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meraxesmoon · 6 months

Note

imagine daemon prohibiting bastard!reader from having dragon rides and balerion almost destroying dragonstone because of it

note: TURNING THIS INTO A ONESHOT BC OMG

warnings: yandere content, daemon being petty, rhae trying to mother (name), caraxes slander (I'm so sorry), a dead knight

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Dragonstone was particularly dreary today, or maybe she just saw it that way as she stood before her 'father' and his wife as he explained (or at least tried to) why she was barred from riding Balerion today. It made no sense to (Name). Did her father secretly hate her? Did he want her to suffer? Otherwise, why would he stop her from doing the only thing that made her happy?

It was obvious that Rhaenyra and Jacaerys did not agree with this, but she was Daemon's daughter, and what he said went.

"You are banned from dragon riding until further notice," Daemon says, looking at his little girl as she glares at the floor with her dark eyes. She's misty-eyed and refuses to look at him as she grips at the burgundy dress her stepmother had put her in early this morning. The fabric was being pulled at and wrinkled as she gripped in in her tiny hands, her knuckles paling as she urged her tears not to fall. She hated looking weak in front of him. It made her skin crawl. The only one she allowed herself to be vulnerable with was her dragon, Balerion.

She genuinely hated Daemon Targaryen with a searing passion.

"Come now, Sweetling," Rhaenyra tries to coo at the little girl as dotingly as she could, using the tone of voice she only used with her children. "I'll take you to see Syrax if you'd like." It was a kind gesture, even (Name)'s muddled mind could comprehend that, but she was too distraught to say anything back to her stepmother. Instead, she takes Jace's hand as he leads her back to her room, knowing that all she needs to do is cry and take a long nap.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

(Name) is only ushered out of her room once dusk hits, Luke taking her to Dragonstone's dining hall so she can eat with the family. She sits in between her "brothers," shielding Daemon from her view. She could hardly look at him, her lip wobbling as she sipped at the cider in her cup. Rhaena had gifted her a dragon figure made out of dragon glass, and (Name) grips it tightly in her small hand as she tries to eat.

"..."

The dining hall was usually bustling with conversation, but tonight, it was starkly quiet. Rhaenyra sat and made sure little Joff wouldn't choke on his food, Baela was sharing looks with her sister, and the boys kept sending worried glances to their mother. (Name), once tired of eating her food, just glared at the table. Daemon held his chin in his hand, ignoring the disappointment looks his other two girls were sending him.

"(Name), come with me tomorrow to ride on Caraxes, he's very -" "No." She grunts out her response, poison dripping from her voice as she glares at the table even harder.

She didn't want to fly on his stupid dragon. She wanted to fly on her amazing, graceful, gorgeous dragon. Balerion had a certain ferocity to him, of course, but he was gentle with her and treated her more kindly than most humans. It hadn't even been a full day, and she missed him dearly.

Before any arguments could flare up, a guard comes storming in, panic written all over his face.

"What's happened, Ser?" Rhaenyra questions, thinking that perhaps something had happened to her youngest children. White in the face, the knight clears his throat before answering. "It is the princesses dragon. The Black Dread is attacking Dragonstone!"

Daemon goes slack, his eyes closing in irritation.

He hated that overgrown cat.

"Daemon, take her to him. Now." Rhaenyra warns her husband, her amethyst eyes narrowing at him.

Daemon takes his daughter on Caraxes, and they fly down to the bridge of Dragonstone where Balerion was wreaking havoc. The onyx scales of Balerion shone in the evening sun as he trampled all over the place. In his jaw, the bloody remains of a knight. (Name) grimaced at the sight, because she knew that Balerion wouldn't have done this unless he was bothered enough.

He was angry, she could feel that much.

Noticing them, Balerion drops the corpse, crimson blood dripping from his black teeth as he huffs at the sight of Daemon. Daemon found the entire situation funny, which prompted (Name) to squirm on the dragon saddle. Balerion was never one for jokes, and he didn't like her father in the slightest. Balerion's ginormous frame barely fit on the bridge, and one of his clawed feet were in the water as he shook his scales as a warning to Daemon.

(Name) pops her little body off of Caraxes, running towards Balerion, not caring if her dress got all messy in the process. Noticing his small rider on the ground, Balerion lowers his large head, his nostrils flaring as he lets her stroke her hand over his snoot. Daemon looks at the black dragon with resentment in his eyes, pursing his lips in annoyance, Caraxes lets out a whistle in response to Daemon's emotions.

The Rogue Prince watches as his youngest daughter climbs up her dragons wing, settling herself on the saddle that rested on Balerion's back. The smile on her face was simply too sweet, Daemon couldn't be too angry. He eyes the bloody mess on the ground as Balerion turns back to return to his resting place with (Name) in tow.

"Ugh..."

Daemon really hated that damned dragon.

daemon: you can't ride balerion today

(name): :'(((

balerion: >:O 🔥

@your-favorite-god

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #yandere content #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere balerion #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere #rhxegal #kay writes

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miam0re · 10 months

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Hello, this is coming from the hybrid request. I meant to say that Jing Yuan and Reader are married. Sorry I didn't clarify it. By the way, Reader is also a cat type. Take your time. 🎀

Original ask: Hello, I was wondering if you could do a reader × jing yuan where they are both like hybrid types. You can choose if yuan is like a snow leopard or any type, and reader is a cat type, and yuan keeps trying to mate with reader even though they are married.

Mating Like Cats | Jing Yuan

NSFW, Fem!CatHybrid!Reader, SnowLeopardHybrid!Jing Yuan, Breeding, Mating, (cats mate...right?) more stuff I probably missed

Sure the two of you were married, and you were already all his, in heart and in title. But that didn’t stop him from having eyes only for you, golden orbs following your movement as you walk across the hall and conduct your duties dealing with the financial matters of the Cloud Knights. With your wit along with his martial prowess, your offspring was going to have the best of both worlds.

The thought of having a child brought a cheeky smile on his face. Would the child inherit more of his leopard like traits like his speed or perhaps your cat like agility and fluffy tail?

“You smell enticing, Darling Wife.” Maybe it was just his hormones during the season talking as he grabs your hips and pulls you back into his embrace, his rock hard dick straining against his pants and tail swishing uncontrollably. He dug his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent and caressing your fluffy tail. He knew you liked the ways he smoothed his fingers through it, he knew it riled you up.

The way you giggled and attempted to slither out of his grasp was so adorable to him as he kept trying to find his way into your pants, slowly leading you to the desk in his chambers. When he pinned you to the sleek wood and bent you over, it dawned on you that his sexual cravings for you were more serious than you imagined.

He’s so clumsy and rushed with his movements as he discards your lowers away, lining his thick cock to your hole. His eyes widen and his cheeks burn at the sight of your oozing hole. He slides the tip of his cock over your folds and teases your clit, relishing your purrs and whimpers. Your tail wraps around his waist as you look over his shoulder with a pout and your ears flopped over. “Please…Don’t make me wait.” Aww, you were so adorable. First you were trying to get away from him and now look at you, begging for him to put it in. Why should he refuse his dear wife?

He wiggles his thick shaft into your tight hole, nestling it into your warm cunt. How your walls clench around him and keep him deep inside as he claims you as his, slicking your hole with precum. Every last inch of him was deep inside you as his fingers grabbed the base of your tail and massaged the sensitive skin.

