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mintsuwu · 2 months

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Took a lil break from the asks in order to cook some ✨SMILING CRITTERS FAMILY TIME✨ with @rexmk0153universe-blog because why the hell not??? I might have to divide it in two parts though-

(1/2)

DogDay

DogDay's journey begins when a stork delivers him to the wrong family of wolves, leading him to be adopted by Big Bad's parents. However, his presence triggers jealousy in Big Bad, his adopted older brother, who resents the attention their parents give to the newcomer.

Despite the pack's focus on abilities related to weather phenomena, Dogday stands out due to his unique qualities and talents. As he grows older, he feels a deep longing for a sense of purpose and identity beyond his wolf upbringing. Seeking to find his true self, he leaves the pack and ventures to Jolly Valley, where he encounters the Smiling Critters and forms close bonds with them. Over time, Dogday becomes a leader among the Smiling Critters, embodying their values of friendship and unity.

Big Bad, driven by pride and a mix of emotions, followed Dogday to Jolly Valley, intending to both antagonize his little brother and secretly monitor his progress. Despite his outward bravado and mischievous nature causing ocassional trouble, Dogday remains welcoming towards his older brother, except when his antics go too far. Hus unwavering cheerfulness and open-heartedness serve as a beacon of hope for both the Smiling Critters and his troubled older brother.

BONUS: "Big Bad" is actually a nickname! His actual name is "WindWolf"... Dogday usually calls him "Big Bro", but the rest of the critters "misheard" it and began calling him "Big Bad", much to his dismay.

CatNap

Catnap shares a unique connection with a deity known as SandMan, who reigns over the Dream Realm, a distinct reality separate from the main universe. The origin of Catnap traces back to a moment when Dogday, as a young member of his pack, made a wish upon a shooting star for a friend, and this wish brought Catnap into existence.

SandMan took particular interest in Catnap due to his remarkable qualities, leading to a special father-son dynamic between them, despite Catnap starting off as just another creation of SandMan like many others.

Catnap, however, felt a strong pull to leave the Dream Realm in search of Dogday, the source of his creation. Eventually, the feline succeeded in finding Dogday and chose to remain by his side, along with the other Smiling Critters. Despite Catnap's origin in the Dream Realm and his connection to SandMan, his loyalty lies with Dogday and their companions, forging a lasting bond beyond the confines of the Dream Realm.

Kickin'Chicken

Kickin'Chicken comes from a predominantly female family, consisting of his mother, sisters, and himself as the middle sibling. His father, known as "Rockin'Rooster," is a famous singer, an example that Kickin' aspires to follow. However, Rockin'Rooster's focus on his career leaves little time for family, causing conflicting emotions for Kickin'. Despite his admiration for his father's success, Kickin' yearns for more attention and connection within the family... Yet he hides it under his "cool and tough guy" persona.

However, among his family members Kickin' has a strong bond with his older sister, Pecky. She is level-headed compared to Kickin', but shares his adventurous spirit and openness to new experiences and people.

BONUS: Kickin's family is quite fond of Bubba Bubbaphant, given how he was Kickin's first friend and all of them consider him another member of the family.

CraftyCorn

Craftycorn, born in a magical kingdom governed by four elemental monarchs (Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts and Spades) was raised as the daughter of the Queen of Spades, destined to become a warrior. However, Crafty harbored a distaste for violence, finding joy in art and nature instead.

Despite her mother's attempts to grant her freedom to choose her path within the elemental realms, the other rulers disapproved, doubting Crafty's suitability for the throne. When Craftycorn was to receive her royal Merry Charm, symbolizing her assigned role, she unexpectedly manifested her own charm—the flower. Fearing disappointment from her mother and influenced by the other monarchs, Craftycorn fled her home, unaware of the devastation her departure caused her mother.

Their relationship is complicated, marked by love and care, yet tinged with Crafty's mixed feelings towards her mother.

LoolaLamb

Loola is a special sheep born into a flock known as the "Sleep Sheep" or "Slumbering Guardians." These sheep have the unique role of wandering through villages, signaling to people that it's time to sleep and seek safety from the dangers of the night. Once their task is complete, SandMan, a mystical entity who the sheep "worship" due to its previous helps toward the flock, can traverse their realm to ensure everyone enjoys peaceful dreams and restful sleep.

She's the daughter of the flock's leader, tasked with protecting the sheep, particularly during the day when they're less vigilant due to needing rest after their nightly duties. However, Loola lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her father, who prepared her to take on a similar role in the future.

Despite her upbringing, Loola yearns for adventure and exploration beyond the confines of her flock's duties. After much persuasion, her father allows her to leave, although they maintain communication through letters.

The lamb often travels alone, but occasionally spends time with the Smiling Critters in Jolly Valley for extended periods of time.

