#daemons! verse

[lidoshka]

Sleeping

There's a cool story I just found in ao3 titled "Resonant" by @syndrossi and I fell in love with it.

Anyway, last chapter ended with Daemon falling asleep with his children in the same bed and i had a mighty need to draw it.

=)

[syndrossi]

Regret AU, Part 5(a)

In which Viserys totally gets Daemon into the right headspace for a letter from House Royce...

x~x~x

“I am sorry, Daemon, truly, but my decision is final.”

His brother’s eyes were kind, his voice laden with regret, and yet the words could have come straight from Otto Hightower’s fanged mouth, absent the apology. The snake had coiled himself around Daemon’s family long before his banishment, and the poison of his influence had only spread, to the point of elevating his equally sanctimonious daughter to queen consort, and his own grandsons to second and third in line for the Iron Throne.

He could declare that the sun rose in the north, and my brother would repeat it to all who would listen. It did not matter that Daemon had prostrated himself before his brother, and bestowed upon him the hard-won crown and title of King of the Narrow Sea. Hightower doubtless claimed that Daemon still longed for the throne, and Viserys had clearly taken it to heart.

“Why?” Daemon asked, resentment nearly choking him. “Are you so threatened by the prospect of my happiness? Or having sons of my own?”

“You have a wife,” Viserys said, his flicker of annoyance settling into an expression of weary patience. “And Lady Rhea is known to be a woman of noble character and virtue. If what you desire are sons, it is not her fault that you refuse to share her bed. I am not keeping you from it.”

“Her frigid cunt is what keeps me from it,” Daemon said bitterly. “My very presence is met with loathing. Have you tried to bed a woman who would be overjoyed if you were dead?”

Of course not. Aemma, sweet and kind, had loved Viserys. And Alicent Hightower doubtless sought to birth an entire brood, until their line was hopelessly polluted with Hightower blood.

“You have hardly given her a chance,” Viserys said, the smug superiority in his voice so reminiscent of Otto Hightower that Daemon had to spin away so as not to punch him.

What chance had there been? From the first day of their accursed marriage, when he had been barely older than Rhaenyra was now, his wife had resented him. As soon as their consummation had completed, she had dismissed him from the bedchamber, seemingly determined that he understood his place. Daemon had hardly gone into the match willingly, but he could still remember the humiliation of being escorted to his own chamber.

His father had loved his mother so deeply that he had never recovered from her loss. He had refused to wed again, no matter how the king had threatened and cajoled. His uncle Aemon had taken his aunt Jocelyn everywhere on Caraxes’s back, and not once had he viewed her inability to give him a son as a failing. Daemon’s memories abounded with tender moments between the two, and the longing he had felt for such a match.

He had been smitten with Aemma for a time, who was nearly of an age with him, but she had been promised early to Viserys. Nowhere else within their shrinking family had been a bride for him, and yet when he had taken his merriment to the Street of Silks instead, his grandmother had reacted as though he were a second Saera in the making and sought for him a godly, virtuous Vale woman.

His grandparents, his parents, his uncle, his cousin Rhaenys—all of them had chosen their matches. They had sought love, passion, happiness. Although his brother’s marriage had been chosen for him, they had known Aemma as children, and love had grown between them. And Viserys’s second marriage to Alicent Hightower had not been one of politics. That choice had been one of pure desire.

While Daemon was expected to content himself with the prison that was his marriage to Rhea Royce. Thank all the gods I was not born a woman, or I would not be permitted to escape even on dragonback.

Daemon stared at the wall, the pattern of its stone melding with that of Runestone. “So you will grant me any boon but that.” You will consign me to a life alone. I may be at your side or Rhea’s, but no one else’s. I will see Rhaenyra wed and with children of her own, while I remain childless.

And gods forbid that he seek to father a bastard on a mistress. He would be banished to Runestone once more, and if Otto Hightower had his say, which the snake always would, the unlucky woman would be force-fed moon tea.

He had returned to King’s Landing triumphant, but that victory tasted of ash now.

“If what you fear is that I seek to wed Rhaenyra, then let me seek a match with Laena instead,” he said, feeling a desperation overtake him. “If I were to speak to Corlys—”

“The answer is no, Daemon.”

He turned back to his brother, feeling each thud of his heart through the tightening of his chest. “Because you do not trust me?”

Viserys sighed. “That is not the reason—”

“Because Otto Hightower does not will it?”

“Enough, Daemon.” His brother’s patience had expended itself at last, or perhaps the remark had struck too true. “You are hardly the first man to have little affection for your wife. That is not sufficient grounds to split the bonds of marriage.”

Daemon said nothing, for it was that or scream.

“If not your complaints, then Rhaenyra’s obstinance with her own suitors—I am wearied unto the bone by all this talk of marriage,” Viserys said. “Let us discuss something else.”

“Perhaps I could be your new jester,” Daemon said tightly. “Since you prefer that I only speak if it amuses you.”

The tiny clench of Viserys’s jaw was not nearly as satisfying as he had expected. “Shall we visit Aegon and Aemond in the nursery? Perhaps that will serve as suitable motivation for you.”

Daemon broke for the door, dispensing with decorum lest he attack his brother and end up with a Kingsguard sword in the gut. “I shall leave you to the joys of fatherhood,” he snarled.

[thought--bubble]

Fear is a game for children

Aemond X Aemond Wife Reader X Daemon

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,716

Canon Aemond Master List

Daemon Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Written for the Dragon friends period smut collab. Based on an ask received by the wonderful @lady-phasma that she so kindly invited us to participate in!

