#on a lot of thrones

[achaotichuman]

My mutual told me to post something interesting so we here we go.

Beron/Tamlin/Elain.

Tamlin and Beron meet for diplomatic reasons aka Beron is planning to siege Spring and Tamlin’s caught onto his plans.

Elain is desperate for her mortal life back, but knows she can’t have it. She settles on finding power where she knows she’ll find it.

Goes to Autumn, demands to speak to Beron. She gets an audience with Beron and Tamlin.

Beron is about to cast her aside because what would the flower girl know about power.

Tamlin wants to hear her out.

Elain tells her tragic tale, she wants to find control and power over herself and the people who have wronged her then put her in the box of being the ‘empty headed flower girl who will just end up someone’s wife.’

Tamlin resonates with her story. He was a younger sibling only regarded as the spare son who his father tried to use for a marital alliance with Amarantha, obviously he refused.

Tamlin agrees to work with Elain. Now Beron wants in after he hears about Elain’s seering powers and how she’s been secretly learning to control them.

Anyway, plot plot plot etc etc, Elain Tam and Beron take over Hybern, they fuck on Hybern’s throne. Elain meets with Vallahan’s Court and gets them to agree to an alliance after promising to seer for them (she never said she had to be truthful in what she told them she saw in her visions so yay loophole Vallahn is now under their thumb)

Yada yada yada, they fuck in the Spring manor on the throne. Lucien catches them, yada yada yada screaming fighting, broken bonds and angst.

Tamlin’s runs after Lucien, they fight, Tamlin convinces Lucien he deserves to take back power too. Eventually convincing Lucien to the dark side.

Blah blah blah Lucien uses his lineage in Day to kill Helion and take over the Court, they siege Winter and Dawn. By now Tamlin has convinced Tarquin he also deserves to take back power now Summer is on their side.

Blah blah blah, they walk dramatic style into the Night Court. Lucien, Vassa and Jurian burn Velaris to the ground. Rhysand is executed, the IC is imprisoned. Beron, Elain and Tamlin fuck on the Night Courts throne.

The end, I just made this up, so sorry if none of it makes any sense.

@fell-in-luvs was this interesting enough for you?

[lukitua]

Rhaegar with baby Daenerys and Viserys

[vaguely-concerned]

are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid

[emily-e-draws]

cold blue fire of dawn

[swampjawn]

God I love animation. I love it for the way it can bring anything to life beyond the constraints of boring ol' reality, but also the ways that it's inextricably linked to, and draws on the conventions of live-action film-making.

So fuck it, let's look at how Hayao Miyazaki straight up copies some camera framing techniques from his predecessor and the other most influential Japanese filmmaker of all time, Akira Kurosawa! (Kurosawa really was the master of framing scenes around his characters, so he's a great source of inspiration)

(btw, this is a screenshot from this TV special where the two met for the first time just after the release of Kurosawa's final film. It's pretty interesting, and also very cute how nervous Miyazaki seems to be to meet one of his idols.)

Specifically, how the two each choose to break the 180 degree rule (well, not technically 'break' in the case of Kurosawa) to show their protagonists' changing destiny in "Throne of Blood" and "Princess Mononoke".

For anyone who doesn't know, the 180 degree rule is a basic film-making rule of thumb which states that in any scene where two characters interact, you should draw an imaginary line between them and the camera should always stay on one side of that line.

("In the Mood for Love" - Wong Kar-wai)

This way, one character is always looking to the right of the camera, the other is always looking to the left, and the audience doesn't get confused by the geography of the scene. Crossing this line can be disorienting, but when done intentionally, it can convey a paradigm shift of some kind in the scene.

In this scene from "Throne of Blood," (a feudal Japanese retelling of Macbeth) Washizu's wife Asaji discusses tactics with him and tries to convince him to aspire to the throne and to assassinate his lord Tsuzuki while he sleeps.

As two servants appear to notify them that Washizu's sleeping quarters are prepared, the camera dollies left and around the characters' backs. This camera movement is motivated by the motion of the servants' torches outside the room, but it also signifies a change in Washizu's outlook.

Washizu is completely silent for most of this scene, contemplating his wife's advice. But as the camera slides behind his back and across the line of action, the scene is now re-framed, illustrating his change in perspective.

He's been convinced and the trajectory of his life is about to change - and now, facing away from the camera, is the time for action.