#fanart #oc #headcanon #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters #the smiling critters #smiling critters oc #poppy playtime oc #dogday #catnap #kickinchicken #craftycorn #loolalamb #bigbad #family #animatic

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sixpenceee · 1 year

Video

A stork couple celebrating their first egg | source

#eggs #birds #nest

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pathetic-gamer · 2 months

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Pentiment's Complete Bibliography, with links to some hard-to-find items:

I've seen some people post screenshots of the game's bibliography, but I hadn't found a plain text version (which would be much easier to work from), so I put together a complete typed version - citation style irregularities included lol. I checked through the full list and found that only four of the forty sources can't be found easily through a search engine. One has no English translation and I'm not even close to fluent enough in German to be able to actually translate an academic article, so I can't help there. For the other three (a museum exhibit book, a master's thesis, and portions of a primary source that has not been entirely translated into English), I tracked down links to them, which are included with their entries on the list.

If you want to read one of the journal articles but can't access it due to paywalls, try out 12ft.io or the unpaywall browser extension (works on Firefox and most chromium browsers). If there's something you have interest in reading but can't track down, let me know, and I can try to help! I'm pretty good at finding things lmao

Okay, happy reading, love you bye

Beach, Alison I. Women as Scribes: Book Production and Monastic Reform in Twelfth-Century Bavaria. Cambridge Univeristy Press, 2004.

Berger, Jutta Maria. Die Geschichterder Gastfreundschaft im hochmittel alterlichen Monchtum: die Cistercienser. Akademie Verlag GmbH, 1999. [No translation found.]

Blickle, Peter. The Revolution of 1525. Translated by Thomas A. Brady, Jr. and H.C. Erik Midelfort. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.

Brady, Thomas A., Jr. “Imperial Destinies: A New Biography of the Emperor Maximilian I.” The Journal of Modern History, vol 62, no. 2., 1990. pp.298-314.

Brandl, Rainer. “Art or Craft: Art and the Artist in Medieval Nuremberg.” Gothic and Renaissance Art in Nuremberg 1300-1550. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1986. [LINK]

Byars, Jana L., “Prostitutes and Prostitution in Late Medieval Bercelona.” Masters Theses. Western Michigan University, 1997. [LINK]

Cashion, Debra Taylor. “The Art of Nikolaus Glockendon: Imitation and Originality in the Art of Renaissance Germany.” Journal of Historians of Netherlandish Art, vol 2, no. 1-2, 2010.

de Hamel, Christopher. A History of Illuminated Manuscripts. Phaidon Press Limited, 1986.

Eco, Umberto. The Name of the Rose. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2014.

Eco, Umberto. Baudolino. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2003.

Fournier, Jacques. “The Inquisition Records of Jacques Fournier.” Translated by Nancy P. Stork. Jan Jose Univeristy, 2020. [LINK]

Geary, Patrick. “Humiliation of Saints.” In Saints and their cults: studies in religious sociology, folklore, and history. Edited by Stephen Wilson. Cambridge University Press, 1985. pp. 123-140

Harrington, Joel F. The Faithrul Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2013.

Hertzka, Gottfired and Wighard Strehlow. Grosse Hildegard-Apotheke. Christiana-Verlag, 2017.

Hildegard von Bingen. Physica. Edited by Reiner Hildebrandt and Thomas Gloning. De Gruyter, 2010.

Julian of Norwich. Revelations of Divine Love. Translated by Barry Windeatt. Oxford Univeristy Press, 2015.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others. Routledge, 2017.

Kerr, Julie. Monastic Hospitality: The Benedictines in England, c.1070-c.1250. Boudell Press, 2007.

Kieckhefer, Richard. Forbidden rites: a necromancer’s manual of the fifteenth century. Sutton, 1997.

Kuemin, Beat and B. Ann Tlusty, The World of the Tavern: Public Houses in Early Modern Europe. Routledge, 2017.

Ilner, Thomas, et al. The Economy of Duerrnberg-Bei-Hallein: An Iron Age Salt-mining Center in the Austrian Alps. The Antiquaries Journal, vol 83, 2003. pp. 123-194

Lang, Benedek. Unlocked Books: Manuscripts of Learned Magic in the Medieval Libraries of Central Europe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008

Lindeman, Mary. Medicine and Society in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, 2019.

Lowe, Kate. “’Representing’ Africa: Ambassadors and Princes from Christian Africa to Renaissance Italy and Portugal, 1402-1608.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society Sixth Series, vol 17, 2007. pp. 101-128

Meyers, David. “Ritual, Confession, and Religion in Sixteenth-Century Germany.” Archiv fuer Reformationsgenshichte, vol. 89, 1998. pp. 125-143.

Murat, Zuleika. “Wall paintings through the ages: the medieval period (Italy, twelfth to fifteenth century).” Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, vol 23, no. 191. Springer, October 2021. pp. 1-27.

Overty, Joanne Filippone. “The Cost of Doing Scribal Business: Prices of Manuscript Books in England, 1300-1483.” Book History 11, 2008. pp. 1-32.

Page, Sophie. Magic in the Cloister: Pious Motives, Illicit Interests, and Occullt Approaches to the Medieval Universe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013.

