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vexwerewolf · 7 months

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Showrooms of LANCER Manufacturers

IPS-N

IPS-N showrooms are what you'd get if you slammed a truck dealership, a hardware store, a camping gear shop and a sports bar together in the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid. We're talking row upon row of shelves stocked with the most precision-engineered engine parts you can print on one side of the floor, and on the other, durable, hard-wearing survival gear. Camping stoves you can run off of your mech's coldcore, sleeping bags that'll survive a HEX charge, automatic camo cloth, the works.

Right down the middle, you've got the mech floor. They've got the Tortuga. They've got the Blackbeard. They've got the Drake. They've got the Lancaster and the Kidd. They've got the Vlad (they put a chain-link fence covered in DO NOT TOUCH signs around that one after the infamous CFO's 10-year-old Incident). They've even got the Raleigh, kinda tucked away a little bit behind the water feature, but it's there!

Everything on the shop floor is ruggedized to the point that you could take a mech's fist to it without leaving a dent - and they sometimes do that to demonstrate the engineering quality. There's a giant screen hanging from the ceiling displaying constant advertising for the mechs and IPS-N in general, usually striding purposefully through idyllic Diasporan wilderness or doing hard, honest work like starship loading or construction. There's a mixtape of the most famous bro-country hits playing 24/7.

Smith-Shimano Corpro

In a word: bespoke. Everything in this place is custom. Each and every desk is individually built according to the height of the salesperson who sits behind it, and manages to be a unique art piece without disrupting the overarching aesthetic of the showroom. Whenever there's a change of staff on the sales floor, they rearrange every single desk so that they're still in ascending order.

All of the salespeople are inhumanly pretty, by the way. This atelier has its own fully-staffed makeup and wardrobe team. You're part of a work of art when you work for SSC. Everything and everyone gleams. Even the most chic visitors might feel underdressed in the midst of all this splendour.

The mechs aren't just there to be sold, they're there to be part of the experience. You might see a Monarch holding up the ceiling like the titan Atlas himself. A Mourning Cloak might be posed provocatively like a nude statue. That Swallowtail - is it in a slightly different position every time you see it, or is that just its camouflage decals? How does it always manage to be just inside your line of sight, even when you're looking somewhere else?

They have a catwalk, like you'd see at a fashion show, but it's sized for mechs. If they really think you might make a purchase, they'll queue up the entire performance for you, and you'll get to see a Viceroy strut.

The mix tape for this showroom is a seamless mixture of complex jazz, psychedelic ambient and classical piano music. It's sophisticated and mysterious.

Harrison Armory

Imagine if America could be a showroom. Harrison Armory mech outlets are part dealership, part museum. Every mech is in its own diorama, depicting some heroic event in the Armory's glorious history. A phalanx of Sherman Mk. Is holds the line against some Diasporan slaver-tyrant's army. A Saladin fends off Karrakin hordes during the Interest War. The Genghis Mk. II? Oh, that diorama isn't open right now, it had to be closed for *coughcoughcough* and *coughcoughcough* but let's move on shall we heh heh

Everyone who works here has been in the Colonial Legion at some point, and knows every specification of the mechs they sell off by heart without even looking at their slate. If possible, the Armory tries to employ people who have actual combat experience with the mechs they're selling; people who can speak to the efficacy of their technology first-hand. It's one of the many programs which the Armory has open for retired veterans; it's easy work for decent pay, good benefits and it looks great on your Social.

The music here is a constant loop of patriotic Armory anthems. If you've ever heard the music from Starship Troopers, or the Outbreak of War from Star Ocean, you'll know what I'm talking about.

HORUS

Being a decentralized omninet collective with no official branding or even consistent manufacturing standards, it should come as no surprise that HORUS has no showrooms.

ERR:CONNECTION_INTERRUPT

CartesianWhisper: P55555t CartesianWhisper: Ignore that 5hithead CartesianWhisper: They don't have any idea what they're talking about CartesianWhisper: You want a mech, kid? CartesianWhisper: And I'm not talking the tra5h the Purv5 try to 5ell you CartesianWhisper: Or that overpriced garbage 55C want5 you to mortgage your genetic5 for CartesianWhisper: Or the macho trucker bull5hit IP5-N i5 trying to hawk CartesianWhisper: I'm talking about the REAL DEAL CartesianWhisper: The PROPER 5TUFF CartesianWhisper: Log on to rgx0582.node-7.c4l.omni CartesianWhisper: I'll 5how you what true power mean5 >:]

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #mecha #ttrpg #mech

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within-your-eyes-if · 9 months

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Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated Jan. 24th, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ ???

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and ???

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FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

Tumblr Asks are disabled for the time being.

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WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

#interactive fiction #within your eyes if #text based game #text based adventure #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #twine if #twine story #cyoa #interactive game #interactive novel #twine games

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impostortale · 6 months

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Have you ever had a form you wanted to keep just for their clothes?

(I love you Imp ❤️‍🔥)

"On another note, I like this guy's simplicity- but he REALLY likes black, huh."

