#Eulogy of an insect

[eulogyofaninsect]

Reggie is a Loyalist- artificial beings made of straw and sinew, created to serve and fulfill the whims of the mysterious Imperatrix. Reggie's gone rogue however, and he now runs the largest pirate TV station in the world, straight from The Hive! He desires nothing more than to entertain and delight audiences... even through unsavory means.

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[losulci]

@eulogyofaninsect

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Imagine being Helaena Targaryen (show version)

You are raised mostly by governesses and maids and sometimes your mother comes spent time with you and sits by your side. You don't get her, she stresses you and her presence makes you feel uncomfortable. It's not her fault that you feel like that, but she always has that energy around her that makes you feel on edge. So you back away when she tries to touch you, afraid she may pass that energy on to you.

You like bugs and insects, your mother says it's not proper so she forces you to leave them behind and focus on prayer and sewing. You hate it.

You have three brothers, but you aren't particularly close to them. Your older brother is bad, he too makes you uncomfortable, but he doesn't like you either so you stay away from each other. Your younger brother is obsessed with dragons, so much so that he tries to bond with your own dragon and take her from you. You know his obsession will only bring bad things. Your youngest brother is away, he has been away forever, by now you only know his name. You have an elder sister, she is the heir, you are happy for her, but you never talk her. The one time you tried your mother yelled at you, it hurt your ears, your head. So you don't try anymore, but sometimes she smiles at you.

You have two nephews, Rhaenyra's sons, they are just a little bit younger than you and they are kind. Your older brother often plays with them and uses them as weapons against your younger brother. It won't end well, Aemond is not the forgiving type nor the reflective type.

Your mother is mean, she is in pain so she wants everyone to be in pain too, it makes you sad. Your sister leaves the Red Keep and it somehow becomes a colder place.

Your aunt dies away in Essos so you and your family go to Driftmark for the funeral. The uncle you don't remember laughs at the eulogy for his wife. It wasn't really for his wife, it was for your nephews and your sister. You know high valyrian, you learned some from the maesters and most from your father. Your brothers aren't very good at it so they don't catch it.

When night falls everything changes. As you predicted, the obsession your brother had with dragons leads to nowhere good. He went to claim the dragon of your dead aunt without permission, he got into a fight with your nephews and cousins, his eye is gone.

He called your nephews bastards and even without an eye he laughs at the memory. You know that the word is bad and that your mother keeps saying it over and over again. You don't understand, Ser Laenor says they are his sons, so why does she insist they aren't? It's stupid and you want to say how stupid it is, but you won't because your mother will yell at you of slap you as she does Aegon. Your older brother says everyone can see it, but it's not true because you can't. It stresses you.

Your mother grabbs a dagger and charges to kill your nephew, everyone screams and you cover your ears. It feels as if they are bleeding. Rhaenyra stops your mother and ultimately nothing happens.

Your grandfather is Hand again. It's bad, you can tell by Lord Beesbury's face. And you know is bad, because he wants you to marry Aegon. Your father falls ill, he barely moves from the bed. There are whispers that say your uncle may kill your grandfather if he returns to the Keep. You pray for him to do so, but he doesn't.

Rhaenyra marries your uncle far away in Dragonstone and you are happy for them, you want to write to them and congratulate them. Your mother yells at you when she sees your letter and burns it. You want to scratch her eyes, but you don't because she will yell and hit you.

When you first bleed your mother marries you to your older brother. You are thirteen and in that same year you fall pregnant with twins. You want to write to Rhaenyra and ask her what to do. You ask your mother and she only says things about duty and sacrifice. You think you are dutiful enough and that you have sacrificed enough. Your mother doesn't, your grandfather doesn't.

You have two children and you love them, but you can handle them. They are too loud, so loud. But you love them, or so you think. Because if you don't you should throw yourself out off the window. Why don't you?

Your sister returns to the Keep with her children and husband. Your mother yells, she hates them. She yells so much you are surprised you can still hear anything. It doesn't hurt any less than it did before. Your uncle kills a man in the throne room, you cover your ears because the noise is unbearable. But it's not worse than anything else you have gone through.

There is a last dinner, your father is coherent and your mother makes an odd toast. Aemond mades a stupid one and it ends up in a fight that ruins the good day. The night ends like that, but at least you danced with someone kind. You wish you would be married to him instead.

In the following days your father dies, your mother commits treason and you do nothing. You think about going to Rhaenyra, to tell her, but it feels useless and your mother never allows you to go anywhere alone, it's been ages since you last visited Dreamfyre. There is a dragon in front of you, but it doesn't burn you, any of you. Disappointing.

Is there any reason you still live?

[coffeewritesfiction]

A prayer for spring [by Coffee/Vincent Lore]

May the air be cool and the wind have teeth May the rain fall gentle and dance on fresh leaves May the colors run wild as children  Rainbows of flowers between soft fluffy grass That's tickling bare feet May insects thrive, even the dreadful and dreaded  May the birds sing their love songs May the animals feast  May nature awake slow  In lazy comfort  Drifting in and out of chilly dreams  Before stretching her roots and her branches and vines  Towards the warming sun  May the days not blister with heat  May the earth have time to breathe  And may I  For many years Be blessed to speak spring’s praises Instead of her eulogy

[specksizedgoddess]

Ah, a little thing that calls itself a "bug". Let us show you what a real bug looks like. Gaze up at our divine form, immense compared to you. We could dispose of you in so many ways...

Perhaps impaling you on a claw, or suffocating you beneath our soft underside, or catching you in silk and letting you starve while we eat in front of you.

