#raven among doves

[dayurno]

hiii dayurno could you tell me more about raven!jeremy? it's such a new idea sounds very interesting!!!

hiii of course! buckle up. long story and also a collab with ao3 kevjean :3

well first of all let me say that in this au jeremy is not part of the perfect court or in fact even close to it at all. he’s a sub striker with a high jersey number who did not see much playtime during his career as a raven and was on the lower end of the raven spectrum skill-wise. this is important to tell you because the fic doesn’t start with jeremy in the ravens, it starts with him dealing with the aftermath of the nest getting dissolved and losing every bit of his hopes and dreams after sacrificing everything in his life to make it in eau—it starts with kevin salvaging the last dregs of jeremy’s college career by recruiting him for the foxes for his last year, even though jeremy, as an ex raven, hates him (and jean) for what they’ve done both to riko and to their team

ok good. so set the scene. jeremy is miserable. the ravens already didn’t like kevin and jean to begin with, isolated as they were from the perfect court. now jeremy lost not only his team but the lifestyle surrounding it, the ideology of the ravens, his partner, and his career prospects. he doesn’t have the eau raven title anymore and he can’t use it to get himself in the line of sight of most pro team recruiters. he gave up a family (that didn’t love him much, but still) and a trustfund for this. kevin day leaves the nest, jean moreau follows soon after, and their king kills himself. Do you understand how much jeremy hates them? kevin and jean were perfect court, were untouchable, didn’t even know or care to learn his name as a sub striker with not much under his belt—and then they left and destroyed everything jeremy had worked so hard for without even thinking about him. without remembering him at all, in fact.

he hates them!!!!!!!! desperately. With a passion. getting recruited for the foxes and by kevin day on top of it all is humiliating, but it’s the last chance he has. jeremy arrives in palmetto an angry hateful mess made ten times worse by kevin’s constant criticism of him, unaccustomed with normal life and without a partner for the first time in four years. he’s volatile and destructive and he has nothing to live for. exy is the only thing he wants and it doesn’t want him back. :) kevin steps in and takes jeremy’s game from him much like he did with neil, both out of desperation because the foxes are a mess now with the addition of their freshmen, and because, while jeremy isn’t really anything to write home about in terms of skill, he’s far more ambitious and disciplined than the average fox. jeremy hates kevin but can’t afford to reject his help. thus begins the most convoluted raven partnership to ever exist

jeremy hates kevin and has a non-negligible wish to harm him whichever way he can, but he’s also a raven that escaped the nest all on his own. he latches onto kevin immediately, the two of them becoming partners in the raven sense of the world while clashing Often and Intensely with each other both on and off court. their relationship gets more and more volatile the more jeremy goes out of his way to get under kevin’s skin, resentful and so angry at what the perfect court’s done to him, while kevin sinks his feet in and pushes jeremy way past his limits in his training. basically they are a match made in hell :) lots of hatefucking and jealousy and violence and the one murder attempt ensue as the foxes try to navigate this destructive, hopeless version of jeremy that wants to die and take down as much as he can in the process, up to and including kevin day. they’re together every second of the day and jeremy hates him for everything kevin took from the ravens, but he also depends on kevin’s training and presence to feel like a person again. it’s a really big mess basically that is eventually made worse (and better) by kevin and jeremy starting to sleep together to get the adrenaline out raven-style. and that’s all without jean coming along, which he will eventually

[voicelesshatred]

@venusphacelia​ :: INTONER TWO

【His breaths heaved yet went nearly unheard. His hands shook, trembled, but not out of fear. No... The scene was nothing short of horrific. Blood. So much blood. At first glance, one would be hard pressed to believe it didn’t come from a gathering of people. It was only from two, one more than the other. He had hoped that the other would put up a fight. The scrap was more brief than he would have liked. And yet he was pleased that the other had fallen. A chest that already looked as if it was patched up before now split open, steel dyed crimson pulled from one of many punctures recently created. There was joy, perverse and vile. The dead was not only a guardian but a disciple, proven by the name upon his dying breath: “Lady Two...”

Although pleased, his once-grinning lips had pressed into a line. Their duel was in her name, done under her witness. Once he remembered that, the raven turned from the fallen dove to face the Intoner. Slow steps carried him across the threshold between them. At last... Caim’s steps ceased once within arm’s length. Bloodlust tingled in his hands, almost wanting to put her to the sword as well. But his desires had lowered him to a kneel, bowing his head to her with the respect a knight would display to a queen. She was not his to end... he was hers to take.】

[aemysbabyofficial]

Sweet Sixteen II; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

To be a father is to live and sacrifice. What would Daemon live to sacrifice? To leave behind and never return to--to never regret with second thoughts. The answer: his last daughter.

Warnings: cannon divergence; paternal anger; father angry towards daughter; hints of paternal violence; hints of violence; choking; heavy angst; manipulation; hints of sex; highly emotional.

Notes: Apologies for the long wait, life hit me like a truck. If you liked this or wished it to be edited up or down, please tell me! This is a heavy read (it was a heavy write for me) but I hope you all enjoy this!

Long chapter ahead!

The summons arrived on a cool morning on Dragonstone. The raven knew all were fast asleep sole for one. Cold air rushed through Daemon's nose and up to his mind as he stood next to an open window. A knight had just left his quiet chambers, leaving him in a robe with a sealed letter in hand. Daemon was written on the cover in fine letters. Each letter was straight, curved in the right places, and perfectly in line with the one before and after.

It hadn't been long since he received word from his brother, or in this such a case, his court. It had actually not been long since he last visited King's Landing. He could count by hand the weeks that passed since he last roamed his former home. The king's second daughter, Helaena, was betrothed to her older brother Aegon and as a good tiding for the girls in the family, the king invited his nieces for some bonding with the dreamer girl. Daemon was surprised Viserys held the dear such an occasion, but his eyes felt the ink's deeper meaning just from the greeting.

Dearest brother...

A preparation. A warning. Daemon wiped his nose before he moved to the next line. The hallways of Dragonstone were quiet and the children were slumbering away in their chambers. His wife lay in their bed, under the sheets and furs to keep the breeze from fanning her skin. Daemon needed the fresh morning light to read the letter clearer, to see all the meanings within the lines. His hand gripped the parchment the further his eyes descended, burned brighter as he pulled apart double meanings and hidden phrases. He glazed past the introductions and greetings and dove to the heart of the letter--the biggest paragraph of them all. His breathing grew ragged when the mention of her spilled across the letter.

....The Princess Helaena requests the presence of Lady Saela Targaryen as a lady-in-waiting for her highness court. The Princess recounts fond memories she shared with the Lady and wishes her sweet presence in her everyday to be permanent. All servants, dressings, and accommodations lay prepared for the Lady's arrival....

It was a surprise. A bold move, Daemon complimented with raised brows. But it involved his daughter, his youngest daughter. Saela was still a child hiding behind her sister's shadows, lapping against her cousins' steps, and a growing woman. From what the Maesters whispered and he forced from a handmaid, she just flowered. Daemon crinkled his nose at the thought.

Why demand his youngest child among his three?

The letter, no, the summons demanded Saela's presence in the next seven days. It emphasized the great joy and happiness the princess Helaena would feel to have her favorite niece by her side. No other daughter was to attend on her behalf.

Bullshit.

A croaky laugh cracked through the room. Daemon's chest rose with sputtered laughs and his fingers pinched his alert eyes. A wry smile stretched the corners of his lips upwards. It was too late for him to switch out Saela for one of her sisters. The days where the girls could switch places and act as the other passed long ago; the twins even grew into unique features that stood them apart from each other.

Not Helaena. Daemon shook his head. That girl could not craft such a demand. The queen.

When Daemon visited last, his daughters joined him. The three-and-a-half day travel on boat was the same duration of their stay. While the girls bonded over tea, gowns, and childish talks, Daemon joined his brother every second he could. In his free time, which was limited, he would peek into side rooms, the gardens, or separate chambers to check on his daughters. Three times out for five, Daemon spotted Saela attached to Helaena's side while Alicent loomed over them. A whisper past Baela revealed the Queen had requested all of Saela's time that day and the previous.

"She calls for her after breaking our fast." Rhaena confided to her father on their third morning. She had just caught him before he departed for a meeting. Her speech was breathy--she ran--and her eyes bled into his soul. "And she just watches her."

Daemon hadn't much time to think about Rhaena's words before he marched into the council chambers. Men dressed in their house colours either stood around the table or sat waiting for their cups to be filled. Deep laughter rolled from one fat lord as he motioned to the King with his head.

"The boy is of age, isn't he? Aegon, isn't it. It is about time he takes a wife."

"And who would that be?" Another lord across the fat one asked. Daemon marched closer to hear their voices clearly, but halted when he heard names drop against the table.

"To keep the blood pure, won't his sister be the best choice? Or how about his cousins?"

It was then when Viserys realized his brother's presence and what the lord to his far right was talking about. The King didn't need another second to decipher the emotions across his face--anger, confusion, dying tolerance. Marrying off one his daughters could help their sad hearts after tragedy, but by the look of their father, Viserys knew not now, or, now ever. With a wave of his hand, he shushed all talk. He didn't a man leaving his a broken nose, animosity for a Targaryen, or dead.

When Daemon found his daughter later that day, the queen stood behind her with arms wide and eyes twinkling.

In his room with the letter, Daemon had time to think whilst Rhaenyra kissed him on the shoulder. Did dawn pass by so fast? The prince casted a glance to his wife skimming her eyes across the letter. The furrow of her brow marked she got the same place to.

"Are you going to do it?" Her brows raised in question. Are you going to send your youngest child to a den of vipers?

