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eraenaa · 3 months

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The Prince and the Poet

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader AU

Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Aemond Writes a Poem, Childhood Friends, Hidden Attraction, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,900

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, The Den of Dragons and Lions

Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as he watched you completely enthralled by the sonneteer who performed before you. It had been un-endless hours he had to suffer as the court was subjected to watching poets read their works for the day’s entertainment. It was all too boring, all too frivolous, it was an utter waste of time. Aemond could not understand why you would willingly subject yourself to these men's trite and untrue words— whose delusions and desires were projected in their works. Aemond strongly believed that those who write poems and epics are weaklings and cowards. They do not have the courage to go on great adventures and woo their loves, so they can only imagine and write them down on parchment. And you were the sweet, naive fool who brought into their words—declaring their works beautiful and unparalleled. Blinded by flowery verses and empty promises.

You sigh longingly in your seat as the sonneteer before you recited your favorite sonnet of them all. Your lips silently move unconsciously as you recite your most favored work with him. Aemond, who sat by your side, sneered at the sigh that left your pillowy lips and the enchanted look in your eyes. His gaze traveled the court; every young maiden swooned by the words and looks of the sonnet who stood in the middle, reciting the work that you clung on to. When his torment finally ended, Aemond rolled his eye once more as you quickly stood and clapped your hands, an ovation for the young man who had finished his performance. Aemond did no such thing, only staring down the sonneteer who bowed and savored the praises given.

“I hope he shall return soon— and with new material!” You exclaimed to Helaena as you two walked the halls, arms linked together, Aemond trailing behind you. It was an old scene, your actions instilled since childhood. You practically grew up in the Red Keep with the princes and princess, a lion fostered by dragons.

You hear Aemond’s third scoff of the afternoon, making you glance behind only to see the consistent look of annoyance on his face. “I would take it you did not enjoy?” You say and face onward, feeling Aemond fasten his steps and now walking beside you and Helaena. “It is an utter waste of time; why must we spend hours on this frivolity when pressing matters could be attended to?” You roll your eyes at the Prince’s complaint.

“Aemond, your attendance was not required. If you believe poetry is a waste of time, I do not understand why you came there.” You say simply, pausing in your tracks. Helaena, a silent audience as you and Aemond began your ceaseless squabbles once more. Aemond was silent for a moment; the truth of his actions may not be revealed. “We did not force you to sit there and listen to Sir Liam— if anything, I’d prefer if you did not come; your glares and scoffs were seen and heard, and are very much unappreciated,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he had no response that he’d like to share. His eye traveled to his sister, who had a knowing smirk on her lips whilst you waited for his response that would not come.“I’ll see you both at supper,” Aemond grumbled as his eye landed on you, who bit back her smirk, the prince stomping away as you finally let your smile slip your lips.

“Must you really tease him? You perfectly know why he sat through the readings,” Helaena said as you and she sat in the gardens for tea. You picking at the candied lemons that you and Aemond would usually fight over. You smile as you lick your finger clean of the sugary syrup. “Yes, I know why he suffered through the readings. However, he is not aware that I am knowledgeable of his intent,” Helaena sighed, “How long will you make him suffer?” The princess asked, already impatient for the day her closest friend and brother would finally admit their attractions.

“Suffer?” You ask in shock, “I do no such thing! He inflicts his suffering himself—“ Helaena shook her head and laughed. “You’ve known of Aemond’s attraction to you for years! Yet you still act so clueless with him!” She reasoned. “I am a lady! I am expected to act chase and reserve. I cannot just go up to Aemond and confront him with his secret attraction!” You exclaimed with a fake and exaggerated look of scandal on your face, making Helaena laugh.

“If you are waiting for my brother to acknowledge and confess his attraction towards you, then you must wait— it might take him a lifetime.” Helaena mused, a hint of frustration and pity in her voice, for Aemond had wanted you since childhood; he was just afraid to let it be known. “Then I pity him… he could have had the golden beauty of the realm, but he chose to stay silent.” You say confidently— proud with the title bestowed upon you by lords and ladies, small and noble folk men who agreed that your beauty was as valuable and desirable as the gold your family was known for. Helaena hummed quietly and quickly prayed to the gods that her brother would soon admit his attraction, for Helaena knew that your pride would not subject you to confess your feelings first.

“Just because you do not understand or care for poetry does not mean they are a waste!” You exclaimed as Aemond picked another fight with you. You were peacefully seated in Helaena’s chambers, stroking your cat's fur mindlessly as Aemond’s own pet lay beside you. You were in no mood to fight with him and battle his views of poetry. “They are! They’re pointless. If you must say something, then say it— why must they dance around the matter? Why must they go on and on about something that could be said in one sentence? Cowards, the likes of them are!” You let out an exasperated sigh, making Aemond smirk at your annoyance.

He finds you quite endearing at the state, which is why he often takes time out of his day just to annoy you. Relishing at the roll of your enchanting eyes, the sighs that leave your plump, pink lips, and the furrow between your perfectly arched brows. If he were lucky and had annoyed you to quite an extent, you’d stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Or simply wave him off with your pampered hand because you no longer had a word of defense.

“Because they are poets! They do not wish to come to the answer and their intentions all at once— they create beauty with their words. They are capable of making subjects so dire be of great interest that they, in turn, create spectacles upon it!” You defended but Aemond only rolled his eye and shook his head, the former action he had gotten from you. Ever since you two were young, you would always roll your eyes when you found something disagreeable; Aemond would mock you for it— would mimic your actions in hopes of getting more from you. However, in time, he managed to adopt the same mannerisms.

“Archmaester Sisco believed that poetry is of great danger,” he said, taking a goblet to his lips. Your eyes followed the way the ball on his throat booed as you waited for him to continue his thought. “He says they mislead and are obscure and false— that poets are seducers of the mind,” He finished, noting the way your eyes were on his throat. Guessing you’d want to strangle him out of annoyance, Aemond was amused with the thought of you thinking about strangling him.

“The Archmaester’s proclamation and thinking is old— irrelevant in our times. Even his student, Archmaester Aristedes, disagrees with his views on poetry. He reasons that it is not harmful— it is a form of expression! Cathartic to those who read and write it!”Aemond let another scoff of derision slip his lips, pushing your annoyance into frustrated anger.

“You would not understand the beauty of poetry because you keep everything you feel inside you! You do not know what great relief it is to say or even write what you desire and hope for!” You exclaimed, and Aemond tensed in his seat. Silence surrounded the room as Aemond could not work out a response. You saw him fisting the arm of his chair, the knuckles of slender fingers turning pink from his tight grip.

You sighed heavily, “What I meant is… I understand that you do not like poetry and find it pointless and a waste— but I don’t. I am not forcing poetry onto you, nor am I trying to change your views upon it. I enjoy and adore poetry— I just wish you would stop discouraging me from enjoying it.

“Why do you enjoy it?” Aemond asked after a short while. You try to hide your surprise at his question. “Because… I find it romantic. For someone to take time to depict you with such beautiful imagery and flattering words, to love and admire you enough to dedicate a work of literature to your name… for me, it is the best way to express to someone how much you truly love them.” You could not look at Aemond as you said the words. In truth, a part of you felt silly because your love for poetry was only solidified because you loved a boy who you knew would not subject himself to create such works. When you read your favorite epics and songs, you would humor yourself and imagine it was Aemond who wrote it for you, knowing he would never do such a thing.

Days passed since your and Aemond’s interaction and you noticed that you had scarcely seen his presence. You would pass by him whilst in training and join him and his kin for supper— but other than that, you could not feel a trace of his presence. He would usually join you and Helaena for tea or would suddenly appear by your side as you walked along the keep. He didn’t even pick fights or tease you anymore. Him growing more silent and reserved. Now you regret speaking— wishing you had just held your tongue and let him continue to disparage the sacred thoughts of poems and songs.

It was high night, and you sat silently in your chambers, staring at the fire, trying to find ways to approach Aemond. Already missing his teasing presence— the only presence you would muster the patience to endure.

You furrowed your brows as you heard shuffling at your door. Your eyes catch the shadow of a figure outside. You cautiously and quietly stood, going to your door only to see a piece of parchment being slipped at the slit of the wooden door. Your confession only grew. You quickly took the parchment and opened the door, revealing its sender. Three eyes went wide as you were met with Aemond, who blended in the dark. However, his silver hair shined in the light of the moon. “What are you doing?” You ask and turn to the parchment he had slipped.

“Nothing— I… this—“ Aemond fumbled for words; you had never seen him in such a state. He was usually composed and stoic. You thought seeing him bashful and embarrassed was a nice gift from the gods. “What is this?” You ask and unfold the parchment. “No! Don’t—“ Aemond bit his tongue as it was too late to hinder you. Your eyes already consuming what was written.

I’ve known you for half of my life yet; you consume the whole of it I’ve had you near and close to me yet, I only gaze from afar

I do not know how to proclaim I’m not certain how to say it without blame, but you, my beauty, are the cause of my desire and, most of the time, my ire

I know I pick countless squabbles, but I do it because I love to hear you babble about things I have no care for but you just simply adore

We disagree for many reasons, but I’d rather fight you through the seasons You, my beauty, so lovely and carefree my heart could not help but love you, most ardently

Aemond watched you bite your lip as a wide smile started to spread. Aemond felt heat all over his body— anticipation did not sit well with him. He was ready to meet your laughs at his attempt to make you a poem. Ready to face rejection, but instead of the pessimistic thoughts in his mind, he was met with your sweet, pillowy lips. You were so excited and thrilled that you could not help but kiss him. Show him how you adored him as well.

What was supposed to be a short and chaste kiss turned deep with passion. Lips dancing and refusing to part. You and Aemond stumbled to your bed, uncaring and ignorant of the teachings of the gods, for you and him had long surpassed your desires, and they could no longer be denied. They were ready to claim without thought of consequences because both of you knew that you’d happily take all punishment that would be presented if it meant neither of you had to stop your actions.

“Gods, I want you,” You uttered as his lips traveled to kiss your soft cheeks, then trailed downward to the side of your neck. His hands were on your waist and threading dangerously close to your bosom. “Say it again,” Aemond almost begged. Savoring your scent, delighting at the way you feel against him. “I want you, Aemond. I’ve wanted you for years— you, only you.” You sighed as he left marks on your necks, earning quiet moans from you at the new sensation.

Aemond let a low moan rumble as his cock painfully strained against his trousers, throbbing at your admittance of want for him. It was all he wanted. He thought his deepest desire in life was to have a dragon, but that was wrong. He desired you more than claiming a dragon— his deepest desire was to claim a lioness.

