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rufflesandbows · 2 years

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Made of Fire (Final)

Aemond x Reader (Rhaenyra's Daughter)

In spite of the fright given to you, you are not afraid now. The wedding is underway. This is more than childhood fancy. This is a duty to the Realm. You are given a gown, a feast, and a promise fulfilled. You are the blood of Old Valyria, fire made flesh, and you are not afraid.

Warnings: 18+, incest, intercourse (p in v), no protection, oral (f receiving), non-con bath washing? Semi-forced wedding Word Count: 4100 (Part 1)

You couldn’t stop thinking of that promise.

There had been a lot of talk at the time about marrying you to Aegon, something Aemond protested greatly to. It was him you studied with. It was him you sought to dance with. It was him who shared the pain of your denied birthright, the dragon egg that refused to hatch. It was you and him, the obvious match. He’d been the only one to think so.

You on the other hand couldn’t help but think it was too soon to talk of such things. You wanted to fly. To see the world. Imagined yourself putting on dragonscale armor and burning down enemies, Dark Sister in hand. But you did imagine Aemond would be by your side.

The kiss under the weirwood had been chaste. It didn’t need passion and fire because his words had been enough. This won’t be the last we see each other. I’ll come for you. I’ll find a dragon and I’ll take you away to be my bride. As our ancestors would have.

A flush of heat went through you, making your hands sweat every time you thought of those words. It had been said not out of lust or even love, but as a declaration of fate. You were meant to be. As the stars are meant to be in the sky, and the mountains on the sunlit horizon. The gods made fire, and they made you for him.

Milk of the poppy was still laced in your body. It made you heavy and your eyes burned in spite of the fright and your position. You worried that the interruption of your sleep would make the potion weaker. The nightmares were so awful. How your mind could conjure such horrors was beyond you.

So when the sound of the door unlocking came, the morning sun peeking through the curtains, you sat up, utterly defeated with drowsiness. Lord Larys peered in, smiling gently as he bowed. “Princess, I am sorry to wake you, but the festivities are nearly ready. It is time to start getting ready.”

A few maid servants came in, one of them holding a large gown overflowing in her arms. Surprisingly it wasn’t the teal blues of Velaryon, but the lush red of your mothers house, with glimpses of rare black lace. They waited for your cue, a small headache brewing from a fitful sleep. “I need a bath first. I still have the stench of dragon on me. It’s bled into the bedsheets.”

Larys didn’t hesitate or even seem surprised by your harshness, “Of course. I will have the servants ready you a bath right away-”

“I’m surprised you’ve cooperated with the prince so loyally.” He took back with confusion, the servants all glancing at him. “You know his kidnapping me is treason, don’t you?”

Larys gave a very quiet chuckle, shrugging, “I-I only wish to be a good servant to the crown. Which, of course, as you are heir to the throne, will be you one day. With the prince as your King Consort.”

“And, what? Are you hoping his favor will protect you from my ire?”

Respectfully, he lowered his gaze, pleading with you, “You misunderstand me. I was hoping, as you two get along so well, that you might see this as my helping you come together.” Larys gave a pitiful sigh, sympathetic to you. “It is such a shame your families would never allow your union, despite the clear chemistry between you.”

There was plenty more you could say, but the reminder of your families, how hateful they were to one another, and the constant nightmares of bloodshed; you simmered down. With a gesture, you allowed everyone to go about their business, leaning back into the pillows, half asleep as you watched them. They brought in thick pots of steaming water, and as they left, you called to them, “That is enough.”

The lead girl startled. “My lady, it is only a quarter full.”

“I will be quick.” They bowed to you, and you grumbled out of bed, grabbing a nearby stool and setting it into the tub. Unlacing the nightgown from your neck, you slipped out of it and sat down, using a pale rag to scrape down your skin that was sticky with dried sweat.

So focused on your task and so out of it, you didn’t hear the door slowly slip open. Nor the sound of footsteps drawing closer. You caught a shadow at the last moment, freezing as you glimpsed long silver hair.

Without uttering a word, Aemond moved around you, lowering himself behind and presenting his hand at your side. “Please, allow me to help you.”

He knew it was inappropriate. You weren’t children anymore. But no doubt he’d say he’s going to be your husband anyway. Gritting your teeth, you set the cloth in his awaiting hand. He reached down, wetting and wringing it out, before it gently drug down your shoulder, your back, the hot waters soothing. His steady and soft work nearly lulls you to sleep. To fight it, you spoke. Preferring to stroke the fires of your anger, and his. “Are you really sure about all this, Aemond? Have you truly forgiven me in a way you haven’t my brothers? There is still time to return me and walk away.”

He chuckled, “I made a promise, didn’t I?”

While one hand touched you with the cloth, you felt the other sneak its way on your hip. It caused a wild mix of agitation and thrill. You could feel the heat of him burn. The rough callouses of his training. How easily he could grip you.

Shoving down the heat rising low in your body, you admitted, “You know, I thought you hated me. Or worse, had forgotten about me.”

“No.” He hummed, leaning over the tub rim to hush behind your ear and send a light down your spine. “Not for a single moment.”

Subtly, you shook your head, a hint of bitterness of your tongue. “I had made my peace with that thought.” When you looked at him, you were met with Aemond’s shock. “When my mother started talking of betrothals, I never once brought you up. I thought if we approached you for marriage, you’d laugh in our faces, as surely your mother would. When you mocked my brothers at dinner, I had gone to bed knowing I was right.”

He had the decency to look shamed, but he gripped you tighter. “I made it clear none of it was meant for you-”

“The only thing you made clear to me was your indifference.” You certainly couldn’t say that of him now. He’d taken you across the land, was ready to wed you within the hour, snuck in here just to get a small taste before the ceremony. You just wanted him to feel a small fraction of your frustration all these years. Aemond submitted, going back to washing you down. Your back, your hips, your neck, drips of water crawling down your chest as if they were fingertips dragging down your body.

With fresh hot water in the cloth, he began to drag his hand down your thigh. As he moved forward, a touch of soft lips fell on your shoulder. You stilled, feeling him slowly pepper kisses along your back. You meant to say something, to stop him, but it stirred such desire in you. The rising beat of your heart teasing you to stay silent as his lips savored your skin, his hands mapping out the curves of your body. You tried to keep your breathing steady, tried not to move to accommodate the pressure building in your hips. To deny him just how much of an effect he was having on you. Yet his hand on your thigh began to move inward, back toward the needy hot center of your legs. You sucked in a sharp gasp and interrupted him, “Aemond-”

“Let me touch you.” He sighed hard, his breath ghosting down your spine and making you shudder again. His fingertips slipped from the cloth and touched your bare skin, moving ever inward. “Just for a moment. Please. I’ve saved myself for you all this time-”

“Till the ceremony.” You taunted, thighs trembling in spite of your rebellion. “That’s what you said. Or are you both a scoundrel and a liar?”

Aemond’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing, digging in as if he meant to claw you. With a huff he removed his hands completely, and you could see his tightly wound fist, knuckled white, trembling on the rim of the bathtub. He took you in the night, scared the living daylights out of you on top Vhagar, and has cornered you into marrying him. If it pained him to wait, then he would wait.

You could hear him huff with agitation, dropping the cloth in the waters as he rose to his feet. “Then I shall leave you to get ready. Everything will be waiting for you.”

Once the door was shut, you stared at it for a moment, felt all the heat taken with him. Even the waters lacked their steam. With a sigh, you made quick work, ignoring how sensitive your skin had become.

When done, with a robe you allowed the servant girls in to help you ready, all three of them coyly avoiding your gaze and stifling grins. The dress fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Where did he get ahold of your measurements? How long had he been planning this? As well they braided your hair, entwined with red ribbon, and pinned glittering rubies in a crown.

As the maids led you out, they didn’t take you to a grand hall, but outside the fort walls. Down to the lake's edge with its blood red forest far across the glittering waters. They decorated well for a small wedding, Aemond all in black and the Maestor standing under an crafted archway that was entwined with wildflowers. Multicolored petals sprinkled through the lush green grass. The waters glittering brightly on the golden sun. In the distance, surrounding the Godswood, there was still a light grey mist that made one think of ghosts looking back. There were guests on either side, not a one of them familiar but clearly excited to be apart of such a union between royalty.

You met Aemond, all his hottiness gone from him as he gripped your hands, his gaze having softened on your approach. Utmost sincerity as he spoke, “You look beautiful.” It managed to crack a small grin from you.

As the vows began, you glanced to the nameless crowd. You never doubted that your family wouldn’t be here, to celebrate your union, no matter how ill conceived. It would have been comforting to see them at your back. Your eyes scanned the skies, to find them clear of clouds, and dragons. Vhagar, the old bat, was fast asleep on a hill, uninterested in glaring you down this morning. No matter all your mixed feelings, surely this union would put an end to the succession ordeal. Surely it would dampen all the bad blood if only a little. If only enough. Hurting one would only serve to hurt their own.