Or we could pick you up in our maxillae and carefully chew you with our mandibles, cutting rather than crushing so you stay alive and conscious for longer as you're torn to pieces~

AHDHDHSFHHDHDWH OH MY GOD ATGDWHWHHW PLEASE PPLEASE PLEASE <33333

Little thing scampering back at the sight of your divine body... her eyes ablaze with a mix of awe and adoration~ little skirt tented as she stares up at you...

It would be so, so pitifully easy to dispose of this "bug". The little thing wants it, after all- in her eyes, to die in the hand... well, rather, claw of divinity is the highest honor imaginable~

A single poke from your claw is more then enough to spill her blood- you can feel my soft struggles and grinding motions against your underbelly, completely pinned, gasping for air... what little air I have left spent on moaning out thanks... so, so easily trapped in silk and web, struggling to gain purchase and failing~ hopelessly entangled and starving away...

Mandibles that slice and chop away at a tiny body, easily ripping the screaming slut to pieces~ the last eulogy she gets is a moan of recognition and a small smear of blood... fitting~

It really is funny how quickly these things crumble under a divine insect <3

[aaronburrdaily]

August 29, 1809

I did go to bed at 10, promising myself a rich sleep. Lay two hours vigil¹; that cursed one single dish of tea! Note: My bed had undergone a thorough ablution and there were no bugs or insects. Got up and attempted to light candle, but in vain; had flint and matches but only some shreds of punk which would not catch. Recollected a gun which I had had on my late journey; filled the pan with powder and was just going to flash it when it occurred that though I had not loaded it someone else might; tried and found in it a very heavy charge! What a fine alarm it would have made if I had fired! Then poured out some powder on a piece of paper, put the shreds of punk with it and after fifty essays succeeded in firing the powder; but it being dark, had put more powder than intended; my shirt caught fire, the papers on my table caught fire, burnt my fingers to a blister (the left hand, fortunately); it seemed like a general conflagration. Succeeded, however, in lighting my candle and passed the night till 5 this morning in smoking, reading, and writing this. "Essai sur le Caractere, les Moeurs et l'esprit des Femmes".² Par M. Thomas; second edition, Paris: 1772; small octavo, 215 pages. Well written; much historical information; many books, of which I had not heard, are quoted. He meant to be liberal and [a] friend to the sex, but like all I have read, has set out wrong; has not seen the source of the evil, though the evils are acknowledged, and of course has not found the remedy; this will remain for Gamp. "Tableau Litteraire de la France pendant le 18me. siecle." Sujet propose en 1806 par la Classe de la langue et de la litterature.³ Paris: 1807. Octavo; 91 pages; close printed; anon. This I presume to be a sort of prize piece. It is well written; his distinctions are pretty good but his eulogies extravagant. "Le Voyageur Fataliste"; comedie en trois actes en vers⁴; par Armand Charlemagne; Paris: 1806. I had foresworn French comedies and hate comedy in verse; this, though long, was not found tiresome. "Rapprochement des Arbres".⁵ Duodecimo, about 150 pages. Paris: 1807; par ———. Where have I laid that book? Will find it to-morrow and give you the author's name. It is a new discovery by which you give to any tree the sap and nourishment of another or of some branch of another, and by this means you may change and improve the colour, size, and flavour of any fruit. The results are curious and useful; pray try it. You see, Madame, I have not been idle; now allow me to attempt sleeping.

29. P.M. Slept very well till 10 when Mr. D. came in a la souedoise⁶ on some very urgent message, which I answered only by a round of curses. However, I was waked and got up. Took breakfast at \i. Feuilliéd⁷ (rummaged) in the library for two or three hours (there is an arrival of new books from Paris); then walked out with Gransbom to try the market for guineas; changed four at 8 rix dollars 36 sch. each. Waited an hour for Barth without success. Called at the post-office; no letters. No doubt my letters are stopped by the British government! 'Tis impossible that every human being can have forgotten me for four months. For my female friends I would swear, but what remedy. Me voici.⁸ Post I will go off to Hamburg or Memel. As soon as I can find Barth will hunt for passages to ——— everywhere and then determine. Called at the lodgings of Bar. Ulfspasre, for whom I had a letter from London and just now determined to deliver it; has left town. Home at 6. On the way called to see Captain Van Alen. Mjolk and brö. for middag and afton.⁹ Read an hour or two in "L'ltineraire de l'Allemagne"¹⁰; Paris: 1807. You see I am preparing! Read also a treatise (French) on the authority of parents, i.e. fathers, for women are not in question. Cannot now lay hand on it to give you the title, but will find it. The subject was proposed by the Institut National and this book gained the approbation and the prize. In my opinion no way flattering to the genius of the nation. There is, indeed, a good deal of historical fact, but much declamation and flourish.

1 This word, which has been used several times, is a Latin adjective meaning wakeful. 2 "Essay on the Character, the Morals (or Manners), and the Mind of the Women." 3 "Literary Picture of France During the Eighteenth Century." A Subject Proposed (proposé) by the Class in Language and Literature [of the French Academy]. 4 "The Fatalistic Traveler." A comedy in verse in three acts. 5 "The Bringing Together (Junction) of Trees." 6 For à la suédoise. After the Swedish fashion. 7 Another hybrid verb, and badly formed, from French feuilleter, to turn over the leaves of a book. 8 Here I am. 9 Swedish. Evening. 10 "Itinerary of Germany."

[adobe-outdesign]

Bug game recommendations for you: Eulogy of an Insect and the upcoming Hymn to the Earless God!

I haven't heard of either of these but Hymn to the Earless God is a fucking banger of a name ngl

[artzychic27]

Hey, hey! Hey! Hey… What if… Science Kids as Addams Family?

