#to find pictures of these magnificent creatures

[the-cinnamon-snail]

Okay so I narrowed the shark species down to 20 (which is pretty good considering there's about 535 known species) and I'll need to narrow it down to ten if I want to do a poll. So I'll list them out here just to have all my options for me. This is part one.

1. Blacknose Shark (I love this picture so much)

2. Silvertip Shark

3. Graceful Shark

4. Gray Reef Shark

5. Copper Shark

6. Nervous Shark (yes that's an actual common name for this species)

7. Atlantic Blacktip Shark

8. Blacktip Reef Shark

9. Oceanic Whitetip Shark

10. Dusky Shark

[violet-eng]

fem!reader studies Neuviotter! | Fluff 🧸 with Otter Neuvillette… 🔞with Human Neuvillette.

Summary: You're a Sumeru's researcher obsessed with Fontaine otters. So you basically adopt one... unfortunately it looks like that isn't an otter at all...

Warning: 🔞 MDNI. ALL SMUT IS WITH HUMAN NEUVILLETTE! Somnophilia, oral (fem! Receiving), p i v. Unprotected sex.

1.8k words.

Not edited.

⏜︵⊹︵⊹︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜⊹︵⏜︵⊹︵⏜

The prestige of your research precedes you. A diligent student with a flamboyant gait, brilliant ideals and precise knowledge. You arrive at Fontaine from the Sumeru Academy with a precedent never seen before, with your lively, attentive eyes and your notebooks covered in leather the same color as your eyes.

Word spreads immediately that the wise y/n, scholar of the Academia, has come to Fontaine to study a creature that has captured your attention to leave the green land for that of the primordial sea. Could it be that you want to study a mythical creature that lives in underwater caves? Or perhaps a glorious bird has captured your thirst for knowledge?

How surprised your guides were when you shouted with excitement, unable to contain your joy like a little girl, when you spotted a little otter poking its head out of the crystal clear water. You jumped up and down, unable to contain your happiness, exclaiming how amazed you were to see one so close.

Alone, you photograph the otter and go so far as to dive underwater with it, surprised more by how clever it is than by your new curious ability to breathe underwater. What a joy it is to find a group of creatures frolicking with a clam in their midst, spinning in the water and turning to look at you. You may have been down there for an hour.

Back on the surface, sitting on a rock with your feet in the water, you jot down the details in your notebook, tracing with the vague lines of a sketch the elusive shape of the little animals. Concentrating on your task, on defining the details of its snout, you notice on the other bank an otter, different from the others, grooming its head with its small hands.

You watch it carefully, the creature seems a little larger than the others, slender and almost like a gentleman...

"A gentleman otter," you whisper, enraptured by the delicate and magnificent figure grooming itself in front of you. 

The otter makes sounds as he wipes his own face, lying on the surface of the water, carving his features and nose, while his two gnawing teeth peek through his pearly fur. Its small hands wash its own belly, almost ironing its fur as if it were the robe of a great lord. Deeply adorable. You hastily sketch the picture in front of you, not missing a tender detail of the cuddly toy floating carefree on the calm current.

The otter watches you with a lost look, black eyes that seem not to contain a single thought. The bliss of the ignorant. And you wave at him from your rock with a smile.

The otter swims toward you, and when he's within striking distance, he watches you, as if studying you. 

"How smart you look," you say, clutching your notebook to your chest, "and very adorable. Look at you," you show him the drawing.

The otter stares at the paper with a certain analysis, but his unmistakable expression doesn't change. Then he seems to comb an invisible curl out of his furry head and approves your sketch with a formal nod.

"What a gentleman," you squeal, climbing down from your rock and returning to get your things. The otter emerges from the water, shaking his body to dry himself from the water, though he remains fluffy.

"I thought you were waterproof," you laugh at the sight of the expressionless furball, seemingly oblivious to his adorable embarrassment, "you're different, aren't you?" you approach him with a rag, trying to dry him.

You pull him onto your lap, paws up and his belly exposed as you dry his chest with your cloth, as if he were a baby. Then you wipe his little hands and then his paws. His face is now dry. The otter played with your bracelets, making funny noises and showing his little pearly teeth.

"Do you like it?" you ask, putting it down. The Otter nods enthusiastically. "It would look very cute on you," you add, taking off one of your bracelets and placing it around his neck.

The elastic of the bracelet is lost in his white fur, and the pendant stands out as if it were the clasp of a breastplate. 

"You're missing a hat, and you could pass for another Fontaine gentleman," you exclaim, pleased with the result, as the otter poses like an elegant gentleman, his small chest puffed out, almost proud of how adorable he looks.

"It's getting dark, I should get back now. See you another day, Mr. Otter," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving your hand.

The otter hurries to follow in your footsteps, prancing subtly near you, his wet nose brushing against your ankle.

"You want to come with me, huh?" you kneel before him, and he touches your nose with his paw. "Fine, fine. We'll have a sleepover."

The place you're staying in is small but cozy, and it gets even cozier when you turn on the heat and put food on the table. The otter sits in a chair across from you, on a mountain of books, and tastes several of the snacks you've served him, though you see him going crazy over some consomme purete and the big glass of pure spring water you've served him.

"You like that, I noticed," you say.

"Burp," the otter replies with a burp that he seems to regret immediately.

"You have more manners than many people," you tell him, wiping his whiskers with a napkin.

"Okay, I'll brush your teeth and then off to bed," you say happily, with the idea of reading to the little animal before bedtime.

You sit him on your sink in front of the mirror, lift his jaw and brush his teeth with your toothbrush and toothpaste, first one side and then the other, make him drink some water and then spit it out, although he swallows it.

"Not your thing to waste water, apparently."

The otter nods.

Then you brush his head, chest, back, and tail, letting him groom himself, and when you try to remove the pin, he hides it in his small hands.

"Okay, okay... I'll leave it to you," you smile.

And then you lie in bed with him in your arms, illuminated by the dim light of your lamp, holding a book with an adventure story in it. You read aloud to him, stopping when you hear him whistling and snoring. 

"Good night, Gentleman Otter," you kiss him on the forehead before turning off the light and going to sleep. ....

You're not one to dream, not at all, but ever since you came to Fontaine, you couldn't help but have these nightly fantasies about Iudex Neuvillette. That stoic and serious man, how good his face would look contorted with pleasure as you sucked his cock.

You had dreamed of a similar situation many times, you had dreamed of him against you as he pinned your frail figure against his desk and thrust into you, biting your lower lip. You had had your first fantasy after a trial, thinking how manly he would look behind you, his cock buried in your ass....

All those dreams had been vivid fantasies, and tonight's took the prize.

You lay on your bed, him biting your neck as he rests behind you, his hands playing with your breasts at his whim, his tongue sliding over your skin, enjoying the nectar of your pure complexion, his cock swollen against your clothed ass.

"Mmmmhhhh, Monsieur~" you moan, writhing in his grip.

The wonderful thing about these dreams is that you don't know how you get into these situations, but you know how to enjoy them. Because from one moment to the next, the oh so taciturn Iudex Neuvillette has his face buried between your legs, tasting your folds and your clit with his trained tongue.

"Right there~" you moan, arching your back as you feel the desire well up from his mouth, his tongue drawing lustful strokes across your sex, his deep sighs stoking the fires of your passion.

His hands wrap around your legs, and for a moment you swear it's real, the way his nails dig into your skin, leaving reddened marks in their wake, and his thumbs sink into your thighs, anchored to you with no intention of letting go.

Then you feel him thrust into you, opening your silken walls in his wake, his thick cock making its way to your center, molding your walls to his erect, large form. You feel him rub against you as your insides embrace him with little restraint.

You hear him moan and feel your legs rise up over his shoulders, his cool hands at your ankles pressing down on you, thrusting slowly but deliciously, almost as if you were made for him. 

"Monsieur Neuvillette~" you moan, clutching the pillows, your hips bucking at the growing warmth in your belly, your hands seeking your own pleasure.

"Warmer than I thought," he whispers, "

it is almost like n your dreams... though this time it feels so real...

You look at him for the first time, his face sweaty, his cheeks flushed as his locks of white hair fall down your legs. His strong arms hugging you, his pecs rising and falling, holding breath... lower down, his chiseled abdomen twitching as his cock buries itself relentlessly inside you.

The sound of his balls against your skin blows your mind and makes you realize that it's not a dream, that Iudex Neuvillette is really fucking you (and very well, much better than you expected).

"Monsieur..." you try to sit up, but he has touched your cervix with his cock, and you do nothing but collapse under him, filled with the pleasure of his gentle thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks you reverently, in a tone of sublime courtesy and lofty superiority, as if he were not mercilessly fucking you at his whim while you sleep.

"Don't stop," you whimper between words, not wanting to waste the opportunity you've been dreaming of since the first time you saw him, "damn it," you exclaim at the wave of heat surging through your chest and legs as you hear him chuckle under his breath, quite pleased with what he's managing to make of your body.

The orgasm hits you warm and rough, just as Neuvillette did with his cock, careful not to leave his seed inside of you. And your breath comes back as you feel him caress your back as if to reward you.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and the way his arms hold you beside him as your eyelids droop at the inevitable.

"How did you get here?" you babble, half asleep, caressing his chest as he draws soft circles on your arm. 

"You invited me," he whispers as he brings your hand to his neck where your bracelet encircles his skin and the charm falls to his chest.

"You'll explain it properly tomorrow," you murmur between confused shuffles...

[idioticbat]

slightly belated birthday gift for @uzon!!! accompanying story after the break

Once there was a Coyote. By many names she went, and nicknames many more, but we'll not hamper ourselves with that, and simply The Coyote she will be. She was often accompanied by her faithful friend, Bishop the Cat, and they both very much enjoyed their lives in the grasslands of what is now claimed to be Alberta, Canada.

One day, while walking through the bushes, the Coyote saw a magnificent magpie. This was no ordinary magpie either, it was a giant and magical magpie, the Coyote noticed. Slowly sneaking behind the bushes, the Coyote managed to snap a picture of the Magpie, then another and another. The Coyote became at ease and, too soon, snapped a branch behind herself. The Magpie roared "Who is there", and approached the bushes where the Coyote was hiding. "Too late", thought the Coyote, a mere moment before finding herself face to face with this ominous, but not any less fascinating, creature. The Magpie stared into her eyes, then to the camera and back into her eyes, and the coyote let a rather boastful smile take over her face as she understood what was going on inside the Magpie's head. Bishop the Cat, who had been hiding in the bushes up until now and just happened to gather up his courage, came and hissed bravely at the Magpie, who stood in confusion as to why such a tiny beast would challenge her, who was godlike in comparison. The Coyote took the opportunity to get up and run, while laughing and taunting the Magpie "Yes, I stole your spirit with the picture camera, dear Magpie - and I'm going to frame it and hang it on my bedroom wall!"

