#besides widow and raven
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⋆ So....I was scrolling through Instagram the other day and I saw one those fav character charts, and I thought it would be fun to make my own! ⋆
⋆ Poptropica mutuals, tell me about your favs, not just your main favs, your side favs! I will include the transparent version below, and my explanation to my choices down below if you are interested! I'm interested to see your choices. ⋆
⋆ Tada! Have fun! ⋆
⋆ Now, an explanation to my choices: ⋆
⋆ Your Favorite: Director D ⋆
I think it's no surprise to ANYONE that knows me that Director D has always been my favorite, since day 1. There was a moment where he was almost replaced by Binary Bard, but he is a close second. Director D is my favorite because he is associated to my nostalgia of a time when I was obsessed with being a spy or ninja when I was a kid. (Spy kids may have played a BIG role in that.) Playing as an agent in that island was so exciting for me, but I do remember having trouble with certain parts like the decoder. (In hindsight I probably would be horrible spy XD.) Now that I'm older, his island is still one of my favs for that reason, but it's not my number one. I wish we could have gotten a bit more backstory for him, but, what can you do. (But create a backstory for him and I have.)
⋆ You Relate To: Black Widow ⋆
Black widow is a character I don't really talk about or draw like....ever, which is crazy because she's probably the character I relate to the most, just like many other artist do too I'm sure. I relate to her in the way of being jealous of other people's art success, and the constantly comparing yourself to others. They say you are your worst critic after all. I don't so much anymore. I'm actually proud of where I am in my art journey, but I used to do that a lot when I was younger, especially when I just started doing digital art.
You won't catch me stealing or ruining other people's art though... girl what-
⋆ Your Favorite Design: Ringmaster Raven ⋆
Look at him, 'nuff said. His design is amazing. I love the color palette, the mask used to cover his true look, the raven theme with the wings and mask, the hat with eyes, everything. His design is the best because it matches with the overall theme of the island, it being a MONSTER CARNIVAL, and he is the Ringmaster. I remember how hipped I was when his island trailer released. One of the best islands for sure.
⋆ Is Underrated: Count Bram⋆
Yeah, remember when I was constantly drawing him for a short period of time? It's for a reason. I love my vampire peepaw who's confused about everything. I'm curious, do people consider him a villain? I kind of don't for the reason that he kidnapped Katya because he thought she was Anabelle, and once he was cured and was bought back to reality, he apologized for it because he didn't know. You want to talk about villain? Christopher is the real villain, you can't change my mind. Anyway, I was looking at the old art I drew of him, and he looked familiar to me. Then it all came together. You know who he reminds of? Exactly? Simon Petrikov, you know, Ice King from Adventure Time? Not only do they have the same hair style and would have the same personality, but they were both humans at some point with a partner, and once they became what they became, all they thought about was their partner, aka Anabelle and Betty.
Poof, mind blown. Vampire peepaw deserves more love.
⋆ You'd get along with IRL: Amelia ⋆
Amelia is another character I don't really talk about or draw, mainly because I associate her with the new era of Poptropica. But, I don't think that's fair. Amelia is actually a very sweet character that I think little me would have appreciated if she came to the game sooner. I would probably get along with her really well, considering how silly, and nice she is. Not to mention, her love for cute stuff. Imagine her unicorn bedroom but replaced with bunnies. That's my room right now. I think that even traveling with her would be really fun. She would have gotten under the "you relate to" category too but I didn't want Amelia on here twice. XD
⋆ And finally...Your Favorite Side Character: Dr. Spyglass ⋆
I... do not know how to explain this one. Dr. Spyglass only gets a few words of dialog, and we know nothing about him in canon, besides him working for HQ, and being an eye doctor. I won't lie, I actually had a crush on this guy years ago, hence why I shipped him with Muddy. (I cringe at that ship now. XD) Probably because...he looks like Director D...with a lab coat. >_> Look at both of them and TELL ME they are not related, I dare you. My version of them are. I love the idea of this silly scientist being hired by his brother after failing the entry agent exam, not because he pitted him, but because he understood how incredibly smart he was and is. Constantly being compared to his brother and what he could have been. So, you can say I like MY version of him... a lot.
I should dedicate a post to him some day, eh?
#poptropica#favorite character chart#this post made me realize that my favs are characters#that don't have any backstory XD#just things I made up#besides widow and raven#i wouldn't consider widow a fav though#darn#i should have included one that said fav character because of their island#binary bard would fall under that category#dr. hare is a fav too and he would have gone into the favorite design category because#bnnuy..#but raven has the best design overall in my opinion#feel free to draw them if you want#or be lazy like me hgdhsj#i just want to learn your favs#tell me everything 👀
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The Tainted Past
Synopsis: Astarion's daughter learns about her father's past.
Tags: dadstarion, trauma talk, dhampirs, hurt/comfort
Alethaine's age: 14 years old
Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Don’t slouch, boy. You know who you belong to.
Astarion’s nails pierce his skin. A scream is stuck in his throat—he can’t make a sound, if he does, the master will flay his skin again.
No, please, don’t beat me!
Astarion collapses on the stone floor. He doesn’t recognize the place—a small dungeon, more like a cellar full of books and scrolls. Is he in some forbidden part of Cazador’s mansion? Or has he gotten lost and will be punished?
The echo of the master’s voice rings in his head and Astarion is hypnotized by it.
Go. Find. Seduce. Eat the rat or be flayed. Go again. Find. Seduce. Repeat.
It will never end.
Suddenly, he hears another voice. A young girl, probably fourteen years old, in a long black dress. She looks like a young widow—her elven ears twitch a bit as she calls someone.
Run, whoever you are. I can bring only death.
She is scared but for some reason, she doesn’t run.
“GO AWAY!” he screams. “GO. AWAY!”
The girl’s lower lip starts to quiver and he sees tears in the corner of her raven-dark eyes.
Who am I? Where am I?
Astarion drowns in the darkness.
He grabs a heavy volume from the floor and throws it into the wall, as if this act can help him to stay sane.
The girl squeals as if the book were thrown at her.
“Fuck!” another female voice.
“Mum! What’s happening to Dad?!” The girl hides behind the woman’s back. “I went down and he was … peeling his skin!”
Astarion stands up and stares at the woman. She had red hair, a scar on her face, and a black pattern on her lips.
He knows her name. He must know her name.
“Alethaine, please, go upstairs,” the woman orders.
“But mum!—”
“Alethaine!”
The girl bares her fangs but obeys. She picks up the hem of her long skirt and walks off up the stairs.
The woman cups Astarion’s face and makes him look at her.
“Astarion, you are safe. You are at home in Daggerlake. It’s been thirty-four years. Your master is dead. No one is going to hurt you.” She takes his hands in hers and starts kissing his knuckles, one at a time. “It’s me, I am not going anywhere.”
“Tiriel—” he finally manages to say.
As if her name were an anchor, he manages to return to reality.
The nightmare fades away.
Tiriel, his wife and his beloved, is kneeling beside him.
Reality crashes into him like a wave. Thirty-four years, a very solid counterweight to centuries of misery. He was saved by this woman, though she thinks he saved himself. Together, they found a stable home in a distant town far from the Sword Coast.
And he has a daughter.
“I scared her,” Astarion mutters. “I scared Alethaine”
He remembers the fear and tears on her face. When she was born, Astarion swore she would never learn about his past. If she ever asked he would just make something up. But today she saw the part of him he tried to conceal.
The broken tortured creature he is.
“I will talk to her,” Tiriel says. “Besides, I don’t think she is afraid of you. Considering that her favorite place in town is a graveyard and she prefers the company of the dead to the living.”
Necromancer and a dhampir. And all this mixed with her Fey blood and a quarter of human ancestry. Alethaine probably doesn’t realize what it all means for her.
A fourteen-year-old elf who dresses like a widow, doesn’t breathe, and can walk on ceilings. A fourteen-year-old who prefers to hang out in the graveyard and walk in the underground tunnels to have friends. A very lonely fourteen-year-old who loves books and doesn’t really like people.
“Astarion, are you here?” Tiriel cradles him. “Hush, love, it’s all right.”
“I thought… I thought… I would never have a setback…I thought…”
He thought his torments were finally over. But the Sire’s voice was so loud in his head that Astarion could believe his master returned from oblivion.
The dark waves take him again and he tries to grasp the reality but all in vain. His mind is taken by the nightmares.
And then Tiriel cuts her wrist and puts it to Astarion’s mouth.
Her blood is so sweet, so divine… He sucks her wrist as Tiriel plays with his curls.
Astarion has to make an effort to let her hand go and not take more than he needs.
“I thought he was back. I thought I was there, in that wretched place again. I even didn’t recognize you two– ”
“Your mind was playing tricks on you.”
Astarion sniffs. His vampiric senses sharpen as his hunger is satiated. He hears voices from the outside—just passersby who couldn’t care less to have a vampire for a neighbor.
The underground part of Daggerlale is relatively silent—it’s daylight and most of the residents are on the surface.
And Alethaine eavesdrops standing right above her parents on the first floor of their wooden house. Though her image is very foggy—Alethaine's dhampirism manifests in her ability to hide herself from vampires.
“Tell me what you want,” Tiriel asks.
Astarion doesn’t know. His mind is empty.
“I can stay with you. I can leave for a time and return to you when you are ready. What do you want?”
Years ago Astarion would torture himself by making her stay even if knew he needed some time alone. Something deep inside him was sure if he asked Tiriel to leave him with his own thoughts she would never return.
“I’d like to be alone right now, my sweet. Just a bit to calm down. And I want to go for a hunt but it’s… daylight.”
“You can go to the tunnels.”
“And hunt there like I am some Drow? No. I will go at night.”
“Ok,” she kisses his forehead. “I need to go tomorrow for a day or two. There is a gang of bugbears who decided it’s a good idea to steal sheep from our people. I will be preparing my weapons and armor in the yard.”
Astarion stays alone.
He starts mindlessly walking around the basement. From time to time he grabs a book, opens it, and then puts it back. As one hour passes, his mind clears and Astarion is sane again.
He even laughs it all off.
Of course, he is free. Of course, he is safe. All his life is a huge FUCK YOU to his master—Astarion is a vampire who was invited to live among the mortals to protect them from other vampires should they come. He has a wife he can feed on if he needs to but who does not see him as a bloodsucker—when Tiriel is asked who she is married to she says she is married to an elf. A daughter, a beautiful smart girl—who has centuries of life ahead.
He has everything and even more.
“Dad, do you need anything?”
Alethaine walks inside. She is shorter than her mother, only five feet tall—and Astarion suspects Alethaine isn’t going to grow up anymore. His dhampir daughter looks delicate but her look is deceptive. She is as strong as a full-fledged vampire (and she doesn't need blood to be like one) and Astarion still remembers how she dragged home a dead gnoll that was four times her size when she was six. And was very upset that they didn’t let her keep that corpse.
It remains a mystery if the gnoll had been already dead when Alethaine found it.
“No, princess. I don’t need anything,” Astarion wants to stay alone but he can’t tell Alethaine to go. The little one is going to be very hurt if he pushes her away.
“Are you sure? I’ve never seen you crying like that.”
“It… happens sometimes. Bad memories.”
“What memories?”
Astarion looks at her and feels the darkness coming back again. It is a storm he can’t stop and can’t run away from.
“My past. Nothing to worry about. It’s between me… and the rest.”
Alethaine doesn’t go away.
“You said you thought your master was back. I’ve read… that when a person is turned into a vampire, they become spawns and don’t have free will. Is this what happened to you? Dad?”
Astarion closes his eyes.
It’s just a question. She is curious. He had never told her anything about his life before he met Tiriel. She would ask. Sooner or later.
But he doesn’t want to say anything.
He doesn’t want to relive it again.
“Who turned you? Are they still somewhere?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Alethaine.”
“But why? Did you want to become a vampire or you were turned against your will?”
I don’t remember.
“Do you really think I would want THIS?” Astarion asks angrily. “Do you really think I would want to stay in the shadows, to drink blood, to suffer from hunger? Do you think I wanted to spend my life in chains?!”
