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baelarys · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, first of all I would like to say that you are such an amazing writer. I love all your stories but I especially love Aemond’s little family you have built. Since you mentioned in pt.4 that you won’t stop until you die or we get tired (which we won’t 🤣) I was wondering if maybe pt.5 can be Aemond and reader having a day to themselves without the children and maybe reader reassuring Aemond she’s his and he doesn’t have to worry about anything. 🫶🏼 Thank you for your hard work!

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Aemond targaryen x reader

Word count: 2435

Warninig: smutt,bad words.

You shifted in the bed, reaching for Aemond's usual spot, seeking the warmth of his body next to yours. However, upon finding the empty space, you realized he was gone. You slid closer to his side, noticing that it still held some warmth, indicating he had not been gone for long.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, filling the room with a soft, warm light. As the brightness filled the space, you wrapped yourself more tightly in the sheets, covering your naked body to shield yourself from the light and the cold that seemed to come with the morning.

You had woken up with the hope of resuming what you had started the night before. It felt strange how much you had come to enjoy those moments of closeness with him—something unthinkable when your marriage had been arranged. But now, more often than not, you found yourself longing for those encounters. However, it seemed Aemond had other plans for that morning.

Determined not to let those thoughts distract you from your duties, you got up to begin the day. However, you couldn't ignore the latent heat in your body, built up since the moment you woke. You dressed carefully and headed to have breakfast with the children, whose energy and laughter managed to momentarily distract you from the desires that flooded your mind. After the meal, you withdrew to perform your daily prayers to the gods.

Later, you joined some ladies of the court, fulfilling the expectations of your role as a wife and mother, participating in conversations that ranged from the latest news of the realm to trivial rumors.

Finally, you decided to head to the training yard, knowing you would find him there. It was customary for him to spend the early hours of the morning practicing with the sword, and the thought of seeing him skillfully maneuver the weapon filled you with an almost inexplicable anticipation. There was something in the way he moved, in the strength of his hands as he wielded the heavy sword, that always stirred an intense, almost primal emotion within you.

Aemond muttered softly every time he missed a strike, and you found yourself smiling without realizing it. That frustration he displayed, far from being a weakness, fascinated you. Each time he failed, he returned with more determination, his muscles tensing as he prepared for the next move. There was a ferocity in him, an intensity that radiated from every pore of his skin, and that was what attracted you the most.

The strands of his silver hair stuck to his forehead. You bit your lip almost unconsciously as your thoughts wandered. It was impossible to deny the magnetism he held over you, especially in moments like this, when you saw him so focused, so completely in control of himself.

You decided not to interrupt him. You preferred to enjoy the view, the display of skill and power that always seemed to captivate you completely. There was something in the way Aemond handled his sword, how his body responded to the challenge of each strike, that evoked in you a mix of admiration and desire. You knew he did it with the same precision and determination with which he had handled you the night before.

Without waiting any longer, Aemond began to ascend the steps that separated you, moving with the same grace and determination with which he had wielded the sword moments before. When he was close enough, you didn't give him time to say anything. Following an impulse that had consumed you since you saw him training, you took his face in your hands and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his in a soft but needy kiss. You knew this wasn’t typical for either of you in public, but you couldn’t hold back.

The salty taste of his skin from the sweat mixed with the warmth of his breath. You felt his large hands settle on your waist with a firmness that sent a shiver through you. But in an instant, Aemond began to pull away, creating distance with a softness that surprised you. Though his grip was firm, it was not harsh; it was a silent warning. You knew well that he disliked showing affection in public. His reserved nature and sense of discipline compelled him to maintain appearances, especially in such visible places.

Aemond watched you intently, his brow slightly furrowed as he awaited a response that didn’t come. He seemed to realize that something distracted you, something beyond the simple formalities he tried to uphold in public. "Are you well?" he asked, his voice in that low, controlled tone he rarely abandoned, even when worried.

You didn’t respond with words, unable to tear your gaze away from him. Your mind was completely absorbed, tracing every line of his face, the firmness of his jaw, the steel-blue of his eye that had always captivated you. You simply nodded slowly, your fingers already intertwined with his almost without realizing it.

Without wasting any more time, you took his hand and guided him with a silent determination. You moved quickly through the halls of the Red Keep, leaving behind the bustle of the training yard and the curious glances of the few who might have noticed your brief exchange. The echo of your footsteps resonated against the stone walls as you advanced, your thoughts focused solely on reaching that intimate space you shared, away from prying eyes.

Aemond offered no resistance when you pushed him against the wall, surprisingly docile, allowing you to take control in that moment. His eyes, which always reflected an air of authority, were now filled with something different: a mix of intrigue and desire. The sound of the door closing behind you barely broke the silence before you pressed your lips against his again, this time with an urgency you had never felt before.

The kiss was deep, filled with need. You gently bit his lower lip, silently asking him for more, and he quickly responded. Aemond opened his mouth for you, and your tongues met, exploring each other with intensity. There was a voracity in the kiss that you both shared, a contained passion that, in that moment, seemed to overflow without either of you wanting to stop it.

Aemond’s hands found their way back to your waist, but this time, they did not remain a simple touch. His fingers began to move, tracing the contours of your body slowly and deliberately, rising and falling over your hips and back, caressing your skin with a mix of tenderness and strength. You felt his hands enveloping you, each touch igniting the fire that burned within you even more.

Aemond’s lips parted from yours but did not move far. Instead, they began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your chin to the hollow of your neck, leaving behind soft bites and wet kisses that made your skin burn under his touch. You could feel how each small mark he left on your body intensified the desire between you.

Your hands, already restless, began to quickly unbutton his vest, letting it fall to the floor. The only thing left between them now was the thin fabric of his white shirt, light and stuck to his skin from the sweat of training. Aemond didn't give you time to do more. With a firm and determined movement, he lifted you off the ground with ease, as if you weighed nothing. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and in that instant, you felt the almost unbearable rubbing of his sexes through the layers of clothing, causing a soft moan to escape your lips.