Having stolen the likeness of the Magpie's spirit with the picture camera and finding herself being chased by the giant Magpie, the Coyote used her own magic to turn into something similar to a snake or a lizard, even larger than the Magpie, covered in splendid hues that lured the curious Magpie back as she tried to fly away. It seems some of the Coyote's - now Snake - magic spilled onto her faithful friend, Bishop the Cat, for he grew many times as well; but that was no disadvantage, no, much on the contrary, and they both put on chase to the Magpie, who was just the size of an ordinary bird by now, at least for them.

"Give me back my picture", screamed the magpie, "I had such a silly face when you pressed the shutter button!"

[swampstew]

Eustass Kid, G-49 ~ Glory Hole

Summary: Sea-trow: a malignant or mischievous fairy or spirit, regarded as monstrous giants at times. Trows are nocturnal creatures, they venture out of their 'trowie knowes' (earthen mound dwellings) solely in the evening, and often enter households as the inhabitants sleep. Trows traditionally have a fondness for music, kidnapping musicians or luring them to their dens, and having sexual intercourse with women on their land. They are regarded as hideous creatures that are hung like horses. This is the story of their glow up and thriving business model.

Warnings: Spicy, modern monster au, Eustass Kid as a Sea-Trow, Female reader, glory hole/reverse glory hole trope, fingering and vaginal penetration, creampie, degradation, calling reader slut and pet names, Kid being an amazing Dom. Not edited cause I'm stoned and sleepy. Word Count: 2K

Visiting a glory hole was one of your secret kinks – always too shy to share with anyone you’d ever been intimate with. Even soft voyeurism suggestions like car sex while in your relationships gave you surprised and shocked looks. Tempering your appetites, you hid a part of yourself under lock and key until circumstances found you free again. Emboldened, excited for adventure, ready to shed the weight of judgment – you were finally going to try it out.

Your fantasy included either having your body used at a glory hole or visiting one to play at. Due to the stigma, glory holes became nearly extinct. In fact, you had to resort to using the internet to finding any, but thanks to the help of some kink friendly resources and associates, you found a list of the last remaining glory holes, and to your delight, it was a global map.

Deciding to cash in your hoarded holiday time at work, you booked a flight overseas to visit an online friend in the kink community you felt safe with. They offered to go with you as well, for the experience and to be your buddy in case things went wrong. It made you feel better, though you still felt timid as you parked in a dim parking lot adjacent to a nearly deserted beach.

The air was breezy but not too cold, just shy of the fall weather, and music was pounding from the shack down the beach. Some people filtered in and out, some smoked down by the shoreline, but the shack doors were always forcibly closed as soon as someone cleared the threshold.

Exhaling away your anxiety, you entered. Then you stepped through another double set of doors. Then you were inside.

Down the hallway were picture frames of the…options. None showed their faces, but they showed everything else. Magnificent physiques, sculpted bodies, chubby bodies, scarred bodies, eccentric styles, colorful hair and painted nails accessorized their bodies – but the draw of course, were their huge cocks.

Your jaw dropped – certain you’ve never seen them that big before. Under each frame was a short bio and the person’s house name, and what the list of kinks they were into. There were two options: glory hole, reverse glory hole.

“Some of our young stallions don’t mind showing their face,” a tall woman with an old-fashioned crown on her head walked towards them with a clipboard in hand. “Quincy, house madam. You’re in luck, a few of our studs are available.”

“Which ones?” your friend inquired.

Quincy’s hair bounced as she flounced to each picture frame, sometimes turning the frame to show a face. A man with long blue locks that partially covered his thorn tattoos, a man with a burned right arm and massive pecs with flowing blonde mane, a sculpted man so tall the picture was taken with a wide lens scope. A handful more were shown but your eyes stayed glued to the frame of the heavily scarred man with a metal prosthetic arm, bulging drool-inducing muscles on a buff frame, red happy trail that led down to his generously proportioned cock, framed with that same red hair.

The madam noticed your staring and with a smirk flipped the frame over. Revealing a gorgeous face with equally heavy scarring. Fiery red hair styled in tufts, heavy black eyeliner defined his sharp, golden eyes, and deep matte red lipstick gracing a handsome smile. Your heart was pounding.

“Would you like to use him?” Quincy asked. You nodded, unable to speak from such a parched mouth. “I’m sure he’ll be excited to meet you. If this is your first time, I’d recommend the reverse hole, especially with a beast like him.”

Sheer heat pooled between your legs as you nodded.

“Right this way.”

-- Quincy placed you in a small room that was partially lit with candles, peering at all the framed photos of The Bull as you undressed. You sat on the custom bench that was mounted to the partition wall – a large heart shaped hole in the wall with a harness to strap you in and hold your legs back.

“Ya’know the rules, darling?” a gruff voice came from the other side of the wall, making you jump in surprise. “The safe words an’ everything?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “Y-yes. The three color system: green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“Thass’good lass. Was told this is y’first time in a place like this – don’t pretend you enjoy something if y’don’t. Say something, ya hear?”

“Y-yes.”

He let out a light chuckle, “Ooh a shy one eh? I’ll show ya a good time, don’t y’worry. Ready to strap in?”

“Uh, um one moment,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed. All you had to do was lay down on the bench, scoot your ass through the hole, put the harness around your thighs to keep you up, but you were moving sluggishly. Red flushing your body as you came to the precipice of a fantasy you had long suppressed, long been shamed for.

“Oi,” his voice was soft, “Having regrets?”

With a wavering voice you summarize the shame you felt and bad experiences, tears spilling down your face completely embarrassed.

“S’ok, darling. There’s no shame here,” he whispered. “Want me to strap you in?”

“Ye-yess, erm, is that…is that allowed?”

“TCH. O’course it’s allowed. I own the feckin place.”

You were surprised to find that the hollow partition wall had a door behind the floor length mirror so you jumped again when The Bull ducked inside your side of the room. His photos didn’t do him justice. He was practically a giant compared to you. Large limbed, every bit as good looking in the flesh, the way his eyes pierced you made you feel like you were seen for the first time. That you would be ok in his hands.

He held out his hand, a pleased grin curled on his face when you grabbed it. Gently shifting you down the cherry oak wood, massaging your bare bottom as he eased you into the opening, caressing your calves and thighs as he slipped on the harness straps.

“Thassa good lass indeed,” he purred, “So shy and obedient. I’ll give ya somethin’ special I don’t do for no one else if yer honest with me,” he said. With his flesh hand he cupped your mound, making you shudder and moan at the contact. “How’s it feel?”

“G-good!” you were breathless.

“Ya’ lyin?”

“No-no! I’m green, good to go!”

His face relaxed and he grinned again, “Good.” He then plunged a thick digit into your pussy making you clench and squeak in pleasure. He thrusted shallowly a few times before pulling out, wiping his finger down your body until he cupped your cheek. “I’m gonna have fun with ya. Pull more squeaks from ya, little mouse.”

He smashed his red lips into yours with ravenous need, leaving you panting and pleading for more. He pulled away with a teasing nip on your bottom lip, looking at you with a devious smirk. He leaned back down and pressed an open-mouth kiss on your neck, sucking it harshly to leave a mark.

“So everyone here knows you’re my little plaything,” He fondled one breast while he sucked the nipple of the other before leaving to his side again.

“Ready fer’me darling?” his voice was deeper, huskier.

“Yy-yes, I’m ready,” your hips wiggled impatiently.

“First things first, dirty girl,” he mocked you, lightly slapping a rubber packet on your clit making you arch your back. “I don’t shoot my load in ya unless y’buy me dinner first.”

Before you could giggle, you choked out a gasp as he rubbed his stiff cock between your folds, jutting against your clit. He teased you while muttering out all the things he would do to you, all the positions he’d have you in just to see your cute face pinched in ecstasy – you felt his metal hand slap the wall making it tremble. Rubbing his thumb on your clit with more pressure, keeping his tip at the edge of you entrance to feel you clench around nothing, so close to penetrating you but not quite there.

“Wassa mistake seein’ ya,” his voice sounded restrained, “I wanta bust on yer face instead of in this feckin rubber piece o’shit!”

You heard him loudly grunt as he sunk into you, pushing out all the air from your lungs. He was stretching you far beyond what you’ve ever experienced and despite it burning just a wee bit, the pleasure was far overtaking the minor pain. His fat cock pressed against all the right areas making you pulse on him, your legs shook against the restraints as you tried to wrap your thighs around his hips.

“Ahhh shit,” he growled, “So feckin tight! Ease up or I won’t last long darling!”

You thought you were answering but instead a wail was ripped from your throat as he changed his pace from rapid thrusting to long, slow strokes. Coaxing your orgasm while tempering his own. His painted nails dug into the back of your thigh as his metal fingers dug into the wooden wall, slowly denting with the mounting pressure he applied.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been fucked so well, felt so full, felt like such a toy but still felt important enough to be taken care of. The Bull railed you over and over again, making it his personal mission to make sure you cum at least eight times before he was done with you.

“Thassa good pet!” he grunted after the seventh one. “Took me so well, d’ya want more special treatment?”

You babbled out what you hoped was a yes.

“Well well well, turns out you weren’t a wee mouse but a desperate bunny ready to be bred. Is’that what y’want darling? Want me to rip this condom off and bust on ya? Are you a kinky lass, wantin’ it inside ya? I think you’re a slutty little thing, slutty little bunny who wants m’cum dripping from her greedy hole. What’sit gonna be darling?”

“FU-FU FUCCCCKK MEEEE!!!!” you cried.

He hooted, “I already am darling!”

“FUUCK IT IN MEEEEEE!!!!”

“There’s my slutty bunny,” he grinned, and in one swift motion yanked the soiled rubber off his angry red cock, it bobbed in frustration at the sudden cool air and loss of tightness. With a moan, The Bull filled you up to the hilt in one swift thrust.

Shrieking at the overstimulation, your puffy clit throbbed against The Bull’s matted pubic hair as he ground into you. His forehead pressing into the wall as he bullied his cock into you deeper and deeper. Your toes curled as your last orgasm peaked, letting out a hoarse cry as your body shook from the heat that spread throughout you.

Your ears started ringing from the hazy pleasure that washed your body, vaguely aware of the man on the other side of the wall who was clutching your thighs and slamming his hips rabidly as he emptied himself inside you. Could hear his satisfied growl through the background noise, it sounded so far away and yet so near.

You came back to reality when you realized he was back in your side of the room, pulling your legs from the harness and wiping you down.

“There she is,” he grinned, “How’re ya feeling?”

“Go-good, no, fucking, fucking great,” you sigh tiredly.

“Heh, you look wiped out. You need to drink and eat. C’mon, I’m goin’ with ya.”

