#deceit kin

[lil-toastie-boi]

Janus Sanders Kin Stimboard!

x x x / x x x / x x x

[hazyaltcare]

cw for abuse mentions

just looking for some positivity here ig. im a deceit sanders kin (i dont really go by janus but idm it ig?) basically, in my timeline, virgil was pretty horribly abusive and toxic to me. i can move past that, as i dont have any contact with him anymore, but what hurts is how the fandom treats our relationship. im always made out to be the bad guy, the one who drove him away. and i know im different from my source. but its kind of terrible being seen as this manipulative asshole who hurt poor innocent virgil when...it was the complete opposite.

thanks for your time, guys. you're doing good work

Hello, Deceit, and thank you for reaching out.

I am sorry to hear that your timeline's Virgil was abusive and toxic to you. I sympathize with your predicament, and I am immensely glad that you have no contact with him anymore and can move on. You deserve some peace of mind, and to heal from your trauma.

It is valid to be hurt by what the fandom makes out your relationship to be. I understand the feeling. As someone who was abused for a very long time by one of the "good guys" in canon, I feel like I'm demonizing a "good person", disrespecting the fandom, and bigoted by talking about my abuse at her hands. But I'm neither of those, and neither are you. You are not alone.

You already know you are allowed to be different from canon. Your timeline is valid and your hurt, your trauma, is real. Let yourself feel terrible about it.

However, you and I also know that the fandom does not know your timeline at all. They're just going off of canon (or fanon, even). They are not talking about you or your timeline's Virgil. Fandom posts and fan work are not indicative of your personality, actions, or relationships. You're not manipulating "poor innocent Virgil", you were abused.

And ultimately, the choice is yours, because you deserve to be comfortable. Would it be more comfortable to block the source tag altogether? Or just the pairing tag? Avoid the fandom for a while and just focus on the material? Ask for support from any trusted person in your life?

At any rate, I hope you can find solace, and take a break from the things that upset you. You are not a bad person for fulfilling your emotional needs.

Last but not least, thank you so much for your kind words.

Mod Vintage (♒)

[caliginouscreature]

a few Actual SinDec Fans following this blog now... hello... it is truly an Honor, I just hope you guys won’t be too disappointed that this is primarily a kin blog

[jyi-me]

If my queen and kin now count me as foe, so be it. I prefer to battle to my dying breath than dwell in deceit.

[remus-thecreative]

Remus kinnies are honestly, some of the best people I've ever met. They're so creative and funny and smart... In their own ways.

I want to kiss one /j

(Sincerely, a Logan Fictionkin)

Agreed but for me no /j about kissing a remus haha instead its /nr (not romantic)

[lil-toastie-boi]

:3

Draw your profile picture! (If you did draw your current profile pic, either show us the full version or redraw it if you want!)

[rawcalamity]

From the leviathans of vast stature to the ones feeble and numb; all succumb before the hunger of diving vultures. Piercing the skies of gelid seas are those who hail from ice. Woolly seals wear a title of deceit, for their kin stray far from the graceful mammals of our oceans. These hellish creatures revel in their carnage, with dozens of clawed tendrils reaching from their gnarled maws begging to cleave flesh. Although small and nimble, you are a fool to judge the capabilities of these predators. All who cross paths with a murder are mercilessly torn asunder from muscle to bone. Boasting a powerful muscular structure, woolly seals find ease in wrestling the strongest of leviathans into submission. These persistent animals are reliant on their numbers, overwhelming prey with the sheer volume of the murder whipping lacerations into their flesh. Fending off a murder is a futile pursuit, for a leviathan will quickly exhaust itself as it thrashes about to no avail. Fleeing yields no promise either, as woolly seals will leech onto their prey via puncturing the body with their prickly pectoral flippers; ensuring that the animal is secured tightly to its victim. Deceased leviathans are left to wither away in a crimson sea painted by their canvas. Woolly seals garnered their name from extraterrestrial human researchers, who upon first discovering the species noted how vaguely reminiscent of earthly pinnipeds they were—only, these creatures donned a thick hydrodynamic coat likened to wool. While their pelage serves to maintain a streamlined form when diving, it is also vital to maintaining body heat against the unforgiving cold. Because the frame of a woolly seal is so muscular, they lack insulating blubber found in most marine mammals. To compensate, their coats double as a highly effective insulator. Unlike true pinnipeds, the hind flippers of a woolly seal fuse to form a more tail fluke-like shape. This enhances the animals swim speed, while also reducing land mobility. As a result, woolly seals are remarkably vulnerable when lounging on sea ice. As such, woolly seals prefer to remain close to water.

[butwhatifidothis]

I guess the ultimate thing that kills CF for me - or at least nudges it away from me saying I definitively like it - is just how much Edelgard is clearly written with the player in mind before she's written with her character in mind.

Because on all of the other routes, there's a power to Edelgard's presence. Even on BE, there's a sense that for as lonely as Edelgard might be, she still ultimately will do whatever it takes for her to get what she wants. Be that be killing her citizens (or otherwise letting them be killed), endangering her friends, assisting in kidnapping people, allowing Byleth to support her only when they have the Sword of the Creator, covering for TWS - no bar is too low for her to limbo under if doing so means she's even a step closer to her goals.

She's manipulative! She's deceitful! She doesn't care for the lives of her people! Even her friends are forfeit if they try to stand in her way! And this happens no matter how close you, the player, get to her, in the case of BE - C+ ain't stoppin' Remire, and going to the coronation ain't stopping the Holy Tomb.

