#better cloak no feathers

[thesummerstorms]

Davrin and Arsinoë: Don't you dare touch those griffons!

Lucanis: So. Talking darkspawn. So this is my life now.

[miirshroom]

Loki as inspiration for Radagon

I have seen it many times where people are able to interpret Marika as having attributes connected to Odin - trickster, hung on a tree and stabbed with a spear, dropped an eye (scarseal) down a well - but less often do I see identified Marika/Radagon's thematic ties to other Norse gods and especially Loki.

From review of the literature Radagon alone is something of an amalgamation of many myths and stories: Loki, Illmarinen/Kullervo, Orion, Xolotl, Gollum/Smeagol, the Rebis and/or a literal interpretation of man and woman becoming "one flesh" as described in Genesis in Christian bibles (and a handful of others). All under the combined names of gods Ra and Dagon. It may even be appropriate to think of him as a mimic on a meta level, given all of these inspirations pulled together.

And of all of those inspiration one stands out as especially synergistic with a mimic character - Loki the Trickster and shapeshifter. Maybe it's a pop culture recency bias of people getting hung up on the hair colour, since the Marvel black hair version of Loki is its own thing while most scholarship on the matter has Loki as either red-haired or (more likely) blonde. But specifically the version of Loki that appears in Wagner's Ring Cycle in the mid-1800's is red haired because Loki is conflated with the fire giant 'Logi' for that production. And on the other hand it also makes some sense to associate Radagon with the explicitly red-haired Thor who wields a hammer (more on that later).

Anyways, the main point is the characteristics of Loki that apply directly and indirectly around Radagon:

Half giant heritage. Radagon hates his hair the colour of fire giants - this one is clear.

Shapeshifter who has had children in male and female form. Radagon has fathered children and Marika has been mother to children. The 8-legged horse Sleipnir does not make an appearance but perhaps a spiritual analogue does: the Royal Revenants are 8-limbed. Godfrey is described as "scion of the Golden Bough" and a scion is a limb taken from a tree, so perhaps it is meant to be that in the empty space of the narrative Marika was mother to 8 children of the Golden Lineage.

Had three children with a giantess: Hela the queen of the underworld who is half dead and half alive (Ranni), Jormungandr the World Serpent (Rykard), and Fenris Wolf who has the most convoluted mythology of the 3 but is most known for having a voracious appetite (Radahn eats corpses and howls at the sky). The twist on the classic here is that none of the three were born into these roles and instead all grew into them.

Loki wagered his head in a bet with a craftsman who forged 3 treasures: a ring for Odin that generates 8 copies of itself every 9 days, a golden boar for Freyr, and Thor's hammer Mjolnir. Again, two of the treasures have direct parallels in the Elden Ring and Marika's Hammer. The third is less obvious but there are indeed boars in the Lands Between. And now a man riding boar in the Shadow of the Erdtree trailer. When he lost the bet the craftsman had planned to behead him, but Loki pointed out that he had not wagered his neck, so instead the craftsman sewed his mouth shut. My main point is that the Preceptor's Mask associated with Radagon's journey to Liurnia has the mouth "sewn shut", and Glintstone crowns in general have associations with beheading.

Was imprisoned for his role in tricking Hodr - the blind Norse god of darkness - into killing Baldr - Norse god of light. Parallel to the death of Godwyn. This has led as least some people to match up Ranni to Loki, which itself is not incorrect because this is an original story and not a 1:1 recreation of myth. But to the theory that Marika/Radagon orchestrated the Night of Black Knives, this is a point in favour.

Is credited in the Prose Edda with inventing the fishing net (same pattern as Radagon's rune). This also connects to an incident just before Loki was caught where he takes the form of a salmon and the gods use his own net to help catch him (Radagon's rune blocking entry to the Erdtree). However, there is another connection to Ranni here as it is said in the more reliable Poetic Edda that Loki actually borrowed the net from Rán, goddess of the sea.

Obtained from craftsmen a wig of golden hair for Sif - wife of Thor - to replace the hair he cut off for a trick by shaving her bald. This one is not explicitly invoked - aside from the tendency for demigods to be shorn of their hair and have it included in their helms. It is more an exercise of extrapolation after identifying a pattern with other Loki stories and also drawing upon that imagery of Radagon wielding Thor's hammer. Imagine Radagon divesting himself of his red hair and replacing it with golden hair as part of becoming Marika as a preferred identity. Sif also was known to wear a veil in the time before receiving new hair - and Marika wears a veil in her church statues. The statue of a bald monk appears to be symbolic of the beginning of Marika's Age of the Erdtree.

Altogether, the point is that there are many ways to understand what it means that Radagon and Marika are the same person. Mythology is one of those ways - so often in myths identities are fluid because they represent a set of stories that drifted in retellings and were later brought back and merged into a single entity by selectively choosing the new canon. The two aspects of a single god are interpreted as two different gods due to language barriers, wander apart for a bit as the stories diverge when told by different storytellers, and merge back together or get subsumed into the identity of another god entirely.

Edit: As pointed out in the reblog, scholarship speculates that Loki originated as a disguise of Odin as Trickster God. However - to nip in the bud a conclusion that could be made from this - I would not say that this indicates that Marika started as a genderswapped Odin who diverged to become a Radagon Loki. Because FromSoft has stated explicitly who most embodies Odin: Gideon Ofnir. Ófnir is a name meaning "Inciter" and attributed to Odin by Snorri. Gideon synergizes well as a Tarnished version of Radagon - representing a previous version of him from a certain point in time. If you like, consider Gideon to be a companion who joined Radagon on the campaign to Raya Lucaria - he had to make an acquaintance of Seluvis at some point after all. Gideon claims to know that Marika wishes the Tarnished to struggle forever, which places him on the same line of thought as Radagon's eternal agonized hammering of the ring (and Gideon's weapon is a type of hammer as well). Radagon has been noted to use only incantations in his fight despite having spent time learning sorcery at Raya Lucaria. These traits of combining incantations and sorcery are instead displayed by Gideon who gives payoff to the characterization of Odin as wizard.

