#Seige of Pride Rock

[secret-waterblog]

For @linkspussy ‘s fantasy omovember Day 4: Wetting in Armor

Author note: based on referenced canon events, also it’s more of almost wetting but making it.

All Jorah Mormont could think about was how he was going to survive the Seige, he had been running on pure adrenaline for 16 hours straight . The only thing on his mind was not dying and not letting his men die on his watch.

His bravery on the battlefield did not go unnoticed, King Robert was so impressed watching him fight he decided to knight Jorah.

As soon as the battle was won King Robert moved to the knighting ceremony.

The ceremony had just barely begun when Jorah had a horrible realization, he really needed to piss really badly, he had not gone since he woke up that morning and it was now well into the night.

When he was fully suited up in his armor, he hated having to take pee breaks since he found disrobing armor to be very inconvenient.

Because of this he tried to put off taking care of nature as long as he could, but today he had really pushed it. He felt like his bladder was going to burst at any moment, he wished he had been able to duck into the latrine tent earlier, or hell, just had taken a leak on the side of the battlefield. But he had not and now he was afraid of being the first knight in the history of Westeros to piss his armor in front of the king.

Jorah could not let that happen. He had far too much pride for such things , he would push through the pain.

He barely heard the praises that Robert embellished on him, but he did somehow manage to hold himself together long enough to swear his oath.

As soon as the oath was sworn and Robert brought out the wine, Jorah took off.

He could feel himself start to leak through his hose and into his armor, he needed to find somewhere to relieve himself right now.

The Iron Islands did not have as much vegetation as he would have liked to discreetly duck behind to empty his bladder, but what he did see was a large pile of rocks.

Jorah dove behind the pile, ripping the lower part of his armor off, and pulling the front of his hose down. His stream came full force soaking the sand in front of him. He never remembered having to piss this much in his life, but gods did it feel good to get it all out. He felt his body get chills from the relief. Jorah continued peeing for five whole minutes, when he finally stopped he let out a relieved sigh.

He wiped his hands on his pants, this would have to do until he could find water for a proper wash later. Then he gathered his discarded armor piece.

To his horror he noticed that one of Robert’s guards had been watching him the whole time.

“Mormont,” the guard laughed, “I didn’t know you were drunk enough for that sort of piss yet,”

Jorah started to grow red, but instead shrugged it off and headed back to the celebration, a little wine wouldn’t hurt after the hell he went through

[apieters]

“I…collect swords, you see. I take them from the men I’ve killed.”

Et voila, she is finished! And what’s this? Chris Carnovo is a Musketeer? Not just any Musketeer—he’s M. Tréville himself! Which leads me to…

The Founding of the Royal Musketeers

In the Magic Kingdom, being a member of the Royalty comes with significant occupational hazards, between unscrupulous magic-users, scheming advisors, and the occasional treacherous family member. The princes and princesses have long recognized the need for bodyguards, and for many years that role was filled by the Royal Guards.

The Royal Guards were an order of men-at-arms who filled this role. Armed in medieval armor and carrying medieval weapons, the Guards were a pool of trained bodyguards who, at any moment, could be summoned by any member of the Royalty to defend their persons. They also did police work, crowd control, etc. in the areas surrounding Royal residences. At one point, Chris’s friend André Caron (one of the other main characters of Swashbucklers of the Magic Kingdom) was a member of this unit. Due to the nature of the job, many Guards were honored with the prestigious title of Knight of the Magic Kingdom.

That is, until Tristan L’Hermite took over.

Tristan L’Hermite, the Black Knight, was named Captain of the Royal Guards by Minister of Justice Claude Frollo, and quickly turned the Royal Guards into the officer corps of his own personal army, which he used to terrorize first the nobility he had sworn to protect, and then the common people of the Magic Kingdom. As his Reign of Terror began, the Royalty of the Magic Kingdom began looking to replace the Royal Guards with a new unit.

Chris Carnovo the tyrannosaur was a former privateer, a fencing master, and a fight choreographer who was unmatched in his skill with a rapier. As the Reign of Terror began, he began to fulfill the role of bodyguard for King Mufasa of the Pridelands, his chief client and benefactor, and it was he who came up with the idea of an elite unit of swordsmen, trained by him, to bodyguard the Royalty threatened by Tristan L’Hermite.

The first swashbuckler to answer his call was an old shipmate, “Porthos the Pirate,” whose real name was Isaac Porthos du Vallon, but others soon followed—Armand Athos, the Count of La Fère; René Henri Aramis D’Herblay; Count Rochefort, who later betrayed the Musketeers and left to captain the guards of Cardinal-Duke Richelieu; and the man who would become his right hand amongst the Musketeers: Bertrand de Batz D’Artagnan. Chris soon assemble a large corps of noble-hearted swashbucklers and trained them in the art of rapier. As a uniform, Chris decided on a short blue tunic or cape with silver crosses, although he himself chose one of the rejected designs as his own uniform. For headquarters, a large mansion belonging to one King Henri IV (a cousin of Cinderella’s father-in-law) was gifted to them, and so King Henri became a special patron of the Musketeers. For this service, Princess Cinderella elevated him to the ranks of the aristocracy, bestowing on him the title of Count of Tréville, by which title his is most often referred by the Musketeers.

The Musketeers’ record was impeccable, and no prince or princess was ever captured by Tristan L’Hermite on their watch. By the end of the Reign of Terror, the Musketeers made up more than half of the able-bodied defenders at the Seige of Pride Rock, their captain Chris Carnovo leading the defense himself until Mufasa, liberated from the Palace of Justice by André, arrived with reinforcements to put an end to the Reign of Terror.

Chris lead the Musketeers ably for some time after the Terror, but eventually decided to retire from full-time Musketeering. Such was the Musketeers’ love for their commander, however, that they begged him to stay in some capacity. Chris eventually accepted the title of Commander Emeritus, leaving the the day-to-day running of the Musketeers to a Captain, while being in charge of training new recruits in the art of swordsmanship.

Commander Emeritus is not, however, an empty title—the acting Captain has more than once turned to the Count of Tréville for advice and, when he is present, the Musketeers naturally acknowledge him as the Captain’s superior, even siding with their beloved M. Tréville when his and the Captain’s views conflict. In a few emergencies, Chris has taken back active control of the Musketeers, but then returned command over to a capable Captain.

At the time of Swashbucklers of the Magic Kingdom, the Captain of the Musketeers is Bertrand’s son, Charles de Batz D’Artagnan, most famous for foiling an attempt to kidnap King Henri’s son and successor, Louis XIII, before ever donning the blue tunic. Early in the story, Chris Carnovo must take Prince Kopa of the Pridelands along as he supervises a fencing tournament held by the Musketeers. But when the Cardinal’s Guards attempt to disrupt the tournament, the Count of Tréville knows that the first duty of a Musketeer is to protect their charge—and Kopa may be in more danger than getting caught in the crossfire…

[dynamightgod]

Blood of the Dragon

Pairing: kiribaku(established), kiribaku x reader

Word count: 4,398

Warnings: sexual content, minors and ageless blogs dni, aged up characters, fantasy AU, violence, paganism, abo dynamics, 

Inspired by skyrim and Zelda. This is the longest fic ive ever written. I hope you all enjoy it. Please reblog like and comment. I might continue this if it does well, just wanted to get it out of my head and on paper. 

Not proofread

The rider carried swiftly through the dark and dense forest, the heavy panting of his thoroughbred lost on his ears, only one thing on his mind. Flee. Deliver the message and flee. The dread that had plauged him since the shadows first came to Redstone, were closing in. He could feel the nimble, icy tips of their fingers as it bled closer and closer, ready to consume him, silence him forever. 

But he had a mission. And God's be damned, he would complete it. One last time. 

The brilliant lights of the watchtower guarding the human city of Redstone came into view. He sighed with relief, relaxing his hold a little as he began to feel safer. 

