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dduane · 6 months

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It's all about the Light

People were commenting yesterday about the surprisingly photographic quality of this image, so I want to deal with some of those inquiries here.

First, though, since the main character's clothes were a mess in that one—as I was beginning the process of tweaking about six different things at once in that set—I wanted to redo the render with that problem fixed. So here we have Freelorn back in the "dress casual" he'd have been wearing in court that morning, in this soon-to-be-published work, when the magpie first becomes an issue.

The first question most people seem to have had about this lighting setup is: "How did you do that?" And in all honesty, even after backing out to have a look at the set as a whole, I'm still not entirely sure how I did it...except that over time and multiple uses, more and more light sources of various kinds got hooked into that set. Tl:dr; I got lucky. (shrug) ...A more detailed discussion, with wider images of the set, is over here.

The first time I got lucky that way was in this shot. Just a joke render: a take on the concept "short king". "Hey," I thought, "I've got a king sitting around here, and he's short.* Let's emphasize how short. For fun."

(I wound up rendering that shot several times, over several posts, as a diagnostic. I'm nothing if not persistent about establishing for certain that I have no idea exactly why something's happening.) :)

...And then after a while another opportunity for a joke came up, in a meme-based mode, and who was I to pass up such a thing? Especially when all I had to do was change some positions a little.

(caption: "We lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship." ...Yeah, did they ever.) :)

In any case, you'd best believe that I went out of my way to preserve the original file/version of that set, so as not to accidentally mess up that overall lighting effect; and then occasionally used duplicates of it to stage other work, including the topmost image on this post, and various others that followed it.

Like this one, more an atmosphere piece than anything else, in which the man sitting in the Throne is having a bad day—

—and this one, of the very first time he sits in that chair, preparing to do justice on the surviving leaders of an army of people who the day before were trying to kill not just him but everybody he loves.

(ETA: noting a minor eye problem with the above: something technical. Will do another render and put it up in the morning.)

...Anyway, I've been meaning for some while to put aside the time for serious work on the Throne's textures.** Partly it's just a desire to have it look nice. But also, this isn't just some fancy chair; at least not to the people whose rulers sit in it. It's been intimately associated with the descendants of a demigod for hundreds of years—in fact, no one's really sure how many centuries. And popular opinion in Arlen has it that the Throne's routine adjacence to even quite dilute divinity has over time elevated it beyond mere furniturehood: has, indeed, caused it to become sensitive about whether the person who sits in it is in fact entitled to be there at all. (Not least because, sooner or later, bad things tend to happen to those who aren't.)

So in illustrations the Throne ought to look like a good solid artifact that's been around for a while and has picked up some patina. But it should also look like it's been well cared for, and have something of an air of venerability. (sigh) Still working on that. —Anyway, the current textures have always been temporary measures, unsatisfactory to a greater or lesser degree. I look forward to creating ones that better reflect what I see in my head... though that's a matter for a different and more technical post.

As to those questions:

@megatraven Is that fucking blender?

No, it's Daz Studio. I have to deal with Blender more than I like to at the moment (for example, I need to create new steps for that set in Blender shortly), and it drives me around the bend. But I've been working with Daz long enough now to have acquired at least some expertise, even though sometimes I have less idea about why things are working (or not) than I'd like.

@fyeahnix #tumblr brain rot is so strong I thought this was some AU take of that Jack Frost twink from Guardians

Oh. No, nothing to do with him. This character is the one around whom most of the drama of my first fantasy series has crystalllzed out. Freelorn started out more than forty years ago as kind of a romantically-inclined jerk with a love of lost causes and a recurring sporadic inability to think practicalities through. But he's been improving. :)

Anyway, thanks again to everybody who commented kindly about the good look of the images. The light: it's all about the Light. :)

*Lorn's probably about 5'9". Dusty's around 6'2" or a bit taller. (In that second image, definitely taller, as the boots that go with that outfit are riding boots and have significant heels.)

**And also the tapestries directly behind the Throne.

#Middle Kingdoms meta #the Throne of Arlen #Freelorn #small king #digital art #Daz Studio

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hmshermitcraft · 8 months

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If you didn't know, some species of birds will collect fur from various fluffy critters to create insulation for their nests.

This is the reason that doc etho and ren had to stop napping outside. When it was just false, the resident bird, they could ignore the gentle pulling and stroking that came when she wanted a little extra fluff. Then Grian joined and it became more incessant. Then pearl came and oh boy oh boy, that's too many birds.

Doc is the main target, he's massive and creeper fur is great for temperature control, Ren is next in line because the undercoat of a wolf is soft and dense and comfortable. Etho's only in last place because nobody can ever seem to find him.

When it got annoying the six of them had a chat and the birds, albeit a touch reluctantly, agreed to not steal the loose fur off them during nap time.

Turns out that it's much nicer to nap in the sun when someone is brushing your hair than not, so this rule was revoked in like a week.

They eventually started to slip the middle man and a Bird would pick a Critter and they'd have a wonderful sleepover. This too became too complicated so they all agreed to just, share a double kings bed and go to sleep together. Etho took some convincing because the trade for sleepy cuddles and free brushing every night was having a proper sleep schedule. He agreed when doc started to stand ominously in the fog of his current project.

It really is a lovely arrangement, and eagle a parrot and a magpie curled up with a wolf a fox and an amalgamation, all having the best sleep of their lives every night.

Grian lives to his namesake and rises with the sun, he passes his time "preening" the fur and hair of whoevers closest. Then doc, who leaves soon after waking but never without a kiss. False and pearl wake up at the same time, leaving Ren and Etho in the middle of the pile to sleep until noon, or whatever it is that canines do on any given weekday.

-s, who keeps learning new bird facts that I simply Must share

They realised the whole 'pairs' thing was getting a bit ridiculous when they had to start writing a schedule. It took a bit of work to create a bed that fit all of them and satisfied their various urges, but they made it work.

Ironically, all of them sleeping together has reduced the need for extra fluff too. Grian, Pearl and False still maintain their own nests, but they don't need as much work since they're not sleeping in it every night. It doesn't stop them jumping on whoever they spot napping outside for some bonus cuddles.

Ren and Etho especially appreciate it during moulting season; it's like having a free clean up crew for all that extra fur, except they get kisses and cuddles out of it!