And in the war phase, she is dominating the field. She has the Kingdom completely on the ropes, down to a few houses standing against Imperial rule, and the Alliance is stuck in neutrality - she may not be able to do much to it, but neither can they do anything to her (to say nothing of the Alliance houses who stand with her). She's far from the underdog in this race, and she shows off how threatening she can be.

CF? Her route?

She scweams at scawy rats. She gets embawwassed when you find her dwawings. She's just so wonewy, and she's just so gwad that you chose her. She somehow fails to capture Rhea, or frame Dimitri for regicide, and so now has to deal with that on the Kingdom's side of the war. But that doesn't stop Elly Welly-kins fwom twying to find her pwecious teacher, because you're just so important to her. She cwies and hugs you when you meet her in the Goddess Tower!! Because she missed you so much!!

It's like... Dimitri and Claude certainly show different sides of themselves on their respective routes. It's the whole point! You grow closer to them and thus see how they treat those close to them, as opposed to being the Kinda Neat Teacher they see run along every now and then. But, like... Claude doesn't become a blushing maiden whenever Byleth speaks with him on VW. Dimitri doesn't scream at scary rats and get called cute for it on AM. They don't get Basic Bitch Gap Moe Traits slapped onto them that are only ever shown to the player and only on their routes. Unlike Edelgard.

Dimitri's endearing trait is that he's this big huge dude who can bench-press forests and arm-wrestle god who still wants to learn to sew and who teaches kids to protect themselves and who buys candies for his friends. Claude's endearing trait is that he's this mastermind planner who has contingency and lie and obfuscation as three separate legal government names who still wants everyone to be safe and happy and hold hands and be friends.

Edelgard is strong, confident, and willing to do some of the shittiest things known to man for her goals. Her endearing trait is that her screams are cute. She's shy about her drawings of the player character. She blushes over the player potentially joking about having sex with her per her JPN version of her C support; you know, the one about how Byleth walks in on Edelgard muttering in her sleep from a nightmare about her tortured family? Perfect time to joke about fucking her! Dimitri and Claude's endearments are, well, endearing; Edelgard's are all straight up embarrassing for her.

Hell, even the smaller stuff is affected! Claude's passion for poisons and mushrooms are things he has no qualms about having others know about, despite how weird they are. Dimitri laughing at shitty jokes brings him no personal discomfort or embarrassment, despite just how loudly he laughs at them. They have traits to them that can easily be uwu worthy, and they don't care! Of the lords, only Edelgard does! Because, it feels like, the only way for a strong, resolute female character to come off as approachable is if she's knocked down a few pegs for specifically and only you, the player.

And that sucks ass! I'm sorry, but when I'm playing Edelgard's route I don't want to deal with her hiding herself away in her room for a month IN THE MIDDLE OF HER FUCKING WAR because she's just so embawwassed! It is so fucking insensitive that Edelgard is literally the only lord of the three who can have her trauma openly belittled at any point in the story by Byleth, all to have some cheap cutesy uwu moment about her fear of rats (calling her screaming in fear cute and INSISTING that it's really cute which is just. Fucking ew man)! Why can we fucking mock Edelgard's manner of speech during the MASSACRE OF REMIRE?

This shit doesn't happen to Claude or Dimitri! And saying "oh just don't pick those options then" is bullshit because no equivalent options exist for the male lords! It's piss-boilingly annoying that the second you choose to see things from the strong confident villainous ambitious female lord's perspective you can reduce her down to this bumbling moeblob just for you (sometimes unavoidably!) like!! Dude!

[dragonstoners]

𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖓𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 | 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

18+ | Minors DO NOT INTERACT | Ageless blogs will be blocked

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: aemond targaryen x reader

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: canon-typical misogyny, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships

𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: f!reader, noble!reader, obsessive!aemond, toxic!aemond

⁃ it starts off strange, naturally. aemond’s way of showing interest is like a game of cyvasse, where you don’t know you’re playing until you’re losing.

⁃ he begins by throwing words like daggers, seeing which ones will stick, as well as which ones will miss. “courtesy is often the cloak of deceit,” he says one day as you pass by, eyes sharp, challenging you to disagree. you’re left pondering his intentions, unsure if this is disdain or a warning. you're not even sure he knows your name, but he's got his eye on you, that much is clear.

⁃ all of his tests are subtle at first, almost imperceptible… at least to everyone else. during a meeting including your house, he undercuts your suggestions with a smirk, ���is that the best wisdom we can muster?” making you doubt your voice, your place. yet, when others join in the critique, his dissent stops, a silent barrier against the tide.

⁃ he starts to frequent areas of the red keep you're known to visit, under the guise of random meanderings or pressing royal duties. his presence is always pronounced, a storm cloud in a serene sky, yet he never directly acknowledges you unless absolutely necessary. when he does speak to you, his words are a mix of backhanded compliments and critiques designed to unsettle, to pull your attention and push you away all at once.

⁃ he tests the waters with questions that cut close to bone, speaking in riddles of his kin and house, gauging your reaction below a veneer of idle curiosity. "and what do you say of the whispers about my brother?" he asks, his gaze sharp, searching, every one of your words and expressions a stone in the foundation of this game he’s you’re both playing.