He leans over, lets his hot and misty breath fan over your cheek as he presses a delicate kiss to your fluffy ear. “You take me so well. Any time and every time I need you, you always perform so well.” His praises elicit sweet mewls from your flustered self. At this point, he is practically fucking you into the table, making it squeak with each powerful thrust that kisses your cervix. Your legs quivered with every slap of his balls against your ass, his slippy ill-timed thrusts signalling his nearing climax.

“Deep inside. That’s where you want it, yes?” He chuckles his question as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. Weakly, you pushed your hips into his, your determination to feel him evident. He sloppily kisses your neck and grinds his pelvis into you, letting his orgasm take him over with a choked moan and a bite to your unblemished skin. His hot seed filled you up so deliciously, your whole body spasmed with arousal as you unfurled around him.

When his cock failed to soften, still hot and hard inside you, you realised that he was far from done stuffing you with his cum. Oh he’s going to push you both to your limits, fucking you through the day and all night long.

#mia.mail #mia.anon #mia.smut #mia.writes #mia.thirst #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #jing yuan smut #jung yuan x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan #star rail smut

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moodyfish · 2 years

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The creators of She-Hulk legitimately don't know what they're doing

I think a lot of people have heard the director state

"There's a lot of talk about her body type and we based it on Olympian athletes and not bodybuilders."

Does anyone want to know a specific "Olympian" they based She-Hulk's body off of?

"Olympian Misty Copeland was a body that we referenced, you know, of someone who was very, very, very strong, but also could walk through the world and operate in the normal world at a scale that is very large, but it's still very human because she has to go on dates she has to work in a regular office."

Misty Copeland. Misty. Freaking. Copeland. She is a goddess and an icon. Here are some of her greatest accomplishments.

"2008 Leonore Annenberg Fellowship in the Arts and was named National Youth of the Year Ambassador for the Boys & Girls Clubs of America in 2013. In 2014, President Obama appointed Copeland to the President’s Council on Fitness, Sports and Nutrition. She is the recipient of a 2014 Dance Magazine Award and was named to the 2015 TIME 100 by TIME Magazine." - American Ballet Theatre

Misty Copeland is an amazingly talented person, who has dealt with immense struggles due to her body type, but she is not an Olympian. She's a ballerina. Ballet, by definition from Oxford Languages,

"...is characterized by light, graceful, fluid movements."

I'm especially pissed because when growing up, I was a ballerina. And my sister was a Track & Field thrower. When I heard of She-Hulk as a kid, I always imagined her looking like my sister. Looking like her build - not the ones of prima ballerinas.

While writing this, I've been sitting here thinking about how many great ACTUAL Olympians they could have used as inspiration for She-Hulk's build.

Raven Saunders aka The Hulk. 2020 Tokyo Olympics Silver Medalist in Shotput.

Hidilyn Diaz. 2020 Tokyo Olympics Gold Medalist and Record Holder in 55 KG Weightlifting.

Tamyra Mensah-Stock. 2020 Tokyo Olympics Gold Medal in Freestyle Wrestling.

There are so many incredible female Olympians they could have used as inspiration. There are so many strength-based sports. The Summer Olympics alone have 33 sports.

But they specifically wanted She-Hulk's build to be inspired by

"not bodybuilders."

Even if this meant putting more work on the VFX Artists of the show who made her larger to begin with. Sean Ruecroft, a VFX Artist who worked on Infinity War and Moon Knight, took to Twitter to let people know the struggles Marvel put their team through.

"I was at a company that did VFX for this. Apparently, she was bigger early on, but the notes kept saying to ‘make her smaller.'"

They put more work on the artists, pushing them into the same inspiration that was used for Natasha Romanoff.

"...light, graceful, fluid movements."

The creators didn't want a Hulk. They wanted grace, sex appeal, and a tiny waist on an hourglass figure.

#she-hulk #she hulk #shehulk #rant #Olympics #athletes #marvel #Disney

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akittenwrites · 1 year

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Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [6]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: six

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 4488

Warnings: swearing, violence.

Part one.

Part two.

Part three.

Part four.

Part five.

Marching to war with an army of useless buffoons hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences. It had taken almost a month to do it on foot. He had proposed they just rode their dragons to avoid precisely that, yet the fact that only three were fully grown and available to fight had forced them to assemble an army of men.

It turned out that hadn't been as easy as expected. Otto Hightower's brother had no choice but to answer the King's call considering the green snake's position in court, but the Stormlands and Westerlands hadn't been as agreeable. Ten thousand men from House Baratheon had cost them a seat in the small council, and fifteen thousand from the Lannisters... that had cost them Rhaenyra's hand, promised to Lord Jason Lannister. His niece had begged her parents not to, hollering that she would ride Syrax to war instead. Daemon would've allowed it —another dragon was worth fifteen thousand Lannister imbeciles— yet Viserys and Aemma refused. The Velaryons' strength was their fleet, which they couldn't unman, but their contribution was more than enough: two dragons.

He had forced the army to march nonstop for hours, only allowing them to rest five hours at night. There were complaints, but neither Rhaenys nor Laenor had dared say anything, so he ignored them. And after the first Lannister that publicly whined about it was devoured by Caraxes, the men became incredibly quiet. They could rest when they were dead.

It was the sudden snow that had forced them to make camp and reorganize themselves. They were expecting winter, just not yet, and not so cold. It gave the men a break for a day and a half.

He flew Caraxes as the first snow fell, letting himself get lost in the cold and the misty skies. As he closed his eyes and let his dragon guide him through the clouds, he imagined Y/N's arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tight. She had never ridden Caraxes with him, despite accompanying him to the dragonpit many times to see him off and welcome him back.

It will be too obvious and I do not wish to be questioned on my virtue, she had said. I will ride with you once we're free from these shackles.

Now the opportunity was gone forever, and the shackles had become even tighter around their wrists. He placed his hand on his armored chest, where he kept her letter, just beneath the steel.

They were supposed to be together, to face adversities side by side, not fight each other. Maybe if she had been a dragon riding Targaryen instead of a wolf they could've run off together. Why did he even harbor feelings for a woman so different from him? There was not a single drop of blood of Old Valyria in her, yet her aura was just as magical. Whenever their fingers touched, and their eyes connected, he felt it deep inside him. A bond similar to the one he had with Caraxes, one that didn't need words for understanding, and was just as deep. Y/N was part of him and his life just as his own dragon was, forever. He dared say she was even more important. If Caraxes was one of his limbs, Y/N was his beating heart.

It had taken them nine more days walking under the storm to reach Winterfell. As he mounted Caraxes, ready to fly towards the castle, he noticed his hands shaking. He cursed under his breath, forcefully grabbed the reins, and disappeared into the sky.

What was wrong with him? He had been tasked to lead the army with Caraxes, and his hands were shaking? What was he, a fucking idiot knight that had never even jousted before? With his jaw clenched, he gained speed as he flew towards Winterfell. Caraxes cried out, feeling his anger, and the castle finally became visible.

He barely had a second to find Y/N's position —a white spot with dark hair on the battlements— when large bolts were fired in his direction. He evaded them effortlessly, knowing they couldn't get too close without becoming an easier target. Y/N had delivered what she had promised.

"Do not fly toward the castle yet!" he warned Rhaenys, flying next to her. "They have bloody scorpions."

She nodded and he flew away, four more bolts meant for Caraxes disappearing into the sky. He looked down, seeing their army finally meeting the one awaiting them at Winterfell, but something was wrong. He descended, focusing his purple eyes on their men, and noticed they were bloody and disordered, and some of them even tried to run away.

