#me with dishonored and lord of the rings

[readychilledwine]

Azriel Week Day 3 Prompt - The Knife in the Dark - The Fall of Icarus

Summary - Waking up alone in a dark cell was not part of your mission plans, only you're not alone.

Warnings - torture, mentions of blood, Azriel being scary

A/n - I've never wrote a torture scene before 👀👀👀👀 I don't know if I'll ever write one again. Not 100% proud of this @azrielappreciationweek piece, but not hating it either.

Chains. You had always hated chains. You tugged at the ones on your wrists again, flinching as they cut into the soft skin of your wrist and gave in. 

"You're awake. Good, I was getting bored," you glared towards the darkness that voice came from, arms aching. Your father had warned you to enter the Night Court carefully, and you had. Which made this reality much harder to accept.

Blue siphons began to shine in the darkness in front of you, a large male looking as if he was death himself coming towards you. "Who are you and where did you come from?"

"Get Rhysand. He will know who I am and why I am here." That you realized was the wrong answer. A sharp blade pressed against the hollow point of your throat, causing you to whimper softly as you felt it nick the soft skin there. 

He smirked, "You are in no position to be making demands, little one." You steeled yourself, having sworn to your parents to speak to Rhysand and Rhysand only after he answered a riddle correctly. "Who are you and why are you here?"

You took a deep breath, the bargain tattoo burning as you contemplated breaking it. You made your choice, remembering who you were and your position in your home, and raised your head defiantly. "I will speak to Rhysand and no one else, dog, per my orders."

Azriel put a hand above your shoulder, making you silently grateful you had hidden your wings. "Where did you come from? I will send them a part of you so they know you failed. At least you'll die a loyal fool, though." At speed your mind hardly registered, he cut you.

First the inner part of your left bicep, then diagonally across your stomach, then across the tops of both thighs. You out your head against the stonewall, breathing deeply through the pain. "Kill me and you will find Pryithian lost for help in your upcoming war."

Azriel paused then. "And how would that be, little one." That blade dug back into your throat, and you sent a prayer to the Mother. This is how you'd die. You would die after being sent to Rhysand to ask why an illyrian male had been flying over Cretea and to offer assistance. 

You whispered softly. "I can't tell you." Death would come your way before the dishonor of breaking a bargain with your father, possibly endangering your fae. "I have orders."

Azriel slide that blade down the front of your shirt. "You'll die for your orders instead of just telling me the answers to my questions?"

You nodded. "I'll die for the safety of my home." Azriel didn't want to tell you how he understood. He didn't want to comfort you before doing what he was about to do. He sunk and twisted that blade into your left thigh, barely avoiding that crucial artery before pulling the blade out and putting it into your right hand, making you scream out and tears begin to fall. 

You don't know how long it went on for. Minutes, hours, days. He'd ask you the same three questions, anger setting in more and more for him as you denied him each time. You were beyond grateful were darkness found you again. Slipping into unconsciousness and falling limo against that stonewall.

Azriel lead Rhysand and Cassian to the room, opening it for him. He watched as Rhysand's face fell, his eyes going wide before he ran, ripping the heavy key ring from Azriel and unlocking the female prisoner. 

He went to the ground holding her, rocking her gently while he whispered to her it would be okay. "GO GET A FUCKING HEALER!" It wasn't Rhysand who yelled that at him, but his high lord commanding it. Cassian went instantly while Azriel stood paralyzed. 

"Sssssssshhhh," Azriel watched as Rhysand brushed a hair behind your ear. "You're okay little angel. It's going to be okay."

Azriel heard you speak weakly, "Icarus-"

Rhys interrupted voice broken, "Laughted as he fell and screamed to the winds. There's bitter triumph in failure, joy in the crash, and excitement in falling instead of soaring." The bargain and protect ward faded off of you, revealing those soft feathered wings. "I have you, y/n, you will be fine."

Azriel sat by your side on Rhysand's bitter angry orders. He didn't know how he didn't see it, those familiar doe eyes, that hair, your nose. Rhys was in the room, deep into a letter and scratching the parchment with rushed strokes. 

Parchment he was using to inform Maryam and Drakon of their youngest daughter's torture at Azriel's hands. Your little hand twitched in his and he moved instantly getting water ready for you as you shot awake, body fully healed from Madja, Rhysand, and Lucien's efforts. 

Rhys stiffened instantly, hearing the change in your breathing and set his pen down to come to your other side. "I'm glad you're awake." He offered gently. "Do you want anything?" 

You shook your head, moving closer to him and away from Azriel. It shouldn't have hurt him the way it did. But it had. It cut him deeply that his friend's daughter was afraid of him now. "I want to go home." 

Rhys nodded at the answer. "Why are you here, darling?"

"There was an Illyrian male flying over the ruins of Cretea. Why?"

Azriel shut his eyes. You had been sent as a contact point. He tortured not just his friend's daughter, but a potential allies' contact point. Rhysand inclined his head to Azriel. "I sent him to look for all of you and ask for help with the war we are about to face against Hybern. We assumed you all ran with Jurian looking for your mother." Rhysand offered you the water Azriel was holding. "Do you know if they will stand with us?" 

You shook your head in uncertainty. "I do not make those calls. My father and brothers do. I could have said yes before, but now, I-" You shook your head. "I do not know what dad will say when he hears of this."

Rhys nodded, understanding completely. "He would have never hurt you had he known. We understand why you were so heavily glamored. I know it is a lot to ask right now, but hopefully someday you'll understand why he did what he did."

Summer was beautiful, even if you were currently there being healed after one of Hyberns generals had singled you out. Madja was mending one of your wings, her wrinkled hands moving through the feathers and healing the bones slowly. 

Rhysand had pulled your father out moments ago, mentioning he had a prisoner that he needed your father to decide the fate of. 

You leaned further into Morrigan, appreciating the way she was comforting you by scratching your scalp with her long nails. She froze suddenly, face growing pale as she looked towards the entrance of the tent. Madja gasped loudly, leaving your back go look over who ever had just entered. 

Heavy footsteps made their way towards you, and you looked to see them belonging to a heavily siphoned male, blood soaking his armor and leather wings. You stared at Azriel's face, a brow raised, "Yes?"

"Your father sent me to inform you he is dead." You nodded, looking into those hazel eyes, "and that my debt is paid." You nodded again as Mor silently excused herself and Azriel took her place. 

"How'd you do it?"

Azriel chuckled. "Skinned him alive. One strip for every feather he ripped out and broken bone he gave you."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azrielweek2023 #azrielappreciationweek2023 #azriel x yn #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

[indierpgnewsletter]

Fantasy Cities Volume 1

Around a year ago, I published a series looking at city settings from various fantasy games. I looked at 7 cities including Doskvol, Spire, Eversink, The City from a|state, Into the Cess and Citadel, Infinigrad, and Endon from Magical Industrial Revolution. I’ve now taken those 7 essays and expanded and improved them, added 2 more essays on Lankhmar from DCC’s boxed set and Freeport, a Pathfinder 1e city from Green Ronin. This PDF, Fantasy Cities Vol 1, is available now on my patreon.

Here’s an excerpt from the introduction

In the history of the fantasy genre, cities have an interesting place. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which created so much of what we consider generic about fantasy, doesn't really care for cities. Which makes sense because the books themselves feel like an elegy for a time before industrialization, a love letter to the countryside - to woods and streams and the sands below your feet. The cities of Middle Earth are, at their best, noble and static, and at their worst, corrupt and fallen to the hubris of man.

The earliest thriving fantasy cities are probably in the sword and sorcery of writers like Fritz Lieber or Michael Moorcock. These stories were influenced by, among other things, the machismo of pulp magazine stories. The cities reflect this. At their best, they're a canvas for male bravado and havens for debauchery and dissolution. At their worst, they're predatory and authoritarian.

In modern fantasy, the city is ascendant. The old tropes withered under post-modernism's sarcastic glare. Now, you get Ankh-Morpork and Bas Lag and many more that capture the contradictions, potential, and romance of cities as places to spend your lives. But what about games? A city in a novel has to be interesting on the page. A city in a game has to be interesting at the table, it has to bear the weight of the imagination of 3-5 people over a shitty internet connection. That's where I started the series affectionately known (by me) as WWTAWWTAC (pronounced whatawhatac), i.e. What We Talk About When We Talk About Cities.

And here’s an excerpt from the new entry on Lankhmar:

Creating a roleplaying game supplement for an existing fantasy city is tricky. It's trickier when it's a place as famous as Lankhmar, the City of the Black Toga, the City of Sevenscore Thousand Smokes. Not only are the stories well-loved, the city is an inspiration for other well-loved cities, notably Discworld's Ankh-Morpork which started out as a loving pastiche before evolving into something deeper. (Even the word "ankh" comes from Lankhmar). This means that you have to walk the line between giving fans what they want and making it a useful, usable supplement. Basically, DCC's approach is to not invent any new lore whatsoever - as far as I can see. They lay out what Leiber's originally stories say about Lankhmar and then give themselves permission to colour within the lines with small, inoffensive details. The end result isn't radical or surprising but it does seem genuinely quite good.

I’ve titled it Volume 1 because if we hit the patreon drive’s goal, I’ll do a Volume 2. Maybe I can finally tackle Waterdeep or Ptolus. Maybe I can expand to cities in novels and actually compare them to cities in games directly. Maybe I can look at cities in video games. Where does Dunwall from Dishonored end and Duskwall begin? There’s lots of things to explore!

Thanks to the 30+ folks who signed up last week, we’re currently at 94 out of 150. So if you’re doing okay and able to support, please head over to patreon and subscribe!