Park, Katharine. “The Criminal and the Saintly Body: Autopsy and Dissectionin Renaissance Italy.” Renaissance Quarterly, vol 47, no. 1, Spring 1994. pp. 1-33.

Rebel, Hermann. Peasant Classes: The Bureaucratization of Property and Family Relations under Early Habsburg Absolutism, 1511-1636. Princeton University Press, 1983.

Rublack, Ulinka. “Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Female Body in Early Modern Germany.” Past & Present,vol. 150, no. 1, February 1996.

Salvador, Matteo. “The Ethiopian Age of Exploration: Prester John’s Discovery of Europe, 1306-1458.” Journal of World History, vol. 21, no. 4, 2011. pp.593-627.

Sangster, Alan. “The Earliest Known Treatise on Double Entry Bookkeeping by Marino de Raphaeli.” The Accounting Historians Journal, vol. 42, no. 2, 2015. pp. 1-33.

Throop, Priscilla. Hildegarde von Bingen’s Physica: The Complete English Translation of Her Classic Work on Health and Healing. Healing Arts Press, 1998.

Usher, Abbott Payson. “The Origins of Banking: The Brimitive Bank of Deposit, 1200-1600.” The Economic History Review, vol. 4, no. 4. 1934. pp.399-428.

Waldman, Louis A. “Commissioning Art in Florence for Matthias Corvinus: The Painter and Agent Alexander Formoser and his Sons, Jacopo and Raffaello del Tedesco.” Italy and Hungary: Humanism and Art in the Early Renaissance. Edited by Peter Farbaky and Louis A. Waldman, Villa I Tatti, 2011. pp.427-501.

Wendt, Ulrich. Kultur and Jagd: ein Birschgang durch die Geschichte. G. Reimer, 1907.

Whelan, Mark. “Taxes, Wagenburgs and a Nightingale: The Imperial Abbey of Ellwangen and the Hussite Wars, 1427-1435.” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, vol. 72, no. 4, 2021, pp.751-777.

Wiesner-Hanks, Merry E. Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, 2008.

Yardeni, Ada. The Book of Hebrew Script: History, Palaeography, Script Styles, Calligraphy & Design. Tyndale House Publishers, 2010.

#pentiment #early modern history

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ohsalome · 6 months

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What Ukrainians ate to survive Holodomor

(translated excerpts from an Історична Правда article): + images source

The villagers would dig up the holes of the polecats to find at least a handful of grain hidden by these animals. They pounded it in a mortar, added a handful of oilcake (from hemp seed), beetroot, potato peelings, and baked something from this mixture.

Those who managed to hide at least a little grain would grind it in iron mills made from wheel axles and cook "zatyrukha" (a concoction made from a small amount of flour ground from ears of grain).

Acacia flowers were boiled and eaten raw, and green quinoa was mixed with crushed corn cobs. Those who could - and this was considered lucky - added a handful of bran. This food made their feet swell and their skin crack.

The peasants dried the husked ears of corn and millet husks, pounded them, ground them with weeds, and cooked soups and baked pancakes. Such dishes were impossible to chew, the body could not digest them, so people had stomach aches. Pancakes, the so-called "matorzhenyky", were made from oilcake and nettle or plantain.

It went so far that peasants would crumble straw into small chips and pound it in a mortar together with millet and buckwheat chaff, and tree bark. All this was mixed with potato peelings, which were very poisonous, and this mixture was used to bake "bread", the consumption of which caused severe stomach diseases.

There were cases when village activists took away and broke millstones, mortars, poured water on the heat in their ovens. After all, anything found or saved from the food had to be cooked on fire, and matches could only be purchased by bartering for their own belongings or by buying them in the city, which was impossible from villagers that were on "black lists".

Chestnuts, aspen and birch bark, buds, reed roots, hawthorn and rose hips, which were the most delicious, were used as food substitutes; various berries, even poisonous ones, were picked; grass seeds were ground into flour; "honey" from sugar beets was cooked, and water brewed with cherry branches was drunk. They also ate the kernels of sunflower seeds.

Newborns had the worst of it, because their mothers had no breast milk. According to testimonies, a mother would let her child suck the drink from the top of the poppy head, and the child would fall asleep for three days.

In early spring, the villagers began to dig up old potato fields. They would bake dumplings from frozen potatoes, grind rotten potatoes in a mash and make pancakes, greasing the frying pan with wheel grease. They also baked "blyuvaly" (transl. "vomities") from such potatoes and oatmeal mixed with water, which was so called because they were very smelly.

They ate mice, rats, frogs, hedgehogs, snakes, beetles, ants, worms, i.e. things that weren't a part of food bans and had never been eaten by people before. The horror of the famine is also evidenced by the consumption of spiders, which are forbidden to kill in Ukrainian society for ritual reasons.

In some areas, slugs were boiled into a soup, and the cartilaginous meat was chopped and mixed with leaves. This prevented swelling of the body and contributed to survival. People caught tadpoles, frogs, lizards, turtles, and mollusks. They boiled them, adding a little salt if there was salt. The starving people caught cranes, storks, and herons, which have been protected in Ukraine for centuries, and their nests were never destroyed. According to folk beliefs, eating stork meat was equated with cannibalism.