“You-you are?” you’re surprised as you pull your clothes on.

“Haah! Y’re takin’ me to dinner darling. I put a lotta work into rockin yer world, least ya could do is buy me a burger and beer! Learn my name or somethin’. Is’yer first time to this part of the world right? Y’ever hear about Sea-trowls?”

You hadn’t noticed before that his feet and hand had a hint of webbing between his digits, his feet themselves were shaped more like horse hooves. Despite the leather jacket he donned on, you could see the back of his neck seemed to glimmer, as if the skin on his back was less skin and more like scales.

“M’name’s Kid. What’s yers darling?”

11 tiles to go, 40 calls made so far.

[kitkatscabinet]

Can I request Aemond, Aegon, and Daemon who have s/os who are 😍 at their dragons and basically ignore the guys in favor of doting on their dragons please? 😊

This is me

Aemond

At first Aemond understands the reverence, his lady Vhagar is the most magnificent creature in the realm.

he's absolutely ecstatic, which presents itself in a smug smile that the two most important beings in his life get along

he loves that his s/o now seeks him out to go and see Vhagar and even seems interested in flying one day

Though he quickly comes to realise something that causes a dent in his pride

Vhagar loves you too yes, but somedays it feels like the two of you might love each other more than him 🤨

Aemond awoke to the feel of lips on his skin and a hand gently cupping his cheek.

“Aemond. Aemond wake up Darling” your voice calls for him, tugging him from the depths of unconsciousness. His one eye opens to meet your beautiful beaming face, and for a few seconds, he is filled with warmth. Your smile is the one that you have reserved solely for him, but he is quick to notice the look in your eyes. The one that means you want something.

You must see the question in his still slightly sleepy face as your grin turns sheepish. "Take me to see Vhagar?" you beg.

"You just saw her yesterday" he very carefully didn't pout.

"I know but I miss her" you pouted, and even if he grumbled about it Aemond already knew he would be escorting you to the dragon pit.

Aegon

You loving Sunfyre is a requirement for Aegon to love you

He’s terrified that you’ll be afraid or disgusted of his beloved dragon, the only being in the whole world before you who has shown Aegon unconditional love

But it’s you who brings up meeting Sunfyre first, because you know just how much Aegons dragon means to him. And even if the prospect is a little daunting you’re happy to do it for him

Sunfyre bounds over to you before Aegon can really stop him and Aegon about has a heart attack at the thought you’re about to be eaten

But Sunfyre stops right in front of you, snuffling like an eager puppy. This is who his rider smells like all the time! Must protect riders person!

Sunfyre is excited, Aegon can feel that from his side of their sacred and shared bond. He can picture it now, the great beast prancing back and forth like an overexcited puppy.

Sure enough, the moment Sunfyre see Aegon and your approach he's bounding over, trilling in excitement. Aegon smiled and placed a hand up to pat at his snout, only to go completely ignored as his loyal mount stopped in front of you.

Immediately you are scratching at his scales, cooing words that would be befitting of a kitten, not a fearsome dragon. Aegon is not jealous, he's not.

Daemon

The moment Daemon realises he’s in love with you is when he takes you to meet Caraxes for the first time and you don’t flinch away

Daemons aware that many people find Caraxes beyond intimidating, with Vhagar being the only dragon people fear more

He’s not entirely sure why he’s introducing you so quickly, perhaps he’s trying to test you. To get his heart broken now when you inevitably back away in fear and disgust

But you don’t, and you even get close enough to place your hands on Caraxes warm scales, a breathless laugh of wonder escaping your throat

Daemon couldn't dismount Caraxes and make his way to your chambers fast enough. He had only been gone for a week, a week that was far too long to be away from you.

He opens the door to your apartments with gusto, smirking to himself as you turn to beam up at him excitedly from whatever you had been doing.

"Daemon, you're back" you beamed, and rushed over to him. Opening his arms for a hug he was shocked when you walked straight past him. Hearing his offended scoff you turned to explain, "I need to see Caraxes!"

Taglist: @etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @deadstarkblacksoul @eudximoniakr @weepingwitchofthewest @kaitieskidmore1 @eli1fict @rainerax @dsl1999 @uno7 @shine101 @xinyourdreamsx @Kitty-marie725 @lacunaanonymoused @targeryenmoony @babyblue-chaos @jamespotterismydaddy @sjprongs @jimins15thhair  @angeliod @chaoticevilbakugo @cxce15 @50svibes @nyctophilic0vitnir @thenovelcarnival @yourlittlehoe @chattylurker @thelittleswanao3

[the-banana-0verlord]

How the Twst boys would react to a S/O who paints on walls

Notes: gn reader, capitalist Azul, Rook being sus.

☀☀☀

Kalim Al-Asim

☀He’s super excited. What you’re doing is so pretty!

☀Immediately wants to accompany you in your art.

☀Even though you love him, it irks you at first because you don’t want your murals to be ruined.

☀After a lot of begging you accept to lend him one of the walls you use as canvas.

☀His paintings are childish, but you start to warm up to them and even give him tips on how to better them.

☀The end result is magnificent, a mix of your and his personality.

☀He gets permission from Crowley through bribing to get you walls on campus to show your art to the world.

🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙He stumbles upon them randomly one day. He’s baffled by the beauty of your art.

🐙Such wonderful strokes! Carefully picked out color palette!

🐙How have you not made profit out of this yet!?

🐙Immediately commissions a mural for the Monstro Lounge.

🐙You hesitate. You never saw your art as more than a passion.

🐙But you saw the light in his eyes when he proposed the offer.

🐙The Monstro Lounge is now filled with little octopus and sea creatures riding the paint waves.

🏹🏹🏹

Rook Hunt

🏹Quelle beauté! Très magnifique!

🏹He has the gift to find beauty in everything. But with you, he didn’t even have to search.

🏹Also you totally didn’t know he knew, one of his pleasures was watching you paint from the window or up in a tree.

🏹But then he decided it was time for you to receive proper praising.

🏹You almost had a heart attack when he appeared behind you as you were painting.

🏹He was truly sorry to have made you mess up.

🏹With his talents, he brings you hundreds of references pictures of scenery, animals and people.

🏹Just don’t ask how he got a photo of Ruggie sneaking in the kitchen at 3 a.m. Just don’t.

***

Have a good day/night!

[rippersz]

𝙔𝙤𝙪, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙝.

◦◦,°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°,◦◦

◦◦,°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°,◦◦

(Reader x Brienne of Tarth oneshot) (Pining, mostly)

◦◦,°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°,◦◦

Goodness she was beautiful, wasn’t she?

The most beautiful woman ever. In all of the seven kingdoms. In all of the world.

Not even the glistening snow beneath the Northern sun could compare to the way her hair shone like gold. Not even the blue of the Westerosi sky could hold a candle to the ice of her eyes… the brilliance in her stern gaze… the heart behind her iron. And not even the music of a humble bard or the playing of a prodigy could create the same song that was found within her voice. It was deep, melodic, enchanting in a way that many couldn’t see.

And how they couldn’t see- how they could judge such a brilliant woman without knowing her- how they could look at her and think she was beastly…. Well that was something you’d never be able to understand. That was something you’d never be able to wrap your little head around because when you looked at her, you pictured the way that scar on her lip would look when she grinned; when you looked at her, you imagined how lovely it would be to make her laugh. And weep with joy. And rush over and drag you into her arms and pick you up and swing you around. And as far as you knew, no one wanted any of that from ‘the Tarth woman’. No, no one wanted to make her smile and no one wanted to hold her hand and no one wanted to whisper the sweetest of nothings into her ear at night in the same way you did.

And because of that, they were idiots.

All of them. Every single one. Every person or creature that looked upon Brienne and thought her anything less than magnificent were to die the most horrible deaths. And those that spread the rumors of her existence, calling her the filthiest names, were due to die by your hand - even though you didn’t have much experience with a sword. That wouldn’t really matter anyway in the heat of an angry moment; fueled solely by the mental image of her tears. She had never cried around you of course, but you knew she did. You knew that sometimes her eyes were rimmed red and sometimes her chin quivered at the end of a particularly difficult day. You also knew that being a warrior- being a noble soldier- was hard. Hard and taxing and draining in a way that left her aching for peace and quiet once the sun had set.

Unfortunately, she never really got any of that when spending dinner with everyone else. They were all too loud and drunk, not even caring about the exhaustion that plagued their peers. You ate off to the side as a stable-hand, but even from that angle you could see the blank darkness in Brienne’s eyes. It was like clock-work. The stars would show themselves and she would sink into a state of sleeping while functioning. Standing, walking, eating, drinking, but sleeping on the inside. It would have been far more adorable if it weren’t so worrying. You didn’t know how she slept but if the circles beneath her eyes said anything, it was that her nights weren’t exactly filled with the sweetest of dreams. If there was any way to remedy that, besides sex, drinking, and extreme physical exhaustion, you would do your best to find it and present it to Brienne. But you weren’t sure such a thing existed. Hell, even sleeping by yourself had become difficult. You always shared a bed with your siblings when you were younger- and sleeping in quarters with others once you began traveling had become the new normal. Unfortunately, that meant that when you found your own path and eventually stumbled upon Northern lands, sleeping alone was foreign to you. Just as foreign as the Starks and just as foreign as their rule. Yet somehow, despite your inclination toward shivering when winter surrounded you so frequently, you wormed your way into a job and found yourself becoming friends with the horses. And since you fit in there, everyone left you alone.

That was probably the only reason why no one had caught your straying eyes just yet. You could flit between the shadows and rest within the musk of the beautiful creatures you tended to and no one would look your way. It was a shame then that Brienne existed within that ‘no one’, as well. In fact, you weren’t sure she even knew who you were. That wasn’t her fault though. She was extremely busy and always had one more thing to do - and every time she approached the stables, someone else would rush to help her… and you’d be left in the dust, watching forlornly as they readied her steed.

It was tough to live like that - detached, alone, full of an earnest ache. You watched as everyone lived their lives and yet all you could focus on was Brienne. Always Brienne. And how she didn’t fall asleep next to you each night. And how you didn’t get to assist her in putting on her armor, or combing her hair, or merely keeping her company as she sharpened her sword or filled out her paperwork.

It was torturous… but it was better than getting close and being rejected. After all, Brienne of Tarth was not one for love in the same way she was for honor. No, not a soul could change the way she stood for her morals and stuck to her path. And with that- no love could lead her astray. It was a good defense mechanism; it was an ‘iron will’ way of living… but it also meant that any of her admirers were thrown into the dark. It also meant that you, the one with a heart that whispered her name while you slept, had no chance of getting to know her better. And that led you to wish upon meaningless stars. That led you to fill your nights without a fire, sitting on bales of hay, staring up at the sky and asking the old gods and the new why they had decided to keep something so brilliant just out of your reach. To keep a sapphire locked away in a cursed treasure chest. To keep you tripping over yourself whenever she walked into the light - strong and tall and strapping and alluring in ways you never could be. And even though you had things to do during the day; horses to care for and feed and wash and stables to clean and stock; you were carried away somewhere else whenever Brienne showed up. It didn’t matter if it was for a second or for an hour - time was no issue for your heart.