Link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/fantasy-cities-1-94754443

#indie rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpgsolidarity #ttrpg design #rpg

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Five

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I'm in my George R. R. Martin era, besties. He told me it's okay to take my time with my writing and not force myself. I mean, who am I to say no to the king himself? As always, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: Violence, non-consensual knifeplay aka stabbing, we don't know how to cope here we have Daemon Targaryen as a father.

"Her hands do violence, but there is a different dream in her heart." - Dishonored.

The Red Keep was in upheaval. Maids hurriedly carried baskets of clothing throughout the halls, servants checked over their shoulders at every turn, and every entrance and exit was guarded with at least two Gold Cloaks. A curfew was set in place by order of the Hand. No one was to roam through the Keep past sunset unless necessary.

There were no more unaccompanied excursions to the training yard, and if Arryk hadn't been overbearing before, he was practically an extension of you now. Everywhere you went, whether to the library or the Godswood, Ser Arryk was always five paces away. He was almost breathing down your neck at every turn, hand on the pommel of his sword, ready for the unseen threat.

You did suppose it was your fault, having murdered a member of the City Watch, but it was still rather annoying. You understood, of course, why there was a need to be up in arms about it, and you couldn't blame them for it. There was a murderer in their midst, and if they could best a trained killer, a man hardened with battle, what would they do to a defenseless Lord or Lady?

No one suspected you. Of course, they wouldn't. You were just one of the many bastards of Daemon Targaryen who had the sheer luck of becoming legitimized. You were only mindless court gossip, an object for men and women to gab over, not a human being. And while you did resent the fact, it worked in your favor.

"Who do you think could've done it?" Fiora asked Jeyne as she washed your scalp. "They said it was violent, that his head was severed from his body!"

Jeyne rolled her eyes, using a bristled brush to scrub at your nails. "Do not believe such rumors, Fiora. You're just as gullible as the lot of them," the older woman dismissed, gesturing her head.

"But Jeyne, Lottie told me herself! She was the one who discovered his body; the Mother rest his soul." The younger maidservant silently prayed as she brought a curved finger to her lips, looking up to the stone ceiling.

"How did a servant discover his corpse?" you questioned with your eyes closed, body adjusting within the warm water of the bath.

"Well, you see," Fiora started, suddenly stopping her ministrations, "Ser Lorgan was known as... umm... oh, what do you call it?" You glanced over at Jeyne with a brow raised. "He... Well... Ser Lorgan Sunderly had many friends. Many."

"Oh, Gods Fiora," Jeyne blurted exasperated, rolling her eyes. "He was a harlot. He had rotations of women in his bed, only to leave them wanting and waiting in the morn. It seems only fitting that he should be discovered by one."

You frowned, though it was not one of sadness but more of a believing surprise. Judging by how easy Ser Lorgan was as you led him to bed, it made sense. As you spoke, you relaxed into the tub, shutting your lids again. "Do you think it was one of his companions? Scorned by his lack of care and repertoire of lovers?"

Jeyne snorted, placing your hand into the water as she started on the other. "That seems likely, but have done it with such," she paused, staring at the furthest wall of your chambers as she thought of the correct word, "malice. But that tends to happen when one has been slighted, no matter how insignificant it seems to another."

You nodded with her sentences as Fiora rinsed the soap from your ebony strands, massaging rose oil into it once done. As the two women assisted you in leaving the bath, wrapping a thick cotton towel around your body, a knock sounded, leaving the three of you puzzled and slightly inconvenienced. You gestured to the maids to bring the bamboo partition over to your dressing vanity so they could continue their nightly routine.

"Enter," you called from behind the intricate paneling. The artisans nailed a cream-colored canvas tarp into the wood to protect your modesty, leaving you and the others outside to see dark shadows.

"Princess," you could see the figure bowing, still keeping formalities despite the informal presence. "I beg your pardon. I am here to do my nightly rounds before rest."

You hummed, Fiora gently rubbing your hair with the towel. It weighed heavily on your scalp when wet, and you gave the servant a grateful smile to have the weight taken off your neck.

"Ser Arryk, I should have known it was you. Who else would knock at my chambers at an inconvenient hour?" Jeyne rubbed the lavender oil you loved onto your skin, mixing a few drops of clary sage to help calm your nerves before sleep.

"Forgive me, Princess, but your wellbeing is my utmost priority," he replied smoothly, not thinking of the implications his words could mean.

Huffing a laugh, you raised your arms into your porcelain nightgown, the sleeves short for the late summer heat, ending just below your ankles.

"Your priority or the Crown's? Is it not you who pledged to obey the King's commands, to keep his secrets, to counsel him when requested, and to keep silent when not, to defend his name and honor?" You grinned as you recited the oath the seven members of the Kingsguard took in a mocking tone, Fiora running a comb through your damp hair at the vanity.

"Yes, Princess, but-"

"It seems near treasonous for my wellbeing to be your priority," you interrupted with a condescending tone. "Was it the King who assigned you as my shield?"

"No, Your Grace. It was the Hand." Arryk's voice lowered an octave, causing you to feel slight remorse.

"Then, why do you serve me so steadfastly? Should you not be guarding your King in these perilous times? There's a murderer on the lose, ser."

"The Hand's word is the King's," the knight countered, an odd occurrence for the obedient man.

You hummed again in response as you rose from your dressing vanity, your hair still damp and smelling faintly of flowers. You revealed yourself from behind the partition, hands clasped behind your back and chin held high.

"So it would seem," you replied lowly, stopping your movements a step away from the kingsguardmen. Arryk's eyes quickly flickered downwards before snapping to the wall behind you. "By all means, Ser Arryk, survey my chambers to ensure the killer is not hidden between my dresses."

You gestured to the space around you as you sat at the head of your bed, back resting against your pillows with your legs crossed. The knight made his rounds, looking inside your wardrobe, curtains, a trunk at the end far corner of your room filled with winter dresses, ridding leathers, and a quilt Ma sewed for you for your last nameday. You watched with an unimpressed smirk, your brows raised as he stood straight like a rod announcing his task was complete.

"Aren't you forgetting something, ser?" Arryk gazed at you, puzzled, his shoulder-length hair tied back at the base of his neck. "Why, Ser Arryk, you forgot the most obvious spot underneath my bed! Don't you want to keep me safe? As you said, there is a murderer within the castle," you teased mischievously, a toothy grin rounding your cheeks.

He begrudgingly followed your orders, ever the dutiful knight, though they were a jest. The Kingsguard's armor clanked as he kneeled at the side of your bed, using a gloved hand to balance himself on the mattress as he searched the area. As you suspected, there was no one hidden within the shadows of your room, and when Ser Arryk deemed all was safe, he rose and was met with the sight of you on your haunches, a playful expression on your face.

Once again, his eyes flickered downwards and then to the wall behind you. Your lips fell into a thin line, annoyed with his avoidance as you caught him looking again. You lowered your gaze as your skin blanched, swiftly cowering the prominent outline of your nipples, the textured skin around them peeking through the white fabric.

"You may go, Ser Cargyll," you declared hurriedly, pivoting on your knees as you hid underneath your sheets. "Why did you not tell me you could practically see my breasts beneath this gown?" You exclaimed at your maids, the two ladies staring after the door.

Fiora couldn't contain her giggles, covering her freckled cheeks as Jeyne barely withheld a smile. "We thought you knew," the older woman answered.

You groaned, rolling over in bed and shoving your face into your goose feather pillows. "You're wicked. Both of you! Leave me here to rethink of this at the last moment before I fall asleep."

They both chuckled, curtsying with their red woolen dresses before exiting and leaving you to wallow in shame and self-loathing.

***

A light rain drizzled outside the red rock walls of the Keep, a hazy grey mist blanketing all of Kings Landing. All the inhabitants, even the poor folk, hide indoors and underneath awnings, the humidity suffocating. Your daily luncheon with Helaena was eaten within her chambers instead of the typical garden surroundings, and you stared longingly out of the high-paned windows.

The rain had been perpetual for the past few days, never exceeding a delicate sprinkle. It seemed to be making up for the lack of thunderstorms that usually cracked the night sky during summer, and a part of you hoped that the Gods forsaken thing would pour and be done with it. You couldn't stand another hour trapped within the castle; it only served to remind you of your surroundings and the ache for Dragonstone.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played a few steps away from you and the Princess's place at her dining table, a well-worn wooden dragon in one hand and a finely sewn stuffed doll in the other. The twins had grown so much in the past moons, each saying their first word within weeks of the other, and since then, they had a habit of imitating every sound they heard.

Helaena was delighted when her little Jaehaera mimicked a noise that sounded like "eat," though when she prompted her daughter to repeat it; it was the prefix elongated. Still, you smiled and matched her excited expression, trying to coax more words out of the tot. Jaehaerys followed a fortnight later, but it was a less joyful experience. The young boy was amid his infamous tantrums, screaming, "Up, up, up." The nursemaids were at a loss of what to do when he kept wailing in their arms.

You were unsure of how they concluded, but soon, you were brought into the nursery, having been the only person able to calm Jaehaerys down in the past, and it worked. Soon, the only sound out of the boy's mouth was "up," which sadly meant he wanted you and would scream and cry until he was in your arms. Being at someone's beck and call was irksome, but you couldn't deny the warm feeling and bright smile at being wanted.

Helaena's muttering threw you from your thoughts, her lilac eyes glassy as she stared at her children before her. Her fingers pressed against her thin, peony lips as if she were in a trance, feeling the soft muscles as they contorted.

"Beast beneath the boards... a fool's parsley... a sacrifice... peace reborn." The delicate words left her mouth in mumbles, straining your ears to fill in the missing gaps in her sentences.

Nothing made sense. It was all scattered pieces and fervent rambling, purple eyes flickering too fast for Helaena to genuinely see what was in front of her. You had seen her like this before, but it was many moons past, and some of you thought you might have made the two instances up since it had yet to happen since then.