Alethaine flinches.
“I just asked! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”
“Then you should have thought about what to ask!”
“Dad, don't yell at me!” Alethaine cries. She clenches her fists and bares her fangs.
“I am your father, don't tell me what I can and what I can’t do!”
“Dad! I am not a little child, I want to know!”
“You are and you don’t!”
Astarion doesn’t remember what he says after. He lashes at Alethaine and then the young dhampir starts crying as if he hit her.
It’s the first time ever that Astarion doesn’t want to be around his daughter. Suddenly she is a stranger.
He rushes upstairs and leaves the house.
Suddenly, underground tunnels don’t sound that bad.
**
Alethaine sniffs and leaves the cellar. She has never seen her father like that.
And she has fucked up.
Ashamed and angry at the same time, she goes upstairs hoping her mother has gone after Astarion.
“ALETHAINE!”
She stiffens. No, Tiriel the Barbarian is at home. And if she uses her rage voice, it’s a very bad beginning.
“Alethaine, I told you not to go to him!”
“I’ve never seen him like that”
“And I’ve not seen him like that for ten years,” Tiriel grabs her daughter’s hand and makes her sit on a bench in the kitchen. “Which part of ‘let your dad be on his own’ didn’t you understand? If you had questions that couldn’t wait, you could have asked me!”
“But—but will he come back soon?”
“I don’t know. When it happened to him before, before you were born, he sometimes would disappear for days. And I had no idea where he was.”
“But why? What is haunting him?”
“His past. His master. His own darkness. It haunts him less often now, but it still hasn’t gone anywhere”
Alethaine looks away. The sense of embarrassment overwhelms and she bites her lip with her fang.
Tiriel is silent. Then she sighs and sits in front of her daughter.
“When you were born, your dad made me swear we would not talk about his past. We start from being stuck on a nautiloid. As if Astarion had never existed before. But he had,'' Tiriel makes a pause. “When a vampire turns a person into the undead, the said person becomes a spawn, a puppet who can’t say no to their master.”
Alethaine gulps. She read about that in one of the books her father stores in the house but for some reason, she thought her father had always been a free vampire.
“Your father was turned by a vile person, an abusive, cruel, violent one. Who had only pleasure in his life—torturing his spawns, including your father. It was just sheer luck that Astarion was kidnapped by mind flayers along with me. And it was even more than sheer luck that the Emperor thought your father could have been useful for him.”
“Yes, you’ve told me a lot about how you hung around Baldur's Gate with that thing in your head.”
“Yes, good old times. The tadpole gave your dad a chance to walk in the sun though it took his strength. But what’s more important, it cut the connection between him and his master. Your father was free for a time and together we killed that wretched creature. End of story”
“How—how bad was it?”
Tiriel looks at her and Alethaine shivers. There is a shadow in her mother’s eyes.
“I don’t want you to know that. Trust me, you don’t want either. Just… Think about what comes to your mind when you think about slavery. Your father went through the worst slavery you can imagine. His mind is a torture master’s archive. You never know which horrible fact you learn, but it will be worse than the previous one.”
Alethaine stares at her mother in shock. Her father was enslaved? Her father, who can fight a horde of enemies? Who can make a pact with a devil and leave the devil without a dime? To whom do the kings of the surrounding lands send messengers to solve some “fey contract” problems?
She can’t even comprehend it.
“And how long was he a slave?”
“Two hundred years.”
The number sounds like a hammer blow. Two centuries?! Her father was a slave for twenty decades and would still be? How can it be even possible?
“But—didn’t he have relatives? Family? Friends? Who could save him?”
“That’s another cruel thing about your father. He doesn't remember his life before he was turned. Everything was taken from him, including his memories. And I am still surprised he managed to adapt to freedom so fast when we met. He is a strong man. He managed to preserve his sanity where madness was the only way out. But sometimes the shadows come back. And when it happens he needs help. And understanding.”
Alethaine turns her head away, unable to look at her mother. Then she walks up to the ceiling trying to pull her thoughts together.
“Mum, he has scars on his back. Are they…?”
She nods.
“I am so sorry,” Alethaine whispers.
“When your dad is back, I will talk to him. Just—don’t bring this up anymore, if you have questions I will try to answer them. But don’t bring this up with him. Maybe you think you have a right to know, but you don’t. It’s between him, me, and the darkness.”
“Mum. Do you know everything? Everything you don’t want me to know?”
“Yes. And sometimes I wish I didn’t. But this was a part of the deal—no one can carry this burden alone and I share it with your father.” Tiriel stands right underneath Alethaine. “In case you think we try to conceal some secrets from you like in the adventuring stories you love to read, we don’t. Your father’s past isn’t a heroic character’s background. It’s dirt, misery, and pain.”
Alethaine jumps back on the floor and suddenly feels an urge to hug her mother
“Do you think Dad will forgive me for what I did?”
“Of course he will,” Tiriel kisses Alethaine’s cheek. “He can’t stay angry with his five-feet-tall princess.”
“It’s five feet and one inch,” Aletaine insists, burying her nose in Tiriel’s chest.
“As you wish, kitten. Let’s go and have some dinner.”
**
Astarion stops in front of his home.
His hunger is satiated for a few days—he managed to find a lot of food in the tunnels, including a bugbear who decided it’s a good idea to attack him.
Then, he sees Alethaine.
She goes outside with a cape on her thin shoulders and a basket in her right arm.
“Hi, Dad”.
“Going somewhere?”
“The healer asked to pick up the dragon mushrooms up in the hills. She will pay me ten copper coins for an ounce”
“Remember the rule?”
“Don't ask ‘who goes there’ but stab them right away. If they are good guys they will understand and forgive’.”
“Good girl.”
They are silent for a few moments. Astarion feels guilty, but at the same time he prays Alethaine doesn't ask anything else.
It seems like she isn't going to.
And he also notices something new in her eyes.
Understanding.
“Will you teach me how to pick up locks?” Alethaine asks.
“Going to rob someone?” he chuckles.
“I am not answering this question” she giggles.
She is lovely, his daughter.
When Alethaine was only a baby she used to breathe. Astarion remembers he would put a palm on her chest just to feel how her tiny lungs worked.
When she was five months old, her dhampirism manifested. Fangs pierced the gums, blood lust almost killed her (luckily, Tiiriel realized Alethaine needed drops of blood to make it through) and she stopped breathing.
Astarion remembers how her chest rose and fell for the last time.
He also remembers the moment when he took his last breath before his death.
A vampire and a dhampir. Father and daughter. At least, Alethaine’s beating heart wasn’t taken from her.
“When you come back I will show you how to pick up locks.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Astarion waves to his daughter as Alethaine disappears in the darkness.
As he goes inside, he immediately finds himself in the arms of Tiriel.
“You weren’t harsh on her, were you?”
“Told her what was necessary. Don't be angry.”
“I won't. It was stupid to think she would have never asked.”
Tiriel kisses his cheek.
“You look like you fought a bugbear,” Tiriel notices, looking at his bloodstained and dirty clothes.
“I did.”
“Oh? So now you are taking work from me? I thought better of you!”
“I think there are plenty of monsters for you to fight.”
Hours later, when Astarion submerges himself in a bathtub, he is sure the darkness has stepped away. It stepped away with the lights of his home, with Tiriel’s touches as she rubbed his back, with Alethaine’s plea to teach her to pick up locks.
“No one is going to lock you up,” Tiriel whispers in his ear and he closes his eyes as a contented cat.
**
Alethaine’s basket is already full of dragon mushrooms—an ingredient for the healing potions. It’s already night and she needs to go back–she is still not permitted to hang out on the surface after dark—and her father has probably left to find her.
But the night calls upon her—seducing the young dhampir with its secrets.
Alethaine puts the mushrooms on the ground and takes off her hood, allowing the night wind to caress her face.
Suddenly, she catches the scent of a stranger.
All her senses sharpen, as her predator body gets ready for a fight. Alethaine bares her fangs and reaches for a dagger on her waist.
An elven girl, she was supposed to be, is scared and wants to run to her safe home.
But the dhampir she is knows that you either fight or die. It’s an innate knowledge engraved into her instincts with her shadow heritage.
But the attacker is much faster, and a strong hand pushes Alethaine on the ground.
The scream remains stuck in her throat as she realizes no one is going to help her right now.
--
Tag list
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#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#bg3#astarion romance#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#alethaine ancunin#astarion being a dad#dadstarion#astarion fluff#spacebarbarian fics#astarion ancunin#astarion baldurs gate#astarion brainrot#astarion fanfic#tiriel of the sunset mountains#tiriel the barbarian#astarion x tiriel#oc tav: tiriel#dhampirs of the sword's coast
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At last, when all of the world is asleep
Summary: A Dornish princess is the siren call to break the vows of the Kingsguard.
Paring: Ser Erryk Cargyll x Dornish!Reader
Word Count: 2015
Warnings: AFAB reader, plotting sexual situations, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, finger licking good.
Author’s Note: Thank you to my beloved beta reader @sylasthegrim 💜 I appreciate you and your edits, always. Banner by @saradika
Title comes from Hozier's lyrics De Selby Part 1 (are we surprised by this?) and the plot comes from this ask: "I want a beautiful princess to corrupt and completely ruin him and make him break his oath." Enjoy!
Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @snowprincesa1
The shudder was gratifying, trilling your spine with how his beard tickled the column of your neck, his lips both soft and warm, and the welcomed contrast of his teeth to taste. Your fingers grabbed to pull him closer to the cradle of your hips, burying your face in the nap of his neck and your mouth suckling on his pulsepoint with enough pressure to bruise; you felt him shiver, his voice strangled, husky, when he called out your name.
To that, you pulled back, abrupt, catching his gaze and your hand coming up to wag a finger. “Good ser,” you tsked, your lips curling upwards, “do not forget who I am.”
His eyes were glassy, the blue-gray storm that was slowly being swallowed by black. “Forgive me, princess,” he was quick to correct, watching for your response.
You gave another smirk, your arms reaching to wrap around his neck to pull him back into your embrace, his welcomed musk of blade oil against the perspiration of his skin. “Gentle ser,” you almost purred before capturing his mouth again.
He was not Valyrian, not the dragon you sought, but the knight was handsome still. And besides, you were sorely out of practice after the imposed propriety of Northern Westerosi customs and the role of a grieving widow.
When your father had first mentioned the prospect of marrying into the Velaryon House, the Valyrian blood called to you, a curiosity if your babes would be born with silver heads or the crystalline hues of amethysts eyes, and you were quick to accept the proposal. You packed away your dresses and left Sunspear, boarding the ship to travel the Narrow Sea and bring you to your betrothed.
The marriage had been disappointingly short-lived; your husband was everything you had imagined, handsome, tall, his silver hair knotted back and his clever purple eyes bright, watching you every movement with care, with desire. The consummation had a passion that carried over until dawn, but only after he was gone did your cycle follow to show it did not bear fruit.
“Do not fret, princess,” Princess Rhaenys offered comfort, “you will have plenty of try-agains when they return.”
But she had spoken too soon and you received word that his life was claimed in the Stepstones, though the real tragedy that followed came from the widow garb you were now expected to don. The seamstresses were quick to fit you with the heavy, itchy fabric that covered your skin and robbed you of what little sunlight spilled through to the gray island that you were caged in a figurative sense.
While your family by marriage grieved the life lost, you mourned your freedom, you mourned the sun you had left behind in Dorne, of the air on your skin that would show in your garments that were now packed away.
Hope came as a raven, sent by the king and queen of the Seven Realms, extending their sympathies and offering the opportunity to leave the gray slab of land in the middle of Blackwater Bay, with an invitation to the capital so that you could serve Princess Helaena as company. You accepted with the same breath as you finished the words out loud, your claimant that your father’s intention wished you to be an envoy for Dorne, when really your sights were set on a Targaryen prince, your Valyrian bloodlust.
King’s Landing was bright, bustling with life; you were escorted from the docks inside to the Red Keep where you would meet with the royal family, astutely aware how every set of eyes followed your steps; you gave a wistful sigh, certain of the attention if you could be rid of the widow gowns.