Aemond’s hands gave yours a squeeze, bringing you back to the ground, urging you to say your part of the vows. You nodded and began repeating the words. The rest following suit with ease. More trained than with meaning. Once your end was done, you gripped Aemond a little tighter, the ceremony almost over, the fluttering of butterflies making you nauseous. You were barely present in your own mind when Aemond leaned forward and captured your lips with his. When you didn't back away, he flooded you with affection, cradling your neck in his hand, the other holding you tight to his chest. Warmth was all around you, the excited cheers in your ears as the gentle winds brushing your dress.

The feast was extravagant. The guests all enjoyed themselves as if it were more a holiday than a wedding. Some offered their congratulations but most were only servants, house staff and guards. They had no reason to steal attention and garner favor. They had no riches or promises to offer. They were happy just to be in your presence. There was a charm to it, lightening your mood as you watched them, thinking of joining them in conversation.

“We will have another.” Aemond spoke, placing his hand on yours, his thumb caressing you and the concern on him taking you by surprise. “When the arguments settle and everyone accepts our union, we will hold another celebration. One where our families are present.”

While that was the very thing you wanted, you laughed. “Oh, won’t that be eventful!”

“Is it a proper celebration without a fight breaking out?” He teased.

It amused you, “Suppose not.” Definitely not in your family.

The games and feast and revelry went on all day, each hour more drunk than the last. Until the sun began to set, and you had long forgotten to be on the look out for any great beasts of the sky.

You’d been giggling helplessly at a wild tale some of the maids were telling you, when Aemond took a stand and offered his hand to you. Dread smacked into you at first, but it fizzled just as quickly.

He’d grown so incredibly handsome, his intensity alluring and his presence dominating. It had been all you noticed on him the day of the dinner, wanting him to desperately notice you and remind you of that promise so long ago. With the drink heavy and the lights low, your blood was thick molten through your system.

You slipped your hand in his, allowing him to lead you away, the crowd giving one last hoorah for your departure. While you gave them a flattered smile, when your eyes fell on him you couldn’t break away. Aemond must have felt it for when you two rounded a corner, he grinned back at you, making you flush and shy away.

The room you ended up in was unfamiliar to the one you’d been locked inside. You recognized the riding gear hanging up against the wall, realizing it had been Aemond’s guest room. Twice as big and with a fireplace, and the bed big enough for four. Once the door was shut, he stepped up to a table and began to untie himself. You watched, taking in every step with wild interest.

The way he removed his jacket and his shirt was almost ceremonial. There was no rush, neatly folding and setting them on the table.

Your eyes drifted down his body. How well crafted he was. Toned, honed for combat as any great predator. You couldn't deny yourself any longer, the hunger you felt for him since you saw him in that training yard. You walked up and crashed into his back, wrapping your arms around his sides and your hands roaming his front. Savoring the expanse and the heat radiating off him and seeping in through your clothes, skin burning against your cheek.

You didn't know yourself to be so bold with another, but in the haze of thick wine through your blood, your hand drifted down his front, slipping with surprising ease into the rim of his breeches. You could feel Aemond intact a sharp breath, feel him flinch at the unexpected. One hand gripped his chest while the other explored beneath his waistline. You enjoyed what you found, feeling him harden against your palm quicker with every stroke. He drifted back into your embrace, his head lulling back and a deep rumble in his chest as he moaned.

His hand came up his chest, covering yours. Aemond chuckled, looked over his shoulder at you. "Turn around, and I'll help you out of that dress."

Biting your lip, reluctant to remove your hands from him, you nodded. You both turned, and your heart leapt when you felt him slip a hand on your hip and bring you back into his. The erection you stirred in him pressed up against your hind, taunting you with your own actions. With a kiss to your neck, his fingers quickly begin to undo the laces.

“I’ve waited for this day, for so long.” His fingers moved down lower and lower, until he could grab the ends and open them wide, running his hands down the thin shift underneath. It sent a thrill of anticipation. “So many times I thought to fly to Dragonstone and claim you. I was reminded every time of who and what lay in wait for me, of complications and keeping the peace.”

He took a deep steady breath in, letting it out through his lips. “Now, your mine.” Aemond directed you to face him as the gown dropped to the floor. He said again, a manic gleam in his eye, a deep rumble in his voice that you could feel shaking in your chest, “You’re all mine.”

He devoured you. Pressed you up against his body, caged you in his embrace as his kiss demanded more and more. When your hands touched him to stabilize yourself, you melted in his arms, moaning at the slip of his tongue along yours.

All thought had left you, your nails running across his back, painting thin pink lines. You heard the table and chairs give a clatter as he backed into them. Breaking you only for a beat, and he dropped low enough to wrap his arms around your waist. With a quick stride he picked you up just enough to drop you onto the mattress, quickly covering your body with his, your mouth with his. Not for a single breath did he care to stop.

Eagerly, you worked the shift up your body, the heat between you too much to bear with layers and the silk of his skin on yours was divine. It came off with ease, him nestled between your legs, your chest pressed to his, his peaked and hard length running along your core. Aemond ran his hands all over you, your sensitive skin aware of every little brush and grip, every roll of his hips between your thighs. You shared a sigh as he lowered himself enough to kiss the valley of your beasts.

Aemond reached down between you. He gave his trousers a tug until they came loose, but he only lowered himself further, kissing down each and every inch of your body. Each touch of his lips more damp and savoring than the last. Until you were squirming under him, his lips teasing the excitable area just under your waistline.

“You would not believe the things I have watched on the Street of Silk, that I’ve saved for you.” Aemond moved lower, an instinct to cover the area coming to you as your knees quivered in shock. You felt him nuzzle between your wet and open hem. A hot slick swipe made you jolt from the abrupt pleasure. “I wanted to be good for you. You’ll have to tell me how I do.”

Another lick came, making you flush as you realized what he was setting out to do. You gasped at the waves of delight that each stroke of his tongue sent through you. Sapping every breath, making you struggle just trying to stay still, your legs trembling as they came up to frame his head.

“Oh- Aemond-” Another sharp gasp overtook you, throwing your head back as he feverishly buried himself, working his tongue faster right at the very point of your high reaching ecstasy. The notion of keeping quiet was gone from you, cries slipping from your lips with ease. Your hands came down, one digging nails into your thigh, the other covering his hand. Lovingly, he moved his fingers to hold you back.

You glanced down, his expression pained as he ate you up. His trousers were down to his ankles as he stroked himself, his cock straining with arousal despite only having half his attention.

The sight set you up right at the very edge. Your eyes rolled back, body wound up, desperate to release. You couldn’t stop yourself from thrusting your hips on his tongue, Aemond letting you ride him until your cries became quick and fever pitch. He grabbed your hips with both hands, pinning you down as he sealed his lips and sucked hard. You could almost fight him off it was so much. Your heels digging into the mattress as you shook all over, your hands on his to hang on as your head lifted into the seven heavens.

So quickly it became too much, pleading for him to stop, your lips were tingling and too numb to speak clearly. “Wai- Aemond- is too much it-”

He let up with a moan. Your name slipped from his lips, slurred as if drunk though he hadn’t drank a drop at the feast. Aemond placed soaking wet kisses on your thigh, trembling as he lifted himself up to his knees, his hand still pawing at his cock.

His other came to your jaw, making you look at him. What he saw gave him great satisfaction, smiling wide at the blissed out expression you held, still struggling to catch your breath. “It was good then?”

You gave a feeble nod, eyes rolling back as your body was still high in ecstasy, “Yeah- yes, oh it was so good, Aemond.”

His pride turned apologetic, reaching down and opening up your puffed and awaiting lips. “I am already so close.” He bit his lip, toying along the seam with his fingertips. “If I am too quick, I will take you again in the morning. Until you tell me you are satisfied.”

Even if you were to fight him, there was no energy left in your muscles. As you felt his tip press, begin to stretch you out as it slipped in, the most you did was whimper and raise your hips, trying to alleviate the building pressure of his descent. Aemond would pull back when you squirmed too much, but only to push in further. His eye rolled to a close, his head lightly tipped back as his hips gently worked himself deeper and deeper. He was trembling with the restraint.

When his hips were close enough, buried deep enough, you were able to reach him. When you touched his hip, he fell forward. Silver hair framing your vision, his mouth and chin glistening with your liquor, his gaze completely glazed over. You thought to remove his eyepatch, it must have been so uncomfortable for him all this time. But if he hadn’t removed it himself, and you didn’t want to sour his spell by acting unprompted.

You two stared into one another as he gently moved, pressing his hips. You could feel every little bit of him, no relief from the thought this was it. This was the deed done and could not be undone. You were fully married now. Fully one. Whatever was to come, you’d have to face together.

You gripped onto Aemond as he brought himself closer to you. He kept his pace slow, letting you adjust while he peppered light kisses on your lips and cheek. Your hands roamed the expanse of his back and shoulders, feeling his strength as he restrained it. The movement of his thrusts began to bring more and more pleasure, hitting the very dam of your pleasure, bidding it to break and wash over you. You urged him, “Faster, Aemond. Give me more- it feels so good.”

