#oc fancast

[annabthesolitarywriter]

More Boromir headcanons (pt.2)

**Boromir as a boy-dad**

So many people, including myself, primarily think of Boromir as a girl-dad. As I have already explained in my main Boromir headcanon post, Boromir marries my OC Idhrildin of Anórien in the year 3020 of the Third Age and they have four children, three girls and one boy. In this post, I will be talking a little bit about Boromir's relationship with his son and how it differs from the relationship he has with his daughters.

Boromir's son, Berenor, is the baby of the house. He is born in FoA 17, and, contrarily to many nobles, Boromir is not thrilled because he has a son. He is thrilled simply because he has a new child and his joy turns to worry as soon as he is informed that Idhrildin is not doing as well as it is expected. He takes care of his newborn son while Idhrildin recovers and also takes care of him during her frequent bouts of illness during the following two years. When she dies, he is inconsolable but knows that his children need him, especially Berenor. Idhrildin dies when he is just two and, as a result, he does not really remember her and he is raised by Boromir as a single dad. His sisters—especially Findelis "Lis"—help him out, but Boromir does not want to overburden his daughters and does most of the raising himself. The first five years or so are definitely the hardest. He misses his wife terribly (obviously) and feels like he has no idea what he is doing. He is going through the motions and, although he tries his best to be a good dad, he feels like he is falling short. He is actually doing excellent, but he does not see it that way.

He is grateful that his wife helped him improve his cooking and house-management skills because those really come in handy. He has servants and people managing the household, but he and Idhrildin have always encouraged their children not to be too reliant on others doing things for them and he wants his son be able to provide for himself too. As such, he teaches him how to dress on his own, how to clean his own room and how to wash his own clothes and, by the age of ten, Berenor is perfectly capable of doing all these things without his dad having to remind him about it.

This completely goes against the Southern Gondorian custom of pampering male heirs of noble families and some people indeed criticize Boromir for his oddities but most of his quirks are dismissed as they are perceived as the nonsensical actions of a grieving man. So, in a way, he is excused.

While, as Lord of Osgiliath and Prince of Anórien, he is entitled to the protection of his own personal guard, Boromir also strongly believes that anyone—regardless of background or social status—should be given the tools to defend themselves and teaches his children basic defense techniques.

Out of his three daughters, Findelidrin "Idy" is the one who is more eager to learn about the military and how things work in the army. She is the spunky, rebel, sassy child after all. Findelis "Lis" is a quick learner, but she is not comfortable around weapons and only uses them when strictly necessary. Idhrilwen is too pure a soul to like anything even remotely related to war and, for her, it is a struggle to even pick up a knife. She is scared of war and sticks to helping people out.

Berenor takes after him and plays with wooden swords all the time during his childhood. He much prefers playing with swords to studying and has to be persuaded to attend his classes. He finds them boring and has trouble completing his assignments not because he is stupid, but because of his lack of interest in most things he is taught.

Lis writes most of his essays and Berenor only alters a few words so that his tutors are more easily fooled. He changes and adjusts his attitude as he grows up and, while I suppose he will never be the equivalent of an A student, he starts showing more interest and willingness to commit to his studies when he hits puberty. I guess he matures a lot during that time, which is fair, to be honest. The time he spends with Eönwë and his baby "cousins" also affect him pretty deeply in a good way. Boromir and Eönwë are definitely his biggest influences, while he sees little of Faramir. He does respect and love his uncle, but Faramir is a bit busy with this own things, so I do not think they will interact as much. Nevertheless, Faramir does love all of his brother's children and he does get to spend some time with Berenor whenever Boromir and his family visit Ithilien. I feel Berenor finds Faramir intimidating because he rarely smiles and always seems angry. He does not know the details of what Faramir went through—Boromir never told him—and thinks his presence upsets his uncle for some reason. As I said, they do get to spend some time together, but Berenor will try to give him space. He is obviously biased, but he finds his dad a lot more fun to be around.

BOROMIR AND HIS LITTLE BOY: A LIST OF THINGS TO REMEMBER

Berenor adores his dad. Boromir is the only parent he ever knew, so they are very close. Boromir reads him bedtime stories every night up until the age of ten, but, more often than not, they always end up talking about Idhrildin and they both end up crying as a result. He may be spunky and a little bit of a troublemaker, but it is important to note that Berenor is also a very kind, considerate and sensitive little boy. He has a lot of empathy, cares a lot for others and shows it. Boromir encourages him to act like a normal child and does not force anything on him. He just expects him to be a good, honorable little boy. He is partly raised by his sisters, which means he has a lot of respect for girls and women and promises his dad that he will make him proud in that regard. Boromir also tells him that he should marry for love and that he will not be forced into an arranged marriage. He even tells him that he does not have to marry at all if he does not wish for it. Berenor is confused because he has been told that every lord needs a son that the line can continue and Boromir sorts of dismisses the problem, leaving Berenor even more confused. I am sure they will have that chat sooner or later, just not when he is a child. Berenor may not be interested in his classes, but he does ask a lot questions and wants to have everything figured out. He knows very little, but what he knows, he knows very well. He has a lot of confidence to him, which I think he gets from both parents.

Boromir takes his dad duties very seriously and bath time is his favorite time. Berenor loves water and ends up splashing his dad every single time. Essentially, Boromir takes a bath as well and the bathroom is completely flooded everytime, every day. Many governesses will quit, but Boromir will not care that much. His boy's happy giggles are way more important.

Boromir likes to cuddle his baby boy a lot. He is a major hugger and tends to be a little too clingy at times. He sees Berenor as the last thing his beloved wife left him and, as such, he is even more inclined than usual to show him affection. His daughters are also lavished with presents and attention, but Berenor is the baby of the house so he gets just a little more. Boromir knows that he needs to be both a father and a mother to him and often finds it difficult, which is why he will hire a new live-in governess just to help him out. They have Nora already and she indeed was a great lady-in-waiting and secretary to Idhrildin. She is also a great tutor (she is, as a matter of fact, the head of the tutors in Boromir's household), but she is strict and not very maternal. She loves the Borodhril children, but is not the best at showing it and, in the modern world, she would have the mindset of a manager. She is totally dedicated to her job, but she sees it as just that. She is not as caring as Boromir would like her to be, which is why he wants to look for somebody else. He eventually finds a war widow—her name is Aerdhel—who works as a volunteer at one of Idhrildin's charities and offers her the job. Aerdhel is surprised and unsure about it at first, but eventually accepts. Aerdhel has a teenage daughter, Aelinn, who Boromir thinks of as another daughter. Although he does not formally adopt her, his daughters do think of her as a sister and involve her in everything they do. They know it is what Idhrildin would have wanted and they try to honor her memory with everything they do.

Alexandra Moen (Queen Elizabeth of York in The Spanish Princess) as Aerdhel.