Gratefully, the queen was considerate of the temperature change in comparison to Driftmark, and the seamstress was sent to recede the fabric in your neckline and sleeves. It still was far from the comfort of your own dresses, but considerably better after half a year of bereavement. It was a taste of freedom, and you dared to add subtle touches of make up, nothing exorbitant, just a touch of tinted beeswax to gloss your lips, a smear of kohl to frame your eyes.
Dorne was a nation that always embraced its sexuality, a sharp contrast to the pious King’s Landing that was laden with symbols of the Seven. You were determined to remarry–two Targaryen princes unwed, two possible dragons to claim–but to catch a dragon, you had to lay an enticing trap, but you wondered if you were rusty with the enforced bereavement having you feeling like a maiden once again.
So your attention turned to the piety of the Kingsguard that shadowed royalty’s every step. There were those whose gazes lingered well outside what would be deemed appropriate, the blatant, heady lust that enveloped the color of their irises and the bold reds that tainted their features–to which you scoffed.
A challenge was what you craved, and then you spotted him; his copper tones in duo, though the twins could be distinguished by how they held themselves, as well the fact that Ser Arryk served as Prince Aegon’s shadow.
Your eyes trained to the other, Ser Erryk Cargyll, the flutter of your lashes when he looked in your direction, the demure dip of your face to coyly cover a smile meant for him to see.
He did not fracture with your attention, but you–Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken–would not be dissuaded. It was a tantalizing game, something you swore to be playing solo until you spotted it; the tension held in his features by the shackles of his oath, a tick in his jaw or the flit of his smoky blue eyes in your proximity.
You chose a night to drink, indulging in the imported Dornish wines, a singsong request to be escorted to your rooms that the queen was happy to oblige.
“Ser Erryk, would you please help the princess to her quarters?”
And now you were at the edge of your bed like you were seated on the throne, watching the Kingsguard that was kneeled so prettily between your thighs spread. He is beautiful, you mused, looking over the warm tones that touched his features, clashing with the copper coloring of his hair.
He looked up at you, now bare from the waist up, his eyes wide, watchful, waiting for your command, your very breath of direction so that he may obey you; he was an incitant sight, from the cobalt ash coloring of his eyes, wet and wanting, to the flush of pink on his kiss-swollen lips.
“Please,” his voice was thick.
You could not help your smile, and asked with your slow drawl. “Please, what?”
“Please, princess,” he began again, his head tilted further to show the length of his neck, and how it bobbed when he swallowed. “Allow me to taste you.”
You indulged him, enjoying the vibration of his groan with his intimate kiss between your thighs made your own skin ripple with gooseflesh, along with the soft tickle of his beard. But he was a man starved, lapping without purpose until your fingers combed through his hair and pulled him back to meet with your smokey gaze.
Ser Erryk watched rapt as you lifted your hand, holding two fingers up; you could see the lustful pools of black claiming the coloring of his eyes, the bloom of rust of his beard around his mouth, the glisten of your arousal that shone on him.
You brought your fingers to press to his bottom of his mouth and he obediently wrapped his lips around; you giggled from his eagerness, from the tickle of his tongue on the pads of your fingers. The spittle broke and added to the rust when you pulled back, his eyes following as your pressed between your folds, watching you bring pleasure to yourself, showing him just how you needed to be touched.
A pitiful whimper spilled from the Kingsguard before you allowed him to feast again, and he returned with vigor, with purpose. Your wanton moans echoed against the cobblestone. “Princess,” he breathed against your wet cunt, “you must stay quiet.”
This was impossible to do; your time as a widow left you touch starved and your body was trembling, overly sensitive to his every deliberate touch–how he flourished with the bit of direction shown, and now, oh the gods, the pleasure curled something beautiful at the base of your spine, something sparking with familiarity from what felt like a lifetime ago.
Then you felt the pressure of his fingers, the careful add of one and the another, and they pushed within you, searching until you saw colors dancing in front of your eyes; Ser Erryk was pleased, focused, pulling you towards the precipice and it washed over you; your skin rose, your nipples pebbled, the cry-out from your lips and clenching response as your pleasure rippled over you with a vengeance, with its reclaim.
You laid there for a moment, the blood rising to your skin, your chest rising and falling with your breaths, a drunk smile on your lips.
The knight was now fully bare and was careful to move on top of you, the pale alabaster of his skin and its marking from his service was so warm to the touch. His palms were large, calloused and gentle to peel off your chemise over your head, the tickle of his kisses that worshiped every bit of your skin now showed, glowing with the attention from his mouth.
“Ser Erryk,” you gasped as he shifted between your thighs, “please.”
He obeyed, flushed, fumbling, his hand dipping between to trail your silken folds, to map your entrance and reached to line himself. He showed consideration with the slow motion of his hips, another gasp from your lips as he filled and stretched your velvet walls; Ser Erryk moved as if you were glass and you wrapped your leg around his slender waist, pulling him flush against you, wishing to be shattered beneath him.
It was all the encouragement needed and he rutted against you, his hot mouth biting into the nap of your neck to muffle his guttural groans. Your mewls were lilted with laughter, the crest of pleasure that rolled over with each of his thrusts; your hand dipped between to tip you over the edge once again.
The knight could not withstand the sinful clench and he pulled back, a desperate clutch to allow the pearly ropes of his spend against your stomach, his staggered breath as he watched your own fingers coax through your completion. There was a heady look between the two of you before he pushed back to rest on his heels, and you pressed to your elbows, bringing your fingers to your lips and cleaning them, your eyes never leaving his.
Ser Erryk blushed, pulling away and allowing you to admire his form, the lewd, intrusive thought, the sword in his hand and the sword between, as he moved towards your washbin and returned with a damp cloth; your eyes never left what swayed between his thighs with his each step. He was bashful, handing you the cloth while avoiding your direct gaze as you cleaned yourself, starting to dress himself.
You pushed from the bed, unabashed with your bare skin, sultry steps towards him to assist him with donning his armor plates to his lithe figure beneath his gambeson. When you finished, you could see his hesitation perched on his tongue and cannot help but toy further with the knight.
“Good ser,” you tone low to match your steps, and your weight shifted to accentuate your every curve, “can I trust you to always escort me to my quarters when needed?”
His jaw steeled beneath the reds of his beard at your implication, his tick returning as the shackles tightened again. It was a pregnant pause before his eyes met with yours, and you half-expected to see the beautiful blues, but were pleased to see his darkened gaze.
“Whatever you wish of me,” and his low timbre thrilled you. “Princess.”
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The Year of the Three Brides in The Rise of the Dragon
The 49th year after Aegon’s Conquest gave the people of Westeros a welcome respite from the chaos and conflict that had gone before. It would be a year of peace, plenty, and marriage, remembered in the annals of the Seven Kingdoms as the Year of the Three Brides.
Rhaena Targaryen and Androw Farman
The new year was but a fortnight old when news of the first of the three weddings came out of the west, from Fair Isle by the Sunset Sea. There, in a small swift ceremony under the sky, Rhaena Targaryen wed Androw Farman, the second son of the Lord of Fair Isle. It was the groom’s first marriage, the bride’s third. Though twice widowed, Rhaena was but twenty-six. Her new husband, just ten-and-seven, was notably younger, a comely and amiable youth said to be utterly besotted with his new wife.
Their wedding was presided over by the groom’s father, Marq Farman, Lord of Fair Isle, and conducted by his own septon. Lyman Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and his wife, Jocasta, were the only great lords in attendance. Two of Rhaena’s former favorites, Samantha Stokeworth and Alayne Royce, made their way to Fair Isle in some haste to stand with the widowed queen, together with the groom’s high-spirited sister, the Lady Elissa. The remainder of the guests were bannermen and household knights sworn to either House Farman or House Lannister. King and court remained entirely ignorant of the marriage until a raven from the Rock brought word, days after the wedding feast and the bedding that sealed the match.
Alyssa Velaryon and Rogar Baratheon
When the day of the wedding finally arrived, more than forty thousand smallfolk ascended the Hill of Rhaenys to the Dragonpit to bear witness to the union of the Queen Regent and the Hand. (Some observers put the count even higher.) Thousands more cheered Lord Rogar and Queen Alyssa in the streets as their procession made its way across the city, attended by hundreds of knights on caparisoned palfreys, and columns of septas ringing bells. “Never has there been such a glory in all the annals of Westeros,” wrote Grand Maester Benifer. Lord Rogar was clad head to heel in cloth-of-gold beneath an antlered halfhelm, whilst his bride wore a greatcloak sparkling with gemstones, with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen and the silver seahorse of the Velaryons facing one another on a divided field.
Yet for all the splendor of the bride and groom, it was the arrival of Alyssa’s children that set King’s Landing to talking for years to come. King Jaehaerys and Princess Alysanne were the last to appear, descending from a bright sky on their dragons, Vermithor and Silverwing (the Dragonpit still lacked the great dome that would be its crowning glory, it must be recalled), their great leathern wings stirring up clouds of sand as they came down side by side, to the awe and terror of the gathered multitudes. (The oft-told tale that the arrival of the dragons caused the aged High Septon to soil his robes is likely only a calumny.)
Alysanne and Jaehaerys Targaryen
The following morning, as the sun rose, Jaehaerys Targaryen, the First of His Name, took to wife his sister Alysanne in the great yard at Dragonstone, before the eyes of gods and men and dragons. Septon Oswyck performed the marriage rites; though the old man’s voice was thin and tremulous, no part of the ceremony was neglected. The seven knights of the Kingsguard stood witness to the union, their white cloaks snapping in the wind. The castle’s garrison and servants looked on as well, together with a good part of the smallfolk of the fishing village that huddled below Dragonstone’s mighty curtain walls.
A modest feast followed the ceremony, and many toasts were drunk to the health of the boy king and his new queen. Afterward Jaehaerys and Alysanne retired to the bedchamber where Aegon the Conqueror had once slept beside his sister Rhaenys, but in view of the bride’s youth there was no bedding ceremony, and the marriage was not consummated.
#rhaena targaryen (daughter of aenys)#androw farman#alyssa velaryon#rogar baratheon#Alysanne Targaryen#jaehaerys i targaryen#asoiaf#asoiafedit#the rise of the dragon#official art#asoiaf art#targnation
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The Headsman's Daughter
Written in response to @urbanfantasyinspiration's character prompt, "A princess who apprenticed under an executioner."
—
Once, as there has often been, there was a kingdom. Its king was great and terrible, as kings often are. He rode forth in might and power, and many fell before his sword. He spent much time feasting, and drinking, and bidding minstrels sing his praises in the court and on the temples' steps. He had three daughters by women who served in the palace, but no heir, for his wife was barren.
And though he brought much tribute, he was a harsh master, and the kingdom suffered greatly under his rule. The sun scorched the tender shoots as they sprouted, and the cattle died in the fields, and babes were born weak and sickly and did not cry as they should. There was great unrest in all the land, and the headsmen kept their blades ever sharp, for murder and theft abounded.
And the king grew afraid, for the people began to murmur and plot against him. And he threw himself before the mercy of the gods, such as it was, saying "Spare your servant! Tell me what I must do to save my life! The anger of the people grows, and they will water their fields with my blood!"
"Your doom is assured," came a creaking voice, like a tree near to breaking. And the king looked up, and beheld a raven of purest black perched upon the windowsill. Once more he pressed his forehead to the ground. "Please, spare me!" he plead again.
"Your doom is assured," the raven replied.
"I beg of you!"
"Your doom is assured," it intoned a third time, its voice unmoved.
"I will do anything! I will give whatever you ask! Whatever I must sacrifice, even if it is half my kingdom, let it be so!"
The bird paused, preening its feathers as it considered the king's words. At long last, when the king was sure that his nerve would break, it answered him. "Give to the gods of your own flesh and blood. Deliver your three daughters to the high priest, to do with as he is commanded. They will be sent out to live among the people, to parents who can bear no children, and in this way the anger of the crowds will be quieted for a season. Do not forget what I have said to you this day."
