#raven among doves

[dayurno]

raven jeremy au scene titles the odyssey

[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.】

[dayurno]

THANK U FOR UNDERSTANDING MY BIRD KEVIN REBLOG!!!! :3

YOU WERE SPEAKING TRUTHS!! something about thin-boned revelations and soft-tendriled feathers… skittish little guy too big for his body but learning to take up space for no reason other than he’s alive…

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 1

Idk when I started this. Pretty sure it was 2+ years ago...ANYWAY! Buckle up kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Premise: The lion makes a pass at some questionable prey

Words: 2,093

Music Inspirations: Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

~~~Into the Lion's Den~~~

               Heels click across the grounds of Night Raven College. Cool evening air makes for a lovely night, the glowing castle majestic against the deep sky. What could be a pleasant event is tempered by the gawping of others. It’s not entirely unexpected, but perhaps this vexation would be lessened if the man I was here for was actually with me. Yet he’s disappeared to who-knows-where, as he often does when we’re expected to be seen together.

               Like the piercing of an arrow, I feel a burning gaze. Of course I’m being watched—I always am in public—but these sights are closely trained.

               “Is something wrong, your highness?” asks the argent retainer.

               Atop one of the castle balconies I find the observer. Heavy eyelids fail to mask those striking green eyes. They’re very different from the man I know despite sharing a similar color. Ire and disgust glow bright, but deeper still lies something else.

               Blinking, I look ahead. “No, just admiring the scenery.”

               My venture into the castle remains unimpeded though full of unwanted attention. Today is “family day” at Night Raven College, thus families from across Twisted Wonderland have gathered to celebrate their children. However, with prior duties requiring attention, I’m the only visitor from my home meant to endure this silly gathering at this silly school for such silly reasons. There’s not much to be done about it though, so I’d best play my part.

               If only he’d make it easy for me.

               Many guests are already within the ballroom. To my surprise, he stands among them, chatting with another student. What makes matters even more strange is that smile. I can’t restrain the purse of my lips.

               As I approach, his chartreuse eyes spy me. And that smile slips.

               “There you are.”

               My tongue remains in check. This is nothing new. Instead, my greeting comes with a small curtsy. “My liege. It’s good to see you again.”

               My comment goes unacknowledged. In fact, his attention immediately returns to the human. This is perhaps the first time I’ve seen his eyes spark as he becomes fully engrossed in the conversation.

               The guard leaves me to the company of the prince and his friend. I put on my best air of being attentive despite being majorly excluded. My irritation is short lived, however, as that predatory gaze crawls over me once again. It proves to be unusually distracting as I attempt to remain present in the discussion before me.

               Between the negligence and unsolicited staring, the frustration become insufferable. Though I announce my intention to step away, it falls on deaf ears so I take my leave regardless.

               Outside the ballroom doors are the steps leading to the upper balconies, perfectly deserted with everyone invested in the gathering. Trailing the banister, I peer down at the crowd, breathing forcefully steady to subdue the boiling. When I finally pause, the ebony railing gives me the perfect perch from which to view the entire room below, including those that disregard me.

               My grip on the railing tightens.

               “What a shame.”

               Dousing the fury, I cling to a stoic expression as I turn back. There stands my predator, the second prince of the Sunset Savanna.

               “Prince Leona Kingscholar,” I say curtly.

               He tips a finger off the top of his head in return. “Not enjoying this little soiree, your highness?” The way ‘your highness’ oozes from his mouth with smarmy conceit feels like claws skimming my spine.

               “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” It’s such a blatant lie and we both know it. Still, for appearance’s sake, I speak it. “This gathering is lovely. I’m glad the prince has found someplace that entertains him.”

               “Oh, he’s entertained alright,” Leona speaks, strolling closer to lean over the banister. “And he’s here—every minute ­of every day—because he’d rather spend his time among commonfolk than back in Briar Valley with his fiancé.”

               Tension sneaks into my muscles, my gaze glued to the fae conversing with the meekest little mortal in the entire school. “Time among man is fleeting. And it appears he’s made friends.”

               “Friends he smiles at for real.”

               As if on cue, the dragon twists my heart.

               “He doesn’t look at you like that, does he,” the lion purrs in my ear.

               I realize in that moment that he’s stepped behind me, hands on the rail on either side. Sultry, citrus spice wafts over me, the warmth of his chest flush against my back. Whispers of the jealous prince replay in my ears of scorn since the day of his birth.

               “Why are you doing this?” I already know.

               Honeyed lies drip from his tongue. “Because you deserve better. A stunning treasure like you deserves to be looked at and lauded over others.” Gentle fingers trail my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You should be the center of his whole world, not abandoned like this.” From shoulder to jawline, his touch continues to trace. “Anyone would be rightfully jealous but that overgrown lizard has no idea how lucky he is.”