She continued her words, her trance unbreakable as her son whacked his twin with his toy, causing the poor girl to burst into screaming tears, the nursemaids rushing to their sides. Jaehaerys soon began to cry like his sister, too young to understand that what he did was wrong and why his sister was crying.

"Helaena," you gently called, placing a timid but reassuring hand on her silken tan gown sleeve.

"Up! Up!" Jaehaerys began to wail, waddling over to your seat with his Mother. You delicately dismiss the boy, motioning to the nursemaid.

"Your Grace?" you repeated more forcefully, squeezing her forearm. "Princess, are you all right?"

Suddenly, in time with her son's sobs, Helaena's wide eyes met with your concerned ones, gripping your wrist with a strength you hadn't known she possessed.

"A sacrifice of blood; peace reborn in flames," she nearly shouted, causing you to flinch at the abrupt shift in her mood.

"Up!"

You turn to Jaehaerys, standing and scooping the upset child in your embrace as you tenderly stroke his soft silver hair, leaning his face into the crook of your neck. Helaena plugged her ears, moving away from the crying children as she stared at the tapestry of a viridian meadow, sheep, and lambs grazing on the tall grass, unblinking.

After a few moments, the twins finally calmed, the pain of poor Jaehaera's injury subsiding and her brother content in your arms. The poor maidservants looked exhausted after the situation, frizzy strands of hair peeking from their white caps as one placed a cool, damp cloth on the sniffling girl's afflicted area.

The Princess released a shaky breath, removing her thin fingers from her ears as she faced adequately in her chair, taking a sip of juice from her cup and eating a slice of the goat cheese she requested. You gave Jaehaerys to the unoccupied nursemaid, the boy releasing an unhappy coo as you stroked his plump cheek with the knuckle of your index before returning to your place at the dining table.

You both continued to eat in silence. The only sound was occasional sniffling from one of the two tots and your chewing. The atmosphere had never been uncomfortable with Helaena, even with the rare appearance of her Queen Mother, and you were unsure of what to do, your lip curling between your teeth.

"I am with child again," Helaena spoke, her announcement cutting through the quiet like the blade of Dark Sister. She placed her hand affectionately on her lower stomach, a small smile on her angelic visage.

Your heart stopped at the revelation, sucking in a sharp breath as your nose began to itch, a telltale sign of tears. You were at a loss for words, not immediately congratulating her as was expected. A maelstrom of emotions surged through you, all in conflict with each other. Of course, you were happy for Helaena; you knew how much she loved being a mother. How much joy she held even when her children overwhelmed her. You bristled at the notion that some women were meant to be mothers, an idea you felt reduced the woman to her offspring rather than her being with autonomy, but with the Princess, it did not seem to dwindle her humanity. It was simply a quality of her that made Helaena all the more endearing.

"My congratulations, Princess. I am certain you'll birth another healthy babe as before," you responded. Your words were precise and calculated, as if you were speaking to a Lord and not your closest friend.

You swallowed the feeling of anger and crushed the green claws of jealousy. Emotions you had no right to bear. Aegon was her husband by law and the divine. Their duty was to create as many heirs as possible, but the sheer rage burning within saw no reason. You felt scorned by Aegon. Betrayed. The whore Prince wasted no time stuffing his cock inside anything it would fit, and you felt foolish to think he would ever do anything else.

He never cared for you, as he claimed. You were just a plaything to use and discard whenever you were unwilling. Did he indeed mean what he said? That the years you spent tucked away at Dragonstone were agony for him, or was that some ploy to disarm you and make you pliant in his bed? Aegon was an intelligent man, but you did not think him cunning.

Perhaps you would accept Ser Dalton Greyjoy's proposal and have the realm descend into madness. You would have the Greyjoy's fleet, army, and the Houses who already pledged loyalty to your Mother. Aegon would be dead before the end of that year if he were ever to take the Iron Throne.

"Yes. I will be a mother once more," Helaena spoke, a slight blush on her porcelain skin. "You are my closest friend, sweet cousin," she began, becoming bashful. "I would like you to assist with my birth in the coming moons. I-I know it's not for quite some time, but it would ease me greatly if you did."

You inhaled a shuddering breath, your polite smile slightly faltering. The idea of witnessing a birth firsthand frightened you deeply. You knew of the complications that could happen during the process and after it and how painful it was. You often wondered why women were chosen for such an act. It was men who ruled the world. Why was it not them who dealt with the burden? Men were free to do as they wished, take as many mistresses as they pleased, and govern countries as they saw fit. Why did they not have to carry the burdens of life? Why must it fall on women?

"Of course, Princess," you answered, your tone clipped though it seemed lost on the dreamy-eyed girl. She smiled in thanks, her lithe fingers intertwining with yours.

"Soon you shall be married and you'll understand the joys of child bearing. You're already so good with Jaehaerys. Some might even think he's your own if they did not know better." You couldn't hide the involuntary downward twitch of your mouth, your gaze changing into that of a frightened doe as she spoke. "I've heard whispers of Lord Dalton Greyjoy considering a betrothal. I wouldn't want you so far from me and the children, but I know you will do your duty should it come to that."

Helaena, oblivious to your discomfort, continued about different Houses that would be worthy of your hand, absentmindedly stroking your knuckles with her thumb.

In the naivety of your younger years, you believed your bastard status would prevent Lords from seeking a marriage. You planned to stay with your family for the rest of your days, assisting in politics and courtly matters while Rhaenyra ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Your life as a spinster would be happy without worrying about dying in the birthing bed like your Mother. But as all things did, the Gods seemed to have different plans for you.

You cleared your throat of the lump that had formed during Helaena's conversation, tentatively patting the back of her hand as you made up some excuse of promising Ser Arryk that you'd meet him in the library after your luncheon. The Princess was downtrodden to see you go but understood nevertheless, placing quick kisses on the tops of the twin's heads.

You exited Helaena's chambers in a flurry of gold embroidered black skirts, your sworn shield struggling to match your pace. The thick air of the Keep made sweat instantly seep from your pores, your exposed skin becoming sticky and uncomfortable.

You couldn't take it. The tears you had kept at bay finally stung your eyes, blurring your vision as you furiously wiped them away. Even when Aegon wasn't near you, he still affected your life. He was like a disease, infecting your mind with his plague, making you unable to think clearly and feel things you had no control over. Aegon's rot festered inside you like mold, its inky black tendrils invading your heart until it was a cold, immovable stone.

"Your Grace, wait!" Arryk called, his heavy silver armor clanking with his hurried movements. "Your Grace, what," he paused, inhaling an exerted breath as he saw your tears, "what's wrong?"

The knight placed a comforting hand on your shoulder that you shoved away as if it burned. "Nothing, Ser Arryk. I simply tire of the soupy weather."

He stepped back, a mixture of shock and hurt gracing his features. You had never rejected his affections before, and Arryk was at a loss for how to proceed.

"Princess, what ails you?" he insisted.

You flashed an indignant look at the knight, grimacing. "What ails me is nothing of your concern, Ser Cargyll," you snapped, continuing your brisk pace to your rooms.

"But Princess-"

"No," you interrupted, turning to face him and clenching your fists with your teeth bared. "Tis nothing of your concern. You are my sworn shield, not my friend. It would do you well to remember that."

The words slipped past your lips before you could stop them, regret taking hold of you. Arryk's usual stiff posture slackened, his shoulders slightly slumping, mouth parted in shock, and blue eyes wide with hurt. You wanted to rescind the vile sentences, but it was too late, for they had already cut the man deeper than any sword.

Sighing, you buried your face in your palms, hoping to rub the sweat and shame away. There was no purpose in apologizing. If you did, you wouldn't know if Arryk truly accepted it. He would follow your orders mindlessly, forever upholding his duty to the royal family. You looked away from the kingsguardmen, taking a breath to speak, but closed your mouth instead, resigning to your fate.

"Once you escort me to my rooms, you are dismissed for the day," you expressed, your voice holding a hint of passivity as you gesture.

Arryk nodded curtly, his body resuming its normal posture as he followed behind wordlessly.

***

As Jeyne and Fiora braided the last few strands of your ebony hair, you played with one of your daggers, observing the flickering metal in the vanity mirror as you spun it with the tip of your finger. Your eyes reflected someone who was not yourself.

Once bright orbs that burst with a ring of purple were now dull and lackluster, with a thin veil of fog clouding their color. Blue half circles decorated your lower eyelids, your cheeks devoid of the typical pink glow they held. Your lips were red, splotches of white skin healing from where you had bitten them raw.

Was this a sudden change, or did the features of you slowly drain until there was nothing left but a husk of your joyful self? The image of Queen Alicent flashed in your mind's eye; the woman always shrouded in green and pain you could never put a name to. For a moment, you felt pity for the poor woman, forced to marry a man twice her senior when she was but a girl, producing heirs for the King before your Mother was married, moved to sacrifice her girlhood for the sake of the kingdom, her family, and duty.

You released the dagger from your finger, letting it clatter on the polished vanity as Fiora flicked rose water into your braided hair. You would not let yourself feel pity for the woman who stood idle when shown the death of two innocents. She deserved whatever harm befell her and whatever pain is to come, the green bitch.

"Will you leave the window open tonight, along with a water basin? The room is still quite stuffy from the day, and I'm afraid I'll grow hot throughout the night," you asked the two maids, who nodded in acquiescence, forever kind and dutiful.

You would never let trouble befall them. They were innocents like Lyra and Sara. They needn't know more difficulty than what was already their station. Fiora and Jeyne left with small bows, bidding you a peaceful night's rest and promising to bring some citrus tea in the morning.