You felt only the briefest moment of relax, a sigh of relief before he smacked his hips into you. Jolting you, a sharp cry caught in your throat before he did it again, picking up speed, bucking hard enough the curtains of the canopy bed began to shudder and wave. Aemond sat up, placing a hand on your chest, close to your neck, making you stay right there, in his grasp, in his sight.

Cries and whimpers filled the room, all emanating from you as he mercilessly claimed you. He was so beautiful. Mounting you, all that power in that warrior’s body of his shuddering through you. The utter concentrated focus and pleasure on his blushing face. He gripped your thighs to his sides, lifting you onto his lap just to get closer, as if being buried to the hilt wasn’t enough. Thrusting as deeply as he possibly could, making your back arch off the bed as your body glowed with the hot waves of pleasure.

All you could do was hang onto him, ride it out as he rode you to his very limit. You could see Aemond trying to hold himself back, trying to edge himself to the very brink, for you. You reached out, running your hand down his glistening chest, “Aemond, give it to me. I want you, I want all of you!” You sighed as a thrill shuddered through him, looking at you as if pleading for you to stop talking. “Please, please I want it, I want you to fill me. Make me your wife. Like you promised.”

He’d been fairly quiet, more concentrate on his work, but at your plea a list of open mouthed cries spilled from him, gripping you tight as he bucked and quivered, warmth flooding you.

Gently, Aemond lowered himself on top of you, sighing with relief as his arms came up to your sides, holding you, kissing your shoulder while he caught his breath.

You two stayed there a moment, letting the ecstasy linger and warm your bodies. Aemond pulled back enough to look into your face, giving you one last long damp kiss before rolling off you, a hand still on your stomach, lightly brushing the soft skin. Moving lower, kneading above your mound. “I hope my seed takes tonight. No one will deny our union when they see how you’ve taken me.”

You chuckled, the sound lightly crackling, sleep finally and quickly taking you. “My family is going to murder you.”

The bed gave a shift around, and a caressing touch fell on your cheek, one you keened into. “They can try. But you’re mine. There isn’t anything they can do to change that now.”

You only gave a hum, rolling over to face him and feeling your mind leave you as he pulled the blankets up. Aemond moved closer to you, resting his arm on your waist. Watching over you as you slept.

____

I hope you enjoyed the read!

Taglist: @marvelita85 @merovingianprincess @yourmoony @aemondswifeisme @dawnrichardson @lolitaisreal @iiamthehybrid @snh96 @nina2697 @1950schick @carryonmywaywardho @raven1234321 @bellaisasleep @hopelessdisasterr @jennifer0305 @smartiepants217

#hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #Aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #my writing #“Fine. Then I will sit over here consumed with lust for the evening.”

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cregan-starks · 2 years

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Flames of Deceit teaser

Summary: Aemond and Visenya reunite amidst the Dance of the Dragons.

Words: 1,005

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC, Cregan Stark x OC

Warnings: canon typical incest (Aemond and Visenya are cousins, as well as uncle and niece), book and show spoilers, mentions of death, physical violence, vague descriptions of injuries, blood, Westerosi geopolitics, angst, trauma, mourning, hurt & comfort, sexism, slut-shaming, sexual tension, make out session, consensual biting, mutual pining, alcohol, cussing. The warnings apply to the entire one-shot. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: Visenya is Jacaerys’ older twin and Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s daughter. Superfecundation, baby. Reblogs and comments are encouraged and immensely appreciated. If you wish to be tagged in the final version, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes 💛 Gif by @useraelin (x)

Masterlist

EARLY 130 AC

CASTAMERE, WESTERLANDS

[...]

With their commander captured, the rest of her men had had no choice but to throw down their weapons and yield. Visenya had been delivered to Ser Criston Cole – now Hand of the Pretender – on her knees, disarmed and in chains, her black dragonscale armor soaked, her braids disheveled, and her left arm in severe pain. The foul stench and smoke had been unbearable, twisting her stomach. Yet Visenya would not flinch. She would not give these traitors any satisfaction. Ser Crispin had referred to her as a dog in dragon’s clothing. In return, Visenya had called him a sheep in sheep’s clothing. The remark had earned her a strike across the face from his heavy gauntlet. Her cheek had stung sharply and blood had flooded her mouth. Ser Crispin had also commented that her men had been quite loyal to her, insinuating that she had fucked all of them in order to gain their favor.

‘I admit that it is not as high of an honor as warming the Dowager Queen’s bed,’ Visenya had retorted, slyly, then had spat at his feet.

Ser Crispin would have hit her again, had the Prince Regent not intervened.

‘Enough, Cole,’ Aemond had interrupted, solemnly, drawing everyone’s attention to where he stood, imposing, clad in battle armor, his hands clasped behind his back, his face covered in ash and smoke, ‘She may be our prisoner, but she is still a Princess, and shall be treated as befits her station.’

Visenya had grinned, baring her bloody teeth at Ser Crispin, as two guards had hoisted her up to her feet and led her away.

She had hoped that Blackwing had flown away and never returned… but her dragon was loyal to a fault. Blackwing had landed in the Greens’ camp, searching for her, and had roared ferociously, wild and stubborn like her rider. Half a dozen men had met their demise when they had attempted to approach the dragon and shackle her. Thus, Aemond had permitted Visenya to comfort Blackwing. The dragon had nuzzled its snout against her face and coiled its tail protectively around her, purring while Visenya had caressed its scales and murmured “lykiri,” repeatedly. Her chest had constricted agonizingly when she had parted with her companion, who had shrieked in distress.

Aemond had ordered his servants to run a hot bath for Visenya, find her dry clothes, and prepare her a warm meal. Then, he had had her brought into his tent, and had summoned the maesters to tend to her wounds. Despite the pain that she had endured, Visenya had not shown any signs of weakness or discomfort. She and Aemond had not spoken a single word. Visenya had busied herself with studying the tent. It was rather modest for the Prince Regent, consisting of a firepit, a war table made of oak – that had undoubtedly been stripped of its strategic plans, maps, scrolls, wax, ink, and more – several chairs and rugs, and a bed with a pile of books near it. Aemond had always been fond of books. Yet for someone who claimed to be a Green and who carried the golden banner of the Pretender, the colors red and black dominated the tent. Whether intentional, Visenya did not know. Aemond could not deny his Targaryen heritage. Had Otto Hightower dyed his hair silver-white and possessed a dragon, he could have sat his ass on the Iron Throne and ruled in his own name.

Once the maesters had finished, Aemond had dismissed them. Finally, she had the opportunity to study him. He hadn’t changed much since she had last seen him, almost a year ago. In the fire’s light, Aemond was a sight to behold. Perhaps the Greens should have crowned him King… though that would have further complicated matters between the two of them. He had cleaned himself up, shedding his armor and weapons – now resting on a chair – in favor of his usual black leather tunic, secured with a belt that had his dagger attached to it, and a long coat sewn with fur around the neck. His distinctive, handsome features were illuminated by the fire, his straight, lengthy hair cascading down his back, his mouth – a mouth that Visenya had kissed many times – seemingly stuck in a permanent smirk. His eyepatch hid his missing left eye, but his remaining one stared intensely into the flame. His figure cast a tall shadow in the tent, his posture impeccable. Half dragon, half feline.

‘There is a lack of dresses,’ informs a calm Aemond, addressing Visenya, retrieving a flagon of wine and two cups from the servant waiting at the tent’s entrance, ‘And we had to find clothes that would fit you.’

‘I gather that there is some poor stable boy currently running around naked,’ quips Visenya, wrapping the wolf furs around herself more tightly.

Aemond chuckles softly at her remark and sets one of the cups on the table, in front of her, proceeding to fill it with Arbor Red.

‘Do not fret,’ he assures upon noticing Visenya’s skeptical arched eyebrow, ‘It is not poisoned.’

‘Surely you must have spat in it,’ she speculates, convivial, swirling the liquid in her cup.

Aemond smiles and drinks his wine. Visenya reluctantly brings her cup to her lips, doing the same. She measures her next words… half carefully.

‘I expected you and Ser Crispin to share a tent,’ admits Visenya, lewdly, ‘Though your pride would not fit together.’

Aemond’s mouth subtly presses into a thin line.

‘You could lose your tongue for that indiscretion,’ he warns, humorlessly.

‘Nothing new,’ dismisses Visenya, bored, ‘I can write this down as well.’ She ignores Aemond’s reaction, drinking more, the flavor gracing her taste buds. She pauses, savoring it, contemplative, before she posits, bluntly, ‘You believe that getting me drunk will provide you with the answers that you seek?’

Aemond’s silence is an answer by itself. Visenya decides to drop the matter. Getting drunk would not be the worst occurrence. Years of practice would prevent her from saying anything valuable.

[...]

