#my first drawing i tried for a moth character was....

[bordonfreeman]

Moth oc idea. They're based off of death head hawk moths

[sanctus-ingenium]

Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

[maddascanbe-blog]

What's this? Unifications and Kwami swaps?!?

Part 2 of the unifications

While sometimes I can come up with ideas on what a unified miraculous should look like right away, like with Shadow Moth and Dragonfly, other times I struggle way less when I draw out the characters with Both miraculous first.

Viper Noir was kind of the exception since I very intentionally didn't want it to look like Aspik that much.

But for these designs I really felt it was important to get my designs out on paper first. SO! Let's talk Kwami Swaps and then we'll get to the unifications.

Since Pegasus already exists, I couldn't call Marinette with the horse that, but according to my brief research Arion is the name of one Pegasus form Greek mythology.

Much like with Chloe as Champion I base Marinette's on equestrian uniforms, and I've always treated blue as the horses accent color since that's the color of the Voyage portals. Keep the wings cause it both keeps with the greek theme and they look cute. And some little braids in her hair like some horses have to top off her Pony-tail. Also, assume the glasses are like- attached to the mask.

Lapin Chanceux (Lucky Rabbit) was the first design I did, albeit on paper, to figure out what I was going to do. I wanted to make her look different from both Bunnix's so I dropped the dark blue that I used for them and brought in more white and light blue.

I do like giving the rabbit holders some sort of poof around their hands or feet since it invokes the feel of a rabbits foot. In the Bunnix's it was around their arms, Marinette its her legs. The pom poms by her ears were added after the drawings was initially declared done but their so cute it was EASILY worth it.

Onto the unifications, I've actually redesigned both Pegabug and Pennybug before. And the first Pegabug redesign is actually still up on my youtube channel as a speedpaint. Obviously the designs and my artstyle have changed drastically though.

I cut the brown from the design entirely, instead opting to darken the red greatly. But keeping the white accents which were in both my Ladybug and Arion's designs. I also moved the wings up to her pony-tail both because they slightly resemble horse ears like that, and in preparation for adding the rabbit.

Whenever I unify the Ladybug I cut down on the spots drastically because they can make it feel really cluttered. But I tried to keep them in places that made sense. Alluding to buttons on her coat, the ones at the ends of the stripes down her leg, which I kept from my first design. And giving her spots on her hands, just cause. Also got some shoulder pad action because I wanted to-

And finally Lady Luck. Because Pennybug sounds stupid- I assumed at the time we first saw her that Pennybug wasn't called Lady Luck because they were saving it for if when unified the Ladybug and Cat. But no, that's Bug Noir, which also sounds dumb.

So we're going Lady Luck. Since Horses, Rabbits, and Ladybugs are all associated with good Fortune.

That being said- no one should be allowed to combine 3 miraculous on the sole pretense that they almost always look bad. Pennybug looked bad, Shadow Noir (also stupid name) looked bad, Monarch is his own can of worms, but- well you'll see.

I knew I wanted to more the glasses to the top of Lady Lucks head, just because I was kinda getting sick of the normal glasses. Assume just the lenses are the miraculous and the frame changes for the user. Now they are attached to goggles- not that you can really tell because they have black straps on Marinette's dark hair.

The ear/wings were the only thing I knew some people liked about Pennybug so I kept those, albeit without the black ring around the blue. And add white to the ponytail gradient. White gloves because they looked good, and I almost always give Marinette opera gloves.

She gets a few more smaller spots since the rabbit also uses them. And combine the riding coat with the the- it's not really a shrug but I don't know what to call it? Keep the wide pants because why not, and make the red a darker cool red. The blue could have also been changed to better match the pallet but the vibrant blue is an accent I use on all the miraculous' usually so it got to stay. So long as the suit is red I think it still reads as a Ladybug.

Last thing to note are the eyes. Lady Luck's eye look freaky because she's using three miraculous and probably shouldn't. And Lapin's eye's are pink/red with white pupils because my family actually had californian rabbits at one point and they all looked like that in photo's.

Bonus- here's the doodles I did years ago for Pennybug

and Pegabug

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; your husband gives JJ a maintenence job at your vacation house and you spend all summer crushing over your hot new employee

warnings; characters are aged up (both characters are in their mid/late 20's), cheating, SMUT, dirty talk, some neck grabbing, female masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, praising, p in v, unprotected sex. I feel like this shit is LONG af!

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

It was a very warm afternoon in Outer Banks. The sky was completely clear —there wasn't a single cloud in sight— and the sun was shining brighter than ever, but that was not what had gotten you all hot and bothered.

JJ Maybank, the new maintenance guy, was.

As you were lounging on the deck chair beside the pool, holding some random book you weren't paying attention to in your hands, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Being a hundred per cent honest, it had been that way since your husband hired him a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, neither of them seemed to have noticed yet.

You felt guilty for being attracted to him, though. You had been married for two years, and you were supposed to be in love with your husband, not craving other man's touch. But you couldn't help it. There was something about JJ that was drawing you like a moth to the flame; maybe it was his gorgeous blue eyes, his silky blonde hair, or his ripped muscles, or maybe it was all of them together, either way, you had managed to suppress your feelings for what felt like ages in order to not ruin your wonderful —but really boring— marriage.

Little did you know that your self-control was about to go to shit.

You had tried to focus on your reading for several minutes, and to date, you had failed miserably. Your mind kept going back to earlier that day, when JJ had brushed past you in the hallway, remembering how you had looked right into his alluring eyes, wishing for him to push you against the wall and to fuck you right there and then. You had to cross your legs at the thought, feeling your bikini bottom getting wetter by the second.

It was wrong and forbidden, you knew it, but in some way, that made it more exciting.

You stared at him through your sunglasses, mesmerised by the way his sweaty golden muscles glistened under the sun rays as he mowed the lawn. You were so busy imagining how his wet skin would feel against your own that you hadn't noticed the furtive looks he was giving you.

Your mouth almost watered when you saw him grabbing the hem of his sleeveless t-shirt to take it off. He threw it on the floor next to him and then he reached for the garden hose soaking himself with it to cool off. He ran his big hands through his blonde locks to accommodate his hair after that; the veins of his arms on display for you to see.

You swore you saw it all happening in slowmo. The little smirk that appeared in his face just seconds later while he shortly glanced at you gave you butterflies.

You realised something: he was doing it on purpose.

And, oh lord, that just made you want him even more. You were so horny that, for a moment, you thought you were about to literally combust in the spot.

Without giving it a second thought, you gave into the desires you had been repressing for weeks now.

You dropped your book instantly, grabbing the strings that held your blue bikini top in place to untie them. Your top dropped, leaving you exposed in front of a man that was not your husband, but you couldn't care less about that fact. His eyes widened because of the scene occurring before him, but he didn't look away at any moment, mesmerised by the sight of the woman of his dreams pouring tanning oil over her almost naked body.

He had to be delirious, right? The heat was making him delusional, that must be it.

Whether it was true or not, the boner forming in his trousers was pretty real so he picked up his t-shirt, using it to cover himself before he started walking towards the back door of the house. He had to leave before he did something stupid, like accidentally fucking his boss' wife while he was away on some business trip.

"I have finished for the day, Mrs. Ross. Do yo need something else before I go?" he asked in his way out.

He tried to keep the interaction between the two of you entirely profesional and he even resisted looking at your naked breasts. It was the hardest thing he had done in his entire life, though, because since he had started working for your husband, you were the first thing that crossed his mind when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep.

But you knew professionalism had flew out of the window after the show you just put.

"Actually, could you rub some oil on my back?" you asked with a playful smile.

You gave him no time to answer and you handed him the tanning oil bottle, turning around after he took it, leaving him completely speechless. He gulped, his eyes looking directly at your ass, only covered by a really tiny thong, and he knew he was done for.

Leaning over you, he purred the oil on your back. When his hands touched you to spread it over your skin, you closed your eyes and almost moaned like a hormonal teenager. He gently massaged your shoulders, then your waist area and finally he reached your lower back, giving you goosebumps.

When you thought that he was over and that he was going to pull away, he surprised you by grabbing the oil bottle one more time, purring it over your legs. He started massaging your calves, moving up slowly, until he reached your upper thighs and a small moan escaped your lips; it had been too long since the last time you had sex with your husband and you felt like you could come untouched.

He leaned in, you felt his hot breath in your ear and he murmured, "You wouldn't believe how many times I have fantasised about touching you like this, Mrs. Ross."

One of his hands grabbed your ass cheek under your bikini bottom while he started placing wet kisses on your neck, making you whimper again. He had to stop, though, when you turned around to face him; he froze at the thought of you changing your mind about what was about to happen, but when you caressed his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, next to his ear, all of his fears vanished.

"And you wouldn't believe how many times I've touched myself, wishing it was your fingers instead of mine, Mr. Maybank," you whispered looking right into his blue eyes.

"Fuck."

He grabbed your neck and brought you closer to him, your mouths were so close that they lightly brushed over each other. You felt his breath becoming faster and your heart started pounding like crazy when you saw him licking his lips while looking closely at yours, but you forced yourself to pull away from his touch.

"Someone could be watching us, we should get inside," you suggested.

The last thing you wanted was your husband finding out about you and JJ. This was a one time thing, just to get him out of your system. After that, you would go back to being the perfect loving wife your husband deserved.

He nodded, agreeing with you, and helped you getting up. He reached for his t-shirt to cover your naked form with it before grabbing your hand and taking you inside.

"Be quiet," you asked, while the both of you sneaked around the massive house, trying to avoid your nosy housemaid.

You made it to your bedroom successfully and as soon as both of you were inside, JJ pushed you against the door, locking it.

"Can I kiss you?" he questioned, pressing his body against yours.

"Yes, please."

He didn't waste any more time, finally crushing your lips together. The kiss was heated, messy, hungry. His hands sneaked under your clothes to grab your waist with need, pulling you even closer to him. You felt frantic as you wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him back like you were drowning and he was air.

His tongue slipped between your lips. completely devouring your mouth while one of his hands gripped your neck to keep your head pinned against the door; you broke the kiss, whimpering in his mouth because of the action and he kept his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as both of you tried to steady your breathing.

"Why don't you show me how you touch yourself when you think about me, baby?" he whispered.

Your heart skip a beat after hearing the words he spoke; you had never done something like that before, yet you nodded, making him smile. He kissed you gently before taking off your —his— shirt and then, only wearing your bikini thong, you moved towards the bed, where you sat.

You placed your feet over the edge of the mattress, spreading your legs, and leaned on your elbow to make yourself comfortable. His eyes never left your body, analysing every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he complimented you, which encouraged you to move your hand down your belly until it disappeared under your last piece of clothing.

You panted when you felt your fingertips brushing your needy pussy for the first time, biting your lip right after. Your cheeks flushed when JJ squeezed his cock over his pants while hearing and looking at you; seeing him so into it motivated you to keep going.

Your fingers started rubbing circles over your swollen clit, slowly at first, but you were so turned on that soon you sped up your movements. You were soaked and even the lightest touch sent sparks of pleasure across your entire body. A small moan escaped your lips when you traced your entrance with two fingers, slipping them inside for a second before taking them out again.

"Take this off, baby, I wanna see you," he pleaded, kneeling between your legs on the bed and grabbing the straps of the bikini.

Yo nodded, pulling your hand out of if and lifting your hips so he could take the thong off. He moaned at the sight of your glistening cunt and placed his hands over your knees to further separate your thighs.

Under his attentive gaze, you pushed your middle and ring finger inside of your pussy, curving them so you could reach that spot in the front that made you see stars with each thrust. You made sure to rub your clit with the palm of your hand, too.

"That's it, princess, you're doing so good for me," he praised you, moving one of his hands up your leg until it reached your chest, where he started touching your breasts, "Wish those where my fingers, baby."

You moaned because of his words as he unfastened his belt with his free hand, unbuttoning his trousers right after. He reached for the waistband of the pants, pulling it down so his underwear was in sight. You gasped when you were able to see the outline of his dick under his boxers; your mouth watered at how big he was.

You added a third finger, desperate for cumming; your arousal was dripping all over the bedding, making a mess.

"I'm so fucking horny for you, JJ," you told him, calling him by his name for the first time, "I'm going to cum."

You couldn't even remember the last time that you had fingered yourself so hard. Or the last time that you had been so fucking wet. He smiled, lowering his hand to touch your clit with his rough thumb, making you moan repeatedly.

You felt the familiar tingling in your lower belly, your breathing hitched and before you could stop it, you were coming harder than ever. Your muscles tightened and your legs started shaking uncontrollably. Overwhelmed by such a strong orgasm, you took out your fingers, trying to close your legs to soothe the sensation, but JJ wouldn't let you do so. Instead, he replaced your fingers with his own and he kept fucking you with them through your orgasm.

"JJ, please, stop, it's to much! Baby... Oh fuck!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his hand despite the overstimulation.

"I know you have another one in you, princess," he said, working his fingers harder and faster inside of you, "C'mon, be a good girl and cum for me."

He placed his free hand over your pelvis, putting pressure there, while he curved his fingers in his direction. In less than thirty seconds he had you coming undone again. Your vision went blank as your entire body trembled and you squirted all over him, crying out his name like a prayer.

It took you a few minutes to recover from the most explosive orgasm of your life, realising you had completely soaked everything. JJ laid down next to you the whole time and didn't stop caressing you for a second while he whispered sweet things to your ear.

You turned to look at him with the biggest smile and you said, "I didn't know I could do that."

The blonde laughed softly, burying his face on the crook of your neck, where he started placing wet kisses while his hand went to rub your pussy again, collecting your squirt to lick it off his fingers with a lustful look in his eyes.

"If I were your husband, I'd make sure you squirted every fucking day of my life, baby." Your cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, pushing him so he was laying on his back and straddled him, grinding your wet cunt over his clothed dick; he was so hard that he thought he was gonna cum in his pants at the sight of your naked body dry humping his cock.

"Fuck me, JJ, please," you almost begged, still turned on in spite of having come twice already.

"Wait, I have to grabb a condom." He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his neck and pushed him back on the bed, stopping him.

"You don't have to wear one. I'm on the pill and I'm clean," you explained, tracing his abs with the tip of your fingers.

"I'm clean too," he promised, you lifted your hips with a smirk covering your face.

"I trust you," you said.

You helped him getting out of his clothes and your eyes widened when you finally saw his naked cock bounce back against his stomach. He was really, really big. Much bigger than your husband for sure.

You grabbed his dick on your hand, making him moan, and you stroked him a few times before brushing his swollen red tip between your folds.

"Oh my God," he groaned, his head falling back against the mattress.

You repeated the action one last time before you began to lower your hips slowly, shoving his dick inside of your pussy. You moaned at the stretch, placing your hand over his broad chest to steady yourself, and you started bouncing on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that both of you liked. When you saw him frowning and breathing fast, you knew you had found it.

Whimpering, you asked him, "Does this feel good, J?"

"Yes, so fucking good, baby." He gasped, grabbing your hips to help you ride him.

His own hips started thrusting upwards, trying to match your pace, and you couldn't help but moan when he hit the right spot again. You tightened your muscles around his dick on purpose to make him feel as good as he had made you feel before; you smiled when he cried out, pounding into you harder.

"I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that, baby," he admitted.

His hair was stuck into his forehead due to the sweat, covering his eyes a little bit, so you caressed his face and took it out of the way so that he could see you better

"Want you to come inside me, J," you asked for, "Want to feel you filling my pussy."

"Oh fuck, baby, you're so hot...I'm close," his statement encouraged you to start bouncing faster on his cock.

You whimpered when one of his hands made its way to your pussy and began to stroke your clit. You wanted, no, needed to cum again, so you took his other hand and placed it over one of your tits, which he squeezed and started playing with. At the same time, you leaned over him and placed wet kisses all over his chest, feeling his abs tightening under your palm just seconds later, announcing his orgasm.

He became a hot moaning mess under you while you kept riding him through his climax, but his thumb never left your clit as he rode it out, taking you down the cliff with him after a few seconds; your pussy clenched and your eyes rolled back due to the sensation. He sat up, kissing you one last time before he pulled out. You could feel his sticky cum come out of your pussy as you laid down next to him. JJ cuddled you, putting his head over your chest.

"I think..I think you have become my new addiction, Mrs. Ross," he confessed.

You smiled briefly before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I can see you being my addiction, too, Mr. Maybank."

[f0xfangs]

staying behind the times.... some GOLDEN CATS!!!! two cats i like and two i hate lmao

as before, design details under the cut :3

mothwing is an old lady who needs to have a long nap. and as such i tried to make her look a little ruffled and tired, but still keeping her looking like herself - in my mind she's huge and SUPER fluffy and has a mane/beard. she's also a lovely rich golden colour, to better match my impression of sasha, and a little moth on her chest :-)

lionblaze is my ENEMY. and i am sick and tired of reading anything about him. HOWEVER i do find the design differences between the three interesting and i wanted to draw him for that reason, making sure he is as broad and muscly and grumpy as he should be

tree is an odd character to me but i thought he would be fun to design since i've always seen him with bangs??? for some reason?? i have never pictured him having eyes and i think my drawing of him is 1:1 with my idea of him in my head haha

leopardstar is super widely disliked and i dislike her too, but i find her very interesting to read about in the first arc. outside that i just wanted to draw her because of her very distinctive appearance - while i feel her rosettes are across her flank and not her face, i hope i've still captured what i've always been captivated by with her appearance.