No specific roles, just a bunch of creepy kids in one classroom with their teacher who may or may not be a witch

Aurore: A weather witch who has a permanent rain cloud over her head. Because of this, she often catches colds. She hates good weather and prays for permanent thunder storms. Aurore enjoys terrorizing the other students with lightning bolts from her cloud

Mireille: A medium who can see and communicate with the dead. Mireille often carries around a crystal ball and ouija board in the events a normal person may want to talk to a loved one. She hates when people disrespect the dead, and takes care of cemeteries

Marc: A young man with an affinity for all sorts of insects and arachnids, especially arachnids. He treats them as his children and it’s normal see a black widow crawling out of his hair… Or mouth. Marc also occasionally write eulogies for his classmates

Cosette: Able to change their appearance and parts of their body, Cosette is one weapon away from being the greatest murderer of all time. If you were to cut off a body part, they can just reattach it and it’ll work like it did before

Zoé: While Zoé has no particular abilities, she does get a sick thrill out of torturing the normal students with her classmates, and her love for the macabre gets her in their good graces

Denise: Gifted with superhuman durability, Denise is the favorite target of their friends’ “harmless” pranks which often involve grenade, crossbows, and the occasional world war 1 cannon

Simon: Since he was born, Simon has been able to make people see their worst fears just by humming. It doesn’t have to be a specific one, any song he hums will embed gruesome images in people’s heads until they go mad

Jean: Whenever Jean enters a room, tragedy will strike. A light fixture will fall, the floor will give away, and a roof will crumble on top of someone. Despite this, they remain poised as if the world is not crumbling around them

Lacey: A host to dozens, maybe fifty ghosts, all possessing her body. Lacey established herself as the dominant one when she was five and a poltergeist possessed her, but allows the other specters to have fun with her body

Reshma: Reshma is the more levelheaded one of the class and has the ability to see into the future. All the time, it’s bad… And she loves it! She doesn’t bother warning people of their fates because there’s no fun in it. Plus, their fates are sealed and there’s no changing the future

Ismael: Somehow always seems to disappear when you look away for a quick second. Whenever Ismael is done with a conversation, he’ll be gone just like that. If you need to look for him, check out the shadows in the corners of the school, that’s usually where he is

Mme. Mendeleieve: Likely one of the most influential witches of her time. People are still confused why she’d rather teach than head her own coven

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 34

Chapter 33

Masterlist

-----------Driftmark-------------

Aemma couldn't remember the last time she'd set foot in this place. She'd been to Driftmark a good number of times with her family when she was younger. She remembered the first time she came with her father and stepmother after her sisters were born. She remembered the look on Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys' faces, the looks of joy and senses of pride when they met their granddaughters for the first time. Aemma remembered looking up towards the two when they each held a babe in their arms, how Corlys had knelt down so Aemma could see little Baela better.

She also remembered when she called Rhaenys and Corlys grandmother and grandsire for the first time, how they did not deign to correct her, especially when the two had seen the way Laena laughed at that. "Well," Corlys had said, "if our daughter can embrace the young princess as her own, then why should we not do the same?"

There had been times when the family's trips to Driftmark had also overlapped with visits from Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor when their children were born. It was always a joyous union, especially when Rhaenyra and Laenor would embrace Laena after not seeing one another for so long. Daemon conveniently wasn't present during those times; actually now that Aemma thought about it, he'd never stay in Driftmark long as he would leave for one reason or another before the rest of the family would.

Aemma always loved coming to Driftmark, to be with family, to explore the castle and stare in awe at the Driftwood throne, and to stare out into the sea from the beautiful beaches that were part of the landscape, or on dragonback when Cirillia would skim across the open waters, soaking Aemma in the sea-salt water in the process. They were always happy times...

But this trip to Driftmark was sadly not such a time.

Aemma stood by her father and sisters, all dressed in black. Next to them stood Rhaenys and Corlys; Rhaenys held a mourning Rhaena by her side as her mourning veil shifted from the wind. Baela stood by Rhaena, trying not to make sounds even as tears escaped her eyes. On the other side stood the rest of the family. Viserys stood in the middle, the crown on his head and next to him was Alicent on one side and Helaena on the other. Next to Alicent stood Aegon, and next to him were Laenor and Rhaenyra; Jaecerys and Lucerys stood on each side of Rhaenyra who had an arm each around them. Aemma noticed Rhaenyra was no longer pregnant as she had heard a couple months ago she had given birth shortly after Aemma left, to another boy, whom Rhaenyra and Laenor had name Joffery.

All stood by the seaside as the coffin that held Laena's body was tied with ropes and dragged to the each until the coffin fell to the bottom of the sea in the tradition of House Velaryon. During this time, Vaemond Velaryon gave the eulogy in High Valyrian, though Aemma felt too distraught to even hear the words as all she could think was that she would never see Laena again. She would never hear her stepmother laugh with joy, never see her ride Vhagar again,  never feel the warmth of her embrace when she would comfort the princess. And Aemma looked to Baela and Rhaena, realizing they too would never get to do those things again. She found herself wanting now more then ever to protect her sisters, wanting to be there for them now that their mother no longer could not.  Aemma wrapped her arms around Baela, who quietly leaned into her, accepting her gesture of comfort.

The recession that followed outside the castle was both a somber and an awkward one. Aemma continued to give Baela and Rhaena comfort similar to how they comforted her when she lost her own mother. In doing so she looked over the other side to see Aegon and Aemond standing next to each other as Helaena had knelt down to catch another insect, she suspect. Aemma had not seen those three since she left Westeros; part of her didn't want to interact with them just yet, at least Aegon and Aemond anyway. Aegon she still hadn't forgiven for the awful words he said to her and Aemond...Aemma felt the guilt creeping up on her for the way she deceived him.

