#or black dragons with red or white dragons or even pink ones

[randomnameless]

Who's winning the racism contest, Three Hopes with it's “the Orient is composed near-entirely of stupid, bloodthirsty slave-owners who take pride in raiding other countries for fun” or Tellius with it's “racial miscigenation is bad because one of the parents of the mixed-race child will lose their racial traits just for having the child at all”?

Fodlan bcs Dimitri is racist and Rhea BaD promotes isolationism

At least Nopes can pretend to be in the same world as Houses, so Claude, off-screen, when he goes to school, apparently manages to "teach" his people to not raid Fodlan and instead try to have regular and not bloody relationships with them -

But Tellius still takes the cake, because that's how its world works, it cannot be changed at all (unlike Almyrans who can be civilised by a Claude who went to school in Fodlan and this is totally not problematic in itself nope not at all).

So while Fodlan really really sucks because it reveals in 2022 some "writers" still think "the Orient" is full of bloodthirsty savages who want to raid and pillage for funsies and must be civilised - Tellius sucks even more, because the writers, while not showing irl bias, basically wrote "and you cannot have mixed race children otherwise you die" and went with it, while selling the hero as someone who supposedly bridged the relationships between said races.

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[puzzled-pegasus]

more WoF tribe hcs because I feel like it

SandWings often swallow their prey whole like a snake

RainWings, when telling stories, subconsciously change their scales to vaguely match those of the dragons in the story. They find it hard to follow stories told by non-RainWings because they rely somewhat on visual cues. Ex: Kinkajou telling Moon about something Winter said and her scales turning white and blue without her thinking about it.

Dragon wing gestures are something not enough ppl talk about but I love thinking about wing movement as it relates to body language. Wings flared to try to intimidate or to convey excitement, wings swept outward and horizontally to gesture to their surroundings, wings used to point at things, to wave hello or goodbye, RainWing wings outstretched and turned red in a gesture not unlike a middle finger, wings pulled back in shock, wings poised to launch into the air in a fight or flight response when startled, etc etc just WING RELATED BODY LANGUAGE/GESTURES!

SkyWings also 100% have at LEAST 30 rude gestures you can do with ur wings

LeafWings have prehensile tails like RainWings

RainWings as well as IceWings have an incredible ability to right themselves in the air when knocked off balance, kinda like cats lol

SandWings would too bc sandstorms

SandWings are actually really good swimmers

MudWings don't swim but walk along the bottom of the lake/river like a hippo

When RainWings trip on frog poison, their scales turn neon colors

SkyWings have extremely well developed vision and can see insane detail from very far away, like an eagle.

RainWings have courtship dances.

Typically, male RainWings and SkyWings have brighter colors and male SkyWings are more commonly red.

Similarly, blue SeaWings are more commonly male.

HiveWings can be hot pink. (Inspiration from that one kind of grasshopper)

Procreation between NightWings and SeaWings sometimes creates children with bioluminescent black lights.

RainWings can learn to speak Aquatic through scale color changes, though it only works with daylight because their scales are only color changing and not bioluminescent.

SeaWings can get high from pufferfish poison, like dolphins.

SeaWings get sick when they transfer from fresh water to salt water and vice versa, similar to altitude sickness.

SkyWings anatomically have the largest hearts of any tribe. (Ah, the irony)

If they eat too many shrimp or similar seafood, IceWings can turn pink. (It's not cute though, it's often a sign of malnourishment.)

RainWings, LeafWings and NightWings are the only tribes able to eat chocolate without getting sick.

Many NightWings are colorblind, but can see colors in visions of the future.

RainWings can mimick sounds and even voices with bonechilling accuracy.

Pantalan dragons do not have forked tongues.

[descaladumidera]

COLOR WHEEL CHALLENGE

Yeah, nobody thought I'd be able to finish this, including me. So. Yay for me? Even if they're low-effort drawings.

Daredevil

Spider-Gwen

The Punisher

Nightcrawler

Jessica Jones

Iron Fist

Luke Cage

Spider-Man

ID in alt text and under the cut.

[ID:

Nine pictures.

The first one shows a completely filled Color Wheel with eight drawings.

The red part shows Daredevil, the pink part shows Spider-Gwen, the purple part shows the Punisher (Frank Castle), the dark blue part shows Nightcrawler (Kurt Wagner), the light blue part shows Jessica Jones, the green part shows Iron Fist (Danny Rand), the yellow part shows Luke Cage, and the orange part shows Spider-Man (Peter Parker).

The next eight drawings are the single characters.

The first one shows a drawing of Matt Murdock as Daredevil in his red comic suit. He is shown from the waist up, his lower body cut into a triangle shape. His body is turned slightly away from the viewer and his head is raised as if he is looking up.

The next one shows a drawing of Gwen Stacy as Spider-Gwen in her white, pink, and black comic suit. She is shown in a typical Spidey crouch, one hand on the ground, the other ready to fire a web. Her lower body cut into a triangle shape. She is facing the viewer straight on.

The next one shows a drawing of Frank Castle as The Punisher in in his skull shirt and long leather coat. He is turned slightly to the side but looking at the viewer, holding an assault rifle in both of his hands. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler in his red-and-black X-Men suit, including the white gloves and shoes. He is jumping, his left arm outstretched, while his right one hangs lower, bringing his right hand level with his feet. His tail is swishing around his body, coming out in front. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Jessica Jones in her trademark leather jacket. She is glowering at the viewer, arms crossed, a light scowl on her face. Her lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Danny Rand in his green Iron Fist suit, including the yellow mask, yellow gloves, yellow belt, and the yellow dragon on his chest. He is turned to the side, both hands up, balled into fists. He is holding one fist in front of him, while he is pulling the other back, ready for a strike. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The next one shows a drawing of Luke Cage in his trademark yellow shirt. He is facing the viewer straight on, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

The last one shows a drawing of Peter Parker as Spider-Man in his red-and-blue suit, including the mask. He is turned to the side, body in a crouch, while is head is turned up. His right arm is extended behind him. His lower body cut into a triangle shape.

End ID.]

[zelinkdragons]

Here are two pics I commissioned recently, since I wanted to see how Link might look as an immortal dragon 💖 Thank you so much @eethok and @smugcomputer!

This is an AU where Link got his arm back, but Zelda stayed as a dragon at the end. So she wouldn't be alone, Link became a dragon too using Mineru's Secret Stone.

As the Light/Demon Dragons are called the White/Black Dragons in other languages like Japanese, I decided Link should be the Silver Dragon. Maybe his English name could be something like Knight Dragon, because he’s silver like a sword blade, or the Hyrule knight armour he sometimes wore in the past, and due to him mostly flying at the Light Dragon’s side.

I was more involved in brainstorming aspects of the left pic because I only printed one set of refs. Design info under the cut.

Dragon Link AU | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Dragon Link retains his hair and eye colour like the Light and Demon Dragons do.

Like Farosh he only has one horn, with ‘damage’ resembling the decayed Master Sword.

He has eight eyelashes like the Demon Dragon (the elemental dragons only have six and the Light Dragon has seven), but with some lashes longer to resemble the Sheikah slate symbol. @eethok suggested the eyelashes be blue like Link’s hair tie, and that’s where the Sheikah slate symbol came in. This symbol is also used on the Purah Pad's screen.

He has a canine-like snout to reference Link’s wolf form from Twilight Princess, and the pink patches are vaguely referencing his pink rabbit form from Link to the Past.