[nexkove]

"Don't you destroy all their futures. Don't dye them in red too."

Meet one of my main (and og) Sky OCs, Sacu!

I'd be lying if I said they weren't my comfort character honestly.

Anyways! A LOT more info written below! Feel free to give it a read.

Sacu is viewed as very optimistic and outgoing, often giving strangers a hand whenever needed. Though they have been taken advantage of many times because of this. They believe in giving everyone a chance and would spend hours trying to get to understand another's view or worries. They hold a grudge towards Eden and the culture surrounding it, often going out of their way to refuse moths entrance to the Vault, or taking them back to Valley. It seemed like their efforts were futile, so they tried to end things themselves... If there were a way to break the cycle, they would do it. They travelled up to Eden, any piercing weapon they could snatch from Wasteland in hand, And failed their goal; Their body now laying dormant in the heart of Eden.

Getting the angst out of the way...

They weren't alone in the time they were alive, they didn't have big sibling energy for nothing!

They had two younger siblings, Ocan and Hisoka. (Who I'll introduce at a later date).

Sacu was more closer to Ocan than Hisoka, which did end up causing some small sibling rivalry. Nothing too bad though!.. For the most part.

Some extra facts & trivia!!

They were originally made in 2021, with all the same cosmetics besides their mask & pendant. It was instead double-five's mask and no pendant.

Sacu was always planned to be dead. One of their first artworks is of them moments away from getting sharded.

They are (as of 9cd) 17 seasons old, making them the eldest between their siblings and friends.

I sometimes draw them with glasses.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Want You Dead II

Daemon Targaryen x Pirate!Reader | Part 1 2 3

Summary: Having agreed to Lord Corlys' terms, you were now slowly being restored into your house, just how Prince Daemon intended things to be. He was pleased that no matter how the days passed, your ascent to nobility did not erase the traits that made you a good pirate. However, he should have known your fire would draw men to you like moths. But gods be damned if he allows anyone else hold your flame.

Word Count: 17k+

Warnings: mentions of assault/rape, graphic depictions of violence, sexual implications fem!reader, ADDITIONAL PAIRINGS (wink, wink), super slow burn (and i still hate myself it), made up characters and lore, time skips, mangled timeline, themes of betrayal, angst, curse words, misogyny, parts with fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: yeah so like i am highly certain im making a part 3 so 🤡 so much for two really long chapters. I'm also pretty sure I messed up the timeline in this chapter, specifically regarding the ages of Alicient's children. Just roll with it mkay! Don't think about it too much.

Make sure to leave comments and reblogs!! If you would like to be tagged, just say the word <3.

Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @idathereader @deekaag @how2besalty @niiight-dreamerrrr @wondergal2001

"WHO THE FUCK WAS ON NIGHTSHIFT?!" the prince erupted the very moment he kicked the guardhouse doors open.

The prince was known to be unhinged. It was not uncommon for him to arrive somewhere unannounced, demanding audience or answers. And yet in this moment, there was a roar of a dragon many of the men had not yet seen. There was a fire in his eyes that could only be put out with blood. And whatever it was the men were doing before Daemon arrived was quickly forgotten or abandoned.

The prince heaved at the silence and shoved the nearest man next to him out of anger, letting out a prolonged shout, "ANSWER ME!"

As the man who fell on the ground gathered himself up, Daemon took a sword from one of the containers and raises it as his ears practically steam, "YOU WILL BRING EVERY MAN THAT WAS ON THE NIGHTSHIT TO ME IN AN HOUR, OR--" he cuts himself off, the vein on his neck relaxed finally, "I shall find them myself and slay them with no explanation."

His jaw clenches as he mutters lowly, looking at each face in the room, "am I understood?"

There is a chorus of agreement.

Daemon throws the sword on the the ground and storms off.

I was in the ward, my eyes were heavy as was my body, and yet sleep would not come to me. The maesters made it clear to me, and Lord Corlys, who was present the entire time I was being tended to, that I should not leave my bed for a week unless absolutely necessary.

I was glad at the very least that I was situated next to a window where I could see the outside. In this moment, I was watching the sun set, wondering why in the silence of this room, my thoughts were so loud that I could find no peace in resting. Now that the horror had been addressed, now that I recounted what happened and angrily wiped my tears away as I explained I could not fall pregnant because my assaulter only used his fingers on me, I felt my fatigue catch up with me, that, and the memory similar incident I had at 13 that was never addressed.

Agatha, the woman I regarded as my mother, had just given birth to her second child at this point, Abigail. Her eldest child, William, was about only 3. Douglas, her husband, my adoptive father, had been out for work when three lords came to our house, asking about my necklace, asking about me.

At first, they said they knew my father, lord Rubin, and wanted to help me reclaim my title. Agatha turned them away, denying their words, which made them call her a lying whore, for I was clearly not her child.

They returned again and again, but eventually, they returned in the darkness of night. They tried to take me as I bathed and tried to touch me where I would not allow. They clawed for me still and laughed while they did. The only reason I still came a virgin at that time was because my father heard my screams and managed to fight them off with the help of our neighbors.

I ran away from home after that, feeling I was undeserving of Agatha and Douglas' protection, not only because I was bringing trouble to them, but as well as the fact I believed I had been made unclean by those lords disgusting fingers.

Tears stream down my face as I think of my parents and how badly they probably felt after I ran away.

I was lying in my bed, limp, yet my whole body burned in anger for my younger self. She was filled with self-loathing because she believed it was her fault. She thought thoughts like had she not been there, had she been stronger... but that was never the case. It matters not if you were careful, evil intent will prevail where evil is allowed to fester. In hearts of those evil men it has festered.

I hope they're all dead now.

My thoughts made a bitterness rise in my throat that I had not tasted in a long time. My anger was ugly, and fully draining.

Yet still... slumber shuns me away.

There is a noise far off by the entrance suddenly. I vaguely hear two voices, but think nothing of it. Upon hearing a loud voice echo in the room however, it is much harder to ignore. I my hands to my ears, suddenly preferring the noise in my head than the one starting in the room.

"Your grace! I implore- she cannot-"

"Or would you rather I stuff each soldier in here with their crusty boots and body odor?" the telltale voice of an angry Prince Daemon quips harshly.

For a moment there is silence. I release a sigh and place my hands by my side. I close my eyes, relishing in the sound of nothing. But then I hear footsteps headed towards me and I then begin wonder if it would be better if I pretend to be asleep.

I feel him stand beside my bed. I hear the clanking of his armor, "my lady Rubin."

I do not respond to him.

"Do not ignore me. The maester told me you could not find sleep."

I press my lips before responding. My voice was still hoarse even after drinking a tea that was meant to help with it, "you are aware in order to fall asleep, you must pretend to be asleep first."

"I have summoned all the men in the nightshift to arrive in an hour," he speaks plainly, "if your rapist is not there, then I will have those guards find him and bring him here within the evening. If they fail, then I shall kill them all with-"

"No."

Daemon still where he stood. He is so utterly stunned by the word that he cannot even think.

I finally peel my eyes open and behold the prince's expression. I release a tired sigh, "you will not do anything about this matter while I am bedridden."

His armor clad body shivers, he feels sick, "you cannot possibly mean to forgive the shit beneath my boots RAPIST that-"

"DAEMON!" I scream, instantly regretting it because my voice was not any better than it was moments ago. I begin to rattle out into a cough.

Daemon face instantly drops, "water! Someone get some fucking water here!"

A maester comes running in with a tray witch held a pitcher of water and a cup. Daemon grabs the tray from him, dismissing him, then places it on the beside table. He pours me a glass and hands it to me in a way that would not require our skin to touch.

I calm myself and take the cup from him, sitting up slowly. I down the lukewarm water then place the cup on the tray to my side. I look up at Daemon, who's violet eyes were burning.

"Come closer," I whisper in High Valyrian.

Daemon drops to his knees in an instant and I am honestly taken aback by it. I shift in my bed and pat my hand to my side, wordlessly beckoning him. He gives me a hesitant look and yet obliges after a moment.

"May I?" I mutter after he sits, raising my hand out to him.

"You need not ever ask me if I want your touch," he responds in High Valyrian, lowering his gaze upon me, "I have craved it for so long."

I take his hand into mine and lean my head back on the surface behind me, closing my eyes, "my knees betrayed me when I was climbing the stairs with Lord Corlys. And when he touched me in an attempt to help, I jolted and descended down the entire flight."

His voice is loud as he quickly retorts, "he shouldn't have touched-"

"He had to carry me here," I turn to him, slowly opening my eyes.

Daemon grows silent again.

"I couldn't even stand after falling. I was lucky I only got bruises out of it."

"I should have been the one to carry you here instead," he replies in his mother tongue, turning to his lap. His free hand tightly curls into a fist.

"I am not a deer that is meant to be thrown over shoulder."

Daemon turns back to me, "I will have a litter out for you."

"I will not be made a spectacle of."

"THEN WHAT!" he blurts, ripping his hand away as he quickly stands, "what shall you have me do for I will not allow that nothing be done?!"

"Let me rest!" I whimper, feeling my eyes water over how pained my voice and body was, "allow me the courtesy of healing, regaining my strength, and then... I will face the rapist myself."

Daemon's face his hard. He wants to scream, to find satisfaction tonight, and yet he contains all this. He reaches in his pocket, fingers fiddling with the gem he always had with him. He clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth, "what did the vermin look like?"

I release a sigh, as I turn to the blankets around me, tears running down my face, "he had dark hair, dark eyes. He was tall and--" I shudder, "impossibly strong." I suck in a breath, "I scarred him, cheek down to his lips from when I was captured," I turn back to Daemon, who's face contorted upon hearing that. I bring my mind back to the grim moment and open my mouth, "he was wearing a hood. I think it was blu--"

"Enough," he blurts, making me cease my words with a gasp.

Daemon does not enjoy my look of tension, my look of vulnerability, and yet... he could not bring himself to address it. He shifts from where he stands in such a way the necklace hid would remain hidden as he pulls it into his hand, "I will find him tonight. I swear on my life. I will not kill him, but I will hurt him so much that he wish he were dead, but I will keep him alive just enough for you to kill him."

His words ring in my ears like a bell in a tower. The anger inside me was thrilled by the idea, but my mind was so tired that all I could do was look out the window and take in the night sky.

Daemon did not know what he was expecting, but the silence in the room was gnawing at him. He shoves his hand back in his pocket and decided then to simply leave.

When he does, I whip my head to the side and call out to him. My voice is so broken however that not a single sound came out.

Daemon's face was chilling under the light of a torch.

He was sat on a wooden stump in front of some 50 men, all nervous, all eager to know why the prince had thrown a fit towards the men who worked the nightshift. He had a ruby necklace in his hand and his eyes were fixed on the item. His calmness was making the tension around wind even more.

"Caraxes," he calls, barely raising his voice, and yet his dragon obeys the call and comes crying with fury from the roof of the building behind his master.

Now that all the men before him were scared shitless, he allows a few moments to pass, making sure the servants mutter to each other about how angry their prince was before he said another word.

Daemon looks up to his dragon, gripping the ruby before putting it away. He mutters that the Caraxes raise his head and upon doing so, the prince commands, "dracarys."

The night sky is overpowered by fire and each man looks up to in terrified awe of the flames burning overhead. The light finds each of their faces, exposing every detail to Daemon's keen eyes.

He sees then, scar from cheek to lip, on a man who was at the very back. Caraxes closes his mouth with a hiss, allowing the darkness to creep up on everyone again.

Daemon's eyes are fixed on his target, blood boiling at the audacity of him to come here thinking he would not be caught, absolutely outraged that he was feigning innocence and ignorance. Part of him wished that he had run, then he would be justified in chasing him down and cutting his legs off. Even now he prayed the vermin would turn to the prince and be so absolutely terrified that he start running so he could start chasing.

But then he realizes something that makes him stand quickly form his seat. All the men around him still at that.

He chuckles darkly.

Nothing is stopping him from doing just that to him right now.

And so the men watch as the prince strides forward; they were not quick enough to make way for him as Daemon's shoulders bump against their shoulder plates.

He draws his hand out to the man with the scarred face and tugs at his metal collar, "strip yourself."

He is too stunned to even move.

Daemon shakes him, "STRIP YOURSELF!" He throws him down, causing the man to fall to the floor, "Or I will have the whole guardhouse rip that armor off your body."

"My lord," the man whines, "I do not-"

Daemon has his sword pointed at him in but a second, "I would not speak another word, if I wanted to keep my tongue." He watches as the man gets on his knees and shivers. He is enraged by his stillness, "FUCKING STRIP HIM!"

Caraxes screams, feeling the anger of his rider.

The men go upon him and undo his armor. Once he is left in nothing but his pants and his shirt, Daemon slowly steps towards him, blade inching near his skin, piercing him slowly, "now run."

He holds back his screams, but it is futile when the prince rips his shoulder muscle up. Daemon listens to his pathetic cries, lips curling in disgust, "run, vermin."

"Your grace, I-"

Daemon kicks his face, which sends him shooting back, "I'M ASKING YOU TO RUN WITH YOUR LEGS, NOT WITH YOUR MOUTH."

He man is writhing in pain, and his groans annoy Daemon, "you will hurt worse than you've hurt regardless if you run or not."

Upon realizing the man would not get up anytime soon, he kicks him back down on the floor before he can rise up. The prince steps on the cut on the man's skin, making him scream out in anguish. Daemon makes sure to watch everyone's reaction to the piercing noise. Caraxes adds to it with his one screech.

Once the sound dampens, Daemon raises finally speaks, "last night this man broke the oath he swore to keep as a member of the royal guard. Instead of protecting the subjects of this realm, he did the very act he was meant to condemn. He deluded himself in claiming a perverted form of justice when he raped a defenseless woman as a form of revenge.

"And not only did he dishonor the royal guards by overpowering someone in an unfair fight, but he dishonored me," he drums on his chest, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen, second born after King Viserys, by assaulting the woman I promised to marry."

The crowd breaks into gasps and grumbles. The man beneath his books begins to sob, "but my lord! My lord, she was shackl-"

Daemon kicks him repeatedly as he seethes, "shut the fuck up."

The man's cries excite Caraxes into another scream. Daemon heaves, feeling the thirst of his Blood Wyrm course through him. It takes so much in him not to say the word and end the life of the pathetic man. His entire body was practically buzzing with a thirst for blood. But he turns to his dragon, raising a hand at him to calm him down. Caraxes clicks in disappointment.

For a moment, the prince basks in the man's pain. As much as his fingers itch to inflict even more on him, with great restraint, he turns away, "take him to a cell before I kill him," Daemon commands as he walks off.

It was on the 3rd day of my bed rest that I finally asked the maesters if there had been any word from Prince Daemon. Upon being told that there was none, I proceeded to ask if perhaps I was visited while I was asleep. The look the maester gave me after that was one of pity, as if I was delusional to expect that I be visited by anyone at all.

I was visited though, but not by the Valyrian I wanted. Lord Corlys came on the 5th day of my bed rest. He was kind, he instructed the maesters to keep me well fed and even brought me literature to amuse myself with. It was on that very same day I realized the prince was not coming to visit me.

It hurt of course, and the more I tried to convince myself that what the maesters said about their prince was true, how he was rogue and only ever did things that benefit himself, the more I thought about how I pathetic I was into thinking he actually cared for me.

And so today, the very first day I was allowed to walk and go wherever I wanted, I blew off steam on the training ground in the early morning so I wouldn't have to share it with anyone.

"This is the first thing you do after being allowed to stand?"

The voice is familiar, too familiar in fact, considering I did not hear it at all during my recovery. I ignore him, focusing on the inanimate target before me, allowing the extra shot of anger that coursed through me now flow out of me.

He speaks in High Valyrian, "have you now become so proud that you are to be reinstated as a Lady that you will not even greet your prince?"

I halt for a moment, enraged by the sentiment. I grip my sword tightly then hack on the hay dummy particularly, "greetings, prince Daemon!"

The man's lips curve at the show of strength. I hear him chuckle, "though it gladdens me to see your might, I'm worried you might overexert yourself."

I scoff, opting to twirl my weapon in my hand instead, "I did not think it mattered to you what I do anymore, considering you did not come to me in 10 days."

Daemon brings his hands together in front of him, "the maesters told me it would take a week for you to heal."

"A week is not 10 days," I blurt quickly, whipping my head to him, "Targaryen scum."

Daemon smirks at me.

My face twists the opposite way and my pulse quickens in anger. Sensing my hostility, the man draws his sword out just in time before my blade could hit him.

My fury is further fueled by his mischievous expression. We prance around, boots grinding the dirt beneath it as we stomp to match the other's stance. Daemon is too thrilled by the sounds of clanking swords, and it becomes clear to me that he thinks this is a game, that I was doing this to show him how much I had recovered, and so I make it a point to nick him when I get the chance. The chance comes quickly when he laughs as he pulls back to avoid my charge.

He lets out a shocked grunt when I rip the middle part of the sleeve of his coat deep enough that blood is drawn.

Our fight ends here.

The prince looks at me for a moment, betrayed, obviously only now realizing that I was, in fact, pissed that he did not visit me at all while I was bedridden. He turns to his cut, confused by the pain. I drop the sword in my hand and turn, walking away.

"I did not think you wanted my company," he calls as he wipes the blood with his fingers. Daemon averts his gaze from his wound to me, "I confess, I wouldn't have known what to do had I visited anyway."