Daemon let his mind wander into dark clouds at the thought of leaving his daughter here. Laena left him with three children--girls, the realm's mightiest tools in times of diplomacy and wagers. Were he to leave one under his brother's nose, Sweet Old Saela, no one would blink an eye. She was the sweet, quiet child. He already has twins, leaving him still with the weight of raising girls. Saela was the perfect child, always abiding to rules and governance. Slip her a note on what to do, the girl will be a man's best soldier. Whisper her a scolding and she will bend her every value not to mess up again. Hells, when he begged his daughters to stop crying at a dinner one evening, Saela never talked for the rest of the night.

A soldier?

The fact Rhaenyra has a younger living brother threatened her established claim as heir. No one had to say it out loud: a son was all the king wanted, and even if his daughter stood in line behind him. A son would rally much more support than a woman with the Conqueror's crown.

Daemon cocked a brow. Saela could be his soldier, his extra eye in the Keep. While he converged his forces on Dragonstone, Saela would stay there, cozying up with his brother's wife. She was never the girl who liked rolling in mud or dallied in listening to Council meetings. No, she deserved the best linens and gowns and court. The girl could act as his extra pair of personal eyes and ears. She could get under her skin, worm her way into her mind. The prince knew no one stood a chance against his daughter's smile. She inherited from her mother. With Saela submerged into the Green mess that spilled across his home, Daemon needn't worry about a thing.

Saela would be his perfect soldier.

"I will." Daemon nodded. Rhaenyra peeked at the glint in his eyes.

That night following dinner, Saela cried at the news, but nevertheless prepared for the trip. Her sisters begged for her to stay, but as Daemon predicted, Saela took on her mission without complaint with an I will be fine. In their last pure moments together, Daemon prepared his mighty soldier for the battle she would face ahead. He knew she was prepared. Her emotions were in check beyond her years and she hadn't lived in Dragonstone for too long to grow too attached to the palace or its grounds. Unlike Baela or Jacaerys who obsessed over flying, Saela was a novice in comparison to them--her dragon had barely hatched and refused to show signs of flight.

The skin of a father was shed for Daemon to bare the armour of a soldier. For hours past the hour of the owl, he drilled passages and commands to Saela--from dining, to walking, to presenting her head. She was going to leave her home a measly girl and enter the capital, her arena, her battlefield, as an armed soldier and mighty weapon.

And a soldier Daemon saw his Saela become. When she greeted them for their tea, she stood tall, unwavering under his eyes, and proud. She nearly resembled the frigid woman Rhaenys became. Whenever he caught sight of her, Saela was the paradigm of his success--of her upbringing under him, trained knowledge of note-passing, and dining with the enemies. Daemon knew out of all his daughters, Saela won't crumble easy.

She overcame her mother's death faster than her sisters and won't let a thing brother her. To Daemon, she was mentally stronger in keeping her emotions and personal life out of politics or power moves.

His girl even overcame the disaster that was that dinner announcing new betrothals. Whereas Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Baela sprung for Aegon and Aemond, Saela was quiet. Like he, she calculated the scene next to Helaena. But where she had gone with her aunt, Daemon had not the slightest clue. The cool ocean air fanned his skin while he walked through the exposed halls of the Keep. The wine, unbridled emotions, and lack of sleep for some riled everyone out of the dining hall to separate corners of the castle. To keep his mind at peace, Daemon walked the paths above the garden to feel the clouded moonlight fan him.

Rhaenyra, before he departed their chambers, planned to cut their trip short and haul the family back to Dragonstone the following morning. The short notice gave him little time to make sure Saela was all right. Rhaenyra knew better. To make sure her allegiance is all right, to her, or her father.

"Where is my daughter?" Daemon asked a passing knight. His voice rose barely above a murmur. The dark-haired man shrugged his shoulders and tumbled out an I'm not aware.

After their meals, it was their own tradition to find each other hiding in secret passages. It was a game Daemon introduced to Saela a random night. (He and Laena had argued over something trivial and he was bored for once). One night each, either he or Saela would rush out following their meal and hide in any place that would fit them. Spots ranged from false walls, behind hanging banners, inside knights armours, to underneath the biggest skirt one could find. Every time an argument broke out or someone got in trouble and just breathing was a challenge in the hall, Daemon and Saela would whisk themselves out to play their game.

The idea Saela was playing again struck something cold and dull in Daemon's heart. She had escaped under his nose and was hiding all-too well.

To a passing handmaid, he asked the same thing. Two girls carrying basins of water quickly shook their heads. "If not in her chambers, she must be in the gardens, my prince."

Daemon hadn't bothered to give the servants another word before he marched to the nearest staircase. He had just descended the stairs when he saw her. Saela's head and her tightly-wound bun of silver curls rested on the shoulder of a woman. No, a handmaid. Two walked on either side of her, locked in arms with their backs to him. His practiced steps were silent against the stone path. Even though his daughter and her servants were several paces ahead, none would hear him.

So, she's not playing the game, but going for a walk.

In his silence, Daemon planned what to say. Hello, dear daughter. My good soldier. Have you kept those notes from years ago? Where I told you to watch and listen?

A wry smile cracked his face as he practiced. "I hope all is, my good daughter--"

"Stop."

Daemon froze.

"What is wrong with you?"

Saela had turned a corner before speaking to someone. The prince rose a brow as he prowled to the corner. He was about to step out and draw a weapon at the sound of a threat, but he quickly retreated.

"You just had to open your mouth? The boy is ten-and-five, a child!" Saela's voice seethed. Daemon narrowed his brows when the voice spoke clearer. Louder. It burned his blood when he matched the tone and depth of the man Saela talked to.

"He is a fool and a bastard." Aemond scoffed. Daemon didn't have to see his face to calculate the prince's anger.

"A boy, Aemond! He is a child, a fool, nothing he speaks is serious. Why did you let that...Lucerys get to you like that?"

Saela raised her voice before covering her mouth. Aemond's frame hid the girl from Daemon's sight, but he could see the One-Eyed cradle his daughter's face. In plain sight for anyone to see were Saela and Aemond talking like lovers. It took every muscle in Daemon not to laugh, or to scream. The glances Saela failed to hide at dinner made sense. Her hidden smile behind her cup. The twitch in her lips.

Why? Daemon asked himself, both to why Saela's and his own actions. Why did she react to Aemond like that and why didn't he confront them? Why was she allowing him to hold her, to whisper to her, to invade her space and not--

"The dinner..."

Daemon hadn't meant to whisper out into the night, but light clouds of his breath floated in the air above his lips. His mind pulled him back an hour ago, before the mess of drinks spilled and food wasted his brother left behind. Saela and Aemond watched each other lasciviously across the long table. Over their cups, as they cut their food or talked with the person on their right, they somehow managed to eye the other down. To calm his mind from jumping from his skull, he fooled himself into not believing what he saw. But he was a boy once--a man now--and could pick at the signs of lust. As he drank wine to calm the storm in his mind, Daemon could see Aemond undress his daughter with his one eye; he licked at her exposed chest and laughed at her open neck. In the moments he felt like hurling his meal or flipping a table, Daemon drank himself silly.

The drunk he wished for pooled to nothing now.

"What can I do to make it up to you, hmm?" Aemond hummed against Saela's skin. Although Daemon looked at the pair, his mind buffered in registering their actions. The fact Saela smiled as Aemond frisked his hands around her was like a dart to his glass mind.

No. Daemon looked away. Saela wouldn't allow herself a second to fall for a man like that. A crippled second-son would do nothing for Saela. She deserved someone stronger, fiercer, and--

"You don't get to kiss me."

Daemon straightened at his daughter's words. Kiss? Who is his daughter kissing? When he peered around the corner, his body tensed. Aemond had Saela pinned to the Keep's cold walls with one hand on her cheek and the other caressing her thigh. The handmaidens backs faced him, allowing him total freedom to see Aemond fondle Saela's skin between her legs. Although she disallowed Aemond entrance into her with her words, her hands toyed his hair and her lips ghosted his red cheeks.

"Do you know how much stress I've dealt with by myself?"

Saela's voice went soft, but it ached with raw pain. She spoke only for Aemond to hear. The prince muted the racing of his heart to hear his daughter's confession, but all he could see were her lips flapping and hear the tough drags of her nose. Whatever Saela revealed to Aemond warranted her a kiss. The sound of lips smacking made Daemon cringe. He slammed his back to the wall. Between the wet kisses, pants, and shuffles of fabric, Daemon picked up a few words and phrases.

"....Ilaena was horribly, sick, Aemond." Another kiss. Daemon noted the hard knot between her brow.

"..red in the face.." Kiss on the neck.

"...you didn't bother asking if she..." a loud moan soared from her lips. "Helaena and Alicent were the only ones to..."

The unbuckling of a belt and light laugh set Daemon off. "I'll make it up to you, my love." The One-Eyed Prince laughed in the night. In the dark, he saw red. The raging thump of his heart broke his eardrums, muting him to the moans around the corner. It took everything in him not to spear Aemond with Dark Sister. The sensual cry from Saela chased the prince away.

His boots stomped holes into the ground as he marched down the hall. If a knight or simple handmaid crossed the wrong path at the wrong time with him, their shoulders bore wounds of their collision. Daemon couldn't care less about a whining annoyance. All he could focus on were the shadows he saw dance outside; their hushed voices, kisses, and pants fogged his mind harsher than any storm. This itself was a storm, the hardest he faced both on land and on dragonback.

No guard stopped Daemon from pushing his way into Saela's bedchamber.

He waited. Without making a sound, or even a breath, the bedchambers were lifeless. It was like Daemon never stood in the middle of it all. Proof of his existence was the fire. The fact he could feel it proved his life at that moment was true--that what he witnessed was true. The crackling of wood reminded the prince his hearing was perfect. It told his mind he could not misjudge a thing, even if wished it was wrong.

Daemon's eyes glossed to life when the door opened. The hushed giggling erupted into frigid gasps. Saela must have jumped when she noticed him.

"Wait here," she said to two other voices.