He gently dropped you onto the bed, held by his strong hands that slid over your body with a mix of control and adoration. Aemond pulled back just enough to allow you space, his eyes taking in every detail of you as his hands made their way to the knots holding the front of your dress together. With a patience that seemed to belie the intensity of the moment, he began to untie the ties, one by one, letting the fabric slowly fall around you, revealing more skin as he went.

You quickly freed yourself of the dress, letting it fall to the side of the bed without caring about the mess it caused. Aemond watched you with a devouring intensity in his eyes, admiring every curve, every detail of your naked body. You felt his breathing quicken, and before you could say anything, he had already leaned over you, running his hands and lips over your skin as if he were marking a territory that he knew perfectly well but that still fascinated him.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, his hot breath hitting the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine like an electric shock. His voice, low and heavy with desire, was the only answer you needed. Aemond's hands, firm but full of adoration, slid from your abdomen to your thighs, slowly separating them, giving you the feeling of vulnerability and absolute surrender.

His fingers found the heat between your legs, moving with expert precision. Two of them slid smoothly between your lips, soaking in your wetness with ease. Every touch further ignited the flame already burning in you, every touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your lips parted in a whisper, and his name escaped in a barely audible murmur: "Aemond..."

Your eyes closed, concentrating only on the sensations he gave you, as his fingers began to explore inside you, sinking deeper and deeper with each movement. The pace was slow, deliberate, almost torturous in its precision, and soon a soft gasp slipped from your lips, unable to contain your body's response to his touch.

"Mhmm...what's wrong, ābrazȳrys?" his voice caressed your ear with a tone of false innocence, as if he didn't know exactly the effect he was having on you. But his fingers, which continued to pump inside you with an increasing cadence, gave away the truth. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was loving every second of having you like this, vulnerable under his control.

The pace of his fingers was slow but deliberate, building the pleasure inside you steadily. Each movement seemed meticulously calculated to bring you over the edge, and the soft moans that escaped your lips were proof of his success. Aemond, ever aware of every small reaction, would bend his head to place kisses on your shoulder, his long, silky hair brushing against your skin, sending additional shivers throughout your body.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Aemond added a third finger, stretching you in a way that had you arching your back off the bed, seeking more than he was giving you. The feeling of fullness was almost overwhelming, but the pleasure that came with it made any discomfort quickly fade away. Your breathing quickened and his name escaped your lips again, this time as a desperate moan.

“Come on, ābrazȳrys,” he murmured with unexpected sweetness as his fingers continued to work inside you. “I know you can take it.” His tone, though soft, carried a charge of authority that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Aemond knew he had control over you, but he also knew how to guide you, how to raise the desire until you were completely surrendered to him.

Every movement of his fingers was precise, stretching and exploring every corner of your insides as the heat between your legs continued to build. The sensation was so intense that your mind began to cloud, consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t think of anything else, only the fire growing inside you and the waves of ecstasy that were about to break.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Your hips moved in unison with the rhythm Aemond imposed, each movement of yours a reflection of the need that consumed you. You felt the pleasure rising through your body, bringing you closer to a breaking point, and just as you were about to come, Aemond pulled back, stopping at the last instant. A soft gasp, almost in protest, escaped your lips, but all it did was elicit a smile from him.

Your hips began to move involuntarily, following the rhythm he imposed, seeking more, begging for release. The desire continued to increase, and with each passing second, you felt closer to the peak.

Just when you were about to cum, Aemond pulled out his fingers now soaked in your milky fluids, a small gasp escaped your lips in reproach but that only made Aemond smile softly.

"What a horny little bitch" that inappropriate nickname bothered you but you were too overwhelmed to think of anything other than him penetrating you with his cock.

You could hear him unbutton his pants and take his big, throbbing cock in his hands, wetting the tip with the moisture escaping from your entrance. The small touch was enough to make a small moan escape from both of your mouths before Aemond entered you completely.

His thrusts were fast and deep, touching that precise spot that always brought you to the edge of everything. In a moment, he turned you upside down, your chest slapping against the sheets and your ass in the air.

It wasn't long before you felt the knot in your belly loosen and a long moan escape your lips. Aemond followed shortly after, spilling his warm seed inside you.

You settled down on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Aemond let himself fall on top of you, burying his face in your neck as you caressed his back and hair. You could feel him melting at your touch.

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rockwgooglyeyes · 1 month ago

Text

POST ROUND 21 LOG (POV Dian)

Please, just this once, keep singing for a bit longer Even without a melody, even with this loneliness - Please, just a little, keep talking for a little longer Even without words, even if it's just memories

After last time, Dian makes sure to take time to sit down and watch Himei's round. He doesn't really know why Teneb still lets him watch these, when they've obviously effected him so, but he is not one to question her judgement, especially when it works in his favor. He finds himself smiling as he watches Himei, her long hair flowing out behind her as she spits out caustic chords. He's so proud of her, she looks stunning and she gives a different impression than she had in her previous performances, a cold air of superiority and calm. He huffs a laugh to himself at the way she sneers and rolls her eyes as she dances across the stage, but he can see the tears in the corners of her eyes as she belts out the chorus, his stomach twisting. Dian can no longer say that he doesn't understand the naked desperation in her eyes. He, too, has been broken by circumstance, by the clash of tectonic plates against each other, the cause of their pain inevitable but no less painful for it. In every flash of teeth up on stage lies latent threat, when muscles twitch there's no telling whether it tells violence or collapse, every breath has a little bit of a tremble in it, exposing the cracks in the foundation.