I scoff in disbelief, grinding my teeth in annoyance. I take in his pathetic look and I storm towards him, heaving in anger. My eyes grow glassy when I growl, "I was fucking raped, you stupid piece of shit!"

Daemon takes a step back for every step I took towards him.

"You are so incorrigible that you cannot care to think about anything but yourself!" I bark, raising and accusing finger at him. "You are the only face I know here!" I whine, voice breaking as my tears betray me with their appearance. "You are the only one that doesn't look at me like I'm broken or tainted or fucking stupid, and yet here you are looking down at me as if I am!"

Daemon's face twitches at the shrillness of my screams. He is surprised when my hands dart out to his collar, "I didn't want you, Daemon," I pull him down to me, heaving helplessly as I finish my words in High Valyrian, "I needed you."

His hands raise around me but they do not land anywhere. His head is spinning. He never before has been so confused with what to do next.

I release him and walk off once again.

Daemon does not like that, which is why in his desperation, he darts his hands forward and grabs my arm. He instantly regrets it though when I jolt at the unforeseen contact and raise my hands up in defense, and out of instinct.

"Fuck," he pulls away quickly, raising both his hands up, "fuck, shit, fuck, apologies," he sputters, digging his fingers in his nape, "fuck, fuck, I-"

I shake my head, releasing a breath as my anger slowly melts at his guilty expression, "I touched you first without-"

"I told you you could," he says, "you can always touch me without-"

"I know," I cut him off, "still it was unlike me to do so."

Daemon watches me wipe my eyes before I turn back to him, "I have to go. I must get ready soon. I was granted audience with the king to discuss the reclamation of my title."

"Can I be granted audience as well?"

I sigh, turning away from him, "do I truly even have a choice?"

"You do," he retorts, eyes fixed on me.

I look at the prince for a moment. A foreign expression lingered in his eyes. I tilt my head, "I grant it to you now then... but make it quick."

He extends his hand out to me, asking in High Valyrian, "may I?"

I turn to his palm and place my own atop of his.

The prince's eyes remained fixed intently on me, starkly contrasting mine that were wandering the large, dark, and filthy place all over. The smell the massive building had was ten times worse than that of the bottom chamber of ship Jocelyn.

My left hand was also still firmly gripped in his right one. Daemon hat them hands pressed against his chest protectively.

"Where are we?" I finally ask as we make our stop in center of the massive place.

Daemon looks down at me, raking in my expression in silence.

I turn to him with an expectant look after receiving no response. He raises his head a fraction, eyes still on mine. I raise my brows as he moves my hand to his left one and side steps behind me. He presses his body flush against my back and places his right hand on my right shoulder, "the dragon pit."

My eyes widen at his admission. I look over my shoulder where his face was and shake my head in disapproval as my pulse quickens.

"Shhhh," he hushes as he presses his lips against my temple, "do not be nervous."

Yet out of nervousness, I involuntarily speak the name that popped into my mind, "Caraxes?"

In that very moment, there is a whine that echoes across the room. My breath hitches as the noise grows louder.

I wriggle out of Daemon's clutch. He hushes me again. He mutters in High Valyrian, "calm yourself, my love."

And from the very pit emerges a dragon head, screeching loudly. Suddenly I wonder if Daemon's words were for me or his dragon. Perhaps both.

Daemon does not enjoy the restlessness he was feeling across the room. He presses a kiss on my pulsing neck, breath hot against me as he speaks in the same language, "I am here. Nothing will hurt you."

Caraxes draws nearer. The dragon screeches yet again and shakes his head in a manner I can only hope was friendly.

"Calm yourself," Daemon commands, raising his right hand to his dragon, "I brought her here to meet you."

"Daemon," I mutter harshly in fear.

He presses his lips to my temple again, "calm yourself. He can sense your restlessness, same as I."

My breath hitches as I exhale and chuckle sardonically, "oh, pardon me for being nervous in front of a mother fucking dragon."

Daemon chuckles, his free hand coming to circle around my waist, "there's that fire. Caraxes will appreciate it."

At this point, the dragon is close enough that the hot huffs coming out of his nostrils was blowing against both mine and Daemon's being.

I decide to merely close my eyes and lean my head against Daemon's, "I have no idea why you want me to meet your dragon, but be quick about it so we can leave at once."

Daemon chuckles again, chin affectionately rubbing against my hair. He turns to his dragon and speaks in High Valyrian, "I have chosen her myself, Caraxes," he smiles, "she is a pretty as you, don't you agree?"

For a prolonged moment, there is only silence. I feel Daemon spread my hand open and soon enough my palms are then met with a warm and bumpy sensation.

"Open your eyes, my dear ruby," he instructs in the same language.

I release a breath before slowly opening my eyes. It seems as though the great eye before me opened at the same time. My lips part as Daemon guides my hand to stroke the side of Caraxes' face.

I finally feel brave enough to tear my gaze off of the creature's eye to take in the rest of his large body. I'm shocked at how unexpectedly smooth the feeling of his scales where against my hand.

"What fierce beauty you are, sweet dragon," I mutter in the language Caraxes is responsive to. For a moment, my heart jumps back into my throat as the beast makes quick clicking noises. I step back, falling into Daemon's arms and he hushed me yet again. Caraxes lifts his head, releasing a quick whine, then bares the other side of his face to me.

Daemon breaks into a laugh, heart soaring at his dragon's sentiment. I am in utter astonishment of how the beast reacted.

When Caraxes is close enough, I slowly bring my hand back down on him by my own will. In my surprise of how he leans in, my other hand darts up to his face. A gasp of surprise leaves my lips. The prince is, needless to say, pleased.

"My dragon is anything but sweet," Daemon says, slowly breaking away from me to go to the other side of Caraxes' head, praising him quickly, "good boy."

I stroke Caraxes' head in a more confident manner now. The creature closes his eyes and rests his head on the floor. I realize the rolling sound he was making was perhaps similar to that of a cat's purr. The thought makes me break into a smile, "you're just an overgrown kitten, aren't you?"

Daemon's own lips curve upward, unable to hide his amusement. He slowly walks over to me and says, "you are now bonded to a dragon."

I freeze in my actions and turn to him, knitting my brows, "surely, it's not that simple."

He chuckles, hand resting on Caraxes' snout, nonchalant, "he will, of course, answer only to my command, but now he knows your scent and knows of your connection to his master."

I turn to the dragon, "Caraxes is-"

I do not finish my thought as the said creature opens his eyes and lifts his head from the floor to look down upon me and his rider. I step back, feeling fear flood me again. Daemon catches me before I can step back any further, "careful. He is very responsive to his name."

I open my mouth but cannot speak a word.

Daemon chuckles one last time before turning to Caraxes, "go on now," he dismisses in High Valyrian, "go back to your cave and take a nap."

Caraxes releases a quick whine and obeys his master's order.

I watch as he slowly walks back down into the pit. When I finally tear my gaze away from Caraxes, I give Daemon a wide eyed look, "did you just command a dragon to take a nap?"

He looks at me for a moment before releasing an amused breath, "come now. You mustn't reek of dragon slobber when you go to meet the king."

When he takes my hand back in his, I ask him again, "and did your dragon respond to it?"

Daemon presses his lips together in a soft smile.

"My cats didn't even come to me when I called to them."

We begin to walk off when Daemon responds, "that's because your blood does not contain magic that calls out to felines."

I give him an incredulous look, "are you telling me you're a cat whisperer as well?"

Daemon could only think of one thing as he stood in the throne room, his attention was solely on one person alone. Rhaenyra, who was situated near him, could see the pleased look on her uncle's face and it made her so utterly curious. So, she followed his line of sight, wondering what had him in such a good mood today, then giggled to herself upon seeing what her uncle was looking at.

I grinned, bowing courteously to King Viserys right after he announced before all the lord and ladies present that he was recognizing me as Lady of house Rubin.

The hall erupted into cheers for me, and I yet I felt only a semblance of emotion to the sight of Lord Corlys' clapping. I nod graciously at him, offering a smile. He gives me a knowing look back, beckoning me over wordlessly.

I promptly make my to him but on my way though, I bump into something I did not see. When I do spot what hindered my passage, I see a head of silver hair and a boy that was knocked over to the floor, yet he sweetly tells me, "pardon me, my good lady."

My lips part in concern and my heart clenches at his sweet words. I crouch down to the boy, who surely was of Valyrian descent, "I apologize, my sweet prince. Are you hurt?"

The boy looks up at me as I extend a hand him.

I hear soft giggles beside me and I turn and see an older version of the boy, "oooh, look! Little Aemond got knocked over by a girl!"

I raise a brow at the bratty response of the child. I whip my head to the other child as he suddenly swatted my hand away and stands up on his own.

"Aegon!" the shrill voice of the queen called.

The two boys promptly still and turn to their mother. I rise as Queen Alicient walks over to me, "I apologize for my sons behavior. They keep running away from their keeper."

I smile at her, shaking my head, "children are no trouble to me," I turn to the younger boy, "prince Aemond is very sweet, and his brother," I turn to whom the queen addressed as Aegon, "is very sharp about his tongue."

The Queen looks down at her eldest, "what did you say to Lady Rubin?"

"Nothing, mother, I-"

"Not to me," I smile, "to his brother. But I suppose the occurrence is common."

I watch as Alicient's cheek turns a shade red. My expression drops, "I meant no impertinence, my queen. I apologize." I turn to Aegon, "I'm sure the prince will grow out of it and be a fine ruler one day."

I bow before them and quickly speak, "your majesties," before continuing to walk off.

"Lord Corlys."

"Lady Rubin," he greets when I am near him, "it seems you have a knack of attracting Targaryen prince."

I press my lips into a line, "I cannot help who I attract, though I can use it to my advantage."

He nods, softly chuckling. He then side steps to better reveal the woman beside him, "this is Princess Rhaenys," my face brightens at the sight of her, "my lady wife-"

"I have heard a great many things about you and your mighty dragon, Meleys, my princess," I excitedly retort in High Valyrian, a bit too quickly perhaps. The white haired princess raises her brows at me. I bow before her, "it is an absolute honor to meet you."

She hums as I straighten myself up, "My husband, Lord of the Tides, told me you were the reason for the loss of his thousands worth of goods," she takes a moment before adding, "how did you manage it and remain unscathed?"

I break into a wide smile, feeling my fingers tingle in excitement, "honestly, your grace," I turn to my feet then back to the princess, I continue in High Valyrian, "I was, in fact, scathed, brutally after my my capture. One of the guards snuck into my cell to get even over a scar I placed on his cheek."

Princess Rhaenys watches my expression. I press my lips into a smile, "there is a price to be paid for every exploit, the cost is blood, honor, and life, although never only mine. I have paid every price with an unwilling generosity," I turn from her to her husband, "tis why I have agreed to the terms of our Lord Velaryon with no fuss. Not only am I certain of my capabilities, but I also no longer wish to give helplessly to men with power. I did not want another of my crew to die either."

The princess turns to her husband, eyes bearing a glint in them. She speaks in her mother tongue, "your stories do her no justice."

Corlys leans towards her, "we have yet to see how quickly she can amass the payment of her debt."

"Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys," a voice calls, "Lady Rubin," a man walks up beside me, offering his hand out, "it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

I look at his hand for a moment, gripping my own before lifting it up and pulling a smile, "the pleasure's all mine, ser..."

The man with dark brown hair and blue eyes takes my hand gently in his, "tis Lord Aiden of house Greystoke."

I feel my skin rise up with goosebumps when he presses his lips on the back of my hand. I withdraw my hand quickly right after. Lord Aiden does not seem to mind as he smiles and says, "I have heard of your exploits with Lord Corlys, my lady, and I say I am impressed."

I turn to Corlys and hold in a chuckle, "you misunderstand. I have not yet done exploits with Lord Corlys."

The young lord tilts his head and gives a confused puppy look. My lips curve in endearment. He raises a hand, "would you mind then if you continued on with this tale while sharing a glass of wine with me?"

Before Lord Corlys can but in, another voice speaks, "actually, I was wondering the same thing." I turn to the opposite direction and find a face of a smirking yellow haired man. He too extends his hand out to me, "Lord Jason Lannister."

I take one look of his calloused hands and clench my jaw. I bow at him instead, "a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lord Jason."

The man looks at me for a moment, gripping his extended hand and recovering to his side. He clears his throat.

"It seems we shall have to continue our chat some other time, my lady," princess Rhaenys calls out in High Valyrian, making everyone turn to her.

My lips part in disappointment, "I do not care to converse with these lords."

Lord Corlys laughs at that.

"How lucky am I to be born a prince then," a voice calls from behind me. I turn over and see the face of prince Daemon, lips curved upward, and yet there was no amusement in his eyes.

"How impressive it is that you understand the tongue of the dragon," Lord Aiden says, eyes fixed on me. I turn from Daemon to him, unable to contain my amused chuckle at his glimmering eyes and admiring expression, "I know a great many languages, my lord."

"You must be well traveled then," he smiles.

"Like a pirate," Daemon blurts firmly, making both me and Aiden turn to him.

Aiden ignores him and adds, "I would love to hear about your travels, my lady Rubin." He nods bows and smiles with such reverence that I cannot contain my pleased expression.

Daemon's eyes are darker now, and as he steps closer, he speaks sternly, "Lady Rubin and I have premade plans."

I tilt my head to him, lips curving into a small smirk, "we do?"

"An execution," Daemon retorts plainly.

My amused expression beings to melt away.

Daemon looks at the concerned faces around him, pleased by it, but then his eyes fall on mine and he adds in a blurt, "--of sorts."

I suck in a breath and turn away from the prince, "it has been a pleasure to converse with you all," I turn to the princess in particular and smile, continuing in High Valyrian, "I look forward to continuing our chat, my princess."

Rhaenys nods, lips pressed in a soft smile.

"Do not forget about me, my lady," Aiden calls, making me turn to him.

I grin at this hopefully bright expression, "I would not dare dream of it, my lord."

I turn then to Daemon who gives me a pointed look before walking off. I give one quick curtsy then rush after the long striding prince.

I feel all the eyes of the room turn to me as I make haste towards the exit where the prince was headed. I realize he is doing it on purpose, making me run after him, as he weaves through the crowd. I am quicker and swifter then he'd give me credit for though.

The moment we make it out to the hall, Daemon speaks, "you enjoyed that."

"You will have to be more specific, Targaryen scum," I retort in High Valyrian.

"Those men! Fawning for you!" he blurts, still not relenting his quick pace.

I chuckle, having no choice but to run to catch up with him, "I enjoy your vexation to it."

He halts abruptly, causing me to slam onto his back with much force. I reel backwards as the prince turns about and walks towards me. When I catch his expression, I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. He is entirely serious when he speaks, but I find no threat in them, "it would do you good to burn in mind that no man shall have you but I."

I lick my lips and shake my head mockingly in disappointment, "oh, boys, so naturally uninclined to share."

"I am a prince," he seethes, enunciating each word clearly, face coming dangerously close to mine, "I was not taught to share, nor do I plan on doing so any time soon."

Daemon is a bit taken aback by the quick peck I place on his lips. His violet eyes darken where mine shimmer, "good to know, little boy."

With that, I dash past him and continue off to where he was heading originally.

It took two men to drag the raggedy body of the man in front of the prince and I. I look at the man, trying to distinguish if it was in fact the man who attacked me, but his body was so torn and filthy, and his face so distraught that I could not make out his features, nor distinguish the scar I left on him.

I turn to Daemon, who seems to sense my apprehension, and so he speaks, "do you remember her, rat?" the prince shifts from where he stood, turning his gaze to the man, "bask in the glory of your executioner."

I watch as the man writhes on the ground in pain. His limbs were cut in many ways, and it appeared to me he could no longer feel them. Suddenly, I fear that Daemon took the wrong person and made him suffer for the wrongs of another. I turn to Daemon, "are you certain this is the man I described to you?"

"He confessed and plead by his sins to me," the prince spoke, turning to me, "I made sure he suffered while you healed."

"Please," the man, who had his face on the dirt, heaves with great difficulty, "let me die."

A shiver runs down my spine. My tear immediately prick in my eyes. I turn to the man on the ground. Daemon looks at me, excited by my look of wrath.

"You plead for the wrong things," I mutter, "you should plead for my mercy, for my forgiveness," my breath quickens as anger rips at me, "you should plead that I take pity in you and that I shall spare your life so that you may return to your family."

He whines, barely able to raise his head, "I could not live... knowing I shamed my family."

His words strike a chord in me. I shriek in anger, ripping the blade Daemon had sheathed my his side, momentarily surprising him, "AND YET YOU WISH I LIVE WITH THE SHAME YOU INFLICTED ME!?!"

I raise Daemon's sword with two hands, its weight literally too heavy to bare. It didn't help that I was trembling in anger. It took so much for me not to drop the weapon.

Daemon moves to help me, but I shove him off. In turn, the sword slowly descends to the ground. With all my strength, made sure not to him the man on the floor because if I hurt him, I want to do it with intention. Still, I can't for the life of me decide whether or not I should let him die by my blade.

Tears run down my face, "perhaps I should let you live-- recover. Then you'd have a wife and daughter. Then you'd feel the fear in your soul over the idea they live in a world where men freely strut with intentions of desecrating them," I rapidly shake my head, "but that would be too good to you, wouldn't it? And too horrible to whom you would foolishly blindside into marriage.

"And it would be a shame if you birthed a son that would follow in your footsteps, and that he dare think it is his birthright to be vile," I cry, gripping the hilt of my sword with all my strength, "it would be-" I heave, trying to even out my breathing, "a great act of mercy for me to kill you, mercy to your pathetic self, and to the world that will be better off without you in it."

