#enjoy the 3 ff references in this post

[tetsuotools]

eternal wind 💙 hbd john you would've loved final fantasy

@413countdown

[novaursa]

Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Pairing: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen. 

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause. 

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon. 

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

[millennial-star-gazer]

Bound by Fire and Fate: A Demon and Fairy's Eternal Love

Read This Poem and My Other Works on Tumblr, FF, and AO3

1.FF

I. Main FF Link (Click Here:)

II. Secondary FF Link (Click Here:)

III. Alternative FF Link (Click Here:)

2. AO3

IV. Main AO3 Link (Click Here:)

V. Secondary AO3 Link (Click Here:)

3. Comprehensive Master Post of All My Works

VI. Master Post 1(Click Here:)

VII. Master Post 2 (Continuation of the Original Master Post) (Click Here:)

________________________________________________________

Important Note: The Master Post(s) are also pinned to my Tumblr profile for your convenience.

The font legend, disclaimer with additional content warnings, and other important details, including the actual poem, are located below the cut. Scroll down past if you'd like to jump straight to the content. For those interested in preliminary information such as genre, rating, etc., that will be available in the FF and AO3 versions once posted.

Rating: T-M (for language, subtle mentions of blood, violence, steamy content, and mature/adult sexual themes—all consensual). Reader discretion is advised (you've been warned!). However, it is safe for work. AU (Alternative Universe)

________________________________________________________

For @gymjunkie412, I'm your Secret Santa—hope you enjoy your gift!

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope this message finds you well. It's your girl, millennial_stargazer (aka millennial_fairy across most social media). It's been a while since my last post—long time no see!

This piece is my entry for @allaboutnalu 's gift exchange and my gift to GymJunkie412, as I had the honor of being their Secret Santa this year. After a long break, I'm excited to share this: my first submission in a while and one of many Fairy Tail WIPs/new projects.

Before diving in, I want to mention how much I absolutely love GymJunkie412's art and other amazing content. It's such an honor to create something for someone whose work I admire so much!

This poem is a fantasy-romance AU set in a reimagined version of Earthland, focusing on the NALU/E. pairing. In this version, Natsu is a fire dragon-demon hybrid, and Lucy takes on the role of a celestial fairy and fae. The story draws inspiration from a wide range of sources, including the original Fairy Tail anime/manga, various fanfictions and AUs, and media I love—from novels like the Throne of Glass series to TV shows, anime, K-dramas, international dramas, and games. The Elder Scrolls, D , Arcane/League of Legends, and my own ideas also served as key influences in shaping the world and overall inspiration for this fanfic.

There are other details and explanations I'd love to share, but I'll save that for the end of the note. Parts of this poem are intentionally open-ended to encourage different interpretations and spark the imagination. I wanted to leave room for readers to visualize how certain plot points or character arcs might unfold in this unique take on Earthland.

Thank you for reading! Without further ado, here's the poem. GymJunkie412, I hope you enjoy this, and to everyone else, happy reading!

________________________________________________________

Available on: Tumblr, FF , and AO3.

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail, which belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei! The bottom A/N contains discussions of emotional and psychological trauma, as well as references to armed conflict and bigotry. The poem also features mature, steamy content, references to blood and violence, and explores adult themes in certain sections Reader discretion is advised.

________________________________________________________

Legend:

Italics: Poem

Italics outside of main story: Quote

Bolded Italics outside of main story: A/N

"You are my sun, my moon, and all my stars."

________________________________________________________

(E.E. Cummings: I Carry Your Heart With Me)

________________________________________________________

Welcome, weary travelers! How do you fare? Enter this humble establishment— A well-known tavern on the edge of town, A cozy waypoint for intrepid explorers like yourselves!

Oh, how the frigid wind howls! The icy rain— It soaks to the bone, like shards of glass from a frozen sky. And this cold? This cold, this bitter chill in the late autumn air? It is here to stay, I'm afraid, through winter's reign.

All this—the glacial grip of frost and more— Will endure until Spring's tide swells anew. Persephone will return, Flora will arrive, Bringing the promise of new leaves and lilies In a fragrant breeze that whispers of life reborn.

But alas, we're suspended in the icy hands of time, Shackled by its unyielding chains.

Oh, please, enter— No need to linger in this dreary weather, In this wretched storm that misfortune has brought upon us.

Won't you come in? Do come in, away from the wind, the rain, and the cold.

Now, come inside.

Shed your drenched cloaks,

Bask in the cozy warmth of the room,

And dry your hands by the glow of the hearth.

Come,

We invite you to take a seat.

Why not make yourselves at home?

Grab an ale and gather around,

As we regale you with the tale of starlight-touched lovers—

The most epic love story of our generation,

The grand saga of a celestial fae and a fire demon,

Ever told.

Once, there were two immortals, Seemingly worlds apart. One was a man, a fire dragon-demon Of tremendous power and strength— A figure both feared and revered.

His name, you ask? Etherious Natsu Dragneel E.N.D., as he's known by many, A denizen of Tartarus, Hades itself. Inhuman, yet— Handsome he is, with those roguish, boyish good looks, A mane like coral, skin of olive, scales glimmering faintly, Arresting emerald eyes, That can turn crimson.

A dazzling grin, sharp as his fangs, That sets hearts aflutter and knees weak. A physique like chiseled marble, Dark, infernal Adonis.

Wings unfurled, horns curving— A testament to his demon heritage. Many say, some would claim, As if he were crafted by the hands of both Heaven and Hell, A being forged from light and shadow, all in one.

This man, His captivating allure, However dark and seemingly unholy, It's the envy, The awe, The pull of Lasses and lads, Souls of every kind, Be they non-binary, two-spirit, or beyond, From all realms.

But amid all this, There are those whose beauty rivals the very stars themselves, And among them, the lasses—

How could we forget? Lucy Heartfilia, A fairy of the stars, a fae of the cosmos, A celestial maiden, An ethereal beauty, With otherworldly looks so fair. Her flowing tresses, Like spun gold, Her delicate face—

It is said her beauty could launch a thousand ships, Much like the fabled Helen of Troy, Her skin, pure as ivory, glowing with otherworldly grace.

Cinnamon eyes, Endless pools of wonder, In which mere mortals, demons, fae, sorcerers, or any soul could lose themselves for hours.

Petal-soft lips, That all desire to kiss, A longing that stirs the heart.

Why, she's a celestial fairy, A fae of great mystical power! A maiden touched by the heavens themselves. Haven't ye heard? She can command the cosmos with a whisper. The magic of constellations pulses through her veins, The power of the zodiac thrums in her blood. Her gift to conjure the cosmos? Ah, quite the grand feat, no doubt.

With pointed ears, And silken wings of rose and lavender, That shimmer and swirl in a symphony of light. They glisten like pastel diamonds in moon— A sight to behold, indeed.

Now, we recall the time of their fated meeting, The destined connection of two souls, A demon and a fae. Some may wonder, ponder— How could such a thing be? After all, are they not two beings from worlds apart?

Indeed, that rings true, A verity that resonates.

One is an Etherious, A prince of Hell, Born in a kingdom Forged in fire and ash, Iron and blood.

Rumors whispered, That this man, A dragon-demon hybrid, Spawned by a she-demon and a dragon of hellfire, Adopted son of the Flame Dragon King Igneel, Half-brother to the Black Wizard Zeref, Otherwise known as E.N.D, Was destined to ascend To the throne of Alvarez, Ruler of all dark dragons, demons, Sorcerers of black magic, And all that is unholy in Tartaros. Yet, despite his bloodline, He was not entirely malevolent, For even in the heart of darkness, A flicker of light could still burn.

The other, A child of the Fair Folk, Star-blessed, touched by the heavens, An ethereal being imbued with both cosmic power and divine grace. A denizen of Ishtar, Born of Fae King Jude and the Celestial May Queen Layla, She was a princess of the stellar realm, A wizard of immeasurable magic and prestige. In her heart burned kindness as vast as her strength, Her presence a beacon of light, Like a cosmic angel descending upon mortal lands. Primed to unite the divided Fae realms, She was destined to wear the crown, Queen of Earthly Magnolia and Crocus of the Sky, Empress of the Gossamer Lands— Long may she reign.