Perhaps that's why Dian isn't surprised when Noora throws Himei to the ground and beats her black and blue. He could see the tension in Noora's every tendon, she bit out every word as if it hurt her, acid on her tongue. She fought fiercely but even the audience could see the way her jaw trembled, her ankles buckling underneath her own weight, her eyes flashing whenever the scores pitched in Himei's favor. It's more or less expected that when Himei is declared the winner, Noora goes for the throat, pummeling Himei into the stage floor. He does have to cover his mouth with a hand to keep himself from vomiting when the bullet cuts through Noora's neck, gore exploding all over Himei's bruised face.

It's selfish but he wishes he could talk to Himei. He knows he will have to wait, that the embargo will be over soon and he can finally visit her (and the ghosts of those who didn't make it this far.) All he wants is to pay his respects, kneel at the altar of the Great Anakt and sob out apologies, whisper out prayers of happiness in an afterlife that Nyx always said never existed. Is that so much to ask?

I will, just a little, keep loving you for once Even without you saying anything

Sucking in a shaky breath, Dian turns off the livefeed, the screen going dark.

There are eight of the competitors left alive. Himei is only one of them. She is undoubtedly set to die, soon enough, like the rest. Solei is a fugitive, Aurien, too, something that makes Dian's head hurt when he thinks too much about it. Rose died, the head of a flower chopped off with no remorse. The ghost of Flor still haunts him, glimpsing her in crowds and catching her in the mirror only to blink and she's gone, again. He didn't think it would hit him this hard, to see his classmates' corpses strewn about on the floor. No wonder Teneb came to test him, it only makes sense to think he might lose his nerve.

"Funny how this dressing room has a window," a familiar voice remarks. Dian shakes his head, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the voice. It is just his subconscious taunting him. Nyx isn't really here. Nyx is dead and gone. "Too easy to break into, really."

"Not today, please," Dian says underneath his breath, finally opening his eyes and meeting the gaze of this impostor. The impostor raises an eyebrow in question and Dian nearly smiles at the action that's textbook Nyx. "Look, I can't do this today. You're not real, and I don't have the time." The Nyx lookalike frowns, pursing its lips.

"Mmkay," it acquiesces. "Test me, then. Let me prove to you that I'm real." Dian sighs and beckons the Nyx lookalike forward. If this Nyx is a figment of his imagination, then this will go well. If this is the real Nyx, well, who the fuck knows what will happen. The Nyx lookalike blinks and comes closer.

"C'mere," Dian tucks his finger into Nyx's belt loop, reeling Nyx in. Nyx's face pinks slightly at the intimate proximity and he goes completely still when Dian kisses him. He pushes Dian back, gently, just the palm of his hand against Dian's shoulder.

"I, Di," he stumbles over his words, pale face turned a deep pink. Huh. Real Nyx, then. Only the real Nyx would react like this. "Why was that the test? What if someone had been pretending to be me?!" He demands, voice pitching upwards.

"It wouldn't have been," Dian explains absently, smoothing out Nyx's hair. He feels detached, separated from his body, which is the only reason he's not breaking down right now. Or he could be breaking down, right now. Maybe this is what a breakdown is. "You have a certain way of talking that you only use with Cas and me." Aurien, too, his mind adds, but she's gone.

"Then," Nyx hesitates, looking down at the floor before glancing back up to meet Dian's eyes. "Then, why did you kiss me?" Ah, yes, the most difficult question of all to answer. Dian might as well be honest.

"I kissed you because if you kissed me back, then you wouldn't have been real," he answers, sighing and stepping past Nyx to look out the window. "It's a more efficient test than asking you a question. If you were a figment of my subconscious, you would know everything I do."

"I don't understand." Dian turns around, trying his best to keep his face blank while he replies,

"I'm in love with you." Nyx takes a sharp inhale, his platinum eyes widening as he stares at Dian in shock. Dian swallows down the bile rising in his throat though it does little to actually help and he soldiers on. "I'm in love with you and I have dreams about you, sometimes, and I've been having more of them since you've been gone. Do you understand, now?" Nyx opens his mouth, reaching out with a hand before he stutters in his movement, mouth closing with a click of his teeth. He turns his eyes to the floor and chews on his lip, silent and all too reserved.

That's the breaking point, the straw breaking the camel's back, the final nail shooting out of a dam's exterior and letting the water course through- Dian can't help the tears that stream down his face, ducking past Nyx and darting closer to the doorway. His heart has been ripped out of his chest, he gave it to the person who always had it but never knew and they won't even take it. His head throbs and he wants to hide, curl in on himself in some dark nook or cranny and be forgotten, no one is really around to miss him now, anyways. Not when he just burned his last bridge. Not when Himei and Tov are both set for the noose. He feels a hand tentatively touch his shoulder and he hunches in on himself more, shying away and hugging himself as he tries to stop crying.

"You should leave," Dian rasps, his voice hiccuping on sobs. "They're coming to do my makeup in an hour."

"Do you really want me to leave?" Dian freezes before turning around and he knows his bewilderment has to be plain to see on his face. Nyx is watching him with a forlorn expression, lips twisted into something that looks like a smile but isn't, it drips with regret. "I can leave." Nyx takes a step towards Dian and touches their foreheads, sharing the slightest amount of weight and letting his eyes slip shut.

"Of course, I don't want you to leave," Dian laughs wetly. "But you should." Nyx shrugs.

"I should do a lot of things," he points out, opening his eyes and giving Dian a little half smile. He brushes Dian's bangs out of his face and presses the briefest of kisses to Dian's mouth. Dian stares at Nyx, wide-eyed. "I want to try this, with you," Nyx says.

"You," Dian stammers. "You what?" Nyx huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes.