Yet I drop the sword, unable to cease the shivering of my hands, "but I will instead let The Stranger come for you, secretly in your cell, where you will wonder day after day when you will finally find relief. When your pain is hot, you will think of me, and how you so regret ever laying your filthy hands on me, for it is how I perceive you. Except I will heal from this horror and you will never."

Daemon watches me as I take deep breaths.

"Then you will know what it feels like to live with an irrevocable pain. Then you will know how it feels to live in a world, the same world where the person that hurt you struts freely."

After having my say, I release a breath and begin to walk back. I avert my gaze and allow tears to roll down my face.

The rapist is sobbing as well, uncontrollably, painfully, and begs with the remaining strength in him, "please."

The prince will not have it and grabs his sword, charging at the man. Daemon rips the man's head up by his matted hair. He screams because of it. It allows the prince the perfect opportunity to cut his tongue off. He screeches louder in pain. Daemon holds slimy prize up, "you've no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

"I want to leave now," I say in High Valyrian, bringing my hands to my face, rubbing my wet skin back and forth.

Daemon turns over to me and stands, "throw him back in his cell," he commands one last time, walking over to me.

Once he is before me, I look up at him, wrapping my arms around myself, "can you take me somewhere?"

For a moment, Daemon thinks.

"I don't want to go to the chambers right now. I will not find relief nor rest."

He lowers his gaze, slowly speaking, "I plan to feed the vermin's tongue to Caraxes."

I nod avidly, "please take me with you."

Daemon turns back to me, lips pulling downward at the sight of my frantic expression. He nods then walks off, leading me to the dragon pit silently.

As we walk, I am aware of how the people we pass try so hard not to look, lest they reap the wrath of their furious looking prince.

And yet, while on out way to the pit, there is one that dares to grab our attention. I hear a voice call out my name, it is frantic sounding. I recognized it to be of Lord Aiden's but I ignore it. Prince Daemon does not, and dirtily looks out to whom spoke. He finds himself glaring daggers at the young man with dark hair and blue eyes, though it seemed he did not even notice, as he was too preoccupied with a troubled expression.

We arrive at the pit, and somehow, the stench is comforting.

"Caraxes!" Daemon calls loudly, striding forward, deeper into the place with confidence, "I came bearing a gift." He raises the tongue and wiggles it in the air. The sight is revolting to my eyes, and I turn away, involuntarily gagging.

Daemon awaits his mount as it screeches from beneath the room, slowly crawling out.

Caraxes lets out a screech once he is before his master. Daemon throws the chunk of flesh to the dragon's massive mouth. Caraxes quickly catches it and swallows without a problem.

I watch as the large beast whines and shakes his head. I feel my chest tighten in anxiousness over the actions. I raise my eyes and step back slowly as the dragon comes my way.

Daemon raises his hands to the dragon, "Caraxes! Listen to me, submit to me, obey me," he enumerates in High Valyrian.

Caraxes does his telltale clicking noise and ruffles his wings as he steps around, clearly agitated.

My heart begins to pound, "Daemon, I-"

"He can sense your distress," he says, quickly turning over to me, then back to Caraxes, "calm yourself, boy."

I wrap my arms tighter around myself, feeling my dread further intensify, "Forgive me, but I cannot control my-"

"Call out to him," Daemon says, walking backwards to meet me. I move close to the prince and share a frantic look. He meets my gaze and reaches his hand out to me, wordlessly asking for my permission. I place my hand in his as he commands his dragon in High Valyrian, "Caraxes, calm yourself."

"Calm yourself," I repeat in the same tongue.

"Louder, more conviction," Daemon says, bringing our joined hands up in front of him, "come to me."

"Come to me," I say a volume louder. I look from Daemon to the dragon and command, "come to me to calm yourself."

The moment he hears this, Daemon finds no need to watch his dragon as he crawls over. He fixes his gaze upon me and rests his cheek on the crown of my head.

When Caraxes is close enough, he huffs through his nostrils, steam coming out. I place both my palms on him and bite my lower lip to hold in my sobs.

"He must have thought your distress was because of him," Daemon says, "perhaps because he didn't share the treat."

I choke on my tears as a laugh escapes me. Caraxes responds by pushing up against my hands. He lays his head on the floor before us. I coo, stroking the dragon's face, "you are the most generous boy I know."

Daemon chuckles, stroking Caraxes all the same, "my dragon is anything but generous."

I allow some final tears run down my face before I sigh, "thank you," I lean close to Caraxes then turn to Daemon, "my sweet and generous dragon."

He looks at me and raises his hand to my face, "may I?"

My only response is leaning against his hand. He wipes my tears with the pad of his thumb, "no man deserves your tears."

I close my eyes, feeling tears streak down my face, "I know."

The princes draws his hand back, "would you like to take my sweet and generous dragon out for a ride?"

My heart drops and my pulse quickens. I ask an octave higher than normal, "by myself?"

Daemon breaks into a laugh. He leans into his dragon, entertainment, "my cunning pirate bride loses her wits when she is around my mount."

When our eyes meet, I raise my brows at him, "you have a cunning pirate bride?"

He smirks, extending his hand out to me again, "there she is."

I take his hand and he pulls me towards him. Caraxes lifts his head as we make our way to his saddle. Daemon begins to climb up on him, and soon after, he extends his hand out for me. I give him an apprehensive look, but take his hand again and he helps me climb up his dragon.

"Be gentle," I mumble as he situates me in front of him, locking me in between his body and the reins.

Daemon chuckles and I squeak as Caraxes begins to move, "I thought you liked it when I'm rough, my dear ruby."

"You," I whine, "not Caraxes."

Daemon laughs again. Caraxes shrieks upon hearing his name.

Two years had passed since the day my house was reinstated and acknowledged by the king. And within this time, begrudgingly, I only managed to get about half of the sum I owed Lord Corlys, which to be fair, was about exactly how much I stole from him, considering he charged me twice the amount.

And honestly, I had not initially anticipated that he wanted me to do so in a way that obeyed the law. I mean, I may be a lady but I was a pirate. What did he expect of me? This was which was why it was taking unimaginably long to accomplish what I could do then in mere months. I had to barter instead of threaten and create relations than crack skulls, and honestly, I was missing the violence a bit, especially when men thought it was ok to breath down my neck.

Make no mistake, pain was a friend I introduced to many of my new acquiantances.

It was also surprising that it seems to Lord Corlys, the grueling time in my eyes was quick in his. I told Princess Rhaenys that his husband was unimpressive in that matter, and she only laughed at that.

Today, I was returning from a month's voyage, coming home with more than I anticipated for such a short travel, which was why I was particularly chirpy.

At the moment, I was heading to the guestroom where the Lord of Driftmark was staying for the while he is in King's Landing for the birth of his first grandchild to Lord Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra.

I was still dressed in my travel attire, fresh off the boat as I made my way down the castle's halls. I hear a commotion come from one of the rooms across the hall. By the time I reach the door where the noise sourced, a boy with silver white hair storms out, followed by another who runs after him, calling, "Aegon, you'll get us in trouble again!"

"We'll only get in trouble is someone tells," the taller of the two says in response, raising a finger, "and you better not."

"Aye," I call out, making the two turn to me. I cross my arms as the two look at me with an nervous expression, "the queen should not know about how her sons are bickering in the hall," I walk over and sneak a look to their open door, "instead of, what? Studying?"

"Insolar person," Aegon attempts at High Valyrian.

I make a face at the kid and ask in the same tongue, "is that supposed to be some sort of insult?"

The princes are shocked, the one called Aemond is particularly impressed, "you can speak High Valyrian?"

"Amongst other things."

Aegon, however, is unimpressed and crosses his own arms to prove it, "I didn't understand it. You just made that up."

I relax my arms to the side and reply again in the same tongue, "you didn't understand it because you cannot speak this language."

He makes a cross face. His brother looks at me in astonishment.

I shake my head and offer a smile, "you don't have to worry about me telling your mother, but I do so humbly suggest you study the language while you're still young. It'll get harder to learn once you're older."

With that, I give them a quick bow in regard and walk past them, making my way to where I was going to in the first place.

"Will you stay for dinner?" the voice of Aemond asks from behind me.

I do not bother turning to him when I reply, "I'm only here to speak to Lord Corlys, then I am returning to my estate."

I make it to the room and announce myself before entering.

Upon stepping into the room, Lord Corlys wastes no time in applauding me for my latest exploits, ceaselessly impressed by my capabilities, though again to my eyes it was sluggish.

"Although I am somewhat pleased and amused by your compliments, I am fairly certain that you did not call me here for that."

Corlys nods, "yes. Well, while you were away, I had many lords come to me with proposals of marriage. I think because of our houses' alliance, they think it is my business what you do with yours."

I cannot help but roll my eyes, "that, and they could not possibly communicate such important proposals with a woman."

"Well, the woman was on a voyage," he says, handing me a box of scrolls where the many marriage proposals were.

I scoff at the sight of it, "I meant my handmaiden, Abigail, who is in charge of my estate when I am not present."

Corlys chuckles, "I will make sure to direct any further inquiries to your handmaiden then."

I release a sigh and nod in regard, "thank you, my lord," I turn to the box in hand, "and apologies."

He shakes his head, "worry not about it. I feel responsible for you as well anyway, as you are not only my old friend's remaining daughter, but you are also returning your debt at a promising rate."

I shake my head and chuckle, "I will be off then, Lord Corlys."

When I make it to Jocelyn, I break into an amused smile upon spotting the man waiting for me, "my Lord."

Lord Aiden perks up at the sight of me then nods in regard, "my Lady Rubin." I raise my brows at him as he moves towards me with a smile plastered on his face, "as soon as I heard you were here, I made haste to meet you, knowing you are as swift as you go as you come."

I break into a chuckle, "an astute observation."

The man beams at my reaction, "I will not waste your time by asking you to dinner for clearly you are ready to leave."

"Another astute observation," I nod.

"I am glad however to behold your glorious face," he smiles, making my lips curl upward. He mimics my expression, "I do hope one day we will be able to share a meal though."

I shake my head, ceaselessly amused by him and his softly curved lips, "one day, perhaps."

"Welcome home, my Lady," Abigail, with her rosy cheeks and golden-brown hair, smiles at me once I enter. I return her expression and pull her into a hug, "where is your older brother?"

"William is out tending to the animals."

I pull away, smiling, "just like your father," I look at her, pushing Abigail's hair behind her ear, "and you look just like your mother."

She shakes her head as she chuckles, "you know you don't have to keep telling me that every time you see me."

"Well, I can't help it, it's true," I pull away from her, "Agnes and Douglas raised me like their own and yet... I could not even repay them in this life."

Abigail takes my hand, "taking us in is more than enough, sister."

My heart swells at her regard. She smiles at me, then gasps, "oh, I nearly forgot." I look at her reluctant expression and she raises a finger before speaking, "the prince is here."

I release a breath of relief, "I thought you were going to say someone broke in."

"Well," Abigail's eyes trail off, "he kind of did."

I roll my eyes at the thought.

She continues, "he had me draw a bath in your quarters. I told him it was indecent," she stressed out, "but, then he asked me if I wanted to know what real indecency was, and I could not bare the thought of him speaking vulgarities to me, and so I did his bidding." Abigail gives me a regretful look, "for that I sincerely apologise, I-"

"I am not cross with you, my dear," I say, placing a hand on her shoulder, "the Targaryen scum on the one h-"

"My lady!"

I raise my hands in defeat, "the prince," I correct myself before releasing a sigh, "think nothing of it, Abigail. Just go about your duties. It's almost time for supper. I'm certain everyone is famished."

"I shall make sure they wait for you before-"

"Nothing of the sort," I shake my head, "I might just take a bath myself and go to sleep."

Abigail makes a nervous look, "no- not with the prince around, right?"

I break into a laugh and shake my head, "silly girl, of course not."

She releases a breath she held in after hearing that.

"Perhaps I will be around him."

Abigail does not react because she does not understand.

I promptly make my way upstairs to my chambers. I enter and see scattered clothes on the floor. I click my tongue at the sight of it. I walk in deeper and see the door to my bath was wide open.

I walk in, slowly undressing myself of my outerwear as I find Daemon in the large, circular stone tub, eyes closed. I make my way closer, prompting the man to speak, "took you long enough."

"When did you get here?"

He chuckles, "worry not, it was not too long."

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried that you might have rode Caraxes and left him somewhere to devour our livestock out of spite."

I stand before him at this point. His lips are curled upward mischievously, "I left Caraxes in King's Landing. I think he's coming down with a cold-"

"A cold," I snort.

"- and would feel better if you visited him."

I shake my head, "are you trying to ineffectively guilt trip me into coming home with you?"

"It's not ineffective if it works."

I roll my eyes at him, "you threatened to speak vulgarities to Abigail if she not drawn you a bath in my chambers?"

His lips quirk up higher, "vulgarities? Is that what she said?" He opens his eyes and turns to me, "I only asked her if she wanted to know of how her lady spent her time before she her house, Rubin, was reinstated."

"She is an innocent child, Targaryen scum."

He chuckles, "she is a maiden in marrying age. You would benefit from marrying her off to some rich moron."

"Hmm," I cross my arms, "I actually received an entire box of marriage proposals myself. I am thinking of holding a banquet soon enough to comb through my potential husbands."

He scoffs, "I'm sure they're all so eager to get their grubby fingers into your steady growing wealth," he wades his hand in the water and continues in High Valyrian, "you would be the best thing in their life, while they would be worst thing in yours."

I smack my lips and step closer to Daemon, placing my hands behind my back, "that oddly sounds like you're describing yourself."

Daemon straightens from where he sits, making the water around him ripple, "except I'd rather stick my fingers in your sopping cunt."

The statement does not land on my ears the way he intends. I clench my jaw upon hearing that and reel back. A memory plays in my mind against my will. My hands curl up into a ball as I step away.

"Fuck," he mutters upon realizing, "I- fuck- I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Daemon," I mutter, "it happens. It's not your fault."

I turn around and decide to walk off.

I wasn't always like this. There were moments were I absolutely reveled at the idea of being desired, where I basked in the praise and worship Daemon sung against my skin. I could not control it though when I was caught in the opposite end.

I didn't want to be at the opposite end though, which is why I turn back to Daemon, "is the water still warm?"

He looks at me, "just a bit."

I begin to undress myself fully as I walk over to the large circular tub. Daemon watches my every move but once I pull my shirt off, he averts his gaze, "do you want me to go?"

"No," I remove my trousers.

A moment passes before he speaks up again, "can I touch you, my ruby?"

I, too, take a moment before replying, "perhaps."

"Perhaps is not yes," he says, leaning his head back on the stone, closing his eyes, "you have nothing to prove."

I press my lips into a line as I dip my foot into the water.

True, he was selfish and unhinged his man was, but Daemon was also a fierce supporter. He never spoke to me in profound manners, he never pushed me or instructed me to do things he thought was right, but instead when he was by my side, he remind me of my fire.

Sure, he was rugged in his ways, but there was still solace to be found in knowing he'd be willing the burn the whole world down for me. Sometimes, that was was enough. Right now however, I wanted him to be more tender towards me.

The water rises as I sit down across Daemon, who pulls his legs towards him, so not to bump into mine.

I was supposed to tell him this, ask him to hold me in his arms, but his own words cut me off before I could even speak, "is this why you have not agreed to my proposals?"

I look at him and his exposed neck. My usual self would normally think this moment a great opportunity to latch my lips onto his skin, but I do nothing but splash water onto my arms before I respond, "I like to think it's because I want to keep receiving gifts from men who think they can have me."

He barely releases a chuckle.

"They will cease once I marry, and free gifts are is still free gifts."

Daemon peels his eyes open, "if it's material you want, then I will offer you all the riches I have and all the riches I will ever acquire."

"Will you also accompany me in my travels to pay back Lord Corlys?" I ask, lips curving into a small smirk.

"I'll pay him myself," he retorts, eyes finally finding mine.

For a moment, his gaze upon me is light. The fiery look of desire in his longing gaze was welcomed, but there is a looming darkness in my mind. It doesn't take long for me to feel the need to wrap my arms around my bare chest, feeling too exposed in all the wrong ways in his eyes.

"You should wash up and go to bed," Daemon says, releasing a sigh.

I watch him as he gathers himself up, "what will you do then?"

"Me?" he starts, standing, beginning to make his way out of the water, "I will busy myself in watching you sleep."

I chuckle upon hearing that, eyes fixed on the water as the prince makes his way out, "pervert."

He chuckles, "I thought I would be hailed romantic for wanting to keep an eye on my bride."

"I am not your bride."

"And so you keep rejecting me."

Finally, the day has come.

I have now fully paid my debt to Lord Corlys. It unfortunately took two years off my time again, but I try to simply focus on the fact the deed is done and not dwell on how long it took.

Today, I was holding a hunting party in celebration with all the servants of my. The original intent of this celebration was to celebrate my freedom, but it seems the news of the hunting party spread too widely, as many of my suitors just happened to be at the very site I planned to hunt on the same very day!

William and I at present were racing each other back to the camp with two rabbits and a duck. We had no luck to find a bigger prize, and we both knew it was probably because the lords scared them off on their way here.

Abigail hurriedly receives us when we arrive. The very moment I'm off my steed she asks, "may I attend to you, my lady?"

