#while mule is just. The Dragon.

[kockatriceking]

how Courier Six be looking at Jeannie-May Crawford just before putting on the red beret (her head is about to spontaneously explode)

#art #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #courier six #oc: mule #courier 6 #fanart #fallout #novac #hello fallout fandom i present to you my courier six #his name is Mule and hes somewhat deranged and incredibly volatile but also inexplicably kind #he is the three time winner of the 'survivor of amateur brain surgery' award #as well as the 'survivor of surgery with non-sterile equipment' award #his brain is an entirely seperate being to himself and they frequently argue #also his brain runs the entirety of Independent Vegas / Independent Nevada #since w/ yes man and the army mule took over kicked out the ncr and then absorbed the Legion into his forces thus collecting their territor #well. Mule's brain gave the instructions to do that. mule just follows orders #his brain is basically Mr House Part Two Electric Boogaloo #while mule is just. The Dragon. #anyway yeah thats the lore for this silly guy #*securitron army not like. the actual army #fallout oc #my art

[handsomeamoeba]

WRONG.

Try again.

Actually let's get into this. As someone who loves a great many fantasy RPGs including BG3, Skyrim, and Dragon Age, let me explain what BG3 gets that Skyrim misses, in my opinion.

And this is the big one: the characters in BG3 feel like real fucking people. They have backstories, demonstrable feelings about the events and the other characters, they react to the things you do and they develop as people as you further your relationships. Even minor NPCs often feel fleshed out with distinct personalities and opinions. Hell, going out of my way to cast Speak to Animals is usually rewarded with at least one charming remark. I have never given even a little bit of a shit about 99% of Bethesda NPCs. I usually choose to travel without a companion rather than with unless I need a pack mule to carry my stuff, because their primary function seems to be to get in my way, set off traps, or attract aggro. I can't remember most characters' names unless I'm actively playing. I'm more likely to casually murder people in Skyrim than I am in BG3 or DA because Bethesda hasn't really made any of their NPCs feel like real people, and consequentially I feel no guilt. By comparison I tried to do an evil run of DA:O and gave up the instant I had to kill Wynne (the grandmotherly spirit healer) when she refused to let me go through with my plans, because I hated doing it. Lydia will watch me gut an innocent man and do NOTHING because she has no life, existence, or personality outside of me, the player. This extends to romances, obviously. While optional in all the games, most people will pursue a romance path in BG3 or DA for the additional character arcs it brings to the characters, the emotional nuances they unlock. In Skyrim romance is a box you tick of tasks to complete. In fact, once you marry them, most marriage candidates personalities change *completely* because all spouses have the same few stock dialog lines. That is, if they had a personality to begin with (again, see Lydia). You know how everyone wants to romance unromanceable characters in Bethesda games? Like Brynjolf in Skyrim, or Nick Valentine in FO4? It's because Bethesda actually bothered to give them stories and opinions.

Honestly, this extends to the player character themselves. To a certain extent every player character is a blank slate, but in BG3 and DA it at least feels possible to develop a feeling about who that character is and what they would or would not say or do. I've tried to do that with the Dragonborn and rarely feel strong feelings about them or have strong opinions about what kind of person they are. The only one I've made who I have much of an idea about is my wood elf Parafina, who is Chaotic Evil. Which again is an option I only pick because no one in Skyrim feels real.

The stakes also feel more real in BG3, more personal. Obviously there's the central quest involving the tadpoles, but more than that, it is about a credible threat to your world and the people and communities in it and the people you love. There are tons of reasons to invest yourself emotionally in the narrative. I have never, ever completed the main storyline in Skyrim nor picked a side in Skyrim's civil war. Why would it? Basically nothing happens if I choose not to. Furthermore, if you're not playing as a Nord (which I usually don't), why would you care about Skyrim as a place? You are a faceless, voiceless (pun intended) outsider who gets microaggressed at every turn being asked to choose between two different flavors of fascist. Also dragons are back but like... listen, I don't care? They get pretty easy to pick off at a certain point, it's like swatting flies, they're just a nuisance on the way to my daily errands. And isn't that such a common story? Don't you know so many people who don't really bother with the main storylines of Skyrim? Yeah it's one of the bestselling games of all time but I feel like the fact that most people don't really care about its narrative should be a sign of failure. We all know it's mostly maintained its popularity due to the modding community.

Ultimately both games have rich worlds which reward exploration with little secrets and environmental storytelling. But BG3 feels more "meaningful" because they give me reasons to care about what happens. The writers worked hard to give the game emotional resonance. So I come to the two games for different experiences. I go to BG3 to engage with an interesting story. I go to Skyrim for the quick serotonin hit of completing tasks and hoarding items.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #skyrim #skyrim critical #with all the love in my heart mind you #i was considering not tagging this tbh

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

My mom bought me this book for Christmas

The Resurrectionist by EB Hudspeth, a fantasy field guide full of anatomical illustrations of monsters and cryptids.

The musculoskeletal systems are fun to look at, but not nearly as in-depth as I would have liked. If you have more than a passing knowledge of taxonomy (or in my case, access to Wikipedia), a lot of the details fall apart under scrutiny

The harpy has four upper limbs connected to one shoulder girdle; it shouldn't have arms, only wings

The sphinx is not classified as a mammal, but is still somehow in the family Felidae with cats (and like the harpy is also drawn with only two girdles despite having six limbs. I will give the author credit for giving the sphinx a keel for the wing muscles to attach to)

It lists the Hindu deity Genesha as a cryptid, which is a no-no.

Cerberus is also explicitly not a mammal, but somehow still a canine (literally in the species Canis with wolves, dogs, and coyotes)

Both mermaids and dragons are listed as members of the order Caudata; the only extant members of Caudata are salamanders, which kinda makes sense for dragons, but not so much for mermaids (also, the author keeps playing it fast and loose with cladistics; both mermaids and dragons are in the same order despite being in different classes, and while dragons are explicitly said to be amphibians, mermaids are given the fictional class mammicthyes, which means mammal-fish. At that point, why not just call mermaids amphibians? Why make up a fake latin hybrid name?)

But what bugs me most of all is the classification of the Minotaur as its own order of mammal when in mythology it is explicitly described as a hybrid of two known species (made possible only by the cruel machinations of the divine, but still)

To use actual taxonomical nomenclature, the minotaur's species would be B. taurus × H. sapiens (specifically B. taurus♂ × H. sapiens♀; there are, to my knowledge, no legends of H. sapiens♂ × B. taurus♀). That's how ligers, tigons, mules, zorses, pizzly bears, narlugas, etc., are described.

If I had written this book, I would have leaned more into evolutionary biology. Most land animals have four limbs because they all evolved from boney lobe-finned fish, which split off from the boneless sharks and rays millions of years earlier, so any six-limbed vertebrates would need to be descended from a fictitious category of six-finned fish which would either be an offshoot of boney fish/tetrapods (I guess they'd be hexapods, though that term refers to insect arthropods), OR a precursor to boney and cartilaginous fish that both clades split away from much earlier (it's easier to lose structures than to gain them, so it makes more sense for a six-limbed ancestor to spawn four-limbed descendants than the other way around).

Think about how different elephants are from humans, and humans are from aligators, and aligators are from penguins, and remember that they all evolved from the same ancestor tiktaalik, an amphibious fish that existed some 375 million years ago. Imagine a precursor six-limbed species and how diverse all its descendants would look after 400 million years. Save for the occasional instance of convergent evolution causing two unrelated species to independently evolve similar body plans to fill the same niche, tetrapods and hexapods would look nothing alike. There would be very little recognizable overlap between the two. A six-limbed "pegasus" would not look like a real world horse, and a six-limbed "dragon" would not look reptilian/dinosaur-ish, for much the same reason that giraffes don't look like frogs; they're just too distantly related. Bonless sharks and boney fish and whales/dolphins all have similar looking bodyplans only because their environment requires the same hydrodynamic shape, while terrstrial vertebrates are much more physically diverse.

#biology #anatomy #monsters #cryptids #cryptozoology #book of monsters #evolution #evolutionary biology #evolutionary history #taxonomy #cladistics #science #hard fantasy #hard science fiction #hard science #tetrapod #hexapod

[rea-grimm]

Proposal - Dragon Luffy

You had known Luffy for a long time and dated him for several years. You knew what he was and that even though he loved you like a straw man, you suspected that you would probably never get married.

Luffy didn't think much of such things and was happy with it the way you were. When you were there for him and he was there for you. He was content to have you by his side every day and what more could he ask for?

When you sometimes talked about it in front of him, he didn't see the point. He cocked his head to the side uncomprehendingly and had no idea where you were going with that. After all, he loved you and knew that you were there for him and that you wouldn't just leave him. Why should he deal with it more?

You confided all this to Nami and Robin one afternoon over the refreshing drinks Sanji prepared for you. You didn't want to talk about it much at first, but somehow it came up. Moreover, they both knew very well how much you and the captain liked each other and how much you wanted to get married.

You didn't want to talk about it much at first, because you didn't want to make a drama out of it, and especially after your story, Nami felt like telling Luffy what she thought. Luckily you managed to stop her and talk her out of it.

However, what you had no idea was that Robin and Nami weren't going to let it go. They too knew what their mule captain was like and they knew very well how to use him to get their way.

You thought they would keep it to themselves, but you were wrong. A few days later, you went out on the deck after dinner to watch the stars.

Little did you know, however, that as soon as you left, Nami along with Sanji and the others pounced on Luffy and made him understand. Although it seemed like an impossible task at first, the word impossible did not exist with this crew.

You leaned on the railing and watched the dark sky where the stars twinkled. There was such a calmness that a moment later was cut through by a roar. The door flew open and Luffy ran out with tears in his eyes. The dragon headed straight for you and hugged you.

““Y/N… *sob* that you *sob* will never leave me? he asked you through sobs and you saw noodles running from his nose.

"Of course not. How did you think of that?" you asked soothingly, stroking his back.

"Sanji *sob* and Nami said *sob* that if I don't marry you, you can leave *sob* or someone will steal you from me," he continued to sob.

On one hand, you were happy that others thought of you like that and wanted to help you, but on the other hand, you felt sorry for Luffy, because you thought it was perhaps too cruel. It was also what he needed.

"Luffy, no one is going to steal me from you and I'm not going to leave you, do you hear me?" and you tried to wipe the tears from his face. As he was thrown from it, many more red scales appeared on his face and body.

"Do you promise?" he asked you, sniffling before looking at you with his big eyes.

“I promise,” you said softly, kissing his forehead between the horns. With that, the dragon calmed down a bit but still didn't want to let you go. What if someone stole you from him?

Instead, he completely transformed into a dragon and wrapped himself around you like a snake, protecting you from all sides and resting his head in your lap. You stroked his scales and the short fur on his head that stretched from head to tail.

After that, it stopped being talked about and you thought it was forgotten. But that's just what you thought.

You were sailing along the Grand Line when after a long time you finally came across a new island that seemed to be uninhabited. Nowhere along the coast did you see a city or a human being.

You camped on the beach in a small cove, the others went to explore the island, catch something for dinner, for wood, while you and Chopper guarded the ship.

Sanji then prepared food from the catch for the evening barbecue, which turned out to be a giant feast. However, nothing less would be enough for Luffy.

While you were eating and having a good time, he put Liffy onion rings on his plate. He stuffed a few into his mouth when he noticed one particularly small one. He took it out and began to examine it, clawing at the bumps.

“Y/N,” he turned to you with a serious expression. “I don't want you to be stolen from me, or for you to leave...” he started and took your hands. But in the blink of an eye, he stuffed food into his mouth. “I love you *munch* and when I become the pirate king, I want you to be my queen *munch munch* every king has a queen right? *gulp* will you marry me?" and showed you an onion ring.

It was a strange proposal, nothing about it, but you could tell he meant it and it got you. You didn't even hope for anything like this.

“Of course I will,” you smiled at him.

“Yosh!” he rejoiced, a giant smile spreading across his face. He was about to put the ring on you when, like a bolt from the blue, Sanji rushed at you and kicked him to the ground.

“Who let you play with my food?!” he shouted angrily before turning to you with a warm smile. “Y/N-chwan, can I get you dessert?” he asked. However, you politely refused him and instead helped Luffy to his feet. The poor dragon didn't understand what it was.

In the next town, you bought the rings that you exchanged with Luffy. The dragon took great delight in them and nearly crushed you to death in his giant embrace.

Luffy wore the ring on his hand and admired how it shone beautifully in the sun and how it reminded him of you. After a little incident where he almost lost it in battle you had to sew it to his hat so that he would have his two greatest treasures nicely in one place.

#dragon luffy #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #Monster Piece

[answrs]

curse you hank green for making me think about hybridization with a "donkeys and dragons are the same species in shrek" video while I may or may not be running a fever. my ramble below:

they aren't necessarily the same species, just two species able to hybridize. the offspring appear to be a mix of traits from both parents and there is no confirmation that any of them are able to breed themselves, or if they're sterile hybrids. (though, tbf, that's not all-encompassing either. in a microscopic chance a normally sterile hybrid like a mule has been seen to be fertile. alternatively, wolf-coyote "coywolf" offspring are perfectly fertile as well as hybrids to the point their breeding causes issues in conservation, and the same holds true of "beefalo" - domestic cows and american bison hybrids)

i was going to add that this suggests donkeys are likely descended from a winged ancestor animal like pegasus, otherwise they'd be so far removed from each other on the evolutionary tree at the split of four and six limbed vertebrates. this might suggest donkey is a form of pegasi that have lost their evolutionary need for wings and the trait has become vestigial if not gone almost entirely, much like whales and dolphins wrt what used to be their ancestors' hind limbs.

.....but then i remembered the sturgeon and paddlefish(?) hybrids that are so far removed from each other but somehow developed into an entire hybrid with a 70% rate of survival and throw my hands up with a big I_GUESS.jpg

#speculative biology #speculative evolution #shrek #i cant believe im using those two tags together on the same post someone put me out of my misery #tumblr in a nutshell #disclaimer this is not meant to be a serious discussion as i wrote it while sick at like 4am #i do not apologize for possible inaccuracies (though i think most of the real life stuff is correct. i am not versed on Shrek Lore)

[vinnianlovesdinosaurs]

House of the Dragon Hot Take #6

I think it's time to voice my opinions on a few things that include both teams because I feel like in most of these posts I'm just blatantly staying neutral so here we go 😮‍💨

Joffrey Lonmouth and Vaemond Velaryon getting murdered - Both terrible injustices and a blatant display of ignorance from Daemon and Criston Cole. Neither should be celebrated or seen as "cool."

Daemon and Rhaenyra - Not a good ship at all I'm sorry. To be honest I don't think any ship involving Daemon is a good one because he's abusive, neglectful, selfish, and a pedophile.

Rhaenyra and Alicents victim-hood - Should not be compared in any way shape or form. They are both victims in their own right and they BOTH deserve better.

Blood and Cheese - I know most Team Green AND Team Black stans agree with me on this one because it was absolutely unforgivable. Daemon had an innocent child beheaded. Let's not ignore that a rape threat was used against a little girl and a distressed mother.