Header by @zaldritzosrose

Please click HERE for the masterlist for this Collab

Warnings:: Mentions of menstruation, Some sexism, Dubious consent, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Multiple partners. (P in V Sex *Brief mention*)

Being married to a Targaryen prince wasn't half as bad as you had initially expected.

Your husband wasn't exactly warm and loving, but he was respectful, performed his marital duty, and made sure that you were comfortable throughout the process.

Yet you yearned for something more. Something other women spoke about. Not just comfort during the act but actual pleasure. The idea is that you did not need to simply be grateful that the act does not hurt but that you could derive actual pleasure from it.

You had brought this topic up to your husband multiple times. Trying to address what you were sure was a sensitive subject with the utmost gentleness.

At first, Aemond would hear nothing of it, only chastising you for your lewdness. But true to form for Aemond, being told that he was inadequate in anything would motivate him, and try he did, and he improved trying difference postions and pacing, preening at your positive encouragement. That came to an abrupt halt once your moonblood reared its head.

You had heard from your mother and other ladies of the court about the benefits of intimate connection with your husband even at this time, yet Aemond was entirely averse to the idea. Unsanitary and of no purpose being his selected terms. You took no offense to this. You knew how stubborn to change Aemond is. His ability to try something new is limited to the training yard or on the back of Vhagar. He had already done more than you had expected.

You learned quickly that the best time to get things from your husband was when he has had some wine. He is much more...... agreeable, in this state.

Viserys' big birthday feast tonight would be the perfect venue. Everyone knew it would most likely be his last so it was expected to be a grand affair, and a grand affair is was.

So, partway through the evening festivities, you find yourself sitting alone with a slightly wine soaked version of your husband. Your fingertips gently tapping on the table. You knew this may be your moment. Your moment to explain to him why this would be a positive for you both and your growing connection.

"Husband," you open conversation gently, your voice soft as snow.

"Wife?" He turns his head toward you, a small wrinkle creasing his forehead.

You love that little wrinkle. The wrinkle that tells you he is listening, that you have his attention even though his eye is not on you.

"Do you remember the conversation we had this morning?"

Aemonds back stiffens slightly, and he turns his head back to facing forward.

"I do. My opinion on the matter has not changed, " he replies dryly. His fingers lightly tapping on the smooth wooden table they rested upon.

"There are benefits, husband." You lower your voice as much as possible,"others have told me....."

He whips his head toward you, bringing his mouth close to the side of your head. "Do not tell me of your lecherous conversations with the dim-witted ladies of this court." He hisses between clenched teeth "it is beneath your station"

You open your mouth to retort but are cut short by a dark chuckle emanating from behind you.

Daemon Targaryen leans against the wall, his frame tall, his shoulders broad. His short white hair slicked back, with a smile that creeps up his face before settling behind his sharp lilac eyes.

"Oh dear nephew! Must you be such a prude? Must be the Hightower in you." Daemon swirls his wine around his goblet, his eyes trained on you, but his words meant for your husband.

"I find myself quite intrigued by your wife's lascivious conversations and would be quite pleased to hear more." he pushes himself off the wall, bringing his free hand to your shoulder, "do continue, princess."

Your words catch in your throat as heat rises to your face. Your husband and his uncle exchange some choice words in hushed tones, but you can't hear them over the rush of blood pounding in your ears.

You are finally torn from your mental whirlwind when your husband abruptly grips your hand pulling you harshly to your feet.

"My wife and I wish to retire. As always, it has been the utmost pleasure to speak with you, uncle. " Aemonds words are polite, yet the venom in his tone could not be clearer.

As your husband pulls you out of the banquet hall and through the corridors of the redkeep, your stomach is doing somersaults. It is not easy to provoke the wrath of your husband. As his wife, he has always used gentle hands with you, though embarrassment is not something he takes lightly.

You try not to imagine the fate that awaits you behind your chamber door, where Aemond will be free to let you know exactly how he feels about the shame you have clearly brought upon him.

The tapping of your feet against the stone floor echoes through the corridors. Your soft steps, your husband's harsh steps, and a third set of steps heavier than yours yet lighter than your husband's and trailing behind you

You audibly gulp before turning your head to glance behind you but before you can fully turn your head your husband yanks you forward.

"Dear uncle. Your accommodations are back towards the hall. I fear you may not be headed in the right direction. " Aemond attempts to exude an air of confidence, but the gentle shake to his voice is unmistakable, especially to a predator like the rogue prince himself.

"You fear a lot of things, sweet nephew, if I am to understand our previous conversation" Daemon continues following you and Aemond through the corridors, even as Aemond increases his pace nearly dragging you along the floor.

"Dragons fly! They do not run!" Daemon chuckles heartily as he picks up his pace as well. You can't help but admire the confidence in his voice, in his swagger. It's something you see Aemond becoming once time has had a chance to mature him.

When you reach your chambers, Aemond practically shoves you through the door. Turning his body hastily in an attempt to get the door shut. Just as the door is near to close in slips, the tip of a boot.

"Uncle," Aemond growls his hands grip the door tightly, his arm muscles flexing.

"Yes, it is me," Daemon chuckles as he pushes through the door as if Aemond is a mere fly he was swatting from his face.

"The hour has grown quite late. My lady wife and I wish to retire... tis hardly the time for company" Aemond holds his arm out towards his uncle in an attempt to corral him back out the open door.