You stared at the stone ceiling above, the dark oak rafters, and a crisscross of different beams connecting like trails on a map. No spiderwebs were spun in the corners of the wood like Ma's little house. Every minute detail was accounted for. There was no dust resting on any surface like the pillow house. No loud lecherous moans sounded through thin straw-packed walls or rhythmic banging that used to lull you to sleep.

You sometimes missed the groans and whines that accompanied Ma's establishment. On your first night alone in the Red Keep, you could barely find rest in the silence, not because of the anxiety of what lay ahead but because it was noiseless, bone-chillingly so. One could sneeze, and the entire castle would hear it. Now, you had grown accustomed to the quiet and were sure that if you spent a night in your old bed, you would not find sleep.

You needed to visit Madame soon. It felt like an era since the last time you spoke to her, and she most certainly felt that, too. Despite what people believed, she was an excellent maternal figure in your life. She did her best to teach you the ways of life at a young age, and perhaps she did too well at that, for you knew things no child should know at the fresh age of one and ten. You learned how to steal, sew, and cook by eight, and by ten, you could lure men faster to the brothel than any whore could. At the time, you were proud of it, proud to excel in a task someone you looked up to gave you, but you understood now why you were so good at it, the hairs on your arms standing.

Swallowing your thoughts, you rose from the bed, going to your wardrobe and securing a long robe across your body. You stared at the discarded dagger atop your dressing vanity, the curved blade engraved with the body of a dragon, its head emerging from the widest end. The black leather of the hilt felt comforting against your scorching skin, tracing the smooth scale pattern that separated the silver dragon head that consisted of the cross guard and pommel.

You couldn't recall where or who gave you the thing, most likely another gift from Daemon. If you didn't know any better, you swore that your Father believed you to be a boy with the Harvest, Maiden Day, Yule, and nameday gifts he gave you.

Grabbing your dagger's holster, you buckled it just below your knee, admiring the contrast it created against your skin before dropping the hem of your nightdress. You brushed your digits through your braided hair, releasing a breath.

The maids left a single candlestick in its holder lit on your dining table, letters strewn about the obsidian-colored wood. You stared at the most recent letter of Lord Greyjoy, stating there had been sightings of a dragon near the border of the Iron Isles, burning the small plots of fields of his bannermen, though nobody had seen the coloring of it to be sure of who it belonged to. You knew it couldn't be your Father. Daemon liked to make statements with the Blood Wyrm and would be sure to be seen. Your Mother would never do such a thing, and Jace and Luke had no reason to fly across the entire continent of Westeros to burn little Lordling fields.

Vhagar was a beast in the skies, so one would see her flying. Dreamfyre, Tessarion, and their accompanying riders would only venture so far and reek dragon fire on unsuspecting people. Aegon was the only one whom you needed clarification on. His dragon was not particularly fast, but the golden scales of Sunfyre would reflect the sun's rays and blind those below. Still, you couldn't understand why the first son of the King would burn crops of unsuspecting civilians, but then again, Aegon was not the man you believed him to be, and he continued to prove that true.

You were unsure why you did it as the candle's flames licked the inked parchment, watching as the soft glow became bright orange, consuming the letter whole.

You cared not for any word of Lord Dalton since the announcement of his marriage proposal. The time your Father granted you to think made the reasoning for a refusal all the more apparent. The Lord Reaper of Pyke was a bloodthirsty man who was uncaring for the women in his life if adding three new Salt Wives since your courting was any indication. He was cruel to them, and you knew you would be treated no differently. Women were just commodities to the man, tiny tokens and treasure he collected on his travels to use as he pleased. You would not become his ornament nor any other man's so long as the dragon's blood flowed through your veins.

Once you reduced the letter to ashes, you pressed your ear against the chamber doors, listening in the silence of the night for the evening guard to snore. It was not more than twenty minutes before you heard the telltale noise emanate from the back of his throat, exiting the room with noiseless steps.

Your bare feet were sure in their strides, carrying you swiftly to your destination, knowing when to hide behind a corner and when to turn. You had traversed this pathway before, though it had been in the day and not lit by a single candle. The white streak in your hair was stark compared to your ebony locks, a single silver strand glowing in the moonlight as you padded to the lower barracks of the White Sword Tower.

Ser Edder would be readying for bed. He often spoke of his love for a good tome before sleep; you had even recommended some of your own. You didn't know why. Perhaps it was a tactic to soothe the guilt that knocked on your ribcage whenever you smiled too wide for what could be called acting. It was no matter. A man would be found dead by sunrise, and your pain would be vindicated.

There would be more men guarding the entrance to the knight's quarters, but it was late, the hour of the eel before the night's watch, and they would be craving rest like a drunkard to a bottle. You quickly slipped past a sleeping pair, found some awake, and threw a loose pebble left on the floor from insufficient cleaning.

Immediately striding to the door you knew was Edder's, you knocked thrice, glancing over your shoulders. You heard a soft shuffling from behind the wooden slab, a metal clanking, and then the creek of a hinge. Ser Edder's sword tip was pointed swiftly at your chest, eliciting a soft gasp from parted lips.

"Princess? What are you doing here? It's not safe," he chastised, placing his sword against the wall.

"I-" you stuttered, bringing your fingers to your lips as you looked around nervously. "I do not feel safe in my chambers, Ser Edder."

The knight glanced down both ends of the hall, staring at you briefly before opening the door wider. You stepped into his space, observing your surroundings much like Ser Lorgan's, save for a bookshelf filled with the appropriate items.

You turned towards Edder. Your body curled in on itself as you placed your candle and its holder on a small table. "I apologize for the impropriety of this visit, but I do not feel safe here."

Edder stepped closer, keeping a respectable distance as he observed your attire. "Princess, you are a member of the royal family. You're more guarded than the walls to Casterly Rock."

You laughed mirthlessly, a glint of bitterness behind your gaze. "You think too highly of the Hand, Ser. I believe they would sooner have me dead than waste a guard that could go toward his kin." You took a calming breath, placing the palms of your hands on your stomach to unwrap your robe, placing it next to your candle. "I'm frightened that the murderer will come for me. I was acquaintances with Ser Lorgan. What if I am next on his list? The Kingsguard and Gold Cloaks would not think twice before leaving me to protect the King."

Edder extended a comforting hand to your bicep but quickly placed it back at his side, turning it into a blanched fist. You had to fight the urge to smile.

Men are easy, simple creatures.

"You have your sworn shield, Ser Cargyll. He would stop at nothing to protect you, your grace," he protested softly, speaking like you were an untamed horse.

You hastily closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing his arm the same way he wished to do to you. "He cannot protect me at all hours of the day. The guard outside my room was asleep. That's how I was able get here. If-if I could so easily sneak by him undetected, how would I survive a trained killer? I would be dead by morn and no one would be none the wiser." You rambled to the knight above you, his moss-green eyes boring into your peculiar ones.

Edder thought they shimmered like a pool of amethyst, the purple and brown glimmering with undeniable beauty. You were enchanting, and the Gold Cloak was momentarily distracted by it in the dim glow of the room. You were the pure embodiment of the Maiden as you gazed up at him, your plump lips quivering with intensity.

It was only a moment, but you noticed how Ser Edder's gaze flickered downwards before returning to yours. His emotions were written plainly on his face, a picture book straightforward enough to read for even the simple-minded. You were pleasantly surprised how effortless it was to make him melt. All you needed to do was bat your pretty eyelashes and pout your plush lips.

"Will you protect me, Ser Edder? I fear no one else will," you pleaded doeishly.

"I-" You could spot the hesitancy in his voice as his muscles rippled beneath his cotton undershirt.

"Please, Ser, I beseech you." Edder swallowed thickly, the notch in his throat bobbing. "I need you, Ed. Please."

And that was all it took for the man to fall, his hand resting over yours as he nodded. You swiftly embraced him, hoping the action would ease him of regret or second-guessing. The knight slowly reciprocated the affection, loosening his tense posture.

Gods. Would they all act like this if a lady came crying and begging for their services? Would they forget propriety and respect simply due to a woman's moment of weakness? Or was it because you were a bastard, a Lady in name only, that Edder and Ser Lorgan felt comfortable enough to act in such a way? The thought only served to fuel your anger, and you squeezed His broad torso tighter.

"Thank you, Ser, thank you," you said breathlessly, releasing your hold as you gazed back into his.

You left no room to protest as you slammed your mouth onto his, all teeth and panting breaths as his lips remained stock still. You tangled your fingers into his cropped hair, digging them into his scalp to force him to reciprocate, but failed. Pulling away, you sucked in a much-needed breath, your eyes searching his face for any response to your actions.

Ser Edder looked down with reddened cheeks and bruised lips, a mixture of shock and pity on his features. Your body flared with the burn of rejection, your stomach churning with disgust at yourself, at your actions. Bile burned at the back of your throat, threatening to spill past your tongue as you separated from him as if his mere touch scorned you. You should've killed him before entering the room and saved yourself from this embarrassment.

"Princess," Ser Edder began, his voice so soft and kind that it made you want to scream. You turned away from him, cheeks flaming as you held your stomach, a wave of vile shame overtaking you. "Let me escort you back to your chambers."

You stepped toward the table where your candle was and gripped the edge, bracing yourself on the side of it as you inhaled deeply.

"Tis not safe for you to venture back alone, your grace," he continued. You rolled your eyes in response, your white-knuckled grip loosening as you faced him.

"You're correct, Ser Edder. It is not safe. Please escort me back to my rooms." The knight nodded, reaching the door as you hastily rucked up your nightdress and unsheathed your dagger.