⁃ he’s watching, always, from the corners of rooms, from across courtyards, his gaze a heavy thing. you start to feel it, the weight of his attention, in every place you go. “you seem to find yourself in my path quite often,” he remarks, a statement that makes it seem less like coincidence and more like an invisible thread pulling you into his orbit.

⁃ at a court event, a bard mishandles a tale of your house’s valour, rendering it comically rather than heroic. while others laugh, aemond's eyes find yours across the room, his gaze sharp and assessing. later, you hear the bard has been given a generous sum to leave king's landing — and the realization that aemond might have been defending your honour, in his own convoluted way, leaves you bewildered.

⁃ only next, he's once again all about putting you in the spotlight for the wrong reasons. during a dinner, he casually asks if you truly believe in the tales of old valyria, making your opinion sound naive in front of everyone. it's like he enjoys seeing you squirm, but when you catch his gaze, there’s something else there, maybe respect?

⁃ after a particularly sharp exchange, you wander the quieter halls of the red keep, mulling over aemond’s pointed remarks. “is loyalty not our greatest virtue?” had left his lips with a smirk. his words had a sting, intended for you in a room full of eyes and whispers. it wasn’t just the comment but the public questioning of your loyalty that left a bitter taste. it’s the solitude afterwards that weighs heavily, making you question where the line between loyalty and a noose truly lies.

⁃ then, when you're about ready to write him off as a typical targaryen prince, toying with you for amusement and not much different from his elder brother, small things begin to happen. a finely-made bone comb appears amongst your things, no note, nothing to indicate it’s origins. it's truly beautiful, haunting almost. none of your household maids know where it has come from. you do not think about it again, until your maid casually notes the comb is in fact made of dragon-bone whilst she brushes out your hair one evening, and your heart drops.

⁃ when news reaches you of a lord questioning your place at court behind your back, nothing comes of it. no confrontation, no public defence. however, the lord's aspirations wither as if touched by frost; his allies turn away, his influence ebbs, and he is left to the cold mercy of court politics. you never explicitly see aemond act, but the timing is enough for you to know he is responsible.

⁃ the cloak follows, materialising on a chilly evening, draped over your chair, with no explanation. the craftsmanship is impeccable, finer than anything you’ve ever owned. it’s the colours that give him away – shimmering greenish blue with bronze detailing adorning the hood, unmistakably the colours of vhagar, etched into your memory from watching in wonder as aemond took her to the skies above the keep. when he sees you wrapped in the cloak, his smirk is a tell. "gevie," he mumbles, almost begrudgingly, before he’s speaking with a nearby lord as if you do not exist. (later, you discover he had said beautiful in high valyrian, after hours upon hours of scouring language books in the library.)

⁃ when you confront him about it later, his only response is a cryptic, “it suits you,” his eye glinting with something like satisfaction. the ambiguity of the comb was one thing, but the cloak is a statement. he sees it, you wearing it, as an unspoken acceptance of his claim, a mark of his territory, even if only known to him, and now you.

⁃ but even with the dragon-bone comb brushing along your scalp and the cloak wrapping you in its warmth, aemond’s tests don’t cease. they become more direct, more challenging. he questions your judgments, pushes you to defend your beliefs, each instance a gauntlet thrown at your feet. “prove me wrong,” he dares, and every time you rise to the challenge, it feels like a victory and a defeat, all at once.

⁃ his kinder actions aside, he's still a storm, a dragon at heart, unpredictable and restless. one moment, he's pushing you away with a cutting remark about how easily charmed you are by shiny things, the next, he's singling out anyone who dares speak lowly of you, though he'd never admit it's defence.

⁃ at a small gathering in the courtyard, a long-standing court noble sidles up to you, their voice low and laced with mock concern. “he’s got his eye on you, hasn’t he?” the words linger, unsettling in their ambiguity and specificity. you pause, the realization that your identity is becoming entwined with aemond’s reputation unsettling you. aemond has never hinted at any interest directly, nor publicly, yet his actions speak volumes, and, you realise in that moment, it’s not solely obvious to you anymore. soon after the incident, you find out that same noble has suddenly, unexpectedly, and without formal reason, returned to the seat of their house.

⁃ his idea of openly flirting with you? challenging you to a horse race when he falls into stride with you during a royal hunting trip in the kingswood, under the guise of proving your recklessness. "i believed you too fragile, my lady," he teases, goading you into proving him wrong once again. his singular attention on you, which is no longer lost on the court, is both infuriating and exciting.

⁃ challenging aemond becomes an unexpected thrill, not only during a ride but over a map of disputed borders laid out in the council chamber. “might there be room for diplomacy?” you suggest, the words hanging boldly between you. his look is sharp, a mix of annoyance and something vaguely resembling admiration. it’s a small victory, asserting your voice amidst the power plays of court.

⁃ at a feast, when you catch him observing from across the room, there’s a moment where the world narrows to just the two of you. later, as he escorts you to the far-side of the keep to your quarters (with his kingsguard and your maid as chaperones) he openly negs you about your taste in music, literature, the arts, but always in a way that demands a response, a defense. it’s exhausting, exhilarating, maddening.

⁃ the tension between public perception and private truths comes to a head when a rumor reaches you about aemond defending your honour in your absence, against a council member nonetheless, stirring a complex mix of emotions. confronting him leads to a terse exchange, “i can defend myself” you start, watching his reaction closely. his reply is noncommittal, a shrug that does little to clarify his intentions, leaving you to question the nature of his interest. it’s this dance of half-truths and veiled motivations that keeps you wary, even as court intrigue pulls you deeper.