Aemond tangled his hair in your hair, finally letting his other hand move from your waist and cup your breast. Your hand, in turn, went to palm him through his trousers, watching as his jaw clenched and the ball of throat bobbed once more. “We… we must not lay until we are married,” Aemond said, voice pained and filled with impatience. Yet, he still did not move atop you; he kept his hold, but you relinquished yours. “We don’t have to,” You said, trying to push away your need for him to touch you. Aemond sighed and hurried his face in your neck, his lips and breath tickling your skin. “Then how…” Aemond trailed, and a thought passed your mind. “We must not touch each other….yet. However, I do not recall teaching forbidding us to touch ourselves,” You whisper, Aemond’s lilac eye flying to you, dark and filled with lust, mirroring yours.

Aemond moved to remove his weight from you. You keep your eyes locked as you back away to the back of your bed, resting yourself on the pillows as Aemond kneels by the edge of your feathered bed, watching each move you make with his glazed, lone eye.

You bit your lip harshly as your hand threaded a path that it threaded plenty of times, the thought you had as you did the actions now watching you. You slipped your hands, and you resisted moaning as your fingers brushed over the pearl of your cunt. Aemond admired the way your breasts peaked and traced through your silk nightgown. The way your eyes were hooded and how your plump lips finally parted and moaned his name.

Aemond could no longer resist. Slipping his hand into his trousers just like he did every night, the image of you no longer in his mind but now sitting before him, calling out his name.“A-Aemond,” You stuttered as you felt the familiar cold within you. How desperately you wanted it to be, him to make you feel such a way. Aemond groaned and tilted his head to the heavens as he felt his cock twitch; he was quick to reach his peak; just the way you called for his name was enough for him to spill so quickly.

Aemond closed the space between the two of you, each of your hands still pleasuring yourselves while lips met and wanted to be together when both of you reached your peaks. “You will be mine soon, my heart… mine to pleasure and please, all mine,” Aemond swore against your lips. You nod your head as you fasten your pace. “I’ve always been yours, Aemond.” You said truthfully, the final push for Aemond to come undone; you quickly followed as his moans spurred your peak. Aemond kissed your lips once more and boldly prayed for patience, patience, and restraint to not take you that night.

It was not enough for Aemond; pleasuring himself as he watched you pleasure yourself was not enough, but it had to be for now. Because when morning comes, he’ll demand that you shall be his, just as it ought to be.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

#house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #lannister oc #poetry #house lannister #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #archive of our own #hotd ao3 #hotd fic

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genericpuff · 3 months

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Okay, what the FUCK is Inklore?

My ULO pals and I have been deliberating on this one since it was announced. "Inklore", the brand new imprint from Random House Worlds - which is, in and of itself, an imprint of Penguin Random House - and Rachel Smythe Presents, an in-house program of sorts that's dedicated to graphic novels, specifically those that "tell updated, romantic versions of classic stories and mythologies, and caters to readers looking for bingeable, relationship-driven stories with a distinct visual voice."

Basically it's exactly how it sounds - they're creating an imprint for works like Lore Olympus, and using Rachel as the leading lady.

But let's dig a little deeper. Because the more I searched on Inklore, Rachel Smythe Presents, and Random House Worlds, the more it started to paint a picture of what's really going on here.

INKLORE

I talked about this in my recent analysis of LO's pacing problems, but Inklore launching in Spring 2024 conveniently lines up with what would seem like a reasonable end point for LO. Rachel's always lined up LO's episodes with real life dates and holidays - even when it's been at her comic's own expense - and while we've kept our minds open to the possibility that it could end later than Spring, there's no denying at this point that LO itself is dragging itself out, which gives me stronger reason to believe it's just trying to make it to March, specifically March 20th, which is the first day of Spring in the northern hemisphere. Because of this, our best predictions right now is that LO's series finale will either release on FP or unlock for free readers on either the 16th or 23rd of March (if it unlocks for free on either of those dates, that means we can expect the series to end behind the FP paywall on either April 6th or 13th, assuming they're aren't any more hiatuses, but at this point I doubt there will be.)

Moving on, let's look at the actual Inklore site-

Already you can get the vibe of what kind of work they're looking for through their imprint. This is for people like Rachel. Now, I'm definitely not going to rag on anyone's tastes, I myself am a weeb of epic proportions, but considering you're about to see what's really the highlight of this site, you'll get what I mean when I say this isn't for people like Rachel, this is for people like Rachel. Specifically Rachel.

RACHEL SMYTHE PRESENTS

Inklore seems to be just an imprint specifically for Rachel Smythe Presents, with a couple extra series tacked on to give off the impression of it being more credible than it is. It means the whole site can be dedicated to it, rather than having it shoved in haphazardly alongside Penguin Random House's other works. You'll see what I mean in a second, but let's magnify those questions real quick, shall we?

As soon as I saw the "we are not accepting unsolicited pitches for Rachel Smythe Presents", it dawned on me that Rachel's own fans don't know how imprints work. Why do I say that? Look no further than the comment sections on her announcement posts for RSP (which I'm abbreviating, but I assure you, it stands for "Rachel Sex Party"- /j)

Of course, there are plenty of "congratulations" comments and "please do xyz myth", in which case, please, don't let her touch more myths I beg you-

But then there are also the odd comments of people asking how to get involved themselves. People who are just, by all accounts, regular people on the Internet.

But wait, how do you get involved? Thankfully there's a handy URL in that FAQ telling us how.

And holy shit, it's hilarious.

Guys, it's so easy to get into Rachel Smythe Presents! All you have to do is finish a manuscript, find an agent who's willing to work with a new unpublished author (and hope that they're not a scammer), get your manuscript prepared for publishing and submitted to editors, and then hopefully land a book deal! Wasn't that so easy?? Thanks for demystifying the process, Penguin Random House!

Listen, okay, there's something to be said about how difficult it is to navigate the publishing world. While some of those difficulties are for good reason - to ensure that not just any piece of crap thrown on paper can get published - many more are rooted in privilege, racial gatekeeping, and sexism. It is still an industry being run by a lot of nasty old fucks who take full advantage of people desperate enough to get their book published.

All that aside, it's kind of hilarious - in a sad kind of way - to see fans of this comic assume that this project and its opportunities were ever made for them. It wasn't. It wasn't made for the Canvas creators, it wasn't made for the Wattpad writers, it wasn't made for the people who work in the medium that Rachel started out in to get where she is today. It was made for the people who are already 3 of the 4 steps into Penguin Random House's "helpful" guide on publishing. It was made for the Cait Corrains and the wannabe Rick Riordans.

At best, Inklore is simply a home that's been manufactured for Lore Olympus after it's done on Webtoons. It may remain on the WT platform forever - or maybe not - but Inklore gives it a way to be seen and acknowledged outside of its niche. Because, despite Webtoons attempting to make Lore Olympus a global phenomenon, it really hasn't sold well in other countries, especially those where it was translated which people from those countries have stated it's not translated well at all.

It goes to show that much of LO's claim to fame was manufactured within North America by Webtoons itself, and Inklore is just another one of those manufactured attempts.

Still don't believe me? Still think I'm wearing too much tinfoil?

There are still only two series that Inklore has to show for itself - and remember, it launches in two months - and of course the ones leading that charge are every single volume of LO, even the ones that aren't "new and upcoming" anymore.

And then there's their Instagram, which is just more of the same-

(wonder if they ever found a Marketing Manager? Not exactly the role you want to be left empty leading up to a launch, oop-)

But wait, doesn't that site layout look a little... off? Almost cheap, maybe? Am I being too harsh-

Oop, nope, it's the exact same template used for the LoreOlympusBooks.com website.

Wait a minute, what about the imprint that Inklore is attached to? Random House Worlds?

RANDOM HOUSE WORLDS

... Uhhuh. I'm not entirely convinced that Lore Olympus is in any way on the same level as fucking Star Wars but to the average onlooker, this would make Lore Olympus seem pretty big and important simply on the virtue of it sitting smack dab in the middle of a grid of massive franchises.

So I'll bite, where do these buttons go? They all lead to external sites selling books and merchandise (except for the Marvel Studios one, which hilariously doesn't have a URL attached, so that button goes nowhere LMAO)

... Oh. It's that layout again.

Not all of them have the same layout, mind you, but it seems to be the default layout for sites they just haven't buffed up yet. It would explain why the Star Wars and D&D sites are a lot more robust in their designs, while others just link back to Penguin Random House:

Now the Minecraft one does look better at first glance, but it's still just the same template as the LO site, with a slightly different layout, but working off the same design philosophy, like they just spent a few extra hours dragging things around and spiffying them up in a site editor.

So it seems a lot of the default sites are working off the same CSS stylesheets, which doesn't exactly look good for LO and Inklore's online identity.

But hey, it's gotta mean something that LO is sitting alongside such franchises as Star Wars, Marvel, Magic the Gathering, and Minecraft, right? These are some of the biggest franchises on the planet, and while LO does make a lot of money, it's still nowhere near the billions that these franchises generate every single year.

And that's what I would be saying, if I hadn't noticed the specific products that Random House Worlds was selling - all easily churned out merch, from cookbooks to spin-off titles, which aren't exactly the main draw for these franchises, simply stocking stuffers or otherwise fun gimmicks to try out.

(I actually own the Dungeons and Dragons tarot deck. It's shit. They don't actually tell you the suit of the cards, JUST the numbers, so you have to flip through the book and match up the pictures on the cards with the pictures in the book just to figure out if it's Cups, Pentacles, Wands, or Swords, which I'm sure you can figure out, if you're a tarot reader, is very inconvenient and doesn't make for a good card reading experience)

Point is, Random House Worlds seems to mostly be an imprint dedicated solely to the cheaper products and books they can make to pump up a franchise's merch count. Even the Critical Role site doesn't offer the campaign books, those are published by their own personal imprint Darrington Press and are offered on their main - and much better designed - site:

Instead it's selling printed versions of interviews and... mad libs.

Not made or even really endorsed by the Critical Role cast, because if they were, they'd be on the main site, where the good shit is.

Random House Worlds is, at least judging off what I've found here, the "trick the parents into buying it" imprint. It's simply there for parents to see, go "my kid watches / plays that!" and then buy a Beholder puzzle which their kid will undoubtedly start and then never finish and eventually throw out half-finished after all the pieces have been lost. It's the cheap merch money generating machine, with works written by people who were simply paid to write it, and not people actually involved in the larger franchises.

And this is the imprint that Inklore and Rachel Smythe Presents is going to be an extension of.