The anger brewing inside him grew into sheer fury. Frowning, he flew even lower, inspecting the men under his command as Caraxes dodged the bolts sent his way. This was the King's army? A bunch of cowards and useless boys, clashing against the Stark army on the front lines and being cut down as if they were nothing? Madness took over him as he uttered his command.

"Dracarys."

He didn't even bother to look at the battlements anymore, focusing solely on the front lines. He left a trail of fire as he burned both sides to death, wreaking havoc as the men screamed and tried to move backward, with nowhere to go. No, they would burn. He didn't care for cowards that couldn't even lift their swords properly against their enemy. And he definitely didn't care for Y/N's men, no matter how tough they were.

Dragons would win this battle.

The chaos he caused on the frontlines spread to the rest of the armies, but another rain of bolts forced Caraxes to fly higher and stop his attack. He focused back on the battle, noticing Seasmoke slowly flying away. They had managed to hurt him.

It was only then he realized Rhaenys was flying straight toward the battlements, toward Y/N. It looked like it was happening in slow motion; the Red Queen majestically burning everything in her path and directing her fury to the woman in command. He was unaware he had stopped breathing until his lungs begged him for fresh air. And then everything was happening at the speed of light again. Daemon wasn't thinking anymore, he was acting. He whispered a few words to Caraxes, determined to reach Meleys before it burned Y/N to death. Another round of bolts forced him to dodge and stay away once again.

He placed his hand on his armored chest, feeling the folded letter under it, as he watched what was about to happen.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

A sudden storm with rocks made of ice and cold rain fell upon them. Caraxes screeched in shock and pain, and Daemon placed his hand above his head to avoid getting hit by the stones, cursing himself for not bringing his helmet. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the battlements, searching for Y/N behind the rain and the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated her crown and he saw her standing there again.

She was alive.

He whispered a few words of comfort to Caraxes as he placed a hand on the scales of his neck, calming him down. He felt calm again as well.

But the battle was not over.

He would burn the rest of her army and force her to surrender.

"Dracarys!"

Letting the storm fall on him and his dragon, knowing he could weather it, he attacked again. This time his eyes searched for Y/N's, though.

And they finally met.

She looked at him briefly before turning around and leaving, and he didn't even know how, but he knew what she meant.

Agreeing, he ordered Caraxes to fly west, and as they left the battlefield the storm suddenly stopped and the skies were just grey. The grass was wet, but it wasn't raining anymore.

He saw her white figure a second before Caraxes landed before her, and he dismounted, walking to meet her again.

She stood before him dressed in a long white fur coat, with her hands holding each other, his ruby ring the only color to disrupt the white and grey vision before him. There was something different about her, Caraxes could feel it and he could too. Something magical. She held herself regally, her grey eyes bright yet emotionless as she watched him approach. His own eyes widened as he saw her crown shined with blue ice. Her direwolf stood next to her, as tall as she was.

She looked otherwordly. The smell of winter roses permeated the air. He stood there, admiring the sight before him. She had always been beautiful, yet she had never looked as divine as she did right then.

She truly looked like a Queen. A Queen of beauty and ice.

A Queen he would've gladly bent the knee to, had the circumstances been different.

"Daemon," she greeted, snapping him out of his trance.

"Y/N," he answered, studying her face. She looked as young as always. "Nice crown. How did you get it? Blood magic?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I do not meddle with such things. You know it."

"You managed to injure a dragon and survive a deadly attack from another one. I am not sure I know anything about you anymore."

She smiled, lovingly but not without pride.

"I am Queen in the North now. Ice runs through my veins. But there is nothing supernatural about war strategy and a few well-made scorpions. I did warn you."

"What about the storm?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You should call yourself Queen of Ice. It appears that is what you are now."

She remained impassive.

"The Gods have granted me the power to win this battle, that is all," she explained, her hand reaching for her crown and taking it off. The ice melted immediately. "Any more questions?"

"Yes, actually. What is the plan now? Take down Meleys? Try to kill me?" he walked a few steps closer to her, his voice coming out as a whisper. "Because right now you're at a disadvantage, love."

Her stare remained cold as he approached her, not moving an inch.

"Take down Meleys and take you as a hostage to force the crown to back down," she stated. "We will let you go when spring comes."

He laughed in disbelief. Had Y/N forgotten who she was talking to? Her crown made of ice didn't change the fact he was still a dragon, and a proud one.

"I would rather be killed by your cunt lords than be your hostage."

Y/N smiled slightly.

"I figured as much. What is your plan then, Daemon?"

"I'm still undecided," he said simply. "I planned to go back, burn every single person still alive in Winterfell, and come get you."

"And take me where?"

He shrugged.

"Where do you want to go?"

Sadness passed briefly through her eyes before she composed herself again. Why was she trying so hard to play her role in front of him? He knew her as she was.

Yet he understood, partly. He had been sent to kill her. She had her own duties as well.

"You'll have to kill me to get back on that dragon, Daemon," she whispered. "I am not forcing you, I am asking you. Pretend to be our hostage. Live this winter by my side. You'll have chambers next to mine. I'll warm your bed at night."

He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into her. They both knew how this encounter had to end, and they were both trying to take a different path. Yet it seemed they couldn't even agree on that.

"And yet I'd still be a prisoner, away from Caraxes, away from everything I know."

"By my side," she insisted.

He laughed again, but it was far from funny. A Targaryen prince forced to spend months, or even years, inside a dark castle, unable to ride his own dragon, unable to feel the wind on his face as he flew above the clouds. History books would not be kind to him.

"My offer is to run away together, as equals," he said. "Yours is I become your prisoner. I think you know the answer, Y/N."

"Then there is no use in further negotiations."

There was a brief silence between them as they looked at each other.

Her grey eyes were sad but determined. She knew it was her duty as Queen to end the bloodshed.

And it was his as Prince, as the King's appointed commander, to end it as well. Even if he loved her.

His gaze hardened as he ordered his dragon to leave. There was no point in Caraxes being there to watch. Even if he commanded him to burn her to death, he wouldn't. The bond they shared was so strong Caraxes could do what Daemon needed without the need for verbal commands, yet that also meant he wouldn't obey his words if they weren't true to his heart.

"Caraxes, qrīdrughāks," he said. Then he looked at the woman in front of him. "No beasts. Just you and me."

Y/N nodded, looking at her wolf.

"Storm, go away."

Both their companions hesitated for a few seconds, and then Caraxes flew and Storm ran, both getting lost in less than a minute.

Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister as Y/N did the same with Ice, letting her crown fall to the ground. He cut at her immediately and the sound of swords clashing was heard as she met him halfway, their blades forced against each other as their eyes met.

"Are you sure you can fight with that sword?" he questioned. "It seems ridiculously large."

"It is also ridiculously light," she countered, getting out of the way and slashing at him again from his left.

She landed blow after blow at him, and he blocked all of them with ease. He knew how she fought. He sometimes joined her in the courtyard when she trained. She was by no means bad at it, but she wasn't as good as he was. And she was slowly starting to realize it as he made no attempts to attack and merely defended himself, not breaking a sweat.

Y/N halted her attack then, narrowing her eyes at him, and reached for her collar to unfasten her coat. It fell to the ground, leaving her dressed in a simple grey dress and a breastplate. She didn't stop looking at him as she got out of her armor with great difficulty, sticking her sword in the ground to do so. He lifted a brow as he looked at her, admiring her beauty, before deciding to follow her example. His armor was light, Valyrian steel, but if she was going to fight unprotected, so was he.