Bards sing of Natsu and Lucy's praises daily, Weaving tales of their fated connection. Their paths, as though etched by divine hands, Were destined to intertwine. It was written in the stars, The grand design of the gods, For these two kindred souls to find each other. Both had many friends within the renowned wizard guild of Fairy Tail, Where bonds of camaraderie fortified their spirits.

Their first meeting was as innocent children, Crossing paths while at play, unaware of the threads of destiny binding them. Years later, their lives converged once more, As adolescents on the cusp of discovery— He at fifteen, she at fourteen, Both carrying the weight of their lineage, Yet drawn together by a bond neither could yet comprehend.

Lucy, practicing her magic, Summoning her spirit guides, Weaving her spells, Casting celestial enchantments, Formations of stars, bodies, and light, Each one a radiant masterpiece.

Natsu and his exceed companion, Happy, Watching with rapt attention, Gazing in awe as stardust shimmered, Dancing above their heads.

Never had they witnessed such exquisite sorcery, Appearing before their youthful eyes, In all their short years. Peals of Lucy's silvery laughter, Ringing out like a cathedral bell in the summer air.

Oh, how they longed to hear it again, The sound of Lucy, the celestial maiden's joy, Delight so pure, like the sweetest of melodies, Filling the hearts of a demon and his cat companion.

As she conjured her magic, They marveled at her power, Lucy, a force unlike any they had known, A being born of stardust, A child of the cosmos, Her every movement a celestial dance.

Alas, their moment of revelry disrupted, By who, you may inquire? Why, by no more, no less than an unsightly man of low class and moral standing, Too desperate was he for Lucy's hand.

Lecherous stares, A fumbling word or two, Insulting remarks that fall flat and unworthy. Oh, how Lucy, Still a novice in her magic, Sat with poise, And yet, she was forced to endure.

Such harassment, Fueled by the fear of retaliation from a brutish man, With the grace of a wild beast in a porcelain shop. Panic set in, Alarm bells ringing in the fairy's mind, Her heartbeat pounding like the frantic rhythm of a drum. No other choice but to remain, it seemed.

Lucy's tight smile betrayed only the distress of her quickening pulse, A sound well-known to fire demon's and winged feline's ears. Joy faded, A protective fury simmering in the dragon's veins, A wild, untamable creature who could not be restrained. Natsu's world turned red— Or so the story goes, as far as we're told.

Lucy's fear rose as she frantically sought an escape, From such a dire situation. But salvation was at hand, Natsu and Happy to the rescue, Natsu's gleaming canines bared, growls rumbling, fist aflame— While Happy, with wings spread wide, let loose a sharp, fearless screech, A thinly veiled threat sending the scoundrel fleeing, tail tucked in retreat.

A flash of a radiant smile, sweeter than honey, A wry smirk, An exchange of gratitude, And an engaging discourse, Were the sparks for a new friendship that day. Camaraderie between demons, cats, and fae. Lo and behold, an intimate bond like no other was forged.

The seasons wheel, The sun and moon in endless pursuit, Years flow by in the river of time.

Unbreakable camaraderie, Adolescent years filled with warmth and delight, Laughter abundant, echoing all around, Friendships planted with care, Blossoming into a love as tender as lilies in spring.

Friends to lovers, as destiny wills, their journey unfolded into an unbreakable union.

Eighteen's philia and storge's nineteen, Merge into one, As eros awakens and ludus flourishes, Two hearts, Dragon and fairy.

Once friends, now intertwined, In pragma's dawn and love's design. Oh, isn't it grand? Their connection blossoming into something more, A bond that transcends the years, the moments, Their hearts drawn together in the cosmic dance of fate.

Their first kiss was nothing short of grand Natsu's lips sought, chased hers with such fervor, With a kiss, igniting a fiery, electric dance, Sparks flying, the air crackling with desire and pleasure, A touch so sweet, it could burn the world. In the heat of the moment, A sigil of love—unseen but deeply felt, A symbol of passion, fierce and unbreakable.

Incendiary nights of longing and passion, Tender couplings that followed, All in many days' work for a demon dragon and his beloved. The celestial beauty is his most treasured, Soul-bonded in this life, this world, And the next—forever entwined

For it is foretold that dragons, demons, and hybrids Do not merely mate for life—but for all eternity, Bound by a love that transcends time and space.

Love and prosperity endured for a long while, Regrettably, such peace could not last. Escalating tensions rose like plumes of smoke, Or the molten core of a rumbling volcano. Tempers erupted, War broke out and spread across the land in all the realms, Much like a great plague. The life blood of soldiers from opposing factions was shed, Soaking the earth, Leaving it stained, The very soil tainted with the scars of battle.

A thousand tears fell from widows, Alike the rains of a relentless monsoon. Wails of children's anguish echoed in the streets, For there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. Amidst the suffering and despair, A glimmer of hope endured.

Yet, fear not, All hope was not lost. Natsu, Lucy, and their comrades Fought for the fate of all innocents and beings, With unwavering courage and unyielding resolve, Until the terrible calamity was vanquished, and harmony restored.

Amid the ashes of war, a new dawn rose, Treaties signed, to end the strife that tore and froze. War criminals punished, justice restored, And a promise made—Never again, peace shall be poured.

Natsu and Lucy, in love's true embrace, Married with honor, crowned in their rightful place. Empress and Emperor, ruling as one, A future forged together, their reign had begun. Lucy, now Natsu's, bound in every way, Their souls entwined, come what may. The Celestial, Fae, and Tartaros joined in their might, Alongside Earthland, united in light.

Side by side, they rule with unwavering care, Uniting all realms, a bond beyond compare. With friends and family from every land, Their reign was gentle, yet firm, as they made their stand.

They watch over us now, with loving eyes, As humans and all live their best lives, With Fairy Tail, by their side, strong and true, A family of love, forever renewed. A legacy built, on love's pure light, Guiding us forward, through the darkest night.

A lesson to learn, from the strength they've shown, In unity and love, we find our own. Their story continues, through time and space, A reign of peace, in a vast, endless place.

And so their tale stretches into the sky, A bond unbroken, a love that will never die. The realms they guide, their hearts entwined, Forever remembered, in stories redefined.

________________________________________________________

A/N: END Scene. This poem has truly been a labor of love, and I sincerely hope you all enjoyed it. As always, please don't forget to like, comment, and share/reblog! It was a joy to write, despite a few hiccups along the way. I'm also really satisfied with how this turned out overall—it's been a journey, and I'm so happy with the final result.

While this is a work of fanfiction, I've also aimed to include diverse and inclusive representation, which is deeply important to me as a proudly sapphic queer woman on the bi/pan spectrum, as well as a neurodivergent person—making me a member of two marginalized groups in addition to being a woman. I am also a feminist, humanist, and egalitarian who believes in an intersectional approach to allyship. I stand for equal rights, respect, and an inclusive society for people from all disenfranchised groups, including loved ones, readers, mutuals, and followers. This perspective helps me understand the significance of intersectionality and diverse representation. My hope is that anyone reading from a diverse background feels seen and heard in some way.

Quick note on two-spirit: it refers to a specific identity within Indigenous/Aboriginal communities within the queer spectrum. However, it doesn't apply to all Indigenous/Aboriginal people. Regardless, all BIPOC, queer, and marginalized identities are valid, and I believe they deserve acknowledgment, especially in the face of societal struggles, human rights violations, and injustices.

As for this poem—there's always potential to expand it into a sequel or even a fanfiction series if time and inspiration align. Feel free to adapt it into your own fanfiction AU, should that be something you'd like to explore!