The consumption of horse meat began in 1931, before the mass famine. People used to take dead horsemeat from the cemeteries at night, make jelly out of it and salt it for future use.

Dead horses were poured with carbolic acid to prevent people from taking their meat, but it hardly stopped anybody. Dead collective farm pigs were also doused with kerosene to prevent people from dismantling them for food, but this did not help either.

After long periods of starvatiom, the process of digestion is very costing for the human body, and many people who would eat anything would drop dead immediately out of exhaustion.

If a family had a cow hidden somewhere in the forest, they had a chance to survive. People living near forests could hunt/seek out berries and mushrooms, but during winter this wouldn't save them. People living near rivers could fish in secret, but it was banned and punishable by imprisonment/death.

#holodomor #ukraine #history #ukrainian history #genocide #ussr #communism

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 11 months

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the birds of the "aDNA jp"

I need a name for this AU and "pleistocene park" is taken by something else

anyway

Pelagornis, a terrifying pseudotoothed bird (art by @quetzalpali-art)

Teratornis, a giant vulture relative (art by DiBgd, CC BY-SA 4.0)

Xenicibis, the Club-Winged Ibis (art sourced from NatGeo)

Haast's Eagle, the Moa Killer (art by @thewoodparable)

Moas, the top herbivores of New Zealand (art by @quetzalpali-art and @thewoodparable)

Aepyornis (and Vorombe, if that's a thing), the Elephant Bird, the largest bird to ever exist (art by @drawingwithdinosaurs)

The Giant Ground Owl (over one meter tall) (art by Stanton F. Fink, CC BY-SA 2.5)

The Dodo (art by Julian P. Hume, CC BY 4.0)

The Passenger Pigeon, great eraser of the sun

Adzebills, the Opportunists of New Zealand (art by Nobu Tamura, CC BY 3.0)

The glorious Mihirungs of Australia (art by @thewoodparable)

The Great Auk, the false-penguin of the north (photo by Mike Pennington, CC BY 3.0)

Chendytes, the giant marine ducks (art by Stanton Fink, CC BY 2.5)

Talpanas, the reverse-platypus (art by @drawingwithdinosaurs)

the Du, the Demon Chicken (art by @franzanth)

The Giant Flores Stork, competitor of the Komodo Dragon (art by Gabriel Ugueto, CC BY 4.0)

the Giant Swan, attacker of dwarf elephants (art by @paleoart)

Carolina Parakeet, the only parrot native to North America (photo by Huub Veldhuijzen van Zanten/Naturalis Biodiversity Center, CC BY-SA 3.0)

and, of course, Titanis: One of the Last Terror Birds (art by @drawingwithdinosaurs)

there are more, of course, but this post is already too long

#birds #dinosaurs #palaeoblr #prehistoric life #jurassic park #jurassic park AU

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scissor-tournament · 6 months

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Swan Scissors. Source unknown; sold by ShirleyWorld and others.

Stork Scissors. Innumerable varieties available; this one is from Ciselier.

#scissor tournament #round two #poll #tournament #sewing #embroidery #scissors #id in alt text

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flowerandblood · 9 months

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The Impossible Choice (36)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

He knew that he should fly straight to Harrenhal and tell his commanders that there would be no peaceful solution. He knew this, and yet he hesitated − he felt anger and uncertainty because he did not know what Daemon had said to his wife.

He pressed his lips together at the thought and ordered Vhagar to land on a hill near the fortress. His wife looked around, surprised.

"Where are we?" She asked quietly. He pressed his lips together and embraced her from behind, his hands reaching to the ties her breeches. He felt her body tense all over, her hands tightening on his forearms.

"He only saw your shoulder?" He asked menacingly, whispering in her ear, feeling his manhood pulsing intensely, hitting her buttocks.

He was already aroused when they flew off, but now he wanted to fuck her, punish her and get what she'd learned out of her at the same time.

"− yes −" She whispered meekly, and he grunted low at her words.

He heard her moan in surprise as he slid his hand under the material of her breeches and hushed her, feeling himself get completely hard as soon as his hand ran over her fleshy womanhood all sticky with her moisture.

She was always ready for him.

Involuntarily he began to rub against her buttocks with his erection, looking for any source of pressure − they both began to pant quietly as his hand began to rub her puffy little bud, teasing her pearl with circular, slow storkes.

"− untie your tunic −" He whispered in her ear, trailing his lips along her hot cheek and neck, feeling her body burn under his touch, excited and thirsty. He gasped with satisfaction when she did what he demanded without a word, and then he grabbed the material of her shirt with his hand and ripped it open.

He heard her startled whine as he grasped her breast in his palm, kneading it between his fingers − he felt her breasts growing fuller, pleasantly plump, filling his palm to the brim. He felt his manhood pulsate painfully hard at the thought, but he decided he needed to focus on something else.

He had to find out what she was discussing with his uncle.