"Leave." Daemon commanded. The hand holding the wrist behind his back clenched his skin worse than any chains or armor. The figures at the door made no move to leave. Either they were confused or they wished to meet his blade.

"I said leave."

"No, they can stay." Saela whispered something to the women. Palina, Arah. The names echoed in Daemon's mind. It dawned on him when he finally recognized who they were. In a letter addressed to him right after Saela settled into the Keep, she told him of the handmaidens assigned to her.

Palina and Arah are at my beck and call...it is fun having maids at your command. Now I know how you feel with your soldiers.

The same handmaidens she wrote about years ago were still at her side? Daemon lodged the thought deep into his skull. His shoulders squared straight when he stood tall. He hadn't turned around, but could see and feel the contemplation dancing on the women's faces.

"Defy me again and I'll slit your throats. Leave."

Not even the fire could cool Daemon's skin when the moans and kisses echoed in his mind. His lip curled at the smacks he heard, at the licks and spits he could feel across his skin. The slam of the chamber doors reaped the man from his nightmares.

"You didn't have to chase them away like that. They are loyal servants." Saela sighed before moving towards her father. He heard her smooth down her gown, probably rumpled from the mess she was in. "I wasn't expecting you so late, father. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Daemon needed time to breath. His back heaved with a heavy weight and his mouth dried before he could speak.

"Where were you?"

"For a walk. Did you want to come along--"

"With whom?" Daemon heard Saela move. Side steps, a nervous dance. She rubbed her hands against her gown with a long breath.

"With Palina and Arah--"

"You call your servants by name? What are they, your friends?" The shadow haunting Daemon's frame reigned over Saela's against the stone wall. The flames from the fire could be his own, heaved from his tongue.

"They are lovely girls, father. We are not far in age--"

"Do you think me a fool, Saela?" Daemon moved to feel the fire against his back. His head teetered down while his gaze bore to the left at his youngest daughter. "Why would a lady like you go for a walk at this hour?"

Saela's chest rose high. The chain around her neck tightened. It was a rope of Daemon's lashes tightening around her neck. Slowly and steadily did it rise to choke her.

"T-that is what--"

"I know you are smarter than this, Saela. Why would you do this to yourself?"

The tone in the prince's voice fell to a sympathetic level. He sounded sad, mournful, even. His shoulders fell when his body finally turned to face his child. He wanted her to see him downed, to see his pain. He wanted her to know he knew and she could do nothing but admit it. He wanted to hear it from her.

"Why would allow someone like that to do that to you?"

Saela felt her eyes sting. Her father had that power over her, hurting her eyes before anything else. It was only him that could make her cry before she felt the heavy pain in her chest. It was only Prince Daemon that scared her so much she couldn't breathe.

What he said tore through her. How could she let him do that to her? The Heart of the House, her uncle, the king, would call her. The sweet Heart that everyone adored, everyone thought pure, allowed something so vile inside her. She allowed herself to be tainted by a dark hole everyone tried to cover, to shield--no, to ignore. The last of Prince Daemon's daughters, the girls that would honor their father with honorable acts, was the most dishonorable of all.

All those thoughts swamped Saela's mind until she was breathless, crying mess. Her father was a blur of black leather and silver details, a monster she couldn't understand nor defeat. Saela could only bare herself honestly in front of the soldier that stared her down.

"How old?"

"W-what?" Saela was breathless, her voice airy and shaky. Faith in her voice crashed to the ground when Daemon towered his head over her own. She had to brace her muscles to not let her body drop.

"How old were you when he--"

Daemon bared his teeth. He couldn't finish the question nor formulate the words on his tongue. Claimed you. Fucked you. Took advantage of you. Tormented you. The words spat around in his mind, assaulting him from all angles and it could have made the man sick. But he stomached it down and shook his head. As a father, the thought of asking his daughter when she was deflowered sickened him. Why should he, a man of his stature, ask a lady--his daughter, at that--such a question?

"How old were you, Saela?"

The way Daemon spoke her name scared the girl into confession. It was fatherly, courageous, or kind. It reeked of grimace, of...of disgust.

He thinks me disgusting.

The girl silently balled as she answered. "Three-and--" The deep chuckle Daemon let out from the depths of his throat silenced Saela's whispered words. Of every conversation she imagined, this way, this manner, never came to mind. Saela never wished to spill her life's truths and secrets to her family like this, shrunken in a cowardice, crying mess.

"P-please father, don't--"

"Don't what? Don't kill him?"

"Please, no!" Saela screamed. Her watery eyes noted her father's light touches to Dark Sister. She knew her shaking bones and crumpled gown were Aemond's only defense between life and sudden death. "Please, don't hurt him."

"Why? Do you love him?" Daemon to hear it. Hear the name. Hear her guilt.

The mind of the Targaryen girl spiraled. After everything--her new life in court, building a new life with her cousins, growing close to allied and enemy houses, building her own life--it came crashing down in one night. No lie, no distraction, no escape was offered to her.

"He is using you, Saela, for his own selfish needs. He does not love you, no one here does. No one will ever truly appreciate you here."

Saela's fingers dug themselves into her sleeves. Spools of lace trickled to the floor as she cried. No one will ever truly appreciate you here. But they do, Saela yelled at herself. When her one and only family left her in King's Landing she visited a handful of times, Helaena, Alicent, Aemond, and even Aegon took her in as family. Come nights she dreamed of her mother's vanishing hand, Alicent was there to rub her back and sing her songs. Come days she missed dragon riding with her sisters or walking the mountains with the Velaryon boys, Aemond and Aegon joined her without tell.

Daemon watched time pass through his daughter's eyes and he shook his head. "Do you truly believe they love you?"

"W-why would you...?" Saela couldn't lift her head.

Were all the times she spent dancing, embroidering, reading, sleeping, and playing with Helaena and Alicent a lie? No. They love me. Helaena and Alicent replaced the times she lost with her sisters and mother.

And Aemond. O, the prince was her shield from days she remembered horror times. He was the saving hand that pulled her from nightmares--when she lost her mother and the brother she never got to know. He shielded her from nightmares and dances of attitudes. Aemond was still the boy she found in the library in Driftmark that would listen to her ramble--still the boy that protected her mind from thoughts of darkness and doom.

Aemond was the bed her tightened heart and head could explode on.

"I...I..."

"What, Saela?" Daemon narrowed his eyes. Past the tears, tear stains, and messy hair, he could see growing fires in his daughter's eyes. They were flames of resolve and passion. They were flames he had to snuff out. "Don't you say--"

"I love him, father. I love Aemond and you cannot do a thing about it."

She said it. Silence fell between the pair. A mixture of sneer and grin crossed Daemon's face. It resembled a dragon's smile before it devoured its prey. The look on her father's face revealed the rage he didn't shame himself in hiding. Saela caught the lighting of a wildfire when she caught her breath. It was too late.

"I...no..."

Saela felt her heart beat slower and slower. I said it and Daemon waited for me. Her body didn't realize it shook in the presence of dragon's flames. She shook her head before she could say another word.

"You love fucking Aemond Targaryen?" Saela jumped at the tone of her father's voice. "Why? Because he's your cousin? Because he fucks you in the garden for everyone to see?"

He saw. The girl's stomach dropped. Everything she's done in the past years to perfect her secret were ruined once her family came back into her life. The shell Alicent crafted around her, for her, as a second mother, cracked with every yell Daemon released. Then something festered within her. A toil of anger and resentment. How dare he lie to me? Her life was perfect. Walks with her cousins were always lovely. Long walks with her uncle where they talked about everything he could remember filled her life's missing gaps. Only now that her sisters, father, and step-brothers enter her home, her life, everything she's created is slowly come to ruin.

"Tolī mirre eman gaomagon..."

Saela closed her eyes with a long sigh. Her hands covered her face as she shook her head. Daemon stepped closer to hear her words, but she side-stepped him to pace her room.

After all I have done.

"What?" Daemon cocked a brow. His shoulders twitched.

"So now you care about me? Now, after all these years, you think to care about what I'm doing or who I'm with."

As Daemon peered over his daughter, he lost sight of her. Yes, she stood in front of him, but she wasn't crying or apologizing like she always would have. This wasn't the Saela who would wipe her face and vow to never disobey her father again. No, the woman in front of him bore tears of anger. The previous knot between her brows fell and she stood tall to match his height.

"In this house, these people were the only ones to stand by my side. I know they care about me--"

"I am your father, Saela. I know they don't care about you--"

"Shut up!" The girl screamed in defiance. It was a child's way of building their truth, but as an adult, Daemon could crush it. He saw the plans in her mind race when she shook a hand.

"I said not a word when you married Rhaenyra. I said not a word when you took in Jace and Luke and Joffrey as your own. I was the nice daughter and accepted them as my brothers."

"This has nothing to do with--"

"I said nothing when Rhaena cried to me saying you ignore her! I said nothing when--"

"You are not listening, Saela!" Daemon marched forward. His chest bumped the woman back, but she didn't stumble.

"I didn't say anything after mother died and you married her--"

"He is your cousin!"

"And she is your niece!" Saela screamed. Sweat crawled across their skin in the room. Be it fatigue, wine from earlier hitting them, or unresolved tensions from the years, neither Daemon nor Saela took a step back.

"Have we not fulfilled our family's fucked-up customs?" Daemon lowered his chin at the exasperated sigh. He leaned his head forward so his eyes could level Saela's wide stare back at him. Her body didn't shake anymore and if he didn't seethe in a cloud of anger, would have admired his daughter for the strength she carried. "You settle your cock deep into your niece's cunt while I warm up by cousin's bed. We are pure-blooded Targaryens, father--"

"Shut your mouth."

Daemon hadn't raised his voice, but the bass of his tone silenced Saela. Her mouth wavered shut, but her eyes burned with thousands of unsaid words. A scratching quiet surrounded the pair, forcing them for words. The crackling of the heat had died in comparison to their ferocity.

