#The Conqueror of Winged Freedom

[dustyrkives]

Blood And Divinity

PAIRING: Ada Wong x fem reader

WARNINGS: dragon god ada, human female priestess r, dark Ada, conqueror Ada, if Nemean Ada was feral, this one's cruel yet just, dark fantasy, greek myth and ASOIAF inspired, power imbalance, tension, monotheism, religious themes, immortal/mortal pairing, power dynamics, seduction, teasing, sensual tension, head, GP Ada BECAUSE I SAID SO, dragon cawk yep, multiple orgasms, unprotected seggs, raw seggs, breeding, slight bondage, katoptronophilia, choking, c*m play, clit-slapping, biting, marking, missionary, backshots, felatio, rough seggs, and oviposition–jesus.

SYNOPSIS: In a world where the gods have ruled with cruelty and excess, divine justice arrives not in the form of salvation—but vengeance. The great black dragon descends, bringing ruin to the false gods and striking terror into mortal hearts. When your goddess falls to its wrath, you are left with nothing but a dying faith and a fragile hope to survive. Bound by divine will and insatiable desire, you find yourself in the arms of a goddess—one who claims you as her own. Ada, a being of celestial power and primal hunger, seeks more than just devotion; she demands your very essence. As passion and power collide, you are drawn deeper into her realm, where love is worship, pleasure is sacred, and your fate is sealed beneath her touch.

MEN, MINORS DNI

The reign of the new gods was nothing short of... chaotic.

No, chaotic is an understatement. Humanity is living in a new dark age.

They have done nothing but use mortals for their pleasure and entertainment. Fueling their greed and depravity and spreading darkness faster than any plague the realm has ever witnessed.

The weak are preyed upon by the strong–a never-ending cycle of greed and corruption.

You knew you wouldn't survive in such conditions where women are seen as nothing but cattle for the whims of men; what choice did you have other than to turn to priestesshood under Lannis, maiden Goddess of agriculture, fertility and prosperity.

Life as a priestess is simple—prayer sustains you, offerings honor your goddess, and rituals ensure prosperity and a good harvest. You learned to find comfort in this simple way of living, white, and gold robes, with exquisite cloth covering your face while wearing the amulet of protection that your goddess has given you–no man or other deity, whether popular or not, shall touch you unless they will face her wrath.

Life has been peaceful, the skies were blue, crops were healthy and the seas were cool.

Until it wasn't.

As if to punish the new gods for their arrogance and greed–a great beast–a dragon, descended from the heavens, its scales are black and sharp, wings so big they covered the sun, casting a gargantuan shadow that covered the realm in darkness, eyes cruel, bright gold as it looks down at the ruined realm–fire so hot it burned castles and blackens the land, a color akin to disease and teeth so sharp–it cuts through the gods' skin, spilling ichor blood across the land.

It killed the king of the gods first, the whole realm watched with terror and trepidation as it dragged the poor deity by its teeth, sinking into his shoulder–the skies were dark as the god howled in pain before the cruel dragon pulled his flesh apart–spilling his insides across the land and dropping his corpse.

The sea god was next, the sailors watched with macabre interest as the dragon hovered over the sea before grabbing something–someone from the depths of the sea; the god struggled, shouting his pleas for freedom before the deity devoured him and spitting his head back to the sea and disappear into the thick school of clouds.

Humanity can only watch as the beast brutally destroys and devours the gods that had once ruled the realm, their corpses on display for humans and lesser deities to see–a representation of what could be their fate if they followed their example.

One of them was Lannis, her death was the most merciful of all–the dragon had devoured her upper half, it didn't even give her the chance to react–you can only guess that the last thing she saw was the dragon's maw before it ate her upper body.

More humans approach the crude burial site, some paid respects, others loot the bodies... and perhaps even violate them.

You tear your gaze away from the sight.

Take these savages next.

As if the heavens listened, the same black dragon descended from the sky, crushing the bodies along with the mortals near the decaying corpses. For the first time, you've seen the beast in all its glory: obsidian-black scales, a lithe yet devastating stature, wings so huge that when they spread, they cover half of the realm, horns elegantly curved back, and eyes ichor like the blood of the dead gods. It stands before humanity, looking down at all of you.

It lowers its head, a voice feminine, distorted, steely and cold bellows, shaking the ground.

"The old gods are no more," It hisses, "Bend the knee to the new god of the realm."

Ruled by fear, the citizens obey, those who were too slow were shot with black spears through the chest and head. Yelps and screams echo in the atmosphere. You flinch at the sound of flesh being pierced, you felt blood splatter on your robe and face, eliciting a terrified gasp from you as you slowly look to your side; breath hitching as the body next to you is riddled with spears.

A pause. Pregnant with fear and silence.

"Which among you was a priest or priestess to any of the former gods?"

No one dared to open their mouths, even the other priests and priestesses kept quiet, including you.

The dragon rumbles, "Answer me or I'll tear you all limb from limb."

You lock eyes with the beast, and your breath stills as its eyes sharpen, and it didn't miss the medallion of Lannis hanging from your neck. With one wing, it points at you, eyes stabbing through your soul.

"You," The obsidian-scaled dragon breathes. "Come to me."

Presented with no other choice, you obey the conqueror. Your knees shake as you stand, you feel as if you don't remember how to walk. The city folk parts to make way for you. You present yourself to the conqueror with bloody robes and blood splattered on one side of your face like a demented face painting.

"Name, priestess."

You obey, voice barely above a whisper as you offer your name.

The great beast purrs, "You served one of the gods, yes?"

"Ye-yes, your grace." Your voice sounded so far away, stuttering with each syllable as you realized how insignificant your size is compared to the former. "I was served Lannis, goddess of the–"

"I'm aware." The beast moves deliberately slow, its golden gaze drinking you in. Your body trembles under its scrutinizing, inquisitive gaze.

And in those golden crevices… amusement. Twisted. Knowing. As if it had already decided your fate. "Do you value these people, priestess?" It purrs, neck craning to as if to look at its unworthy subjects.

You hear sobs in the background, mothers begging for mercy while carrying their children, fathers pleading for leeway–their voices weigh heavy on your shoulders. The dragon looks at you before it snarls at the terrified citizens, well, what's left of them.

"Silence! Let the priestess speak."

"Yes," You say with closed eyes and a shaky breath.

The dragon narrows its eyes, "Would you serve me to help them reap the benefit of obedience and sacrifice?"

"Yes," You feel as though with each agreement, oxygen is knocked away from your lungs.

"Will you swear your maidenhood and loyalty only to me?"

What?

You snap your head to the beast. "P-pardon?"

You wanted to take your own life right then and there as the beast's expression sharpens.

"Let me put it simply for you, mortal." It circles around you, never mind the screams of the citizens as they are crushed by the beast.

"You are to appease me by becoming my priestess and my bride. You value your life and people, yes?" The beast growls.

Your knees buckle while you swallow harshly. It was either you or you'll die with everyone else... Your lips purse to a thin line, almost morphing into a frown.

Be a bride for a villainous deity, or die?

With a shaky exhale, you give her your answer.

"Y-yes,"

A purr of delight rumbles from its chest. "Good,"

Then a black pomegranate manifests from thin air. "Swear it to me. Eat this fruit, and you shall be mine as I will be yours."

With trembling hands, you take the fruit. It stings against your skin. You look at it with faltering eyes before looking up at the beast.

"B-before I do that," You swallow harshly. "May I see the face of my god?"

The moment the words leave your lips, the earth stills. The cries of the people fade into distant echoes, drowned beneath the suffocating silence that follows.

And then—laughter. A low, purring sound that slithers into your bones.

"You wish to see me?" It's voice—rich, terrible, divine—reverberates through the ruins, carried on embers and smoke. "You are bold for a mortal, priestess."

The wind howls as her massive form begins to shift. Its obsidian scales melt into shadow, and its wings fold inward as the monstrous grandeur of her body contorts, collapses, and reshapes. The great dragon does not disappear; it merely becomes something else.

When the transformation ends, she stands before you.

She is draped in black armor, edges gilded like the molten veins of a dying star. Her helm—tall, crowned with curved horns—frames her face, but it does nothing to hide the sharp, inhuman beauty beneath. Her lips, dark as spilled wine, curl into something between a smirk and a warning. Her eyes, slitted like a serpent’s, glow with the same gold that burned within the dragon’s skull.

She takes a step toward you, and it is all you can do not to stumble back.

"You wished to see the face of your god?" she murmurs, voice softer now, yet no less dangerous. "Tell me, now that you have seen me—"

Her gauntleted fingers brush the pulse at your throat, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath your skin.

"—will you take your oath willingly?"

The pomegranate still rests in your palm, its cursed weight heavier than before. The skin of the fruit glows like molten coal, searing into your fingers. A choice, simple yet absolute.

To eat is to be hers. Priestess. Bride. Devoted. Owned.

You didn't reply, instead you took a bite of the fruit.

The skin of the pomegranate splits with a sickening crack, its juice thick and dark as blood as it spills over your lips. The taste is unlike anything mortal—sweet, rich, yet carrying an undertone of something ancient, something binding. The cries of the crowd fade into nothing as your vision blurs, and the last thing you see is the cold smile of your goddess before everything fades into black.

You wake up with a jolt.

Sitting up from the bed, you take in your surroundings.

Where are you?

The room is vast, yet shrouded in darkness. Shadow-pillars stretch high into the unseen abyss, their gilded edges catching the flickering glow of invisible torches. The walls, smooth as polished obsidian, gleam like liquid onyx under the candlelight, their jagged veins pulsing with a faint ember-like glow. The air is thick with incense, its scent intoxicating yet suffocating—like something sacred, something ancient.

Your body feels strangely light, the remnants of sleep clinging to your limbs like a veil. When you shift, silk glides against your skin—soft, delicate, unfamiliar. You glance down. Gone is your priestess robe, torn and bloodstained. In its place, an elaborate garment drapes around your form, black as the void, embroidered with twisting golden patterns you do not recognize.

Your breath catches.

The medallion of Lannis is missing.

And then—the pomegranate.

The taste still lingers on your tongue—sweet, thick, binding. It sits heavy in your stomach, an unspoken contract woven into your very being.

And then—

A presence.

You are not alone.

A voice, feminine and rich, smooth as silk but edged with quiet amusement.

"Do you know this place?"

You turn.

She stands at the edge of the room, framed by the glow of flickering braziers. No longer a dragon, but a woman—if such a word could ever hope to capture what she is. Her armor gleams like molten gold, dark fabric pooling beneath it like liquid shadow. Her helm is gone, revealing a face inhumanly sharp, achingly beautiful.

"N-no." Your voice is barely a whisper as you warily eye the goddess.

Her lips curve in a cold, knowing smile. "This is where the gods used to live."

Beautiful, yes—but the moment she names it, you feel like an intruder.

She notices.

A low chuckle rumbles from her throat as she closes her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Uncomfortable or not, this is your home now, sweetling."

She strides toward you, slow, deliberate. You shrink into the sheets, instinctively hugging your knees as she perches on the edge of the bed.

Her golden eyes drink you in, slow and measured.

"You consumed the fruit willingly," she muses, tilting her head. "And yet, you tremble in my presence."

Her gaze flickers to your hands, still clutching at the silk of your garments, knuckles white. You hadn't even realized.

She scoots closer.

"Do you fear me, sweetling?"

A gloved knuckle brushes against your jaw, tilting it up, forcing your eyes to meet hers.

"I—I don't even know your name."

Your breath catches as her thumb glides over your lower lip.

"Exquisite," she whispers.

Her touch lingers, a cruel thing. A test. Then, a sigh—slow, indulgent, and far too amused.

"You do not know my name," she repeats, tilting her head as if tasting the words.

Then, she smiles—a terrible, sharp thing that sends a chill through you. "Then allow me to correct this... oversight."

She rises, and the air shifts.

Heavy.

Charged.

The torches flare. Shadows stretch unnaturally along the obsidian walls, writhing like things with minds of their own.

Her presence fills the chamber like a storm.

"When the gods grew fat on their indulgence, I was the reckoning that tore them from their thrones." Her voice deepens, reverberating in the very stone beneath you. "When their sins drowned the realm, I was the fire that burned their corruption to ash."

She steps forward, and your pulse quickens.

"I am Aedarys—end of the old gods, beginning of the new. The one to whom all kneel, whether they wish to or not."

Her fingers trail along your throat, stopping just above the frantic pulse that betrays you.

"And you, sweetling..."

Her lips curve. A slow, knowing thing.

"You are mine."

Then, she laughs—low and sharp, a sound that cuts through the silence like a blade.

"Ah. You do fear me, don't you?"

She steps back, folding her hands behind her back. "Perhaps I'll make it simpler for you—warmer, even."

A thoughtful pause. Then, a smile.

"Ada."

"Pardon?"

"You may call me Ada, sweetling."

"A-Ada." You repeat it without thinking, the name unfamiliar yet smooth on your tongue.

Her golden eyes gleam with something dangerous.

"Very good."

She turns on her heel. "Come along now."

You hesitate.

"W-where are we going?"

Ada doesn't answer as she leads you through the winding halls. The palace of the gods has been remade in her image—dark, regal, draped in the colors of shadow and flame.

Finally, she stops before a grand hall.

A banquet table stretches before you, piled high with delicacies. Bread, cheese, olives, roasted meats, golden fruits—each dish arranged with exquisite care. The scent alone is enough to make your stomach clench in hunger.

Ada gestures to the feast with a lazy flick of her hand.

"I figured you would prefer mortal food over ours. Nectar and ambrosia can be... overwhelming." She pauses. "I had some mortals compile a list of their finest delicacies for me. They were rewarded for their efforts."

You blink. "You... rewarded them?"

Ada hums in amusement, taking a seat at the table. "I'm not a cruel god, priestess." She picks up a piece of fruit, rolling it between her fingers. "I am fair and just. But if I must remind mortals of my power, I will."

You hesitate, eyeing the food. Ada notices.

"And no, sweetling—" her lips quirk, "it isn't poisoned."

Still, you reach tentatively, plucking bread, cheese, an olive. Ada watches, her gaze gleaming with quiet amusement as you eat.

The air between you shifts—no longer suffocating, but not entirely safe.

Not yet.

She leans back. "Ah, before I forget..."

You pause mid-bite.

"You will resume your duties in the mortal realm soon. A temple will be raised in my name, where you will burn sacrifices and accept offerings on my behalf."

Your fingers tighten around your cup. "When?"

"Three nights from now."

A dark fawn scurries forward to clear the table.

Ada stands.

"Rest, dear one. You will need your strength."

She turns, heading toward the far end of the hall, swallowed slowly by the shadows.

You hesitate.

"Ada, wait!"

She stops.

You swallow. "Are we... sleeping in the same chamber?"

For a moment, silence. A slow, disarming smile.

"Not yet, sweetling." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost.

"Though the idea is rather tempting."

And with that, she vanishes into the dark.