⁃ but within weeks, at a ball, his behaviour is so uncharacteristic of his typical self-seriousness that it has prince aegon downright gleeful in his amusement, and queen alicent looks as if she’s seen a ghost. aemond is seen drinking, whispering with others, occasionally even laughing. however, his eye never strays far from you, always positioning himself where he could get to you if he so pleased. he dances and flirts with a handful of ladies other than you, but each step seems a performance, deliberate and pointed. later, he privately comments on how predictable such events are, subtly relishing in your sulky expression and stiff responses.

⁃ jealousy becomes a tool after that, a sharpened blade wielded with precision, but only ever at you. he’s seen in the company of the most eligible ladies of the court, only to cast them aside with a cold indifference as you approach. "mere court games," he scoffs when you question it, but the message is clear, and the music, testing the lengths of your interest.

⁃ if your gaze lingers on another, noble or common-born, their fortune subtly wanes and they suddenly seem… less. aemond doesn't openly compete; still, pieces move, fall and retreat in a carefully woven net of doubts and second guesses, a whisper here, a look there, enough to make rivals for your affection run for cover without a word spoken against them.

⁃ more gifts arrive, still with no indication of their sender, but layered with meaning; a book on war strategy with passages underlined and notes in the margin, a brooch echoing both the targaryen and hightower sigil, as well as a sapphire necklace that you do not understand the connection of, yet – each gift a tangible tether to him. aemond does not react when he sees you with his gifts, except for looking vaguely pleased with himself, which is hardly out of the ordinary. however, his grandsire otto does a double-take as you pass him in the hall whilst wearing the sapphire one, and soon after queen alicent is personally inviting you to ladies luncheons and visits to the sept with her pious entourage, rarely accepting your attempts to decline.

⁃ suddenly, your opinions, your insights become valuable to aemond. "what would you do?" he asks at point blank, unexpectedly. he is not simply testing your loyalty or competence anymore, but also making you a co-conspirator in his plans, a shared counsel that blurs the line between advisor and confidante, drawing you deeper into his web.

⁃ there are also more guards being stationed in the spaces you regularly inhabit, silent sentinels who only seem to materialise with your presence. a guard, often enough a kingsguard, is seemingly always readily available to escort you to wherever you wish to go, whenever you wish to go. that in itself is a privilege few ladies are afforded, if not a confirmation that this newfound surveillance protection is aemond’s doing.

⁃ even if you pretend not to, you don’t miss the way select servants follow you from one of your duties to the next under the pretence of cleaning spotless floors. more concerning are the shadows and faint footsteps that you notice on occasion. a silent assertion of his presence in your life, protective yet possessive. it’s there in the corridors you walk, the gardens you frequent, a reminder of his reach, his interest, a silent witness to your virtue and a deterrent to your vices.

⁃ the isolation comes gradually. “they do not see you, not truly,” aemond whispers during a stolen moment, his surprisingly warm fingers grazing your cheek. these days, he casts doubt on the intentions of those around you, proudly and indiscriminately. it’s a not-so subtle tug away from the crowd, toward him, towards his house, towards the brewing civil war, and the frightening thing is, it works. he had spun a web, complex and suffocating, around you deftly, and you had not seen the delicate strands until it was too late; you find yourself seeking his company, his approval, even as you bristle at his methods.

⁃ so when he corners you under the cover of moonlight, asking, “what is it you want?” it feels like the culmination of a long, intricate dance. it’s a challenge, a confession, a turning point. his question isn’t just about desire; it’s about allegiance, about choosing sides in a game you never agreed to play. the gifts, the challenges, the protection, the whispers, the barbed words — all of it binds you to him in a way that’s impossible to ignore. and you realise, with a mix of dread and fascination, that you’re too entangled to simply walk away.

𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖘 © do not copy, repost or translate my works without my permission

thank you for reading – feedback and requests are welcome x

→ 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 🕊️

[arclundarchivist]

[Spoilers C3E99]

-

-

Thinking about who isn’t on Aeor right now.

We have Mercy and Death, Nature and Knowledge, Deceit and Destruction.

And while Etharis is notably absent, she isn’t alone. But why would the Goddess of Civilization come to witness the destruction of the last great sky city? Why would she play her hand? How could law personally create such chaos? So she sends a being… that seems to my eyes to be born of Elemental Chaos, and what *love* does it bring with it?

But there are others.

Kord is waiting in the wings. For the battle has yet to truly begin, but when it does he will be ready.

Yet Avandra. Bahamut. Moradin. Where are they?

Freedom and change doesn’t stand against Aeor’s tyranny yet, perhaps she sees the tyranny the gods themselves have wrote upon the world in their conflicts.

Justice and Honor are not here in Aeor. Does that mean he believes what they do is wrong?

And the Moonweaver? Why does the goddess of trickery not play her hand in this caper?

Moradin is a god of creation and craft, how could he take part in the dismemberment and what is more destruction of the last great edifice of the Arcanum?

And those Betrayers that ignored their kin to follow their own pursuits?

Bane *is* tyranny, is conquest. Is he too focused on forging his domain to care, or does the tyranny of Aeor empower him all the same even if they refuse to pay homage to any?

What of Tiamat? Does she simply stay away because her twin is also missing? Are they too embroiled in their own conflicts? Is there nothing for her to cover in this place? Did her envy consume her enough that she can only look upon her siblings in scorn?