TAGLIST: @aaleksmorozova @aereth @ewoods115 @fultimefangirl @lugiastark @maharani-radha @poohkie90 @qoedameron @queenofthefaceless @revolution-starter @riselike-a-phoenix @sullho

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krownest · 4 months

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2024 June list of projects that i want to do:

(just keeping a record of it for myself but if anyone has advice on specific things or in general please please feel free to share!!!)

art stuff:

paint more watercolour art/use my portable watercolour palette more - probably quick ghibli/background/lighting/plein air studies

fill up my sketchbook!!!!

do more figure drawing both online and in-person in my city

learn how to crochet: specifically these dragonscale fingerless gloves (free pattern) and this foldable tangerine market bag (11 CAD)

textile stuff: (new to me!!)

fix my sewing machine (something wrong w the cam follower, i'm 50% sure i can fix it myself...but servicing is 120 CAD which is. a lot but doable...) - entails fixing cam follower issue but also just giving the machine a good cleaning

learn how to sew: specifically making this sewing machine dust cover (ambitious...free but i need to transcribe instructions) and the fremantle pants (21 CAD) and the readytosew pleat pants (14 CAD) and also try to clone one of my sleeping tops

finish my san from princess mononoke cosplay: still need to finish knife, dress, boots, earrings, necklace (esp the teeth..have to do polymer clay for that), fur cloak, wig etc

#krow.projects #2024

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ronaestrider · 6 months

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Reflections

Ruthar returned to the Farstrider Retreat with Farstrider Kelnim, a promising ranger that has been working in Ruthar’s encampment outside of Valdrakken. The Ranger Captain racks his bow and removes his armour, stretching his fingers after removing his gauntlets as his thoughts swirl around his head.

“That Tannis boy really is something else,” Kelnim offers. “The Stafrosts seem like a great family, Ranger Captain.”

Ruthar smiles at that, his mind returning to his time with Syrielle and Gattius. “It was quite nice to catch up with them both. I appreciate your willingness to show the boy around while we spoke.”

Kelnim nodded. “Anytime, Ranger Captain. He reminds me of myself at his age.”

Ruthar chuckled. “Likewise. It really does warm the spirit knowing that such young minds are still ready and interested in the Farstrider ways. I would think the allure of magic and power would be able to capture most these days.”

Kelnim scoffed playfully at that. “Not for us, not for them. We will hardly be the last of us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ruthar offered softly. “If and when the young Tannis does continue his studies, I’ll be sure to make sure he continues with yourself, at least at first. You seem to have a way with the young recruits.”

Kelnim smiled at that and bowed his head. “I would appreciate that, sir.”

Ruthar nodded, planting a hand on Kelnim’s shoulder. “We’ve all got our place in all of this. Perhaps recruitment and trainee assessment are your next steps. In any case, that will be all this evening, Kelnim. Thank you for your assistance with Tannis and with the potential intruder. Get some rest.”

Kelnim snapped a salute that Ruthar returned, watching the younger Farstrider depart. Ruthar walked outside near the fire where he conversed with Syrielle and Gattius not a few hours earlier. It had been an unexpectedly eventful day catching up with the Starfrosts and then coming upon Raynell A’laria in the woods beyond the Retreat. While it was great to see his comrades once again after so long, Ruthar felt the guilt set in once more as he thought more about them and their struggles. He leaned upon a post next to the fire, looking out into the twilight-touched Eversong as his mind wandered.

Raynell had been a part of the Dragonscale Expedition, a unit that he himself had worked for. Should he not have widened his eyes and fostered a relationship there? She mentioned difficulties in the Fourth War and even hinted at work beyond the veil. Could he have been present to assist with whatever difficulties she may have faced? And then there were the Starfrosts, Syrielle working her way into the upper reaches of the Magistry while Gattius had started a clinic of his own. As owners of a beautiful manor and parents of a fine and promising young boy, Ruthar couldn’t help but think of how he could have helped. Perhaps they didn’t need anything, truly, but who doesn’t need a friend every once in a while. These were more than just his comrades in the Phoenix Guard - these were his friends, the closest people he really had outside of his fellow soldiers. Certainly they deserved more from him than the nothingness he provided over the past six or seven years.

As Ruthar looks into the darkening woods, his vision is replaced with a memory. Gentle winds toss his silver-white hair as the golds and yellows of Quel’Danas radiate all around him as he stands before his comrades of the Phoenix Guard.

Ruthar smiles, tapping a small pouch upon his hip. "Quel'Thalas is proud, indeed. We all are - Commander Dawnblade, myself, Captain and Lieutenant Starfrost. Your extensive work has paved the way for a brighter tomorrow." He waves a hand around and looks to the warm foliage surrounding the spire. "Just as this Isle before us, Azeroth is once again defended at the hands of you all."

Syrielle reaches over to take Gattius' hand, smiling happily at everyone present. Ruthar looks to Aquilon "Will" Blackmarrow, one of the Phoenix Guard’s reservists. "Doctor," he says firmly. "Front and center, if you will."

Blackmarrow moves in front of Ruthar and snaps to attention. Ruthar looks the Death Knight up and down. "The kingdom of Quel'Thalas recognizes your service, Doctor," Ruthar begins, his felfire eyes dancing in the sunlight. "As a Reservist of the Phoenix Guard and a key component to our continued victories both home and abroad, I present you with this."

Ruthar reaches into the pouch at his side to produce a glinting golden piece affixed to a dazzling red and gold ribbon. "The Commendation of Quel'Thalas is not an adornment to be taken lightly. Wear it well, Doctor." He offers the commendation in both hands. The members of the Guard present cheer and celebrate the Doctor’s accolade as Blackmarrow quietly accepts the award, staring at it with an inscrutable look in his eyes. "Thank you, sir."

Ruthar places his hand upon his chest to bow a soft salute. "Congratulations, Reservist. You do us all proud." He turns to Syrielle. "Lieutenant," he says softly, gesturing before him. "If you will."

Gattius speaks lowly. "--Ooooh... you're in trooooouble!" Syrielle elbows Gattius in the side, mumbling the word 'Dork' under her breath before making her way to stand in front of Ruthar.

Ruthar looks proudly upon Syrielle. "Lieutenant Starfrost," he begins. "To say that your life has been eventful is a particularly striking understatement. From your promotion into Phoenix Guard's leadership all the way to the birth of your young one, you have taken every task and challenge thrown your way and met them with relentless vigor. For this marked perseverance, it is my honour to present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."

The Guard once again roars in celebration as the very winds of Quel’Danas seem to reply in kind. Syrielle smiles at Ruthar's words, nodding her head as she accepts the medal. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."

Ruthar bows his head respectfully. "Wear it well, Lieutenant." He glances around. "Doctor Sunfall, please." Kalithos Sunfall shifts forward. “Yes, sir?”

Ruthar smiles. "The task of healing this unit is a task I will never, ever envy. It is the work of sin'dorei such as yourself that ensures that there will be a tomorrow for so many." Ruthar looks around. "There is not a person in this room that has left the battlefield unscathed, and we all owe you a great debt. For that, Shield Sunfall, I present your Commendation."

Kalithos blushes and offers his thanks as his comrades of the Guard celebrate his achievement. “Thank you,sir!” Ruthar shakes his head. "Thank -you-, Sunfall. Wear it well." He smiles. "And speaking of Sunfall..." Ruthar gestures to Kalithos’s husband, Rethandral, and speads when he steps forward. "To say that things have been difficult for you recently would be, dare I say, an underestimation. But you owned up to your mistakes and made a concerted effort to move forward, learning from your experiences and crafting a new path forward." Ruthar smiles warmly as he looks upon Rethandral. "It is this quality of perseverance of personal growth that I truly admire, along with your tried and true abilities at the front lines of every engagement. Rethandral Sunfall, I am proud to offer you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."

Ruthar salutes Rethandral as the Guard applauds once more. "Wear it well, Sunfall." He looks along the line again. "Doctor Dawncaster, please." Voka Dawncaster tries to walk as tall as he can, but he's strained, and it shows. He still hasn't fully acclimated to his robot leg. Ruthar looks at Voka for a long moment. "It lifts my spirit to see you standing before us, Spellweaver. You have given so much to your kingdom, to us all, and no amount of metallic adornment can truly repay you."

Voka rests his weight on the cane again, trying to be as respectful as he could manage. No standing at attention for this boy. "I would gladly give it again for our people."

Ruthar looks at Voka with pride. "In the coming weeks, I want you to work with the very best resources available to us on the Isle. I will make whatever arrangements that are necessary, but we will do everything we can to ensure your return to your former self." Ruthar stands straighter. "Spellweaver Dawncaster, for your amazing service to Quel'Thalas and a very promising future with the Phoenix Guard, I proudly present your Commendation." He offers the medal with both hands.

Voka accepts the commendation with one hand as the unit celebrates the achievement. "I shall strive to continue keeping everyone together."

Ruthar nods as Voka returns to the others. He searches the line for a familiar face, one who he served with for an extended period. "Ah, yes. Li-Mei, please step forward." Rositsa blinked but slowly stepped forward before halting in front of Ruthar.

Ruthar clears his throat, looking intently upon Rositsa. "One thousand, six hundred and seventy days." Ruthar counts upon his fingers as he speaks. "Four years, six months, and 27 days, if you include today as well." Ruthar looks around. "That, my friends, is how long Rositsa Li-Mei has been in service with the Phoenix Guard. Four and a half years is a true feat, Li-Mei, and it's truly hard to believe that it has been that long. You have truly become an integral part of this establishment and have learned so much from when we first met."