The realm has slowly begun to worship Aedarys. It started as a whisper, a prayer uttered in desperation—pleas for safe labor, bountiful harvests, and victorious conquests. Small offerings at first. A bowl of honey, a carved token, a name spoken with reverence beneath the full moon.

But whispers grew into chants, and chants into devotion.

Temples rose in her name, their obsidian spires clawing at the heavens. Her sigil, the golden dragon entwined with shadow, was etched into banners and armor, a silent oath sworn in blood and steel. The old gods, once mighty, were forgotten. Their altars crumbled, their names swallowed by dust.

Aedarys–Ada, the dragon god of dominion and retribution–had become the sole deity of worship. Monotheistic, absolute.

And you–her chosen, her priestess–stood at the heart of it all.

You heave a sigh as you retreat back to the temple, pulling back the hood from your head, allowing your whole face to breathe. Your feet take you to the empty throne of Ada–only today, it wasn't empty. There sat a hooded figure, a pale hand examining what seems to be a necklace.

Your stomach drops, could that possibly be in one of the offerings for Ada?

"You shouldn't be here." You immediately call out with a warning substantial in your tone. "Unless you wish to face the wrath of Aedarys for this disrespect."

The figure didn't heed, and you ground your jaw. "Do you not hear me, stranger? Remove yourself from her throne at once!"

Finally, the hooded stranger looks up, and a gasp leaves your lips upon seeing the familiar gold glow of her eyes, fair skin, short hair, wise and all-knowing eyes, and that blasted smile.

"Kicking me out of my throne now, are you, sweetling?"

"A-Ada," you stumble back, flushed. "Forgive me, I didn't know it was you."

She hums and leans back against her throne of obsidian and granite. "Don't apologize, sweetling. You were merely protecting my throne."

"With words," You snort.

"A sign of loyalty regardless," Ada stands from the throne and descends the steps, allowing you to finally realize that it isn't a simple robe she's wearing.

The fabric is thick, woven with the finest threads of shadow, its texture betraying a subtle pattern—scales, perhaps, or the whispers of something ancient stitched into the very weave.

A high collar guards the nape of her neck, a silent declaration of her stature, while the bodice molds to her form, fastened with obsidian clasps that gleam like polished onyx. The sleeves, adorned with intricate embroidery, trail down her arms, each delicate stitch a contrast to the hardened presence she exudes. Silver adornments, shaped like fangs or claws, run down the length of her sleeves, glinting in the dim light like a silent warning.

Over her shoulders, a cloak of midnight spills in heavy waves, lined with blood-red silk that flickers like embers in the wind, ornaments hang from her hair, a stylish choice that suits her.

You blink–she isn't wearing the helm, allowing her to look less imposing, but powerful nonetheless.

"I brought you something," Ada moves her hand towards you, a necklace made from black metal, or so you think. The deity's ichor eyes glow with mirth. "Do you know what it is?"

You look up at her, "No. Do enlighten me."

She retracts her hand, her eyes leaving you for the necklace. "Celestial obsidian steel." Ada returns her gaze to you. "A piece of my origin. I took a piece of my helm and forged it to a necklace."

A pause, and then...

"Turn around," Ada commands in a soft voice, and you wordlessly obey as you turn away from her and grasp your hair, moving it to your front. Your breath hitches. The necklace is cold, but Ada's hands are colder. With deft efficiency, she rests the necklace at the base of your neck.

Your back straightens as her breath fans against your nape, leaving goosebumps on its wake. "

And now," Your spouse rasps, "You own a piece of me." The air was still until you felt her lips press against your nape, a gasp befalls your mouth upon the rousing sensation of her lips against your skin. "Turn around for me again, love." You obey without hesitation.

Forged in silver and shadow. The chain is intricate—delicate yet unyielding, woven from countless interlocking links, each adorned with tiny, blood-red gemstones that catch the light like embers smoldering in the dark.

At its heart, a pendant—an endless knot of metal, its loops and curves twisting in a perfect, inescapable design. At the center of this tangled maze sits a single red gem, deep as a pomegranate seed, its surface gleaming with quiet menace. A seal. A promise. A binding.

It is not merely jewelry. It is a statement. A mark of power draped around the throat, where devotion meets possession.

A devilish grin plays on your lover, "Beautiful."

Dividing your duty as the priestess and wife is a surprisingly easy task.

In the morning, you are the priestess, at night–you are her wife.

That includes your duties in your shared chambers to please her.

The candlelight flickers, casting shadows that dance across the chiseled perfection of her form. Stripped of her divine armor, Ada is no less imposing. No less powerful. The ridges of her muscles flex beneath your touch as your fingers ghost down her abdomen, tracing the fine lines of strength that speak of both battle and blood.

She watches you, golden eyes sharp with amusement, with possession. She has already won, and yet she allows you to think you have a choice in how this unfolds.

Her voice is molten, dark and smooth. “You hesitate.”

You swallow, fingers stilling just above the proof of her dominance—the part of her that separates her from mortals, from men and gods alike. The thick weight of her arousal rests heavily against her thigh, veined and flushed with need, an undeniable testament to her power.

"I don't."

Ada chuckles, low and indulgent. "Then prove it."

You obey as your eyes land on her pink, soft-scaled length; rigid, proud, and her spiky head leaking with pre-cum and the way the goddess lays in bed, her robe open for you to witness her in all her glory.

Your lips brush against the head of her length first, reverent and slow. Ada exhales through her nose, but she does not rush you—she never does. She enjoys the tease, the anticipation, the quiet devotion in the way you take your time.

But you know better than to test her patience for too long.

Your tongue traces along the underside of her, tasting the salt of her desire, the warmth of her, the sheer size of her. You hollow your cheeks, taking her inch by inch, feeling her thighs tense beneath your hands as she exhales a pleased sigh.

“Good,” she murmurs, her fingers tangling into your hair, not forcing, but guiding. Her voice is smooth, unshaken. She is composed, in control, but you can feel the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

You take her deeper, jaw stretching, the fullness of her overwhelming and intoxicating. She groans this time, a quiet thing, but no less powerful—a sound of approval, of ownership.

The room smells of incense and burning wicks, but all you can breathe in is her—musk and spice, heat and divinity.

Ada tilts her head, watching as your lips stretch around her, watching as you serve her, worship her, love her the only way a mortal can love a god.

“Look at me,” she commands softly.

You do, gazing up through lidded eyes, lips stretched, cheeks hollowed, taking her like you were made for this. For her.

A wicked smile plays on her lips.

“There’s my good wife.”

Your cheeks heat up and you let out a moan, creating a vibration around her slick-scaled cock, Ada's eyes close and retrains herself from bucking her hips into your face as you finally begin sucking her. Your pulse quickens as you resume pleasuring the goddess, the muscles of your mouth making contact with the veins beneath her scaly appendage, her arousal salty in your tongue.

The atmosphere grows thick with mingled scents of burning incense and heated flesh, the space between you pulsing with sacred urgency.

Ada's grip becomes vice-like, guiding you with a possessive tenderness that speaks of power and absolute claim. Her voice, low and resonant like a distant thunder. "That's a good wife, come on, you can take more of me."

You bob your head in reply while she watches you devour her hard cock through half-lidded eyes, heavy with satisfaction, and insatiable hunger that only you seem capable of appeasing.

"Steady, my love." She murmurs, a warning and a praise.

Cold as night-forged steel, a hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing the corner of your lips, where reverence has left them slick and parted. You inhale, drowning in the scent of her—smoke and spice, embers that refuse to fade.

With a soft moan, Ada moves. Slow and deliberate, guiding you while she thrusts into your mouth. You gag as the bulbous, sharp head pokes at the back of your throat, the spiky base taps against your chin. The sharp inhale she takes is almost imperceptible, but you hear it–felt it in the way that she throbs in your mouth.

Her restraint is cracking, unshaken godhood fraying at the edges.

Your cunt throbs in need.

Your hands grab onto her thighs, bracing yourself as she juts her hips. Your jaw aches, your lips stretch, but you take her still. The sound she makes–a low, rumbling sigh, half-groan, half-praise–is its own form of benediction.

She tastes of salt and heat; divine as you suck her dry. Your moans providing a warm vibration that as your spouse throbbing, her balls tighten as your chin taps against them, prodding her hot seed. Ada throws her head back, her eyes close and her jaw slack as she fucks her cock into your mouth.

Ada plants her feet on the sheets before bucking her hips up, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, eliciting moans and gags from you which are muffled by her cock.

You could tell she was close by the way you feel her veins bulge and throb from the horizontal ridges on the underside of her cock and with how frequent her pre-cum oozes from the tapered head.

"Sweetling, I'm close." She grunts, the thick futon mattress dips and creeks, your arousal dripping from the seems of your pussy, aching to be catered to.

But no. Your wife, your god–comes first.

Your nails dig against the pristine skin of her thighs as you meet her thrusts, your eyes well with tears from the way the sharp muscled head pokes at your throat, slobber and pre-cum dribble down from the soft-spiked base to Ada's balls and down to the silk sheets.

With one hand, you fondled her balls, gently squeezing them. The veins on Ada's neck bulge as she lets out an erotic moan, your folds flutter with slick at the sound as ribbons of Ada's seed shoot down your throat. You swallow it quickly, your throat bobbing at the action as you taste her.

Ada's chest heaves, raising her head to look at you and smirk at the way her cum and her saliva coats your mouth and chin–her cock, semi-rigid.

"On your stomach, sweetling." Ada pants as her eyes flash gold. "Now."

You obey without complaint, not wanting to displease your mistress. Ada leans away to allow you to lie flat on your belly, the goddess hums in satisfaction whilst you wonder what will happen next. Her nose bumps against the back of your neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin, making you gasp against the sheets, hands palming the mattress when the older woman traverses your back, leaving kittenish licks and soft kisses; you feel her saliva trailing down your back down to your ass as she spreads them apart.

A soft, hoarse moan leaves your mouth when her tongue licks the trail of slick dribbling down your thighs.

"Hips up," Ada murmurs, you comply, allowing her to see your swollen cunt that's dripping with arousal. "Good girl," Your wife purrs and slaps your folds, eliciting a cry from you as more of your essence oozes out. The goddess uses your slick to coat her unique shaft before looming above you, her hands trapping you on opposite sides, her hand moves to your neck, applying pressure.

The older woman tilts your head up, your eyes locking at the plain black headboard, suddenly, a mist appears–manifesting something.

A mirror

Your eyes widen, pupils dilating and your hands crumple the sheets with Ada's hand n your neck, her short hair messily combed back, the depiction between the two of you was so accurate yet so erotic.

You are watching yourself be taken by a god.

A breathy mewl escapes your lips when the tip grazes your folds, Ada's breath shakes upon seeing her pre-cum mix with your dripping arousal, the older woman fists her sheets before leaning down.

"I'm going in now, sweetling." She husks, "May I?"

"Yes," You breathe out without hesitation, and Ada complies–self-control nowhere to be found.

Her hand returns to your neck, nails digging against the skin–eliciting a hiss in both pain and pleasure as she thrusts her entire length, the head easily parts your folds as she glides into you with one swift motion, impaling you entirely with her cock. The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her length. You find yourself screaming in a mix of pain and erotic delight as you claw the sheets and you gasp for air, practically winded by the first thrust.

"Ada!" You cried out; both of you bemoaning in carnal delight. Ada's hand leaves your neck, making you whimper, only to be hushed by a kiss on your shoulder.

Ada's hips hit the curvature of your ass, you can feel her toned stomach flex and stiffen under her pace.

"Gods," The goddess snarls. "You. Feel. So. Good!" She groans in between thrusts, her hands snap to your wrists, holding you down as she jackhammers into you, moaning in delight at the feeling of her scaled-cock dragging against your warm, velvety walls, her pre-cum mixing with your arousal as it drips out of your folds and down to your thighs, your body becomes attuned to her.

You can feel Ada's kisses leaving marks on your skin, you can feel the ridges of her member, the veins that mapped around her shaft protrude and rubbing deliciously against your slick-covered walls. You let your head fall down on her pillows, moaning as you let the older woman have her way with you and your cunt finally adjusts to her length and speed.

Ada's right hand leaves your wrist and spanks the side of your thigh, making you yelp and shoot your head up to see her in the mirror's reflection.

Her gaze intensely locks yours from the mirror as she bites the column of your neck harshly, making you cry out as she spanks you again, making you jolt and clench around her, causing her dick to throb.

"Look," Ada growls at your ear, gently biting it. "I want you to "Look,"

You strain your head to look at your reflection with Ada, here she is, her body looming from behind, her hips jutting back and forth, you can see your body moving with hers to meet her every pound, thighs shaking to keep up with the position she made you do. "I want you to see that you're being such a good girl for me." She groans hoarsely when you clenched around her tightly while you keep your head up, you grind on her hips in hopes to satiate your need for more.

Ada grits her teeth, her body feels like fire, her senses scattered all over the bedroom as she trailed kisses down your spine, her kisses are gentle in contrast to the speed of her hips, moans, mewls, whimpers, all such lewd sounds that were emitting from your lips etched on her brain, including the way your body molds with hers, sweat thinly coating your skin, you're body is hot, compared to her cold, marble-like body.

And with every thrust, your cunt clamps around her cock, making her throb and whine and–

Oh no

The goddess lets out a growl when you drop your head due to intense pleasure, your eyes closing and tears welling up in your eyes. Ada lets out a "tsk," and snaps her hand to your jaw, gripping it tightly, almost digging her nails against your skin.

"I said," She husks, her voice becoming distorted, making your insides quiver as her eyes flash gold again from the reflection.

"Look"

Black smoke seeps out of her fingers as she applies pressure on your jugular, your face contorts as a black chained collar attaches itself on your neck, its chains rattling as Ada pulls it, and thrusts into you earnestly, fucking you against the sheets, pressing you harder, her hips slamming in and out mercilessly, making you let out broken moans, chokes of pleasure echoes in the room with every tug of the collar, the cold metal chokes you as if they were Ada's hands.

Your cunt clamps vigorously, sweat finally dripping from your temple as lust has finally taken over you, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and Ada's marks.

The older woman digs her nails on your hips, pounds becoming more desperate, feral.

Your stomach coils, your arms, shake under her thrusts as she keeps her body close to yours, her hands groping any skin available for her as her cock throbs painfully on the verge of exploding. You aren't far behind her either.

Ada, your goddess, your wife–can tell.

The way your stomach coils and twists, toes curling, back arching and your moans were high-pitched, sobs choked and your mewls were breathy.

Black tendrils begin to protrude from her skin as she begins to thrust with abandon, you drop your head as you cry out her title, incensed by your wails, her pace inhumanly fast and–

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock brush your g-spot, making your back arch against her front. A grin breaks into Ada's red lips as she repeatedly aims at the spot; your arms become weak and your thighs quiver with every penetrative slam and moan after moan falls on your lips.

"Are you close?" Ada asks in between groans, she can't control the distortion of her voice, her eyes hungrily drinking at your reflection, the headboard begins to fog due to the heat emitting from the two of you.