Summer Richards (Katherine Howard in Wolf Hall) as Aelinn.

Mind you, Boromir will not fall in love with Aerdhel, but they will show one another mutual respect and she will be his main support when times get though. And they will, trust me. She is essentially a close friend. He is advised to remarry and he thinks about it, but he knows Aerdhel does not love him that way and he wants to stay true to himself and be coherent so the marriage does not happen. Nevertheless, Aerdhel becomes a very important figure in Berenor's life and she helps him keep his mother's memory alive by telling him anecdotes about her.

Boromir does all the shopping for his children himself and is mortified whenever they do not like his presents. His default gifts for his girls are dolls and he is heartbroken when they grow out of the "doll phase" as he does not know what else to gift them besides dresses. He always tends to buy similar dresses and can also see that, overtime, his girls grow bored of them. As they are not ungrateful brats, they always smile and thank him profusely anyway, but Boromir feels like he desperately needs advice and that is where Aerdhel comes in. Nora does not understand fashion and does not care for it. She only has multiple dresses because she needs to change, but if it were for her, she would only own one dress and one pair of shoes. Military mindset, as I said. With Berenor is much easier because he is a boy and Boromir understands boys just a little better. Berenor is happy with wooden swords (metal ones later on) and simple shirts. He is just a chill boy who does not complain and is happy with whatever he is given. I would actually say he does not care for the presents themselves, it is just the thought of his dad giving them to him that makes him happy.

He does help with his mother's charities and many people grow fond of him as a result. Boromir's enemies at court will say it is a political move to endear himself to the people even further but...they know nothing, so Boromir just lets them talk. There is a reason why he rarely goes to Minas Tirith (except for Fellowship reunions) and there is a reason why does not want his children hanging out in Minas Tirith too much. He wants them to feel happy and safe and does anything in his power to shield them from the corruption, treachery, disloyalty going on in the Capital. Lis vehemently agrees with this and she takes her big sister duties very seriously. The Minas Tirith issue, as I call it, will oftentimes be cause of quarreling among siblings, as Berenor—because of his largely sheltered upbringing—does not understand why everyone seems to think it is so "dangerous" (he has been there before with his dad and the rest of the Fellowship and it all seemed normal to him) and Lis and the others are tired of trying to explain it to him. Berenor's innate confidence can lead him to be very stubborn at times and when he sets his mind onto something it is really hard to distract him or dissuade him. I think he takes after Boromir in that and Boromir is not proud of it. He learns to be less stubborn as he grows up (he also a lot more introspective and quiet and more prone to listening), but he does not change his mind easily. Yes, he is prone to listening and does take advice from others, but when he makes up his mind...that is it.

I already mentioned Berenor is uninterested in most class topics and things concerning his education, but it is not entirely true. He does very much enjoy learning about Gondorian history; military history specifically. He loves wearing his dad's various armors and vambraces and, as time goes by, the bedtime stories are replaced by war stories, which Boromir censors a little so that his baby boy (I feel like Boromir will think of him as his little baby even when he is way past the age of majority) does not get traumatized. Plot twist: blood and gore are exactly what Berenor wants to hear about and Boromir will have to explain to him how war is neither something to dream of nor something fun to be at. I think Berenor already knows that, but he does get a little overenthusiastic about the idea of killing off orcs and being a hero. He is just a kid, after all. Berenor is especially interested in the wars Boromir participated in and begs him for details and anecdotes, which Boromir is always hesitant to discuss for the aforementioned reasons and eventually Berenor will stop asking him about it as he understands his dad does not really want to talk about it. He is eager to meet the members of the Fellowship and Boromir often offers to plan "reunion dinners" either in Osgiliath or in Minas Tirith, to which all the children of the Fellowship are also invited. The more, the merrier, I suppose. I can imagine little Berenor running around and pestering everybody with questions until Boromir tells him to be quiet because no one will have time to eat if he keeps at it. He definitely takes after "cousin Enna" and uncle Faramir when it comes to asking questions. It is also one of the many reasons why he and Anárion (=Enna's eldest son) get along so well together. They never shut up, but they both grow out of it eventually.

Berenor likes fishing and Boromir often takes him on fishing trips on the banks of the Anduin. The girls are not interested so they stay home unless they are really bored. Idy might be the one to tag along.

Berenor's favorite colors are blue, silver and green. I headcanon that silver is also among Boromir's favorite colors, primarily because it reminds him of home. White is another one Boromir really likes.

Contrarily to most people in Gondor, Boromir does not despise the Rohirrim and encourages all of his children to be open-minded. All of his children are formally introduced to King Éomer's court and that is where Berenor learns to ride. He is a great rider and—contrarily to most Gondorians, who treat horses as if they were objects in their service just to carry them somewhere, he understands that they are sentient creatures with feelings. He really likes horses and names his Idhrilos as a tribute to his mother. Idhrilos is a personal gift to him from Éomer and, as such, Berenor treats him even better than he does his pony and his two other horses. Yes, Boromir gave his children a pony and two horses each and expects them to take care of them on their own without the help of servants and stable-boys. They belong to the children and the children do the work.

Berenor visits Rohan several times throughout his childhood (he gets Idhrilos at the age of nine as a birthday present) and brings home even more horses and ponies as presents for his family. Boromir and Éomer are good friends and Lothíriel adores her cousin's little son. Even though she probably likes Faramir a little better, she and Boromir are very close as well and the Queen of Rohan always sends a lot of presents to her Gondorian family. The only family member she does not speak to is Enna, but that is only Enna's fault. Lothíriel merely respects her wishes. The only person from Rohan Enna get along with is Lothíriel and Éomer's middle child, Elenor. Quick info dump: in my AU, Éomer and Lothíriel have three children: Elenor (born FoA 1), Elfhelda (born FoA 2) and Elfwine (born FoA 4). We all know who Elfwine is, but I will take the opportunity to introduce his OC sisters: Elenor is the oldest child and is partly named after Lothíriel's mother, Elanur. She is her maternal grandfather's favorite child and hates everything that is in any way connected to Rohan. She is Imrahil's favorite grandchild because of that, actually. Despite being born into Rohirric royalty, she is fully Gondorian in both appearance and spirit, which means that she despises her own country. Her friendship with Enna is based on the fact that they both strongly dislike Rohan and spend most of their time together dissing it one way or another. Boromir loathes her (he does his best to hide his contempt for her, but I am afraid he struggles a lot with it) and so do his children; their paths only crossing because Elenor is betrothed to Prince Elendil (while he lives, that is) and Prince Elendil is a dear family friend. He is merely a teenager when he dies, but he is wise beyond his years—partly due to the fact that he spends a lot of time in Rivendell with his uncles Elladan and Elrohir—and is on extremely good terms with Boromir. Boromir is a sort of surrogate father figure to him as Aragorn is often too busy attending to Eldarion and Faramir is in Emyn Arnen and is also too busy with his personal things. Elendil is Berenor's godfather and spends quite a bit of time with him. Unfortunately he passes away when Berenor is four, but that is a whole different story. No, actually, it is not. It is just me being unmerciful. He will not have to marry Elenor—whom he also does not like—so I suppose that is, in some sort of twisted way, my own way of showing mercy to him. That IS something, right?