I stick to my original assessment of what it means that "Radagon is Marika" and Radagon is both Marika's other self and yet to become her. Marika is a persona constructed by Radagon in imitation of someone else, and an identity assumed through shapeshifting. He tried to disappear completely behind the persona of Marika to cover his flaws but could not do so because she was a hollow imitation and repressing the core issues instead of confronting them only caused them to fester. It's like the theme of God of War Ragnarok (2022) as in the Detail Diatribe by Overly Sarcastic Productions: generational trauma is the Hidden Hand of Fate. When those festering doubts resurface Radagon as Loki as an offshoot of Odin tries to solve the problem like an Odin: by tortuously hanging on a tree for knowledge, plucking out eyes to drop down wells, and so on. That's the generational trauma bit - it's a cycle of pain. It's why it was important for Ranni to shed her bloodline connection to Radagon in the context of the narrative. And then slay the Hidden Hand of Fate (I.e. Manus Celes). It frees her from the cycle and from continuing the mess of complexes that was Radagon/Marika. She is the queen of the underworld that is represented by the Lands Between and she is doing it on her own terms.

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.

[yourlokalescholar]

Oh my god wait. What if the blessings of the gods manifested physically? Like if a god takes an interest in you, EVERYONE is going to see it, for better or worse. And if you lose their favour? Everyone can see that, too

Jason with a peacock tail and feather-crest, both of which go faded and limp when he turns on Medea, so that they drag on the floor and get in the way

Pollux with eagle wings instead of arms, so Castor acts as his hands and that’s why they’re inseparable. When Castor dies and Pollux splits his immortality with him, they each get one arm and one wing, so one can’t fly without the other

Odysseus with a forked tongue and fangs—a subtle feature that he can hide when he needs to. When Athena feels like being helpful (like when she disguises him as a beggar) she’ll cast an illusion over it, but Penelope immediately recognises him by his lisp

When Athena gives Diomedes the blessing of seeing through the gods’ disguises, he also gets owl eyes and the ability to turn his head 180 degrees. This helps when Odysseus tries to stab him in the back on the Palladium heist

HERACLES WITH BULL HORNS. I have nothing to add I just think that sounds sick as hell

Helen grows beautiful golden feathers instead of hair. Nothing useful, just an obvious sign of her heritage that adds to her appeal to the suitors: whoever wins her hand gets to walk around with a physical symbol of Zeus’s favour

Atalanta with antlers that snap when she gets married, leaving jagged shards behind that won’t go blunt and can’t be sharpened down. She can have her husband, but he can’t touch her head without risking badly cutting himself. This can either be one final blessing or a curse depending on how consensual you interpret the marriage

Hector has pristine white raven wings, making him even more terrifying to the Achaeans, flying into battle like divine intervention, and a symbol of hope for the Trojans. Achilles plucks the feathers off his corpse, but they won’t stop growing back. Still, Achilles has a cloak made from them and wears it into battle, turning Troy’s symbol against them

Paris gets dove wings, but he tells everyone they’re too small to fly with because he’s a coward and doesn’t want to have the same responsibilities as Hector. Then he flies away from the duel with Menelaus in front of the entire army, and that’s when Troy finally loses what’s left of their respect for him

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[thequarinianparallel]

Pine and Bubo go hunting!

[darktrashsoulbear]

The Abyss Of Affection

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)

This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings: Allusions to smut

Word Count: 2308

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went. 

The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.

Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.

Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.

She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.

“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.

The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.

Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”

“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded… well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.

An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps… 

She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.

She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.

Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.

“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.

Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.

Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.

Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.

“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.

“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial. 

Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.

Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it. 

After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.

The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.

Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.

This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.

As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.

After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.

Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.

If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.

As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.

As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 25/10/2024 Charles Leclerc - Double Penetration

Plot: Charles loved back shots but when he finds your dildo he can’t help but want to see how you cope.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, fingering, p in v, dildo use, anal etc 18+ Minors DNI

You and Charles were insatiable. Your relationship had been built up around your guys sex life. You guys hooked up one night in a club after he won and race in Italy and you were out clubbing with all your uni friends the same night the race concluded.

You both agreed that the night was like no other and kept coming back to each out. Just causal sex, nothing more nothing less.

But the more you saw one another and had that intimacy the more you guys became like a couple.

You went from leaving pretty much straight after you both reach your high, to cuddling with him and falling alseep together.

You went from keeping it private and low-key at his home, to walking around the streets on dates even though for the longest time you both refused to acknowledge them as dates.

And you both were too stubborn to admit that 5 months in and you were definitely not casual anymore.

As your relationship progressed and you guys fell more in love with each other the sex just got better. There was something quite tame and almost vanilla about hooking up with Charles however, with the stability and confidence of a relationship with you backing him he started to get more experimental with things he did.

The latest was anal, something you’d never done before and arguably something Charles had never done before either. But he loved back shots, even before he’d tried your back doors he loved having you in your hands and knees in doggy style and just being able to push and pull you into the desired position. So once he’d pushed his dick in your ass there was a whole new obsession that had started.

However today, you were in a university class having spent the whole day in Italy where you attended at Sanremo University which was only an hour drive from Monaco.

While you were in your classes learning about anatomy Charles was having a spring clean of your shared apartment. It was normally you that did the big cleans as you just seemed to have more time than him naturally.

He was sat on the floor, an old pair of custom sunglasses with his name and the Ferrari logo on, his Alfa Romeo hat on his head and a feather boa of yours from the night he met you at the club, his old Harry Potter cloak as he was looking through stuff under the bed and in the bedside cabinet.

He hadn’t meant to get distracted with all the random junk but he had which led him on to find your box. It was a box he didn’t even know you had but he could tell it was yours from your name and the do not open on top of it.

“Do not open?” He muttered to himself with a smirk.

And with all due respect he only thought he’d find really bad old school pictures of you, not the brightest largest sparkly red dildo he had ever put his eyes on.

He waited for you to come home, excitement bubbling in his chest the whole time. He couldn’t even stay in the bedroom, he was pacing round the house on the balls of his feet.

The minute he heard your keys in the door he was running over to it quicker than him in the car.

“Hey princess” he grins and immediately you look up at him in shock. Usually he’d be on the sofa or in the kitchen pottering about as you came home but he was right on the door this time!

“Erm hi baby?” You chuckle putting your keys on the side and leaving your bag of school bits by the door.

“Come with me” he says grabbing your hand and you follow him, he takes you into the bedroom where you see the absolute state of it and everything from under the bed now on the floor unboxed.