At best, Inklore will likely just be a home for Rachel's work post-Webtoons, with maybe the odd success outside of it. At worst, it comes across as nothing more than an ego project, another artificial attempt to place Rachel and LO on the same playing field as Marvel, Minecraft, Star Wars, and Dungeons & Dragons through the only means that they can - an imprint that specializes in off-brand books, which they're truly counting on people just seeing the logos and going "wow those are big franchises!" and associating LO with that status simply by affiliation - without it having anywhere near the actual level of prestige, household influence, or brand recognition.

Its readership is dying out, its stats dropping, and worst of all, the vast majority of people - of which its a very small amount - who have heard about LO without being a Webtoons user themselves have heard how infamous it is in its bad writing and poor art direction.

It has nowhere to go but down, and if you were hoping to be a part of Rachel Smythe Presents, then all I can suggest to you is to go through the very simple process of finishing your manuscript, finding an agent, finding an editor, and then (hopefully) landing a book deal with the 'esteemed' Inklore.

Good luck! ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #inklorebooks #inklore

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supercap2319 · 8 months

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Y/N was getting really bad at keeping his secret fuckings with Parker a secret. He's already been caught twice by two of his uncles and he wasn't waiting for more of them to find out. Especially his dad. Apparently, the universe or the fates or whatever you believe in hated him. Like God opening up the clouds and saying: 'I hate you, Y/N.'

Whatever or whoever was working against him had his uncle Thor stumble drunkenly upstairs to find him. While Y/N and Parker were fucking in his room upstairs, his dad, his uncles, his aunts, and some very important people were downstairs at a party. His father was the host, so, he had Y/N stay upstairs until it was over. Last time he let him join his party, Y/N ended up drunk and running naked through the streets of New York.

His dad had basically paid Parker to hangout with him tonight, but he actually hired him to babysit and keep an eye on him. Report to him if Y/N messed up, or tried to sneak out. The fucking prick. As soon as he walked in with that smug look on his face; Y/N attacked his lips with his own as they could be as loud and rough as they wanted because nobody was upstairs that could hear them. More importantly, disturb them. Or so he thought.

Thor had gotten drunk and was asking Tony about his young nephew. "Ah, Stark. Where is thy son? Mine nephew?" Thor slurred.

Tony looks away from an important investor. "Upstairs, buddy." He then turned back to the investor.

Thor stumbled across the room and rode the elevator to the upstairs bedrooms as he walked until he found Y/N's room. He broke down the door with a mighty pound of his fist as he grinned amongst the wooden debris in the air. "Rejoice, nephew! Thy uncle Thor wants you to come downstairs and have a drink—what in Odin's beard is going on in here?!"

Parker stopped thrusting into Y/N's tight hole as they both froze at the sudden appearance of Y/N's uncle Thor. His eyes were wide and big as he locked eyes with Thor's blue ones. He swallowed. "Uncle Thor, I can explain. You see Puh-Puh-Parker and I were—"

"Huzzah! Thy father's intern is your epic bed conquest? I am most proud of you, dear Y/N. I shall tell your father of your epic love story." And with that, he ran out of the room.

Y/N quickly pushed Parker off him as he chased after his drunken uncle, butt naked. "No! Uncle Thor wait!" He called out as the elevator doors closed on his face. He had to think fast. He ran and took the stairs, trying not to fall as his dick flapped in the wind.

He made it just before Thor entered the party as he saw Y/N and his naked body and smiled. "Thou wishes to tell thy father in person? How noble. Come." He began to push him towards the doors of the party, but Y/N stopped him. "Uncle Thor, wait! You can't tell my dad about Parker and me."

Thor frowned. His eyes were unfocused. "Why not? Do you not wish to have thy father's blessing?"

"You can't tell him. He'll fire Parker and ground me forever. Please don't tell." Y/N begged. He hated Parker, but he would never forgive himself if he got him fired. He needed the money to help his aunt May with the rent.

He must have been using his puppy dog because Thor nods and smiles. "I swear on Mjölnir and Storm breaker that I shall not tell Stark. This is an Asgardian promise." That's when he passed out and fell to the floor. Y/N sighed and walked towards the elevators as his dad came into the room. "Son? Why are you naked and why is Thor passed out?"

Y/N tried not to blush as he looked at his dad. "I'm drunk and was watching porn?"

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #peter parker #Peter parker x male reader #enemies to lovers #spiderman #spiderman x male reader #tom holland #Tom Holland x male reader #marvel mcu #tony stark #robert downey jr #chris hemsworth #thor odinson

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tylermileslockett · 5 months

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The Five Ages of humankind

In Hesiod’s Poem “Works and Days,” he describes a lineage of the creation of humankind by the gods through five “ages.” They are as follows:

The Golden Age: In the time of Cronus the gods created the first race of humankind who …”lived like gods without sorrow of heart, remote and free from toil and grief.” (White) they lived in peace and fruitful abundance and were loved by the gods. This race fades away, becoming roaming, friendly daimon spirits to humankind.

The Silver Age: The next age is much less noble, where the mortals are simpletons and are subject to suffering from sin. They wrong one another and neglect their duties to honor the gods with proper sacrifices. In this age, Zeus comes to power, and he wipes away this race in disgust.

The Bronze Age: This warlike race is created by Zeus from Ash trees who …”Loved the lamentable works of Ares and deeds of violence”… and are …”hard of heart like adamant.” Their weapons and homes were of bronze, and the race eventuall falls to their own murderous bloodlust.

The Age of Heroes: Next, Zeus creates a race which is… “nobler and more righteous, a god-like race of hero-men who are called demi-gods.” Some of this heroic race is killed in epic wars of Thebes or Troy, while others live…”untouched by sorrow in the islands of the blessed along the shore of deep swirling Ocean.” Cronus, released from his bonds by Zeus, watches over these.

The Iron Age: Here Hesiod laments being a member of the fifth, (and current) age of humans who… “never rest from labour and sorrow by day, and from perishing by night; and the gods shall lay sore trouble upon them.” He describes this age as morally corrupt: neglectful of parents, violent, oath-breaking, and wretched.

Thanks for looking and reading! If you share this image ill place you into the golden category as a true divine ally! Xoxo 🤟😁❤️🏛

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

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punkpandapatrixk · 2 years

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🐌Destined Person's Spiritual Assistance in Your Personal Development—Timeless Tarot Pick A Card

[Happy Tanabata Festival!🎋Bonus content for this PAC is now Public for everyone! Read here for the whole Orihime and Hikoboshi epic romance if you love cosmic love stories~]

On the glowing surface of the moon, Time sat with Destiny, and over tea pondered the question of reconciliation. The conclusion to Yang and Yin’s melodramatic dance, Destiny told Time there was a particular issue that would need to be addressed:

In the theatre of the Universe, it was all mere performance for the entertainment of Infinite Intelligence; but the divine Lovers had been all too absorbed in their roles they had now begun to lose sight of their true Divine Nature. If they were to meet now, it would be by karma that they reunite; soon enough, tears would spill again and the Lovers would have to do another round of dance. Again and again...

One hundred thousand memories of tears, hatred, vengeance; they would drown all memories of laughter, love, compassion. Destiny said: ‘It has been a while the two Lovers battle each other. If they could learn to assist one another instead in the amelioration of Gaia’s helter-skelter, I promise by Law of the Cosmos they shall be reunited in true happiness. Forever and ever…’

And thus, here we are the sons and daughters of Yang and Yin playing out roles in the vast theatre of the Universe. Our consciousness dances back and forth emerging and submerging between the corporeal and incorporeal realms. Undoing the threads of karma we trace back the root of our service to Infinite Intelligence. Until all sadness dissolves... Until all sadness dissolves... And only memories of Love unite all beings in dharma.

[Back to Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

Pile 1 – ‘Your Highness, You Command Magick!’

Destiny’s Orchestra – Queen of Pentacles Rx

In the drama of Human incarnation, you’ve forgotten your immense power of manifestation. You were born into an environment where most of the time most people operate on poverty mindset. This could translate into various scenarios, i.e.: you were born poor so you believe poverty is the natural state of being; your parents held a poor man’s mindset; your entire society was brimming with stingy and deceitful human beings; or just… you literally grew up with a lot of limitations. All kinds of limitations, even if not financially.

-I remember how the leader and founder of X JAPAN, YOSHIKI told of his childhood: being sickly, he was always confined within the walls of the hospital and doctors telling him he couldn’t do this or that. His entire childhood was just limitations and limitations due to frail health, but he ‘unmei wo sakaratta’—he rebelled against Destiny’s orchestration.-

You have a very similar struggle with the illusion of limitation. The limitation placed in your mind is the creation of your environment, but that is far from the real divine power that you are. You’re essentially this powerhouse of abundance who’s destined for so much you will never go dry no matter how much you’ve spent on both yourself and charity.

YOSHIKI's rockumentary WE ARE X, I feel, will inspire you tons. It is because I feel incredibly strongly for this Pile: you have immense power within you waiting to be released. And that’s because you’re meant to be a Harbinger of a Revolution—like YOSHIKI himself did to Japan’s entire society!

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Destined Person’s Spiritual Assistance – 8 of Wands Rx

You came into this world to play a heroic, albeit somewhat tragic, character who started with a lot of adversity. Manifestation may have been a very difficult thing for you, or if anything, at one point you’ve come to believe you can only manifest unrealistically unideal situations!

‘Honey, it’s all a Game. Remember this isn’t the true you,’ said your Destined Person from the Higher Realms. Even when the progression of your Life feels slow, your Destined Person’s Higher Self is always here with you. They act like a Spirit Guide, which may even feel like a spirit animal to some of you.

From the very beginning of your spiritual transformation—these things people call the Dark Nights of the Soul, etc.—your Destined Person’s Higher Self has been watching you closely to uphold your faith even when you feel like you couldn’t go on anymore. If you listen closely enough, you’ll hear their guidance that seems to constantly direct you towards finding ideas, artwork, public figures (including celebrities), books, movies, music, etc., that seem to remind you of your great Divine Potentials.

Path Towards Your Highest Destiny – Knight of Cups

Your Destined Person is actively seeking to wake you up from this mediocre dream of an Earthly Life. Your essence is regal, and if only you would believe it, the world is quite literally under your command—both the spiritual and the mundane worlds. There is an air of nobility to you, and check this out, this may have something to do with your DNA, too. This may be clear as day for some, and this may be rather murky for some. For example:

You could be descended from blue bloods; maybe one of your great-great-great grandparents or something was the bastard child of a nobleman LMAO; or on a lighter note, you could’ve been kings or queens in previous incarnations; or more magical still, you could be an actual king or queen of the fairies in another realm of existence. Whatever the case may be, you’ve got the regal shit. Okay? And taking full advantage of that would be to your…advantage in this incarnation, regardless of what circumstances you’ve been born into.