Natalie Dormer (Anne Boleyn in The Tudors) as Elenor.

Neither Boromir nor Berenor like her. She only shows up at Boromir's palace when Elendil is visiting him and she wants to make sure she does end up marrying him solely to become a Princess of the Reunited Kingdom. She stalks him and only loves him because he is Aragorn and Arwen's son. She does not believe in love and only wants power and prestige and wants the marriage to happen so that she can fully cut ties with those "filthy horse-lords". Her only interactions with Berenor take place when he is really, really young (a little more than a toddler), but he already shows every sign of strongly disliking her. He pulls some quite nasty pranks on her and, although Boromir scolds him, he is not exactly mad as he knows for certain that he would have done even worse. Father and son are very much alike, I have to say. A couple of pranksters.

Éothíriel's middle child is Elfhelda and she is very well-liked by the whole family. She is, as a matter of fact, Lis' best friend and spends a lot of time with the Borodhrils. Lis and Elfhelda are childhood friends—I do not know how and where they meet—and the latter thinks of Berenor as a baby brother. Boromir is also fond of her and she is always welcome in any of his residences even without notice. Boromir thinks Elendil and Elfhelda would be a good match and tries to play Cupid since he notices Elendil is much more at ease around her. That being said, Elendil tells him he is not interested. Elfhelda eventually marries Haleth.

Marta Wiśniewska (Princess Elizabeth in Korona Królow - The Crown of the Kings) as Elfhelda

These two practicing their archery skills/messing around. Elfhelda is definitely more practical while Lis definitely struggles a bit. She only uses weapons if strictly necessary, after all. She's not a fan.

Lis deciding to cheat and mess with her bestie. She is jealous of her skills, but it is the good, non-toxic, harmless kind of jealousy. (Little note for myself: Enna strongly dislikes Elfhelda and not just because she thinks it is inappropriate for a Gondorian lady to befriend people of "inferior birth". She is also jealous of the wholesome bond these two have and tears up every time she sees them together)

Back to Berenor now.

He is ticklish and Boromir often tickles as a punishment when Berenor is being naughty. Child Berenor has been tickled a lot both as a joke and as an admonition. He hates being tickled and Boromir knows it, which makes it all the more fun.

He takes part in Lis and Elfhelda's archery lessons and he is actually better than both of them. He does not boast about it though. On the contrary, he is happy to help them. He has a bit of a childish, innocent crush on Elfhelda and gifts her puppies to show his appreciation (like his dad, he loves all animals, but has a predilection for horses and dogs).

Out of Faramir's children, Berenor is closest to Eradan, whom he treats as a little sibling. Given his somewhat close relationship with Eönwë, he is also close with Enna and her children, especially the oldest (Nimloth, Anárion, Mírion, Wyn and Elenion). Given that Boromir takes him under his wing, he will see much of Elenion and the two of them will become friends. Berenor will try to cheer him up and to instill hope in him with any means necessary and will most likely be utterly devastated when the little cousin he grew to love as a baby brother commits suicide. He will blame himself for not having been able to help him more and will go through on a crisis of his own. He will get to Mírion better as well and he will become his confidant (ironically, I think his support during the mourning period is the thing that will finally convince Mírion that Berenor can be trusted. Mírion is fundamentally paranoid and does not trust anyone outside of his blood family. I do not even blame the poor guy, he is constantly betrayed by everyone).

Berenor will also be completely and utterly devastated when Mírion dies. He and Boromir will then have a conversation about mortality and things like that, and Berenor will comment how ironic it is that children with Maiarin blood who were supposed to live forever have dropped dead like flies and how anachronistic it is that the most powerful woman in Middle-earth was more miserable than the lowest and poorer commoner in Gondor. Boromir's health starts declining in the mid-40s and all of his children have this gut feeling that he will not be around for much longer. Mírion's death just worsens whatever health issues he already has as his mood plummets and he just seems not interested in living anymore. He dies six years later so he has some years left in him, but not that many.

I feel like Berenor will commission the grandest tomb he can think of when Boromir eventually dies. Although he knows that his father was beloved of the people, he feels that he was not respected enough by his peers and wants to honor him the way everybody should have. All of Boromir's children will be with him until the very end and Berenor holds his hand as he dies. I do not know who he will marry (or if he will marry at all), but if he does and has a son, his name will most certainly be Boromir.

I will add to this list as I come up with more headcanons, but that is all for now!

Option: Idhrildin lives (Berenor's relationship with his mom)

Berenor, son of Boromir

Future Lord of Osgiliath and Prince of Anórien

Fancasting: Spencer Treat Clark (child); Charles Vandevaart (teenage years); Jay Duffy (adult)

[missdreamfyre]

the way ella purnell and tom blyth are both litrally perfect for targtower oc's like?? they look so much like Olivia Cooke (Ella would also be good for a inbetween of Olivia and Emily Carey i need her to do a historical drama stat)

[annabawritersdreamsideblog]

She would also be perfect for Mairéad (not to mention that her name means "pearl" and she's wearing pearls. Finding faceclaims can be extremely hard)

@awkward-sultana do you know, by any chance, the name of the actress—I couldn't find it on the Magnificent Century cast list—and where I can find more pics or gifs of her? Thank you ☺️

[annabthesolitarywriter]

I love her so much and she'd be perfect as second governess for the kids. Esme is the chaotic nanny and she is the responsible/Mary Poppins-like one. Enna is usually unreasonably jealous of her children's nannies, but she actually likes her.

She might be a Maia of Vána or Estë. Now I only need to think of a name.

Drew Barrymore's "Just Breathe" look in Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998)

costume design by Jenny Beavan

[slytherin-princess-x]

What is this feeling?

Theodore nott x yn

Full fluff and a very sad Theo

The entire day had been a disaster. Snape had docked me points for "lack of focus," Flitwick had nearly sent me flying across the Charms classroom with a particularly vehement swish and flick gone wrong, and even Herbology, usually my sanctuary, had turned against me when a Mandrake decided to latch onto my ear.

And then there was Mattheo. We'd argued over something stupid, some Slytherin power play involving a first year and a misplaced quill. He'd accused me of being soft, of losing my edge. The words stung more than they should, especially coming from him, and a bitter retort had flown out of my mouth before I could stop it. Now, we weren't speaking.

I'd been trained, practically since birth, to bury anything resembling emotion. My father had drilled it into me: sadness was weakness, vulnerability a liability. Suck it up. Move on. So, I wasn't moping. I certainly wasn't. I was simply… navigating the castle, aimlessly drifting from corridor to corridor.