Saela cracked an odd smile before she bowed her head. When she looked up, it didn't reach her eyes for miles.

"Was she not eight-and-ten when you claimed her in a brothel?"

Red burned in Daemon's eyes. All he saw was blood rushing through his vision.

"Aemond had the dignity of a man to fuck me lovingly in his chambers."

Daemon's blood boiled higher than any power. No wine or ocean could muddle or cleanse his brain. HIs mind didn't react to his body moving across the cold floor. The prince's eyes were nothing but drops of black as they stared down at Saela choking. His grip around her throat was loose enough for her to breath freely but tight enough his fingers brushed each other around her neck. His other hand was raised but frozen in the air.

When Daemon blinked next, Saela was crying and his hands dropped without question. In front of her was a dragon, not a man. Heat of dragon's flame burned around her neck so much, she cringed at the burn, then laughed.

What stood before Daemon wasn't his daughter. It was a creature from another world. Possessed, a Maester would say. Magic, a skeptic would claim. This is not Saela. Daemon's brow fell, his heart dropped, and corners of his mouth ached. His daughter that would laugh at his failed jokes and dance with her sisters whenever she could was gone. The person before him had her face, but not her soul.

"You are no more clean than I am, father."

In slow waves, the girl walked away. Backward steps forced him to watch her face morph from laughing to a blank slate. Step. Step. Step. Her hands braced each furniture she bumped into, but she never turned away. Slowly, slowly, creepily, Saela's face turned again and Daemon could see her return. The dying flames calmed her mind to understand the madness she unleashed in her chambers. The wandering of her eyes and quick rise of her chest simmered whatever heat and anger she reached for. Before she could fall onto the couch, Saela whipped around to wipe her face.

It was now Daemon remembered he was a father. Her father.

"Who is Ilaena?"

Saela stopped short of the door. Daemon let his arms hang by his sides after relaxing his shoulders. He hadn't realized the knot he forced his body in until he felt like melting into a pool of body mass. Daemon asked again when silence was delivered with his daughter's back.

"A-a friend." Saela drew back snot.

The lie was a thick as a morning yawn. Daemon heard the gasp she let out when he spoke the name and could hear the hesitance Saela spoke with.

"Iksan aōha kepa." I am your father.

A reminder to them. Second by second, Daemon's voice warmed to the tone he always spoke to her with. It was like the dragon from before never existed, never threatened her. He spoke like he was never disgusted by her.

“I am a father and husband, Saela. Who is--"

"Some call her a whore." The little voice trembled. It was muffled between Saela's frame and the thick doors, but it bounced to Daemon's ears.

"The Lannister's say the vow to Rhaenyra wasn't made by them...House Wylde would suck a man's cock if anything..."

Saela sniffled, but the end of her words hinted at a laugh. Her voice no longer had the edge from earlier--the venomous bite Daemon worried he would catch. It resembled the call of a small child who raced for her father. The girl reached up as she spoke, but could never reach the hand that pulled back from her.

"But it's Otto who, who masters everything."

The heavy chamber doors slammed behind Saela after her confession, leaving Daemon in her cold chambers. In the dim silence, his body melted to the floor. The girl he hugged tightly years ago that one fateful night was unrecognizable just now. The sweet child he sent instructions and guides became something he never imagined. Saela became a soldier--a woman obedient to order, instruction, and command. She now joined the war that consumed their family but Daemon wasn't sure which side she fought for.

His Sweet Saela was a girl no more, but a woman cracked, and soldier worn.

Taglist: @malfoycassimalfoy

[letaot-ze-magniv]

Infodump on birds in Israel? 👁️👁️ Pls go on

General guide to birds in Israel

This post is going to be very long

Level 1- really common ones

Hooded crow/o-rev a-for (gray crow)

These big boys are the most common birds in Israel. You can find them everywhere, especially in urban areas. They’re quite big, the average crow is 40-50 cm long with a wingspan of 1m. (That’s bigger then a pigeon).

Like all corvids, they are incredibly intelligent. They have an excellent memory, can recognise specific humans and pass on information through generations. They are fond of shiny things, have funerals, an understanding of games and a justice system. They can use tools and have a taste for peanuts and grapes.

Laughing dove/tzo-tze-let/yo-na

These are the second most common birds in Israel, and they’re also an invasive species. The vast majority of people call them “yona” and if you say “tzotzelet wont know what you mean. You can find them everywhere, especially in cities.

This is an invasive species, and is commonly thought of as the first invasive species in Israel. It was brought over by Muslims during the Ottoman occupation and has lived here since.

Domestic pigeon/yo-nat ha-Ba-it (house dove)/yo-na

Like the tzotzelet, most people call this bird “yona” too. That leads to the misconception that they’re the same species and confusion between the two. This pigeon is also extremely common, and you can find it in all urban spaces in Israel.

Feathering mutations are widespread among domestic pigeons, and they can also look like this:

House Sparrows/ dror ha-ba-it/dror

On the left, a female, on the right is a male. This birds are tiny and common and very cute. Can be found in all areas of Israel. They like eating small seeds and bugs, and you can feed them bread.

Monk parakeet/ tu-ki ne-zi-ri (commonly known as tu-ki)

They’re green, adorable, can speak, and you guessed it, are invasive! Like the maynas, monk parakeets were introduced to Israel in the 90s after they escaped the Tzafari. You can find them in all parts of Israel except the Negev, and they’re especially common in Tel aviv and it’s neighbouring cities. Monk parakeets are often confused with rose-ringed parakeets as they’re the only green birds in Israel.

Rose ringed parakeets/da-ra-ra

Above is the male, below is the female. Like monk parakeets, dararas are also an invasive species. I thought they were introduced in the 90s, but apparently they were introduced in the 1860s because they were kept as pets. Like monk parakeets, they can be found in all areas of Israel that aren’t deserts. It’s hard to tell them apart from monk parakeets if you can’t see their chests.

Eurasian Jackdaw/kak

Yet another corvid! Like all other corvids, jackdaws are extremely intelligent, have an understanding of death, can use tools, and so on. Jackdaws are unique in that they also have an understanding of monogamy and privacy around mating! They prefer to mate away from their murder (is murder what you call a flock of any corvid or is that exclusive to ravens?) and they also kill their ill. They can be found in all areas hooded crows are, but aren’t as common. Its possible to confuse them for a hooded crow, but they’re smaller and darker.

Hopoe/du-khi-fat

This lil girl isn’t extremely common, but it’s the national bird and is adorable so I HAD to include it. Hopoes tend to live near sources of water, and you can find them in coastal areas. There used to be more of them but sadly deforestation and invasive species hurt the population. They have a floofy feather thingy on their head that they can open and close and that’s adorable!

I’ll make a part 2 now about somewhat uncommon birds

If anyone is interested in learning more about the birds of Israel, I highly recommend אתר הצפרות הישראלי. They have detailed descriptions of the birds, they include scientific Hebrew and Arabic names, they have a map that shows you how common each bird is in what part of Israel, AND THEY HAVE RECORDINGS OF THE BIRD CALLS

They also have a page for every bird that was ever spotted in Israel, even if it was only once. Don’t ask me what they define as Israel, because I’ve wondered about it too and I don’t know

[sentient-stove]

Wing hcs for the seven (+reyna and nico). Because I got bored and they should have wings.

Jason- Swan. Specifically the wings of a trumpeter swan. Large, majestic, maybe a little tragic, pure white and just benefiting of a son of Jupiter and praetor of the legion. He probably spends hours after battle grooming the blood/monster dust/dirt out of them and it’s one hell of a self soothing habit by that point.

Piper- White-Tailed Kite. She’s probably the fastest of the seven, constantly has people asking if she’s got dove wings and it’s lowkey grating on her nerves. It’s a kite, not a glorified pigeon thank you very much. Her and Jason will take turns grooming each other’s feathers though, and it’s lovely bonding time for them both.

Leo- Common Raven. Either signifying knowledge/innovation or the burden of being omened by death, your choice. Who am I kidding, he definitely sees them as bad luck. Clipped on one side from a foster home or possibly when he had a runaway attempt from wilderness camp. Rarely has them out, and stress tears out his own feathers.

Annabeth- Barn Swallow. Kind of plain, but she just lies half the time and says that she’s got owl feathers. Post Mark of Athena, she’s more proud of them and her place among her peers with more exotic wings. Also Percy’s the only person with blanket permission to touch and groom her feathers. Also has a stress tearing issue, but her siblings and partner are good at catching her before she can damage herself too badly.

Percy- Common Kingfisher. Still good for flight, but also allows him to dive and hit the water without worrying about not being able to surface afterwards due to being waterlogged. Bit redundant since he can dry himself off anyway thanks to Poseidon powers but the point still stands. Plus, they’re blue and he’s absolutely chuffed that they are.

Frank- *insert american bald eagle jokes* jkjk. Red-Tailed Hawk. Although he didn’t get his adult feathers until he unlocked his shapeshifter abilities and matured there. He can also change his wings to different ones when he concentrates but it always feels a touch off, so he sticks with the wings he was born with.

Hazel- Golden-Winged Sunbird. Pretty! Unique! Gave her a lot of shit for it in her first life because of course the cursed girl with the death jewels had gold wings. She’s gotten alot more comfortable with having them since meeting Frank and Nico though.

Bonus!

Reyna- Hispanionlan Amazon. Yes, the green clashes with the purple of her praetor cloak. No, that will not stop her from still wearing it. Her and Hylla’s wings match, although Hylla dyes her feathers black in an attempt to seem more intimidating. Reyna tried once and decided that she preferred the original coloring of her wings.

Nico- Cinereous Vulture. Go look up photos, trust me. Absolute wet cat of a bird. Plus honor and respect in death, and like a vulture, Nico is also a scavenger. His wings are missing feathers from neglecting to groom them + the amount of time he’s spent nomadic. Living at camp full time is helping with the feather regrowth however.