"Actually, Gail, we caught some-"

She cuts her brother off and raises her hands, "my Lady Rubin?"

I give her a look and nod before dismounting my horse. The very moment I am beside her, she firmly grasps my arm and mutters, "my lady, the lords have been pestering me left and right. You mustn't dare leave me again to think of a thousand more excuses as to why you cannot see to them."

I sigh at the idea of entertaining the men and give my handmaiden a look, "why are you so keen on attending to them? They are not invited company in the first place, Abigail."

"My lady! You cannot be so uncourteous. I fear if turn all of them away with no regard, you will never be able to marry!"

"Tis I that is uncourteous in your gaze?" I ask a bit too loud for Abigail's taste, making her whine and hush me as she gripped onto my arm tightly. "And," I add, "are you so truly unsatisfied with the merit I brought back to my dead house, that you so eagerly wish that I marry a Lord?"

"My lady!" she sighs in defeat, "you did not have me go and study to be a handmaiden only for you to ignore the heeds of which I learned!"

"Abigail, I sent you off that you would learn to read and write, and gain confidence in your-"

"And I am confident that if you turn them away I will weep on days end, my lady," she whines. True to her words, her eyes begin to glass, "I cannot allow you to act so rugged so publicly!"

"I did recount to you that I was a pira-"

"No longer!" she cries. I look at her face and her poor expression nibbles away at my heart.

I sigh, looking away, "fine!"

Abigail blinks rapidly, unable to believe what she just heard.

I pull away from her and turn my gaze upon the group of men that were casually conversing with themselves, really as though they happened to stumble across each other by chance.

The moment I am near them, I purse my lips and bow quickly in regard, "gentlemen."

The five bachelors turn to me and return the sentiment. Amongst them was Lord Aiden and and in fairness to him, his chirpy gaze does take away a bit of my annoyance. Still, I give a pulled expression, "what happy luck that we all wind up in the same forest on the same day. Agreed?"

They all nod eagerly, but before they could speak, I beat them to it, "what do you lords think of playing a game?"

Jason Lannister smirks, "well what kind of game do you have in mind, my lady?"

"A hunting game of course," I say slowly, concealing my bored look with a smirk, "my handmaiden would not allow me not to invite you to supper, so I say," I raise a hand, "winner eats next to me at the table."

"Consider me eager to win then, my lady," Aiden Greystoke says.

I turn to Aiden as the other lords mumble words of agreement. I hold his excited gaze as I announce, "an elk then. Bring me back an elk."

Aiden bows his head, "then an elk you shall receive from me."

The lords turn to Aiden, throwing him a dirty look before going off to their horses.

When I move to go mount my own, one of them stupidly inquire, "you will be joining us?"

"Well, of course," I retort, climbing my ride, "how do you expect me to believe you played fair if I do not witness the hunt myself?"

And just as I suspected, there was foul play amongst them the very moment we galloped into the woods. It was in the most discrete of manners, choosing roads that were narrow, running faster than needed, taking sharp turns, but I was privy to it.

At a point, they were so keen on losing each other that I purposefully fell back and let them ride away. I was willing to bet they wouldn't even notice my absence.

And so I was quite surprised, yet not at all, when I slowly lead my horse followed after the lords that Lord Aiden came back for me, relief visible in his features although he was still quite far away.

"My dear ruby," he sighs once his horse stops next to mine. His words makes me think of how different it sounds when Daemon calls me such. "I feared they injured you instead with their pettiness."

I give him side eye as I instruct my horse to continue its way, "do you think calling me pet names will make me alter the premise of my game to your favor?"

He chuckles, gloved hand running through his thick dark hair as his ride walks next to mine, "I wouldn't dare think of making you result to such unfairness," he smiles, "but there's more to be won than an elk that probably already retreated out of the forest having heard the galloping buffoons a mile off."

I chuckle at his words, "and you think you are not a buffoon, Lord Greystoke?"

"Aiden," he says, "The true Lord Greystoke is my grandsire, then my father, then my older brother."

I hum at that as he continues, "I not the heir apparent like the other lords, but I like to think I do have better breeding than then." He breaks into his signature puppy smile, "and no, I think when I am beside a lady such as you, I am quite possibly the biggest buffoon in the realm."

I cannot withhold my chuckle. Aiden is pleased with himself.

"Now I'm curious because of your answer, Aiden," I start, turning to him, "it has been years since we first met and you have regarded me with nothing but honeyed words. Why then have you not married?"

Aiden chuckles, shaking his head, "well, my lady, you have not yet accepted my proposal."

"There are a many other higher standing ladies than I. It's clear to me at least the other lords present are to benefit greatly from my alliance to the Lord of Driftmark as well as the strategic placement of my estate, but you-"

"- would stand to benefit more by marrying a lady with a clearer dowry, rather than that of a lady who is making efforts to rebuild her house," he continues for me, turning to me with a lopsided smile, "have you been speaking with my father?"

"I need not to," I smile back, "I-"

But suddenly, Aiden's hand darts up and he shushes me, looking off to the side. For a moment, I am taken aback, but whatever offence I was about to feel fades when he points to the far off corner where an elk was grazing.

"The gods are on my side it seems," he mutters softly, grabbing the bow he had by the side of his horse. He gently guides his steed to find a better view of the animal, but just as he was about to draw his arrow, someone else shoots at the elk, but misses greatly.

We turn to the direction of the shot and find the four other lords cursing to themselves. Obviously at this point, the elk is spooked and runs off. The lords run after him and yet Aiden hesitates.

I raise my brows at him, "come now, slowpoke."

It doesn't take long for us to wind up back at the same trail as the other lords, only this time, they were all focused on catching the elk, screaming at their horses to ride faster, so not to lose their prize.

For a moment, my ears play tricks on me when I hear a clicking whine from afar. I look to my sides but see nothing but the Lord's neighing horses.

The elk makes a mistake of running out of the cloak of the woods and into the plains. The game was practically over when the lords circled around the beast and pulled out their weapons.

But that was until the unmistakable sound of Caraxes' screech fills the sky. Every beast on the ground was startled, and soon enough, the dragon swooped in and ripped the elk's head off with one strong bite.

Every lord's horse rallies in different directions. I work hard to keep my own from charging into someone else's.

Soon enough, the horses are calm and Caraxes lands near us, licking its mouth.

Prince Daemon's eyes are on me as he shouts from his dragon's back, "I thought you needed my assistance."

"Twas a game, your grace," Jason shouts back, fully annoyed, "the winner sits next to Lady Rubin at supper."

The silver haired prince extends his arms out victoriously, "then I will gladly take my seat next to bright ruby."

"Except you were not part of the game," Aiden retorts.

Daemon eyes dart to him; his pleased expression falters.

Aiden adds, half-heartedly, "my prince."

"And anyway," I finally speak, "it was Caraxes that caught the elk, not you."

Daemon's smirk grows again as he turns to me, "by my command no less."

"Matters not," I call, turning to the begrudged looks on the lords' faces, "I have decided I will not sit at the table at all, so to save everyone from divulging in an argument. My handmaiden would be terribly distressed if I allowed such a thing to ensue."

With that, we all head back to the campsite. Caraxes swoops in with the elk before we even arrive and Abigail is absolutely mortified.

While we were plating the food for the lords, Abigail she mutters to me softly, "my lady, you ought to tell that," her voice softens even more, "dragon rider to keep his mischief to himself."

William grabs the full plates agrees with less regard of whom hears, "yes, he's getting quite annoying and his dragon is a hazard to the livestock."

Abigail shoots William a dirt look before turning back to me, "I cannot even comprehend why you allow him to lurk around you, my lady."

"He's got a big co-"

"Will you poison my food again, wench," Daemon asks, walking up behind me, causing Abigail's face to pale like a ghost and squeak out in response, "your highness!"

Daemon looks down at her and chuckles, pushing away his amused expression to seriously retort, "it means beautiful in High Valyrian."

"Stupid fucking idiot prince," I say in the very language.

He raises a finger at me, "that, however," he smirks, brows knitting, "is treason."

"My lady!" Abigail whines.

I turn to her and shrug, "oh don't listen to him," I grab the remaining plates and ready to walk off, "I only complimented his pretty face."

Daemon watches as William, Abigail, and I walk off to serve the food to the lords on the table. I then beckon the rest of my servants to grab food for themselves.

"If you will not sit next to me as the victor of your game," Daemon says, walking up next to me before sitting on a vacated chair, "then by my royal command you shall."

I make a face at him. The rest of the lords on the table do so as well.

It's clear to me that this is just a game to him, and yet his power trip annoys me thoroughly. Does he think I hesitate to jump him? Does he think care about what these lords will think of me if I do?

Before I could even move, I hear my handmaiden speak but cut herself off. I look over to her, practically feeling her anxiousness.

"That's hardly fair of you to force a lady into your bidding," Aiden notes, tilting his head.

His words make me turn to him and dare I say his annoyed expression towards Daemon was quite arousing.

The prince doesn't even spare him a bit of attention, eyes fixed on me as he spreads his legs on the chair, "it would be most impertinent and treasonous of you to decline," the prince says, eyes averting to my golden haired servant, "wouldn't you agree, Abigail?"

Abigail turns from the prince to me, slowly agreeing "it would, my prince."

I press my lips together, "then I shall humor you, if not for the sanity of my handmaiden."

Daemon is pleased as watches me sit beside him. He leans back then says, "my chambers have missed your voice."

He speaks this so plainly, so uncaring of who hears, and yet the very contents of his words are like a firecracker that make all the lords the table freeze and look.

"What do you wish to gain from telling me this, prince Daemon?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He chuckles at my deviant tone, "I should wish to have your company. My warmth longs for yours-"

"HAVE SOME MORE ELK!" Abigail rips between us, giving Daemon a large piece of meat.

I ignore Abigail however and move closer to the table to look Daemon in the eye, "you are keeping my company now, are you not?"

Abigail eyes me harshly as Daemon leans forward as well, "not in anyway that counts."

"OH I DO HOPE-" Abigail speaks too loudly that she had to cut herself off, "that you two do not speak too much, lest the food get cold!"

"Correct, my Targaryen," I word out carefully, "prince," I press my teeth together, "you should only concern yourself with the food, or else my handmaiden will not find peace."

Abigail throws me a worried look before curtsying and walking away.

Daemon leans back on his chair, "I hunger for other things, my lady, as you are well aware."

And just in that very moment, Caraxes screeches, causing everyone to turn to him in shock. The dragon then spits his fire to one of my horses.

"CARAXES!" both his rider and I shout, standing from our seats.

William in particular pulls at his hair and shouts, "NO, NO, YOU MALICOUS BEAST!"

Daemon storms over to his dragon who was effectively ignoring him, happily finishing the horse, ready to devour another.

"Caraxes," Daemon scolds, making the said beast whine in response, "back up," he commands in High Valyrian.

The dragon does not want to and vocalizes this. His master does not flinch though, "submit to me, dragon."

I figure Caraxes might have smelled our food which was why he was acting out. I then walk off to get some for the creature. Aiden watches as I grab the remaining uncooked parts of the elk, as well as a few rabbits. Promptly he is by my side, helping me carry the meat.

We then make our way to the prince and his dragon. Caraxes looks my way when we near and whines.

"Enough whining, boy," I speak in High Valyrian, throwing the severed elk leg to his mouth. He snaps at his gratefully and I wait a few moments before throwing the rabbits towards him.

Daemon looks past me, eyeing Aiden dirtily as he hands me the rest of the meat, "that's enough from you."

Aiden ignores him as watches me throw the final rabbit to Caraxes mouth.

"You! Boy!" Daemon blurts, "sit back dow and enjoy your dinner."

"I should not leave the lady in front of a restless dragon," Aiden replies, not even looking at the prince when he says this, eyes are glued on me.

Daemon breaks into a deep laugh. He moves back, walking behind me as he goes to Aiden, "the Blood Wyrm will not dare harm her, especially not in front of me,"

I instinctively bring my hands up in front of Caraxes when he begins to do his telltale clicking sound. I turn to Daemon as he pierces a look of daggers at Aiden, "you on the other hand-"

"Stop!" I blurt in High Valyrian for both of the agitated dragons. I give Caraxes one last look before placing myself between Daemon and Aiden. I eye the former, "enough. Take Caraxes and go."

"No," he says, not tearing his eyes from Aiden, "I will not leave my woman here with a-"

"She is not your woman!" Aiden bites back, "if she was, she would be a Targaryen by no-"

"Oh, by all means," Daemon barks, "she's been so tainted that to Caraxes, we are the one in th-"

"Yet you have no honor to court her formally," Aiden seethes, "you spoiled piece of fuck-"

Daemon does not hesitate and lunges, but of course to do this, he had to shove me to the side. The prince can already imagine how he'll scream when he severs the brown haired moron's head off.

Caraxes whines in anger as I topple before him. It is the fire he breathes overhead that stops Daemon and Aiden from continuing their tussle.

"Calm yourself," I cry in High Valyrian, feeling tears prick at the corner of my eyes in fear of what the dragon would do because of his reckless rider.

Daemon shoves Aiden away and raises a hand at his dragon, "calm yourself, Caraxes!"

Caraxes ceases his fire breathing and whines angrily at Daemon. I roll to my back in fear, pushing myself away from the dragon when he dips his head down to me.

Daemon turns to me and moves to help me up. I swat him away, seething in anger, "get your hands off me."

Caraxes growls.

Daemon steps forward, "Caraxes can sense-"

"Oh, now you care about Caraxes," I scream back, standing from the ground, "but you were alright with him burning the fucking whole forest down out of your spite just seconds ago."

"Calm yourself," he speaks to me as if I was his dragon.

"I will NOT calm down for you!" I quip violently over my breath. I shove him back, "I'm tainted, am I?" I growl, eyes burning at his choice of words, "tainted by the fucking men who abuse me? Parade me as if I meat? As if I am their property?!"

He calls out my name but it makes me sick to my stomach. I seethe, "fuck you!" I growl, "get your fucking dragon out of my sight. Or have him burn me, I don't care!"

Daemon watches as I step away from him and scream out, "EVERYONE OF YOU LEAVE! YOU SELFISH PIGS WERE NEVER INVITED IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"My lady!" Abigail cries out in her soft, concerned voice as I storm towards her.

"Tell everyone the hunt is over. We're all leaving."

"But my lady-"

"I did not mean it like that," Daemon speaks in High Valyrian, cutting my handmaiden off as he tails after me.

"It doesn't matter how you meant it!" I growl, grabbing a spoon from the table, throwing it at him, "you think I am lesser than you!"

"That's not-"

"YOU THINK I'M A FUCKING WHORE!" I screech, "but you know what?!" I step towards him, "I'll accept it, cause maybe I am. But will NEVER be yours."

Daemon looks down at me, still at the rage directed at him.

I raise my voice in his mother tongue, making sure every word will sting, "I would rather marry pig than be with someone who kisses me then spits on my bones. At least then I wouldn't feel so degraded when he takes a shit in my house because I expected that."

"What then?" he scoffs in the same language, pointing to Aiden, "you'd rather choose him?"

I fake excitement, "sounds like a fine idea!"

"I fucking waited for you," Daemon growls, stepping so close to me that our bodies were nearly touching, "I waited for you for years, not taking the company of any other-"

"Oh!" I clap my hands, "give the boy a prize for not sticking his dick into the first hole he sees!"

"I waited on your s-"

"I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING! I never forced you to keep me company, but by the gods, I was fucking raped, Daemon!" I heave, chest rising and falling.

Abigail gasps.

"You have no idea how it feels to be called tainted by a man who you thought--" my tears cut me off. I grip my hands tightly into a fist and push them against my face.

Daemon is utterly defeat. His chest is tight. He can barely think, yet he manages to ask, "thought what, my love?" he whispers desperately in his language, eyes urging me to continue.

I groan, ripping at my hair, "you don't even fucking know?" I look at him through tears, feeling something like a poison run though my whole body.

"I won't know if you don't tell me, now won't I?" he whines.

There it is, the harsh flick of his tone that he can't seem to shake off.

"Fuck off," I growl, wiping my tears harshly away. I point accusingly to his mount, "take Caraxes and GO!"

Caraxes reacts to his name and whines, announcing himself. I ignore him though, turning away from his rider, commanding my servants to make haste to leave.

I should have known his pride would have never allowed him to come to me first, and yet, I am still surprised that he lasted a month without my presence. And so, out of my own weighing conscience, I decide to come to him first.

When I send word of my visit to King's Landing however, I am met with a reply that the Prince had left without word and that they knew not when he would return. I then wrote that I would like to know of his return so that I might discuss matters with him, and I was told in turn not to expect word anytime soon for the prince was known to leave months at a time.

The last letter I sent was saying I did not care when I would receive word of the prince's arrival, so long as I received it. My last reply was that they would send word the moment the prince returns.

But this was all a year ago.

It would be a terrible lie to say that I have forgotten about Daemon with all the tasks and the fortune I grew to have within the time, but the truth was, I didn't. More than ever I think I know his features better with how much time I spent recalling them.

In fact now, as the year welcomed it's second season, I was awfully excited to be invited to the palace for the celebration of the birth of Princess Rhaeyra's second child, just in case it was that someone did forget to tell me of the prince's return and I would have a chance to meet with him.

"Congratulations, your majesty," I smile at Rhaenyra who was rocking her newborn babe in her arms.

"Thank you, lady Rubin," she smiles, "he is so sweet and barely fusses," when she says this, she turns from her baby, then instinctively to her guard, ser Harwin.