His spikes and other accents are green to represent the Triforce of Courage, since the Light Dragon has blue spikes and the Demon Dragon has red ones. Even though this Link wears blue more, he still gotta be green! I tried to choose a shade like the Tunic of the Wild.

His inner eye colour and sclera might change because I haven't fully decided what they should be yet. The Light Dragon's inner eye colour is green and she has purple sclera

I'm not sure if his spine scales would be blue or silver, since the Light Dragon's are gold like her eyelashes, but the Demon Dragon's are black like his scales.

[bubblez-bubble]

If I could I would like to talk about the very second "nalu moment" in the series that takes place in episode 2. (The first I would like to believe is him telling her he's taking her to fairy tail.)

But this moment...

This was a major nalu moment for 2 reasons, 1 way more obvious than the other.

So let's start with the obvious.

First of all, for those who haven't made it to the grand magic games arc for any reason...

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!

This is how Natsu remembered this moment. Which automatically gives it points for NaLu.

If you recall, towards the end of the grand magic games arc when the dragons attacked, Lucy was targeted by future rogue. Future Lucy, however, used her body as a shield and saved present Lucy's life. We then find out that the way we initially thought Natsu would remember the moment she officially joined was not how he remembered it at all, but instead remembered it as what seems to have been one of his core Lucy memories.

But I have a theory as well.

Here we can see that Lucy's favorite colors are pink and blue. However, unlike everyone else in the guild. Her outfit nor hair even once match her guild mark (with the exception of pajamas). Gray usually wears black pants to match his, erza wears a blue skirt to match hers, wendy wears blue in every outfit to match hers, and even natsu at least once wore red to match his, which if I'm being honest the color of his guild mark could have more to do with igneel seeing as his scales are red, but that's a totally different topic for another time. But lucy primarily wears blue and white. Neither of which is the color of her guild mark.

Why is this important?

As you may have guessed it has to do with my personal theory.

Does anyone remember how excited she was to show her guild mark to Natsu specifically? The moment she had it she ran to him to show him without hesitation.

I promise there's a reason for all these points.

Well my personal theory has to do with her guild mark, if that wasn't obvious already.

Again several times with everyone else in the guild we see them wear outfits to match their guild marks, but the only outfit lucy has ever matched with her guild mark was her pajamas.

So why did she choose a pink guild mark?

My theory is...

Because it matches Natsu's hair!

He was the first one she wanted to show her guild mark to.

He was the one that brought her to fairy tail.

AND he saved her from bora and his men!

To me, this was her way of showing her appreciation for Natsu.

And to me this also ties in with the "natsus core memory" bit.

Another headcanon is he remembered this because this moment touched him. He was the first person she wanted to show and her guild mark is the same color as his hair. To him, seeing her guild mark for the first time could've meant the world to him. But they just met so he couldn't let her know that.

It's just my personal little theory/head-canon. But it's still so cute none the less to think that this might be a possibility.

[starlaindisguise]

sorry 4 forgetting i could post here X___X life is lifeing! but the fixation wheels never stop turning……I GOT SUPER INTO LEGO MONKIE KID AGAIN AND NOW I AM MAKING IT EVERYONE’S ISSUE :D !!!

here are my traffic light trio human designs!! i thought really hard about all of the little details soooo lemme just yap about those for a sec :3

MEI )) Han Chinese (based off of her English dub voice actor) !! I gave her lots of piercings, particularly nose piercings (in recent artworks of mine I have drawn the nose piercings with more of a dragon shape) and this cool like…ear chain piercing that connects to pink diamond earrings! I made her jewelry gold to represent how much of a boss she is, and also just because yk, gold, winner, first place, status, AMAZING? I feel like she deserves to feel like a million dollars but that’s just me! Also, fun fact, pink diamonds are one of the rarest and most expensive diamonds in the world. Maybe she got those earrings as an offering, or made fake ones to look cool. It’s your choice! I gave her bright green dragon scales around her face. Her nails are pink and blue because it looks good with her outfit haha,, I also gave her an ace ring because I PROJECT. She has a few cute bracelets (M.A.D. being the most notable) and necklaces I feel like she’d like!! Honestly I just gave her my dream fashion sense

MK )) White + Chinese (Up for change. I like a lot of different interpretations of MK!) I gave him hair clips to push back his side sweep! I also gave him little earrings but not a lot. I don’t think he could handle too many piercings wjsjsjs- I gave him a trans pin and an aroace pin, just my lil headcanons (I guess one canon. TRANSMASC SWAAAAG) I also gave him patches on his jacket; I like to think that Pigsy taught him how to use a sewing machine and he’s addicted to it. That’s why he has the iconic symbol on his back in my heart !! He has a heart and a dragon that Mei gave him :) On his hands he has some eczema scars and hot oil stains from dropping the noodles he delivers,, and that’s pretty much it!! His design is pretty minimalistic because I had the least big ideas for him :3

Red Son )) Black + Chinese !! I gave her lots of piercings as well, but I made them silver and black to contrast Mei’s gold! There’s a whole bunch of them he’s saur pretty !! He has some scars on his hands :(( I wanna also shade in his arms to give him more like,,, burns?? From the impact of the Samadhi Fire?? That almost look like magma? Like the dark fade that a lot of great artists do (one of them being @mariiilume to follow them NOOOOWWWW) except BRIGHT RED…well I don’t wanna describe that any longer because I didn’t even draw it HA UUUUH…Gave her bull ears and cute teeth !! He also has some cute square black nails!! Plus I lengthened their hair. They have such majestic hair it deserves to shine.

[aphroditelovesu]

Rhaenyra's baby is always impeccably dressed, gods. Her mother puts her the most beautiful dresses, ribbons in her hair, brooches, beautiful and delicate necklaces, etc. RHAENYRA LOVES TO SHOW OFF HER BABY, EVEN SPINNING WITH HER WHILE HOLDING HER IN HER ARMS AND THE LITTLE PRINCESS LAUGHS. (I have no doubt that the little baby inherited jewelry from her grandmother Aemma ). Just imagine yan mom Nyra in her baby's room every morning bathing and perfuming her, giving her hairstyles with braids (and Nyra explains to her baby that Targaryen princesses usually do braids ) and putting delicate jewelry, bracelets, necklaces or small tiaras (because it's still small to wear bigger ones ). The dresses she wears are made especially for her, in soft baby colors and she absolutely never repeats a single dress, mother dragon Rhaenyra takes care of that. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💗

Rhaenyra's baby is always dressed like a true princess, with expensive and flowing dresses, most of the time squandering the colors of the Targaryen house, black and red, but also using softer colors like pink and white. You'll never see the little princess without an expensive silk dress and some elaborate hairdo, usually made by her mother.

Repeat dresses? Never. When you're a princess and your mother's favorite, not only because you're her only daughter, but also basically everyone's favorite in the family, wearing repeat outfits isn't something that occurs. The baby of the family receives new clothes practically every day and in different tones. From the Targaryen colors, usually given by Daemon and Rhaenyra, to the greens, which are normally given by Alicent and Otto.

Jewels are part of the look, being a small child, the princess does not wear much jewelry, besides a necklace and some bracelets and, depending on the case, a pair of dazzling earrings. No doubt, anon, definitely baby!reader inherited her late grandmother's jewels and these jewels are her favorites, although she never got to know Aemma. She also receives jewelry from her mother and other relatives of hers.