Rositsa flicked one ear forward and the other back, silently trying and failing to calucate Ruthar's math before offering a happy smile to Ina'thia, "I'm honored to serve under under all of you."

Ruthar clears his throat. "The pleasure is assuredly ours. For your outstanding service to both the Phoenix Guard and Azeroth herself, I present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas." He offers the medal once more.

Rositsa gingerly took the medal before taking a small step back and dipping into a gracious bow, "Thank you, sir, I'm honored. I will do my best to make the Phoenix Guard and Quel'thalas proud."

Ruthar salutes Rosi proudly as the applause thunders once again. "You have already done that and more, Li-Mei. Wear it proudly." Rositsa smiled happily and quietly stepped back in line before pinning the medal to her tabard.

Ruthar taps the bag at his hip. "Not to worry - only a few more!" He looks to his left. "Captain, if you will.” Gattius falls in, front and center while Ruthar looks upon him. "The mantle of leadership is not one I ever truly wanted in my youth, to be quite honest. It takes a level head, firm ideals, and true selflessness, not to mention the tactical necessities." Ruthar clears his throat. "However, I am very, very glad to say that Captain Starfrost is all of those things and more. He has led our own to the gates of hell and back, time and time again, with poise and clarity every step of the way." Ruthar smiles. "For your continued efforts as an effective leader, an expert Blood Knight, and a master of fatherhood, I present you the Commendation of Quel'Thalas."

Gattius grins. "Well, I had a pair of excellent mentors... thank you, Lieutenant-Commander. Commander." He nods to them both as he accepts the Commendation.

Ruthar returns the salute fully. "Wear it well, Starfrost. You do us all proud." He glances to his right. "That only leaves one more," he says with a smile. "Commander Dawnblade, if you would please step forth." Ina’thia raises a brow at Ruthar, and steps around in front of him.

Ruthar looks proudly upon Ina'thia, felfire eyes aglow. "Commander Dawnblade. From the wilds of Pandaria, to the timeless shores of Draenor. Through the depths of the churning Maelstrom into the seat of the Legion itself. We have all gloriously followed in your very footsteps to every corner of our world and others, all in the name of Quel'Thalas. It is due to your expert guidance and keen leadership that the Phoenix Guard finds itself at the hands of victory."

Ruthar smiles. "Time and time again, we fight down terrors that rain upon our shores and beyond, defend all that we hold dear each and every day of our lives." His voice raises with pride and Ruthar stands tall. "Your years of service and dedication go far beyond that which can be said by the gift of this medal, and we are all humbly grateful for what you have done and accomplished. It is with the greatest amount of pride that I can muster that I present to you, Commander Dawnblade, the Commendation of Quel'Thalas." He holds the medal in two hands, offering it to Ina'thia.

The Phoenix Guard erupts in applause as the every-stalwart Ina’thia is pushed to the precipice of emotion. She fights back tears with her legendary resolve. She accepts the medal, pins it to her tabard, and offers Ruthar a crisp salute.

Ruthar bows fully, the soft glint of prideful tears in his eyes. He returns her salute proudly and takes a step back to gift Ina'thia the floor.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. It is an honor to serve Quel'Thalas with its finest soldiers. Blood Knights, Farstriders, Magisters, Medics... Phoenix Guard's greatness is not by my design, and I don't deserve all of the credit. We all deserve the credit. We give all that we can give; regularly putting ourselves in harm's way, for the good and the glory of our people. Thank you, everyone, for all that you have done and continue to do for the Phoenix Guard. For Quel'Thalas!” Inathia stands at attention and salutes.

Ruthar hoists a proud fist into the air. "For Quel'Thalas!" The salute is echoed by the present members at the ceremony, the sunlight of Quel’Danas fading, replaced by the current twilight in the Eversong Woods.

Ruthar finds his fist closed as he looks down to the fire, the memory feeling so very real as it came over him once more. The pride he felt in that moment on Quel’Danas was one of the highlights of his career. These were not just the best soldiers in Quel’Thalas - these were his best and closest friends, his family. He had the privilege to lead them, to walk with them in defense of all they held dear, to celebrate and mourn with them, to lift everyone up and celebrate them. When he was ripped through the Dark Portal to Draenor and left to die, it was the Phoenix Guard that rescued him. They risked everything for him time and time again, and how did he repay them for the last six years?

“I failed them.”

The reality of his failure had not felt as real as it did this evening. Ina’thia, his Commander, his closest confidant, had departed with no word. Relationships with Gattius and Bey’ron caused a great rift between his former Commander and his former Captain, instances that he knew nothing about. Would that rift have happened if he gave them the attention they deserved? Could he have helped to assuage the bitterness?

Then there was Rositsa Li-Mei. Ruthar sighed as he looked into the fire, thinking hard about the Farstrider. She had so dutifully served the Phoenix Guard for an extended period. Ruthar himself had offered her training and promoted her within the Farstriders for her excellent marksmanship and tracking abilities. Defected. That’s the word that continued to haunt him deeply, the word Magister Everblaze had used. He still couldn’t truly believe it, but then she confirmed it herself when Bey’ron brought Rositsa to the Starfrost manor. Would her fall from grace have taken place if Ruthar would have extended his hand? If he were the leader she needed, perhaps she would have never found herself needing to escape, needing to toss off the mantle of responsibility that Ruthar himself had blanketed her with.

He reached into a pouch at his waist to produce a glowing red gem, the arcane communicator that the Phoenix Guard used to use. He let it sit there in his palm, the firelight dancing upon the inactive deep red stone as his mind could still hear the voices that would come through it. He closed his palm around the stone, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

“You have a chance to make things right,” he said to himself. He slipped the stone back into his pouch before heading into the Retreat to put his recognizable Farstrider armour back on. He shifted outside where his white hawkstrider Arturian awaited, urging the beast toward the pavilion that the Phoenix Guard once used as its headquarters.

“Time to be the leader that you should have always been.”

@inathia @syrielle @gattius-starfrost @raynellalaria @arosesrambles

#ooc #ruthar #phoenix guard #roleplay #ronaestrider #wow #ina'thia #rositsa #world of warcraft #syrielle #gattius #starfrost #raynell #a'laria

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terast · 1 year

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i think the average conception of human paladins in wow is short-sighted, uninteresting, and overdone. crusaders aren't an interesting archetype, imo. theologians, teachers, scholars, and mentors are.

the purpose for which paladins were created had been completed a while ago; the growing unity of the alliance races means paladins as a means of defending the people from orcish hordes or scourge legions are simply obsolete. i see a lot of paladin roleplayers hang onto that notion, though.

i couldn't make randyll former, my oldest active oc, interesting based on those ideals. he didn't need to be the sort of guy the alliance or church feels the need to send away to fight in miscellaneous wars because his zealotry made him a danger to his own people (the true nature of crusader-types). but he could be a mentor, a scholar, a theologian, and father figure.

randyll has two master's degrees from the university of ironforge (go rams!) in law and religious studies. he was a lawyer for a few years before ever becoming a soldier and eventually a paladin. when injuries sustained in his late 30's forced him away from theaters of war, he turned to teaching and mentoring to serve in another way.

randyll married his partner vetharion featherblade five years ago. now, randyll featherblade-former is 43 years old with two children. he mentors young paladins, teaches a few different classes at a stormwind university, and does cultural and linguistic research for the dragonscale expedition.

art by @Arcane_Souls on twitter

#world of warcraft #roleplay #paladin #stormwind #blizzard entertainment #fantasy

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witchycatwife · 11 months

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Lens-gonne design

All lensgonnes are based on the principle of producing a sudden, bright flash which then powers a transient-type magical sigil to create the desired effect, usually destructive.

The two most common types of weaponised sigil are a concussive explosion, and a piercing hole-puncher.

The explosive sigil produces a strong, localised force repelling all matter from the plane of the sigil as it is formed on a surface. This can cause blunt trauma, knock things over, shatter brittle materials, and knock up dust and mud. Its wider area of effect makes it suitable for indirect fire in warfare, e.g. aiming at the feet of soldiers to hinder their movement, disrupt their formations, and cover magic-resistant brightplate in dirt to make the troops more vulnerable to direct fire.

(Recently, naturalists studying culverin shrimp have found that they have evolved a very similar pattern in their bodies, powered by the fastest bioluminescence observed in any known animal, to produce a concussive blast for hunting and defence. The efficiency of the blast vastly exceeds that of comparable manmade optics due to the shrimp's shell having similar fine detail to dragonscales, but at around 1/2" diameter the lenses harvested from culverin shrimp are just too small to be of practical use.)

The hole-puncher is a bit less well understood, but its basic mechanism is that it creates a force repelling matter away from the axis of the sigil. This rips cruel holes in tissue, and can even crack softer rocks with relative ease. However, the localised effect makes it less useful in warfare, so it is used more commonly by civilians for hunting, mining, and self-defense.

Other, less common sigils start fires, confound minds, dazzle and blind eyes, and more.