Your legs carried your body on quick limbs, plunging the curved blade into the space between Ser Edder's shoulder and spine. The man hollered in pain as you jumped on his back, attempting to slice his throat, more wildling than a woman. He effortlessly pushed you to the side, falling onto the stone floor like a ragdoll, cracking your skull against the stone floor. Your vision swam, unable to open your eyes as fast as your mind told them to as you felt a hand grasp the wrist holding the knife.

"Princess, stop this. You're feeling unwell." You yanked your arm from his grasp, blinking rapidly to try and clear your head.

You refused to dignify the man with a response, freeing yourself from Ser Edder as you scrabbled away, putting your body in between him and the door. You assumed a guarded position as the knight glanced at the sword on the wall beside you. Before Edder could think to reach for it, you lunged forward, using the height difference to your advantage as he tumbled to the ground below you. You poised the dagger above your head, ready to drive it downward, but Ser Edder blocked it.

Your years of training were little compared to his lifetime as you struggled, using your body weight to aid the force. His arms shook below you, realizing his life would be forfeit if he didn't think of some way to stop you. Edder brought his knee to your side, faulting your movements as the blade slipped between his hands and cut through the meat of his shoulder, letting out a cry of pain.

You groaned in displeasure, curling in on your side as you regained your balance, gritting your teeth and smacking your head against his. Blood trickled from his nose, the positioning slightly out of place as he blinked rapidly. You repositioned the dagger, plunging it into his chest with a growl. Edder's squirming caused you to miss the vital area of his heart, puncturing his lung as you went to do it again, only to be stopped by a strong arm, thumb digging into the tendons of your wrist until you dropped the weapon.

You clabbered off the knight as you crawled to the knife, your fingers dusting the leather hilt as you were pulled across the flagstone floor, nails scraping. Kicking and flailing your legs, Ser Edder subdued you, kneeling on your back to keep you flush with the floor as he pinned your hands behind you.

"Princess, we must get you to a Maester. You are not well. I'll explain to him that it was a bout of Hysteria and we shall forget the whole thing," the Gold Cloak attempted to reason, only to be met with a feral snarling as you wriggled beneath him.

"Get off of me you, bastard! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you for what you did!" you screamed, the muscles in your neck and back cramping.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Princess. I-I apologize for not returning your affections, but I am a man sworn to the City's Watch, my duty comes before-"

"You stupid fucking man! You are dead! You're fucking dead for what you did to them! I'll have your head sitting on a spike just as you did for them!"

Edder was silent above you, and you kicked your heel into his back, his grip loosening enough to where you could wiggle your arms free, propelling upwards and hitting your crown against his already injured nose. You grabbed the sides of his head before he could recover, slamming his bloodied face into your knee as he collapsed. You swung your bare foot into his stomach next, then his chest, knocking the escaping air out.

Scooping the dagger up from the ground, you quickly stabbed it between his ribs, ensuring it pierced past the flesh and into his guts, just as your Father taught you. Blood poured out of the line-shaped hole, staining his undershirt and the soles of your feet. Edder's arms immediately went to the wound as you kneeled, grabbing him by the roots of his perfectly cropped hair, sneering.

"Years ago, you and Ser Lorgan Sunderly put two innocent women to death. One a humble servant to the realm and the other a whore. My only family, and you killed them. Chopped off their heads and left them for the birds and maggots to eat. I wish I could afford you the same treatment, but," you pause, inhaling a deep breath as Ser Edder slapped weakly at your face, "we can't all get what we want. I wonder how your dearest Mother will fare after the news of your gruesome murder reaches her. Will she weep for you as I did? Will she curse the Gods for taking away her beloved son?" You chuckled darkly, the sound foreign, like it didn't belong to you.

"If the Gods are truly as merciful as we believe, perhaps the stranger will greet the woman before long. I wouldn't want her to live with the pain." You released Ser Edder's sweat-dampened hair, rising from your knees as you wet to his cot, wiping the blood from your hands and face.

Soft groans sounded behind you, and you turned to see the man standing, staggering toward the door and cradling his side as if that would change his fate. He would bleed out before any guard came to his rescue; you ensured that. You observed him silently as he stumbled to the wooden door of his chamber, tilting your head in a peculiar curiosity as if you were studying one of Helaena's insects. Edder's attempted escape was endearing, and it almost hurt your heart as you walked towards him.

With the curve of your blade pointed towards you, you wrapped your free arm around his skull, slowly sliding the hair-like edge across the thin flesh of his throat as blood sprayed onto his only exit. His body dropped to an unmoving heap on the floor, his gurgling drowned out by the crimson liquid spurting from his neck as it seeped into the cracked stone below.

Masterlist of Series

Yes, I support women's rights, but most importantly, I support women's wrongs. Like, yeeeesss, get it, girl. Slay! SLAY YOUR ENEMIES! SMITE DOWN THOSE WHO OPPOSE YOU! She's such a girl boss.

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#house of the dragon #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii targaryen #game of thrones #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x you #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fic #asoif/got #aegon ii fic #aegon ii targaryen smut #hotd aegon #helaena targaryen

[lamemaster]

Subject of Faith

Pairing: Sauron x Human reader

Summary: It was not the cockiness of omnipotence, but a longing that lined your words. And Sauron knew that longing, for Ainur and Men shared it.

"Would you rather put all your faith in someone you can't see?"

"Like the music can't be seen and fragrance can't be held, faith is not a matter of seeing, it is subject to believing." Your answer frustrated Sauron.

A mere human dare talk back to him? A guard of the king of Numenor. A lowly guard whose entire life would be blink of an eye from Sauron.

Yet, Sauron could not stop speaking. Every passing second he poked at every aspect of your existence to find a weak spot. Anything that would quench his curiosity about you.

A distant part of his conscious warned him to restrain. To not reveal his plan and to play the part of a gullible repentant. He truly tried but failed.

You were nothing. A poor human who stood outside his cell for hours. A monotonous and taxing job. But no matter how hard Sauron tried he failed to find a crack.

"Don't you desire for an immortal life, likes of which is given to the elves?" He questioned you, settling back into the now familiar game of unravelling your mind. "How nice would it be to not leave your dear ones, to be with them forever and to not suffer the pain of old age."

You do not turn to face him. Your back does not relax at his honeyed words but you do answer him. You always do. You treat him with the fairness of any other being. Answering his questions while continuing your job. "Maybe it would be easy to accept the bliss of immortality and wish for a life I have never lived. However, how unfair would it be to dishonor a gift given by my creator. How can I a mere mortal know of his plans for me? I can only submit to the one who has given me the chance to see this world and hope for another mercy or another miracle to be revealed." Your voice rings loud in the desolate prison. "Furthermore, I really look forward to seeing my grandparents in whatever fate awaits me," the slight joy in your voice stuns Sauron.

It is not the cockiness of omnipotence but a longing that lines your words. And Sauron knows of that longing. Ainur and Men share it. A lingering remembrance of their true home. Elves, whose fate remains tied to Arda know little of it. A constant tug to overturn the world looking for that one place that promises some relief from the constant restlessness.

The same restlessness grows in Sauron's heart. After eons he finds himself thinking of not Utumno or Valinor but the Timeless Halls where he first came to be.

He resented you for doing that to him. He had heard imploring words of silver-tongued elven lords and forgiving speeches of the Valar who resided beyond seas, but none had bugged him like the simple words of the human who stood guarding him.

And so, the chained Maia rested his head on the cold unrelenting wall behind him. "I hope to see you the day you die. When death will look you in the eyes, I hope you manage to remain as sure as your sound right now."

Months later when Tar Mairon, the closest advisor of the king, finds himself in the same prison. His hands dipped in the warmth of your blood.

You lay on the cold ground that had once been the spot from where you answered his questions with your back facing him. In the past, he rarely saw your face but now as he looks at the peaceful look on your face he knows it to be you.

There is indeed no bitterness or fear in your death. It is acceptance that greets Sauron. Even in death you stay true to your words. Sauron marvels at the stubborn human who refuses to bow to him in life and death.

One day...one day he promises, you will meet again. That day he might force you to kneel or he might end up joining you. That day was too far but it would come after trials that awaited him.

In a twisted fate, he hopes in some salvation you await him. And when he finds you, he hopes to hear your voice and ask you questions that you reply to without a fail.

He will find you when he can't offer you the hoax of immortality or feed you falsehood of greed. You don't need that. You won't accept that.

So, Sauron awaits for his song's end. Maybe his end will guide him to you or some peaceful oblivion.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #silmarillion headcanons #human reader #sauron x reader #tar mairon #tolkein #one shot #silm fic #silmarillion imagine #I love writing commentary pieces like these #angst with a hopeful ending

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

For the ask game: 1, 3 and 4!

Thanks for the ask!

The character everyone gets wrong:

This is tough, because I feel like plenty of people get plenty of characters wrong, but the one EVERYONE gets wrong? I don’t know. I’ll just have to pick a character that a lot of people get wrong instead…

I think the LOTR movies did lasting harm to Gimli’s character and people’s interpretations of him. They made him into comic relief and undermined the depth of his personality. This is not a criticism of John Rhys-Davies, who did a great job with what he was given! (And I fucking love that armor.) But the movies did not do Gimli justice.

Gone is his wisdom (“Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens”). Gone is his love for poetry and music, and the song of Khazad-dûm (which is one of my favorite scenes). Gone is his relationship with Frodo (which is a nice connection between the Hobbit and LOTR because of Glóin’s friendship with Bilbo).

Gone, too, is his open affection for Legolas, replaced by emotionally distant banter. And I like banter sometimes, but Gimli and Legolas had a very sweet friendship in the books (once they opened up to each other). After the battle of Helm’s Deep, after the competition, they were just glad to see each other alive. There was no stupid back-and-forth about the last kill—and I don’t think Tolkien’s Gimli would sit on a carcass.