The king waited until the sound of flapping wings had fully faded, then leapt to his feat, shouting for his servants to attend him. His daughters were taken from their mothers' arms with much weeping, and bathed in scented waters, and garbed in the finest of silks and pearls to be delivered as living sacrifices to the gods. And if the king felt much grief at their going, then it was nothing compared to the joy and relief he felt at his salvation.
The high priest received them and cast lots, that he might know the will of the gods. And these are the orders he gave, and what came of them:
The eldest daughter was sent to live with an aged farmer and his wife. And though the work of farming was hard, she found happiness anew, for the farmer and his wife had good hearts and loved her as their own daughter. And the gods smiled upon them, and for three years the whole of the kingdom was blessed with bumper crops the likes of which have not been seen before or since.
The middle daughter was sent to live with a midwife, who was also a widow, for her husband had been killed before the two of them could have a child. And though she wept bitterly for her mother, and her life in the palace, the two of them found comfort in each other's arms and satisfaction in their work. And the gods smiled upon them, and for six years the babes of the kingdom were born whole and hearty. And many great warriors were born in those summers, and many great beauties in those winters, and many others of great renown besides. Indeed, the queen herself bore the king a son, and he would be remembered as one of the better rulers of that line (though that comes later).
And as for the youngest daughter, she whose name means "Thistle" in our tongue, she who was much beloved by the people as a child for her beauty, she was sent to live with with an executioner. And though she remembered her life in the palace, she eventually came to call the headsman "father," and his wife "mother," and if asked who she was would answer truthfully that she was their daughter.
Life was hard for Thistle, for headsmen were much hated in those days. When she left the house, she went about with a veil over her face, as was considered proper for the daughter of a headsman. Her father often had to take work as a knacker to keep them fed, carting away and collecting animal carcasses, which her mother showed her how to break down into tallow and glue and soap.
As soon as she was old enough, Thistle's father began training her in his craft. He taught her to use a whetstone to sharpen a sword. He set her to chopping firewood alongside him to strengthen her arms. He had her help him slaughter the pigs they raised in their yard, to accustom her to death, and afterwards showed her how to wash away the blood and clean herself to ward off plague.
The first time Thistle accompanied her father to an execution, she did not join him on the scaffold; she would not yet intrude upon that sacred ground. She stood to the side, in the shadow of the platform, and watched the crowd. They were many of them drunk, and all of them full of anger. And though they cheered as the sword fell, the wrath in their eyes did not abate, and instead turned toward her father, and Thistle was much disturbed.
"Father," she asked softly as they trudged home, side by side, two of her short strides to one of his, "why do the people hate you? Do they not ask this of you? Do you not serve the judge, as he serves the king?"
He did not meet her eyes, for he was in truth a timid man, but he pondered long and hard before answering her. "Is it better to lose your life, or to lose your arm?"
"Your arm, of course, though I'd rather lose neither."
"Of course. And is it better to lose your arm, or to lose your hand?"
"Your hand, of course, though I'd rather lose neither."
"Of course. The law, too, is like this. The judge bears the weight of sentencing, so that the people can live in peace. I bear the weight of death, so the judge may live in peace. And though the people may hate me, and shun us for it, they know in their hearts that they do not wish to bear the weight I carry for them."
Indeed, Life was hard for Thistle and her family. But even still, the gods smiled upon them.
Three years after Thistle left the palace, the earth once again refused to give up its bounty, and famine gnawed at the people. But though they drew their belts tighter, the headsman's family did not starve, for long had they learned to live with little, and the deaths of many animals brought their family good business, and pigs can be fed on nearly anything.
Six years after Thistle left the palace, a plague swept the land, and struck many lame, and others dead, and stricken worst of all were the young and the old. And the headsman's family grew afraid, for Thistle's mother was with child, and their hearts grew fainter still when the headsman himself took ill.
But none know better how to ward away sickness than those who work with dead things, and the headsman's family was never wanting for soap. Thistle's mother gave birth to a boy, and his parents gave him a name meaning "Flaxen," for such was the color of his hair, though his family more often called him "Flax." And when he was born Thistle gazed upon his reddened face, and observed the curl of his fingers, and held him in her arms, and she was overcome with great wonder.
The fever eventually left Thistle's father, but from then on he often found it hard to stand, and the strength of his arm failed him. And so Thistle took up his blade, and acted in his stead, and for three years she bore the blood of the law and of the people upon her hands.
Nine years after Thistle left the palace, the spirit of the people rose in anger once again, for their ears were full of the cries of the hungry and the sick. And they stormed the palace in the night, and stripped the king of his sword, and his royal robes, and bound him and brought him out to face the people. And they said to one another, "What shall we do with him?" And each one answered in turn, "Send for the headsman's daughter, who lives with her father outside the city. Have her come at once, and deliver his punishment." And so runners were sent, and roused Thistle from her sleep, and bid her dress herself, and brought her to where the people were waiting.
And the people thrust the king's sword into her hands, saying "Kill this man and deliver us justice, for we have suffered greatly at his hands."
And Thistle looked upon the king and knew him, though he did not know her by her face, for she wore her veil. And she found that she had no love for this man, and so it was not love but duty that stayed her hand.
And she turned to the crowd, saying "Would you have me kill this man? Is this justice?"
And the people replied in one voice, saying "Yes! Kill him! It is better that one suffer than many!"
And she answered them, saying "For years I have lived among you, bearing sins for your sake! But I will not bear the weight of this judgement! I ask you again: do you judge this man guilty? Would you have me kill him in your stead?"
And the people again answered her, "Yes! Kill him! Bear this sin for us! He has brought the anger of the gods on us, and our children weep in their beds!"
And so she turned, and with the king's own sword she struck him down. (And it was as the raven had foretold, for in seeking to escape his doom, the king himself had assured it.)
At that the bloodlust of the people was awakened, and again they stormed back into the palace. They brought out the prince, chanting "Death! Death! Death to the blood of the king! Let there be none left who carry on his name!" And they presented him to Thistle, saying "Kill him! Bear this sin for us as well!"
And Thistle beheld him, he who was her blood-brother, and she saw that he was scarcely older than Flax, and that he was crying.
She thrust the king's sword into the stones, and there it stuck fast. "No," she said.
And the people's voices rose in anger against her, but again she denied them. "No!" And as they surged forward she took up the king's sword and brandished it, though the tip had become blunted by the stones. "You have made me your hand of justice and given me a sword! Now, which among you will bear its weight instead?! Which among you will take this blood from me?!" As she said this, she tore away her veil, and the dawn's light revealed her face to all the people.
The people stopped before her, for the anger in her eyes was great and terrible. The eldest among them looked upon her beauty and knew her as the king's youngest daughter, whom they had once loved. And their hearts grew ashamed, for they knew that they had made of her both kinslayer and kingkiller. And so the people turned away from her in fear and grief, and covered their faces in the growing light, and left the palace to return to their homes.
And Thistle swept the prince up in her arms, and marched into the castle, and delivered him back into his mother's embrace. And she declared herself regent until he came of age, both as conqueror and blood-relative of the king, and none dared challenge her. And she sent for her father and mother and brother, and had them brought to the palace, where she saw that they were well cared for. (And her two brothers, one of blood and one of bond, became the best of playmates, and Flax was perhaps the most loyal of all the prince's friends until the end of his days.)
Thistle ruled well, and with justice and mercy, for she had held the power of life and death in her hands. And even after the prince was crowned king, he leaned often on the wisdom of his elder sister. And in this way, that kingdom gained one of the best kings it had ever known.
The end.
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Ripping off EAH is a bad idea. The makers WILL sue!!
Bold of you to assume that Mattel cares about the franchise they gave up on. It's not even a candidate for rebooting like Monster High.
Also can we stop acting like EAH was some treasured passion project of a struggling indie developer or something? It's owned by Mattel! The company that just put out the Barbie movie! The company literally could not be doing better.
Besides. “Daughter of the Queen of Hearts” and “daughter of Cinderella” aren’t copyrighted by Mattel (in fact, Darling Charming isn’t the daughter of Cinderella! The EAH Charming family specifically has no relation to Cinderella.) There’s enough established in Descendants to argue that all similarities are just coincidence. Sporty girls with swords? Done before (see: Lonnie in the second movie.) Besides, Lizzie and Darling never actually had an adventure together I think...
There's also that Ever After High isn’t the only “school for children of fairy tales” there is. There's The School for Good and Evil (a six-book series likely more well-known for an astoundingly subpar Netflix adaptation) and Regal Academy, among others. EAH vs. Descendants aside, no company *owns* the idea of “school for fairy-tale/public-domain characters kids.”
Which, yes, literally all the parents of EAH are public domain. Disney had the opportunity for using Disney trademark names like Maleficent, Lady Tremaine, etc. but their character bases are still public domain (Sleeping Beauty’s 13th fairy and Cinderella’s stepmother, respectively.) Descendants also gets to involve some Disney-specific tales like 101 Dalmatians. But EAH also got to pull in some tales that Disney never covered, like Jack and the Beanstalk (...whatever happened to that Gigantic movie?), Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and Thumbelina.
Also if you expect me to believe that some EAH designs weren’t Disney ripoffs to begin with, no. Because look at this:
This is original concept art for Rosabella Beauty, daughter of Beauty and the Beast! But wanna see what she looks like in the actual cartoon?
Oh would you look at that!!! I wonder why they gave her brown hair suddenly but so clearly wanted to keep the yellow scheme! Couldn't possibly be because they wanted people to think of Disney's Belle, right?????
And also:
Purple? Check. High collar? Check. Menacing accessories? Check. Significant widow's peak with spiky crown? Double check. Also Raven's actual mother in the series looks like this:
And not actually, you know, like Raven.
EAH was also relying on a healthy handful of Disney ripoff designs to get their characters noticed. It shows. Not to mention the entirety of Epic Winter clearly banking on the Frozen craze because it didn't even get "The Snow Queen" story right.
(And sure, Descendants featured some designs that were a little bit too close to EAH, see: Mal's purple Cotillion gown vs. Raven's Thronecoming gown, evil!Audrey's entire color scheme compared to Spring Unsprung Briar, etc.)
Doesn't mean that mocking it is a classy move on Disney's part, but unless they're stupid enough to straight-up use a patented name from EAH, I highly doubt Mattel can or will do anything about it.
#eah also sucked i don't know why people act like its superior#it might have ran for longer but the continuity still suffered#that being said. BOTH FRANCHISES ARE DIFFERENT AND HAVE THEIR OWN GOOD POINTS#both franchises were also made for children and not meant to be examined with critical thinking skills lol#anyways. for the best version of either read 'the school for good and evil' books by soman chainini!#love spells are explicitly useless and the main couple actually has a believable plot#trauma!!! is actually discussed/talked about!!!!!#...if you can stand sophie's arrogance that is
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Florence Ins't Here
Media IRL X Victorian Style Horror Movie
Character Thomas Brodie Sangster
Couple Thomas X Reader
Rating Spooky
Far from the last sprawls of civilization sat a house, lofty and lavish having stood for years, a garden just as aged and unique. Ocean View Manor;
The house had seven bedrooms not including those in the servant's quarters, Each of which had one bathroom, A large outstanding kitchen, two dining rooms both that overlooked the sea, a full library, an exceptional study, a music room with a dancing space, a drawing room, three lounges, a bar, a playroom and even a tall glass conservatory.
And that wasn't including the many Acres of land that came with the house. Or for that matter, it's decades-old garden with several ponds, tall hedges, stone statues and small reading nooks, as well as an old withered greenhouse full of ageing plants and books. All of it sat beside the sea looking out to widows fall, a locally known spot with a tall weeping willow that glanced down to the sea, named so as many widows had fallen to their end.
On the road up to Ocean View Manor was a black coach being hauled by two white and brown spotted horses both running up the path towards the murky stone fountain of a mermaid that loomed before the front door.
Once the coach pulled up the door quickly unfurled and a man emerged.
He was tall, he was thinly built with raven boots, gloomy cotton trousers and a jacket of melancholic velvet both of which he mildly adjusted as he ambled onto the gravel. He ran his left hand through his blonde hair with a broad smile scrutinising the house.