#hermitshipping #ask #grian tag #docm77 tag #false tag #ren tag #pearl tag #etho tag #grifrendocpearltho #s anon #mod 🎀

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smallgodseries · 2 years

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[image description: An Alligatorid of the Caimaninae family wears a black t-shirt and an unconvincing black toupee. He smiles toothily and points to a red book – ‘Armenian Gods’, Winner of the Yugo, Crab Nebula, Blueberry, and No Bell Prizes – inside the breast pocket of his black jacket. Neal’s Sales Pitch appears in a big word balloon. Text reads, “I gots ‘em all guv’nor! The Gravestone Book, A Coral Line, Neverwear, Good Womens, Blackberry Girl, Armenian Gods, Signal to Boys, Horse Mythology, Starduck… 141, Neal Caiman ~ Small God of Copy Copycats”]

• • • • •

Here is a fact about humanity that humanity as a whole often tries to reject: originality is not the holy grail. There is no special award for being the first one to have an idea, no magical “you got there first, good show” prize for being the person to pioneer a new shape of story. Humans are magpies, one and all. They see, they steal, they polish and rearrange, building bowerbird palaces of bits and pieces, and the most enduring stories have always been made from the gutted remains of a thousand things that came before.

That isn’t to say that theft is an acceptable means of creative expression. The best are patchwork artisans, not highwaymen: they do not steal, but they allow themselves to be inspired by the stories already all around them, the fairy tales and the folklore, the local legends and the family rumors and the lies and the lies and the lies. It doesn’t matter, to a storyteller, whether the seed they plant is false or true; the story that sprouts from it will be both things at once, patently untrue, and yet filled with a core of absolute honesty. Neal is not a thief of dreams.

He is, however, a guide to all the many roads that you might potentially walk to find your own store of seeds.

He will walk with you through fairy tale forests and down dark folkloric lanes, guide you through the tangled briars of poetry and escort you into the gated halls of history. The seeds you plant may, in their first sprouting, resemble his own, but with proper care and nurturing, they will bloom into something altogether beautiful and different, and there will be none more eager to applaud you when you appear at your first Fiction and Floral Show than the scaly king of seams, who sees all the places you have stitched old stories together to come up with something entirely your own.

Don’t worry so much about being the first.

Worry about being the best.

• • • • •

Join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many small deities who manage our modern world:

Tumblr: https://smallgodseries.tumblr.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/smallgodseries

Instagram: https://instagram.com/smallgodseries/

Homepage: http://smallgodseries.com

#small gods #smallgodseries #Seanan McGuire #Lee Moyer #icons and stories

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moorishflower · 1 year

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a fic I'm reading in a different fandom references the Chinese fable of the Magpie Bridge a lot, and while reading, I couldn't help but think, okay, but this could also be a great concept for a Dreamling fic 🤔

Two lovers, one a goddess, one human, so their love is forbidden. Separated by the Milky Way, they can only meet once a year when a flock of magpies form a bridge across for them.

Swap in 100 years for 1 year and ravens for magpies and there you have it!

oh this is a GOOD one

there are so many good bird-related fables and folk tales! I've been tooling around with the idea of a Dreamling AU of the Crane Wife story, especially because it's one of my favorite songs/series of songs by The Decemberists.

Like, imagine Hob, poor, humble, a mercenary in a time of peace, laid down his sword, and he's glad of it, he's SO glad, but his sword was what brought him coin, and now he has nothing. He has a little house that was gifted to him, and a little copse of woods in which he can hunt and cut wood, but winter is coming on, and the house wants for repairs, and he has no money to purchase supplies. He's doing the best he can and winter is so cold.

The stars fall like streaks of rain on glass, the twilight sky a scattering of silver and bruisy blue, and it is December 1st, and Hob Gadling chops wood for the fire. Stupid, to let the embers dwindle, and he with no logs to feed it, and the sun sinking deep below the horizon. It's bitter cold in daylight, and already the chill bites into his fingers, and numbs his hold on the axe.

Dangerous, to chop wood at night, in the dark, in the cold. Dangerous, too, to fall asleep in a cottage that's more holes than thatch, where the wind whistles at him through the timbers, with a dead hearth and thin blankets.

So Hob chops wood, and tells himself he's grateful for the chance the king has given him. For services rendered to the crown, a home and a plot of land in times of peace. A princely gift indeed. And perhaps, when winter thaws, they will find his body curled upon the bed, frozen stiff, with a dead hearth and empty pockets. Firewood, he thinks, does not buy food. A run-down cottage does not put clothes upon your back.

He sets the axe down to blow into his hands, and the stars blow like milk across the sky, a beautiful line of white that he tracks with his eyes, as though he could navigate by that curling stream. The temptation to return to his cottage, to bundle up beneath his few blankets and await the dawning, is sorely tempting.

The winter is bitter cold, and Hob reaches for the axe again.

The third sapling is not yet even half-felled before he's interrupted by a shout. Hunters come, sometimes, to his little copse, to flush out partridges and hares, and sometimes he is too heartsick for company to deny them, but tonight he is freezing, and his chest is heavy with anger. He swings the axe upon his shoulder and goes towards the noise, wading through the underbrush, following the bay of a hound, and the sharp whistle of its master.

"Oy!" he calls out, and hears the noises stop. "These are my woods, mine by gift of the King, and if you've felled some hart or hare I'll take my share of it!"

"Fuck off!" comes the answering call, and laughter, and the retreating sound of footsteps. The panting of a dog, disappearing into the brush.

He wants to return to the cottage, where at least he has the illusion of warmth. But he heard the crush of the branches, and the hound's eager signal. The hunter had found something, and he needn't even fully butcher it tonight. The cold will keep it well so long as he bleeds it and takes out the entrails, and, heartened by the thought of a warm meal come morning, Hob pushes through the darkening woods, following broken twigs by the light of the rising moon.

When he comes upon the clearing, the silver gleam of the tumbling stars casts it all in shades of cream and starkly alarming shadow, but even in the dimness he can make out the small body in the center, and smell the hot tang of blood.

"Oh," he says softly, and lets the axe fall from his hand. No hart, nor hare, nor even a fat partridge. Only a raven, glossy and nacred black, thrashing weakly in the rotting leaves of winter. An arrow through its wing. "Poor thing. Sweet little thing. It's all right."

He could snap its neck, he thinks. The meat would be gamey and thin, but even leather, boiled long enough, will make a tolerable soup. And surely it would be a blessing, to put it from its misery. A raven with a single wing cannot fly. A raven that cannot fly is not a raven.

Still, when he goes to it, and kneels beside it in the dark, he reaches not for its neck, but for its tiny, heaving breast. "Hush," he croons, and strokes a finger through its downy feathers. "It's all right. Let's get that out of you."