Rhaenyra loves to show off her little princess, even more so when they are styled the same. Namely, displaying the colors of the house of the dragon. I have no doubt that, in this case, Daemon will end up getting involved in this joke and the three will "parade" with the Targaryen crest. You know, to show off the lovely princess and to leave a message for the Greens.

Imagine yan!mom and baby!reader dressed the same, based on this dress that Nyra wore, only smaller to fit the little princess... 🥺

~ Lady L

[tekumaniac311]

Rider Rescue: Briefing.

This chapter takes place right where the Prologue left off, After Dogday and his entire Space Rider squadron had been captured by the cult.

At a different Space Rider ship, black and red in colour. In the mess hall eight Riders were having supper together, like Dogdays squad, this one consisted of four males and four females.

A large brown mammoth was conversing with a small, brown furred, ring tailed lemur. The little lemur was trying not to laugh at whatever the huge mammoth was saying, sitting also nearby was a brown wolverine eating..rather crudely. Nearby also was a hybrid fox with indigo fur, finishing her supper with a simple drink of soda.

On the other side of the table was a white, rather attractive looking secretary bird with violet feathers, makeup and a mole under her left eye, she was finishing calmly eating her food. Alongside was an pink furred snow leopard sipping her soda, she looked eager to get to training or playing a game after eating. Then calmly slurping a bowl of nicely cooked noodles was a black dragon with a silver ponytail hairstyle, his tail and wings settled calmly. Finally was a dog with colors similar to Dogdays but darker, he even looked younger and finished eating his supper.

"Masterpiece as always, Mammoth." The dog spoke. The mammoth gave a gesture, "I always aim to please, Captain." She chuckled.

Before any further word could be spoke, Poppy's hologram appeared, she looked serious and stern after what had happened just a few minutes ago.

"Poppy!" Prettybird spoke smiling. "How are you?"

"Not too well, Pretty." Poppy explained before turning to the captain of the team, Dogbite. "Pop, what can we do for you?" He spoke with a smirk.

"Well, ahem. Dogbite, you and your team have been activated for a most urgent rescue mission." She said sternly. "Rescue mission? What happened?" Drago spoke sternly.

Here goes...Poppy thought. "Just a few minutes ago, Captain Dogday Solaris and his entire squadron have been captured and their ship hijacked by the cult."

Dogbite's eyes widened when he heard the name, a huge smug smile crept onto his lips "Pop! I wanna thank you personally for lending us with this job! This is great! If you weren't an android or a hologram, I'd kiss ya!" Drago meanwhile facepalmed, his captains cockiness was definitely peaking with this news.

"Well..you and your crew were the closest from Dogdays at this moment. THAT'S pretty much why I'm giving you folks the mission." The android explained. "He's your big brother, right?" Lean Lemur piped in.

"Correct, Lemur." Dogbite spoke "I've been dying to see what he's been doing lately, and I wonder what kind of crew he's got."

Drago Kitano stood up from the chair and glared "We'd better get to finding them fast, for each second their in the cults clutches, there is no telling what'll be happening." Poppy nodded, relieved that at least this crew was serious about the situation, save for their own CAPTAIN. "I've already updated your ships computer with the coordinates to Dogday's ship so finding where their landing won't be hard, rescue Dogday and his squad, do whatever it takes." She finished, ending the transmission.

"Let's roll!" Leopardaisy piped in, the team nodded and headed for the bridge, as Dogbite got into the pilot seat, he smirked to himself.

"Okay big bro, i'm on my way. Mammoth! You tracking their ship?" He asked. The large brown mammoth nodded, interfacing with the ships radar systems "Got a signal, tracked it to a planet called Xuacury." She told Dogbite.

"Anything to note?" Dogbite asked as he set course. "Relatively low cult activity, but i've tracked the ship to an abandoned town in the planet's desert."

"Sounds just like their style." Drago said crossing his arms. "Been aching to smash a few more cultists up." Berserkerine said, cracking his neck to the side.

Meanwhile, on Xuacury.

Dogday woke up blinking his eyes, it was too dark to see anything. All he could feel was that his arms were strung up high and far apart like a cross. "G..guys..Guys!" He tried to move but he couldn’t, the straps holding his arms up were too strong.

“Cap? What’s going on?!” Squeaked Piggy as she struggled, she along with the other 6 riders were tied up and hanging from the ceiling like Dodgday was, but with their arms tied around their backs instead. And for Crafty, her legs were also tied up! “Can anyone move??” Bubba asked, each rider replied with one word: “No.”

“Hmm? Oh! They are awake! If some of you would be so kind to remove their masks, please.” Said a sinister voice. A few cultists walked up and remove the masks covering each of the Riders faces, Dogday shook his head and looked around, it looked like he and his squad were in some abandoned building. The riders looked at each other and then looked ahead.

“Welcome, Space Riders! To your inevitable ritual of JOY!!” Boomed the high priest, flourishing his arms wide as the crowd of cultists behind him laughed and cheered maniacally.

“……We’re in trouble.” Bobby said with a sarcastic smile.

TO BE CONTINUED

Space Riders belong to @onyxonline

Rider OCS by me.

[toastingpencils37]

Just a collection of various Ninjargon translations from DR S1E1 so I can keep them all in one place.

Also, just a warning, some of the shots on this post have pretty bad quality so that you can't see what's on the signs, but I'm using a different screen for the actual translations that I can't really just screenshot.

The wall painting right below the garage thing:

Fresh Fo-

I'm assuming the "Fo-" part is supposed to have a "od" after it, spelling out Food, given the Fresh.

And then the banner thing to the right of Sora:

J4- PK-

Less likely real words, given the letter placement and the numbers. So probably either some sort of store advertisement/sign or just some random tag sign of some graffiti artist.

(Had to get two shots of these signs in order to be able to translate everything in the second shot)

The Green sign with the Dragon on the building:

Dragon House

The orange sign with the bowl right next to it:

Fresh

Again, likely food. Especially since right below it there's a menu

The menu below the orange sign:

Specials Fish.......Fcs Soup.........vfd Chicken........Yjr Noodles........Fcs

There may be some mistranslations with some of the red letters on the menu, as they were hard to figure out.

The string banner below the Specials menu:

68392047

Yeah I have no idea what that means. Because I don't think it's a set number of sorts because a) too long for a regular set and b) i don't think there was a polybag thing for this either, even like a LEGO City one.

Also, this menu and string banner appear at least four more times in the episode, with the string banner sometimes being blue rather than red.

For this shot I'm actually just going to translate the neon pink sign, because I can't get enough focus on the smaller things such as the papers taped up to tell what I'm looking at.

Also the cut off large blue "S" in the planter is part of a much larger sign that appears earlier, spelling "Crossroads"

Neon pink sign:

Forward

Only translating the white paper in this shot, which have some pretty bad handwriting (and i'm pretty sure a couple of the letters might be actual English or just nonexistent Ninjargon letters as well)

White paper:

**a*** am*fg mf** a*** fhl 5****

I was going to translate the blue paper as well, but one close look at it, I decided it's not worth it and that I don't have enough brain power for this shit.

The Specials chalkboard and the blue string banner right next to the green fish sign says exactly the same thing as the previous Specials sign and string banner, so I'm not translating that.

Purple vertical lamppost sign with an arrow pointed to the right:

Somewhere

Thank you street sign that really cleared things up /s

The blue sign:

2828

Probably supposed to be an address sign, but like many of the signs around the Crossroads, it pops up multiple times on different buildings. So who truly knows.