Aemma had also heard from word of mouth that Alicent had brokered a new betrothal between Aegon and Helaena, which Aemma found disheartening for Helaena's sake. She knew the ways Aegon would speak of his own sister, why would their mother think those two were even a good match? On cue the two boys look over to see Aemma with her sister. Aemma tries to avoid Aemond's gaze though she gives Aegon the biggest death glare she could, to which Aegon wisely turns away to find a servant to refill his cup of wine.

Jaecerys approached the girls, doing his best as he gives them a comforting look. Aemma had a feeling he and Luke and were also mourning but for different reasons...for different people as she had heard what befell Ser Harwin Strong and his father upon their return to Harrenhal. She had noticed something happened when Lord Larys had arrived here as the new Lord of that cursed place.

Rhaenys then approached to comfort her granddaughters, all three of them. Aemma excused herself after sometime, claiming she wanted some time to herself. While trying to find a more secluded place, she runs into Otto Hightower; he gives her a hard look though Aemma did not really notice. She did take notice of the pin attached to his chest, realizing he had been reinstated as Hand of the King in the late Lord Lyonel Strong's place. There wasn't really much of a relationship there as Aemma had not seen the man since he left King's Landing years ago, so she averts her gaze and slips away.

In doing so, she runs into another person, whom she did know better. "Ivan," she lightly exclaims, "it's...you're here." "I've missed you too, princess," Ivan nods. "What are you doing here?" she asks. "I came on behest of Ser Laenor," Ivan explains, "seeing as my sword skills have been improving, I have been allowed to be trained as a knight. Ser Laenor has taken me as his squire." "Oh Ivan, that is wonderful," Aemma congratulates, "you will make a fine knight. Does...does Ser Laenor know though...of...?" "My elven heritage," Ivan finishes, "he does in fact, know, I had revealed it to him, though he had suspected I was hiding something. He has not disclosed it with anyone else...he understands."  "I'm glad for you," Aemma nods, "as I have said, you will make a fine knight. Maybe you'll be named to the Kingsguard someday."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Ivan asks, "when you left to the Continent? I assumed you would've since it was the one place you wanted to go." "I...I don't think I did," Aemma admits, "but I might be close. I ran into full blooded elves while I was there. Only one of them was actually friendly towards me."

Aemma was about to say more, but then another voice spoke, "Aemma," the two turn to see it was Aemond, dressed in green as his mother and siblings were when the funeral started. "Aemond," Aemma says, feeling awkward at this  moment. "Ser Laenor is looking for you, Ivan," Aemond states, "I suggest you go to him." Ivan was a little incredulous about that as Laenor had barely said a word since coming here and likely the man was still off in mourning for his sister. But he does as the young prince says and runs to go find the knight.

Now it was just Aemma and Aemond. Aemma looked away, not sure what to say. "Aemma," the young boy speaks. "I know," Aemma says, "I know you have a lot of questions to ask me, cousin. I have...I left under duress, and I should've told you what my true intentions were and-" "You should've," Aemond said in a low tone, "...but you didn't." "Aemond-" "Why, Aemma," Aemond asks, sense of hurt in his tone, "Why would you leave just like that? Why didn't you tell me, I would've understand." Aemma had doubts that Aemond actually would've understand, but she didn't think it was wise to tell him such as evident in his distraught state, "I thought this was something I needed to do alone," she tells him, "I needed to find out more of my mother and I didn't want to drag anyone else into my quest. Least of all you." "But why?" "Because I didn't want you in harms way," Aemma provides for an answer. "And what of you being in harm's way?" Aemond brings up, having noticed the scars that were subtly hidden under Aemma's dress but could been seen over her neck and shoulder if one looked close enough, "I could've protected you."

"I had Cirillia," Aemma assured, "She protected me." "....I hope it was worth it," Aemond huffs, "it was unseemly what you had done. Mother was beside herself when she found out, especially when...when she was actually considering betrothing the two of us." "She...the Queen actually wanted to betroth us?" Aemma asks in surprise. "It took a great deal of convincing on my part," Aemond shrugs, "but she had agreed, but it had wavered after that stunt you pulled sneaking to the Dragon Pit and leaving on your dragon."

Aemma knew then why Aemond was hurt now. Alicent had actually considered allowing him to marry the woman he loves once he came of age. Aemma never believed that would've happened, not in a thousand years after the way she behaved in attacking Aegon.

"Does...does your mother still believe this is a good match?" She asks, now wondering how she was going to explain the current proposition her father was considering in marrying her off to that Nilfgaard noble. "I'll talk to her," Aemond assures, "convince her you won't be so reckless again," he takes her hand in his, "don't worry, Aemma, we'll be together as we are meant to." Aemma said nothing, but nodded as Aemond got on his toes to touch his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry for your loss," he says a little while later, "I know how much you loved Lady Laena...and how much she cared for you. It can't be easy, having lost one mother, but now having lost two." "I appreciate your condolences Aemond," Aemma nods, "She was well loved by all who knew her."

There was silence before Aemond spoke up again, "I'll talk to mother again, let her know that you agree to this match."

"...Toussaint," Aemma says right as Aemond walks away. "...what?" Aemond frowns a bit as he faces his cousin once again. "I...I never got to go to Toussaint," Aemma explains, "it's the one place on the Continent I had read about and wanted to go to more than anything. They say it is a magical place. Maybe we could go together?"