All I wanted was Y/N. I just wanted to be near her, to breathe in her scent, to feel the calming press of her hand on my arm. She had a way of smoothing the sharp edges of my soul, of silencing the constant, critical voice in my head.

I'd wandered up to the Slytherin girls' dorms, hoping to find her. But the room was empty, the air filled with the faint scent of her perfume. Disappointment, a sharp, unwelcome pang, shot through me. I’d thought she’d be here.

Instead of leaving I just stared at her bed, at the soft green throw she always kept draped across it. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, suddenly hit me like a physical blow. Without another thought, I sank onto the bed, Y/N's scent enveloping me. It was a small comfort, a tiny lifeline in this swirling vortex of a day.

I didn't mean to fall asleep. I really didn't. But the day had taken its toll, and the soft mattress and the familiar scent lulled me into a state of semi-consciousness. The last thing I remember was thinking about how much I missed her laugh.

I woke up with a start, my face pressed into a pillow. My eyes felt gritty, my head heavy. Something felt… wrong.

Then I realized. My cheeks were damp. Tears. I had been crying. Bloody hell.

I scrambled to sit up, mortified. What if someone saw me? What if Mattheo walked in? The thought of him seeing me like this, vulnerable and broken, made my stomach churn. I brushed frantically at my face, trying to wipe away any trace of my weakness.

The door opened.

Y/N.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then softened as they focused on my face. She didn't say anything. Didn't ask what was wrong, didn't offer a platitude or a forced smile. She just closed the distance between us, her arms wrapping around me in a tight, grounding embrace.

And then, the dam broke.

I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been holding everything in, how desperately I'd been trying to adhere to my father's rigid rules. But in Y/N's arms, surrounded by her warmth and her scent, the walls crumbled.

So I just let it all out. The frustration, the hurt, the anger, the bone-deep exhaustion. I sobbed, ugly, gasping sobs that shook my entire body. I buried my face in her shoulder, ashamed and yet somehow… relieved.

She didn't say a word. Just held me tighter, rocking me gently back and forth. Her hand stroked my hair, whispering soothing patterns against my scalp.

"It's okay, Theo," she murmured finally, her voice soft and low. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

Her words, so simple, so genuine, were like a balm to my raw and wounded soul. I clung to her, drawing strength from her unwavering presence, from the unconditional love that shone in her eyes.

I knew, logically, that my father would disapprove. That Mattheo would see this as a weakness. But in that moment, none of that mattered. In Y/N's arms, I wasn't Theodore Nott, the heir to a pureblood dynasty. I was just Theo, a boy who was allowed to feel, to be vulnerable, to lean on someone for support. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

Taglist: @yootvi @smut-anarchy @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred

[exycourtbesties]

moody kateaaron 🥀

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Colored the Amanda Seyfried!Jade.

So... here it is guys 👀 This is what a realistic Jade looks like!

Damn... I mean... damn.

Also thanks to @applbottmjeens who said that Jade's voice could sound like the female elf in Dragon Age Inquisition (the British one of course)

NYEHE had fun! Hope you like it! (❁´◡`❁)

[mari-thesapphic-lady]

No one — I said, no one — will be able to convince me that Isabela Merced isn't perfect to be an agathario's daughter, and I'm claiming that for my story.

Like, LOOK AT THIS:

I'm not crazy, this makes perfect sense! THOSE BIG BROWN EYES, DOE EYES!! She's very good for this role! I'm happy to have finally found an actress for my fancast.

"Ah, but Isabela Merced is already part of the MCU, she played Anya in Madame Web"

I DON'T WANNA KNOW, I DON'T CARE, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I'M GOING TO USE THIS FANCAST BECAUSE IN MY HEAD IT MAKES A LOT OF SENSE!

By the way, what's the fancast of your agathario OC's people? I feel like we're outnumbered because I at least don't see many people creating agathario oc's, but it would be interesting to talk about it.

-

Bonus: She looks a lot with April, I remembered that because I read a fanfic (WHICH I LOVED, BY THE WAY) of April Ludgate x Jennifer Barkley. So, author, whoever you are, this is for you <3

Updates: I FOUND THE FANFIC! It's called "checkmate!" By fqrcefields (sqyyadina)! Ugh, I loved this fanfic with all my might! If anyone knows the author's @ here on tumblr, please tag here!!

[aprilcolours]

blackheart- part four

part one - part two - part three

A/N: warning: there is smut in this chapter!! A lot!! be warned!! s*x ahoy!! p*nsises and whatnot!! I’ve also started doing valyrian translations underneath the line bc there is a lot, and i'm taking liberties w black aly being witchy bc i wanna and its Cool

—

The night was young as they set out across the marshes, their horses galloping through mud and muck. 

Benjicot led the way on a black mare, their dark hair almost disappearing into the night. Just behind him rode Visenya, on a white-gray stallion. He had laughed when she picked it. 

She had changed into her favorite dress: a deep red gown with a scooping neckline, beaded and encrusted in rubies. It was odd to see her finery against the wild landscape. 

They rode North to his keep, their purpose known only to them. Vermithor remained behind, so none were the wiser as they secreted away. 

Raventree Hall was certainly not the largest castle she had ever seen, nowhere near as imposing as her home on Dragonstone. It had, however, a quiet grandeur, a dignity that spoke to ages long past and kings long dead. 

Entering into the central palisade, despite the late hour, servants immediately began rushing about, lighting braziers, making preparations for the liege-lord’s arrival.

“Maester Daris!” Benjicot called up into the hall. 

“So the rumors are true,” a woman’s voice rang out. In a doorway stood a tall thin woman with long dark curling waves of hair. She had a strange look about her, a bird-like turn to her features. 

The archer, Visenya thought, a witch they say. Black Aly, she is called. 

“The rumors of the Riverland’s witches?” Visenya replied, hair loose about her, but face impassive. The woman laughed with a nod, and bowed. Benjicot interceded to introduce, 

“My aunt, Alysanne Blackwood. And this is—”

“A princess who needs no introduction from you,” the strange woman interrupted, stepping into the foyer. “Go find the maester then,” she said, touching her nephew’s arm in reassurance. Benjicot glanced once between the women, before stepping up the stairs to wake the maester. 

“An honor, your highness,” Aly began, a cautious tilt to her words. “Would I be remiss in congratulating the joining of our houses?” 

“You would not, Lady Alysanne,” Visenya responded, her tone polite and unbothered. It was clear the other woman was sizing her up, assessing her, so she did not squirm. 

“The ceremony is to be held here? Now?”

“It is,” she replied simply, daring the elder to question her.

“You will honor our ways then I presume,” Black Aly stated, with a jut of her defiant chin. “A dragon’s maidenhead is a mighty sacrifice to the Old Ones, and I’m sure we will want all the divine favor we can manage for the war ahead.” 