"Y-yes," You whimpered with your eyes closed, a broken sob escapes your lips when Ada's teeth dig against your nape, sending shocks of pleasure shooting right through you. Causing your thighs to shake violently as you cum, your eyes shut close, your mouth hung agape as you feel your cunt milk around her cock strongly, her name leaves your lips in a broken moan, eliciting a gasp from Ada as she continues to thrust your juices back into you, your upper body gives out, the chain rattles as your face falls on her pillows.

Ada bends down to press a kiss on your marked shoulder before stilling her hips and cum inside you. Your walls fluttered, you muffled a mewl as her cock shoots out spurts of warm cum, further mixing your essences, rope after rope, filling you to the brim and causing your cum to leak out of weeping cunt. Pants resonate around the bedroom, your body felt heavy, sweaty, yet euphoria fills you.

Ada leans her head against the back of your neck, her warm breath fans your sensitive skin, her arms wrap gently around yours, swallowing thickly as she pulls out gently. You let out a frail mewl as more of your mixed juices leak out of your abused cunt, the older woman delicately helps you lay on your back, finally allowing you to see her and gasp inaudibly.

You've seen Ada always keeping herself clean and presentable. She takes pride in keeping her appearance no matter what.

It's astonishing to see her look so disheveled, her short black hair messy, her bangs sticking on her forehead, sweat covering her skin, and her lips were slightly tinted red from being grazed repeatedly on your marked skin.

The sight is arousing.

You're not the only one though, you're perfect, all laid out for her, looking better than the palace of the gods, her cock twitches at the sight before her, blood rushing to her already hard member, she wants you so badly, take you in so many different ways.

Your eyes shamelessly drink at the sight.

The way Ada's toned abdomen relaxes and contracts, the muscles of her neck move and flex–oh, it ignites your lust that was satiated earlier.

Without thinking, you prompt yourself on your elbows and pecked her slightly swollen lips, before trailing down to the tendons of her neck, kissing it softly, before giving it an experimental lick; making Ada close her eyes and tilt her head upwards, giving you more access to the expanse of skin. Your hands pressed on her back to draw her closer as you begin to assault her collar with feather-like kisses that turn to kittenish licks and suck the skin gently.

Ada lets out a soft exhale before pressing you down on her sheets, breath labored and shaky as she leans on your ear, chills creeping your spine. "I hope you're not too tired, sweetling," She rasps, "Because it'll take more than just one for me to properly sire a new batch of gods with you."

What?

A smirk breaks past her pretty lips upon seeing your face as if she had read your mind and pressed a gentle kiss on your brow. Her hands traverse sensually down to your inner thighs and spread them as she settles herself in between your legs.

Ada then takes a pillow from you side.

"Hips up, my love." She gently commands, you obey her and raise your hips, wincing at the sore feeling that shoots on your hips.

Ada hastily placed the pillow underneath your hips and you let your hips fall on the pillow, without a second thought, Ada's lips chase yours–consuming you once again.

Your hands circle around her neck as you give in to her kiss, hands gripping themselves on your waist, pressing you hard on her bed as if to keep your scent there and moaning softly when the ridges of her cock grazed your inner thighs with pre-cum smearing your skin.

The older woman grinds her pelvis against yours, smearing your thighs with her arousal as her lips latch onto your neck, biting her marks making you roll your eyes to the back of your skull as shocks of pleasure ripple through you.

Her left hand traverses down your shoulder, grazing her nails on your pebbled nipple down to your stomach and teasingly tiptoes to your flushed cunt.

She traces circles on your folds, making you quiver with soft whimpers before pressing two fingers; her index and middle finger on your folds and spreading them. She waited for a moment while you eyed her with anticipation and frustration.

Why is not doing anything? Can't she see your arousal? The way your cunt pulsates with need?

Then you feel something leak out of your pussy.

It was your mixed cum dripping down your folds, proof that Ada had filled you properly earlier.

"Wonderful," She grumbles before withdrawing her fingers; not wanting to waste more of it than she already has. The older woman plants her knees firmly on her bed, her hands guiding her member to line up on your entrance, eyes closing as the sharp tip pokes your pulsating folds.

"A-Ada," You whine softly, making the veins that mapped her cock throb with excitement. Sheer libido sticks in the air as she pushes herself inch by inch. Nails digging against the skin of her back; a breathy mewl breaks past your lips and the sting of sensitivity ripples through you. Ada hides her face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as she further pushes herself deeper, indulging at the euphoric feeling of having your walls clamp and flutter around her dick, reveling at small noises you make and your nails clawed her skin for leverage.

"Shh, I got you, sweetling." Ada coaxes with a soft kiss on your shoulder and her hips begin to move. You let your head fall back on the pillows, gasping at the intrusion as she pounds into you with newly-found vigor, your body falls limp, allowing her to use you as she further spreads your legs apart to create more room for her to fuck herself into you, her pace bristling with need.

"Ah-fuck!" You cry out with ecstasy when she impulsively bites the center of your neck.

The goddess growls and pulls away with a wolffish grin on her lips as she immediately snaps her hips.

"Language, pretty thing." Ada purrs and presses a kiss on your lips. "Or do you want me to gag you, hmm?"

"N-no," You hiss when she digs her nails on your waist as if it was the first and last warning.

"Then good," The older woman groans as your walls clamp viciously, "It'll be a shame if we silence your moans now."

The dark-haired goddess suddenly slows her pace, pulling out until the bulbous head remains, before slamming right back in and a wanton moan befalls your lips, eyes closing and mouth agape, letting out your sounds of moans of delirium, and Ada is incensed by this and angles her hips in a particular fashion that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, whimpering her name on the lobe of her ear, driving your lover insane and increase the power of her thrusts rutting into you whilst you litter her neck with kisses, all the while leaving red vertical lines on her strong back.

You could hear the thud of the wood against the wall as the giant canopy bed moves with the two of you, the wood mimicking you as your legs tremble beneath her. Ada's breath is hot in your ear as your cunt takes her, the squelching sounds adding to the symphony between the two of you. The older woman growls and presses you harder, fucking you to her bed, hips snapping back and forth, teeth gritted, beads of sweat rolling down her temple, strands of hair falling to the side of her perfectly sculpted face. You pull her close to you, legs trembling as they wrap around her waist, attempting to pull her closer and giving her the advantage of pushing her cock deeper inside your weeping walls, hitting your bundle of nerves.

The veins around her dick drag deliciously inside your velvet walls, mixed essences dripping down your folds, body hyperaware and your skin flushed with sweat.

"That's it, my love." The short-haired goddess moans hotly in your ear. "Keep me close."

Ada whines as your pussy consistently clamps around her.

"Gods," Her distorted voice sent your insides twisting as her eyes flashed gold as she looked at you with a lust-filled gaze. "You feel so divine."

"Look at you! Being such a pliant little wife for me, letting me have my way with you, fill you up with my essence."

The goddess grunts with effort, her pace inhuman and merciless, that it pushes you upward, causing her to wrap her toned arms around you, her grip vise-like.

A dark smile tugs on the elder girl's lips as her shaft throbs again, making you gasp and grind your hips against hers, but her strength prevents you from doing so and digs her nails into your hips, leaving red welts on your skin.

"It's time that we create a new batch of gods." Ada pecks your clammy temple and moves her hips back to her original speed. You let out a lewd wanton moan when she hits your g-spot, making you see stars as you viciously claw her back, making her purr in satisfaction, hitting deeper inside you, targeting and familiarizing the angle of your g-spot.

"With you as my queen." Tenderly, she cups your jaw and massages your cheek, startling you as her hips are in contrast to her hand. "Will you rule the realm with me, beloved?"

You let out a broken sob of carnal delight as her cock keeps hitting your spongy spot. "Y-yes,"

The woman above you closes her eyes, her heart fluttering when she hears her name falling perfectly from your lips. "I-I'm close. Please, please don't stop."

She pushes her scaled-cock deeper, the sensation rippling within you overwhelms your body, you're pushed over the edge with the sob of her name, your body racking with pleasure as another orgasm crashes through you like a sudden tsunami, falling limply as you squirt around her member, the dark-haired deity gasps as you strongly milk her hardened member, and triggering her orgasm unannounced as she stills her hips, letting out her goopy, thick spurts of cum with a low, rumbling groan from her with your name escaping your lips.

But Ada remains hard and begins to move her hips again.

"Ada–" You sob, "Please!"

"One more, sweetling." Your wife pants, "Just one more, hm, can you do that for me?"

You can't, your legs feel like lead, your body already covered with sweat and her marks, your lower region felt like it was about to split in half. But in determination to please your goddess, you nod, with tears welling in your eyes before she moves her hips at a smooth, steady pace. You cry out as the ring of sensitivity and overstimulation shoots in your cunt as she takes you raw, your eyes already spilling with tears as her speed picks up, pulling her closer until your bodies feel like molding together. Every drag of her cock makes your cunt leak out with your arousal and her cum.

Ada slaps your clit, making you jolt and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

"Keep my cum inside you," The older woman orders and kisses you feverishly, your whimper was greedily swallowed by her as she doubles the pace, making your back arch on her front.

You cry out helplessly as she throws your legs over her shoulder, allowing her to hit much deeper spots within you and running with effort as her pace becomes sloppy, her cock throbbing painfully for another release and fueled by your broken moans and sobs, the pain blurring to a thin line of pleasure and you begin to grind your hips against hers, beseeching for more.

"A-Ada–" You pant and claw her back for leverage. "Don't stop-more, give me more." You moaned into her ear as she pounded you into the mattress. Your legs ached from how she held them as she uses them for balance while stuffing you with her cock.

She panted her eyes stayed gold, hardening with lust, moaning when she felt your stomach bulge from all that thrusting, losing herself on feeling the silhouette of her cock prodding your womb.

"I'm going to lay my eggs in you." You screamed as her tip kissed your cervix, you tangled your hand around her locks and tugged it harshly, making Ada hiss and speeding up to an inhuman pace, causing desperate whimpers falling from your lips eyes rolling to the back of your skull as the tip keeps hitting your cervix; drawing you closer to your impending orgasm.

You latch your lips around her neck, sucking and biting her collarbones and her hoarse moans filled your ears as you bite the center of her neck, feeling her stutter in her thrusts and punishing you for it by drilling into you at a bruising pace, your vision hazy, your body heavy, skin covered by a veil of sweat as your hands grab onto her biceps or anything that will anchor you from her frantic pace, the skin on your inner thighs burning from the contact, her balls slapped on your ass as she keeps going, dragging her shaft in and out of your quivering folds.

Small hips jutting in sharp precision that she flaunts whenever she has a chance, she palms your cheeks, tilting your head up for a kiss, tangibly tender and sensual compared to her pace, the older woman kisses you gently while fucking you senseless, the goddess imprinting on her mind to give herself to you with each stroke.

She smirks at how helpless you are underneath her, with each pound, both of you draw closer to your orgasms, excitement curled in your abdomen along with the pleasure that shoots straight to your core as Ada drives herself into your heat.

Then, you feel her cock-head expand, splitting open, your eyes widen as Ada holds you down. "Relax, sweetling–I got you–oh–nghh!"

Your eyes roll back as her cock throbs, the ridges on her cock contracting–her shaft expanding as you feel her insert her eggs into your womb. A moan breaks from your lips as she slots her offspring into your womb in little batches. Ada groans and dips her head into your chest while she pumps more of her cased-children inside you, adapting to your human DNA.

Your lower stomach bulges with her eggs, Ada collapses on top of you, but she is careful not to harm her children.

"P-perfect," She groans, her voice returning normal–winded from bliss as she looks down at the fruits of her labor.

"You'll make a wonderful queen and mother." Ada pants, pressing a kiss on your forehead while you lay limp in your shared bed, gulping before caressing her face.

"Knowing you, my love..." You caress her cheek. "You'd make me a tyrant."

"No," Ada shakes her head sideways.

"I have already made you my queen–fair as the sea and the sun. We will rule justly, with our children inheriting the realm."

[masterofmindfulthoughts]

Golden cage. (Wealthy farewell)

Farewell to my fighters

The conquerors of freedom

For I pray to thee that,

Thy will comes to me

But till now ,sure I be

Remain here in the cage.

Let these chains swing me

To comfort and lull.

Now I can rest to watch

From afar,your flights of freedom.

Let you sing praises and joy,

Carry the wisdom, the world offers

And come and meet me again

Until it's my time to set foot.

Till then let me prepare my wings

For flight and await you.

I pray thee,let your will come to me

To join me in those strong currents,

Of air and join me by thy side.

[theprayerfulword]

June 23

Psalm 119:7 I will praise Thee with uprightness of heart, when I shall have learned Thy righteous judgments.

2 Corinthians 3:18 We all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

Ephesians 3:11 This was in accordance with the eternal purpose which He carried out in Christ Jesus our Lord,

Matthew 10:16 I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves

Isaiah 40:31 but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Romans 8:37 Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.

May you act in faith, and sin not with your mouth, as you seek God for the promise He has given you of your heart's desire. 2 Kings 4

May you be settled in your heart regarding God's daily provision of your own needs, and give yourself to strengthening the faith and building up the trust of others in God as you share the truth of God and point them to the love of God which will sustain them, even as it does you, for whom He feeds, He fills, and what He blesses, He sustains. 2 Kings 4

May you desire the health, and pray for the welfare, of those over you, as God's hand extended, sharing His truth and demonstrating His love in all situations, so that His wisdom, when spoken as the Spirit directs, may be heard and not dismissed, not robbed of its power by ill-considered behavior. 2 Kings 5

May you be willing to hear the voice of God and may your heart be open to the leading of the Spirit when it comes, not dismissing its truth because of its source, but recognizing the witness of your spirit as it brings life at the point of your need. 2 Kings 5

May you be humble enough to approach God on the basis of your need, as is common to all people, rather than in your strength, by which none can stand before the Lord. 2 Kings 5

May you have grace toward others in those things through which God is walking them, for He knows the desire of each heart and sees the intent of each will, being patient with every one who desires Him more than the other, and extending grace to all who are drawing nearer to Him in the midst of their circumstances. 2 Kings 5

May you never presume to lie in your heart to the Holy Spirit of God, for that which is covered will be revealed, but that which is confessed will be cleansed and that which is repented of will be removed. 2 Kings 5

May you stand steadfast in the truth which you have learned, giving no room to the traditions you have been delivered from, defending those who are learning lest they be entrapped by others. Acts 15

May you walk in the freedom brought to you by the Spirit and live in the liberty purchased for you by the Son that you may be about the work of the kingdom as assigned to you by the Father. Acts 15

   My child, are you willing?    When My Word becomes life to you in your heart, are you willing to obey and walk in it?    When My wisdom, with gentleness and acceptance, opens your understanding to the way to follow, are you willing to forsake other guides and road-maps to trust Me?    When My Spirit nudges you, whispering into your thoughts with loving persistence, showing you the way to go, are you willing to step out?    I do not ask you to determine whether you are able, My careful one, for you have already counted the cost when you accepted My gift of salvation. If you determined that the willing, sinless sacrifice of My blood for you was sufficient to release you from the weighty burden of guilt you carried, which nothing else could help, then why doubt or question whether I am able to meet your needs on the assignments I give you?    You will always find that you are not able. I would not give you an assignment that is within your ability and strength to accomplish on your own; where, then, would My glory be? If it can be done by your own strength, knowledge, skill, and understanding, then I did not assign it, and you will gain the glory for it among men, building your own reputation, which will perish with the world's system, and bring no eternal reward.    Where I send you, I will work through you, My weak one, having also sent My Spirit to help in your weakness, to pray in ways you do not know, to fill you with all joy and peace in believing so that you will abound in hope, to banish the spirit of fear that preys on your frailty, and give you the confident assurance of adoption, knowing that you abide in Us and We abide in you, whereby you cry in faith, “Abba! Father!” with the conviction from Our heavenly love that your needs are abundantly and fully met as soon as you make them known.    When the tests loom large, My wondering child, learn to rejoice, for the testing of your faith leads to the maturity and calm patience that can receive the crown of life which is My promise to those who love Me.