[nerdieforpedro]

Becoming Little Dove

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Taking a ferry to the island of Mykonos leads to a discovery of the tourist variety and some of the carnal variety.

Warnings: wonderlust, following sexy strangers, implied sexual activity, thruple?, notes, expectations

Word Count: just under 800

Notes: So a spin off of the Secret Springs? Or maybe something that brought back to the Springs? This little fic is thanks to this ask from @secretelephanttattoo and maybe somewhere @frenchiereading may or may not have gone. 👀 Also I’ve been thinking about Oberyn and Ellaria a lot, so here we are.

Main Masterlist/ Oberyn Martell Masterlist / Secret Springs Masterlist/ AO3 Link

The strong breeze as you overlook the clear blue waters has you squinting to try and see any fish that might be swimming. With the ferry traveling toward Mykonos, you’re excited to visit the island and see more of the waters, architecture, put your feet in the sand, try some local food and figure out what else you can do.

Stepping off the ferry, you follow the crowd as all of you form lines to exit the ferry and descend upon the island. You’re a bit slower to do so, taking in the sights and sounds. The fresh salt air has you inhale deeply and close your eyes, just for a moment. When you open your eyes, a tall gentleman wearing a white tunic with matching white linen pants and navy blue boat shoes. The ends of his sleeves and hem of his pants have an alternating dark and powder blue to them that would look silly on anyone else. He wears it with such confidence and offers you a hand, the grin he bears is mischievous like he has many a secret he’s waiting for you to earn the tale behind. The man’s chocolate brown eyes invite with their warmth.

Greetings are exchanged and you put your hand in his. Only after following him along and between unnamed streets. Greeting various people he knows, eating foods that you aren’t sure that either of you paid for and snapping postures among the majestic alabaster white of the buildings does it dawn on you to ask the man’s name. He didn’t ask for yours either, beckoning you along through gentle caresses and pulls on your hand or arm.

The entire day was spent exploring that you hadn’t figured out which direction your accommodations were. The stranger chuckles and ruffles his shirt chestnut hair before cupping your face and bringing you to one of the many buildings built in the mountains on the island. A woman in similar white garb as him greets you both at the door. She gave a stern look for a moment but softened when she laid her eyes on you, bringing you into a tight hug. Oberyn, as she called him, received a quick peck on the lips from her. Your heart sinks for a moment as you might have thought there was a spark between the two of you. The raven-haired woman makes not of your despondent face and giggles, patting your cheek and putting her soft lips to yours.

“Now, now, no need to be disappointed on your first day here. Your journey is just beginning on the cerulean waters. My prince brought you here because he sees something within you we want to draw out. Come inside won’t you?” Ellaria Sand is the name you learn to call her later.

The sheets that the three of you lay on each night are a deep sapphire that contrasts with your collective tangled limbs for the week long bodily odyssey.

It was a curious adventure away from the Secret Springs and when you return to your resort with a magnet that spells out “Greece” it reminds you of the colors you first saw Oberyn and Ellaria in. There’s an open invitation to return as they enjoyed your company greatly.

Maybe you’ll be back on that ferry sooner than you thought to drown in their depths once more.

When you arrive back to your room, there’s a white and blue card with yellow writing, a small sun in the upper left corner and two snakes on either side of the signature on your bed:

We hope you made it back to your room safely, little dove. Ellaria and I reveled in your company and look forward to doing so again.

If you’re open to the three of us making a splendid mess of your private chambers, call the number at the bottom of the card.

The Red Viper and his Solar Guide

After taking a shower and changing into something a bit more comfortable, you dial the number and sit on the bed to inform them of your choice. Venturing out, getting something to eat and bringing back bottled water to the room in preparation and hydration is key.

In the evening, the knock at your door excites you and you’re greeted with Oberyn wearing his signature gold and Ellaria doing the same. He holds several bottles of oils and a spirit or two for later libations. Ellaria carries silk ribbons which she’ll use to bind both you and Oberyn with.

Your room will be thoroughly used and all of its surfaces claimed as the three of you explore each other once more.

Such can be the nature of the springs and the islands if you let them. Wild. Wonderful and quite wet.

Wanderers of the island 🏝️: @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @avastrasposts

@jessthebaker @bitchwitch1981 @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent @tinytinymenace

@connectioneverywhere @lotusbxtch @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @magpiepills

@604to647 @for-a-longlongtime @goodwithcheese @sin-djarin @djarinmuse

@undercoverpena-fics @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @spacecowboyhotch @kilamonster

@fhatbhabiee @bluestar22x @bishtrouille @soft-girl-musings @yorksgirl

@guelyury

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ "Come, Mulkhêrînim, and do not be shy. The Elf-prince is yours to use tonight, for this is how the Lord rewards his loyal subjects." ❞

⊱ Prompt: Pillory/stocks, free use ⊱ Pairing: Númenórean cultists x Maglor, Mairon ⊱ Synopsis: Mairon captures Maglor and brings him to the Temple of Melkor as a gift to his loyal followers. ⊱ Featuring: The Cult of Melkor is also a deranged sex cult now because Mairon said so, references to past Angbang ⊱ Warnings: Non-con, ritualistic gang rape, sadism & voyeurism (on Mairon's part in particular), the prompts by themselves

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December; we're nearing the end (one more regular chapter that I have already written plus a bonus fic I'm currently working on).

Mulkhêrînim - (Adûnaic) - Children of Melkor. Thought it would be a lovely way for Mairon to address them like that as an ultimate affront against Eru. Translation by me with the help of this dictionary (because in the Tolkien fandom even the nasty porn needs linguistics!)

"I have a special gift for you today, oh faithful Mulkhêrînim." 

His loyal cultists mumbled among themselves when Mairon presented them with the exquisite treat he had captured. 

At first glance, it appeared to be yet another captive, like the innumerable amount he had caught in the service of his lord – a dark-haired man, albeit handsome by incarnate standards, was kneeling on the dais in front of the altar, his head and hands secured by a hastily erected pillory, naked save for a flimsy loin cloth. 

The more perceptive among Mairon's followers, however, had already noticed what made this one special: The pair of pointed ears sticking out from the mess that was his hair, almost defiantly announcing his identity as one of Ilúvatar's immortal children. 

"Is that an Elf?" one of the cultists gasped, pointing at the helpless prisoner. 

"Indeed it is, very good," Mairon purred and stood next to the Elf in question to almost tenderly pull his hair out of the way to show them off. "But not any Elf; I have captured one of royal blood." 

The whispering among his followers intensified, and he savoured the tension before the anxiously awaited revelation. 

"Meet Prince Makalaurë, also known as Maglor, the last living son of Fëanor!"

Laughing and jeering erupted from the crowd, their faces changing from curious to ravenous within seconds. Maglor, however, remained quiet, merely pressing his lips together and hardening his gaze. 

I suppose his dear brother told him what happens to those who talk back, Mairon thought with a pleased smirk. 

"Our minstrel's lonely wanderings have finally come to an end, so that he may grace us with his presence instead," he declared with a grand gesture, smugness bleeding into his tone like black ink dripping into water. 

"Will he be a sacrifice to the Lord?" a younger cultist asked. 

Mairon laughed. Oh, Melkor would be delighted to witness this scene; he could practically hear his gleeful laughter echoing through the temple from beyond the circles of the world, could see his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, could feel his joy – but he swiftly tore himself away from his memories and imagination, lest he be distracted for too long. 

"Perhaps he will be in time," he drawled, "though for now he shall serve you." 

His mortal followers, while loyal and so very eager to attain the immortality he had promised, didn't seem to grasp the meaning of his words, looking up at him expectantly. None had the courage to ask. Mairon suppressed a sigh of exasperation and the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and stepped aside so they could properly admire Maglor's scantily clad form.

"Have you never dreamed of getting a taste of what we will conquer? Of enjoying the pleasures of immortal flesh?" He chuckled. "Such rare blood is too precious to spill with haste, would you not agree? After all..." 

In one swift movement, Mairon raked his claw-like golden nails down Maglor's back, drawing blood and eliciting a piercing scream. 

"He has such a beautiful voice, for which he is renowned to this day. What a waste it would be to not enjoy his illustrious company..." 

Murmurs of agreement rose within the crowd, and a few cultists came closer, looking up at their high priest as they waited for permission. Mairon stepped back to make space for his followers and beckoned them with an elegant wave of his hands, causing the golden bangles on his arm to clink and tinkle. 

"Come, Mulkhêrînim, and do not be shy. The Elf-prince is yours to use tonight, for this is how the Lord rewards his loyal subjects." 

A heady mix of lust and greed filled the room, and he inhaled it eagerly, a warm shudder going through him. He was going to enjoy this spectacle greatly. 

Had he caught any other Elf, he would have to be worried that their fëa would all too soon flee to Mandos, unable to endure such violation, but the Fëanorion's ill-fated oath would keep him chained to his hröa. 

Robes billowing behind him as if moved by an unseen tempest of malice, Mairon strutted around the altar and leapt onto the lap of Melkor's statue with feline grace, taking a seat like a king would sit on a throne. 

"Do you see that, precious? Almost like home," he whispered to the statue and pressed a reverent kiss onto the cold marble hand, exactly where his ring would have been. 

Maglor didn't scream when his loin cloth was torn off him, nor when greedy hands explored his body and fondled him like a common whore. He didn't grace his captors with any pleas or protests. Only when one cultist knelt behind him and forced his cock inside, he finally cried out. 

Mairon smiled. Awaken their lust, and they are reduced to mere animals, as you taught me yourself. 

The scene unfolding in front of him was chaotic, erratic and filthy, just like Melkor would have loved it. The Man's coupling with their Elven captive was frenzied and hasty, gripping his hips with his knuckles white, chasing his pleasure. Maglor himself was soon silenced – in spite of his wonderful voice and the lovely sound of his screams – by another cultist forcing his mouth open to shove his cock down his throat.