“What on .. Charles I thought you said you were cleaning, not messing the house up more” you groan looking at the clothes all on the floor in the corner and the random keyboard Charles had got for Christmas and the old tea towels from your mum that had never been put to use.

“Mmmm well mon ange I started to clean and then I got distracted by this” he says holding up your dildo that you haven’t used in god knows how long. It’s been tucked away in your ‘first year uni’ box when you were living in student accommodation.

“I- I haven’t seen that in so long” you say taking it in your own hand in shock.

“Mmmm and we’re using it right now, get on the bed mon petite dame” he says, and when you don’t make any moves he lifts you up himself spinning you round and pushing you to the bed.

“Need to get you all wet if you gonna take both” he groans as he pulls your jeans off and then your panties with it. He didn’t take note that they were his favourite lace ones, he just chucked them in one of the various piles of things that have built up in the room.

“Both?” You question unsure of what he means. He traces a fingers along your folds before lightly rubbing your clit.

“Mmmm that” he points to the dildo in your hand “will go in this hole” he says pushing a finger in.

“And then I’ll stuff myself into my favourite hole” he grins lightly pinching the flesh or your ass.

“Oh fuck” you moan at his words and how he’s putting pressure on you clit while two of his fingers move in and out. The minute he can hear the squelching he’s knows there’s enough natural lubrication for him.

“On your knees for me baby, ass up” he says and this time you don’t need him to do it for you as your taking the command in your stride and obeying immediately.

You hold yourself up on your elbows while Charles positions himself behind you. He slips into your vagina with ease, making sure to thrust in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. He always found it better and easier for him to lube himself up with your juices first from the front before he delved into the back.

He held you by your hips, rubbing up and down whispering sweet words about how good your going to feel for him. When he feels like your getting too close and he’s teases you enough. He grabs the flexible dildo, one hand coming round.

He pulls himself out before switching round and pushing the dildo into you. A moan and the cold sensation compared to him warm dick has your moaning into the pillow that’s infront of you.

“C-Charlie fuck” you moan, your hips stuttering forward as he makes the dildo touch the furthest point in your walls and bottoming out.

“You gonna be a good girl and hold it there for me while I get all snug in this tight hole?” He asks, with a small smack to your left cheek making you lurch forward and quickly grab the end of the dildo keeping it in place despite your hole clenching around it.

He spreads your cheeks apart, before slipping in. You’d done this so many times now that it didn’t effect you as much as the first few times did, but it still felt a little uncomfortable and painful for the first few seconds that he pushed himself in.

A little whimpers comes from your mouth, the feeling of being so full as Charles pushes himself all the way in.

“You’re so beautiful. Holy shit. You are everything” he moans into you. One of his hands comes down on the bed grabbing your hand and holding himself up while the other reaches round your body to take over holding the dildo.

And god, you were ever so thankful your boyfriend had the intense brain of an F1 driver in these moments. Being able to push and pull the dildo in and out of one place while thrusting in and out of another.

Your eyes blaze wide at the feeling and your mouth drops open. You feel like you could throw up the feeling is so good, so good that you start rocking back to meet his thrusts.

It’s also over whelming, one hand is gripping the sheets while the other is squeezing your interlocked fingers with Charles.

“Fuck fuck fuck I - what I” you can hardly speak as Charles builds up his momentum making sure your never without some kind of stimulation.

“I-I’m gonna I f-fu-fuck oh my god oh my fuckinh god charlieeeeeee” you cry out with pants as your clench around him and the dildo, a blinding white covering your eyes as your orgasm washes over you. Your soaking the bed with how your squirting and an impressive amount that has Charles shortly following you in suit his hips stuttering as he cums inside you.

“Oh fuck, baby I” he tries to breath but your just as bad, panting shaking and your arms swiftly give out as you faceplant the bed with a soft whimper and groan.

Charles slips out and pulls the dildo out making you gasp at how empty you now feel.

“I” you start but Charles shushes you with a kiss.

“I love you. You did do well for me”

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Could you make a fallen angel-like reader(similar to a halovian) with Aventurine, Sampo and Dan heng please?

-🩵

“You're my fallen angel in the dark”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Emotional Vulnerability, Slow Burn(?), Fluff and Angst, Gentle Romance.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Themes of Isolation and Loneliness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Gambling and Risk-Taking (Aventurine), Light Tension and Danger.

In the dim light of his office, you leaned back on the sleek leather couch, wings folded gently as Aventurine sat across from you, his vibrant eyes fixed on you with that familiar playful spark. The soft glow of city lights framed his figure, lending an almost ethereal hue to his features.

"So, tell me," Aventurine leaned forward, fingers steepled, "what does an angel from the heavens need in a place like this? Surely you aren’t here to save me."

A smirk tugged at your lips. "Maybe I thought you could use a little saving, Aventurine."

He chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, like a well-aged vintage. "Oh, I’m a lost cause, trust me." His tone was light, but you sensed the depth behind it—the carefully guarded wounds he hid behind his charm and wit. As you brushed your hand across the roulette detail on his coat, you noticed his breath hitch, just for a moment.

"But perhaps…you’re not," you murmured, brushing a feather along his hand, sending a ripple of warmth over his cold skin. Aventurine’s hand slipped into yours, fingers interlocking as his eyes held yours. His usually mischievous demeanor softened, vulnerability slipping through the cracks.

"Maybe," he said, his voice softer now, "just maybe. But I think if anyone could change my mind… it might be you."

In that moment, you saw through his mask, felt his hand squeeze yours just a little tighter. And for once, Aventurine felt like more than just the gambler he pretended to be.

The streets were bustling with noise and color as Sampo sauntered beside you, his bright green eyes glinting with his usual playful mischief. You cast a cautious glance his way, aware of his reputation, but something about him—perhaps that underlying sense of survival and charm—had drawn you in, despite your better judgment.

"So," he drawled, nudging you with a grin, "an angel with clipped wings, huh? Seems we’ve got something in common, don’t you think? Both of us can’t quite keep our feet out of trouble."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as you noticed his hand slide a little too close to your coin pouch. “Funny you’d say that,” you replied, catching his wrist. “Though I think you’re more of the rogue variety than the fallen kind.”

“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged with a shameless grin, freeing his hand but remaining close, as though walking away was the last thing on his mind.