The Riverlander witch spoke quietly, so their words were only theirs, but Visenya did not mistake the steel in her voice. 

My mother will rule these people, whoever their gods. And so she inclined her head in acquiesce. 

-

The ceremony was small, in the yard outdoors beneath the giant dead Weirwood tree: the maester to speak the words, Alysanne to provide a relative’s blessing, and them. 

He passed his family cloak over her shoulders, clasping it at her collarbone. The weight was comforting. 

When the Riverlanders finished their ritual however, Visenya asked for a cup of wine and a dagger. 

She raised the dagger to her lower lip and cut it, as she had seen her mother once do. She took a pull from the goblet of wine and then passed them both to Ben. He wore a slight smile as he mimicked her, slicing his own lower lip and drinking. The Valyrian ceremony was sealed with a kiss. 

Black Aly and the Maester wore twin bewildered expressions, but they witnessed the second ceremony all the same. Then they took their leave, walking back up the cobblestone path to the castle proper.

And they were suddenly, blisteringly, alone. 

Visenya’s eyes were wide in nerves, and something else stirring low and tumultuous in her gut, pupils blown open. She had always been able to maintain some small shred of composure around the subject of Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, but here and now she was stripped bare of all of it. She knew what came next and it frightened and excited her in equal measure. Here she could not be the princess, the commander, the dragon rider. 

Here, in this torchlight, beneath the grasping unknowable branches of the dead Weirwood, she was just a girl. 

She bit her lip nervously, and more blood from the slice beaded through. Benjicot lifted a hand to her face, thumb drawing across her full lower lip and smearing the blood across her chin. 

“What troubles you, wife?” he asked, voice so low it was barely a mutter. His eyes caught a flicker of the torchlight and flashed like a wild animal’s.

“Your gods are strange,” she breathed, trying like always to gain some control of the situation.

“Aye,” he chuckled. “So are yours.” Benjicot’s eyes softened then, the viscous gleam undercut by something else— something she did not dare name. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and palmed it gently. 

“We need not do this here, if you find it displeasing,” he offered, his other hand slipping to her lower back to toy with the laces of her dress. 

She considered it: a warm bed or the cool misty ground around her. 

And she kissed him. 

The cloak fell from her shoulders first. Then the tunic off his chest. Then his fingers tangled in the laces of her dress finally gave way. She may have heard some ripping and though it was her favorite dress, he was suddenly kissing at her neck, and she couldn’t be bothered to care. He licked along her jaw and down to the juncture of the shoulder and bit down, hard. She gasped loudly, breath misting in the night air. He passed over the bite with his tongue to soothe the ache and she shivered. 

Finally, the gown slid away, and Visenya stood nude before him. She wanted badly to cover her breasts but she dared not balk. I am a dragon for gods’ sake, she thought, and so she stood straight backed, silver hair loose and tumbling over one shoulder. 

He slid his hand down her neck and to her breast, peaked against the cold. He fell to his knees, hands sliding down her frame as he went. 

He kneeled for a moment before her, as if he worshiped at her altar. She ran a hand gently through his hair. 

Then he kissed at her navel, at her hip, and finally at her core. 

He licked into her, and this too, he did like a drowning man. She gasped, and breathed, and gasped again at the foreign sensations, so strong and new, as they rocked her body. While he sucked and tongued at her center, one hand crept up to her breasts again. He pinched one nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and it was all suddenly too much—overwhelming. She called out a gasping warning, hands gripped tight against his head, before her climax rang through her like lightning. 

Her spine shot straight, back arched up to the night sky, before she folded to the ground, her head and waist caught in his hands so he could lower her carefully. 

Safely laid against the ground, Visenya caught her breath. It seemed as if the world had shifted and she was now trying to find her way back to it. Blinking her eyes clear, she noticed the Blackwood above her, watching. His eyes were unfathomably dark. 

She glanced down quickly and noticed the straining bulge against his trousers. All feelings of trepidation gone, only bliss and quiet satiety left in their wake, she reached a hand down to pull at his belt. 

“Are you sure my lady,” he breathed, a grin slashing across his flushed cheeks. “More?” 

She aimed for her signature raised brow, though she felt so content she doubted she could manage it. He laughed all the same, kneeling back for a moment to undo his belt. 

He pulled his trousers down and his manhood sprung loose, arced with a curve that looked nigh painful. 

Visenya bit her lip again. Emboldened by the pleasure still quivering through her body, she reached a hand to it and ran a thumb across its beaded tip. It was then his turn to shiver. 

They kissed languidly, unhurried, as he situated himself above her, her legs parting naturally to bracket him. They fit together well, slotting into place with a long pull of tongue against tongue. She tasted herself on him. 

His manhood teased at her entrance, before slowly inching forward with a rock of his hips. She could hear a whining-moaning noise. Distantly, she was aware it was her. In tiny increments he sheathed himself fully, pushed to the hilt. The feeling was momentarily so intense that neither dared move, foreheads resting together. 

She was so full, every pleasured nerve drawn taught in the fullness. It was perfect and also agony. So she whined, kicking her heel at his back for him to move. 

He buried a moan into her neck, and obliged. 

They rocked together, slow at first but quickly building pace. The electricity began to arc up her spine once more and she clenched her thighs in warning. As she came, the reverberations of her body ripped his climax from him as well, in a stuttering, heaving, sort of groan. 

They lay together for a long while, and the blood and seed fed the earth beneath the tree. 

-

They returned to the war camp that night, nearly as the dawn broke, exhausted but happy. He lingered at her tent, hesitant to part. She gave a soft private smile. 

“You may stay. If you like,” she offered. He simply nodded his own small smile back, too content to be the biting grin he usually wore. 

-

After too few hours of rest, Visenya and Benjicot rose and dressed for the council. They traded lazy kisses in the golden light of morning. 

The morning, like always, brought news. 

Caraxes had landed nearby. 

-

Her father stood, posture as familiar and straight backed as her own, at the council table as she approached. His dragon helm was tucked beneath one arm. The other lords eyed him warily, speaking to each other in hushed tones. 

Visenya did not falter, striding into place next to him with her chin held high. Benjicot stood behind her a few paces, defensively guarding her rear flank. 

“Kepa,” she greeted. 

Father. 

Daemon flicked his eyes to hers, they were ringed with dark circles. 

“Olvie ēza arlinnon ziry vestragon,” he rumbled, voice rasping. 

Much has changed it seems. 

Something is different in him, she noticed. Her father carried a weariness he had not before his time at Harrenhal. She inclined her head in a gesture of respect. 

“Eman won ērinnon rȳ se Qelbria,” she proclaimed.

I have won victories across the Riverlands. 

She gestured at the pieces on the board and continued, “Eman gūrogon hāre sombāzmion sīr tolmiot.”