THE Driftmark incident - Both parties were in the wrong in their own ways here. Aemond didn't deserve to lose his eye, Lucerys didn't deserve practically having a death threat made towards him by full grown adults and his uncle who knew better than him, Rhaenyra didn't deserve to have her arm sliced open, Aegon didn't deserve to have the blame placed on him and he especially didn't deserve to be hit for it, and Alicent didn't deserve to be cast aside like that and ignored.

Laena's Funeral (Pre- Aemond becoming One-eyed) - Honestly justice for my precious girl Laena because WTF even was that mess of a funeral? Her uncle was spewing vitriol at literal children during the ceremony, her husband laughed and was practically eye-fucking his niece, and then Daemon and Rhaenyra end up fucking like three hours later?? 😭

Viserys I Targaryen - I hate this man. He was a shit father to all of his children. He was a shit husband to both of his wives. He was a shit king. He was a shit friend. He was a shit brother. A PEDOPHILE JUST LIKE HIS MF BROTHER !! AND HE'S A RAPIST !! #Viserys should have died sooner

Aegon II, Aemond, Helaena, Daeron, Rhaena, Baela, Aegon III, Viserys II, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey - Honestly, I sympathize with every single one of these children. They were all raised in terrible environments with immature people all around them. Most of them were practically abused.

Harwin Strong - Justice for my man. He loved Rhaenyra, Larys, Lyonel, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey with all his heart.

Laenor Velaryon - JUSTICE FOR MY MAN!!! He was ridiculed, bullied, and blatantly used almost every day of his life for who he was. His lover was murdered right in front of him, his selfish ass father refused to accept him, and he had jokes made about his sexuality while he was grieving his dead sister that he didn't get to see for 10 years.

Rhaenyra and Criston Cole - The whole fucking situation grossed me out tbh. I understand Rhaenyra was under the influence and confused from what just happened to her but she practically coerced Criston.

Aemma Arryn and Rhea Royce - Justice for my wives ASAP!! Aemma was used as a breeding mule and Rhea was murdered by her weirdo fucking husband.

The Iron Throne - In my true opinion, I do agree that Rhaenyra was the rightful heir, but in truth neither her or Aegon were good rulers in their own ways. AT ALL.

#house of the dragon #my own little series fr #I'm just a hater me thinks #rhaenyra targaryen #anti viserys targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #Alicent hightower #laena velaryon #Harwin strong #lyonel strong #larys strong #ew asoiaf men #aemma arryn #Rhea royce #free my girlfriends from this struggle #the iron throne #ser crispy cole #team women #team bad bitches #team haters

[queers-gambit]

Total Eclipse of the Heart

prompt: tension mounts, and siblings feud.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: author is avoiding responsibilities, there's cursing!! small tension, so, small angst!! small comfort!! some smut!! and tension!! this one's kinda just filler 'cause wonky brain goes wonky!!

previous: part three: Darkening Hour

next: part five: Bright Light

"Eat," Jamie muttered, nudging the full platter towards you.

"Mhm," you hummed with a gentle sigh, forking a cube of fruit to your mouth and forcing it down your throat - which only wanted to expel the citrus.

He sighed from beside you, used to the long weeks of this uninterrupted discomfort. You had fallen silent since that second night of celebrations and you discovered your father's intentions of marrying your sister to Daemon; leaving eating to become a chore, that your step-sons took seriously. You appeased them so that they could focus on the pretty Ladies of court, and not you.

They were doing well and had caught many eyes, making your job of sponsor much easier.

Which meant you were left to silently watch Daemon flirt with every Lady that passed him by; be they wanting of it or not. You barely left your chair at any gathering, and you had stopped attending any mingling events. Viserys loved court and was happy to entertain couples, Alicent was more reserved in her watch; while Daemon was reveling in the attention he received as everyone wanted a chance to bind themselves to the Royal Family.

Your heart shattered in your chest each night you watched his antics.

"You need your strength," Kase sighed gently, but watched as you shut your eyes and slowly exhaled when your sister's giggle met your ears. Your father had forced her into the seat beside Daemon, and now you knew that he was relishing in her attention; him teasing her lowly, and her brightly shining under his gaze.

"Excuse me," you whispered, standing from your seat; dress shifting from the loss of weight resulting from the lack of appetite you felt.

Jamie and Kase both watched with worry as you took your leave before the dessert could be announced; dress' skirts fluttering around you in haste as you exited the Hall. Your lungs stuttered with confusion the entire trip to your (new) room, slamming the door shut and instantly pawing off your court costume.

Jewels, heels, dress, pins in your hair. All of it was dropped from your body and a comfortable singlet tugged on; tears swelling your eyes, clumping your long lashes.

"Dove?"

You shook your head, knowing Daemon's voice anywhere but refusing to turn towards him. Your chest heaved as you sobbed, hands shaking when his own smoothed around your hips - but you jerked away from him, "Don't!"

"Sweetheart - "

"Don't, Daemon," you snapped again. "You don't get to just show up, barge in, sweet talk me - get out. Just get out, please, leave me be. I am exhausted, and you do not help."

Daemon held his hands up slowly, "What's the matter with you?"

"With me?" You repeated. "What's the matter... With me? For the love of the Gods, Daemon, are you truly that blind or just stupid? Perhaps naïve?"

"Stay your tongue, my Lady, I am still your Prince."

Your throat constricted and you nodded, "My Prince... And not my intended?"

"Dove," his head shook gently, stepping towards you. "You are thinking far too heavy - "

"I have seen you," your voice shook. "And I am no fool. I know what my father offers you - "

"Stop thinking of yourself as a mule to be bought and sold," Daemon interrupted, stepping into your space to caress both of your cheeks. "My love, you are worth more than you know or want to give yourself credit for. Listen to my words, please..." You took a slow breath, nodding at him, "I am going to marry you. I know you've been upset, and when I came to find you that night and found you moved from our quarters... Dove, I promise you I have never felt fear like that before."

"Why didn't you come to me then?" You whispered.

"For show, my dove," he frowned. "But now I know it was not the right move as it did not assure you, but drove you further from me."

"I'm sorry - "

"No," he rushed, thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones. "No, my sweet dove, you are not the one who should apologize. I am the one who was wrong, I took it too far. Forgive me, pet, for causing you harm and festering the idea that I would not choose you. I want you everyday, my girl, please, do not doubt that because your father is throwing money and land at me."

"Land, too?" You squeaked, tensing up.

"Sweetheart," he sighed, kissing your forehead. "I want nothing from him, because you are all I need - and he does not control you any longer."

"What're we doing?" You asked, dropping your forehead to his collarbone and letting his arms coil around you. "Daemon, please, I have never felt so confused before."

"Fear not," he whispered, "for tomorrow, my brother will announce our engagement. We'll be married by the end of the season, my dove."

"Must we wait?" You begged gently.

He chuckled, "Don't you want a wedding, my sweet? To be covered in jewels," he whispered, letting his lips drag over your neck, "draped in silks," his hands squeezed your hips to bunch the fabric of your dress' skirts, "fawned over, and watched by the whole city?"

"Daemon," you begged through your tears. "I would marry you tonight if you wanted, but for weeks you've avoided me. Now you come, saying we will wed - "

"I've said this for months, pet," he sighed. "But I have neglected you for weeks, and for that I am so sorry."

You nodded meekly, "Tis expected, I suppose."

"Hmm?"

"With court," you shrugged, sniffling hotly; his thumbs sweeping your cheekbones clear of tears. "Daemon, please, I do not - I cannot do this. I cannot watch you court other ladies - "

"It's done," he assured swiftly, nodding with determination. "In fact... I'll do you one better, hmm?"

"What?" You asked gently, shifting your feet to balance your weight.

"Come with me," he spoke, lacing your hands together, and pulling you after him. You barely had time to snatch your dressing robe after you.

"Daemon!" You scolded, slipper clad feet jogging to keep up with his long strides.

He paused and turned to you, taking your silk robe and pulling it up your arms, "Sorry, pet..."

"What're we doing?" You asked with a sigh, tying the sash before dropping your hands to slap your thighs. "I'm tired, Daemon, today's been long for me - "

"Please, just... Trust me?" He asked, nodding at you with meaning.

You sighed and took his hand in yours, petting your other over his, "All right, love. But go at a normal pace, please. My feet hurt."

He nodded and let your hands readjust to let your hands caress his, strolling together down the hall and towards the banquet hall again. When you entered the room, most of everyone was still present, and both your step-sons looked mildly alarmed to see you reenter with Prince Daemon in your night clothes. Yet, the Prince of the City paid little mind to anyone else to make a direct bee-line for his brother - who remained at his seat.

In fact, King Viserys saw his brother pulling you towards him, and sat back in his chair with a knowing smirk; sipping his wine while silently watching. When Daemon was close enough, the King greeted, "Brother... And my Lady. I believed you retired for the evening?"

"I did, too, Your Grace, but your brother was adamant we come see you...?" You glanced at Daemon when you both came to a halt, your free hand caressing over his clutching yours again.

"Brother," Daemon nodded, his eyes wild, "I have come to inform you that there is to be a wedding."

"Oh?" Viserys smirked. "Is that so, brother? What wedding might this be?"

"A Royal one," Daemon assured, his voice firm and determined. It was quiet for several long moments as brother stared brother down, your fingers tracing dainty figures over his hand out of nerves. He understood and tightened his grip, thumb rubbing out of assurance - like he was saying 'no matter what, I'm marrying you'.

But you had nothing to worry about, because...

"Finally," Viserys beamed, standing to his feet as he laughed boisterously. "Ah! Ha-ha! Yes! Yes! How splendid!" His hands clapped together, moving around the corner of the table to approach you two. "Yes, this is a match most pleasing," he beamed, glancing to the rest of the hall - who was staring in interest. "My people! Joyous news has fallen to my ears, and I am pleased to announce the Lady Y/N L/N has finally agreed to marry my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

There was scattered applause as most Ladies fumed in jealousy, most Lords were confused and wondered when this match happened. However, over them all, two young Lords rose to their feet in an uproar of applause and cheer - both your step-sons hollering in pure, unfiltered joy. You giggled lightly, hand to your mouth as your embarrassment flared while Daemon's pride really outshined every other reaction.

His lips descended to your temple and sighed with relief, then dropped to your cheek, his grin evident as his arm coiled around your waist. "See?" He whispered in your ear as Viserys was laughing happily, moving to embrace his brother while Kase and Jamie were rushing to your side with cheers still emitting from their throats and chest.

They embraced you happily, Kase looking like he was going to explode from excitement; nearly vibrating, and holding your hands tightly before embracing you tightly. Queen Alicent even stood to offer her congratulations, embracing you warmly before patting your upper arms and departing the hall as if your newly-announced engagement was the perfect escape.

Viserys shoved goblets into both yours and Daemon's hands, Kase and Jamie taking up new ones as the King offered a toast. "To my brother and his soon-to-be Lady-wife," he rose his goblet, beaming, "a match most agreeable, sure to be prosperous. I look forward to the wedding we are to plan - and my gift to you both will be to host a Royal Feast for this momentous occasion. My brother! Is getting married!" He laughed, as if the Lady Rhea had never been bound in matrimony to Daemon, and as if your husband hadn't existed either. "To you both, I wish good health," he turned to you both, your goblets raising in return, "and a fortunate marriage! To you!"

With matching grins, you toasted with the rest of the hall before taking a mouthful of wine, Viserys almost instantly wrapping his arm happily around Daemon's shoulder. "Well done, brother!" He nodded. "My Lady," he nodded to you directly, "how excited I am that you will be joining our House finally. Perhaps you would be interested in taking tea with me later this week - we might discuss your future in the capital?"

"Maybe she'd discuss that with her husband first, Viserys," Daemon tried to input, but the King all but waved him off.

"Come now, surely the Lady is as smart as her father, Daemon. I could use a brain like that on the Small Counsel."

"With incredible gratitude, Your Grace, might I consider your offer with Daemon? After we discuss terms, of course, so I might relay all options," you smiled, handing off your goblet. One arm was wrapped around Daemon's waist, the other then free to press against his chest. His hand was heavy on your hip, keeping you close; the other hand occupied by his drink.

"See?" Viserys smirked to Daemon. "Of course, Lady, that is most agreeable. We will have tea later this week, and perhaps, the Queen would..." He trailed off, looking for his wife but sighing in annoyance, "Would like to discuss terms of the wedding."

"Leave that to us, brother," Daemon shook his head.

"Truly?" Viserys' voice sounded genuinely shocked.

"I would like to discuss other terms beside the wedding with you, yes, brother," Daemon nodded.

"Such as?" You wondered gently.

"Such as your official title, dove," he nodded down at you, petting your waist.

"I don't understand?" You questioned.

He smiled gently before looking up to his brother, "I'd like her to take the official title of Princess. She'd not be in line for succession, brother, but as my lawful wife, I'd like for her to have the title to match."

Viserys smirked, "Much will be discussed later, brother."

"Of course," Daemon agreed easily. "But for now, might we take leave? I fear to admit I interrupted my Lady's rest."

"It shows," he teased gently. "You always did take action before thought, brother. Don't exhaust her too greatly."

You chuckled lightly, "Though it was a welcomed surprise, Your Grace."

"He'll keep you on your toes."

"I hope for it."

Viserys chuckled, "Good. Yes, yes, of course, you might retire for the evening. Congratulations, again, the both of you. I am joyful to celebrate in your love."

"An honor, Your Grace," you spoke softly.

"Thank you, Viserys," Daemon smirked, tightening his grip. "Dove? Do you need to... Deal with that?"

"Hmm?" You hummed as Viserys snickered lightly, your head swiveling to see your step-sons celebrating your engagement by engaging in a drinking game. "Oh, Seven Hells - lads! Come off it!"

Daemon and Viserys were left laughing as you tried to rein the young Lords in - but the moment you were close, they had you in their arms, and insisted you share a drink with them... Leading into a long celebration in your night robe.

"We should get up," you whispered against your fiancé's lips, petting over his cheek as his palm flattened to your bare breast - giving a firm squeeze, earning a breathy moan.

"In a bit," he compromised, licking over your lips. "I'm far too comfortable here, hmm?"

Your hand fell over his to then thread your fingers together against your flesh, "We've been in bed all day, my love. If we do not surface, someone might come looking."

"Let them," he whispered with a smirk, pressing another searing kiss to your lips. You felt his cock swell inside you - left from your previous session - and gently bit his bottom lip to encourage him. It worked as his hand gripped your tit with a renewed confidence, your hand returning to his cheek as the other held his waist over yours.

Your nails raked over his flesh, warranting a hiss from his lips.

"We should get up," you repeated with a knowing smirk.

"Devil of a woman," he teased, letting his weight sink into you again; making your breathing catch.

"I'm hungry, love."

"Yeah? Good, good," he pressed another kiss to your lips. "Your step-sons told me you were having trouble eating..."

You sighed. "Those boys."

"Don't be angry," he spoke softly. "They love you, and it really shows. I should gift them something glorious for helping you... Protecting you... Caring for you during times I wasn't."

You sighed lightly, "We will think of something adequate for them. But for now, my Dragon, might we rise?"