               In his grasp, I turn, the surprise just enough to compel him to step back. Keeping that momentum, I stride forward as he continues to back pedal.

               “Your deceit is ill conceived, Kingscholar. My feelings are entirely inconsequential to you.”

               Brunette brows pop and his back hits the wall.

               I continue. “You’re just looking to get one over on His Majesty, to boast about how you were able to steal his fiancé from under his nose. You don’t even care what would happen to me, you conniving cat.”

               Despite being at my mercy, his lips quirk. “But am I wrong?”

               My eyes narrow. “Pretty words from that smirk aren’t enough for your ruse to work on me.”

               His deep baritone twists at my nerves. “How about some less than pure?”

               “The kind of trouble you’re brewing is beyond your understanding.”

               “I ain’t hearing a no.”

               Lifting my chin, I look him dead in those alluring, hypnotic eyes.

               I’ve never actually gotten a look at Leona Kingscholar before. He’s very easy on the eyes, even if he is a bit rough. There’s certainly muscle to him, yet he’s got that trace of elegance instilled in every royal. Strands of chocolate hair frame that golden face, adorable rounded ears nestled atop his head that I just want to pinch. And that smirk, formed by such smug, smooth lips, is so tempting.

               But pretty faces—like pretty words—aren’t enough.

               The single, drawn syllable leaves my mouth and, as a finger draws a line down his front, behind his back opens a portal.

               “No.”

               With that, a small shove sends the man sprawling through my magic and to the balcony directly across the ballroom. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but he does eventually turn to spot me—eyes wide with surprise. It’s my turn to wear the simper.

               Somewhat proud of myself for ruffling the lion’s mane, I give him a little wave before I venture back down to the ballroom.

               By the time I reach the dancefloor, all delight slips away. For one brief moment, I had someone’s interest, yet I literally shoved them out and am now once again left in my lonely little solitude.

               My own choice had no bearings on my engagement. Offered up by my parents as the eldest child of one of Briar Valley’s oldest families, I became a candidate to marry the prince. Bad luck ensued as Her Majesty accepted.

               It’s not that I particularly dislike the prince; we simply never acknowledged each other unless the situation dictated it. Every interaction is meant for someone else’s vision. It’s his duty to one day rule his kingdom and it’s mine to be his support. A marriage of obligation I suppose it’s called.

               The chain that binds me drags me closer. Still, he stands there, smiling with the human from before. I don’t exist, meanwhile, this person greedily consumes all his attention with the sweetest smile and brightest eyes. Bitterness climbs my throat and threatens to spill forth, but I keep my mouth shut lest I make a fool of myself and my liege. Neither pettiness nor jealousy become a royal.

               Then those harlequin eyes snare my own from across the room. As I watch, satisfaction stretches his lips which downturns my own. From his pocket he produces a phone and makes a subtle show of dropping it into the drawer of a little decorative table. With one last smarmy glance, Leona leaves the ballroom altogether.

               The moment he walks away, I catch myself stepping towards the table. That damn lion dripped his poisonous honey into my tea before my very eyes yet I find myself struggling not to drink it all at once.

               “Is something wrong?”

               The question jerks my thoughts like a leash.

               “No, I just…I thought I saw something,” I murmur.

               “A threat?”

               Yes.

               “No. It’s fine. I was mistaken.”

               With a dismissive glance, he returns his attention to his schoolmate, where his expression immediately brightens.

               That seals it. Leona Kingscholar has successfully sunken his claws into me. Throughout the rest of the night, I simply bide my time until the moment I can slip away. Now my cardinal sin sits in my pocket like hot coal, drawing my every thought like a blackhole. It’s terrifying.

               After some long and anxious few hours, the ball inevitably concludes and I bid goodbye to my fiancé and his retinue. My magic draws another portal through space, gracing me with the front gates of Castle Black Scale. A debrief with the Queen is mandatory but she ultimately dismisses all I have to say as easily as her grandson. Fine by me.

               Once the door to my quarters closes, I click the lock and hurry across the room. As though it might burn, I hastily drop the device on the dressing table. Seconds tick by, but nothing happens.

               I shouldn’t be doing this. This is suicide. That doesn’t stop me from reaching for it. A second or two of prodding allows me to investigate the device generally foreign to Briar Valley.

               This thing so clearly belongs to someone else. Upon opening, it seems to have no indication of whose it is, but as I open the small squares across the screen, I can see signs of the lion everywhere. His contacts, his magicam, his photos—this man genuinely gave me his phone.

               Not immediately prepared to deal with all this stress, I drop the phone into one of the drawers and prepare for bed.