I have taken three castles so far. 

He nodded slightly, and she paused to take a slight breath before she continued, “Eman gūrogon iā valzȳrys hae sȳrī.”

I have taken a husband as well.

[endlessfearsfancast]

Hello Tumblr!

So, I'm looking for a couple of voice actors in regards to my fancast. I don't exactly... have all the voices thought out, but I at least have a few personality types sorted!

Supplemental, being British is not a requirement, as long as you can do an accent you're fine! I mean, heck, a few people on here are American. Okay, lets go:

David Hallaway: Old, like, around his 40s I'd say with a gruff voice and cockney accent. He always has the "tired dad" sort of sound to him. Looking for a voice in the more... masculine register

Marissa Lindell: I picture like, really fake, high, airy kinda voice. But I'd like some range considering the plans I have for her (rubs hands evilly)

Alora Rothman: Deep, feminine voice (Cis or Transwoman, doesn't matter to me), kind of monotone in a similar light to Elijah, yet looses it upon feeling heavy emotion or under extreme stress.

"The Monster That Lies In The Dark": Deep, monstruous, gravelly. Either fem or masc, I don't care. If you can go deep and monstrous, you got a good chance!

Montana Reed: Gruff and country, basically Cole Cassidy if he were a cool murder cowboy Vane Sandoval: Geniuenly, I forgot he existed. So if you can make him sound like a crazy bastard you have good chances of getting the part. I only remembered him after I was looking on my doc and DID NOT SEE HIM. He didn't even have a name Vane im SO sorry

Osiris Dernier: Masculine, deep, kinda getting the vibes of Asterian but if he was more of a diva. Kinda need range cus oh my GOD he is DRAMATIC, would also like if the person auditioning can sing, since this man is if theatre kid was terminal. Limos Nineltowski: Another masculine one, folks. I like men. I MEAN WHAT WHO SAID THAT???? Oops I lied abt the voice, he has forced doctor politieness, but a sharper edge to his tone when he's being forceful or is upset. Kinda just... British Naven NukNuk from Epithet Erased, if that makes sense.

Karson Lindell: According to odds: "Masculine tone, dynamic vocal range. Kind of sounds like a bratty theatre kid but will switch it up the moment someone yells at them"

[JOANNA HAS OFFICALLY BEEN CAST! I JUST CANNOT REMOVE THE IMAGE BECAUSE HOLLY IS THERE TOO!!!]

[CURRENTLY, DAVID AND ALORA are being auditioned for! This is not discouraging auditions, just letting you all know <3]

[CHARACTERS IN HIGH DEMAND FROM ME: ???]

[Sorry gamers, Collis in the Nexus. Hes gone 5ever now]

[ Thank you Mel and Odds for providing these descriptions/gen ]

Hey? Wanna Audition?

endlessfearsfancast5664@gmail.com

[annabthesolitarywriter]

So...today I answered an ask about my dream fic plot and I said that it would villain redemption story. While that is true, I am aware that I can't write it myself. I lack the experience to actually write it well and giving any villain a redemption arc kind of means that the story has a happy ending...? If you know me even just a little bit, you'll probably guess it's not really my cup of tea. I'm a sucker for angst and tragedy and that's what I feel most comfortable writing. Which is why I decided I will indeed attempt to write a villain story, but it will be more of a character study. The main character will be a fallen Maia named Moyeldë (one of the many OCs that will appear in my main WIP The Lady of Ithilien and additional one-shots/snippets related to it) who is basically Sauron's main love interest (or so she thinks) in the Fourth Age. Our little fiery Maia comes back and does some stuff, but that will be addressed in LOI.

This new project is about Moyeldë (her name was given to her by Morgoth when she followed him in the aftermath of his rebellion against Eru and it is Quenya for "slave-daughter"=> I combined Mól=slave and Yeldë=daughter).

She's always been in love with Mairon and had a major rivalry with Thuringwethil as the both of them wanted to be his one true love. It is my headcanon that Mairon had a whole Harem in Angband and enslaved Elf-maidens as well as Maiarin women fought one another all the time to be THE ONE FAVORITE. Since it is unclear how Thuringwethil died, it is my headcanon that it was Moyeldë who finished her with Mairon's full support and approval. (Huan only wounded her).

Moyeldë will be eventually killed by Eonwë in LOI, but this new fic will explore her whole life (or maybe just parts of it) and her descent into madness and her delusions as she becomes more and more ruthless. It's a character study basically.

Fancast for Moyeldë is Meryem Uzerli, specifically her role as Hürrem Sultan in the show Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century). She has a slightly unhinged, psycho quality to her that I think fits Moyeldë perfectly.

Crowns and jewels all made by Mairon himself of course.

Here is a little edit of the evil power couple by yours truly.

She doesn't need to know he doesn't give a flying f about her. She is just a concubine to him, a slave who happens to be more useful to him than others.

She's literally admiring him and he's clearly about to scold her. That's their usual dynamic.

Let me know what you think! Does it sound like something you'd like to read? (I will probably write it anyway, but I would like to hear your opinion ☺️)

Thanks!

[councilofcastamere]

wouldn’t Zaar Goedemans make a great fancast as the daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra had they ever been able to conceive? ♡︎

[jackiequick]

How Lucy Met Ollie | Smallville Fanfic

Paring: Oliver & Lucy

———

Setting: Season six episode ‘Sneeze’

Characters: Oliver Queen, Lucy Kent and Lois Lane

Mentioned characters: Senator Martha Kent, Clark Kent & etc

—^^0–

Summary: When Oliver Jonas Queen came to the Kent Farm, last thing he expected was to find a beauty…

———

The sky was partly cloudy, sun shining across Smallville every one in a while. Seemed like it might rain later on, but at the moment it was shiny skies for the townsfolk.

His car parked a few feet away from the household, stepping out of the car, Oliver smiled. Beautiful house, old fashioned and smell like a warm slice of homemade apple pie. He loves pie. Some flowers even scattered around the front yard.

He held a file in his hand, jogging up the steps to the house, knocking on the door twice as he assumed that it’s a large household so they might not hear him the first time. Just in case.

Once the door opens, Oliver Jonas Queen was dumbstruck when one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen turns to face him.

Ollie never thought of a encounter like this today. He was expecting to see Senator Kent or someone else. But not a lovely young women is dark hair, a pink baseball t-shirt and a beauty mark next to her roundly shaped nose.

“Yes?” Said the women, when Ollie kept staring at him like she had something on her face.

“Oh um. Yeah, sorry.” He laughed breathlessly, “I came to deliver this to your home.”

He gladly extended the envelope to her, she took it and slipped it underneath her arm.

“Queen Industries.” Read the dark haired beauty with a slight rasp in her voice, “Great! Mom was waiting for this to arrive.”