"Oh, but I have been left unsatisfied by our earlier conversation and a dragon...... well, we simply can not go unsatisfied. " Daemon feigns a smile toward Aemond before setting his sights on you.

"Now princess, if you wish for me to take my leave, I will. Just as soon as you tell me the subject of these conversations with the ladies of the court. The conversations that serve to upset my nephew so much." Daemon wiggles his eyebrows at you before settling himself in one of the chairs placed before the hearth in your marriage chambers.

"Well......" You trail off unsure of what you should do. You're placed in a room with two quarreling dragons, and you feel the fire breathing down your neck. You look toward your husband for some guidance, but he simply looks down.

"We speak about girlish things. Things I am sure would bore you greatly, my prince."

"Hmmm...." Daemon scratches his chin, his smirk returning to his face when he sees how uncomfortable Aemond is.

"What kind of girlish things was my dear nephew chastising you for? For I am sure it was not because you spoke of gowns, balls, or childbearing. " Daemon starts to tap his foot, and your stomach curls.

You know the situation you are in. You refuse Daemon and meet his wrath now, or you appease Daemon and meet Aemond's wrath later. You decide you are better off calming your husband then to attempt to avoid the questions asked by the elder dragon prince.

"We spoke of benefits." You clear your throat and pull and the neckline of your gown, the material suddenly tight around your neck and heavy upon your frame.

"This bores me" Daemon drawls annoyed. "What is it?"

"The benefits of...... intimate moments with one's husband... during.... well..... when a lady has her moonblood. " As the words leave your lips, you turn your head to the side in a desperate attempt to not look at your husband.

"Is that it?" Daemon laughs loudly. Though the laughter is not joyful, instead it is condescending.

"Oh, nephew! You are supposed to be a dragon! Yet you fear a little blood?" Daemon stands up hastily from his chair. He casts a sideways look towards Aemond before smirking and making his way to you swiftly, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Uncle......" Aemond voice is a low growl and he stands with his legs spread slightly apart.

"It is wholly unsurprising that you have yet to...... bloody your blade. " Daemon snickers his back, turned away from Aemond, his arm still around your waist. "Such a fearful boy. Now pay attention. I am about to teach you a lesson you would be wise to learn...."

With that, Daemon tightens his grip around your waist, walking you backward toward the bed you share with your husband, pushing you gently until you land softly on your back.

"Nephew. As a dragon....." Daemon leans down, pushing your dress up your legs and around your hips. "Blood is not something we fear." He deftly wraps his fingers around the band of your small clothes, quickly pulling them down your legs before discarding them.

"Come" Daemon beckons Aemond to stand behind him, Aemond stays rooted in place at first but after a sharp look of annoyance from Daemon he slowly walks over until he is behind him.

Daemon brings his hand to your heat opening you up with his fingers. His hands are cold, sending a shiver up your spine.

"Are you sore princess?" Daemon's question pours over you like warm water, the chill running down your spine replaced with a heat.

"Why would she be?" Aemond's voice cuts through your haze briefly.

Daemon pinches his nose before turning to look at Aemond. "Because, ladies can be sore during this time. you tout around all of your knowledge yet do not know this?"

Aemond scoffs and turns his head. "The affairs of women are hardly my concern"

You try to keep the thoughts in your head from displaying on your face.

"The comfort of your wife should be your concern Aemond" Daemon runs his fingers through your folds swiping the pads of his middle and forefinger over your pearl. "however do you cope princess?"

Your back arches slightly at the touch, a soft sigh slipping out from between your lips.

"Such a responsive thing. You are a man of good fortune Aemond. Unfortunate that you have squandered it until now."

Daemon brings his head down between your thighs rolling his tongue over your clit, humming as he goes.

Your reaction is instant. Aemond has never gone down on you at all let alone during your cycle. Your hands quickly find their way into Daemon's hair pulling him closer.

Your eyes shoot open as his slides one cold long finger into your heat, crooking it upwards and exploring your insides. You look for Aemond, slightly raising your head and find him frozen. His one pupil blown and taking in the sight before him.

You moan loudly as the lewd wet sounds of Daemon's mouth sucking and licking at your heat ring loud around the room. You feel that pressure that you have experienced very few times start to build in your lower stomach, tightening like a coil, ready to pop loose at any moment.

Daemon lifts his head from you, your juices and moonblood are a cloudy mixture that drip down his chin.

"Give in for me sweet girl, show your husband what you look like when a man does as he should" Daemon growls as he brings his face back down to your heat, biting gently and sucking harshly on your swollen nub.

The pleasure that had been building in your lower stomach reaches a pinnacle and crashes over you like a wave, your back arching off the bed, nothing else exists for you in this moment aside from your pleasure and the momentary relief you feel from you feminine aches.

The noises you make are unbecoming for a lady of your standing but not even the 7 could keep you quiet now.

Daemon leans back on his haunches, a sly smirk on his face clearly pleased with himself. "And that, dear nephew, is what a satisfied woman looks like, a new view for you, of that i am sure."

Aemond angrily shoves Daemon to the side causing him to lose his balance temporarily.

"You are most welcome princess" Daemon taunts haughtily, he makes no moves to clean off his face instead focused on Aemond who has now lowered his own face to your heat desperately attempting to recreate the scene he just witnessed.

"Slower nephew. There is a build up that must be done"

Aemond slows his movements suddenly, the overstimulation you were feeling calms to a gentle wave of pleasure as your husband flicks his tongue across your sweet pearl.