He made sure her letter was still kept in the inside pocket of his shirt before picking up his sword again.

She did the same, grabbing the skirts of her dress and bunching it up before slashing at it with her sword, letting parts of it fall to the ground. She ruined it, leaving the skirt cut unevenly and barely reaching her knees, allowing her to move more freely and allowing him to admire her boots. He wished she would take those off too, so he could take a look at her legs.

Finally, she let her scabbard fall to the ground with the rest of her clothes.

And then she came at him again, attempting to cut at him, and he stopped her. This time, though, he fought back. They went back and forth for a few minutes, as Y/N's skills improved drastically without the unnecessary baggage, and they were almost matched.

Almost.

After forcing her to walk back a few steps as he used all his force to cut at her, he finally managed to disarm her as her sword flew backward and fell to the ground. He pointed his own sword at the center of her chest and she lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.

She was defeated.

He only had to end it now.

But then she raised an eyebrow at him with mischief and dipped to the ground, doing a barrel roll in his direction that ended with her clutching his legs with both arms, throwing him off balance.

Even then, he managed not to fall, using his sword as a cane to stay upright as his legs were forced together.

He hadn't forgotten Y/N's love of hand-to-hand combat, he just didn't expect it. He remembered she had shown him some moves once, explaining that since she, as a lady, almost never carried a sword, had to be a better fighter without blades. He had never taken it seriously. If your enemy has a sword and you have nothing, you are as good as dead, he had told her.

The problem was she was fucking good at it.

"Are you seriously going to fight me like this?" he asked, feeling her grip tightening.

She smirked at him from the ground, her arms refusing to let go of his legs.

"There is no such thing as a fair fight, Daemon," she said. "Scared you'll lose?"

He attempted to point his sword at her again, but the second he lifted it from the ground she moved like a gazelle, rising to elbow him in the gut with her right arm and catch his wrist with her left. As he gasped at the unexpected blow, she forcefully rotated his wrist as far as it would go. They exchanged looks as he refused to let go of his sword and grasped her hair with his left hand, pulling on it to try and bring her down. She clenched her jaw as she looked at him, clutching his wrist even harder and sinking her nails into his skin until she drew blood.

"What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" he hissed, trying to ignore the pain as blood started running down his arm.

Y/N didn't answer. She used her free arm to punch him square across the jaw and twisted his wrist even more until his hand couldn't hold his sword anymore. Dark Sister fell to the ground. Now both of them were disarmed. He turned to look at her again with fire in his eyes, refusing to let go of his grip on her hair. She might've managed to disarm him, but she couldn't expect to win against his brute force. He could knock her out with a punch if he wanted to.

"Winning," she said, at last. She finally allowed herself to fall, following the pull of her hair, and landed on her knees. He remained standing with her dark locks still held tightly in his hand.

"You're fucking mad," he whispered, watching as she pulled a dagger from inside her boot. He walked a step backward to avoid getting stabbed, pulling on her hair again even harder than before, forcing her to look up at him.

"And you fucking love me for it," she responded, raising the dagger to her head and slashing at her hair, freeing herself with one clean cut.

He looked at her as she stood up and then at his fist that still held strands of her long dark hair. He opened his hand, letting it fall with a soft smile on his face.

She was fucking right. He loved her, his wild wolf. And he loved her even more when she got her hands dirty.

She ran at him with the dagger raised and he stopped it midway through, catching her arm just before the blade could stab his neck. She attempted to punch him with her other hand, but he caught that one too. Their eyes connected once again, grey against purple, both determined to win this fight.

Her hair was now shoulder-length, still wet from the earlier rain, and he could see the sweat running down her forehead. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. And she looked at him with her brows furrowed, completely focused on defeating him. On killing him.

He felt himself getting aroused as they gazed at each other. She was always stunning when she was polished and ladylike, but she was fucking luscious when she was out for blood.

He would have let her kill him if it meant she would fuck him one last time.

It was a game of push and pull, he didn't let her go, and she changed strategies between trying to pull away and trying to hurt him.

"You're right," he admitted, his eyes wandering down her body. "I love you for it."

She seemed taken aback for just a second, which he used to twist her arm just as she had done to him previously, forcing her to let go of the dagger that fell to the ground. His grip was so tight he was sure he would leave bruises, not unlike the ones he had left on her hips and thighs once, after nights of incredible passion.

"You have me," she said, at last. Her arms let up as she leaned forward, her face getting closer to his. She raised a brow, challenging him. "Take me, then."

His eyes moved to her lips, soft and wet, waiting for him. He leaned down, kissing her with the passion of a man that knew this was the last time he would kiss the woman he loved. She kissed him back fervently, and for a moment it felt like nothing else existed in the world but the two of them, loving each other until the end of time.

That illusion was shattered as soon as they parted.

She kicked him in the groin with the full strength of her leg, forcing him to let go of her as she jumped him, wrapping herself around him and using her entire body weight to make him fall backward, falling on top of him.

He groaned, cursing under his breath, and closed his eyes briefly as the pain of the fall slowly faded away. The feeling of a cold blade against his neck made him open them again.

Y/N sat on top of him, with her legs around his torso, as she held the dagger to his throat. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, and he swallowed, waiting for her to do her duty.

Yet she took too long, and that was enough for him to flip them over, making her lose her dagger again as they exchanged positions. He took the blade in his hands and traced a pattern down her neck with it.

"You shouldn't have hesitated," he whispered, looking into her eyes. It pained him he had to take the life out of them. The bright, grey eyes he loved so much. "Never hesitate."

"Then why do you?" she asked, sprawled underneath him, defeated.

He didn't have a chance to answer as the distant sound of horse hooves approaching distracted him. They both looked as three men on horses made their way toward them, dressed in the simple silver armor of the northerners.

"Harm her, and I will run you over with my horse until you're dead!" shouted the old, white-haired man that reached them first.

Daemon lifted his hands in the air, signaling he meant no harm, and let the dagger fall to the ground once again. Y/N moved under him, sitting up.

"Lord Karstark," she greeted. "What is going on?"

"The battle is won, Your Grace," he said, dismounting. He drew his sword at Daemon, who looked around only to find Dark Sister completely out of reach. And he had no idea where Caraxes was.

Y/N punched his leg, mouthing at him to get up. He did, offering her his hand so she could do the same. There was no point in continuing the fight now, he had no way of winning.

He was relieved.

"How many men did we lose?" she asked after Daemon helped her up, making her way toward her men.

He noticed the old man's demeanor turned even more serious then.

"Almost all of them, my Queen," he answered.

He couldn't see Y/N's expression from behind her, but he could guess she was harboring immense guilt. Thousands of her men had died in a useless quest.

"What of Rhaenys?" Daemon asked, stepping forward. "The other dragon. What happened to it?"

The Karstark man and Y/N exchanged a look as she nodded at him almost imperceptibly, and he proceeded to answer.

"An archer managed to wound her and she flew away."

"Wound her?" he questioned. "How badly?"

Silence.

"Will Princess Rhaenys survive, Lord Karstark?" Y/N asked. "Her death means we should expect an attack from both Houses Targaryen and Velaryon."

"It was an arrow to her neck," the old man responded. "She was wounded enough that her dragon carried her away. I can't tell if she will survive or not."

"You can expect an attack from both Houses just for wounding her, anyway," Daemon interjected.