Oliver found the rasp in the voice cute and something he hasn’t seen too much in women he met. Wait mom?! Is that-does that mean-? He would’ve mistaken her to a young Senator Kent if he didn’t know what she looked like in the first place.

Or at least, her assistant.

No one told Ollie that Martha Kent was blessed with the most beautiful daughter. He wondered if she had more kids, two daughters? A son? Oh god, Oliver would have a field day and never want to leave!

If they have told him, Ollie would’ve brought flowers to the farm.

And a ticket to see a movie.

“You mean to say, you’re Senator Kent’s daughter?” Asked Oliver to confirm his decision.

“The one and only!” Replied Mrs. Kent’s daughter delighted.

“How wonderful.”

“Uh, thank?”

He was laying it on thick, as one can see.

She chuckled, thinking that this blonde was a sight for sore eyes. A supermodel with that charming smile, bright chocolate brown eyes and fluffy spiked up hair. One word to describe him, playful.

He’s probably taken by a gorgeous young blonde with blue eyes and killer curves. Lady killer.

If someone told her that Oliver Queen was coming, she would’ve prepared him a little gift to take home after he given her the files.

“And what do they call yo—” Oliver started.

“Lucy? Is something w-” called someone, unknowingly answering Ollie’s questions, “-oh! Who’s this?”

A lovely young blonde, probably older than the brunette, appeared joining Lucy at the door. GOD DAMN! Are there any more drop-dead gorgeous women in this house? Is Martha Kent hiding them all in her barn?!

He should’ve returned home to Smallville a long ass time ago then! Are they sisters? Cousins?

God Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if another showed up within the next few seconds. His grin is just growing by the minute he’s standing at their doorstep.

Honestly Oliver doesn’t care, all he knows that Mrs. Martha Kent was hiding beautiful women in this house and no one thought to tell him.

“Hey.” Said the blonde women, taking a breath when she sees him.

“Hi.” Ollie replied with a charming smile.

The women keeps on smiling at him. Again, gorgeous! Ollie internally winces, he’s been blessed today but doesn’t know how to truly handle it.

He likes both women’s beautiful grins and hint of amusements in the older ones voice.

Lois chuckled, smiling onto the way this man carried himself. Just like her friend, she found him super cute. Charming like a prince, but layback like a cool surfer boy.

Meanwhile the way he dressed screamed business causal with a hint of a playfulness that she liked.

“I’m Oliver.” He said offering another sunny smile.

“Lois. Lois Lane.” Said the blonde women with a grin, shaking his hand.

“And I’m Lucy, as you already gather from that.” Added the brunette with a smile.

“I had. Can i say, it’s a real pleasure to meet both of you, ladies.” He purred.

Lucy tried holding back a giggled, bitting the inside of her cheek and nodding.

Lois chuckled, holding up five bucks to him and said, “You know with a face like that, you can do a lot better than playing errand boy to the rich and arrogant.”

“Thank you very much but what is-is?” Oliver replied with a smile, sorta confused.

“You’re tip.”

“It’s a tip. Okay.”

“Seriously, aim higher.”

“Listen um—”

But before he could finished, Lois slammed the door in his face with a smile and walked back to her place on the kitchen counter. Oliver stood there, huffing not getting a moment to come out with a full sentence.

Lucy laughed shrugged watching her mother come in and ask Lois Lane who was at the door, as you can see the total embarrassment and emotions of regret wash over her punky friend’s face. The realization fell on both of their faces as her mother causally told them who that guy actually was.

As her mother left, Lois looked at her friends muttering, “That was Oliver Queen.”

“Yup!” Lucy replies wincing at the foolish timing at their actions and quickly race out of the door.

“Where are you going?!” Yelled Lois from her seat, watching the brunette go.

“To grab a coffee with Oliver Queen!”

“Ohh! I’m gonna go apologize to your mom.”

“And I gotta apologize to him.”

———

Once Lucy was stumbling out of the steps of their nicely sized two story house, popping out her the collar to her jacket, the women looked around for the man. Never mind that, she was wondering if he came by car or foot!

Cause if this man came by either motorcycle or something, it would definitely harder to catch up to the blonde. Moments like this she wished she had Clark’s X-Ray vision or super speedy legs but sadly she wasn’t given the time to wonder, as out of the far left corner of her eye she saw it.

A deep black cherry car driven past the fields of the small freshly grounded land. There he was. She scurried out the gateway, racing past the tall grass and chilly weather trying to reach the car.

She ran up as fast as she could, trying to reach at least close to the side of the car, yellling out his name.

“Oliver! Hey!” She yelled out repeatedly when suddenly a screeching halt was loud that the cows from a yard away might’ve heard it.

Oliver heard a mix of yelling, shouting and screaming from behind the far right of his ear, looking at the rear view mirror to see the brunette from earlier. He gasped slightly, with a cheeky chuckle at the sight. She looked kinda silly racing toward a car that ran faster than her.

He started to slow down his car, wanting to tease the women a bit speeding up once he saw she got closer. Oliver laughed, reversing his energy into driving the car to the quickest speed he could without causing any damage or anything to the road.

Finally he noticed that he was wasting time, yelling back a joke about how slow she was as he came into a screeching halt that was too loud. He leaned against his driver seat, seeing her benched over her knees panting and huffing, mumbling softly ‘finally’.

He opened the door for her and told her hand, helping her inside the passenger seat with a soft smile and tossed her a water bottle. She quietly thanked him by taking the water and downing a large gulp, breathing heavily with a chuckle.

“Didn’t you hear me?” She asked with a smile, shaking her head.

“I did. But what the hell made you think you can outrun a Supercar?” He joked with a matching smile.

“Uh, i don’t know. But you slowed down a few times?”

“I was trying to see if you can take the heat.”

“Not funny. And not nice either, Mr. Queen?”

“Mr. Queen? Who told you?”

She panted with another chuckled, “My mother, she confirmed who you were. Lois didn’t know.”

“I can tell.” He replies holding up the 5 bucks from earlier, “She tipped me! But it’s fine, I wasn’t thinking straight either.”

“I can tell. You were kinda out of it. My mom wants to hopefully meet up with you later, if that’s alright?”

“I was hoping i would have time to meet her this afternoon anyway. I can do 5 o’clock.”

“Why 5? She’s free to talk now, if you like.”

“No, because I think i owe Senator Kent’s daughter small lunch after what i did. You know, trying to make a first impression on her?”

“Well played. Sure I’ll love that, Ollie.”

He smiled at the nickname, taking her out of a small drive around the town before a quick lunch at The Talon. Hopefully next time he can take her or Lois Lane out to Metropolis for a date.

She returned the smile, liking him already seeing something unique within this man, who just met but she didn’t what it is yet.

Little did she know that, Oliver Queen would become a longtime friend and future part of her extended-family.