Aemond ponders this before he answers, "Alright. We can go there once we are wed."

That wasn't really what Aemma had in mind; she wanted to go to Toussaint as soon as she could. She wanted to locate this long lost uncle of hers and hope to find him with hopes that he may be able to tell her mother's story. But again she said nothing as Aemond walked away. Aemma's head started to feel dizzy, her vision became somewhat hazy like she was experiencing another vision. But this time, it disappeared before she could even get a clear view of said vision. Aemma thought that perhaps this was a result of her grieving the loss of her mother figure. She walked back to the castle and made her way to her chambers.

As she crawled into bed, she thought she could hear her stepmother's dragon calling out in the distance.

-----------------------------------

Aemond looked outside, seeing the sun was setting. He thought earlier that he had heard the sounds of dragon out there; one who was currently in mourning over the loss of her rider. This sound was different from any of the other dragons that were currently circling around Driftmark. The young prince knew Vhagar was out there, riderless and in need of another Targaryen to claim her.

Aemond had considered the possibility that maybe he could venture out there and find the ancient dragon, claim her for himself. But it would also be a risky venture.

When contemplating such a dream, he heard two people speaking in another room. Aemond hid, initially not intending to eavesdrop, but the moment he heard Aemma's name uttered, he fell silent.

"Do you really consider marrying off my granddaughters to some...country far away from the Seven Kingdoms?" Corlys asks, "away from me?" "I never intended for Baela or Rhaena to be such," Daemon answers, "I have already told you this in my last message back in Redania." "And what of Aemma?" Corlys brings up, "have you forgotten I consider her my own granddaughter? As Laena thought of the princess as her own?" "...the Nilfgaardians made an offer that was...difficult to refuse," Daemon admits, "Aemma is my eldest daughter, in their eyes, she seemed the best contender."

Aemond's eyes widen when he overheard this. Marriage talks had already begun for Aemma to some foreign noble across the Sea. ...and Aemma never bothered to tell him about it.

Aemond at first leaned against the wall, slowly falling as he tried to take this information in. Why didn't Aemma tell him that someone else was vying for her hand? Why hadn't Aemma bothered to tell her father that she had already been promised to another? Why? Was she ashamed of Aemond? Did she deep down not believe Aemond would be a suitable husband for her, maybe less so then Aegon?

"Now if you'll excuse me, Lord Corlys, I have some more urgent matters to tend to," Aemond hears Daemon say as he stands and walks out of the room. Aemond quickly hides as he watches his uncle walk away.

The young prince knew then what he needed to do. He needed to claim a dragon. He needed to show his family that he is a true Targaryen, and that he was the most suitable match for the girl he loves.

--------------------------

Aemond wondered the grassy fields far from the beaches of Driftmark. It took some time, but the boy finally found her. Vhagar may be the largest dragon in the world, but she was surprisingly good at hiding. The ancient dragon laid on the sands beyond a small dune, soundly asleep.

Aemond saw this chance and crept closer to the dragon. Before he could get any closer, Aemond suddenly found his path block by a scene of black and gold. It was Cirillia, staring at Aemond in curiosity. The young she-dragon tilted her head as she were actually a dog. Aemond stood there, not quite sure what to do; he's met Cirillia several times, courtesy of his cousin. Aemma had even offered to let Aemond ride with her on her dragon, but Aemond had refused, wanting his first time riding a dragon to be his own.

That chance however was currently being blocked by his cousin's dragon.

Aemond first attempts to walk around Cirillia, but the dragon got in his way again. Cirillia had a certain look in her eyes, one that Aemond couldn't decipher. The young prince was starting to become impatient, but seeing how he wasn't bonded to Cirillia, he wasn't sure he could say or command her to do anything. Nevertheless he gives it his best shot, "Cirillia," he states, "Dīnagon Cirillia."

--------------------------

"Cirillia,"

Aemma's eyes shut tight, wondering who was calling out to her dragon.

"Dīnagon Cirillia," the voice said. It sound distorted, but it sounded like Aemond. Aemma's vision suddenly showed her Aemond standing in the sand, looking up like he was facing someone or something. The vision moved and watched as the young prince proceed to his destination. It watched as the boy made his way to a sleeping Vhagar and grab the ropes that would lead to her saddle. Vhagar woke the moment she felt the pull of said ropes. She turned towards the intruder with the intent of burning him to a crisp, but Aemond stood his ground and spoke with authority.

"Dohaeres! Dohaeres Vhagar!"

Vhagar closed her jaw shut before the flames could escape, "Lykiri!...Lykiri" Aemond spoke to the dragon, "Lykiri." Once Vhagar was settled, Aemond proceeded to climb the side of the great beast and onto her saddle. "Soves!" Aemond commands once he was secure to the saddle, "Dohaeres Vhagar! Soves!"

Vhagar slowly got her feet and began her ascent into the sky with Aemond struggling to stay on board.

The vision ended and Aemma quickly opened her eyes, realizing she was still in bed. The low roars from the great dragon were heard and she looks out the window to investigate.

Indeed she could see Vhagar take a running start across the sand dunes before she took off high into the sky.

Aemma watched in awe, surprised Vhagar would be flying so soon after the loss of her rider. She could see Cirillia flying after the elder she dragon as well.

Aemma jumped a little when she heard her door open. "Aemma! Aemma!" she hears Rhaena rush in, "you have to come, it is urgent." She takes Aemma by the arm and drags her out. "Rhaena? What's wrong?" Aemma asks, yanking her arm away. "Someone stole Vhagar!" Rhaena insists, distress in her voice, "Someone stole our mother's dragon!"