Now, as for why I've been a bit quiet on the writing front—I've been working on multiple WIPs (including new chapters), original projects, and edits, but delays have happened. Life has been busy with work commitments and managing energy levels from my ECE job schedules. Along with personal challenges, physical and mental health struggles, including anxiety and the aftermath of multiple traumas, writing consistency has been tough. One medical challenge I've been facing is vertigo, which I've had for the last 2.5 years. My PCP suspects it may have been caused by a virus (possibly from a stomach flu at one of the daycare centers where I worked or as a side effect of undiagnosed COVID). While I stay up to date on vaccines and take proper precautions, vertigo can mimic symptoms of a traumatic brain injury, and it has been affecting my brain, body, and overall well-being. As a result, my brain isn't functioning the same as it did just a few years ago, despite the fact that the transition from 30 to 33 shouldn't be that drastic. This also exacerbates challenges tied to my learning disability and impacts my writing. I often need to write in shorter bursts now, depending on how I'm feeling, but I'm still a good writer who's working on my craft.

Other factors like internet troubles in November (my old modem dying due to my ISP phasing out their legacy network) caused delays, too—resulting in 2.5 days of lost time until a technician could come and get us set up with a new connection.

That said, I'm determined to get back into a regular writing routine, even if it means writing in short bursts spread out over a couple of days. I promise I'm still working hard to get new chapters and projects out, and I'm hoping to post them as soon as possible. As always, keep an eye on my Tumblr, FF, and AO3 profiles for new chapters and WIPs. Feel free to connect with me across other social media platforms, too. Links to everything are in my Tumblr bio, this post, master posts, and various profiles depending on where you're reading from!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Blessed Yule/Winter Solstice, Happy Kwanzaa, and all the best to you during this holiday season. Whether you celebrate any or all of these, I hope this season brings joy, peace, and love to your heart. Happy holidays from Canada to all my readers, mutuals, followers, and everyone from diverse backgrounds, no matter how or which celebrations you observe. Until next time, please take care of yourselves.

[rennsdeaddoves]

journey to the west book one, thoughts

so this post is going to be really messy and jumbled, i will take my thoughts one chapter at a time. since this post contains all the chapters in book one imma but everything under the cut and warn ya'll that this is HELLA long.

ok so, before we get into it i just wanna let you guy's know that if the first 13 chapters seem like they have less it's because i only really started to do this on chapter 14 and had to go back through chapters 1 - 13 and look at the notes and tabes i left to gage my reaction to them. some of them have a bit more than others and some have like none at all.

that being said enjoy the absolute crack house that is my no cotext thoughts of Journey to the West volume one!

Chapter 1

monkey is born!!

and he's already being impulsive...

calling him the handsome monkey king is gonna go straight to his head

lier! you are a certified shit disturber and you know it!

ohhhhh so thats how he got the name Sun Wukong, gotcha gotcha

Chapter 2

the dao art seems real complex

love how they casually have the way to immortality written in this book lol

teaching a suicidaly impulsive monkey how to shape shift and fly wasn't a bad idea at all!

he's showing off- of course he is-

aaaaaand he got kicked out for showing off! idiot-

oh damn- thats actually sadder than i thought it would be...

HE CALLS THEM LITTLE ONES!!! CUUUTE!!!!

HOW DARE!?!?!

Chapter 3

holy hell....

op much???

not a monkey scaring a dragon ffs

he is just a menace this entire page! LAMO

GOD DAMN-

THEY WANT HIM OUT SO FUCKING BAD XDDDD

bruh-

ooooooop foreshadowing alert

THATS BULLSHIT!! THEIR EXAGERATING THE HELL OUT OF IT!!!

oh- oh he really fucked up the life and death cycles- damn...

smart!!!!

he was thinking of paying a visit to heaven himself?? without an invite?? oh- that would not have ended well-

Chapter 4

here we go! first rampage through heaven!!

deva

NEZHA!!!!

ITS GIVING "who's this sassy lost kid?" VIBES XD

Chapter 5

does he not have a reputation yet???

Wukong is in so much fucking trouble oh god....

idiot

going to war over wine is a very Wukong thing to do-

Chapter 6

when did Nezha get here?

shapeshifter duels man... they be confusing af

oop he got caught-

Chapter 7

they seem to have forgotten what the meaning of immortal is

oop- he's being refered to as a monster instead of a king by the narrator- thats how you know he's pissed beyond all belief...

OH HES MAD MAD

HOLY FUCK

"i have to go exorcise a demon to defend the throne." pg 193

"he ligit just wrote "sun wukong was here" oh the fucking finger lmao

man... calling the banquet that is just salt in the wound.... really it is...

Chapter 8

sandy's got green skin, red hair, noted

it's pigsy -n-

he flirted with Chang'e..... this bitch

i already can't fucking stand him

Chapter 9

so he does have parents! lets see if they ever pop up again-

WHAT!?!?! WHY!?!!

Chapter 10

i didn't take in a sing thing that this chapter sad.... why is it even here-

Chapter 11

no thoughts head empty, why are we still on this? is there any plot relevance or???

Chapter 12

awwww their cute

good for him, coming from such humble beginnings

wow- ok thats kinda a really great honour to be called brother by the emperor

Chapter 13

lots of scenery! neat!

wft....

oop divine intervention o'clock

abuse???? hello??? what the actual fuck sir???

COWARD!!!

i am going to get so sick of him so quickly....

WUKONG!?!?!?!!!!! YER BACK!!!!!! YEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH

Chapter 14

wukong- bud... YOUR FUCKING FILTHY

yell that your not lying makes you less believable

HE'S NAKED?!?! OFC HE IS

brutal.... nice

ight show off, keep rambling about the shit you can do.

gay? /j but fr- i get that a naked monkey coming to your door may be a cause for concern but there was no reason to disrespect him like that-

he has a son??? when???

gross man- like i get you were trapped under a mountain- but gross

brutal... nice

EXCUSE YOU WHAT?!?! NAH, NAH HE DID NOT

A FEW WORDS?!?! FAM YOU READ HIM FOR A WHOLE PARAGRAPH SHUT YOUR MOUTH

thats not teaching tripitaka- a lecture is NOT teaching

GUAINYIN IS HERE!!! oh... Guanyin is here...

oh... fuck...

why is his name just 'Pilgrim' like i get it but i also don't... idk

oh he's gonna do it out of spite now for being called a bogus immortal by the dragon king

that entire painting is just of two gay lovers putting on shoes and getting immortality for it

well, he actually is really convincing, i can see why Wukong went back after those words...

yeah i'd be taken aback too bud

.......YOU COULD FINISH THE JOURNEY RN.... but he won't, that defeats the entire porpoise of it all

THIS BITCH!!!! I WILL ACTUALLY KILL HIM

HE ONLY STOPPED CAUSE I WAS AFRIAD THE FILLET WOULD BREAK

ON GOD I WILL THROW HANDS WITH A MONK I WILL

HE STARTED UP AGAIN?!??!!? STOP!!!!

OH OH! so you stop when you see how the pain is LITTERALLY TEARING HIS BODY APART! fuck you

HE ACTUALLY TRIED TO KILL HIM!?!?!?!? oh my god- i mean.... jesus.....

yes. its a great idea to go to the south sea and beat up the goddess who did this to you... super smart /s

all thoughts of disobedience and rebellion? no shot

Chapter 15

ah yes, lets start the chapter with Wukong hauling ass to save Tripitaka

Jesus them some powerful eyes

omg SHUT UP

YES YELL AT HIM WUKONG!!!

namby-pamby??

lawless lizard XD

harsh

they talk about him like he's not the son of a dragon king...

OH SHES PISSED AT HIM

so he's called 'third prince Jade dragon' gotcha

he's a fucking idiot

why are you being such a baby all of a sudden??

neat, he got the get out of danger free leaves now

if Rue had been in this part of the journey she would have been pretty interested in that

plot armour be like-

impressive

more divine intervention! oh my god-

so now it's early spring. jesus that means its almost been a year

Chapter 16

i don't know wether to be annoyed or what- were only a page into this chapter

"he may be ugly" BITCH WHAT

yeah... ight... i'd be annoyed with him too

somesones butt hurt that hes oooooold~

everyone is starting to get on my nerves like jesus-

wow the murder plots are real

he askin' for favours like he didn't just beat their asses 500 years ago

he's a little arsonist

LMAO UNO REVERSE BITCH

damn- he's already on shockingly good terms with him

HE SAVED YOU AND YOUR GONING TO PUNISH HIM FOR IT!?!?!