As for the flash, the oldest method developed from sorcerous pyrotechnics in the form of the blow-lock which features a continuously lit match or other fire source behind a shadow barrier, with the hollow quill of a bird positioned towards the flame. The quill is partially filled with lycopodium powder, and the user blows into it very sharply and vigorously to create a small dust explosion. The uncontained flame produces a decent flash, but its sharpness leaves a lot to be desired, both spatially and temporally. As a result, blowlocks are short-ranged and not very efficient, consuming great amounts of powder for relatively weak effects. Regardless, an effective deployment of heavy cataphracts with mounted artillery to disrupt blackplate pike formations gave the Eighth Prophet's armies a significant advantage in the wars of enlightenment until the sigils were reverse-engineered and magic-resistant armour became widespread.

The addition of saltpeter and various adjuvants to lycopodium produces white powder which is capable of burning in an enclosed space without an air source. More recently, black powder (replacing lycopodium with charcoal as the main fuel and modifying the adjuvant composition) has also seen some adoption. Self-oxidising gunpowders can produce more concentrated light which increases the potency of the sigil and is easier to rectify giving a longer effective range.

The gunpowder in a mostly enclosed combustion chamber can be ignited with a variety of familiar mechanisms, from matchlocks, wheellocks and snaplocks to the recently introduced flintlocks. Depending on the powder composition, some level of plugging is required to elevate chamber pressure and speed up the reaction. Sometimes thick glass is used between the chamber and the optics to allow the plugging to be discarded in a different direction. Self-contained cartridges can perform the job of plugging on their own; replaceable flash bulbs of thick glass protect optics from combustion products but must be manufactured with great care to not shatter in use. Some advanced mechanisms have experimented with sprung shutters and vents to provide consistent, safe levels of chamber pressure. Cartridges and flash bulbs enable the use of deep parabolic reflectors, greatly increasing the efficiency of the gonne.

(Some have attempted to weaponise the unwanted side effect of pressure by plugging the chamber with a stone or leaden ball, to let it fly towards the enemy at a great velocity. This is generally regarded as an ineffective idea as a ball-gonne has short range and limited accuracy (compared to a properly made lens-gonne which will hit exactly what it is aimed at, to a distance limited only by the quality and size of its optics), can be defeated even by sufficiently thick blackplate, requires a heavy barrel to contain its pressure (instead of the vented, lightweight framework of most lensgonnes), and still comes terribly close to blowing itself apart like a bomb. The best thing you can say about them is that you can club someone over the head with the gonne without breaking it, if you can even lift the damn thing that is. As a result, ballgonnes are mainly useful as an alternative to crossbows and arbalests when shooting injurious silver projectiles at certain magical beasts.)

The basic design of a handheld lens-gonne consists of a combustion chamber and firing mechanism at the back, and a framework holding the optics at the front. The frame is vented to let combustion products escape without fouling the optics too much, and is typically as lightweight as possible while retaining the necessary rigidity for accuracy.

In all but the cheapest and most primitive lensgonnes, the flash from the combustion chamber is rectified, turning it from a theoretical point source into rays as close to parallel as possible. The methods vary from parabolic reflectors to single lenses to honeycomb filters to various hybrid approaches. Afterwards, the rectified light is processed through whatever prisms, lenses and mirrors are necessary to produce the desired sigil at the target position. Some gonnes have sophisticated, interchangeable apparatuses to enable multiple different types of fire, while others use a simple engraved lens after a basic rectifier to enable inexpensive mass-production of short-range munitions-grade gonnes for the common infantry.

While the typical lensgonne gathers a beam of rectified light at a given diameter, and then produces a sigil with an apparatus of the same diameter, some designs use an additional set of lenses to reduce the nominal sigil diameter (the practical diameter on the target surface may vary depending on the optical characteristics of the device).

A large sigil is able to harvest mana from a large area to produce its effect, and it is easier to produce fine detail on a larger apparatus. The cost and weight of a concentrating system is also avoided.

On the flipside, a smaller sigil is able to be cast more accurately on smaller targets, and is less easily disrupted by unfavourable surface characteristics. If the total amount of light used on the sigil is roughly the same, a small sigil can extract more of the available mana on its target which approximately compensates for its smaller size.

However, usually the most important benefit of a concentrated sigil is its size itself. A smaller apparatus weighs less and consumes less raw materials; this is particularly significant if exotic jewel optics are utilised, as many gemstones are simply not availabe at the sizes required for large devices, or are prohibitively expensive. The reduced weight of a scaled-down complex apparatus also often compensates for the weight of the concentrator, and the concentrator has a shorter lever arm from the user, making the gonne more practical.

As a result, the concentrator design is utilised in many of the most sophisticated and expensive lensgonnes.

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balladetto · 11 months

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there's something sweet about bonding with toothless because if he loves you, then you know you are Very Special. he's a dragon who has an extremely respectable amount of self-worth and self-love ( partially fuelled by his love for Half Of Him, who is so wonderfully amazing that toothless, in turn, must be wonderfully amazing to be any level of deserving of Him -> which means Half Of Him must be seriously, wonderfully amazing -> the cycle goes on ), so those standards he's holding you to are very high! if you've managed to meet them, you're one-of-a-kind as far as he's concerned

#* dragonscale / study.#* intermission / ooc.#literally he'd be the greatest confidence booster by proxy of holding himself so highly sdfldkflk #like OF COURSE YOU ARE AMAZING. i believe in and like and willingly associate with you.#('high standards' could range from anything between 'feeds him well' to 'saved his life'. if he likes you. he likes you lfksdjfl)

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luminashdawnwing · 2 years

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DWC Feb 2023 - Day 2 - Opportunity / Eternity

Luminash watched, head canted, as the grains of sand drifted down from his cupped palm, caught in the breeze, whipped away on its whorls back to the dunes stretching out in the distance. Even here, with the great brazen hourglass of the Temporal Conflux nearly lost in the haze of of windblow sand, the magister’s feet crunched on otherwise smooth stone. How appropriate, he mused, that the sands of time were both everywhen and everywhere.

Behind him, sheltered from Thaldraszus’ mountain winds within an open tower, a hallmark of the dragon’s architicture on the Isles, thrummed a recently reactivated waygate. The Titan network spanning the ancient home of the dragons, he had to admit, was impressive. Scarcely had he heard of so many in one place, though it was scarcely surprising, given how heavily the hand of Order lay upon this land - and their creations.

The magister shook his head, though. Those musings would need to wait for the task at hand to be completed. Below the balcony on which he stood was a place lost in time. Any who entered - including a handful of brave, or perhaps foolish, Dragonscale researchers - were not heard from again.

The Timewalkers were occupied with keeping the Primalist threat in an alternate future - or a future to come, more pessimistically - from spilling out into the “true” timeline, so dragging his foolhardly colleagues from their prison fell to one of the Expedition’s resident chronomancers, and one who had studied the mechanisms of Elisande’s magic extensively after the fall of the Nighthold almost a decade ago.

Luminash had observed enough from this distance, felt the knots in space and time, probed for weaknesses he could exploit. Nothing so difficult to unravel as back in Suramar, for certain. He pulled his notebook from his satchel and, with enchanted pen, jotted down his thoughts for the Expedition’s records:

Location: Thaldraszus, the Dragon Isles, west of the Temporal Conflux. Time already stretches thin. Rifts to other times and places common. Contained by Timewalkers. Eon’s Fringe a no-travel zone to locals. Multiple dragonkin sighted in stasis within. Two Expedition members activated waygate, apparently lost in time lock. Origin of phenomenon as of yet unknown.

He clapped shut the notebook and set it conspicuously on the ground at his feet, easily seen from the waygate. A precaution, should he himself become trapped below with the others.

* * * * * * * *

As the magister entered the time lock field, he noted the feel of the passage of time. It was as if what normally was a stream, constant and lively, had become instead a stagnant pond, moved only by what trickles of water flowed into it. With curled fingers plucking at the threads of time, gently coaxing the current to flow once more, allowing him to move unimpeded.

The dragonkin, researchers by their scholarly looks and the abundance of books, notes, and other such materials scattered about, were not so fortunate. The threads of time, left to lie still in this pool, as it were, had become tangled and knotted, binding them where they stood whenever this phenomenon had begun.

Approaching another tower, a twin to the one above that housed the waygate, Luminash saw the shapes within of a looming Zandalari and beside him, a stocky dwarven figure. Out of the corner of his eyes, though, he saw something else, images of pale bronze, swirling sands about them.

The dwarf dashed forward, though her movement was arrested by some unseen pull. Nevertheless, she waved enthusiastically, shouting for her companion to join her. She’d seen something interesting in the tower ahead!

Her Zandalari companion trudged on after the dwarf, his feet dragging across the stone pavement as if weighed by an anchor. He shook his head, motioning back to the waygate tower. They shouldn’t be here, it was courting disaster. Something was very, very wrong.

Oh, she knew! But if they could find the source, she explained, a look of pure excitement spreading across her face even as she entered the tower, her steps scarcely taking her a foot.