Because the camera slides smoothly across the line, Kurosawa isn't technically breaking the 180 degree rule. Miyazaki on the other hand, takes it a little further.

The complimentary scene in Princess Mononoke comes near the start when the wise woman of the village reads Prince Ashitaka's fortune after he's cursed by the wild boar spirit. She tells him that it is his fate to leave the village and travel to the west, where he may be able to lift the curse on his arm. The trajectory of Ashitaka's life changes in this moment too. As he accepts his fate, the change is symbolized by him cutting off his hair, but also by the camera jumping the line.

Throughout this dialogue scene and even as he cuts his hair, the simulated camera sits just slightly to the side of Ashitaka's left shoulder.

But once it's done, for the final shot, the scene is reframed and we jump to the other side, where Ashitaka is now looking to the right of the camera instead of the left.

Making the camera dolly across a scene like Kurosawa's version in 2D animation is no simple task, so this transition with a simple cut is in a way subtler, in another way a bit more jarring, but it conveys the same meaning.

This is the moment when our protagonists make the choice to embark on a new destiny and re-frame their lives.

This has been an excerpt from a short video essay I made a while back, which not many people watched. I think this is at least in part due to my failure to package it well, and it seems you tumblheads like this animation/cinematography analysis stuff, so this is an experiment to see if, with the help of y'all, and a new title and thumbnail, it's at all possible to give this video a second wind in the eyes of the Youtube Gods!

So if you found this interesting, I'd appreciate if you checked it out! Thanks for reading!

[vintrage]

the young wolf

[dipperscavern]

Stark men are real ones fr they do not judge women with body hair bc its natural they all have it too IN FACT they shun the south for making their women shave like tf! Only Stark men shave their faces before welcoming other nobles into Winterfell but thats it!

YUP !!!!! if you were raised with those southern principals… ohhh boy. they’d have this look on their face — brows furrowed, confusion filled eyes riddled with thinly veiled judgement (never towards you, gods no) — while explaining that while you shaving may have been a requirement down south, that is absolutely not the case here (you have a hell of a time figuring out that the shaving culture here is completely reversed)

but they’d never make you feel stupid for it, like you should’ve innately known how absurd something was; careful to keep that thinly veiled judgment as it was, thinly veiled. only when they indulge in far too much drink do their tongues loosen with their true thoughts about the whole ordeal

[vanillapervert]

lewd or romantic you decide

[formulanni]

Lewis Hamilton as The Emperor:

The Emperor tarot card symbolizes the ultimate male ego and absolute ruler of the world, with a sign of sterility of regulation and unyielding power. This card is often associated with a strong sense of authority, control, and structure. It can also represent a need for order and stability in one's life. It is your hard work, discipline and self control that have bought you this far.

While the Empress represents the archetypal mother, the Emperor represents the father. He exudes authority - and though he is stern, he is also filled with wisdom and understanding from his years. He signals structure, stability and the rule of thought over the heart.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[howlsnteeth]

every scar will build my throne

[vpofcookies]

Two pieces for @voicesfortheblade as a gift for Eloise with the prompt: Boar's head replica pendant with ruby eyes and a thin gold chain

[whumpninja]

Absurdly specific image:

Whumpee kneeling at Whumper’s side while Whumper runs their fingers through Whumpee’s hair.

[bulletsxlattes]

Have this image that has haunted me for months: Red Hood as the King of Crime, lounging on his throne, with Red Robin as his left hand man standing in the shadows behind him.

(I have so much lore tied to this image but I can't find the time to write it lol I just love the idea of Jason snatching the title off the Joker out of spite.

He puts down another gang not following his rules and one of them asks, half sarcastic and half terrified, "Who died and made you the King of Crime?"

Jason laughs, dark and low.

"I did.")

Thank you so much for the request!! I honestly have no idea if I can do this scene justice since it sounds very cool. But I did give it a try with this sketch. I hope you like it 😊

[praisethelorde]

Both Oak and Dain had horns, goat legs, blonde curly hair and the same eye colour but NONE of us realised they were father and son. Not even the book characters.

[maple-and-pie]

This was my test print! I got this Rotom design from Snowish, I named them Thrones!

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Sixteen

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Fenrys and Y/n finally have the time to themselves with no interruptions

Warnings- smut(very little plot lol)

Series Masterlist

Part Sixteen

Home.