In fact, by this energy, I’m sensing that your Destined Person’s human incarnation is also someone who exudes an aura of regality themselves. Heed, my friends: some of you attracted to this Pile, your Destined Person could be someone in the public eye, and if you happen to already know who they are, yes, this is your confirmation. And yes… I know you’re inspired tons by their aura of expensiveness LMAO What you see in them is a mirror reflection of the sparkles you hold within yourself. Now blast~!

Isabella’s Lullaby🔻❤️

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – ‘Dear Lovely, You Create Magick!’

Destiny’s Orchestra – King of Pentacles

In the theatre of Human Incarnation, you grew up thinking you must only be a certain profession that’s been approved by your society. Problem is, the range of approved professions is narrow and they’re, for the most part, boring as fuck for their rigidity and drabness. But worse still, they’re the kind of profession that would require you to really toughen up—both on the inside and outside.

And you agreed almost mindlessly because that’s the world you were born into. No question, this is the only path for me, think you. But that kills you. For little did your little self knew, you’re a natural-born artist—born into this world to flow like water and paint beautiful pictures. Pictures meant to come alive. You’re a painter of life itself and everything that comes out of you breathes beauty.

Beauty permeates you and thus you emanate beauty. If you’re able to break the spell of mundanity, you’ll naturally develop yourself as the talented artist you essentially are. Hard work may have been the setting of your Human drama, but that is not you at all. That cheatful Destiny, sending you off to an environment that’s the complete opposite of what you divinely are!

Destined Person’s Spiritual Assistance – Ace of Pentacles

-Do you notice the contrast between the King and Ace of Pentacles here?-

You were plunged into a hard setting of an environment (like everything was already settled and decided), but here your Destined Person’s Higher Self is guiding you to see things a tad differently. Sure, sure, pentacles are important, but you ought to see them from a different light.

Money/career/status… those things in themselves don’t just bring fulfilment to your Soul. It is what you do to earn money that brings true spiritual satisfaction. It is what you contribute to causes you care about that brings a real sense of meaning to your Earthly life. It is how you have carefully chosen your own path that you will be spared regrets.

Your Destined Person wants to remind you at all times that you needn’t be so hard on yourself. There’s magick in the air which you can rely upon for manifestation. But the most important thing of all is that you must see your worth with brand new eyes. Your Destined Person is someone who sees your natural gentleness, compassion, and dazzling artistic talents. They already see this even before they see you in the physical!

Path Towards Your Highest Destiny – 2 of Pentacles Rx

2 of Pentacles, especially in this deck, talks about weighing options. You’re a very considerate person, but you’re also a worrywart, and I feel that your entire Life you’ve always been the type to carefully plan ahead, but all you’re planning is out of alignment with what your Soul wants. So that’s a lot of sacrifice when you look at things from a grander scale. And not the noble kind of sacrifice.

You should take it easy and take a deep breath of release. Prioritise your mental health and do what you want from the soul—not the ego that wants to fit in and play safe. If you rebel like that against the rules of your society, who knows what might happen to for you? That’s way beyond this PAC can read because you’re meant to tread the path and see for yourself what you’re capable of creating.

Trivia: your Destined Person may be an artist themselves or just someone who truly embodies the artist spirit irrespective of what they do to make money. The essence of their Higher Self wants you to remember this: be slow, and flow with the rhythm of your spiritual/creative/passionate desires.

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Isabella’s Lullaby🔻🧡

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – ‘You Are Magick, My Dearest~’

-First of all, on my blog, Pile 3s tend to contain the most complex/complicated/extraterrestrial messages. And if you’ve noticed, words and sentences for Pile 3s tend to be the least logical as they’re structured almost abstractly—they’re intuitive and must be understood by your Higher Intelligence—your Soul.

Now this reading is super visual and there’s a lot more you can understand by noticing the crazy contrasts between the colourful artwork of Amano Yoshitaka and the drabness of your tarot & oracle cards. The only tarot that contains the most colour is in Rx… I just thought I needed to point this out for your analysis pleasure.

And yes… I…have decided to entirely disregard the structure I’d created for all the Piles. You don’t need that. Your message is different…-

Destiny’s Orchestra – 10 of Pentacles

Destined Person’s Spiritual Assistance – 4 of Wands Rx

Path Towards Your Highest Destiny – 7 of Pentacles

I feel very strongly that you and your Destined Person were never even separate, in a sense. On a Soul level, you were never apart. You’ve always been together and even now you’re almost like… One. If you’re currently searching for your other-complete-half like the rest of the awakening population, it’s all just a trick of the Maya—the Matrix—the Human World. Seriously, you’ve never been apart for too long nor too far.

But in this theatre of Human Incarnation, indeed you may have had polar opposite roles and experiences. Mirror opposites? I think that’s what they call such a thing. And out of the blue, I want to introduce you to the weird and tragic dynamic of The Shining Prince Hikaru Genji and his first wife Aoi-no-ue.

Aoi-no-ue was 16 years old when she was arranged to marry 12-year-old Prince Genji (already a man by Heian period’s nobility standard, I guess). The Princess was a proud woman and would not open her heart to Genji, but most of all… She felt a horrible sense of inferiority to her husband’s dazzling beauty (even at the age of 12 LMAO). Never really tasting the sweetness of Love by her own resistance, she died young by a demonic spirit.

This, isn’t the dynamic of your relationship with your Destined Person. This is a cautionary tale and one message your Destined Person wouldn’t shut up about as of right now. Here’s what they’re being super noisy about:

‘Do you see the magnificent beauty that is yourself? To me, you are the most exquisite beauty to ever exist. Blossoming more beautifully than any flower or fairy being. Your scent is the sweetest and your voice the most melodious. There’s a gleam in your eyes that simultaneously shakes my heart and puts it at ease. You are a dreamer—you weave beauty into being by just dreaming it. You are the dream—surpassing any standards of magnificence and beauty by just breathing. Your beauty is so shivering it moves Heaven, Earth and Hell.’

-Did you take a shot every time they say beauty or magnificent?-

Anyway, that last part is one reason why you’ve been met with so much hardship: enemies from Hell are actively seeking to destroy you—beginning with your self-worth. The environment you were born into did not have the capacity to understand the exquisite beauty that you are and naturally, they could not value you for your real talents or character. And then, you think you’re worthless (or simply worth less, you know) because nobody has ever told you your true value. Does that make sense? That’s why your Destined Person wanted you to know the story of Aoi-no-ue and then wouldn’t shut up with their praises...

Handsome Genji was affectionate towards Aoi-no-ue, but her inferiority complex prevented her from accepting the exquisite love that Genji was capable of giving. They were not a happy couple despite Genji’s gentleness and kind attention. Why is this important? If you haven’t come around yet, it’s because your Destined Person is also someone mega godly beautiful—man or woman or anything else in between!💗🌈💛But different from you, they know this and flaunt their beauty LMAO

NCT Jaehyun is the most exquisitely handsome man in the world, but with that attractive face and charisma he still has the audacity to say: ‘My charm? My charm is the plot twist charm. Whatever you imagine, I’m more attractive than that.’🥵

You ought to develop such confidence because that is your birth right. That is the important assistance I feel your Destined Person has offered you yet, even if only aetherically at the moment you’re reading this. As you continue to develop yourself enveloped in this beautiful loving energy, so your energetic signature comes to resemble that of your Destined One. And in this way you become a perfect vibrational match whom Destiny shall reunite fully in Love. Forever and ever…

Isabella’s Lullaby🔻��

Time’s Healing Essence – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

Destiny’s Gift of Reunion – Priestess of Protection

You need only to meditate upon these cards, but more so on Amano Yoshitaka’s artwork used for Pile 3 whilst listening to Neko to Inu (Cat and Dog) by Sakamoto Maaya🥰

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Love yourself. Love your uniqueness. Love all that you are, My Dearest Prettiest Princess~ (or Prince😜)

Access cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Feel free to support me on Patreon if you love this kind of content🍑I create stories and tarot readings that calm the mind & heal from within🍒

[Back to Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

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morallyinept · 8 months

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*Phone Rings. The Mandalorian theme.*

Hey D. How you doing, bud?... What? Whoa, slow down. You're rambling… You high? Okay. I think you'd better get over here… Just get here and then we can talk through it…

Get an Uber. You drive here and I'mma fustigate you. Okay. Yes, I have whiskey. And vodka. Yes and the strawberry sparkle face mask… and the peach shampoo. No, I don't have any tabs. No. Dude! Just get your ass over here! Okay. See you soon.

*Dieter finally arrives after three. Fucking. Hours.*

D! Where've you been? I was worried. God, you look like shit. Been on an epic bender, hmm? Looks like you need a good detox and a pamper sesh, my dude. Sound good?

Yeah… thought so. So let's get started, shall we?

Today, Dieter and I are going to give you some hints and tips for a good self-pampering session. This is all about indulging in YOU. Making yourself feel good on the outside, will contribute to how you feel on the inside. Especially if you've had a shitty day - or a string of them lately. We'll also put some fun links at the bottom of this post that you might like. Because we're just that awesome.

You're welcome. 🖤

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and we're not here to give you a full make-over, babe. Nah, you're stunning as you are. Trust me.

Aren't they gorgeous, Dieter?

See? Told you.

But there are some little things you can do to feel more polished and shiny when you're feeling down in the dumps. When you make time to indulge in some self-pampering, it makes you feel good. It can instantly change and lift your mood when you're nice and clean and smelling like zingy lemons, isn't that right D?

Yeeeah… let's get you in the tub, buddy.

Yes, I have those scented candles you like. I know, I'm so good to you… Scooch forward. I'll wash your hair.

Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

You might have been festering in your own filth for a few days if you've been feeling really down. And that's perfectly okay. Sometimes you just gotta ride with it and wallow in your own crapulence for a bit. But now Dieter and I are here to kick your pert butt out of bed, to take off those gross pj's and to get you in the tub.

Dieter will even scrub your back, and anywhere else you, uh, need it.

Relaxing in a hot bubble bath feels fucking a-mah-zing, doesn't it? Oof. Hot water eases physical tension that you're holding onto, and also helps to relieve pain. Not only that, the steam opens up your pores so you can give your skin a good, deep cleanse. Add as many bath bombs as you like to the water, or hang some fresh eucalyptus bunches in your shower to get that spa-like effect. Even if you don't have that stuff, it's cool. Hot water alone will make you feel like a million bucks, dahlins.

Scrub, scrub, scrub.