And on warm nights like that one, where her eyes slowly traced the grooves of the wooden dinner table, time became nonexistent once more. There were men and women exchanging stories and laughing their asses off and raising glasses for whatever celebrations they were commemorating - but Brienne didn’t care. She ate slowly, she listened, she shuffled her feet, and sometimes she looked up at the stars. As if praying for something no one else was privy to. And you, who ate your dinner silently while leaning against the inside of the stables door, observed her as though she were a painting. Admiring the way the light of the flames lit up her pale skin and wondering if there was any chance at all that you might be able to feel it one day. To perhaps press your lips to her hand and kneel at her feet and run your hesitant fingertips along the lines of her muscles. It was all wishful thinking, yes, but that didn’t stop the way your heart burned whenever she lifted the spoon to her lips and licked them idly afterward.

Those thoughts would, of course, always remain your own - locked inside the depths of your mind, never to be pulled into candlelight, but even so…. even so….

Well, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered; for soon enough, dinner was over and everyone was returning to their posts or their chambers. Your eyes followed Brienne until she drowned into darkness…. and then you were left alone once more.

The other stable-hands were off to bed with everyone else, but you were known for lagging behind. ‘Double checking everything’ was your usual excuse - but you weren’t really checking a damned thing. Other than the shape of the moon, of course. Yes, the shape of the moon and the twinkle of the stars and the fluffiness of the clouds.

They were really moving quite quickly that night - dancing across the sky like old friends holding hands. Disappearing into another part of the world, traveling with the birds, keeping the stars company. And the stars, you could hear, were whispering amongst themselves. Murmuring about the humans and how they looked sleeping in their beds and how the animals were licking their pelts and nuzzling their young and how souls like you were spending far too much time staring up at stars like them. All while they skirted around the moon, some close and some far, mingling like guests at a party. And the moon herself - brighter than all of those silly stars and smarter than the most intelligent king - was listening out for more of your lamenting. Keeping a metaphorical ear open as she usually did, all while giving you a knowing look.

Though really it was your fault for falling into a routine with the moon. She was very sassy but very kind- understanding and expecting things that you had no idea existed. And thus, she began to expect your words before you nodded off to sleep. And sometimes, when you were deemed worthy enough, she shared her thoughts about the universe too. But if it was just between you and her - if you were certain no one else was around - you’d speak of the one good thing that made your long days feel like scented lily water swirling about within an ivory bowl. The one good thing that made you smile to yourself when you remembered a wicked comment she had made to a rude fellow during dinner one evening…. The one woman who had so thoroughly stolen your heart. And who did not even know your name.

“Oh, my moon… I am absolutely fucked, aren’t I?” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “So so fucked- and not in the good way, mind you. Oh no, not at all. Never. Not in this part of the world - and not with these people,” you couldn’t help but snort at the mere idea. You? With those in armor or royal robes? Hell would freeze over. And you could hear the moon laughing gently in reply. “Yeah yeah… not in a million years, I know. And not with the person I want, oh gods. Could you imagine, moon? Me with her? I’d need at least a thousand showers before taking one step toward the Brienne of Tarth.” Your voice (and your eyes, admittedly) grew soft when you said her name.

And when you blinked up at your conversation partner, the edges of her round shape seemed softer too. As if she were really listening… and knew of your struggle. At that thought, you tilted your head.

“Ya know, in all of the years I’ve talked to you, you’ve never mentioned the sun… I wonder if she means anything to you.” You looked down, picking at your nails while rambling into nothingness. “That’s an interesting thing, isn’t it? The sun and the moon… two star-crossed lovers. Literally. Against all odds and all that… Man, I wonder if that’s the truth……… Is that the truth?” You curiously peered up through your lashes - only to find that the moon wasn’t going to give you an answer. Of course not. Some things she preferred not to share. And you nodded your head at that. “Fine, fine, keep it to yourself. See if I care.”

Things lapsed into silence…

…But eventually your lips turned up into a smile.

Honestly, talking to the moon, although therapeutic, was always like a little game. You felt comfortable with her - and unbelievably connected; you only wished that others spoke to her as you did. Yes, if only people made friends with the moon more often - perhaps then the world wouldn’t be in such disarray.

And at that, you huffed, sagging against the wood behind you.

“Today was slow. Everyone was actually doing their jobs for once. And Brienne was busy- and then she was tired this evening. She ate so slowly. Gods I can’t imagine the stress she’s under…” and then came a pause before you cleared your throat and wrung your hands, a bit embarrassed by your next words. “Would you- um- perhaps- gift her a better sleep tonight? One filled with stars and clouds and poetry and music and- and even love? Please? I know it’s a big ask, I know I know, but- gods she really deserves it. She really really deserves it. More than anyone else, I think.”

And of course it was just another silly wish but still- optimism bred good results, didn’t it? Maybe not all the time but on occasion it did. And if being optimistic meant that the chances of Brienne getting better sleep were higher, then you’d start to believe that things were getting better. Or that life was truly enjoyable beyond your infatuation. Or that the love you had for her wasn’t pointless. Yes, you’d even start to believe that everyone would live forever. That no one would die. That Brienne would always be safe.

The sigh that fled from your lungs was bone-shaking.

“There’s really no hope for someone like me, hm?” You knew your eyes were sad when you stared up at the moon once more. “I’m just- meant to be this way forever, aren’t I? Until someone comes along and somehow just sweeps her off of her feet… and then when that happens, she’ll be too busy to care about seeing the stable-hands. Or hell- even visiting the stables at all! Gods….,” You shook your head, putting a clammy hand up to your temple and rubbing at the itch near your hairline.

Despite the warmer temperatures, the wind was still chilly - and it sent a shiver through you then. It ran straight through your thin uniform and pierced your skin. Your hands reached for your biceps, crossing themselves once more as you sniffed.

“…Welp… I guess that’s that, then. I know my conversational skills are not that polished tonight, but I’m too worn to bother. I’m sorry,” your eyes gave the moon an apologetic glance.

And you were sure then that if she were a real person, she would have likely waved away your sorry and merely shaken her head at your pathetic little thoughts.

‘Like a lovesick dire wolf pup… tsk tsk tsk…’

“Well they’re not terrible,” a smooth quiet voice spoke into the night, “but your whispering could use some work.”

You turned, nearly startled out of your skin as you jumped off of the hay bale you were on and faced the direction of the voice. It came from the shadows - along with the sound of footsteps that you hadn’t heard before. You gulped, your hands clenched at your sides as the figure stepped into the light.

And there- there-

“Oh…” you breathed, feeling a lightness to your bones that you hadn’t felt in many many years.

Oh…

Oh…

Oh gods…

And there she was…

There she was.

Goodness she was beautiful, wasn’t she?

Most certainly.

The most beautiful woman ever.

In all of the seven kingdoms.

In all of the world.

◦◦,°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°,◦◦

Hope you all enjoyed! I’m still working on requests lol - this was just a filler. I may dive more into Brienne later. Let me know what you think <3 - Ripley

◦◦,°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°,◦◦

[funishment-time]

Sad(?) to announce that I have become just as addicted to 17 as you are. You know the drill.

But also, I forgot which question number this is, but which fantasy creature would Rantaro be

WOO

17. List five headcanons for your favorite characters!

Junko was a highly successful streamer for about ten minutes before she became Bored of it. she's very good at it, but, you know. Junko

similarly, after she starts to "age out" of being an idol, Sayaka pivots into being an idol-style corporate VTuber and finds a new, magnificent life there. oddly, her character is an assassin...but corporations don't let you choose your character, right?

Mahiru may be judgemental about a lot of things, but she is a Great Teacher and supportive Friend when it comes to photography. she loves the pictures other people take, even the most Amateurish ones, because they reflect the photographer just as much as the subject(s). some of her most prized possessions are blurry critter photos from Gundham, Olympics behind-the-scenes shots from Hina, pics of lesser-known exotic locales from Rantaro on his terrible iPhone, etc

Makoto is ADHD, horribly. (much like myself.) dude is only ever "with it" like 20% of the day tops. half of Kyoko encouraging him is really just telling him to pay attention

Hiyoko sometimes pretends to be a part of PETA just to piss Gundham off. then Kokichi joins in and Hiyoko stops because it's "lame now"

BONUS: it's required for all HPA students to spend some time at the orbit schools to graduate. in a non-despair AU, this is how our main cast meets Monaca, Kotoko, etc.

19. What kind of fantasy creature would you make Rantaro?

satyr. wandering womanizer. fuzzy

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Smooth Black Stag Beetle - Lucanus placidus

I've been going through the backlogs of pictures from prior years and there are a few insect orders that need more attention. They will receive that attention after next week's posts. So before that happens, let's have another look at some of the most wonderful Beetles that make their appearance at the edge of summer. I sincerely hope you enjoy another look at these magnificent creatures and their yearly rituals following their emergence. Their smooth form really does seem to make them pleasing to behold. As they dig their way out from underground in their adult forms, they suddenly find themselves in grassy lawns, on sidewalks, at the bases of trees and within gardens. A majority of the individuals here are male as indicated by their jaw size in widely-opened posture (there's wiggle room for determination of the individual at Picture 9's top left). As such, they're quite eager to start fights with rivals in order to prove their strength and stamina.

Likely many can emerge from one area (as seen in Picture 9) and begin the jaw-fighting competitions to secure mates. They could also fly to a new location if a scent cue were to draw the attention of a hopeful male. When they battle, the Beetles' armor will protect them from any serious damage when engaged with a challenger (insectivores will have strategies around their defenses of course, making these competitions risky in the open). That armor itself is also a challenge itself, as the Stag Beetle must find a way to grip around it, and thusly lift and toss their rival in defeat. For a grounded fight this feat is already tricky, but sometimes these Beetles can take their fights to tree bases and spar while hanging off a vertical surface of bark. Being tossed means a quick trip to the ground, but insect shells are designed to withstand gravity. Defeat may sting, but a Beetle must remain steady while they walk and fly about beneath springtime's sun. Should you get the opportunity to watch Beetle emergence and the results fight, sit and watch.

Pictures were taken on June 3, 2021 with a Google Pixel 4.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

What kind of toys do you like?

[pretend i'm twirling my hair] I'm sooooooo glad you asked! Most of the toys I like are either dolls or small little guys, normally made with a young girl demographic in mind! I always adored dolls, but whenever I see a tiny little creature my mind just go bonkers. Like! It's a small little creature! In a small little world!