Potentially even worse, Gimli in the movie (for some reason?) tries to persuade Aragorn NOT to release the army of the dead even after they’ve fulfilled their oath. There’s nothing like that in Tolkien’s books, and it just makes Gimli look dishonorable. After all, in the book, he’s the one who spoke in favor of keeping oaths when the Fellowship set out. His actual characterization in Tolkien’s books was mostly thrown aside for cheap “funny” moments.

There are still Gimli scenes in the movies I enjoy, of course, like the scene when he tells Legolas about Galadriel’s gift to him—“I asked her for one hair from her golden head...she gave me three”—and Legolas smiles. It’s one of the few sincere scenes they have together, and one of the few moments when we see more of Gimli’s inner feelings. I just wish the movies had been more faithful to his characterization across the board.

And because the movies have so much influence, I think the movie version of Gimli has replaced many people’s conception of him, which makes me sad. I don’t think everyone does this—I know there are other book Gimli lovers out there!—but too often I see fanfiction and fanart replicating the movie version of the character.

Screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr:

This is another tough question, because so many bad takes compete for the top spot! I think a prime (pun intended) competitor for the worst take is the idea that Rings of Power added to Galadriel’s characterization rather than horribly detracting from it.

When the final episode of season one came out, some people were excited that it referenced Galadriel’s line in FOTR (here the quote from the book), “In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen…stronger than the foundations of the earth.” But the way Rings of Power chose to reference that line didn’t add to Galadriel’s characterization at all. It made her entire character arc dependent on a man asking her to be his queen. Galadriel’s ambition comes from HER—not from Sauron. I was very disappointed to see ANYONE defending that.

One person actually came onto one of my posts to tell me that Rings of Power Galadriel is “exactly” like she is in canon, and I was like…where??????? Tolkien’s Galadriel fought, but the idea that she would enjoy killing, like the show portrays, is just bizarre (why do I have to fucking explain this?). Tolkien’s Galadriel had the ambition of ruling a realm of her own—she didn’t go on a wild goose chase for “revenge” of all things. Tolkien’s Galadriel was extraordinarily wise and perceptive from young age, not a petty, temperamental, undiplomatic brat. Tolkien’s Galadriel was tall and strong, not short and scrawny. And Tolkien’s Galadriel never trusted Annatar—she certainly wasn’t manipulated by him, let alone nearly seduced. I cannot believe someone would have the audacity to defend this abysmal portrayal of Galadriel by arguing that it’s CANON.

What was the last straw that made you finally block an annoying person?

If people post annoying things, I’ll usually just unfollow them. I unfollow people who post too many gifs from the Hobbit movies, for instance. No offense to them, I just hate the Hobbit movies and don’t want to see gifs/pictures of them. But even a single Rings of Power gif will get you blocked. It’s not even a last straw.

Turning back to Gimli, I think the worst aspects of the movies’ portrayal of him (like the drunken scene in the extended edition) were replicated by the Hobbit movies (the unmentionable food fight, for instance) and then by Rings of Power (what exactly was the value added by having Durin burp loudly during dinner?). Tolkien’s Dwarves can be funny sometimes, of course—like when they sing about breaking Bilbo’s plates!—but they don’t have disgusting table manners. They’re actually very polite, often bowing and saying “At your service!”

In conclusion: respect Gimli, respect the Dwarves, and respect Galadriel, or perish by my axe.

#asks #Gimli #Galadriel #my writing

[bodyguardbracket]

List of contestants!

I've put together the list of our 64 bodyguards!!! The actual polls will start in a couple days as I still need to organize some stuff for them. That being said, if you have any good pictures of any of these guys (canon images only please!), feel free to send them my way in the meantime!!!

Also fyi that the rounds themselves will be a week long, just for my own sanity lol.

Here's the list in alphabetical order!!!

Adam Frankenstein (Bungo Stray Dogs: Stormbringer)

Agent Stone (Sonic the Hedgehog movies)

Aloysius Knight "The Black Knight" (Scarecrow by Matthew Reilly)

Arm (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Big (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Big Daddies (BioShock)

Brienne of Tarth (Game of Thrones)

Brock Samson (The Venture Bros)

Butler (Artemis Fowl)

C!Grian (Third Life SMP)

Camilla Hect (The Locked Tomb)

Corvo Attano (Dishonored)

Costis (The Queen’s Thief series)

Deathbringer (Wings of Fire)

Dehya (Genshin Impact)

Do Bongsoon (Strong Woman Bongsoon)

Eadaz uq-Nāra (The Roots of Chaos series)

Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Fang Duobing (Mysterious Lotus Casebook)

Gareth (Galavant)

Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Gorilla (Miraculous Ladybug)

Goro Takemura (Cyberpunk 2077)

Guillermo de la Cruz (What We Do in the Shadows)

Guy (A3! Act! Addict! Actors!)

Horace Knightley (Ace Attorney Investigations 2)

Hubert Von Vestra (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Indus Tarbella (Epithet Erased)

Joe (Princess Diaries)

Juliet Butler (Artemis Fowl)

Kaladin Stormblessed (Stormlight Archive)

Kiruko (Heavenly Delusion / Tengoku Daimakyou)

Kurapika (Hunter x Hunter)

Lan Fan (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Lan Mandragoran (The Wheel of Time)

Lexaeus/Aeleus (Kingdom Hearts)

Link (Legend of Zelda)

Maihar'du (Star Trek: Deep Space 9)

Mako (Legend of Korra)

Mifune (Soul Eater)

Mike Ehrmantraut (Breaking Bad)

Miyamoto Usagi (Usagi Yojimbo)

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Palm (Never Let Me Go)

Peko Pekoyama (Danganronpa)

Peri Dubois (Entropic Float)

Porsche (Kinnporsche: The Series)

Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Rory Williams (Doctor Who)

Samwise Gamgee (The Lord of the Rings)

Sandor (Keeper of the Lost Cities)

Sebastian Michales (Black Butler)

Sir Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy)

Son Hak (Akaksuki no Yona)

Soren (The Dragon Prince)

Suh Yoosun (Moonlight Garden)

Tatum Mendoza (Foreign Affairs)

Thancred Waters (Final Fantasy XIV)

Vortex (Helluva Boss)

Wen Ning (The Untamed)

Wen Zhuliu (The Untamed)

Yura Goro (Kamen Rider Ryuki)

Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

#bodyguard battle #sorry if your guy didn't make it i received a lot of submissions and only had 64 spots

[dangerousdan-dan]

10 characters | 10 fandoms | 10 a negotiable number of tags

tagged by @poetikat thank you so much!!

Cassandra Cain: DC. It was hard to choose just one DC character, but she's my girl. When I think of her, I think of redemption and love and sacrifice and aiming to be perfect even if you destroy yourself in the process. I could write essays about her, don't tempt me.

Samwise Gamgee: Lord of the Rings. How do you hold on to hope when the world is burning? How do you believe that there's good, and that it's worth fighting for? How do you love despite everything? By being Samwise Gamgee, that's how.

Billie Lurk: Dishonored. Another character carrying the weight of her guilt on her back (I love those), but also the weight of being a complete badass (I also love those).

Hadrian Blackwater: Riyria Revelations. He's a gentle giant. A man capable of infinite kindness, but who also has a big sword and knows how to use it. Ah, he's also a thief. What more could you want?

Viktor: Arcane. A self-isolated dreamer, a hurt idealist, a man in love with knowledge and at war with his own body.... let's just say I relate to him way too much.

Sophie Hatter: Howl's Moving Castle. I love movie Sophie and I love book Sophie. She gets to find her place and her confidence while calling others (mostly Howl) on their bullshit. A true hero.

Inej Ghafa: Six of Crows. I want to see her burn the world and get revenge on everyone who hurt her, but I also want to see her free and smiling and demanding the love she deserves.

Leon S. Kennedy: Resident Evil. Watch this poor guy kill zombies for the millionth time and solve ridiculous puzzles while delivering the corniest one-liners. He needs vacations and therapy.

Nathan Drake: Uncharted. Mister Cognitive Dissonance. He's a nerd, he's a thief, he'll say "oh crap" and tell funny jokes while murdering hundreds of mercenaries.

Kaladin Stormblessed: The Stormlight Archive. There's something about having a character who's lost everything and who's given up, but then decides to fight against all odds with tooth and nail for the sake of others just to realize "Hey, I'm fighting for myself as well."

No pressure tags!! @zukoisblorbo @cephalog0d @xetlretl @putting-the-bi-in-robin @manjirian @opposite-of-aster and anyone who feels like playing!!

#i probably wrote more than I was supposed to about the characters... oh well #ask game

[loser-xx]

im very friendly sometimes, go ahead and reach out!

PLAYLIST REQUESTS OPEN! (6-12 songs, any fandom, any mood, any genre!)

Im 22

I like critically analyzing movies and tv shows

Im autistic

Im engaged and in a polyamourous relationship

Im panromantic/graysexual and genderfluid

i have 2 cats

Favorite Topics/Special Interests: Cats (which can range from the animal to the musical to the entire Warriors book series.) Lord of the Rings (long time love), Overwatch, and Undertale/Deltarun (and now fish maybe?) Please engage with me on these topics if you want!

Some minor interests: Terrifier 2, Far Cry, Hollow Knight, Lost, Once Upon a Time, Borderlands, Bioshock, Vampyre (game), Zombies (the monster in general), Don't Starve, True Blood, the Owl House, Gravity Falls, She-Ra, Kipo, Dishonored the list may be infinite I'm a media driven boy, please ask about your favorite media and I will probably have seen it and analyzed it lol

I have many kins so i dont really have a comprehensive kin list atm, but currently my main ids are Moira from Overwatch, Galadriel from Lord of the Rings, Joseph Seed from Far Cry 5/New Dawn, Cardinal Copia (ghost band), Shawn Spencer from Psych, Desmond from Lost, Harold Finch from Person of Interest, and Ghostface (specifically from Dead by Daylight, although my canon pre-entity's realm is a lot different.)