The box shown between Arin and Sora:

It appears to be flipped upside down, so if flipped the right way, it should spell:

Kgbdy

Also translating the poster because it surprisingly has some interesting stuff:

Mechmaster Mechma Reward Track Pie

The second line is cut off on the poster design itself, so that "Mechma" is the whole thing it says. Also not sure if the pie is something actually involved as a reward for winning the race, or if the people on the actual Ninjago team making the poster just decided to put it on for another reason, possibly even foreshadowing of what'll happen in the next scene.

Sign of cat:

Deals

This sign also pops up quite a bit in this episode.

The orange sign right behind Sora:

Sale

I noticed it appear once more towards the end of the race as well.

Sora's Mech:

SA-Mark

Orange sign above Frohicky:

Mec- Mast-

Obviously it's supposed to spell out "Mech Master" but it's cut off

Yellow letters below the black screen above Frohicky:

Register

The front of the mech:

Fast

The arm:

So

There's also a brown mech shown earlier that appears to have this also written on it, but another mech in front of it cuts it off so you can only see the "Fa" and the dash part of the "S"

Kreel's Mech:

Speed

The blue, black, and yellow graffiti:

Htja

The orange/brown shop sign to the left of Riyu:

It's the same as the one behind Sora, but now we can see that below the "Sale", there is also some Ninjargon.

So the full translation is:

Sale 98

Then the yellow sign with the red dragon to the right of Riyu:

Great deals

The graffiti with the fish:

Pux4

Of the graffiti, this tag makes the most sense word wise.

This same graffiti also popped up earlier on the race track, but I couldn't make out some of the letters there, so I put this one with the more clear letters instead.

Also, I think the "x" is an "x". Only letter that really seems to fit that shape.

Graffiti with shuriken star:

Dfg

Graffiti with hamburger:

Tddhfj

However it appears to be mirrored so it should actually spell:

Jfhddt

And then the little piece of graffiti in the bottom left corner:

....cy

Which is all we see of the graffiti there.

So, that's it for translating stuff from episode 1. And yeah, for quite a bit of the stuff, it's just gibberish.

[kaynanarie]

JourneyTober! Day 24 - Brotherhood (Wind)

            Out of all the places they had traveled so far, the New West was proving to be the most hostile. Vengeful yaoguai, frozen undead, lightning dragons, and a demon prison had already attempted to bar their way through Little Lei Yin Temple. Being so high up in the mountains, the bitter cold and constant snowfall made travel slow and tedious.

            Along the way, they gained a new companion; the boar demon, Zhu Bajie, who claimed to be a sworn brother of Sun Wukong himself. He promised to help in their journey, even referring to Monkey as ‘Nephew’, before leading them away from the cymbals he was freed from.

            And while the new trio made steady progress during the day, the nights were unbearable.

            A blizzard had encompassed the temple, forcing Monkey, Jen, and Bajie to hunker down in one of the abandoned huts near Bitter Lake. The cracks in the dilapidated structure did little to hold the heat in and even less to keep the cold out. Howling winds whipped the snow into blinding waves, burying the house in deep drifts. Not even the crackling fire could provide enough warmth to stave off the creeping chill.

            Jen huddled as close to the flames as she could without burning herself. The cold felt bone deep, numbing her from the inside out. Her red face and trembling fingers absorbed what little heat the fire provided but never truly felt thawed. While her demon companions had the advantage of fur, they weren’t fairing much better.

            Monkey kept blowing in his hands and cupping them over his freezing ears, his fur fluffed up to conserve body heat. On the other side of the tiny hut, Bajie was keeping himself busy; boiling water for tea, sorting ingredients for dinner, tending the fire with the limited wood they could gather. Even as the hour grew late, the comfort of sleep was blown away with the storm.

            “We need to find more wood,” Bajie spoke after a while, watching the fire slowly shrink. He fed the last bundle of branches to the flames before pointing at Jen. “You won’t last much longer at this rate.”

            Monkey perked up from his light doze, dark eyes scanning the human in concern. She was pale and shivering, hugging her knees close. The dying fire was doing her no favors and without it, her condition would only worsen.

            “I’m fine,” Jen said, white breath puffing through her chattering teeth.

            Bajie snorted in disbelief. “You’re about two shades off from turning blue. I know how fragile humans are and I don’t plan to wake up next to an icicle.” He grabbed his tattered blanket and wrapped it around himself as a makeshift cloak. “Just try not to freeze while I’m gone, okay?”

            He cracked open the door and slipped out, a blast of snowflakes and icy wind left in his wake. Jen turned back to the fire, watching the flickering glow with tired eyes. She was startled by Monkey appearing at her side, draping something over her shaking shoulders. The familiar black and orange stripes caught her eye instant. It was the tiger pelt Monkey usually wore around his waist, the fur much softer and heavier than Jen would have guessed. Already, the chill started to fade under its cover.

            Jen smiled, Monkey’s face flushing pink at the sight. “Thanks.”

            Instead of an answer or even an acknowledging nod, Monkey wrapped his arms around Jen and pulled her close. Her head was tucked under his chin and his tail curled around her middle, sheltering her in a warm embrace. Too comfortable to protest, Jen leaned into him, enjoying the shared body heat as the wind outside calmed and the storm finally began to disperse.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------(Another switched out prompt. Thanks for reading!)

[lunareclipse39]

The Princes' Whore

Finally, Aemond and Daemon agree on one thing: their desire and obsession to conquer Princess Sameria Martell, the Dornish beauty with rumored Valyrian descent, and a unique gift.

Warning: Smut, violence, swearing and graphic descriptions

Aemond

This is single-handedly the worst day of my life. I am to marry, not to my beautiful little sister Alyonna, but to a Dornish princess by the name of Sameria. She is the niece of Prince Qoran Martell, and daughter of Aran Martell, younger brother of Prince Qoran. I have never seen this princess, though they say Dornish women are renowned for their beauty, and their promiscuity.

"The Princess Sameria is almost here, Aemond. Be kind, be courteous, and attentive." My mother spoke, as we stood in the courtyard of the Red Keep, waiting for this Dornish girl to arrive.

I sighed. "Why am I even to marry her, anyway? Dorne has declared neutrality, so I do not see why this marriage is necessary."

"This marriage is not to secure an alliance, but rather to maintain the Martells' neutrality, to keep them from changing their minds and joining the war, and joining Rhaenyra's side." My mother explained.

I rolled my eyes. A guard screamed, "Princess Sameria of Dorne has arrived! Open the gates!"

The large, iron gates creaked open, as an elaborate carriage carried by the famous Dornish sand steeds marched through, more sand steeds riding behind. My poor sister Alyonna would have wanted to see this, but she is busy with her history lessons with her septa, and I am glad she is. I do not want her to see me court this princess.

The carriage came to a stop, the sand steeds, in all their bright white splendor, neighing at the sudden halt. A knight of House Martell opened the carriage's door, and held out his hand for the princess I presume. A golden tan hand grasped the hand of the knight, and a young woman carefully stepped out, dressed in a dark red gown embroidered in copper, and as her gaze lifted I nearly gasped. Princess Sameria was indeed an exotic beauty, her dark chocolate curls framing her heart-shaped face and bringing out her sapphire eyes.

"Princess Sameria of House Martell, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." My mother smiled.