~~~~~

               Seven days have gone by since the ball and my encounter with the troublesome prince. I’ve checked the phone a handful of times, having noticed only messages and alerts meant for the lion. That only lasted a few days, however, before the thing shutdown and now refuses to turn back on. I assume it ran out of power. Since then, I’ve simply moved on, ignoring the thorns in my chest.

               As I amble the castle gardens, admiring the foliage, one of the Draconia servants calls to me.

               “Your highness, a package has arrived for you.” A small box sits in her hands.

               “For me?” I elect to ignore the skip of my heart.

               “Yes. Would you like me to have one of the guards investigate it for you?”

               That suggestion is immediately dismissed. “No, that’s alright. I’m sure it’s fine.”

               She hands over the parcel with some reservation, then curtsies and hurries away. I have no control over what happens next. Whisked away against my better judgement, I struggle to keep my walk steady and paced on the way to my room.

               There is no sender on the box, only my name as the recipient. Eager hands fumble to open the cardboard, nearly tearing it open from frustration. Though I’m not sure what I was expecting, the chord inside was not it. But it comes with a white card and a simple, short message.

Talk to you soon                               -L

               This is for the phone. It must be the power cable. A bit of investigation and I manage to plug the phone into the only electrical socket in the room. Quite frankly, I’m surprised there even is one in the castle—granted my room is one of the newer additions. After a moment, pressing the power button brings the electronic back to life.