I'M GOING TO THROW HANDS WITH A MONK ISTG

and after all that your response is still murder??? really????

goddman.... he so mad he defiled a corpse- that wasn't very buddhist of you tripitaka

Chapter 17

not tripitaka using wukongs temper against others-

jesus christ man

"thunder god mouth" XDDD best way to describe it 10/10

THE THREATS

XDD the arrogance!! he called the demon "my son" before starting a lecture XDD

he gets annoyed when people call him the BanHorsePlague now, thats so fucking funny to me

he's so real for that though, i'd wanna eat in the middle of a fight too

he is actually a menace to humans goddamn

HE REDUCED THE DEMON TO A BURGER

love how their calling him 'old carcass'

there is a lot of seemingly nice senery in this chapter

how'd they know all of that just by seeing a goddamn meat patty on the side of the road???

this is gonna be a pattern isn't it-

conversations with these two go no where but damn they do be giving me L O R E

he's being so nice now lmao

wft....

ok *fine* she gets a pass but jesus

GRAPHIC

jesus wukong

HA got'em

"don't start trouble again" "i won't" LIES

Chapter 18

oooooh this is the pigsy chapter!!! i can't wait to see some ass be beat!

i- i don't think i like these people...

Wukong really just said don't judge a book by it's cover

why does he always say "your poor monk" it's grinding my gears

"tell me everything!" .... "from ancient times-"

his surmname meant hog....

i can only picture that one manga panel in jjk where Yuta is dragging Yuji along lmao

ancient toilet humour?

"where are you going darling" he says as he returns to his original form

love that wukong is described and then called "virtually a living thunder god"

"i'll follow you to the ends of the earth" (menacingly)

Chapter 19

why do they all have caves?

it is pigsy

damn- Wukong's reading him

are they really throwing celestial law at one another??

he's bragging... really?

ah yes, a summary of the first seven chapters

he really said set your house on fire and follow me

man's really stripped him of all he was worth and then dragged him by the ear... he's like a mom...

HE'S REFERED TO AS IDIOT! oh this just got so much better

lmao both of them going "wine? oh we still drink that"

Wukong admitted to being a light weight XD

pigsy, trying to say a heart felt goodbye, the other two; hurry the fuck up

"you know him and not me? what kind of fuckery is this?"

"he insulted me and the pig?!" "how?" *proceeds to tell tripitaka exactly how he and pigsy were insulted*

Chapter 20

just by the title alone i know imma start to have beef with pigsy

they still call him idiot! YES

it's pigsy getting bullied hours!!!

that- that was a very round about way of calling him a dick Wukong

annnnnd he's boasting again...

huh? flying bricks, talking pots, and dancing tiles... interesting...

this old man has balls

"fix your ugliness" DUUUUUDE

i'm about to highlight each and every time Pigsy is refered to as Idiot! shits too funny!

ahhhhh pigsy's first kill steal!

OH SHIT NVM

dude just ripped off his own skin! what a power move!

jesus-

and we get to the first time tripitaka is truely captured!

"for you culinary pleasure" XDDDD why is that so funny?

this guy's actually quite smart for that

damn...

good wisdom wukong

i love how wukong is so often describes as "the one with the thunder god mouth and hairy face"

he's got a good sense to be this scared of him

monkey-monk?? (why is that so funny to me???)

he just told wukong he was a 'buy one get one free sale'!! AND HE'S THE FREE BIT XDDDDDD

KILL STEAL!!! +1 for butality, pigsy's score is now -99 points!

Wukong actually let him have credit for the kill? goddamn- is that character growth i see?

Chapter 21

no he does not!

Aqua man?????

Really?? *face palms*

why does he insist on calling himself grandpa?

is he about to disapline him like a grandpa too??

Coward

the divine wind of Samādhi? like the Samādhi fire? NEAT!!!

more divine intervention i see

the trend of calling pigsy an idiot continues and i am thriving in this enviornment

can he be any less annoying?

*crybaby beings to play on loop in my head*

idiot

it was the fucking gold star of venus

very humble wukong

lawless ape! XDDD

love that offending the great sage is quite possibly a crime punishable by death now

Chapter 22

its sandy time!!!

wouldn't that be qualifies as an inland sea?!

i don't know how to feel about that entire passage

cloud surfing lessons

he called Wukong his assistant- oh boy if he had heard that...

he can be there in half an hour?! wild...

sandy is aquired

Chapter 23

still love that his nickname is practically idiot

please- stop refering to your staff as a rod- i can't take reading "you'll get a ___ from this Huge Rod!" anymore T-T

you fucking idiots- your banter has now left the master stranded and he's gonna get captured by demons!

serves you right

Wu kong being so shocked he actually acted poliet?

Unreal and nonexisting- well those are some red falgs if i've ever seen em in this book

SHIT JUST GOT SO MUCH FUNNIER OMFG

she just keeps going!? dude- please- how can someone have so much

omg- this is all a test of character isn't it...

tripitaka; wukong you stay! Wukong; the fuck you mean me!? make pigsy stay

the entier latter half of this page pisses me off. fuck you pigsy

OH EW! SEVEAR ICK- GROSS

I FUCKING HATE YOU YOU GREEDY WHORE

I KNEW IT WAS A TEST OF CHARACTER!!!!!! I WAS RIGHT!!!!

Chapter 24

serves him fucking right

i agree with Wukong, leave the pig and go

holy hell they haven't even covered one tenth of the distance yet?

this is the chapter that that one monkey king animated movie was about.

to cowardly to do it himself so he's gotta wait for Wukong lmao

thus begins an entire two-ish pages of Wukong stealing fruit again

Wukong makes me nevious frfr

if it were so embarissing maybe you shouldn't have done it in the first place

Chapter 25

wukong.... buddy.... no.....

good plan boy's

dude can pick (break?) locks.... good to know

why do you fight first and ask questions later....

he escaped thrice, got catpured thrice, kept playing tricks..... dude just wouldn't fucking stop....

[just-a-leech-boy]

Hello. I have decided to make a pinned post.

I'm riz and it's been my name since long before any of this rizz business ffs.

Gender isn't real but it's only fun if I'm a guy. he/they

If you ask me things I will tell you things. Anything.

Studying architecture and unfortunately enjoy it quite a lot. I <3 Soviet architecture

Alex Horne. Alex Horne. forever and ever.

I was obsessed with Owen Wilson for a year. Join my Owen Wilson discord .

I am the leading expert on The Minus Man. I really love it.

I know a lot of British television and some American things also (procedurals, generally) and other things as well. I do not control the obsessions etc they just happen to me and you all have to witness it.

My url is a reference to the song 'Leech Boy' by Crywank. I got to see them live once. Cried all over them and they were very nice. Love them.

[autopotion]

I was such an FFXIII naysayer after it came out, so, even though I got 30+ hours into it several years later, I don't feel like I ever gave it a fair chance. I was excited about a woman-led FF and I do like some of the characters (I love Fanille, and Lightning and Sazh are cool), but I feel like my perspective was poisoned by three things:

1. I was reading a lot of essays by FF fanboys at the time who all despised FFXIII and referred to it as "the Tube," and I respected their opinions so I parroted them eagerly (a mistake, considering that one of them hated Yuna);

2. The people I knew who loved it frequently cited the fact that they didn't care if the combat was good or bad because they only cared about the cinematic storytelling, which is a perfectly valid way to interact with games, but admittedly frustrated me, since I was like... Why make it a game if you just really want a movie? What's the point of using this medium then?;

3. I was moving out of my hardcore FF phase and experimenting with more hands-on action RPGs, and my exhaustion with turn-based and ATB bled into my feelings about FFXIII.

I feel like I had some other complaints that weren't informed by those aspects (I genuinely missed the presence of vibrant towns & NPCs, none of the villains were memorable, and I did find some of the voice acting direction grating), but I don't feel like I ever made an honest effort to meet FFXIII on its own terms. Also I can get very impatient with progression in games and button-mash my way through combat that could actually be good if I devoted time to learning the systems (see: Tales of Berseria), but that's not the game's fault.