"Let's see what else he can do with that talented tongue of his," another commented on the act, followed by raucous laughter. 

Mairon considered chastising them for not appreciating the beauty of a voice trembling with pain and despair, but instead kept a serene expression as if it had been an amusing statement. He couldn't quite fault them for it; after all, mortals were ever so impatient, and their new toy had many of them to satisfy. 

Whenever one finished inside of him, another would take their place. A young initiate was sent to retrieve some oil for additional lubrication and returned with a pitcher containing the very same sacred oil that was used in their ritual sacrifices – another thing too entertaining to be irked by, and thus Mairon remained silent, smiling and nodding along whenever one of his followers looked up at him for encouragement. 

"Let us see if they can break him, precious," he whispered to the statue. 

Maglor's head hung low whenever no one held it in place, though he had little room to move. The pillory kept him upright even as knees gave in, and seed had begun leaking out of him and down his thighs. Mairon was delighted to see droplets of red marring creamy white and caught the distinct scent of blood. Still, it didn't stop his followers from using their new toy like wild beasts mounting one another during mating season. Some also opted to help themselves before or after their turn, spilling onto whichever part of Maglor they could reach. 

Mairon hadn't paid attention to the passage of time, but he estimated a few hours had passed when they were finally done with the Noldorin prince, readjusting their robes and withdrawing from him while glancing up at their master. Abandoning his comfortable seat on the statue – though most unwillingly – he stepped closer to survey the results. 

Despite no longer being gagged, Maglor was eerily silent. His entire form was stained with viscous white, his face in particular, his lips were swollen, his legs trembling, his hole loose and leaking. 

Mairon graced his followers with a bright, pleased smile as if they had done him a great kindness and placed his fingertips together. 

"Well done, Mulkhêrînim. Our Lord shall look down upon you with benevolence and grant his favour to those who stand against his enemies." 

Maglor let out a small snort, yet the spark of rebellion was short-lived when Mairon backhanded him across the face with graceful elegance that belied the force of his blow. 

"Now take our guest to the King's dungeons and make accommodations worthy of a prince." 

The sweet smile on his face then twisted, showing sharp teeth, and his voice darkened as he added, "And make sure he cannot escape, lest you wish to invoke our Lord's wrath." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[wackapedia]

Nothing Is Ever Enough

Aemond Targaryen X Reader It's been a week since your ship was lost at sea. Aemond hasn't gotten a peaceful wink of sleep since then. He is afraid, and no god nor man can help him. Wordcount: 1,124 Warnings: flashbacks in italics, mentions of death, a ghost, a corpse, cheating allegations (which are false!) brought to you by Larys Strong

Aemond sighs, turning over in his large bed, tangled among the clean white sheets. He can no longer smell your scent from your used pillows. He's been tussling over for hours, counting down the minutes until sunrise to begin another sleepless day without his wife. The room is illuminated by the fireplace and the light ray of moonlight seeping through the windows. Aemond faces your side of the bed, a tear rolling down your eye, imagining you there. Sometimes he'd find sleep. And in that sleep came nightmares. The prince's mind would wander, imagining the worst that has happened to you, and then making it even worse, deep in the fragments of his exhausted mind. Aemond had always prided himself on his intelligence, but this time he wished for the bliss of ignorance.

You'd traveled to visit your family across the narrow sea. A large ship armed with guards and furnished with servants to make your trip safe and comfortable. He had a few matters to finish in the Red Keep but he promised to catch up with you on dragonback as soon as he could. Hours dragged on until he eventually found the courage to drop everything to be with you, and that's when the raven came in. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ--------------- "Your grace, we've received a message from the ports of Bluefort that they are ready to receive the princess first thing tomorrow." Ser Criston reads the note in his hand. Aemond hesitates. "Where do you reckon they are now?" "They should be faring halfway in this weather, your grace." And it was all a blur after that. Aemond walks out of the Red Keep to where his dragon was. Vhagar was in a foul mood like her rider. The prince boards the beast anyway and steers him to the path of your ship. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ--------------- He is between sleep and wakefulness when he feels a presence in the room. Your scent, mixed with the smell of salty breeze, and something else. Something he recognizes all too well. "Aemond..." He shuts his eyes tighter, pulling the covers over his silver head. There it is again. "You can't ignore me forever, Aemond." your melodious voice sounds closer. He feels the bed dip behind him, and a cold and ghastly touch caresses his back through the sheets. He's too scared to look. Fearing to see your face and the finality that comes with it. "Enough," Aemond speaks with a voice equally forceful and trembling. Anger and fear. Hate and love. "Please, enough of this torture." A sigh of exasperation leaves your lungs, or what was left of them. Your hand recoils away from him like his skin was dragonfire- a feeling you'll never forget. Aemond swiftly sits up, facing the wrong side of the bed, still refusing to look you in the eye. You're dead, y/n. You've been dead for days. Your ship sunk in the middle of the sea of Taundurn..." his voice solemn, just like how he sounded when he'd read you tales and stories from Old Valyria. When he caresses you gently, when his hands ease on your hair when he lets your head rest on his chest. When he loved and trusted you like you were all that mattered. Until that damned crown. His brother the king had fallen gravely ill almost a year ago. Aemond had to take over kingly duties to the kingdom, sparing you only a few minutes a day. How he regretted that decision. Aemond clutches the edge of the bed. "I saw it, your ship. I flew over it. Vhagar and I- we dove as deep as we could to see the shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. A lie. His voice shifts from pain and guilt to an almost pleading whine. "Is that what you need to pass on?" He tilts his head toward you, not actually looking. Still afraid. "Is that what you needed to hear?" "Is that what you both needed to hear?"  He chuckles, humoring himself. Aemond mulls over it for a few moments before speaking again. "You were with child, right? Was it even mine?" The poisonous whispers still plague Prince Aemond's mind. Lord Larys Strong was always so keen on getting rid of you. You should pay him a visit one of these nights. It was the second Strong son who poisoned the prince regent's thoughts. Making up stories just to ruin your reputation in court. You paid him no mind, you were occupied with matters of the kingdom. But Aemond's pride wouldn't let the story slide. And you were at the receiving end of the fire that came with a dragon's fury. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ--------------- The night before you left, your voice was hoarse. The screaming match that ensued between you and your husband had pressed you between a rock and a hard place. Aemond's unstoppable force meets your immovable resolve. You decide to take time away from the pressures of court and the stress of Aemond handling seven fucking kingdoms, not to mention the disgusting accusation of you possibly carrying someone else's child. You arranged a ship to leave at first light and packed what you could. You did not seek his approval, nor notified him of your departure. Just the slam of heavy doors as you left. It was late in the afternoon when Aemond peeled himself from bed. Criston delivers him a raven, reporting the whereabouts of your ship. He walked a blazing path from your shared quarters to the courtyard, to the outside of the dragonpit. Vhagar was fussy that day, putting up a fight while his rider commanded her to fly. You remember the exact moment hearing the beastly dragon's roar from miles away. You were in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but blue on every horizon. No one else to witness your husband and his dragon catching up to your ship, momentarily darkening the sky above you. For a second you thought he'd apologize and beg you to return. You expected words of love and pleading. Words of affirmation, to fix whatever was broken. But only one word was uttered. Dracarys. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ--------------- Aemond was between sleep and wakefulness when he felt your presence in the room. Your scent, mixed with the smell of salty breeze, and the scent he knew all too well: the stench of burnt wood and flesh. Your figure moves to stand in front of the trembling prince regent. He finally gets a good look at his wife. Her burnt and rotten flesh sags from her bone. Hair dripping with seawater and fluids of death and decomposition. fish-bitten skin and flesh sagging from charred bone. Enough of this torture, he begged. "Nothing is ever enough, Aemond." ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ--------------- A/N: that was such a shitty thing to do, Aemond :<  Thank u for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated since i have trouble with my stuff showing up in the tag 😭

[solarishashernoseinabook]

what fursonas would you assign the rangers apprentice cast?

oh boy. well. i'll do my best

full disclosure. i know very little about furries. the "jesus's fursona is a carpenter ant" thing was a one-off joke based off of his profession. but i'm gonna approach this as "what animal is this character like", and try to work with that

Will - Crow Will is clever, and a prankster, and also loyal, so I made him a Crow. They quite often play with wolves, and play tricks on them, pulling their tails and stealing food from them, but also show loyalty to people who look after them. Crows are highly intelligent, making tools to do what they like, and are skilled mimics - better than parrots. These fit with Will's ability to blend in to any group he finds himself in and his ability to find creative uses for people to do seemingly impossible things. (Ravens do all this too, of course, but crows are significantly smaller than ravens, and a defining trait of Will is his height - or lack thereof).

Halt - Wolf Wolves have reputations as solitary, independent creatures (think of how "lone wolves" are spoken about as though they're cool creatures even though we know they tend to live in packs), and also strike people as quite scary. In truth, wolves live in extended family groups, male wolves make good and protective fathers, and they tend to avoid people. Plus everybody mistakes certain dog breeds for wolves, and Halt has his identity consistently questioned by people who expect the legendary ranger to be someone much different.

Horace - Horse Gonna be honest, I was pretty torn between this and dog, but I went with horse. People often don't expect much of horses, and they're not known for their intelligence like dogs are. But horses are very dependable, do what they're trained to do very well, and can absolutely fuck you up if you get on the wrong side of their hooves.

Cassandra - Peregrine Falcon I hummed and hawed over this one, but peregrines fit Cassandra's vibe best. All birds of prey have a certain regal air to them, but peregrines are well-known for being highly effective hunters, dive-bombing their prey to snatch them in their talons, and I think that parallels Cassandra's use of a sling quite well.