◇────── Navigation / Masterlist ──────◇

Viceroy (butterfly man) belongs to @wr-n

#Askbox #Impostor Sans #Impostortale #Ask #Answer #Undertale AU #Bugtale #Viceroy #Sans AU #Undertale #imptl askbox

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erisenyo · 7 months

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I'm living for the surge of jetko, it's delightful how you write both of them ^-^

for a prompt, maybe "please, put it DOWN"

or "let’s not go back. not ever." for Jetko (if you haven't gotten tired of these knuckleheads lol)

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

(Can be read along with this and this and this and this and this)

Agni’s flaming balls, if Jet fucking sucks his teeth one more fucking time Zuko is going to fucking—

Nothing. Zuko is going to nothing, he tells himself, cutting off that thought and shoving it away and trying to replace it with the calming, soothing breath cycles Uncle always pressed on him as he jerks his focus back to the assembled governors and viceroys and Councilmen around him.

“Lady Tang,” Zuko says, paging through his notes and trying to force the grit of frustration out of his voice, “I really do think we should consider—”

“What we should consider is the way we’ve distributed water rights off the Earth Kingdom’s coast,” she cuts in, flapping a hand at him as she sips her tea, and Zuko sucks in another slow, calming breath and tries not to feel the way Jet’s eyebrow ticks up, amused.

“We should consider a more traditional governance structure,” Councilman Vukuq agrees like he always fucking does and there’s no way the two of them aren’t— “It’s ridiculous, really, how the current divisions are assessed.”

The gentle breeze to the ostrich horse may be a gale to the flutter bee, Zuko remind himself as Jet’s other eyebrow tick up, as Zuko yanks his inner fire back down so hard it stings because it was like trying to scoop fire into a ladle to get what divisions they have now. “Councilman, we all agreed just a year ago—”

“Yes, well, things change,” Vukuq says, flicking his eyes over Zuko. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying, Fire Lord?” he adds, snide, and Zuko’s skin feels tight from that look, from the way Jet props his elbow on the table and his head on his fist and smirks.

“As you should all be able to see in the report my scribes put together,” Zuko grits out, finally finding the report in question amongst his notes and pretending he doesn’t see the way Jet’s eyes go overwide and overly rapt, a mockery of awed attention that scalds after spending the past week thinking he was seeing flashes of the real thing. “The population shifts along the coast—”

“Reports, reports, always with the reports,” Lord Geheng rolls his eyes and the fact that Zuko is fucking wishing Kuei were here right now with all his cheerful, agreeable fumbling– “Sometimes a man just has to think with his gut,” Geheng continues, giving Zuko a haughty, pitying kind of look. “You’ll learn,” he adds, lips curled into something probably supposed to come across as kind, fatherly, and Zuko grips onto the edge of the table and shoves his flame down and tries not to light it on fire.

“Thank you for your advice, Lord Geheng,” Zuko forces out, somehow harder than usual to do with Jet sitting there, watching, just smirking wider when Zuko’s gaze flicks over to him against his better judgment and mouthing ‘you’ll learn’ like it’s a joke, like it doesn’t matter, like he’s shoving his finger into a bruise and leaning into it and fuck, Zuko knows he shouldn’t have brought Jet into this, should never have even asked. He was almost more surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth than he was by Jet’s slow blink and drawling acceptance and now somehow they’re both here, when usually its only Zuko, everyone staring at Jet’s hodgepodge of clothes and the livid hickey still high on Jet’s neck and giving Zuko looks like he’s Viceroy Hoang again bringing his latest—his—like Zuko’s a fucking child, like—

Zuko takes a deep, calming breath as he drags his attention back to the conversation in front of him, trying to exhale the frustrated knot in his chest, straightening, trying to put on his most poised, polite expression. “Be that as it may,” he cuts back in, silently congratulation himself for how smooth the words come out, how reasonable and even and ignoring the way Jet straightens and mouths be that as it—fucking imitating him, fucking— “Given the population dispersion in the late years of the war and after—”

“Sure you want to go there?” Vukuq says under his breath and also not under his breath at all, everyone pretending not to hear. Except for Jet, who actually lets out a low, “Ooh, ouch,” at full volume and Agni, they’ve already been at it for fucking hours and Zuko just wants to fucking—

Just wants to take a deep breath, and calm himself, and shove down the roiling tangle in his chest, and remind himself something about ostrich hoses and flutter bees, and that a vessel already full of anger cannot have any room for peace, and—

Jet is watching him. Smirking, leaned forward against the table and clinking his fancy little teaspoon obnoxiously against the sides of his fragile little teacup and making a—making a fucking visible jerk off gesture at him.

“Irrespective of the reasons,” Zuko hears himself saying, aiming a kick at Jet’s ankles and barely restraining the urge to hurl his own teaspoon at Jet’s head when Jet easily evades it, just smirking wider, “Population movement did happen. And traditional governance approaches do not make sense given the increased demands of—”

“Interior trade routes can account for that,” Lady Tang says, dismissive, and Jet snorts out loud like Zuko wants to.

“It’s fish,” Zuko says, incredulous, fraying. “You’re talking about caravanning fish across the desert.”

“I’ve heard its pretty warm there,” Jet says in a thick north coastal drawl, grinning sharp and wide when the assembles lords and ladies twitch at the sound, chewing on a—on a stalk of wheatgrass that he must have pulled out of his fucking sleeve or something, like he has a whole fucking stash up there, except he doesn’t, Zuko’s tried to find it while stripping him down, though how else he keeps—

“Yes, well,” Vukuq says, expression edged with something Zuko at his most charitable can only call distaste, “Smarter men than you are working on it, dear.”

“Oh, gosh,” Jet says, voicw going breathy, sitting up all wide-eyed and attentive and polite as Zuko’s swallows hard, fire gulping in his chest as his breath control breaks. “That’s so good to hear, there’s no better time than now,” Jet says earnestly and so clearly mockingly and Zuko feels the thin remnants of the leash around his temper turn to ash.