Daemon gets up and crawls onto the bed kneeling beside you.

"Princess..." He coos directly into your ear while pushing your hair back. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Y-Yes" your breaths are short and broken, each stroke of Aemond tongue across you overstimulated clit cause a small twitch.

"That is good." Daemon brings his lips to yours pushing his tongue into your mouth, the taste of wine and copper fills your mouth heightening your pleasure as it once again builds.

You bring your hands down to Aemond's hair using it as an anchor to hold him in place as you take your pleasure from him rubbing yourself against his prominent nose as he shoves his tongue into your clenching entrance.

Your hips roll as you move climbing up that wall of pleasure once again, Daemon trails bloody kisses down your neck and over your cleavage, before grasping your left breast, kneading the fatty flesh beneath his palm.

"You are taking much longer than I did nephew" He taunts his mouth up against the side of your throat, biting a nibbling at the sensitive flesh there.

Aemond takes this taunt as a challenge pressing two fingers into your core and flattening his tongue against your pearl. His fingers digging into the fatty flesh of your thighs.

The stimulation of your core, mixed with Daemon's tight grip of your breast and needy kisses sends you hurtling back towards your peak.

"Aemond... please Aemond" you gasp as you feel your body tense, a small tremble spreading throughout your entire frame.

"Hmmmm" Aemond hums applying more pressure to your pearl and pushing his fingers into your body at an accelerated pace.

"One more time for us princess" Daemon whispers into your ear, gently biting at the lobe.

"One more!" You gasp out before succumbing to your orgasm.

You gasp loudly, feeling as if you could take all the air in the room into your lungs and it still wouldn't be enough.

Aemond raises his head slowly from between your legs the same mixture dripping down his face and covering the tips of his white hair.

His eye connects with yours as he stands and starts to loosen the laces of his trousers.

Daemon pulls away from your neck and watches Aemond as he pushes himself into your core in one swift motion, his face and hair still covered in your blood, his ravenous eye upon you and his fingers digging so deeply into your thighs you are sure he will soon break skin.

"And now nephew....." Daemon chuckles and slightly pushes back his hair. "you finally look like a dragon"

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[writingsofwesteros]

Kinktober request

Hiiii could you please do a HP Verse professor daemon dark smutty fic. Daemon is fucking Lucius precious girl and he’s being his pervy self with the pretty slutty girl. Bratty girl thinks she has him under her control until he’s being mean and threatening to tell her father of their little relationship if they stop their after class meetings;).

AN:Hi I hope you like it x

NSFW

“And if your daddy was to find out what a little slut you are?” Daemon whispered into her ear; dark amusement dripping in his tone. His words had a shiver running down her spine as she began to sob. Both the pleasure and humiliation had her shaking against his tight hold. The small, grey skirt was bunched at her waist as his fat cock was pushed deep, stuffing her full just like the many times before. Gods, even with the amount of times he had taken her - his fat cock still stretched her gummy walls each time. Her toes curled as he pressed deeper; that soft, spongy spot he had only ever been able to touch was bullied with ease. “Not a slut..” She whimpered out; squealing as his hand came down on her pretty, pink pussy. 

The wet, obscene sounds echoing in his office as his hand came down once more - and again. All she could do was wiggle as she faced the door in front of her. Daemon’s hand snaked around her body as he tugged on her shirt that he had made two sizes too small for her and watched as her ample breasts bounced freely. “I do not even think you would stop if someone was to walk in,” Daemon continued to whisper as his hips slowly began to rock. A ring of cream formed around his thick length as his favourite girl began to bounce for him. “Daddy, please –” She hardly knew what she was begging for as her body fell back against him. The sound of her skirt being pulled away echoing. 

Now, she was completely bare against his still clothed body. His suit brushed against her from behind whilst she was exposed - just as he liked her. His much larger hand moved south; his thumb swiped against her pretty, sensitive clit and had her clamping down on his fat cock. His little pet easily began to milk him as he teased her some more. “And here, I thought you wanted to stop this, hmm?” Daemon purred into her ear as he began to nibble on her lobe. A bright blush came over her cheeks as she shook her head whilst his chuckles echoed in her ear. “I thought so.” He continued as his hand slowly moved to her neck now before two of his slender fingers pushed into her hot mouth.

Her stomach began to tighten as her moans were easily muffled by his fingers that she began to drool on without care. The pleasure was too much to ignore or pretend it was not affecting her as she wiggled in his hold. Daemon’s amusement was plain to see as his hips began to rock. The position had his fat, leaking head pushing against her soft spot with ease. His fingers pressed against her tongue now as she so sweetly gagged for him. The sound had his fat cock twitching against her walls once more as his free arm wrapped around her body. Daemon brought her against his chest and forced her to bounce. “I know….poor baby - there you go.” He pressed soft kisses down her neck, marking her without care.

A smirk came over his face as he remembered how she had waltzed into his classroom, demanding that her grades were changed and oh how he had watched in delight as she moved to her knees. Daemon knew by the spark in her eyes that she thought the control was in her hand even when he had her gagging on his fat cock and she looked up at him with those doe eyes from under her lashes. Oh, how the tables had now changed, he thought to himself as her sobs of pleasure echoed around the room. The idea she could stop their arrangement just as she began it was ridiculous. Especially when Daemon was going to breed his little slut so well, he thought whilst his larger hand slowly moved to her stomach.