——

———

AHH! ☺️ I had fun writing this it’s been in my drafts for ages!!! Let me know what you think 💭

For the those of who are wondering about Lex Luthor and Lucy Kent? Don’t worry I’m working on something special yet specific for them! 😉

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @aidanxsophxoxo @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @ximehs @rose-of-oz @rowinablx

[harbinger-0f-spring]

Billy Vandendoreen as Cantankerous Nott, father of Theodore Nott and cousin of Abraxas Malfoy. Nott was born in 1928 as a member of a prominent pure-blood wizarding family, deeply entrenched in the politics and ideologies of the magical world. Cantankerous had been a callous, short-tempered, and bitter man, with many believing that he was incapable of genuine affection or kindness. Like many of his peers, Nott became a Knight of Walpurgis, being most notorious for his ruthlessness and cruelty towards the muggleborns he went to school with.

[slytherin-princess-x]

So this is love? Pt.2

Theodore not x y/n

Enemies to lovers kinda thing. He fell fist she fell harder

The rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water echoed in the suffocating silence, a morbid metronome marking the passage of time in my stone tomb. The floral scent, now a constant companion, had begun to feel less like an alluring mystery and more like a brand, an invisible mark of possession. I had lain against the wall for hours, tracing the rough edges of the stones with my fingertips, lost in a labyrinth of thought.

The initial exhilaration had settled into a low hum of anticipation, a tautness in my chest like an over-stretched bowstring. I knew she wouldn’t leave me here indefinitely. Y/N was nothing if not deliberate, each action a calculated move in her elaborate game. This cell wasn't just a punishment; it was a stage, a testing ground, a prelude to something more.

I rose to my feet, the chill of the stone seeping into my bones and making me shiver. I stretched my stiff limbs, trying to shake off the lingering numbness. The air hung heavy, thick with her scent and the cloying dampness of the earth. It was a peculiar cocktail, addictive and disquieting in equal measure. I could almost taste the faint trace of copper on my tongue, a reminder of the brief, terrifying pressure of her fingers on my throat.

As if summoned by the very intensity of my thoughts, the magical presence I had been sensing intensified. The air vibrated, a low thrum resonating through the stone, and with it, the unmistakable feel of her approach. This wasn’t a gentle, hesitant arrival; it was a deliberate, powerful sweep of magic that heralded her presence like a storm.

I straightened, pushing back against the wall to maintain my composure. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cower, not now, not ever. I would maintain the persona that had piqued her interest in the first place - the detached, the challenging, the enigmatic Theodore Nott.

The door, a crude wooden plank reinforced with dark iron, rattled before swinging inward with a groan. Y/N stood in the threshold, framed by the dim light of the passage beyond. The candlelight kissed the high planes of her cheekbones and cast long, dramatic shadows that made her seem both ethereal and terrifying. She was breathtaking, her beauty a stark counterpoint to the darkness that radiated from her.

Her y/e/c eyes, the colour of molten gold and shadows, scanned me, moving slowly from my disheveled hair to the scuffed toes of my boots. There was a predatory satisfaction in her gaze, a hunger that seemed to devour me from the inside out. She wore a simple, flowing robe of deep black, its stark simplicity emphasizing her commanding presence. Her night-blooming jasmine was absent, a subtle shift that somehow made the absence even more significant.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, her voice a silken caress laced with a hint of steel. It was a voice that could charm the birds from the trees and then crush them in the same breath.

I met her gaze, refusing to look away. "Silence is sometimes the most eloquent response, wouldn't you agree?" I spoke with a calm I didn't entirely feel, the words a calculated dance around the truth.

A small smile curved her lips, a predatory flicker that made my pulse quicken. “Eloquent, perhaps,” she conceded, moving into the cell, her movements like those of a stalking panther. "But not particularly informative.”

She stopped a few feet away from me, the space between us thrumming with unspoken tension. The scent of her was stronger now, almost overwhelming, a heady mix of floral perfume and something darker, more primal.

“What do you want?” I asked, the edge of defiance in my voice a deliberate provocation.

She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Surely, you can surmise that.”

I let a slow, knowing smile curl my lips. “I can surmise a great many things. But I prefer to hear you say it.”

Her smile widened, a genuine curve that sent a shiver of something akin to anticipation down my spine. “You are persistent, Theodore. I must commend you on that.”

“Persistence is a virtue, is it not?”

“Only when directed appropriately,” she countered, circling me slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “And only when the reward is worth the effort.”

She paused behind me, her breath ghosting against the back of my neck, sending a wave of gooseflesh across my skin. “I’m giving you an opportunity, Theodore. To play your part. To entertain me.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the electric thrill that coursed through me. This wasn't a negotiation; it was an invitation. A dangerous, intoxicating, utterly irresistible invitation.

I turned to face her, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m ready,” I said, my voice low and steady. “What shall the game be?”

Her smile became a slow, dangerous thing, a promise of chaos and dark pleasure. “We’ll start with something simple.” Her fingers brushed against my cheek, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through me. "We'll start with obedience."

And in that moment, surrounded by the scent of jasmine and the promise of something deeper, something darker, I knew that my game had truly begun. And I, for all my intellect and cunning, was utterly, completely hers.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[aereatarg]

I've fallen down a House of the Dragon rabbit hole and I love the gender swap aus where Rhaenyra’s children by Laenor (Harwin) were all daughters.

As if these kids didn’t have enough issues, let's make them girls in a fundamentally misogynist society on top of everything else

anyway, I wanted to share some of the Faceclaims I would use for them

Princess Jacaera Velaryon -

My first choice would be Adelaide Kane - Henry’s features are very dark and sharp and I think Adelaide has a similar look. Honestly she looks exactly how I pictured Jocelyn Baratheon to look, which I'm sure would be used to contradict the bastard rumours

Rose Williams would be another good choice - tho tbh she looks very similar to Alicent.

My Baby Jace would be Bailee Madison

Princess Lucerya Velaryon

Lots of people choose Jennifer Connely in Labyrinth - who is honestly biblically accurate - like damn they look very similar - only downside is its harder to get good gifs of her

Another choice I personally like is Anamaria Vartolomei - she has the same big eyes, dark eyebrows and hair - and tbh she kinda looks like the actress that plays Aemma

I also like Hailee Steinfeld - who doesn’t look that similar to Elliot, but she has that softness to her looks and the hair she had when she played Juliet is just perfection

Baby Lucy would be Billie Gadsdon - who is stupid cute in the Spanish Princess. And of course baby Luke has got to be cute af

The face that haunts Aemond’s dreams

Princess Jocelyn Velaryon

Joff is supposed to be only six, so I think someone like Cansu Kuru (who played young Kaya from Magnificent Century: Kosem) would be a good pick. She’s cute and she's got brown hair and brown eyes.

But if you want to use a slightly older actress , Robyn Betteridge from My Lady Jane, who has the energy I would like for Jocelyn. She's so funny honestly.