The word spins around in her head at a dizzying pace as she walks. As she gets closer and closer to their room, her brother’s words get louder in her mind, your home, and her heart seems to beat in time with the words. This room wasn’t her home, but neither was the cottage across the ocean, she didn’t know where home was anymore, but it seemed like her brother did, perhaps her heart did too.

Y/n and Vaughan had spent nearly half the night telling each other of their adventures, the ones they planned to take, and it felt like they’d gone back in time. When she would stay up for as long as she physically could to spend as much time with him as possible before he slipped away again. She’d nearly fallen over in her seat when Vaughan had insisted that she go back to bed, she only left when he swore he would still be there in the morning. Even as she walked away, she wasn’t quite convinced he would be.

The stone halls around her are dark, the riders of the clan already in their beds, the torches on the walls snuffed out. It is only due to her fae sight and this little tugging in her gut that she is able to find the door to the room at all. It was like her body knew exactly where Fenrys was, even when she could not see him.

Quietly, she slips through the door, expecting to find him snoring in the small bed and she’d have to force herself into what little space was left beside the massive male. She’d end up lying on top of him in her sleep, either by her traitor of a body moving on its own, or by the male tugging her onto his chest.

Instead, she finds Fenrys sitting up, leaning heavily against the wall behind the bed, and he’s squinting down at a book in the dim candle light. Her heart beats faster, in time with the words in her head, home, home, home.

“You’re still up?”

His gaze lifts to hers and she winces, how he was reading with one of his eyes nearly swollen shut she has no idea. Fenrys marks the page and sets the book down beside him, giving her a soft grin that pulls at the split in his lip. Y/n moves towards him, perching on the edge of the bed, reaching for him like its second nature. She cradles his face in her palms, her thumb stroking over the wounded lips that had kissed her so soundly earlier, had kissed other parts of her too. Y/n tries to push those memories to the side, ignoring the heat in her veins, but that is nearly impossible when his hands fall on her waist, a gentle pressure to keep her in place.

“I told you I’d wait for you,” he says, kissing the pad of her thumb.

“You didn’t have to,” she whispers, “It’s late.”

Fenrys shrugs, and she notices the wince he tries to hide at the motion, “This is nothing, kitten. I’ve gone days, nearly weeks without sleep before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Y/n says with a soft smile, “You’ll have to tell me all of your war stories.”

Fenrys grins and it pulls on his cut lip, “I’ll tell you whatever stories you’d like to hear.”

Her fingers trail over the edge of the bruise around his eye and the one on his jaw, her magic spooling in her chest, ready to be released. She holds it back, wrestling her magic into submission, the last time she’d used her powers on him had been an accident but it had taken to much from him against his will, she wouldn’t do that again.

“Can I?” She lightly grazes the cut on his temple, “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

There is a softness in his eyes, an understanding, as he nods once, “Do your worst, kitten.”

As if drawn in by an invisible force, she leans into him, gently kissing his temple, the cut slowly stitching together and disappearing entirely. When his eyes shut, a sigh of relief passing his lips, she trails her lips down, touching the bruised eye that shifts from black to yellow to his golden brown skin. And when he blinks up at her, seeing her clearly, his eyes are so full of emotion, and her heart is beating so rapidly, home, home, home, she kisses him, letting her magic seek and heal.

His arms are around her, pulling her into him until she is flush against his chest. She fights to keep her control, to not let his expert mouth distract her, to make her as mindless as she’d been their first kiss, when she had taken to much. She pulls back, panting, forcing her magic back down into the well it usually sat in, and when she sees that scar still intact on his brow, she sighs in relief.

Fenrys takes a deep breath, his brows no longer furrowed in pain, “You’re astonishing, kitten.”

Before she can even think to respond, his mouth is on hers again, and Fenrys shifts, twisting them so she is lying on the bed with him above her. Y/n wraps her arms around his neck, and Fenrys kisses her, slowly, lazily, taking his time to drive her absolutely wild. He is in no rush, taking all of her soft sighs and purrs, tucking them away for later. It’s almost torturous, the languid pace he sets, because all she wants is more, more of him, more of whatever this thing between them was, the aching need, the undeniable tug she could feel on her heart, as if there was this little string tied to it, and on the other side sat Fenrys and his own heart, beating in time with her own. Home, home, home.