Anyway I was reading some pro-FFXIII reddit posts about the combat and someone said you're not controlling individual people in battle, you're controlling the flow of battle and I was like. OH. Switch flipped. I wonder how much more I would enjoy the FFXIII combat if I went into it with that perspective

[janzoo]

(Dawntrail spoilers within!!!)

Well, I just finished Dawntrail! Overall, I enjoyed it, and it has given me some Emotions to deal with. ; 3;

Now that I've finished it, I have to figure out if I'm sticking to my idea of saying Aymeric came with Drakyr and Estinien to Tural (and that they somehow stuck together??) Yeah I'm...not sure how to make it work. Aymeric probably wouldn't have participated in the rite of succession - wouldn't want to make it seem like a foreign power is interfering, etc. Maybe I'll just say that the rite didn't start proper for a week or two so the three of them had some time to have a little adventure honeymoon together. idk.

BUT regardless, I did enjoy the journey despite any bumps. I love Wuk Lamat but I also definitely understand criticisms that there was too much of her. My feelings are a bit mixed on the WoL being a secondary character in the overarching plot; IC, I feel like Drakyr would probably be glad for a break from the spotlight, but OOC, I as the player felt a little pushed aside. The references to FFIX, as a long time FFIX-enjoyer, gave me some warm 'n fuzzies. After years of other FF fans brushing off FFIX it felt like some solid recognition.

I also took a million random screenshots that I don't even know how to actually post coherently lol.

So yeah, thoughts are still fresh but I'm done and I enjoyed it overall.

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[mitigatingacademics]

{10.08.23}

Productivity:

LSAT Trainer: Lesson 27

Focus was not good tonight*, I'm not a huge fan of the Trainer's approach to Logic Games, and this took way longer than previous lessons...so we moved right on along to other things.

Reading:

Finished Law Man: Memories of a Jailhouse Lawyer (🎉)

Review/Notes to follow.

How to be Sort of Happy in Law School -- Finished Section 2

I seem to be enjoying this more now that I'm reading it for what it is rather than what I hoped or expected it to be.

*The reason my focus was worse tonight than the past 3 nights is because I have much better access to social media in the accounting office than at the baggage desk.

It's not rocket science. I allowed Twitter to be a distraction.

In many ways I found the range of hot takes on the Israel situation almost impossible to look away from.

Spouted with equal confidence from those whose resumes include experience of foreign policy advising to the federal government to those Fox News informed individuals who couldn't find the areas in question on a map if their lives depended on it.

One that sticks with me is the medical doctor (sir, no one needs your opinion on this issue) who described the statement of an apparently Palestinian U.S. Congress woman as 'disgraceful' because she suggested that killing of all civilians, regardless of affiliation, is tragic.

How is that disgraceful?! 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

It seems somewhat distasteful to call others out for nothing more than failing to condemn to death those you personally have decided are in the wrong even if they just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, does it not?

Do no harm?

Yikes, dude.

Then there was this...

...which got me more riled up than I'd like to admit.

Liz never told anyone that she's anything other than exactly what she is.

These kind of 'gotcha' posts directed at liberals (this guy's base!) whom they refer to as 'Liz stans' are a perfect example of why people like me (I used to self identify as a Socialist, ffs) no longer feel completely comfortable thinking of themselves as part of the Left.

Why would you do this? What are you getting out of it?

How does shaming the folks likely to vote the way you hope people will vote actually benefit you?

Some people do manage to be surprised by unhidden reality.

I remember seeing a comment on one of Liz's Tweets, way back when she was still campaigning, from someone that 'found out about her' and wished she hadn't donated to her.

Like...do you just throw money at people that say one thing you agree with without looking any further into it? ...and if that's the case, is that not your own fault? 🤦🏻‍♀️

I say this as a registered Democrat of over 20 years that also donated to Liz, knowing that she has many questionable inclinations.

The difference is, I had a complete understanding of what I was doing...and wouldn't have complained publicly if I'd had regrets.

It's no one else's responsibility to make you consider what is right in front of your face.

I mean...

🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

You don't get to come for Liz for being exactly what she told you (repeatedly) that she is.

That said, you can also educate people without shaming them.

(This is especially true if you're hoping not to alienate said folks.)

I also find this Tweet offensive in how it seems to imply that the "revelation" being referred to requires a specific response.

Like, "Oh no, she's demonstrating the values she always claimed to have...guess I'll have to stop supporting her now!"

"There could be no other possible reason for continuing to support a person with **insert controversial pov.** ...would be incongruent with liberal thought." 🤨😑 🙄

This is how liberal influencers push folks away.

I don't need you to think for me, friend.

👑 is problematic as fuck. I ❤️ her anyway.

I also still vote blue on most issues.

Stop working so hard to piss me off. 😂

[cafeinthemoon]

Unexpected Changes - Part I

Chapter 1/2

Wordcount 3,4k

Title Part I

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Pairing Hades X reader

Symbols ✔ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: none, just comedy and family fluff!

Tagging: ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment here or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So as I don't post the 11th chapter of my other story with Hades, Ruins, enjoy this little drama/comedy starring reader as an established goddess, queen and wife and her ever loving husband Hades <3 This was a quick idea I had a few days ago and decided to write down as a way to rest, because the last weeks have been tough, ugh.

I'm sorry for not choosing a better title, but I hope it doesn't kill interest in this little ff XD

It’s been at least forty minutes and you were trying to ignore the growing sensation of burn in your eyes, focusing your gaze on the frail figure of Zeus sitting on his chair many floors below you. From there, you were still able to hear his voice, but each minute that passed this task became harder: your brother-in-law’s voice was now showing the first signs of tiredness, and you were fighting the urge to zone out.

You were sleepy. It’s not that you haven’t had a good night of rest before attending to your first divine council since you were received as a deity, but the necessary preparations and the anxiety that would obviously come with them were taking their toll, and now you realized how much mental work you’ve been doing since the day you’ve got the invitation by Hermes’ hands.

Until that moment, you thought you were succeeding in disguising your discomfort, and perhaps you managed to hide it from the ones sitting around you, but there were certain eyes you knew could never deceive – the ones of the King of the Underworld and your husband, Hades.

The silence around you was tangible and the attentions of everyone were for Zeus, but you could feel Hades’ look on you. With a shy glance to your left, where he was sitting, you confirmed the direction of his thoughts.

You gave him a brief smile and was going to turn your attention back to the speaker, but leaned to you and whispered something in your ear, which you couldn’t ignore.

– Is there something wrong, dear y/n?

You took one moment to understand what he was saying, and then another one to formulate a reply.

– No, I’m just a bit tired – and, forcing yourself to widen your smile, – But thank you for asking, Hades-sama.

His response was to approach his hand and caress your face for a second, then brush your hair behind your ear. You still referred to him as your master when you were in public, even when the necessity for this already disappeared: you were now a member of the divine race, and the majority of the gods there paid their respects right in your wedding’s day, recognizing you as one of them and the Queen of the Underworld; but old habits die hard, and in your heart, you were still the young maiden who married a god older than your world. Hades never tried to correct you in this sense, maybe waiting for you to get used to your position after some time, but today he seemed to find grace in this, always reacting with contentment whenever you used that treatment.

There was silence for the next few minutes, since your husband accepted your answer, but it wouldn’t take long until a sudden, loud yawn escape your mouth and catch the attention of the people closer to you, for your embarrassment.

While you tried to cover your mouth, a chuckle was heard beside you. You looked at Hades to inquire him, but he was faster: standing up from his seat, he offered his hand.

– Come with me.

– To where? – you asked as you put your hand over his.

– To a calmer place.

You stood up from your spot, avoiding the curious looks of your pairs, and soon the council was left behind.

***

It was Poseidon who found you.

He was walking down that lonely corridor, taking time to observe the landscape through the clouds, a part of his brother’s domain that he hasn’t seen since the last council: the greenish territory filled with exotic trees and what looked like colorful dots from that height, but would be easily identified as flowers at a smaller distance. You yourself appreciated this view from that same porch before Hades took you to a less visible spot at the end of the corridor, but still under people’s reach.

At that moment, the King of the Seas was the only observer.