The arrow is black-fletched, perhaps the reason a hunter would bother to shoot a raven in the first place. Needless fancy, when goose feathers fly straight and true, and afterwards one can eat the goose besides. But the shaft of the arrow is wood, the same as any other, and easily snapped. The raven writhes and croaks, miserable, pained, and blood dampens Hob's hands as he pulls the broken arrow from its seat. He can see the white flash of bone, and the blood that slicks the ground turns dark as the loam of the earth under the rising moon.

"Christ's nails," he says, and the raven turns its head, its eye a perfect, black little button, its mouth open and panting. It makes no attempt to flee, not by wing and not by foot. The ravens in London are uncommonly clever, he thinks -- perhaps this is one of them, blown far off course. Perhaps it senses that he tries to help.

He has no healing salves, nor needle and thread to try and stitch the wound closed, and no knowledge of birds' wings, besides. But he has his tunic, worn but clean. Hob takes up his knife from his hip, and begins to cut long strips from the bottom of his tunic, until he has a loose coil of woolen cloth, and a hole that bares his belly to winter's bite. Gooseflesh raises on every inch of his arms, and he shivers.

"This is my only tunic," he tells the raven. "I hope it brings you some comfort." He puts back his knife, and peels the raven's wing apart from its body, stretching out the pinions full and beautiful, long and slender as fingers. Blood oozes sluggishly from the wound and, one-handed, Hob begins to wind the strip of wool around the shape of the raven's wing, tight as he dares, until red spots it through, but, at least, no longer waters the barren earth.

When he ties off the cloth, the raven yanks its wing back, and tilts its head at Hob. Birds cannot have expressions, but if he were to label it so, he would say the thing was confused. Alarmed. Considering.

Then it shakes its sleek little head, the ruffed beard at its throat puffing out. When it croaks, it almost sounds like a word.

Name, the raven rasps. Name, name, and Hob laughs.

"Funny little thing," he says. "You've spent much time around humans, then. Maybe you are one of London's ravens. Hob Gadling is my name, for what good it does me. If the winter gets much colder, it will accompany me to my grave. No coin for food, nor clothes, nor nails to patch the king's cottage." His laughter turns bitter in his mouth, and he cuts it off before it can become a scream, or worse, a sob. "But I can help a raven. If I do nothing else in this life, I can do a few kindnesses before I go. To make up for all the men I've killed."

The raven tilts its head, back and forth, and back and forth. It fluffs out its feathers, and rights itself upon the ground. It's a fine-looking bird, he thinks. Thin, but so beautifully feathered that one can hardly tell at first glance. The down of its chest and wing had been softer than a woman's breast, and Hob thinks of his straw mattress, and his cold, thin blanket, and wonders if the raven will make it through the night.

"I'd keep you, if you'd let me," he offers, feeling foolish for speaking so candidly to a wild bird. The raven blinks its liquid eyes at him. "The nights are longer and lonelier than ever, and I've no wife to warm me at home. But a raven is a fine companion. And I've got some bread and salt beef left that I can share." He offers it his wrist, expecting nothing.

When the bird steps lightly up, spreading out its wings to balance, he feels some small ember kindle in his breast.

"All right," he says, and dares to try and stroke the raven's throat with his finger. It tolerates him for a moment, seeming as surprised as Hob, and then snips at him with its beak. "Cheeky thing. Pretty thing. Will you be mine, then?"

The raven tilts its dear little head. Blood has oozed through the bandage around its wing, a startling red exclamation against off-white wool.

Mine, it croaks. Mine.

And Hob laughs, and tucks the little thing against his chest to shield it from the wind. His axe he leaves buried to its haft in cold soil. He will return come morning to fetch it. For now, he will make do with the wood he's chopped, and hope it burns the night through. If not for his sake, then for the raven.

And if he passes in the night from cold, well. He hopes the raven makes use of him then, too. It would only be fitting.

The stars are falling still, when Hob trudges through the darkened woods towards his cottage. They gleam like specks of dew on morning grass; they fall like snowflakes in the depths of winter, and in the raven's eyes they reflect in silver splendor, a dozen times refracted into an endless night-blooming sky.

#dreamling #the crane wife #hob gadling #dream of the endless #ask response #the sandman #fanfic

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afterartist · 1 year

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Little known fact about me

I really love birds!!

And I love Winged AUs, so I thought, why not make my own version

So here’s my take on some of the well known AUs as what wings they would have (plus some dumb little notes lmao)

Classic: Pigeon

(Come on- its perfect- I don’t need to explain this-)

Fell: Bearded Vulture

(They coat themselves in blood and red mud- that’s totally edgy mc edge lords kinda thing)

Swap: Parrot

(Super smart, bright and dexterous- He deserves this- best boy)

Dream: Barn Owl

(Very silent fliers but don’t have water proof feathers so can’t fly well in rain (dream has a fear of storms- it’s all coming together))

Ink: Pelican

(Idk why- it just fits in my mind (he’s not a parrot shut up-))

Error: Secretary Bird

(Long distance and usually one shot attacks- like- these guys are so badass but also rly super dumb- they’re perfect)

Nightmare: Raven

(Only the edgiest bird for the lord of angsty teens (but also a super smart king of negativity ig)

Killer: Magpie

(Smart, dangerous and easily distracted by shiny things)

Dust: Herron

(Very precise, well timed, attacks in multiple different terrains via super sharp beak)

Horror: Wedged Tailed Eagle

(These things take out paragliders- you can’t tell me a tank like horror wouldn’t be one of these)

Cross: Woodpecker

(It was either this or a chicken and I don’t want the cross fangirls after me-)

Fresh: Cuckoo

(Parasites.)

—-

(Plus My AUs (for funnies))

Barrier: Swan

(Anger issues go brrrrr- also he’s pretty but an asshole <3<3)

Idle: Osprey

(They can sometimes track their prey for miles and have versatile talons(technically this is spoilers but y’all don’t have context yet lol))

Spoke: Lovebird

(Very smart but usually underestimated and thought of as ‘weak’)

Rivper: Arctic Tern

(Who better to be a multiverse taxi then someone who literally won’t stop migrating)

Helical: Burrowing Owl

(Lives in the desert, attracted to shiny things and hides from the sun- it’s literally him- what more can I say)

Climate: Red Winged Fairy-Wren

(his colour palette, loves storms and doesn’t have a neck)

Idk, I may draw some of these if y’all are interested but this is just a dumb little idea that’s probably rly badly thought out

But I like birbs and I like this so u have to deal with it (:

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antisepticcrayon · 1 year

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Posting here too! Just so I can give a longer explanation a bit for the few pieces I've been able to scramble for Sean.