Y/N turned to look at him with empty eyes.

"Then there is no point in keeping you alive, is there?" she asked. She looked at her men then, who had also dismounted their horses. "Shackle him. I shall execute him at sunrise, in Winterfell."

He admired her display of strength and leadership; no wonder they had named her their Queen. Yet he wondered if she was speaking the truth and was finally ready to do her duty, or if she would try to find a way around it again.

He felt the heavy iron of one of the shackles tightening around his right wrist as her two guards surrounded him.

"Tighter," she instructed. "And behind his back. Do not underestimate him."

"I can't ride a horse to Winterfell with my hands behind my back, my Queen," he mocked with a bow of his head.

"That won't be a problem," she said simply. "Winterfell is not far. We will walk."

The walk lasted less than an hour, in complete silence, with Y/N and Karstark leading. The literal shackles were more uncomfortable than the metaphorical ones Y/N kept bringing up.

When they finally arrived, the battlefield was barely visible because of the fog and the smoke. Yet there was something that made Y/N stop in her tracks, and everybody else did as well. Daemon walked until he reached her side, noticing her eyes were fixed on the scene in front of her. What was she looking at?

And then he saw it.

Men, dead men, rising to their feet and walking around. Headless men, men without arms, men burned to a crisp. They walked.

"What is happening?" Y/N whispered, so low he could barely hear it.

"This is..." Karstark started to speak and shut up, not knowing how to continue.

Daemon walked one step forward, his purple eyes unable to look away.

"Y/N..." he said. "What did you do?"

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Next chapter.

If you like my writing, make sure to check out my masterlist and my page, where you can support me or read updates on what I'm working on and leave your comments.

Have a nice day!

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Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13

TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #queenoficeprinceoffire #daemon targaryen x stark!reader

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untasdedessin · 3 months

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My thoughts on chapter 138 of Four Knights of the Apocalypse:

A brief summary without going into too much detail:

In this chapter, we follow Nasien's journey into the world of fairies, in the company of Tioreh. After passing through the Tunnel of Whispers to try out his medicine on Percival, Nasien goes on to meet the royal family.While the King of the Fairies and the Queen of the Giants seem to welcome Nasien with open arms, this is not the case for all the couple's children. The conversation is suddenly interrupted by a group of fairies who come to warn that fairy creatures have committed an act of changeling.

As Suzuki hinted in an author-reader response, King and Diane have several children, each very different from the next. Alas, they seem (except perhaps one of them) old enough not to be able to tick the Gerheade babysitter checkbox in my bingo, but I don't despair of ticking other boxes soon. Rather than talking about Harlequin and Diane's children, even though he'd have a lot to say, I'd rather focus on the world of fairies and the creatures that inhabit it.

We do get to discover a little more about the fairy realm and the children of the Fairy King and Giant Queen. I've already taken a few screenshots of the chapter and the previous one, in preparation for future drawings. I'm happy because the fairy world is just as I'd imagined it: giant plants and mushrooms, a world where fairy cohabit with other fairy creatures (hide-and-seek, chicken-matango, etc.) in a misty atmosphere.

At the end of the chapter, we discover that the group behind the changeling is a group of Hide-and-seek.

The Hide-and-seek are fairy-like creatures introduced to us in chapter 4 of Seven Deadly Sins, in the Forest of White Dreams, when Meliodas and Elizabeth have just begun their journey to find the Sins. These creatures have the unique ability to mimic the appearance of their victims to perfection. They inhabit the forests of Britannia. We also know that the Hide-and-seek of the Awepine Forest (a forest destroyed by the creation of Vazeil's labyrinth) seem to appreciate human flesh. But we don't know if this behavior is unique to the imps of this forest. What is certain is that the Hide-and-seek of the Awepine Forest have a different cape and a different symbol on the hood from the Hide-and-seek of the King's Forest or the Forest of White Dreams.

Let's talk about their appearance: these small creatures are recognizable by the hooded cape that covers most of their body. They have a large nose covered with buttons, round pupil-less eyes on either side of the nose, and a wide mouth set with pointed teeth. In this chapter, we get to see a Hide-and-seek without a hood, but it's not the first time we've seen one without. One of the illustrations in the Light Novel, Seven Days, shows us three of them.

The imp that Myrte catches has a slightly different appearance from those in this illustration. In addition to the hair and eyes, the shape of the face is morphologically closer to that of a fairy's face, than the oval face of his fellows. But perhaps it's the angle of the face that gives this impression. So the number of horns is not the only diversity of the Hide-and-seek. I'm not commenting on the absence of a symbol on the hood at the moment, as Suzuki only draws it on close-up panels. But I think it would be interesting to know it and to compare it with the Hide-and-seek of the Awepine forest, whose intentions are rather evil.

Hide-and-seek are also known as Prankster Imps, and while up until now only their ability to deceive their victims by imitating their appearance could explain this name, this chapter gives us other answers. These creatures practice changeling. Changeling is the practice of exchanging a human baby for a baby fairy or other creature, and many legends exist in Europe. For the moment we don't know whether previous acts of changeling have been carried out solely by Hide-and-seek, but we may find out more in the next chapter.

A quick look back at one of the fairy who comes to warn the royal family of the kidnapping of a human. In the fairy group,we can see a fairy who seems to be Kulumil (a character from the film Grudge of Edinburgh), but we can't be 100% sure it's her. Suzuki, for example, drew several fairy characters in SDS who look like Puora without being Puora (same face, hair, eyes, but different clothes and sometimes different wings from the Puora we know). Just as there's a clearly distinct category of bearded fairy, we have a category of cherubic fairy that includes Puora and Kulumil, and this is the first time we've seen one in Four Knights of the Apocalypse.

I'll end this commentary by mentioning Gerheade's whereabouts. After this chapter, I'm no longer sure she's in the fairy realm.

Even if fairy people don't have the same perception of time as humans, I don't think they're all unaware of what's going on in Britannia at the moment. In times of crisis, if Gerheade isn't at the Fairy King's side, she may be in Britannia to keep an eye on events (and possibly report them to the Fairy King afterwards), and to lend a helping hand to the Liones camp. If Meliodas thinks of her as a potential ally of the Knights of the Apocalypse, wouldn't it be because she's recently been brought in to help Liones in some way? It's a possibility I don't want to rule out. Perhaps she's also on the side of Matrona (also a potential ally) and the clan of giants. What's certain is that Suzuki's decision not to show us Gerheade means he has no use for her at the moment.

If I find something interesting to say for chapter 139, I'll make another comment like that.

#nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins #four knights of the apocalypse #mokushiroku no yon kishi #hide and seek #fairy #fairy clan #fairy realm

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racefortheironthrone · 2 months

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I have come to realize, I don't quite understand what a back-up story is? Like, do some comic issues just sometimes have too much space for the main story so they include another, smaller comic at the back?

No, it's usually the reverse: the creators have a story they like, but that's too short to make up a full comic, so they attach it as a bonus feature after the A-story.

To me, the acme of how to do backup stories are Chris Claremont's Classic X-Men. In an era before trade paperback and omnibus collections were common, in an era before there were digital comics libraries where you could access the entire back catalogue of entire companies on demand, Classic X-Men reprinted everything from the Roy Thomas/Neal Adams Silver Age through to the big hits of the first hundred or so issues of the Claremont run with edited captions and dialogue and interstitial panels and pages of new art.