"I want to try this," Nyx repeats, taking Dian's hand and tangling their fingers together, holding up between them. "Y'know, us."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," Nyx replies, raising an eyebrow as he smirks ever so slightly. "But you gotta fuckin' talk to me next time, alright? Promise?" Dian stares at their hands, interlocked clumsily but still connected, irrevocably. He pulls their hands closer and kisses Nyx's knuckles.

"Promise."

GOD its finally over I'm so sorry this took so long funnily enough apparently Dian is kind of hard to write I don't write him for a really long time and then suddenly I have to figure out his confession scene to Nyx. . . anyways now to work on the next thing (scampers away) taggin time

@lookatmysillies for Cas & Himei! @kamersona for Noora! @apriciticreveries for Aurien (im getting to your ask im sorry its taking me a bit sweetheart). @solei-eclipse for Solei. @sotogalmo for Flor!! (siblings siblings siblings, i chant in the background). um and right! @ivanttakethis for Tov mentions and because you asked me to tag you in this hehe. lmk if i missed anyone!!

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capitalisticveins · 6 months ago

Note

Latent Honey

Thoughts?

-📖

And prayers/j

I’m honestly such a diehard Empowered Honey believer idec if it doesnt end up being canon, my only evidence being that Erik never said Honey was unempowered on the timeline while he said Guy and Baabe were🙏

BEAR shifter Honey is my fav version of Shifter Honey specifically, in my head Honey is taller and more muscular than Guy so they resemble a bear too🤤

Although if you wanna talk normal Empowered Honey I sometimes think of them as either a Fire Contra Elemental or Fire Elemental js bc theyre a lot like Damien and bc of their canonically cold demeanor

GAHHHH i js love TALKING abt them omfg😭😭😭

I just realized u said LATENT shifter Honey im stupid

LATENT HONEY WOULD BE COOL ASL TOO THO, Like that scene in Turninf Red where Mei becomes a giant red panda and they accidentally break a lot of shit and now they dont know how to turn bsck AHHHH this could be a whole Movie

Imagine the Angst this could birth, Honey starts distancing themself from Guy bc they know they cant tell him — but not bc of them risking covert but bc theyre terrified he’ll break up with them and think theyre a monster — and Guy keeps trying to find out whats wrong and it just AAAAGGGHHHHH

and if this version of Honey doesn’t know about magic, they wont know magic exists outside of them, and they’ll have no support system or anyone to relate to or help them😭

AND LATENTS ONLY UNLEASH THEIR MAGIC THROUGH EXTREME EMOTION SO IMAGINE WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM TO UNLOCK THEIR CORE AHAHAAAAAA

Overall, Latent Shifter Honey 9/10 👍

#Idk why but this would end in Honey being detained by Animal Control #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted honey #redacted guy

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thegeminisage · 17 days ago

Text

star trek update time. normally this is the section where i list what episodes we did on what day and it's actually been so long i almost couldn't remember. last tuesday we did voy's "nothing human" and "thirty days," thursday we did voy's "counterpoint" and ds9's "prodigal daughter," friday we did voy's "latent image" and "bridge of chaotica," sunday we did ds9's "the emperor's new cloak" and voy's "gravity," monday we did ds9's "field of fire" and voy's "bliss," and last night we did ds9's "chimera" and "badda-bing, badda-bang." whew! yes, it defeats the purpose if i do them after the fact. SORRRRRY i got out of the habit during the helene power outage. some of these, as a result, will be shorter than normal.

nothing human (voy):

THIS ONE FUCKED. it was like getting to watch ds9 in my voyager

my main problem here was that if the episode is About the doctor, then why is janeway making the call on whether or not to use the cardassian guy for the operation? on the flipside, if the hard calls are left to janeway, why make the doctor choose whether to delete the hologram or not?either she's got to make both decisions or he does. it wasn't a great look for her

i wish also we'd had more time to spend on b'elanna's anger at janeway...it seemed almost like an afterthought to have it be a single scene, and it also makes janeway look like an even bigger asshole to have her go "too bad don't care" rather than like. talk about how much she fought with herself over it and how much they all need b'elanna to get home

the moment where the cardassian was cutting into that holographic bug without caring if it felt pain...mwah. voyager could have said "not all cardassians" but yes, in fact, ALL cardassians.

like he was so nice at first he condemned the occupation but then when he said he had to experiment with what he had...you just Know. anyway, 10/10

thirty days (voy):

this one sucked. i get really annoyed with the prime directive in 90s trek because they only bring it up when it's convenient and sometimes they care a lot about sticking to it to the point where picard will watch an entire planet blow up and be like "thots and prayers :(" and sometimes they don't care at all like when picard saved wesley from getting executed by nudists bc if he didn't his gf would be mad. i'm using tng examples here because it would be DIFFERENT in voyager if janeway was lax on it all around given their circumstances but instead she locks tom in solitary for a really dumb reason even though solitary is cruel and unusual punishment even by today's standards AND she knows being in jail is like his trauma or whatever. dumb.

i don't even remember what else happened in this episode because i was too busy being mad about the idea of janeway actually imposing solitary on tom. i don't even care about tom i care that it makes her look like an asshole twice in a row. water planet was cool i guess

counterpoint (voy):

AAAUUUUR MY GOD

CAPTAIN JANEWAY...MA'AM

idk what she was on in this episode but i have never been more attracted to her. let her peg.

what a journey this one took us on. at first you think the inspector guy is lying, and then he starts acting nice and he and janeway get close, and you're like okay he's on their side but he's also a dipshit, like he just confessed to killing kids WHYYYY is she kissing him when she has a boyfriend and a girlfriend already

AND THEN HE BETRAYS HER. AFTER WE LET OUR GUARD DOWN. and it's like oh NO she's gonna be SAD

WRONG. SHE GOT HIS ASS. like

the fact that he tricked us but also SHE tricks us. and him. at the same time. is so unbelievably hot. it's HER BRIDGE, bitch!!!