Curiosity sparked within you as you leaned closer, wings shifting around you both like a cloak. “What if I told you I could offer you something better than coins or trinkets?”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what’s that, my angel?”

You took his hand, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your fingers. “Trust, Sampo. Someone who sees through the act.”

For the first time, his laughter faltered, and he stared at you with an expression you’d never seen before—a mix of awe and hesitation. “Careful now, sweetheart,” he whispered, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

It was a quiet night on the Astral Express. The stars glowed softly outside the window as you stood beside Dan Heng, wings folded behind you, as silent as the mystery that shrouded him. He glanced over, his blue eyes momentarily meeting yours before he returned his gaze to the starry void.

"I’m not quite sure why you’re here," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "A place like this… doesn’t seem suited for a celestial being like you."

A soft smile touched your lips as you moved closer, reaching out to brush his hand with yours, gentle and cautious. “Fallen, not celestial,” you corrected. “I lost my way a long time ago.”

He looked at you, and in his gaze, you saw the reflection of his own scars, the history he carried but rarely shared. “And yet, you don’t seem lost,” he said. “You have… a presence.”

You chuckled softly, wings shifting. “I think we have more in common than you realize, Dan Heng. We’re both haunted by what we’ve lost, both searching for something we can’t quite name.”

Dan Heng’s gaze softened, and he allowed himself the smallest, rarest of smiles. “Maybe. But you… have given me something I didn’t think I’d find again.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth bloom between you as he reached out, his hand resting against your shoulder—a silent promise, a shared understanding. And there, under the glow of the stars, you knew that neither of you were as alone as you once thought.

[beloveds-embrace]

May we or will we have more harpy gaz readings? 🙏💛 it's a very cute story 😭

Thank you anon! Here’s more! <3

Original Post

Kyle became a fixture in your life- always steady, always there, always close enough that you could feel the warmth of him whenever he leaned near.

He didn’t push, not really. But he didn’t leave, either.

When he touched you, it was casual- his hand brushing your arm when he passed, his shoulder bumping yours in greeting, the occasional sweep of his wing against your back. Enough to make you feel it. Enough to leave your skin prickling in its wake.

Enough that you started to crave it, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

The cloak didn’t help either.

You wore it more often than not, the soft brush of feathers against your skin comforting in a way that left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You told yourself it was practical. The days were getting colder, after all.

But when Kyle saw you wearing it- when his eyes softened and his wings fluffed out just slightly, proudly, before he reeled them back in- you knew better.

The first kiss was an accident.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

It happened late one evening, after Kyle had walked you home again. He lingered in your doorway like he always did, leaning against the frame with his wings tucked back, his gaze warm and steady.

And you didn’t know why you invited him in.

Maybe it was the chill in the air, or the way his eyes softened when you hesitated. Maybe it was the ache you still felt, even after weeks of pretending it wasn’t there.

Or maybe it was just Kyle.

Either way, he didn’t hesitate.

He stepped inside and didn’t take off his jacket, but his wings flared slightly as he moved closer, and suddenly it was too much.

You didn’t realize you’d grabbed his arm until he froze, eyes sharp and searching.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t careful. It was raw and messy and aching, and he caught you before you could stumble, one hand steadying your waist as the other tangled in your hair. And he still kissed you back like he’d been waiting for this moment- like he’d known it was coming even when you hadn’t.

And when you finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, he didn’t let you go.

“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low. “Don’t run.”

You couldn’t. You didn’t even want to.

Not with his arms around you, his wings curling forward like they could and would shield you from the world.

Not with the way he looked at you- like he already knew every broken piece of you and wanted them anyway.

So you didn’t run.

You stayed.

The next time Kyle kissed you, it wasn’t an accident.

It was soft and deliberate, his hands warm as they cupped your face, thumbs brushing slow circles along your cheekbones. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, just leaned in like he’d been waiting for you to meet him halfway- and you did.

Pulling away never crossed your mind.

Kyle never stopped leaving gifts, too.

Little things, most of the time. Trinkets he picked up in the woods, stones worn smooth by the river, feathers still soft and perfect. He didn’t say much about them, just set them down in places he knew you’d find and let you decide whether or not to keep them.

You always did, and placed in spots they’d proudly show.

But the nest?

That was something else entirely.

You found it on accident, tucked away in the loft of Kyle’s home, hidden just enough to be private but open enough that you couldn’t miss it when you stepped inside.

You hadn’t meant to go looking for him- hadn’t meant to step over the invisible line you’d drawn between his space and yours- but a storm had rolled in faster than you expected, and the sky had turned dark and angry before you made it back to your own little house.

Kyle hadn’t hesitated: he’d spotted you across the square and closed the distance before you could even think about running. One wing opened around you, shielding you from the wind and rain, and his hand found yours as he gently steered you toward his place without waiting for an argument.

You hadn’t given him one.

But you wished you had, because now you were standing at the edge of something that left your chest tight and your throat aching.

The nest was beautiful.

It wasn’t just feathers and twigs, though there were plenty of those, woven carefully through the structure like veins of gold through stone. There were soft blankets, too, and downy pillows, and bits of dried herbs tucked into the edges like wards against bad dreams.

But what made your breath catch- and what made your hands tremble as you reached out to touch it- were the feathers; the ones only at the base, used as a foundation for the rest of the nest.

Not Kyle’s.

You’d know his anywhere by now, rich browns and warm golds and sleek lines that caught the light just so.

These were different.

Blood red, spotted with sharp, black spots. Harsher.

They were the feathers of the harpies who had left you flightless.

You recognized them instantly, even after all these years- their sharp edges and colors, the way they still seemed to hum faintly with the memory of cruel words and sharper claws.

You jerked your hand back, sudden and sharp, but Kyle was already there, catching your wrist before you could retreat completely.

“It’s yours, birdie.” His voice was soft but steady, like the first crack of dawn after a long night.

You shook your head. “Kyle-”

“I mean it.” He crouched in front of you, his wings folding close to his back as he looked up. “It’s yours, love. Always was.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Didn’t know how to put words to the knot of emotions tangling up inside you- the ache, the longing, the fear.

So you didn’t say anything.

You just looked at him, at the quiet confidence in his gaze and the way he held you so gently even when you knew he could be anything but gentle, wings protectively around you.

And then he said it.

“They don’t own you.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to, and Kyle must have seen it in the way you flinched, because he softened immediately.