May your voice call to the Lord, Who will come quickly and answer your plea for help. Psalm 141

May your prayer enter into His Presence and be accepted as sweet-smelling incense. Psalm 141

May your hands lift to the Lord in praise and be accepted like the evening sacrifice. Psalm 141

May your mouth receive a guard from the Lord, and a watch on the door of your lips. Psalm 141

May your heart turn to the Lord and not incline toward any evil thing or take part with troublemakers, but be consecrated wholly to God. Psalm 141

May your head accept the correction and reproof of righteousness as soothing medicine and anointing oil from the people of the Lord, and not refuse their act of faithful love and gracious kindness. Psalm 141

May your words stand continually strong in the Lord against evil deeds, for when the rulers of the wicked are restrained by your Rock they will know that God is confirming what you say. Psalm 141

May your eyes focus steadfastly on the Sovereign Lord in trust as you take refuge in Him Who is your shelter from the traps and snares set by the evil ones. Psalm 141

May you shun the gifts of the wicked and walk in the justice of the Lord. Proverbs 17:23

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 5/5

Book Blurb:

ALL-NEW HARDCOVER EDITION--This new hardcover edition of the bestselling Slaying the Vampire Conqueror features new case art, a detailed map, and a never-before-seen bonus chapter!

From New York Times bestselling author Carissa Broadbent comes a standalone novel set in the world of the TikTok mega-hit, the Crowns of Nyaxia series.

She was commanded to kill him with a single strike to the heart. She didn't expect her own to betray her.

Sylina has sacrificed everything for her goddess--her soul, her freedom, her eyes. Life in service to the Arachessen, a cult of the Goddess of Fate, has turned Sylina from orphaned street rat to disciplined killer, determined to overthrow Glaea's tyrannical king.

But when a brutal vampire conqueror arrives on their shores, Sylina faces an even deadlier adversary. She's tasked with a crucial mission: infiltrate his army, earn his trust...and kill him.

Atrius is a terrifying warrior carving an unstoppable path through Glaea. Yet when Sylina becomes his seer, she glimpses a dark and shocking past--and a side of him that reminds her far too much of parts of herself she'd rather forget.

Sylina's orders are clear. The conqueror cannot live. But as the blood spilled by Glaea's tyrant king runs thicker, her connection with Atrius only grows stronger. A connection forbidden by her vows. A connection that could cost her everything.

Crowns of Nyaxia Reading Order: The Serpent & the Wings of Night The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King The Songbird & the Heart of Stone

Crowns of Nyaxia Standalones Six Scorched Roses (short novel) Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

Review:

Her mission was to kill him but first she must infiltrate his group as a seer.... yet the vampire conqueror who was supposed to be her enemy has might have conquered something she never expected... her own heart. A blind seer, a Vampire conquerer, and one forbidden romance as they both must find a way to navigate the war going on around them as blood is spilled. Sylina was taken in by the cult that worships the Goddess of Fate when she was a child... willingly blinding herself to gain the powers of the sisters within the cult, being able to see but without her eyes. Sylina was forced to become a child soldier and had escaped until she was rescued by the cult... and despite how hard they tried to train her to be their perfect Sister, something within Sylina strives for justice, for revenge... and when the terrifying vampires along with their leader, Atrius comes into her homeland, Sylina is tasked with infiltrating his group and killing him. Sylina thinks she knows right from wrong and will do anything for her people... yet the more time she spends with Atrius and the more she begins to realize that what he is doing, who he is killing, isn't at all what she expected, she finds herself questioning her vows to her goddess and everything she's known. This was a fantastic standalone set in the Crowns of Nyaxia world. I absolutely adored the enemies to lovers romance between Atrius and Sylina. Sylina was such an interesting protagonist and I loved how strong she was. She adpated so well to every situation and stood by her decisions, and that last minute sacrifice and path she chose? AMAZING. I truly adored the romance between these two characters and how it was developed. I hope to see potential cameos of these characters in the universe!

Release Date: Marh 25, 2025

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Tor Publishing Group | Bramble for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[rjthirsty]

Chapter Seventeen (Deceit and Decay)

Words: 3k

Tags: Catatonia, Improper Use of a Medical Diagnosis, Author is not a Doctor but it's my story so here we are, Male Solo (Masturbation), PINING, Sexual Fantasy, I Miss Free-forming Tags,

A/N: For a full list of tags, please visit ao3. You can find previous chapters of this story on ao3 or on my masterlist on Tumblr. If you want to see my warped little Gilbert, catch up with the story! It's good. I promise.

What if Belle didn't fall in love with the Conqueror Beast? What if his last hope abandoned him, simply because she didn't know he existed? Would his black heart break and crack, or grow as hard as stone? An AU where Chevalier is crowned for Rhodolite, Gilbert lost his last shred of humanity, and MC (Dahlia) is thrust into a nightmare world where deceit and decay are everyday occurrences.

Walter sighed as he set Dahlia's hand back in her lap. He had come to check on her as he promised to only to find the young woman devoid of her senses and her fractured arm the least of her worries and his. “The only thing I can do is recommend rest. She faced something shocking and a person's body can find many ways to deal with the stress of their circumstances.”

“How long until the Little Rabbit returns to normal?” Gilbert asked, standing nearby the bed that Walter sat in front of.

Walter lowered his chin, a tactic he used to hide his eyes behind his long bangs when he didn't want to answer. Meaning the answer was not good.

“How long?” Gilbert calmly demanded, his voice chilling the room.

“I don't know.”

Gil's eyebrows rose in surprise, his eye shifting from Walter's half-hidden face to Dahlia's blank one. This was clearly something Walter hadn't encountered before. She was fine physically, but somewhere inside her mind something had broken.

“Prince Gilbert, I would suggest further–”

“You're dismissed.” Gilbert interrupted, not interested in hearing Walter's reprimand loosely concealed as a suggestion. He already knew what his long-time physician would say. He had already figured out what actions had caused Dahlia's current condition, and while he had held her to prevent her from running in an effort to protect her from harm, he had forced her to bear witness to the event that had shaken her so.

Walter packed up his tools and muttered an “as you wish” before taking his leave, closing Gilbert and Dahlia in their own world together. Gilbert's thoughts churned as he watched Dahlia stare at nothing. Providing her with care wouldn't be difficult. Her attendant had returned, and although he was disappointed that she allowed another man to abduct his guest, he couldn't fault the maid for going along with them. She had at least kept her eye on Dahlia, refusing to leave her side.

Perhaps he would need to add one of his spies to Dahlia's entourage. Perhaps he could simply forbid her from leaving the castle. He hadn't wanted to completely restrict her freedom during her stay but it was seeming more and more prudent that he not let her out of his sight.

“Why are you so intent on forcing my hand, Little Rabbit?” Gil moved closer and brushed his knuckles delicately over Dahlia's hair.

“Do you so wish for me to cage you and bind you?” His fingers twisted around a long lock of her powdery purple tresses. Leaning down, he brought the lock of hair to his mouth and touched his lips reverently to it. Inhaling her scent, he was loath to move away, but the discomfort in his chest grew more noteworthy when he was closer to her and it had become bothersome after the time he had already spent holding her. 

A firm knock at the door pulled him and his thoughts away from Dahlia. Roderic had no need to announce himself more than knocking before entering. Not many were permitted in this wing, and Gil knew the way Roderic knocked by heart. As soon as Gilbert had turned towards Roderic, the hooded man submitted himself on bended knee, head bowed. “The event within the city has been seen to.”

“Send only his head.” Gil smiled as he gave the order, aware it would incite the ire of the other princes in Rhodolite.

“Very well.”

“And the soldiers from yesterday?” He continued to smile while his bloodlust filled the room. Nothing happens inside his castle without him learning about it. Walter had kept their involvement in Dahlia’s accident to himself in some sort of act of misguided mercy. But he had found out the truth of the situation. They had so dared to touch her. No one was permitted to put hands on her without express permission, and as of right now that was Roderic, Walter, Dahlia's attendant, and himself.

“Disposed of.” Roderic answered without emotion.

“Good.” Gilbert clasped his hands behind his back and leisurely paced to a nearby chair. He rounded to the back of it and dropped his elbow onto it, setting his chin upon his opened palm. “The Little Rabbit has been frightened senseless.”

Roderic and Gilbert both cast their gaze at Dahlia silently sitting still as a statue on the side of the bed. “Walter has ordered rest, but he's not sure when she will return to her former self.”

Roderic understood the things Gilbert wasn’t saying, he had years of practice deciphering his master’s manner of speech. “I will see to your schedule.”

“Keep the bookseller's appointment.” Gil added, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“Understood.”

“Dismiss the Little Rabbit's attendant for tomorrow. You will be here while I'm occupied. And I'll require a set of night clothes from my room.”

Roderic hesitated in answering, watching Gilbert gleefully staring at Dahlia. To change sleeping locations on a whim was unexpected. On top of that, the fact that he had ordered Roderic to collect his clothing meant he was not feeling strong enough to manage it himself. Honest fear wrapped around his heart about Gilbert's health and how much time he had left. “As you wish.”

Gilbert's eye slid to Roderic. “You're dismissed.”

Roderic bowed once more, stood, and excited the room to set about the tasks he was given. Once he had dropped off Gil's clothes, Gilbert freed himself from his coat and collapsed into the chair he had been leaning on. A violent coughing fit overtook him, leaving him winded and lightheaded, his breathing raspy and ragged. He had kept up appearances to keep Walter from fretting over him and forcing another checkup. The checkups were getting more frequent, but his symptoms were also worsening significantly. It stood to reason that Walter would check in on him so often with his end in sight. 

It wasn't something he wanted to think about or be burdened with while she was here, though. He knew he didn't have much time left. He just wanted to be allowed the time he did have to be spent with her without dwelling on his imminent death. He didn't want that to be a focal point of her thoughts while with him. He didn't want her pity, just her affection. Thankful that Dahlia couldn’t see him at the moment, he took his time recuperating in the chair opposite of her. Halfway across the room from her. Much too far from her for his liking.

Tonight, Gilbert didn't have it in him to bathe Dahlia. Some days were worse than others and today was one of those days. The exertion of earlier events took a toll on him, along with carrying Dahlia all the way to her room. He had had a brief respite, nearly nodding off with her in his arms before Walter arrived. Now that everyone had been dismissed for the night, he was free to take all the rest he needed, and coincidentally, Walter had suggested the same for Dahlia.

With no reason to rush, he unhurriedly stripped to redress in his night clothes. In the same lethargic manner, he also stripped and redressed Dahlia in her night clothes. Temptation nipped at him to allow his eyes to linger - no one would know - but when it came to her he wanted to treat her kindly and dutifully he covered her body, his dark thoughts pushed to the back of his mind. He allowed himself one gentle kiss to her forehead, his fingertips caressing the shell of her ear, and though he wanted to let them trace down her neck, he pulled away to tuck the both of them into bed.

Nestled next to Dahlia, Gilbert clung to her like he had each night on their trip to Obsidian castle. Both of them on their side, Dahlia’s injured arm on top, Gil snuggled into her warmth, keeping his hand wrapped around her waist. She smelled of delicate jasmine and tart cherries, things that didn’t grow around the castle. He had expected her to smell of roses. In his fantasies throughout the years, he simply assumed she would carry the same scent that he associated with the country of Rhodolite. Though, now that he considered it, Chevalier smelled of roses, and that had likely colored his perception of what he could recall from two decades ago.

Gil buried his nose in her neck, inhaling deeply to rid himself of the memory of the blond boy who he had befriended. They were no longer friends. And after he and the other beasts had sunk their teeth and claws into his love - into Dahlia - he considered every one of them his enemy. Unconscious of his own movements, he squeezed her tighter to be certain she was really there, really in his arms. He would protect her from the evils of the world. From the royalty who used her. From the beasts that attempted to devour her.

He would be her comfort in the world like she was his. The only thing she needed. The only person she needed.

The sun started sinking lower, but night hadn't yet claimed the sky. Despite the day being early, Gilbert's exhaustion had him slipping into sleep. Dahlia’s scent must have influenced his dreams. Perhaps it was her warmth nestled against him. Or maybe it was his lustful desires for her that had crept back into his thoughts while he wasn’t actively dismissing them. His dream was nothing but her. And his dream was nothing but perversion.

Her lips were soft and warm, hot even compared to his own. She came to him, again and again, to taste him and let him taste her. His hands ran over her nude body, memorizing her form and falling in love with her softness. She straddled him and sank onto his cock, and he could have come right then with the way she felt, hot and wet and wanting him. He pushed into her warmth, trying to bury himself deeper still.

She rode him, taking what she wanted from him - what he wanted her to take from him. His heart beat so quickly, so heavily thumping and aching that it hurt to breathe. The strange thought that he would be okay dying like this flitted through his mind. Love being what killed him would be a poetic end, since it was love that twisted him into the filthy thing he was.

He flipped her, taking the top and taking control. He needed her so badly. He needed to hear her moans and babbling “I love yous”. He needed to take her. To control her. To give her everything of himself. He pounded into her. His fingers dug into her curves. He thrust, searching for friction to soothe the ache in his groin. His cock throbbed. His hips rocked. And then his eye cracked open and the room was dark.

The dream pulled away revealing night had fallen. Dahlia was still wrapped in his arms. Still clothed, as was he. Though, his cock was stiff and the pressure in the pit of his stomach lingered from the encounter he had in his sleep. His heart was painfully pounding. His body felt heavy. A blink of his eye flashed Dahlia’s nude body on top of him and his cock throbbed again.

Dramatically, he sighed. A war began in his head. He wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep lying next to Dahlia, but his recent fantasy had awakened parts of him that were refusing to succumb to slumber. It would be inconvenient to make a mess of himself while he slept - a possibility if he had another similar dream. But the room was cold, and she was warm, and moving would require braving the cold.