Now I'm not the best at drawing people so it's very rare that I get to try to draw fanart for Sean and the community but I'll share the few I've been able to do!

Starting with the spring banner I made for Sean's server! Has to be one of my favorites becos I loved how it turned out and the fact that I somehow won the banner contest. It's always such a funny shock to go onto the server and see my art there. I've never been so proud of an accomplishment like that.

Next up is the Chase brody youtooz plush concept. Now I did this for kicks and giggles (/hj. Please Sean. We need sad dad plushies.) But it was pretty funny that that reference sheet got way more attention than I thought. And at the time of iris being fairly new was also so funny to me. He looks so sad. I need 17 of them.

King of the daisies portrait! My one piece of fanart that got the most recognition from the community! I spent a grueling 5-6 hours on this piece. It was during a time of art block so I wanted to try drawing realism for a month (didn't go exactly a month but I tried!) And this was my second attempt of the month and it came out so well. I absolutely adore it. And the inspiration came from when Sean announced that white daisies were his favorite flowers. So of course to honor the flow3r king, I did that for him. (Also another reason the banner, he's wearing a daisy crown!)

And finally the anti portrait. This one I made at work actually right before I was contacted for winning a meet and greet ticket to face time Sean through moment house. And to calm my nerves for the next couple days, I worked on this piece. (I referenced an art piece done by turquoise magpie I believe for this one!) But also another part of my month realism challenge!

The 2 realistic portraits hold a special place in my heart. Becos even through the horrendous wifi (and my uncontrollable anxiety) and cutting out during my meet and greet, I had the chance to show him them. I just didn't get to hear or see his reactions properly but the fact I showed him at all for him to see was more than enough.

Annnd then these last art pieces (I'm frankly TERRIFIED of showing. Unsure if it counts as fanart buttt)

These first 2 photos are reference pieces for my "JJ" inspired OC/Fursona. He is considered my comfort character who I tend to draw and doodle whenever I'm feeling down or having a bad day. Jameson (and chase) are my favorite egos and I find comfort in them. Not sure why, but I do. I feel like they just came at times I was struggling the most and brought joy to me though. Just Sean in general has done as such.

And the last photo is a book cover I created for a short story I'm writing with my self insert OC and chase Brody (along with the other egos).

The short story takes part of a community I'm in that surrounds giant/smalls/humans folklore and certain cultures surrounding a time of creatures big and small, Aka G/T! Think of any fairy tales like jack and beanstalk or even japenese animes like the secret world of ariety or movies and books like "The borrowers". (Another comfort for me. I find writing helpful as well for bad days and to also center and express myself again)

Anyways one of my favorite human pieces I've ever completed on my own through lots of practice and failed sketches (my good friend zora rendered and shaded it for me! Actual drawing, linework and coloring done by me!)

Anyways, I hope I'm not overstaying my welcome so I'll cut it off here!

I thank you both for doing this revival! I was never able to participate truely with "septicart" but I'm glad I can right now through this :)

Thanks for reading!

- Dj💜

(I apologize if my wording is wacky! ADHD and dyslexia isn't a fun combination when trying to write and explain things ack)

@turquoisemagpie @rogue-of-broken-time

#SepticartRevival2023 #septicart #jacksepticeye fanart #jacksepticeye

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 6 months

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reading updates: october 2023

hi everybody!!! things (by which I mean everything) have been a little bit hectic lately (by which I mean it feels like everything is one fire 100% of the time), which I guess explains why I'm late posting this AND why I only finished four books in all of October.

I would be very sad about this if the number of books I read had any correlation to my value as a person, but luckily it doesn't! so I don't give a shit, I am literally just vibing and trying to have a good time reading my silly little stories. here's a book report about it.

what I've been reading:

The Goblin Emperor (Katherine Addison, 2014) - okay, so picture this: you're the fucking elf king's least favorite son. you're not a bastard, but he didn't love your mom and after she died he basically banished you to a miserable little estate in bumfuck nowhere with no one but your abusive older cousin for company. probably he was going to leave you out there forever and hope that you would die quietly so no one would ever have to remember you existed. (un)fortunately, your shitty dad and all of his male heirs just died in a blimp accident and now you're the emperor. GOOD LUCK. this book is political fantasy of the highest order, with loads of machinations and intrigue and chewy worldbuilding interspersed with genuinely sweet moments between characters as one very good boy befriends his way to power. blah blah empires are inherently evil, obviously yes but this is a made up empire with 0 real consequences and Maia is my little dude. the only way I could love him more would be if he'd just nutted up and kissed his boy secretary on the mouth.

Happy Hour (Marlowe Granados, 2020) - I kept seeing this book enthusiastically as kind of a light fizzy funtime celebrating being young and free and running around New York City with no plans, and man... that was not my experience! Isa and Gala are maybe the most stressful girls I've ever encountered in fiction: perpetually broke and hungry, absolutely lacking in direction or ambition, always ricocheting listlessly from one situation to another in search of a good time and mostly only discovering disappointment, I need these girlies to get their lives together for my sake as a reader. there's one scene in particular where Isa is crashing with some disgustingly wealthy friends at the beach and keeps getting callously dismissed while sweating profusely and trying to figure out how she's going to convince them to keep paying for her food and it was so visceral that I developed a second, worse anxiety disorder because of it. Granados' writing is stylish, to be sure, but drama was not worth it for me.

The Magpie Lord (KJ Charles, 2013) - this historical fantasy romance is quick, dynamic, and horny. I can't actually say that I'm particularly charmed by the quality of the writing, which is there to hurtle you at warp speed between scenes of homoeroticism and bald exposition about magic, but I do admire Charles' panache. the book opens on a rather gruesome scene of our protagonist, Lord Crane, attempting to slit his own wrist; it quickly becomes clear that this isn't because he's genuinely suicidal, but because he's been cursed by persons unknown in an attempt to drive him to ruin. enter Stephen Day, a magic practitioner who hated Crane's deceased father and brother but is determined to help him all the same. some plot happens, but also a lot of flirting and (spoilers) sex that comes with an actual power-up for Stephen due to the wonders of blood magic. a pulpy good-time all around, and short enough that it doesn't overstay its welcome.