He pressed against her; causing her to squeal as Daemon brought his fingers from her mouth and slowly swiped against her clit. The small act had her clamping down; her orgasm ripping through her with ease whilst he fucked her through it. With each thrust she squirted and his pants were soon becoming such a mess from her. His thumb brushed over her clit again and again; capturing her sweet button between his knuckles as she gasped out his name. Those doe eyes of hers rolling back as his free hand slowly moves towards her neck and pulls her back. Their lips passionately captured her soft lips; his tongue pushing in as he easily dominated her.

A smirk tugged on Daemon’s lips as a flash of movement from the corner of his eye grabbed his attention. Gods, her pretty pussy milked him whilst his hips rocked. His hold on her neck only tightened whilst her whimpers of his name fell from her lips. “Such a good girl I have,” Daemon whispered; licking up her neck as she quivered in his lap. Not so gently did Daemon push her against the desk in front of him. A soft gasp escaped her as she reached to break her fall. All the while his fat cock pushed deeper; his hips rocking as his hand reached for a fistful of her locks. The sound of their bodies slapping against each echoed in his ear as his hand came down on her arse.

He stared down at the erotic sight as her sweet, puffy lips spread around his fat cock; the ring of cream foaming as she whimpered against the desk. She tried to look over her shoulders whilst drooling in pleasure. Her mind numbed as his thrusts only quickened; Daemon reached around for those ample breasts of hers. Daemon leaned closer; pushing deep as he thought of those breasts of hers full of milk. He reached and placed her leg onto the table; spreading her apart so deliciously as the new position allowed him to push deeper. Her scream echoed without shame as he only chuckled into her ear and began to chase his own climax.

He pressed her against the desk; Daemon’s complete weight as he groaned in pleasure. She hiccuped and whined so prettily before him whilst losing herself in the pleasure. “Such a whore..even as you pretend otherwise.” Daemon whispered as his thrusts became harder before they began to stutter and soon his cum flooded her.

[pycth]

First Formed of Empathy

I drew this awhile ago, but I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently so thus into the share pile she goes~

[honey-xuckle]

I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHERRRRR 🗣️🗣️

[w0lfie-drawz]

RIP Gavin, you would've loved Haru from Beaststars

"I discovered the one thing I can do to feel like I'm equal with others. This might sound silly, but that was when I felt validated for the very first time if my life."

"I didn't want others to look at me and see me as some fragile dwarf rabbit(dangerous demon). I wanted others to see me for who I am, me, Haru!(Gavin)"

Oh! And :insert I Don't Like My Mind by Mitski:

<3

[moronkyne]

Finally watching Redacted 101; Demons and Daemons

Here’s my input and notes;

THE SOVEREIGNS NOT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT THE DAEMONS AND DEMONS? WHAT. “Pets” and then just LEAVING?

Sovereigns Getting Salty™

Overthrowing gods? My favorite trope FOR REAL

So like “Starchild” is a sort of degrading name for some Demons? Hm interestinggg

Sadism, Inchoate, Desire, Empathy, Serenity, Strife, Misery, Fear, Shock, & Elation (feeds by a spectrum)

Thinking abt Fear demons with anxiety LMAO

Me and Erik speak alike and I just wanna say 🗣️🔊

“Sadism demons don’t have to be cruel—Vega often is.” GIGGLING

First Daemon, Polaris; Empathy Daemon

All empathy Daemons are childlike. GOTCHU. (I think that’s what he meant?)

De’Deridahn is like. It makes a lot of sense why he wanted his ‘creations’ to directly serve him. (Also i associated him with green but sense the new balance video im seeing ORANGE??)

Okay I actually had to take my meds in the middle of this bc I didn’t understand shit

Demons having no concept of death omfg IM GONNA CRY. :(

“And saw what morality—Mortality.”

EXPENDING MAGIC KILLS WOOO (cries)

Off topic but my cat biting the shit out of my finger as Erik is talking about vampires

THE ELLISION WELLL (ok i spelt it wrong)

Attendance at the well 👀 WAIT THEY ARENT JUST FORMED WITH A STEWARD?? THEYRE LIKE. MATCH-MAKED 👀

So there’s a ratio of D(a)emons to humans (checks and balances wtf Erik /pos)

So the Meridian SPLITS Elegy and Aria. Holy shit? The visuals in my brain rn. pearlescent river (Meridian) go brr

This might have to be two posts

So in Aria…there’s a whole new form. 👀 I’ve actually have headcanons about this ‼️

THERES NO CLOTHES IN ARIA. That’s lowkey pretty cool? I mean like it’s funny asf

Stewards.. can steward more than one. Hrmmm

Ah shit we’re talking demon politics

Daemons are biologically immortal though can die

THERES STILL MORE?? 13 MORE MINUTES? Hell.

Yeah I’m cutting this short specifically bc like three people are gonna see this and it’s not worth it

[emrysflame]

I just posted this a little but a/b/o but what I think each character is.

Rhaenyra- Alpha

Alicent- Omega

Daemon- Alpha

Laenor- Beta

Laena- Omega/Beta

Viserys- Alpha/Beta (could see any honestly)

Aemma- Omega

Otto- Beta

Aegon- Beta

Aemond- Alpha

Helaena- Omega

Daeron- Beta/Omega

Jace- Omega

Luke- Omega

Cregan- Alpha

Joffrey- Alpha

Baela- Alpha/Beta

Rhaena- Omega

Harwin- Alpha

Larys- Beta

Mysaria- Omega

Alys- Beta

Corlys- Alpha

Rhaenys- Alpha

Oscar- Alpha

[klaus-littlestwolf]

New fic Idea…?