Self-ships: Kingpin from Daredevil, Ben Linus from Lost, Zaheer (and the rest of the Red Lotus gang) from The Legend of Korra, Grima Wormtounge from Lord of the Rings, Adar from Rings of Power, Alric from Wolfbloods, Ganondorf from Legend of Zelda, and Detective Lassiter from Psych.

I have a passion for music and making playlists that work like soundtracks, my spotify can be found here https://spotify.link/YBXue5SznCb

Im a hybrid vampire and certified cannibal

Icon by @taylaedraws

[balanceoflightanddark]

Becoming A Man

Well. Here's some controversy to get me lynched.

I am not a fan of the Last Agni Kai. At all.

I will not lie, it is beautifully animated. It is beautifully scored. It is beautifully choreographed. It's not the fight itself that's the problem.

It's the actual context of the fight and how it is framed that ruins it for me.

Think about it. Zuko's defining moment...is him taking advantage of his mentally ill sister's breakdown and "putting her in her place." Recall that is essentially what Ozai did when he took advantage of Iroh's grief and become the new Fire Lord. The sort of scenario where Zuko got horribly maimed because he refused to fight his father...got turned around and he was ready to kill his little sister. And apparently, that was supposed to be evidence that he is better than he was and he "has become a man" and the leader the Fire Nation needed.

Something that is confirmed by Iroh here. Tragic as they were, they were necessary for Zuko to become a "good man" and a "great leader".

I'm sorry but...no. Zuko does not become a man by taking down his sister who is having a mental breakdown.

Especially when...I do think there's a scene from a movie I enjoy that is practically the opposite here.

The Book of Life is an animated film that centers around a young man named Manolo who has to travel through the Land of the Dead in order to save his village from bandits. And one of the overarching subplots is that he comes from a long line of proud bullfighters, and he is expected to carry on the tradition.

Thing is...while Manolo is good at bullfighting, he has issues with actually killing the bull. His real passion lies with guitar playing. Something that is shared with his love interest, Maria. So when the time comes for him to kill his first bull...he can't go through with it. An act that basically dishonors himself in front of his father. While not as brutal as Zuko's Agni Kai with Ozai (for one his father cares about him), it does share a bit of a comparison with the character failing their first test of becoming a man.

Fast forward a bit, and Manolo has to undergo one last trial in order to return to the Land of the Living. He's tasked by the death god Xibalba to face his greatest fear. Which in this case means he has to face every bull his family had ever killed in the ring. And naturally, every last one of them is royally pissed. So much so that they combine into one gigantic bull full of hate and malice that Manolo is just barely able to overcome.

But he does eventually corner the demon bull, and has a prime opportunity to restore his honor and become a man in the view of his family (his famous deceased relatives watching from the audience). Think of this as the equivalent of the Last Agni Kai.

And here's where things get interesting. Zuko overcomes Azula to become the Fire Lord and grow into a man as the narrative says.

Manolo though? He reaches for his sword, takes a good look at himself in the reflection...

...and goes for his guitar instead.

Rather than kill the bull, Manolo strums his instrument, lets himself get beaten up, and sings a heartfelt apology song. That it wasn't right for any of the bulls to be killed for the sake of honor and they have every right to be angry.

And the bull...the bull's anger just fades as they slump to the ground exhausted. Manolo's compassion was able to calm the beast's anger, and was so impressive, he managed to win over his family and the death god who wanted him to fail.

I'm not saying trying to talk to Azula would've worked. What I am saying is Zuko's culmination shouldn't be him taking advantage of his sister's weakness and be like his father just to get his throne. And he doesn't show a whole lot of remorse just a blank stare of Azula crying. Hell, he taunted her into using lightning just to stroke his own ego.

Zuko's character arc shouldn't lead up to that. It should prove that he can be better than that. Better than what his father wanted. And break the cycle of violence once and for all.

Instead, he's labeled a man. But as Manolo showed, being a man isn't about treating your enemies like monsters and things just to beat up.

#azula #zuko critical #atla critical #hot take

[artoriarts]

okay introduction thing again bc old one is outdated

hello my name is artoria or arto (she/they) and i am here to spill my random art and ideas all over your fresh new carpet. please feel free to send me asks about literally anything, realize i have only put out so much oc/hc stuff to have input about but i will also jsut. draw something if asked.

my associates: - @lord-raccoon : nbf - @im-here-to-fight-terfs : gf - @umbris-regni : friend - @pseudomushroom : buddy - @thestellarpartner : homeslice - @sixthezes : pal

music i like: -the general otacore gamut (mainly jt music, stupendium) - rock (mainly des rocs, kid kapichi, hello operator) - metal (powerwolf, metallica, mick gordon) - this is far, far from all but if i go listing every little thing my keyboard would never know rest. if somethings got a distinct/definable drum rhythm or riff/melody i'm probably gonna love it.

fandoms i fuck w/ heavy in no particular order: - madness combat - ultrakill - hades - doom - dead by daylight - hollow knight - castle crashers - fnaf - spiderman - rain world - risk of rain - plants vs zombies - alien - scp - dishonored / prey - dark souls / bloodborne / elden ring / sekiro - team fortress 2 - lethal company - titanfall - anything dnd - lancer

fandoms im not "so normal" about but still like / have passive interest in so you know my taste (aka games i don't play regularly but still like): - splatoon - darkest dungeon - dead space - mandela catalogue - don't starve - hi-fi rush (actually play this one tho, better than dmc don't @ me) - dredge - ghostrunner - slime rancher - warframe - inscryption - subnautica - apex legends

if i ever make an oc and/or oc verse / fandom au that becomes prominent to my posts here ill stick a little blurb about it here

#artists on tumblr #me!!

[emyn-arnens]

2 and 16 for Aragorn and Faramir?

If you're not comfortable with these characters lmk, I'll suggest others :)

2. Love

“By your leave,” said Aragorn, “I would have your father’s ashes collected from the House of the Stewards, where they have lain untouched since the day of the battle, and have them entombed within marble, as the Stewards before him, for he should receive the honor of burial and remembrance, though I fear he shall be remembered by his people only for his dying deeds.

“But with your permission, I would end the custom of building tombs and houses for the dead that are fairer than the houses of the living, and I would ask that he be buried in a simple house of stone, as will I and all the kings and lords who follow after me.”

“You have my permission,” said Faramir, “but I would ask one thing of you—that the arms and gear that my brother left in his rooms when he undertook his journey to Rivendell might be placed in a tomb next to my father’s, for Boromir was loved and revered by the people of the city, and I would have some piece of his memory remain here, though his body has passed over the waters of the Anduin and into the sea.”

Aragorn smiled and said gently, “We shall do that for him and more, for he was a brother greatly loved. It is custom, I have heard, for the horns and bells of the Citadel to toll the news of a lord’s death, and as Boromir has not yet received that honor, I would give you and the people of the city the chance to properly mourn him, as you have not been able to.”

16. Questioning

Dusk fell upon Minas Tirith in a soft mantle as Aragorn and Faramir walked among the gardens of the Houses of Healing, the silence stirred only by the splashing of the nearby fountain and the mournful calls of nightingales.

“Merry told me that you were the last to see my brother alive,” said Faramir, his voice quiet, “and every hour since I heard the distant cry of his horn and since I beheld his body pass by me and continue down the Anduin, I have longed to know of his final moments, and what he might have spoken as the light faded from his eyes.”

Aragorn was silent for a long moment, and then at last he said, “I have long kept Boromir’s last words a secret, revealing them to none so that his honor and memory might be untarnished, for he was a valiant man, and his death was honorable—but you are his kin and should know of what occurred during the hour of his death: Boromir revealed to me that he had tried to take the Ring from Frodo and bitterly regretted it, and he charged me to go to Minas Tirith and save our people, since he had failed—that was what he said to me.”

“It is as I guessed,” said Faramir, “for Frodo revealed to me that he and Boromir did not part as friends, and that Boromir had sought to take the Ring from him and bring it here to the city; it was a bitter fate that befell him that day, and bitter were his last words.”

Pausing, Aragorn turned and clasped Faramir’s forearm and said, “Boromir died having conquered his folly, and so I told him to bring him peace in his passing, and he understood and was comforted, both in that and in the knowledge that I would not let this city fall—and so I tell you: Boromir did not die in dishonor, nor did he die in vain, and because of his valor, the Uruks spared Merry and Pippin, and the Quest was saved, and Minas Tirith still stands.”

Send me a number and two characters and get a five-sentence drabble.

#in my boromir feelings today so everything is turning out sad and boromir related :') #i do like to think that faramir eventually learned about boromir's final moments and was able to finally fully mourn him after the war #and that minas tirith honored and commemorated boromir in some way #thank you for the ask! #lotr #faramir #aragorn #boromir #asks #my fic

[mistergandalf]

Mae Govannen and Well Met!

Quick Reference

Ultimate Tolkien Blorbo | My fanfiction on AO3

Things to Know

I'm a tumblr elder - I've been here since 2010, just not with the same blog.

I'm not going to list all my identities in my bio.

I tag posts meticulously, so if you don't like something, it should be easy to block.

My ask box is always open.

I'm posting from a queue most of the time.

I'm from the northeastern US.

I’m a hotel manager and I like to talk about my job.

The vast majority of my posts are SFW.

I write fanfiction - mostly whump, hurt/comfort, and angst. You can find me on AO3 or fanfiction.net.

I don't believe in DNIs but I do believe in blocking for relatively innocuous reasons. I'm just cultivating my online experience; don't take it personally.