The Fervor (Alma Katsu, 2022) - The Fervor is a historical horror with a tantalizing premise: in the 1940s, Japanese demons begin to manifest inside of an Idaho internment camp for Japanese-Americans, adding a swirl of the supernatural to a situation that's already rife with mundane horrors. the actual execution is... lacking. Katsu's prose is blunt at best; when I call it "unsubtle" I don't mean the way some racist might mean when they inevitably go on a ramble about how Katsu beats her readers over the head with how racism is bad. racism is bad, duh, and it's hardly unrealistic to emphasize the fear and hatred that dogged the lives of Japanese-Americans during WW2. when I say this book is unsubtle I mean Katsu approaches each chapter like her readers have maybe forgotten everything they read leading up to that moment; you will be reminded frequently of characters' names, relationships, and straightforward motivations. and yet, somehow, the actual plot is still pretty murky. much is hinted at in the protagonist's past in Japan, then never actually elucidated, a main POV character falls clean out of the plot without resolution just before the climax, I still don't know what was up with those goddamn demon spiders. disappointing!

there was also one very specific, GLARING thing in the ending of The Fervor that I did not care for in the slightest, but that's tucked away on my Patreon in the monthly hater post. pay me if you want to hear about some CRAZY copaganda!

#bookblr #reading updates

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qserasera · 4 months

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antivenom ; a snowbaird fanmix mostly blues/ballad/folk; 'I said, 'Do you know where the wild roses grow / so sweet and scarlet and free?''

Song list below {01 When the Chips Are Down ('Songbird vs. rattlesnake') Intro - Hadestown | 02 The Devil Went Down to Georgia - Calamity Jane ' "The girl said, 'My name's Lucy / And I'm the best there's ever been' | 03 Where the Wild Roses Grow - Kylie Minogue, Nick Cave 'On the second day I brought her a flower’ | 04 Killing Time - Dillon 'when push comes to shove / killing time by making love' | 05 Mr Magpie - Electric Swing Circus 'girl you're gonna be / another victim of his charm' | 06 Lion Tamer - Ariana Savalas 'if he's the king, she's the princess / he worships her, but still she's oppressed' | 07 Megalomaniac - aeseas 'got my tongue / better watch your back' | 08 Curses - The Crane Wives 'Won't you stay with me, my darling / When my walls start burning down, down, down' | 09 Slow Motion Countdown - Lera Lynn 'I can see you, knife in hand / But the ropes have got you all bound down' | 10 Rule #7 Angel Tango - Fish in a Birdcage 'my nights are so much longer / you left my heart no choice' | 11 I've seen that Face Before (Libertango) - Otros Aires 'Like a hawk stealing for the prey / like the night waiting for the day'| 12 Sway (Tango Mix Version) - Sawa Kobayashi 'like the flowers flying in the breeze / land with me' | 13 The Count and His Lady Belle - Karmina 'maybe we could live happily there / life isn't fair' | 14 Bluebells - Patrick Wolf 'Lucy, remember / the smell of fall...I fell off the wagon/into your arms' | 15 Snake in the Grass - Sirs&Madams 'then all the while / you were hissing like a snake in the grass' | 16 The Angel of Death - The Devil Makes Three 'can you truthfully say with your dying breath / that you're ready to meet the angel of death?'}

#snowbaird #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #lucy gray x coriolanus #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #fanmix #i had to make my own food for this KLSDJFLS which was interesting running thru the genres i usually did not listen to as much #music #also just adding that it is SO not the point to the story but i loved the image of like.....imagining the person who promises themselves to #be ur knight but they're like the kind of fey knight who would throw their true love into the sea for their own fortune etc etc #eta eta that if u used this for writing or liked some of the song choices or anything i Would love to hear about it always in the tags :DDD

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dailykillermoth · 1 year

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✨✨✨ ultimate batman loser tournament ✨✨✨

here are our lovely contenders for the best (worst?) d-list batman villain <3

each vote will last 24 hrs & results will be regularly posted below ⬇️

♡ ROUND ONE : Clock King VS. Orca - WINNER [CLOCK KING]

♡ ROUND TWO : Chancer VS. Ratcatcher - WINNER [RATCATCHER]

♡ ROUND THREE: Killer Moth VS. Copperhead - WINNER [KILLER MOTH]

♡ ROUND FOUR: Cavalier VS. Calendar Man - WINNER [CALENDAR MAN]

♡ ROUND FIVE: Firefly VS. Flamingo - WINNER [FIREFLY]

♡ ROUND SIX: Kite Man VS. Magpie - WINNER [KITE MAN]

♡ ROUND SEVEN: The Eraser VS. Condiment King - WINNER [THE ERASER]

♡ ROUND EIGHT: Polka-Dot Man VS. Professor Pyg - WINNER [POLKA-DOT MAN]

QUARTER FINALS START !

♡ ROUND NINE: Clock King VS. Ratcatcher - WINNER [RATCATCHER]

♡ ROUND TEN: Killer Moth VS. Calendar Man - WINNER [KILLER MOTH]

♡ ROUND ELEVEN: Firefly VS. Kite Man - WINNER [FIREFLY]

♡ ROUND TWELVE: The Eraser VS. Polka-Dot Man - WINNER [POLKA-DOT MAN]

SEMI FINALS START !

♡ ROUND THIRTEEN: Killer Moth VS. Ratcatcher - WINNER [KILLER MOTH]

♡ ROUND FOURTEEN: Firefly VS. Polka-Dot Man - WINNER [FIREFLY]

FINAL ROUND !

♡ FINAL VOTE: Killer Moth VS. Firefly - WINNER [KILLER MOTH]

#graphic design is not my passion this is gonna be ugly as hell sorry #gonna tag it ->#d list tournament #if u dont wanna see it #also we are going to IGNORE the massive bias this blog has everyone follow ur heart #batman #dc comics #tournament #gonna throw some random tags here #killer moth #calendar man #polka dot man #condiment king #firefly

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mrs-lockley · 6 months

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wip wednesday - sabrina au

author's note: to motivate myself and keep myself accountable, i'll be participating in wip wednesday! here's a snippet of my current wip. the au is based on the 1954 movie sabrina, starring audrey hepburn and humphrey bogart. there is no moon knight in this au. the reader is best friends with steven and has an unrequited crush on marc. the fic will progress into a jake-centered pairing. pairing: platonic!steven grant x southeast asian fem!reader, marc spector x southeast asian fem!reader tagging: @soft-girl-musings @musing-magpie @writefightandflightclub @venting402, thank you so much for your supporting me along this journey!

“That’s amazing!” You told him. The two of you were cross-legged on the floor as you poured him another cup of tea. “I just know the kids are going to love having you as a tour guide in the King Tut exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

Your best friend beamed, a soft red dusting his smiling cheeks. “You think so? I start on Monday. I’m so nervous! I don’t want to mess it up or bore them with all the details, but you know how much I love Ancient Egypt.”