A flash of gold light envelops him just as he reaches the forest edge. The next thing he knows, he's on his back, staring up into the night sky, the pounding of hooves, letting him know the horse has fled, towards the village or into the forest he does not know. 

He never finishes his thought before the darkness finally takes him. 

Chapter One

"I need to see Bakugou. Now! Let me through." Eijiro Kirishima, a strong warrior, hard as a rock and fierce as any dragon, glared down at the servant who refused to let him enter Bakugou's bedchamber. The sounds of skin slapping skin, hoarse groans and meek little moans greeting his ears. 

"His majesty is busy right now as  sure you can hear Master Kirishima." The servant responded quietly, her eyes looking anywhere but at the hulking figure before her. 

Although chivalry is something he prides himself on, Kirishima moved the woman with one arm, slamming open the door to the Dragon King's bedroom. 

As Dragonblood, they abide by the A/B/O dynamics, Kirishima can see immediately that Bakugou is in the throws of his rut. The omega beneath him winning and gripping the sheets tightly as he pounds into her. And she should be so lucky to serve her King during his ruts. 

"Katsuki?" Kirishima says loudly and firmly, causing the other man to only look up at him, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed and sweat dripping from his body as he continues to mercilessly fuck the poor omega beneath him. 

"What." He snaps, mumbling a fuck as he pushes the omega's head down into the furs that cover his bed, her whines muffled by the heavy blankets. He smirks. "Wanna join Kiri?" Kirishima links his lips. It's a tantalizing offer for sure. He worshiped his king. He loved him. Despite his crass and brazen ways. 

"We received a raven this morning." The red head bites his lip, drawing blood when Bakugou gives a particularly hard thrust. 

"Shut up omega. You can take it. All you're good for." He snarls down at the body beneath him. "What news?" He's so nonchalant about it. As if they were discussing the hunt yesterday, before his rut overcame him. 

"Redstone was laid to seige. No one knows who did it, but the Lord Todoroki suspects the dragons." Bakugou stilled his movements. He paused for a moment before shoving the omega away from him. She yelped, falling forward onto her stomach. 

"My king, are you-" 

"Get out. I'm done with you." He barked, throwing a fur lined dark Grey robe over his shoulders. The omega scrambled and Kirishima couldn't help the sick feeling of possessiveness that filled him, satisfied to see she was leaving. 

Bakugou walked over to a table in the left corner of the room. Picking up a crystal goblet, with rubies and precious stones laid into it, he gulped the contents down, never taking his eyes off of Kirishima. 

Bakugou Katsuki, the only son of Lord and Lady Bakugou and heir to all that is Dragor. Born of fire and the blood of the Dragon, it's rumored that Mitsuki paid a witch to help her conceive him. Loud, fierce, violent and strategic, Bakugou's name put fear into the hearts of many in the realm. 

But to Kirishima, he was just Katsuki, his best friend since they shared a wet nurse, his lover later and his confidant. 

"I fuckin hate when they bring in an omega for me. Why the fuck couldn't you be one?" Katsuki growled, wiping his mouth. Kirishima smiled softly, the corners of his mouth lifting only slightly. 

"It's okay Katsuki. I really don't mind."  And he did his best to keep his expression neutral. The truth was that Kirishima minded a lot. Katsuki was his and he was Katsuki's. The problem was that as Alphas, ruts can make them both so aggressive. Anytime they did indulge together during their ruts it seemed like they lost themselves, had a hard time holding back. The sex was always rough and hard and caused too much damage. And Bakugou needed heirs. Kirishima couldn't give him that. 

Katsuki sizes up his lover, not sure if he's buying the story but decides to change the subject for Kirishima's sake. 

"Tell me more about this seige while I dress. Then we'll call mother and father to see what can be done." Kirishima nodded, stepping around the bed as Bakugou disrobed to change. 

"Black dragons, dark as night invaded a little after the evening hour two nights ago…..they say their fire was blue and they nearly destroyed three villages, many were killed. But because they're dragons-"

"I've never seen a black dragon. Our dragons aren't black." Bakugou murmured, mulling over Kirishima's words. 

"But the humans think it was us and with your reputation-"

"My reputation is what keeps us safe." Bakugou snaps. 

"All I'm saying is, it's unsettling and the Todoroki's are pissed. Enji wants blood." Bakugou pulled his tunic over his head and held up his hand to stop kirishima. He'd heard enough. 

"Fuck Enji. I'll take him on any day of the week. The important thing is that there are Black dragons out there. We need to find them, and find out who's sending them." Kirishima nodded, following behind as Katsuki slammed his door open and walked out into the corridor. 

**********

The isle of Elvair

"Concentrate Y/N. Put all your energy into it. Focus on the water, make it ripple." Y/N closed her eyes, putting he'd hands out, palms up as she focused on what the Elder Priestess was saying.

Y/N shifted, huffing out a light breath as she raised her hand, palm up and open above the waters just beneath her. 

"Allow the Mother's spirit to fill you, feel the warmth of her embrace." Y/N pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting, a slight headache beginning to pulse behind her eyes as she rendered her focus and harnessed it. "Now child."

The pressure exploded and as she opened her eyes she saw the waters beneath her rippling, a surprised gasp leaving her lips as little bubbles began to float upwards and surround her fingers, dancing around her hand. 

"My Lady do you see?!" Y/N shouted with glee. The Priestess stood back, arms crossed and nodding with approval. 

"As expected my child. You exceed my expectations once more." Priestess Morena smiled at her softly. A sudden sound of chiming bells had them snapping their heads back towards the Abby, where the evening candles had been lit. "I had not realized the hour child. We should return for supper." Y/N nodded, following the Priestess from the streams edge. 

Morriganna Abbey, in the Isle of Elvair, was something legend. The Isle itself, being completely unknowable to anyone who didn't already know the way. The Abbey to the outside world, was myth, a place where the great mother godess went to rest and be waited on by her Priestess and the monks who lived there. 

To those who lived in the Isle though, it was a sacred paradise. The last one on Earth. The last truly sacred place of rest, untouched by the horrors outside. It was God country, and only the chosen resided there. 

Y/N made her way into the banquet hall. It was modest, made of hard brick and mortar, the ceiling painted with images of the Mother, The Maiden and The Crone. The Green man dancing around a fire. It was beautiful and she often found herself staring up during dinner, imagining the stories they told. 

But tonight the air was tense and thick. The hall silent as everyone ate quietly, whispers here and there shot down with steely glares as Y/N took a seat between her two dearest friends Mina and Tsuyu, both of whom had left the same village as her when they were children to become Priestesses.

"What happened?" Y/N whispered. Mina leaned back slightly and leaned just a little closer to Y/N's ear to whisper to her. 

"There's been an attack on Redstone. No one knows why, just that there were black dragons." Y/N's eyes widened in fear and acknowledgement. 

"So it's true…..the prophe-"

"Maiden Y/N." Y/N's mouth closed instantly, turning she was greeted by High Priestess Midnight, the name she gave herself when she became a High Priestess. She ran the Abbey and held it under her control. She was just, listening to the God's and always loving and compassionate towards everyone there, striving to keep everyone together. 

"High Priestess." Y/N bowed her head and stood. 

"A word please?" The High Priestess motioned for the girl to follow her and she felt all eyes on her as she made her way out of the hall. 

"I had the liberty taken of bringing supper to you in my private quarters tonight." Y/N said nothing, looking instead out the windows lining the dark corridor. The moon was dark tonight, no stars in the sky, it only made the lump in her throat grow with anticipation. 

They came to a door at the end of the hallway on the lefthand side. The wood was old and splintered and the hinges made an awful creak sound as the door opened. 

Midnight's quarters were modest. A bed, a dresser, a chair by the fireplace and a desk for her ravens. A tall standing looking glass stood in the corner. 