I watch them look at each other. But I cannot help but turn my gaze upon the princess' first born, who was being held by a handmaiden behind the princess. His hair was affectionatle pushed back by the said handmaiden.

I bite my lower lip to hold in a chuckle of amusement, "I'm jealous of you, your highness."

"Why is that?" she responds as well in High Valyrian.

Lord Laenor comes up next to his wife and coos at the baby in Rhaenyra's arms. I smile, "your babies are beautiful."

Laenor turns to me when I say this, as does Rhaenyra, eyes sparkling at the compliment.

"I thought you'd have children at this point," Rhaenyra says, making me chuckle.

I cross my arms, "honestly, part of me thought so as well."

"And I always thought you'd end up with prince Daemon, yet here he is, expecting a child with my sister," Laenor says, proceeding to coo at his son again.

I knit my brows, "what?"

Rhaenyra turns back to me from her son, face falling upon seeing my expression.

I ask again, "what did you say?"

Laenor turns to me, indifferent, "oh. Have you not heard? My sister is with child. She says she believes it to be a girl, but the maesters-"

"Out of wedlock?" I quip, making ser Harwin shift in his place uncomfortably.

Laenor looks like he saw a ghost, "what?! What nonesense is-"

"You do not know," Rhaenyra states, lips pulling downward, "they married months ago and have since been traveling on dragonback."

I step back involuntarily as my knees give in.

"Are you alright?" Laenor asks.

I feel my corset constrict around me as my pulse quickens. For a moment, I swear I feel the room spin. I step back a few more times and speak words that do not match my actions, "I'm fine."

Rhaenyra looks at me in concern, "ser Harwin, help Lady Rubin to-"

"No," I raise my hand, halting Harwin before he can come any closer, "I suddenly am feeling the effects of not having eaten breakfast."

"Would you like a glass of water, my lady?" Harwin asks.

"Don't trouble yourself," I shake my head and turn to Rhaenyra, not appreciating the look she was giving me, "congratulations again, my princess. I shall be stepping out for some air."

Rhaenyra does nothing but watch me walk away.

I walk and walk and walk aimlessly. I feel like a headless chicken, and yet I am surprised as it seems my legs were actually taking me somewhere. I find that I brought myself to the dragon pit.

I pathetically walk in, mumbling Caraxes under my breath, over and over and over again. I obviously hear no response. Not only was my voice too quiet for the dragon to hear anyway, but in my very bones I knew that he would not be here.

And so in the same pathetic manner, I curl up in my arms and break into a sob. I rub my eyes roughly and whine out words of regret as the wretched smell of the place finally become apparent to me. The scent brings back the memory of the first time I rode on Caraxes. I had felt defeated before we flew up in the air, but when I came back down, I was invincible. I felt that all worries were blown away in the wind, yet now I was imagining him riding off with another woman.

"My dear ruby," a voice speaks up, making me abruptly turn over to where the sound sourced.

My lifted spirit drops back down when I see it was not prince Daemon that called me, but the young prince Aemond with worry laced in his shimmering violet eyes.

I release a shudder, attempting to calm myself. When I was calm enough, I speak, "you know," I sniffle, "it is not right for you to call me that, young prince."

His cheeks begin to turn a shade of scarlet, "but that is what your name means and what your emblem holds... a ruby."

I shake my head, "but am I your dear, Aemond?"

He clenches his jaw and turns his head, willing the burning of his cheeks away, "you are my subject, and my subjects are all dear to me."

This does not fail to make me chuckle.

"And it is impertinent of you to call me by my name," he adds, beginning to draw nearer to me, "but I shall allow it."

I grin softly at the child, "what pure generosity, my liege."

Once he is standing beside me, I chuckle again as I look down on his shiny white hair, "my, how you've grown since I last laid my eyes upon you."

He shuffles in his place smoothening out the sleeves of his coat.

"How old are you? Seven?"

Aemond stills, turning to me with furrowed brows, "I am a year and ten!"

"My," I chuckle, "how mature you are now, my Aemond."

He opened his mouth to say something, but it seems he forgot it as he just stands there with his jaw hanging.

I take this moment to turn away from him and wipe my face with the back of my hands, "what brings you here, my prince?"

"I... I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Me?" I turn back to him, smirking, "I thought to visit Caraxes but-"

"My uncle is not here."

"Yes," I smile softly, "as I learned myself just this morning."

Aemond then asks me a question that makes me still, "do you love him?"

I take a moment to respond and I look around the expanse of the room before I do, "yes."

Aemond ceases his breathing.

"I love Caraxes very much."

He pulls his head back upon hearing that.

I turn to him, leaning down with a mischievous grin, "I was thinking of stealing him all for myself."

The boy looks up at me in astonishment. I break into a laugh, remembering the expression well, "I jest, darling boy, Caraxes is fiercely loyal to his master."

Aemond's expression fades.

I press my lips in a smile, "might you introduce me to your own mount instead?"

The curve of my lips flattens when Aemond's cheeks burn again. He opens his mouth, releasing a stutter before he finally forms out, "I do not have one."

I still, "I apologize," I shake my head, "I did not know-"

"I come here because I like to think I can steal a dragon myself. I shall introduce you the very moment I have one. I promise you, my lady," he says with utmost certainty.

"Aemond," I move closer to him, raising my hands, "may I?"

He gives me a questioning look before realizing I was asking for his permission to touch him. After he nods, I place my hands on both his shoulders and give him a sincere look, "a true man does not go back on word, much less should a prince make promises he does not care to keep and will forget in due time."

"Is that why you're crying?"

"What?"

"Prince Daemon made you an empty promise?"

I pull away from him after he says this.

Aemond is taken aback by the withdrawal and immediately regrets his words, "I am not like him! I will not be a prince who makes empty promises."

"Lady Rubin!"

Both Aemond and I turn to whom called out for me, and soon enough, a brown haired man jogs towards us, a look of relief is on his face, "the servants said they saw you heading here," he catches his breath, "I came running the moment Princess Rhaenyra told me you were visiting."

"Lord Aiden," I smile at him, "it has been a while since we've spoke."

"Yes, and you are as radiant as ever, my lady."

Aemond gives him a dirty look while I chuckle softly, "and your words are as honeyed as ever. I do wonder how your wife feels about that."

"Shall I ask?" he smirks, making my face contort. He then bends down on one knee and raises a hand at me, "will you marry me, lady Rubin?"

My face contorts yet again, but this time I end up laughing.

"What a moron," Aemond scoffs in High Valyrian.

My laughter ceases upon hearing this. I turn to the boy, feeling awfully proud of him, "my, our clever little prince knows to speak High Valyrian now!"

Aemond turns to me, cheeks catching on fire yet again.

Aiden turns from the boy, then to me, huffing, standing once again, "your hand in marriage may be perhaps the most challenging thing to acquire in the whole kingdom."

I turn to the Lord, feeling my witty retort leave me when I see him nibble at his lower lip and run his hand through his hair.

"Still, the Greystokes are known to be vigorous and I intend to show you this, if you so allow me," he extends his hand out to me.

I shock him when I do not hesitate to take it and reply, "alright."

Aiden's eyes widen, as does Aemond's. It takes the lord a moment to reply, "wonderful."

"My prince," a servant walks in after announcing herself over to the seated man.

Daemon, who was playing with his newborn daughter, turns from crib to the woman who walked over, "a letter has arrived for you."

Laena, who had entered the room, coming from a bath, asks upon hearing that, "who is it from?"

Daemon opens the letter, dismissing his servant with a nod. Laena watches as her husband's face contorts upon reading the contents of the letter.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing," he roughly crumples the letter and stands from his chair, "a wedding invitation."

"Oh?" her voice is interested, "whose of?"

He throws the letter to the fire place, pulling an annoyed look, "does it matter? We're not going. You've just given birth."

"Yes, but I would at least like to know who-"

"Some fucking lord I could not care less about," he angrily states, "he's got some nerve inviting me when he knows how my blood boils at the sight of him."

Laena releases a breath. She walks over to him and gives him a calming embrace. It takes a moment for Daemon to melt against her touch.

"Think nothing of it, husband," she hums in their native tongue, "I will melt all your worries away."

He finds no real comfort in the musings of his wife though. It is apparent with how he rides Caraxes later that night.

[azureinsectoidfox]

introduction

because i think i should actually do one at last

hi. i’m azuri. azuri is not my real name, but since i am a minor it is best to use a nickname instead of my real one. you here that? a MINOR. so, creeps, get the fuck off of my blog right now. thank you.

i adore cats and moths. like. if a character is either cat-like or moth-like, they are now one of my favorite characters.

i love anthropomorphic animals. they’re literally the thing i draw the most. i draw myself as a humanoid fox/moth hybrid creature. i guess that makes me a furry.

i do not accept commissions for the sole reason of not being able to finish them.

i love books, i love cartoons, i love nighttime, wintertime, pretty things, cute things, spiders, dragons, horses, music, the concept of magic, i love literally everything except for: chemistry (listen i tried to love chemistry but it’s caused me way too much pain), fire (pyrophobia), people hurting other people (physically, mentally, etc.), generally immoral stuff literally everyone knows is wrong (theft, murder, sexual violence, slavery, neglect of children or pets, you get the idea), ai stealing artists’ jobs, and pain.

i fully believe in treating everyone with compassion, no matter who they are or what they have done. i also fully believe that criminals should receive consequences for their crimes.

i’m female, i’m aroace, i’m introverted with monophobia/autophobia, i don’t like dogs despite having 2 of them, i have 11 cats that i will often clutter this blog with, and i believe that we cannot achieve true equality without first dismantling amatonormativity.

thank you for interacting with this blog.

UPDATE 8/10/24

new sorting system!! still gotta tag everything but here’s what’s in place right now!!

#azurite’s rambles — text posts! #azurite’s reblogs — stuff i reblog and add my own commentary onto! i am a mindless reblogger, though, so it’ll take a while to tag everything #azurite’s stories — stuff related to my stories!! #azurite’s cats — my cats. #azurite’s art — my art!

it’s going to take a long while for this sorting thing to be in place, just so you’re aware! but this is the start! woohoo!

UPDATE 8/25/24

i found out that i'm a therian not too long ago! a snowy owl, to be exact.

so, yea, add that to the list of things about me!

[m00dych3rry]

Hello! Welcome to my project called Sewn Up Trouble! These three are the main characters + a few others. Here's just some basic info about them. More will be updated and added. I've made these characters years ago and now I'm trying to actually make them a proper story. I've only made concepts and drawings which i'll be using for the comic. These characters are based on the game LittleBigPlanet. Bonnie Pronouns: she/her Personality: kind and logical. She tries to be a heroic leader and loves helping people out. She thinks more about others than herself. She panics and gets upset when things don't go according to plan. Can be a bit clumsy, and jumbles her words from time to time. Likes: creating, gardening, exploring, sewing, drawing, flowers Dislikes: people that wanna take away the creativity, needles, spikes, (anything sharp pretty much) Extra info: She's a bunny. She has her own garden that she takes care of and wears a sun hat while doing it. She was by herself before she met the others. Fun Fact: She was my first LittleBigPlanet oc Kaida Pronouns: she/her Personality: nice but gets upset at random times, anxious, nerdy Likes: calm places, being creative, campfires, smores, Dislikes: feeling like a disappointment, being stressed, being cold, worrying about what people think of her, not feeling like herself Extra info: She's a dragon. accidentally sets things on fire, has reoccurring nightmares of a shadow like figure, can fly with her wings, has another outfit that's watermelon themed, sometimes feels like she isn't even controlling herself, has this strange voice saying things to her but tries to ignore it, was lonely until she met the others. Fun Fact: I made her based on my username I had for my playstation account. Moss Pronouns: any (mainly he/they) no "it" Personality: very moody, has quite the attitude, doesn't look on the bright side of things, is quite mean, (but sometimes doesn't mean it), complains a lot, takes things seriously Likes: comfy clothing, fairy grunge aesthetic, rock music, reading, light, Dislikes: annoying people, adventures, running, the dark, getting her wings wet, (or being wet in general) Extra info: He's a fairy/ moth. Talks in a monotone voice, would swear (but doesn't wanna do it around certain people). Likes to dress however they want, they don't care what other people think. Doesn't really like adventure and would rather be by themselves, but gets always dragged into things. He can flutter his wings, but only for a short bit of time. He gets tired easily and acts like he doesn't care about others when he kinda does. Seems suspicious of Kaida, what could they be hiding? Fun Fact: He is actually not made in game but I made him in my coding class. Feel free to ask them any questions, if you'd like! Thank you for reading! :D

[mothervonmayhem]

Battle of the Bands

Hobie, Miguel, Gabriel, Gwen and 1st person pov OC / MC

New Adult magical realism AU (obvi) brain worm that has grown from a 2-shot screenplay for some fun comics into a monster. This fic is like Tremors in my brain.

The summer before college MC, Gabriel O'Hara, and Miguel O'Hara go on an international road trip with their metal band, Neon Requiem. Destination? BandFest, the Battle of the Bands in London guaranteed to secure the winning band a record deal. They meet other ATSV characters along the way.

No mention of Y/N / Reader, written from 1st person POV. Self-insertion is made easier by fewer details about the MC.

Notes on language: Tried my best here, if you are a native speaker of French, let me know if the MC's French is unnatural and I will love you forever.

Romance, angst, and poorly understood music concepts are often written as having a distinct visual component because I am an artist first. <

@pinksugarscrub @the-kr8tor I DID THE THING!

*******************************************************************

Chapter 1 - “Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l’oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire”

The Rusty Nail's neon whir and raucous rhythms had been muted to a melancholy hum that evening, it was a ghost town, the emptiness of the dimly lit bar echoing with decades of unfulfilled longings. I nursed my drink, letting the smoky burn of liquor etch contours of quiet contemplation onto my throat as I surveyed the handful of kindred souls keeping solemn vigil. Life had been feeling heavy, and I needed to write, to make art, and to get lost in music.

At the far end of the bar hunched a beautiful wraith, his slim, angular frame sheathed in torn denim and studded leather. Something indefinable shimmered around him, unsung poetry, snippets of melodies, a symphony I could see and hear and almost touch. Drawn like a moth to the lambent glow of the music, I slid onto the stool beside the ethereal punk spectre. In my mind's eye, I crowned him the prince of punk, a fairy tale rebel.

Our bodies brushed intimately in the cramped space, raising ghosts of sensation along the exposed skin of my fishnets. "Wozzat, luv?" he murmured, kohl-rimmed eyes flickering over the point of contact with a soldering heat.

Mon dieu, {My God} Had I spoken my admiration aloud? A flush crept up my cheeks as I scrambled for a response.

"Désolé. Je répétais quelque chose pour ne pas l'oublier… Need to write it down before I lose it," {Sorry. I was repeating something so I wouldn't forget it…} I mumbled, a flimsy excuse for my wandering mind.

Fumbling through my bag ,I pulled out my tattered notebook, fingers trembling as I scribbled down a scrap of verse inspired by the punk's incandescent presence beside me. I scribbled my observations in hasty strokes. The dying light of day bled into night, a liminal space that begged for a soundtrack. I could almost hear it, a melody just out of reach, shimmering in the smoky air.

"The liminal light of late afternoon, yawning into early evening…" I muttered, pulling on the strings of the melody, trying to draw it back to me. "I don't want to be loved for the things that I don't do. I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a work of art…We are all just works of art."

The jukebox fell silent, making my mutterings around sift and strange, slightly unhinged---but the punk prince remained---his gaze heavy on my skin. I met his stare, unflinching. Unabashed curiosity flickered in eyes, wide brown and doe-like, framed by lashes so lush they seemed to blur the line between masculine and feminine, earthly and ethereal. I found myself dizzied by warring impulses - to flee this unsettling intimacy, or be consumed by it wholly.

He was a changeling, gorgeously androgynous: part punk Mona Lisa with a Cheshire cat grin, part Jean-Michel Baptiste, part force-of-fucking-nature. He made me feel like a background character in his story, could be a punk fairy princess, and I would be the dragon. My thoughts raced, fragments of poetry and half-formed desires. I scribbled faster, chasing the threads of inspiration, but a nudge from my prince brought me back to earth.

Snatches of poetry, raw and unfinished, that I urgently longed to refine on the page before they dissipated like the last wisps of smoke in a spent ashtray. But the punk's aura dragged me too deeply into devotional reverie. I glanced up apologetically as my concentration scattered, the thread of inspiration slipping through my fingers once more.

The bartender had sprouted up directly in front of me, and she eyed me expectantly. Her hair was a shock of blue curls and silver streaks shorn close to her scalp, it made her eyes seem more gray. Her skin etched with lines that mapped out the years like a roadmap. I felt the familiar pang of a poem lost to the ether.

"Un…Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît," {A…Jack Daniel's, please} I said, no longer able to filter its lilt from my words, as I wasn't paying attention to dulling it.

"Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands event this week, love?"

"Oui, how did you know?" {Yes, how did you know?}

"Just a…sense," he demurred with a wicked grin. "Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know."

The bartender chuckled as she set my drink down. "You mean because everyone is here for Bandfest? Don't listen to this one, lovey, he's incorrigible. The crowds will be in later on, but you're a bit early."

"Shh, Roz. Who's up tonight?" The prince asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you want insider information? What's in it for me?"

"Givin' away free tattoos, could autograph yer arm, love."