Exfoliate. Scrub your body and your face to rid yourself of those dead skin cells. Then slather on some body butter or your favourite moisturiser. If you have a facial routine, now is a good time to do that too. Take your time and enjoy it, the sensations and scents... Dieter loves a good face mask. Strawberry scented with sparkles. You can't make this shit up.

Treat yourself the next time you have some spare cash to a good moisturiser. You don't have to spend loads of money on skincare products, but a decent moisturiser will see you right. It will also hydrate your skin, and if you've not been taking good care of yourself lately, your skin will be grateful for that moisture injection.

Hydrate. Eat. Relaaaax.

Speaking of wet - ahem - drink that water. All of it! Drinking water will also make you feel full, so you're less inclined to overeat and pick at those snacks you reach for when depressed. If you're anything like me, snacking, when you don't feel your best, is a vice. Drinking water will help to curb those cravings.

And it's also really amazing for your skin and body. Aim to drink at least 16 cups or 3.7 litres of water a day. Thank me later when your skin looks all dewy, you goddess you!

No, that's not water, Dieter. Sigh…

Eat something that you love. Now, I know I just mentioning snacking being a vice, but we're having a pamper night so you're allowed to indulge-

No, D. Not like that.

Give me those…

Treat yourself to some ice-cream, or your favourite dessert or savoury snack. And don't feel guilty about it either. Enjoy it. Lick the spoon. Have seconds. Plonk your face into it if you really want to. S'all good.

Engage in a hobby you like. Now is a good time to settle in and watch your favourite Pedro movie. Prospect, anyone?

What? Oh, sorry. Yes. I meant The Bubble… sorry D. 😬 Great. Now he's ranting about Ezra... Jealous much?

D, there is nothing going on between Ezra and I. I, uh, pinky swear. Yeah. 😬

Draw. Paint. Sew. Cook. Decoupage. Whatever it is you're into, do that for a bit. Sit and read a book you've been enjoying, or read some smutty fics (I've a whole list of them here for you to pick from if you want). Speaking of smutty…

Have a little wink, wink, nudge, nudge time.

If you have a partner, now might be a good time to jump their bones and-

Wha- D! What are you- Okay, wait… Oh. Ohhooh! That feels good actually. Yeah. Right there. Keep going.

Hang on guys, we'll be right back-

Okay… phew. 🥵 Sorry about that. Urm, where were we?

Ah yes. If you're single, you can still indulge in some schmexy times. Sex and masturbation are some of the most perfectly normal things in the world, and with them comes orgasms. And the best way to de-stress? Yep. You've guessed it. An orgasm. Deep. Fluttery. Tingly. Quick. Shuddery. Slippery. Leg twitching. However you like it, when you orgasm, your body releases the hormone oxytocin into the bloodstream. Oxytocin, typically known as the 'love' or 'cuddle' hormone, can decrease stress.

Masturbation causes dopamine; a chemical associated with pleasure, to be released into your body. Simply put, dopamine makes you feel oh so good, and puts you in a better mood. On top of that, the hormone oxytocin, which is released during orgasm, lowers cortisol levels. Cortisol is the main stress hormone, and is usually present in high levels in stressed out people. Touching yourself and climaxing can boost these chemicals and, in result, help you feel more at peace. So, babes. Go fuck yourself, in the nicest possible way. 😉

Sorry, we got a bit nerdy there, didn't we?

Oh, Dieter. The specs suit you. Maybe keep them on next time we… you know? 😏

Though, if you're anything like Dieter, then you don't really need to hear the science to use it as an excuse to hump, right?

Don't look at me like that, bud. You keep whipping that thing out it's going to fall off with the whiplash… I know, you just made me orgasm. I'm not knocking it, dude. Chill your gnarly crocs.

My point is, touch yourself peeps. Whip out those vibes, clit suckers and dildos and go to Pleasure Town. And if you don't already own any toys? Invest, baby. Trust me, a good vibrator will be your best friend when you're feeling blue.

Sleep is not the enemy.

Get a good night's sleep. Spray your pillow with some lavender oil, it's great for helping you drift off. Practise some meditation techniques before bed, about half an hour before you climb in the sheets to get you in that relaxed state. Deep meditative breathing will also relax you ready for sleep. Drinking some Camomile tea about an hour before might be nice too. But make sure it's caffeine-free otherwise you'll be counting dancing Dieters on the ceiling…

Ditch the guilt.

And finally, accept that it's okay to have days where you feel out of step. It's okay if you've neglected yourself a bit lately. You don't need to feel guilty; we all deal with things differently. Some of us punch it out at the gym, others hide under the bed for a week, eventually emerging like something out of a Japanese horror movie...

It's okay, D. We won't watch The Ring again, I promise... 🙄

But try to find your way back on the path to you. And spending some time on yourself can really help guide you there. There will always be those days that take their toll on you mentally and physically; whether that be from work, college, family and home life, or your own anxiety coming out to fuck with you for a while for shits n' giggles. Go at your own pace, and do what YOU need to do to keep moving forward, even if it feels slower than everyone else. Be a turtle, not a hare. Turtles are way cooler anyway.

You're a human being who was built to feel. These feelings will come, and they will go too. Remember that you're stronger than you think you are. Deep breaths. You've got this. 🖤

So D, how are you feeling now that we've pampered the fuck out of you today?

Wow! Look at you! Slaaaay girlfriend! See. I always know what makes you feel good, hmm?

Now, where did you put those specs, Mister? 😏

I hope that you enjoyed a good pampering session today with Dieter and I. Remember, self-care is important to your mental wellbeing. Do it as often as you need it. Do not feel guilty for having some YOU time. YOU come first. 🖤

👇🏻Here be the linkage:

More Self Care With Dieter & Jett

Pedro Pascal Feel Good Clip - Because Pedro ALWAYS makes you feel good, right?

100 Ways To De-stress - Some great ideas in here.

DIY Face Massage - Really great facial massage you can do at home.

Fancy A New Toy? - Don't click if you're offended by sex toys or underage.

As always, these wonderful Dieter GIFS were created by @a7estrellas @miguelo-hara & @uuuhshiny I have saved loads to my phone, so naturally I've now forgotten who else has made them, if any. 🤦🏻‍♀️ If you did, let me know so I can tag you. Also found through Pintrest/Google. Except for my shitty spec edit. That's all me, ha!

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK.

Do you. Then Do Dieter.

More Dieter & Jett here

🖤

ℹ️ Dieter and I always strive to bring you unbiased, fact-checked advice. We're not licensed therapists, so we do a lot of research to ensure we can provide helpful and informative posts. Well, I do. Dieter mostly sits around eating KitKats.

#self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dieter bravo the bubble #self care #self love #jett has spoken #ezra prospect #do you #then do dieter #you are stronger than you think you are #dieter ezra & jett

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freuleinanna · 6 months

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The Warrior and her Death

here's my little Poe-inspired contribution to the verna x madeline fandom because i'm feeling poetic and because i'm a bitch for metaphorizing everything i see through epic AUs. and if you like it, it's also on ao3

So then, in ruins of the world, a ruthless warrior comes forth: an ancient sword is tame and quiet, well-fed on what was once desired, but useless now.

No shame or crown. The golden helmet's flying down, revealing hair, an ashen mane, that winds are tangling with rain.

'You win,' she says. Her bitter voice is all like cracking on the walls. 'I'm old, and grey, and soon to die; you win. From you, I shall not hide.'

A joyous laughter springs with flowers that only bloom in deathly hours.

'I didn't know we were at war,' says she, whomafter, there's no' more, and gently strokes the ashen hair away from eyes, touch light as air.

'Old! what a courage there must be to call you old in front of me. As new as stars. I watched you burning the brightest gold - with pain, with yearning - and here you are at last, my love.

Be not afraid, but look above: between the dying and the falling the stars live but a single moment, but how you lived!

I've missed you, child, as beautiful, and strong, and wild as I remember you. Come near. Where there is love, there's never fear.'

A touch again, of gentle passion, warmth on a cheek, as though confession, a breath as sweet as songs of larks, and in-between, it all grows dark.

And so, among the paling flowers, the warrior remains for hours, for days and decades neverending; her sword and helmet rusting, fainting,

yet nothing touches withered lips blessed with a smile, and deathly kiss.

#it's not necessarily good but i figured why the fuck not #couldn't completely ignore madeline's situationship with Death haha #i guess it's what their story could have been/was to an extent?#a true warrior exhausting all methods to defeat death #only to here they were never fighting. that death is loving.#anyway it's right up my alley #ancient beings and mortal humans feral enough to attract attention and interest and move #that's just poetry as it is guys #tfothou #tfothou tv #the fall of the house of usher #fall of the house of usher #tfothou spoilers #madeline usher #verna #madeline x verna #verna x madeline #death poetry #something i wrote

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lambden · 1 year

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my entry for the latest flash fic challenge was revealed! the image prompt was a grand ballroom and I chose to write this ridiculously silly and also sexual-with-no-actual-smut fic where geralt reluctantly LARPs with jaskier. enjoy!!

2.9K, M, no warnings Also on AO3!

“My lord,” begins Jaskier, tentative but with that ever present edge in his voice that means trouble. Geralt sets down his knife hard. The table shakes but the wine does not spill, and the witcher is glad for this, as his companion would no doubt lunge to clean up the mess. “Is the duck to your liking?”

Geralt hisses, “Stop.”

“Oh? Shall I have the chef executed?” Tearing into his own meal with unabashed glee, Jaskier only pauses to grin at him. “Or shall I call your Knight Commander to send out his men in search of a fine pheasant for your dinner?”

“How about roasted bard instead?”

“Very well.” Jaskier accepts his fate with dignity— and a theatrical gulp and grimace. “If you wish it, sire. I’ll have them bring out the pyre immediately, and you won’t hear even a whimper from me; I consider it an honour to die in service of the best king who ever lived—“

“Jaskier, if you don’t stop, I’ll meditate the rest of the night.”

This threat finally gives Jaskier pause, although Geralt doubts he’ll stop the charade for long. He can’t even really blame the bard for his absurd behaviour; not when this is one of the more absurd situations they’ve been thrust into together. Or, rather, that Geralt has been thrust into while Jaskier has clung to his arm, ready and willing to face any and all shenanigans.

They’re on hour three of the confinement. At dusk, the royal family had taken their finest horses on an overnight journey to the next kingdom over. The official reason for the trip was to oversee the wedding of their eldest princess and a foreign prince. But the real reason is that the paranoid king suspects treasonous conspiring in his court. So in secret he hired Geralt, and told the witcher to guard his throne room overnight. If anyone on their staff tries to break in to peek at valuable documents or switch heirlooms, well— the king will have his traitor. And Geralt gets paid either way, so he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

He had been hesitant to take this job, especially since the royals reached out to him specifically and personally. But their kingdom is relatively small, and as soon as Geralt discovered that he wouldn’t be expected to accompany the nobility on their journey, the contract became irresistible. A royal salary for a job involving very little actual contact with royals. Plus a large dining hall with provided dinner, wine, and a bath and bed for him to use upon their return in the morning.