So I was thinking about a fic last night after a few too many drinks🤣

Aemond and his twin sister present as Omegas, something that has never before happened in Targaryen history to even one of the blood of the Dragon, let alone twins.

They are even more desperate for each other than ever before as Otto tries desperately to hide the fact of them being “weak, needy Omegas” until he can marry them off individually, which his daughter argues as strongly as she can.

He keeps them apart, only letting them close when they can be watched by guards. As everyone comes to Kings Landing to fight for the inheritance of Lord of the Tides, Aemond and Y/n come face to face with their Alpha…Alphas

Daemon and Rhaenyra defied all odds by getting married and mating despite both being Alphas though they always knew they were waiting for an Omega to call theirs. They never expected to find two Omegas, and in the last place they would have thought to look…

Does this sound good or is it too crazy?😂🤣

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

The Daemonic Theory of Engine Sentience: Introduction

OK, strap yourselves in, Gunzel is now going to posit my own idea of engine sentience within my own TTTE AU universe.

***

This is such a difficult topic that its virtually asking, where does Life itself come from?

Once we get beyond the natural world and the world of humans, such a question becomes kind of dicey. Engines that live shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t have faces and thoughts and feelings and independent wills, but here we are. In-universe, they are definitely alive, not in an illusory fashion, actually independently alive. Exactly why is the question. They have no organs, no nerves and yet they can talk, move, argue, have free will and feel pain.

Victor Tanzig has in-universe in his own AU hsd outlined at least 3 theories of engine sentience:  Biochemical (at some point during the creation of the locomotive, the conditions are created just right that life occurs when the fire is lit and the generation of the process of life is fundamentally material) , Attention (that attention and care from humans to the locomotives grants sentience) and Revenant (the souls of the dead animate the locomotive shell).

I propose kind of an extension of the third theory that posits no material explanation, or psychological one. Rather, I believe the process of First Ignition is a spiritual one.

“Daemon” is the Ancient Greek word for ‘spirit’, or minor deity, from which we derive our word ‘demon’. The spirit, so called, inhibits the shell of the locomotive and the body is awakened by the First Ignition. These aren’t the spirits of the dead as the Revenant theory proposes, but an abstract living “Spirit”.

The catalyst for it seems to be the First Ignition imbuing it with a literal or symbolic fire (in the case of diesels and trucks and cars, etc. that channels the power of the spirit into the material shell of the engine. In ages past, this may be called divine or Promethean fire, phlogiston, or Azoth. 

It's not clear whether it is a pre-existing spirit, or a new fully fledged daemon thus being born in this way that brings life to the shell. All possess a certain individuality and sensitivity that make each one unique. The possible divinity of such a process is inferred by the fact that all locomotives coming to life in such a manner all wake up with fully functioning if inchoate human level intellects, though education is still required and emotionally they may not be all there. This does not necessarily mean that First Ignition can fix or overcome the flaws of a bad build, as the example of Henry Mrk 1 demonstrates.

Nor does the theory suggest that the spirit that animates this shell is separate from it, any more than the presence of human consciousness means that the body is entirely separate. It seems clear that once First Ignition has animated the shell, the mind and the body are one, as is clear from the fact that non-faceless vehicles can feel pain or sensation or feel physical satisfaction and energy from burning coal and boiling water.

Further more, this can be replicated over and over again. But it is not guaranteed that a machine will become non-faceless, otherwise every machine could have a face and be sentient. That trucks and cars and airplanes can also become sentient also complicates things... well, a lot.

Clearly it is very complex. But it appears that certain workshops have the ability to consistently produce non-faceless machinery, or certain people running them have the ability to insure the ritual of First Ignition creates the result needed.

There is no religious dimension to this, the religious faith of the workers or shop owner does not seem to matter. But there does seem to be a correlation between actually crafting the locomotive/car/rollingstock etc. with a human hand rather than machining it with robots…

Not all locomotives are daemonic in this way. Some might be animated by other kinds of intelligent spirits or energies. This is just one theory of many theories of engine animation that has been crystalised.

Within this theory of machine sentience, there are three developed branches: the Hermetic school, the Masonic school and the Goetic school. This isn’t to say that the names given to these schools of thought encapsulate the whole of their philosophies, only in so far as they can be applied to non-faceless vehicle creation.

It is not necessarily that one even has to be conscious of these theories in order to create new non-faceless vehicles. They are merely models that try to explain why different machinery seems to come to life or why they come to life in a certain way and others do not.

[lidoshka]

Daemon reading to his sons... or maybe just listening to Rhaegar read ;D

+

@syndrossi This took me 23 years. but it's finally done... ^^;

[syndrossi]

Regret AU: Part 5(b)

Daemon is, uh, going through a few things of his own now.

x~x~x

In the weeks since he had returned to King’s Landing, Daemon had found himself inundated with letters from lords and knights who would not have given him a second glance since he had been disinherited in favor of Rhaenyra, but were now eager to congratulate him on his success in the Stepstones.

It was no different in court, where he had allowed himself to be fooled by the whispers of speculation that Viserys’s warm reception might be a sign that he had given up finding Rhaenyra a suitor from amongst the other families of the realm, and sought someone closer to home. More than a fool. I was a raving, dribbling lackwit to think that my brother would see me for anything but a burden to be suffered.