Gil breathed Dahlia in one last time, squeezing her to attempt to impart her warmth, and slipped out of bed. Naturally, he grabbed his cloak to stave off the cold and threw it over his shoulders as he left the room; it didn’t seem right for him to handle himself in her presence. He closed himself off in his own bedroom, finding it odd that Dahlia’s scent lingered on him. The realization dawned through his sleepy thoughts that she had been wearing the same cloak he was currently wrapped in for the last two days, answering why he could still smell her so clearly.

A thought stirred in the darkness. His heart rate sped up. It was his clothing. There was nothing untoward about using his clothing the way he desired.

Gilbert padded towards his bed and dropped onto it, reclining against the pillows and comforters piled under him. His cloak was still wrapped around him. His cock still stiff and eager. He tugged a handful of his cloak from his shoulder, pulling it closer to his nose to breathe deeply into the fabric. Jasmine and cherries, such a strange smell. So unlike him. He wasn’t sure what he smelled like, but he was certain it wasn’t something so delicious and delicate. Palming his erection through his pants, he let her scent seep into him, breathing her in again and again.

His eyes dipped closed, and his dream returned. He had dreamt of her several times in the many years he had known of her. Most weren’t so explicit, but fantasies did happen from time to time. However, up until recently, he hadn’t known what she looked like, and his previous fantasies were not the same Dahlia he knew now. Now, he knew her face. He knew her body. He had attempted to keep his eyes off her more private areas, but he had still glimpsed them in the times he helped her dress. Now, his fantasy morphed into the Dahlia he had come to know. The little details that were always vague became clearer in his mind’s eye.

He inhaled again, imagining her skin next to his nose and not his own cloak. He wanted to taste her, but the fabric on his tongue would surely shatter the lovely dream he was having. Instead he pressed his lips to the cloth wrapped around his knuckles. He had kissed her earlier. The sensation right now wasn’t the same, but it helped bring forth the memory of the way she felt on his lips. So soft. All of her was so soft. He was certain her cunt would also be soft when he finally had the chance to be with her.

Gilbert drew his pants lower, pulling himself free. He stroked himself, squeezing more firmly than he could manage through his sleepwear. He wanted to hear her voice as he thrust into her. It was hard to imagine what she sounded like moaning, and his old fantasies had to fill in the details. He breathed a needy sigh and sharply inhaled, drawing more of her scent into him. Hooking his finger over the head of his cock, he spread his dripping precum further down his shaft, imagining it as the wetness of her pussy. So wet for him.

It was him she wanted. It was him she took into herself. It was him she wrapped her arms around and kissed and ground against. Slowly, Gil fisted his cock. Slowly, he squeezed himself inside of her. He would mark her and make her his. She already was his, but now she would always be his. She would choose him over all others. He could melt into her heart and touch her very essence, and she would welcome him.

Gilbert choked down his soft moans, only allowing breathy squeaks to leak from his parted lips. Every time he inhaled, he breathed her in. Every time he stroked his cock, he slid along her inner walls. His hands longed to roam her body. His tongue longed to taste her. His teeth desperately wanted to press into her flesh and leave their mark for the world to see. She was his. She was his and she would love him unlike any other.

Fuck, the thought of her clenching around him– the thought of her pussy squeezing his cock, attempting to milk him of his seed– he wanted to pour himself into her. He wanted to reach every part of her that she would allow him to. To mix himself with her and try to taint her and color her as black as he was. It was intoxicating to think he could touch something so pure and beautiful and despite his attempts to make her like him, she would still be herself. And yet she would allow him to try again and again. Fucking her. Filling her. Marking her. Falling into her.

“Haah–” Gil bit down on his knuckles layered by his cloak. Feeling his climax spasm through his groin he pinched his cock, keeping himself from spilling his cum on his clothes. Once the pressure in his abdomen subsided, he hastily unwrapped his hand and balled up extra fabric of his cloak to catch his sperm. Crumpling the soiled cloth together, he rested long enough to keep himself from having another coughing fit before discarding his cloak and returning to the neighboring room.

The nights in Obsidian were often cold, and tonight seemed to carry a chill that heralded the winter months. Gilbert built a fire in the fireplace in Dahlia's room to keep them warm as they slept and ensured Dahlia was tucked with enough blankets to maintain a comfortable temperature. Once the fire was burning nicely, Gil carefully set several neatly addressed envelopes ablaze, ensuring they burned into nothing but ash. Only one had survived his purge, one meant for his bookseller guest scheduled for tomorrow - Dahlia's adoptive father.

With his task finished, and his arousal tended to, Gilbert cuddled back beneath the blankets, wrapping himself around his special guest. Her warmth once again soaked into him, her scent enveloping him, and his weary body quickly fell into a much needed slumber.

A/Nx2!: It was suggested that I put my author's note at the end about my thoughts on writing this chapter - something I do on ao3, but not on Tumblr. So we're going to do that today.

OH BOY! This was such a fun chapter to write! Not only do I get to dive into Gilbert and his warped way he views Dahlia as this angelic being, but also a person, but also tainted and not living up to his idea of her, but I ALSO got to write him jacking off to the thoughts of her, which was my first smut piece I ever wrote almost a 16 months ago. It was so fun.

If you knew he was going to burn the letters, I congratulate you. I didn't even know. Haha. That's the way I write, so I'm not surprised I didn't know. At the time, when he agreed, he fully intended to let Dahlia write so he could gloat about how well he's taking care of her. But then the Leon thing happened right before this, and he was upset that "they" (the Rhodolite princes) had warped her into something he didn't recognize, that he decided to burn them to cut off ties between them and her.

I can't wait to see what happens next. This has been such a fun ride to write. Seven chapters ago I was worried I wasn't moving fast enough, and here we are hitting dramatic moment after moment and I think it's going too fast now. Haha. I'm not sure when this will end, I have a vague idea of what the ending will be, but I can't tell you how long it'll take to get there. I'm sure I'll hit 30 chapters, but that's probably it. So we're looking at 120k words in total.

Thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am creating it.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Now that The Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise have wings, do they enjoy flying? Do they take to it naturally or do they need time to get used to it? How high do they like to fly up?

Wind Waker Ganondorf: The Natural Flyer

Wings: Raven wings (large and black with a glossy sheen).

Wind Waker Ganondorf stood at the cliffside of his fortress, gazing out at the ocean below. His black raven wings flexed, catching the sea breeze. After a moment of contemplation, he spread them fully and leapt off the edge, his form cutting through the air.

Flying came to him naturally. The wind whipped past him, but the rhythm of his wings was smooth, powerful, and sure. He angled them slightly, riding the updrafts as he soared higher and higher above the islands dotting the vast ocean.

A rare smile crept onto his lips as he hovered midair, basking in the freedom and control the wings gave him. The view from above allowed him to see his domain in a new light—spread out like a map, every island, every ripple in the water below.

He chuckled to himself, flapping his wings once to shoot upward even higher. “Perhaps there is more to this power than I realized.”

He soared toward the clouds, relishing in the sensation of the open sky and the wind beneath him.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: Reluctant But Efficient

Wings: Demonic wings (large, leathery, and bat-like).

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf stood on the battlements of his castle, staring down at the army of Stalfos below. His new leathery wings twitched at his back, still a foreign sensation. He hated the feeling of change, of something new that wasn't entirely his will.

With a grim expression, he stepped off the ledge, plummeting toward the ground before he reluctantly spread his wings. A powerful beat of his leathery appendages stopped his fall instantly, and with a growl, he soared upward.

It wasn’t graceful at first. His wings flapped awkwardly, as though they were trying to remember how to work. But Ganondorf was nothing if not determined, and soon his movements became more deliberate. He flew higher, experimenting with his balance in the air. His control over the skies came gradually, but his determination was unmatched.

“I suppose this will serve me well,” he muttered, flying over Hyrule Field with a newfound swiftness. He didn’t enjoy it as much as he enjoyed being on the ground, but the power it granted him was undeniable.

After gaining more control, Ganondorf soared into the night sky, higher than he anticipated. Looking down at the world below, he smirked. “I could get used to this.”

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: The Strategic Flyer

Wings: Dragon wings (huge, scaled, and strong).

Twilight Princess Ganondorf stood on the edge of the Eldin Bridge, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The massive dragon wings at his back shifted, and he flexed them experimentally. He had always favored the power that came from dominating the earth, but the prospect of ruling the skies intrigued him.

With a powerful leap, he took to the air, his enormous wings carrying him high above the broken lands of Hyrule. He wasn’t as graceful as he’d like, but his strength compensated for any lack of elegance. Each beat of his wings was strong and purposeful, propelling him upward at an impressive speed.

As he gained altitude, his sharp eyes scanned the land beneath him. From this height, he could see everything—the perfect vantage point for planning his conquests.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he flew in wide, sweeping arcs over the mountains. “This will serve me well,” he mused. “The skies will be mine, as will the land.”

His flight path dipped lower, brushing the tops of the trees as he tested his wings for agility. With time, his control over flight would rival his mastery of combat.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: The Conqueror of the Sky

Wings: Fiery phoenix wings (bright orange, red, and gold feathers).

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf stood in the midst of a battlefield, his fiery phoenix wings casting a brilliant light over the fallen soldiers at his feet. His eyes blazed with power as he unfurled his wings and launched himself into the air.

He took to flight as if he had always been meant to rule the sky. His fiery wings left a trail of embers in his wake as he soared high above the battlefield, surveying the chaos below. The sense of freedom, power, and dominance in the air was intoxicating, and it brought a wild grin to his face.

“The heavens bow to me,” he declared, his voice booming across the plains as his wings flapped with precision and strength.

Flying was exhilarating for him, and he pushed himself higher and higher, testing his limits. The fire in his wings crackled with energy, glowing brighter as he ascended into the clouds. He reveled in the sensation of being untouchable, a force of nature that could not be contained by mere mortals.

With a triumphant laugh, Ganondorf swooped down toward the ground, his wings blazing as they cut through the air. “I am a king of both land and sky!”

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf: The Majestic Monarch

Wings: Griffon wings (huge, golden, and feathered).

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf stood at the precipice of a cliff, his golden griffon wings stretched wide behind him. The setting sun bathed his feathers in a brilliant glow, casting long shadows across the rocky terrain.

He took a deep breath, savoring the power that came with these wings. The strength they granted him wasn’t just physical—it was a symbol of his dominance, his right to rule.

Without hesitation, he leapt into the sky, his wings catching the wind with ease. His flight was graceful, every movement calculated and precise. He ascended higher and higher, his wings cutting through the air effortlessly as he climbed toward the clouds.

Flying felt natural to him, like an extension of his inherent power. He flew with the confidence of a king, knowing that both the heavens and the earth were his to command.

From this vantage point, he could see the entirety of Hyrule laid out before him—a kingdom waiting to be conquered. He hovered high above the land, the golden sunlight catching on his feathers and making them shine like molten gold.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, his voice full of quiet satisfaction. “I will rule from the skies, just as I do from the earth.”

Demise: The Master of Fire and Sky

Wings: Massive, flaming dragon wings (with molten cracks along the leathery surface).

Demise stood on the edge of a fiery crater, his molten dragon wings flickering with flames. He had always thrived in destruction, and now, with wings that matched the essence of his being, he felt an even greater connection to the chaos around him.

With a roar, Demise leapt into the air, his wings beating powerfully as he ascended into the sky. The flames that licked at the edges of his wings left a trail of embers in his wake, lighting up the night sky like a burning comet.

He relished in the sensation of flying, the wind whipping through his fiery mane, the heat from his wings mingling with the natural inferno below. Every beat of his wings sent waves of scorching air billowing outward, and Demise laughed—a deep, rumbling sound filled with satisfaction.

Flying was natural to him, as easy as breathing. His domain extended beyond the earth; the sky was now his as well, a perfect extension of his destructive power. He rose higher and higher, until he was nothing more than a fiery speck against the dark sky.

From this height, he could see the land far below, ripe for destruction. “The world will burn,” he growled, his voice echoing in the air. “And I shall reign over it, from the depths to the skies.”

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Crisis on Infinite Earths, issue 12 “Final Crisis” (23 years early…) …and beyond

[All images are owned by DC Comics, please don’t sue me]

[I’ve enjoyed re-reading this landmark series, and I thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope you’ve enjoyed this format. I have at least two other projects waiting in the wings that this sort of format would work best with, so please let me know if you’d like to see more reviews like this.]

PREVIOUSLY ON…

A being known as the Anti-Monitor has destroyed nearly all of the universes in existence. The survivors being from the final 5 universes and a few stragglers who are the sole survivors of theirs.

The Anti-Monitor’s last three attempts to destroy the multiverse have been thwarted (at the cost of many lives, including Supergirl and Earth-1’s Flash) The Anti-Monitor’s fourth attempt (to destroy the multiverse at the Dawn of Time) also failed, but instead merged the final universes into a shared reality where none but the heroes present at the Dawn of Time remember the multiverse at all.

The Golden Age heroes (and the Earth-X’s Freedom Fighters) fought in this reality’s World War II, while the “modern” heroes from all realities have just always been around, but certain heroes who share an origin (like Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman) defaulted to the modern version (the Golden Age versions never existed, but are still present due to being at the Dawn of Time, and no one but those present remember them) However, there are some (such as Earth-2’s Power Girl, who was the cousin to that universe’s Superman) who are still remembered. Not even the scholar of the Multiverse, Harbinger, has an answer to that.

Suddenly, the Anti-Monitor rears his head for yet another attempt to destroy the universe: He brought Earth to his Anti-Matter universe to destroy those who would stand in his way!

Meanwhile, a group of star-faring heroes led by time traveler Rip Hunter, who has found Brainiac’s ship (inert after Brainiac powered down in an attempt to save himself should the heroes fail at the Dawn of Time)

Now, for the exciting conclusion! If you would like to read this issue, it (along with the rest of the series) has been collected in graphic novel form and is available (or can be ordered) at your favorite comic shop, bookstore, or online retailer…or on Read Comic Online.

We start aboard Brainiac’s ship, where the heroes realize the Earth has vanished!

uh oh…

Brainiac is about to pull a Psimon on the heroes when they mention that he worked with them recently. Brainiac has no knowledge of these events (since he wasn’t at the Dawn of Time with the heroes), so the heroes recap the last 11 issues to him.

Why do I get a sense of foreboding?

Back on Earth, the Anti-Monitor brags about killing Supergirl and the Flash (actually, the Flash killed himself. Get your facts straight), then declares he will destroy the Earth (what is it about would-be conquerors/destroyers that makes them want to monologue?) by sending his forces to wipe out all life (you’d think someone who has stupidly high power levels that he can wipe out universes and yank planets from their universe could deal with a puny planet on his own…) as the Earth is enveloped in darkness.

During the panic, Harbinger assembles a force to take the fight directly to the Anti-Monitor (because that worked so well every other time that’s been tried) That force is Superman, Kal-L, and Dr. Light.