'What a lovely house' he thought, a house they would soon make a home.
"What do we think?" He asked as he glanced beside him,
"A tad, grandiose. Don't you think Thomas?" The sweet voice of his wife smiled with a hint of concern, as she stood beside him in her ebony boots, long raven dress, a sweet small jet shawl around her arms and shoulders with a Veil of black lace over her face and hair concealing her entirely from view by the world,
"Well, I always vowed I'd buy my precious lady a castle," he grinned as he seized her by the hand and kissed her through her lace gloves,
"It'll take us forever to unpack," she soughed with that familiar pragmatic concern,
"Humm my adorable little cynic," he chuckled, "But really Y/n?"
"I do like it" she answered, "Immaculate for our little family,"
"Well, maybe we have a nice extensive house perhaps our family needs not to stay so small" he encouraged as tugged her closer,
"Daddy! Daddy, this is our new house!" A petite voice beamed which made Thomas turn to see Robin as he scampered from the coach and left his poor nanny in the doorway,
Thomas chuckled and picked Robin up, he gave him a spin and then sat the boy on his hip,
"Yes indeed my boy, our new home,"
"It's big!"
"It is very big, and you're going to have your own big bedroom,"
"Really!"
"Absolutely! A big bedroom all for your own and a playroom for all your toys," he encouraged, "Come on then get your case and we'll go explore,"
"It is a lovely house, Mr Sangster,"
He looked over and saw how now robins nanny, Winifred had come over to see the house too, her long grey dress striking the floor, a white apron around her with some pencils in her pocket her radiant orange curls pulled back into a tight bun, he smiled incapable to stop his introspections of pity for the poor girl,
"Indeed it is Wini, come along then everyone while we have daylight," he said as he headed to the door, unlocked it and opened it wide letting the cloud of dust flutter out the doors.
Thomas took a walk around the house following the corridors and doorways to find his way around while things were unpacked having general thoughts about the house and where he planned to put certain items as well as perhaps purchasing other items to fill the space better.
"Mr Sangster?" A man asked as he popped out rather suddenly from a doorway, in a black formal suit a grace of grey hair on his head but little else,
"Oh! Goodness Franklin, you made me jump, what is it?"
"Just a small question sir. Where did you want… the ladies' piano?"
"Music room of course she'll be very happy in there," he smiled back before he persisted with his walk but Franklin followed him,
"Do you not think sir that may compel problems?"
"How so?"
"For young Robin... in his violin lessons?"
"Ah yes. Good point. Robin can have his lessons in his playroom now he has plenty of space just make sure his new violin teacher knows to select his books from the music room before class," he nodded
'It did make sense, he didn't want the two to disturb each other, especially with Robin so premature in his lessons, perhaps he could join her in the music room once he got a little better' and momentarily he imagined the sweet music Robin and Y/n could create together.
Thomas adored the idea of little Robin and Y/n playing together in fact it was most of the reason he had insisted on hiring a violin teacher for Robin almost as soon as he could walk, the sweet idea in this lovely old house to hear the sounds of her old piano and his violin.
And at that moment he thought, where is my lovely lady?
He Searched around for a while and attempted to find his beloved wife but only found emptiness on the ground floor. So he headed upstairs to the bedrooms and immediately grinned as he heard the delicate singing.
He followed the sound into the grand master bedroom where Y/n stood as she had when they arrived slowly unpacking boxes and bags of clothes into the wardrobe, her veil and gloves removed to display her ravishing hair and velvety charming face, she had yet to notice him so he shut the door and watched her for a few seconds moving things from their bags and boxes to their new places in their home and as she bent to fetch a black and white hat box from the floor he smirked, glanced at her behind in her bustle ladened dress before he wolf-whistled at her which made her jump,
"Thomas! You startled me," she said before she returned to unpacking,
"Sorry," he chuckled and headed over, wrapped his arms around her body, "hello Y/n," he cooed,
"Hello Thomas," she sighed,
"Humm? Why sigh? Aren't you pleased to see me?"
"Of course I am. But I'd be more pleased if you helped," she teased,
"Course," he chuckled so he moved away to help unpack his clothes into the wardrobe and drawers, "Wini and Franklin seemed ecstatic with their rooms, Wini almost fainted when she saw the kitchen,"
"I'm sure she did it's a very nice advancement from the old house,"
"It is, Robin loves the playroom and instantly went for the big dollhouse,"
"Of course he would you know he adores his interior design."
"I know, never plays with the actual dolls,"
"He does, for modelling. He'll sit them in the kitchen chairs and whatnot or do a dining room scene,"
"Odd little boy,"
"Would you expect anything less from our little boy?"
"I suppose not," he chuckled, "What's your favourite room?"
"I rather like the greenhouse,"
"The greenhouse? I suppose it is your… style, my love,"
"How so?" she glared,
"Spooky. I'm sure you'll have it stunning in there by the summertime"
"Where do you like best then Thomas?"
"It's a tie I adore the conservatory. I can imagine numerous spring and autumn dawns sitting there for breakfast, or reading a book and watching the rain batter the garden. Or…the music room,"
"Why?"
"Because I can just imagine all our lovely parties, everyone can gather and have a nice drink and dance to your captivating songs,"
"Ummm I best be paid for being the musician at my own party," she smiled taking a striped shoe box to the wardrobe,
"You shall as always be paid in kisses," he smiled as he took her hand and pulled her into his chest to pepper her dress with kisses,
"Alright," she laughed as she pushed his kissing lips back and smiled as she laid her head on his chest, "How's Florence in the new house?" She questioned,
Thomas froze up, his blood ran cold, he enveloped his arms around her gradually and carefully, and he caressed her back attempting not to let out an exhausted sigh,
"Sweetheart. We talked about this," he said, his voice full of fear, he chose his words so carefully and made sure each one came from his lips with the tone and care it needed to reach her ears precisely, he feared his words would distress her but they had to be said, "Florence isn't here."
"Oh…" she said, her body ran as cold as ice in his arms, "Yes of course. How silly of me," her tone shifting to sound distant and hollow,
"It's alright... I know it's… hard For you sometimes," he spoke up,
"I just miss her," She said the sound of choked tears in her throat,
"I know sweetheart. I miss her too. Come on, let's get finished up and we'll go for a nice stroll in our beautiful garden," he proposed, trying to take her mind off the topic entirely.
#thomasbrodiesangster#tbs smut#tbs imagine#tbs imagines#thomas sangster#thomas sangster imagine#tbs#thomas brodie sangster#thomas brodie sangster imagine#thomas brodie sangster smut
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The Witch’s Familiar
Formerly a care free lesser spirit exploring the realms you one day heard a distant call echoing through the planes. It asked for assistance and in return would give companionship, protection, and most importantly a physical body. You had heard calls like it before and always ignored them, but this one felt different, like it was meant only for you.
Following the call through countless realms of existence you finally found the source, a young witch, new to their powers and in search of a familiar. You had a warm feeling in the presence of this young, by their species reckoning, witch and proceeded to negotiate the terms of your partnership. What surprised you most was that they gave you the choice of which form your physical body would take.
Most familiar’s took the form their partner wished them to take but here you were, a not so special spirit being given the choice. They presented you with several bodies collected from the area and said you could take your time choosing, they even helped you weigh the pro’s and con’s of each choice. Eventually you chose and the two of you became an official familiar.
Now after a century together, going through thick and thin, adventuring through realms few can imagine, you wake one morning to find your witch gone. The home the two of you had shared so long empty of nearly all their items save a mysterious letter left with your name on it, but not in their handwriting. Now it’s up to you to find your missing friend and discover why they have vanished without you.
Along the way gather power, friends, and possibly a little romance as you search for signs of your best friend.
Take on the role of a witch’s familiar and choose your physical form. Each form has unique abilities as well as challenges for you to manage. Choose the body of a Bird, Cat, or Spider. Then pick which family it belongs to. Are you a Crow, or a Sparrow? Tabby, or Persian? Black Widow, or Tarantula?
As you grow in power learn to take an almost human-like form. But beware that while it may fool others from a distance, up close it is obvious that you are not what you appear to be. Whether it is the feathers growing in your hair, the tail playfully trying to avoid view, or the second set of arms you keep hidden in your cloak, others will know you are not like them.
Become friends with a veritable menagerie of adventurers. A bubbly necromancer, solemn knight, lighthearted scribe, or a grumpy bard are all willing to help you, provided you assist them with their own quests. Others may be waiting off the beaten path to tag along should you be adventurous enough to find them.
Adventure through a world where magic is an everyday part of life and is openly practiced, provided you are the right sort, which you are most definitely not. Witches are considered outlaws because they do not practice within the strict rules set forth by the law and as a witches familiar you are considered little more than a demon to be squashed. Can you avoid such a fate?
Travel through the realms on your quest to find your lost witch and find many side quests to undertake as you go. Some will reward you with greater power, some with gold, and some you may simply undertake for no other reason than to help those in need, or take advantage of them.
Play as a Female, Male, or Non-Binary.
Fully customize your spirit form, physical familiar body, and even your human body once you acquire one.
Customize your witch partner, choosing their gender, physical attributes and race.
The Necromancer
Tanila
Female
Age: 301
Appearance: At 6’1”, Tanila exemplifies the image of an elf with a lean, delicate looking frame, and preternatural grace. She has raven black hair with streaks of white stripped through it which she keeps in a waist length braid, deep almond coloured eyes, and a perpetual smirk. Besides the odd hair half of her left ear is missing, the end shredded in some previous encounter. This gives her a slightly unbalanced look as her right ear is still intact, all five inches of it bouncing happily as she walks.
Description: An outcast from her village, Tanila has spent the last fifty years adventuring and seeing the world. Occasionally she teams up with others, but most leave her when they learn she is a necromancer. By no means is she evil and she treats her necromancy as a tool no different then a knight would treat his sword. Her necromancy is the reason for her oddly coloured hair, damaged ear, and banishment. When she was a young elf of only fifty five years her village was attacked and her mother killed. In her grief Tanila sought out everything she could find on the art of raising the dead and tried to bring her mother back. But her teacher tricked her and she raised a wraith in her mothers form, which promptly attempted to drink her life force. After she destroyed the abomination and killed her teacher she vowed to never try to raise the dead again and now uses the other aspects of necromancy to fight the wicked in the world.
The Knight
August/June Bard
Male/Female
Age: 31
Appearance: June is 5’6” with shoulder length auburn hair, striking blue eyes, and a scar running from the top of her eyebrow to just below her eye. With an athletic figure honed by years of being a knight June has been known to turn heads, but many lose interest when they see her scar and as such she keeps her hair covering the right side of her face. June tends to be quiet and reserved due to the way she has been treated by others due to her scar.
August is 5’9” and keeps his hair auburn cut short in a faux hawk. A scar runs from just below his eye to his chin. He has a muscular figure and combined with his scar and rugged looks attracts lots of attention. This makes him arrogant and off putting.
Description: August/June is the heir to a family with a long history of serving the kingdom as knights. Because of this they are held to a higher standard than others and this can get in the way of how they want to live. August is arrogant and utterly sure of himself with no humility and frequently drives others away with his attitude. June is quiet and reserved, doing her best to avoid others and hiding in the shadows whenever possible. Whether male or female this knight will need to learn to either temper his attitude, or learn she is stronger then she believes.
The Scribe
Hanna Lore
Female
Age: 22
Appearance: Hanna is only 5’1” with extremely curly red hair that reaches her mid back. She has expressive gray eyes and delicate features. The young scribe has a cuddly frame that she is rather proud of considering the rest of her family are scrawny as rails.
Description: The only member of her family to be literate, Hanna taught herself how to read as a child after finding a picture book abandoned in an alley and wanting to learn what the short sentences next to the pictures said. It quickly became apparent she is something of a prodigy when it comes to language in its written or spoken form and she is now capable of speaking and reading five languages fluently. This has led to some separation from her family who are traditionally hunters and tanners who view such pursuits as unbecoming of someone not of the nobility. Combined with the physical differences she is the black sheep of her family and despite the love she has for them she tends to avoid them and moved out on her own well she was still very young.