On the desk sat a bowl of vegetable and beef stew, a roll and a cup. Midnight motioned for Y/N to eat while she stoked the fire. As Y/N ate, Midnight sat on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap. 

"I know you must have heard by now of the sighting of black dragons." Y/N stopped chewing her bread, setting it down she took a sip from her cup before answering. 

"I have Priestess…." Midnight nodded. 

"Others seem to know nothing of them. The Lord of Redstone blames the dragons of Dragor but we know better." She smiled softly then, looking at Y/N with sad eyes. "I'm sorry it's come to this. We had hoped the prophecy would not come to be as-"

"I've made it to 21 and passed it. But it's only a year. I'm 22 now. Not much of a difference." Midnight chuckled bitterly at that, shaking her head. 

"Ah the God's can be cruel. But be sure there's a lesson in this. Never forget," she holds up her hands, crossing them to make an 'x'. "The prophecy is a crossroads. There is a choice to be made, and as unfortunate as it is for you, it is also your final test. You'll have to choose. I only hope when the time comes you choose right but for now, this is only the beginning." 

"When do I leave?' Y/N's breath was shaking than she wanted it to be. She could tell Midnight could see her distress. She had secretly hoped as well, that the prophecy was wrong. But of course, the fates loved fucking with her. 

"Tomorrow morning. Without goodbyes. It's far to dangerous, what lies ahead. Best to keep it to yourself." Y/N felt her heart cracked. Would Mina understand? No, she would be furious, angry that she had not told her, but only angry because she was so worried. And Tsuyu. Tsuyu would be so hurt. Y/N knew she'd cry. She didn't want to hurt them. 

But the dye had been cast. It was time to move along. 

"Yes maam." 

Later that evening, after the Abbey lights have been dimmed and everyone is tucked away quietly and safely for slumber, a shadow moves swiftly down the corridor, dress billowing around her, cape pulling in a breeze as she made her wait to the Priestess quarters. 

Y/N quietly opened the door to the room she had shared with Mina and Tsuyu, both of whom were fast asleep, her own bed pulled open slightly, waiting to welcome her into it. She smiled sadly, placing the letter she had written beside Mina's head. She leaned down and kissed the temple of each of her friends before bidding a farewell and quietly exiting. She didn't see Mina peek her eyes open and reach for the letter. 

"I will see you soon friend." She whispered, clutching the letter to her chest. She would read it with Tsuyu in the morning. 

*********

Mitsuki and Masura Bakugou were fair and kind to the people they Lord over in Dragor, the Lord of the house known for his compassion and kindness. His lady wife more famously knew for her brash and loud behavior. She loved to brag about how her son had picked up the attitude as it would 'get him farther in life'

"Katsuki? Are you well now?" Masura smiled as his son barged into the court and marched up the steps to the large oak table his mother and father sat at. "Eijirou" the man acknowledged his son's friend. 

"My Lord." Eijirou smiled back before bowing towards Mitsuki. 

"Eijirou." She smirked, giving him a nod as well. 

"Black dragons attacked Redstone." Katauki barked. Mitsuki sighed, taking a sip of wine. 

"Always right to the point. Never any time for a 'hello mother are you well?'" Katsuki's ears turned red at his mother's teasing. 

"Knock it off. This is serious. They think we sent them!" 

"We are already in negotiations with Redstone Katsuki. The raven was sent this morning." 

"Someone needs to track down these black dragons. If it's true we need to know where they are and how they came to be." Eijirou watched the parents demeanor change from playful to serious quickly. 

"We understand as much Katsuki." Mitsuki explained. "Black dragons have been gone for centuries. None of us have seen them. Not even our grandparents….but we are not sending you."

"What!" Katsukk roared, making Eijirou flinch. 

"You have duties here. You are twenty three years old Katsuki." Mitsuki glanced at Kirishima before continuing carefully. "We accept and acknowledge your relationship with Eijirou. He's a fine son in law to be for sure. A man who definitely will be Sainted for putting up with you all this time." Kirishima chuckled unable to stop himself. "But you must choose an omega to sire your heirs. You do not have to wed her but you must choose." Katsuki's heart dropped to his stomach as he looked quickly to his lover. Eijirou smiled, though it didn't meet his eyes. Katsuki knew how this subject affected him. 

It wasn't that Kirishima minded. Any kid of Bakugou's would be his too, Katsuki had assured him relentlessly of that. But the omegas were jealous and conniving. Trying to whisper doubts into Katsuki's ear and ruin what they had. After the last attempt Katsuki had been so enraged he demanded omegas only be sent during ruts. And he never would knot them. He refused to give some 'ungrateful little snake' his kids.

"I've told you. If Kiri doesn't agree or like them then it's a no go. We're a package deal. I won't lose him. Not for heirs. Not for anyone." 

Mitsuki clicked her tongue and sighed heavily through her nostrils. 

"You will find an omega and have heirs or you will forfeit your right to this land. We'll give it to the Kaminari boy." Mitsuki knew that would trigger Katsuki, who growled and sed his fists on the table. 

"Fine. Whatever hag. But I want to know everything that goes on about this." Mitsuki nodded. 

"Understood." Katsuki stood and turned, huffing as he began walking away. Kirishima stood there for a moment, his chest was cracking, he was bleeding, he had to be. He felt like the wind was knocked from his body. 

He didn't want to come between Katsuki and his parents. He knew even with their smiles and kindness that they less than approved of them. They relented because Katsuki's tantrum would have destroyed everything had they tried to deny him. But they wanted him to have children. He needed too. And even if they liked Kiri, that was something he could never give Katsuki. 

He packed his things quietly in the night as Katsuki slumbers, shadows dancing across his face from the fireplace, the light making his skin gleam gold. 

He stared down at his lover, memorizing his face as best he could before going to him. He leaned down, brushing Katsuki's hair from his face and kissing his forehead. 

Katsuki shivered as a gust of wind from the window burst into the room and then fell back into a peaceful sleep. 

**********

Y/N always loved the raft ride back to the mainland. It was calming and quiet as she watched the mist waft around her, the smell of evergreen and oak filling her senses. She felt the energy, the spirit of the place everywhere. 

"Here you are little Priestess….sure you know where you're going?" The monk who had pushed the raft came to stand beside her. She smiled kindly in his later light and handed him four pieces of silver. 

"I can find my way from here. Thank you Sir. And please, keep this to yourself." He nodded, pocketing the money. 

"Safe travels miss." 

Y/N watched the raft disappear before turning to look at the dense forest before her. She closed her eyes, tuning herself into the sounds around her, she had long since learned that nature speaks and those who listen can hear her sweet voice. 

"I'm coming in." She spoke loudly, and with authority, the Priestess in her rising forth as she took step after step into the forest, the trees seemed to almost clear a path for her, allowing her to move freely through their branches. 

She made it a few hundred yards before she heard the sound of hooves approaching her, she didn't stop, not even when the horses thundered past her, three of them, all stopping at the sight of a woman, dressed in Priestess garb, alone in the woods at night. 

"Hey beautiful! Where ya goin? It's easy to get lost in here!"

**********

Kirishima always felt better flying. He'd hopped out the window of the bedroom he shared with Bakugou and morphed into dragon form, choosing to fly higher than the clouds to remain undetectable to poachers below. 

He didn't want to leave Katsuki. But he couldn't bear the thought of having to wait around and watch an omegas stomach grow round with his kids. 

And what of their relationship. A child would strengthen the bond between Katsuki and the omega. No matter what Katsuki said….the child wouldn't be-

"You bastard!" Something slammed into Kirishima's side hard, causing him to break from his thoughts and whip around, nostrils flaring with smoke. 

How stunned he was to see the golden dragon form of Katsuki flying beside him and snarling viciously. 

"How could you leave me like that you bitch!" He growled, shoving into Kirishima again. 