“Now that that’s settled,” Lady Tang is saying, the picture of genteel amusement, “Let us go back to the discussion of tax rates on our merchant class, which truly are far too—”

“No, how about let’s not go back, not ever,” Zuko hears himself saying overloud, nearly shouting, frustrated anger suddenly boiling up out of his gut, “While I’m sure you’d love to renegotiate your own tax rates, I think we’re all sick of you wasting all our fucking time with your blatant profiteering," Zuko snaps, ignoring the gasps around the room, the shocked outrage on everyone’s faces—except for Jet's, who’s air of feigned indifference has dropped for the first time all day to give way to a delighted kind of eagerness.

“Now see here,” Geheng straightens, bushy eyebrows drawn in disapproving, “There is no need for such unseemly displays, young man, this is—”

“Fire Lord,” Zuko corrects, smoke on the back of his tongue and Geheng jerks back, shocked, “And I think there’s plenty of need after this travesty of a negation,” Zuko says, smelling smoke too, which probably means he’s damaging the table but he doesn’t particularly care to check right now with his fire stretching and spilling out inside him and Jet looking at him, rapt.

“Fire Lord,” Vukuq says, chiding, stern, “Just because the negotiations have not personally favored your views—”

“Are you sure you want go there?” Zuko rounds on him, spiting the words, “You?”

“Are you implying—”

“I’m not implying anything,” Zuko snarls over top of him and Agni, it feels good to not have to modulate his tone, to check his volume, to carefully watch of every lilt and bit of emphasis, Jet leaning forward, eager, and that feels good, “I’m saying I don’t know why we even fucking pretend at it anymore, when you’re so blatantly in each other’s pockets.”

Vukuq is choking, sputtering, furious. “I should have known someone of your—”

“What, someone of my what, Vukuq?” Zuko challenges, exhilaration thrilling in his chest at the edge of threat in his voice, at the way Vukuq’s mouth works, silent, soundless in the face of it. “And Lady Tang I can see you picking up that seal,” Zuko says, snapping his attention to her and feeling wild with his hours of frustrated anger, his months of stifled indignation, with the way Jet is grinning approving and sharp.

“Lord Zuko,” she says, huffy, drawing herself up and Zuko feels a seething kind of satisfaction at that Lord, more than she’s ever given him, “I don’t know how things are done in the Fire Nation, but around here—”

“They’re done a fuck of a lot better than this,” Zuko says, incredulous, incredulous that they think something as small as words, as chiding, as shame can rein him back where they want him and if it’s worked before— “And we’re a fucking mess,” he adds, laughing, Jet cackling along with him, the sound like sparks in his veins, “The bar is not high. And yet somehow, you continually manage to faceplant over it.”

Vukuq pulls himself up, scrapes his eyes over Jet and then Zuko, snide and ugly. “It’s just like the Fire Nation to attempt to trample all over—”

“I will remind you, Councilman, that Fire Nation reparations still require the Fire Lord’s approval,” Zuko spits, the words coming easy and right when he doesn’t make himself think over them, “And I am the Fire Lord—” It’s almost dizzying, the adrenaline and anger and clear, crystal sense of focus and Jet’s nearly triumphant grin. “— and I will not be approving shit until I hear meaningful concessions. Because I assure you,” he adds, turning to Geheng before the man can say whatever drivel he’s opened his mouth to say, “The reparations are not for you, Geheng. I think we are all very aware of how little you need them after the war.”

Zuko’s breathes hard as the room gapes at him, stunned, uncertain. His breath control is in some wild, seething rhythm and the urge to tug it back under more familiar control trembles through him, just like the instinctive, learned impulse to apologize, to rein himself back and be calm and polite, to offer tea and amends and be reasonable.

But Jet is looking at him eager and impressed and genuine for the first time all day, and Zuko’s fire is blazing and for the first time—or maybe not the first time, not really, though Zuko’s always felt shame for it, for these loses of control that were so improper and ignoble and nothing like the calm consideration and measured words Uncle tried so hard to impress onto him—Zuko’s thrumming anger feels like an ally rather than an enemy.

“So, Fire Lord,” Jet says into the stunned silence, drawl thick and syrupy, all faux, smirking sweetness, the curl of his lips undeniably feral as he taps his teaspoon against his lips, drawing nervous looks, “Do you have a list of concessions you’re seeking?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, feeling his grins sharp and feral in answer as he takes in the room, feeling bright and invigorated and exhilarated by the sudden clear certainty that he’s going to fucking get this one, “Yeah, I do, actually. If you'll look at the report that was sent to you..."

#asks and answers #ask game #We do love to cut loose and stop holding back in these parts #fic writing #my writing #Zuko #Jetko #Jet

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josefavomjaaga · 9 months

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Parallel letters from Vienna, 1809

Quoted from a sales catalogue, some excerpts from a letter Bessières wrote to his wife during the 1809 campaign in Austria:

Vienna, 27 July 1809 We have been dining together for two days now, with the Viceroy [Prince Eugène] and Marshal Duroc... today I had the pleasure of having them in my place... it reminded the three of us of our younger days. It has been six years since we last found ourselves together. We then went for a walk in bourgeois clothes, and we agreed that the pleasures of Vienna were not worth those of Paris... (volume II, n° 130)

And, quoted from »Mémoires et correspondance politique et militaire du Prince Eugène«, Vol. 6, snippets from a letter Eugène wrote to his wife:

Vienna, 28th July 1809 […] I dined yesterday with Duroc and Bessières; it had been five years since we had been able to get this trio together. We then wanted to take a stroll on the ramparts wearing our fracs, but no sooner had we arrived than a large crowd followed us, because we had been recognised; I had already been there the two days before and had enjoyed the utmost incognito; now, all the soldiers who greeted us revealed us, and we went to take our revenge by hearing the Italian opera: Il matrimonio secreto [...].