My favorite doll lines are Monster High and 2000s Barbie dolls in general. MH g1 is something else, although I'm eyeing the g3 (the newer ones) with heart eyes. I REALLY need to caught up on what's happening over there, but it's all so adorable! The theming is IMPECCABLE, let me tell you that. Barbie dolls from the 2000s are very nostalgic to me as well, as I believe it was Barbie's pinkiest and sparkliest era to this day (hopefully this changes soon!). I think Blythe dolls are adorable as well, and I hope I can get one someday, even if it's "just" a fake. BJDs are also something I really like, altho it's nothing compared to MH and Barbie dolls to me. I want to get into Bratz dolls as well, though!

Here's the obligatory shout-out to Novi Stars. FANTASTIC doll line for how creative and out there it was, and it's such a shame it didn't last longer!

I really want a Susi doll one day, though. I love her face mold, and many of her dolls have incredibly adorable clothes. For context, Susi is a doll made by Estrela, a brazilian toy company, and she's just the cutest thing:

For the tiny ones: Polly Pocket falls in the middle between fashion doll and tiny girl. I'm talking about her 2000s incarnation, whose plastic clothes will always be iconic to me. Tiny little fabulous worlds! It's perfect! But Littlest Pet Shop will always be #1 in my heart when it comes to tiny little ones. I'm obsessed, I NEED to expand my collection and I'm SO happy that they made a comeback recently! I really like how Hasbro, the owner of the brand, is doing the new molds for the pets, keeping the iconic look from the 2000s/early 2010s but adding to it. Have you guys seen the new axolotl pet?

GOSH, THEY'RE SO CUTE.

I never had Sylvanian Families (very expensive for me!), but shout out to them as well. Everything is incredibly detailed and adorable, and I love seeing pictures of these little guys online! When I was a kid I wasn't interested on fofoletes at all (also made by Estrela), but I came to appreciate how they look. They're so cute!

Of course, I can't forget to mention My Little Pony (gen 3 toys specifically, although the gen 4 show did my brain chemistry). Their playsets... Magnificent. Honestly half the reason I like tiny toys so much is just because of the playsets, I loved making little scenes with my playsets as a kid and just looking at them.

Honestly, I have so many Pinterest boards full of girly toys at this point you guys could ask me to find a specific toy on them and I probably could lmao.

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Forty-Nine

Maera's carriage ride from the Red Keep to the Sept was a solitary journey with only her nerves and racing thoughts for company. As it moved through the bustling streets of King's Landing, Maera gazed out the window at the city's surroundings. She first set her gaze upon the procession of guards that marched alongside her carriage, led by Ser Arryk on his brown horse, who were ensuring her safe passage.

Peasants lined the streets, waving as she passed by, and the sound of their cheers and well-wishes filled the air. The hooves of the horses clattered against the cobbles, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the journey. Inside her carriage, Maera's excitement was palpable, but so was her nervousness. She couldn't help but fidget, struggling with her skirts in an attempt to find a comfortable position. She took deep breaths to steady herself, her nerves fluttering as the ceremony drew nearer.

Maera couldn't help but picture Aemond, imagining him standing near the High Septon, awaiting her arrival. In her mind, she saw his tall, lean figure, his regal presence, and his piercing violet eye that held so much power and mystery.

Amidst her musings, she couldn't help but wonder if Aemond was feeling any nerves before the ceremony. But she quickly dismissed the idea, convincing herself that the formidable One-Eyed Prince would not be affected by any such emotions. Instead, she was certain he was eagerly anticipating their upcoming intimacy, relishing the prospect of toying with her in a way she would undoubtedly enjoy. The thought brought a smile to her lips, momentarily easing her apprehension.

A reverberating bellow through the air interrupted her thoughts, as well as a sudden shadow eclipsed the sunlight, prompting Maera to glance out the window, her striking green eyes set on the skies. There, she caught sight of the majestic dragon Ēbrion, his dark blue and black scales glinting in the sunlight, and its incredible wingspan casting a grand silhouette against the sky. He soared above the carriage before beating his wings ferociously, peaking over the Sept in the distance before continuing onto the shoreline, where his lair awaited him.

The memory of that first breathtaking encounter with the dragon came to her mind, along with the connection she had felt with the dragon after she had shared her blood with him. Ever since that day on the beach, Maera had dreamt of Ēbrion and looked for him often outside her chamber window. His presence in the sky was awe-inspiring, and she couldn't help but wonder about the significance of his appearance on her wedding day. She couldn't help but wonder if the dragon somehow knew where she was headed and wanted to offer her a reassuring sign.

Throughout her life, Maera had cared for various animals at Rain House, from horses and hounds to the cats that roamed the grounds. But what she felt for Ēbrion was different. It was a connection that went beyond mere care; it was a powerful, peculiar feeling. Between the gasps and admirations of the peasants below, who clapped and cheered at the sight of the magnificent beast, Maera couldn't help but feel a surge of awe herself, realizing the power and grandeur that these creatures, much like House Targaryen, commanded in the hearts of the people.

After a while, the carriage came to a halt, the sound of the horse shoes on the paved road ceasing. The carriage door was opened by Ser Arryk, revealing their arrival at the Sept. In Maera’s mind, the journey appeared to be too long and too short at the same time. Her loyal protector courteously extended his arm towards her, offering his support to get out of the carriage, to which she took with a grateful smile.

Maera continued to grasp the Kingsguard’s arm as they ascended the many steps leading to the grand entrance of the Sept, her magnificent wedding dress flowing elegantly behind her.

"You look stunning, my Lady," Ser Arryk remarked, wearing a steadfast and protective expression, his hazel eyes watchful and reassuring. Maera, appreciative of his presence, couldn't help but convey her gratitude through a warm smile, accompanied by a nod of her head, but but make a self-deprecating comment.

"I feel a little like a prized mare being sold to a stable hand,” she chuckled, gesturing to the elaborate dress she was wearing.

“Nonsense,” replied the knight in a dismissive manner. “You truly embody the nickname bestowed upon you, the Jewel of Rainwood." His words caused Maera to blush, feeling a warmth in her cheeks and a thankful smile gracing her face.

Reaching to top of the many stone steps, Maera locked eyes with her father Lord Jasper, standing before the intimidating doors of the holy building. was adorned in a striking ensemble, with a turquoise tunic embellished with intricate golden embroidery, a testament to the House's colors. He wore deep black trousers that complemented the outfit splendidly, along with a turquoise cape that flowed gracefully and was fastened by a chain of gleaming gold.The Master of Laws’ distinguished appearance was further accentuated by his dark, well-kept hair and his keen, discerning green eyes, which exuded an air of authority and wisdom.

“You’re late,” the Lord commented, a slight smirk on his face, which Maera returned.

She responded quickly with a playful retort. "It's the one day in my life I can be fashionably late, Father." Lord Jasper chuckled, the tension in the air dissipating as they readied for the momentous ceremony.

Before entering the Sept, Maera was encircled by a group of Septas and Septons, their voices rising in melodic prayers and blessings to the Seven. They gathered around her, each invoking the Gods for guidance and protection for the bride on the momentous day. Lord Jasper took a step closer and with a tender yet ceremonial gesture, he attached his own turquoise cloak to her wedding dress.

With an air of solemnity and pride, he then extended his arm, offering it to Maera to link theirs together, signifying the solemn bond between father and daughter as they prepared to step into the sacred space of the Sept.

To fill the silence as they waited for the doors to open, Maera decided to commend Lord Jasper in a teasing manner. “I believe you should be congratulated once again, my Lord Father, for securing such a remarkable match for one of your children. Especially your most troublesome daughter.” Lord Jasper couldn't help but let out a silent chuckle, appreciating the jest.

Maera looked ahead at the doors, nerves beginning to bubble once more as she could hear the Septon inside leading the congregation in a prayer. She decided to be serious for a moment, taking a deep breath as she addressed her father.

“I know we have not always seen eye to eye. And you find the manner in which I live my life to be somewhat… questionable for a noble Lady. But after today, I will belong to House Targaryen,” She turned her head to gaze at her father, her eyes tracing the lines and contours of his aging face. “So, if you have any more wisdom to impart on me before my union, I suggest you speak it now, Father.”

To her surprise, instead of delivering a dutiful order or a half-patronizing speech about her responsibilities, Lord Jasper's eyes softened as he gazed at his daughter. His words carried a deep sense of affection and nostalgia. "You look just like your mother," he said tenderly, catching her off guard with a heartfelt sentiment.

A loud creaking noise seemed to startle both father and daughter as grand doors of the Sept swung open, revealing the hallowed interior of the seven-sided building. As the doors parted, Maera's gaze fell upon a scene of solemn beauty and grandeur.

The sacred space was filled with the nobility of King's Landing and courtiers from far and wide who had gathered to witness the union of Maera and Prince Aemond. The air was thick with a sense of anticipation and reverence. Sunlight streamed through the intricately detailed stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the marble floors. The high vaulted ceiling seemed to touch the seven heavens, its arches adorned with the symbols of the Faith of the Seven.

Guests were neatly stood in rows on either side of the building, forming an aisle, their eyes focused on the bride as she entered the Sept. The soft murmur of conversations and the rustle of fine garments echoed within the hall.

On the few steps leading up to the platform where the High Septon stood were the prominent members of the royal family and the court. King Aegon, though visibly hungover, wore Targaryen attire with the Conqueror's crown resting on his disheveled hair. His presence, though somewhat disheveled, was still that of the ruling monarch. Beside him stood his dutiful sister-wife Queen Helaena, regal in a dress of olive green that covered her little bump, her silver hair braided atop her head, gazed with an air of dignified anticipation.

Their grandfather and Hand of the King, Lord Otto Hightower, stood with his customary poise and authority. The symbol of the beacon of Oldtown was embroidered on the chest of his green and gold garments and a golden chain across his shoulders indicated his high status. Finally was the Hand’s daughter and the King and Queen’s mother, Alicent, her deep green attire adorned with a dragon scale pattern. She presented herself with modesty and faithful dedication to the Seven, her auburn hair half up and half down as she stood with grace and poise.

At the centre of the chancel stood High Septon Eustace, resplendent in his richly embroidered robes. He radiated an aura of solemnity and holiness as he prepared to officiate the wedding ceremony, a central figure in the sacred rite.

Finally, Maera’s bright green eyes fell upon Prince Aemond, her breath catching in her throat. The Prince's presence was striking, and he stood to the left of the Septon, a commanding yet captivating air about him.

Aemond's attire was nothing short of regal. His robe, made of smooth satin, was as dark as the night, a deep black that emphasized the dragon's signature color. The grandeur of the robe was enhanced by the golden dragons embroidered on each breast and adorning the collar. A thick black leather belt cinched his waist, accentuating his lean and muscular frame, and he wore black trousers that complemented his boots, which shone knee-high in glossy black.