So…the combined might of five universes’ assembled heroes (including these three) couldn’t defeat the Anti-Monitor. How the hell are you gonna do it with just the four of you?!

Not that it matters, as it turns out that the darkness is a horde of the Anti-Monitor’s shadow demons, (remember those?) intent on destroying all life with their touch!

And what of Brainiac? Well, he has brought the assembled heroes to none other than Apokalips for an audience with none other than its ruler, Darkseid (Nice knowing you, guys!)

On Earth, the shadow demons are falling prey to the might of its heroes (what about the villains? Surely they wanna survive too?), but not without cost (including Dove and Kole of the Teen Titans, Lori Lemaris of Atlantis, and the Earth-2’s Robin and Huntress (tho to be honest, those last two were most likely housecleaning by the writers, since they were written out of continuity))

And what about the Spectre, unconscious for all of issue 11 [LINK NEEDED]? It seems like the world’s mystics (and Green Lantern Alan Scott, whose ring is mystical in nature) have gathered in Dr. Fate’s tower in an attempt to deal with the demons…or revive the Spectre…I’m not entirely sure even they know what they’re trying to do.

In the Anti-Matter universe beyond Earth, Harbinger (who apparently thought better and recruited a dozen more heroes. Still not enough, by the way) leads her force to the remains of the Anti-Monitor’s base on Quard…

…where they encounter Kid Flash (who somehow managed to get to Quard without anyone knowing, despite the fact that flight is not in his power set), who wanted visual proof that the Flash is dead. He then sees an image of the Flash (much like Batman did) and rushes toward it…

…only to see Psycho Pirate (wait, the Anti-Monitor didn’t kill him?!) pleading with the Flash’s empty costume to get up. (Well, you wanted proof Kid Flash…) As the heroes stop Kid Flash from beating the shit out of Psycho Pirate…

…the Anti-Monitor finally makes his appearance.

And on Earth, the Mystics have managed to gather up the remaining shadow demons and banish them from the planet. Great. Now can you figure out how to put the Earth back into its proper universe?

Meanwhile, the heroes are hitting the Anti-Monitor with everything they’ve got, but doing little more than distract and annoy him.

Fortunately, that was Harbinger’s plan as she instructs Dr. Light to absorb the energy of the star that’s fueling the Anti-Monitor’s power. (so the Anti-Monitor is like a reverse Superman? Wait, he’s Bizarro?!)

Then Alexander cranks things to eleven by using his powers to absorb the Anti-Matter directly from the Anti-Monitor. The Anti-Monitor takes this time to monologue, and that’s when everyone opens fire on him. It’s enough to destroy his outer shell!

At that point, Dr. Light channels the energy of the star into the Anti-Monitor, putting him down! (Now why couldn’t they do this in the first place?)

At that moment, the banished shadow demons (remember them?) are drawn to Quard and are absorbed by the corpse of the Anti-Monitor, reviving him. He then says he cares little about the universe…or Earth. (so…we’re saved, right?) He just wants to kill the heroes who have plagued him…

…starting with Wonder Woman, (what the hell did she do?!) vaporizing her! He was about to do the same to Psycho Pirate (so?) and Kid Flash, but only got a glancing blow as Firestorm got them away. Somehow during all of this, Alexander managed to draw the Earth back into its proper universe (they really didn’t explain how)

Superman and Lady Quark are about to make a suicide strike against the Anti-Monitor to destroy him once and for all (or at least give everyone time to escape)…

…but are sucker-punched by Kal-L, who says he should be the one to do it, as he no longer has a universe and therefore has nothing to lose (so why knock out Lady Quark? Her universe is gone too!) and tells Superboy-Prime to get them out (isn’t he without a universe too?)

Kal-L and the Anti-Monitor trade taunts as the Anti-Monitor gathers power…

…only to be wracked by pain and, not coincidentally, a green light. It turns out the sorcerers infused the shadow demons with energy designed to attack the Anti-Monitor from within (again, why the hell did they wait so long to do this? This series could have ended five issues ago!)

But the Anti-Monitor is still too powerful for the Golden Age Man of Steel, so Superboy-Prime throws Superman and Lady Quark through the rift being held open by Alexander, telling him to close it (unfortunately, Alexander must do so from the Anti-Matter universe and is therefore trapped as well)

As Superboy-Prime turns to join the battle, Kal-L throws a moon at the Anti-Monitor. His efforts are weakening the Anti-Monitor, as the blast that should have killed Superboy-Prime only hurt him severely so Kal-L turns up the pressure with a couple of asteroids to the face, putting down the Anti-Monitor for good!

…wait, he’s still alive?! The Anti-Monitor absorbs all the energy of his universe (pretty much destroying it) to destroy Kal-L and Superboy-Prime.

And he might likely succeed if Darkseid (remember him?) wasn’t watching through Alexander’s eyes (He can do that?! Well, I guess he is a New God…) and decided it was time to act, sending his Omega Beams through Alexander’s eyes, vaporizing the Anti-Monitor and destroying him utterly!

Wait…

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!

…apparently Kal-L was thinking the same thing, as he obliterated the head, destroying him once and for all!

Wait…

…

…

…OK, I guess it stuck this time.

But Kal-L, Superboy-Prime, and Alexander are trapped in the Anti-Matter universe…and Kal-L has lost his universe (and his Lois) forever.

…or has he? Alexander reveals he created a pocket universe and sequestered Lois within (what would have happened if Kal-L died…or didn’t stay behind?) Superboy, Kal-L, and Lois follow Alexander to this pocket universe to live out their days.

On Earth, life goes on for most. However, the Anti-Monitor’s final blasts have consequences…

…For Wonder Woman…Princess Diana…the Anti-Monitor’s blast didn’t so much kill her and de-age her until she returned to the clay that created her, sent back in time…we’ll say 18 years to return two years from the moment she disappeared (too bad everyone forgot her in the intervening time)

…for Wally West…Kid Flash…the blast somehow…well, we’ll let him explain:

From here, the writers were free to redefine the surviving heroes (Superman’s powers were scaled back to the point that he wasn’t god-like…and artist John Byrne made his cape not indestructible because the loved ripping it to shreds!) and Batman became more grim (aided by Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns series), for example), but otherwise things stayed as they were (with the influx of heroes and villains from Earths 4, S, and X)

Unfortunately, things never stay static in life, or in comics. Eventually, elements removed due to events in Crisis started creeping back in, times change and characters need updating…

...until another reboot was needed (in 1994)

…and another (in 2005)

…and another (on 2008)

…until DC said screw it and did a full reboot called “The New 52″ in 2011.

Unfortunately, it was not well-received (or thought out) causing everything to reboot again (well, more hitting the reset button to pre-New 52) called “DC Rebirth” in 2016.

How long until the next reboot? Time will tell…

[conqueror-if]

"The stars are aligned."

There is chaos amongst the realms. A tyrant as succeeded the Enderian Throne and demands the total control of the rest of the three realms.

The Aether, full of birds of flight, have torn themselves apart with blood cursed by a godly quarrel.

The Nether, whose Queen is not to be found in the vast, dangerous heat.

And, The Overworld, which holds riches and secrets waiting to be found.

You, a young and angry member of the Enderian race, must find a way to stop the Tyrant Queen from getting what she wants - total control, total power, total immortality.

CONQUEROR is a 18+ high fantasy interactive fiction novel written in Twine. Play as either an Enderian noble diguised as a consort, a freedom fighter in the rebellion, or an oppressed race being hunted by the Queen for their unique talents.

☆ Play as one of eight enderian races, plus one special race!

Fully customizable MC, including gender [with male, female, and nonbinary options]

Customizable pronouns!

Choose to be gay, bisexual, lesbian, or trans! Also includes aro/ace options!

Extensively customized appearance, including tattoos, scars, piercings, and clothing

Set your personality as you interact with the world around you!

Choose between three backgrounds to set your path!

Romance or befriend (or make enemies?) of the ROs!

General Soprano - The Queen's Dog | He/They | ??? Hybrid

General of the Enderian Military and the right hand of the Queen, they are the forsaken Conqueror of the realms, following his Queen's orders as he razes kingdoms to the ground. On the battlefield, he ravenges the land. When they're alone, they are the prisoner of the Queen, cursed to follow her every word and her first victim. Plagued by terrors of his past and his own body made into a golden prison. They have vowed to never find love again.

Soprano is 6'11 and broad shouldered, with dark brown skin and coily black hair that just brushes his shoulders. His eyes are hot pink and his moth wings are a bright pink and yellow. A black creature latches onto his arm.

Poly route with Joy and Benoni

Joy - Heir of a Broken Kingdom | They/Them | Bird Hybrid

The only heir of the Aetherian Realm, they've been targeted by the Queen and is no longer in control of their own body. Still, this future monarch is fiery and won't allow that to hold them back from getting their revenge and protecting their kingdom. Joy is endlessly kind but will not hesitate to raise hell for those they love. Now, they must navigate how to save their kingdom from falling into ruin, an overpowering mother, and the hanging reminder that their body isn't their own. What will it take to make your way into their loving arms?

Joy is 5'9 and lithe, though they clearly hold some power behind their strikes. They have hair as red as the rising sun and warm brown skin. With a very impressive wingspan, their feathers are a beautiful rainbow of color, similar to a parrot.

Poly route with Noni and Sop

Benoni - Aetherian Military Captian | He/Him | Human

The aetherian military captain, he's cynical and prickly, and he's got his own issues regarding a certain enderian general. However, when he's alone with the people loves most, Noni’s smile stretches wide and he becomes a soft, fluffy mess. His quick wit and even quicker reflexes can normally get him out of any situation But, he's torn in a moral dilemma. Does he protect the enderian diaspora in the Aether realm from growing racism and stop them from getting exiled or worse, killed? Or does he remain forever loyal to the royal family and Queen Irene, who brought him in and gave him another chance at life? A captain protects their people. But which ones?

Benoni is 6'4 and with a lean, athletic build. His hair is a dirty blonde with the blue sky in his eyes. His cool honeyed skin holds many scars from previous battles.

Poly route with Joy and Sop

Queen Chienne - The Tyrant | She/Her | Dragon Hybrid

The all powerful ruler of the End, Chienne is a vindictive and manipulative woman who will do everything in her power to ensure her reign will be remembered for eons to come. Quick to anger, everyone in the palace must walk eggshells around her, lest they be punished. But for some reason, you, a little nobody no matter what background you choose, catches her attention. Why do those vivid eyes watch you like a hawk, ready to descend?

Queen Chienne is 6'10 with an elegant and slender frame. Her skin is pale like ivory, with the exception of the black beauty mark near her cat like eyes. Hair like snow that reaches the floor and vivid purple eyes, she's a sight to behold.

Warning: RED FLAG RO 🚩

Trope: Arranged Marriage (Noble Route), Toxic romance (Warped and Rebel Route)

Princess Deuxieme - The Scarred One | She/Her | Dragon Hybrid

The youngest sister of Chienne, rumored to have once been so beautiful to rival the stars, now roams the silver walls with black scars that smother her beauty. She doesn't speak, and keeps to herself in the forbidden east wing. She is treated like a pet by her sister and has only ever heard laughs and sneers toward her. Most servants can hear the soft melodies of the princess playing a lute after hours. Deuxieme sees no beauty nor love within herself, but maybe you can show her what you see?

Princess Deuxieme is 5'10 with a curvy frame, long ebony hair that gets in her face, and pale skin. One of her horns is chipped and broken and her leathery wings are quite small.

Trope: Friends to Lovers (Noble Route), Forbidden Romance (Warped Route, Rebel Route)

[apollo-alto]

"The stars are aligned."

There is chaos amongst the realms. A tyrant as succeeded the Enderian Throne and demands the total control of the rest of the three realms.

The Aether, full of birds of flight, have torn themselves apart with blood cursed by a godly quarrel.

The Nether, whose Queen is not to be found in the vast, dangerous heat.

And, The Overworld, which holds riches and secrets waiting to be found.

You, a young and angry member of the Enderian race, must find a way to stop the Tyrant Queen from getting what she wants - total control, total power, total immortality.

CONQUEROR is a 18+ high fantasy interactive fiction novel written in Twine. Play as either an Enderian noble diguised as a consort, a freedom fighter in the rebellion, or an oppressed race being hunted by the Queen for their unique talents.

☆ Play as one of eight enderian races, plus one special race!

Fully customizable MC, including gender [with male, female, and nonbinary options]

Customizable pronouns!

Choose to be gay, bisexual, lesbian, or trans! Also includes aro/ace options!

Extensively customized appearance, including tattoos, scars, piercings, and clothing

Set your personality as you interact with the world around you!

Choose between three backgrounds to set your path!

Romance or befriend (or make enemies?) of the ROs!

General Soprano - The Queen's Dog | He/They | ??? Hybrid

General of the Enderian Military and the right hand of the Queen, they are the forsaken Conqueror of the realms, following his Queen's orders as he razes kingdoms to the ground. On the battlefield, he ravenges the land. When they're alone, they are the prisoner of the Queen, cursed to follow her every word and her first victim. Plagued by terrors of his past and his own body made into a golden prison. They have vowed to never find love again.

Soprano is 6'11 and broad shouldered, with dark brown skin and coily black hair that just brushes his shoulders. His eyes are hot pink and his moth wings are a bright pink and yellow. A black creature latches onto his arm.

Poly route with Joy and Benoni

Joy - Heir of a Broken Kingdom | They/Them | Bird Hybrid

The only heir of the Aetherian Realm, they've been targeted by the Queen and is no longer in control of their own body. Still, this future monarch is fiery and won't allow that to hold them back from getting their revenge and protecting their kingdom. Joy is endlessly kind but will not hesitate to raise hell for those they love. Now, they must navigate how to save their kingdom from falling into ruin, an overpowering mother, and the hanging reminder that their body isn't their own. What will it take to make your way into their loving arms?

Joy is 5'9 and lithe, though they clearly hold some power behind their strikes. They have hair as red as the rising sun and warm brown skin. With a very impressive wingspan, their feathers are a beautiful rainbow of color, similar to a parrot.

Poly route with Noni and Sop

Benoni - Aetherian Military Captian | He/Him | Human

The aetherian military captain, he's cynical and prickly, and he's got his own issues regarding a certain enderian general. However, when he's alone with the people loves most, Noni’s smile stretches wide and he becomes a soft, fluffy mess. His quick wit and even quicker reflexes can normally get him out of any situation But, he's torn in a moral dilemma. Does he protect the enderian diaspora in the Aether realm from growing racism and stop them from getting exiled or worse, killed? Or does he remain forever loyal to the royal family and Queen Irene, who brought him in and gave him another chance at life? A captain protects their people. But which ones?

Benoni is 6'4 and with a lean, athletic build. His hair is a dirty blonde with the blue sky in his eyes. His cool honeyed skin holds many scars from previous battles.