prodigal daughter (ds9):

i don't want to talk about it.

gender jokes good though

latent image (voy):

THIS ONE MADE ME CRY......................

ethical dilemma GOOD!!! voyager has been coming for my LIFE in season 5

aside from being an EXCELLENT episode for the EMH, it's also a fantastic episode for janeway and seven, and janeway/seven. "how long before you abandon me too?" seven came for her LIFE. almost as good was janeway showing up in seven's little cargo bay to watch her sleep and then wake her with "im struggling with the nature of individuality" in the gayest reverse uno this show has had yet............

i think also it's such a kind touch to have the thing that gets the doctor out of his funk be janeway being under the weather. like, he's a healer. you know?

the poem at the end. waahhhhh

bride of chaotica (voy):

i was afraid for my life when this episode started but it was actually fine. not my favorite, because the 1930s superhero setting means nothing to me, but i like how everyone kind of m,ade fun of the setting and then lovingly bullied janeway into playing the bride. like, that wasn't nothing

like, tuvok's EXTREMELY wry and bitchy jokes at tom paris's expense for example. seven being judgy at harry. that sort of thing.

the emperor's new cloak (ds9):

also feared for my life during this one because i HATE nagus episodes. i didn't realize it would also be mirrorverse

90s mirrorverse is fucking insane to me, by the way. it's just edgelord territory instyead of like, Saying Stuff about the characters the way tos's mirrorverse did. like, i'm fine with that, but also, what the fuck?

ANYWAY, LESBIAN KISS. TEN OUT OF TEN. i'm so fucking mad she couldn't do that with jadzia >:(

also important: in this episode i realized brunt and weyoun were played by the same guy because mirror brunt talks differently. yes, it really took this long, but my ear won eventually

gravity (voy):

TUVOK'S OPEN SHIRT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i was never worried he would cheat on his wife. i know they had like a memo somewhere. and he's not that kind of guy

the lady is in free willy! i watched the fuck out of those movies as a kid.

as previously noted, it is hilarious that they invented new kinds of shirts for the sheer purpose of gradually undressing tuvok as the episode went on

to be stuck on a desert planet for two months with only tom paris as company: a fate worse than death

young tuvok!!!! i really loved those sections. he was such a little guy you know

this ep more than any other highlights how different tuvok and spock are...like obviously tim ross is copying leonard nimoy's homework re: The Eyebrow and other mannerisms because every vulcan on star trek does that, but tuvok is very at peace with the way he experiences love and what his relationship with his wife means to him, in a way that is very different from how spock finds peace living WITH his emotions in the tos films. like yeah i can see now why spock had trouble on vulcan and was noticeably different than everyone else. you know?

and while spock found it impossible to be exactly the same as the vulcans around him, and while his inability to do that hurt him greatly, you can see too that it isn't necessarily a BAD way to live or a harmful culture in and of itself. and it's nice to see that side of it! it's just sad that spock could never see that side of it.

anyway, great time, tuvok is my bestie

field of fire (ds9):

this one sucked again. lotta duds in ds9 lately. wild

firstly, there is no reason ezri should be able to deduce the guy is the killer just from standing next to him in the elevator for 5 seconds, joran or not. secondly, the vulcan's motive makes no goddamn sense. he's a VULCAN.

the one part of this episode i did really enjoy was ezri's very quiet conversation with worf. he's usually so uncertain about how to interact with her, his simple "you are dax" hit really hard. i wish it had been in a better episode, because while i'm still lukewarm on ezri, her greatest potential is as this shade of jadzia. it's a really interesting dynamic and they nailed the atmosphere in that scene

that said, what he did was essentially accidentally talk her into letting a psycho loose in her head, so like...pretty invalidating. and overall the episode sucked bad. but still!

bliss (voy):

BANGER AFTER BANGER FOR VOYAGER SEASON 5. holy shit have we come a long way!!

i love when they give seven a baby, first of all, so jot that down

i was really rooting for tuvok to see through the illusion and that he DIDN'T made it such a big deal when seven ultimately did

i loved also this captain ahab guy. in case we didn't know what literary work they were refercing they even gave him a vaguely pirate-like accent. he was fun though so i forgive him

as a side note, also, i LOVED how absolutely fucking skeptical janeway was when first hearing about this wormhole. we have GENUINELY come such a long way from season 1 where they got their hopes up all the time

chimera (ds9):

me during this episode: this rules! > this sucks! > this rules! etcetc.

fun to have odo meet another changeling. fun to have this guy be martok, also. i caught that shit. my ear never fails me. fun to have odo trying to balance his changeling life and human life

less fun when they did the shady melding. kira has every right to feel bad about this bc the last time he was doing it was with his mommy shifter who almost got him on her side

apparently this episode was meant to show us odo still struggles with his being a changeling and wanting to be with people, and it's too easy of a choice if all his people are evil. the problem with this is that this guy is also an asshole. evil, no, but he has the same superiority complex that the other changelings do. if they had made him like, "yeah humanoids are fine but we gotta find the rest of the hundred!" i would have been way more invested in odo being torn. they never really SHOW us odo wants to go back anyway, they TELL us. thats all this was. odo like wah i want to go to the link :( and it's that conflict which initially made him so interesting to me, too, and him choosing kira over his own people is a lot of what draws me to that ship. so it's a shame that the excution fell so flat in some places

also lol the reminder that the changelings are dying out...bro i literally forgot

THAT SAID. the arc where KIRA is the one who feels inadequate for ODO vs HIM feeling inadequate for HER (like when she mentioned wanting kids in a different episode) is a nice twist, and i LOVED the bit at the end where he went goop with her 😭😭😭

like, i wish the episode had been about THAT instead of like. what if the other changelings were also assholes

or like this guy could be an asshole and give odo a different kind of crisis. like if they're all bad and only i am different will i also be like that one day? will i not be that but always be alone? but they didn't do any of that.