He pulls back, just enough to whisper against her lips, “We should sleep.”

It’s the last thing she wants to do, and she knows he wants exactly what she does, the evidence of that is pressed against her thigh. She wants to wrap her legs around him and pull him closer to her, to feel him pressed against her core instead, to drive him as wild as he does her. But his massive form keeps her pinned, unable to move, to do anything but beg him to relieve some of the pressure between her thighs.

“Fenrys,” she pleads.

He kisses her again, keeping that same slow pace, before whispering, “You’re exhausted, you need to rest.”

“I need you,” she says, and she pulls him back to her lips, pouring the fire in her veins into him, “I need you more than I’ve needed anything.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest, home, home, home. Y/n can feel the word pounding against her ribs, fueling the fire in her veins, the need to drive this male over the edge of his control. She pulls his healed lip between her teeth, biting hard enough to draw a groan from deep in his chest. Her own chest tightens, and she arches into him, his hands slip beneath her back, pressing her closer and she knows she’s almost won.

“You need sleep.” He kisses her between each word, pulling back just enough to groan, “Let me be a gentleman for once in my life.”

“Fenrys,” she gasps into his mouth, and she shoves him over the edge, “Stop being so honorable and fuck me.”

And she’s won.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, kitten.”

Fenrys feels the weak hold over his control break at her request and he realizes he would do anything she asked of him, no blood oath necessary. He would walk into the burning pit in the center of this fortress if she asked, he would burn and yield everything he was and is and he would die happily. He would do whatever she wanted and if she wanted him to fuck her, gods he would.

He pulls away from her and rips his shirt over his head, throwing the fabric across the room, not caring where it lands as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling their bodies flush together. Fenrys can’t hold back his groan as she rolls her hips upwards, giving his aching hard length much needed friction. He’s falling back into her, capturing her lips in a burning kiss that leaves them both panting.

His hands rip at the cloth hiding her body from him, she can yell at him for ruining the shirt later, right now he needs to see the perfect shape of her, feel her beneath his palms. When her chest is exposed to him, he wastes no time, the soft flesh of her breast fitting perfectly into his hands as if they were made solely to touch her, to please her.

Fenrys drags his mouth away from hers, letting her moans fill the air around them as he kisses down her throat, over her collar, and between the valley of her breasts. Y/n arches into him, her legs squeezing his hips like a vice, and he can feel the promising heat of her hiding beneath her leggings. He wants nothing more than to rip the cloth from her legs and sink into that heat, and from the whimpering pleas coming from her lips, he knows that is exactly what she wants.

“Fen- please,” she gasps, her head thrown back against the pillow, “Gods I need you.”

“I know,” Fenrys groans, “Lift your hips, kitten.”

She readily does as she’s told, freeing him from the constraints of her legs around his own hips to lift hers off of the bed, allowing Fenrys to slip his fingers beneath the band of her leggings and tug them off, underwear and all. And again, she is bare beneath him, looking nothing less than a full feast only for him to see and enjoy, to devour and worship. If he wasn’t already kneeling on the bed before her, he’d have fallen onto his knees at the sight of her, he’d have crawled for her and begged her to let him have her just like this, writhing beneath him full of need.

She sits forwards, reaching for him as she hooks her fingers into the laces of his leathers. Each brush of her fingers over the strained leather sends a shock of pain and pleasure over him, if she wraps those hands around him Fenrys may just die from it.

She struggles with the tight laces and growls lowly, “Off.”

Fenrys laughs, taking her wrist in his hands, “So impatient.”

He lifts her left wrist to his lips, kissing her racing pulse before pressing both of her palms to his chest. Her touch lights him on fire, and he takes that touch and guides it across his feverish skin, lower and lower. Her nails lightly drag across the tight muscles of his stomach and Fenrys groans at the slight hurt.

He let’s go of her, leaving her hands pressed to his skin as he easily works open the laces, sighing in relief as the pressure lessens.

“What do you need?” Fenrys asks, halting his movements even if it’s the last thing he wants to do, “Tell me what you need, kitten.”

Her pupils are blown impossibly wide, full of pure lust, “I need you, Fenrys, I need you inside me, now.”

That final word, a demand that he would not fight, could not fight. He’d survived severing the blood oath, but this? This bond between them, this incessant need to have her in every way he could, was so much stronger, would demand more than just his life if he tried to break it, not that he ever would.