When he approached the couch where his brother was, the scene he found was absurd, to say the least: Hades had you sleeping on his lap, wrapped in his coat, with his arms around you while you rested your head on his shoulder. You were snoring softly and didn’t even sense your brother-in-law’s arrival.

Anyone who’d see you like this would only shrug and move on; the King of the Underworld had the right to spoil his wife as he pleased, after all, especially when that was her first time attending a council, and every god knew how tiring this could be. Unfortunately, the person who found you was Poseidon, who had a more critical view on such small eccentricities: what he saw there was nothing but his indulgent brother holding a big child.

The first words said between them were his, and they were exactly like expected:

– What’s the meaning of this?

Hades' response was to raise his eyes to him and show a discreet smile.

– The trip from Hellheim to Heaven is long and tiring, brother. Even you admit that. This is her first time doing it for something that’s not a visit or a party – and, with some diversion in his tone, – Show some consideration.

Poseidon twisted his lips.

– It’s been at least two hundred years since y/n became one of us, elder brother. She must be strong enough to stand the travel by now. Isn't it why you waited so long to bring her to a council?

– Yes, that’s the main reason. Still, don’t you think it’d be cruel to not give her the necessary support? – your husband sighed, caressing your hair as he spoke – You know, I still remember when you attended this type of meeting for the first time. It was very stressful, and you told me that many times in the days after.

The other man crossed his arms, giving no verbal response to this. Hades didn’t show the slightest sign of irritation: knowing his little brother as he did, he knew he still had a long way learning the difference between taking care of a beloved one and spoiling them. Besides, he never approved this habit of his elder brother to recall his past experiences to try and evoke compassion from him: it was so unworthy of a god that he couldn’t take it seriously, so he would prefer not to say anything.

– But what can I do about it? – Hades laughed at his brother’s annoyed expression – Just wait a bit until you decide to find a significant other, Poseidon. It's for your own good, and theirs.

Poseidon would have rolled his eyes if that was a common gesture of his, but he just limited himself to give the other a blunt reply.

– I didn’t travel here just for you to lecture me, Hades. Besides... – he stared at you in a strange manner – This is not the first time I see her in such deep sleep. Are you sure everything is okay with her?

Hades raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject.

– What do you mean?

Poseidon turned to the clouds, leaning one hand on the parapet while the other was hidden behind his back.

– It's been a few days since you two came to visit me at the seas, but even then, it didn’t go unnoticed by me that y/n has been feeling often tired even when she didn’t do hard work. As far as I remember, it hasn’t always been like this – he glanced at your sleeping figure and lowered his tone, as to enter a subject about which he wasn’t sure to have the right to discuss – Not only this, but she has shown such appetite that differs from what we’ve seen from her since her transformation. Don’t you think it’s strange? It’s like she’s unconsciously trying to restock her body’s energy… from something that might be stealing it.

The smile hanging on Hades’ lips since the beginning of the conversation disappeared when he heard that. There was something... wrong with you? Well, he had to be honest and admit that you’ve been showing some strange symptoms beside the uncommon sleep and hunger lately: you’ve been more sensitive to physical contact, to some textures, smells and tastes, and have been avoiding long walks and other forms of physical effort.

However, your aspect was far from bad. Instead, you’ve became more beautiful these last days: your eyes gained more vivacity; your skin had its tone renewed, especially on your face, where it was now showing a sort of glow; your hair was thicker, though you haven’t tried any new treatment lately; also, the curves of your body were accentuated, something visible even when you wore floating dresses.

Surely, that didn’t look like the case of someone whose vital energy has been sucked. Did Poseidon understand what he was suggesting?

– Something that’s stealing her energy? – Hades glanced at you, then back at his brother – Are you suggesting that she might have been... cursed?

It wasn’t surprising that this was his first thought: gods didn’t get sick as the humans did, so the most effective way to cause dysfunction in their divine bodies without getting into a physical fight or making them use all their power was cursing them.

– It’s hard to believe that someone would have the audacity to do this to the Queen of Hellheim – Poseidon stated in a calm tone – But we cannot discard the possibility so soon. You know that not all gods have good relations with Greece. And, I have to say that, not everyone here has a positive view on Psyche’s ritual. You know what it means, brother.

Yes, Hades knew it. A human turning into a god is never a simple case. Psyche herself and Heracles were the most famous in this category, and the challenges and adversities in their way were well known by each god of each pantheon. When he proposed the wedding and the ritual, Hades was aware that a similar fate would be waiting for you, and he warned you about it. For love, you said yes to him despite that, but your willingness wasn’t enough to calm down his worries, so he took measures to protect you in every way he could. As time passed, the possibility of some evil force touching you became more and more improbable, but it never left his mind completely.

So, when Poseidon brought it back, he was ready to act.

He woke you up whispering your name. Once you were back, you straightened up and rubbed your eyes...

And startled when you saw you were not alone.

– P-Poseidon-sama! I’m... – you tried to fix your hair, avoiding his glare as you spoke – I’m so sorry for this scene...

– Don’t worry about this, y/n – was his composed reply – I'll be leaving soon. I think my brother has some matters to discuss with you now.

You turned to Hades and the slight sign of preoccupation you saw in his eyes made you shiver: with Hades being the most confident person you’ve ever known, it was rare to see it in him, and unsettling precisely because of it.

– My brother and I were talking and he said something that made me think of you – Hades explained before you said anything – That’s all.

When you seemed to calm down, Poseidon excused himself, stating that his presence in the council would be soon required. It only took one moment and you no longer heard his steps on the corridor, as his silhouette disappeared in the nearest corner.

Once you were sure you were alone, you turned to your husband and touched his face, making him look at you.

– Hades, my dear – you whispered – I can see you’re worried. What were you talking about? What did he say that put you in this state?

Hades took your hand in his and kissed its palm.

– He just pointed out some things I myself noticed these days concerning you, little one, but refused to acknowledge.

– Concerning me? How so?

He put your hand upon his shoulder.

– You’ve been acting… weird these days, y/n. You’ve been experiencing changes in your sleeping and eating habits, as well as frequent episodes of tiredness. When we visited Poseidon in his palace, he noticed this too, but only brought it to my attention now. But this is not everything.

– What do you mean?

– My brother suggested that these strange symptoms are being caused by some force or influence over your body, which is stealing your energy and forcing you to compensate the loss with more resting and food.

You frowned, trying to process what you heard.

– Something is stealing my energy? Are you telling me that Poseidon-sama thinks that I’m sick?

– My dear, have you forgotten that gods don’t get sick? What he suggested – he caressed your hair with visible preoccupation – Is that you might have been cursed.

You gasped.

– Cursed?! But… how? Why? And... by who?

Hades took a moment deliberating before giving you a verbal answer.

– This is what we need to discover. But we won’t do it if we stay here.

– So, where do you think we should go?

The answer was categorical… and not entirely pleasing to you.

– Back to Hellheim – Hades helped you to stand and started leading you back inside the building – I’ll talk to Zeus and ask him to excuse ourselves from this council. I'm sure he will understand. Then, once we reach home, I’ll contact Beelzebub. There’s no person who knows more about curses than him. He will know what to do.

You swallowed. If your husband considered necessary to reach out to Beelzebub-sama, he surely believed the case was serious, more than he’d like to tell you. However, you weren’t feeling that bad: the strange signs were as vivid to you as they were to Hades, but you haven’t sensed in them any threat against your life. Besides... you were still unable to feel entirely comfortable in the presence of the Lord of the Flies, mostly because the human perception of him was still alive in you, so you still avoided him as much as you could.

And you tried to do it that time as well.

– Do you really think it’s necessary, my dear? – you stopped and held his arm, making him turn to you – I don’t think my situation is that serious... And I don’t like the idea of disturbing Beelzebub-sama. He must be too busy with his works.

Hades’ response was to stare at you for a while and show you a teasing smile.

– After all this time, you’re still afraid of him, aren’t you?

You gasped.

– What?! I-I'm not...!

Though your moods were inflamed, your indignation was just too cute for your husband, whose laughter made you give up on the argument.

– There’s no need to worry, little one – he pulled you into a warm hug and kissed the top of your head – I’ll be there with you during the whole visit. Besides, Beelzebub is an excellent, reliable professional. I’ve told you about the times he helped my family, right? This case must be no challenge for him.