The magister rubbed at his eyes, the afterimages of the explorers still flickering in and out of sight. There were others, too, from the dragonkin. Their lives, their everyday lives at this research post, cut abruptly short as their time ran out. But he saw those lives. In fact, some seemed to...

How long do you think we were stuck like that, one of the dragonkin asked a towering drakonid, motioning vaguely behind her. In the past, she meant.

The other shook his massive head with a shrug, hefting a hammer in his hand and steadying something on a surface. We - they - are at a forge, Luminash realized. He could feel the heat on his face. What does it matter? We can resume our work now, and it’s never been more important.

Now that they’ve returned, you mean?

Now that they’ve returned. They need us, you’ll see. And if they decide they don’t anymore...

Don’t say such things, the dragonkin exclaimed. You haven’t heard what happened to Eranog, the garrison commander. He thought he could overthrow them, and he’s not around to tell the tale anymore...

Luminash drifted back out of the latest vision - hallucination? he could not be sure - with his hands on the pavement. The current might have seemed slow on the surface, but it hid something below, an undertow to catch the unprepared. He hauled himself to his feet, futilely attempting to push those glimpses from his mind.

Even as he ascended to the waygate, to safety, knowing the Expedition would have to wait until he was better prepared, he could see flashes of the past, of the future, of this place. And he could see himself, here and elsewhere, unmoored and adrift in eternity.

@daily-writing-challenge

#februarydwc2023 #februaryday22023 #luminashdawnwing

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covenunited · 2 years

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Notes on Cyrus’s Royal!verse

He’s from a nation that isn’t ruled by a king or emperor or any other sort of central monarch. There are a selection of Lords who form the main federal government, each from a prestigious and ancient family, and each being in charge of a specific branch or, in modern terms, department. Cyrus is the Lord of the Forge, meaning that he oversees what goes on in the country’s massive, volcano-fueled forges, as well as overseeing the smithies and armories, making sure safety precautions and procedures are followed to the letter, and keeping track of everything that gets made and where it goes. He delegates when applicable, of course, but takes his duties seriously. In addition to him, there is a Lord of the Dragons, Lord of the Fields, Lord of the Mines, Lord of the Treasury, Lord of the Mills, Lord of the Scholars, and Lord of the Hunt. They all work together to try and keep the peace throughout their lands, and do what they can to help their people survive without depleting their resources.

Being landlocked with no free access to other nations ports has made that very difficult. Their economy relies mainly on forestry, agriculture, and metalwork. That being said, they try to do such things as responsibly as possible, and have policies in place to make sure they give back to the earth as much as they take.

Dragons are also a huge part of this! Flight as a mode of transportation is highly efficient, which is part of what led to the practice of dragon taming, training, and breeding becoming protected by law over a thousand years ago. Dragons are allowed to thrive wherever they may, though there are many who have since been born in captivity and are used for transport, scouting, and occasionally (regrettably) for war. Flying dragons outside of national borders, however, is highly dangerous, as most others see dragons as monsters rather than friends. The scales they shed (and they shed a lot! Kinda like snakes, but not all in one skin) get made into armor, jewelry, and tools, and can protect against fire, ice, lightning, or acid, depending on what sort of dragon they come from. Dragonscale leather armor is extremely durable while still being lightweight.

Witchcraft, particularly elemental magic, is fairly common here, with pyromancers being the most prevalent. It’s mostly been embraced out of sheer convenience, but it is regulated. Those who are born with magic or wish to learn it are required to go to Arcane Universities, which are fully funded by the Lords. Why are they fully funded? Because it’s in the Lords’ best interest to educate people instead of writing them off. Non-Arcane Universities are fewer in number, but also fully funded for the same reason. These are mainly trade schools, though there is a lot of focus on reading, writing, and arithmetic, and history is available for those who wish to study it in depth. Science is fairly new, and very chaotic, and mainly focused around engineering at the moment.

The Lords themselves are pretty chaotic. It takes hours, sometimes days or weeks for all of them to agree on new policies, especially where local governments and politics are concerned. Cyrus isn’t exactly the most diplomatic out of all of them, but he makes an effort.

#🎃mask of the coven leader✨ ooc talk #🎃dragon✨ c; cyrus #🎃foreign lord of fire✨ v; royal #🎃notes for the grimoire✨ lore

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bezzuba · 6 years

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hey stingray.. u should.. talk about.. ur opinions about how hiccup and toothless grow together as a pair over the course of the movies... and also perhaps ur thoughts (again) about how the third movie agrees with or conflicts against ur views on their friendship and their development..

the httyd films do a wonderful job when it comes to showing how hiccup has grown over the course of his friendship with toothless, and it is very heartwarming to see. toothless’ growth, however, isn’t as explicitly displayed and it is easy for many to mistake what is arguably character development / progression for character degradation / deadlock. in this essay, i aim to rectify that by pointing out a few of the many things toothless has learnt and become for the better through his friendship with hiccup.

flskdjf no but for real thank you for sending this in julie! i feel like…a lot of people equate toothless’ ‘softening’ over the years he spends in berk to Domestication™ ( he’s tamed / trained / made accustomed to humans / literally any other related word that is not ‘domesticated’, lads…i’m no expert and maybe it’s just a case of semantics but domestication is an inborn rather than acquired trait that appears over the course of many generations, lads… ) and like. it makes sense! toothless isn’t a human so him acclimatising to living with them sure would count as Domestication™ but. consider this…dragons aren’t humans…but they’re sentient…self-aware…not as much as humans maybe but they’re clearly on a similar level. that softening? to me, it’s not ‘taming’ so much as it is toothless learning that trust and empathy are just as powerful + effective as domination and apathy.

i’m not saying that toothless isn’t not, to some degree and by human definition, tamed. living in a dragon-receptive, enriching environment like berk has absolutely had some effect on things like hunting style, reactions to threats, and cognitive processes in general; the shift in focus from surviving each day to actually doing more than just surviving + the fact that environmental enrichment has been proven to promote brain activity through increased synaptogenesis means toothless literally cannot think like a typical non-berkian dragon. i just. strongly dislike how people think of toothless more as an animal than someone who is simply non-human. the distinction is hard to explain but like. from what i’ve seen, for them, emotional and cognitive growth is Bad. toothless can’t not be the wary, mysterious dragon we see in the first film. he can’t be ‘downgraded’ into a playful nerd who doesn’t immediately harm every human that approaches him.

it. says A Lot about their Edge ( “a character opening up to literally anyone? unacceptable!” ) + their understanding of interesting and realistic characters. like? opposing qualities in a character aren’t? mutually exclusive?? a toothless who is an adorable fucking dweeb and a toothless who is majestic and takes no shit from anyone aren’t! mutually exclusive! they can be! the same toothless! a character! can have more than one (1) facet! god just. this notion that toothless trusting hiccup + berk’s humans enough to be vulnerable around them is somehow inferior to toothless Being Wild And Alone Forever is so! overrated! let jaded characters learn how to be soft and trusting you cowards! let characters who have been lonely for their entire life learn what and how it is to be connected you cowards!

maybe i’m looking too deeply into toothless. maybe it’s because i write him and toothless ( as anyone with self-awareness would ) sees himself as a person, not as an animal distinctly separate from a human. i don’t fucking know but i don’t appreciate it when people narrow toothless, a lovely character with an identity outside of ‘dragon who was befriended by a human’, down to literally just that.

flkdsjg okay enough complaining…more expanding on + gushing about how Best Tier this interspecies friendship is. i’ll try to leave my headcanons out of this but if i happen to not succeed in doing that you can’t blame me for doing what canon was too afraid to do ( which is explain things and make sense )

so first off! can i just talk about how important hiccup and toothless’ bond is, not just to people like me who would fucking kill for more media content with a strong emphasis on platonic soulmates, but also to the characters themselves? i have seen a lot of people make very logical, very probable inferences about toothless being hiccup’s first actual friend but please also consider the idea that hiccup might be toothless’ first actual friend, too!

we don’t know a lot about toothless’ past in canon but there are some things that can be confirmed for sure / with 99% surety:

he was separated from fellow night furies at a young age.

i say this with 100% certainty lmao there is no other way to explain his estrangement with his ‘night fury side’, which in httyd3 is depicted as his keen unfamiliarity with his species’ mating dance.

not the best depiction but i’ll give dreamw.orks a reluctant pass for that because although courtship rituals are genetically hardwired ( i.e. toothless inherently knows what ‘steps’ to take and what to do ), if he hasn’t ever seen one initiated before he probably would not know what to do when one is initiated to him ( i.e. he has no context for these ‘steps’; he doesn’t actually know that they’re a part of a courtship ritual ).

ig there’s also that thing about him not knowing he can harness lightning or whatever, but the fact that the first thing that popped into my head was that mating dance scene when i thought about how httyd3 depicted toothless’ disconnect with his ‘night fury side’ probably speaks something of how much they handwaved away any explanation for that phenomenon + consequently lowered the mnemonic impact of it

he was as much of an outcast in the red death’s nest as hiccup was in berk.

this is said with less certainty than the assumption above it but like. in the first film, hiccup says toothless “never steals food, never shows [himself], and…never misses” and we see toothless destroying human weapons / constructions. it all sets toothless up to be this Ultimate dragon to humans but can you imagine what that looks and sounds like to a dragon who is part of the red death’s flock?