also WHAT was with quark's random racism speech. hello???

at the end of this episode cathy asked me "are you sure odo is your favorite character?" bc every time he and kira have a problem i side with her. and. what if kira IS my favorite???? kira might be my favorite??????? #feminism

badda-bang, badda-bang (ds9):

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSIGH.

vic is fine. but he'd be better as a non holodeck character

NONE of the holodeck logistics in this made ANY sense. they spent ten minutes trying to justify this stupid holodeck heist because they KNEW it didn't make sense. why not just do a regular heist episode!!! let's watch leverage!!!!!!

furthermore, the side plot about how sisko didn't like the 1960s setting because it magically forgot racism is maybe the only valid reason he had to be a wet blanket about that, but if we're going out of our way to engage with that kind of thing, why is the 1960s setting still sexist? also, why was odo staring at those stripper babes? HE DOESN'T EVEN LIKE HUMANOIDS. he's just cuckoo crazy bananas over kira

also, how does vic get INJURED and need time to HEAL? do they not control the fucking simulation enough to even heal up a bruise???

actually wait also WHY ARE JULIAN AND MILES INVITING VIC TO GO TO THE ALAMO? that poor little murder victim asked and he couldn't go but they're ASKING the hologram to go with them?? what the fuck???

i did like that guy calling odo stretch. that was pretty funny.

also, asheville north carolina mention. shoutout to everyone who lives in or has ever lived in asheville north carolina.

TONIGHT: voy's "dark frontier," parts i & ii.

#personal #star trek blogging #voy lb #ds9 lb #whew! may i never let them build up like that EVER again

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jadegretz · 5 days ago

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Fran: Defender of the Viera Clan by Jade Gretzi

Fran crouched on the edge of the Feywood, her keen eyes scanning the dense, twisted forest before her. She could feel the primal energy coursing through her veins, a gift from the ancient woodlands she called home. The Feywood was alive, its roots and branches bristling with latent power, and today, Fran would need every ounce of that strength.

The call for help had come from a nearby village. A horde of grotesque creatures, twisted by dark magic, had emerged from the depths of the forest, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Fran had seen these monsters before, abominations created by the sorcerer Zevan, who had long sought to harness the power of the Feywood for his own nefarious purposes.

With a silent nod to herself, Fran stepped into the forest. The shadows closed in around her, and the air grew thick with an eerie stillness. Every sound seemed amplified—the rustling of leaves, the distant cries of the creatures, the beat of her own heart. She moved with the grace of a predator, her long ears twitching at every noise, her senses heightened by the energy of the Feywood.

As she advanced deeper into the forest, the ground began to tremble beneath her feet. Dark tendrils of magic snaked through the underbrush, reaching out like sinister fingers. Fran’s hand instinctively went to her weapon, the polished wood and steel glinting in the dim light. She whispered a prayer to the spirits of the forest, seeking their guidance and protection.

Suddenly, a monstrous figure burst from the foliage, its eyes glowing with malevolent fire. Fran leaped back, her weapon at the ready. The creature snarled, its claws digging into the earth as it prepared to lunge. With a swift, fluid motion, Fran unleashed a bolt of energy, striking the beast squarely in the chest. It howled in agony, its body convulsing before it collapsed into a heap of smoldering flesh.

But there was no time to rest. More creatures were closing in, drawn by the sound of the battle. Fran’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she assessed the situation. She needed to reach the heart of the Feywood, where the sou …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

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vollzz · 1 year ago

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WIP Introduction: Blackflame

There are many who pray to silent gods, who throw blind trust into the whims of that which they will never see. But what if your prayers were answered - what if your piety granted you power bestowed by the very gods themselves?

Calliope cloaks herself in the night, commands flame from her dagger-wielding hands, and compels residents of the province of Viven to do her bidding with merely a glance into their eyes. She is a Lover, a follower of Eves, one of numerous ancient deities that rule the land from the shadows. Unlike followers of the other gods, Calliope finds more than just blessings and purpose with Eves - they are also her companion, her partner, and the one who saved her from certain death.

A run-of-the-mill job turns into anything but when she stumbles upon Lucas, a frustratingly good-looking fellow thief who is inexplicably unaffected by her deity's blessings. He presents to her an enticing opportunity in exchange for a night of her help, and against her better judgement Calliope accepts. What follows is a feat of betrayal, narrow escapes, and the opportunity for Calliope to uncover the truth about Eves, the other deities, and the latent power hidden within herself.

genre: medieval fantasy, third person POV

status: currently writing first draft

vibes: lurking in the darkness, casting spells, plotting heists... staring into the gaping maw of your greatest fear with trembling hands and your chin held high. oh, and dating a deity known for being the definitively hottest being on the planet (surely this means they're completely reasonable)

rep: bi + latina protagonist, nonbinary mc, black mc, diverse side characters

main character introductions: Calliope, Lucas, Eves | wip tag

---

tag list- (lmk if you'd like to see/read/hear more and I'll add you!)

@hallwriteblr @kourumi

#ahhh i love this story so much yall #i hope you do too!#writeblr #wip intro #writing #blackflame #oc

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hiddendruid · 1 month ago

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IWTVTober Day 1: Church

Challenge Credit goes to @TAZAT0UILLE on Twitter.

Although many vampiric myths, especially those about how to deter a vampire, are patently untrue, the striking image of a cross is certainly one that drives into the heart of many a creature of the night. Though not because the great image of Jesus’ suffering stands a chance of cleansing the darkness from a vampire’s soul, not at all. Perhaps it is something as close to empathy as a creature of no human-like heart could feel.