“You’re going to do great. You make history sound so fascinating and entertaining.” You smiled reassuringly at him. “I missed hearing all your schpeals while I was in Singapore.”

“Well, that just means I have to do some more research for you to get you up to speed,” Steven countered, and the two of you laughed. “I’m so happy that you’re back and that I get to meet with you again. We missed you so much.”

Once again, your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Marc missing you. But you quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it came— you and Marc were friends beforehand, after all. You already spent two years away from him, surely you should have gotten a grip over your unrequited crush on a man who had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever.

Your face must have fallen. Before you caught yourself, you found Steven’s brown eyes washing over you with concern. “You know, love, Marc told me he missed you too. I know you didn’t keep in touch with him frequently like you did with me. Are you doing okay?”

You swallowed hard as the other shoe dropped. As much as you hated to admit, it was true. Compared to the handwritten letters and postcards you sent Steven, your communication with Marc paled in comparison. You reasoned with yourself that the distance would do you good, and the only times you shared any correspondence with him were through some texts and pictures you sent via email. Like Marc, you did not have much social media, and you preferred to keep your private life private. But in the texts you both shared, they were straight-forward. You knew Marc was not fond of communicating through texts, and it was difficult to keep track of when he fronted with the time differences between New York and Singapore. So naturally, he fell through the cracks.

It’s been a few weeks since you saw Marc, and the last time you spoke with him was when he took you home after picking you up at the airport. You weren’t avoiding him per se, but you also did not trust yourself around him. One look at him, and all the feelings you tried to repress would suddenly rush to the surface.

“Does he know?” You asked, your voice quiet and hesitant. “About my feelings for him?”

You watched as Steven’s eyes softened. Whether your best friend was telling the truth, or telling you what you needed to hear to avoid hurting you, you weren’t sure.

“No, he doesn’t.”

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #moon knight x you #moon knight imagine #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine

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carefulnowprincess · 1 year

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Rumors (Daemon Targaryen x Fem Reader)

A/N: Happy New Year! I'm starting 2023 off strong with some smut as always, but this time it was for a fun HOTD holiday exchange. I really hope @magpie-to-the-morning loves it! Happy Reading! :)

Daemon Targaryen x Fem Reader (18+ ONLY)

Warnings: PIV sex, oral (male and female receiving), teasing, talk of masturbation, high Valyrian, dragons, doggystyle, a little bit of hair pulling, some plot cause this girl cannot focus without something, short haired Daemon

Length: 3,500K

“Rōvēgrior Caraxes, rōvēgrior.”

Within earshot, you heard Prince Daemon praising his dragon, or The Blood Wyrm as he was known to call him. You took notice of the bond between them both at a young age.

But growing up alongside House Taragaryen had its advantages and disadvantages: you had the opportunity to put your hands into the pot of their flaunting wealth, hearing the first whispers in Kings Landing of whom should rule after the passing of King Viserys, and of course, being desirably close to Prince Daemon.

Oh, how you wanted him.

The main disadvantage came from wanting him so. You knew what he was; a whore for anyone he could get his hands on especially in Flea Bottom’s best brothels and the upper-class men and women of Kings Landing. He was known to have a nasty temper toward anyone who was indecorous to himself or his family, easily splitting men in half with his sword named Dark Sister. While it often turned your stomach to his display of attitude in killing, his smile, blonde hair, and confidence in himself and House Taragaryen was what stole the show for you.

The flaws of being so close to the royal family also came with having to see Prince Daemon with Mysaria everywhere he went. She followed him like an annoying leech, sucking the blood (and then some) out of him. He was clearly annoyed by her presence yet you never were quite sure why he kept her at his side all these years.

Perhaps the largest downside to being madly in love with a prince of royalty was he never took much notice of you. Yes, you were a dragonrider yourself, a lesser-known but still acknowledged in Kings Landing. You acquired your dragon and your riding skills as a teenager, a few years younger than Daemon was himself at the time. Your crush had become an internal obsession, one that only very few trusting friends were aware of. Did you hold your breath when he passed by? Of course. Would you chuckle following a joke he had heard himself? Without a doubt. Were your fingers numb from touching yourself each night while you imagined him fucking you and filling you up, tying you down, and saying a simple praise he had told you once about how tightly you held the reins of your own dragon?

Absolutely.

Your pussy ached at the thought of him each day, rubbing together your legs in hopes to calm yourself when you were unable to lay down and give yourself that pleasure you so desperately ached for.

As weeks became years, you continue to lust after the Prince wondering why he himself had not settled down with someone even that vile Mysaria.

“Rumor is that he is looking for someone that he can ride with, and don’t mean just some silly flight around Westeros,” your best friend murmured to you one day. Your confidant was a handmaiden inside the Red Keep who took a special interest in your little infatuation with Daemon. She overheard this latest news while in the bed chamber of another family member of House Targaryen. Your eyes widened at this information. Your heart soared for a moment but instantly sunk knowing he wouldn’t bat an eye at you. A frown covered your normal cheerful face.

“While that normally is happy news to my ears, it is unlikely that anything would come of it with me,” you said just above a whisper, eyes darting to each side to make sure you were both still alone. Your friend placed a light hand on your shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

“You’re an amazing dragonrider, if he doesn’t notice you by now he’s a fool,” she said with reassurance.

You gave a small scoff. “By now? It’s been years, he barely looks at me. He takes more notice of my dragon anyway,” you said. It’s true, your dragon, Neercostes, was something of a spectacle around Kings Landing. He had beautiful brown scales and smooth orange accents while he breathed fire that shimmered like gold with curious red eyes. You loved him dearly like he was your own child, yet, you still longed for something more.

Something more that you could see in Prince Daemon.

Your friend frowned. “Don’t say such a thing, in time, perhaps he will come around,” she said with reassurance. You shrugged.

“Perhaps,” you replied simply and went off your own way. Pulling out your riding gloves from your pocket you made your way to the Dragonpit. You had hoped a ride on Neercostes would clear your mind of the ill news you had just received except you were met with a sight you had rather hoped to not see.

“Prince–Daemon,” you stuttered, thrown off that he now stood in front of you as he climbed to Caraxes’ back.

Daemon took notice of you easily and smiled, patting his dragon’s side before he decided against pulling himself up.

“Ah, look who it is. What might you be doing down here?” He asked with a curious tone.

