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#my medieval au!!
pluck-heartstrings · 21 days
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Heard y’all like Soft Moon
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ghouljams · 2 months
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One little white lie, one tiny fib. When the King asks why you're so eager to get back to your own kingdom you give him the usual, "My family, I'm just eager to see them again."
"Family," He rolls the word over in his mouth, like it has a foul taste, "Husband?" You nod, though you've never been married, it's easier being a married woman on the road. This also seems to displease him. "Children?" Your hesitance betrays you, and you attempt to cover it with another hasty nod. Though you can tell by Price's smile he doesn't believe it.
You don't worry about it, push the questions far from your mind in favor of your work. It's only when you're laid out in the King's bed, his fat cock bullying its way into your aching cunt, that you remember your little fib. Price smiles, his lips curling over his teeth as he chuckles out a strained breath. He drags his fingers around the base of his cock, while you adjust to the burning stretch the overwhelming feeling of being filled completely. He pulls his hand away only to drag it down your stomach, let you see the blood and slick where it stains your soft skin.
"Little liar," He chides, pulling out and pushing back into you with a heady groan, "but don't worry, we'll have you bred and wed soon enough."
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maeirys · 10 months
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Sir Gideon Nav and her Lady Harrowhark Nonagesimus, representing the Ninth house at the king's joust.
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aturtletotz · 2 months
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A scene from Chapter 9 of @pluck-heartstrings ‘s Pluck My Heartstrings!
Had a fun time drawing these two✨
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lucyllawless · 5 months
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Supercorp Medieval Fantasy AU
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zipsunz · 5 months
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in her name and in her memory ⚔️
a bday gift for a friend !!
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an-old-lady · 21 days
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Hello ! I fell in love of your medieval Star Wars. Can you draw that old devil of Maul ?
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This took me so long bc samurai armor is hard to draw. Also thank you! I didn't know if Maul as an old fashioned devil was a hit or a miss so I'm glad you like it. I added the tail last and now I almost wish I'd leaned more into it.
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tanuki-pyon · 5 months
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When you're a spy in charge of kidnapping the princess but turns out princess was a mf werewolf
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connectedportal · 20 days
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A small collection of Daycare Attendant fun
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time-woods · 7 months
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is projecting on a projection too far . . aka the rot is gettin bad yall . .
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reds-skull · 1 month
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Had the passing thought "what if Gaz had long hair" a few days ago and I just had to draw it
(Actually obsessed with 'hawked Gaz...)
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pluck-heartstrings · 1 month
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Thinking about the fact there’s a song called “Hey Little Songbird”
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ratrrriot · 1 year
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Here's some fanart of “What was stolen”! My good friend @beeextraordinary123's medieval fantasy Sonamy fic that I've been reading 🦔⚔️👑
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(Here's the snippet i based this painting on cuz I really like it!!):
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and here are some doodles and small paintings to test designs !! ( note: these designs have been updated!!)
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You can read the fic in AO3 , Just a heads up tho: Audience is teens and up and Amy and most of the characters are +20 yrs old in this fic,so while It doesn't have anything NSFW or explicit in it,some scenes are steamy.Thought i'll mention it in case that sort of thing makes anyone awkward and/or prefers to avoid it.
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ghouljams · 9 months
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Viking soap! Viking soap! Viking soap!
Grrrrrrrr Yes ok yes because I am feral for this idea and you're partially engaging a special interest of mine.
You spot him at the same moment he does you. A flash of blue eyes reflecting the shallow river, long hair shorn short on the sides, the fur the edges his clothes marks him as easily as the paint on his face. A viking. He stands as quickly as you step back, his eyes fixed on you. If he's here there must be more at your village. You know well enough that these men don't travel as solitary creatures.
You turn and run towards your home. You hear the crash of him through the forest behind you giving chase. Even knowing the land as well as you do the terrain is uneven, the roots are made to catch your feet, and the branches are low to obscure your vision. You don't have the deer's advantage of darting movement to keep you out of reach. Each step you can hear him getting closer, until you feel his hands grab you.