So, had they last been dining together five or six years ago? I guess we would need to have Duroc’s letter to his wife in order to find out. But I love the enthusiasm in both letters; you can just feel how delighted they are to be together again.

#napoleon's marshals #napoleon's family #jean baptiste bessières #geraud christophe michel duroc #eugene de beauharnais #vienna 1809 #i really would love to know what duroc wrote to his wife ^_^

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artthatgivesmefeelings · 1 year

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Antonio Rodríguez Beltrán, attributed (Spanish, 1636-1691) María Luisa de Toledo e indígena, 1670 Museo Nacional del Prado

Doña María Luisa de Toledo y Carreto, Marquesa de Melgar de Fernamental, was the only daughter of Don Antonio Sebastián de Toledo Molina y Salazar, II Marquis de la Mancera and Viceroy of New Spain -between 1664 and 1673-, and of his first woman, D. Leonor de Carreto. And, therefore, she was also the granddaughter of another viceroy, in this case of Peru, D. Pedro de Toledo y Leiva, who held that position between 1639 and 1648. And also, she was the sister-in-law of a third viceroy, D. Gaspar de la Cerda y Sandoval, Count of Galve, her husband's brother, who held office in New Spain between 1688 and 1696. She was a great-great-granddaughter of the first Duke of Alba de Tormes, one of the leading noble houses in Spain, and her husband was the son of the Dukes of Pastrana and the Infantado, another of the main noble families. So, in her person, María Luisa combined an entire noble inheritance linked to some of the great Spanish aristocratic families and to the main positions in the American viceroyalties. She lived part of her childhood and adolescence in the city of Mexico, where, around 1670, she must have made this portrait of her. She returned to Spain, together with her father, in 1674.

She married Joseph de Silva, linking in this way with one of the most powerful houses in the Peninsula, which held the dukedoms of Pastrana, Infantado and Lerma among many other titles, although all of them were part of the inheritance of the eldest son, for which reason None of the consorts had, at the time of the marriage, a noble title. The title enjoyed by María Luisa and her husband, Marquises of Melgar de Fernamental, was granted as a marriage dowry by the Queen herself, Mariana of Austria, in the name of King Carlos II.

The dwarf woman who accompanies her would come from the Chichimeca area, due to the tattoos that adorn her. She has been represented wearing a long and straight huipil, which is superimposed over a green skirt or dress whose lower part protrudes from the previous one. The huipil has been arranged "a la española", that is to say, it seems to be cinched at the waist and has wide added sleeves and a bottom edge with an ova-shaped lace band. The presence of this small indigenous woman was highlighting the uniqueness and exoticism, and therefore the power and prestige of her family. The color of the complexion, the tattoo and even the type of clothing that the little woman wears reveal her connection with American places and the access that the protagonist of the canvas exhibited in relation to some networks of circulation of transoceanic goods and products. New Spain (modern day Mexico) came to be called Mexico in 1821, after the Mexican War of Independence. The viceroyalty was dissolved and the Mexican Empire was established.

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gulnarsultan · 1 year

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*a deep breath* imagine,

Somehow it happens, that Aegon II meets and emotionally gets closer to a some girl. He has a lot of funny feelings for her. She is strange herself, she has strange clothes, a strange accent. She doesn't talk much about herself. She doesn't look like the women, he's used to at all. But he'll be damned, if Y/n isn't the most charming and beautiful creature, he's ever seen...

He has an unusual desire to introduce her to everyone, and get to know her side. But she's kind of shy, or something... In general, she, also, seems to like him, but she is in no hurry to get closer, although she does not mind his growing obsession over her. As a result, Aegon, in his characteristic manner, forces Y/n to open up to him.

Y/n is far from the last person in a far-far kingdom. Y/n is far from the last person in the retinue of a distant, strong and "evil" Ruler. (As an example - something like the local Mordor and Sauron.) Y/n came to these lands just out of curiosity, without the goal of luring or conquering, she did not know, that a possible future King would be to her heart. Her home is very far from here. Those lands are called dark, cursed, defiled. But Y/n doesn't think so. She loves her home and is loyal to her Lord. Although, the Aegon house, too, is very nice.

Of course, this is very strange, almost shocking, but Aegon's eyes see nothing, but Y/n's reciprocal sympathy for him.

He asks her to take him with her. He's being forced to become King here, and he doesn't want to. And in the ephemeral kingdom, which no one knows about in these lands, he will not be found. And she takes him home. She will be able to convince her Lord to leave him, even, maybe, give him the word. After all, Y/n has never failed her Ruler. Perhaps, Aegon even, blinded by his love for Y/n and her love for him, and defiled by the darkness of this kingdom, will help in the conquest of his homeland... He doesn't have to be a King, but he can be a viceroy, for example... Or not... No one knows what's going on in Aegon II's head...

Or.

Everything happens much faster, than Aegon wants. And the conflict for the crown is already on the threshold. If Aegon wants, Y/n can talk to her Lord, and he will be given military support. Tired and almost desperate Aegon agrees to everything. Even if after the victory over his sister, these lands will pass into the power of an unknown ruler.