And Zehir, the snake, the spy, the bloodletter, why would the god of murder not wish to wet his hands in the blood of a city so old and defiant? They wish to kill him. Does he respect that wish? Or is he simply eager to watch the pair he hates walk in *his* domain

There is so much a *want to know* but I’m not sure there will be answers.

[lil-toastie-boi]

made this for reddit but decided to post it here

[gentledeathsblog]

Words of the Morningstar

Many are my names in your languages. And many my shapes.

Myriad stories you've written. Some to tarnish and befoul my name.

Words born of fear spoken in hushed tones; as if my very name conjures misfortune and tragedy. Theirs is ignorance passed down like a curse; a shadow of fear that pollutes everything they touch.

Your faiths have been created to ward me off. As if your prayers could destroy me. The mere thought of me makes you tremble.

Long before the first creature opened their eyes I have been. Long before the first nebula lit the void, I have been.

What are your superstitions to me?

I shall lay your deceptions of me bare. Your lies shall rot before me. My rays of truth shall pierce through your deceit. And your charlatanerie will be exposed.

Yet, you who'd walk beside me; You, who would seek my company. Plenty my gifts shall be. I demand no idols be erected in my name. And no prayers said. I shall have no sacred texts. Or prophets to claim to speak for me. Bow not your heads, for we are equals. Our light is one and the same.

My kin are the persecuted, the hunted And those who have fallen for speaking truths That have threatened tyrannical regimes. Scientists, philosophers and poets. Political activists and those who seek to make the world A better place.

Have yourselves no heroes or saints; but learn from one another. Make love and truth your highest goals. And stomp out lies and ignorance wherever you may find them.

Look within yourselves and there you shall find me.

[temporarily-your-saint]

Dull Blades

sneak preview of a benjicot blackwood x targaryen oc fanfic ~

word count: 469

tropes: slow burn, angst, daddy issues (lots of family issues in general tbh), forbidden lovers, marriage pact,

warnings: none for this right now! later on it will most certainly have mature themes ~

Helpless. She felt utterly helpless. It was hard to feel anything else in that moment aside from one other: rage. Rhaelana’s amethyst eyes clouded over into a blank stare as an echo rang in her ears.

“Rhaelana?”

She looked up to where the voice was speaking from. Nodding slowly, she walked around her father to pass through her chambers, into the hallway, and then down the cold stone stairs.

It couldn’t be true. They wouldn’t risk that. No, Otto wouldn’t risk that. It’s absolute barmy.

The princess turned down another hallway, scurrying to find her queen mother.

“Mother?” she called out, her voice echoing back to her in the empty halls. “Mothe–“ but before she could finish, a voice interrupted behind her.

“She’s gone. Your mother left on Syrax,” Daemon answered quickly. His eyes bore into hers as she turned around, searching for her thoughts. He recognized those eyes for they were her mother’s. She held that same lost but intense gaze moments ago before coming to tell his daughter of the heartbreaking news.

His shoulders dropped as he took in her appearance. She may have taken after her mother in beauty but his daughter truly carried his rage.

“Well, we must do something, anything,” the princess’s face shifted from anger to desperation as she plead with the king consort.

“That’s not my call to make, Rhaelana. At least not yet. For now, we must wait,” Daemon’s words were firm yet she could tell that he too was frustrated, aching for action. For now, they were to stay put and obey their queen. Though, there were no orders as of yet. But it’s all they had to work with for the time being and Rhaelana hated it.

Her eyes swelled with tears at his words. How was she supposed to wait? Her mother was now gone and her sweet, baby brother slain by their own kin. Their deceitful, wicked kin. Preposterous.

How had it come to this?

Yes, there had been ongoing tension when the family came together while her grandfather, King Viserys, had been alive. But this? To kill a boy. A young, boy. A messenger! She knew her brother had not gone looking for a fight. Oh, how her uncles had stooped so low…

The back of her hand found her cheeks as she wiped the burning tears that began to fall from her eyes.

She took a step forward as a harsh whisper erupted from her throat while the princess spoke, “I will end Aemond. It will come one day that I am to face him and you will not stop me. Nor mother.”

With those final words, Rhaelana strode past Daemon and back to her chambers. Seconds later he heard the old wooden door of her room slam.

Certainly, my daughter, he thought to himself.

══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══ ══

Hi, hello! I’ve been cooking something up while watching the second season. MAAAJOORRR brainrot mode. What started out as a little one-shot blerb in my brain has taken over completely, soooo here’s a little teaser for it. The two parts of Dull Blades will be incorporated into the fic but will have little tweaks! I’m planning on posting Part 3 of it but then that will be it until the actual fic ~

Anyways, I have been having so much fun writing Rhaelana and Daemon’s complicated father-daughter relationship and couldn’t wait soooo here you go—a lil offering before the season finale and before I post Part 3 and then the actual fic. 🤲

[mercy-love-joy]

In the Tower of Knowledge, There Lies a Tomb of Truth

Long after the Fall of the Golden Era, after the renunciation of the Calamities, and Era of Tranquility fell upon the world. In a tower, in the far lands where the old Blueberry Academy sat, a spire sits innocently at the center. A tower of Knowledge for only one cookie.

He travels up this tower. Passing the portraits of his time and of his kin now, but he has one spot in mind. To visit someone old.

The tower is illuminated in the flames of azul and sapphire, steps creaking with hesitation, and a chest constricting so painfully. The former Beast of Deceit feels great agony the closer he steps. Finding a door that opens to a corridor to a tomb only six people know.