He nodded, "Think you'd be up for a flying lesson?"

"You're serious?"

"How can I not be? Caraxes loves you," he assured. "And if we are to marry, you will have to get used to it, hmm?"

"Perhaps..."

"Please?"

You smiled, "I cannot resist you when you beg - "

"Exactly, so, please?"

"Fine, all right," you sighed again, but with a growing smile. "What might I wear?"

"In a moment," he rushed, reaching for your thigh; gripping the meat as he dropped his head to your neck and raked his teeth to make you arch into him. "By the Gods, I cannot get enough..."

"You're insatiable," you whispered, letting your legs widen as his hips shifted. "Save something for when we marry, yes?"

He chuckled some, holding you tightly as he pulled his hips back before shoving forward; swallowing your moan. "I've plenty to give you," he assured, grunting as his brows furrowed. "I've waited a lifetime to have you, I will fill you with my seed. Yes," he hissed, humping into you faster as your hips swirled to accommodate his ministrations, "fuck, 's like you're made for me, pet. Fuck!"

"Daemon?" You moaned, nails digging into his hips to keep him going.

"Yes, love?"

You smirked, his sweaty forehead to yours as your noses bumped around and lips danced around one another, "Please cum in me."

He chuckled, "No where else I'd rather finish myself."

"Do not call for the tea," you whispered, licking across his bottom lip, "I want you to breed me."

"Fuck," he grunted, balls slapping against your dripping hole. "Not yet - not yet."

You whined.

"When I can call you wife, yes, pet," his teeth were clenched, bared. "I'll breed you, fuck, I'll never leave this cunt. We'll go to Dragonstone," he swore into your mouth, moaning wantonly, "so we won't be disturbed."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, dragging your hand down your bodies so your middle finger could circle around your clit. "Fuck, Daemon - "

"Gonna look so fucking good full of my seed," he grunted, each word punctuated with a thrust. "Fuck - prettier than you are now."

You cried out when you came, clinging to him to the point he fucked you nearly through the mattress - arms holding onto him for dear life as he met his end finally. He moaned into your neck as he spilled into you, licking at your sweaty, salty skin.

"I love you," you promised, kissing his cheek.

He nuzzled into your chest, "I love you, too."

"Now get off," you whined with a laugh, his body flopped into yours when he met his climax. "You're heavy."

"You love it," he teased, pecking your chest before rolling off you. You hissed when his softening cock was finally pulled free of your cunt, grinning at your lover before letting loose a broken moan when his hand curled around your cunt and then pushed into your wet hole. "Keep it in there, pretty girl."

You pouted, "I want you in me everyday."

He shuddered lightly, "Soon, pet."

You pulled his hand from your cunt to suck his fingers clean. "Can I ask something?"

"Anything," he promised, deflating into his spot but keeping his head turned to look at you.

"When you think of children... What do you think of?"

He smirked, "In truth?"

"Mhm."

"I've had dreams of daughters with white hair," he admitted softly. "And a few sons, yes, but the girls are older. Wiser. Much smarter, just like their mummy, hmm?"

"You think it will come true?"

"For us? Of course," he assured, "because the Gods favor us enough to bring us back together, pet. See?"

You nodded softly, "You've names in mind?"

"Perhaps," he teased. "But we've to be married first."

"Two weeks is too long," you whined, making him laugh.

"The castle needs time to prepare," he smirked. "I am giving you a full fucking wedding, my dove. No arguments."

You nodded, "I think I fall deeper in love with you day after day. Can you believe it's been two weeks since our engagement already?"

"Barely," he breathed. "But this way, court closes with our wedding. It'll be the event of the century, poppet, you'll see."

The rest of the (late) morning passed peacefully, your betrothed selecting your outfit for dragon riding; leaving the room for you to change into the leather jerkin chaps, a free-flowing tunic, boots, and other 'necessities'. He ventured to fetch you a new pair of dragon-hide gloves, and when you were ready, you were to meet him in the Dragon Pit.

Yet, just as you left your shared bedroom quarters, you were surprised to hear your sister, the 'Lady' Jasline L/N, call your name. You turned, letting your unbound hair fan around you as you turned your attention just in time to watch her jaw clench.

"Sister," you greeted gently. "What brings you to this part of the castle? It's for residents only."

"Oh, I did not realize I was unwelcome," her head cocked. "I've come to demand answers, actually."

"To what questions, Jasline?" You sighed with mild patience.

"Why you feel entitled to my betrothal!"

"My apologies, I was unaware you had a love match," you mimicked her stance and cocked your head, too. "Mind enlightening me so Prince Daemon and I might pass along our congratulations?"

With a smirk, you turned from her and moved down the hall - a moment passing before her feet were rapidly slapping the stone floors to catch up. "You know what I speak of!" She snapped, rounding around you to force another halt. "You stole him from me, and you've stolen my engagement!"

"'Stolen'?" You repeated dumbly. "My dear, sweet, baby sister, you are mistaken, because the Prince is a person and nobody owns him. He's not property, you know - but little can be said for women like us, hmm?"

"You had your chance with him!" Her voice rose in octave. "Why could you not let this go!? This entire season, he has lead me to believe a match was made, and then you! What did you do!?"

"Sister, I assure you that I did nothing," you shrugged. "The Prince and I have a history you can never understand and while I am sorry you are hurt, I am not sorry for being happy. I should've married him a decade ago - but alas, politics does not always work in our favor. The very idea that you felt entitled to the Prince speaks volumes, sister, and let me assure you that this is simply how court works. Tis no other fault but your own for shutting down all other prospects so you could peck seed from the Prince's palm. Now, if you don't mind, I'm due to meet the same man now."

"You're diabolical, you know that?" She sneered, following after you and never once caring for any prying ears.

You tried to ignore her, but it was becoming difficult.

"You couldn't let anyone else be happy, huh? You've already married - you already had your chance! You're a widow, and it's not an attractive look that I do not understand what you could've done or said to Daemon to make him leave me for you!"

Your feet skidded some when you came to a halt, turning on her swiftly, and forcing her back a step, "I'd mind my tongue if I were you, sister, for the Keep is full of enemies looking to take any outsiders down for their own gain. If you'd like to throw a tantrum, go throw it to Father - I am not the one to deal with them anymore. And I'd take caution in addressing him as Prince Daemon, you're far too familiar."

"Bitch!" She raged, glaring heavily after you.

You only waved, "So good to see you, Jasline, we'll catch up another time, sister dearest!"

When you arrived at the Dragon Pit, your heart was ready to thump out of your chest out of sheer rage - your mind occupied with the audacity your sister felt in approaching you that way. When you walked to the mouth of the Pit, you faltered in confidence as the size of it all made you uneasy, and the idea of it housing more than ONE dragon enough to make you slow down.

"My Lady," one of the Targaryen guards nodded. "The Prince has only just arrived, he's inside - "

"Thank you," you breathed, nodding at him. "Um, would you tell me something, Ser?"

"Yes, My Lady?"

"Am I foolish for walking blindly into the Dragon's Den?"

He sighed gently, "No, Lady, you are most safe - and only a fool goes blindly without question. You paused, you wondered, you even voiced that curiosity. Means you're no fool."

You smiled lightly, "Oh, that was very well put. Thank you, I... I do believe I needed to hear that. Your name, Ser?"

"Oh, I'm no Knight, my Lady," he shrugged some. "Names Bowen, and I took this post from the City Watch. Truthfully, I'd do whatever the Prince asked, he's been a fearless leader to us in the past."

You smiled softly, "Bowen... What a name. Thank you, Bowen."

"My Lady," he nodded, sensing your hesitation still. "Uh, i-if I may?"

"Please," you granted, shifting on your feet as the cold darkness loomed high over you.

"I could escort you," he nodded. "I'm sure the Prince will not want you wondering in without direction."

"Oh, very smart, yes," you nodded in relief. "Would you mind? Are you allowed to leave?"

"Calswold!" He barked at another guard, who straightened up. "Man my post, I will escort the Lady in and return."

"Yes, sir," Calswold nodded, giving a small salute as Bowen turned back to you with a smirk.

"Lad does anything I says," he whispered with a wink, offering his arm. "And trust me, Lady, the first time here is the most intimidatin'. You do not truly get used to it, but you will not always feel so... Well, in truth, my mother used to call it fawn-legs, but you will not always feel so weak or powerless coming here."

"Fawn-legs?" You repeated, nodding, "Like your legs shake? Feels weak?"

"Mhm," he nodded. "Like your stomach’s in a knot?"

"Oh yeah," you whispered, gazing up and around you. "By Gods, this is enormous... How many can it house?"

"Maybe some 10?" He offered. "I don't think there's been more than six here before at once, but I might be wrong."

"Hmm," you considered, gasping lightly when a flame shot out above your heads.

"Easy, easy," Bowen covered you when you ducked in panic. "'S just Caraxes showing off..."

With shaking hands held in his, you slowly stood to your height and let your eyes search the darkness behind him - just in time for the long, red head of Caraxes to slither outward.

Daemon was at his legs, walking backwards as he seemingly tightened a strap of the dragon's saddle. "Fuck," you muttered, the dragon revealing more of himself, "they don't get smaller, do they?"

"I think they just get bigger, my Lady," Bowen nodded, patting your hands. "You're all right."

"Thank you... Um, f-for escorting me and calming me," you muttered, eyes unable to leave the dragon out of worry that his jaws would open again and you'd be too late to protect yourself.

"Of course," Bowen soothed, turning to look behind himself. "You're safe with the Prince, my Lady," he assured you gently, giving your hands a squeeze. "He's done nothing but talk of you, you know?"

"What?" You asked.

"There is a mighty echo at certain points of the cave," he explained, "and the echo carries. The Prince likes to talk to his dragon..."

"Telling my secrets, are you, Bowen?" Daemon's voice sounded, the two of you looking back to see him approaching - with Caraxes' head hovering just behind him.

"No, never, Prince," Bowen smirked.

"C'mere, love," Daemon chuckled, waving you forward. "Thank you, Bowen."

"Yes, thank you," you repeated, smiling at the guard and releasing him nervously.

"You're all right," he whispered in encouragement. "Go on..."

He took his leave and left you to face Daemon, who was smirking with a hand held out for you to take. Slowly, eyeing the dragon behind him, you approached your beloved and accepted his hand to instantly step up into his chest and press your lips to his.

He hummed lightly, one hand tangled with yours as the other caressed your cheek while his tongue swept against yours. When you pulled back to rest your foreheads together, he chuckled dryly, "I missed you, too, dove."

Your sigh was sad, "Just needed to see you."

"It's not been half an hour..." But there was a gleam in your eyes that made him ask, "What happened?"

"My sister had choice words for me," you sighed, shaking your head. "Suppose I just needed to see you... Reaffirm you're mine, that you're really here... That maybe we're really doing this."

"Pet," he smirked, "course we're really doing this. C'mon, first step is getting your confidence up around Caraxes. He'd never bring you harm, love, and in fact, he'd protect you... Like I always will."

"Promise?"

He nodded, pecking your lips again, "Promise, dove."

You sighed and kissed him once more. "All right," you decided, lowering yourself off your tip toes to turn towards the dragon. "All right, this is... This is good. This is okay..."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Dove?"

"Hmm?"

"You just gonna stand there?" He wondered gently, a smirk pulling over his lips.

"I'm not moving?"

"No, ma'am."

"Huh... And how about now?"

"Same spot, my love," he chuckled, pecking your temple. "Come on, with me - always with me..."

"And how was it? On dragon's back?" Kase smirked, leaning over his brother some to peer at you and Daemon. "You looked terrified."

"It wasn't as bad," you shrugged some, fingering your skirts sheepishly - knowing damn well you did not handle it well. "It's a learning experience, yes?"

"She didn't stop shaking," Dameon casually mentioned, taking a sip of his wine as Jamie, Kase, Viserys, Lord Laenor, and Princess Rhaenyra all snickered to one another. "And I think you might've blown my ear drum, love."

"I was not that bad," you tried to defend. The tourney bustled around you; something akin to a fair passing through the city from Pentos and rousing the Royals to celebrate together with the citizens.

"Think I see a bit uh blood from here," Jamie teased, straining to 'peer' into Daemon's ear, who snickered lightly and tucked the hair behind said ear to give a 'clear' view. "Yeah - yeah - look at that! Clear through, hey? Like nothing's there!"

"Come off it, lad. Easy," Daemon chuckled, making you glance between the two of them. "What?" He asked gently, petting a lock of hair behind your ear gently, caressing the back of your head.

"When did you two become friends?"

"When you're with your Ladies," Daemon smirked some. "Only lad to give me a real run for my money with the sword."

The clash of iron swords, laughter of men, and strums of instruments filled the air around you. "You spar together?" You asked.

"Why do you sound so shocked?" Kase asked, curiosity brimming in his eyes.

"No reason," you assured and accepted the goblet of wine a servant presented to you on a golden platter. "Just, I don't know... That's nice of you, love," you smiled at Daemon.

The conversation shifted in another direction, and you leaned back on your elbow, laying your hand through Daemon's arm, whose hand laid comfortably on your knee while you all listened. You laughed when polite, spoke when spoken to, but mostly, you were content to watch Daemon interact with his family. You couldn't wait until you married him - only a few days left to go.

Yet nothing ever goes according to plan, and while the King was enjoying a sweetened berry platter, your father was storming up to the banquet table under the canvas tent. "My King," he sneered, "I demand an audience with you at once."

The Kings Guard sprung into action to keep him at bay, but Viserys looked mildly curious. "Might I inquire what about, My Lord? It's too beautiful a day for such grievances, isn't it? Might this wait for court?"

"No! This is about how you have given your brother's hand to someone not my daughter!"

Your hands rose in confusion, pinning Jamie with an 'are you serious?' look because weren't you technically his daughter...? In fact, Kase was the one who laughed lightly, telling your father, "The King has betrothed his brother to your daughter, Lord."

"No, he's betrothed his brother to a widowed whore!"

Your eyes rolled some.

"No need for name calling, Lord, tread lightly," Jamie warned with clenched teeth.

"What might the Lady Jasline say?" Viserys wondered.

"That... The Prince Daemon courted me properly, and yet, agreed to marry my sister without any foregrounds to a relationship," your sister spoke 'sweetly' while fluttering her long lashes at the King, offering him large doe eyes that plead with him to understand.

Alicent and you shared a stale look.

"Hmm," the King considered. "Well, my dear, this is where you're wrong because those two," he pointed at you and Daemon, who remained silent during this exchange, "are absolutely made for each other, and their foregrounds were not made in the public's eye. This is part of the reason I gave my blessing, I can think of no other match for either of them."

"Your Grace," your father seethed, "my family was done a terrible discretion and I must demand we are repaid! Else my family, my homestead, might have to reevaluate its production to the Crown."

Viserys cocked his head as your hand tightened around Daemon's forearm; his own gripping your thigh with a bruising strength while your Father's words sunk in. "My Lord, surely you do not mean to insinuate that your livestock production to the Capital would be affected should I choose to not marry Lady Jasline to Prince Daemon?"