One of the most captivating aspects of his appearance was his hair. Though it retained most of its signature look, the top was carefully braided along his scalp before flowing freely down his back, adding to the elegance of the ensemble. The Prince’s demeanor was as cool and composed as usual, but as Maera observed, there was a subtle softness in his slightly widened eye, a reflection of the unique bond they shared. His strong, slender frame radiated confidence and authority, making him a powerful presence within the Sept, one that Maera found impossible to tear her eyes away from.

Lord Jasper led her down more steps before walking through the parted aisle of courtiers. Maera’s feelings were a mix of excitement, anticipation, and a touch of nervousness. The weight of the moment was not lost on her, as she made her way towards her intended. The gazes of the courtiers in the Sept were upon her, and as she proceeded, she received a sea of respectful nods, smiles, and quiet murmurs of admiration. Amongst the crowd, Maera spotted her stepmother, brothers and her sister. They waved eagerly at her, causing her heart to swell with relief and love for them.

Having escorted Maera to the front of the Sept, Lord Jasper granted his daughter a soft smile before leaving her side to join the rest of the gathered crowd. Maera turned to face Aemond, her emotions a whirlwind of nervousness and excitement. Her heart raced, and her green eyes locked onto his one violet eye. There was a subtle, reassuring smile on Aemond's lips as he looked at her, and the sight of him helped calm her nerves. He offered his hand and she took it eagerly, clutching on to it to steady herself before ascending more steps to face the High Septon, who awaited them between the statues of the Father and the Mother.

The High Septon’s voice resonated throughout the grand Sept as he addressed Aemond, instructing him, "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection."

Maera obediently turned her back to him and felt the heavy weight of the cloak being placed over her shoulders. The black velvet with golden dragon embroidery was a symbol of their union, and it sent shivers down her spine. As Aemond's fingertips lingered on her shoulders, and his warm breath brushed against her neck, Maera felt a rush of anticipation. The physical contact, however brief, sent a thrill through her, intensifying her excitement for the ceremony and the night that would follow.

With the bride cloaked, the Septon proceeded to address the entire assembly. He began by acknowledging the presence of House Targaryen, extending his reverence to the King, Queen, Queen Mother and Lord Hand. Then he shifted his focus to the courtiers, declaring, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

The Septon, his voice resonating with solemnity, began leading the couple and the congregation in prayers, invoking the blessings of the Gods upon their union. Maera couldn't help but entertain a thought about the irony of a celibate Septon asking for fertility and fruitful marriage.

In the midst of the ceremony, Maera stole a quick glance at Aemond, finding him already looking at her. The slight blush that tinted her cheeks revealed the fluttering excitement and emotion within. She noticed a mischievous smirk gracing Aemond's face, and the shared moment between them felt like a glimpse into the beginning of their shared journey.

Septon Eustace, after the prayers, produced a golden silk ribbon, a symbol of unity and connection. With a graceful motion, he tied the fabric into a secure knot around the hands of Aemond and Maera. Their hands entwined, bound together by the delicate ribbon, signifying their union.

As the ribbon was unraveled by the Septon, the grand moment arrived when he directed them, "Look upon each other and say the words." The eyes of the betrothed couple met, and the profound weight of their vows and commitments settled in. The couple’s breathing became synced as they gazed upon each other before uttering the vows simultaneously to each other, that so many had said before them.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..."

"I am hers…”

"I am his…”

“and she is mine.”

“and he is mine.”

“From this day…”

“…until the end of my days."

With the vows exchanged, the moment arrived for the couple to seal their union with a kiss. Maera watched intently as Aemond leaned in, feeling a rush of butterflies flutter in her stomach. It was a pivotal moment in their relationship, unlike any other they had shared.

As their lips met, the kiss was soft and chaste, a marked contrast to the fiery and passionate encounters they had experienced before. Their lips moved together in a gentle and tender connection, causing Maera's emotions to swirl within her—a combination of excitement, vulnerability, and the beginning of a new chapter.

The kiss was over all too quickly, leaving Maera yearning for more. They joined hands, facing the congregation, and the assembled guests erupted into enthusiastic applause and cheering, celebrating the union of Prince Aemond and his wife, the new Princess of the Realm.

As soon as they could, Maera and Aemond exited the Sept, hand in hand, and moved with haste toward the awaiting carriage. Their footsteps were filled with purpose, and anticipation of the moments yet to come. Once inside the privacy of the carriage, with Aemond sitting opposite to Maera, the door closed behind them, and the horses began to pull them away from the Sept. Maera, feeling the tension and anticipation of the day finally receding, breathed a sigh of relief.

Aemond's observant eyes didn't miss it, and he couldn't help but ask, "Relieved, are we?"

She chuckled softly in response, the weight of the ceremony no longer bearing down on her. "Yes," she admitted, "I am glad it's over. Now the union is official."

A sly grin played on Aemond's lips, and he raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sinister allure. "Well," he said, leaning forward slightly, "The marriage is not valid in the eyes of the Realm or the Gods until it's...consummated."

Maera's nervous gulp didn't escape his notice. She could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, and she sensed his playful intentions, perhaps even an attempt to assert his dominance over her. Never one to back down from a challenge, Maera met Aemond's smirk with one of her own. She crossed her legs under her skirts, a smug expression taking hold. It was a battle of wills, and she was determined not to let him have the upper hand.

"You seem rather fixated on the consummation, my Prince,” Maera provocatively remarked, green eyes settling on the One-Eyed Prince. She couldn't help but smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief, as she teased further, "I am surprised that you actually refrained from trying to sneak into my chambers before the today ."

Aemond let out a low, thoughtful hum, his jaw clenching slightly as he met her challenge. With a wicked smirk, he leaned in closer, whispering in a husky tone, "Time will tell who will give in first tonight." He couldn't resist the opportunity to tease her, his voice seductive and a hint of provocation as he added, "I have no doubt that you will be the one begging to be bedded."

Maera arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a defiant smile. "We shall see about that."

Upon their return to the Red Keep for the wedding celebrations, Aemond and Maera entered a transformed hall, now adorned for the wedding reception. The room was filled with splendor, a breathtaking sight. Decorations of shimmering gold and black adorned the walls and ceilings, matching the Targaryen and Wylde colors. Torches and candles were lit, casting a warm and inviting glow.

At the front of the room, a magnificent top table was prepared for the bride and groom. It was adorned with intricate dragon-themed centerpieces, golden goblets, and fresh flowers. The chairs at the top table were especially ornate, fit for a prince and his bride. The feast laid out on the tables was a grand display of culinary delights. There were roasted meats, fresh fish, fruits, and various other dishes to tantalize the guests' taste buds. The tables were covered in sumptuous linens, and the settings gleamed with golden tableware.

The newlyweds sat at the top table, flanked by their respective families. As the speeches were made, the room was filled with laughter and joy. Prominent figureheads of their Houses shared amusing anecdotes, offered heartfelt congratulations, and raised their glasses in a toast to the happy couple. The words of wisdom, love, and support from friends and family brought smiles to the faces of Aemond and Maera.

Throughout the speeches, Aemond's hand rested on Maera's in her lap, a silent but reassuring presence. As the speeches concluded, the bride and groom were prompted to take part in the first dance as husband and wife. With smiles and grace, they rose from their seats, their hands entwined as the walked to the dance floor.

The dance commenced with a graceful bow and curtsy as the music began to play. As they moved together on the floor, their dance seemed to emulate dragons soaring through the skies. They held hands, their fingers entwined as they twirled and stepped in perfect sync, their movements fluid and harmonious.

Throughout the dance, Maera’s face bore a mix of excitement and contentment as she looked into Aemond's eye, her expression soft and tender. Aemond, too, looked regal and composed, but there was a gentleness in his demeanor as he danced with his bride. His eye held an intensity, but his lips curved into a genuine smile as they moved in unity across the dance floor. The room was filled with the joy of the moment, and all eyes were on the newlyweds as they continued their choreography, their elegance and grace captivating the onlookers.

As the dance came to a graceful conclusion, Maera curtsied with a flourish, and Aemond executed a deep bow to her. Their performance was met with thunderous applause and cheers from the delighted audience. Amidst the jubilant atmosphere, Maera glanced around the room, her eyes catching the attention of numerous attendees who vied for her recognition with respectful nods and raised glasses.

She turned to Aemond and said, "I think it is only proper that we go and greet our guests, do you not?"

Aemond hummed in agreement, and Maera playfully cocked her head, her voice laced with suggestion. "We will reconvene later, my Prince."

Aemond responded with a flirtatious grin, his tone equally suggestive. "Until then, Princess."

Notes: Ahhhh next chapter smut yall 😎

Tags: @blue-serendipity @watercolorskyy @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

INVITATION TO "HE★VENS LOVE AFFAIR" - Translation

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Eiichi: Welcome to this magnificent white mansion, Angel. This is where we’ll all be living together for one week.

Eiichi: (opens the door for the listener) Come, this way. My name is Otori Eiichi.

Eiichi: I’ll burn up this life and move faster than the wind to achieve victory. I am a pro racing driver. I believe that when it comes to love, I should give it my all in the same way.

Van: I was really looking forward to your arrival! I’m Kiryuin Van. I’m the field’s superhero who is good at both offense and defense!

Van: Naturally, this doesn’t apply only to baseball, I’ll make your monotonous days beautifully colorful!

Nagi: Hey, you. You’re a little nervous right now, but I’m sure you’re very excited inside.

Nagi: How do I know that? It’s because it’s written all over your face. Come on, take my arm. I, the most gifted great detective in the universe, Mikado Nagi, will escort you safely!

Kira: Your left side is reserved for me. I want you to rely more on me.

Kira: My name is Sumeragi Kira. I work as a potter. I’ll teach you if you’re interested. I think it might make your life richer.

Yamato: Is this all of your luggage? I’ll carry it to your room.

Yamato: It’s awfully cute, just like its owner.

Yamato: Ah, I still haven’t told you my name. It’s Hyuga Yamato. I’m a martial artist. Leave things like carrying your luggage and heavy lifting to me.

Eiji: (gasps) I am sorry, it’s just that you look even nicer than the picture I saw of you, so I couldn’t help but stare without realizing.

Eiji: Um, I’m Otori Eiji. I run a flower shop. I think it would be nice to enjoy the flowers with you.

Eiji: And finally…

Shion: I am Amakusa Shion. Amakusa’s fate is to investigate the environment in which the many creatures that inhabit this earth live.

Shion: And, like you, I have come to this place to learn what love is.

Eiichi: From now on, the seven of us will be competing for your love.

Nagi: Only one person from our house will be able to win over your heart and give you their love balloon.