Aemma frowned at this. A dragon could not be stolen, a dragon is no slave as her father had saif. But then she remembered her vision just a moment ago, what she saw. If it was true then that means...Vhagar was claimed by a new rider...and Aemma had an idea who it was.

"Rhaena, Vhagar wasn't stolen," Aemma tries to explain, "She probably just wanted to fly for a bit, she is a dragon after all, maybe-" "She was stolen!" Rhaena insists, still distraught "I was supposed to claim her next, and now she's gone!" Rhaena saw the look on her sister's face, "you...do you know who it was?" What? No, of course not," Aemma insists, "how am I to know?"

Rhaena huffs before she rushes out, intending to look for more help. Aemma placed a hand over her mouth, trying to process what her vision showed, and how it was shown. Somehow she witnessed Aemond claim Vhagar, and somehow she did so through her own dragon's eyes.

----------------------

After the experience of his very first flight, Aemond guided Vhagar back to Driftmark and land by the side of the castle. The young boy dismounted, feeling all sorts of emotions course through his veins. He finally claimed a dragon, and not just that, but the largest dragon in the world. Now he would show his family that he was a true Targaryen. Now neither his brother nor his bastard nephews would ever bully him again...

Now he would show his family that he is the best match for Aemma, not some fat foreign nobleman across the Great Sea.

Aemond walked to a secret tunnel under the castle where he was expected some of Driftmark's residents; his cousins...and his bastard nephews.

"It's him," Baela exclaims. "It's me," Aemond cooly states. "Vhagar is my mother's dragon," Baela sneers. "Your mother is dead," Aemond shrugs, "Vhagar has a new rider now." "She was mine to claim!" Rhaena insists. "Then you should've claimed her!" Aemond sneers before adding with a smirk, "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride...it would suit you."

Rhaena was first to come at Aemond, followed by Baela. Aemond merely pushed Rhaena to the ground and punched Baela out of the way. "Come at me and I'll feed you to my dragon!" he threatens. Jace and Luke then join the fight and the four were able to beat down Aemond for a bit before Aemond got the upper hand on all four of them.

By the time Aemma made it to the scene, Aemond had knocked away her sisters and Jace, and now he had one hand wrapped around Luke's throat and another with a giant stone in hand. "You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did," Aemond states, covered in blood, "...bastards," he says with a venom laced tone. "My father's alive!" Lucerys insists, struggling to break free.

"He doesn't know does?" Aemond sets the stone down as he faces Jaecerys, "Lord Strong."

"Aemond!" Aemma calls out right when Jace pulled out his knife. The little group stop what they were doing and faced the young princess. "Aemma," Aemond sets his nephew down.

"What are you doing?!" Aemma steps in. "What I had to do," Aemond tells her. "I did it, Aemma. I claimed a dragon. We can be together now." "...what?" Aemma's eyes widen, "Aemond, I don't understand." "I overheard your father," Aemond explains, "I know what he intends to do, marry you to some Nilfgaard lord. I won't let it happen. Not now," Aemond approaches his older cousin, "once he sees what I accomplished, he'll have to let us marry." "Aemond is...is this what this is about?"

"Are you not pleased? I know you had been hoping-" "This isn't how I meant it!" Aemma exclaims, "not like this. Look at what you're doing." "They deserved it!" Aemond sneers, "especially them." "They're your family!" "They're no family of ours and you know it!" Aemond insists, "Look at them! Why are you siding with them?" "I'm not siding with anyone, I'm trying to keep this family together!" Aemma exclaims in frustration.

In frustration, Aemond shoves Aemma backwards, "you're either for our side or against it!" he states. "Aemond!" Aemma exclaims in shock.

Jace took his knife once more and charged at Aemond but the blonde boy punched and shoved him away as he did Aemma. Aemond lifted the stone, ready to finish it all. "Aemond stop this!" Aemma attempts to break up the fight, "Jace, stop! We can talk this out, just stop! Please...stop."

Aemma knew this was not something that could be talked out of. These boys wanted a fight. In the midst of the standoff she could see Luke crawling over towards the knife Jace dropped. Jace saw too and he took some sand and flung it at Aemond, temporarily blinding him. Luke picked up the knife.

"LUKE! NOOOOOOO!"

Aemma screams, and for a moment it almost felt like the ground shook, causing Luke's hand to move and make a vertical slice across Aemond's eye.

Aemma covered her mouth in frighten shock as Aemond fell down, howling in agony as blood poured from his eye.

"Cease this at once!" Ser Harrold Westerling's voice boomed as he and several guards came onto the scene, "get away!" The knight leaned over to inspect the damage that was caused onto Aemond, "gods be good," he mutters.

Aemma said not a word as Aemond was escorted back to the castle to see the maester and she along with her cousins and sisters were escorted by the rest of the kingsgaurd.

"...what have I done...?"

Chapter 34.5

[abelflints]

Little ILW Crack Fic

Basis: Jocelyn kills a spider. Elvira holds a funeral.

Pairings: Abel x MC (mine is called Elvira!)

Warnings: non except spiders, the killing of an insect, and a funeral. it's not a serious fic though.

Characters: Abel, MC and Lincoln all have bigger parts, Jocelyn has some lines, and the rest of the gang are there but have no lines.

Word count: 741

A/N: This is not meant to be serious, at all. I wrote this a while ago and then the question about who kills spiders in the relationship got brought up and I'm posting this, no matter how silly.

It’s quiet… 

Quaint.. 

Uneventful.

All silent, all serene as the gang sits in Connor’s cabin– a brief reprieve, the time to sit back and take a breath. 

But nothing lasts forever… 

No…

It never does. 