Daemon could not even wallow in his rage, the burn of humiliation just as strong, clogging his throat. He had stopped just short of begging, and still his brother had all but scoffed at him by the end of it. He treats me like a child whining about finding peas on my plate.

He stared at the pile of letters from today’s haul that a page had left with Rolen, sick unto death of false promises and false hope and adoration that turned to indifference at the changing of the wind. I should burn them. I should burn them, burn this room, burn—

“My prince?”

Rolen was looking at him with a concern that brought the rage to a roaring fire in his chest, only for it to die with a whimper, leaving him bereft. I am a thing of pity. How the court would laugh and sneer if whispers of his failure made it out of Viserys’s chamber.

“Shall I read them to you?”

Daemon flopped onto the couch, still unaccustomed to the way his short hair barely moved, and stared at the ceiling, marveling that he had ever missed King’s Landing. The arrows slung his way by ambitious Triarchy bowmen had been honest, at least, and his response simple: burn them all. That had sadly not been an option for Corlys’s more irritating advisors, but Drahar’s men had on occasion done him a favor there.

“If you like,” Daemon said.

He closed his eyes, only half-listening. Rolen’s voice was deep and soothing, stirring memories of distant childhood, when he had been his father’s servant instead. Most nights, their father had read to them. Other nights, their nurse. And still others, it had been Rolen.

Lord Largent sought tales of his son Luthor’s bravery in the final battle against Drahar. Lord Mallery wished to extend an invitation to a hunt at Denmarch next moon. Ser Desmond Lowther professed himself within Daemon’s debt for ridding the Narrow Seas of the pirate scourge that had killed his sister.

Rolen paused after that letter, long enough that Daemon thought him finished. Then he cleared his throat. “From Ser Willam of House Royce—”

Daemon’s eyes snapped open. “Burn it.”

“My prince—”

“Burn it!” he snarled.

“I cannot, my prince,” Rolen said, his voice apologetic. “You would not forgive me if I did.”

The refusal was so unexpected that he sat up, confusion overtaking anger. He vaguely recalled a Ser Willam, for it was he who wielded the Royce blade Lamentation. A second cousin of his wife’s; second son of a second son of a second son. He could think of no reason for the knight to be writing to him rather than the letter coming from Rhea herself. Unless—

He stared at Rolen, barely daring to hope. “Is the bitch dead?”

“Not quite, my prince,” his servant said. He kept glancing between Daemon and the letter, his expression uncharacteristically perturbed. “I suggest you read it yourself.”

=========

“Open the door,” Daemon commanded.

The Kingsguard outside his brother’s chamber, Ser Steffon, gazed back at him impassively. “The king is not to be disturbed.”

“I do not care if he is mid-fuck with that Hightower harlot!” Daemon gave the door a kick, causing the knight to twitch, his sword half out of its sheath before he arrested the motion. “I will speak to the king, or I will burn the Vale.”

The knight’s gaze swept him more carefully, and his lip curled. He knew what the Kingsguard was looking for. “You should thank all seven of your gods, Ser Steffon, that I am sober.” If he were not, he might be halfway to the Vale already.

Daemon kicked the door once more. “Viserys!”

This time, Ser Steffon seized him by the arm, and only Viserys’s muffled voice stopped him from driving the knight into the door. “Daemon? What in the seven hells—?”

“Shall I escort him back to his chamber, my king?” Ser Steffon asked, still gripping him by the arm. “Or elsewhere?”

“If you send me away,” Daemon hissed, “you shall never see me again. I swear it.”

The long pause afterward might have cut him to the core mere hours before, but the tumult of emotion that had flooded him over the past half hour had numbed him to everything but rage. Finally, Viserys said, “Open the door.”

Ser Steffon did as commanded, holding onto Daemon all the while. Viserys stood in the doorframe, dressed for sleep, and judging by the mess of his hair, he had been woken from it. May he spend the rest of the week as sleepless as I shall be.

Viserys studied him for a few moments, gaze lingering on the crumpled sheets of parchment in his hand. “Release him.”

Daemon pointedly ignored Ser Steffon and followed his brother into his chamber, past the clay monstrosity serving as its centerpiece that he had been told was a model of Valyria itself.

“Daemon,” his brother said, a note of warning in his voice. “You cannot make demands of—”

He strode past him, to the table by the windows, and slapped the letters onto the table. “Read these.”

Viserys started with the letter from Ser Willam, while Daemon watched the movement of his eyes through the first page. At one point, they halted, moving back up, then jumped further down the page before reading it through once more. He quickly moved to the second page, then the third, setting them down with a look of dazed astonishment.

“That cannot be,” he said.

“What cannot be?” Daemon said, pacing along the length of the table. “That I might have spoken truth about that bitch’s nature? That I have sons of my own? That they were stolen from me by their shrew of a mother and hidden away to live in squalor?”

His voice had risen to a shout by the end, and when Ser Steffon called into the room to ask if the king required assistance, Daemon grabbed the nearest cup and flung it at the door with a wordless scream. Viserys hurried to the door, which had immediately cracked open, and exchanged a few quiet words with the knight. Daemon’s breath hissed in and out, sharp against the silence.

“Daemon,” his brother said at last, looking shaken. “I do not—”

“Read the other,” Daemon said. “If you wish to know the true depths of her treason, read the other.”