Armand is not a Christian, never was. He had played at Muslim for a few weeks when he was Rashid. The sprawling urbanity of Delhi had been muddled with persons of many faiths: Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian. All walks of life. He does not remember what his family worshipped, when he had been Arun. But it was certainly not God, or Jesus, or whoever. No sight of a man strung up on two pieces of crossed wood had ever conjured in his mind a reason to be sorry for the sins he had committed, in both body and mind.

In Europe, the cathedrals loomed above the cities, stone giants with thousands of watching, carved eyes. Armand had never stepped foot in one, let alone went to bow his head to rattle off a prayer or two. Though his French coven had dwelled deep in the catacombs, nestled in the bowels of some church perhaps, he had refused to take any of the routes that exited into those echoey, marble halls. One evening, in the late spring of 1949, when the last of the freezing mists clinging to the streets of Paris were infused with the amber haloes of the streetlamps, Armand had listened to Louis muse about the oddity of churches here in Europe, how they were less grand in America, less tall. Louis had said that, in many ways, cathedrals were like vampires: cold and ancient, with the feeling as though every crack in the stone facade held secrets.

Deep in the black, twisted thing lodged between his ribs, Armand had felt as though that statement was aimed at him somehow.

Now, almost 80 years later, Armand sits in the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine one evening, eyes boring a hole into the back of a dark wooden pew as the others around him have theirs bowed in prayer. Why he decided it was here that he needed to sit, he can not answer. Truly, that evening, it was as if his feet had driven him to walk to this particular spot, wavering as he watched the parishioners make their way into the building for a midnight mass. Thoughts and whispers diffused the air, filling Armand’s head like a heady perfume. Inside the cathedral, packed in with the cattle, his head swims with the latent notions tickling his subconscious, sinking into his synapses like a balm that infuses into the skin.

Throughout time, he had found that human thoughts were at once both base and alight with something that even he, in his five hundred years of unlife, had failed to grasp. But then again, he also knew humans to be subtly manipulative with their thinking, as if they were aware that he - and supposedly an Almighty - was listening. He categorized and memorized the various shades and aspects of postulations that trickled from the cloud of human subconscious around him at all times. When the parishioners had their heads bowed in prayer, for instance, Armand felt himself awash with all kinds of soft, wishful desires, flowing through his veins and numbing his senses.

‘Please, Lord, help my wife to see that I love her.’

‘Lord, I don’t know if I have the strength, give me a sign.’

‘Please let him be okay.’

Notions of things that were surely not so out of their control, less the weakness of cattle had been underestimated. They always left a bitter sugary taste in Armand’s throat - at least how he’d remembered sugar to taste anyway.

As the priest at the front of the cathedral begins his sermon, and the parishioners raise their heads, Armand can sense the thoughts becoming less fanciful. Brutish and honest, they bubble in and out of Armand’s ears and bounce through his brain like a spring, wound tight to be released at a moment’s notice.

‘I wanna get out of here so bad. I’m exhausted!’

‘Can this man hurry up so I can take a piss?’

Armand’s eyes remain forward, the buzz of human need around him boring into his head and nestling into the nooks and crannies of his skull. If it had not been for the unlucky loud man that had been stumbling around at 2 a.m. that he had drunk the other night, Armand would be - what was the lovely term he’d learned from Daniel? - ‘jonesing’ for the pumping, raucous blood of someone from this congregation. Maybe somebody in the back, who is thinking something along the lines of ‘where’s the nearest McDonalds?’ as they itch to type it into their phone.

Then, among the rabble, a singular wish, familiar from before, still held in that hopeful glow that lingers from the silence of prayer.

‘Let him be fine. Dammit, he better be, or I’ll. . .oh I don’t know.’

Armand’s head whips to the middle aged woman sitting just in front of him, brown curly hair tied back away from her face. In the unmistakable slump to her shoulders, the severe angle of her nose, and the streak of anger that laced her words, even as she speaks them in her head, he senses a familiar territory that he once hoped to claim, but let slip away. Of a young man twitching on the floor of a dingy apartment fifty years ago. Armand watches her intently, head tilted as he pushes into her mind, looking for more. His power digs into the woman’s brain like claws, dredging through the fluff of whatever latent thoughts she was holding before -

A flash. Studio lights on a book, sitting on a table between two large mugs of coffee and two men. One of whom rants and raves, familiar acerbic syllables decorating each explicit insult.

Daniel.

Silver halo of curls surrounding his lined face, perpetual smirk lining his mouth, sat between the deep, carved lines of age adorning his cheeks and chin. Sunglasses perched on his severe nose, hiding his eyes.

Daniel.

As he spits words of contempt at the interviewer sitting across from him, the unmistakable shape of the words ‘Blow me’ plastering his lips as a loud bleep censors him. The smug confidence of someone who relied on the silver tongue and quick fingers on a notepad or laptop to survive, who would probably give a better sermon than the guy giving the sermon here, now.

If he were here. . .now.

‘Daniel.’

And, suddenly, like being thrown into the concrete wall back in Dubai, Armand is shunted back into himself, suddenly realizing that the woman who bore Daniel’s face is glaring at him, eyes laced with familiar ire and annoyance. She doesn’t speak, instead, she hisses softly under her breath, pushing the sound out between her teeth quiet enough so that it does not interrupt the priest, but sends the message nonetheless. She must think, perhaps, that Armand spoke the word aloud, and did not project it into her head like a volatile spear. With a look of what he hopes is remorse, Armand lowers his eyes, thinking that - in another lifetime - the tops of his cheeks would be warm with an embarrassed flush.

When the service finally ends, Armand makes his way along with the stream of late-night parishioners out of the cathedral’s double doors. He eventually divests himself from the crowd and lays his back against the cool stone, head tilted up towards the sky. As he wallows in the aftermath of having his mind surrounded and infiltrated and filled with Daniel once more, he catches the woman from before exiting the building and striding towards a nearby side street, hands fumbling for a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and a lighter.