"Katsuki calm down," Kirishima communicated telepathically. "I'm searching for the black dragons." They both know it's a lie, but Katsuki indulges him, not wanting to embarrass him. He doesn't know what he'll do if Kirishima runs again. 

"I told you before and I meant it! I won't lose you! You're not alone. You're never alone." They locked eyes, everything else fading away for a moment.

"Come back pretty Priestess! Such a lovely maiden!" Their ears perked. In dragon form their senses were heightened, they could hear in the forest below them. 

"Eek. I smell humans." Bakugou groaned. Kirishima nodded, focusing in on the heart rate of one of them. It was beating wildly. 

"Stay away!" They heard a woman scream. Kirishima did a nose dive, the sound of a woman in distress bringing out the chivalry in him. 

"Kirishima!" Katsuki shouted. "We shouldn't get involved!" Kirishima ignored his lover, diving down into the woods. 

*********

Y/N was holding her own, fighting off the wayward soldiers as best she could with a large branch. Her dress had been ripped, blood covered her knuckles where she had punched one in the face. 

"Evil wenches don't get treated nicely." One growled menacingly as he stepped closer. 

Before Y/N could swing she felt the earth tremble beneath her. She fell back, mouth open in surprise. A dragon, larger than life, slammed down in front of her, blocking the soldier's view of her. 

"No….it can't be……you're outside your territory." One of the soldiers whispered astonished. 

The Dragon was red, scales gleaming like rubies as it beared its fangs and growled. One of the soldiers moved, ready to attack, when another loud thud had them screaming and running into the woods. A second dragon, smaller but just as fierce, landed on their other side. This dragon was gold, with red patterns etched into its scales. They were beautiful and the young Maiden was terrified.

The red dragon turned to face her. She cowered, holding her hands in front of her face to try to shield herself. Afraid his fiery anger would be turned on her. 

"I'm sorry if we frightened you. We heard you from the sky and thought you might need some help." Y/N had no reaction all worn out from surprise as the smooth and kind voice filled her ears. She slowly lowered her hands. 

The red dragon was gone. Where he had stood was a man, with fiery red hair tied in a loose braid that was thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. His eyes were a soft red like molten lava almost, he looked on her with concern. He was huge, nearly seven foot, broad shouldered and all muscle. His chest bare, revealing a splatter of dark black curls on his chest, leading a happy little trail down where she did not dare look. He was fully nude standing before her as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. And with the smile he wore, it really could have been to him. She blushed, turning her face to the side. 

"If you please sir…..Your….modesty…" She stuttered. 

"OH! God's im.sorry! Shit! Hold on let me put on some pants. Katsuki!" A pair of brown trousers is thrown at his face. Out of the woods appears what she can only assume to have been the second dragon

 The gold one. This man was smaller, about 6'5. His hair was blonde, shaved under and on the sides, the blonde spikes showing how wild and unruly he kept his hair. His eyes ruby red and piercing, as if he was looking right through her into her soul. His chest was bare, sleek and firm, he wasn't as muscular as the red dragon. But he was toned, his body hard from years of dedication to training and he looked mean. 

"Put some pants on. And you, the he'll are you doing out here at this hour." Y/N gripped the branch in her hands. The blonde's eyes flickered between it and her, keeping his distance but still watching her closely. 

"I could ask you the same question Dragon." She hissed, her words like venom as she spoke. 

"She's a Priestess! Can't you tell Katsuki! Look at her dress." Y/N blushed, realizing just how torn and revealing her gown now was, the once pure white fabric now stained and dirty. 

"Sure are a long way from the Isle Priestess."

"I could say the same for you Dragon. Dragor is east of here." The blonde smirked coldly. 

"Maybe we're out hunting. Looking for meek little things like you to gobble up." Y/N flexed her grip on her stick. The red dragon placed a hand on the one he called Katsuki's shoulder. A look of disapproval having the blonde click his tongue and roll his eyes. 

"We really did swoop by only to help. We heard your scream and I kind of nose dived." His cheeks turned a light shade of pink at the confession, causing a tender smile to form on Y/N's lips. It made Kirishima's heart flutter, while Katsuki couldn't stop staring at how perfect her lips were. Though if either of then ever caught him he'd deny it. 

"I'm alright really. Actually, if you don't mind my asking. Have there been sightings or reports of black dragons in this area?" Both dragons snapped their eyes to her, their breaths stilling. Her brow knit in confusion, unsure if she'd said something wrong. 

"You're looking for the dragons too?" Katsuki asked, his eyes narrowing once more. "Who are you?" 

Who was she? All she had ever known was priestesshood, nothing more or less. And the terrible prophecy that had plagued her for years. 

"I am Y/N. Priestess of the Isle of Elvair." She revealed nothing more. The red dragon smiled and bowed at the waist. 

"I'm Eijirou Kirishima. General of the Dragon armies and confidant of Lord Katsuki Bakugou." She looked at the blonde behind him. He was smiling smugly, his chest puffed out and eyes gleaming with pride as he looked at her. 

"And you are Katsuki Bakugou? I assume your parents are Lord and Lady of Dragor?" Bakugou snorted, crossing his arms. 

"No shit." She pursed her lips with distaste. If he was gonna be rude she could give it right back. 

"Well oops sorry," she said sarcastically. "Being practically raised on the Isle, we never took interests in the others in the realm. Our sole purpose was preserving the old way and protecting the sacred space of the Gods." The one named Katsuki faltered a little, not expecting her to not know who he was. But she had a fair point. The isle did not involve itself with the realm. It was separate. 

"Well um hey!" Kirishima said, trying to resolve the tension that was brewing. "If you're looking for the black dragons too maybe we could all go together. You'd be safe for sure and maybe having you with us could help us with the humans and interacting with them." Katsuki slapped Kirishima on the back of the head. The other smiled meekly, rubbing the spot where he was struck. 

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, weighing the possibilities. If she allowed them to accompany her perhaps the prophecy could be changed. It wasn't solid, but it was worth the risk. 

"Alright…but we walk. We can't have you flying in the skies and being spotted by poachers or Redstone. Katsuki groaned.

"This is stupid."

"If you wanna find the black dragons you'll do it." She snaps back at him. He growls, clenching his fists. 

"Careful shifty Priestess. You're still a human and I could easily eat you." She rolled her eyes. "Fine! But I call the shots and you two follow me!"

***********

The dark figure moved down the hallway swiftly, heels clacking on the floor as she lifted her dress to quicken her pace. The howl of bats and black dragons piercing the silence in the decrepit castle she made her way through. 

"My King!" She burst into the throne room. It was falling apart, the ceiling gaping, the throne covered in bloodstains. Suitable for the man sitting on it. 

"Toga? You have news?" He scratched his neck stiffly, shifting in his seat to peer down at his servant. She clapped, dancing on her heels gleefully. 

"Mhm! The dragons laid pretty heavy damage to Redstone!" Dabi commanded them and just as he said, they sparked a brewing fund between Redstone and Dragor. The man grinned, nodding his head in approval. 

"The time is coming when black dragons and monsters will rule over Eldoria. The four nations will become slaves under my rule and those of us outed by society will have the justice they seek." 

"But what of the prophecy? Should such a Priestess come into play-"

"My dear don't you know how the black dragon prophecy ends?" Toga shook her head innocently. The king smiled wider, his face grotesque as he chuckles. "She will meet her end and we will conquer. For now we hit the Isle of Elvair next. We eliminate all the Priestesses and all the Monks. No one to try and end our reign once the Isle is a pile of ash and smoke."

[lantsovsupremacist]

i don’t know how to forget you: nikolai lantsov

warning for some spice but nothing insane ! i imagine this takes place during seige and storm but nikolai looks like himself because we all deserve that. 😌 pretty short but i like it!