"My Dowager Queen, I thank you and King Aegon for your welcome." The princess spoke, her voice velvety, and curtsied.

"This is my son, your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen." My mother introduced.

"My Prince." The princess curtsied.

I offered her a smile. "My Princess. The rumors of your beauty do not do you justice." I flattered her, not an ounce of sincerity in my words, but hopefully she'd be foolish enough to believe them.

The princess turned pink, and smiled. "Thank you, my Prince."

I offered her my arm, her orange fragrance reaching my nostrils. Yes, Dorne, especially Sunspear, is quite known for producing blood oranges. I led her inside the Keep, her eyes admiring her surroundings.

Sameria

I am to marry Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of the late King Viserys I Targaryen, brother to King Aegon II, although who truly rules the Seven Kingdoms is being debated, or more like warred, between two factions of House Targaryen, known as the Greens, King Aegon's faction, and the Blacks, Queen Rhaenyra's faction. It is all so stupid. Personally I do not care for this war, as does the rest of Dorne, so you may be wondering why I am marrying Prince Aemond.

My father insists we have the blood of Old Valyria in our veins, that we are descended from the extinct House Belaerys of the Valyrian Freehold, and that I must marry into our ancestry through the Targaryens, and perhaps even claim a dragon of my own. My father is crazy, but so am I for agreeing to this. I believe my father, strangely enough, and both of us speak High Valyrian fluently, as well as Dothraki, due to our many travels to Essos, where both languages are spoken in just about every city, but especially the Free Cities: Myr, Volantis, and Lys. Volantis is my favorite.

I was on my way to King's Landing to meet my betrothed, and we were almost there. I was accompanied by my cousin, Aliandra, whom I like to call the little fireball, my older sister Nerissa, and my brother, Ardan.

"I hear Prince Aemond caused the war." Aliandra spoke.

"How so?" I raised my eyebrow.

"They say he killed his nephew, the Prince Lucerys Velaryon." Aliandra gushed.

I snorted. "Please."

"No, she's right." Nerissa chimed in. "I heard the same rumors. Aemond chased Lucerys on his dragon through the skies of Storm's End, trying to get him to pay for taking his eye out."

"What a gruesome tale." I said, horrified.

"But no less true, or so they say. Honestly I do not blame Aemond." Aliandra shrugged.

"Killing Prince Lucerys was excessive, don't you think?" Nerissa gulped.

"Maybe, but I also did hear he never got punished, so Aemond's anger is understandable." Aliandra shrugged again.

We suddenly stopped, and I heard someone announce our arrival, followed by the sound of gates creaking open.

"We're here!" Aliandra squealed.

The carriage moved again, then stopped, and the horses neighed. One of our guards opened the door, beckoning me to step out. I grasped onto his hand and carefully stepped out of the carriage onto the courtyard of the famous Red Keep. I looked around, then my eyes met those of Prince Aemond, my would-be husband. He is terrifyingly handsome, the eye patch covering his wound making him look all the more intimidating.

Dowager Queen Alicent greeted me warmly, and introduced me to Aemond, who was rather cold but polite. He complimented my beauty, and I thanked him. I took his arm as he led me inside the Keep, while Dowager Queen Alicent introduced herself to my party, and welcomed them. They'd be staying with me for tonight, but would leave tomorrow afternoon.

"Is this your first time in King's Landing, my Lady?" Aemond asked.

"No, but it is in the Keep." I nodded.

"Do you like King's Landing?"

"I do, actually. Not more than Sunspear, but I do like it. It has its charm." I shrugged.

"And what is its charm?" Aemond wondered.

"It's lively, the people are kind, and there's a fair amount of entertainment." I said.

"Yes, and it's also filthy, especially Flea Bottom, and a lot of the people are dirty." Aemond scrunched his nose in disgust.

I gulped. "Well, you can't really blame the poor for not having access to cleanliness."

Aemond scoffed, about to retort, but that is when his demeanor changed suddenly. His face brightened, a wide grin stretching across his lips. I followed his gaze to a beautiful young girl, no older than thirteen, with wispy silvery white hair, round, bright violet eyes, her royal blue and gold-embroidered gown billowing with her as she ran towards Aemond, enveloping him in a hug.

"Aly!" Aemond purred, as Aly pulled away, turning to me.

"This is my betrothed." Aemond tightened, and swallowed. "Sameria Martell, a princess of Dorne. My Lady, this is Alyonna, or Aly, my little sister." Aemond introduced.

"It is so nice to finally make your acquaintance, princess. Word of you has gone around and no one can shut up." Alyonna gushed, beaming.

I grinned. "It is nice to meet you too, my Lady."

"Princess." Aemond corrected.

"It's alright. I am a lady, dear brother." Alyonna giggled.

"Apologies, princess." I blushed.

"No need to apologize. My brother is simply uptight." Alyonna teased.

"Am I?" Aemond frowned.

"Yes." Alyonna mocked. "Are you showing her around the Keep?"

"Indeed, sweet sister. She is to be my wife so she must know her new home. Where's Aerys, anyway?" Aemond asked.

"Training with Ser Criston." Alyonna shrugged.

"I see." Aemond turned to me. "Aerys is the youngest brother, and twin to Aly here."

"I look forward to meeting the rest of your family, my Prince." I nodded.

"Right. Aly, I will finish showing the Red Keep to Lady Sameria here. I shall see you at the banquet."

Aly smiled and nodded, running off. "She is lovely." I spoke.

"Yes, she is." Aemond nodded.

I was shown the dining hall, the banquet hall, the library, the armory, and of course, the throne room. The Iron Throne loomed menacingly in the distance, making me gulp. I dislike the sight of it. Such thing is the source of many tragedies and suffering, like right now.

Aemond proceeded to showing me his late father's chambers, where a model of clay about the Valyrian Freehold stood on a mahogany desk, making me beam.

"This is amazing! Who made this?" I wondered.

"My father, before he got sick and died." Aemond said bitterly.

"Oh. I am sorry." I looked down.

"Don't be." Aemond shook his head.

I see Aemond disliked his father, and thought it best not to ask questions. Not now anyway. I nodded. "Your father was quite a skilled potter. These figurines are very detailed."

"Yes. If only his skill at pottery had transcended into his reign, then perhaps we wouldn't be in this mess." Aemond spat.

"I take it you do not like your father." I mumbled.

"You're wrong. I hated him." Aemond shrugged.

This is getting uncomfortable. "I am sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It is a good thing he is dead. He preferred to be shut inside here tending to his figurines and obsessing over Old Valyria than to his duties to the realm." Aemond said bitterly.

"He would have gotten along with my father then." I shrugged. "My father is also obsessed with Old Valyria, even claims our line is descended of Valyrian blood, the reason he agreed to our marriage in the first place. Right now though, his obsession has transpired to the Empire of the Dawn."

"And do you believe it? That you have the blood of Old Valyria?" Aemond mused.

"Not really, no." I admitted.

"And why did you agree to the marriage?" Aemond asked.

"Well, I am a highborn lady. I was bound to marry sooner or later." I said simply.

"You could have married a Dornish lord, or any lord." Aemond crossed his arms.

"Yes, but why have a lord when you can have a prince?" I winked.

Aemond did not return my grin, but his eyes did shine with amusement.

"Shall we? I will show you my chambers, then yours." Aemond extended his hand.

I nodded. Aemond's chambers were dimly lit, the decor quite dark and solemn, but he did have a beautiful view of the capital. We then stopped in front of a jade green door.