The Bard
Swan
Female
Age: 61
Appearance: This grumpy half-orcess is 6’3” with a strong, yet lithe build. If not for her faded green skin and angular ears she could easily pass for human. Her green eyes are hard to read as they seem to always be glaring at everyone and thing around her.
Description: Ancient by orc standards, and merely old by human, Swan is technically a bard. However these days she spends most of her time drinking and getting into fights. Thanks to her slightly sorcerous blood she looks half her age, and that is where much of her attitude comes from. She has already outlived both her parents, all her siblings, and many of her nieces and nephews. She does not know if one of her ancestors is the cause for her long life, or if there was something else she encountered in her youth that may have caused the magic which prolongs her youth and life, but she gave up trying to find out years ago. Now she has resigned herself to working as a bouncer for a dump of a tavern and drinking her days away.
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OR how about Dean actually doing a whole LARP experience with Charlie on one of his days off hunting, and he convinces Cas, Sam, (and/or his gf, the reader) to go with him. He’s a cute little dork, :’) — 🧸
Dean, Your Majesty Awaits
Description: Charlie takes Castiel and the Winchesters to a Renaissance Fair. Unbeknownst to them, the reader is the queen, Charlie's best friend and Dean's significant other.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: None.
Note: Under the 500 word prompt. I really really enjoyed this one!
————
“I do not understand this activity.” Castiel prompted as per usual when he did not fully comprehend what human hobby he was partaking in.
Charlie chuckled as she stood to fix his wears, adjusting the sword strapped to his hip. Dean Winchester strolled in with Sam, holding a large plate of food in which Charlie picked from to Dean’s dismay.
“Ay, get your own!” He yelled.
“Better finish that quickly, D. Show’s about to start.” Charlie clapped her hands and strode towards the opening of the tent.
—————
Charlie, The Winchester’s and Cas all stood in front of the large wooden stage shaded with a much larger red tent, decorated with gold trim and flowers of all kinds. Four men dressed from head to toe in armor stood poised in front, swords digging into the red clay mixed with dirt and wood chips.
Another man came to the front, facing the crowd as he cleared his throat, arm raising to silence the crowd of other larper’s.
“Oi! Will all of ye shut thy trap’s and face the front!” He hollered.
Charlie, glanced over at her friends who all stared back at her, giving the same expression.
“What’s up his ass?” Dean asks, Charlie nudges him to shut up.
“We are in the presence of many of warriors, but in the presence of no kings! Our king was befallen to a dark night and fell into the grasp of death leaving our widowed Queen to rule alone. We fight for her hand and rightful place by her side! Who will succeed? Who will only perish on this day? Go! Ready your men as we will strike soon!” Bellows the man dressed in the royal colors.
Music plays as everyone murmurs while the sea of people separate. Dean’s eyes widen as he laid his gaze onto you, his girlfriend, dressed in royal garb.
“Is that?”
“Yes, Dean. This is why I dragged you here.” Charlie answered.
Your eyes caught his as he pushed through the people to get to you. He was blocked by the knights.
“Speak thy name, filthy mudsnipe. What says you to even dare to whisper to thy Queen?” The knights question Dean who rolled his eyes.
Another man approaches and stands in front of the guards.
“Hey buddy. You can’t just walk up to the Queen. You know the rules. Besides, its our team that’s going to win.” He sneers.
Dean opens his mouth to say something when you pushed the knights aside.
“He is my secretary, the right hand man to my royal round table. He and his men may enter my quarters.
“But they-i.”
“Nothing more-let them pass.” You ordered.
————
Dean still partook in the fighting, you watched him wack people out of the way. Charlie ate from the food table, free for you and your men to eat. By the end, Dean and Charlie’s team did in fact lose when Dean was the only one still around. A whole team had to be left to even decide.
It was time to choose the man and team that would run beside you for the next season. Sighing you slipped open the envelope while wandering eyes stared up at you on your throne.
The envelope did indeed read the White Raven Clan, and the leading man who heckled your boyfriend earlier. You looked over at the leader who ogled you from a distance. Then back to Dean who leaned against the railing a bruise forming on his face, a little blood from his nose from playing around too hard with everyone.
You knew you shouldn’t do this, but you were the one who ran the events in your community, and by far this was Dean’s second one and the first one that you and him had been together at.
So why not bend the rules a bit?
You threw the envelope into the fire pit that sat next to you turning chicken and stood up abruptly.
“You, the single man who stands in front of me. The lone warrior who single-handedly fought alone in the end. I hereby decree that you shall continue to stand by my side, not only as my right hand, nor my secretary, but my King and betrothed, brave sir.” You holler as a fury of claps and hoots sounded. You exited the stage shortly after they crowned Dean.
“Hey, where’d Y/N go?” He asked Charlie who smiled.
“Dean, your Majesty waits for you in her private quarters. Give her hell.” She laughs, slapping him on the back, his crown slightly tilting down.
“I love this place.”
#jensen ackles#jensen ackled#spn#supernatural#askmishapoc#spn supernatural#supernatural spn#spn fandom#dean x reader#castiel supernatural#charlie bradbury#sam#sam winchester
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Felonious wasn’t sure why he even bothered coming here. All the other nobles did was trash talk him, his late husband, and their baby. It’s like that was all they were GOOD for or something!!
“Daddy? Can I have a strawberry tart?” The soft tugging of his petty coat made the raven haired lord pause to smile down at his rose haired darling. Fel bent down to pick her up, the little four year old weighing nothing to him, as he carried her off to the sweets table.
“Of course Juilana, you’re being such an Angel tonight you can have as many as you want.” That made his freckled baby light up, her emerald eyes sparkling as thoughts of sugary treats filled her mind. It was enough to keep her deaf to mocking jeers of the other snobs around them. There was nothing more the raven haired man wanted to do, than to pick up that platter of beef tar tar, and throw it at the crowd.
there was one pair of eyes, watching them from within the crowd, who didn't make fun of them. far from it!
an older, silver haired gentleman was staring at the long haired royal in awe.
of course, he knew of lord d'uvalt, how couldn't he? the story of the lord and his tragedy spread throughout the kingdom.
while the nobles saw it as scandalous enough to mock, Alistair felt a great deal of pity for Felonious and his daughter.
well..maybe that wasn't the only thing he felt..
a possibly tipsy noble, who stood right beside Alistair, hollered even more mockery towards the lord, nudging the brit's shoulder while doing so.
it may have been the physical contact, or the choice of words this supposed 'noble' used, but whatever it was, it sent Alistair into an immediate rage.
"dont you have anything better to do than to insult a widower's ears with the sewage you spew from your mouth?!" he snapped.
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All is bliss
Chapter 53
Cw: grooming, murder, child abuse, fertility issues, magic, description of injuries, body horror, ableism
Gif by @daenerys-tarrgaryen
Taglist: @mercedesdecorazon @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9
Rhaena ---despite Jeyne putting her foot down saying it was too dangerous--- was packed along with her stepbrother and their dragons and escorted to her father by the army Jeyne promised father and her half-sister, Nettles.
Why, she isn’t sure, but Nettles thinks it’s to show off their dragons and make the Greens shit themselves.
“I do not like him.” Her eight and ten year old half-sister made her displeasure known after Ser Corwyn, a man of eight and twenty, helps her onto her horse.
“But I do, Nettie.” The girl said playing with the red ribbon he gave her back in the Eyrie. He was handsome, and great at jousting, and if Nettles was into boys, she’d find it very attractive when he takes off his tunic when he spars.
Rhaena had scarcely turned five and ten ---two weeks ago--- when the lords and knights in Lady Jeyne’s court begin to fight for her attention. She supposed it was her turn since everyone’s getting betrothed.
Baela is betrothed to the heir of House Rowan who Lady Jeyne claims is part of a conspiracy to kill Aegon and make Aemma queen. Aegon was led to believe by his councilors he had truly become loyal to him, and the Usurper believed them.
Joanna Westerling has sent a raven to father offering herself or his choice of her four daughters in exchange for ridding her of the Red Kraken. Father had ---according to Nettles--- chosen the widow as her bravery had him rooting for her despite her allegiance.
Rhaena has plenty of offers, but the choice is up to father, unfortunately.
Kermit Tully offers himself as a groom for Rhaena, as does three- and ten-year-old Bloody Benjicot Blackwood, Jason Lannister, Lord Manderley’s heir, Lord Tarly and Ser Corwyn Corbray.
Rhaena would gladly choose Ser Corwyn if it were up to her. It wasn’t fair mama married papa out of love, she tells her sister when she says he is too old for her.
“Your mother was two and twenty, and he killed the Sealord’s annoying son for her. If Ser Corwyn cares for you an ounce of what Daemon cared for his two late wives, he will wait until you are of age and know your own mind, little sister.” Nettles points out and changed the topic. “Do you think Vhagar knows Morning is hers?”
“Yes, when Aemond was Aemma’s hostage Vhagar would let her curl up beside her, she even let us get on her saddle. Unless you try to command your parent’s dragon, they don’t harm you. When Baela trained Moondancer for fighting, Vhagar refused to hurt her. Caraxes has no such problem, but that is because Caraxes is a jerk.” Rhaena explained wondering why she’d ask that.
Morning was as large as a colt now; the freedom of the mountain helped her grow as if she were a wild dragon like Nettles’ Sheepstealer. She was not a fighter, she needed training for it, but if she were to be around and hurt, Vhagar would have no other choice than to rescue her hatchling.
“Why does father want me there?”
“Baela’s escaping Kingslanding as we speak, Daemon wants Vhagar out of the fight and the only way to do it is if her hatchlings lead her away from the battle.”
Prince Aenys suckles at Alys’ teat as if she hadn’t bound his life to hers. The babe would live as long as she did while he was still at her breast.
It served as insurance, and the only way the babe lives. Had he been handed off to an ordinary woman, the babe would have been blue by morning.
Alys had done this before. With Ida’s first boy, Simon’s eldest grandson and the housekeeper’s bastard girl. They all lived long and healthy lives, save for little Simon who she felt Daemon bring down Dark Sister on him.
Every dying child she nurses becomes tied to her.
She cannot give life, but she may nurture it. A small consolation for when your gods take away your chance to be an ordinary woman with an ordinary man and give birth to perfectly ordinary children.
Her husband had been killed by the same demon he sired on her; Larys’ horrible mama had been killed by the demon Alys gave birth to when she gave King Viserys her maidenhead.
She had prayed for a chance to get away from her stepmother who believed her to be the reason Larys was born the way he was.
The gods answered, just not the way she had hoped.
Her mother, a witch from Oldtown, had been proud, her father toyed with the valyrian steel link in his old chain as she tearfully explained her situation when three- and ten-year-old Harwin found her cradling Willam’s body in her bloody bed.
After that Alys honed her skills while father and Harwin helped erase any evidence of her …experiments out of love for her.
Her sisters remained blissfully unaware of it all, Larys loathed her for she knew his true nature, but Harwin adored her as all little brothers adore their big sisters.
As thanks for keeping her secrets, Alys kept the curse of Harren the Black at bay. The curse that plagued Harwin since Lady Beatrice Rowan gave birth to him on an unlucky day.
He had nightmares of fires, of being locked in his rooms and Larys laughing as he beats the door bloody until he burns alive.
Alys used all her arts to keep her brother alive, as long as she never left the castle it would not claim sweet Harwin who was so much more than just the Breakbones.
Then one night, Larys drugged her with sweetsleep and locked her in a cottage in the woods just outside the grounds to kill their father and brother.
Same brother Larys envied for being everything he wasn’t.
He wants her dead, now that he has lost everything for betting on the wrong horse. He killed his kin for a cursed castle, so she let it all fall on his frail shoulders.
Once he is dead, Ida’s sons with Lord Whent will inherit the title and lands that come with Harrenhal. Osbert Whent, a boy of four who would need a regent. Someone Ida knows would die and kill for him.
And that someone is his beloved auntie, Alys.
“The babe dies if I die.” She tells him as she continues to care for the baby prince.