And after a while, a huge and ugly army stands on the threshold of the Keep. "Monsters and dark people, mutilated people", all stand at the head of the Herald and Y/n. As it turns out, the passion of the King is really far from the last person in a distant and cursed kingdom. She, as befits a good guest, bows to the local authorities. Aegon is literally ready to give Y/n the crown right away, but she puts the crown back on his head again. "No-no, my King. We are not here to take anything away, we are here to help you. We want to be friends, my King, not take away. You want to be friends too, right? - She looks innocently, but rapaciously around the Targaryen family. And especially Otto. She remembers, what Aegon told her about his grandfather. Moreover, despite the fact, that the "army of chaos" came to help, he does not look happy. - Your power here, my King, is not limited. And we will take care of those, who disagree. We came here to establish alliances and friendship between our realms." Now Y/n didn't look, like the beautiful angel, Aegon remembered her with. Although she doesn't look like her army, but there is a huge imprint of darkness on her. But, even so, Aegon could not remember a more beautiful woman...

And the alliances were established. Aegon is still the King, although he was given a choice. Y/n's home did not conquer Aegon's home. They are separated by a huge stretch of the map, but Aegon swore, that his lands will forever be loyal allies. There is no desecration Aegon's realm, none of the locals feels it. Yes, sometimes "ugly people" flash by, but they behave well. In addition, that distant kingdom is not only a strong, but a profitable ally. A lot of interesting and unusual goods come from those lands, and goods go there well.

No one feels any critical changes. Except Aegon. His appearance was distorted in the manner of that kingdom. No, he didn't become a freak, but his hair turned dark gray, his skin became even paler, his bones lengthened, and his voice became little more growling, his teeth have become a little bigger and sharper, and his character is more domineering and tough. He stopped being afraid of responsibility and power. And Aegon II has been ruling for too long. And if the Dark Lord needed help, King Aegon II will always come to the rescue. After all, the Dark Lord gave Aegon her, Y/n.

It's great.🤩 I don't even need to add.

#house of the dragon #hotd fanart #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen

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thebennsofdallas · 9 months

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Look out below (Someone’s gonna fall)

For four and a half seasons, the heartbreak in this show has mainly centered around Guillermo’s travails— his longing for a life as a vampire that seems increasingly out of reach, his guilt in neglecting the family he loves, his devotion to his other family who only grudgingly acknowledge him.

But this season, I can’t help but watch with a lump in my throat at the heartbreak that’s heading straight for one clueless character — Nandor.

The Nandor we know from the first three seasons is insecure and eventually, outright depressed. He’s lonely and his search for an eternal partner, of the kind his housemates Laszlo and Nadja have in each other, are laughable failures. His moniker, The Relentless, doesn’t accurately describe him anymore. Whether he’s whining about not being an American citizen or letting Nadja bully him into finding her Dolly or seeking the guidance of a false prophet in Jan, Nandor is unsure of what to think or do or feel. He’s searching for THE answer.

But in the fourth season, he seems close to finding it. From the first episode, when Guillermo falls through the rotten floor and Nandor, without a second’s hesitation dives in to save him, it seems clear that Guillermo is the answer to Nandor’s loneliness and yearning for a partner. They have rainy day movie time and Nandor proudly enters Guillermo into the familiar fights. He chooses Guillermo to be his best man at his wedding, where Nandor confides his fears and doubts about the marriage. More than once, he hopefully accuses Guillermo of being jealous of his romantic endeavors. And through Marwa, it’s revealed that Nandor doesn’t know what he would do without Guillermo in his life.

Even in the aftermath of the shit show that is Freddie, Nandor makes a huge leap by realizing that his actions caused Guillermo pain and he changes course with the sole purpose of making it up to Guillermo. But then, when Guillermo doesn’t show proper appreciation for his sacrifice, Nandor hides behind a stack of books to avoid further hurt. It’s his best, longest-serving technique to protect himself.

But then, in this season, something good comes of that strategic retreat. He reads a book that appears to change him for the good. The Nandor of season 5 is a new vampire. He’s relaxed, he’s confident. He remembers that he was viceroy to multiple nations and a leader of men. He LAUGHS. And he is observant enough of the surrounding world to see that Guillermo has not only changed but appears to have lost interest in him. And it hurts Nandor. With someone else, we might say this has to do with Nandor’s ego but we know better. We know that Nandor cares deeply for Guillermo, his closest companion for over 13 years and now, he fears he’s losing him.

It hurts enough that Nandor, for the first time, begins actively vying for Guillermo’s attention, especially when it becomes clear (to Nandor) that Guillermo has turned his affection from Nandor to Laszlo. He seeks Guillermo out at home, only to be avoided. He watches Guillermo and Laszlo and their not-so-secret meetings and he is helpless to stop them. He tries to shoehorn his way into their activities only to be mocked and rejected. He goes to fucking SPACE to win Guillermo’s favor and Guillermo’s reaction is “put your damn clothes on.”

When the vampires perceive that their undead lives are in danger and despite the divide between them, Nandor still wants Guillermo at his side. He wants Guillermo’s guidance, he needs it. But when Guillermo doesn’t come, Nandor falls back on his recently rediscovered military skills and pulls the household together on his own. When Guillermo finally shows up, ready to take charge, Nandor pushes back with angry words meant to wound and the words hit their target. Guillermo walks away, leaving Nandor to deal with the evil doing of Channel 8 without him.