However, Chris Claremont wasn't satisfied with tinkering around the edges, so the first 44 issues of Classic X-Men included backup stories by him and Ann Nocenti. These short (usually ~8 page) stories included a lot of "deleted scenes" - so you get to see how things that are alluded to but not shown in the main narrative, like the beginning of Logan and Jean's attraction in the immediate wake of Giant-Size #1, or Emma Frost's Hellfire Club scheming against Jason Wyngarde or Selene during the Dark Phoenix Saga, or Jean Grey wrestling with what it means to be the Phoenix with the help of Storm and Misty Knight, or why Nightcrawler stopped using his image inducer and came out of the closet as a mutant, etc. These scenes "danced between the raindrops" of canon, where they added richness and flavor to the main story without being essential reading.

But more and more, Claremont and Nocenti used these backup stories to fill out backstories through "period pieces." It is in these stories that we see Max Eisenhardt escape Auschwitz and tragically lose his daughter Anya, or go from being a Nazi hunter in South America to a mutant separatist terrorist when he learns the truth about Operation Paperclip. It is in these stories that we see Jean Grey's psychic powers awaken when she experiences the tragic death of her childhood friend Annie Richardson from inside Annie's mind, and how that shaped her understanding of life and death and what it means to be a mutant.

I would argue that these stories are essential reading, because they're often where Claremont (and Nocenti) found the emotional core of his characters, the motivational drives that make them who they are.

Alternatively, backup stories are where creators could take advantage of free "real estate" in anthology books, team-up books, and annuals to tell more fantastical and imaginative B-stories that wouldn't have fit within an overarching narrative. So we get weird stuff like Margali Szardos casting her adopted son Kurt Wagner into the literal Inferno of Dante Alighieri, or straight-edge Harlan County miner's son Sam Guthrie romantically abducted by an intergalactic cat burglar who also happens to be a cockney Joan Jett, and so on.

And that's what I like about backup stories - they're like miniature paintings, where the artists get to stretch their creative muscles free of the burden and pressure of the magnum opus.

#comics #comics meta #xmen #xmen meta #claremont run #chris claremont #ann nocenti

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giveamadeuschohisownmovie · 1 year

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Concept for “Daredevil: Born Again”:

The first episode reveals that around the end of season 3, Matt Murdock was snapped out of existence by Thanos. When he’s brought back five years later, that’s when we get the opening credits. In a way, Matt was literally “born again”.

The rest of the episode is Matt trying to figure out what happened to his friends and allies. What he learns is:

1) Nelson & Murdock shut down. Foggy accepted a job at a larger firm while Karen Page moved to a different city.

2) Frank Castle is still on the loose and it’s speculated that he was the mysterious Ronin who wiped out New York’s criminal underground. We later learn that Frank was working with Clint Barton during his Ronin period, hence the rumors.

3) Luke Cage is a community leader who has given up crime-fighting. He says that he wasn’t getting anywhere beating up low-level criminals, especially since the Blip exacerbated problems in his community, so he’s shifted his focus to politics. Helping him is Misty Knight.

4) Jessica Jones is, reluctantly, working for the Daily Bugle. She says that she needed the work since Alias Investigations shut down during the Blip years.

5) Danny Rand is still missing. Colleen Wing says that the last she heard from him was that he was going to Ta Lo to deal with some “unfinished business”. Colleen also says that even though she still has her Iron Fist powers, the leaders of K’un-L’un don’t recognize her as the Iron Fist since she didn’t go through the “proper rituals” aka punch a dragon in its heart. She says that the leaders may have chosen a new Iron Fist, hinting at the arrival of Lin Lie aka the current Iron Fist from the comics.

After catching up with his friends, Matt decides to start over. He joins the firm that Foggy is working at, leading into the events of “Spider-Man: No Way Home” and “She-Hulk”. But just as he’s getting his life back together…he learns that Wilson Fisk has been freed and is rebuilding his empire (events of “Hawkeye”).

Episode 1 ends with Matt realizing that despite everything he did in the original show, Fisk and his criminal empire is still a threat. But things are going to be different now due to how much the world has changed post-Blip.

(Side note: Imagine this episode taking place before the events of “Echo”. The rest of the season is after Matt and Maya’s journey).

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misty-caligula · 1 year

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For those keeping score at home, that’s another failure of Lottie’s magic. First Crystal died, which you would think would be a good sign for the whole sacrifice to the forest thing. Then they made blood sacrifices on the (bear?) skull and did lots of chanting and stuff. And...

Nothing. No effect.

Now I’m on the record as being on the side of reason, but this is only part of my thing here, I’m more interested in what this means for the future. Because if there’s one thing that this whole horrific experience solidified more than anything else it’s that Shauna does not trust Lott. Period. She does not trust the magic, does not trust Lott’s intentions. Even in the world where the baby survived, she thought Lottie was malevolent, wanting to steal the baby away for her own uses, to be divided up amongst the cult.

So in the aftermath of what happened, of the abject failure of the cult to protect the baby, and in the depths of her fresh trauma I think Shauna’s going to have a CONFRONTATION with Lottie.

This season’s been all about testing the faith, and for all the times she’s been proven right - the starlings, Javi, arguably bringing Shauna and Tai back to the cabin safely - she’s been proven wrong just as much - the blood potion not working, almost dying failing to win the hunting challenge, didn’t see Crystal’s death coming, couldn’t save the baby) and people have been picking sides, but I think the baby really will be a huge confrontation point. If Lott tries literally any kind of magic stuff within earshot, I can totally imagine Shauna raging at her violently, like “It’s all bullshit, you couldn’t save my baby, you’re delusional, just shut the fuck up!” and I think that it’s going to start a civil war of sorts inside the team by the end of the season.

Van, Mari, Misty, Travis I can easily see on Lott’s side. Nat, Akilah, Gen, Ben on Shauna’s. Tai’s a wild card.

And all juxtaposed with a similar split in the adult world, but along a different line. I think that if it becomes Lott vs not in the adult world you’re prob looking at Lott, Nat and maybe Van? vs Tai, Shauna and Misty? Though I can absolutely see it being Lott, Nat and Misty vs Tai, Shauna and Van... there’s something about the way that Van STARED at Lottie..

I can’t tell if this is ... horror? Or reverence. They can look very similar. Like it might be a look full of history like “Oh my god I can’t believe it’s HER, she’s terrifying!” or it might be like “I can’t believe she’s here, she’s RADIANT” like ... Van as the knight, the true believer... would have the most complex feelings about it. And I’m SO curious to find out what they are, because she looks like she might start screaming at her, or she might fucking bow.

Anyway that’s my 2am cult civil war ramble. hope it made sense.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #theories

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troydonnahughes · 1 year

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I'm gonna make this blog a place where l can dump my fantasy drawings. Gonna let my imagination go...wherever! I will always love Winterprincess, I'm just expanding a bit...ok a lot! I have an idea for Bucky and Misty Knight that's been in my mind for a while.

Anyway, I did a quick sketch of Shuri and Namor while l had some time and the idea in my head. I may fine tune it and color it at a later time.

#seaprincess #shuri x namor #namor x shuri #shuri's harem #wakanda forever

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g5mlp · 10 months

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More questions and answers from Riley Farmer, the editor of the G5 My Little Pony comics, on Twitter! Note that she has stated that she will not be answering more questions until "maybe next Friday".

Part 1 of this post

The main G5 My Little Pony comic series "will last 5ever probably". There will be more One-Shots and miniseries after Camp Bighoof, which will conclude in December.