"These used to be Rhaenyra's chambers, but now they are yours. I do think you'll find them spacious and accommodating enough." Aemond said, pushing the door open to reveal a most spacious room indeed, furnished with a bed big enough for two people, the covers and decorative pillows emerald green in color with gold embroidery. The headrest and bedposts were made of dark oak, and I did have a large, arched window overlooking the gardens and the sea in the distance. My trunks had already been brought inside, making me smile. This was the room planned for me all along.

"Well, this marks the end of our tour. Do get ready for your welcome banquet, my Lady." Aemond kissed my hand and dismissed himself.

I blushed, and smiled. Perhaps marriage will not be so bad. Aemond may be cold and stern, but I believe a softer, more caring side of him lies beneath, shown towards his sister earlier. In time he shall show me the same side.

I opened my trunks, which were overflowing with my belongings. I will miss Dorne, and Sunspear, but I understand I am a highborn lady with noble duties, one of those duties being marriage, and later, heirs. I gulped. I am not sure I want children yet. I brought many dresses and gowns with me, as well as shoes, undergarments, and jewelry. A knock on the door startled me, and I yelled "come in!".

Nerissa stepped inside, marveling at the room. "You were given quite the room, sister."

"I know." I shrugged, choosing a gown for the banquet tonight.

"I shall help you get ready." Nerissa offered.

I smiled. "Of course."

I wore a cobalt blue gown, held by a copper necklace as the rest of the fabric flowed down, reaching my ankles. Nerissa slid two copper, snake-like bracelets up into each one of my arms, and then I slid my feet into copper sandals. She led me to the vanity, as I sat down and she brushed my hair, letting it down and adorning it with a wreath of sun roses, a flower unique to Dorne, but specifically Sunspear. Sun roses are gold, dark pink, and orange-hued, creating a dance of sunset colors in them. They are beautiful, and smell so nice.

Nerissa bathed me in blood orange mist, and I was ready.

"You look beautiful." Nerissa smiled.

"Thank you, sister."

Aemond

The banquet was ready, as all of us gathered in the dining hall, waiting for the princess Sameria to arrive. She did after a little while, wearing a most revealing dress that complimented her sapphire gaze. I see Dornish fashions are of a... never mind. Sameria will have to start dressing more modestly, and more like a princess and not a whore from the bowels of the capital.

My brother greeted Sameria, a brazen smile on his lips and lust shining in his eyes. Of course my brother will lust after the Dornish princess. He better keep his hands to himself and not humiliate me in public.

"Tonight we welcome the Princess Sameria Martell, as she will join our family soon by marrying my brother, Prince Aemond. May your union be one of love and laughter, and bring forth many heirs." My brother joked, making the others laugh.

"Let us toast to their union, and of course, to the princess." My brother raised his cup.

We all followed suit, drinking and setting our cups down.

"I thank you, King Aegon, for your most warm welcome. I am counting the days I pledge my love for Prince Aemond in sight of the gods, and that I finally join your beautiful family." Sameria smiled, turning to me.

I smiled back, not looking forward to our wedding day at all, and glanced at Alyonna. My beautiful, darling, sweet sister, whom my heart beats for. I have protected her since she was small, she has been my constant companion, she is meant for me, and I for her, and I would sooner burn every last bit of this world than see her marry another man. I will never forgive my mother for forcing me into this marriage. She knows of my feelings towards Alyonna, but dismissed me and insisted two sibling marriages cannot happen at once, due to fear of the gods. Fuck the gods I say.

The feast commenced, and I watched Sameria, who sat in front of me, chat with her cousin animatedly. Mother blames me for starting this war, and it is the true reason she is punishing me by forcing me to marry the Dornish girl. Her excuse of not wanting to anger the Seven is nothing but a farce. I still say fuck the gods. Nobody has ever been punished by them for misbehaving. They certainly didn't punish Lucerys for taking out my eye. No, I had to do the punishing myself.

Musicians came in, carrying lutes and a harp with them. My brother stood up as soon as music started playing, and he held his hand out to Helaena, who gleefully accepted. My mother and grandsire Otto watched them with amusement, and knowing how much Aly loves to dance, I stood up from my seat and offered her my hand.

"Care to dance, sweet sister?" I asked.

"Absolutely." She grinned, taking my hand as I led her near Aegon and Helaena.

We danced, slowly at first, then increased our speed a little. The music came to an end, and we all cheered.

"My sister here is an exceptional dancer. Sameria, show them. Go on." Nerissa beckoned at her sister, who blushed deeply and shook her head.

"Don't get all shy now. You dance very well and you know it." Nerissa nudged her sister, who sighed and nodded, standing up.

Alyonna went back to her seat as I hesitantly offered my hand to Sameria. The music resumed and we started dancing. Sameria was in fact a great dancer, moving along the music as though she could feel it, leaving me to look stupid alongside her. I am just not a dancer, only with Aly am I one.

The music stopped again, and everyone cheered for us. "Any other talents we might know in your possession, my Lady?" My brother wondered.

"Yes, your Grace. I am an accomplished cook, even more so than dancing." Sameria replied.

Impressed eyes went about, but mine were more curious. A noblewoman who cooks is certainly unusual. Helaena stood up from her seat, turning to Aly.

"Aly, dearest, you should bless us with your singing tonight. The princess Sameria and her companions would love to listen to you sing."

I smiled. Alyonna has the most beautiful, ethereal voice there is, and radiates the purest, most goddess-like energy when she sings. Aly stood up, and whispered something to the musicians, who nodded. 'Maiden, Mother, Crone' started playing from the stringed instruments of the musicians, soon joined by my sister's sweet, melodic voice. I closed my eyes, smiling. I could listen to her sing all day.

Aly finished singing, as all of us broke into applause. I stood up and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"That was beautiful." Mother smiled.

"Your voice is a gift from the Seven themselves, darling." Grandsire complimented.

"Indeed it is." I agreed.

Sameria

After the feast, or banquet, was over, we all headed to our respective chambers for bedtime. As I walked towards mine, I heard the muffled voices of King Aegon and Aemond in the throne room. With my curiosity peaked, I hid behind a pillar, spotting King Aegon lounging on the Iron Throne, with Aemond sitting next to him in the seat of the Hand.

"Why are you even complaining? She's beautiful, and exotic." Aegon slurred, clearly drunk.

"I know she's beautiful, and exotic, but no woman compares to my Aly. She is a goddess personified, and meant to be mine." Aemond said, playing with the tips of his hair.

My eyes widened in horror, and a strange feeling bubbled up inside me. I had heard of the Targaryens' incestous practices, but to hear it firsthand... disgust welled up inside me.

Aegon laughed. "Brother, please. Marrying sisters is boring and devoid of life. Just look at me and Helaena."

"That is because you never make an effort to bond with our sister, your Grace." Aemond said sarcastically. "I bet if you did your marriage would be much different, and enjoyable. The bond Aly and I have is different, indescribable, but feels like home."

"You're being stupid, and ungrateful. What I'd give to have such an exotic woman as my wife." Aegon scoffed.

"If you like her so much you marry her." Aemond retorted.

"I would if I wasn't married to Helaena." Aegon shrugged.

"Besides, Dornish women are known to, you know, have sexual adventures before marriage." Aemond crossed his arms.

Aegon grinned. "Even better! You get a woman with experience. I bet the princess Sameria is a wild cat in bed." He winked.