“The babe is a bastard, he has as much value as you do, sweet sister.” Her brother said with a smile. “The little queen will have others. She doesn’t even love the babe, perhaps she may thank me for ridding her of it.”
“You do not know the rage of a mother, Larys. Even if she claims not to love her son, her blood will not let her rest until he is avenged.” The witch chided him for thinking all mothers were as cruel as his.
Lara Strong had made it loud and clear that she’d been disappointed in her son. She wanted a son better than Harwin who had always seemed uncannily perfect.
Larys, while loved by his father and siblings, loathed them for believing in the venom his mother raised him on. Hated them so much he became a kinslayer thinking he could fill that void in him with wealth and a title.
Nothing more terrible in this world than to live without ever knowing love.
“So you say, sweet sister, so you say.”
“The Silent Sisters’ said it was beyond their ability to embalm her, the most they could was wrap her as tightly as they could.” He murmured squeezing his eye shut as if trying to will the memory of it away.
Usually, he is the one holding her, and tonight Aemma returns the favor. She braids his hair, helps him remove his false eye and when he asks her to comfort him in the way he had assumed, she turns him down as she has not fully recovered from the birth.
“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Aemma whispered tucking him under her chin as he is fond of doing with her.
Alicent’s death had been so gruesome she was wrapped in linen drenched in fragrant oils like a Valyrian instead of having her body embalmed as it was typical for Andal funerals. The spikes had torn through too much, even now some pieces of her clothes were stuck under the worst ones she fell on.
Whether she took her own life or was murdered was an entirely different beast. The only one in the room was Alys who swore on the Seven-pointed star she was burping Aenys on the other side of the nursery when it happened.
Not that they believed her, but they can’t change Aenys’ wetnurse without risking the babe becoming ill or worse, dying.
Even if grandfather’s and Aemond’s theory that she used her dark arts to kill her mother were true, they would have to postpone any trial and execution after Aenys has been weaned.
That would mean Daemon must wait another year to avenge her mother as he vowed that day she died.
“What are you thinking?” he asks turning so he could rest his head on her breast. If you saw him like this, you wouldn’t believe he was the same haughty prick you see in public.
“The same woman who killed your mother and mine is the same who nurses our son. We’ll have to wait until he is weaned to kill her.” She answered and he quietly chuckled.
“Aren’t you afraid she’ll kill him?”
A good question. One her grandfather and Baela and Jena and even Aegon had asked her since Alicent’s murder.
“No, self-preservation trumps all, she knows the moment anyone gets a whiff ---real or imagined--- of her mistreating the Prince of Dragonstone she is dragon food. Why do you think all your brother’s supporters are flocking to me now that the end is nigh, dear husband?”
Most courtiers had turned Green to keep themselves alive and with all their wealth, now they switch their cloaks for black to do the same. While Aemma will spare them, she will still punish them for their treachery.
They didn’t learn anything from when Jaehaerys spared their forefathers, this time Aemma intends to make the lesson stick.
They must learn the world cannot have a second Otto Hightower.
#aemma velaryon#aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc#all is bliss (in the court of aemma the great)#all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond x aemma#rhaena of pentos#nettles#alys rivers#ewan mitchell
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KAFU
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
"What image do you put on me, I wonder?"
_KAFU_ Hermit Wanderer
Name: KAFU
Japanese: 寡婦
Other Names:
_Kafu-san/ Prefect-san
_Hérmite Vagabond (Rook)
_Box Jellyfish-chan (Floyd)
_Furin (Erin)
Twisted From: Sadness (Inside Out) + Kokonose Haruka/ Konoha (Kagerou Project)
Voice Actors;| Ado (Book 1-4), Satou Hinata (Book 5-7)| Japanese
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
Age: Unknown
Birthday: August 14 (Leo)
Species: Misfortune-Spreading Hermit
Height: 190 cm
Gender: Non-binary (They/Them)
Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
Homeland:__
『Family:
Divianta__(Mother)
Tsukuyomi_(Older Sibling)
Sebek Zigvolt (Godbrother)
Irene Anasaki (?)』
Dormitory: Ramshackle
Grade: Freshman
Class: 1-D (No.14)
Club: Light Music Club
Best Subjects: History Of Magic, Alchemy
Hobbies: Sleeping, Wandering around the campus
Favorite Food: Noodle Soup
Likes: Painting, their friends, Riddle Roseheart, Erin Asakura, Sunflower
Least Favorite Food: Strawberry
Dislikes: Irene Anasaki, their mother
Talent: Curse Identification
"'Secondary Prefect' of Ramshackle. Travelled to Twisted Wonderland by accident, they have to stay at Night Raven College as a student."
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
Personality:
KAFU is a calm, almost shy individual who prefer to blend in. They consantly help those others whenever they can with utter kindness, people who have talked to them say that they seem to be pretty mysterious. Besides their name, nobody know anything else about them.
However, KAFU can be very manipulative unknowingly. Their comforting words with a shy expression can convince you to do anything they ask.
KAFU, like their sister often paints. For some reasons, their paintings are all about the students of Night Raven College. On each person's head is their names, as KAFU can't remember faces pretty well.
According to them, KAFU isn't very good at remembering something especially names. So they paint people in order to remember their identity.
KAFU is nice, of course! But they may not be nicest when it comes to hurting their friends.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
Unique Magic: Mirage Of Paramnesia( パラムネシアの蜃気楼))
⋅☆⋅An ability that can create illusions based on what the user want it to be.
The rule of it is simple: The user has to imagine the shape of mirages that they desire.
──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────
Trivia:
Name Meaning:
KAFU: means "Widow"
°Backstory: [Sentiment Vessel]
°OC Playlist: [Hermit Wanderer]
What If This Isn't A Slave_Tuyu
I don't want to do it, don't want to do it
Then, what do you want to do? I don't know, I said I don't know. This is the only thing I've ever done
°KAFU's braid was done by Yukiharu, which lead to it being really messy. They liked it, tho.
°KAFU's name is named after their favorite singer in their world.
°KAFU's Netherland descent.
°KAFU is in a queerplatonic relationship with Erin Asakura and Riddle Roseheart.
°KAFU is Sebek Zigvolt's godsibling.
(Pixel Banner: @arcdiris
BIO layouts inspired by @rosietrace)
@anxious-twisted-vampire @writing-heiress
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So, I started a cleaning job where I don't have to talk to anyone, which is lovely, but it also meant I started listening to audiobooks, and I've started listening to some book series I've been hearing about here and there, and the latest was The Raven Cycle. Why? Because you posted about it. You are literally the only person on my dashboard to post about it, but the few ones I have seen over the last months? years? have been enough for me to be assured in it having queer rep, being well written, and potentially worth my time. And yeah, it very much was, cause now I'm kinda hooked on it, like not just Adam/Ronan, tho very much them as well, but Maggie even got me caring about a straight couple with Gansey/Blue, cause she just writes such beautiful and unique characters!!! And anyway, besides asking you if you have some favourite AO3 recs (Don't even care much about the ship, as long as it's with these characters) I come having finished The Raven King a week ago, and now humbly but also very desperately asking, do you have any other book recommendations like TRC for me to listen to??
(Oh, and maybe also whether or not the dreamer triology will be just as good? Cause I'm curious about it having Ronan in focus, but more than the story, it's the characters that got me hooked on TRC, and like Maggie Stiefvater's writing style, but yeah I'm unsure how much of Adam there is in the trilogy, and the new characters, are they just as intriguing??)
YESSSSSS I LOVE SNAGGING PEOPLE AND DRAGGING THEM INTO MY FANDOMS XD WELCOME
the Dreamer Trilogy has its pros and its cons. if does significantly shift the focus of the narrative away from the established group, so if the Gangsey found family dynamic is a really big factor in your enjoyment and you don't want to be without it, you'll be disappointed by TDT because the rest of the gang simply isn't present 😭 it's very much Lynch-(and new characters)-focused.
Ronan is the main character and gets the most screen time, but honestly, Declan steals the show in that series. people can go into TDT Declan haters and come out of it with rabid Declan brain rot afdkjgh, i for one am obsessed with him. Matthew gets a real arc too, which i love for him. Adam doesn't have a huge role but he is around and relevant. i am IN LOVE with some of the new characters, and Maggie got us again with the straights!!! she makes us fucking YEARN WITH THE STRAIGHTS, on par with Bluesey imo, the new canon ship destroys me ok??
i will say that TDT doesn't feel as cohesive and satisfying in the overall narrative structure sense, compared to TRC. there are some things about it that confuse/frustrate me or don't make sense if you look at it too closely 😅 but there's so much really interesting compelling character/relationship work that it makes up for it, for me. i enjoyed TDT a lot, have read it multiple times, and will definitely read it again. it expands upon the world and lore, and i'm a sluuuut for complicated dysfunctional family dynamics so the Lynches get me good.
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as for other recs! in case my unrelenting TRC blogging isn't damning enough evidence, i'll admit openly that i tend to just read the same thing over and over again instead of reading anything new lfkdjgh, so i don't actually HAVE anything else to rec myself, i am useless to you 😅😅😅 so instead i reached out to some other fans on discord and got suggestions from them to share with you!
The Scorpio Races (also Maggie Stiefvater)
The Wicker King (K Ancrum)
Aristotle & Dante (Benjamin Alire Saenz)
A Darker Shade of Magic (VE Schwab)
Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao)
In Other Lands (Sarah Rees Brennan)
Hell Followed With Us (Andrew Joseph White)
The Darkest Part of The Forest (Holly Black)
All Of Us Villains duology (Amanda Foody, CL Herman)
Self Made Boys (Anna Marie Mclemore)
Legendborn (Tracy Deonn)
Folk of the Air series (Holly Black)
Six of Crows duology (Leigh Bardugo)
Winternight trilogy (Katherine Arden)
Gideon the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir)
The Atlas Six (Olivie Blake)
so, again, i have not personally read any of these books to make the recs more specific or say what part of them invokes TRC vibes, but it sure is a place to start?? 😂
.
for fic recs, oh god, my brain is SWISS CHEESE, let's see if i can remember and dig up anything aldkfjg
(ok first i rec my own fics #shameless self promo)
Magnetic i've read SO MUCH and will again, it's everything to me
don't it beat a slow dance to death is a timeloop thing A+
I'm an Empathetic Drunk, Ok? is the first long TRC fic i read i think
All That I Know is Gone has dreamer!Declan, obsessed with this
King by the Roadside Gansey-didn't-die-the-first-time + polyam
A Sound Of Thunder Declan died instead of Niall 😭😭
aaaaaand these are the ones that are coming to my mind as of right now, the first 3 are all Pynch. i think the 4th has Pynch but it's mostly brother feels - that one introduces some elements from TDT but i don't thiiiiiink anything that would be a significant spoiler as long as you've read the short story Opal, which was included in my physical copy of TRK if it wasn't in yours, i have the epub). could hold off on that one until you (maybe) read TDT (if you wanna), but i've read it too many times not to rec it. 5th one hooks up the whole gang in one big polycule and i love it for that, and the last one hurts my HEART as a Declan stan but it's otherwise a great fic 😂
anybody else with TRC recs, add on/reply/hit @so-very-asleep up with 'em!!!
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Make It Make Scents
Ever since presenting as an omega at the age of fifteen, Xie Lian had been insecure about his scent because it’s not sweet or flowery like the typical omega. His scent is sharp and tangy; it sours when he feels threatened or angry or upset, leading others to be wary of him. But as the only child of the Xianle pack’s Head Alpha and Omega, others treated Xie Lian respectfully as default.
He knows most of them weren’t genuine.
Xie Lian doesn’t have many close friends, which he is fine with. Feng Xin and Mu Qing seek him out most days to do fun activities between their pack duties. Another omega from a recent pack merging, Shi Qingxuan, seems to have taken a liking to Xie Lian as well.
Still, even in front of the few he can trust, Xie Lian chooses to never let it show how others’ indifference towards him as a person affects his self-esteem.