“never stealing food?? what the fuck, courts danger?? do you want to die??? the queen’s gonna eat you what the fuck!”

i hc that she doesn’t eat toothless because she associates his presence in raids with more dragons coming back ( as she should because destroying human contraptions that trap / kill dragons makes it harder for them to. y’know. trap / kill dragons ), which equates to more food being brought back

so she makes one (1) exception for this quietly defiant but very amusing flock-subject

and everyone’s probably aware of that but they’re also like WHAT IF THIS IS THE DAY SHE CHANGES HER MIND BRING SOME FOOD BACK I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANOTHER EATEN!!

“what! are! you! shooting! at! it’s just weird dead-bark and metal! and that’s dead-bark and still-fire, what the fuck at least shoot at human dens if you’re gonna shoot at dead-bark!”

it’s very obvious to us humans what most of the contraptions we see in berk are used for but to dragons? dragons who don’t have the same cognitive processing and are probably too busy trying to gtfo with some food to figure out what this weird human shit does?

listen. we see toothless disarming humans. the dragons see toothless doing something they don’t understand for reasons they don’t understand.

HM DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR

okay he probably wasn’t an outcast per se but he was. definitely avoided.

basically, toothless was alone just like hiccup was!

so yeah. they changed the world with their friendship but their friendship absolutely changed their worlds first. that fact alone is delicious enough but then you look at what their relationship is actually like and god! finally_some_good_fucking_food.jpeg

i love! the comfort! the faith! the trust! the ease in which they touch and calm and talk to and fly with and sleep on and just…be with each other. we don’t see it much in httyd because duh, prologue but. there’s this sense of…complete and utter security in their bond by the time httyd2 comes around. they know each other so well. they love each other so much.

hiccup, completely unafraid of the plasma blasts detonating dangerously close to his fairly immobile, very vulnerable form. hiccup, trusting in toothless’ faith in him as he splays a simple hand out to stop him. hiccup, “TOOTHLESS!” / “HEY! you left my dragon back there! he can’t fly on his own! he’ll drown!” / “we have to head back for my dragon!”

toothless, willing to support hiccup’s decisions even if they are stupid af. toothless, trusting in hiccup’s judgement and ability to defuse situations where he would have exacerbated them. toothless, so ready to shield hiccup from harm from anything or anyone.

hiccup, terrified for toothless even as he grieves for his father. hiccup, ignoring drago, ignoring the bewilderbeast, pleading one more time for toothless. hiccup, willing to die reaching if only to have toothless reach back. hiccup, “please. you are my best friend, bud.” / “my best friend.”

toothless, sensitive to hiccup’s upset and wanting so badly to make it go away. toothless, waiting as the haziness becomes clearer, waiting for the touch, the face, the voice. toothless, willing to fight “the strength of will over others” to reach back. toothless, “he’s challenging the alpha!” / “to protect you!”

god there’s so much more but if i listed every single detail about their friendship as observed in httyd2 this answer wouldn’t be ready for posting for like. at least a week

and even before they reach that stage, those decisions in httyd that go from hesitant to confident…

hiccup, tentatively trusting this dragon to eat the fish and not his fingers. hiccup, sticking around because he’s got no better place to be in and no better company to be with. hiccup, reaching and reaching and reaching.

toothless, wary and mistrustful but willing to give this human a chance. toothless, mimicking hiccup rather than completely disregarding him or chasing him off. toothless, slowly…cautiously…hopefully…reaching back.

hiccup, throwing his cheat sheet to the wind and relying on instinct and trust alone. hiccup, standing tall under astrid’s doubt and saying with full conviction: yes. hiccup, casting his helmet and viking status aside because he can’t not see a bit of toothless in every dragon now. hiccup, jumping onto a burning ship with no goddamn fucking hesitation to free a trapped toothless. hiccup, falling into the fire of his own creation, into the end of a centuries old war.

toothless, putting his faith in this human who has never once flown in his entire life and then putting even more faith in this human who quite literally throws caution to the wind. toothless, climbing out of the cove not for himself but for hiccup. toothless, going against instinct and swallowing his fire because hiccup screamed “NO!”. toothless, terrified for his hecking life but willing to “stay with me, buddy, we’re good, just a little bit longer” and “hold, toothless…NOW!”. toothless, falling into the fire with hiccup, determined to make this the end of one thing only.

PLUS SO MUCH MORE. these are only from the first two films alone; gotnf gives us even more Good Content and i’m just! fuck! i love two dweebs! i love hiccup and toothless so much!

and now for specific character growth / developments that i will never get over…i won’t talk about hiccup because i am nearing 2000 words BUT TOOTHLESS…LISTEN. toothless never used to drink “have mercy on others” juice. he never used to drink “don’t shoot or maim or otherwise injure when provoked” juice. he never used to drink “give others a chance because everyone deserves a chance” and “not everyone is out to kill you or hurt you or take everything you love and cherish away from you” juice. but after bonding with hiccup? he’s hooked! he’s so hooked! he is more willing to lean into faith rather than doubt! he is more willing to believe in an after rather than a never! he is more willing to compromise rather than overlook! he is more willing! to empathise!! i’m so emo!

i already talked a bit about how he comes to trust enough to be vulnerable ( i.e. not constantly guarded / cautious ) around berkians and like…can you imagine how big of an achievement that is for someone like him? for someone who has been alone for so much of his life? for someone who knows what it’s like to be forced to be vulnerable for someone they don’t trust at all? I’M SO! EMO!

HICCUP FINDING STRENGTH IN TOOTHLESS? TOOTHLESS FINDING STRENGTH IN HICCUP?? MmMmMm that’s some good shit ( Good Shit ) right there!!

i have…a lot more screaming about their friendship + love for each other to do but i’m tired and you can tell so i’ll wrap this up with some more opinions on httyd3′s Bad Tier handling of toothless’ character and the consequent portrayal of his bond with hiccup! i know you’ve already read it julie but if anyone who’s read to this far hasn’t already seen it…maybe take a peek at my first essay™ here…

i haven’t seen the final movie in a while so my memory of it might be a little shit but i’m glad that they at least maintained some element of that gentle ease / security / comfort we see in httyd2. definitely not as much as i’d hoped, but i would’ve been able to deal with that — maybe even justify it — if they hadn’t also insulted hict.ooth’s friendship for the sake of a ‘love at first sight!’ romance i can’t get behind multiple, multiple, MULTIPLE times.

i failed to address this in my first httyd3 critical post BUT LIKE. the way EVERYONE acts like and states that toothless ignoring / dismissing hiccup was a very natural, logical consequence of him being interested in the light fury ( which he. defs would stop being after she nearly killed what is literally half of him oh my goOoOod ) was so! fucking! insulting! to not only hiccup + toothless’ bond, but also to almost everything this franchise stands for and the characters themselves!

after six years of seeing hiccup and toothless interact with + love each other, do you really think HICCUP’S FRIENDS would say “well, what did you expect?” to toothless leaving?? do you really think that they would imply that toothless only stayed with hiccup because he didn’t have a choice? ‘maybe they don’t understand the weight of their bond, stingray’ AFTER SIX GODDAMN YEARS OF SEEING IT DEVELOP AND DEEPEN??? and maybe they don’t but surely they understand how important toothless is to hiccup and wouldn’t make a callous comment like that RIGHT?? god i’m so ready to throw hands at dreamw.orks for having astrid say “he didn’t have any reason to” to hiccup’s “he didn’t leave before” i am sO r e A d Y

also just the fact that IT’S IMPLIED THAT TOOTHLESS ONLY STAYED WITH HICCUP BECAUSE HE DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE / ANY REASON NOT TO?? it’s so gross what the heck dreamw.orks why bring gotnf up if you’re just going to retcon it i don’t understand!

httyd3 is a good movie in that it is very evocative, has an insanely lovely colour palette + insanely amazing soundtrack, and tries its best to give a satisfying ending to “the friendship of a lifetime”. i love it and will absolutely be rewatching it so many times when it’s released on blu-ray, but it’s not perfect and i could go on and on and ON about the tragedy that is toothless’ characterisation.

flskdjg okay i’ve run out of steam now so tl;dr:

thank you so much for asking for my opinion so respectfully julie this was a delight to see in my inbox + a delight to answer

i love toothless and hiccup

I LOVE TOOTHLESS AND HICCUP

I LOVE! TOOTHLESS! AND HICCUP!

i am never getting over my love-hate for httyd3

#stucanje #* dragonscale / study.#* humanspeak / ooc.#wrow this is.#2.6k words long i'm #you can see my articulation and thought process just slowly deteriorate over the course of this post flskdfj #but i will stand by everything said here...#the beginning and ending is a bit. salty #but i don't. think it's too much salt!#* humanspeak / answer.#long post #httyd3 spoilers #this deserves to be in my hict/ooth tag so in it goes!#* alone: we are good / together: we are BEST.

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