“and we’re just having sex no i would never call it love, but, love. oh no i think i’m catching feelings.”

the door slammed shut behind the weight of a limb. you’re not sure which one or who it even belonged to. you could blame it on the lack of light, the room only illuminated by a sliver of moonlight dripping in through a crack in the wall. but, you are more than sure that the hands gripping your waist, igniting the hot rush of blood through your veins, are more to blame.

eager to escape the exposition of tonight’s story and rush to the climax, you both trip out of your boots and onto the nearest surface. your back arches over a dresser, hips lifted up and thighs quickly pressed on top. his fingers dance their well practiced routine under the hem of your shirt, skirting along the sides of your rib cage to briefly tease before removing the now useless article of clothing.

he curses under his breath, breath catching in his throat as it always does when your shirt first comes off. his eyes trail along the expanse of your collarbone, lips quickly falling to suck on the ridges of your freshly exposed skin. his knee pressed into the inside of your legs, feet finding purchase directly beneath you.

you always allow him to take control in the beginning, secretly appreciating his attitude. your hands find his belt with ease, a secret memorized in the dark. he trails down until he reaches your bra, starting on his next obstacle as you finish with yours.

“bed,” you direct, nearly choking on the moan building in the base of your throat, “i thought you’d know by now i expect some class, lantsov.” your hands search in the darkness, fighting to grab onto any part of his body you can find.

you find his biceps first, pleased with the feeling as they tense under your touch. you do not mind the search. you never do. it is all easier in the dark, anyway. less you can commit to memory.

the laugh that follows is electric.

“tell that to my broken end table.”

you elect to ignore his comment, instead pushing him back by the shoulders in the direction of what you believe is his bed. he whines at the momentary loss of contact. and, saints, does it stir something in the pit of your stomach.

“always so fucking,” you pause to run you hands down his shoulders, “needy.”

“only for you, babe.” his smirk melts into the fire of your lips.

it is not the first time he has used a pet name, and you highly doubt it will be the last. he deliberately chooses to ignore any that are too sincere or loving. the unspoken understanding of boundaries between the two of you was how you survived the midnight encounters.

with greedy eyes, you help him strip off his shirt while his tongue finds its way into your mouth. your cheeks feel warm, a mixture of the warm night at sea and the shot you took before leaving your room. you brush your thumb across the golden pendant falling against his neck, a mast of a boat dangling from the chain.

you only have a second to regain the breath you lose from toppling onto the mattress before it is taken from you again. from underneath you, he reaches up to work a hand around the column of your throat. your head rolls back against your shoulders, a sigh of pleasure escaping your throat with your remaining air.

his hand drops to your chest and you take the opportunity to reattach your lips to his, only releasing your hold as you transfer them to his neck. his flesh burns underneath you, alive with indulgence. you push his curls back from his eyes, momentarily losing yourself in the hazel as your hips rock into his.

it is him this time who loses control of any solid pattern of breathing. his hands stray to grip your waist, anchoring himself with your body. you almost smile to yourself—a prince at your mercy.

it had not started out this way. the blonde was too full of foolish pride to release himself to you. now, he held onto everything single thing you made him feel in the night. the drunken accident fueled by empathy for a less than desirable situation—harboring two of the most powerful summoners at considerable odds—turned into another and after a while, alcohol was not involved any longer. maybe you were using him. maybe he was using you. all you knew was that in this moment, you certainly did not care enough to stop.

watching the muscles on his stomach tighten, you anticipate him flipping you onto your back. one arm goes to steady himself over you while the other falls to bring one of your hands above your head. you bring a strand of hair behind your ear, knowing he was not going to do it. the less of your face there was to see, the less chance he would sink too deep.

you grip his shoulder, lips returning to his neck as he starts what you both came there to do. no matter the rush between the two of you, he always watches you carefully here, making sure you were ready. you had no indecision when he was involved. no fear.

you gasp together, eyes closed and lost in the feeling of one another. the rush of desire to your core causes you to bite your lip. you trail your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging gently on his curls.

you rarely let his name leave your lips until you finish, greedy for the way only he seems to be able to make you feel. it is a pity, really, knowing it will all be over soon enough. for now, you would hold on to the trips to his room once the sun dipped behind the clouds.

settling beside him for a minute, you lick your lips and taste the last remnants of nikolai lantsov. saltwater. always saltwater.

you kiss the corner of his mouth as you leave, never leaving him with the feelings of your lips on his lest he get too attached. rolling off his chest, you drop your feet to the cold floor. biting the inside of your cheek, you suppress the urge to turn around and get one last look. all tousled hair, muscles gleaming with the slightest sheen of sweat, and swollen lips, you made the mistake of an indulgence once and nearly fell back into his bed and his arms. he could make you tear the heart from your sleeve and patch it on to his without a single word, only a look.

it was wartime. things were stressful. one of the most evil men alive was likely sleeping next door—if he even slept. everyone had to relieve the tension somehow and if tumbling around with the prince of ravka was an option, who were you to pass it up? it was just sex. nothing more. certainly nothing less.

the problem was that you did not how to forget him. when the feeling of desire and helplessness stopped, what then? you are not sure if you wanted the before back. you feared what would happen in the after.

[vesperstalksclones]

Masterlist

Updated 6/8/21

**I love to make friends and chat! Ask box and DM are always open. Please don't be shy! I want to hear all about you!

**I am generally open for art requests. I don't necessarily have a scheme in place for commission prices, but if you are interested we can chat! Mediums I work in are traditional pencil sketch, colored with markers/colored pencils, and beginner CG.

Please don't be scared off because I have things marked as NSFW or smut, there are tons of safe pieces, especially in my artwork!

*** = Smutty stuff      

Fics

****Written in the Rocks

Ohhhh I went fishing for inspiration and boy did I get it! Here be Echo indulging in a dfab reader. Fluffy steamy smutty goodness. AND has the honor of being the first ficlet about his actual first time and also being the first time with the reader.

What Will You Do After Mandelore?

 Rexsoka snippet, taking place during the siege of Mandalore. 

***On Your Knees

Captain Rex X first person female reader, some extra good love for my best boy

***Cody x Reader 

Cody X first person female reader, a little morsel of angst in there - allusion to past physical abuse, but Cody is there to make it better <3

*** Wrecker x Mando Femme OC

Wrecker falls hard for a stoic Mando lady who has built some thick walls for herself. Maybe the love of one scarred soldier can heal another. Unfinished fic, but here is one of the steamy parts 😏

*** Crossing the lines

Rex's POV, solid Rexsoka

When Rex goes undercover to smash a flesh trafficking ring, he gets the shock of his life and things change forever

*** Peppermint Playtime *New*

Gender-neutral reader & Kix

An exhausting grind on the battlefield assisting the 501st's overwhelmed medic results in the reader dispensing some much needed R&R on the handsome soldier.

-Use of nick-name, not (y/n)

Pride & Prejudice & Padawans

Rex & Ahsoka play at the protagonists of the literary classic, but with the apocalyptic vibe of Pride & Prejudice & Zombies. Fun and stylized. Rated teen mostly for violence. I promise I'll do some special separate chapters for you naughty kids.

Embracing the Brokenness

Fox has managed to outlive Sidious and has his first taste of freedom. Ever. But the necessities of rebuilding a government have the New Republic calling him and other surviving clones for deposition on their experiences. Why not tear open the old wounds and pour salt in them? And he locks eyes with a certain Pantoran lady for the first time since order 66.

Shanty Central

The Ballad of CT-6969

Fan Art      

(O.o) = Steamy (nudity, sexual themes but no actual private bits shown)

I do NSFW also, but I keep a separate google doc for that. It is very explicit, primarily Star Wars Clones, with a smidgen of Rexsoka.

I know some folks out there have mixed feelings about Rex & Ahsoka as lovers. I absolutely adore them together, but only in their more mature days. I often draw a younger looking Rex with a mature Ahsoka. She is always meant to be, like 17+, so Seige of Mandalore or later. I want my favorite characters to experience love as consenting adults that understand what they’re getting themselves in to.