The other letter did not bear the seal of House Royce, which made it far more trustworthy in Daemon’s eyes, and its contents were breathtakingly damning. Viserys, who had leaned over to read Lord Grafton’s letter, bolted upright midway through.

“By the gods!”

“Hatchlings,” Daemon said through gritted teeth. The brief fantasy he had allowed himself through his seething rage at reading the first letter, of taking his babes to the Dragonpit to view the drakes and dragons within, had been shattered by the second.

It was not enough to steal my children. It was not enough to make whatever black deal was necessary to secure dragon eggs. The bitch stole our very tradition of dragon eggs in the cradle.

“I must send word to Lady Arryn at once,” Viserys said, his face grey. “I must summon the small council.”

“Fuck the small council and fuck Lady Arryn,” Daemon snapped. “Give me dragons. Give me Rhaenys and Rhaenyra. We will retrieve my sons and burn Runestone as Aegon burned Harrenhal. There can be no other response to such treason.”

Viserys was already shaking his head. “Daemon, that is—”

“She stole my children, Viserys!” he screamed, his fury only heightened by the hot blur of tears that made the room swim. “The very children you mocked me about, for it could only be my fault that our union was childless. I have not held them. I have not named them. I do not know what they look like. I will be a stranger to them.”

His brother stared at him in silence, bereft of words for once.

“She stole the joy of them from me.” The grief had found its way to his throat now, half choking him. “The birth of my first child—children. It should have been the greatest of joys.” Instead, he had learned of his fatherhood from a letter, the moment forever soiled by the crimes that had been committed against him. Against his sons.

“They are nothing to her,” Daemon croaked. That was the greatest blow. “They were not deserving of her love or her comfort. They are but tools, dragonriders that she might someday use to challenge the throne.”

“Daemon, I—” His brother approached him cautiously, as one might a wild animal, to put his hands on Daemon’s shoulders. He had been taller than Daemon, until one final growth spurt in Runestone had given him an extra inch, putting them eye-to-eye now. “I am sorry. I did not know.”

“You did not listen,” he said bitterly. “I all but begged for freedom, and instead you rubbed my nose in your own blessings.”

“I could not imagine that—” Viserys shook his head once more. “Otto has always spoken so highly of Lady Royce.”

“Fuck Otto,” Daemon said, his voice hollow. “And fuck you, if it was at his counsel that you refused me.”

The grip on his shoulders tightened briefly, and for a moment, trepidation found its way through the churn of fury and anguish. His brother was king. No one spoke to him thus, not anymore. But after a complicated flicker of emotion on his brother’s face, Daemon found himself pulled into an embrace.

“I will make this right, Daemon,” Viserys said. “House Royce and House Redfort will face the king’s justice.”

The king’s justice. Not the fiery rain of dragonflame that they truly deserved.

“They should burn,” Daemon said, digging his chin into his brother’s shoulder. He tried to picture his sons’ faces and couldn’t. “They should burn.”

“Runestone will be your eldest’s seat,” Viserys reminded him.

Then let it burn and let a new castle be built atop it, he wanted to say, but he knew that it was not so simple. As badly as he wished to see its halls reduced to molten rubble, it belonged to his son.

My son. He still could not comprehend having one son, let alone two. He will be a lord, with a holdfast of his own.

“If House Redfort was so eager to claim them as their own, then let Redfort go to my youngest,” Daemon said.

“I shall ensure your sons are given their due,” Viserys said. He pulled back then. “Go to them. Bring your babes home.”

“What of Runestone?” Daemon demanded, his thirst for vengeance overtaking the heartache once more.

“You will leave the Vale to me. They will face justice, Daemon. Once I am satisfied that the full scale of House Royce’s treason is known, you may swing the sword yourself.”

x~x~x

Ser Willam right now, somewhere in the Vale, feeling a shiver of foreboding: I'm (my house is) in danger.

Willam and the boys made it to Castle Graftson so soon after Willam sent his own raven that it would have been no more than a few hours before Lord Grafton sent his, hence Daemon having both to read. And Lord Grafton made his own opinions about House Royce's treason/motivations with the hatchlings plain...

[leonanette]

I have a new fic! And, it's my first dabble in A/B/O so please be gentle.

Summary:

Seven years ago, Lucerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen flew into a storm above Shipbreaker Bay. No one has seen them or their dragons since that night. No one even knows if they are alive or dead.

But, sightings of Lucerys' dragon in the Stormlands has given Queen Rhaenyra hope. She sends out dragonriders to track him down and, by extension, find Lucerys and perhaps Aemond too. When Daemon finds Arrax and follows his trail, he finds a strange island and, on that island, he makes an incredible discovery.

Fic details:

Relationship: Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra) Characters: Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)Daemon Targaryen, Vhagar | Visenya Targaryen's Dragon, Arrax | Lucerys Velaryon's Dragon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Not Beta Read, Amnesia, Amnesiac Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Amnesiac Aemond Targaryen, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Both of them have amnesia, Is it dub-con if both of them have amnesia?, I'll add the dub-con tag anyway just to be safe, AU, Aged-Up Character(s), No Dance of the Dragons | War For Succession Between Aegon II and Rhaenyra Targaryen Never Happens, Mildly Dubious Consent

[verstappenfan69]

why do I listen too vega?

cuz he’s HAUT!

[pycth]

He finally got his coffee date (sponsored by Hush.mp3)

What are the odds the three current characters I’ve worked on/am working on are in the current video lineup— that means y’all know who’s up next 👀