***

You were anxious.

On the first break of the council, Hades hurried to Zeus’ private room to announce your leaving. You were present at that moment and heard all the conversation, of course, and even wanted to make your opinions known, but weren't willing to interrupt: Hades already decided to leave Heaven, and making him change his mind would be too complicated by now; besides, you didn’t want to cause more disturbance to Zeus-sama, who was already busy with the matters of the council.

The thing is that there were some details about your case you didn’t tell your husband, for you yourself weren’t sure of how to deal with them and didn’t want to make him worried before understanding what was going on: besides the symptoms noticed by Poseidon, you’ve been feeling dizzy at random moments of the day, something that you would solve with a few minutes sitting on a comfortable chair, and during mornings, your stomach would feel weird, forcing you to leave the bed to throw. You didn’t know the reason behind these episodes of nausea, since you haven’t made any changes in your diet, so you just ignored them, thinking they were a consequence from the anxiety about the council and hoping they would soon pass.

But they didn’t.

Right in the morning of the trip, it happened again, but you were lucky that Hades used to leave the bed hours before you, so he didn’t see anything, just like in the previous days. You knew you couldn’t hide this forever, so you started to think of how to talk to him about it. However, before you could do it, Poseidon came to speak with his brother; and, trusting him as he did, Hades soon decided that taking you to see a doctor was the best.

And, now that Zeus accepted his request to leave and was saying his farewell, there was nothing you could do. You would just go back to your lodge and pack your things as your husband went to prepare the carriage that would take you back to the Underworld.

***

Hades closed the door of that strange room behind you after you entered, then led you to the middle of it.

The place was filled with tables covered with bottles of all possible shapes, containing bubbling fluids, bowls with colored powders, tools and paper notes, everything touched with a soft, white light descending from the ceiling. It was a quiet room with just occasional noises that barely disturbed your ears, yet with so many things happening at the same time that you were afraid you were going to have an episode of dizziness if you stood there for too long. As if it wasn’t enough, the smells of mixed chemical composts invaded your nostrils, threatening your stomach with a nausea crisis.

In the middle of this, sitting calmly on a chair and reading the last lines of a note in his hands, was the man about whom your husband spoke as being the greatest specialist in curses he knew: Beelzebub, the solitary god who has traveled between all the known worlds seeking for a cure for his own curse.

Because of his decision of not establishing close relations to his pairs, you’ve only seen him in a few occasions since you became a goddess, and he would never stay for too long in your presence; besides, Hades was the one who used to lead the conversations during those occasions, so that you never had an opportunity to talk directly to him for a more than a few minutes. This always caused a sort of discomfort in you whenever you had to deal with him, as if you never knew if you were bothering him, even less how he felt towards you.

That time wasn’t different, and the fact that you were the main subject of the encounter only made you more nervous.

When Beelzebub finally left the paper over the table and raised his eyes to you, you swallowed. Not only those dark, lightless pupils scared you as much as Poseidon’s aura used to do in your first years in the Greek family, but the contrast between them and that young face of his still unsettled you. Letting him notice your discomfort was your worst fear concerning the Lord of the Flies, so you avoided his gaze and waited for Hades to lead the matters for you.

– So, what’s bothering you, Hades-san? – he turned his chair to you; and, with a soft smile, – It’s been a long time since you asked for my help.

– And I’d be forever grateful if you could help me once again – Hades put a soft hand over your head – My y/n has been experiencing strange symptoms that could be considered the consequences of sickness if she was still human. I talked to Poseidon about it and he suggested that this might be a case of… curse.

Beelzebub spent a few seconds looking at Hades before turning his gaze to you; you shivered, crossing your arms over your chest as he examined you from head to toe. He looked back to your husband...

And asked the last thing he was expecting.

– What do you mean, she’s cursed?

Chapter 2

[pacificseaotter]

Hiii just read your coral kids fanfic and it said to scream to you on tumblr about it/them in general so here I go:

Just FOR YOUR INFORMATION I was reading your ff during lunch break today and it broke me (in the best ways) I literally had to fight back tears. IT'S SOO GOOD WTFF I LOOOVE

The way your wrote Scott and Martyn has me in shambles! I relate so much to them but also I just wanna be like them and also I JUST WANT EVERYTHING FOR THEM OKAY THEY DESERVE THIS q.q

The parallels for both to 3rd life OH BOIII I was shaking and I loved every second of it. Esp the direct parallel´-scenes and such CHEF'S KISS I WANNA PUNCH A WALL.

Next thing that made me go insane is the colour-thingy. I didn't know I needed bright colour Scott in my life but OH BOI YES also the parallels between Martyn and Jimmy??? like??? My head is spinning and I feel like there's smth I missed but I enjoy having a spinny-head over blorbos <3

Oh and also how GOOD you've woven the series and curses and alliances together - it makes all so much sense and it just shows how hurt they are and also how deeply they feel- once again I would like to punch a wall

Despite that emotional level i LOVED how you got the humor and their personality down and their flirty selves and all that CHEF'S KISS THANK YOU SO MUCH

so yeah might have to reread and adopt parts of that into my own self bc it's jsut so SO good but I'm so very glad you wrote it <3<3<3

HIHI M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY TO THIS. short answer Life Happened. anyways!!! you are my favoritest person ever right now i adore you.

THANK YOU!!!! traffic!scott is one of my #1 projection characters he is just like me fr. obviously i have not been put through three death games like he has skldfjsd but i do relate to him quite a bit so i'm sure that shows through in my writing. theres no deeper reason that i was able to write an entire section about scott being lonely/scared everyone was going to leave him. at all. ever. absolutely not that would be crazy. (/sarcasm)

references/callbacks to other series my beloved!!! i am soooo emotionally stable abt 3L/DL (/lying). i don't know how obvious it was (probably very obvious but anyways) but i never really watched LL i only have a bit of knowledge from tumblr osmosis (the reason i didn't watch it has nothing to do w the series and more to do w general life stuff at the time that's not really relevant)

SPINNY HEAD OVER BLORBOSSS YES I have spinny head over blorbos syndrome. i cannot get over how martyn and jimmy are like opposites. jimmy was always in need of protection by scott, scott was always there to protect him (or try to) (and sidenote i love flower husbands and i will not tolerate flower husbands slander but thats another post). martyn is the opposite. where jimmy was in need of protection, martyn wants to provide scott with protection. theres just. theres something there. they make me insane /pos

I LOVE MAKING THE GAMES AS ANGSTY AS POSSIBLE they are all so traumatized autismbless <3 they r all so hurt they r all hurt people hurting others because they are desperate and i am so insane over the life series in general

i may have watched. a bit of scott smajor. just a bit. yk. a tiny smidge. a small amount. maybe. just maybe- /sarcasm

(i have watched an ungodly amount of smajor content . and i will admit i wasnt as sure about martyn goin in because i HAVE written him before but only once and i've not watched him as much before LimLife. i think i got him down? people seem to like it ! so i think i succeeded :D)

[cryptcombat]

hi! hope i'm not bothering you but you talking about how xiv’s plot has gotten worse sort of validated my feelings since EW (i felt like a hater)

also it does kind of make me sad in a way, and i'm like, damn, is it really that bad? while being fully aware that i haven't even touched the patch content and just replayed shadowbringers again lol

hii! You're not bothering me, nw! :3

you 🤝 me being little haters, im glad im not the only who thinks this!! I felt bad too bc it seems to me that most fans see EW + post patches as some kind of masterpiece. I greatly enjoy this expansion but its many plot threads are clearly unfinished. If u play shb and then the patches i think you will be extremely disappointed, its such a massive downgrade. Idk how a bunch of references to an older ff game is more important than giving your characters a proper conclusion, but go off, yoshi-p 🤨

[not-poignant]

If you had to shuffle up aaaaaall your fae tales pairings what would they be! How would the dynamic be! ^^

Oooo this is tough. I mean so many of them wouldn't work. Gwyn, for example, couldn't be paired with any woman character, because he's extremely gay, with zero capacity for attraction/interest in women.

Which is why he's never been paired with women!