If only he’d known in advance how much the bard would love it.

For three hours now, Jaskier has been ‘sire’ and ‘milord’ and ‘your Excellency’ing him, to the point where Geralt is contemplating abandoning the throne room altogether. Geralt had scoped out all possible entrances to the monumental room, including secret trapdoors or hidden windows behind paintings. All the while, the bard had eagerly regaled him with a full set that he never asked to hear. Geralt had carefully examined each curtain for potential lurking spies, as Jaskier built a whole fiction about his wise dominion over his epic kingdom. And now that he feels comfortable enough to sit and eat, the bard insists on laying a serviette over his lap and pushing in his chair.

The lukewarm food is still better than they’ve had in weeks, but the duck is a little dry. Geralt reaches for the carafe of red wine from Toussaint, but to his extreme annoyance, he cannot fucking reach it. Embarrassed, Geralt mutters, “Pass the wine.”

The smile twitching at Jaskier’s lips is positively impish. Not for the first time, Geralt wonders if there’s any truth to Yennefer’s theory about Jaskier’s bloodline being touched by the fae. “If I do, will you play along?”

“Ugh.” The doors are unlocked and unguarded, but there’s no one here. The twilight has long faded from the curtains and they still have a long night ahead. Geralt inhales, nose flaring, and then finally caves. “Is that any way to speak to your king?”

Jaskier’s delight almost makes this silly charade worth it. The bard jumps to his feet, bleating out apologies, “I’m so— my— I misspoke, my lord, please forgive me,” and he grabs the pitcher. In an instant, Geralt’s goblet is refilled; the witcher raises a hand to stop him before Jaskier can pour him far too much. As he backs away and sets the carafe down, the chandeliers hanging above their heads twinkle in his bright gaze. “Will that be all, sire?”

“I should order you to go give Roach a sponge bath,” Geralt snorts. Jaskier doesn’t even falter, still standing at attention. “I suppose my options for what I can ask you to do within this throne room are limited.”

“Anything,” says Jaskier, too quickly. Then his pulse picks up, and blotches of pink creep into his cheeks and along his throat. Even if he didn’t mean to voice that aloud, he doesn’t walk it back either. Carefully, the bard folds his hands behind his back, and adds, “Anything you desire, my lord.”

The grandiose, sprawling throne room suddenly seems as small as a closet. Geralt takes a long sip of his wine, and doesn’t remove his gaze from Jaskier as he swallows. The bard twitches as if uncomfortable, but he doesn’t move an inch— he just stands there, blushing, hands behind his back in servitude. Geralt expects him to break the tension between them with a quip, an awkward laugh. Anything.

Back when they first started adventuring together, Geralt dreamt of having the bard like this; but Jaskier was too young, too inexperienced with the world. There were times when he’d angrily shoved his companion up against his wall and covered his mouth, and he had felt Jaskier’s warm breath on his gloved palm and the evidence of his body stirring between them. Other times Geralt had feigned a meditative state as the bard, only a dozen feet away, took himself in hand and moaned over and over. Always the same name. Geralt wonders if Jaskier still gets off thinking about him, or if his lust for the witcher faded as they travelled together.

Jaskier stands, silently awaiting his orders.

“Sit,” Geralt says, his voice unexpectedly thick. At his command, Jaskier retreats to his seat, and nearly collapses into it. “And eat. I want you to finish your plate, first and foremost. I can’t have… my most trusted advisor starving to death.”

Jaskier nods, lifting his fork and knife. His face is still pink. Satisfied, Geralt reaches for his wine, resting his elbow on the table and leaning a little more into his assigned role. The wine is good, and the food, though cooling, is still enjoyable. He makes sure to keep watch on the door, lest anyone come to interrupt their fun. But… the embarrassment that he thought would be too much to handle is nowhere to be found. Instead he finds he enjoys watching Jaskier actually do what he says for once.

As soon as Jaskier’s lips close around his last bite, Geralt rises from his seat at the head of the table. The abrupt scrape of his chair against the floor makes the bard jump, but thankfully he doesn’t choke; he only swallows his food quickly before mimicking the witcher.

Geralt tosses his napkin away, carrying only his goblet and his swords over to the royal throne. He reclines into it without hesitation, spreading his legs and rolling his head back as any real spoiled king would. In his decades, Geralt has seen a hundred nobles drunk on their own power, bloated with wealth even when their kingdoms live in poverty. He summons that same self-importance now, running his hands through his hair to undo his loose braids. It’s easy to mimic a stuck-up king.

It’s harder to maintain his composure when he rolls his chin back down to see Jaskier already staring, standing before him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. The bard’s frippery fits him well; he looks right at home in this royal court, as he would in any. Geralt tries not to sound too distracted as he asks, “Is there something else, Jaskier?”

“No, my lord,” Jaskier answers. Again he speaks too quickly; again he’s blushing.

Geralt takes pity on him. “Why don’t you play me another of your compositions? I only invite the best bards into my court, you know. And it’s said across the land you’re the very best.”

Now he’s just teasing. Even as Jaskier frantically grabs his lute, he responds with the utmost sincerity, “Thank you, my lord.”

“Despite that witcher you follow around,” jokes Geralt. “Bit of a prick, don’t you think?”

“He is my muse, my lord,” Jaskier says. He strums the first chord of Toss A Coin. “I could no sooner deliver an insult to him than I could deride my own writing abilities, for, indeed, my work had no meaning until I stumbled across the witcher.”

“I doubt that very much. Trained at Oxenfurt, didn’t you?”

As if chastened, Jaskier lowers his head. Geralt knows better— he doesn’t have to see Jaskier’s flushed face to sense his racing pulse. “Yes…”

“And you have connections all across the Continent,” teases Geralt. He’s beginning to understand why Jaskier enjoys this game so much. “Could one witcher really mean so much to a bard as travelled and distinguished as you?”

“Yes,” Jaskier repeats. He lifts his chin; his eyes are bluer than ever. “I would never have travelled anywhere without him— or if so, it wouldn’t have meant anything. And with all the audiences I have had, none have distinguished me from the others as he has. He means everything to me.”

“Ah,” chokes Geralt, unexpectedly affected. “The passion behind your work is clear, then, master bard. You… love this man.”

“Of course,” Jaskier says. He has previously proclaimed his love for Geralt at least dozens of times: when the witcher let him ride Roach after he twisted an ankle, and again when Lambert had asked why he had come to Kaer Morhen, and sometimes out of nowhere. Why are you staring? Just thinking about how much I love you. Geralt had always interpreted the sentiment as teasing and altogether unserious. It is impossible to avoid taking Jaskier seriously when they’re alone like this, and when damp emotion gathers in his already bright eyes. “Of course I fucking do. Um. Your majesty…?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt begins. Speaking is more difficult now than ever, and he chews his lip before probably landing on the wrong thing to say anyway: “Come kneel before your king.”

“Yes,” breathes the bard, before falling to his knees so hard he must hurt them against the polished, cold floor. Geralt does not let his pain go unnoticed, leaning forward so far out of his throne that the chestplate of his armour touches his thighs. He takes Jaskier’s blushing, bright face in his broad hands, laying his fingers on the man’s temples before kissing him deeply.

Jaskier’s mouth is a revelation. Geralt pulls him up, kissing him all the while— he never wants to break away— and Jaskier follows readily and eagerly. It takes very little work to tug the man up into his lap, and once his thighs bracket Geralt’s lap on the heavy throne, Geralt’s questing fingers sneak up to weave themselves in Jaskier’s short, soft hair.

“Oh,” the bard groans, low and desperate. His head moves with Geralt’s hands; the witcher exposes his neck easily by pulling his hair, and it’s just as easy to duck down and kiss his bare throat above his fancy collar. “The king roleplay really did it for you, huh? Or is this the wine?”

“Not the wine,” Geralt growls, nipping his pulse.

Jaskier actually squeaks, which is delightful and adorable and only encourages Geralt to bite him again. “Right. The throne, then? I can’t say I blame you, witcher dearest; I knew you’d have fun playing pretend with me. You only had to let yourself give in—”

“Far too much talking,” he complains, dragging his fangs over an exposed vein. Even though he obviously doesn’t press hard enough to draw blood, his teeth leave a monstrous pink scrape over Jaskier’s neck. Geralt should probably feel worse about that. His cock throbs inside his armour. “And it’s not your stupid game either.”

“Really? Then pray tell—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt hisses, exasperated. He’s been exasperated for hours now, and even though this isn’t how he expected his irritation to peak, he has no complaints. He reaches for the man’s hips, dragging Jaskier closer on his lap until he can rock their hips together and show him the hard, hot proof of his desire. “It’s you, you fool. Of course it’s you.” Jaskier’s eyes widen; maybe he truly hadn’t known, all these years, that Geralt returned his affections. “Do you really think I’d do all this stupid shit for anyone else?”

Before Jaskier can voice whatever further doubt is on his mind, Geralt kisses him again. This time the bard kisses back instantaneously, with the same passion he carries himself with on stage. Geralt grins into their kisses— until Jaskier does something very clever with his tongue, disrupting his brain processes entirely.

He hadn’t expected much from this contract. He quickly rewrites it in his memory as the best job he ever took.

The bard’s clothes are hanging off the arm of the throne when, from out in the hall, the witcher hears a distant creak.

Geralt’s warning is somewhat muffled against Jaskier’s lips, and he doesn’t think the bard would have enough time to hide anyway. He ends up lifting the man with one arm, determinedly ignoring the loud moan that Jaskier releases at that. It’s easy enough to set him down next to the throne; grabbing his swords in time is somewhat more difficult.

As the bard takes cover, Geralt strides over to stand in front of the door. Sure enough, it slides open and the royal family’s seneschal enters. He’s as astonished as could have been expected. “What the fuck are you doing in my lord’s throne room?!”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Geralt growls right back. “I was hired to guard this room, and instructed that no one would come calling. Why didn’t you accompany your king and queen to see their daughter off?”

“My job is to stay here and care for the castle and its staff,” the seneschal insists. A bead of sweat drips down his neck, and he does a poor job of hiding his nerves; even a human could detect his stress. He glances around Geralt at the table laden with half-eaten dinner and half-finished wine, and the curtains drawn shut to avoid watchful gazes from below. Luckily, Jaskier had the smarts to yank his clothing out of sight— and the throne, though perhaps sweaty, is empty as expected. “Perhaps… you could take your leave for the night? We’ve a few empty rooms; you could sleep there.”