So. That happened. And that hurt. But we all know that there is worse in store for Nandor. He doesn’t know it but the reason for Guillermo’s distance has nothing to do with Laszlo but with a devastating secret that has the potential to literally destroy Nandor. All the progress Nandor has made this season — the strength he’s gained, the changes he’s made — are teetering on the precipice, only Nandor doesn’t know it. He’s not going to see it coming. He has no idea that his Guillermo has betrayed him. I’m sure he can’t conceive of the possibility.

So when you see Nandor smile and joke and try to get Guillermo’s attention, swallow hard and brace yourself. The Relentless one is in for a very hard fall.

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandor the relentless #Oh this precious boy #wwdits season 5

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viceroys-cabinet · 8 months

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Ok now this blog is mostly caught up! I finished this last week, using poison dart frogs as visual inspo- this is the most paint I’ve ever put into a sweatshirt so I’m glad it’s still comfortable! Cutting slashes and doing the built-up patchwork on the eye were both a first-time endeavour, I’m really proud of them

This is also aro pride merch but it’s mostly vibes based. Allotoxic is a cool slogan I wish I’d thought of earlier!!! So I could put it in a more blatant spot!!! Bitter veins is cool too though so it’s fine

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frumious-bandersnatch-ao3 · 1 year

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Prompt: apocalypse, murder-suicide

The Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End; the King of Kings, the Light, Lord of Lords, Abba, YHWH, Elohim … Charles Shurley sat down behind His typewriter, and began to draft a set of notes. On the coiling branches of Everything, a universe split off and began to take form.

His first sketches of first drafts are always messy: bullet-point plot and jumping off points.

Sam’s ‘yes’ assured; as normal

Dean’s ‘yes’: Golden Room, last resort, desperate, Zachariah alive, Castiel dead. Permanent.

Stull Cemetery, both sets of brothers made whole; flesh and grace and soul. Lucifer in white, Michael in something fitted and regal, muted tones, tailored to Dean in the way clothes have never been tailored to him before.

They love eachother.

Chuck took a pause there, and stared at the words on the page for a few minutes; brow creased and eyes narrowed behind His reading glasses. Of course they loved each other. They were created that way, both pairs; grace calling to grace and soul calling to soul. And of course, if it went how originally designed, like it should have gone in the first place outlined after the Fall, one would kill the other. But He was doing something different here, and… He could see it taking form now.

Lucifer in Sam, dressed in white, and even though it had rained a few days previous, the graveyard mud refused to cling to his brogues. Though it wouldn’t be visible to any man, were any man to actually be blessed with the sight of the final event of the End of Days, his wings (though they would be so intertwined, by this point, Lucifer and Sam, so really-) their wings would be outspread behind them.

White and glistening like fire opals, the beauty inherent in their design almost masking the fact that they were stained with blood and bent in a million wrong angles and still smoking from the Fall. They would arrive first, waiting, staring down at the grace-formed blade in their hands. It would have been eons since Lucifer last touched his own blade… Chuck imagined that touching it, for him, would have set a pit in his stomach. Knowing that things were final, that he had the full chance and ability to kill his brother laid out before him. Sam would comfort him. Remember, he would murmur, in the shared space of their mind, we can all just walk off. He’s going to listen to you. I know he will. Because Sam would be thinking of his own brother, and Lucifer would know… of course, he would know that Dean Winchester and Saint Michael the Archangel, Viceroy of Heaven, for all their designed similarities, were two different beasts entirely.

Michael in Dean would arrive with a sound like thunder; eyes shining a brilliant icy blue. Their shoes– pointed oxfords in a deep chocolate brown, with a slight heel– would sink into the mud. Dressed in earth tones; brown, orangey-reds, deep purple, formal wear (the both of them, all four of them, dressed like they were going to a wedding. Chuck wondered for a moment what it meant about him, that he could never imagine Lucifer in anything but pristine, virginal white). They would be holding Michael’s lance in one hand, his blade in another, and their wings like so many swords and spears and daggers fluorescing with the colors of dusk and twilight would flare in a sign of dominance. Dean would fret, of course. Michael, please, they’re our brothers, we don’t have to do this, you know we don’t.

But Michael would know… of course, he would know that he’s a good son. And good sons follow their orders, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much they love what they’re told to spurn. You know that we do. Is all that he would tell Dean in the frantic silence of their shared mind.

The two, the four would approach, slowly bridging the small gap between them. Not aggressive, not hurried… they would have all the time in the world, after all. Their actions would decide when that hourglass would run out of sand. The fate of everything in the universe decided in a small cemetery in Kansas, on a particularly sunny day after a strong rain a few days before. The air would smell like mud and growing things and the wilted flowers left beside so many graves.

“Michael,” Lucifer would murmur, voice soft and lilting; silver tongue and Sam’s perfect throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Michael would dip his head in a mockery of deference. “Lucifer,” he would reply, Dean’s voice cracking around the second syllable. “It’s been too long.” And he would mean it, desperately. It has been too long since I last saw you, it has been so long since I’ve seen your grace, since it has been so close to mine, do you remember what you threw away?

“Can you believe it’s finally here?” Lucifer would say it as if it were almost amusing, wishing that it were heaven again and they were standing together in Eden, when everything was beautiful and they would twine grace in grace and glory, glory, glory.