“They don’t, dovie,” he repeated, pulling you closer until your knees brushed his. “You’re not broken. Not less. Not theirs.”

He let go of your wrist then, but only so he could cradle your face in both hands, thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling.

“You’re mine.”

You couldn’t breathe.

But you could lean in, just enough to let your forehead rest against his. And he let you.

Kyle didn’t stop there, even when he knew how much the nest alone meant to you.

He took care of you without making it feel like care.

He walked you home, but he never hovered- never lingered like he thought you needed protection, even when you knew he was keeping an eye on the shadows anyway.

You cooked for him sometimes, then often, when you learned that his cooking skills only extended so far to keep him alive and he had more instant food than not. You’d seen a scarf, warm and thick, and thought of him so you got it for him. Trinkets and candles, little bits and blobs of love.

You let him close without even meaning to, let him slip under your skin and settle there like he’d always belonged.

But it wasn’t just Kyle.

It was the way he let you stand on your own two feet even when he was close enough to catch you if you fell.

The way he never made you feel like less just because you couldn’t fly anymore.

The way he looked at you, like you were still something wild and free and worth protecting.

And maybe- just maybe- you started to believe it. Enough to where you began reaching out for him on your own, with no pushing or encouragement from him.

The first time you let yourself sink into the nest, Kyle wasn’t even home.

You told yourself you were just curious, that you only wanted to see how it felt. But the moment you settled into the softness, something in you broke.

You curled up tight, your fingers tangling in the edges of the feathers, and breathed in the scent of herbs and smoke and Kyle.

It felt safe.

It felt like home.

And when Kyle found you there later, his wings flaring wide before settling into soft curves, he didn’t say a word.

He just smiled, a soft, happy noise crooning itself out of his chest. And then he climbed in after you, pulling you close with one arm as his wings folded around you both.

Safe and warm.

Yours.

[stareaterau]

Prologue

Next episode →

Index

---

I found this old recording from about 2 years and a half ago

I feel like it might be important to the story to come.

CW: mild description of violence towards end

Read below↓

or AO3

The recording opened with the shot of a rainy, empty street at night. The view is from the perspective of The Coward, you can't see their features. They held a cloak over their head and shoulders, whilst stumbling unsteadily on feet like long, dark, bird-like claws. The clank of soft metal tapped on the hard damp ground.

They stopped at an alley and pushed themselves up against a vending machine, breathing heavily. Their clothes were torn and fraying. The red jumper they were wearing seemed to have a long tear down one side, and the sleeve had instead been tied at the shoulder, exposing a dark metal limb with long talons, just like their feet.

They sat for a moment, mumbling incoherently to themselves.

There was a noise from down the alleyway and The Coward shrank against the wall, holding their breath, blending into the shadows.

???: Hey! I saw you running down here.

A tall figure rounded the corner. They were wearing a uniform, a blue jacket that had to be a size too small for them, with the sleeves rolled up and the collar popped.

They had a holster around their shoulder, that held a gun far too big and awkward for their frame, that they kept having to adjust back onto their shoulder.

The dim light of the vending machine illuminated their face. They had short brown hair with two long, braided strands, which were tied up at the back of their head, loose from running.

Their eyes were a soft green, and at angles reflected a bright blue. They were very unique and kind eyes.

[Profile found and documented. Let's call him The Hero.]

He turned down the alleyway and looked around cautiously.

The Hero: Oh… they turned into a vending machine?

The Coward, clearly moments away from being spotted, stepped forward.

The Coward: Rude.

The Hero: AHHH OH OH OH- oh you're still a person!

The Coward: And what are you? A jester?

The Hero: What? No, I'm a vindicator.

He pulled at the front of his jacket, showing off his newly stitched ‘V’ patch.

The Coward: Yeah, I can clearly see that, do they have a clown rank now?

The Hero: No? Why would they-

The Hero: Oh- you’re messing with me.

The Coward giggled, but they stopped quickly, as The Hero raised his gun, quietening them.

The Hero (trying to be intimidating): You’re messing with me, when I have a gun to your head?

The Coward scoffed.

The Coward: I'm hardly worried about being shot intentionally, you’re not even holding it right.

There was a clank, a shuffle, as The Hero looked at the gun and how he held it.

He shrugged, lowering the gun.

The Hero: ... I'm better with a bow.

The Coward: You gonna arrest me or what? Done flexing your superiority?

The Hero: How do you know I was gonna arrest you? Can't we just be having a conversation?

The Coward: You followed me down an alley, I know how people act when there's a hit on me.

The Hero: I wouldn't call it a hit. More like-... you’re a person of interest.

The Coward (sarcastically): Oh, yeah.

The Hero: Yeah! Well, I think this is you.

The Hero pulled up a holographic screen and held it up to The Coward, who rolled their eyes.

The screen was flipped for them, but they could clearly make out a portrait of a young man with dirty blonde hair and muted green feathers on their face. They had a smirk and a cut lip in the mugshot.

The Coward coughed a laugh at the sight of it, as The Hero looked at them and raised a brow.

The Coward: They don't even have my name, come on. I'm sooo being hunted ‘dead or alive’, without the alive.

The Hero: I wouldn't- I'm not going to kill you-

The Hero scanned over the information, confused.

The Coward: You’re new?

The Hero: I started a week ago.

The Coward: Think of yourself as a Hero, then?

The Hero didn’t say anything, just looked confused.

The Coward: Well okay Hero, why don't you try and catch me?

The Hero: Ah well-

The Coward pushed him and made a run for it down the alleyway.

The Hero: Hey hey wait-

He chased after them.

The Hero: That's a dirty move.

The Coward: Oh yeah? Well, you’re not gonna like this-

The Coward pushed over a smaller vending machine, smashing it on the ground, small food bars scattering across the floor.

The Hero: That's wasteful!

The Coward laughed.

The Hero laughed too, jumping over the vending machine with ease.

The Hero: If that's how you’re gonna play-

There was a noise. A shot fired.

The Coward reflexively put their arms over their head, but the shot didn’t hit them. Instead, it pinged off a wall, errupting into a huge, almost firework level explosion, making The Coward stop abruptly to avoid running into it.

The Coward (quietly): Whoa.

The Hero: Cool, right?

The Coward: No, I was just amazed with your ability to miss me.