Geralt huffs, amused. “And leave the most important room in the palace unguarded.”

“How much has the king offered you?” The seneschal fumbles to find coin, still sweating. “I can pay!”

The tiny snick of his dagger leaving its sheath is almost impossible to hear, but to Geralt’s enhanced senses, it echoes around the room. Before the seneschal can draw his weapon and make his attempt at an assassination, Geralt’s steel blade is up against his throat, pressing him back against the open doorframe. “Not interested.”

By the time he returns from the dungeon, Geralt is covered in a thin layer of old dust and new sweat. He’d actually cherish a bath now, although he still won’t have the opportunity until the morning. Even though the seneschal has been secured and is awaiting further judgement, he still needs to maintain his post.

But when he pushes open the doors to the throne room he sees a new king seated atop the throne; although right now, Jaskier looks more like a succubus. His body is entirely bare, and his legs, spread wide open, are an invitation that Geralt eagerly takes. He strides the length of the enormous room in only a few steps, finally coming to kneel before the throne so that he can stare up at his bard.

With a disaffected tone only betrayed by the twinkle in his eyes, Jaskier asks, “Has the threat been disposed of, witcher?”

“He’ll have to wait out the rest of the night in a cell,” Geralt tells him. “Then in the morning his king can hand down his sentence.”

“You’ve done well,” Jaskier murmurs. His hand almost feels like a benediction when it comes down to gently trace the bone in Geralt’s cheek and jaw; the witcher closes his eyes, and Jaskier exhales deep. “You deserve a hefty reward.”

“I have one in mind,” teases Geralt. When he opens his eyes, Jaskier already has a fist around his length, watching the witcher closely. Geralt grins, thrilled, and lunges for his reward.

“While the princess and her betrothed were away,

Back at home the king and his lover did play—”

“No.”

“On a cold winter’s night,

Under chandelier light,

A man of such great might

And an arsehole so tight—”

“Jaskier!”

“Hang on, I’ve almost got it! After apprehending a treasonous foe,

And hanging the bastard by his little toe,

The witcher returned to collect his reward,

And entered the throneroom of the great warlord…

The witcher approached him and began to talk;

‘Sire, I much desi-re to ride on your—”

“JASKIER!”

#geraskier fic #my writing #geraskier #flash fic challenge #this was very fun !!! as i said in the ao3 notes it felt like a bbc merlin shoddy plotline but whatever #anything goes #i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3

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melrosing · 1 year

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MBO Robert's Rebellion: Episode 9

If this were like GOT this would be the big WOW episode. I guess it is in the sense of ‘WOW Tywin and Aerys FINALLY get divorced’.

btw we have skipped one year since last time. next is harrenhal go figure

Prev: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8

Next: Episode 10

title for this one: irreconcileable differences babes

Sumner Crakehall (+ retinue) & Arthur Dayne ride through the Kingswood: they’re here to take out the Kingswood Brotherhood, a band of outlaws. SUDDENLY: ambush!!!

Ringing steel, 20-30 dudes fighting it out under the trees. Lord Sumner Crakehall, battling a foe, has his back to an outlaw of great stature wielding an equally sizeable warhammer (that’s Big Belly Ben of the four line wiki fyi)

Just as BBB takes aim, a young Jaime Lannister (15) leaps between the two, and with alarming alacrity manages to fight off the outlaw in Sumner’s defence. Their fight is shortly interrupted by a smaller man, dressed in what look like rags: he wears a half-crazed smile, and is eager for a challenge

Jaime vs the Smiling Knight etc. Both are extremely fast, and the Smiling Knight laughs every time he comes close to landing a blow. Jaime holds his ground impressively, till one blow comes close to taking his head off; in an Epic Move, Arthur Dayne abruptly intersects

SK and Arthur circle one another, Crakehall holding young Jaime back at the sidelines; the Smiling Knight announces he would like Ser Arthur’s Sword for himself - Arthur declares that he shall have it, then. This is the first time we see Arthur kill, and he is deadly efficient about it

When the Smiling Knight lays dead, all stand around in stunned silence, till Arthur approaches Jaime. He states that he would make the boy a knight, and Jaime wears his delight like a kid

Opening creds ⚔️

Jaime kneels in a tiny sept, lit only by a handful of candles. He’s praying earnestly to the Warrior. Arthur arrives and places a hand on his shoulder. Jaime is knighted in half a daze, and we see his white tunic turn red at the shoulders as the blade cuts him (I ask again GRRM: what the fuck). He rises, and Arthur looks him dead in the eye, pronouncing him a knight: somehow it sounds almost like a warning

Jaime on horseback, grinning like a fool, reaches a crossroads - he can head back to the Westerlands, or to the capital to visit Cersei. Buzzing with his excitement, Jaime chooses the latter

In King’s Landing: Elia Martell lies in bed, receiving a visit from her brother Oberyn: he holds her daughter Rhaenys. Rhaenys looks some months old, but it seems Elia isn’t recovered from the birth. Oberyn says that Elia ought to come home to Dorne where the air is cleaner, Elia smiles but won’t indulge the notion. When Oberyn tries to push it, she grows impatient at his insistence, and then fatigued; a nearby maester suggests that Oberyn ought to leave the Princess to rest

Cersei in Tywin’s solar; her father sits at his desk, writing in silence. Cersei pokes at the correspondence on his desk to see if anything is of interest, finds nothing. Eventually Tywin speaks to her, saying she’ll have heard of Elia’s poor health. Cersei says she has. Tywin suspects that Elia is not long for this world, and that Rhaegar will soon be in need of another wife for that all important male heir. Cersei smiles, taking the hint; Tywin looks like he’s almost smiling. Cute father-daughter moments <3

Tywin says he is also close to making a match for Jaime. Kill Bill sirens

Cat (17) and Lysa (15) at Riverrun, Cat braiding Lysa’s hair with flowers. The sisters are aware that a betrothal is impending, and Lysa is anxious - Jaime didn’t seem very interested last he was here. Cat assures her that both he and Lysa have grown now, and he’ll surely fall in love next he sees her - and in any case, he’s a far greater prospect than Petyr Baelish. Lysa considers this :/

Jaime rides up to King’s Landing, and is greeted at the Keep by Cersei. Jaime is hardly off his horse before he’s informing her of his knighthood, and a fugue look passes across Cersei’s face - another thing she’ll never have. Abruptly, she dismisses Jaime’s news and warns him of an impending threat. He must meet her in Eel Alley tonight, and she’ll tell him everything. Cersei rushes away, leaving Jaime perplexed

Rhaegar and Elia in Elia’s bedchambers. Rhaegar plays the harp for Rhaenys, and is pleased by his daughter’s interest in the sound. Elia thanks Rhaegar for coming to see her, and says she’s feeling better than she had the day before. Rhaegar agrees that is good. He tells her he has dreamt again, of a boy with silver hair - they will have a son. Elia says she’s not sure she’s ready for another child just yet; Rhaegar agrees, now is too soon, but when she is healed, she must tell him so. Elia, uneasy, agrees

Evening: Jaime wandering Eel Alley, checks the name of a tavern - enters, takes a room apparently by instruction and waits, confused. Eventually Cersei arrives in common garb, and before Jaime can ask further questions, she kisses him. From Jaime’s surprised expression, it looks as though this is a habit they’d almost fallen out of - but just as quickly they fall back into it

Aerys in some kind of dungeon with the pyromancers. He asks that they show him again how the substance works - can it be controlled? The pyromancers demonstrate, using a rat. Aerys is enchanted. He says there are prisoners at the Keep of no import, they can test on those next

Morning: Jaime wakes besides Cersei, looking deliriously happy. Cersei breaks the mood by informing him of the impending betrothal. Jaime isn’t thrilled: he supposes it could be worse, but Lysa’s sister was more - stops, catches himself. Cersei says it doesn’t have to be that way: Jaime’s already proved himself a great knight, so why doesn’t he prove himself greater still and join the Kingsguard?? Cersei’s stuck in King’s Landing after all and will probably be married to Rhaegar just as soon as his wife dies, so surely it all makes perfect sense?? Jaime is in two minds; Cersei kisses him over and over until Jaime, laughing, agrees

nice one jaime I’m sure this will work out well for you

We see Cersei whisper something to one of Elia’s ladies in the waiting; game of telephone begins, till this information is in the hands of Varys, who delivers it to the King himself

Skip forward some weeks: Tywin, apparently managing some dealings at the Rock, receives a missive from the King. He opens it, and looks STRICKEN

We watch Tywin walking through hallways in a single long shot (yes im the director here as well xo). His face is a fucking storm

Tywin goes to his son, demanding how this came about. It’s the first we’ve heard him shout. Jaime says he has no idea, insisting still under Tywin’s furious gaze, looks like a kid again. But, he suggests that perhaps he could simply decline? Tywin knows that’s not an option anymore: he walks out

A silent scene, in which we see Hoster break some news to Lysa; Lysa crumples on the spot

Later, in Tywin’s solar: there are many and various broken ornaments (probs priceless) lying about his desk. Tywin summons his maester, and tells him to write to the King that he finds himself unwell, and cannot return to King’s Landing: he must resign

#sparknotes robert's rebellion #asoiaf

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godfrey-the-chaos-duck · 7 months

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(this is late because I was super busy yesterday but idc)

Webby Week Day 2: Vacation/Sleepover!

Planning a vacation, Webby had realised, was far, far different to planning an adventure.

Scrooge certainly enjoyed it less, for a start. All the hassle of preparing, but with no death-traps, ancient curses or lost tribes - and no treasure to show for it at the end, either.

Donald, quite on the other hand, was revelling in it. He had his suitcase all packed, and he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that looked like it was from 1996, and a pair of glittery sunglasses.

Huey was all packed too, as he had been for the last three days ("A Woodchuck must always be prepared", he had said when Louie was confused why he was packing so early)

Dewey couldn't wait. He had a travel playlist all picked out, with requests from some of the others (Della had suggested some of her favourites from Powerline, and Dewey just couldn't say no) and was more than ready to make this the most epic vacation in all of history.

Even Beakley was excited (though she still insisted on bringing survival gear and weaponry - the main advantage of having Launchpad and Della as pilots was that airport security wasn't a problem).

Now the day had arrived. They would touch down in Madrid, and have the most relaxing week of their lives.

But something - no, someone - wasn't here yet.

"So, is Lena coming, or are we just gonna wait here?" Louie asked, as Webby tried not to look too disheartened.