Nagi: Well, we don’t have to wait until the end, it’s already been decided from the beginning that the one who will become your boyfriend will be Nagi! Right?

Van: Not at all, perhaps Angel is after a type like me. Someone with an adult’s broad-mindedness. What do you think?

Kira: You’re too close. Angel is probably bothered.

Kira: The thing you came here to look for is true love. I’m after it too. I hope to find it with you.

Yamato: Keep your eyes on me, Angel! To win your love, I’ll fight squarely and seriously!

Eiji: Hey, Angel. I’m just hoping to be able to spend time with you normally and get to know each other better that way.

Eiji: That is because I want you to decide with honest feelings. That is my request.

Shion: This is the beginning of our story. How the plot goes is not in Amakusa's hands now.

Shion: I hope you and I reach the same destination at the end of this journey.

Eiichi: It’s all up to you. That being said, in the end, I don't intend for you to choose anyone other than me.

Eiichi: I will surely make these words true.

Eiichi: Now, it’s time to begin!

(sound of a clock ticking, then striking)

All: HE★VENS LOVE AFFAIR!

[roastbeasts]

do you have an all time favorite animal/animals?

they say never ask a man his salary a woman her weight or a biology major what their favorite animal is. anyways i have several so here's a list

(putting it under the cut bc there are bugs. and lots of text)

fav arthropod: trilobite beetle

two things - 1. these guys aren't even remotely related to trilobites & 2. this is a picture of a female trilobite beetle. the males look like standard beetles, not whatever this shit is. there isn't a lot of information ab the trilobite beetle's role in the greater ecosystem but there IS a lot of info ab their sex lives and how funny it is that the females are like 8x bigger than their male partners. here's an article for ur perusal if ur interested in bug sex

fav herp: chinese giant salamander

i actually saw this guy at the zoo today! if u want to see a picture of his ass i will put it in the replies. anyone who knows me knows that i'm obsessed w these guys, i just think it's so cool how they're one of those animals that has remained virtually unchanged over millions of years of evolution. u can probably guess what they eat by how they look. rumor has it that they cry like babies also but i can't find any footage that seems legit. i'm still looking though

fav misc invert: anna's magnificent sea slug / chromodoris annae

this is an animal that tumblr knows ab & loves so i don't have much to say ab it. they do eat sea sponges and store their toxins in their bodies, which is cool. a lot of ppl have no concept of how big sea slugs are - this guy is around 5cm if memory serves. ok next animal

fav mammal: binturong

binturongs!!! i love binturongs. i showed them to my bf awhile ago and he loves them too. they're viverrids which means that they're related to critters like civets and other small cat-adjacent creatures, and they engage in grooming & rocking back and forth as self-soothing activities. that is all that i know about them off the top of my head. goodbye

[dragon-professor-malus]

Lately, there have been sightings of a phantom serpent haunting the halls of the esteemed Blueberry Academy. At first upon hearing these tales, one could easily chalk this up to a Gyarados or other large serpent Pokemon seen at night and being mistakenly identified as some sort of cryptid.

But there have been some (admittedly blurry) pictures of this creature, and I now believe this to be a Zorokoryu, a fabled evolution of Zoroark.

Zorokoyru aren’t too well understood in the department of biology, due to there being no living specimens to study. All we have are several accounts of varying levels of dubiousness. Many of these accounts are from outright xenophobic sources which contain known fallacies, so doing research can often be painful.

Fortunately, there are also accounts from far less biased sources, though some are still doubtful for other reasons (one of them claimed that Zubat descended from Aerodactyl). The most trustworthy of these sources is Professor Laventon’s Pokédex. I will share an excerpt:

“This evolved form of Zoroark is quite difficult to track, but it was very much worth the effort. These magnificent creatures span around 20 feet long from snout to tail, elegantly “swimming” through the air. Their manes and tails taper into shadowy matter which is partially biological hair and partially spectral energy. As one would expect, they’re part Ghost type, but as signified by their reptilian scales and horns, they are also Dragon type.

My encounter with a Zorokoryu was in the Timeless Woods of Kitakami. I had heard reports of a mysterious Pokémon that resembled a giant, serpentine Zoroark in appearance, and I wanted to see this for myself. It was somewhat challenging to track them down. I would see glimpses of a serpentine shape, but when I got close, it would fade into nothingness. Sometimes I would retread a path only to end up in a completely different place than where I had begun.

Finally, when I had peered into a bamboo stalk to see if there was any water condensed in it, a serpentine form had slithered out of the opening, growing in size as it exited the plant. They seemed impressed that I managed to find them, even if it happened to be in an unintentional manner. At first I wondered if them fitting inside a bamboo stalk was an illusion, but apparently, Zorua and their evolved forms can turn their bodies into a shadowy material which can change in size and shape. That explains why their illusions are tangible.”

The second most recent account of a living Zorokoryu was 220 years ago. There have been some remains discovered, but for a long time the general consensus was that they had all perished. But I have always considered the potential of there still being alive individuals. After all, their species are known for their powers of illusion, so it wouldn’t be impossible for them to hide. And even if that isn’t the case, it’s not like they’re an extinct species. They are an evolution of Zoroark, so as long as Zoroark live on, so will Zorokoryu.

[legendsofmyriad]

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 32: Home

Lilith hoisted her foot higher. Thorny brambles stretched to snag her ankles, and she struggled to keep pace with the professor marching ahead unhindered. He moved through the forest with a touch of purpose, effortlessly avoiding the snaring clutches of the dark vines, as though guided by an unseen force. 

Each footfall squelched, and she could feel the soil beneath her giving way. She managed to find some wedged flagstones to save her shoes from sinking into the mud. 

Everything seemed to lean towards her, with a mix of curiosity and despair, unfolding within the fungus and spores to plea for sympathy. All remnants of its former splendour were gone, yet Lilith made an effort to picture it. Fronds reaching high, sun beating down. Mischievous scampers rustling the undergrowth and the crisp, powdery scent of blossom. Witnessing the beauty and marvel of Skuld’s forest, it disheartened her to observe the neglect and desolation of this one. 

Competing with the professor’s flurried strides, she worked to stay upright and stick to the path he set, fearing she would be swallowed by the unknown if she strayed. 

Gnarled and mauled, the trees creaked as they passed. Similar to desperate lovers clinging onto each other to prevent their fall, they continued to beckon to the professor, but their cries went unanswered and Bartholomew disregarded their noise. 

He retained a steady concentration on the road ahead, swinging his cane with his onward motion. He glimpsed the mage behind him to ensure she hadn’t got lost and was still trailing after him. Although she often focused on the ground below, she stole occasional glances at her surroundings, likely sensing the raw magic and tapping into the energy. Constantly alert and dissecting. Aware of how tiring a mind like that was, he admired Lilith’s resilience as she pressed on, unfazed by any obstacles. 

“We will not be here long,” he assured her, tapering his speed to allow her to match his strides. “Once we obtain the mineral, we can return to the laboratory.”

“What exactly is this mineral we’re looking for?” Lilith asked. Gathering the hem of her lengthy jacket, she sidestepped a swampy puddle and shuffled around the stagnant pool.  

“The proper term for it is an Ocher Ore. While unremarkable in appearance, it is rather rare and only develops under immense pressure, which has the potential to lead to destructive rockslides. The Core imbued them with its power, making them easier to locate. Specialists here identify and remove them in order to limit additional damage to our natural formations.”

He studied the branching pathways and choose the farthest, ushering her on along the narrow pathway and into gloomier stretches of forest. 

Lilith paid close attention to his navigational skills, noticing how he deliberately steered them into increasingly isolated areas, even at the expense of their speed. His voice lost all fascination, and his main concern appeared to be getting the ore and leaving, rather than expressing his adventurous side. 

As they arrived at a sprawling clearing, a colossal skeleton greeted them, collapsed tree boughs sprouting from its centre. A ring of smaller, identical skeletons enclosed the rib cage. 

Much to Lilith’s astonishment, Bartholomew came to a halt for the first time in hours. He hadn’t even bothered to take stock of the gateway they had landed on, but now he paused, inhaled as though exhausted, and inclined his head to the remains. 

Vigilant steps drove him to the monumental skull, the holes where eyes had once watched the world empty and wind crossing through like an open doorway. His flat palm met the smooth, off-white bone. Cracks shot like lightning forks in the carcass of that magnificent creature, fractured yet holding on, denying time’s wish for them to wither and fade to dust. 

“They don’t look like the skeletons on The Core,” Lilith noted. 

“This was no invader,” Bartholomew replied, making a conscious effort not to sound offended. She didn’t know. Only a handful of people likely understood the significance. 

“What was it?” the mage questioned as she craned her neck to see the skull’s rounded top, the head angled in everlasting curiosity. 

The name hung on the tip of his tongue, stubbornly refusing to be uttered. If this pure creature had perished, he feared that the others he had researched and fostered had faced the same fate. 

“It no longer matters,” he declared, distancing himself from the bones. 

Lilith prepared to wring out more information, but ultimately decided against it as he steered her away from the crowded graveyard and further into the humid channels. 

“You seem to know your way around here well,” she commented, swatting aside a drooping sprig and shaking the sticky droplets from her gloves. 

“I am the Navigator of Myriad,” he reminded her. “I have an exemplary understanding of all locations.”

“But on Skuld you were happy to go through the front door. Here, you’re… skulking.”

He gave an indignant scoff. A man of his prestige did not skulk, and he vehemently denied any inclination towards such behaviour, even when consumed by emotion. “Skulking?”

“Yeah, as if you’re waiting for something.” Hoping he would open up, she allowed the silence to dawdle, but he remained tight-lipped. “There are just two conclusions I can draw,” she continued, verbally nudging him and attentive to any giveaways in his expression. “Either you’re trying to avoid being seen, or there’s a potential threat. If it were the latter, I’m sure you would have given me a heads-up, so I’m guessing you do not wish to be spotted.”

Content with her observations, she redirected herself to the trail. “I have a knack for telling when someone is being sneaky, regardless of how well it’s concealed.”

“Is it fair to say this is a situation of ‘like attracts like’?” Bartholomew pressed, impressed by her perception and vowing to be more discreet around her in the future. 

Looking up at him with a wide grin, Lilith welcomed his assumption. “Perhaps. Or maybe I’m starting to understand you better.” 

Out of the forest and towards the mountains, the echo of a crumbled structure ascended from the clay, cutting into the ethereal lavender sky. Heaps of dirt and decay smothered the decorated slabs, coating the once vivid motifs in filth. The highest tower’s precarious lean cast a dominating shadow over the neglected courtyard. 

How it had not already fallen to dust and oblivion, Lilith didn’t know. A peculiar ambiance crawled within the broken formation, as if every element had been constructed using otherworldly forces. In her attempts to attune herself to it, to forge a bond with the unusual energy, it receded like an anxious animal into hidden nooks. 