The Hero: Hey! No fair, I was intentionally missing you!

The Coward, now that the embers had faded, continued to run down the street, yelling back quips.

The Coward: So you are a jester then, if they gave you fireworks.

The Hero (yelling back): They didn't give me fireworks, I was allowed to choose any gun.

The Coward: And you chose a sparkler?

The Hero: I chose the biggest gun I was allowed, actually!

The Coward (laughing): And how's that working out for you?

The Hero: I look cool, don't I?

The Coward: Sure.

They slipped on the wet ground, but flexed their sharp claws into the surface, the added grip giving them an advantage. The Hero was not too far behind, but he was clearly finding it harder to run with his thick leather boots.

Up ahead, The Coward stopped at a deadend, its walls too high for them to possibly climb, even without the rain.

They ran up to the wall and looked up at it hopelessly. There was the sound of something shifting, close against their back, from a developing reflex, but it granted no satisfying whoosh. They turned their head to watch their bare, immature feathers catch no air between them.

The Coward shivered. Their breathing short and rapid.

Out of the corner of The Cowards view, they spotted an old, withering creeper, pushed up against a dumpster, leaning into it with empty eyes. It rested completely still aside from a very faint flicker of light under one of its shells.

The Hero (out of breath): You're cornered! Aha! You run fast.

The Coward: ...

The Hero: You’re not gonna trick me and reveal you could fly away this whole time, are you?

The Coward (quietly): ...I can't-

The Coward: you wouldn't happen to want to let me go?

The Hero stood up straighter, once he caught his breath.

The Hero: I- ...I have a job to do.

The Coward: Cheat day? Just a secret between me and you.

The Hero: I’m sorry, I can't.

The Coward (nervously): Ahah- aren't you guys supposed to be corrupt? Why couldn't that be useful for me, for once?

The Hero: I can't let you go, you’re dangerous.

The Coward: You don't even know my name, or what I did.

The Hero: ...

The Coward: Please, really, I can't afford getting caught at all- you don't understand how much danger I'm in.

The Coward swayed on their legs, hissing as their barely healed wounds leaked slowly.

The Hero: Are you hurt? You look hurt.

The Coward: ...yes.

The Hero: Okay, okay, well, I can help you.

He smiled nervously.

The Hero: Maybe If I help tend your wounds, you'll let me take you in?

He held his hands out tentatively. The Coward took a moment to contemplate, briefly glancing towards the out-of-order creeper.

The Coward: Okay.

The Hero: Okay, okay, good! I have supplies on me-

Just as The Hero was distracted with pulling his bag off his back, The Coward took a step towards the creeper, slowly placing their hand behind it.

The Coward: I'm so sorry.

They pushed the creeper, making it fall into The Hero, who had only just looked up from his bag.

The creeper suddenly hummed loudly, with a hot glow growing under each metal scale.

The explosion pushed back the coward, not expecting the old rusty machine to acutally blow up that much. It must have been tampered with. Charged. They breathed loudly, watching the fiery wisps light up the alleyway.

Unsteadily they stood up, turning in the other direction to make a move to run.

But they stopped, and glanced towards The Hero. They saw him laying on his side, embers and smoke billowing around him. Everything was covered in so much ashy black and red that it was hard to find his face. But those eyes looked up at them, half lidded and not blinking, the shine of blue flickering from the reflection of small flames left by the creeper.

Those kind eyes looked up at The Coward.

The Coward ran.

[salty-an-disco]

OK– so this is gonna be the last time I have to do a full line up to my guys, right? Right?

seriously tho, very proud of this piece and how far my designs have come, and this will probably be the main look I'll settle with for all my voices.

Full line up and some design notes + headcanons under the cut:

and here's the first ever sketches for comparison:

Hero: didn't change much from my original sketch, but I certainly got a lot better at drawing his body type. Sparrow; general shape is a square with rounded edges. Reliable and strong, but still soft. He wears that red shirt I sometimes draw him in under the leather armor, and the feathers on his helmet are fake, his real ones is brown like the rest of him (how does it stay perfectly hidden in the helmet? ✨Magic✨). He/Him.

Contrarian: Changed a LOT from the original sketch, and got details added to him a lot as I drew him. Hummingbird; tall and lanky silhouette, mainly broken by their hair and wings. They start off with a different color palette in the construct, that becomes faded out in Strange Beginnings, and finally, gets a lot more colorful as they develop outside. They/He.

Cheated: also changed a lot, as I struggled a bit with properly conveying his shape language. Seagull; sharp lines with lots of pointed bits in his design (mainly triangles and losangles); overall look is somewhat asymmetrical to add to the 'patched up' feel. Detachable arm, and more limbs could be too, but she's trying to be careful with her own body. She/He.

Skeptic: the general vibe of his final look was there in the initial sketch, but how I decided to convey it changed a lot. Hawk; the only things his wears is his hat, gloves, scarf (and sometimes a waist purse), with the feathers around his chest and tail giving the impression of a suit/coat. The feather on his hat is one of his own, he has a similar feather poking out of his head that gets hidden by the hat (*points* bald). He/Him

Smitten: design didn't technically change from how I initially drew him, just the way I draw it that evolved. Macaw (pink macaws don't exist?They do with the power of belief!!); all round edges and soft lines, giving him an approachable and harmless appearance despite his size. Has the most human face out of everyone here. He/Him, but won't complain if you use other pronouns too (especially she/her, it's a lovely pronoun set <3)

Stubborn: almost didn't change at all from my earlier designs. Mainly exaggerated his features and shapes a bit more. Ostritch. Big and bold lines for a large square as the general shape. Ear tufts looking more like horns, and his fluffy wings help break the pattern a lil bit. Gave him a cat face cuz I thought it'd be cute and the shape works well with his ear tufts. He/Him (but in a lesbian way).

Broken: Also didn't change all that much. Small and unobtrusive, their general shape is smth of a slouched square, and the head is shaped like a teardrop. Pigeon; takes the most from The Long Quiet in terms of general traits, tho much more worn down. The sack-as-cloak is supposed to invoke the look of an abandoned pet. Some of their feathers grow back with time, and they forgone the sack to get some actual clothes, but it's a long way till then. They/Them.