The man, the viking, catches you around your middle. You kick and scream and make every effort to batter him with your fists, to make yourself difficult prey. You've heard enough stories about what these men do to know you want no part of it. He lifts you, hauls you up off the ground as you fight and twist.
"Would you be still, I'm not going to hurt you," The man tells you in gaelic. You freeze at the familiar tongue.
"You're a liar," You push at him, claw at his grip, "why would you chase me if you weren't hunting me?"
"Why would you run?" He asks, grabbing your wrists to pin them against his chest. You glare at him, your chest heaving as you gather your breath back. He's handsome, for a viking. There's something sort of rakish about the stubble on his face and the set of his brow. "Did I do something to scare you, bonnie?" It's not an honest question, he knows full well why you'd run.
You keep quiet, keep your glare level with him. An easy task with him holding you up, his arm hooked around your thighs. His head tips back to look at you with a smile. "Aren't you pretty," He whispers, hardly phased by the run or your anger. When you don't respond he seems to find his head again, his smile dropping to something more serious.
"Fine, courting later, business now." He sets you back down, keeping a tight grip on your wrists now that you've proven yourself a runner. "I'm here to negotiate a trade, I need an escort," He explains, though you would think a man needing an escort would have a shorter handle on the ax at his hip.
"A bad liar," You amend your previous statement, tugging at his hold.
"Fine," He relents, "I want an escort. Escort me." He insists, tugging you against his chest again. You're really getting tired of bumping into him.
"Why? So you can lead a raiding party back as soon as I turn around?" You spit.
“To what end?” The viking asks, tips his head to the side, his eyes hard on you, “What use do we have for dead healers?” 
You stop your struggling, stunned. He’s not wrong, but he speaks to an understanding of your village you hadn’t expected. How much did this man and his company know about you? How many scouts had walked your paths, watched your neighbors work? He’s right, dead healers are useless, but so are port healers. Vikings are only as strong as their weakest man, wouldn’t they prefer to keep healers on hand?
“You said-” You swallow, “You said you were here to negotiate a trade. What- A trade for what?” He looks away from you, and you have your answer. You were right to run, he’s here for one of you.
“Let’s go,” He doesn’t pull you, but you follow him anyway. Your mind races, thinking through the people your elders would offer up. Who was the most skilled, the most expendable, weighing what you might get in return. What couldn’t these vikings offer you? Safety, rare goods, money, animals, friendship. Invaluable intangible things that would aid all of you, for whatever price they set. It’s still only the illusion of a choice.
Your wrist is still held tight in his grip as you walk beside him. An escort, what a joke. You’re not going to put in a good word for him or do anything more than act as a pass for him to walk your streets. You’re busy working on your escape plan when you smell it.
Smoke, just as you step clear of the forest.
"Gods," the man breathes, both of you standing on top of the hill at the edge of the forest, watching your home burn. Your eyes grow wide watching the fleeing shadows of raiders, the sacrifices of you kin. What are they doing? Why would they- A mass of fire belches from the center of your village, the man covers your eyes, shields you from the heat of it with his cloak. The tattered tartan catches your attention, makes your heart pound in your chest. You recognize it, Mactavish. He was one of you.
"We have to go," He tells you. You try to pull yourself free, scream for your family down the hill. He catches you around the middle again, hauls you back into the safety of the forest. 
"Tell them to stop," you beg. Your sobbing pleas fall on deaf ears.
“Those aren’t my men,” He doesn’t set you down, transfers your squirming to his shoulder with a grunt and keeps his pace. You can still see the lick of flame and smoke through the trees. The only home you’ve ever known, gone in an instant and all you can do is watch. The forest grows thicker around you as you lay against the familiar unfamiliar tartan and let yourself be carried off like a spoil.
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alin-linlinlin · 4 months
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Medieval AU!!!!!!!
Knight Ronan and magician Adam
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t0t0m0 · 1 year
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"I'm sipping wine in a robe, I look too good to be alone"
more of our medieval AU
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