She is not at liberty to discuss the future of Make Your Mark.

Misty will be debuting in the comics soon! "I just want to see her exploring her freedom and powers. I'm curious to see how she'll change, and if she remains awkward and shy."

There are plans for characters like Alphabittle, Sprout and Phyllis to appear more often, and "they'll all probably show up eventually". (Alphabittle has yet to appear in the comics.)

"I wish Zipp was less suspicious [of Misty]! I'm excited to see them grow as friends."

In her opinion, the wackiest or weirdest MLP crossover would involve "something super dark". "Like, imagine the Dark Knight meeting Fluttershy. But then again, Adam West Batman and Pinkie Pie would be fun… I think Star Wars would be a difficult sell."

Her favorite ponies are Pinkie Pie, Izzy Moonbow, and Pickle Barrel (Natalie Haines's OC, not the pony from Rainbow Roadtrip).

She can't draw, so she doesn't have a favorite G5 pony to draw.

"All of my artists are remote! From all across the world."

In an artist portfolio shown to IDW, it would technically be sufficient to include storyboards and animatics as "sequential artwork", but she'd "prefer to see actual comic samples if you want to do interior art work".

#my little pony #mlp g5 #mlp #my little pony comics #idw comics

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muchemovies · 7 days

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DEFENDERS' SAGA: the DAUGHTERS OF THE DRAGON series we deserved but never got... Claire Temple, NIGHT NURSE, is the awesome thread that links all the individual Defenders' series, beginning with DareDevil, then Jessica Jones, Luke Cage & eventually Iron Fist & The Defenders. she's mortal, moral, courageous, trained & medical, & committed to helping New York's injured & needy. Claire's such a wonderful character, casting & performance. Mercedes "Misty" Knight, is a tenatious & dedicated Detective, who's not afraid of Harlem & it's underbelly, & who throws herself into Cottonmouth & Luke Cage's fued, only to immerse herself in bigger & bigger corrupt practices. she's fearless, fiesty, fun & unstopable. she's mortal. Colleen Wing is young, poor, moral, & also mortal. her training & skills & wits are her three points for survival. her dedication to her craft & students & her community is indefatigable. she supports & bands with Daniel Rand & The Defenders because her ethics pitch her in oppposition to The Hand & their lethal practices. These three mortal women find themselves entwined with several enhanced individuals, & after their educated skepticism & ethical distancing from them, Claire, Misty & Colleen dedicate their skills, energy & abilities to enhancing the cause. they join the fight against their better judgement. their ethics & morals fuel the best of their intentions & actions. they are us audience in amongst the mele. they are our eyes & ears & dilemas. and they are TREMENDOUS. the characters, actresses & we audience all deserved a spin-off from the Defenders that developed Night Nurse, Misty & the Daughter of The Dragon: instead of just cancelling products that "don't work" (aren't viewed "enough") developing a 6-8part Daughters of The Dragon or similar, centering around Claire, Misty & Colleen could've KICKED-ASS! so many perspectives & experiences & skills & connections, with Claire expereiencing new symptoms & side-effects from a new pathogen, Misty investigating it officially, & Colleen tracing the clandestine activities, could've been an immense series covering Hell's Kitchen, Manhatten & Harlem. Imagine a multi-female-lead series!!! 3 women. 3 slam-dunk individuals who took no shit from anyone. can you IMAGINE! i really wish production houses & studios would listen & learn instead of just abandoning. hey-ho. maybe D+/Marvel will realise what they had & resurect Claire, Misty & Colleen after DD:Born Again is a HUGE SMASH HIT?

#claire temple #hell's kitchen #Night Nurse #Mercedes MISTY Knight #Harlem #Colleen Wing #Daughter of The Dragon #Daughters of The Dragon #Manhatten #New York's Finest women #New York's Finest Defenders #rosario dawson #simone missick #jessica henwick #marvel #netflix #disney +

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amusedmuralist · 6 months

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TMA medieval knights/royalty au?

Being a travelling bard is a lonelier existence than one might imagine. There are no concrete places, only the misty morning road with brief, warm stops along the way, singing words of praise to people Martin can’t know well enough to decide if they’re worthy to earn his supper

Martin thinks, or hopes, or hopes he thinks, that he could compose for the Ward of Magnus Keep forever. Maybe he’s not good enough to earn Jon’s love forever, to earn the right to stay, but he works harder each season, to express sincere love. More and more of his poems and songs speak of longing for a sombre eyed, moonhaired love, out of reach.

Jon takes some seasons to realise that he is the remote, serious, illuminating beauty in Martin’s songs, his reason to sing, and had been hopelessly pining, chastely, using the laws of courtly love his grandmother taught him. Martin, who never really spent much time with people older than his own mother, does not in his turn understand why Jon owns so many diaphanous scarves, or how he keeps losing them and Martin keeps finding them. They work it out.

Jon is fated for the cloister. He’s known that since he was old enough to know anything at all. He was orphaned, and Jonah took pity on his plight. Jonah has no heirs, and a claimed bastard is better than nothing (everyone knows Jon isn’t Jonah’s blood. Everyone knows he is nonetheless Jonah’s creature.)

There was once a wizard named Elias Bouchard, a braggart and no scholar. He was made Jonah’s creature, too, hollowed out and claimed. If Jonah makes enough, perhaps, perhaps, he can make the very beast of death his pet as well. Be king of the world, undying, in an endless war of attrition.

#tma #tma au #this became more fantasy but i hope that it serves

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linksthoughtbrambles · 2 years

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Precipitory

A short story for Zelink Week 2022's 'Rainy Days' prompt (see end for notes).

~"~'~""'~"~'~~"~'~"'~"~'~

Zelda’s grumbling stomach takes a sudden and unexpected backseat to a newfound sense of mischief. “Oh, Link?”

“Yeah?” he asks, clearly suspecting nothing.

“…Race you!”

Zelda kicks off the damp ground, bounding like a mountain doe, an irresistible grin splitting her face wide at the sound of his surprised "AH!" She hears his feet scramble to accelerate on the wet grass and wills her legs to fly her forward faster than she’s ever run.

His footsteps pound harder, so she fights to lengthen her stride to absolute maximum, the as-yet misty rain frosting her face in a pleasant chill, a contrast to the effort-induced heat quickly building beneath her fitted coat. She makes a bee-line for the entrance to the first gatehouse, reaching it far more quickly than she’d have thought, startling a bewildered soldier carrying two trestle-table legs into stumbling back against the wall. Link’s footsteps hit stone only a few seconds after hers.

“HI, MIPHA!” he shouts, and he’s made a tactical error, for he has distracted himself with his own politeness.

Mipha’s “Oh my!” and fumbled table-leg hardly register as Zelda slows the barest fraction, allowing Link to dog her heels toward the gatehouse’s exit. He moves to pass on her right…

And she swerves.

Link, of course, being her appointed knight, and a perfect gentlemen, and more than a little bit silly, winds up hitting the wall with an uncomfortable-sounding array of cloth-and-boot-scraping and a vocalization somewhere between a grunt and a swiftly tamped swear.

Zelda giggles.

She hears him recover behind her, a few more hard steps on gatehouse stones followed by long, loud strides as he strives to catch up—and he is catching up!

“No, you don’t, knight!” she yells, the childish joy in her voice rendering it novel in her ears.

“Yes, I do, Princess!” Link returns, his voice closer with each word.