Poly route with Joy and Sop

Queen Chienne - The Tyrant | She/Her | Dragon Hybrid

The all powerful ruler of the End, Chienne is a vindictive and manipulative woman who will do everything in her power to ensure her reign will be remembered for eons to come. Quick to anger, everyone in the palace must walk eggshells around her, lest they be punished. But for some reason, you, a little nobody no matter what background you choose, catches her attention. Why do those vivid eyes watch you like a hawk, ready to descend?

Queen Chienne is 6'10 with an elegant and slender frame. Her skin is pale like ivory, with the exception of the black beauty mark near her cat like eyes. Hair like snow that reaches the floor and vivid purple eyes, she's a sight to behold.

Warning: RED FLAG RO 🚩

Trope: Arranged Marriage (Noble Route), Toxic romance (Warped and Rebel Route)

Princess Deuxieme - The Scarred One | Dragon Hybrid

The youngest sister of Chienne, rumored to have once been so beautiful to rival the stars, now roams the silver walls with black scars that smother her beauty. She doesn't speak, and keeps to herself in the forbidden east wing. She is treated like a pet by her sister and has only ever heard laughs and sneers toward her. Most servants can hear the soft melodies of the princess playing a lute after hours. Deuxieme sees no beauty nor love within herself, but maybe you can show her what you see?

Princess Deuxieme is 5'10 with a curvy frame, long ebony hair that gets in her face, and pale skin. One of her horns is chipped and broken and her leathery wings are quite small.

Trope: Friends to Lovers (Noble Route), Forbidden Romance (Warped Route, Rebel Route)

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #11 ~ Reclaimed Living

♫Overpowered♫

Another cleansing of the soul came with reinvigorated steps loudly revisiting a place of his bearings. His latest and most formidable enemy awakened him from a ghostly remnant he served. He wasn't the same. The last Crew finding them behind his follow weren't the same that collapsed, or buried with his old ship. The rover returned to a rancid pub front-steps. In a dead and remote location, where used to be celebration, came to cease. Now it was just nesting drunken sailors who held no direction. Majority of the Crew that served a Captain were family members, other associates, all drowned and dead brought by his endeavors, curses, afflictions. It was never easy to confront a past, but proper healing cannot begin without it, that's where his wisdom had found of recent date. It was the most despicable and deplorable thing a feeling could present in a leader. The people under your helm perished but the Captain didn't go with his ship and men. Although all held belief he remained deceased, this would be soon uncovered in a twist. He unstrapped his holstered revolver. Swallowed nerves. Then proceeded. Inside were grievers those at the bottom of bottles, they felt too. Sapped of motivation. Chained, jailed, life had no meaning. The peers that died, killed them too. Outsiders didn't come to this enclosed location. So as creaking old planks of wood were heard they drew alert. Until a stoppage. A shadow between the doors. Even in their rancid and intoxicated states they drew arms. The two loose doors flung open as the perished ghost became alive. In a series of insurmountable clicks and aim's hundreds of trained gun's re-positioned. Dirks, brass knuckles, a plethora of last resistance shown. If they were to be raided, they'd go with bangs.

"Minfilia's oversized tits, blimey o' bastard... I don't believe it. Ye chose a poor choice t' ruse us n' appearance." They didn't follow a leader. Each of their voices left were who seized first in their mass. The interloper had them cautiously on standby. "Nay. It b' me." The Seeker discarded his only means of defense and slid a kick over. They had the right to take their shots. Tension was stacked in disbelieving soaring heights. Each still felt a beguile footman who stood at their gate. "Ye inconceivable fool. T'is a reason why, Dead men tell no tales..." Cocking mechanisms of flintlocks surged. Another chimed in when Captain went to peace. "Best ye tell a helluva' tale. Of what ye live..." This served a code, a message in a bottle, but parchment became waterlogged, useless. If there was ever a moment etched within his time, to become unspoken, now was it. He would be a preaching to a choir. Chewing and clacking his gums, he'd lower the tricorne to his heart. A ferocity lit in his hues, rebellious. "From conception we're met with opposition. There ain't a single-choice upon what we calls origins being dealt, whether by some invisible puppeteer, deemed an author, or some putrid sack ov' excuse-spinner." Revving up, "Educated, groomed, taught t' be the same way, that results t' a history never ending but repeats, wondering why we live under th' same shadows ov' all our dated descendants who fell. Constantly wishing or reflecting back, things were simpler, better, desiring do-overs. No-one looks forward t' a clock, only backwards when bloomed." The fulfillment of dreaming in youth, gets devoured, in due age, later when matured. What could've been, spawns. He took brash steps even while being trained on with blunderbusses. "Thrust into environments where eating metal, doing whatever it takes to survive! --- They call us problems." Speaking out to the rebellious that still swelled, "Sentence t' unexplained diseases, festering rot n' us. We start giving into instability, alongside insecurities, it racks us into a trail of bottomless failures, believing we've nothing of importance... Told by our closest endearing whispers, who mutter the same air of our doubting thoughts... It encourages demons, t' vices, to a point, a visit only ov' ferryman can accept us." He registered and conveyed a lot of personal emotion. "Bein' pirate everyone thinks our take ov' freedom means pure unadulterated chaos, anarchy, destruction. To be feared... Truth it means we're standing against what governs us all, growing bone's where they've gone missing." Showing teeth and taking a stand on top of a tavern table between, the disheartened. "Authority, Order! These things are presented as principal things that are required to function, n' keep peace... But it's artificially made-up. Think to yourselves! How many label's have been created to categorize yourself? To try separating you from being an individual, just so someone can stand-out against on a perch! you don't even know how t' stand anymore! ...Thinking by being on your two-legs that's all? You b' so far drowned, you cannot impose those who wear their crowns, cause you accept it as all-purpose... O' if a mass-herd flocks, it's natural to' fall in that line and try to be included at all costs, thinking it'll grant you an audience, notice, give you validation." His speech began boiling up, resonating something in a few, they became domesticated too. "Words, like 'martyr', 'rebel', thrown around. Placed to maintain control, they subjugate, they'll bend rules, whatever it takes! They'll use their fancy speeches t' rile you into a false-sense to stay kneeled over, stating it's a 'we' or 'us', ignoring really they're out their own business." He presented as their so called pirate king was faceless, removed, abandoned all the free-spirited left. That continued with the powers in place. "Same almighty forces that are throwing us into forgotten. Trying to remove us, are the some who were us, once..." The red-coats weren't someone to be all idolized. Innocent's rain rampant on

those, it was not-self sacrificial, they were govern. "Free. Isn't exclusive. It's within us all, a lifestyle, something that any are capable of taking with zero discrimination, no hierarchy, or diversities preventing you at some barrier for entry! Reach down! Battle against your illnesses, wounds, oppressors! Wobble on your soles and fight to stand against what you disagree with, crawl even, gnarl at that hilt! Die fer passion, what makes you feel who, who gives you it! That's what actual breathing looks like! This IS yer rightful treasure, yer CLAIM. Get it back into your hands and you'll know this is a world you own!" Climatically blew through in his renegade passion. The very air he exhaled into these words weren't laced, they came from personal, raw emotion! Casting away not only to his own liberation but his former folks. "This is living's meaning!" Reaching down grabbing a bottle and smashing it against his arm into a tearing cut, bloodied arms formed outwardly, like wings he threw his arms. Drops of resolve and armed weapons fell in unity. 'The Captain ov' the Five Seas' approached them, and said, I am alive, but so are all those who died, they're in me! I haven't lost this War, It's only getting started. Waves, winds, change, so I've adapted. Here, I am.'

The lawless bellowed out an uproar outcry and jolly, shooting their guns into the ceilings. Smashing and slugging each other with haymakers, drinking and thrusting into debauchery, they were free, once again! Label's no more! Defined, never again! Each saw their passion, the moment was seen! What went obscured. Captain leapt into the brawl, of celebration, he was home, alive! The storms were still remaining but he found many places to call shelter when they came.

[yzzart]

— Flying through the sky.

© do not repost or translate !

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: just two dragons flying around innocently, isn't it?

warnings: incest, explicit language, explicit words.

word count: 2.054!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

Freedom.

That was the blessed and dignified word that could fit perfectly into the beautiful moments when you flew with your dragon. — The blue queen, your Tessarion.

The blue-skinned dragon, reminiscent of strong seas and the fall of night, along with her golden details; remembering the pure gold and demonstrating how admirable and charming the creature was. — The image of your dragon, in addition to being blessed by the good gods, was respected and admired from commoners to the lords of all seven kingdoms.

Even Tessarion's shadow was worthy of countless praise.

The strong and intense sensation of the wind beating against your face, at certain moments forcing your eyes to close, didn't bother you; quite the opposite. — It left a radical taste of the purest fun you could experience in your entire considerable life.

Squeezing the firm and resistant ropes, which were between Tessarion's saddle, you pulled hard, and even gloved, possibly your hands would appear with marks of such strength, to symbolize the dragon to change direction. — Tessarion would not fail to obey you, and quickly complied with the request.

With a loud, steady roar, the blue dragon swept its large, beautiful wings towards the sea. — In keeping with Tessarion's fair but brutish speed, your admirable platinum hair whipped brutally against the wind. — A somewhat funny and graceful scene for the good gods and their pure-blood Targaryen kin.

The strong fragrance of pure sea salt was already planning to invade your nose, forming a synchronized look on the anguish and nausea on your face. — The only possible solution was to hold you breath with a deep rapidity while you pulled, again, the saddle ropes.

One more roar was performed by Tessarion, but it was of a leisurely tone; as if he was having fun, a moment that was almost chaotic and liberating. — Returning to her previous direction, the dragon started to fly horizontally and letting only its beautiful and fascinating tail touch the sea, taking small waves around.

By including your head, you compared Tessarion's tail count to the sea with small tracks, which soon disappeared in a matter of seconds. — Withdrawing only one of your hands, which were trapped holding the ropes, you distributed a quick but affectionate caress to the dignified blue dragon blessed by gold; soon after acquiring the small caress, she shakes her head in the form of thanks.

In a matter of seconds, in such a surprising and quick way, an immense, indeed frightening, old shadow managed to completely cover your dragon's body. — Not even the tip of Tessarion's tail managed to escape the abundant darkness, which had dominated there.

The good gods, those who were considered privileged to see that scene, knew you had in mind what had concealed your body along with your dragon's in such darkness, even on such a bright and prosperous day. — But, you didn't stop raising your head towards that, possible and obvious, creature that dared to commit such an act.

And there was the biggest dragon that that mediocre world had ever seen. — The creature that in her glory days, conceived countless victories along with the conquerors, acclaimed by all seven kingdoms and beyond the wars and raids won blanket by her flames. — The passion of the conqueror and queen Visenya; Vhagar.

Her skin covered in the purest dark green along with black and gray pigmentation; with countless scars, proving her experiences during all these years. — The worn skin, due to aging, was just a detail, but it drew attention and certain questions that were soon erased with her fire.

Vhagar didn't scare you, or cause any discomfort; different from the gazes and comments of others from the seven kingdoms. — You admired, contemplated, whenever there was a chance, that dragon that was so important and remarkable in the bloodline of the targaryens.

However, there was one thing so peculiar, which was related to the dragon, that made you feel so vulnerable and bewitched; a feeling so impossible to explain or try to look for a word to define what, in fact, it was.

But, the good gods, they knew very well what exactly that feeling was about, that sensation and who you were referring to.

Consequently, the old dragon had overtaken Tessarion's position; thus demonstrating her full length passes before your eyes along with your dragon. — Tessarion shook her head, possibly as a sign of respect for the huge dragon.

Moving your eyes, as if looking for prey, you tried as hard as you could to find the one who had a complex hold on you. — With a little more effort, along with Tessarion flying a little higher, you finally got what you, divinely, wanted.

The platinum locks, blessed by ancient Valyrian beauty, swaying in the wind; in a kind of dance or even a fight, for an unknown cause. — The small, but not so simple and impossible to notice, handle of the purest leather, with pigmentation in shades of brown, of the eye patch combined with the garment, totally black with silver details on the edges. — Your dear, and so admirable, uncle left you utterly and foolishly speechless and breathless.

Aemond caused a conflict in you, he lit your flames intensely and sometimes doing absolutely nothing. — And that made you even more ethereal.

The one-eyed prince, his chest proud at having gained your attention, turned around. — Even from such a long distance, you managed to see the robust smile with illicit intentions formed on the man's thin lips.

"I hope you haven't forgotten about our walk, my dear niece." — Of course you hadn't forgotten, nor did you need to answer, such a question, which was clearly intended to provoke you. — You admit, miserably, that you had been distracted, but you prefer to keep that information to yourself.

Perhaps, the little and so futile fools could be deceived by that naive and innocent walk among dragons. — It didn't seem that, that very morning, the king's youngest son had dared ask for the hand of his uncle's first daughter, the one who reveals countless conflicts and distrust.

But it was just a walk, right? — The souls who watched, even from so far away, wondered.

Not enduring that mediocre and abominable distance, you guided your dragon to change her position. — Soon, Tessarion obeys, once more, and beating her wings with speed and determination to stay beside the greenish dragon, and being aware of not having a dangerous contact between her wings and Vhagar's.

As you approached, Aemond had the privilege of admiring you. — His thirst, his complete desire, to finally have a chance to fly by his side was being quenched and he thanked the good gods for it. — Only the prince knows how many times he's watched the skies planning one day to fly with you.

There were days, which since your departure became vague and lifeless, that little Aemond would stand at the window of his chambers imagining you and him with your dragons. — He even remembers Aegon's countless and unbearable taunts when he caught him looking at the sky.

Aemond imagined how your blue dragon flew alongside Vhagar, and wondered who was faster. — And of course he claimed he was his Vhagar.

And today, he could withdraw that answer altogether.

"A bird stole your tongue, my uncle?" — A playful smile, like a child's, appeared on your lips as he directed your teasing towards the elder. — "Or was it a dragon?"

The one-eyed youth chose not to respond to your teasing, instead continuing to maintain his thin, satisfied smile as he admired you. — Without taking his one good eye off you, not even for a millisecond, Aemond withdrew his hands from the ropes of his dragon's saddle and opened his arms towards you; an action to get your attention, brag to you.

However, he kept one of his arms, specifying, one of his hands pointed at you. As if waiting for you to grab it, an invitation to dance. — If you had the opportunity, at that moment, you would hold your uncle's hand, with the pure leather and black glove, and never let go.

With a touch, you signaled Tessarion to fly again; the blue dragon once again roared through the clouds. — This time, his dragon had surpassed the old dragon, leading the way with agility and cunning. — Vhagar followed behind, and you had a chance to hear the greenish dragon roar for the first time on that pleasant and delightful morning.

The Targaryen, who was the oldest present there, did not know what, in fact, was on his niece's mind, but he did not dare not follow her and find out for himself what she was up to.

Turning your head in a quick moment, you watched the largest creature in that world behind you, trying to reach your dragon. — Unfortunately, you didn't get a chance to see Aemond's face, but, you could sense that the one-eyed man had a radical expression along with a thirst to fully reach you. — Returning to your previous posture, you didn't let that time distract you.