"− what did he tell you? −" He breathed out dangerously, her whole body trembling as his fingers began to squeeze her plushy folds a little harder, his fingers all moist and sticky from her wetness.

So impatient, he thought.

He heard her moan softly, her hips rocking slowly in rhythm with his strokes, searching for any point of friction. He murmured lowly as she tilted her head back, laying it on his shoulder, her nose pressed against his cheek.

"− that your half-sister wants to give you Dragonstone in return for your support and that I should convince you to do so −" She whispered, moaning sweetly, and he hummed with satisfaction that she had told him the truth.

So they told them the same thing.

They wanted to drag them to their side.

"− mmm − what do you think about this idea, sweet wife? −" He said tenderly, his words almost a murmur, playing with her nipple, pulling it lightly and teasing it with his thumb, making her body tense all over, her bare skin shiver. He heard her tighten her lips and swallow quietly, struggling to focus.

"− I-I think I will be faithful to my husband −" She mumbled softly, giving herself over completely to pleasure. He couldn't stop the smirk as it curved his lips.

A perfect answer, he thought.

He slipped his finger between her slick folds with ease, sliding it in and out of her slowly, not giving her what she needed, teasing the little spot of her pleasure on her upper wall. He heard her begin to breathe louder.

"− please, put it inside me −" She muttered helplessly and he chuckled low, surprised and delighted by her directness, by how much she wanted it.

He thought absentmindedly that his sweet, innocent wife had become insatiable by his treatments. His finger began to move faster inside her, his erection rubbing against her intensely, both of them panting loudly.

"− always so eager for my cock inside you, aren’t you? −" He chuckled and rubbed his finger over her nipple, which was answered by her quiet whimpering, a sign that she was already on the edge. He grasped her breast again in his palm, delighted at how pleasantly full and soft it was under his fingers.

"− it occurs to me, have your breasts gotten bigger? − they are so wonderfully plump −" He muttered with delight, but was only answered by her silent plea for relief. He sighed quietly, deciding to take pity on her and himself.

He would never have thought to fuck anyone on Vhagar, but his manhood throbbed so hard he had no choice.

He removed his hand from her breeches and began to untie his own − he smiled under his breath as he saw her quickly remove her boots, which fell from a great height to the ground with a thud. She lifted herself up, wriggling with difficulty to pull down her breeches, and he watched the sight with vivid amusement. He chuckled again, watching her efforts.

"− so desperate − come here, let your husband take care of you −" He hummed tenderly, lifting her hips up, directing her body to the head of his pink, throbbing erection.

They both moaned loudly as she sank down on top of him, sliding his fat cock all the way in, her hot, tight, throbbing walls clenching against him, causing him to press his forehead against her back, panting heavily.

"− yes, Aemond, yes −" She mewled helplessly as he began to slam into her right away, clamping his hands on her hips and forcing her to lean forward, seeking support in the front of the saddle.

He watched enthralled as his cock opened her wide again and again with brutal, deep thrusts of his hips, his erection disappeared inside her glistening, throbbing, hot walls, filling her completely.

All he wanted to think about was just how wonderfully she was squeezing him from all sides, how much his manhood pulsed inside her with arousal, how wonderful it was to fuck her on the dragon's back.

"− gods − greedy little thing − squeezing my cock so fucking well −" He breathed out low, speeding up his pace, clenching his hands painfully tight on her hips, panting and moaning along with her, sweat running down his forehead from the exertion, his balls hitting her buttocks with a loud slaps.

He groaned low, surprised, as his wife clasped her hands on the saddle, rising and falling against his cock, responding to his every thrust, rubbing against him, teasing him, driving him mad with pleasure.

"− am I a dragon rider now, my husband? −" She asked softly, a delighted smile of self-satisfaction on her face, her full, glistening lips parted. He chuckled lowly at her words, amused and aroused by her question, his thrusts messy and sloppy, getting closer and closer to the fulfillmen he so desperately needed.

He wondered how it had happened that they were speaking with each other like this.

He didn't even notice when they began to get so close.

He moved his face to her ear, grinning mischievously, speeding up so that she began to moan louder, his thumb teasing her nipple, his free hand sliding down from her hip between her thighs, trailing over her pearl, letting her ride him at the pace she wanted.

Let her find out how to ride a real dragon, he thought with amusement.

"− yes, sweet wife − ao gīmigon skorkydoso naejot kipagon iā zaldrīzes sȳrje (you know how to ride a dragon very well) −" He gasped, panting along with her, her rough, fleshy walls squeezing him greedily, sucking him inside, making him feel hot in his lower abdomen, a sign that he would not last much longer.

"− my cruel husband − ah − he fucks me and speaks in a language his sweet, naive wife doesn’t understand −" She mumbled helplessly and he groaned loudly at her words, completely surprised at how she acted, how direct she was.

His innocent sweet wife knew what it meant to fuck well.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the thought in a smile, he licked his lips as he slammed into her with deep, agressive thrusts of his hips, filling her as deeply as possible, already chasing his own fulfilment.