Opportunist: Gave me the most trouble designing, but once I had the initial doodle down, designing him went a lot smoother lol. Magpie; car salesman attire. The always-loose tie is supposed to look like a snake's tongue, and his head shape is kinda like that of a scorpion's tail. He does have an actual scorpion tail, but that remains hidden in case of emergency. Face looks like a porcelain mask despite being an actual face. He/Him (also occasionally use Ey/Em too).

Hunted: Changed the most out of all my designs, getting a full rework at some point. A hybrid between hare, deer, and quail; prey animals, while Beast has more predator traits. Has no depth perception like a lot of prey, and its stance makes it look smaller than it is (it's about as tall as Cold). It/Its.

Paranoid: The initial sketch is pretty incomplete, but the general idea is there. Loon; big eyes and uneven feathers to give her a 'frazzled' look. Feathers always falling out looking like she's always sweating bullets. Cloak covers overpreened wings and most of her markings. Fun fact: the exposed brain was initially visualized as just a bald spot, but since it looked like a brain, I just rolled with it. She/Her.

Cold: Pretty much had the general idea for his design nailed down since the initial sketch lol. Owl; another lanky and tall dude, tho more retangular with almost nothing to break the pattern but the little hair strand. Head also shaped after water, but while broken is a teardrop, for him I visualized raindrops. Has an X scar on the chest just under the X pendant on the cloak. Any pronouns.

[cookiealchemieart]

Voices and the Hero I DID IT I FUCKING FINISHED THIS PIECE YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! I have Thoughts about my designs for these guys so uh Design Notes under the cut!

I'm bad at drawing actual birds (if the narrator on the hero's shoulder is any indication) so I went with the next best thing that I'm better at: plague doctors! Plus plague masks are just fun to draw. I tried making each of the voices match the princess they correspond to, but it got tricky with a couple of them. In no particular order, here we go! The Hero is a bird guy with a bird mask. Perhaps the mask is meant to keep his identity locked away? Either way, the outfit is more shapes than actual fabric, similar to the Princess' gown. Simple enough to register as clothes, but vague enough to change and be recognizable as the loops splinter. Also the cape is hims wings! The Broken is made to be the wettest, most pathetic little guy, but also ever so slightly like a priest. This is to reference the Tower (mommy- I mean mommy- I mean-) saying that the hero's place by her side is "that of a priest, or a pet". So I made him look like a depressed little priest. The Skeptic is the voice that joins you on the route of the Prisoner, so what would be more fitting than a warden? Or maybe an escaped convict? Either way I love his little ponytail poking out of his hood. The Hunted looks like a feral wild child. Feather-hair out and messy, cloak made of scraps of fabric. I figured the most wild looking of the voices would be the one that corresponds to the Beast. The Smitten is all puffy and soft shapes to match the Damsel's rufflier dress and softer appearance. Also my friends recommended the hat and I agree 11/10 would hat again. Gave him a bowtie AND a cravat because the Smitten strikes me as just that extra! The Opportunist's beak is meant to resemble a parrot's, as he just parrots the ideas of whomever he considers to be "winning". This is also why he's dressed like a businessman. He kinda looks like a villain version of the Smitten, but I haven't played the Thorn's route yet, so idk if that's relevant. Also isn't this guy the only voice that doesn't show up in the Chapter 2 routes or am I forgetting one? The Stubborn has demon horns to match the Adversary (and the Eye of the Needle HOOGH MAMA). He's also got battle damage, and his mask is fashioned to look like he has a wounded and scarred eye. Fun fact! Stubborn was supposed to get the ponytail, but I decided while lining that a half cut looked better. The Cold looks the most similar to the Hero, but he's just a bit less put together. While I was drawing his hair I was thinking of L from Deathnote for some reason? Probably the cadence the Cold has. The Cheated is supposed to look like a gambler, given his title and speaking patterns. There...wasn't a good way to pair him with the Razor, but I suppose the spade on his cheek could be seen as a nod to the razor's blades? I dunno, I'm reaching here. The Paranoid suffers from my lack of impulse control when it comes to giving characters goggles. I fucking love steampunk goggles. Much like the Cold, he looks like a less-put-together Hero, but this one is a mess, actively having a panic attack, but is pushing through it because NEITHER THE HERO OR THE NARRATOR IS FUCKING HELPING. Also the stitches on his mask are meant to mirror the cracks on the Nightmare's mask. The Contrarian has a mask with three beaks as a mirror to the Stranger's three heads, but also because the two on his head make him look like a little jester and I felt that was fitting for this smartass. His cape is asymmetrical to spite the status quo.

I hope you enjoyed my art + rambles about these designs. I love doing this!

[nevesmose]

Power Wash Simulator × Warhammer 40,000 - The Horus Heresy Expansion Pack

You are Captain Balnaeus of the III Legion and only your elite squad of Emperor's Children™ Saponicus Spa Marines™ can deliver cleanliness to the galaxy's greatest warriors - the Primarchs™ rendered for the first time in ultra-realistic detail!

Guilliman - this is pretty much a tutorial level where he stands there grimly T-posing and hating every moment. If you spray him in the face, Yvraine will pop up in the corner of your screen and laugh like the dog from Duck Hunt.

Horus - similar to Guilliman but introducing environmental hazards. Getting his giant ornamental shoulder-wolf wet is an instant fail and using too strong a setting on his nose tube will make it fall out, causing him to frenzy. There's also a final quick time event with a floor buffer to get his head nice and shiny. Overall still a pretty easy level but the difficulty curve gets much steeper from here.

Perturabo - using all the skills you've developed so far, but on a very short time limit before his patience runs out and he stomps you to death. Watch out for the corners of his giant square headpiece since the dirt and resentment really gets wedged in there. You can reset the timer once by summoning Calliphone, but then you have to deal with her making judgmental yet undeniably accurate comments about you for the rest of the level.

Konrad - unlike other levels, this time the primarch is actively avoiding you by moving erratically around the arena and screaming prophecies. The key is to use the most powerful washer setting to stagger him and then clean his weak points while he's stunned. Not too difficult once you learn his attack patterns but the late stage move where he summons Sevatar to throw a bucket of blood and viscera over him can catch you out if you aren't expecting it.

In the second phase he'll start shielding himself under his feather cloak which has an impenetrable layer of grease and filth on it. When he does this, Sevatar will be somewhere in the arena trying to unplug your power washer so you have to find and spray him to get Konrad to come back out.