“Jocelyn! You’ve got a spider on you!” Elvira exclaims suddenly, a tad too excitedly.

“Ugh!”

Jocelyn’s face twists. Elvira screams. 

Time seems to slooooooooooooooow…

“No!” Abel’s scream joins Elvira’s, gesturing desperately at Jocelyn as her hand drops in a fatal arc, an anguished cry passing Elvira’s lips as her hand shoots out to stop her, to no avail– 

THWACK!

“Nooooo!”

Abel opens his arms to his inconsolable partner, nestling her into his embrace as she wails louder than a siren’s song, the two cringing in tandem as Jocelyn’s hand meets her mark.

…Jocelyn turns around.

“Hey guys! I got the spider!”

Elvira only wails harder. Abel releases her, hands forming frantic crossmarks at Jocelyn... Elvira wails some more.

“...What?"

……

……

Abel’s face is sheepish as he approaches his former best friend, hands braced before him like a little pangolin’s.

“Lincoln. Can you host a spider funeral for my girlfriend?”

“...A what?”

……

……

“Hello, everyone…” Lincoln starts, hands outstretched as he begins his– rather unconventional– eulogy, the crowd of Jocelyn, Amalia, Connor, Devon, and friends– and even Noah– looking on at him with varying looks of incredulity and intrigue. The front row is a line of frowns, Amalia’s sympathetic– but confused, Noah’s an authentic melancholy, Elvira-- the very portrait of devastation--, and Abel, nuzzled sympathetically beside her. 

The atmosphere is dark and depressive, if not a little bewildered, no light but for the candles lit in memory of the deeply deceased arachnid, Noah’s ghostly eyes devoid of all light as he observes the rather irregular ceremony with a sorrowful air. 

As Lincoln clears his throat, Abel’s sympathetic frown mouths  “thank you”, one scarred thumb raising up in affirmation.

Without further ado...

Lincoln begins.

“Welcome to the celebration of life of this spider—” Lincoln gestures towards the spider, situated near a make-shift tombstone.

“Mr Spider!” Elvira interjects from the crowd. 

“...Spider was his son. This is Mr Spider.” She corrects, fiddling with her hands self-consciously as all eyes fall on her.

Lincoln stares for a while, before breaking back into his speech.

“Mr Spider, we may not have known you well, we may not have known you long, but– but…” 

Lincoln’s eyes widen, nonsensical sounds escaping his agape mouth that can’t quite decide whether to stay shut or open, a puzzled look colouring his features as he tips his head this way and that, hands tipping as words fail him. 

After that startlingly convincing goldfish impression, Lincoln starts anew.

”You had… Eight legs.” He clenches his fists, a shaky exhale masking his laughter.

“...That’s… A lot of legs.” 

“It is! So many legs! ” Elvira sobs against Abel. 

Seemingly overcome by his own words, Lincoln slams a fist to his heart. There’s an excessive nod to his head as his eyes meet Abel’s... Abel, who offers him an appraising nod, before returning to mutter soothing words into Elvira’s hair, stroking his fingers through.

The procession proceeds much the same, a mixture of very confused bystanders and sympathetic mourners honouring Mr Spider’s name with mixed sincerity, and when it’s over, Elvira has one last request. 

“Lincoln… Give him a goodbye kiss.” She says, twiddling the flowers she’d picked for the spider in her hands. 

“A what?”

“A goodbye kiss. To send him off.”

He waits for the punchline. For her to say it’s all a big joke, and he can stop now.

…It never comes. 

Abel stares pointedly and pleadingly at him, unbeknownst to Elvira, who is still sobbing profusely beside him.

Lincoln sighs, relenting, bringing his lips in for a stage kiss. 

When he's done, Elvira approaches him.

“Th-that was s-such a.. beautiful speech..”  She sniffles as she sidles forwards, hugging closer to Abel, who has returned to muttering reassurances against her hair.

The gang share incredulous glances as she places down her flowers with a broken sob, before Abel stalks off with her still nestled into his side, his continuous murmuring a soothing stream of thoughts cascading against her hair and all the way out to the door, cuddling her closer as he promises her ice cream, sweet things, and all things nice.

A final question leaves Elvira's lips before the door swings shut, shutting out all sound.

"...Abel? Do you think spiders have ghosts?"

[eulogyofaninsect]

BUGS are the official medium of exchange in the world of Eulogy of an Insect. We refuse to elaborate further.

Discord

Twitter/X

[myimaginaryenemy]

I don’t see enough appreciation for some of the really well written items in risk of rain 2 so I thought my first post would be Eulogy Zero, which is my personal favorite

The item for people who don’t know:

Eulogy Zero

A eulogy for the victors of spiritual warfare: This is a message from me to you.

Though in life you will stumble, stammer and fall - though you will lose your loved ones and shed more tears than your eyes can muster - in time you can find peace on the planets you call home. A small creature walting quietly for you, a smiling face from another stream, the silence as you breathe in the scent of a new season.

Let your heart remind you why you are here; let it tell you something new and something old. A mind remembers, but a heart knows.

I love me so that I can love you too - I've wanted to disappear before, but I've always wanted to return to see you. The grass and the leaves, the warmth of the sun and the insects at night.

I promised myself, and I promise you:

A victory is the reward of cumulative loss, ever present as a light at the end of the tunnel. Even in death, there is the lingering promise of new life - forever doomed to repeat the cycle.

It's getting dark. If you get lost it's alright, for now, I hope you enjoy the shooting stars. Rest in peace.

[akraphe]

workshop #1

1.