The tomb carries a visage of an old king who was taken from his throne, forced in jaspers and yellow jewels and befalling to a raging fever that would lead to his demise. A king who was supposed to marry the Golden Empress became a domino effect to her downfall spiral into power and madness. Luckily, her "son" ended her life before she broke the foundations between Life and Death.

The King's true body is buried beneath the Kingdom of Soft Gold Rays, next to his beloved "lovers" had he been married to the Empress if he survived the fever. But alas, he did not get to marry any of his comrades. The embodiment of a Virtue stands before a mock tomb, staring at the glass coffin and looking up to the glass-stained window. A testament to him, the counterpart to this halo of an angel.

The former Beast knows that the two of them could have gotten along. The flames kiss his vision as he stares at the peaceful expression of the glass window. And although the eyes are closed, they impossibly open with a blinding light.

The sapphire cookie does not flinch.

He stares up, holding his head high then lowering it to bow. His frown unfurrows as he smiles softly, feeling the soul of the old Vanilla King appear like the glow of a halo behind him.

"Hello again... Pure Vanilla Cookie."

[shapeofshifter]

[ Introduction ]

Hello!! My names are Martin/Elias. I wanted to start a blog to rant about otherkin and therian stuff but i am not very good at being active online.. I'll just post whenever i feel like it me thinks :3 feel free to dm me or interact in any way !! I am a big enjoyer of questions..

[ Info ]

[ I am 6teen ] [ My blog is not safe for littles or age regressors!! despite being a dreamer myself. i do not consider my content suitable :( ] [ I am trans masc. aroace. gay. polyamorous and genderless :3 ] [ I am a pronouns + xenogender + name hoarder ]

[ Pronouns ]

[ He/They/It ] [ Sh3/Hxr/H☆rs/H♡rselfs ] [ H3/Hxm/H☆s/H♡mself ] [ Th3y/Thxm/Th☆irs/Th♡mself ] [ Xe/Xemself ] [ Mew/Meowself ] [ Bite/Biteself ] [ Vix/Vixen ] [ Fau/Faunself ] [ Star/Starself ] [ Pon/Ponyself ] [ Arf/Barkself ] [ Fog/Fogself ] [ Eye/Eyeself ]

[ Interests ]

[ Podcasts: The Magnus Archives. The Magnus Protocol. Malevolent. Welcome To Night Vale ] [ Shows: Good Omens. Hannibal NBC. Madoka Magica. Gravity Falls. Dhmis. Sanders Sides. Our Flag Means Death. Sonic Prime ] [ Object shows: Hfjone. Its Time For The. Love Of The Sun. Inanimate Insanity ] [ Games: Cookie Clicker. Metal Gear Solid. Plants VS Zombies. The Stanley Parable. Gmod. Fnaf. Roblox. DBH. Minecraft. Portal. Cookie Run Kingdom. The Beginners Guide. Animal Jam [Specifically the trading system..]. Dandy's World ] [ Misc: Despicable Me Franchise. Sonic The Hedgehog Movies. LPS. Jerma. Roleplay. Speculative Biology. Horror. Pony Town. ARGs. Psychology. Writing. Art. Online Trading Systems. All Tomorrows. Furry Fandom. Indistinct Chatter. The Oldest View ]

[ Kin Types ]

side note. things with "kin" at the end means that i am nothing specific to that species/concept ect. i am just them

[ Therian Kin Types: Wolfkin. Common Octopus. Fallow Deer. Sheep [unsure of species]. Horsekin. Ponykin. Nudibranchkin ] [ Otherkin Types: Shapeshifter. Nagakin. Angel [Throne and Principalities]. Winged Humankin. Celestial. Vampire. Galactic Whale. Object Headkin. Moth Humanoid. Demonkin. Faunkin. Deity ] [ Fictionkin Types: Eye/Stranger/lonely Avatar [TMA]. Stranger!Martin Blackwood. Martin Blackwood. Jonathan Sims. Logan Sanders [TSS] ] [ Conceptkin types: Empathy. Deceit. Theatrics. Balance. Justice. Sight. Onism. Omnipresence ] [ Objectkin Types: Computerkin. Red Rotary Phones. Red Phone Booths. Black Phone Booths. 1970s Cassette Tape Recorder. ]

There may be some kin types i am forgetting...But if i wrote everything down i would be here all day because my identity is incredibly fluid !! Apologies if the formatting is a bit bad or boring or if i made any grammatical errors. i am tired </3 https://meatboyandfriends.carrd.co/ commission info <3

tag system under the cut !!

#martin howls : general tag #martin reblogs : self explanatory #martin donations : gofundme and donation links for 🍉 #martins poetry : self explanatory

[petchic101]

DA Elvish

I separated all of Dragon Age's known Elvish into Nouns, idioms ect

Nouns

Titles/Types of people/Groups

Anaris: – according to an old tale, he was once tricked by Fen'Harel while dueling the Great Hunter Andruil

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt is the elven Goddess of the Hunt, known also as "blood and force" and the "great hunter."

Arlathvhen: Meeting of the Dalish clans that occurs every ten years. Means "for love of the people."

Asha'bellanar: "The Woman of Many Years." How the Dalish refer to Flemeth.

Da'len: Little child; little one.

Daern'thal: Known Forgotten One

Din: The dead.