“I–I just thought I would take an evening ride to clear my head, so to speak,” you stated as you stood still completely forgetting where your legs were supposed to be taking you.

“Clear your head? Bad news got you down jorrāelagon?” He asked with his tongue lingering on the last word in Valyrian. You knew what it meant: dear.

“One could say that. Just hoping for better news ahead of me, I mean–I’m sorry my Prince, I’m just blathering on now–”

“Nonsense, I’m sure it could be of some entertainment to me,” Daemon stated with a chuckle.

You had found your feet finally, moving towards Caraxes and him slowly as not to upset the Blood Wyrm.

“You see, just someone who I have pined for many years wants someone better than what I can offer…” you lingered on before you quickly shut your mouth.

In the darkness of the pit with little light to be shown that for a few flames of torches, you watched the magnificent prince make his way towards you, towering over you. He smirked.

“What is it that you cannot offer? You seem to be quite capable if I say so myself,” Daemon stated, his eyes darting from your head to your riding boots. You may have even notice him take a peek at your bosom, but you were too dumbstruck by his comment you couldn’t even be sure.

Swallowing, you went eye-wided when his gloved fingers touched at a strand of your hair.

“Maybe it is not so relevant for you to know my Prince,” you said, trying to think of some lame excuse.

“Everything is my business in Kings Landing. Tell me, I’m sure it is nothing that I cannot handle,” he stated, continuing to rub his fingers between your hair. You felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment and slight desire with him being so close to you and from spilling your own deep desire.

“A–a man whom I’m acquainted with stated they wanted someone who was a marvelous dragonrider but I realized I do not think I could live up to their expectations,” you stated trying to avoid his gaze. You chose instead to look fondly at his fingers upon you before he moved his covered hand towards your chin in order to meet your gaze.

Daemon smirked and pondered his response to you for a moment. “Does this news have anything to do with a certain man who is in this place right now?” He asked.

You bit your lip sheepishly and nodded. You couldn’t help but stare into his pierced purple eyes and felt the slight pull of him onto you even further. Gods, he has never been closer to you…

The Prince’s lips came close to yours, thinking you were in a fever dream before he pulled back and let out a roarous laughter.

“Who do you think made up that rumor dovodedha ābra? Of course, I would love someone who could ride with me anywhere I desired, well, where we desired to be,” he said, walking behind you. Your heart was beating fast, pacing out of your chest at this news and what he was doing to you in this moment.

“I–my Prince? Why would you make up such a rumor?” You asked, staring into the darkness. You felt warm fingers along your shoulders. He must have removed his gloves in the process of going behind you. Your hands were fisted at either side of you, tight and gripping unsure where to move them to. A warm breath was felt upon the back of your neck, moving to your shoulder.

“Bordeom possibly, or I am only trying to seek out the best dragonriders Westeros has to offer. I am sure that is you, is it not?” He asked with more confidence then what you have spoken in the last few minutes of being in the Dragonpit.

Daemon’s fingers squeezed at your shoulders and you could not help to long for him to touch your further even if it was false hope for his desire for you.

“But Prince Daemon, you barely take notice of me, how could you know I–”

“Are an amazing dragonrider? Iā ābra hen pōja own zaldrīzes? Do not be so fucking foolish. You think I do not pay attention to you each time you are here, when you walk around, see you fly on Neercostes? Makes my cock practically hurt when I see you land,” he said with want. You rubbed your legs together at the mere mention of his cock and his thirst for you.

“I would assume you have not taken much notice of me my Prince. You–don’t speak to me much,” you admitted. Daemon let go of your shoulders and spun you around. His face gazed down into yours, eyes shining in the darkness. His hand held you around your neck and let his forehead touch yours in a comforting gesture. Your head was spinning at the closeness he was displaying.

With eyes closed, you felt the sigh of Prince Daemon’s breath on your face. “I admit, it was hard to approach you in front of everyone, I wanted to be sure however. I’ve seen how we have grown up together, how much we have learned and yet, you also never approached me,” he said with a sadness in his voice. Your eyes fell open and pulled back from his face.

“How could I? You’re a fucking Prince of House Taragaryen! What would everyone think? You’d want some slight upper class whore like me?!” You said with anger. Daemon laughed and pulled you to his chest.

“That’s exactly right zaldrīzes kipagīros, and exactly why I could have you. I am a Prince and I can have anything and anyone I want and what I want is you,” he said with assurance in his voice. You gave him a look of confusion.

“And what of Mysaria, why is still at your side like some long lost flea bag dog?” Daemon cackled with his head thrown back.

“Oh her? She’s just a decent fuck when I don’t have someone I hunger for,” he said simply. You were taken back by his casual approach to his relationship with Mysaria. Were you jealous? Of course you were, but only because he seemed to actually pay some attention to her.

“Well, why are you waiting until this moment to tell me all of this? I have–ached for you for too many years,” you said, quieting your voice down on the last words. Prince Daemon frowned, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“I told you, I wanted to be sure of my desire for you was fruitful and true. I seem to have an impact upon you, do you not agree?” He said. You nodded.

“Then why not let your yearning come to light? Let me show how much I hunger for you, a skilled zaldrīzes kipagīros with beauty and strength,” he said quietly, his lips an inch from yours. You felt desire go straight between your legs before you did the unthinkable and pulled his face to yours in a deep kiss. The result came to be of moaning, tongues dancing together as you both foolishly forgot where you were, groping each other in such a manner that only the roar of Caraxes made you aware of your surroundings. Your eyes darted to his dragon before Daemon laughed.

“I think we can fix this problem, and for Caraxes as well,” he said. Your lips felt bruised from kissing but you took Daemon’s hand as soon as he offered it to you as you were pulled to Daemon and to climb aboard his dragon.

“My Prince?” You asked. He reassured you with a deep kiss.

“Trust me,” he said, before he instructed you to hold on tight and gave the command to Caraxes to begin his flight out of the Dragonpit.

It was a short journey from Kings Landing to the outside of the peninsula, inside the hilly forests that lay lush with greenery. Even during warm summer nights it was a thing of beauty, one that you did not get to see often usually only staying inside of Kings Landing and simply soaring over. Caraxes landed over a plain green field before Daemon helped you down from his dragon’s back to pull you close to his body with and squeezed your ass causing you to be surprised.

“Daemon why are we here?” You asked as he kissed at your neck, a soft moan escaping your lips as you made a quick survey of the area. Daemon bit at your neck and groaned.