               I stare at the device, unsure of what to do next. That’s when a message appears at the top of the screen from an unregistered number.

~~~~~

Part 2

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[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

[austenpoppy]

Dick and Bette Kane - part 2

Edited to add new panels

Part 1 :

Dick and Bette didn't really run across one another for years after Titans West disbanded. Dick was leader of the New Titans then carried on his solo hero career, while Bette remained at the periphery of the superhero community without truly accomplishing anything, though she put herself in the spotlight. In Guy Gardner : warrior #29, she's seen by other heroes on television as she apparently thanks adoring fans (you'll understand the importance of this later).

Guy Gardner : warrior #29

"He" put them into podes showing them virtual realities that were supposed to be about what they wanted most, according to Dick's files. Dick freed himself, Wally did too, and Dick freed Gar. Then they, along with the soul of Raven, inspected their environment and deduced that all former Titans had been captured.

It's interesting to note, though, that during all that time Bette was still trying to impress Dick, and was still somewhat in contact with the Titans. In "Hawk and Dove - Annual 1", she tried to call Dick to tell her about a tennis match she'd just won. Kory was the one who answered, and though Bette called Kory by her name she had to repeat her name and even spell it for Kory (and she thought of Kory as a bimbo, so I suppose she was jealous).

Dick was apparently "not there" (was he really not there or did he not want to talk to Bette ?), and Bette said it was a shame because she "knew" he liked to follow her matches/career (she was deluding herself).

The call ended when someone knocked at her door. Bette wanted it to be someone "tall, dark and famous", and she couldn't help but fantasize that Dick was there. Later on, after an adventure with former members of Titans West and people like Dove, Dove complimented Bette on her skills, and Bette said "Now if I could only convince a certain Titan !" (meaning Dick).

Months or years after, Dick and Bette were both at a Christmas party thrown by Guy Gardner after Dick left the Titans, but the next time Dick truly saw Bette was in the JLA/Titans crossover. Vic had become this almost thoughtless technological being, and captured anyone who'd ever been a Titan in a misguided quest to find his family again.

Dick saw Bette in her pode, and immediately said : "Bette ? Man...Somedoby was thorough." And the "thorough" isn't just in italics, it's underlined. The level of derision and distaste hidden in that comment is unreal. There are other people who didn't spend much time among the Titans, like Pantha, Leonid (Red Star), or Terra II. But the one whose importance to the Titans Dick decided to undermine was Bette.

"Even her ?... Wow..."

JLA/Titans #2

Dick stayed behind to help free the others from their virtual realities. He was very sympathetic to the people and friends he helped, except for Bette.

It's very funny and a bit creepy that "Vic"'s file for Bette and what was important to her basically had two items : "she's very good at tennis" and "she's obsessed with Dick", so the pode had her playing a tennis match against a rather fawning Dick (in his short pants, since she'd mostly known him as Robin) at her beck and call. I mean, it's truly weird. It could have just shown Dick being interested in her - but no, he had to be at her feet, too.

Even weirder is that Bette was actually engrossed by the virtual fantasy. Like, it'd been years. She could've, should've outgrown her attraction/obsession with him at that point. But nope, instead she was playing along and asking the virtual Dick to "bend over" more so that she could ogle his butt.

Dick came right in the middle of it, and he wasn't impressed. He just deadpanned "Flamebird. Sorry to interrupt your game...". Was Dick chanelling Alfred there ? This is exactly the kind of sarcastic and snide remarks Alfred could've come up with - not that Dick can't do it on his own. Obviously, the point was that there was no true game to interrupt, and that Dick wasn't sorry at all for preventing Bette from enjoying the fawning virtual Dick.

JLA/Titans #2

After the crisis was aborted, Bette was seen talking with Toni and Helena (with whom he'd already slept with and been manipulated by) about what made Dick so physically attractive. Bette was the one who mentioned his butt. Dick passed them by and was uncomfortable again.

JLA/Titans #2

Weeks later, Gar was framed by Madame Rouge's daughter for crimes she'd committed, and was arrested. Bette, arguably at her most likable, wanted to help him (using her "Titans" card to get to him) and tried to bail him out, though to no avail.

Unbeknownst to Bette and Gar, Dick went to L.A. to investigate himself. He deduced who the next victim would be, and went to their address, only to be faced with someone impersonating Gar. A fight erupted, and Dick quickly deduced that it was indeed an impersonator. In the chaos, Bette, who'd just understand with Gar what exactly was going on, had heard that a fight had started at Dick Dickerson's house, and had decided to come over to help (knowing Dick was there mind you), barged in and kicked the impersonator in the face.

I don't know what's funnier. The fact that after all those years Bette couldn't help but still call Dick "handsome" as soon as she saw him, her goofy entrance with the corny line "Flamebird to the rescue!", or Dick's open displeasure at seeing her ("Oh no. Not her..."). The fact that Dick, who values teamwork and is usually the one telling people to let aside their personal conflicts while working with other people would take the time to openly express his distaste for someone in the middle of a fight is hilarious.

Beast Boy #3

When Bette came to land in front of Dick, he begrudgingly acknowledged her (as you can guess from the use of the ellipsis before her name and the discontent look on his face).

Bette started cheerfully explaining the situation to Dick, but he'd already found out all of it on his own, so he tried to tell her that he knew everything already, but she kept going. So he repeated that he did know what was going, only she kept going.

The escalation of Dick's answers is very funny. His first "I know, Bette..." is normal. Then as she kept going his second "I know, Bette..." put an emphasis on the "know". And as she kept talking, he literally put his hand on her mouth to shut her up while loudly exclaiming "I KNOW, Bette" (the letters being written in a bigger size).

Dick remained fairly polite considering the situation, but everything about his behaviour couldn't have been more obvious if he'd screamed at the top of his lungs "BETTE WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY ?"

Then he told her to stand aside and protect herself while he finished the fight, showing he didn't trust her abilities as a crimefighter (to be fair, no one did). Of course the impersonator used the distraction provided by Bette's arrival and her conversation with Dick to throw them in the pool and escape.

Beast Boy #3