Link to me on DeviantArt (SFW, Star Wars art + other misc. fantasy/sci-fi/fanart, photography)

Art tutorial - generic clone portrait done in my method

Art tutorial #2 - full body pencil sketch of Zygerrian Rex

A random doodle of Bad Batch Echo *new*

Captain Rex comes to @cheshire-noir 's Birthday Rave

A pissy Commander Wolffe

Cody, suiting up for some practice

Fives & Rex - just some doodles of the boys

Scout Rex

Zygerrian Rex

Rex being sweet and romantic

Rex & Ahsoka go undercover a la Casino Royale

Rex & Ahsoka survived order 66

Rex& Ahsoka, big, warm, squeezer hug

Rex X Ahsoka - so damn happy to see you

Rex, sleeping all sexy like

Cody, punching the shit outta something

Rex just looking bad ass with his DCs

Ezra x Sabine, all growed up

Rex & Baby Chomp Chomp

Fives, the Snacky snack

A very stylized bit of Cody (O.o)

What will you do after Mandalore? - Rex X Ahsoka fluff

Tech fresh out the shower with his hair all messy, being a sexy shit (O.o)

A stylized Rex, all pouty and exhausted and needy (O.o)

Post order 66 Rex & Ahsoka cuddles

A badass sleek clone trooper I did forever ago

Rex’s helmet, tattoo-esque

A fanart I did for Jade-Max’s fic Catalyst, Rex X Ahsoka (O.o)

Rebels era Rex & Ahsoka, such a flirt

Rex comforting a wounded Ahsoka

A smokin’ hot Wolffe with naughty things on his mind (O.o)

Rex having a shitty day

Rex chillin in his downtime, touching up the paint job

My OC clone trooper, Nitro

A stylized sexy Rex; on the back end of a few whiskey cocktails (O.o)

Rex, Ahsoka, & baby Chomp

Rex, The Murder Scowl

Rexsoka Kissy Sketch-dump

A stylized mostly nakey Cody

A flirty Ahsoka

Rex X Ahsoka, a nice romantic kiss (O.o)

Ahsoka, being badass

Captain Rex, pissed off and ready to unleash some shit (blood/wound)

Rex, “I’m no Jedi” but rocking lightsabers like a boss

Rexsoka fluff; Rex has a Lekku fixation

[mechagalaxy]

John T Mainer 28840 for Mark

IFF Lost

The signal screamed through my implants. An update, Faction channel, Alpha priority (immediate action), Omega signal (IFF lost, pilot missing in action/presumed dead). I didn’t close down my faction channels between wars. Those who fought with the Bunnies were brothers for life. This was not from our own faction, not from the Bouncing Blue network at all, this was from the Spirit of Zeon.

Mark K Penner, Zeon leader, MIA/PD.

I bolted upright. NO! It was not possible. I had brought my troops to war against his so many times in Division 3 and 4. Our Spirit of Bunny rising to challenge the unconquerable might of Zeon. Each time we fell in fire, but each time we were closer, until the battle hung by a handful. Against Zeon we measured ourselves, hones ourselves, forged ourselves. One clan daring to stand against the great machines of the AFF, RND, the Brotherhood of the Northwind Highlanders. One clan standing alone and defiant, the model of all we would strive to build for ourselves, and at their head, Mark K Penner. Champion, tactician, strategist, and all around unkillable bastard in anything from his neatly turned out Red Ants, his golden Legion of Zeon Nephillax, or his niode driven monsters of a main lineup that honestly put off an energy signature so bright you had to dial your sensors down so you wouldn’t burn out before achieving a target lock.

I dressed swiftly, on autopilot. I got a warning ping from the hanger, Knockers McGuinty was reporting a security violation in the mecha bay. I knew we had a constant watch against sabotage, as some clans had resorted to viral attacks and outright assassination attempts to eliminate pilots before key match ups, but the alarms also got triggered by Craftsmen dropping off prize mecha, and Evil Santa pulling his trademark smash and gift reverse raid (shoot your way in and leave a present, only in Mecha Galaxy).

I got myself down to the mecha bay and there was my technical crew gathered around what was the biggest machine I had seen, taller than my Xango, although a little more streamlined, probably another 110 tonner, and one I did not recognize.

The large Omega on its paldron pulsed softly, something about its pulse rate bothered me, and then I realized I hadn’t closed the Code Omega from the signal for Mark K Penner’s MIA/PD notice. The Omega symbol on this new mecha pulsed with the same frequency as the Code Omega loss of signal report on the Spirit of Zeon faction network.

Knockers was circling the mecha, her sensors and the mecha bay sensors being defeated by active jamming and some sort of reflective shielding on the great machine. She was shouting over the babble of the technicians and pilots in the mecha bay.

“It’s defeating all our sensors, it is running an IFF the bay seems to accept, but its not Spirit of Bunny code, its not Bunny code at all. Its scrambling is so strong I can’t even get a read on what it is sending, only that the bay seems to accept it. It is like the machine belongs to one of ours, but its not registered”

Knockers frustration was apparent, and understandable. The mecha moved, shifted. It came alive, the great actuators rose as the magnetic repression that kept the massive joints from welding themselves under the pressures that much armour placed on them kicked into active use. The eye ports blazed as the cockpit sensors went active. I felt/sensed my pilot implants receiving a challenge request, as a pilot does when his own mecha detects his approach.

“It’s mine.” I say as I walk towards it. The signs of its design are unmistakable. I know it for a Craftsman machine, I also know it for something else, Mark’s.

I feel the targeting laser paint my chest, the twin barrels of a Xeon cannon glow with the ghostly St Elmo’s Fire you see around high powered gauss weapons when they charge.

A voice echoed through my implants, and through my bones as external speakers echoed it loud enough to wake the dead; a thought that chilled me with its implications.

“CHALLENGE”

I moved my eye so that the targeting laser could read my retinal signature even as I dropped my defenses to let the mecha read my implant signature. I knew the only possible response to the challenge, if this was from Mark, there could only be one response.

I raised my chin and shouted “SEIG ZEON!”

The mecha shifted, the cockpit outlining itself, and umbillicals connecting it with the mecha bay coolant trunks, ammunition hoppers and power/information cables dropped free.

“STATE THE MISSION”

I remembered it like it was yesterday. Faction War 3314. Fusion in all its glory owned division one, they go by Warlock now, but back then it was Fusion. They joined with others of equal power, who owned their own divisions rather than rising to contend with their equals in power at higher levels to form a Faction that could not be challenged by any, one that would simply own division one, like gods of war among lesser mortals. They called themselves MechOlympus, the new gods, Olympians ruling from their mountain, lording it over all who dared not challenge them.

Mark had been invited, for Zeon was such a power as Olympus courted. He reached out to his traditional foes, the Spirit of Bunny, Highlanders, Star League. He called for us to send our best, our strongest, our champions. We would join under Zeon’s leadership, all of those who dared to face the self proclaimed gods of war, who thought the gold of Faction war should be won upon the mud and blood of the battlefield, not over a spreadsheet and back room deal between power brokers. The mission was simple. Olympus falls.

Closing my hand into a fist, I raised it to the machine, and snarled, letting my mind remember taking the field behind the Red Comet himself. Watching the proud machines of MechOlympus fall to our ravening guns, trampling them into the dirt as we dared the slopes of Olympus itself, and rocked the pillars of the world. We fell in fire and blood, lightning flashed from Olympus and one by one we fell, but not alone, far from alone. Olympus shook, and the pillars of heaven quaked when the Spirit of Zeon dared, and under the cold discipline of Penner’s Zeon, the mad raging spirit of the Bunnies, the pride of the Star League, the untamed courage of the Highlanders gave such a battle as would make the gods of war wake from their long sleep just to witness.