I nearly gagged, and clenched my fists. I was listening to the king, or king presumptive, and his brother, my betrothed, say disgusting things about me. Even worse, my would-be husband was in love with his sister.

[the-mortuary-witch]

SANTA MUERTE

WHO IS SHE?

Santa Muerte, "Holy Death" or "Saint Death" in Spanish, is a goddess of death and the Underworld. She is a figure of protection and guidance, helping people navigate through the trials and obstacles of life. She is often venerated as a saint, or even considered to be a Goddess, especially in Latin American and Hispanic cultures. Santa Muerte is a spiritual figure, and she has no direct connection to Christianity or any other mainstream religious tradition.

BASIC INFO:

Appearance: She is usually portrayed as a female skeletal figure in black robe or a woman in black cloak. In some depictions, she is also shown carrying a scythe. She is sometimes depicted as having long black hair and a skull-like face. She is also often shown with skeletons and skulls as decorations and symbolism.

Personality: Santa Muerte's personality is varied and complex. As a deity of death and the underworld, she is often seen as cryptic and mysterious, often holding a playful and humorous side. She is also often seen as powerful, protective, and caring, offering guidance and support to those in need. In some depictions, she is also seen as vengeful and destructive when crossed.

Symbols: scythe, globe, scales of justice, oil lamp, black cloak or robe, skulls, bones, hourglass, and candles

Goddess of: healing, protection, financial wellbeing, and the afterlife

Culture: Mexican

Plants and trees: fresh flowers, rosemary, apples, marigolds, palm trees, rosary pea, cacti, dandelion, and boneset

Crystals: amethyst, black tourmaline, moonstone, tigers eye, smoky quartz, and melanite

Animals: owl, dogs, cats, dove, crows, and snakes

Incense: Santería, copal, dragon’s blood, palo santo, sandalwood, camphor

Colours: red, white, black, blue, and green

Numbers: 7 and 13

Zodiac: Scorpio (not official)

Tarot: Death

Planets: Saturn and Pluto

Days: Saturday, Monday, Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), and Halloween

Parents: N/A

Siblings: Magda

Partner: Mictlantecuhtli

Children: Los Negritos aka The Little Black Ones (not confirmed)

MISC:

• Scythe: one of the most common symbols associated with Santa Muerte, and it represents the final end of life and death itself.

• Crystal ball: used to communicate and make predictions in the presence of Santa Muerte.

• Coins: are often used in offerings to Santa Muerte as a form of payment and gratitude.

• Sugar skull: used in the celebrations of the Day of the Dead in Mexico. They are traditionally created as offerings to Santa Muerte, as well as to the souls of dead ancestors and loved ones.

• Skull: as a Goddess of death, her skull is often another symbol of her.

• Colours: play an important role in many rituals and prayers to Santa Muerte. Red, black, white, and pink are commonly used.

• Rose: often linked to the feminine energy and to love, and they are often used as offerings to Santa Muerte.

• Cross: another of her common symbols is the cross, which represents the bridge between the two worlds: life and death.

• Water: often used in rituals and offerings to Santa Muerte, as it is seen as a medium of communication and a bridge between worlds.

• Candles: also often used in rituals and offerings to Santa Muerte.

FACTS ABOUT SANTA MUERTE:

• She has no connection to Christianity or any other mainstream religious tradition.

• Santa Muerte has become more popular in recent years due to the rising interest in indigenous cultures and spiritualities.

• She is often venerated by those who seek protection, guidance, and spiritual freedom from societal restrictions.

• Santa Muerte is often given a gender and identity, but she is seen as beyond the realm of gender. Some cultures see her as the embodiment of death, but others see her as the feminine embodiment of life.

• Some believe that Santa Muerte possesses clairvoyant and clairaudient abilities, as she is often the subject of paranormal claims and stories.

• Santa Muerte is often depicted as being a protective and benevolent figure, but some also associate her with vengeance and destruction.

• She is often regarded as an intercessor and patron for those who are oppressed or marginalized.

HOW TO INVOKE SANTA MUERTE:

One way to work with Santa Muerte is to devote time and effort to establishing a spiritual connection with her. This can include setting up an altar dedicated to her, lighting candles, offering prayers and songs of devotion, and giving offerings of flowers, food, alcohol, and other items that she may appreciate. It's important to make this altar a safe and welcoming environment where Santa Muerte feels respected and appreciated. Also, it's important to create a clear intent and intention when establishing a connection with Santa Muerte. It could be something like protection or guidance, and to be consistent in that desire.

PRAYER FOR SANTA MUERTE:

"I call upon Santa Muerte, the Queen of the Underworld, the protectress of the dead. I ask for your guidance and presence in my life. I commit to building this connection more deeply and sincerely. I offer you these tokens of my devotion and respect. May I feel your presence and influence in my life. Hail Santa Muerte.”

SIGNS THAT SANTA MUERTE IS CALLING YOU:

• See her symbols or imagery appearing in unexpected places.

• Have vivid dreams or visions about Santa Muerte.

• Feeling drawn or compelled to worship her.

• You feel an immense sense of peace and protection when praying to her.

• A sense of clarity and direction in life that you did not have before.

• You experience positive feelings and sensations when thinking about or focusing on Santa Muerte.

• A sudden interest in death and the Underworld.

• Experience synchronicities and coincidences relating to Santa Muerte.

• Unexpected signs or omens that point to her presence.

• Feeling a sense of protection or guidance when meditating on her symbols or imagery.

• You feel a deep resonance with her attributes and virtues.

OFFERINGS:

• Cash.

• Bones or skulls.

• Cigars.

• Tequila or other alcoholic beverages.

• Cannabis.

• Fresh water.

• Cakes.

• Flowers: marigolds, roses, chrysanthemums, and other dark-coloured flowers

• Candles.

• Graveyard dirt (collected respectfully).

• Candy.

• Fruit (mainly apples).

• Chocolate truffles.

• Bread.

• Sugar.

• Anything black: black stones, black ribbons, black jewelry, etc.

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

• Talking to her in the space you created for her.

• Buying flowers weekly for her altar.

• Getting a tattoo.

• Meditating on her energy.

• Carrying around her images or symbols to protect against negativity and harm.

• Reading and researching about her mythology and history.

• Pray and sing for her.

• Clean up graveyards.

• Draw and paint her.

[targwh0re]

New Ideas for HOTD Rhaenyra Fashion pt.7

First time I’m doing one of adult Rhaenyra’s costumes, and we’re starting off with the one I hateeee the most of all:

I just, it’s so-it’s so, wtf is this shit?!?!?

I get it’s a sort of call back go her of outfits when she was younger but bruh😶 you’re telling me this is what she chose. Even her younger outfits were better than that. And I get it, I get it, it’s supposed to be maternity wear but reminder that this:

Is what Alicent wore when pregnant with Helaena. And this is what Rhaenyra wore right after the birth:

Both are hella fire, stunning. The dress Rhaenyra’s wearing is very Velaryon esque, slowly, loose, a sort of beached of Greece type beauty. Now she can still wear Targaryen colors, but she can also still have some representation of her Velaryon marriage (as we really tryna post a happy front so no one thinks about daddy Harwin😘)

So I think she’s still be wearing something similar, but perhaps representing both family’s. This being an under dress:

With it blue threading running through the red it could easily be designed a scales.

I’d also add an open fronted petticoat so that she could keep her arms warm and protect her belly or breasts if she feels the need as a woman whom has freshly given birth.