"Surely, I do mean to insinuate that," the older man seethed in pure, white-hot anger. "My daughter - this daughter!" He pointed at Jasline, "Deserves a worthy match, and you were willing to bind your brother to my House once - "

"I still am."

"She is not of my name anymore!" Your father roared, making you flinch involuntarily; eyes diverted to your lap as you focused on the feeling of Daemon's flesh beneath your hands.

"That's enough," Daemon demanded, nodding to the Kings Guard. "See the Lord out of the city, and his daughter, too - "

"You have no right!" Your father raged. "You lead my daughter on - and thought you could get away with it!? Either Jasline takes his hand in marriage," your father pointed at Daemon but spoke to Viserys, "or this city will be without meat - I do swear by it."

"Daemon," you worried when he shot from his chair, sending it toppling backward.

"OUT!" The Prince roared.

"Fine," your Father sneered. "I hope the bitch is worth it."

"I want him out!" Daemon demanded, rounding round the table as your Father pushed Jasline along - and with the Gold Cloaks close behind, was escorted from the tent. "Viserys - "

"Worry not," the King nodded with a sigh. "He will not remain in the city, and I will not let the livestock production be affected."

You felt frozen with fear and the weight of the world suddenly fell on your shoulders. Realizing your father was not making an idle threat, you shifted in your seat to lean towards the King, "Perhaps... We are being hasty."

"What?" Viserys, Alicent, and Daemon all demanded at once; in union. Laenor and Rhaenyra shared a look of confusion.

You winced a bit, nodding, "I only mean that my father does not make this threat lightly, Your Grace. If the price to pay is t-that Daemon must marry someone else, again, then who am I to put my needs above that of the city's?"

"What are you saying?" Daemon demanded. "You do not wish to marry me now?"

"I did not say that, my love," you shook your head at him. "Only that perhaps we are being hasty - "

"We are marrying, dove," Daemon shook his head, "and that is final - your father's threats be damned!"

"Daemon," you sighed.

"No," he snapped. "I have sacrificed much in the name of politics and honor and duty - and now that you and I can finally be together, you want to let your father's words drive us apart? I do not want your sister, pet, only you, and I will have you. No others!"

Viserys nodded, "My brother is right - you need not worry for this engagement stands."

"My King..."

"No, it's final," he decided. "We'll send an envoy to your father's stead and beyond to ensure that production is not interrupted."

You felt your anxiety flare, but something beyond the tent caught most's attention, and you found your feet before taking your leave. You truly did not get far before a hand was securing around your wrist and pulling you into an alcove - your gasp being silenced by Daemon's hand over your mouth.

"Daemon," you growled, pushing his hand off. "What's that for? Hey? You finally gone mad, is it?"

"Have you?"

"What're you on about?"

"Tell me in truth - do you want to marry me?" He demanded, violet eyes staring through your soul as he held your jaw steady.

"Daemon, please understand only this," you spoke softly, yet with a determination; lifting to your toes to hold his cheek, "that I have waited more than long enough to have you, and I will not let you go so easily. I want to be your wife, more than I've known anything else. Do not mistake my words for regret, I do not wish to be the cause of turmoil in the city. That is all."

He sighed lightly, "Do not ever give anyone a way out for us. They will not all be like Viserys, and they will not all want to see us together. But you are mine, and I am yours..."

"My father has more power than we'd like," you breathed in worry. "Do not let people suffer because we want to be together."

"Nothing is stopping us," he shook his head. "And your father's threats are idle, my love... In truth, pet, he knows you are his heir less he can marry Jasline off."

You nodded sadly, "What're we going to do?"

He sighed lightly, "What we can do..."

"Which is?"

"Get through this, together," he whispered, leaning in to capture your lips against his.

part five: Bright Light

Midnight Calls masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

[ravenelyx]

Hogwarts Legacy Headcanons - Sebastian's wand

Since I needed it for my ff, I decided to share what I think Sebastian’s wand is like in wood, core, and flexibility.

Wood: Aspen

Wizarding World describes Aspen wood like this:

The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

Not only it matches in colour (Aspen wands are white, resembling ivory, and we have seen from the game that Sebastian's wand is white as well), but also completely marries with Sebastian's character, talents and motives. He's an accomplished duellist (in the limits a school can offer, clearly), he's always out on some adventure (whether it's for Anne or his own accord, there's no doubt he likes the rush of adrenaline and risk), and there's no one who's more determined than this boy. I had no doubts his wand would be made of Aspen as soon as I read the description.

Core: Phoenix Feather

Now when it comes to the core I had a bit more trouble choosing, mainly between Phoenix Feather and Dragon Heartstring (I immediately excluded Unicorn Hair for its aversion to Dark Magic). In the end, I chose the Phoenix.

Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.

Phoenix cored wands are great learners and fit for those who can produce a vast amount of spells. While not as poweful or flamboyant as the Dragon, I believe that, despite Sebastian's inclination to powerful and offensive spells like Confringo, he's a sucker for knowledge at heart, and as a duellist, having a large amount of spells at his disposition is really what he strives to achieve (he taught himself the Unforgivables ffs)

Flexibility: Unyielding

A wand of this flexibility finely tunes itself to its original owner's preferences and doesn't stray from those preferences, even in the hands of a new owner; the new owner will just have to get used to it.

The wand is obstinate like the wizard. Once Sebastian gets an idea, it's hard to change his mind, no matter how reasonable your suggestions may be. He's stubborn as a mule, and he's happy like that, and his wand reflects it perfectly, in my opinion. He's also extremely loyal to those he cares about and expects the same in return, so what better match for him than the loyalest wand ever?

What do you think?

<3

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter fandom #hogwarts legacy headcanons #hogwarts legacy hc #sebastian sallow headcanon #sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #harry potter headcanon #harry potter legacy #hlhp #hphl #sebastian sallow fanfiction #harry potter hogwarts game #sebastian sallow hc

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

give me dragon rider stories written by horse girls

Give me dragons with differences like horses / mules / donkeys have

don’t care if one spits more fire than the other, tell me there’s dragons who’ve been working with humans for THOUSANDS of years and we’ve specifically been choosing the ones who’ll go along with social pressure even or especially when they’re scared- so when the rider’s their biggest social pressure in their life, they’ll fly into a thunderstorm if their rider tells them to- plenty of fear but no questions- they’ll be scared shitless and have no idea what’s going on or why but if their flock leader said this is where we gotta go then into the storm they go, relying on the rider for every change in pitch and yaw and heading but they’ll DO IT even if it KILLS THEM

(and it’s so easy to kill them in so many small ways, the wrong diet, too much exercise at the wrong time, not kept warm enough- a dragon bred for fire breathing and they have a huge fire bladder that can get twisted inside them if they do too many arial acrobatics on an empty stomach and if the twisting ruptures the bladder then it’s a slow and painful death)  

then there’s the dragons hatched from wild eggs or caught and trained while young, and they almost never have actual riders because of the danger those riders would be in but they can be flown anyway by people on other dragons or even from the ground, they know how to take care of themselves and their flock- they don’t care or understand if the flock is other tamed dragons, or ridden ones, or even humans and animals like horses and dogs- they’ll protect and play with them either way, they’ll actively face danger and die fighting for their flock with a ferocity that’s terrifying- a wild dragon tries picking up one of THEIR horses as a snack and gets one of it’s horns ripped off in the following fight while the horse runs safely away

(but they’ll hunt anything that isn’t their flock which means OTHER horses and other PEOPLE aren’t safe around them- unless they’re kept very well fed and no urge to go hunting their own food ever comes up)

and the dragons in between, the ones hatched from eggs that had one wild parent, the ones who are healthier and stronger than either parent, more hardy than refined but more refined than wild, and they respect a social bond but the self preservations instinct is stronger and riding them isn’t about telling them what do to it’s about ASKING and then WAITING while they consider the situation- if a thunderstorm scares them they won’t fly it, if you try to force them then they’ll chew off their harness and drop you from five hundred feet- better YOU than THEM- but…… if they think it’s doable… if you started them with strong winds and worked up to wind storms, to small squalls, worked with them to learn HOW to ride in increasingly bad weather, made them feel safe and confident around thunder and lighting with you on their back as extra ballast and counterweight, if they can look at the storm and go ah yes we’ve done stuff like this before- THEN they won’t just go into the storm for you they will FLY it themselves they will KNOW how to handle the winds and the updrafts and downdrafts and the poor visibility and even if you have no idea what’s happening or can’t focus on it for some reason they will get you BOTH through it safely, because they wouldn’t have gone into it in the first place otherwise

(hunting isn’t something they jump at but they’ll do it in a pinch and while they won’t win any races or fire breathing contests they also won’t keel over and die from getting the wrong amount of food and rest- they’ll rest when they’re tired and eat until they’re satisfied and you’ll never get 110% or even a 100% of effort out of them since they are always saving some of their reserves for themselves- but they also will probably be with you the longest, staying spry and healthy through generations of human riders, and not burning themselves out until LONG into old age)

give me dragons like horses and mules and donkeys and riders who don't have a get out of free card when climbing on top a creature that could kill them just by rolling over for a back scratch

give me dragon riders with no telepathic bond, no way to communicate directly with their dragon through any shared language

and who love their dragons so much they find a way anyway

give me riders who look after dragons even when the dragons don't beam emotions direct into their heads or talk and act like a large scaly person who for some reason is fine being a permanent taxi service

give me dragons and riders WORKING TOGETHER through so many mundane barriers! that thrill when a giant flying lizard creature comes over when you call them and nuzzles you just because you are theirs-

or the dragon who plays keep away when you're trying to put the flying tack on them, gleefully enjoying a game of chase while you swear internally but also smile- the dragon who stands steady and calm as you show another new rider where all the straps should go so your saddle doesn't catch in the dragon's joints wrong, a dragon who is fine with you moving limbs and wings around as you explain how to secure things so they catch under the dragon's belly just right....

the trust of a dragon who could and would kill you with one snap of it's jaws the moment it didn't trust you anymore

that magic of two creatures who maybe shouldn't ever have ended up partnered like this, but are both happy that they did anyway

GIVE ME HORSE GIRL DRAGON RIDERS

#dragons #dragon riders #. #... #..... #AND IF THERES A BOOK LIKE THIS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE ALREDY THEN TELL ME- I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT!!!!!!

[atopvisenyashill]

The Robert brings Mya to court and tries to set her up with Jon Snow is such a great AU because Ned would hate it but really can't say no.

robert thinks he’s doing a sweet thing and setting jon up with a nice hot wife who has a job and hey, i’ll even knight jon if he wants, they don’t have to stay in KL or the Vale, I’m sure Mya’s skills are transferable! jon hasn’t said a word since they got to kl because he’s too busy brooding over being denied the Wall, mya keeps sneaking off with arya to go climb shit and teach her how to throw a punch. cersei keeps staring at jon because he looks like an ugly version of rhaegar and it’s freaking her out. then we flash to ned who is on his fifth panic attack of the day because robert saw jon on a horse and he’s worried robert is putting it together.

jon goes sneaking around with mya and arya, they find the dragon skulls and he’s talking about it to Ned but all Ned heard was “dragon” and he just starts dissociating right in front of them while mya is like “haha people do that when the mules miss a step.”

#asks #anons #mya stone #jon snow #hysterical omg aksjsjd #mya sees joff and sandor trying to be alone with sansa and puts a stop to that shit

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

・Many people think Aegon rarely visits Visenya’s bed because he isn’t attracted to her. That’s far from the truth. 

・Aegon doesn’t visit because ... you’re already in her bed. 

・Although they’re still married, Aegon isn’t judgemental about Visenya’s relationship with you

・ He thinks it’s only fair for Visenya to have someone while he has Rhaenys. And he wouldn’t have been able to conquer and unite Westeros if he wasn’t a level-headed and grounded man

・It took a while for you and Visenya to get together 

・You had grown up together as your families were, and still are, close

・One of the things that Visenya has always loved about you, is the fact that you make her feel safe. 

・Even though she is one of the most fiercest and fearsome warriors in the seven kingdoms, she likes being around you because you don’t assume she’ll take the lead

・Her commanding nature doesn’t stop with you however

・And that means her love may seem ... harsh at times. But she doesn’t mean it to come across as negative or threatening 

・ She just wants the best for you. And sometimes, it comes across differently than she intends it 

・Likes to have her hair played with, especially when you’re both lying in bed. 

・The first time you flew with her, Vhagar made your stomach drop. The beast ... and she is a beast, was incredible to see up close. 

・You had encountered Balerion and Meraxes, both huge and formidable. But up close, dragons were completely different. 

・To get onto Vhagar’s back, it felt like you had to climb a breathing mountain. The ropes tied to her body felt unstable, but that didn’t seem to worry the Targaryen Queen. 

・ Calls you my heart in High Valyrian: “Issa prūmia “

・You’re always next to her on the battlefield. Even though the risk of you getting hurt is high, she knows she cannot stop you from fighting 

・The difficulties of politics are heavy on your mind, however, and the thought of you having to marry someone looms over your head 

・But Visenya is constantly reminding your father that there is no one worthy of your love, and at times, even she is not

・Neither you or Visenya know this, but Aegon makes sure that the Velaryons are always protected

・He tries to get them off of your backs’

・(Not that Visenya needs any help)

・Visenya is ALWAYS awake and out of bed before you. When you drag yourself from the comfort of your blankets and get ready for the day, she’s already had her morning run and is putting on armour for training 

・Rhaenys absolutely adores you. She’s happy for her sister, so overjoyed that she has someone who will love her

・And Rhaenys was actually a huge influence in getting you two together

・Well she had to, both you and Visenya are as stubborn as mules 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Your Hands Are Cold by Dario Marianelli

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

  ✧ It’s Always Been You / I’ve Loved You Since We Were Children

  ✧ Independent, Doesn’t Love To Get Pampered (Visenya) x Loves To Pamper Them At Every Opportunity (You)

  ✧ Emotionally Unstable (You) x Also Emotionally Unstable But Tries To Hide It (Visenya)

  NSFW🔞minors dni!

・Visenya is a switch - she likes to be both dominated and to be dominant

・Depending on her mood, and how much aggression she’s let out during training. Visenya could be slow and sensual, taking her time devouring you. 

・On the other hand, she could absolutely ravish you. Pushing you against a wall and loosening your pants, yanking them down viciously and kneeling in front of you

・ She’s obsessed with your nipples. Sucking, biting, squeezing, pulling. When you’re grinding on each other, she’ll slip off your tunic and free your tits, giving them unabashed attention

・One of her favourite places to fuck is in the dragon pits. Amongst the dirt and leathery smell of the dragons, Visenya will take you on the ground, dirt covering your back and making a mess of your hair

・Some nights the whole castle can hear the moans from your room 

・She likes to hear you say her name while you’re cumming. The breathy noises and pleasured cries drive her crazy

・Although she isn’t much interested in PDA, as soon as you’re alone, she’ll show you how horny she is. Her hands can’t stop touching you, her lips never leaving your body. She’s like an animal on heat.

・Visenya’s favourite thing to do after sex is to have a bath

・She’ll gently wash you, humming as she does so. Her mind clear and heart full. Nowhere else would she rather be. 