Fulgrim - this level has a complex RPG / dating sim conversation mechanic where you can persuade him to adopt various poses from classical art and statuary to gain better access to his illustrious nooks and crannies. His comments get wittier and wittier each time so you need to be quick on the draw with your own incisive bon mots or he'll get bored. His eyes do that disconcerting thing where they're always locked on to the player no matter where you are in the room.

Fulgrim Transfigured - maxing out your relationship status with Fulgrim will unlock this secret post-Heresy level in which your power washer has been mutated into a throbbing fleshy construct that spurts glittering purple lubricant all over Daemon Fulgrim while he writhes around orgasmically.

At this point the DLC was removed from all online storefronts so the final and most difficult level, Daemon Primarch Mortarion, only exists as concept art.

[poke-me-with-a-stick]

Penguin Danny would gladly travel to the highest peaks to slide down in a speed of 80 Miles per hour down to take fight

Being a penguin is great for many reasons, Danny thinks. The insulated feathers allow for better comfort in the snow, not that his ice core didn't help with that already. Adult penguins were ten times more attentive than his own parents, which was an awesome plus.

But most of all, being a penguin meant that his body was incredibly aerodynamic. Sledding down steep slopes on his stomach was way more fun that any sled he had ever used! And the higher he went, the faster he got!

The only issue being, the teen really needed to pay closer attention to the bottom of the slope. He cursed himself as he neared the bottom, having found the highest snowy peak yet and managed to make his way to the top before any of those puffy coated people could herd him back towards the colony.

He fully blames his baby mind, completely disregarding the fact that he was fully cognate at the moment. The teen braced himself as he felt the ground slope upwards slightly, sending his extremely fast moving body soaring.

Distantly, he could hear the alarmed cries of the puffy coats, as well as the distress from the costumed children that had been chasing the GIW off. It didn't really matter, though. All he could focus on was the weightless feeling of flight. It had been a while since he had flown, not wanting to risk hurting himself if his ghost powers fizzled out or something, so he thinks he can be excused for the fact when gravity took hold again, he barely noticed.

He only noticed when his flipper clipped the side of a GIW agent's head. The action sent the man to the ground, and completely threw off Danny's trajectory, sending the teen beak-first into a decently deep snow drift.

Crunching snow alerted him to someone's presence before the warm grip of gloved hands around his midsection, but he still wiggled in surprise as he was gently tugged grew of the snow. Shaking his head, Danny looked over to the traffic light child beside him, who was looking him over for any injuries.

The teen couldn't resist patting the cloaked figure's head with his flipper, before he turned back towards the slope he had just come down. Not that the initial shock was wearing off, the only thing that Danny wanted to do was get back up there and try again. Maybe he could stay in the air a little longer this time, without the moron in white in his way!

As he waddled off as fast as he could, Robin shook himself out of his own shock and hurried after the large baby penguin. Like Hell was he letting that happen again!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tressym can be Fickle

WORDS: 692 RATING: G PAIRING: Gale x Tav SUMMARY: based on a very real arguement between my husband & I on who our cat likes more.

It had been a long, arduous, grueling day at the academy.

Though Gale loved his new role as a professor and educator, teaching the young minds of witches & wizards all across Faerun to harness their magic, induction week was the worst. He felt his life was in less peril fighting the Elder Brain or any of their other enemies & cohorts along the Sword Coast than he was now. Testing the new inductees to file them accordingly to their skill. ‘Skill’ being a very loose word tossed around this week.

He returned home that evening with a heavy sigh through the door, an even heavier thud of his satchel filled with books, and a desperate need to be tended to by his spouse. The whole day had been about soothing the egos, feelings, and on occasion literal wounds of new students that Gale thought he deserved some tending to now.

“Tav?” He called out as he put his cloak away. Usually, they greeted him at the door. Or at least acknowledged him when he came home. Curious, Gale walked through the house to try and find them. His search not long as he came upon Tav in the living room. On the couch by a low fire, with Tara on their lap. “Well….don’t you two look cozy.”

“Hmm, we rather are Mr. Dekarios.” Tara agreed. “Or at least we were, until someone started shouting.”

“Apologies for shouting in my own house.” Gale snipped at Tara. Taking his own plush armchair across from them. “Since when did you become a lap cat? And, before you get too ruffled under the feathers, it’s a figure of speech.”

Tara hummed. Seeming to debate about not letting it go but was perhaps indeed to comfortable to make a fuss. “Very recently I suppose. I never had an interest until now.” The tressym purred with her eyes closed as she tilted her head up towards Tav and her head scratches.

“You never took an interest with me.” Gale said with a deep frown.

“You do not have nails, Mr. Dekarios.”

The wizard growled and stood up. Unable to watch his dearest friend and lover betray him like this in front of his own eyes. It was still early for dinner but he stalked off towards the kitchen to focus his frustrations on what to eat.

A few moments later, Tav came in. Looking confused on why he was so upset. “Sorry.” He apologized quickly. “It’s just been a long day. And I am glad that you and Tara are getting along now. Guess I’m being….overly sensitive at being shut out. Tressym can be fickle, but I’ve never known Tara to change her mind about anyone. Again, not that I’m not pleased you two are getting along. I just never thought I would suddenly be second in her estimation.”

“Suddenly second? Please Mr. Dekarios.” The couple turned to see Tara trot in. Seeming interested in their conversation. “I wouldn’t say that you were suddenly second. Not given my high esteem of your mother. A better estimate is which one of you is second on the day, and who is third.”

“Really Tara? Kick a man while he’s down??”

“But, I’m a reasonable creature. Perhaps my estimations can be over swayed. Perhaps with a bit of chicken? Fried pigeons if you have any?”

“So a creature of reason but not honor, eh?” Gale stated, with a wave of his hand as if he wish to brush away this whole conversation.

Before he could leave, Tav wrapped their arms around his waist. Pulling him close. The smell of their hair in his nose. Something like ‘you’ll always be number 1 to me’ muffled into his chest, which causes him to smile and hold them back.

They tell Gale to go upstairs and relax. Take a bath if he liked, while they made dinner. That sounded heavenly, so he did just that.

When he came back down, he was not amused by the roast chicken on his plate. Nor the grinning little tressym in the corner, licking her chops like she’d just swallowed a canary. Or, perhaps, her bribery chicken.