"Well, I haven't heard anything from her yet today," Webby answered, "Can we just wait a couple more minutes?"

"It's ok, Webby," Della said, kneeling to meet her eyes, "I'm sure she's just finishing getting ready, that's all."

"But what if she forgot?" Webby looked anxiously at her, "What if something came up and she never told me? What if she's sick, or hurt, or-"

"Whoa, calm down that brain of yours," Della put a hand on her shoulder to bring her back to the present, "I understand you're worried, but I'm sure she's fine. How about you text her again, and see?"

Webby opened her phone.

Sure enough, a message popped up on the screen.

"On the way, sorry I'm late, I got caught up with Violet, see ya soon Pink 💝" the message read. Webby smiled.

"See? What'd I tell you?" Della ruffled Webby's hair, making her giggle.

A few minutes later, there came a knock at the front door.

"I'll get it!" Webby bolted down the foyer, and opened the door. There, with a backpack on, and looking very pleased, was Lena.

Webby ran up to her and hugged her.

"Hey," Lena said, "I'm so sorry, I woke up late, and Violet insisted on trying to teach me some Spanish..."

"It's ok, you're here now," Webby replied, "But I was kinda worried about you."

"I still can't believe your family's letting me come on vacation with you," Lena looked around, "I mean, sleeping over is one thing, but I guess this kinda feels weird, like I shouldn't be here."

"Don't ever say that," Webby told her, "You're the best, and we're lucky to have you."

"Besides, if anything crazy happens, it'd do us good to have a sorceress around," Dewey pointed out.

"Nope, nothing crazy is happening this week," Louie said, "We are going to Madrid, and I am going to sit down, sunbathe and eat churros!"

"Ah, you're here!" Scrooge smiled when he saw Lena, "Let's get going, shall we?"

Lena nodded.

"To adventure!" Della cried.

"No," Webby responded, "To vacation!"

#the chaos duck has spoken #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #webby vanderquack #webby week 2023 #lena sabrewing #chaos duck writes #i had a LOT on yesterday #so i'm sorry i didn't get round to this #but here it is

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adventure-showdown · 5 months

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What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 4 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Seasons of Fear

Synopsis

On New Year's Eve, 1930, the Eighth Doctor lets Charley keep her appointment at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. But his unease at what he's done to time by saving her life soon turns into fear. Sebastian Grayle: immortal, obsessed, ruthless, has come to the city to meet the Time Lord. To the Doctor, he's a complete stranger, but to Grayle, the Doctor is an old enemy.

An enemy that, many years ago, he finally succeeded in killing. And this is his only chance to gloat.

The Doctor and Charley desperately search human history for the secret of Grayle's power and immortality. Their quest takes in four different time periods, the Hellfire Club, the court of Edward the Confessor, and the Time Vortex itself. And when the monsters arrive, the stakes are raised from the life of one Time Lord to the existence of all humanity.

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

Zagreus

Synopsis

Zagreus sits inside your head

Zagreus lives among the dead

Zagreus sees you in your bed

And eats you when you're sleeping.

Propaganda

ok so, its the 40th annivercery!! its not offical as the show was off the air at the time, but still!!!! every single companion and doctor actor Big Finish managed to get they got!! but do they play their parts? ...actually not really! here we have the end of an arc that two seasons coming, Charley and 8 has been through a lot, and at this point their story comes to a starteling and rather horrid conclusion! (OR IS IT?) Charley, who has been rescued from death by the eight doctor, rescuing her when he was not supposed to, has been through a lot, and even as that got solved last episode, by saving her from becoming a portal of death to galifray (a long and better constracted story XD), the doctor and the tardis has sufferd a huge explosen of an anti time bomb! making the doctor to become infected with an anti time infection! making him concive himself as the childhood time lord rhyme known as Zagreus! so now he must distory the entire univerce hahaha, because apperently Rassilon, ie one of the og creatorss of galifray socity wants to make the doctor into Zagrues so he can use him to distroy his emenies!! by distroying him body and soul!!! but what's this??? his former selfes as random people around the time stream coming in with the steal chair????? all led by a very rightfully annoyed Charley because the doctor refused to kill her as she asked because she loves him???? what the fuck will happen next!! all led delightfuly by Romana and Leela, and K9, and a rather jealous and EVIL tardis played by the Brigadier himself!! in between this 3 HOUR LONG epic and delightful advanture, apart from the absolote chaos of the event, you will get a suprisingly beutifull speaches filled with exploration of the meaning of love, of friendship! of a love so strong that it shall forfit between dimantions and also canon, the doctor explores what it actually means to be in love with a companion! and Charley, explores what it means to love him even more strongly back! what it means to be the doctor!! and the fact that the distruction of the tardis is actuall the thing stopping him from completely losing himself to loss and grief 😭, the absolote hammering in of the fact the coraption of time lord scoaity and Rasilon's bigotry, and finally someone understands that if you corrupt the Doctor, you have the absolotle potancial to distroy the entire univerce!! Paul Mcgann screaming for amazing hours, as he has the best time playing the baddy and people who are not the doctor!! India Fisher as Charley giving it her all and being amazing at it!! (also the fact that this delightful story is the leadthrough to one of the most terrefying stories of doccy who history, Scherzo! as it explores the themes of this story in a much more detailed way! but that's a horrefying story for another day XD) (@geronimomo-spd )

The 30th anniversary special is overly long and complicated but mostly it is INSANE ! Alice in Wonderlands, giant animatronic rabbits, Vampires and an evil doctor who hAMS it up,,,,that and 4 different doctors as well as TONS of companions plus the Briggs who is actually the TARDIS. it makes no sense! Compels me tho. Everyone says it with me : Zagreus sits inside your head Zagreus lives among the dead Zagreus Sees you in your bed And eats you when you're sleeping It's the best anniversary special day of the doctor whomst ? (@gnougnouss )

#round 4

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multifandomfanfiction · 8 months

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Warrior of the Mind

TITLE: Warrior of the Mind PAIRING: Oberyn/Goddess!OC RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Facing off with the Mountain, Oberyn has more than just luck on his side.

[A/N - Inspired by "Warrior of the Mind" from Epic: The Musical.]

Oberyn stepped into the arena. Today was the day he would face off against the man who had raped and murdered his beloved sister Elia and her children.

You must be careful, my Viper, her voice whispered in his mind. He glanced up at the sky.

Guide my spear, my Goddess.

Follow my instructions and you shall have your vengeance. I have guided you to this moment. You will be able to sleep at night and you will no longer require me.

I shall always require you, my Goddess. He heard her laugh.

You’ve no need to flatter me, my Viper.

Through the years, she had become more than a mentor. He saw her as a friend, as foolish as that sounded.

I want to see you again.

Win for me. Take down the man who took the one you loved the most. Then we shall meet again face to face.

Oberyn had only seen her face-to-face once in his life when he was much younger.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Dorne, there were legends of a mighty boar in the Wilds. Whoever went searching for it never returned or if they did, they soon died of injuries.

So Oberyn took his spear and went searching for the boar, despite Doran and Elia trying to talk him out of it. When he came upon a clearing, he felt like he was being watched.

“I know you’re there. Come out,” he called. He looked around, pretending to be searching for the boar until he stopped. “There you are.”

A woman manifested out of the shadows. She was dressed in a flowing white gown with hair the color of dragon fire and cool blue eyes.

“How could you see me?” Oberyn smiled.

“I couldn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You must be very clever or very foolish to try and trick me.”

“I’d like to think I’m a little of both.”

“What is your name?”

“Tell me yours and I will tell you mine.”

Finally, the woman sighed. “I admire your wit. For that I will give you my name. I am Maean.”

Oberyn’s eyes went wide. “An Old God?”

“We still live among you. Despite what the mortal rulers of this world would have you believe.” Her eyes zeroed in on his spear. “You are a warrior.”

Oberyn expertly twirled the spear in his hands. “I don’t like to boast…”

“Dedicate your life to me and I will make you the most skilled warrior in this world.”

“Dedicate my life to you?”

“You will best every opponent if only you pledge your life and your spear to me.”

Oberyn considered it for a moment, before finally kneeling. “I pledge my life and my spear to you, my Goddess.”

“I vow to serve as your mentor until the time comes where you no longer need me.” She placed a hand on his head. “Rise, my Viper.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oberyn was shaken out of his recollection by the thumping footsteps of the Mountain.

The trial by combat began.

Oberyn danced around his opponent, like a viper toying with his next meal. Maean talked him through it the whole time, pointing out weak spots in armor. Oberyn struck the killing blow and the Mountain fell back dead.

The arena was silent for a moment.

Oberyn threw his spear aside as Ellaria ran to him. She kissed him passionately.

Tywin Lannister stood up. “Prince Oberyn of Dorne is the winner.”

“And Tyrion is free to go?” Oberyn asked.

Tywin’s smile was tense. “Of course. You’ve won the trial by combat.”

“He’s lying,” a female voice said.

It was a voice Oberyn frequently heard in his mind. He turned and saw her there.

She had appeared out of thin air, dressed in a flowing white gown. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were draped in gold.

“And who might you be?” Tywin asked.

“I am Maean, Goddess of Conquest.” She came to stand in front of Oberyn. “You will let Tyrion of House Lannister go with peace.”

“Or what?”

A flaming sword appeared in her hand. “Or you will lose your head. Along with anyone else who stands in my way.”

Tywin and the Goddess stared at each other for a few moments before he sat down.

Maean led Oberyn, Tyrion, and Ellaria out of the arena, flaming sword in hand. Once they were safely away from any that would harm them, Maean let the flaming sword disappear.

She turned to Oberyn. “You have done well, my Viper. You no longer require my services.”

Oberyn shook his head. He knelt down before her. “I pledge my life and my spear to you, my Goddess.”

“You have fulfilled your oath.”

Oberyn took her hand in his. “I will continue to serve you in whatever way you need me. You are not just my mentor, but my friend.”

Maean cocked her head to the side, making her seem a lot younger than she was. “Friend? Gods do not have friends.”

Oberyn smiled. “You have made one of this mere mortal.”

“Friends.”

Oberyn nodded. “I hope to have the blessing of your company every now and then.”

“Very well. I shall visit you, but my obligation to you has ended. I will no longer be able to ensure your protection.”

“I think I shall manage.”

Maean smiled. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Goodbye, my Viper.”

“Farewell, my Goddess.”

Maean faded with the wind.

Oberyn stood up and turned to Ellaria, who had a smirk on her face. “A Goddess? Oberyn, you have left me out of all the fun.”

Oberyn looked at the sky.

Even though she would no longer be a voice in his head, he knew Meaen would not leave him.

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