I’d use these three for design reference:

Taking the pattern from the red gown, the design of the green gown w/ the white designs, and then the golden medallion chains binding them together from the third design.

I’d change the color of the petticoat to a Targaryen black, and trade the white designs for gold ones more similar to the ones we on her blue dress. As you can see the zigzagging in the first picture of the three is reminiscent of the blue threads on the red dress meant to be worn under so honestly those could just be changed to gold. Keeping the golden belt with the rubies in the second picture, I’d disregard the highest neck piece with the laces in the front. I’d keep the spacing of the open front in the third picture, turning the bands of the front to match the fabric of the underdress. The gold on either side of the bands could be formed into dragons heads (perhaps reminiscent of Syrax’s head if ur feeling fancy). Lastly, I think I would make the inside fabric of the petticoat a velaryon blue, replacing the yellowish color we see on the interior of the dress in the third picture.

Sorry if that was confusing, I might’ve got a little too descriptive to show you what going on in my mind 😭

As for her Jewelry, I just saw a Reddit post made before hotd came out about the color of Joffrey and Jace’s dragons. They were actually correct for the most part about Vermax (Jace’s dragon) so I have faith in their theory that Tyraxes (Joffrey’s dragon) is red & black or something similar.

(If you want to read their theory about how the colors of the dragons belonging to Rhaenyra’s first three sons reflect the Conquerors original three dragons and Dany’s three dragons check it out on Reddit u/OneirosDrakontos)

That being said I’d want to reflect his hatchling, or at least egg on her jewelry. (Bc I also saw someone say Rhaenyra wears a ring for everyone of her three sons @atopcat) Maybe it’d be cute if she did something to reflect their future dragons after their birth with her jewelry as well.

Red and black for Tyraxes, gold for the ring she wears for him:

Her hair is more of a simpler extent, as I feel like though time hasn’t calmed down her fashionista tastes to an extreme extent, she’s more concerned about her newborn baby than her hair right now.

Something like this, but instead make it a half-do w/ hair still hanging free from any binds/braids:

Replace the pink ribbon and bow with two Velaryon Blue colored bands with gold design embroidered onto it, golden thread braided at the edges of the fabric. Perhaps the bow could be replaced with a golden three headed dragon pin stick through the braid so it appears as if mini dragons heads are roaring at those walking behind her.

[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ motion sickness part ii | ellie w.

previous part here | next part here soon

PAIRING: modern!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: having grown up together, everyone knew eachother in jackson. when a brooding newcomer owner to a tattoo shop comes along apparently charming her friendly florist neighbor things seem to take a turn.

WARNING: alternative universe! purposefully all lower case. multiple part series. not a very eventful beginning as ellie’s relationship with reader is slow burn but it will start evolving after this one seriously trust me!

WORD COUNT: 632

ellie. you tasted her name on your tongue and melted into the feeling, flushed. dina had certainly manifested her wishes into fruition, you thought. stared at the girl for way too long, getting familiar with her features and vacant gaze towards the alcohol filled shelves against the main bar wall, freckles like starry war paint, eyebrow scar, pale green iris, peach pink lips, auburn hair gently brushing her shoulder at length. breathtaking, you immediately named the feeling, but she looked worn, tossed around. you blamed it on the bruised eye, caught onto sky grey vibes.

a silly game blossomed into your heart years ago, the inspiration for your flower shop really: how everyone you meet could be described by the floral language. dina thought hers too common, but it was your favorite, a daisy, standing for loyal love and “i’ll never tell”. jesse, a white jasmin, sweet love, amiability. even abby, coriander. you did not know the girl at all, but you saw red carnations grow behind her in the way spiritualists would claim to see auras. red carnations; “my heart aches”.

“flower shop girl, yes, that’d be me”

“cute” she mumbled sipping on the beer dina had given her before promptly pretending to be busy elsewhere though noticebly eavesdropping.

“you’ve got a lot of tattoos on you” jesse pointed matter of factly, earning a chuckle “perks of the job?”

“the job” ellie repeated his words in light humor as if minimizing her own career with the sound “yeah, i guess. you want one?”

“fuck, yeah! maybe a dragon up my back or or you know a snake, i don’t know, what do you usually draw?”

“pretty things” she answered before taking you off guard with a head movement that pointed you out amongst them all “like her” she twisted her body around to meet your face “what would you get, flower girl? roses?”

“the sun” you answered “what does that say about me?”

ellie smiled a weak smile, raising the sleeve of her grey t-shirt to expose a beaming sun by her bicep, detailed sad expression in black ink across its center. you took notice of everything. ferns and a moth grew from her hand to the very end of her forearm and covered scars you could only assume to have been self inflicted. a sword pierced through the spare space of skin next to a phoenix and finally angel wings alongside a well hidden initial: J. you wouldn’t ask, but you wanted to.

“trying to figure that out myself”

you hadn’t noticed when abby left, only that she was gone when a couple dollars slipped past you towards the ground from the countertops, extra tips for dina. you wanted her extroverted ways to carry the conversation, ask the newcomer about the altercation, but she seemed to enjoy playing dutiful dedicated owner more. small talk failed you, and ellie was uninterested.

you planned out your next meeting in your head, showing up with cookies as they do in the movies, catching glimpses of her sketches on the wall, giving them backstories to fill the gaps. it wasn’t so strange to be eager as you were taking into consideration how rare these opportunities had presented themselves: you never left jackson, not even on vacation. the world was meant to turn on its axis but you were destined to stay still, an agoraphobia rooted into your veins like movement would burst your chest open, bloody and broken. the flowers had been a therapist’s idea: to take care of something innocent as a purpose, exist outside the shell of a body you painfully cared for in pure obligation. your personal garden arsenal though, had meaning. yellow tulips, that’s what you were. the flower for unrequited love. the one tattooed by ellie’s hipbone you were yet to see.

[inkstainedheartbeats]

So I already posted like a little snippet of this but!

What if you had soul dragons. Kinda like daemon from His Dark Materials in that they’re an extension of you. They’re your ‘soul’ given mortal form. Granted they sapient if unable to communicate to anyone other than their person and other dragon.

There is a lot of hearsay about what the sex of your dragon means about the person. About your sexuality. It tends to be very binary and nowhere near the scoop of reality but that people for you.

When Steve was born two dragons hatched. A boy and a girl. They’re names are Rose and Sage. Rose is a soft brown with pink wings while Sage is a dark green with bright green wings. Mr Harrington is not please with the dual dragons or their colors. He’s even less pleased when his son hits his second puberty and matures into an Omega.

When Eddie is born a single dragon hatches. Ozzy. Black with red wings. Very bitey. Loathes Frankie Munson with every little bone in his body. Adores Mrs Munson until she dies. Gets along swimmingly with Wayne’s Dolly (a white dragon with grey wings who croons soft country music to her nephews in the night) when they’re left abandoned right before Eddie matures into a Beta.

A month before Starcourt Steve and Eddie meet outside of school, outside of the hierarchies and bullshit. It’s a club that’s more like a bar. Dark and heavily perfumed so no scent can be caught. Steve, questioning himself, questioning everything, finds comfort in letting someone, anyone take control of him. Likes not having to decide, like not being in charge, the one to blame if someone dies. He goes by Pretty Boy or just Boy and Eddie is Sir. And it’s bliss, even with the hiccup that is Starcourt.

Until Spring Break.