Armand peels himself from the stone wall and strides after her, his feet as silent on the stone as a cat’s paws, despite the low heel of his boots. The shadows of the night swallow him, swathing him in a cradle of darkness that allows him to track the woman as she continues smoking her cigarette and shivering in the night air.

Objectively, Armand knows he is not hungry and that if any passersby were to see him - not that they would, unless he chose to let them see him - they would think he was stalking this poor woman like a creeper. But her face, the slope of her neck meeting the collar of her jacket, the way the muscles in her jaw jumps as she exhales a cloud of smoke into the air, conjures psychosomatic memories in the all powerful mind of the ancient vampire. Rational thought has left his head. He is drawn like a poor, unsuspecting moth by the light of a jumping, roiling ball of fire trapped behind lantern glass.

Then, the woman stops. Armand’s trajectory shifts as he ducks behind the corner of a nearby building. He watches her take one last drag and throw the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with her shoe. Then, she swaps out the cigarette pack in her hand for a cellphone she pulls from her pocket, on which she types out a number quickly and with fumbling fingers. She puts the phone to her ear, turning in small circles like she’s expecting someone to leap out at her at any moment. Armand watches. He hears the phone ring and ring and ring, until a voice he would know and pick out from a crowd of thousands, even if he was blind, emitted from the speaker in a tinny, garbled tone.

Daniel Malloy’s inbox. Call me again, I fucking dare you.

Beep. A soft sigh from the woman’s lips.

“Hey Dan- Dad. I mean, Dad. Hi. It’s me, you know your kid. The first one. Um. Yeah, just, thinking about you. Wanted to speak to you, I guess. You never answer, so I don’t know why I bother. Call me, please. Thanks. Bye.”

She hangs up the phone and keeps walking. Armand stays right where he is, watching her figure disappear into the night. He then turns his head to the towering silhouette of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine against the haze-coloured midnight sky, towers piercing the air like teeth. He feels a clump weight down his heart, like he’s listening to Louis ramble about churches again.

Louis. Daniel. . .

With a flick of his black coat - dramatic but necessary - he strides down and away, directions lost to him in his state. He just hopes his feet take him somewhere he needs to be. Away from what he’s thinking.

#interview with the vampire #armand #armand iwtv #daniel molloy #post season 2 #iwtv microfic #well if you count almost 2k words as a microfic

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bardic-tales · 11 days ago

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Trick or Treat! :) <3

I think I will give you a treat. As I said in a previous ask, I was talking to my friend about the parallels between Bianca and Sephiroth. None of these were meant to happen but they came organically, which is really nice when it happens.

Content Warning: Alienation, Betrayal, Body Horror, Complex Parent-Child Relationships, Demonic Manipulation, experimentations, Genocide (Implied), Identity Crisis, Isolation, Parental Violence, Physical Torture, Religious Conflict, Self-Hatred, Torture, Trauma, Violence

At 20, Bianca’s life is irrevocably altered when her demonic father, Asmodeus, brutally awakens her latent celestial and demonic powers by torturing her—skinning her alive and forcefully cutting her wings free from beneath her skin. Until this point, she had seen herself as human, albeit deformed; but Asmodeus’s assault shatters her perception, showing her that her very essence is entwined with an angelic and demonic heritage. This violent awakening triggers Bianca’s intense self-hatred, as she finds herself an object of mistrust, hunted by humans who view her as a threat and humans wanting her to bless them but blames her when the Creator Deity fails to answer, and manipulated by demonic forces. Betrayed by those closest to her because of her heritage, Bianca experiences a profound sense of alienation and resentment toward humanity, whom she views as susceptible to demonic influence. This resentment deepens her identity crisis, drawing her onto a path of vengeance and rejection of humanity itself once she gets to Gaia. She ultimately decides to embrace a world without humans, aligning herself with Sephiroth’s vision of cleansing and remaking existence itself.

At 25, Sephiroth’s revelation comes in the Nibelheim Reactor, where he discovers the creature Jenova and learns from Genesis that he himself was a product of Shinra’s horrific Jenova Project. This discovery acts as the key to a door that had long haunted him, confirming his suspicions that he was different from others. Sephiroth, in his outrage and desperation, isolates himself in Shinra Manor and uncovers records that feed his belief he is the last Cetra—a descendant of a betrayed, ancient race. This knowledge catalyzes Sephiroth’s disdain for humanity, whom he holds responsible for his suffering and the supposed genocide of his ancestors. Convinced of his destiny to cleanse and control the Planet, Sephiroth begins a dark crusade to ascend to godhood, starting with the destruction of Nibelheim and culminating in his plan to summon Meteor. His discovery redefines his purpose, leading him to seek power through the Lifestream to reshape the world in his image, ultimately rejecting human frailty and weakness.

Bianca and Sephiroth’s revelations about their inhuman origins mark turning points in their lives, setting each on a path toward rejecting humanity. Both characters experience betrayal by human institutions. Bianca through relentless persecution, blamed when their prayers are unanswered, and betrayal from those close to her, and Sephiroth by the very organization that created him. For Bianca, Asmodeus’s attack and later Hojo's experimentation solidify her rejection of humanity’s susceptibility to manipulation, while Sephiroth’s disillusionment confirms his belief in his own superiority over a species he views as flawed and expendable. Together, they unite in a purpose fueled by disdain for humanity. Bianca ultimately supports Sephiroth’s goal to summon Meteor and later, in a canon-divergent twist, they pursue a plan to remake the multiverse without humans. Their paths intertwine in a shared vision of destruction and rebirth, where Sephiroth’s godlike aspirations mirror Bianca’s desire to erase the humanity that caused her so much suffering.

#nl answers #trick-or-treat2024 #oc: bianca moore - ff #sephiroth #character: sephiroth #fantasy worlds collide #fwc: ff #long post

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