"− my sweet wife −" He exhaled, grabbing her brutally by the neck and pulling her to him from behind. He pressed his nose to her cheek, fucking her with all his might, drawing high, helpless moans from her throat. "− fuck, I'm close −"

"− me too − gods, me too, don’t stop, please! −" She mewled, and a moment later her body arched in a powerful orgasm, her lips parted sweetly, her eyes clenched, her head leaning against his shoulder. He felt her walls begin to pulse against him, making him groan low and surrender, letting his hot spend fill her insides in waves.

They were both panting loudly, delighted and surprised at what they had done, how selfish they were.

There was a war all around them, and they stopped to fuck.

He murmured lowly when he felt her soft hand touch his cheek, her lips seeking his. He slid his tongue between her mouth and she hummed with delight, reciprocating his caress.

They kissed like this for a while with the sticky, wet click of their saliva.

They pulled away from each other and hugged, calming their breaths. He ran his fingers through her hair, sighing quietly.

"I swore to the gods that if they let you survive, I will abandon my dreams of the crown. That I will be a good brother. A good son. I cannot betray them. The gods will take from me what I have miraculously recovered. I would rather burn the entire kingdom than lose you again." He whispered, pressing his forehead against her temple.

He hummed softly, closing his eye, when he felt her fingers run tenderly over his cheek, stroking his skin.

Yes, he thought.

This was how it had to be.

There was no turning back.

"I am expecting your child."

He opened his eye and looked at her in shock − he felt his heart begin to pound like a mad.

He stared as if he didn't believe it, as if he wished she would say that she was mocking him.

She pressed her lips together, swallowing loudly, and took his hand, lying casually on her bare thigh, and lifted it higher, placing it on her lower abdomen. He swallowed loudly, looking at it in disbelief.

"− …how long have you known about this? −" He asked quietly, feeling his head humming with excitement, happiness and horror.

"− since a few days −" She mumbled, pressing her lips together, feeling his whole body tense up.

"− for a few days? −" He growled, trying not to sound as angry as he actually was. "− and you hid it from me? −"

"− I was afraid you'd send me away − that you would leave me again −" She said helplessly, and he closed his eye, feeling a sqeeze in his throat at her words.

He sighed heavily, pressing his face to her cheek, enjoying the warmth of her body, thinking hard, his hand still on her soft lower abdomen.

She was expecting his child.

In her womb was his heir.

Their future.

He pressed his lips together at that thought, trying to calm himself, silent. He knew that she sensed how extreme his emotions were sweeping him, yet she said nothing, her hand stroked his hand resting on her womb, a light, dreamy smile on her face.

His sweet wife was expecting his child.

He brushed his lips against her neck, and she purred quietly, surprised.

He embraced her from behind, pressing her tightly against him, feeling the awareness, the fear and the overpowering happiness of what awaited him slowly fill him.

He was going to become a father.

"−… do you know… − do you know when… −"

"The last time I bled was before Aegon's coronation." She hummed, stroking his hand steadily, glancing at him with a warm smile.

"It's almost two moons now." She said softly, and he felt heat ripple through his body.

Seven more months and he would be holding their child in his arms.

His wife's belly would swell from his offspring growing inside her, her breasts would be full of milk.

That's why they've gotten so big, he thought with delight and desire.

He covered her body with her untied tunic, wanting to shield her from the wind.

He didn't want her or the baby to get cold.

"− swear you won't send me away −" She whispered, looking at him pleadingly.

He glanced at her, tightening his lips, hesitating.

He thought he should send her back to Storm's End just for his own peace of mind.

However, he knew that after a few days of separation, he would regret his decision and go mad with anxiety at the thought of not being with her and not knowing what was happening to her.

He needed to be sure that she was safe.

"− please −" She said touching his cheek and he sighed heavily, resting his forehead on her shoulder, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

"You will not leave our tent without my knowledge. If I find out you're doing something on your own, I'll send you back to Storm's End. Do you understand?" He asked threateningly, but she only nodded quickly and kissed his cheek, overjoyed, her cheeks pink with happiness and fulfilment.

He looked away, staring at the grounds around them, at the silhouette of the ruins that remained of Harrenhal.

He thought that he must speak to her father.

After they dressed back up Aemond ordered Vhagar to fly towards the fortress. They returned to the camp meeting uncertain stares − everyone was waiting for them, with Jason Lannister and Criston in the lead.

"Your Grace. My Lady. What news?" He asked.

He looked at him impassively, his hands folded behind his back.

He had no intention of revealing to him what he had discussed with his half-sister.

"I have communicated the King's demands to them. We await their response. My Lords." He said, looking towards Lord Borros and Royce.

"I would like to speak to you in my tent in the company of my wife. It is a family matter." He said, glancing at Lord Lannister, who opened and immediately closed his mouth, clamping his lips together, offended. Criston looked at him uncertainly but stepped back and let him pass.

The Lord of Storm's End threw him uncertain glance but moved behind them, his wife looking at him with horror and curiosity.

He guessed she was wondering what he planned to do.