Nobody dies intelligently, I used to think. To forfeit time whether by exhaustion of the body or the mind, In exchange for a thirsty gravedigger, a few black suits, and some plot of land ; to choose the anti-future, forced by any hand, hers or yours, and disintegrate deep into the great nothing, knowing very well nobody knows themselves unalive ; why, except by ignorance or incompetence, would grief, like a perpetually moving ocean, be allowed to crash, overpower and overwhelm the mind ? Why else would we want to learn that our pain gets to live forever, while joy eventually dies ?

2.

"Now I am alone" she thought mere seconds ago, familiar wind swaying around her, carrying the smell of paintings lost to flames And corrupt manuscripts of medieval flesh. Waiting for the leap of faith from calm violence to violent calm. It's not her first try. The choice of a personal funeral Lingers frequently on her mind. Now fear and desire pale Next to the question "Will it be my last ? Will the ocean under these hills be Where finally I pass ?"

Suddenly There are no more footsteps on the grass.

3.

People's smell or respect. Her voice telling anecdotes And turning heads. Happy birthday wishes from friends. Detecting irony. The idea of touch and touch itself. Flying business class, And other similar stuff Like dignity or rights. Nicknames. Correct blood Flow. Her friends Interest. Peace, ataraxia, Rest, whatever its name. Ah yes, and long hair, Ready to break bread, And wind's eulogy for her.

It's the inventory of all the things She's lost.

Shooting privilege.

Something's missing. Rage, all the rage, Enough to fill an infinite canvas, Infinite pages or magna cartas.

4.

Who is she ?

I don't know her Any more than you.

Is she a free bird, a departing plane, A falling spit, an empty plastic thread, Like the tears of a cis dude who can't get Erect ? courageous woman, passionate tran, forgotten dog or insect in a box ? Mirza ? Jules ? Léontine ? guerrilla girl or sad Fantine ? lonely weirdo or speaker at the pride ? is she the one that cries or the one that fights ?

She's a master of treason.

5.

She translates texts for the sad few: Poems, essays, secret recipes, fanzines on sex and trans bodies, political manifestos for her beloved lefties.

Care or be cared. Think or be thought of. Be the cure others need.

She shaves heads and slaps backs; sleeps early when we all still dance; knows her way around syringes, needles, comic relief and desperate people.

Arrogantly move on. Unloose your own void. Laugh yourself to sleep.

[tomalbon]

Poem #79

You used to live beside the river

Where grasses palmed the down of waterfowl

Into scraps of your many incarnations.

Tilt your head and they could be glyphs

For songs or psalms or cries or incantations

Coalescing into goose-winged summonings

Of me as flat-footed and near-fingerless,

Cupping a plume with bird-awkward hands.

How can you expect me to lift such things,

Like pulling my soul from the ground again?

Its shadows have not been invented, yet,

But its eulogies have, leached of your skin

When you covered the sun with a feather

And smiled like a song stolen from a dream.

I hear them with my eyes in another world,

Where circlets of ladybirds open up,

Blossom into planets or lakes or leaves,

Murmuring dormant trees into greenery -

And I am destroyed by this great spell

Of undoing, rooted in my own Earth,

Elsewhere, where an insect is just an insect.

You are conjured, my quieting hymn,

Oil-scried of moments that were more than moments.

I have no words. I can but ask you to reach

Into this poem, wraith-like, and gently

Cup its magma like an unborn child.

Pour yourself into its formless ear

Through the parentheses of your fingers

Until you clasp the ore of its organs,

Pressed into iridescent eyes of prophets.

We could cover the sun with these trinkets, too.

We could cover all things in metal-green,

Indistinct, where it’s hard to make out your face

But the chrome pulls the sky into the earth

And we walk on clouds in shoes of verdant moonlight

And I hold your hand as if you never left.

[honourablejester]

Festivids 2022 Recs

Just from the first rush through:

Weapon of Choice, Busby Berkley Movies. Trippy. You put a lot of his dance and synchronised sequences together and you get something that feels like wandering through an escher painting made of bodies. It’s really trippy. Great vid.

Got the Time, Tintin Cartoon. It just made me smile. Also, Tintin does a lot of jumping out of moving vehicles.

Dance All Over Me, The Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec. Look. I just have a soft spot for this movie. And this vid is lovely and shows Adele so well.

Eulogy, Burial of Kojo. I don’t know what this is, but wow that’s a mood. Creation of tone through image and sound. Amazing.

Fire, Burial of Kojo. Same source, very different mood, but equally as intense. Imagery.

Maneater, Plants Behaving Badly. For when you feel like watching very pretty carnivorous plants murder a lot of insects?

When I Am Laid In Earth, Floor is Lava. Would you like an absolutely dead serious eulogy for all those who cruelly perished in lava on this game show?

20 Years, Jumanji & Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle. If you want a Jumanji vid that will make you cry, because years of people’s lives got eaten by the game.

Choir, Sister Act. How much difference it makes and how much people can open up to themselves and each other when they have something they can value and share and take pride in. Lovely. I legit cried. I was expecting funny, because Sister Act is damned funny, but there is also a real journey there, and this vid showed it.

Dead of Night, The Vampires. Another one where I don’t know the source at all, but on the back of this vid I would be tempted to watch it. Tangled relationships on a haunted ship.

[koopzilla]

❝ ... ❞ ⸻He just murdered that butterfly. Now that Gavin knows insects can talk... that's kinda dark.

The flaming spec burns away into nothingness before it hits the ground. Its eulogy is a careless laugh, deep and foreboding.

To nature, Bowser is a boundless force of destruction. One this little rodent should learn to respect quickly... for his colossal foot slowly treks in their direction!