#visenya x reader #visenya headcanons #visenya targaryen headcanons #visenya targaryen x reader #visenya x female reader #headcanons #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #george r.r. martin #fancast #visenya fancast #targaryen #targaryen headcanons #house of the dragon #game of thrones #game of thrones headcanon #house of the dragon headcanon #female reader #visenya x you #visenya targaryen x you #visenya targaryen fancast #fire and blood fancast #ice and fire fancast #a song of ice and fire fancast #ASoIaF #ASoIaF headcanons #ASoIaF fancast #asoiaf x reader #aegon targaryen #the targaryen conquest headcanons

[sandsscales]

guardian alt. 1st meeting AU

You know the story about frogs and boiling water? He’s in a little too deep now.

When Shen Wei first ran into ZYL, it was somewhere innocuous. He rides the lack of suspicion, all the while choking on guilt. (ZYL’s Dixing bias does not help matters)

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves

It begins with both of our heroes being very true to themselves in the most mundane of ways: Shen Wei as an ever-helpful busy body who is simultaneously happiest when having to speak to people as little as possible… and ZYL being a disaster with horrifying sleep habits.

….

The beginning of every fall is inevitable marked by Shen Wei rarely seeing the inside of his apartment. In between the influx of new students, and the inevitable uptick in both Dixingren and monsters come the end of the rainy season, he has little to spare in the way of free time.

Despite the rise of responsibilities, Shen Wei always ensures he has an empty slot in his schedule on Saturdays at just before noon. He once portaled from a conference in neighboring city and then back. Having to endure 15 minutes of fussing from Professor Zhou about his bloody nose wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t make himself regret anything. 

Cheng Xinyan is well aware of this routine, if a bit baffled by his devotion to visiting a local market that is largely indistinguishable from any other. She likes to tease him about his preference for older women, though Auntie Wu is at least 70 now and has grandkids their age. SW has never had much interest in women; He is, however, incredibly appreciative of her produce. Specifically, the annual harvests of wild forest mushroom that grow in the mountains around Dragon City.

Nominally, the unreliability of wild-grown crops and the trekking up and down mountains involved in harvest meant that the mushrooms did not frequently appear to be sold at the market. Fortunately for Shen Wei, he had tutored one of her grandchildren through Intro to Bio and had thoroughly cemented himself in her good graces. His eager attention to her proud spiel about the quality, variety, and unique characteristic of her foraged goods also earned him points. They have a longstanding disagreement about the cause of said fungal populations; she remains convinced that the mountain streams are responsible and complains bitterly about any redirection efforts by local famers for irrigation.

Shen Wei, who recognizes several of the mushrooms from his childhood, is fairly sure its not the streams at work here. He is also not about to try to explain dark energy induced mutation, or Dixing as a whole. He does bring the paper he co-authored with a mycology grad student about local fungus speciation, to reassure her that, yes, her mushrooms are something special.

Shen Wei’s aunt raised him, had not survived the devastation following meteorite.  Now, nearly two decades and some hundreds of years sleeping later, Shen Wei still sometimes gets to eat her mushroom dumplings, for the small, small price of some yuan tucked into Auntie Wu’s box when she’s not looking and acting briefly as a pack mule. Her husband runs a convenience store not too far away, and she like to send him both homemade lunch and some fresh vegetable to sell to customers. He’s also responsible for delivering whatever biting remark she has in store for Uncle Wu, scolding thinly veiling fondness.

This Saturday, blissfully oblivious to what is coming, Shen Wei heads down the familiar path.  He picks up a few other things at the market, and arrives at the Wu’s stand at quarter till noon.

“Professor Shen! You were 30 seconds late, I was worried you weren’t coming”

She is already snatching the basket out of his hand before she’s finished talking, using her foot to tug out her box of mushroom and ladling some out.

“I apologize if I made you wait, I was getting some fish for Hóngshāo yú 红烧鱼

“you got it from Old Chang right? That new stall isn’t as fresh!”

“yes Auntie Wu. How it your family?”

Auntie Wu gives her usually brisk recounting, as he hangs the basket over one arm, grab’s Uncle Wu’s tiffin, and carefully hoists the pallet. She readjusts one of the squashes, passes on particularly acerbic scolding for Uncle about his mistakes with the goats,  alongside a reminder rewrap his knee.  It is shorter than usual, which unfortunately gives her time for her favorite send-off: bringing up his love life and cackling as he flees.

 “Aiya you really need to find a nice lady to appreciate those biceps. you know, one of my nieces-“

“Oh look at the time I should really be going I wouldn’t want miss Uncle’s lunch break ”

He’s given up on being discrete, and Auntie Wu usually starts laughing at his abruptness long enough to buy him time to escape before she yells any more helpful advice after him.

The convenience store is about 15 minutes away, less if Shen Wei walks briskly.

But summer’s heat has been smothered under cool nights, the air crisp and the sun is warm on his shoulders, and he is ahead on his grading.  He takes his time.

……………………

The SID has been tirelessly working a particularly stubborn robbery case for over a week. Zhao Yulan, correspondingly, has spent far too many nights at the office and has been living on takeout, coffee, and stubborn spite.

They finally get a lead and grab the guy. irritatingly he turns out to be an unquestionably regular Haixing man, with an inside source. This upside of this is ZYL can just dump  both of them onto the regular police and triumphantly send everyone off with great ceremony.

His minions are less than enthused. Da Qing is nodding off. Lin Jing is vibrating with maniac energy that comes with being severely sleep deprived. His phone screen informs him it’s 4 am and technically Friday. Huh.

He staggers home, kick of his shoes, drops his jacket on the floor and faceplants into his bed.

..

There is sun in his eyes, and he feels like a freshly resurrected corpse, squinting into the light.

Da Qing makes rude comments about his person, one of the kinder of which is “you look like an alley cat that’s been living out of a dumpster”

He takes a deep breath to retaliate and realizes some of those comments may not be unfounded. He’s not actually sure the last day he was home. Staggering to his feet causes the world to spin a bit, but win some lose some.

He slips on his discarded jacket strewn on the floor and almost eats shit, which would be a fantastic way to start the day, but manages to make it to the shower.

He emerges a new person. He also remembers that thing eating? Seems like that would be a good idea.

Fortunately, there’s a little mom and pop convenience store not far from his apartment, which have sell two packs of bao and also fish snacks.

He is chewing on his second bao, and deeply contemplating the instant noodles section, only to jerk his head up when the doorbell chimes and a man walks in. He is hefting a stack of vegetables with one hand,  with a basket with forest mushrooms hanging off his forearm, a tiffin in the other hand, and looks altogether like something straight out of a Ghibli movie. He is also wearing round glasses and a sweater vest and  sleeve garters, and is absolutely, positively drop-dead gorgeous.  ZYL would not have though garters or a sweater vest were sexy but they show off the muscles he’s using to haul that vegetable pallet around effortlessly and hot damn.  ZYL is standing staring with his second bao in still gripped in his mouth, which he realizes only after Mr. Hopefully Single’s gaze lands on him. He decided to take a few judicial steps behind the shelf, swallow, and then  maybe go introduce himself.

..

Shen Wei steps through the doors at noon on the dot, does an ingrained scan of the store and pivots towards Uncle Wu, the usual quick ritual: hand-off, message, polite goodbye, flee. There are a few other customers, but the store is blessedly calm at the moment.  He is already a few steps on course before his mind processes and he rips his eyes back to where the man had been standing  by a shelf in a leather jacket eating a bao with a face Shen Wei has been thinking about every day for over a decade. Kunlun. He’s still there and Shen Wei can’t breathe can only stand frozen, drinking in the sight of him, the rest of the shop gone his world narrowed down, And then Kunlun steps back into the shelves and is gone. 

Shen Wei’s heart is hammering under his breastbone, limbs tense, eyes locked on the shelf- he becomes vaguely aware that someone is speaking, and its an effort to turn his head, to refocus on the present, the tiffin handle digging into his fingers.

“- first time in 50 years LaoPo didn’t have something to say! Was she distracted by another man??”” Uncle Wu is, unfortunately for Shen Wei, just as sharp tongued as his wife. He is faintly aware his ears are red, and he  stumbles slightly over his reply “ ah no sorry. Apparently she had to go fish a goat out of a fence in her best market clothing and for your knee”

He plonks his load onto the counter and resorts to flinging the fresh wrap and tin of ointment towards Uncle Wu as a distraction: his eyes flitting back to the shelves automatically and then back to catch Uncle Wu’s grin widens a hair in response. His desperate ploy works, he stops watching Shen Wei to unscrew the tiffen, blatantly ignoring the tin. Shen Wei enjoys a few moments of relief and surreptitiously tried to collect himself before his illusion is shattered. Without glancing up  Uncle Wu calls out: “you do know you’re going to have to pay eventually”

There is a rueful chuckle behind the shelf. And Kunlun steps back out.

…

Hot man seems to know Old Wu. Old Wu is predictably determined to be as much as an old fox as possible, but ZYL has swallowed and will emerge with a half-eaten bao for his own Ghibli entrance.  There is  audible music playing, somewhere. It’s idyllic and adorable.

ZYL decides it’s a brand new day, on the ups can only get better if I talk to the Most Attractive Guy. 

“Oh? ZYL are you finally considering about buying some of my wife’s excellent vegetables like the good professor here?”

God bless the old man

He once managed to bounce a lime off ZYL’s head into his basket. He also keeps miracle pork buns that are the perfect for an anytime meal which has prevented his ass from passing out multiple times and he’s forced far more one him and then refused payment so. ZYL is willing to accept the ribbing about the vegetables.

“Oh not unless Professor Shen can help me out here”.  zyl

They manage to get through a credible two minutes of conversation, then the old bastard produces an eggplant and a few zucchini with a wink. ZYL deeply regrets bringing his then boyfriend there and ever asking relationship advice that one time.

That old bastard

Shen Wei is bright red and trying to pretend he is above suggestive vegetables. ZYL’s mighty bravado is being tested.

ZYL still manages to ask SW out for coffee with some of his dignity intact

Da Qing is so busy laughing himself sick, he falls off a shelf. Blessedly out of view. He honors the long standing cat tradition of Pretending that didn’t happen and saunter out to introduce himself. and  Look okay DQ was also an older teenager when he met ZYL. Which is pretty obvious on a cat. Da Qing as a person hasn’t changed overly much, different hair and slightly older face. But where he once was a lanky adolescent he is a now a large black ball of fluff.  Still obviously himself to SW though.

SW will absolutely take that coffee date. Right now if you are so inclined

They just click. Coffee turns into a brief lunch and ZYL promising to call him, and leaving his own number on the table with a wink. Shen Wei has so many questions but is on cloud 9.

Zyl calls. Shen wei brings the mushroom dumplings.

Its getting dark before they realize it.

Shen Wei gets treated to the Suggestive Lollipop paired with a comment about eggplants. They are less than 10 minutes away from the teacher dormitories. He happy to comply

He makes it through breakfast the next day.

“ah shen wei shen wei how can I let you go”

ZYL is already having domestic fantasies wtf

Life is good, everything is perfect, it is the third date. Kunlun may not know him yet but he is beautiful and eager and SW feels like he’s floating.

They go on date number 3 and shen wei is smiling and then…

“I apologize talking so much about my research. What about you?”

ZYL is vague, but there is enough for Shen Wei to finally connect the dots.

It’s…. not good

Oh no. OH NO.  idiot he was, he had been firmly shoving down the faint niggling that he’d heard the name before, and the ring of uneasy that echoed faintly afterwards. But police and Zhao, and Zyl’s careful nonchalant evasiveness on the exact nature of his policework. ZYL is SID, Zhao Xinci’s son. Lao Chu at least hasn’t reported anymore of his people being shot while surrenign, but he hasn’t shown himself to actually view them as people either.

Oh This is Bad.

Also Shen Wei had been putting off meeting Kunlun for literally two years now. Two years has he known about ZYL and actively avoided him and why was this his life

Wow his stress levels are back through the roof. He manages to get off something polite about duties but he can feel the tightening in his shoulders and his smile is harder to summon than usual.  He manages to smooth over it, relax in his presence. This date is just as ridiculously perfect than the last. They just click and Shen Wei smiles and smiles and decides well the best way to judge a man’s character and to protect is to stay close to him. He’ll just have to be very very careful.

( he also is well aware those are paper thin excuses and the pulse of Kunlun at against his breastbone, just under the pendant is far closer to the actual reason)

He has yet to have an opportunity to meet with SID as HPS. Did he trace ZYL to work though? hell yes.

Well he gets one. It does not go fantastically. The stranger the Dixing power, the more the SID have always struggled them. This one involved an interesting skill involving animated ink, well fitting an aspiring career in graphic design, which might be more appealing if he wasn’t robbing rich houses in a fleet of foxes and weasels and animated clouds. Most witnesses assumed they were on an acid trip.

Zyl’s ass is saved from cartoon foxes by the grim reaper. This could have gone better. He doubles down on claiming the Dixingren so they can interrogate about robbery (and to save some face)

Shen Wei desperately does not want that. He does not want to have watch Kunlun kill one of his people

He drags Dixingren back to Dixing, gets him to cough up where the stuff is, finds the stuff, and then shows up at the sid to tell them where all the stuff is.

HPS:1 CZ; 0

ZYL is abruptly seeing why his father had referred to him as the thorn in his side.

He’s mildly delighted. But more annoyed than anything

The relationship remains tense but at least professional.

On it goes. They’re nearing two months when the hallows start to stir

But, Well its in excellent alibi for not being a murder because you were fucking him into the mattress when the murder occurred

Li Quan and Li Ruomei are his students. SWs visible upset over her death seems to fuel ZYL to capture the Dixing. Li Quan has the hallows. SW doesn’t want to call ZYL about explicitly Dixing things because he hasn’t been grilling him if Dixing were people. He fucking clocks it with a picture frame, gets Li Quan ahead of him and slams it hard enough with dark energy

Hps shows up to claim the Dixing, Professor Shen nominally went to make sure the building was clear (it was) and then to stay out of the way.

The 2nd dixing on campus (which had in cannon landed him with a heavy look of skepticism) does not try to kill him because she spots him kissing ZYL and realizes he is profoundly uninterested.

…

Shen Wei’s now in too deep

It works perhaps a little too well.  ZYL smiling at him from across the dinner table, kissing him, sleeping in his bed.

Shen Wei cannot trust him, not yet, not with his people

For HPS, ZYL’s careful veneer of schooled ease doesn’t waver. His eyes are cold.

The envoy is supposed to be honorable and dutiful, even when disagreeing with chief Zhao. Lying to him while sleeping with him would do just that. But Shen Wei is afraid.

 Standing there straddling the line,  waiting torn between hps and the prof. except he risks both by trying to reveal himself. If ZYL takes it badly, HPS coming to his bed and actively lying to him about who he was and what he was capable of. It could look a great many ways none of them good and SW definitely cannot come clean about the suspected Time Travel for fear of creating a paradox. In hindsight the best thing to do would have been to come clean immediately, or at least bring up his research on Dixing but he’s been studiously avoiding the topic. ZYL likely has no idea that SW is anything other or knows anything more than your average citizen. SW is very very fucked.