"Dracarys!" — The order to fire was given to Tessarion, who quickly carried it out.

The blue flames so beautiful and worthy of such beauty. — They looked so unreal, they were so enchanting that even the smallest mortals became prisoners of the beauty of the flames. — Tessarion's pure pride.

Whoever would be slain by Tessarion's flames would die at the expense of awe at the dragon's flaming fury. — That was what the countless vague whispers scattered across the seven realms said.

The dragon, that was part of the conquest, was not startled or taken as a step of intrigue, or even a quarrel; not even her rider understood in such a way. — In a certain and peculiar way, the one-eyed and his dragon recognized that flaming action as a simple and amusing joke.

After all, the Targaryens, recognized as dragons, loved to play with fire.

In the same direction of the great and so mesmerizing blue cloud of complete fire, Aemond, in no moment, thought of dodging or trying to stop Vhagar from getting so close to those flames. — But not even flames could kill a dragon, said the good gods. — Holding tight, being able to hear his gloves tightening the saddle along with the ropes, the prince enters the blue rage of Tessarion.

Closing the only good thing he had left, Aemond just trusted his dragon, letting her guide him to the end of the flames; and a roar, both ravenous and precise, was exclaimed in his ears. — Even so far away, you managed to hear.

With such a privileged view and opportunity, you couldn't help but laugh; an amused smile, showing your teeth, was formed on your lips, waiting for your uncle's presence — That, while searching for you with his only remaining eye, he finally found you and directed his dragon to follow you.

Tessarion goes back to heading in the same direction she was before meeting Vhagar, almost close to the sea but not so much. — This time, you could certainly see the people who were present around the main point to place the dragons watching, what could be called a show, two dragons flying together.

"Be careful of the fire, my niece." — Directing the huge and frightening dragon to follow you, Aemond shouts with an open smile and with an intention that not even you knew what it was. — "You never know what might happen if you decide to play with a dragon's flames."

Oh, you knew — You knew better than anyone what that little, so intense, flaming prank could become and you had decided that you were going to see it through to the end.

"Don't worry, my dear uncle." — You turned your head towards the elder; in the direction of that man who makes you shiver so much with just one look, the same man you loved and cried out for passion. — "Nyke gīmigon skoros, īsachtii, iksan gytäng nykēla ezīmagon." (I know what, exactly, i'm getting myself into.)

Among the looks that judged, admired and commented on such a walk among dragons between uncle and niece, was the bitter, thoughtful and disapproving look of the king's older brother — Daemon. — Little did you know, that your father had witnessed the flame and encounter show.

[fireandbloodsource]

DAENERYS APPRECIATION MONTH 2022 ↳ Day 1: Politics → Decisions and Actions

That morning she summoned her captains and commanders to the garden, rather than descending to the audience chamber. “Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

"Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

"What will you do then, khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

[cosmiccandyangel]

🌀🌟what are the zodiac signs tho?¿🌟🌀

back @ it again w another humorous, ~pOeTiC~ astrology post. apply it to ALL ur placements! enjoy :)

***do NOT plagiarize, the stars will smite ye

🌟🌟🌟

♈️aries- fireball babies, blazing speedsters, shy guys, victorious vixens, cherry pie-eatin contest cheaters(hehe I love u aries), trophy fiends, excitable sight seers

♉️taurus- homey homies, the teddy bears at fun fairs, domineering designers, tastiest pastries in the case, heartthrobs of the hearth, if sensuality were a scented candle

♊️gemini- geometric magicians, daredevil divas, rubix cube cuties, walking encyclopedias, bubble-breathing dragons, questionable questioners

♋️cancer- moon gems, blubbering belles, quirky cuddlebugs, bubble-blowing ship captains, cozy mama/papa bears, flower field friends, the freedom of sea foam

♌️leo- iridescent dolls, theatrical thots, third eye thespians, confetti clowns, bedazzled showstoppers, playtime pals, loyal loonies, if candle flames could dance to a beat

♍️virgo- nervous nurses, picnic basket pixies, master meal preppers, sluts for soaps, irresistible know-it-alls, tried and true teachers, selenite tower souls

♎️libra- divine debutantes, lucky charms, rose garden fairies, bejeweled bewitchers, smooth operators, flighty flirts, gems of justice, cheeky lil cherubs

♏️scorpio- fallen angel gone phoenix, succubus in satin, brooding brethren, deep space psychologists, introspective starseeds, magnetic mysteries, corn maze conquerors

♐️sagittarius- starchild gone wild, philosophical fools, traveling churches, sunkissed sinners, solitary earth-steppers, an on-the-go kinda ho, poppin’ party favors

♑️capricorn- cash money honeys, if ATMs were a striptease, housing market hustlers, crystalline queens, frugal fruit cups, salty saviors, corporate bear cubs(baby bears in suits, duh), big shots of the backyard barbecue

♒️aquarius- electric aliens, butterfly chasers, jaw-dropping dreamboats, the wind beneath your wings, wacky wackjobs, ‘treat yourself’ trendsetters, hypnotic hearts of gold

♓️pisces- rainbow riders, psychedelic silly nillies, moonbeam dreams, celestial sleepyheads, cosmic comedians, cloud mermaids, water-walking witches

[astranne]

Can I request max friendship with Xiao sagau?

MAX LEVEL FRIENDSHIP sagau!xiao

fandom genshin impact

series in which genshin characters reach level 10 in friendship and become self aware

word count 371

series masterlist // series masterlist liyue // navigation

notes // hello anon! of course you can, everything for our favourite adeptus xiao <3 i hope you like it, i wanted to make it fitting for xiao- so a bit of pain and angst, but also hope for the future ;)

warnings // bit angst, alatus getting mentioned alot, hints of god!reader

Xiao has known pain since the moment he had been born. Pain of torture, pain of dreams, pain of karma, pain of simply existing. Pain had molded him into the Yaksha he was today, the Demon Conqueror, Adeptus Xiao, trusted servant of Rex Lapis. Long he shed the skin of Alatus, a free and young Adeptus, naive and knowing nothing of the pain this world holds.

Never he shifts into his primary form, a majestic bird, bright with colors- something that was no longer him. So he buried Alatus deep in him, hiding behind the Karmatic Pains and the cold mask of Xiao.

Yet... yet when one day, his Karmatic Debt has been lifted of his weary soul, something fluttered in him, Alatus fluttered in him. Longing for freedom, to stretch his wings again and simply fly.

Xiao immediately buried the sudden urge to transform and continued his war path on demons and monsters alike. And still he could not shake his shock and unpleasant surprise of the emerging Alatus, all while his Karmic Debt simply vanished.

He is paranoid, waiting for something to happen, for Rex Lapis suddenly being alive again, for another god- just something.

But nothing happened.

Well, that was not entirely right, but the changes happened days and weeks after. His Primordial Jade-Winged Spear, gifted by his master, former master, pierced the flesh of monsters with more ease. His anemo abilities became stronger, much stronger. He himself too. His stamina increased, something that shouldn't even be possible- Xiao is and was always at his peak ability, body and vision alike.

⁘°•⁎⁘.

And then- the voice.

Soft and without any malice in his ear, praising and cheering on him, all while guiding him through the chaos of battle. Oh, how suspicious and on guard he had been in the beginning, fearing his life, his immortal life and waiting for another vicious master, shaping him into a weapon.

But the voice wasn't anything like that. No, the voice was protecting him, keeping him safe even though he didn't need it, healing him and always talking to him. The voice never heard him answering, so he did his best to follow the voice needs, to feel the fluttering wings of Alatus once again.

ASTRANNE 2022

[cerisetial]

a field of flowers for the vigilant yaksha ft. xiao x gn! reader (they/them pronouns used)

synopsis: after so much time spent pursuing his duties and responsibilities, even he needs his rest and a field of multicoloured beauties just so happens to be the perfect form of it

quick note — more of a xiao centered piece so it's hardly considered an x reader :) it's implied in the end however so i'll still tag it as such!

WARNINGS: includes spoilers for xiao's backstory, very minimal mentions of blood (?) i think this is all that needs to be tagged but feel free to mention if ever i missed anything :)

eons and eons of suffering there he stands, once so pure and so clean but now blood is smeared on his hands. foes lay on the ground no longer breathing and moving, for the wrath brought down by this yaksha, it's enough to have someone beg endlessly for mercy.

for hundreds of years he has roamed to take life and bring forth death, and for the remaining there he is guarding his beautiful land.

no rest for the wicked, for they should all suffer. those who committ grave sins must be left alone just to wallow and wither.

in his most vulnerable moments where he can't help but scream at the pain. in the moments where his karma slowly makes him break. his strong and lean body seemingly fragile, littered with scars and bloodied. at his state, could someone really see him as the conqueror of demons, or just a poor little soul wishing to dance with the stars and sing tunes to a land afar?

he was once a weak little thing, forced to do things against his will by evil doers who wished for nothing more than damnation and greed. rex lapis had saved him, and he had become free. indebted, a contract had been made. to defend the lands of liyue till his last breath, to slice through opposers with polearm in tow till the very moment he no longer can.

in the present, yakshas and adepti can now be spotted among the common folk. liyue has changed over the many, many years. it is also to note that adepti are no longer tied to have to defend those unlike them, in the new age where humans are able to rule with no lord.

so now here he is, in a glorious space full of colorful and vibrant flowers. by then, he had started to think back to when he had last taken a moment to just breathe. the geo crystalflies flap their wings and illuminate the slowly darkening sky, their beautiful golden glow shining and showing the gleam of his similar colored eyes.

in a field of flowers, the lone yaksha finds rest. well deserved for a warrior who had fought thousands of battles.

for years he was bound by contract and a feeling of obligation to repay his lord. he had served non-stop, fighting and destroying evil almost every minute and dispersing it the next. how could one not get tired of doing the same thing every single day?

in this field he is not alone, a loving companion sitting with him to keep him company. he gets up on his feet and so do they- the companion, slowly moving around together with the gentle glow of golden crystalflies lighting up the space where they move in sync.

the night sky hangs high, the stars glimmer and shine up above. hearing the songs of the wind, they dance together and sing. with every step the binds that have shackled his poor heart slowly melt away, leaving nothing but molten iron in their wake

xiao- once a weak little soul, longing for nothing but freedom from pain and a life of peace. this field of flowers made just for him and the dance given to him by the one who cares for him most provides a sense of internal comfort that he knows he can only dream.

star notes ☆ —;

omg first actual genshin writing after i've announced writing for it and it's not even a request i'm gonna cry i know it's not that much of a reader insert but i hope it's still satisfactory!! stay safe and healthy everyone :)!

— cerise

[auxlley]

Flower Beds - Xiao x Reader

Genre - Slow burn, flirting, potential romcom with some serious undertones. WIP.

You never planned to do much with your Vision, the power of Anemo was nice, you don't deny it, but you weren't the type to utilize it in your life. You didn't fight, you didn't even consider yourself a traditional traveler. You were just a foreigner.

Originally from Mondstadt as part of Ordo Favonius, you had packed up your belongings and set off to new sights for the sake of your mental and physical health. The air in Mond was crisp but it got so dusty with the abundance of winds and Anemo users, so you said fuck it and set off to wherever the roads took you. And to Liyue they took you. You had a farm in Liyue off to the outskirts, about a days walk to the Harbor. It was quaint, quiet, and perfect. And you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. You were just a regular citizen living in Teyvat these days who had no intentions of picking up a sword or bow again. The calluses on your hands had eased away, you no longer reached for your sword as an unknown sound filled the empty space, and more importantly, you no longer had to answer to an authority that didn't believe in the freedoms the nation of Mondstadt preached about. You were free.

It was easy to earn mora, to find a stable job and inherit an abandoned farm, luck was on your side. You grew Liyue specialities along with some Mond specialties that garnered you the most profit. In lay-mens terms, you were set and content with the farm life, you never had to worry about fighting, drama or having to patch yourself up from patrols and attacks. That is until one night you were met with a bloodied figure laid face-down in your Qingxin flowerbeds.

Instinct drove you to act quickly; rushing back inside the main house on the farm, you quickly snagged a Mondstadt-based first-aid kit from the kitchen cupboard and ran back outside to the individual who now owed you a good amount of mora considering he not only crushed four flowerbeds but got blood splattered across two more.

"I don't know if you're conscious but if you're alive please fucking breath." You muttered as you carefully turned the man around to lay on his back. He was covered in blood, but you couldn't find any open wounds or fractures to pinpoint where it came from. Scanning the man, you got to what should have been his face, but rather than typical skin and flesh was just a black Nuo mask that glowed a faint green. You reached a hand out to remove the mask but the moment your fingers grazed the mask, it shimmered out of existence revealing a face clean of blood save for the few dots and small splatters along his jaw.

You knew this face. Rather, you've heard of him. He went by several names, the most common among them was Xiao. Many recalled him by the title of Conqueror of Demons, others called him the Guardian Yaksha. You first heard of him by the name of Atalus, the Golden-Winged King.

Dark medium-length hair with teal undertones were dried with blood and clung to his face, his eyes closed as if he were fast asleep rather than hurt, and his lips were parted slightly. A fuckin' mouth-breather, you thought to yourself.

You sighed and decided the best thing to do was wake up the deity who decided to take a nap on your flowers. Once again reaching out to shake his shoulder, he suddenly groaned in what seemed like annoyance before turning on to his side to face away from you. "Do not bother me," he muttered between yawns.

Eyes wide and letting out a scoff, you pulled him back with a force once forgotten and felt the frown on your brows deepen. "You're in my damn flowers getting your blood everywhere! The least you could do is get up and sleep on the dirt path."

"It's not my blood." He muttered meekly.

"As if that makes it any better!"

Feline-like eyes that seemed to glow like gold looked directly at you, a stern frown present and sending a shiver down your spine. He sighed before sitting up, tilting his head several ways to stretch his shoulders. "You know who I am?" He asked as he rolled his shoulders, his gaze not returning to yours.

"I do." You responded as you began to close up the first-aid kit you apparently never needed.

"Then what are your wishes? Tell me now so I can leave."

"Huh? I don't have any wishes."

"I find that hard to believe. Every mortal has wishes. This is your chance to be selfish. What is it? Mora? A lover?" He began to observe his surroundings, taking in the farm before his eyes closed in on the now sullied flowerbeds, blinking as if the sight were commonplace. "Better crops, perhaps."

You sighed in annoyance as you snugged the first-aid kit under your arm, standing up to make your way back inside the main house. "The Conqueror of Demons doesn't grant wishes. Fix my flowers, that's several months profit you messed up."

Xiao watched you leave in what was probably a daze, hearing your response left him wide-eyed for a moment before he realized the mess he had gotten himself into.

"To think the day would come that I'd be reduced to a farmer's bidding. Ridiculous."

So I haven't written in a hot minute. The last fic I wrote was a spicy Scara fic that I uploaded on AO3 and since then my brain has flatlined on writing. But I wanna dabble on writing some soft stuff with my main, Xiao. Hope it pans out well.