He knew he should be true to his brother and his family.

However, now that he was to have his heir he wondered what he would be able to pass on to him.

What legacy he would leave behind.

He pressed his lips together at that thought, walking inside, followed by his wife, her father and her brother. He dismissed his servants and guards.

He wanted them to be left alone.

He sat down in one of the chairs, indicating with a gesture of his hand for them to take their seats. His wife chose to stand, looking at him uncertainly.

He noticed that she involuntarily placed her hand on her stomach, as if to protect herself and their child from what was to come.

"My half-sister made me a proposal." He began calmly, tapping a finger on the armrest. "She wants, in exchange for overthrowing my brother, to give me possession of Dragonstone, keeping my mother, sister and her children alive, condemning my brother to exile."

Lord Borros and Royce gasped and straightened, looking uncertainly at his wife.

He thought, musing, that it was to her that they were devoted, not to him or his brother.

There was a test in front of her that would show if she was really on his side.

"My wife is expecting my child and that would mean that our offspring could inherit something." He continued matter-of-factly and calmly − her father looked at him shocked, staring then at his daughter in disbelief.

"Since when did you know?" He asked angrily, Royce swallowed loudly, his wife went pale all over clenching her lips.

"Since recently." She replied evasively. Lord Baratheon wanted to say something, apparently wishing to express his immediate demand that his daughter return to Storm's End, but he spoke up before he could open his mouth.

"We will not accept their offer."

An uncomfortable silence fell − Royce and Borros were not looking at him but at her, waiting for her reaction.

His wife looked at him in pain, her lips pressed together in fer.

He knew this was not what she wanted.

She wanted him to agree, to end the war.

For him to betray his family in favour of their future together.

Yet she didn't answer or contradict him, so he continued, looking her straight in the eye.

"We can't trust them. We won't be sure if they don't get rid of us as soon as they conquer King's Landing. They're looking for an easy solution." He spoke slowly, saw her chest rise and fell anxiously.

She was afraid.

They looked at each other in a silence that seemed to him to last for ages.

He saw every possible thought flit through her mind, thoughts of defiance, thoughts of softening his words.

Thoughts of betrayal.

"I'm on your side." She said finally. "I will not abandon you."

He felt a tightening in his heart at the thought that he was condemning them of his own accord to open conflict.

He had no choice.

His decision was one thing, but if his mother and brother hadn't given up, Daemon would have burned them alive in the Red Keep.

He would have felt like a traitor for the rest of his life.

Even Dragonstone wasn't worth it.

He couldn't do it.

He could not.

Lord Baratheon grunted aloud, looking at Royce with his lips tightened − he knew that everyone but him in that tent thought this war pointless, and they were right.

"You let my daughter and my grandson burn because your brother, in your sister's absence, stole from her…"

"Father." His wife said coolly, looking at him with a furrowed brow, her gaze terrified − the atmosphere grew heavy, he and Lord Borros looking into each other's eyes.

"Play out your war. I take my daughter and my army back to Storm's End." He said lowly, standing up tense. He also stood up, furious.

"Her place is with me." He hissed, rage and madness in his wide-open eye.

"You're going to hold her hostage, you bloody coward?!" Her father roared, going at him with rage, but his daughter stood between them.

"I have made my choice. You and your army can go. I will stay with my husband." She said firmly, her hand placed on her womb. Her father was panting all over with rage.

He knew what he had to do to appease his anger.

He had to give him what he wanted.

At least in theory.

"Your father is right. You will travel to Storm's End and wait there for the labour. No one can know you are expecting a child." He said slowly, and she threw him a look from which his throat clenched.

"− you promised me −" She muttered, her whole body beginning to tremble.

Her father wanted to say something, but she raised her hand, her lips tightened, fury in her eyes.

"− get out − leave us alone −" She said coolly, looking him straight in the eye. Her father measured them with an impatient, frustrated gaze then snorted and left. Royce gave him a warning glance and after a moment joined him.

They were left alone.

He barely had time to bend down, for a heavy candlestick flew over his head that his wife had thrown at him.

"Fucking traitor!" She hissed, and for a moment they measured each other with enraged glances.

"They're only here for me." She said angrily, pointing her finger towards the entrance of the tent, a smirk not reaching his eye on his face.

"You also promised me, and yet you would rather I betray my brother." He said lowly, approaching her slowly. He saw her tighten her lips, fury mixed with uncertainty in her eyes. He stood over her, looking at her expectantly.

"Go on. Deny it."

"I'm not going to deny it. I didn't promise you that I'd think like you, just that I'd support you! That I would be devoted to you and I am, always have been! Even when you were leading your eyes to Alys in my absence! You think I don't know?!" She hissed, hitting his chest, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close.

For a moment they both struggled − she wanted to pull away from him, but he grabbed her other arm, holding her close.

"You're a fucking traitor and a coward, nothing more!" She mumbled through her tears, fighting him helplessly, his grip painfully strong and sure.

"I will never let your father take you to Storm's End." He said lowly, a threat in his eye.