So he stands there. on a knife’s edge, or waiting for the boiling water to consumer him. He can't go forward but his heart, always too soft, won’t allow him to back away. He should, he knows. but he won’t. so eh waits with his heart and all his unspoken words caught in his throat to see which way Kunlun ZYL will turn.

#guardian #my stuff #been sitting on a word doc since 2021 doubt i will even fin enough to be happy posting elsewhere so fuck it have it #shen wei #zhen hun #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[krewssleuth]

# _ this is the crime kitchen after all.

ib:: their video (i work at a criminal kitchen) content:: murder, crimes, illegal stuff, it isn't as dark n very generic soo note:: first post let's go! (btw i'm still working on a better post design) help why was this so good?! why do 2am works turn out better than when i'm fully awake. also, i need to find proper ages for them to make it make sense.

The Killer ; Painting Rainbows

- An infamous 'alien hunter' in the community. Lunar knew of her as the head honcho in dealing of illegal items. Rainbow then got in touch with Funneh and thus got hired.

- She used to work at the sandwich store until the owner was arrested. Rainbow wasn't arrested due to the government wanting to hide the truth of aliens existance. She also harvests organs which are mainly hearts but doesn't tell how she got them so as to not get anyone else in trouble for her crimes, which I find pretty sweet (Rainbow being sweet is a canon event!)

The Knockout ; Golden Glare

- A fashionable ex-model, now hired at the Sandwich Store due to her ties with Rainbow. Gold knew her from school as Rainbow was called a 'lunatic' for believing that aliens exist. She didn't mind Rainbow as she found her quite 'normal' and understanding when it's just them two.

- She bought her fame, until one day her manager threatened to expose her. The man has helped her too much and demanded a higher pay. Gold being the greedy woman she was, declined and her manager launched at her with a knife. She was able to kill him out of defence, still traumatised by her actions, yet craving for more. The ex-model served her years for manslaughter, then losing her popularity.

The Mastermind ; Funneh Cake

- A young, avaricious money launderer who continued the business out of fun. Funneh hired Lunar, slowly bonding over time. After Funneh bought the place, she had Lunar and Draco invest in the Sandwich Store. She did find it strange that Gold and Rainbow wanted to work there but didn't question it much.

- She found out about the place from rumours that the place had 'aliens'. The thing that truly caught her interest was guns; a popular illegally-bought item. Who on Earth would buy alien bodies or human hearts? Some Science geek who is unafraid to get arrested? Funneh later got in touch with Draco, a man who could cover up their tracks when needed.

The Mule ; Lunar Eclipse

- A blood-thirsty money mule who knows too much about the dark web. Lunar had searched far and wide for quick cash, for unknown reasons. She was only a few years younger than Funneh, deciding then to be her money mule.

- She started off buying illegal items off of the dark web then selling it to classmates and schoolmates, making sure to make profit. She then crossed paths with Funneh while dealing in an alleyway, until Funneh hired her. Lunar found it strange but wanted the money, and since then they have become two peas in a pod.

The Silencer ; Draconite Dragon

- A quick-witted intelligencer that will do whatever it takes to protect his co-workers. Draco met Funneh through the heads of their respective crime families. She found him useful to the team, while he found her and the group interesting. Almost like he knew them, for a long a time. As though he had talked to them every day, had shared great memories with them, lived happily with the team of five.

- Draco is often at a nearby bar or library, eavesdropping on any information that the police knows about him and the others. He would of course report back to Funneh on anything urgent, not wanting to kill off too many people but still, he makes sure to get rid of any person that could risk the group's lives. The four women were very important to him. He never knew why but will never question his heart and soul.

[ Dyaa M_'s LOG Ended. ]

#dyaam #krew #krewfic #paintingrainbows #goldenglare #itsfunneh #lunareclipse #draconitedragon #crime kitchen au

[arisenreborn]

∞ Arisen & Pawn Character Introductions

Part 3 (of 3)!!! The long Q&A stuff for Emrys. Got pulled into telling stories instead of just answering the question again oops. (Part 1 || Part 2) [template]

1. What was their life like prior to being summoned by their Arisen?

Olivia is not 'his Arisen'. His Arisen was a man named Nikolai, who had lost his brother to the dragon - Emrys was named after that brother whom he resembled. This was the beginning of his life, and it was... decent. He traveled with Nikolai and his beloved, Lorraine, who was a skilled sorceress and childhood friend to both brothers. As it was, the relationship between the three was sometimes strained. They projected and deluded themselves at times into hoping Emrys was truly back, and other times resented him for not being what they deceived themselves into believing. One day he would be a cherished and beloved brother, others an accursed, empty vessel. On top of this, Nikolai had mixed feelings about his brother in life as well, often jealous of the other man. So he sometimes took his frustrations out on Emrys, never beating him or anything quite so extreme, but often making him their pack mule or asking him to do demeaning tasks, as if reaffirming to both of them that this was not his brother - or perhaps seeking to see his brother in misery. Other times, however, Nikolai would sit and talk with Emrys by the campfire, sharing the journey like a true comrade and brother. He'd tell him of his plans once they finally defeated the dragon; to wed Lorraine and have a dozen sons and daughters. "And you..." he would falter in his words, "you'll be an uncle to them." Emrys himself didn't always understand, but it was in those moments he felt a stirring in his breast, a hope that those days Nikolai spoke of would come to pass. Yet all things said and done, after some many months of traveling and preparing, they seemed close to finally confronting the dragon. Emrys, however, had begun to act very strangely. He began snapping back at Nikolai's cruelties, insulting them both and disobeying orders. He doesn't remember much about those days. They're caught between dream and nightmare for him; it was his first taste of freedom though, he remembers that. And he remembers coming at some point after; their campsite a ruin, bits and pieces of Nikolai and Lorraine spread to the winds, himself covered in blood and wounds. Thereafter he was changed. Between an incomplete (and uncertain) Bestowal of Spirit and the ravages of whatever precisely the dragonsplague did to him, he did indeed possess a spark of his own will - tainted, however, and far from being worth anything more than the discomfort of his soul. Not enough to act on with any real purpose, but enough to make him well aware of his own lacking and wrongness. For hundreds of years he roamed the world and the Rift, working alongside Arisen, mercenaries, bandits and soldiers. He came to see them all to be as lacking as he was. Selfish, self-serving, desiring only their own pleasures. He watched Arisen in other worlds die vain, useless deaths, or sacrifice their beloveds. Saw nobles sell daughters and wives, saw men trade men as slaves. Such a worthless, pitiful world it was. Still he found some pleasure in 'freedom'. In traveling, more or less, wheresoever he pleased so long as no damnable Arisen called upon him. In the comfort of ale or lovers, in finding treasure and having gold to call his own, in living, even a little. And then, one rueful day, he was caught under the power of the Godsway, and shipped off to the Battahli excavation site. And then, one damnable day there while working himself to the bone, the Arisen came along.

2. What is their opinion on the Arisen? How do they view their relationship?

He has a grudge against all Arisen, and any who would become the Arisen of his world most of all. He deeply resents the idea of being beholden to anyone or anything, and yet... He cannot deny a wretched part of him longs for it. Like a dog waiting for it's master, that part of his nature as a Pawn cannot be wholly denied. Which only makes him hate it all the more. As for Olivia? He put on the same act with her he would anyone else, of a simple pawn of simple joys. That's not entirely false after all, it is however just the surface layer. He resented her, but treated her fairly enough - though wherever possible he'd leave looking after her to other Pawns. It's only after Olivia comes to learn of his 'broken' nature that his opinion of her is given enough wiggle room to begin to grow. She is, in some ways similar to him; placed in positions she begrudges, wanting to do things others won't allow her - doing them anyway. (And he loathes her for that, too: the fact that she can.) It's a messy relationship, not helped by his contrary nature and reluctance to yield: because his contrariness is proof of his will, after all. Proof he's not entirely a lapdog wagging its tail for the good master. Unfortunately she's also a lot of fun to be around, indulges him in his pleasures, and is beautiful and great in bed and encourages his pursuit of freedom and self-hood to boot. He never really had a chance.

3. Is there anything about the Arisen they find troublesome? Be it a small quirk or bad habit? (Or are they obviously flawless?)

...So much. But mostly just the fact that she IS the Arisen. The 'trust' in their relationship goes through quite a few ups and downs; she has to learn to trust he won't lie to her, and he has to trust she won't abuse her power as Arisen over him. But sometimes she does; while it's not her first inclination, she will absolutely order him if the situation demands it, and he despises it, no matter how smart a call it may have been. (Her quirks and habits are largely things he shares like drinking too much and fucking around so alas those are [unfortunately for him] plus points for her they get to bond over.) ...And he supposes he thinks she should get more rest. And stop trying to 'prove herself' by putting herself in terrible danger all the time. And getting hurt. He supposes.

4. What is their specialization and is there any story behind how they cultivated that skill set?

He's a Logistician, which initially comes from being his former masters pack mule most of the time. Later, however, he served similar roles for soldiers and brigands alike, and it proved useful for various Arisen, so, it's just a skill that grew over time out of necessity and usefulness mostly. He does secretly take pride in a well-assembled and organized pack though.

5. Do they have any thoughts on the politics of the world and their place in it as a Pawn - or how Pawns are treated?

Oh, ample thoughts. More thoughts perhaps than your average pawn, though surely he's far from the only one (at least he desperately hopes so). The only reason Pawns are favored in Vermund after all is because the Arisen is favored in Vermund, and that is far from the case throughout the rest of the world. Thus, again, his 'status' depends entirely on the Arisen. He feels slightly 'apart' from his fellow pawns, which is uncomfortable for him, but doesn't see himself as above them at all, certainly not. He's a 'broken' pawn, after all, if anything he's beneath them. But he absolutely loathes how pawns are treated throughout much of the world and for the life of him avoided regions like Battahl as much as reasonably possible. There may be some part of him that 'hopes' for better, but it's so deeply buried beneath the mud of understanding how the world works and eagerly crushes people underfoot, he hasn't considered that in ages... Not until Olivia comes along, damn her.

6. Does their journey with the Arisen change them in any significant way and how?

Unfortunately. He finally starts to get a chance to be more honest, and as the bitterness and years of loathing and spite gradually begin to wash away, he... well, beneath all that he's still really depressed. He's broken, incomplete - a mess of a Pawn who murdered his former master, who still feels the ravages of the Dragonsplague and whatever it 'left' festering and rotting inside of him. He begins to fear the Dragonsplague as whispers of it begin to circulate again, which never happened before - it was a huge unknown back then, so that makes it somehow even more frightening now. And he has to come to terms with what that fear means, what freedom and losing control of himself means, what 'himself' means. It's easier some days to just lay in bed with Olivia and pretend there isn't a dragon looming over them. Bitterly ironic though, that: that his source of solace becomes the one person he (thought he) loathed the most. Eventually, he does start to grow though it though, beginning to trust and accept Olivia more - though he still absolutely has to throw some snark her way sometimes when he's feeling too sappy. (She can totally see through him and just teases him about it.)

7. Is there a reason they chose their preferred vocation?

Archery is just a great vocation for a guy who likes to travel around and be self-sufficient: he can forage for his own food, sell what he doesn't need, hire himself out with those skills. As for thieving, there's some allure to being able to disappear into the shadows and move about quickly and quietly. (Especially when he's working with thieves and brigands). For both he also likes the 'control' and 'freedom' of being able to maneuver around the battlefield as the situation and his assessment dictate, unlike being front-and-center all the time as a fighter might require, and he just has a slight aversion/difficulty with magic so that's not really for him.

8. Do they have any hobbies or preferred past-times?

Hunting, foraging, camping - pretty good for a pawn, huh? :'''D Yeah, he tries not to think about that too much. He genuinely enjoys being out in nature and seeing the world live and breath around him. On the flip side, despite whatever he may claim about disliking humans and their ilk, he enjoys the bustle of cities and the way they live and breath around him - and ideally, the way he can be apart of that. From drinking in taverns, laughing and telling jokes or even occasionally getting into a drunken brawl, it's nice to live in the moment and not have to think too deeply about anything. To forget who he is for a little bit. (Also visiting the bordelrie but he stays classy about it.) When Olivia tells him he needs to get better hobbies he takes offense, (especially when she's not much better) but eventually lands on bird watching. It's soothing, and asks him to stop and take his time, pay attention, and it gives him a sense of peace.

#character prompts. #oc: emrys (pawn) #em has encountered The Dragon via other Arisen and i think probably remembers slightly more than most pawns seem to #when they return from Big Spoiler Content #but what he lacks in clear memory he has very strong emotional impressions of #most notably: extreme dissatisfaction

[firebloodanddragons]

OF DRAGONS AND LAMBS - CHAPTER 3 (AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER)

Chapter Summary: Aemond has a duty to his family. You have a duty to your husband. And you both shall obey despite your clear reluctance or the nascent attraction you might feel for each other. But the fire of passion is quick to grow and not easy to extinguish.

Tags for this chapter: Slow Burn / Sexual Tension/ Protective! Aemond/ Orgy / Prostitution/ Violence / /!\ S*xual Assault / Explicit Language

Author’s notes: This chapter contains explicit sexual content. Please read the tags carefully before reading this chapter! Thank you.