"I'll pass, thanks. The brackets are up in an hour anyway. It's Night Terrors vs. Death Rapture, Blood Prophecy vs. Cherry Bomb, Spider Punks vs. Neon Requiem…"

"Why are the punk bands going up against the metal bands?" I asked, just as the prince inquired about Phantom Pulse.

"There wasn't a lot of quality competition this year, or that's what the sponsors said, so they automatically advance to the semifinals since they won last year."

"Bollocks!" The prince cried, his outrage palpable.

"Oi Punk, you don't want to sign with Vic Luna at Zenith Music Group, anyway."

"Tu…ne le fais pas? Mais pourquoi?" {You…don't? But why?} The words tumbled out, my curiosity getting the better of me. At her blank stare, I repeated the question in English, heat rising to my cheeks.

Roz leaned in, her voice low, "Look kid, it's complicated…"

The prince rolled his eyes, a sneer playing at his lips. "Betrayed a lot of good bands."

"You don't need to remind me, Punk, I lived through it. Despite the changes at Zenith Music Group, they still organize the annual Bandfest, which showcases both established and emerging talent in the punk and metal scenes. The event is highly respected within the community and provides a platform for bands to gain exposure and connect with fans," the bartender continued, her words stilted, rehearsed.

"Ay, and they are the sponsor bringing in your crowds." The prince's voice was sharp, laced with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"The only time we're out of the red, punkass. We'd have to shut down if it weren't for the Battle." She said heavily, "Which is the greater evil, we are a place of refuge for several members of the community, not just you."

"You don't need to remind me Roz, I'm living through it. Right, I'll stop ragging on the corporate sods for now, until you have some plausible deniability." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"There's a good Punk." Roz smiled, sliding him another pint before retreating.

I made a mental note to warn my bandmates about Vic and Zenith's sordid history. We were in this for the music, not the money, no one played metal for the money--but it never hurt to be cautious.

"Roz is like the den mother of the London punk scene, a living testament to grit and resilience, and screaming yourself hoarse at basement shows. Dream t'be like her when I grow up. To listen without judgment, offer advice without preaching, and know when to slide a shot of whiskey across the bar and when to cut you off. She has a way of looking at you, really seeing you, like you matter… like you are more than just another face in the crowd." His voice trails off, heavy with emotion. He blinks and shakes it off.

"Can I see it?" The prince's voice cut through our lost thoughts, his fingers reaching for my notebook.

I clutched it to my chest, a knee-jerk reaction. "Can you look into my very soul, like Roz?"

His smirk widened, that Cheshire cat grin that set my heart racing. He nodded, a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he purred, and I felt my stomach flip. I repeated the phrase in my mind, first in French, then in English, just to be sure I'd heard him right. Wasn't this some flirty idiom?

"You have a book of poetry somewhere hidden in those skinny jeans, mon ami?" {my friend?} I ask, hesitant, double-checking his meaning. He flirts like others breathe.

In lieu of an answer, he produced a sharpie from thin air. Before I could protest, he had my arm in his grasp, his touch electric against my skin. I shrugged off my leather jacket, baring my arms to his ink-stained fingers. Roz chuckled as she set another drink before me, clearly amused by the prince's antics.

"You'll need it…I see you took this wanker up on the free tattoo offer. Don't let him draw any on your arms."

"Any? …Any what?"

"Wankers," she clarified with a laugh. It clarifies nothing, I need to study my British slang.

"I would not mar the flesh of such a beautiful and willing participant, Roz. Kindly fuck off," the prince mumbled around the sharpie cap clenched between his teeth.

Between the verses he scrawled, he peppered me with questions, his voice a giddy whisper.

"So, who's your poison, love? Which bands get your motor runnin'?"

"Ah, j'adore Rammstein, Gojira, et bien sûr, Motörhead. And so many others, doesn't even scratch the surface. Et toi?" {Ah, I love Rammstein... And you?}

"Proper choices, those. For me, it's the classics - Sex Pistols, The Clash, Buzzcocks. Real raw, in-your-face stuff, y'know?"

I leaned in, excited, but too close. I nearly jumped as my lips grazed the dusky shell of his ear. "Ah, un homme de bon goût! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, c'était incroyable!" {Ah, a man of good taste! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, it was incredible!}

"No bleedin' way! Metal chick like you? I'd give me left bollock to have seen the Sex Pistols live. But I did catch The Clash back in '07. Changed me life, it did."

"Lemmy, sans aucun doute. The man's a legend!" {Lemmy, without a doubt.} I declare into the bar.

"Oi, don't go disrespectin' Johnny, now! The bloke's a punk icon, 'e is!"

"You're a punk icon!" someone shouted from the back, but the prince waved them off with a grin.

"Oh, I didn't catch your name," I said, with a sudden shame, my brow furrowed.

"Everyone just calls me Punk. You can too. Just not dirty punk, we don't want to come to blows, do we, love?"

"I'd kick your ass, mon ami. Pas grand chose à donner, mon petit prince des fées… eh mon prince dégingandé, right? I would not describe you as petite even if you are skinny." {I'd kick your ass, my friend. Not much to give, my little fairy prince… eh my lanky prince, right?}

Miguel was at my side in an instant, all rippling muscle and furrowed consternation. "Carnalita, {little sis} why did you sneak out on practice just to drink in this hellhole?" he rumbled, disapproval lacing every sonorous word. Tenderness faded a bit.

I met his gruff chiding with an insouciant toss of my hair. "Salut, Miguel. Ça fait longtemps." {Hello, Miguel. It's been a while.}

"Is that Jack? No puedo mas… Carnalita…This shit is bad for you." {I can't take it anymore…little sis...}

"Je nais etre rond comme une queue de pelle. Tu es vraiment un trou de balle quand tu dis des choses pareilles!" {I would be round as a shovel handle. (Idiom, essentially she is saying ~ I was born to be drunk) You are really a dumbass when you say things like that!}

Miguel's grumbling stream of Spanish reprimands washed over me as I settled into our familiar dynamic - the tender yet terse cantata of friend and protector that had composed them score of our relationship since childhood. For all his bluster, I knew every arrhythmic cadence encoded Miguel's steadfast affection.

Only Gabriel's soft interjection could salve the rising discord. "You worry too much, Miggy. We've been practicing all week."

He cast me a plaintive glance, silently pleading for conciliation, and I grudgingly obliged with an internal eyeroll. "Qu'il aille se faire! C'est vraiment chiant tu te rends compte." {Let him go fuck himself! It's really annoying, you know.}

Heedless of my saucy french asides, Miguel merely drew a fortifying breath before continuing in that maddening timbre of unrelenting reason. "Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out alone in an unknown city - it's not safe for you, mi carnalita."

The prince leaned towards us with a lazy smirk, "S'not that serious. The Rusty Nail is safe enough." He paused as the bartender snorted in agreement before continuing, "We're keeping the lady safe, mate…you can trust me, I'm one of the Spider-Punks."

Miguel simply sneered at the prince's proffered handshake, dismissing it out of hand. "You have arms like sticks. How would you keep her safe?"

The punk's smirk widened as he shrugged. "Ah, one of those. Never skip leg day, eh bruv?"

I strangled a guffaw as Gabriel hastened to run interference, engulfing the punk's hand eagerly. "We've heard of you guys, the local punk band, yeah? Your drummer is…gahh…Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?"

"You call that punk noise "rock"?" Miguel scoffed. "Metal is where the real skill lies…Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude."

I rolled my eyes. At this rate, I'd have to drag Miguel out before he started a brawl.

"Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non?" {Ah, but no, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, right?}

Miguel grunted, but squeezed my hand.

I stood, motioning for him to lean in close. "Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord? I learned some things about the record company. We should talk in private." {Come on, let's save the competition for the stage, okay?}

The prince unfolded himself, towering over me. "Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops," he challenged.

Gabriel chimed in, "Pero, mana's right, Miguel." {But, sister is right, Miguel.}

Miguel looked ready to explode, but Gabriel's eyes held him in check.

"Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show, and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?" Gabriel said.

The prince leaned in, lips grazing my cheek. "Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. How about we give 'em a show they won't forget…later?"

I grinned, "Oui! A collaboration? Here… Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard…mais, pour vous. I want it back later." {Yes! A collaboration? Here…It doesn't break three duck legs (Idiom ~ It's nothing special) …but, for you. I want it back later.}

The lanky punk sauntered off, his studded boots leaving faint trails of glitter on the barroom floor. Miguel's scowl deepened as he watched him depart, fists clenched tightly.

"Is that your poetry notebook?" he growled, voice rumbling low.

"Yes, I traded it to the punk faerie for these tattoos, I smirked, revealing the vine-like scrawl of ink now adorning my flesh like raised scars from whipping brambles.

Miguel's face darkened further, storm clouds gathering at my words. "The one you never let anyone touch or read…"

His voice strangled to a whisper, and I could not parse the complex calculus of emotions flitting behind his eyes

Gabriel placed a calming hand on his brother's arm.

"Easy, hermano {brother}. He's not worth it," Gabriel said in a soothing tone.

"Be nice, Punk is a good guy. I like him," I countered softly, a warm glow blossomed within me as I realized my entire arm was now a crawling garden of sentences entirely in French.

Miguel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a heated retort, but Gabriel cut in, "Should we go look at the brackets to see who we're facing?"

"It looks like my entire arm is covered with quotes from The Little Prince, which happens to be my favorite book. It's actually quite a sweet gesture," I said softly, fingertips grazing the raised words like treasured runes.

With renewed curiosity, I examined the ink quote now etched on my skin: "Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l'oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire." {You are the master of your life and your emotions, never forget that. For better or worse.}

I didn't mention the lone scrawl that could have been a phone number hidden amidst the literary foliage now vining my limb. Miguel was in full-on Dad mode, and I didn't need to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I already know the competition for the quarterfinals, we don't need to waste our time. Come on, manos {used as slang for brother}, we're going to kick some ass!" I giggled brightly, elated at my new 'tattoos' scrawling up my arms. I didn't put my leather jacket back on, I didn't want to cover any of it up.

Miguel's glare never wavered, his eyes fixed on the far side of the bar where the prince had disappeared into the crowd. "Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita {little sister}, time for practice."

With a resigned sigh, I surrendered to my brothers' insistent tugs, allowing them to lead me from the Rusty Nail. But the punk prince's parting words still reverberated through my mind like the lingering notes of a siren song. Later, he had purred, that single hushed syllable seeming to contain all the intoxicating lure of a siren's call - equal parts velvet promise and brazen challenge, twined inextricably into an enchantment I could not resist. The whole damn bar was a sailor's nightmare.

[dluebirb]

Alright, so I finally jumped on the bandwagon (for better or for worse) and redesigned the main cast of Hazbin Hotel!

Disclaimer: I am not saying that my designs are better than the ones in the show, I am just saying that this is what I would have done if I were to design the characters, plus addressing some common criticism of Vivziepop's character designs. I enjoy the show, and with that comes some artistic liberties. Proceed.

So I'm going to show each character individually, plus a brief explanation (EDIT: They were not as brief as I thought... I love these characters, so sue me!) of what I changed and why, and then a lineup at the end!! Stick with me please, I put a lot of work into these!

@theosb0rnway they are real and in decent quality this time!! Wow!!

First up, Charlie! I had no idea she was meant to be based off of a porcelain doll. I thought she was a weird hell-vampire thing ngl. Fangs, pastey skin, you get it. The only thing the doll thing had going for it was the cheek marks, and I though that was a design choice for blush, like Mabel in Gravity Falls!

Porcelain dolls are really just those gen alpha tiktok influencer-level skin care routines plus dresses from two centuries ago, so I decided to go with a more puppet-leaning/mouthpiece design, plus some more goat-ish attributes, like her lil hoovsies!

Her color pallatte is brighter than the other designs because I wanted to show how she (while still utilizing the pinks and reds of hell) is the most pure-hearted of the bunch, as she's the only one who really doesn't belong in hell.

If this does well (or I want to) I might do her demon form!

VAGGIE! My girl. I love her.

So my main problem with Vaggie's current design: HER HAIR. I'm sorry, but how are the physics of that supposed to work?? Please? /gen

She also says in the show that she's "not used to fighting with long hair, and the ponytail in episode 8 doesn't really serve that purpose? At least from the viewers POV, hence the bun.

I know she's not technically a moth demon, since she's an ex-exorcist, but I wanted to lean into the imagery. She and Charlie look a little too close to human in comparison to almost anyone else, so I wanted to give her some moth-isms. And I find it more believable that she could fight like this! Ik Alastor's the hotel's protector and all, but old habits die hard n such.

Onto Angel Dust! Okay, I gotta say, I should lower his colors general brightness-

But other than that, I think I did pretty good with him!

I am probably in the minority who thought the eyes thing in episode four was pretty cool, but I wanted to make him more visibly spider-like, and eyes seemed like a good place to start.

I will admit to taking inspiration from the iron spider suit in Avengers: Infinity War for his extra arms. I was a Marvel kid, the legends are true.

Also, PINCERS! I think that's what those are called- They're only sorta there because any other way I tried ended with messing up his general face, but the thought's there!

I did forget his spider ass, but it's there in spirit, trust.

BIG OL' SHOUT OUT TO OZ FOR HELPING ME WITH THE DEER MAN'S FACE. He was giving me a TIME-

His fuck-ass bob is NO MORE. I rest my case. Also the monocle was annoying me, so he gets old lady glasses. I don't know why his shoes look like deer hooves. he's a little fucked up anatomy-wise.

I don't have much to say about him, but I loved drawing his hair. He gets to keep some of his red, because he WOULD. I also have a design of Alastor with a coat/jacket thing that's more time-period accurate, but I really liked this design, so it's what you're getting unless someone asks for it.

I also don't have a lot to say about Husk- I took away a lot more than I added if we're being real.

Hat? GONE

Weird wing design that makes my brain hurt? GONE

Eyebrows? YOU BETTER BELIEVE THEY'RE GONE

(I had a grudge against his eyebrows, leave me be-)

He's also short and fat now, so... YEAH (for a while I thought he was real short, but that was only because I kept seeing screen caps of him next to Angel, and the guy's a beanpole-)

His wings resemble the succubi in Helluva more so now, because Hazbin has a weird relationship with wings, so I wanted to make the distinction clearer than it is in canon.

His eyes glow now because have you SEEN a cat in pitch black, dead of night? Scary little assholes. (/aff, I love my cats.) He's dead and in hell, so they glow perpetually.

As with Charlie, I had no idea Niffty was supposed to be a bug. This seems to be a recurring issue.

I shifted her hair and outfit to be a lil more 1950s-accurate, but it was pretty good before, all things considered. I actually like Niffty's Canon design a lot.

In terms of making the bug-ness more pronounces, I gave her antennae (they can glow because YES) and wings. I imagine the wings are kind of like grasshopper wings, so they make a lil weird noise. I also gave her four legs, because if there's one thing I know about bugs, they have an abnormal amount of appendages.

The quality got CRUNCHED so click on the lineup, PLEASE-

And yeah, there are the sillies! I tried to differentiate them from the RED, but I think I overdid it-

Eh, I like them!

Send an ask or comment if you want me to do any more characters, or send me a screenshot from Hazbin and I'll redraw it with these guys! It'll also give me the chance to work on backgrounds, which I need!

I really hope you guys like these!

[teamoon7]

🇺🇲: I tried to redraw that classic Maribug pose (but with a bit of distance between both to show the design haha) with my LB design and a "preview" of my Marinette and Tikki design (I'll definitely change them in the future though). I was trying to go for a way simpler style than that but ended up failing lol- I'll try again in the future

(More versions under the cut)

I'll also probably revisit all those designs eventually, since I still dislike some parts a bit and *IF* I ever do the AU/Rewrite I want to, I'd probably at least do a simplified version of the designs so it would be easier to draw in the comic

I know I take WAY TOO LONG to post but (I'm lazy and) I've been kinda busy- but I'll try to post my Hawk moth redesign probably before the year ends lol

After I do the 3 main ones, I'm not sure if I should do their civilian designs first or do the other heroes- but I'm also not really sure if I'll do ALL the heroes (at least right now) since, if I ever do the AU I plan to, I don't know if I'll give all the characters a miraculous (and if I do, I also don't know if I'll keep them with their original ones since I'm changing the power system). So, if I don't do the civilians first, I'll probably do only the secondary holders (QB, Rena, Carapace, Mayura and Argos) because I'm sure I'll keep those

But I assure you I'll definitely not give up on my "redesign series" :D (even if I take IDK, one year to post the next one haha)

🇧🇷: Tentei refazer aquela pose clássica das Maribug (mas com um tico de distância entre elas pra mostrar melhor o design kkkk) com meu design da LB e uma "preview" do meu design da Tikki e da Marinette (Mas eu vou definitivamente mudar eles no futuro). Eu tava tentando fazer um estilo BEM mais simples que esse mas acabei falhandokkkk mas vou tentar dnv no futuro

Eu também provavelmente vou revisitar todos esses designs eventualmente, já que eu ainda não curto muito algumas partes, e *SE* eu algum dia fizer a comic da AU/Rewrite que eu tô planejando, eu provavelmente vou pelo menos fazer uma versão simplificada dos designs pra que fique mais fácil de desenhar nos painéis

Eu sei que eu demoro pra krl pra postar mas (eu sou preguiçosa e) eu ando meio ocupada- Mas eu vou tentar postar meu redesign do HM provavelmente pelo menos antes do ano acabarkkkk

Depois que eu acabar os 3 principais, não sei se eu devo primeiro fazer os designs civis deles ou os outros heróis- mas eu tb não tenho certeza se eu vou fazer TODOS os heróis (pelo menos por agora) já que, se eu algum dia fizer a AU que eu planejo, não sei se vou dar um miraculous pra todos os personagens (e mesmo se eu der, não tenho ctz se eles vão continuar com suas jóias originais já que eu tô mudando o sistema de poder). Então, se eu não fizer os civis primeiro, provavelmente vou fazer só os portadores secundários (QB, Rena, Carapace, Mayura e Argos) pq esses eu tenho ctz q vou manter

Mas eu garanto que eu definitivamente não vou desistir da minha "série de redesigns" :D (mesmo que eu demore sei lá, um ano pra postar o proximokkk)

+2 versions more accurate to the image

(+2 versões mais parecidas com a imagem de referência)

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №12

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This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

I thought the inspiration had run out, but no! I am so glad about this fact! Glad that I have the strength to continue drawing and writing the story.