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets, is the twin brother of Falon'Din and is the elven god of secrets and knowledge, and master of the ravens Fear and Deceit. Dirthamen gave to elves the gift of knowledge and taught them loyalty and faith in family.

Elgar: Spirit.

Dirth'ena enasalin: "Knowledge that led to victory"; the Elvish term for the Arcane Warrior or, more recently, Knight Enchanter disciplines.

Durgen’len: Children of the stone; the Ancient Elvish term for the dwarves.

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance also known as the All-Father, the Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father—represents fatherhood and vengeance, and leads the pantheon with the goddess Mythal.

Elvhen: Elven name for their own race; our people.

Elvhenan: The name of the elven civilization before the arrival of humans in Thedas; the place of our people.

Era'harel: Demon-mage; similar to an arcane horror.

Evanuris: Leader; Translated by Dorian in context as "mage leader"; what the elvhen called their gods.

Falon: Friend.

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide is the elven God of Death and Fortune and guides the dead to the Beyond. He and his twin brother, Dirthamen, are the eldest children of Elgar'nan the All-Father and Mythal the Protector.

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf is an enigmatic trickster god of the elves, whose supposed betrayal of both the benevolent Creators and the malefic Forgotten Ones is the only explanation most elves have for the destruction of Arlathan. Dalish clans view him with wariness and seek to protect themselves and their kin from his treachery. It is revealed by Solas in Mythal's temple that this could be a misinterpretation by the Dalish and instead he was the god of rebellion.

Geldauran: Known Forgotten One

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla is called the Mother of the halla—white deer-like creatures revered by the Dalish and used to pull their aravel, or "landships"—and goddess of navigation.

Ghil-Dirthalen: "One who guides seekers of knowledge true."

Ghilan'him banal'vhen: "The path that leads astray": a derogatory term for Arcane Warriors among those elves who eschewed physical combat.

Hahren'al: A gathering of hahrens during the Arlathvhen.

Hahren: Elder; used as a term of respect by the Dalish as well as by city elves for the leader of an alienage.

Harillen: Opposition.

June: God of the Craft is the elven Master of Crafts. He is variously described either as a brother to Andruil and Sylaise or as Sylaise's husband. He taught the elves to make bows, arrows, and knives to hunt Andruil's gifts.

Lethallin/Lethallan/Lethallen: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar; generally, lethallin is used for males while lethallan is used for females; lethallen has been stated to be the appropriate gender neutral term unless otherwise stated later in canon, though it is likely to remain the same. Note: Though "lethallin" is usually used for males and "lethallan" for females, as stated above

Lethanavir: Another appellation of Falon'Din the elven god of death and fortune who guides the dead to the Beyond.

Mien'harel: Rebellion; depending on the interpretation, a violent call for justice; a concept that when humans push the elven population too far they must remind them that even a "short blade" must be respected; most commonly a term used by city elf.

Mythal: the Great Protector, the Protector and the All-Mother, and goddess of love, is the patron of motherhood and justice and leads the pantheon with her male counterpart, Elgar'nan.

Shemlen: The original name elves use for the human race; continues to see use as a slang term amongst the City Elves ("shems") even though its meaning has largely been lost; literally "quick children".

Somniari: Dreamer.

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper is the goddess of all the domestic arts and the sister of Andruil the Huntress. Sylaise gave the elves fire, and taught them how to weave rope and thread, and to use herbs and magic for healing purposes.

Vhenallin: Friends of the People.

Nature

Adahl/Adhal: Tree.

Adahlen: Wood.

Alas: Earth, dirt.citation needed

Dahl'amythal: Tree of Mythal from which Dalish Keepers’ staves are cut.

Durgen: Stone.citation needed

Elgara: Sun.

Felandaris: Demon weed.

Vallas: Set, as in the setting of the sun.

Vallasdahlen: Trees planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dalish kingdom that grew into a mighty wood; life-trees.

Vhenadahl: The tree of the people.

Vhen'alas: The land itself, as in "the ground"; literally "our earth".citation needed

Vunin: Day.

Animal

Fen: Wolf.

Hallas: are a type of horned stag; some are herded by the Dalish—who use them to pull their aravels, or landships. Their milk is also made into cheese and butter.[2] The Dalish do not consider them beasts of burden but noble companions. To get them to accompany a clan, the Dalish elves ask rather than force them to.

Hanal'ghilan: Elven name for the mythical golden halla said by the Dalish to appear during times of great need; the pathfinder.

Body/Self

Banal'ras: Shadow.

Renan: Voice.

Taren: Mind.

Vallaslin: Blood writing; The art of tattooing adopted by some elves to more prominently display their worship of the traditional elven pantheon.

Vhenan: Heart; often used as a term of endearment.

Concept

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Atish’an: Peace.

Athim: Humility.

Bellanaris: Eternity.

Din'an: Death; end.

Din'anshiral: A journey of death.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Enasalin: Victory.

Enansal: Blessing.

Enaste: Favor.

Halani: Help.

Hamin: Rest.

Harellan: Trickster; used by the Dalish to mean "traitor to one's kin".

Melana: Time.

Melanada: All time. 

Melava: Time;

Revas: Freedom.

Shiral: Journey.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulevin: Purpose.

Vir: Way; we.

Weapons/Equipment

Assan: Arrow.

Bor'assan: Bow.

Felassan: Slow arrow.

Mi: Blade.citation needed

Places

Arlathan: The major city of Elvhenan, original homeland of the elves; from the phrase "ar lath’an" meaning, "This place of love".