[CHAPTER 1]  [CHAPTER 2]  

CHAPTER 3: A STREET OF SILK, RATS AND DRAGONS

           Prince Aemond was never fond of festivities. Even before having his eye taken by his nephew and thus before becoming the main subject of gossips in court for a while, he used to find them not only boring but pointless, preferring the comfort of his chambers or even the quietness of the library where he could find peace and tranquillity. The prince was a lonely soul, always had been. And if  he used to think that loneliness miserable and unfair as a child, now he thrived in it. The second son saddened to be rejected and ignored by his father and the young uncle pained to be spurned by his nephews was no more, buried in the embers of his fiery hatred, or so he liked to believe.       But Aemond knew his duty and his responsibilities, all the values bound to royalty. They had been taught to him even before he knew what it meant to be a prince of Westeros or the second in line to the throne -his mother Alicent had made sure of it- and he had embraced them without thinking twice even if they meant making sacrifices. Behave like a prince. Obey your king. Respect and protect your family. Honour your wife. Have faith in the Seven. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Keep your Valyrian blood pure. Aemond snickered as he stared at the deep red colour of the wine in his cup. That rule was of no importance now, wasn’t it? Since tomorrow he would fly to Storm’s End and choose one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters to be his wife. A demand from his grandfather the Hand that displeased him possibly as much as the feast he was attending.           The Baratheons were no Valyrian. They didn’t look Valyrian, not even a little bit. They were tall, of course, but often massive and disproportioned. Their hair was always thick and black and in harmony (if we could call this harmony) with their dull dark eyes and their grotesque and rough features. They had nothing Aemond deemed beautiful or to his taste. And he was not thrilled to conceive heirs that would look like mules or worse like his aunt Rhaenys. A dragon and a stag do not suit each other. If anything, the dragon eats the stag.   “I don’t know about you, brother. But I fancy lamb tonight.” Aegon whispered to Aemond’s ear as he stood up to reach a jug of wine and fill his empty cup.   Aemond was no fool and he knew his big brother. When he said he wished to eat lamb, he didn’t mean actual lamb. He meant the ravishing young lady dressed in pale green and sitting quietly next to her husband. He meant you.         “Although I don’t mind a lion as well. Oh, and an apple to stay healthy.” And a Lannister and a Fossoway then. “Do you wish to join us? We’re meeting in the street of silk, away from prying eyes. I haven't been there in ages but I believe it is the perfect place to celebrate and get it wet as you might agree.” Aegon laughed as he grasped tightly his young brother’s shoulder. But Aemond remained as stoic as ever. "Besides, I'm king now. I can't be seen in Flea Bottom anymore... Did you know there's a tunnel in the Red Keep that leads straight to Chataya's brothel?"       “No, I didn't and no, I do not wish to join you. I'd rather leave you to your depravity, brother.”         “Oh please, Aemond. Don’t be such a prude twat. I invited the Stokeworth girl just for you.” “For me? What do you mean?”         “Oh please, I've heard about your time alone with her in your chambers.” He winked salaciously. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to put your sword in her tight warm sheathe once more.”     “Not that it is your concern, brother, but I did not sheathe any sword.”       Aegon’s eyes widened and he sat on the table to stare at his brother incredulously. He wanted to know more. “Really. How come? She’s a beautiful creature. I would have not hesitated.”   “The creature is married. I do not think Lord Rosby would agree that a man defile his wife.”           “Oh, but he did.” Aegon laughed in his cup and Aemond frowned at him, unsure to understand. “She’s my coronation gift, a sign of good faith from House Rosby.”   Lord Rosby was not always honourable but he was proud. Surely, he would not have offered his wife willingly or without blackmail. Aegon must have threatened him or promised him something he could not refuse in exchange. Aemond was sure of it.       “So, no need to worry, brother. No one is defiling anything. It is freely given.”         “She.” Aemond corrected between his teeth. “What?”           “What about Helaena?” The second son asked as a masked attempt at making his brother reconsider his lustful plans. “Do you want Helaena to join us?” Aegon was shocked but he didn’t seem to have any objection.           “My king, it is time for your dance.” Otto Hightower said as he grabbed Aegon by the shoulder like a child he was tired of and snatched his cup.         “But I don’t like to dance!”         “Aegon.” Aemond whispered contemptuously        

***

           It was very late. The full and silvery moon was high in the sky and the cackling of poultry wandering the streets had long stopped, replaced by the squeaks of rats and thundering voices of the drunkards celebrating the coronation of the new king in the streets .   You were not accustomed to this kind of foul place. Stokeworth was not a seat that was famous for its debauchery and your father had always made sure that you never go beyond the castle walls. Dirty streets reeking of ale, piss and shit. Alehouse and brothels. All these were new to you. And yet, despite the stench and the obvious danger that animated the Street of Silk, you smiled, finding a certain joy and amusement in seeing free-spirits enjoying life as if there would be no tomorrow.         “We’re here.” The guard who had escorted you from the Red Keep said as he stopped in front of a large wooden gate. You looked at the establishment. It was two stories tall with a stone ground floor and a timber upper floor. There was no window, at least none with a view on the street, certainly to preserve privacy, and over the door swung an ornate lamp of gilded metal and scarlet glass, common to all the whorehouses of Rhaenys’ Hill you had seen on your way here. The guard knocked on the door and the leaded peep window opened to reveal a pair of wary and piercing blue eyes that immediately frowned at your escort and then at you with an intensity that made you look down.   “A golden dragon loves silk.” The guard said and the door opened.     Wrapped in your cloak, your face hidden under the hood, you stepped into the brothel with caution and the door closed immediately behind you. You jumped a bit and turned around only to see that the man who accompanied you was gone.       The knot in your stomach that hadn’t stopped growing since your husband had announced you that King Aegon had requested you here in Chataya’s brothel tightened even more and you put your hands over your belly to soothe the pain. The blue-eyed woman noticed and smiled kindly.     “Perhaps the lady would like something to calm her down.”           There was pity in her voice. It was meant to comfort you, you were sure. But it had the opposite effect. That woman run this establishment. She knew what was expecting you in one of these rooms. So the pity in her voice only confirmed what you already knew; you would not enjoy your night here.     “The golden dragon is upstairs, waiting in the Turret Room. Follow me.”  

She led you to a round turret (hence the name of the room) that rose from the corner of the main hall and you followed her up the stairs. There was an odour of spice in the air and it was growing stronger with every step you took. It wasn’t so unpleasant but it tickled your nose. “It’s to cover the smell of sweat.” The Madam said. It was amazing how easily she could read people’s body but it was certainly part of her job.     Once upstairs, you reached a long corridor that led to a lone gilded door that didn’t look like any others and for a moment you stopped. You could hear the lewd moans and the growls coming from the room behind that door, sounds of pleasure that disgusted you.   You wanted to go back. You wanted to ask your husband to reconsider, to find another arrangement with the King. But you hadn’t succeeded in reasoning with him before so why would you succeed now? Surely, he would send you back here himself and make your night here even worse. “I know I am not supposed to say this to a lady but…” The Madam looked for your eyes under your hood. “It is clear from your reluctance that you won’t enjoy this. So, the best you can do, for your own sake, is to make it quick.” You met the blue-eyed woman’s compassionate look with stoicism, refusing to let her see your apprehension. “Let the King do his thing. From what I remember, he is not one who lingers.” She drew a long white tissue from behind her leather belt and offered it to you. “You’re a strong woman I can tell, but you might need this. If not for your tears then for something else.” You accepted it with a thankful nod and she opened the golden door.

A pale but thick smoke was floating in the room. Jasmin and lilies were burning in a large bowl, their perfume sweet but strong enough to cover the odour of the sweaty naked bodies intertwined on the large canopied bed or on the carpeted floor.   There were seven of them; four women (two of them were whores) and three men. Among them, you recognised Queen Helaena’s ladies in waiting, Lady Jane Lannister and Lady Genevieve Fossoway whom you had met earlier. The former was lying on the mattress, nude like everyone else in this room, showing her red fleshy arse that bore visible handprints to a man who was wanking his manhood behind her while she had King Aegon’s shaft in her mouth. He clearly enjoyed her affection as it seemed he had forgotten the presence of Lady Jane who was kneeling by his side, her small breasts aching to be touched.         “Your grace, your last guest arrived.” The Madam announced before leaving you but Aegon didn’t listen, his mind focused on the pleasure Lady Genevieve was giving him. Only the third man sitting on an armchair drinking wine with two whores on his laps did.   He was blond and he had big blue eyes that resembled Lady Jane’s and for a moment you wonder if the man wasn’t Jason Lannister, her cousin.   “I thought his grace had invited his brother the prince.” The man said as he got up to approach you, curious to see your body hidden under your cloak. You looked back at him, trying to ignore his erected sex pointing towards you. “That is definitely not Prince Aemond.” “A shame. I’ve always wanted to taste a prince’s cock.” One of the whores giggled.     “Come here I’ll let you taste a king’s cock. It’s even better.” Aegon declared, probably tired of Lady Genevieve’s devotion that he rejected when, with a single hand, he pushed her away from him and let her mouth be taken by the lord behind her who decided it was his turn to use it.         The young king staggered to the whore and with a clumsy hand he grabbed the jug of wine she kept in between her thighs to fill the first cup he found. Without saying a word, the girl took Aegon’s cock in her hand and brought it to her mouth to suck it greedily.                             “Aemond has always been an honourable cunt. He is not betrothed yet but he has already sworn faithfulness to his bronze hind.” Aegon said between two mouthfuls of the red alcohol and you frowned at the news of Prince Aemond’s betrothal. “I thought bringing the Stokeworth girl here would amuse him and help him loosen up a little but he seems to like the stick in his arse.”         “Stokeworth, huh? As in the wife of that good old Lord Lorys Rosby? You know your husband praised you a lot, my lady. Let’s see what you’re hiding under all these clothes.” The Lannister man said as he tried to reach out for the lace of your cloak. But you slapped his hand away.   Puzzled, he stared at you, refusing to believe you had dared reject him and hit him but before he could say anything, you spoke. “My husband sent me here to please the king. Therefore, I shall do what my king wishes, not you.” The blond man turned to Aegon but he ignored him, too busy to shove his manhood in the warm humid throat of the whore kneeling at his feet, his hands in the soft black locks of her hair. “This is absurd.”                      

***

           Until yesterday, Aemond never thought he would see those blue eyes again. The eyes of the woman Aegon had paid to take his virginity. And yet here they were again, staring at him with a hint of pride and amazement for the second time in two days.         She had grown older and fatter since the day she had dropped her silk dress in front of him but the kindness and comfort she had given Aemond on that day still shone in her ocean eyes.     “I didn’t expect you, young prince.” She smiled as she eyed at him from head to toes. How he had grown and what a fine handsome man he had become. “When the King said you might be joining him, I had a few doubts.” “I am not here to join my brother. I heard he might have invited a young lady to his … obscene celebration. I am here for her. She shouldn’t be here.”     “The king has invited a few ladies upstairs, your grace. You might want to describe the one you are looking for with more details.” She told him although she had an idea of the young woman he was looking for.         “She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t fit here. She looks small and innocent like a lamb but …”         “In her eyes burns a fire who could seduce a dragon.” She interrupted him and smirked lightly. “You still enjoy the same girls you liked when you were thirteen, I see.”   Embarrassed, Aemond looked down and for a moment he remembered his thirteenth nameday. How Aegon had put a cloak on his shoulder and brought him here. The sweat on his nervous hands when his brother had explained the purpose of this place. “Time to get it wet, little brother.” How he had mumbled a faint “you” when the Madam had asked him which of her “daughters” he wished to lie with. How soft and gentle her touch had been on his nervous hand as she had led him to one of the rooms upstairs and later on when she had stopped him from removing his clothes. “You don’t want to do that, young prince.”         “Where is she?” “With your brother the king, in the Turret Room. I am sure you remember the way.” Aemond let out a “Mmh” and quickly walked up the stairs that led to the room in which he had been escorted to six years ago. He crossed the corridor, ignoring the lustful and seductive gazes of the whores waiting for a client in their dresses of silk and once he reached the gilded door of the Turret Room and heard all the lewd noises coming from inside, he opened it with no hesitation, ready to spoil his brother’s fun.    

Aemond knew what to expect when he turned the knob – and even before, when staring at the flames in his chimney, he took the decision to come here. He had anticipated the orgy, the debauchery, the naked bodies mewling and roaring in pleasure and the alcohol flowing like water because he knew Aegon and his tastes. But what Aemond had not expected was to see you struggling on the mattress to keep your pale green dress on and your legs clenched while trying to push Lord Tyland Lannister away from you.       “Let go of me!” You ordered through your gritted teeth as you kept shaking your head to avoid the man’s kisses. Aemond could have intervened right here. His right hand itched him to seize the dagger strapped to his waist and to end this abuse with a swing of his blade. But he refused to give in to his temper, not out of fear of consequences (even if losing the Lannisters’ support would be a catastrophe for his family right now) but out of wrong fascination.     Standing in the doorway, a firm grasp on the handle of his dagger, he admired your resilience and your courage, how you were stubbornly fighting to preserve your dignity despite the undeniable strength of your enemy. You reminded him so much of him when he was a child, when there was a time his family thought he was weak enough to be beaten to the blood without a fight.   “You want it rough, huh? You want the lion to tame you?” Tyland Lannister growled before he finally managed to catch your lips and shove a hand in between your thighs.         Fuming, Aemond unsheathed his dagger but before he could do anything else, you dug your nails in your assailant’s face ready to tear a piece of his flesh. Your mouth muffled the man’s scream of pain before he eventually tried to back off, his face now bearing the traces of a deep and bloody scratch that would take days if not weeks to properly heal. But you were clearly not done fighting and as he attempted to get up you bit his lower lip as hard as possible to make him bleed.     “You fucking bitch! It hurts!”     “You found yourself a wild one, Tyland!” Aegon laughed at him and the man brought a hand to his face to ease the pain you had inflicted him, cursing you using all the insults he knew. But then he saw the blood on his fingers and his wrath burst, calling him to take his revenge.             He grabbed the glass jug and smashed it on the table and, with what remained of it, he threatened to hit you. You squealed and hid your face behind your arm, eyes closed but ready to get hurt, knowing there was no way for you to avoid this.         “Enough!” Aemond roared as he firmly grabbed the blond man’s arm and instantly tightened his grip to make him understand he would not hesitate to crush his bone like dried leaves.             You opened your eyes, astonished to see the Prince standing before you, protecting you.   “Brother!!! I knew you would come. Perhaps, you could show Lord Tyland how a dragon takes a lamb.” Aegon’s excitement was not to his little brother’s taste who met his grinning face with a fiery glare that could have melt the thickest of ice.   And suddenly the orgy was no more and everyone in the room was quiet, staring at the unpredictable young prince with fear, even Aegon who had never seen his little brother in a rage like that.     Aemond eyed at all of them, his disgust for their depravity and dishonour reflecting in his purple eye and then with a swiftness and strength you didn’t foresee, he grabbed you, lifted you up and threw you above his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. You gasped but you did not protest, still shaken by what had just happened. And somehow you knew you would be safer with the one-eyed prince than with any of these people.

           Aemond carried you out of the brothel without saying a word but right there on his shoulder you could sense how his anger was still boiling inside of him. His body was awfully tensed. His strong arm around your thighs was holding you so tightly it could crush your legs and his gait was fast and determined.                     You knew it would not be a good idea to talk right now even if you desperately wanted to ask him to put you down, so you remained silent and obedient until he decided to release you.           He sat you down on the edge of a well, in the middle of an empty tiny square, away from the hustle and bustle of the Street of Silk and silently plunged a wooden bowl in a bucket filled with water to offer it to you. The gesture was kind and caring but it was still full of anger and violence. You thanked him nevertheless and delicately reached for the cup. Your hands still trembled, an after-effect of your assault in the Turret room that Aemond noticed. So he looked down the well, lost in the memories of the brothel, imagining what could have happened if he hadn’t intervened. And he remained like this for a moment until the words he had kept to himself for so long finally came out. “Did he hurt you?” He asked without even looking at you and your eyes fell on his young face he was desperately trying to conceal under his hood.         You shook your head and whispered. “No. I am in one piece … thanks to you, my prince.” And he finally dared acknowledge your presence by his side.           “It was stupid of you to go there.”           “I didn’t have the choice. It was my husband’s request.”   “Then it is your husband who is stupid.” He spat. “What did he think sending you to this brothel? As if a lamb like you had her place out of the pen and especially in the Street of Silk in the arms of lustful drunkards.” “I think he knew what would happen to me in there but he obeys his king.” You drank a mouthful of water, wondering if you should say more. “And I am not afraid of lustful drunkards.”       Aemond smirked briefly. “Yes, I saw your courage. You were very brave.”     “It wasn’t courage.”       “Then what was it?”       “Self-preservation.” You corrected. “As you said I am a lamb out of the pen.” You joked even if you didn’t like the comparison and the prince chuckled, impressed there was still a laugh left in you after such a traumatic experience. Most ladies would be on the ground crying right now but you remained sturdy like a mountain in the wind. Your unusual strength was remarkable but Aemond couldn't help but wonder what hardship had made such a frail lady like you so incredibly strong.           “Then perhaps you should follow me back to the Red Keep and leave this foul place.”         “Follow a dragon? With all due respect, my prince, I am not sure it is a good idea. After all it’s a dragon who brought me here.”         “You’d rather stay among the rats? Be my guest.” He sounded serious, so serious you weren’t certain his words were intended to be sarcastic. After all, he didn’t seem to be the kind of man who had a sense of humour. His features  were always either cold or showing haughtiness.   “Rats, dragons … Honestly I don’t know what’s more dangerous.” You finally said.   “Dragons obviously.”     “I beg to disagree.” Aemond immediately frowned at you. He didn’t like your disagreement and it was certainly because he wasn’t used to being contradicted. He was a prince after all, and a formidable one. But you remained unyielding and continued. “When a dragon enters a room you see it, we both know it. Your aunt Rhaenys proved it this afternoon. But rats get in without being noticed. You realise they were here only when they’re gone. They could steal from you, bite you in your sleep and you wouldn’t find them… Rats are sneakier than dragons.” You quoted the prince with a cheeky smile and Aemond’s frown immediately faded to give way to a timid yet joyful smirk. You could tell he was happy that you finally remembered him and your encounter when you were kids but for some reasons, he chose to act as if what you said did not matter.             “Hurry. It is late and we should not wander here. You could use some sleep after what happened and so do I for tomorrow morning I shall fly to Storm’s End.”