Dick was not happy about that. He immediately told Bette that he hadn't needed her, implying that if she hadn't been there/hadn't been distracting him, he would've caught the impersonator ("I had him, Bette..."). Honestly it's probably true, but also I'm pretty sure Dick wouldn't have made that comment had it been anyone else - he could've also completely ignored Bette to focus on their enemy, and he generally tends to reassure people about their mistakes... Unless he thinks people aren't truly committed to crimefighting/a team, which is probably what he thought of Bette.

I say that because right after, Dick noticed that the police'd just arrived, and told Bette : "Forget it. We've got company. You're the publicity hound. DEAL WITH IT." And when Bette answered the police officer's question, she tried to turn to Dick for confirmation, only Dick'd already vanished.

So he left her to deal with the police on her own by referring to her appetite for public attention, openly calling her "a publicity hound" (calling her out on her attention-seeking behaviour). Then he told her harshly to "deal with it" (implying that since she wanted publicity so badly and sought it out, she was the one who should have to talk to the police), washing his hands off of her, and disappearing without a word after that.

LMAO

"You keep making publicity stunts. You wanted publicity so badly, Bette ? Well then here comes the police. ALL FOR YOU, Bette, and no goodbye."

Beast Boy #3

After that, Bette and Dick met up to free Gar out of prison. Dick bailed him out while Bette was waiting in a car (she was the driver). She drove Dick, Gar and his cousin to a place they could stay at, Dick and Gar had a conversation while Bette and Gar's cousin waited by the car. Then once Dick and Gar were done, Dick told her he wanted to have a word with her. Below is their conversation.

Not included here is Gar's cousin being interested in Bette, and Gar telling him it was a lost cause because she only had the hots for Nightwing.

Beast Boy #3

As you can see, Bette started the conversation by happily mentioning their previous team-ups, as if they were former partners who'd worked together for a long time but hadn't seen each other for a while. And Dick immediately invalidated that by saying there hadn't been that many "old times", putting a distance between him and Bette.

XD YOU TELL HER DICK

Then Dick said what he'd wanted to tell her : that he didn't think she was made to be a super-heroin, and that she should "hang up" her costume. One could be indignant on Bette's behalf, and say Dick had no right to tell her what she should do.

Personally I think he was right, in that moment at least, that he was doing her a favour. He'd done that job since he was a child, he'd done it over a decade, and much longer than many superheroes. Bette hadn't done anything much as a superheroin, and seemed more preoccupied with her status as a superheroin, what it brought, rather than crimefighting itself. It's a shame, as I said when I presented Bette in part. 1, because Bette was a very competent woman, with a unique talent in tennis (for example).

And Dick was more graceful than I would've been in his place considering the way Bette'd treated him, telling her she had heart and was brave (also "spunk" ? Was that Dick's inner Alfred again ?).

Bette stammered that she did try to do the best she could. Dick went on to say that he was flattered that he'd "inspired" her to do this, but that it'd gone too far.

LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE

It wasn't a sarcastic comment, but Dick wasn't really flattered she'd started crimefighting because of him. That's obvious because of the inverted commas used to frame the word "inspired" (the shade those inverted commas signal). Those inverted commas signal that Dick was doubting Bette's real reasons for becoming a crimefighter, that he had to wonder whether she'd become a hero simply because she had the hots for him and wanted to be closer to him.

He then said "You're a good kid, Bette [NDLA : how much younger than Dick is she supposed to be here ? Is she Gar's age, that is about three years younger ? Seems to me she should be around the same age as Dick; the use of "kid" is strange]. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But it isn't in spandex. Anyway, I've gotta run. Take care of yourself."

Again, it may not seem that way at first glance, but in my opinion Dick's wording couldn't have been much kinder. Being a crimefighter is exceptionally dangerous, and can put others in danger too. Dick recognized Bette's good qualities, told her that she had a "bright" future, but simply not as a hero. And he told her to take care.

Bette's obstinated refusal to quit after Dick left is fascinating for me (interestingly, this mini-series is what made Bette a more compelling character as far as I'm concerned). Did she refuse to quit out of defiance ? Was it a way to prove to Dick she was capable ? Did she simply didn't want to give up on her dream ? Had her ambitions gone past the one who'd inspired her and that she still had a crush on ?

There's still a part three to do, but it's going to be shorter.

Part 3

[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

[opalescent-apples]

Homestuck Pixie Hollow AU- Get in loser we're kicking cringe's corpse.

Dancestor Time!

Damara- Messenger Talent- Damara was incredibly punctual, clever, and diligent---so hardworking that the Minister of Spring considered her for the position, even though she is not a garden talent. However, after being cheated on and mercilessly bullied, Damara began to shirk her duties. She spends time wandering, and will treat most strangers fairly, but will enact vengeance on those who have wronged her. Damara is no scout, but she can certainly fight.

Rufioh- Fast Flying Talent- Most fast fliers prize their speed. Rufioh prefers to dance through the air and show off with his wind powers. It's made him quite the popular fairy among others, including Damara, who he was in a sweet romance with, until... well, he's supposed to be charming, not honest. He ended up having to fly on the back of a bird as well: a large raven to match Tavros's dove companion. He and Tavros often sneak out to hang with the Lost Boys of Neverland, too. They respect the two of them a lot.

Mituna- Once, Mituna was a tinker fairy who harnessed the human power of electricity. His inventions were magnificent, and he was revered...until one day, while trying to harness lightning itself, the laboratory exploded. Mituna was left burned, shaky, and unable to continue his work. He refuses to speak of what happened, but he's still the best gamer in Pixie Hollow; people have yet to defeat him at most fairy games.

Kankri- Storyteller Talent. For some reason, people rarely want to listen to him. His stories are more moral than narrative, and even those who agree with him find them to be a slog. That doesn't stop him from telling stories to anyone who will or will not listen. This, unfortunately, includes the newbie minister of summer/water talent leader, who he thinks he's regaling with the endless wisdom a new leader needs. Karkat is this close to trapping him in a bubble and floating him off the goddamn island.

[dayurno]

PLS MORE DETAILS ABOUT KEREMY IN THIS AU

they hate each other :)

[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.

[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.

[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.

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