The food table is so near—she need only touch it—there it is—his footsteps closing—one stride—no, half a stride—astride her--!!!!

With a great effort born of a competitive spirit she’d been unaware of (and a desire to see the Look On Link’s Face should she win), she leaps and slaps the table with her fingertips up to her longest fingers’ smallest knuckles.

“I- hehhh- win!” Zelda declares, tilting her chin at him haughtily as she never has before.

His jaw drops as they both pant (and she very much likes the sounds he makes as he does so). His face has never quite adopted this expression in her presence—both appalled and amused—and she likes that, too. “Princess! I’m- huhh- scandalized. Huhh. That was clearly a tie. Which means I won because you started unfairly without counting.”

She had done that, hadn’t she? She’s still panting, but the source of her breathlessness becomes debatable. (Perhaps more precisely, it will be up for debate among the soldiers later in the mess, since several standing around the lunch table are attempting to eye them with unpracticed discretion). Shortly, in Zelda’s own mind, a clear inner-debate-victor emerges. She’s panting because Link is panting, and she would very much like him to pant in her ear like that while she presses him against the wall with a leg hooked around his hip.

“My hand touched the table an instant before yours,” she manages, simultaneously attempting to find reason somewhere within herself (difficult when imagining the taste of the mist mixed with the salt just below his jawbone).

“Ohhh, so it was a table-touching race, was it?” he challenges. His hands go to those slender hips of his, a stance he’s never adopted in her presence before. Perhaps he’s feeling more confident—or perhaps her thoughts of his hips had somehow reached him.

Perhaps she should remember to continue the conversation. “What else would we base it on?”

It appears—that silly, lopsided smile on his face that’s all hers. “Well, I don’t know, maybe we could’ve set some rules so you couldn’t arbitrarily decide you won at the end-“

“It was not arbitrary,” she interrupts, her chin raising even higher along with her eyebrows. “We were racing to lunch. The first table was clearly our destination.”

He huffs a laugh. “Fine, Princess.” His chin and eyebrows mock hers, with a faux-haughty rise and faux-royal eyebrow she bets he’s unaware of. “But only because you’re the Princess.”

She doubts he’s cognizant of the sass-like head waggle he’s just done, either. “How unfair. I didn’t pull rank on you.”

“It was implied,” and he says so with a step forward and a lurch of her pulse.

“I implied nothing of the sort,” she says, her even voice surprising (but pleasing) her. “I simply came to the logical conclusion that the table was our mutual goal.”

He snorts. “Alright, Princess,” he says, his eyes somehow bluer and her skin thrumming at how they flit between her own. “Next time, we’re setting ground rules beforehand and counting to start and I’ll do the counting.”

She feels herself pulling taller—rising quite literally to the challenge, perhaps. “Why should you?”

“Because you’re tricky,” and he says so with a twitch of his lips she wants to suck directly into her mouth.

“Is that so? I imagine I could still find a way to trick you, should you count,” she says with a smirk she doesn’t even try to moderate.

And Link—dear Goddess, Link—his silly smile burns for a moment, and Zelda isn’t sure if the flame lights in his eyes or his lips or the way he pulls himself just barely tall enough so his eyes may peer down into hers with shockingly evident purpose; only the fact of their presence in the open bailey, with soldiers less than fifteen feet from them, prevents her from acting on it.

She will act on it, soon, for if she doesn’t she’ll suffer some sort of horrific lapse in reason which will lead to a host of new social dilemmas, but she’ll find someplace out of sight to do so.

Her knight breaks the tension by reaching for a slice of bread, and it’s as though the sky itself has been watching them with bated breath, for it opens up. What had been mist, and then a gentle pitter-patter, accelerates, droplets fattening and striking a beat on the coffee urns. Link shoves his entire bread-slice into his mouth (which he often does regardless, but which saves his current lunch from becoming sodden while he rescues the remainder, replacing the lid once she retrieves a slice for herself).

Zelda supposes she ought to be at least slightly pragmatic and discuss the remaining stall placements for the festival. She does so, taking dainty bites, and regretting those as the bread dampens despite her other hand tented above it. Her smirk returns as she notes his eyes on her mouth, though he follows her matter-of-fact-planning conversation with suggestions of his own.

Zelda decides his composure means she ought to give his eyes something more interesting to take in. She pointedly opens her lips as wide as possible and shoves the remainder of her bread in (no small feat—she’d taken quite a large piece), and watches with intense satisfaction as Link’s jaw hangs open in a vague purgatory (it sets him paling for a moment).

Once she swallows (still smirking), she says, "Back to it, then?"--and her thorough enjoyment of his reaction permeates her voice, its resulting brightness belying the rainy day and how it already threatens to plaster her hair to her scalp, face, neck, and coat.

He’s still staring at her mouth. “…Almost. Coffee first?”

“Ah. Yes, that’s a good idea,” she admits, struck a bit sad at the realization that they’ll soon have no excuse to stand here and bait each other. “Quickly, though, or it shall taste of rainwater.”

Link snags two cups, adds cream to hers and half as much to his, and fills both to the top with one arm above them in an attempt to preserve their palatability. Zelda’s hands join his, and they stand quite a bit nearer to each other than they ought to, ostensibly drinking their afternoon fuel with haste against the rain, but actually stealing looks at each other’s faces—a chin here, a set of sipping lips there, and at one point, a clear look up one of Link’s nostrils when he examines the eastward clouds (which would reach them soon).

She thinks it says much regarding her feelings for her knight that she finds even his nose-hairs worthy of investigation.

She returns her cup to the table alongside other empties with a soft sigh. They’ve no more excuse—back to work—but she’ll find her moment. She will kiss him at least once more this day, or may Hylia re-make her as a golden-topped turnip.

Hours and hours later, Zelda leads Link with quick-moving words to match her speeding feet as they cross to the curtain wall south of the second gatehouse, and the instant she passes the threshold of the (mercifully) deserted guard tower at the end, she yanks him in by his shirtfront, her lips on his a soft contradiction, a concession to their need for stealth, and she nearly chokes with longing when he opens his own to deepen their hurried kiss, for they have no time—even a minute spent sequestered here would be suspicious—and she re-positions her mouth at his ear, so quiet.

“No time, Link, but I wanted you to know… I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

She places one sweet-suctioned kiss to the center of his jawline and walks back out into the still-drizzling rain. She feels his eyes on her as his boots squeak on the soaked grass a moment later.

It isn’t enough. They need more than these few instants of closeness. They need another rainy day—one with no festival to prepare for—one when they can remain inside, and reasonably so, to escape the precipitation. One when she could curl up in that chaise near her fireplace, and perhaps call Link inside to help her move it nearer the hearth—when she could touch his wrist as he reaches for it, lighting a new fire under his skin instead—when he could rest one knee between hers and lean into her, that silly smile of his burning again just before his lips ignite her—when cold rain means more warmth rather than less.

~"~'~""'~"~'~~"~'~"'~"~'~

[Note: This fic is part of the Adventure Log+ AU, partially overlapping a chapter of Link's Thought Brambles but from a different POV.]

[Note: Google doesn't think 'precipitory' is a word. For the purpose of this story, it's an adjective describing something that causes or hastens an event (or that appears to--something right on the precipice of an event). And then there's the precipitation thing.]

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#zelink week 2022 #rainy days #short story #botw #zelda #zelink #loz #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #fanfic #linksthoughtbrambles #not my art #adventure log+ au #zelda 3rd person pov #pov swap

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