This is a Rings of Power positive blog and I block people who put hate in the tags or in my activity feed. Like I said, it's nothing personal - I'm just cultivating my online experience.

Fandoms

This is not an exhaustive list, just what pops up most often.

Tolkien (Silmarillion | The Hobbit | Lord of the Rings | Rings of Power) | Critical Role (Vox Machina | Mighty Nein | Bells Hells) | Lost | Legend of Zelda | BBC Musketeers | Merlin | Doctor Who | Dishonored | Homestuck | The Magnus Archives | Pride & Prejudice (2005) | Dungeons & Dragons | Baldur's Gate 3

#pinned post

[wrenhavenriver]

top 5 books for you too! also, top 5 video games and top 5 movies, if you would like :3c

heeell yeah! top 5 books:

Salvage The Bones by Jesmyn Ward - an incredibly lyrical and deeply sad story of a family in the days leading up to Hurricane Katrina. i read it for the first time at a very shitty time in my life and the sibling relationships especially punched me directly in the heart. a tough read on many fronts (definitely look up/mind the content warnings if you have any "hard no" topics in your books) but the power and beauty of jesmyn ward's writing is something else.

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller - one of those rare high school assigned books that actually made an incredibly lasting impression. i'm glad 17-year-old me got all those reality checks about *checks notes* the horrors of war, the hollow uselessness of nationalism and being convinced to die for it, the absurdly circular reasoning that props up systems of power and the incompetence of the people at the top of them, the ability of bureaucracy to drive you to sheer sobbing madness, financial systems being wildly arbitrary at best and a fucking scam at worst, *takes breath*,

The Long Walk by Stephen King - look, I find most of Stephen King's work deeply annoying, but this one fucking hits. A Hunger Games-esque premise that's about self-destructive urges and toxic masculinity as much as it as about the actual, you know, ritualized dystopian death march. also the camaraderie that forms between these teenagers even in the most hideous of circumstances is so charming and funny and sweet. also also it's just, like, really gay (peter mcvries you mad bisexual disaster).

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Sorry.

Anything by Octavia Butler really, but Dawn has a special place in my heart. The detail Butler put into all the different ways an alien species would be, well, alien to us--biological, linguistic, the makeup of family units, understandings of gender and sex, etc--and her description of humans as intelligent but highly hierarchical, and how these conflicting qualities could very well lead to our destruction...the hugely messy power dynamics not only between aliens and humans but among humans themselves...there's just so much to sink your teeth into, and it's only the first fucking book in the trilogy!

much more briefly because i'm giving myself eye strain, top 5 video games:

this is another one of those things that seems to shift every time i'm asked it but there are two (2) that will very likely never be budged from the list and those would be: have i mentioned this game called dishonored 2012 dev. arkane studios maybe one or eighteen hundred times over the last ten years; and bloodborne babey!!!

feeling like i need a zelda entry on here rn but i can't decide between majora's mask or twilight princess

fire emblem: awakening set me on the terrible path of anime chess obsession and i'm much less mad about it than i should be

also need a sengoku jidai media entry on here but i can't decide (x2) between sengoku basara or nioh which is hilarious because they are WILDLY different in tone. the duality of man

oh shit that's at least five? ask me again in a week and i'll have at least three different substitutions lmao

favorite movies:

the handmaiden. adapting fingersmith to 1930s korea is galaxy brain levels of genius and hideko and sook-hee are peak romance

saw pan's labyrinth for the first time at like. age 14? and it chemically altered my brain and introduced me to guillermo del toro's work and made me feel a lot of horrifying things. 10/10

need a ghibli entry on here but can't decide (x3) between princess mononoke and howl's moving castle, vote now on your phones

lord of the rings: the two towers. saw it six times in theaters when it originally came out and it's still my favorite of the series. can pretty much watch it by just closing my eyes at this point.

favorite disney/pixar is tangled. "i see the light" is also peak romance. wait what if hideko and sook-hee sang i see the light to each other

#askbox games #boghermit

[gneissmorrigan]

sunday, a day of familial mirth, tinged with the bittersweet hues of nostalgia and religious observance. i am caught between the desire to rise from the ashes and the tempting allure of lethargy. yet, the ceaseless drone of my parents echoes in my ears, asserting that sunday is the sacred day of god, a day we must dutifully consecrate with worship at his hollowed sanctuary. and they predict our inevitable misery for falling to forsake god's designated day. i may be one of his sons, but not setting foot in his sacred place doesn't negate my worship. what do they truly know? nothing, akin to the vast emptiness of a black hole. if questioned about the crucifixion, i might label it a consequence of my inherent sinfulness, deserving of his condemnation even after repentance.

oh, god, you prescribed honoring father and mother for the promise of extended days in the land you bestow. yet, why have they become the catalyst for our mutual dishonor? i tried to open your book and ephesians feed me with paul's words imploring fathers not to incite anger but to nurture in the discipline and instruction of the lord. then why do they embody the wellspring of our own turmoil? everything made me ponder. does forsaking your sacred space genuinely lead to misery, or is it a construct of society? do they truly fathom their progeny, or do their words merely echo their biased perceptions? perhaps their utterances ring true, and i, in my reluctance, evade the acceptance that you condemn me, leaving me in perpetual desolation.

pierce me with the cutting edge of your verbal sword, for in this desperate pursuit of salvation, i am but a catalyst for my own afflictions. and what a sunday it is, resonating with the storm brooding beneath my skin.

[strafethesesinners]

Comfort Tag Game

Tagged by @purplehairsecretlair to fill out this fun little questionaire

Comfort movie:

Lots! Some I can think of right away are the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Hot Fuzz, Godzilla (2014), the Fifth Element, Jurassic Park, Pacific Rim. I’m more of a comfort tv show person though. Primarily the Office (US) but also Parks n Rec and WWDITS.

Comfort food:

Hard to say. Food is complicated. But maybe sushi? And southern food like fried chicken, mac n cheese, etc.

Comfort clothing:

Certain pajama pants I have. And my oversized Dunder Mifflin sweatshirt.

Comfort song:

This one is very difficult as I have many but the first one that comes to mind is actually instrumental. String Quintet in C major, Op. 30, No. 6, G.324, “La musica notturna delle strade di Madrid V: Los manolos” by Luigi Boccherini. I heard it first in Master and Commander many years ago and it’s always just stuck with me. I can’t help smiling when I hear it. Absolutely beautiful piece of music.

Comfort book:

Might be the Hunger Games trilogy actually. The subject matter is harrowing but I like how easy it is to read and the familiar characters. And also again the Fellowship of the Ring. I also really like poetry and often reread poems for comfort/inspiration. Let me know if you would like to know some of those!

Comfort game:

Gotta be the first Dishonored game. Just the music for the menu screen makes me feel like I’m coming home.

I will tag: @depyotee @unleashed111 @multiverse-of-themind @belorage @florbelles @amistrio @adelaidedrubman @cobb-vanthss @redroci @nuclearstorms @deputyash @harlow1898 @clicheantagonist @shellibisshe @shallow-gravy @heroofpenamstan @socially-awkward-skeleton @necro-hamster @henbased @josephslittledeputy @redangrypears @just-an-adventurer really whoever would like to!

#about me #about Strafe #get to know me #tag game

[radjerda]

⛲ Welcome all! ⛲

I'm Radjerda (she/her, in my 20s) and I guess I just thought I might stick an intro post here for everyone to help keep my blog organized!

About Me: Like I said, I'm Radj, and I like to draw sometimes (I also crochet)! I've got an interest in a variety of media, but at the moment I'm very into Lord of the Rings and Tolkien's other related works. Also in my frequently recurring interests are likely to be: Half-Life, Dishonored, Tron, and others. Fun fact: I recently taught myself to write English with Tengwar out of boredom.

Important: Feel free to send me asks, messages, and whatnot on anything! I'm shy when it comes to starting interactions, but I always love to talk! (Responses may occasionally be slow, but don't take that to mean I'm ever bothered by interactions!)

Favorite Characters of the Day: Glorfindel & Ecthelion (Tolkien), Alan Bradley & Tron (Tron), Barney Calhoun (Half-Life), ARAMIS STILTON (Dishonored)

About the Blog: I like to post art (both my own art and others'!) and that's primarily what I use this blog for. This is a side blog, so most interactions from me that aren't reblogs will be from my main @portalthief. I post art from a bit of whatever I like, so be warned that this is a multifandom blog (though it likely will go through blocks of content as I do). I'll always tag posts with their fandom and other relevant details to make filtering content easy as needed, I'll write more on that below!

Other Places to Find Me: My main blog is @portalthief

Tags and How I Use Them (Under the Keep Reading):

A List of My Frequent Non-Fandom Tags and Their Explanations for All Your Blog-Searching and Content-Filtering Needs:

#Radj Draws -- my general art tag, used for all art.

#Radj Doodles -- used for my less-finished art pieces, silly doodles and the like

#Radj Screenshots -- used for my gaming screenshots, usually done like in-game photography, but sometimes sillier

#Radj Rambles -- used for posts where I do a lot of talking (like this one!), as well as my answers to asks and the like

#of those demons of power ecthelion queue three -- my queue tag, used for things I stuck in my queue! Original quote is from The Fall of Gondolin and reads "of those demons of power Ecthelion slew three," I think I'm funny

#not my art -- this is fairly self-explanatory, this tag is for art I haven't done myself

#not radjs art -- my own specific tag for reblogged art pieces that aren't mine, this way posts from my blog alone can be filtered to just my art (or just others' art) if using tumblr's filtering settings

#art from my lovely gf -- used for art done by my lovely gf! She gets a dedicated tag just because 💞 (go look at her art @graedari)

#radj makes an intro post #radj rambles