“Yeah,” a scoff, “not really. …You ready?” Chuck had written this conversation a hundred million times over. The silence in the graveyard, nothing but the wind whistling. Two brothers who loved eachother bound to duty by the chains of fate; echoes of God and Darkness and Cain and Abel on and on and on forever, glory, glory, glory, Lord God of Hosts, a perfect story…

“-and why make us fight? I just can’t figure out the point.” Sam’s face wouldn’t be stoic, here. Brow slightly wrinkled, eyes watering just slightly, even Chuck wouldn’t be able to piece out whether it was Sam or Lucifer making the expression, the distress so visceral and needing and painful.

“What’s your point?”

Chuck closed his eyes. Needed to finalize, before he really put it to words. They love eachother.

They would end up in each other’s arms. Michael’s lance dropped abandoned to the grass, to the mud. Michael in Dean’s face buried in the crook between Lucifer in Sam’s neck and shoulder. Dean would be crying. Lucifer, would, too, resting his hand between his brother’s shoulder blades and hearing the hitch of his breath. “I love you,” both of them, all of them, would say it like a prayer.

“I’m sorry,” both of them, all of them, desperation and horror and finality.

Twin blades into twin backs, twin explosions, supernovas of grace; twin sets of wingprints burned black into the ground.

#I really uh put my whole pussy into this one #sorry it got a bit long #Michael Supernatural #Lucifer Supernatural #michifer #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester #Chuck Shurley Supernatural #Chuck is God #Michael!Dean #Lucifer!Sam #vessels #posession #mfeo

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mdhwrites · 7 months

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I Wish I'd Found the Randy Cunningham Ninth Grade Ninja Fandom

I LOVED that show when it was first coming out. I thought it was just a ton of fun and that characters like Viceroy and Mcfist were genuinely amazing takes on their archtypes. Admittedly, Randy and Howard are entirely classic to me since I grew up with stuff like Danny Phantom and Kim Possible but...

None of you probably know what I'm talking about.

Okay, so a bit over a decade ago now, Disney had a show called Randy Cunningham: Ninth Grade Ninja. The premise was actually kind of Sailor Moon S1 in with half of its villain group. The Ninja exists to oppose the Sorcerer, trapped below the town. The Sorcerer feeds on misery and can corrupt people who are vulnerable through items and the like that they hold dear, turning them into monsters who are usually beat either by destroying the object or convincing the person to give up their grievance.

The other half of the main villains (it had a lot of side villains too of course) were the duo of McFist and Viceroy. They employed a lot of robots, mutants, etc. because, well, McFist was so rich as to practicallly own the town and be beloved by all (Think Lex Luthor but bad at hiding it and really shouty) and Viceroy was literally his on staff MAD SCIENTIST! He even graduated second in his year from a mad science university. Or first. Can't remember despite it being a plot point for an episode when a skeleton that the science teacher is... Married to I think? Comes back to life and tries to finish his graduation project that would have made him Valedictorian: A Doomsday Device. After all, if you blow the world, you are indeed the greatest evil scientist apparently.

The show was pretty classic in how it was structured and played thing and when I say classic, I mean it. It had a moral of the episode format, usually taught through ancient ninja rhyme through the book that gave Randy, the main character, his powers: The Ninjanomicon which is a great name. It would also be what helped grant him various ninja tools to beat bad guys, though his main weapon was the ever changing length scarf he had and a sick ass sword.

The show also had a good sense of humor about what it was though. Like the first episode's lesson from the book is that the greatest weapon is within the suit. When Randy gets his ass kicked, he believes it must be trying to tell him to believe in himself, draw in deep and OPE NOPE! It means there's a sword in the suit! Time to get to slicing and dicing!

The downfall of the show for me was the same thing that makes me actually surprised it didn't stick around longer than it did (besides Disney being honestly pretty stingy with seasons for the past decade for its shows): It being formulaic. Eventually, I did get tired of seeing Randy making similar mistakes or do things that felt like he should have outgrown. Sure, his best friend Howard rarely if ever changed and that could pull him down but it still eventually stopped feeling right. The episode that snapped it for me was when Julian (I can't believe I remember his name), the wanna be magician of the school went full supervillain and got real magical powers. It was a neat turn... Predicated on Howard and Randy being complete assholes to someone they'd at least once or twice called friend.

And that is what the real shame of the show for me was. There was a lot you could actually read into and say about the eb and flow of relationships and sometimes even the show had great fun with it. One episode in particular that I loved was when Howard accidentally gets the ninja powers and people like how he showboats while doing it so Randy questions being the ninja. The two guys are cut from the same cloth, best friends for a reason, but the show REALLY highlighted that eventually, a conflict between Howard and Randy was going to come to the head. Why?

Well... Because Randy is just a dumb teenager who wants to be popular. Howard is an asshole. It's not even the first episode that highlights it but every time it gets highlighted, it's a BIG problem for Randy. In this one, Howard is so cruel to a robot, takes his time to mock it so thoroughly that eventually the robot gets corrupted by the sorcerer and all its weaknesses are now strengths and it's damn near unstoppable. I forget how Randy beats it (besides just being better with the powers) but it always stuck out to me as a reminder that Randy WAS a hero, despite his flaws, and that the ninja before him had made the right call choosing him (not sure if we ever got an answer as to WHY Randy got it, though that was by no means necessary.)