“Believe it or not, sometimes I want privacy when I fuck,” he said simply, yanking on your top. You laughed slightly at his admittance but nodded as he pulled at the rest of your clothing to be removed, settling yourselves far away enough from Caraxes but still alone.

You laid on your clothing, almost now completely nude, looking up at your Prince with a smile.

“I find that hard to believe, considering I’ve heard plenty of other rumors about you,” you said. Daemon laughed.

“Is that so? Such as?” He said as he removed his own clothing. You watched him with lustful eyes, almost taken back by what rumors you heard of. You felt wetness pool between your legs as you rubbed them together.

“That you fucked thirty people in Flea Bottom’s brothel in an entire night,” you said as you helped him remove his pants. You swallowed as his hard cock became free, standing at attention with precum glistening in the moonlight. Wettening your palm with your tongue, you began to stroke Daemon’s cock from the tip to his balls, rubbing up and down causing Daemon to lose track of his response. He moaned.

“That is–fuck–indeed a rumor. I’ve only fucked fifteen people at one time in that brothel,” he said, grabbing onto the top of your head as your tongue met the tip and gave it a lovingly swirl with your mouth. You suckled hard and licked your way down his shaft and licked at his balls, giving him the attention you so desperately wanted to.

“Now, do you want to continue rumors or want this story to be truthful of fucking one of the best dragonriders Kings Landing has to offer?” You gave a small chuckle.

“I don’t know, rumors can still be entertaining,” you said, your mouth popping off of his cock. You went to work on his head, sucking as he gripped onto head harder. You moaned at the feeling, bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Daemon groaned at this feeling.

“You are a wicked thing, perhaps I should see if you taste just as sinful,” he said as he gestured you to remove your mouth from him. Daemon came to lay on top of you, kissing you with his tongue, mouths together and mixing with desire and heat. Moaning into each other’s mouth, he made his way to bite at your neck and down your chest, grabbing at your breasts and kneading hard. He pinched at your nipple, the other covered by his mouth. You moaned at the feeling.

“Fuck, my Prince…” you trailed on, feeling his hands and body move down yours, kissing past your stomach and reaching your clothing still covering your lower half.

“Do you think you’re sinful? Do you want these rumors to spread like these legs spread so easily for me?” He said. Your legs did exactly as he said and spread open for him before he moved your bottom clothing to reveal your wet pussy.

“I don’t know, do wish for those rumors to go around?” You asked suggestively.

“Well, it is always a good thing to hear gossip of rulers, keeps the people amused and I love amusement,” he said, spreading your pussy and rubbing along your clit slowly and down your enterance. You moaned at the feeling, head laying back to stare at the stars above. His finger dipped inside of you, shortly followed by another finger to hit you in that wonderful spot that would help you see more than stars.

“Oh Daemon, that’s it,” you babbled as he fingered you just right, moving his body up to suckle on your breast again. His cock rubbed against your stomach and you could not help but notice how large it felt against you.

Your head in haze watched as your Prince released his mouth from your breast and made his mouth back down to your pussy, licking slowly at your clit in a circle causing you to moan loudly, his fingers still torturing you in the best way possible. Your hands reached at his short white hair pulling at it. Daemon groaned at the feeling.

“You really are as sinful as they come, aren’t you?” He said, tongue replacing his fingers. You ignored his question and bucked your hips into his mouth, grinding your cunt against his tongue. You were above the clouds, so close to touching the stars that it felt impossible when the flick of his tongue made you cum, gripping onto his head. You cried out with his name in your mouth while Daemon never let you go, drinking every last drop of you that he could handle. He groaned as you came onto his tongue before you pushed him off of you overstimulated and panting but still wanting more.

“How do you want me my Prince?” You asked, pulling him up to you to nip at his ear. Daemon’s cock was red and hard with desire as he stroked it with his hand.

“On all fours so I can really see what it is like riding you from behind,” he purred against your ear. You did as wished getting onto all fours ready to receive him. Daemon grabbed at your hips and smacked your ass causing you to yelp out in surprise, a flood of fresh desire going to your pussy.

“Anything you want my–” you couldn’t speak as his cock impaled into your wet pussy with no resistance, his rhythm slow for a moment before gaining speed. You cried out at the feeling your hands twisting into your clothing beneath you. His cock was so large that the burn felt maginificent. Prince Daemon pulled onto your hips and continued to smack at your ass, your head buried into the ground. You yelled out in desire and ecstasy, already ungodly close to your release.

“Qogralbar ao sagon sīr ȳrda,” he murmured, something that was beyond your comprehension in Valyrian. He yanked onto your hair, gripping hard as you whined in desire. As you were nearing your peak, you pulled from his hold on you as took over to get on top of Daemon, surprising him and giving you a chuckle.

“What is this peldio?” He asked with lust. You smiled as you kissed him.

“Just showing you what it is really like to ride your dragonrider my Prince,” you said. You bounced on his cock, hips grinding against him. Daemon felt like he could cum at any second. Normally he was not the one to be taken over when he was fucking someone, but surprises were always welcome. You moaned above him, hands holding onto his shoulders as his own hands found your breasts to fondle.

“You really do know how to ride me like a dragon, I’m–fuck–surprised,” he groaned. You laughed a little, quickening your speed as you bounced on him. Soon Daemon’s cock wanted more of you, his hands moving to your hips and pounding his way upwards into your pussy. This surprised you as you moaned loudly letting him take over.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to–”

“Cum all over your Prince’s cock? Of course you are,” he said with assurance. Your body fell onto his chest as he fucked you moving your mouth to his for you to kiss each other in a desperate need.

“Oh, I’m cumming, I’m going to cum any moment my–”

You head pulled from his lips, whining out his name again as he felt the constriction of your pulsing cunt around his cock. His own wanting quickly caught up to him as he came into you, pressing his body as much as he could. He gritted out your name against your ear, fanning it with hot air as you both shared an agonizingly slow kiss.

You slumped downward and pulled yourself from his cock as you felt his seed seep down your thigh. You groaned in satisfaction at fulfilling your long-filled captivation with Prince Daemon of House Targaryen.

“So, should I spread this rumor or should you?” You asked.

Daemon chuckled.

“I think it is time you start spreading truths.”

Valyrian Translations:

Rōvēgrior - Excellent

Jorrāelagon - Dear

Dovodedha ābra - Ignorant woman

Iā ābra hen pōja own zaldrīzes - A woman of their own dragon

Zaldrīzes kipagīros - Dragon rider

Qogralbar ao sagon sīr ȳrda - Fuck you’re so tight

Peldio - Viper

#prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #hotd daemon

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