Alyss - Swan Couriers in Araluen are known for wearing long white dresses (like swans), and Alyss is frequently described as very graceful. Swans also have a mean streak and can break your arm with their wings, and Alyss showed her mean side plenty of times during the series. Nevertheless, they're very caring parents to their cygnets, paralleling Alyss's willingness to sacrifice herself to save a child.

Pauline - Dove This one's pretty basic. Doves are considered symbols of peace in much of the world - and what better symbol of peace is there than the head of Redmont's diplomatic corps?

George - African Grey Parrot Parrots are well-known for their ability to mimic speech, and African Greys are among the best. Alex, an African Grey studied by Irene Pepperberg, famously asked questions about himself, generated entirely new sentences, and otherwise indicated he understood the words he was saying instead of simply parroting (heh) them back to Pepperberg. Thanks to him, African Grey Parrots are considered some of the most intelligent birds and are thought to have a similar capacity to human toddlers. So, the character who uses his words the best, and speaks at length, is the parrot.

Jenny - Cat Humans may be the only animal that cooks, but cats are still well-known for feeding each other. They over-hunt any area they're in to create a stockpile for cats in a colony who can't hunt as well, or to teach kittens how to hunt. Despite living in these colonies, cats are also quite independent, not adhering to a strict social order like dogs do. Finally, it's commonly accepted that cats basically domesticated themselves (there's more nuance to this, but go with it). Thus, Jenny, who decided who she wanted to be apprenticed to and got herself that spot, who struck out on her own to create her own restaurant, and never met a person she didn't try to feed, is a cat.

[srorgana1]

Invocation

Paring: Vampire Kylo/Hunter Rey

Warnings: Dark Themes (apporaching Dead Dove, you have been warned), Supernatural/Paranormal, Blood, Violence, Gore, Death, NSFW 18+, Sexual Content, Psychological and Physical Torture, Kidnapping, Hatred towards organized religion, Pain, Major/Minor character death/injury, Demonic Possession

Chapter One

“Another” he says as he stares out the frosted window. The goblet is quickly refilled by deft hands. He doesn’t need to look at them to know they have bowed in his direction and scampered away. He sighs as he lifts his glass, allowing the warm liquid to run down his dry throat.

He can feel it working already. The life force rejuvenating his own. He can taste their joys and fears within as he savors it like notes of a fine wine. This man got too close. Wrong place at the wrong time. He had to be taken out not to raise suspicion among the working class. It couldn’t be known he was one of the monsters they feared above all.

He sighed again, placing the empty goblet down and began to pace. He was bored. He undid his tie and placed it on the side of his desk, his phone and tablet alight with notifications and emails. He shook his head, already annoyed at himself for letting his head of household be off for a week.

He paces to the large marble fireplace, the flames warming his cold dead bones. Staring into the fire, he takes off his ring playing with it idly as he tries to think. What has he done wrong to feel this way?

The emptiness is gnawing at him like a disease. He has everything he could ever want. He has enough land and wealth that he doesn't have to lift a finger for at least another 400 years or at least until the current banking system changes again.

But therein lies the problem. If he were any other man he would be content, but his warrior blood calls for action. He can sate it with a hunt or two but it comes back even faster still. He has been stagnant for too long.

He pulls at his long raven locks in frustration. He will not let himself rot in luxury like others he knows. They sit on their various thrones of power, getting fat and lax, wholly consumed by vapid worldly pleasures. He has seen it over and over. They ascent, they indulge, they wallow, they die. Over and over again.

Lucky for those unfortunate souls, they get to move on. He is not so lucky. He was cursed to walk this plane for eternity, never able to move on - forced to watch this miserable world shift and change. He curses himself once again for being so naïve in his youth.

He hears the sound of wood cracking which pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks to see his hand gripping the decorative arm of a Rococo style armchair as it splinters in his grasp.

He lets go and unclenches his other fist. The symbol of his choice and curse glints up at him, unblemished even after being assaulted by his supernatural strength. Placing the ring back on his finger, he sulks to his desk relegating himself to his fate for the evening.

He quickly sends emails and finalizes payroll as the snow falls harder. Even though his castle has all the modern luxuries, he prefers to work like in the old times. The amber light from the candles and fireplace flicker in the darkness as he ignores emails from The Council, delating them instantly. He moves onto his physical mail, surprised to see a letter from a long time associate. His eyes alight as he reads the words.

…There have been rumors within the community of a rise of another Hunter organization. AXS has claimed they have heard of similar disappearances in some of the other affiliated groups but The Council has not confirmed this, but you know how secretive they are. I fear this could be related to recent political changes and the acknowledgement of the existence of our kind…

Interesting. There hasn’t been a legit Hunter organization since the Catholic Church’s last attempt in what was it…16th or 17th century? He smiles at the memory of him and the others infiltrating and taking them down from the inside. He can hear the echoes of the screams and useless prayers as the Devil’s Elite took them out one by one.

Yes, this may be what he was searching for. One last adventure before he relegates himself to the life before him. He rings for his butler for a carafe of his finest Bordeaux as he dips his pen into the inkwell.

Vicrul,

This sounds intriguing. I will prepare to travel to assist in your investigation.

Kylo Ren

He smiles as he focuses, the paper disappearing from his hands as the butler arrives. “Call Huxley to return” he says “I have received a notice that needs attending to.” The man nods as he finishes pouring the wine. “Will do sir”. He can feel something stirring within as he takes a sip. Oh yes, this will be a grand adventure indeed.

[voicelesshatred]

— Alternate Branch 3 :  The Raven Among Doves

Violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume. —Friar Lawrence, Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

It was a mistake. That power had branched farther than intended, perhaps from desperation all things considered. What was to be four became five as a black bird had gotten caught within the torrent. He was not supposed to be there, laying prone within those ruins. The senses reached him once he had awoke in full. It grew, slowly at first: desire... He was to be at the ankles of a goddess, an Intoner. But it was only he and he alone. Desire grew into rage, growing into something twisted. Flickers of white gleamed in his memories. Doves. Them. Had they the fortunes of being with those they should? It would not be long before he claimed a blade and resolved to himself exactly what he would use it for: If he was not blessed with an Intoner, he would simply take from them theirs...

Notes:

Drakengard 3 verse. Caim is a Disciple created, by accident, from a raven instead of a dove by wayward streams of the Flower’s power. Like the others, he bears the strong desire to serve an Intoner. But as he is not with one, he hunts the other disciples to kill them and take their place.

Caim’s speech is limited. He is possibly “voluntarily” mute. The only time he will speak is in order to summon his angel. (more details on said angel to be announced)

More to be added...

[writing-heiress]

Tropes for Bianca

TV Tropes: Bianca Paloma

Animal Motifs: Doves. From the name to the species of avian fae.

Animorphism: She can turn into a dove herself.

Big Beautiful Woman: She’s plus-size & adorable. What more could a man want?

Doves Mean Peace: Quite literally too. Bianca is a dove fae & is known to be the peacekeeper among the headmasters.

Foil:

To Crowley. Appearance, magic, and personality-wise, they are complete opposites. Compared to Crowley, who is not very…liked among Night Raven students and staff, Bianca is very much loved and respected by Charm Garden.

Light is Good: She utilizes light magic and uses it benevolently.

Mama Bear: To all the Charm Garden students, children/stepchildren.

Meaningful Name: Bianca’s name means “white” in Italian and her surname means “dove” in Latin.

Older Than She Looks: She may look like she in her 20s, but Bianca is much older than you think.

Sickeningly Sweethearts: Her and Crowley. Have been told that their love is so sickeningly sweet, you’ll get a toothache just looking at them.

White is Pure: White is her color from her outfits to her magic even.

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @fair-night-starry-tears @the-trinket-witch @the-weirdos-mind @liviavanrouge @ice-cweam-sod4 @queen-of-twisted @yumeko2sevilla @yukii0nna @starry-night-rose @tragedytells-tales

[crowborn666-warriors-ramblings]

Imagine if the clans worshipped/had an alliance with birds.

Like how wolves and ravens will band together, ravens guiding the wolves to carcasses and the wolves sharing the food with the birds. It’s even been seen where ravens will play with wolf pups, and then follow those pups if they leave the pack.

But enough about wolves, let’s talk cats and various bird groups.

Ravens/Crows/Corvids

First off is ravens, crows, and other corvids. Perhaps the cats and corvids have a similar relationship to how wolves and ravens work together! Or perhaps it’s a more distant connection, medicine cats listening to the croaks of these birds for signs, omens, and prophecies from Starclan.

Doves

Next could be doves, these birds often symbolize peace, freedom and/or love. Maybe the clan cats and the doves symbolize a peace in the territories, where doves only show themselves when there’s peace between the clans. The sighting of a dove during war symbolizes an end to the battles in clan culture.

Perhaps there’s a rule in place where no cat should harm or eat a dove, and if caught the cat is punished severely.

Owls

Owls symbolize wisdom, power and spiritual awakening. Perhaps these birds are associated with medicine cats, and are considered Starclan guides or messengers in-between.

Perhaps your clan gives owls the same respect as their own kin, sitting vigil when one passes on and burying the body among the clan’s final resting place.

Waterfowl

If your clan is water-based, then these birds could be a good connection to pick! Ducks, for example, symbolize happiness, good luck, and stability. Perhaps your clan sees the duck/waterfowl migration as a sign of good luck and bountiful seasons.