They wandered by semi-circular edifices and crossed beneath small aqueducts, devoid of water and the decorative trims all but decimated. It was not only natural decay that had seeped into the cracks and crevices of this magnificent construction; it had been attacked. As she looked up, Lilith discerned the deep, jagged wounds on the sides from a merciless and powerful onslaught. Instead of being fixed, they remained as a symbol of the acute struggle that marked its final moments. 

Bartholomew guided her into a side entrance of the keep, where the derelict remains of a kitchen clung to the walls with rusty nails and distorted fixtures. The intense odour of rot followed hot on their heels, saturating the surroundings with its pervasive presence. Mindful of her footing, she took each grimy stair with caution, the slime and ooze trying in vain to send her crashing. 

She suppressed her revulsion with a hard swallow to rid her throat of bile and accompanied the professor into a rounded room at the peak of the smallest tower. The oppressive heat was alleviated to some extent by the hole in the ceiling, the far side of the roof having collapsed and slid down the wall to rest. 

“Are you certain the stone is in here?” Lilith questioned as Bartholomew headed straight for the upended desk by the solitary surviving window. Treading over bumps in the once navy rug and blowing at the dust on the picture frames, she squinted to make out the faded faces hidden underneath. “There doesn’t seem to be anything left.”

“It is here,” Bartholomew said plainly. He shoved a drawer out of the way and proceeded to the next, rifling through the papers and snatching the velvet box within. With a flick of the clasp, he revealed the warming sight concealed inside. 

“Can you keep this on you?” he asked, getting up off his knees and handing over their precious find. 

Wordlessly, Lilith stowed it away in the pouch on her belt and secured the button with a click. The professor fixed on the annihilation with a grief-laden curve between his brow. 

“What was this building?” she questioned.

“I believe the more important question is who resided here,” a lulled voice sighed from the open doorway.

Bartholomew swung round, Lilith close behind. She lifted her hands, palms radiating magic, but his firm grip on her wrist encouraged her to lower her defences. “Everything is all right,” he assured her. “We are not in any danger.” 

From the darkness of the corridor, a lady emerged, her flowing off-white gown trailing in her wake like a cascading river. Her rosy gaze wandered over the hesitant mage and landed on the professor, head angled in a mix of grace and surprise. “Who abandoned this castle?” she urged. “Who owned such a beautiful place and surrendered it to rot and ruin?” 

Jaw stiffening, Bartholomew tensed the constraint on his cane, the silver ornament on top pressing imprints on his palm. 

“Do not look so displeased to see me,” the woman stated, dismissing his unfriendly reception. “I merely wanted to welcome you home, brother. It’s been far too long.”

Lilith’s attention snapped to her guide so abruptly she almost gave herself whiplash. 

The professor ignored her reaction and straightened up in an attempt to assert authority. His sister’s expression of intrigue towards his companion didn’t go unnoticed. “Marcia,” he said, “allow me to present Commander Lilith Cleaver of the Sunbreak Army.”

“A mage, I see.”

Bartholomew cast an apprehensive glimpse at Lilith. “This is my sister, Marcia.”

“We have not been graced with a Solgardian presence in centuries. You are most welcome here, commander,” Marcia greeted, her radiance slipping as she returned to her brother. “I had no idea you intended to visit. I suspected that there would be some activity here with the gateways stirring. You must bring your new friend to the Palace of Prosperity. I am confident she will find it delightful.”

“That is unnecessary. There is much-”

“I insist.” 

“We are in a rather urgent situation and-”

“Bartholomew, your family is eager to see you again. After such a long time apart, can you not spare a few hours to pay us a visit?” In the face of silence, Marcia claimed victory. “You may languish here a little longer before you join us.” She tilted her head to Lilith before strolling out into the shadowy corridor. 

Bartholomew’s throat tightened as he stared at the doorway, fearing that his family would pounce on him the instant he made a move to depart. “Commander Cleaver, would you mind heading to the overlook and inspecting the grounds? Report any movement as soon as you spot it.” 

Even though Lilith had many unanswered questions clamouring for answers, his discomfort was difficult to miss. With a reassuring touch on his arm, she left to comply with his instruction. 

Once she had gone, Bartholomew shifted to the rest of the room, dust stinging his eyes and his nose clogging with the smell of decay. Annoyance bubbled inside him, but he tempered it. He assumed he had been discreet in his actions, but his family’s realisation that he had completed his slumber caused complications he could not afford. 

Even as she reached the highest elevation of the fortress, the stuffy, coagulated air endured, like a river clogged with moss and muck. Looking down from that height, she had an unobstructed view of the forest they had journeyed through, boughs knotted and contorted, clutching at unstable dirt. Several had succumbed and fallen, tearing down vines and other trees in their descent. If a sufficient force pushed the ones at the edge, the rest were bound to collapse like Asari dominoes. They survived by sheer willpower, defying the odds stacked against them and clinging on.

Beyond the deterioration, she sighted a lofty structure peeping over the horizon and leaned a little further over the upper bastion barrier, the curtain wall of the keep dropping precariously into a dried-up moat. At first, it appeared as a distant haze, but upon closer observation, she noticed it formed the midpoint of the segmented territories around it. 

Dusk bathed the province to the immediate right in a pastel pink glow and drew her to the castle nestled amongst flourishing hills and rambling fields. Bartholomew’s domain only served as a shadow now. Consumed by his own pursuits, he neglected everything else. A fraction of her questioned if his family had tended to it in his absence, holding onto the hope that he would come back someday. Waiting, wondering, and resigning it to the inevitable decay once they accepted he had become too immersed in his adventures to desire to return home. 

Farina would always ensure her rooms at The Citadel were impeccable while she was away, prepared to welcome her home at a moment’s notice. She often left small gifts for her, like a bottle of her favourite perfume or an assortment of snacks. Had Bartholomew’s family shown him the same kindness? Or had they waved him off with a half-hearted goodbye and got on with their own lives? If they were as old as him, she supposed a few centuries were a fleeting blink to them, and the collapse of their brother’s lands even less. 

Bartholomew coughed to announce his arrival and joined her by the bulwark edge. His chest deflated in a wistful breath as he drank in the scope of his neglect. 

“There’s been no movement,” she reported. 

“It is as I suspected,” Bartholomew responded, scanning the treetops as if his mere gaze might coax any signs of existence to reveal themselves. “It is all gone.”

Turning aside from the bleak tract of forest, Lilith moved to the professor. He met her inquisitive glance. “I wasn’t looking out for more surprise visits from your relatives, was I?” she guessed. 

“I detected that everything in my territory was dead,” he said, “yet I clung to a shred of hope that some semblance of life remained.” He tore himself away from the decay of his own making. “I appreciate your vigilance.”

“All part of the service.” Although she grasped his reasons for seeking the Ocher Ore and departing, she pondered whether he had anticipated a different outcome when reuniting with his family. A heartwarming reconciliation, promising hope and harmony. “I thought you were born on The Core.” 

“It was once widely believed The Core created me,” the professor told her after a breathy chuckle at her assumption. “However, I was born here, on Prosperia, in the Palace of Prosperity, just like my siblings. I was granted ownership of these lands once I reached adulthood.”

He recalled his immense excitement when he was given this territory to call his own, a place he might cultivate as he pleased. Yet as the years passed, he grew uninterested in his duties, finding the melody of the cosmos to be an agonising reminder of his isolation until he surrendered to the beguiling song. “Although I regret its current condition, I would still prefer this over witnessing a prosperous land and see only my prison. I longed for adventure, and by the stars did I get it.” 

“Is it fixable?” Lilith asked, gazing back out with a renewed perspective.

“What ravaged life in that forest and destroyed this fortification was incredibly powerful,” Bartholomew said, wording his response with care. “Even I struggled to repel it. Fixing this will not be as simple as removing the debris and reassembling the pieces. There is a web of dark magic to unravel.” 

“Doesn’t sound impossible to me,” the mage shrugged. “The keep hasn’t been decimated beyond its original form and there is much that survives.” She surveyed the rampart, the courtyard beneath, and out to the mangled wood. “From what I know, you were always there for others in their time of need. Maybe after we have woken The Core, you can stay here for a while. I am confident that there are people who will lend a hand in repairing all this, including myself.”

Silence hung between them. In the twitch of his jaw and the staunch focus on the rotting terrain, she could see her suggestion sinking in. “In my experience, many like to think they are alone,” she continued, “but that is rarely the truth. As long as your intentions are good, there will always be people ready to assist you in whatever endeavours your brilliant mind concocts.”

Bartholomew wished he could convey his gratitude for her stalwart support, but chaos clouded his thoughts and he grappled to articulate any of it. Instead, he rested his hand on her back and bent his head in civility. “Few have described my mind as ‘brilliant’,” he admitted, pausing briefly. In the past, some labelled him as dangerous, while others insinuated he used his centuries of wisdom for selfish gain. He found solace in the knowledge she was willing to stay and discover the kinder side of him. 

“People like you always have brilliance hiding somewhere,” Lilith assured him. “I have been fortunate enough to have met many wonderful people, enough to know.” 

He had no hesitation or uncertainty about that. For someone of such tender years, she had experienced much. “I am grateful for your support, commander,” he said earnestly. “You are right. The awakening of The Core might offer an opportunity for a new beginning. Darkness does not last forever, and after so long in shadow, this land deserves some light.” 

-- -- -- -- --

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[cherrrysue]

hi :)) i was wondering if you could recommend any fics that have the same vibe or are similar to “the school of extraordinary lovers” by stylinsoncity!!

like the whole supernatural creatures and an academy and stuff !!

oooh yes! it's non-considerably one of the best fics that was ever written in this fandom (not biased i promise but i still love stylinsoncity) so here it is:

Supernatural Creatures

(the fic in question):

the school of extraordinary lovers by stylinsoncity

M, 191k

"We keep telling the other, I love you and I love you, and we do, though we both know where the knives are." - Laura Van Prooyen

harry is a third-year witch and violinist at Laitswold, the only magical academy in the UK, with dreams of taking on the world, and hopefully breaking the centuries-old curse on his family while he's at it. he does not dream of facing off against his childhood rival and duet partner, but louis is back in town after six years abroad, so that's exactly what happens.

here's the one that match your description:

collision by itjustkindahappened

Supernatural creatures academy AU

E, 226k

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

and some of other mythology / supernatural fics

Breakable Heaven by amomentoflove

Hades/Persephone AU

E, 44k

“What do you think?” Louis gets captured by Harry’s green eyes, unable to look away or even take a breath.

“I think you’re the most magnificent creature I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met many creatures then.”

Harry’s eyes glance downward to Louis’ lips and his tongue darts out to wet his own. “None like you.”

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Ghost Hunter AU

G, 102k

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny

Ghost!Harry

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.