You nodded, hopped off the edge of the well and quickly arranged your dress. You were ready to follow Aemond but then you noticed that the Targaryen prince hadn't moved an inch. In fact, he was standing still before you and you could feel his eye on your body clearly lingering on the parts your hands had just touched.           It should have made you feel uncomfortable. You even thought you were for second but you quickly realised that your heart pounding in your chest and your sudden refusal to look up at him were not signs of discomfort but signs of shyness.         “Your heart is racing.” Aemond declared and a blush rose to your cheeks. Did he just look at your chest? You instantly wrapped yourself in your cloak to hide it, finding the situation indecent. If your husband knew ... “I suppose my … look … make you uncomfortable. I understand why. It is not the most ravishing.”           Your eyes widened, horrified, and you urgently looked up at him. You didn’t want him to believe something wrong. “No, my prince. It doesn’t.” You mumbled.           “Then why do you look down like that?” His dark lilac iris was shining like the most beautiful jewel in the moonlight but it was as piercing as a blade, as if Prince Aemond was trying to cut your mind open to see what you were hiding from him right now. You knew Targaryens were special, even magical, and you hoped dearly they didn’t have that kind of power. The last thing you wanted was for the Prince to see the real reason why you had looked away and cover yourself, that for a short moment he had made you feel desirable in a way any other man not even your husband ever could.     “I find you intimidating.” You finally said. It wasn’t a lie but it still could be considered as one.     “Do you? You didn’t seem intimidated in my chambers this afternoon.”     You were silent again. Only this time there was no looking away. There was just you and Prince Aemond and an exchanged gaze that could melt the entire North. And it felt weird. Weird but excruciatingly amazing. Empowering yet debilitating. You could feel the fire in his eye consuming you, devouring you from within. But it was not painful. It was enchanting, thrilling even, like an unexplainable force pushing you to embrace the flames and let them warm your skin. Was it what people called ��passion’? “Do I make you feel uncomfortable again?”         You shook your head and attempted to say “no” but the word got stuck in your throat and became a moan that awoke the dragon Prince Aemond kept dormant behind his cold mask.

His fingers grabbed your chin and he pushed you against the well, making you gasp and hold on to him. His strong body pressed against yours and he felt the fire within him grow and tickle just like his manhood in his pants now so close to your sex. Aemond thought about how easy it would be, to just untie his trousers, pull up your dress and shove his hardening cock inside of you to feel the warm tightness of your cunt. But when he saw his hands on your waist and with them the images of Tyland Lannister forcing himself on you, he reconsidered and eased his grasp. A lady like you should not be treated like a mere whore. So his hand slid up to your face which was so soft and delicate against his rough fingertips, like the young petals of a rosebud, and with his thumb he brushed the corner of your lips, almost like he did this afternoon. However this time, his mouth - just like his vigorous body - was so much closer. It was so close actually he could almost feel the texture and the warmth of the pink flesh that he desperately wanted to claim with his own lips.   Aemond closed his eyes and let his spirit wander towards a world in which he would not hesitate to do all the inappropriate and lustful things he wanted to do right. He imagined your lips, so wet and so hot against his, your fleshy tongue caressing his, your small hands in his long hair and your legs tightly wrapped around his waist as he devoured your mouth like an apple given to a starving man.         But then you talked and broke the enchantment. The voice of reason he needed to hear.     “I heard they are quite beautiful.”           He opened his eyes and looked at you, puzzled. “What are you saying?”           “The Four Storms, Lord Borros’ daughters. I know why you’re going to Storm’s End.” You whispered and the prince let go of you. The reality was brutal. “Your family is sending you to a make a marriage pact with Lord Borros in order to gain the support of House Baratheon and annul the oath Boremund Baratheon made to Princess Rhaenyra, am I right?”   Aemond sighed, disappointed to have this conversation right now, but then replied. “They’re sending me because I own the largest and most impressive dragon in all Westeros. Surely, you’ll agree a dragon is more persuasive than a raven.”       “So is a Targaryen prince who is still to be betrothed.” You retorted. “You’re too clever for your own good, my lady.” He smiled a bit. He genuinely liked that about you.         “No, your brother the King happens to talk too much when he is drunk, that is all.” Aegon, of course. “What else did that fool say?”         “The King actually praised your faithfulness to your future fiancé.” You found a bizarre reluctance to say the word but you immediately chose to ignore the feeling.     “To Aegon, faithfulness is anything but a quality.” “Yes, I have noticed. I am so sorry for your sister, Helaena. She seems very kind.”     “My sister does not deserve a husband like Aegon. But it was my family’s wish to marry her to him.” “As it is their wish to marry you to a Baratheon.” Aemond didn’t like you for bringing back the subject for two reasons. One, he hated to be reminded he had to wed a plain-featured Baratheon girl. Two, this conversation on marriage pacts had dragged him away from a solace he wished would have never stopped. But you seemed as bitter as he was right now, so he would not blame you. “It is my duty as prince.” And duty means sacrifice, he thought in a voice that sounded terribly like his mother’s. “You don’t seem to enjoy it.”       “Do you know any duty that is enjoyable, my lady?”         You didn’t need to think about the answer. “No, I do not… Although, my husband said many times that there is not a more enjoyable duty than the duty to conceive an heir. Perhaps you will like that.”         Aemond was surprised by your familiarity and your sudden intrusion. Only Aegon, his brother, dared to talk to him about the pleasure of the flesh, most of the time providing graphic details Aemond didn’t wish to hear about. “Sorry, my prince. It was highly inappropriate.” You apologized when you noticed his astonishment.       “Do you? … Enjoy the duty to conceive an heir?” After your lack of decency, you found the question more than fair so you politely answered with all the honestly and prudishness you could muster. “I believe it is only enjoyable when you are a man. But you may know that already.” “Why would you say that?”         “Isn’t the pleasure of the flesh the reason why you came to that brothel?”     No.

[CHAPTER 4]    

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aegon ii targaryen #of dragons and lambs

[unusual-raccoon]

🔥Dunkegg NSFW ficlet🔥 below the cut (warnings; omegaverse, omegas have pussies, size difference, size kink, cunnilingus, squirting, underage, come swallowing, rimming, DLDR, takes place during The Sworn Sword)

He needed a drink. The heat in the Reach had drawn the moisture out of everything of late.

What water they had to drink was sweated out in an instant. Baked away under the glare of the sun. Oft the boy whined at the sight of withered-up melons dying on the vine.

Whole orchards sagged, browning under the scorching heat.

Even Dunk had omitted the need for heavy plate mail in the current climate. He kept his longsword upon his hip, his painted oaken shield upon his back, and his squire by his side.

"You're sweating," Egg noted rather unhelpfully as Maester and Thunder were left to graze on brittle chutes of grass.

"I hadn't noticed," Dunk grumbled sourly, wiping a broad palm down the sheen of sweat upon his face. The soil greedily drank up the droplets of perspiration.

The boy offered a skin of water, the contents as tepid as the humid air. Dunk felt the lining of his mouth plump up, resuscitated - his tongue is once more reminiscent of flesh than leather after a reserved sip. He moaned, and the sound shot through his nose.

The boy squirmed beside him in his floppy sun hat.

“Go on,” Dunk says to the boy, handing off the waterskin. Forcing himself to be oblivious in the face of apple blossoms and sweet smoke dripping into the air. The boy smells more alive than anything in this sun-bitten stretch of land.

"We should conserve our water, ser. I'm not thirsty."

The boy blinks back at him with owlish eyes.

"Drink," He says firmly, "I won't have you die because you're as stubborn as your mule."

Somehow Egg's pink little moue pulls into a smile. His bare little feet wiggle, watching as Maester flicks a long, irritable ear while chewing.

While Dunk sweats out his weight in water, the boy revels in this miserable heat, just as in Dorne. A little dragon he may be, but even dragons needed sustenance.

Egg takes a small sip, his lips moistened. With careful little hands, hands that had grown used to scouring rust from Dunk's weapons and armor, the boy corks the flask and hands it back.

"Thank you, ser." He murmurs from beneath his floppy sun hat.

It had been some time since they had sworn their steel to the lord of Standfast, Ser Eustace Osgrey. Currently, they have two large casks of wine tied to Maester's back.

It had been trouble enough procuring the wine, but returning it? That would be no easy victory. Dunk was of a mind to agree with his mouthy little squire; far be it for him to let the boy know, the validation might go straight to his bald little head. Water was a scarcity they needed to preserve.

It had been only an hour since they had paused for a drink, and already his throat ached dry.

A breeze drifts by, as lifeless as all else around them. It sticks lukewarm to the sweat upon his nape and back and brings the scent of apple blossoms and sweet smoke from behind, where Egg guides Maester by his lead. The boy bobs along contentedly, sun hat upon his bald head, one bare foot in a stirrup.

Dunk's tongue fattens with the dribble of his own saliva, thick and unbidden.

He swallows, yet it does little to quench his thirst.

He is not wont to linger in this heat.

With each plodding step Thunder takes, Dunk tells himself he and the boy will enjoy a refreshing dip in the stream upon their return to Standfast. A reward for their leal service.

But the stream is far off, and few things could suffice in its stead in such weather.

They pass another orchard, filled with pear trees mostly. Sagging, sad pear trees. They smell of sweet rot.

The scent of apple blossoms and sweet smoke doesn't fade. It is potent in the cloying air, like ripened, succulent fruit made for biting into.

Dunk wipes at the moisture that drips viscous from his drooling mouth; it seems a ludicrous waste of precious liquid.

"Ser," The boy calls, "Maester is very tired."

Dunk is not wont to linger in this heat, yet he must.

They unload their cargo to bring the stubborn mule some relief, if only for a time. The boy coos, rubbing a fond hand between the mule's long ears.

They linger in the sparse shade provided by the gray, sunbleached limbs of trees.

It is a miserable period while the animals rest; it is only worsened when the boy sits beside him, bare feet knocking together.

"You're...drooling." Egg notes rather unhelpfully.

"I hadn't noticed," Dunk replies sourly. His squire blinks at him with round, knowing eyes.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Ser?"

He is a knight, a man of staunch morals...

"Yes," Dunk croaks, throat dry.

The boy grins, far too clever for his own good.

Within an instant, Dunk hauls the boy to standing between his widespread thighs. Egg's roughspun trousers are tangled around his bony little ankles. His round, pale bottom sticks out in invitation.

Egg's scent is most potent there, dripping like nectar between the downy lips of his quim.

He whimpers, and the sound is sweeter than summer rain in Dunk's ears.

Dunk's nose presses against the boy's slit, nostrils flaring to take in as much musky sweetness as he can. It floods his olfactory senses and softens his mind. Primality within him yearns.

The tip of his nose is replaced by his tongue. He groans deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest as the sumptuous taste of apple blossoms and sweet smoke pools in his mouth.

Egg whines through his teeth. The little submissive arch of his back deepens.

Narrow hips urge back against Dunk's tongue, the length of which is saturated in slick -- fresh slick.

Sticky, sweet nectar glides down his throat.

He chases the taste from the tiny nub of the boy's pearl to the snug pucker of his rear.

He is ignorant to the heat, ignorant to the discomfort of a knight's aches and pains, ignorant to anything that wasn't tight and wet flexing around his tongue.

Little hands fumble to spread his plump little quim apart. The tiny pink hole winks at the Alpha, veritably pleading for the length of his tongue once more.

He presses his tongue back inside with a growl. He sups on all the boy has to offer and drinks deeply until he cannot remember the stream he wished to swim in.

"A-ah," Egg cries out, hips bouncing more avidly than they did in a saddle.

You ride my tongue better than you do your precious Maester, Dunk told himself as he squeezed at the boy's rear in silent encouragement.

"Ser, I'm going to," His breathing catches as a broad thumb blindly gives a few coarse rubs to the boy's bud. Skinny white thighs spasm.

Dunk doesn't cease the deep, curling probes of his tongue. He gorges himself on the boy's slick.

Egg tenses briefly before a fresh stream of Omegan slick gushes into Duncan's open mouth.

He laps away with broad, indulgent strokes of his tongue. Each pass traverses supple, pasty white skin.

Egg squirms, huffing out overstimulated whines.

"Too much..." The boy whimpers.

Dunk takes and takes until his mewling squire has nothing left to give. He feels the lack of fresh slick beneath his tongue, skin that tastes like the flesh of a melon consumed down to the bitter rind.

He remembers himself soon enough and reluctantly pulls his mouth away from the boy's puffy little quim.

He watches, somewhat forlorn, as that tiny pink hole winks at him once more.

He rises from his spot in the shade beneath the gray, sunbleached limbs of trees.

"We shouldn't delay any longer, Ser Eustace will be expecting us."

"Yes, ser." The boy murmurs, words vaguely slurred.

He turns to find his squire with his pasty white face tinged red. His pretty, little cunny is as bald as his head, glistening with spit.

The boy wobbles about with boneless legs before Duncan takes pity on the poor thing.

With a single hand, he plops the boy onto Thunder's saddle.

Egg hides a bashful look beneath his sunhat as Dunk walks beside the large destrier. One hand on the hilt of his sword, the other upon Maester's reins.

"Are you still thirsty, ser?" Egg asks a short while into their trek. In his hands is their waterskin. His little bare feet don't reach the stirrups.

Dunk eyes the skin and the slight turn of the boy's mouth.

"No," he says simply. Egg grins at him atop Duncan's horse, very pleased with himself.

In truth, Dunk is not eager for a drink to wash the taste from his mouth -- sweeter than summer rain.

#my writing #my ficlet #dunkegg #dunk x egg #dunk & egg #ser duncan the tall #aegon v targaryen