"Liar!" She cried out, slapping his chest again, and he gripped her tighter, holding her around her waist. He hissed, tightening his arms around her in an iron grip, not allowing her to move.

"Fuck. Stop it. I'm not lying. Your father already despise me anyway, what was I to say to him?" He said frustrated and angry. He saw her swallow loudly, her eyes red from tears and rage − she panting hard, looking at him with resentment.

"− your family's safety matters, but what about mine? −" She mumbled through her tears with hopelessness in her voice, from which his heart squeezed. "− my father, my brother −"

He was silent for a moment, looking at her, feeling his heart pounding hard. He wondered what to reply to her words.

"− we can think what we want, but both you and I witnessed Aegon's coronation in the Great Sept amongst the crowds − your father when he agreed to marry you to me also agreed that he would support the King in his time of need with his army in return for the favours that the kingdom will grant him −" He said low, calmly, her eyes wide, her brow arched in pain. "− is he not? − he has repeatedly suppressed rebellions for my father, caused by his inept rule − was his life less important then? −"

He saw a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

"There was no chance of him burning alive in the dragon fire then." She whispered, and he pressed his lips together. He sighed heavily, leaning over her, the tip of his nose trailing down her wet cheek.

"We'll all burn in it if the Blacks betray us. What assurance can you give me that they won't? Hmm? Daemon hates my mother." He whispered softly, brushing her cheek, her ear, her neck with his swollen lips, leaving wet marks there. "He hates my brother. They will kill my grandfather, so why not kill them all? Would you betray your father for me?"

He felt her whole body tense up, her breathing turning into a quiet sob.

"Now do you understand what I am facing? Will you stop rejecting me and be by my side?"

He saw her swallow loudly and nod slowly. He hummed quietly, somehow moved by this sight.

At first he was furious that she was hesitating, however, she was going to be a mother now, and thinking about the safety of their child must have been as natural to her as breathing.

He didn't want her to succumb to the illusion that he wasn't thinking about it either.

His strong embrace eased, his hands grasped her warm, red cheeks. They stared at each other like that for a moment, then he leaned over and tentatively brushed his lips against hers, his kiss soft, slow, tender.

He murmured quietly with satisfaction when he felt her hand on his cheek, her sweet, swollen lips pulled away from his with a sticky click.

"− I love you −" She whispered suddenly, looking straight into his eye, and he froze, his pupil narrowed in shock. He felt his heart begin to pound like a mad in his chest in disbelief.

"− what? −" He asked, as if he didn't understand the meaning of the words she spoke. His wife swallowed loudly, stroking his cheek, her face red from crying.

"− I love you − I love my father − I love my brother − I love our yet unborn child − I do not want any of you to die − I am so afraid −" She whispered, finally confessing to him what she really felt.

He felt a tightness in his throat at her words and at her confession.

"− I know − that's why I personally would prefer, even though it would make me suffer, if you left for Storm's End − nevertheless, I will not force you to do so − I will not repeat my mistake from Harrenhal −" He said with a squeezed throat, looking at her calmly.

If he had taken her with him as she had asked him, her body would not have burned in the fire.

He saw her swallow loudly, her breathing began to slowly calm down. She grunted quietly and glanced at him again.

"My...our place is with you." She whispered. He sighed heavily, leaning over her, placing a warm kiss on her forehead.

"Then so be it." He hummed, pressing his forehead against hers, stroking her cheeks with his hands, looking into her big, bright eyes.

"My father will not forgive you." She mumbled in horror, looking at him helplessly. He sighed quietly at her words.

"Don't think about it. You've done your part. Now I'll take care of the matter of your father and brother." He said, and she furrowed her brow, looking at him uncertainly.

"What are you going to do to them?" She asked with trepidation, as if she feared she would cause them harm.

"I will speak with your father. I'll apologize to him for my behavior in Storm's End. I will make everything right." He said reassuringly, running his thumb over her face.

This was only part of the truth, but he didn't want to share everything he knew about her father.

He figured she would rather not know.

His words calmed her down a bit because she sighed quietly, her gaze softening. She surprised him when she hugged him suddenly, placing her cheek on his chest, embracing his waist, closing her eyes. He murmured with satisfaction at this unexpected gesture and embraced her, one of his hands on her back, the other on her hair.

"− I won't let anyone hurt you or our child − I'll kill anyone who stands in our way −" He coldly. She swallowed loudly and snuggled into him tighter.

He stroked her hair reassuringly, looking ahead with an empty gaze − he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, kissing it tenderly once in a while, taking in the wonderful scent of her body.

He knew she needed him.

She needed to find comfort and security in the arms of her husband, whom she loved.

He felt a squeeze at the memory of those words.

I love you.

He wasn't sure he had heard them from anyone in his life − even his own mother when he was a child had not confessed her feelings so directly, as if it was not befitting her status.

From his wife's lips, however, it sounded so tender, sincere, warm.

He pressed his lips together at that thought and kissed her hair again.

The woman he had been madly in love with for the past few months reciprocated his feelings.

_____

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