At work, I often have to work overtime, so after the shift, there is only time to eat and sleep. There is hardly any time for researching the wiki and drawing. It doesn't sound very good, but the work itself is not difficult, and I will have money to live 🤷‍♀️

I have read quite a few levels recently. I see that a lot has changed since the last time I was interested in this topic.

I continue my experiment with marking the test from the perspective of different characters =)

Level 5 was not bad. In the sense that it was still a place of indefinite size with a random set of rooms. But they were all getting used to liminal spaces, and the elegant expensive furniture and designer interiors pleased the eye. Especially after the faceless rooms of the previous levels. The only thing that was not pleasing was the presence of people nearby. They were not visible, but the mere thought of them did not allow relaxation.

🌙 For Nightmare, this place was valuable as the first convenient crossroads level. He also hoped to meet the Society of the Lost Hall, as mentioned in the knowledge base. This meeting could bring interesting information if Nightmare could interest them in something. But at the same time, he did not want to encounter the local devil. This meeting did not bode well for his wards. It remained to be hoped that the creature only visited semi-mad loners (Nightmare looked at the thread that made his team part of Error in the eyes of the Backrooms, and calculated the overall level of sanity that resulted. The result was not dismal. He had everything under control).

It also became evident that this world leaves its mark on his wards. They changed in the same way as Nightmare. Gradually. Almost imperceptibly. He tried to ensure that this did not harm their common goal. Indeed, in Dust's case, these changes turned out to be positive and did not cause concern (Nightmare feared that Dust might return to babbling with hallucinations). Moreover, Deathmoth met often and was intelligent enough to slightly fuel Nightmare's negativity. Insects did not possess strong emotions, but they were easily provoked by external influences.

🦴Dast felt a strong fatigue and fell asleep the moment he sat in one of the comfortable soft chairs. The insects snuffling under his clothes no longer bothered him at all, and the tickle of their legs became pleasant and comforting. Butterflies peacefully floated above his head, flying into his skull like dreams.

Rest had a good effect on his morale, awakening hunger. Dust realized how irregularly he had been eating. This explained his profound exhaustion and weakness. Due to stress, he had not been listening to his body's needs and had been hungry for quite a while.

Horror generously made him a sandwich, and Killer (who also had a sandwich in his hands) shared a handful of sweet Flowey Seeds. Dust hadn't felt this good in a long time. But looking at the Almond Water still made him nauseous. He drank very little, giving the remaining liquid to Deathmoth, who followed him in a pack.

The fur at the base of moth wings resembled cat fur. Dust indulged himself in running his fingers carefully over it.

⛔Error decided to delve into studying the code surrounding him. If on the early levels the code didn't seem too complex (was it a warm-up?), now it seemed that some parts became inaccessible to him: links led to empty memory cells, variable values were taken from nowhere and unpredictable changed within loops (it didn't look functional). Understanding what was happening became more difficult. It required focus.

Engrossed, Error didn't immediately notice the danger. At first, it seemed as if someone had touched him. He was already preparing to erupt in anger when he realized that no one was nearby. It wasn't "Someone," but "Something." Another strange impulse passed through space, brushing against the scattered blue strings in the surrounding area. Nightmare seemed to have felt it too, judging by the ripples on his liquid covering and his wary gaze. Error sent more strings around the room (he snapped at the others' attempts to find out what he was doing. The group immediately became wary, and Horror woke up Cross), trying to gather more data on the vector of this impulse. It felt like a growing wind, but it didn't interact directly with objects. The same sensation can be felt during a rapid descent. A tickling sensation in the gut.

When he opened the code editor, something strange was happening with the coordinates (not that these constants were in order before). Right before his eyes, an unknown programmer was creating a loop to calculate the equation for... Wow. Right now, another space was passing through their room. Or rather, not even the room, but one of the points on its plane. Like an infinite silk scarf through a small silver ring. And this point was moving, expanding, as if an invisible tornado (actually an invitation). Theoretically, this should move everything it touches to another place, but the objects in level 5 space remained in place. Several blue strings snapped.

Before Error could warn the others about the danger (you're exaggerating), he fell into a ...0%...

🪓Horror saw Error go into a reboot, typical for transitioning to another level, and managed to grab onto his black jacket. Then his damaged skull rang from hitting the white floor. The Destroyer crashed into his chest a moment later. Cross screamed in surprise nearby, and Dust cursed. Killer behaved fairly quietly, although something loudly cracked after his fall (it's not bones, is it? God, please, no). Horror tried to turn his head to check, but shut down.

⚔️ Cross, perhaps for the first time during his entire stay in the Backrooms, managed to find a comfortable place to sleep. Previously, he always had to sleep on the bare floor or leaning against Horror's massive figure, which was warm and didn't mind frequent tactile contact.

When his rest was interrupted, he had too little time to grasp the situation. He noticed the tense Nightmare and Horror next to Error. In the next second, something seemed to drag him through a bottle neck (the short path felt similar). He plummeted down like a cannonball.

Cross gathered himself and thanks to this, landed on his feet. In contrast to the rest of the group.

Horror fell quite awkwardly, pinned down by the unconscious Error. Cross hurried to drag the Destroyer away and inspect his friend. But everything seemed fine, no serious injuries. His damaged skull hadn't shattered further, even his HP was almost full, just a couple of scratches and bruises. Cross turned to see the others.

Nightmare was found in the distance, looking disoriented. His outlines seemed blurry, and he slumped against the wall (is he in pain?). But as soon as the Keeper of Negativity caught someone else's gaze, he straightened up and quickly assumed a composed demeanor.

🔪Killer fell onto one of the Deathmoths accompanying Dust. Its chitinous wings cracked loudly and finally detached, with several legs bent in the opposite direction. The insect thrashed in agony, and there was little that could help it. The skeleton itself was unharmed and contemplatively watched its "safety cushion." Dust tensely froze, watching the injured butterfly. But before he could come to any decision, the Killer's knife plunged into the Deathmoth, instantly ending its suffering.

Dust was definitely ready to kill him (too bad he held back). Well, that will make the Killer's life more interesting until Dusty cools down. It used to be difficult to provoke him into a fight, but if the lives of a couple of butterflies allow him to capture his attention... the Killer will consider this option in the future. It's interesting, will their group find any more Strange equipment? That would be nice. It seems these items allow for some amusing tricks.

Nevertheless, Dust took the lifeless body of the insect. Was he going to bury it?

---

The group allowed themselves to stay in place until all of them regained consciousness, and then moved forward. Mostly, they encountered empty white corridors with occasional locked passages leading to laboratories and production areas. According to the records, they were on level 15. And it was unpleasant. There were no clear exits on this level, and the way they got here was hard to describe as... reproducible. Seriously, what the hell?

One of the laboratories was open. Inside, there was futuristic medical equipment that Dust immediately tried to use. Surprisingly, it worked! The dead insect came back to life, but its coloration changed (these colors triggered unpleasant memories).

The next significant event was the appearance of a human.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork

[hexgravity]

Sorry for inactivity outside of reblogs. Genuinely in the midst of an idea drought.

So I guess the current projects I'm working on are Fragile Life, an unnamed story.

Lost Marrow is something I'll dabble in when I feel like, had once tried to make it a story, does not work.

I don't think I'm a story/comic type of guy like I used to be. So most of my projects will be loosely connected drawings.

With that being said I do plan on drafting more refs soon.

Given the outfit aesthetics I gave everyone, I need to come up with some for the rest.

Here's like the the list of info I got so far.

Grian: his is tricky for me, currently I'm working with like a dnd ranger aesthetic but I'm not sure. I should probably give him something colourful to fit his parrot pet or a jungel aesthetic.

Scar: business suit, something akin to a snake oil salesman. He will scam you, and Jellie is his partner in crime.

Jimmy: giving him the coal miner aesthetic, he is not escaping the canary allegations and his pet is not helping his case, fairly roughed up looking since he's always out like 1st or 2nd.

Gem: something cottage core to fit her deer companion, I'm experimenting with her first with details so she'll probably be the first to get a finalized design.

Scott: his aesthetic is a beach outfit to match his seal pet, something more fancy hence why I keep drawing him with a towel skirt.

Pearl: something rebellious, loner wolf aesthetic to match her in series character and to fit Tilly.

Lizzie: I'm not sure with her, maybe a princess theme since her pet is an axolotl which is a nod to Empires Season 1.

Joel: he's got the frog so something swamp themed. Yes, I did pick the frogs so he cannot escape the Shrek allegations.

Tango: going with a warm fluffy winter aesthetic to fit his moth pet, thought it would also be nice to have him all cozy and it would make certain pairings interesting cause just imagine Tango and Scott in the same room, prepared for opposite seasons.

Martyn: I'm really unsure. I drew him in an athletic fit but that feels like less of a theme than the others, I feel I can get something better maybe something that matches his dog pet.

Etho: currently its a detective theme but not confident in it, his pet is a coyote, would be silly if he was a mix of Pearl and Martyn aesthetic but that also feels lazy.

Cleo: something fancy. She deserves a fancy aesthetic like the type of person who invites people to a house party. Their pet being snakes, which actually inspires creative ways to blend player's pets into them like snake hair or deer ears(Gem).

Impulse: I had lumberjack? But I don't think it fits. Miner also fits but that's Jimmy's aesthetic. Maybe if he was paired with Jimmy I would allow the overlap actually.

[traewilson]

So yesterday I saw Inside Out 2 in the theaters. Gotta say, I left quite conflicted. The film itself is good, pretty darn good, in fact. But all my thoughts about it that aren't just "the animation is purty", or "it made me laugh once or twice", were largely negative? It is decidedly, I dare say objectively worse than the first in most respects. This film gives the established characters much less to do that aren't Joy, and the new emotions are wafer-thin that aren't Anxiety. It isn't nearly as funny or as emotionally impactful as the first. If you're expecting any plot beat to hit as hard as Bing-Bong from the first, curb your expectations.

The old characters who aren't Joy aren't given anything interesting to work with. The new (non-emotion) characters are mostly bland and undercooked. One of these characters just plain disappears from the movie completely, never to be seen again, and it's so ODD. It's a kind of narrative sloppiness you usually dont get from animated films from Disney specifically.

And then there's the new emotions, most of whom are wafer-thin and barely even characters. Anxiety being the main antagonist is given dimension and nuance almost rivaling Joy, but Ennui? A one-note joke character. It's funny because Ennui is a big word so Joy calls her "Ui-Ui" instead. Embarrassment has a bit of nuance being the one emotion from the new batch to be friendly towards the older emotions, specifically Sadness, but otherwise again his whole bit can be summarized as: Ha Ha, Big Guy Be Bashful, Please Laugh. There's no spin on the joke. It's just that ancient moth-bitten joke, again. But Envy is I think the worst of the bunch. The character does nothing throughout the film. All they do is cheer on Anxiety. They don't even really act envious which is really really odd? You'd think they could be a twist baddie - where like Envy wants to take the controls away from Anxiety and run the show herself. This is one time that tired Disney trope of the twist villain could've worked. But THEN we wouldn't have the seemingly mandatory now Realistic Panic Attack Scene, so, this character just Exists. A vestigial character that adds nothing, does nothing - it just Is. Criminal waste of a talent like Ayo Edebiri. Darn shame. Maybe in the third one you'll get to do something.

The film tries to follow in the footsteps of Turning Red, in regards of being a analysis of life as a child entering puberty, and it's a wet fart in the wind compared to what Turning Red did. It doesn't have the honesty, the heart, the integrity - it's toothless. It's too generic to be of any use to someone in the same position as Riley in the real world.

But this isn't why I'm writing this. No. There's a specific scene in the movie that just hasn't left my head since I saw the movie, and I have to get my thoughts written down and out there so I can stop thinking about this already.

Minor unimportant spoiler here. So in one scene, Anxiety is compelling a team representing the imagination, if I recall correctly? Anyway, she's compelling the imagination - represented like animators working on animation - to draw up as many scenarios as possible that affirm their paranoia. Joy and Gang enter, and stealthily start drawing up potentially positive outcomes, upsetting Anxiety. Joy gives a rousing speech about how they should draw the things they genuinely believe in, and not let Anxiety push them around, culminating in a chair being thrown at the Apple commercial Big Brother monitor Anxiety is speaking to them through. The mind cops show up, Anger immediately tries to pummel them (based,) and the gang is forced to run away.

To me, this is yet another in a long line of Disney not so subtly trying to control or manipulate discourse through their art / product. Now, an important disclaimer: Of course, all art is trying to say something to the audience - at least any art worth its salt does. But this isn't any one artist's messaging; this is the Walt Disney Corporation's messaging, to my thinking. The difference should be stark between the messaging of a lone human being and a monolithic megacorp's executive staff. Be aware: this is my read. If you don't see what I see, cool and fine. Just keep an open mind.

This sequence has no bearing on the rest of the story. It's a digression that only exists for the sake of the message contained within. It obviously is addressed partially to Disney animators. Disney is acknowledging they've been overworked before, and it gives them the false hope they have a voice within the company, that they can defy their boss and make a stand. They can draw what they want! They can say no! This is, of course, nonsense. Disney does not support this. If their workforce acted out like this, they would all be fired, and Disney wouldn't lose an ounce of sleep over it. I feel like it's a message to the audience as well - a virtue signal to give the dullard audiences the impression they're Good Guys when they most definitely are not that. And I feel it's sending another message to both animators and audience - the solution isn't actually changing anything. The bad leader is calmed down, put back in their place within the system, and the old leader restored. This kind of messaging is mind poison to a susceptible mind, young or old. You dont change anything. Only the leaders can fix the problem with leadership, and the solution is simply to get the Right Leaders in charge again, for everybody to reconcile their differences. I see Anxiety as the Republican Party in the eyes of the executives / writers and directors - mentally unstable, but well-meaning. A vital component to the functioning of the Body, but one that needs to be kept pacified or it will run out of control and cause damage; try to dominate the Body and cast out the people who know what they're doing. Anxiety is, to my thinking, conservatism in the eyes of the team / the executives. You could extrapolate extrapolate it out so that Anxiety is literally Donald Trump. Admittedly the evidence is slim. The domineering (orange) authoritarian who monopolizes the power around themselves. Envy is the mindless sycophant who blindly agrees to everything Anxiety says - the Marjorie Taylor Greenes, the Ted Cruzes, the Lindsay Grahams. Ennui holds the controls too, but does nothing with them beyond introducing sarcasm to Riley's mindscape. Ennui is the passive fool who sees everything going down and just Does Not Care enough to do anything to stop it. And Embarrasment, in the eyes of the team, is the Good One who is doing good behind the scenes, helping Sadness. The liberal image of the ideal Republican. This is, I admit, a major stretch, and it's ultimately just my read. But I don't think I'm completely off base here.

Uhh, so yeah. Not Pixar's best, and not really spectacularly bad in a way that's at least memorable like Cars 2 or Good Dinosaur. No, it's just another Pixar movie. And you know? I almost think that's worse than if it were a spectacular failure. Cars 2, Good Dinosaur, they make me really stop and think. They're fascinating. Inside Out 2 isn't interesting. It's emblematic of the continued downward spiral of Pixar into becoming an empty shell, fully filled by Disney.

But hey it played the Triple-Dent Gum jingle again and Anger hates cops so 8/10

[dood1e-bug]

@mysteryposter ‘s pokemon art challenge looked fun so here we go

First starter: have both Charmander and Turtwig because I chose Charmander on someone elses game before i got my own pokemon game.

Pokemon from fav region: love gen 5 and had to draw one of my favs

Favorite shiny: I love the fluffy moth and when i found out its shiny was yellow i just had to get one. 

Shiny you wish was better: Iv’e seen others draw Leafeon with a more autumn color scheme or a sakura tree it really make me wish the shiny was like that instead of looking almost exactly the same.

Randomly generated pokemon: Cufant ^v^

Draw and legendary/mythical: I like a good bit of legends Reshiram is the one I always think of. Raiko, Lugia, Shaymin being other favs.

A pokemon of your fav type: I like both fighting and grass so I picked Breloom.

Very first favorite: tried to remember who it was before Sawk and all i could think of was Lucario for all the memories i had with it and Luxray (i remember looking in my PC on either Diamond or Platinum and there was like 4 Luxrays in the same box)

Current fav: Sawk has been a old Fav. little me saw how silly and cool Stephan’s Sawk was so i caught myself one, eventually i started drawing em which at the time I hated drawing anything human like because i sucked at it, so in a way he got me out of my comfort zone and really pushed me to get better at drawing bipedal characters.