It's just the sort of show that I had enjoyed enough that I wish I'd had more people to share in it while I was enjoying it. I could admittedly try going back now and seeing how it is but well... It's a decade old and had protags all about trying to be cool. Danny Phantom used regular, classic tropes for this while Randy actually tried to embrace the fact that stuff like influencers were starting to exist and become more popular so you can probably imagine its sense of humor by that. I wouldn't call it bad but the last time I tried rewatching the first episode, I remember not finding it nearly as charming as I had the first time, let alone as charming as my brain thought it was.

But on that note, I will say possibly one of the least controversial thing I ever have, just to let fellow fans squeal with me: Holy shit was Randy and Baton girl my absolute OTP of the show and I still get all sorts of happy anytime I'm reminded of the two.

And if you're going "Wait, was she a background charact-" NOPE! THEY LITERALLY CALLED HER BATON GIRL! If she ever got an actual name, I don't know it! And god are elements like that why I've never forgotten that show, for good and for ill. Edit: She was named Theresa in S2. Thank you to the commenter who reminded me!

#Late Night Ramblings #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #randy cunnigham

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pyrokitten284 · 11 months

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Next up, I followed up on that Viceroy request! Here he is in casual clothes :)

I’mma be real, I’ve got a soft spot for mad scientist types, especially when they come off as sassy ☺️

#traditional sketch #sketch #traditional art #sketches #drawing requests #requests still open!#fanart #request #willem viceroy the third #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn fanart #rc9gn viceroy

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silverjetsystm · 2 months

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"Tell me... a story..." Black Mask pants, easing himself down beside what would have been his lover could he still love, with rather much less grace than he'd like. They are about equally battered and bruised, due to crawl home more than limp... but Roman had been fresh to this fight and M not so much. The only reason he's the one capable of calling a shot. An old one. One extended to him forever ago, when they'd started tiring of the usual routine and had begun extending it. It appeals more than just putting a bullet in his bride and calling it a day. Price for being let go. One story. M's turn.

@echoestm -- this is before we start making deals.

Moon Knight's chest wheezed and clicked with wounded approximation of growling, face twisted in rage. Last night's Subterranean round with Commodore Planet. Common sense would have told him he wasn't ready for another match. Black Mask was his to deal with so he went. Mask had been ready for him. Moon Knight didn't make it easy. In the end, Silver spoon Sionis, settling down beside him, giving the terms of survival. Galling. "B-better leave. Hrrk. While you still can."

Bullet in his head isn't how he dies.

Concrete is a lousy mattress; he glares, rummaging through stories to tell. Himself? No. The snake and the rabbi in the shtetl, learned at his father's knee, drilled into tuned out ears as a teen, and recited to Marlene and Frenchie years ago? Too nostalgic, too revealing. Glowing eyes stare into the wooden skull.

{Purim's comin' up.} Really Jake? {Uh huh.}

Softer, saltier wheeze, shifting little by little upright. "Purim's comin' up. You'd like it. Big bash….Dress up, Masks. I'd always be Indy. Kids put on a lil play. Adult themes go over their heads. An' everyone gets fershnickered…" A boy's mischievous smile.

The story starts and stops. Catching breath. Coughing. "Long ago, in Persia, the king--" There was a name. They've forgotten. "--throws a six month long party for his whole kingdom. By the end, he's drunk and tells his queen to show her royal beauty. Y'know. Birthday suit style. She refuses. He picks a different girl to be queen. Esther. Esther's Jewish… Her cousin, Mordecai, tells her to keep it hidden. Mordecai keeps the king from getting assassinated. This ticks off his viceroy, Haman."

Deliberate pause. "Supposed to boo when you hear his name. Haman…" Boot nudges Mask's leg. "M tellin' a story. Y'gotta play along… W-Work with me here…M not performin' fer--" Wheeze, hack. "Rrrn. Haman learns Mordecai's Jewish. Convinces the king to kill all the Jews in Persia. Mordecai hears this plot. Jews start fastin' and prayin'. Nobody can talk sense into the king cause the king says anyone who approaches him will die. Esther's scared. She eventually addresses the king cause we all know she's the only one who can approach. Says 'If I perish, I perish.' Mordecai keeps tickin' Haman off by not bowin' to him."

Layers. Intrigue. Is the boxer holding pain while the scrapper talks? Chicago or Brooklyn? They're all Moon Knight, they all make up the rabbi's son. Is this even engaging? White clothes, black masks of cloth and wood. If Moon Knight dies, all they die. Chances are they'll scrap another time. Way of things. Jake and Grant guess this is high stakes flirting. Cute.

"Haman decides to hang Mordecai the next day. King hears Mordecai saved his life chapters ago. An' asks Haman how to honor a guy like that. Haman thinks the king's talkin' about him. So he tells the king to let the guy wear the king's robes and be led round on the king's horse. King has Haman give these honors to Mordecai. Haman's night is as bad as his day. Esther reveals she's Jewish, King backs her, an' Haman is executed."

Their smile turns Moon Knight bloodthirsty. Marc's favorite part. No G-d mentioned in this tale. G-d is in the pile-up of individual actions. "Cause y'can't call cancel a decree," he says, scathingly. "What y' can do is kill all those with lethal intent. The Jews rise up and put Haman's sons, would be killers, an' thousands of other people to the sword." The non-child friendly part. How far is too far?

"And now we tell the story every year, eating cookies of Haman's ear."

#echoestm #feat. black mask #we are mk | system #asked and answered #//listen i love commodore laser eyes #//'MY BONNIE APPARITION [EXPLOSION SFX]'#//fuck it system effort #//purim spiel by gunpoint #//add this to 'MK Fail Compilation'

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