“Olympus falls!” I swore to the machine, remembering the pledge we all took.

The cockpit opened, and the chain ladder fell to its chest while handholds on the armoured leg and chest lit with safety lights to aid the pilot in his ascent.

The signal dropped from a roar to a whisper as the machines great systems opened to me. 110 tons, power amplifiers built in everywhere, the cockpit systems built in seemed to hunt weaknesses with Mark K Penner’s cold calculation, a born critical killer, and yet its massive frame held the same promise of smooth efficient motion, the same explosive speed and shocking aggression that made Penner a terror from his origins with Omega and his full flowering as Zeon’s champion.

The machine accepted me as pilot as I jacked the hard connection from its cockpit into my skull implant. The signal flooded me with emotion a machine should not be capable of.

[Commander Penner is lost] it sent

I felt the emptiness inside the machine, for it was born of his particular genius, as much his child as the Craftsmen who assembled it from Penner’s secret plans. I let it feel the hollow place inside where his loss bled freely, a friend, a foe, a peer, a loss we would all be long in healing from.

{Zeon lives, the dream lives, he will be remembered in the halls} I promised.

Targeting information blossomed in my senses as all the weapons and defensive suites came under my control. The mecha, the Penner awaited its naming. I gave it the only name I could, the name Mark would have understood.

{You are Seig Zeon!, Do you understand? Commander Penner is fallen, but in you he will live}

Echoing in the bays of the Bunnies, the machine roared forth its cry

“SEIG ZEON!”

Mark K Penner is fallen, but his name will be remembered in the halls, his fury will sound upon the battlefield, and his glory will shine bright, as long as pilots contend upon the field of battle.

John T Mainer 28840 for Mark, gone from us too soon.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

A New Tamaran

This was idea even older than Talon!Mary Grayson and the OC of Benito Zucco. It was heavily inspired by numerous influences from TV and Rock n Roll albums. The two particular influences are Pink Floyd’s The Wall and the Original Star Trek episode ‘Patterns of Force”. Another I gladly attribute to is writer George Orwell and his novella ‘1984′ from which the following scene derives from. 

The English name of Karras being ‘Cometwind’ is not my creation but that of Fanfiction.net author cartoonstar in her story ‘Teen titans Forever’. 

The character of Karras himself was created by Marv Wolfman and Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez. 

WARNING: The subject matter in this story contains historical and political references some might find disturbing and even offensive. It is in no way a meant to entice the political ideology within its story or promote such. There is no real agenda meant to be heard and the use of such politics are meant to narrative to the story. Viewer discretion is advised. 

As Always, I would love to thank @lightdusk, @tarisilmarwen, @fireflyxrebel, @robxstar, @nightglider124 and many others for encouraging me to write and make corrections for they are some of the best friends you can ever ask for.

 Introductions now finished, let’s begin. 

About one thousand pairs of green or purple eyes starred up onto the screen as the footage began to play. The first sight of a prosperous, happy and loyal generation of children playing or working on their tasks brought in a sense of awe and peace to the masses. The voiceover began to play…

“These are our children, these are our schools, these are our people, this is our home; this is the Planet of Tamaran.”

The images had shifted by that point into various signs of their home, from the recently built wind mills that provide their kleshu (Tamaranean for ‘Bread’) to the steel pounding factories that craft the finest weapons and building skeletons the Vega system had yet to witness, the crowd grew a sense of joy and further more pride. This gathered mass was invited and encourage visiting this rally here in the opposite side of Tamaran courtesy of this new development within the Grand Ruler’s court; a ‘party’ as they pronounce it was created from the mind of a very young and impressible Tamaranean warrior by the name of Karras. As it turns out, this young man, English translated as ‘Cometwind’, was a very close childhood friend with the ever beloved Royal Family, in particular of the Princess Koriand’r (‘Starfire’). Her knowledge of Earth culture had reached her birth planet and the young Cometwind took it upon himself to research Earth’s history, in particular military history from across various cultures in which can prove effective for Tamaran and its people against their ever present archenemies across the Vega system. By the grace of X’hal, Cometwind, who at this moment provides the voiceover for this rally, found one such culture to rally the people under…

“This home of ours is enjoying an era of peace and harmony. Security and Justice are done for all. Poor and Rich, Warrior and Shield maiden, Educated and Uneducated; this is our home which all can have their peace. This is our mother’s home and the home of their mothers. This is our Tamaran …”

At this point, the mood darkened…images were shifted to those very children at the beginning being suddenly taken from their places and into chains, the factories and mills burn to a crisp, bombs and explosions erupt, nothing was scripted, this was their reality….

“Our home is under siege, mutilated, pillaged, raped and defiled…by them. They had enslaved our children. They have destroyed our schools; they have harmed and scared our people for far too long…”

The images began to shift once more, this time to a certainly familiar, lizard like face…

“WHO are THEY?”

That lizard like face grew into thousands in a mass rally of blood and perverse orgy of their own terms… their orc like roars screeching throughout it all…with teeth stained with the crisp yellow blood of Tamaranean children…their glowing red eyes filled with such a level of depravity and malice at everything they stare…staring towards their home…

“They are the darkest and blackest souls of our galaxy. The black, murderous souls of the Gordanians are what they are. They know no meaning of the word mercy, no meaning of the word peace or harmony; instead they opt to relish and pleasure themselves in the suffering of others….OUR suffering…a suffering we will NOT PERMIT.”

“How does this suffering even begin? Certainly centuries’ worth of discontent between us and them would’ve provided enough of justification for this treachery? That is where we were wrong. The centuries’ worth was only in full bloom once SHE had her say…a say that has disgraced our kind and brought our people to the very brink of extinction and loss of all hope…”

The tone was now much noticeably angrier while a possessing a near sick level calm in projection. The image shifted once more…to a certain black haired Princess…wearing the Grand Ruler’s crown…the very crown she wore when forcing their precious Koriand’r into a disgraceful and humiliating marriage had it been for her allies…the exiled Komand’r was there on their screens now…

“SHOUT. SHOUT! SHOUT OUT HER NAME!!!” roared the voice of Cometwind himself, a youthful young man of approximately 20 Earth years of age, now appearing in front of the screen on a simple platform with a rather Earth looking uniform of dark purple and black, military combat boots, a hat of unique shape like that an Earth ship captain with an eagle gracing the top, and to finally add a black armband with a red border, centered with a white circle containing a red colored eight pointed star, The Official Emblem of all Tamaran called The Nightstar, wrapped around the upper part of his right arm.

The crowd erupts into roars and screams of hatred and spite, all with their eyes now glowing in righteous fury and hatred towards their enemy; while the names and calls varied in the end one common was used….

“TRAITOR!”

This simultaneous albeit diverse outcry from the rally continued for the next minute, growing and pile onward as the filthy image of the disgraced and traitorous Princess continued her display on the screen.  The cries grew even louder once Komand’r’s (‘Blackfire’) image was paired with the image of the horrifying and evil grins of the Gordanians who happily slaughter and/or imprison more of their beloved children. The peak had hit by the time Cometwind raises his hands high enough for all to see and the images stop. Now all the was shown was the flag of this ‘Party’, a similar design to the armband Cometwind wears, the Red Nightstar with a white background within an all black banner. The young Tamaranean man began to speak after a brief minute of utter silence.