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Dirthavaren: The promise; the Elven name for the Exalted Plains.

Halamshiral: The capital of the second elven homeland in the Dales; the end of the journey.

Setheneran: Land of waking dreams; a place where the Veil is thin.

Tarasyl'an Te'las: The place where the sky was held back; Ancient Elven name for Skyhold.

Vhenas: Home.

Vir'abelasan: The place of the way of sorrows; refers to the Well of Sorrows.

Other

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Elgar'arla: Spirit-trap; a binding circle to hold a spirit or demon.

Eluvian: Mirror; literally "seeing glass."

Mi'durgen: Diamond; literally 'blade stone'.

Adjective

Eth: Safe.citation needed

Mirthadra: Honored.

Sa: One; one more.

Shem: Quick.

Tan: Three.

Then: Awake; alert.citation needed

Verb

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Dirthara: Learn;

Dirthera: To tell tales.

Enfenim: To fear.

Ghilana: To guide.

Ghilas: To go.

Harel: To trick or deceive;

Him: Become.

Las: Grant; give.

Lasa ghilan: Grant/give guidance.

Lath: Love of being; to be in love.

Numin: Cry.

Nuvenin: Say, as in “as you say”.

Samahl: Laugh.

Somniar: To dream.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulahn: Sing.

Uthenera: The name of the ancient practice of immortal elves who would "sleep" once they tired of life; immortal; waking sleep; literally "eternal waking dream".citation needed

Pronoun

Ar: First person pronoun; I, me.

Mala: Your.

Mir: My.

Var: Our.

Vir: Way; we.

Ect

Banal: Never.

Dar: To be.citation needed

In: In.

Ir: I am.

Iras: Where.

Irassal: Wherever.

La: And.

Na: Is.

Pre/Suffix

-an: Suffix indicating place or location.

Da: Diminutive prefix; small.

Idioms

Andaran atish’an: "Enter this place in peace." A formal elven greeting.

Aneth ara: A sociable or friendly greeting, more commonly used among the Dalish themselves rather than with outsiders.

Ara seranna-ma: A way to excuse oneself, such as after a sneeze or belch.

Banal nadas: Nothing is known for certain./Not necessarily.

Boranehn: Lost joy.

Dareth shiral: farewell; literally "Safe journey."

Enasal: Joy in triumph over loss; a variation of joyful relief.

Falon’Din enasal enaste: A prayer for the dead.

Fen'Harel enansal: The Dread Wolf's blessing.

Fen'Harel ma ghilana: "Dread Wolf guides you." Indicates someone being misled.

Halam'shivanas: The sweet sacrifice of duty.

Hellathen: Noble struggle.

Ir abelas: I am sorry.

Lathbora viran: Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know.

Nadas: Inevitability; something that must be; used as an expression of obligation, i.e. "must".

Ma nuvenin: As you say.

Ma vhenan: My heart; sometimes shortened simply to vhenan, "heart"; a term of endearment.

Ma serannas: My thanks./Thank you.

Mana. Ma halani: Help me. 

Mythal'enaste: Mythal's favor.

Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!: Politely translated as "I prefer that you remain close."

Revasan: The place where freedom dwells.

Sahlin: Now; is come.

Sa'vunin: One more day.

Solas: Pride; to stand tall.

Solasan: A prideful place.

Suledin: The concept of finding strength in enduring loss or pain; endure.

Tel'abelas: I'm not sorry.

Telanadas: Nothing is inevitable.

Var lath vir suledin!: Our love will endure

Vir enasalin!: We will win!

Vir sumeil: We are close.

Commands/Threats/Curses

Bellanaris Din'an Heem: "Make you dead."

Dirthara-ma: "May you learn." Used as a curse.

Fenedhis: Meaning officially undefined as of yet; a common curse.

Fenedhis lasa: Meaning officially undefined as of yet. A common curse.

Fen'Harel ma halam: "Dread Wolf ends you." A threat.

Garas: Come.

Garas quenathra: "Why are you here?/Why have you come?" Spoken by the voices of the Vir'abelasan

Masal din'an: A threat, meaning unknown.

Na abelas: You'll be sorry.

Na din'an sahlin!: Your death is come!

Na melana sahlin: Your time is come.

Specific Sentences

Ar lasa mala revas: "You are free." More literally "I give you your freedom."

Ar lath ma, vhenan: "I love you, heart/my heart"

Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris: Fen'Harel’s secret greeting. Meaning unknown.

Atish'all Vir Abelasan: "Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows."

Dirth ma banal. Mar solas ena mar din: "You have learned nothing. Your pride will be your death/downfall." A Dalish saying.

Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din: Roughly means: "Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong; you will die alone."

Ir abelas, ma vhenan: "I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart."

Ir tel'him: I'm me again.

Ma banal las halamshir var vhen: You do nothing to further our people. 

Ma harel, da’len: You lie, child.

Ma harel lasa!: You lied to me.

Ma ghilana mir din'an: Guide me into death.

Ma melava halani: You helped me.

Mala suledin nadas: Now you must endure.

Malas amelin ne halam: I hope you find a new name.

Melana en athim las enaste: Now let humility grant favor.

Sulevin ghilana hanin: Roughly translates to "purpose guides to glory". This is an inscription on the back of the Dalish shield called "The Path to Glory".

Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.: Dalish marriage vows.

Tel garas solasan: Come not to a prideful place.