Fenrys doesn’t take his time ripping off his leathers, and he nearly comes undone when she moans at the sight of him. He doesn’t have the chance to hesitate, to ask her one last time if this is what she truly wants, before Y/n has he legs wrapped around him, pulling him just like she had when they’d been clothed. Now, there was nothing between them, nothing between the wet heat of her and his aching cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning over her to brace his arms on either side of her, “So ready for me aren’t you, kitten?”

“Yes,” she gasps, “Please Fen-“

She doesn’t have to beg, he cannot deny her, or himself. Fenrys shifts, using one hand to hold his weight while the other wraps around his cock to guide himself to her entrance. She’s so wet, so ready for him, that he barely has to shift his hips forward to sink into her. She wraps around him so perfectly, squeezing down on every inch of him as he slowly settles inside her. He has to grasp for whatever is left of his control to not slam his hips down, to let her adjust to the stretch, to not hurt her. He’s barely holding on by a thread with how fucking good she feels.

“Shit,” Y/n gasps, her head thrown back, her eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?” He says it through his teeth, taking deep breaths to steady himself, “Tell me if it hurts.”

Y/n shifts, experimentally rolling her hips, drawing a deep and desperate moan from his lips and a matching one from her own. Nothing had ever felt more perfect, felt this good, not in the one hundred and thirty years he’d been alive.

“Gods,” she gasps, rolling those perfect hips again, “Please, Fen, I need you to move.”

“Thank the fucking gods,” Fenrys groans and does exactly as she asks.

He pulls back, gently rocking back into her, still sane enough to keep his strength in check. Fenrys captures her lips, greedily taking all of the moans and whimpers that he draws from her with each roll of his hips. He also gives her his own desperate sounds, letting her have every single piece of him.

He’s content to go slow, to let her fully adjust, but when she lifts her hips to meet his next stroke, when she pulls away from his kiss to gasp, “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Any shred of chivalry leaves his body, as if there was really any to begin with.

Fenrys growls as he pulls back, simply to snap his hips forward, Y/n cries out with the motion and Fenrys loves the sound of it, so he does it again, and again, and again. She is lost in the pleasure, and so is he, chasing the feeling of her warmth around him with each rough drive of his hips. Her legs clench tightly around him and her hands claw his forearms, her whole body tensing in a way that tells Fenrys she is nearing that peak of pleasure and he wants nothing more than to send her over the edge of it.

He has to pull his arm from her intense grip, not breaking his rhythm as he brings his hand between them to draw his thumb in circles around her sensitive clit.

“Fenrys!”

He grins wildly, “Come for me.”

His demand is met by a mewling whimper and her body shaking with the damn of her orgasm breaking. Fenrys curses as she clenches around him, the feeling so intense that he feels his own release building to that devastating breaking point.

She’s gasping beneath him, her body still trembling with each wave of pleasure that rolls through her in time with his hips. Fenrys is half wild, more fae than anything in that moment, the sight of her beneath him, spent and nearly overstimulated has his hips driving faster, harder. His thumb presses into her again, she jolts and shakes with each pass over the bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” she cries, “I can’t-“

“You can,” he groans, “One more, give me one more.”

He can already feel her muscles tensing again, the ones around his cock clenching almost painfully around him, bringing him closer and closer until he’s holding on by a thread. He needs her to come first, to fall with him, to feel the same intense emotion that is wrapping around his heart and pulling him down the cliffs edge into the terrifying realization that perhaps he’s already fallen.

Y/n cries out as her swift second orgasm tears through her, and Fenrys follows her, cursing as the intense pleasure rips him to shreds and remakes him all at once.

He rides out both of their pleasures, slowly bringing them down from that high until she stops shaking with it. She goes limp beneath him, her legs falling off his waist, to heavy for her to hold up anymore and Fenrys nearly collapses onto her, holding his weight off of her with the last bit of his strength. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, her hair a wild mess on the pillow around her, and she is so perfect, so devastatingly beautiful, he wants to have her like this for the rest of their lives.

Mine, his heart beats with the word, and he doesn’t want to hold it back anymore.

Fenrys leans into her, kissing her lips softly, relishing the way she sleepily kisses him back.

“Mine,” he says, claiming her with his mouth and his heart.

She moans against him, and pulls away to gasp, “Mine.”

Tag List

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire @answer-the-sirens