“Beloved friends, this is our reality as I speak. Due to the aftermath of our traitor and the slow transition for the great Emperor Galfore, the war between us and them has progressed into a completely new animal. These crimes against our kind had grown on a scale only seen since our home’s founding days. We must find a way to bring our Emperor and our People the glory and respect we deserve away from our enemies. We have found that way starting to this day. On the Planet Earth, they have officially named this day with the title of April 20th, the Fuehrer’s Birthday. The Fuehrer according tot the doctrines of the studies we have learned from Earth’s history and best to our knowledge had one goal in mind: the preservation and ultimate survival of the Aryan Race, the superior human beings in an age of mutilation and disgrace not dissimilar from our own. Like the Fuehrer’s war from decades past and the effects upon his home, our war has not produced the glory and honors our warriors and shield maidens rightfully earned and especially not of the home our children must grow within in order to live happy lives. The Fuehrer attempted to bring his home all such and more but unfortunately suffered the consequences due to his mistakes and follies. We, the Imperialist Party of Great Tamaran, will not make those mistakes. Our war will be one in which all will WIN. Our cause is not for supremacy but VEGENACE AND JUSTICE. Our Tamaran shall transform into a Planet united for the good and safety of our children and with your support starting this day, our beloved Grand Ruler Galfore will have under his care and authority the greatest and most loyal citizens the Royal Family had never known. WE WILL HAVE OUR PRINCESS KORIAND’R RETURN TO OUR LOVING ARMS. WE WILL PROPSER AND SHOW THE VEGA SYSTEM WHAT TAMARAN REALLY IS. WE… WILL… NOT… SURRENDER. WE… WILL… TAKE OUR HOME BEYOND US ALL. ONE PEOPLE! ONE PLANET! ONE REICH!”

The crowd stands, their right arms raised as the Party officials instructed in their pamphlets with their fingers folded instead of the pinkie and index…the chant was heard as Cometwind began…

“SEIG!”

“HEIL!”

“SEIG!”

“HEIL!”

“SEIG!”

“HEIL!”

Even as Cometwind had stopped and simply held his hand in the Imperial greeting, the crowd’s roars of ‘Heil” meaning Victory in the Earth language of German continued with zealous fervor. Fervor he himself found rather…unnerved by. While remaining true to his word of Tamaran accepting this so called ‘Fascism’ as the Earthlings call it as a means to protect its people and children from the Gordanians that have continuously made miserable for centuries, he means for what is best and once his place on the Royal Council is secured, he hope his eventual Imperial growth doesn’t result in him taking unethical chances that mostly likely will shame his people. Personally, Karras, his Party name being Fuehrer Cometwind, hopes his rise will mean that peace he sees alongside the others in those screens are the ultimate result, without the needing of the pointless genocide his idol, the German Fuehrer, had his subjects carry out. Fuehrer Cometwind only expects the highest moral standards and civility from this otherwise blunt and uncompromising ideology he had discovered that one day his best friend Koriand’r had brought unintentionally with her Earth knowledge and probably one she had no knowledge of but one she no longer has to endure, neither should his people...not unless they can show everyone just what sort of people they dared to defile. One Earth phrase usual says ‘Pay Evil unto Evil’, and Karras accepts such a painful truth while the new 2000 members of the Imperialist Party continue their Heils for the next few seconds. A New Tamaran will rise, the Great Journey to Glory has begun and whether she knows or not, Princess Koriand’r will lead the way with Fuehrer Karras as her left hand and her beloved Robin as her right.

As stated before, no political agenda advocating this system of government is promoted here. It’s fictional and in no way is reflective of my true political stances or those who read it. Please be considerate. 

[sethraziel]

Me

A little about myself:

Love writing. Have always found writing to be soothing and a bit frustrating when trying to convey what's in your head to paper. But at the end of the day I do feel a sense of pride in what I do.

Love music. I play, currently, guitar, keyboard, bass and violin. I can also play cello and viola a bit. I'm still trying to figure out the organ. I have a knowledge of xylophone and other percussion of that nature. I love composing and have a number of works. I usually use a score like app to do each note or garageband for more different works. I listen up whatever catches my ear. That can be anything from rock to alternative to edm, trance, chill, classical, goth(various forms) industrial, folk, indie, old country, old rap and hip hop and r&b, blues, and whatnot. I don't really like jazz though. My all time favorite band is, of course, The Beatles. I also like Chevelle, The Cure, Type o Negative, Android Lust, Marylin Manson, Weezer, The Shins, Imogen Heap(also when she was in Frou Frou) Conway Twitty, Buck Owens, Dwight Yokam, Marty Robbins, Roy Orbision, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Sting(with and without the Police), Deadmaus, Ian Van Dahl, ATC, Maurice Ravel, Claude Debussy, Antonio Lauro, Gabriel Fraure, Karl Jenkins, Switchblade Symphony to name a few.

I love video games. That's how I usually unwind. I'm a big fps fan. Call of Duty and Battlefield are my top 2 games. I also like rpg's, mostly western. Elder Scrolls, Fall Out, Dragon Age, Mass Effect are a few of the ones I like. I also like Final Fantasy IX, X and X-2. I do play other games like Mortal Kombat, The Division, RE2, Rainbow Six: Seige, Assassins Creed, Doom, various shooters and survival horror, battle royales, horror and what not.

I love reading. H.P Lovecraft stands as my favorite author. Though he has a somewhat controversial nature, it's the works I'm more interested in. I also enjoy anthologies, mainly horror and science fiction. A few are the Mammoth Book of New Horror, Years Best Science Fiction, Dark Delicacies, Complete Works of Lovecraft, Poe, Brothers Grimm among others. I used to subscribe to a magazine back in the day called Dark Realms. I like Rue Morgue magazines as well.

If you have any other questions please feel free to leave an ask or message.

[apieters]

Captain Chris Carnovo, the Count of Tréville, ordering the first salvo of the Siege of Pride Rock; end of the Reign of Terror.

It was the Magic Kingdom’s darkest hour. Tristan L’Hermite, the Black Knight, had just captured Mufasa, leader of the heroic characters of the Magic Kingdom. Sarabi was nowhere to be found. Princess Cinderella, Prince Henri “the Charming,” King Arthur Pendragon, and Prince Taka/“Scar” alone commanded a shattered army of lionesses and other Talking Animals, Gypsies, a few knights and cavalry, Peter Pan and his Lost Boys, Captain Hook and the crew of the Jolly Roger, and as many Royal Musketeers as could be spared. Defending their Royal Majesties was Captain Christopher Carnovo, the founder of the Royal Musketeers and the honorary Count of Tréville, along with his choicest men—Bertrand D’Artagnan (the more famous Charles’s father), Athos de la Fère, Porthos du Vallon, and Aramis-René d’Herblay. Unfortunately, their were many more women and children, refugees from Tristan’s wrath, who were unable to fight.

These figures had retreated to Pride Rock to make what they all knew was their last stand. Prince Scar, as Acting King of the Pridelands, was ready to surrender and sue for peace. Chris, however, knew Tristan well and knew that if he should prevail, there would be no quarter—everyone would end up in the Palace of Justice, tortured for the remainder of their days or even executed. Chris would never allow such a fate to befall those who sought his protection—not while he lived.

Tristan’s armies were advancing rapidly. The heroic characters were hopelessly outnumbered. There was no way they would survive the upcoming battle. Chris looked once again at those who were looking to him for protection, and made a desperate decision. In defiance of Prince Scar, he assumed command of the war council and laid out a his plan. All those who wished to fight to the death would resist Tristan’s armies as long as possible, deployed in trenches before Pride Rock and choke-points on Pride Rock. Underage warriors were put to work reloading pistols and muskets, while the veterans would fight on the front lines. The goal wasn’t to win the battle—the goal was to clear a path for the non-combatants to escape to the four corners of the Magic Kingdom to seek shelter wherever they could find it, and to take out as many of Tristan’s officers as possible. If they could destabilize the leadership, there might be a slim hope that the Reign of Terror would degenerate into bands of easily overpowered and disunited thugs, and when these were picked off there might be hope to restore the Magic Kingdom.

As Tristan’s soldiers marched over the horizon, like a thousand black ants carpeting the savanna, a heavy rain began to fall. Captain Carnovo stepped out onto the edge of Pride Rock, drew his sword, and prepared to do his duty one last time.