[outofangband]

Birds of Dorthonion

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Dorthonion was a region north of greater Beleriand. It was a cool region covered in steep slopes, conifer forests and Heath covered highlands. The mountain range Ered Gorgoroth bordered it on the south and above it was the fields of Ard Galen. It was inhabited by the Arafinwëan host following Aegnor and Angrod and later, the human host following Bëor. Nomadic and semi nomadic groups of the northern Sindar and Avari also possibly lived there

As always I included world building notes at the end so it’s not just a list of species

In the conifer forests: black grouse, willow tit, goldcrest, mistle thrush, pine grossbeak, common tree creeper, common redstart, black woodpecker, chiffchaff, coal tit, common raven, crested tit, wood grouse, goshawk, spruce grouse, black throated thrush, pine bunting, boreal owl

The highlands and around Tarn Aeulin: graylag goose, common nightjar, common kestrel, snow crane, hen harrier, tundra swan, horned grebe, common crane, blue duck, water rail, black francolin, northern pintail, velvet scooter, great bittern, pallid harrier, rough legged hawk, little egret, wood lark, corn crane, black necked grebe (migratory), garganey, Merlin

The cliffs and slopes: see see partridge, rock dove, great bustard, long legged buzzard, common quail, black headed bunting, booted eagle, chukard, barred warbler, northern wren, little owl, white throated dipper (near Rivil’s well), black winged kite, steppe eagle, roller

The mountain border: bearded vulture, red fronted serin, black stork, snowcock, horned lark, rock bunting, wallcreeper, blue rock thrush, red kite, peregrine falcon, golden eagle (rare), white wagtail

World building notes:

-The vague images of pine grossbeaks were embroidered on the blankets of Bëorian children using a diluted version of the dyes created from blood madder and coal. The name in Bëorian Taliska translates to pine song bird.

-The Arafinwëan host of Dorthonion as well as some of the Avarin groups hunt with birds of prey which are also used by some of the scouts. Kestrels and Harriers are the most commonly used species. The practice is less common than among the Noldor of Eastern Beleriand however.

-Feathers (usually of peregrine falcons or common kestrels) were also used as a method of communication among Arafinwëan scouts during the times of year where weather would allow for this, left in strategic locations, lodged into the earth or tucked into trees to indicate presence or dangers.

-Eggs of various ground species were eaten by the Bëorian population and there was a practice of burying the eggshells. This was learned from the elves of Ossiriand prior to their settling in Dorthonion.

-Birds eggs appear in Northern Sindar art, in or separate from nests. Though the eggs of certain species have different meanings, they are commonly associated more generally with fragility and defense. Their images may be created through pigments made from certain actual eggshells as well as minerals and plant based dyes. One common motif involves a nest of eggs upon a steep slope or cliff.

-Birds appear throughout Bëorian songs and poems. Most commonly mentioned are the general name for the “fisher birds” (wading and diving birds) seen on and around Tarn Aeulin, as well as several of the smaller songbirds found in the pine forests such as pine grosbeak, tree creepers, and thrushes. After the Bragollach the names for some species became lost or translated differently.

-Also it’s been a headcanon of mine for awhile that Baragund would take Morwen when she was a young child out to the cliffs to watch the birds. He would teach her to identify them by their call. She remembers a lot of them, even as an adult though they are called different names and their habits are often unfamiliar.

[scholar-of-yemdresh]

This Post.

I'm finally doing it! A list of Adult (20s+) Nonbinary/Genderqueer/Transneutral and Trans men rep in SFF books(no romantasy). This will only be limited to main or major characters.

I've not read everything on this list, so some information could be inaccurate or missing e.g I might not know that a character is actually a POC or 40s+. I will also advise to check content warnings because some of the books listed here can get pretty gnarly.

Will occasional be updated

Keys: 🏳️‍⚧️=Trans Author,✊🏾= Author of Colour,🌈=POC,🧓🏾=40s+, ♂️= Trans man , ⚧️= Nonbinary,🎨=Comic

Claude from The Chatelaine by Kat Heartfield ♂️

Tarquin Mercator from The Devoured Worlds by Megan E. o'keefe ♂️

Yari from Master of Poisons by Andrea Hairston ⚧️🧓🏾🌈✊🏾

Sol Katz from Dead Collections by Issac Fellman 🏳️‍⚧️♂️🧓🏾

Rosie from Persephone Station by Stina Leicht ⚧️🧓🏾

Rafe from Viscera by Gabrielle Squailia🏳️‍⚧️♂️

John Wyndham from The Affair of the Mysterious Letter by Alexis Hall 🏳️‍⚧️♂️

Casey Ravel from the Ballad of Perilous Graves by Alex Jennings ♂️🌈✊🏾

Ardent Violet from The Starmetal Symphony by Alex White🏳️‍⚧️⚧️

Gyen Jebi from Phoenix Extravagant by Yoon Ha Lee ⚧️🏳️‍⚧️✊🏾🌈

Shock Pao from Shock Pao by Ren Warom ♂️

Firuz-e Jafari from the Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia 🌈✊🏾🏳️‍⚧️⚧️

Iktan from Between Earth and Sky by Rebecca Roanhorse ⚧️🌈✊🏾

Chih from the Singing Hills Cycle by Nghi Vo ⚧️✊🏾🌈

Brennus from Wolf Among the Wild Hunt by Merc Fenn Wolfmoor ⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

Dex from Monk & Robot by Becky Chambers 🌈(?)⚧️

Anima from In The Watchful City by S. Qiouyi Lu ⚧️🌈✊🏾🏳️‍⚧️

Eolo from The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie ♂️

Ridley from No Gods,No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull 🌈✊🏾♂️

Enae & Qven from Translation State by Ann Leckie⚧️🌈🧓🏾

Penfield R. Henderson, Aiden Chase, Blithe + others from Future Feeling by Joss Lake 🏳️‍⚧️♂️

Ilan from The Faithful Dark by Cate Baumer♂️

Various from The Tensorate by Neon Yang 🏳️‍⚧️✊🏾🌈⚧️♂️

Alex Easton from What Moves the Dead by T.Kingfisher⚧️

Edie from Hammajang Luck by Makana Yamamoto⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🌈✊🏾

Nameless Man from The Four Profound Weaves by R.B. Lemberg🌈🏳️‍⚧️♂️🧓🏾

Arén from A Promise Broken by S.L. Dove Cooper♂️

Erígra Lilún from The Unbalancing by R.B. Lemberg 🏳️‍⚧️⚧️

Claire|Claude from Baker Thief by Claudie Arseneault ⚧️

Dianthus from The Fate of by J.E. Lynn ⚧️

Asa from The Forgotten Lyric by Carolina Cruz⚧️🌈

Sal Hernandez from It Took Luke by Mark Bouchard & Bayleigh Underwood 🎨⚧️🌈🏳️‍⚧️

MCs from Time Will Devour His Children by Otava Heikkila🎨🏳️‍⚧️♂️🧓🏾🌈

Jonah from Dominion of Blades by Matt Dinniman♂️

Tet Sang from The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho♂️or⚧️🌈✊🏾

Marcus from Lesser Known Monsters by Rory Michaelson♂️🌈

Scorn from Emergent Properties⚧️

Misery Nomaki from The Genesis of Misery by Neon Yang✊🏾🏳️‍⚧️🌈⚧️

Taigan from The Worldbreaker Saga by Kameron Hurley⚧️🌈

Leiander from The Stones Stay Silent by Danny Ride♂️🏳️‍⚧️

The Plauge Doctor from The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw⚧️🏳️‍⚧️✊🏾

Aleph Null from Test by Christopher Sebela & Jen Hickman🎨⚧️

Joel Lodowick from My Heart Is Human by Reese Hogan🏳️‍⚧️♂️

Jules from Finna by Nino Cipri 🌈⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

Dax from Shatter Minds by L.R Lam🌈♂️

Scout from The Last Gifts of the Universe by Riley August⚧️

Avery Ryu from Dead Space by Kali Wallace🌈⚧️

[mymiraclebox]

Miracle Boxes - The True Generation

These are the second iteration of the Miracle Boxes, and the generation that lasted the longest, stretching out for several thousand years. The Miraculouses within these boxes are very similar to the generation before, save for many kwamis of the Mage Box being divided out among the other boxes of the world, and the Mage Box being hidden away as the Secret Box.

During this time kwamis were free to chose their own holders, and spent more time out in the world than in their Miracle Boxes. Guardians were protectors of kwamis in their dormant state, but were not wardens of them. Kwamis would often travel far from their boxes and across the world, acting as protectors where they felt they were needed.

---

Secret Box - Hidden Panda Crow Unicorn

Successor Box - Central Asia Ladybug Black Cat Qilin Frog Bee Butterfly Fox Peacock Swan Turtle

Island Box - Oceania Wolf Platypus Pterosaur Tuatara Binturong Blackbuck Coral Kangaroo Komodo Thylacine

Zodiac Box - East Asia Dragon Cobra Rabbit Dog Goat Horse Monkey Mouse Ox Pig Rooster Tiger

Perennial Box - North America Thunderbird Bear Beaver Cougar Deer Goose Otter Owl Rattlesnake Raven Salmon Woodpecker

Central Box - Central America Firefly Raccoon Feathered Serpent Spider Axolotl Bison Coyote Eagle Falcon Parrot Shark

Tropical Box - South America Grim Snail Crocodile Dolphin Isopod Jaguar Jellyfish Llama Locust Moth

Jungle Box - Southern Africa Dinosaur Penguin Elephant Gorilla Okapi Jackal Ray Rhinoceros Squirrel Zebra

Desert Box - Northern Africa Griffin Dragonfly Camel Chameleon Cheetah Giraffe Hippopotamus Hyena Ostrich Secretarybird

Constellation Box - Southern Europe Kelpie Aurochs Ant Crab Dove Gecko Hedgehog Ibex Lion Mouflon Scorpion Seahorse

Arctic Box - Northern Europe Phoenix Lynx Moose Narwhal Octopus Polar Bear Seal Sheep Stoat Wolverine

Mountain Box - South Asia Yeti Red Panda Bat Elk Pangolin Quail Scarab Snow Leopard Tortoise Vulture

---

The True Generation came to an end with the start of the Miraculous War, with the rise of what became known as the Order of the Guardians.

---

The Mage Generation of Miracle Boxes

The Order Generation of Miracle Boxes [TBA]