Another thing Xie Lian despises: pompous-ass, self-entitled alphas who think they deserve whatever they want just because they’re at the top of the hierarchy. They think that if they show interest in anybody, that wolf should be grateful. After all, alphas have the highest probability of conceiving with any wolf. And since omegas are proven to be the most fertile, it’s most common for alphas to court omegas.
But Xie Lian refuses to settle for a knothead who has no other character traits outside of acting like a dumb alpha.
Take San Lang, an unsuspecting and mellow wolf who is more than capable of fulfilling his simple wants and needs, imprinting on Xie Lian since he first joined the pack from another territory, at the age of seventeen. Xie Lian is two years older than this strange wolf but San Lang is still nearly the same height as him.
San Lang has beautiful, thick raven hair that falls in waves. The distinct form of a widow’s peak, two sharp eyes - one dark onyx, the other tinted scarlet - that convey a thousand expressions with their movements alone. Xie Lian thinks he has a baby face in general, yet he keeps growing.
Xie Lian would’ve kept his distance because he’s not the most social wolf apart from customary appearances as the future Head Omega. But since San Lang is chosen to help build more log cabins to house the new pack-mates (which Xie Lian plays a large role in designing) San Lang follows the omega around like a large puppy, carrying out his every order with curious eyes and a clever tongue.
It doesn’t make sense. Why isn't San Lang retracting back as if he had smelled something awfully foul? That’s what everyone else does, and it’s what Xie Lian has gotten used to.
Even more, San Lang has taken it upon himself to incessantly call Xie Lian “gege” and engage him in meaningless conversation. San Lang even asked if Xie Lian wanted to hunt with him. Xie Lian, an omega, hunting with this wolf he hardly knows anything about, who doesn’t have a scent besides muted pine-??
Strangely, San Lang is about to turn eighteen and still has yet to present. He's predicted to be a beta, something he happily tells Xie Lian. At least the kid isn’t setting himself up for disappointment.
Now it makes sense. If San Lang can’t smell Xie Lian that well due to the fact he hasn’t presented, it explains why he hasn’t regarded Xie Lian with any sort of disgust.
When Xie Lian agrees to go hunting with San Lang (the kid is really effective at persuasion when he uses his damn puppy eyes), imagine his surprise when San Lang immediately bolts in one direction in search of an elk he smelled from acres away, which he successfully kills and drags to Xie Lian’s feet.
“How did you-?“ Xie Lian asks after shifting into human form. He immediately covers himself up with one of the robes they brought in a sack. San Lang shifts as well. The right side of his face is streaked with blood, bringing out the scarlet hue of his eye.
Xie Lian resolutely doesn't let his gaze travel south. The peek of a wide, muscled chest has him shoving over the other robe in haste.
“I have a very sensitive nose,” Sang Lang explains. He shrugs on the robe, then nudges the dead carcass closer to Xie Lian, his expression anticipating.
The omega naturally bends down to acknowledge the kill.
On the outside, he voices his praise for the younger wolf. Because he was looking down, gently closing the elk’s eyes, Xie Lian misses San Lang’s pleased smirk.
On the inside, Xie Lian is flabbergasted. Not only is San Lang’s ability to smell incredibly impressive, better than three-fourths of the alphas in the pack, but it means San Lang has been able to smell Xie Lian this whole time.
Xie Lian brings it up a few days later.
“San Lang, what do I smell like?” he asks while the other chops wood. They are in the forest again, providing the standard furnishing for the new cabins which includes pre-cut firewood.
“Huh? Why are you asking all of a sudden?” San Lang questions back, his forehead gleaming with perspiration. He pushes a few strands of hair out of his face, the rest tied back into a high ponytail. San Lang waits a few moments, then pauses chopping to stare directly at Xie Lian, tilting his head.
“W-well,” Xie Lian starts. “Not many people like my scent. They say I smell like smoke, or rotten meat.”
San Lang forcefully drops his axe after hearing this, which Xie Lian begins to protest at. But seeing the younger wolf slowly over, the omega falls silent.
When San Lang stands right in front of Xie Lian, he inhales deeply. After exhaling, he inhales again, nostrils flaring.
“That's not true,” San Lang concludes. He frowns while looking down at Xie Lian-
Taller than me!? Xie Lian internally shouts. How!? The audacity-
San Lang continues, speaking in a soft tone.
“You smell like...like sitting by the fireplace on a cold winter’s night. And like the warm porridge you carry with you when traveling in the snow. It’s...almost milky. Sweet, even. Cozy.”
Xie Lian’s cheeks heat up after every comparison San Lang makes. The taller wolf barrels on, eyes zeroing in on Xie Lian’s angelic features.
“...it’s easy to tell when something bothers you because your scent will turn bitter, like when you actually taste vanilla by itself. But it’s not bad at all,” San Lang finishes, pupils dilated. He seems to be taken aback by his own forwardness. He awkwardly clears his throat before stepping back.
“O-oh,” Xie Lian says dumbly, looking down in embarrassment. “I see.”
“I like your scent, gege,” San Lang admits.
Neither of them say anything after that. But the prolonged eye constant seems to say more than enough-
Which Xie Lian can’t decipher! It doesn’t help that San Lang suddenly scampers back to chopping wood, the tips of his ears suspiciously red. Perhaps it’s just from the cold, Xie Lian can’t tell. Who knew a wolf as kind and dutiful as San Lang would just plop himself right in Xie Lian’s (metaphorical!) lap !??
San Lang’s nose twitches, noticing how the omega’s scent blooms into something akin to ripe coconut.
He bites his tongue in self-restraint.
《II》
#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#hualian#xie lian#hua cheng#omegaverse au#omega xie lian#alpha hua cheng#cerdrabbles#four-shot#written for another fandom but here we are#TBC
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Hello! I've decided to make a pinned post because I'm bored!!!!
So who am I? Well, online, I like to use the name Gamer(it was just bestowed upon me because of my username). I use he/him and I am a man enthusiast, and I'm a little bit silly and whimsical.
"Gamer, I have now become infatuated with you and want to know what you like." Thank you person reading this, I will now tell people what I like.
Generally speaking, I like a lot of mythology and video games. Besides that I like a lot of horror and action media, and I also like watching some youtubers/streamers like Grian, Mithzan, Snapcube. Now onto actual fandoms.
Webtoons(I have phases where I just marathon read a bunch of webtoons I need to catch up on and then I basically dont read them for half a year, damn this is gettting a bit long, I'm gonna list them now):
- Hero Killer(episode 145)
- Surviving Romance(finished)
- Spicy Mints(episode 72)
- Jackson's Diary(season 2 finale)
- Omniscient Reader(episode 76)
- more but I'm not too much into them.
Books(unfortunately, I barely read at all and I'm trying to fix that):
- Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao
Games:
- Splatoon 3
- Hades
- River City Girls 1 and 2
- Zelda botw/totk
- Bayonetta(mainly 1 and 2, I was so disappointed by 3's story)
- Persona 5
- Persona 5 Strikers
- Pokémon, but I've played moon, let's go eevee, sword, legends arceus, and violet.
- Animal crossing
- Danganronpa(I hate to say it but I do love them games)
- Omori
- Resident Evil 2, 3, 4, 7, and 8.
- Silent Hill 1 and 2
- fnaf
- God of War 2018 and Ragnarok
- PS4 Spiderman 2018 and Spiderman 2
- Doom 2016/Eternal
- There's definitely a lot more I'm forgetting
Musicals:
- Heathers
- Six
- Beetlejuice
- I mainly try to avoid some musicals until I can actually see them so that's it.
Series/Animes/Movies:
- BEST ANIME EVER NYAN NEKO SUGAR GIRLS
- FAN SEQUAL TO THE BEST ANIME EVER, NYAN NEKO SUGAR GIRLS: MAYONAKA
- SERIES INSPIRED BY BEST ANIME EVER, HAIMI! SWEET AND SOUR BOYS!
- SERIES ALSO PROBABLY INSPI- you get it, it's called Sparkle On Raven! The life of Drillgirl
- Yandere Highschool(Samgladiator)
- Heartstopper
- Komi Can't Comunicate
- Way of the House Husband
- Stranger Things
- The Spiderverse movies
- Jennifer's Body
- Heathers(the movie this time)
- the newer Godzilla movies( I do wanna soo some of the older ones though)
- yeah as you guessed it, there's probably more I'm forgetting
Music artists:
- Melanie Martinez
- Rina Sawayama
- Mitski
- Jazmin Bean
- Poppy
- DeathbyRomy
So, uh, yeah, that's about it. Uh, you can ask questions if you want, but beware, you might be cursed by the wizard.
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🥳🥳🥳 Oooh yay! 1k! 🥳🥳🥳
How about a little 😈 ?
"Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?" with whoever vibes with the sentence for you — I love them all and everything you write.❤️❤️❤️
(so so glad I made it back in time to celebrate)
So you're the last one, and you've triggered a story in my head I never thought I'd have. So bravo for that, you made me write Grace in more than just passing reference.
Anyone that's been around here knows I don't like her, I certainly don't trust her, but this is unequivocally her.
And this warrants much more than 5 sentences.
---
No one expected Tommy's wife to survive, including the devil of Small Heath himself. He thought he watched her die on the floor of the ballroom, covered in blood and clutching her husband with one hand and the cursed stone in another. Tommy screamed for the finest doctors but didn't really expect them to save her.
They did.
She was placed in a wing of the house that wasn't in use. She had round the clock care through her entire coma. Tommy told no one, expecting her not to survive. Troubled and heartbroken, he carried on with his plans. He did not correct anyone when they called him a widow. Soon he would step into the role, so why not try it on beforehand?
When she woke up, weak and reaching for her boys, Tommy could scarcely believe it. And once Grace had settled into reality, catching up to Tommy's schemes while she was dreaming and healing, she agreed that for the moment she should remain dead. She would make her grand entry back into the land of the living once Tommy had gotten the jewels and the information and left the Russians mourning their choices.
Grace floated through the house, a ghost or a shadow that even the staff did not see. And as a ghost, she was able to see things she otherwise wouldn't have as the mistress of the house. She learned things she otherwise wouldn't have learned. Like her husband kept a diary of plans of sorts hidden deep within the pages of a Latin book in his office.
So she learned about the Russians. And the jewels. And Alfie Solomons. And Tatiana.
Oh, Tommy had much to explain.
Grace always met Tommy in her bed, a weak smile on her face. She pretended to walk feebly. She shook just a little more. How else would she have the freedom to learn all of her husband's dirty secrets?
No wonder Tommy kissed her cheek and patted her hand before leaving the wing to invite Tatiana into their marriage bed. He thought she would never know.
Instead, she watched in the shadows as the raven-haired Russian stalked around her house half naked in the middle of the night, giving orders and nearly shooting her husband.
Grace seethed, but she hid it. There was a time and a place for everything.
And then Thomas handed their child off to a stranger to be taken to a predator. And in his grief he sent his cousin to collect Charlie while he faced his demons to dig for jewels.
When she found her son in bed, clean and angel-faced, she knew Tommy's plans had come to fruition. When she saw the note for the jewel sale in his calendar, she knew he had finally finished his business with the whore.
Then her own plans could begin.
Thomas returned home that evening, humming a tune and a pep in his step for a job well done. He found his wife in the garden, planting a new row of rose bushes, dirt smeared along her concentrated brow. He smiled and kissed her temple and she smiled in return.
"Late in the day for planting, eh?" He hummed. "You should wash up and sit with me for supper."
Grace smiled, nodding as she stood up from her task.
"I would love to," she said. "I'll have someone fetch Charlie and we'll eat as a family."
Grace left for the house, leaving Thomas standing beside the newly planted rose bushes. He teetered on his heels for a moment, enjoying the air, when he noticed a gleam in the dirt.
Thomas leaned down and picked up a familiar ring. He squinted, realizing the ring was not his wife's. He had seen it on his night stand before, the dark jewel glittering in the firelight as the Duchess ran her foot along his groin.
"Sweetheart, what did you bury in the garden?"
#murderousgingers 1k bash#promptmurderousginger#peaky blinders#Tommy Shelby#Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess#grace Shelby#grace burgess#i really don't like grace#i have the best mutuals i stg#storytime with murderousginger
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