care who they were, for the moment. As soon as the other Dragonborn stopped in front of him, he felt differently. The pain in his abdomen came back to the forefront of his mind. She was a distraction from the distractions around him.

Her breath was labored, and her guard was down. She didn’t approach him with confidence, but with a staggered step and sagged shoulders. As she stopped at his feet, she pulled off her mask; a trophy from some long-dead dragon priest. Her expression was tired and sullen, and as she took in the sight of the man on the ground before her, it twisted into something like pain. Pity. Although his body and mind were too weak to feel anger, it did burn.

They stared at each other for a moment, able to see their opponent and fellow Dragonborn for the first time.

“Well,” was all Miraak managed to croak out. He didn’t understand why she brought him here. Was preventing that not the one thing she was in Apocrypha for?

She thought for a moment before sighing, “I don’t know—I don’t know why I brought you here. I just… I guess…” Her voice had been ravaged by the shouting of the fight, but she sounded choked up.

Miraak could feel the lightheadedness returning to his head as she continued to search for her words. The pain in his body was subsiding, but he knew that this wasn’t out of healing. This was the end. He remained silent but moved his gaze from the Dragonborn to the sky again. If he was going to die, he might as well make the most of those millennia he missed out on.

“I just wish we could’ve met in another context,” the other Dragonborn finally said, her gaze to the ground.

Miraak hummed in agreement. He knew he should be angrier about being bested, especially by someone so inexperienced, but he didn’t have the energy. All those plans of domination and power seemed so far away under Mundus’s vast stars anyway. At least he had escaped Hermaeus Mora’s grasp to see them one last time.