There's also the fact that some of these characters have - at least in my mind - been created to not be matched up with some of my pre-existing characters. While I love multi-shipping, and Gwyn is very obviously the fandom bicycle (i.e. he will take a ride with anyone who is a dude), I don't just want to write identical versions of each character or dynamic, which means so many permutations of shuffling just wouldn't work, and aren't intended to work for me. So for the folks out there who enjoy multi-shipping these characters, I'm answering personally, please don't let what I think harsh your wildest fantasies for these characters.

But okay, for the sake of interest's sake I'm going to look at the main pairings:

Gwyn/Augus // Mosk/Eran // Efnisien/Arden // Gulvi/Fenwrel and as a side character let's include Ash as well. I'm excluding Ondine/Julvia, because I don't see them as a main pairing, and because Ondine, like Gwyn, is extremely gay and wouldn't want to sleep with any of our boys, and isn't interested in Gulvi or Fenwrel, lmao. Mosk is also extremely gay. I'm not matching him with any of the women. Likewise, Efnisien has never shown any signs of being genuinely sexually attracted to anyone, so outside of the core pairings, I'm not pairing him with anyone else. Please assume that I'm pretty much always referring to FFS Efnisien with the exception of the Gwyn/Efnisien pairing, lol.

I'm going to do some shuffles re: Gulvi and Fenwrel but not all of them because this post is already very long and I'm tired.

First things first, I have already written some shuffles!

We already have fics for:

Augus/Ash

Gwyn/Ash

Gwyn/Augus/Ash

And we already know that:

Augus/Mosk would work, because that's in The Ice Plague #3. (We can see that the dynamic would probably be soft and careful on Augus' behalf, though he'd still be dominant, and Mosk would still be a sulky, bratty, lazy submissive).

Augus/Eran would NOT work, outside of a mentor/student relationship, which they already have! Eran is too much of a top, and it's been made clear he's already uncomfortable with some of what Augus shows him, even from a non-sexual perspective. We also know that Eran doesn't mind some voyeurism, but he couldn't handle Augus at all on a relationship level. And I think Arden/Eran is the same here, for similar reasons.

So I don't really need to cover these, because they've already got chapters, or whole-ass fics dedicated to them.

Now let's go through what's remaining, and feasible (i.e. I'm not going to bother pairing Gwyn with any of the women characters, because it would just never work).

The shuffles leftover:

Gwyn/Mosk: I don't see this making a great relationship. This is getting two relatively lazy bottoms in the same room. They could maybe work out in some oneshots where Gwyn was mindlessly fucking after a battle (which could potentially lead to Mosk getting seriously hurt with zero aftercare and would almost certainly be a 'just about rapefic'). And they could maybe work out as a couple who realised they had some things in common as friends, before realising they were almost completely incompatible sexually (Gwyn doesn't like rope, Mosk does. Gwyn is actually a big sadist when he does top, and Mosk tends to get damaged by that. Mosk isn't interested in topping ever, Gwyn needs that. And Mosk isn't a sexual sadist, and Gwyn needs that), and going back to just being friends. Verdict: 'That was awkward, can we just stay friends?'

Gwyn/Efnisien: Efnisien is canonically Gwyn's torturer, impotent and asexual, and Gwyn has never felt a shred of attraction to him in his life. We've already seen how they work as a 'couple.' It's terribad. Verdict: Terribad.

Gwyn/Arden: This could work for Gwyn, but I don't think it would work for Arden. Arden's a good enough dominant that he could definitely satisfy Gwyn's needs for the most part (though Gwyn is switchy in SOTS and that wouldn't work for Arden at all, lol). But all we know of Arden is that he's been completely uninterested in romantic relationships until he met Efnisien, and for folks reading the comment responses, we know he's already met Gwyn. So we know Arden had no romantic interest in Gwyn. Verdict: Probably good for play parties and demos, but Arden is more likely to mentor Gwyn than to actually be with him. Sexually they're mooooostly compatible. Though I doubt it'd work out in the long-term, or in any monogamous sense.

Gwyn/Eran: If Eran had more experience behind him as a top, I think this could actually work. I think Eran would need to be on a more level playing field with Gwyn (i.e. if he was younger, or Eran was more experienced), for Eran to consider it, and vice versa. And I think Eran isn't emotionally intelligent enough or perhaps experienced/seasoned enough to actually really lead Gwyn through say - transformative scenes like Augus does. Gwyn would also probably need more pain than Eran is comfortable providing. Verdict: Generally compatible, but both might have to put up with doing more or less than is generally ideal for them.

Augus/Efnisien: HA! Hilarious. Verdict: Someone's getting murdered! (Hint: It's Efnisien)

Augus/Arden: As with Augus/Eran, this would only really work in a mentor/student capacity, but in this case, Arden would likely be the mentor. I don't even think they'd make good friends (and I know that, because Arden and Augus know each other in FFS, and they're not good friends). Verdict: 'Hey thanks for platonically letting me teach you how to whip the ever-loving shit out of your partner, but if you try to dominate me, I'm kicking you out of the club.'

Augus/Fenwrel: Oh yes, Augus is pansexual and attracted to Fenwrel, we can consider this! Fenwrel, like Augus, is a dominant and a top, as well as a healer, and Augus and Fenwrel talked frankly about their chemistry in The Court of Five Thrones. They were attracted to each other. In a sexual relationship, I think Augus would very carefully cede authority to Fenwrel, on the proviso that she respected him and communicated with him clearly. It wouldn't work as a long-term monogamous relationship, but I actually think they could have some very powerful scenes together, with the combination of Augus' wary trust, and Fenwrel's careful but firm domination style. This is the only time I've ever repeatedly daydreamed about Augus getting pegged. It's very enjoyable. Verdict: Probably hot as fuck, with a side order of 'I'm in control, but very lovingly.'

Augus/Gulvi: Nope. Not even. Gulvi's a bottom, but she doesn't consider Augus remotely attractive. And Gulvi is definitely not Augus' type - too crass and chaotic in nature. If she turned up on his doorstep as a client before they met, he'd turn her away. Verdict: Someone's getting stabbed! (Hint: It's Augus).

Mosk/Efnisien: This is like the problem with Mosk and Gwyn, but even worse, because Efnisien doesn't ever switch, and he's not a bratty lazy submissive, he's an extremely eager to please, earnest, focused submissive who would consider Mosk's style of submission as being very rude and even offensive. But outside of that, the idea of imagining them kissing or touching each other is very nice. I actually think Mosk would have to take the lead with that, which means they wouldn't get much further than that. Did I mention Mosk is lazy? I can see this working with Efnisien having more experience at BDSM clubs, and quietly making out with Mosk while Arden and Eran looked on protectively. They couldn't organise having sex or a scene together to save their lives. Verdict: If someone else instigates it, it could happen. Maybe.

Mosk/Arden: This could definitely work in a kink club. But as a relationship, Arden would have zero interest in Mosk's style of submission. He clearly doesn't want a brat, he wants someone who is earnest and eager to be obedient. He'd only ever take Mosk on, if Mosk wanted to be trained into learning protocol, and I think Mosk would feel like he wasn't being very accepted as who he is, which he wouldn't be. About the only way they would work is in like, a non-sexual cuddle pile, lol. Mosk would totally hire Arden to hug him. Verdict: Probably make for some very discipline-focused scenes where Mosk feels a bit lost afterwards and Arden is like 'he's so not my type.'

Mosk/Ash: Ash doesn't do long-term romantic relationships, but this would definitely work. Mosk likes Ash's glamour, and is very open to it, and Ash likes using his glamour. He also likes sexually exhausting his partners and overwhelming them, and this is something that Mosk is drawn to. While there wouldn't be ropes or some of the other aspects of control, Ash is very free re: controlling people with his body and pinning them down. He's not an overt sadist like Augus, but he's still a sadist re: limit-pushing and pleasure-pushing as well as forced orgasms. Everything about that works for Mosk. And I think Ash would very much enjoy fucking someone like Mosk, because he's responsive, emotional, clingy, and pouty, and Ash would find that both hot and adorable. Verdict: Absolutely this would work, as long as Mosk didn't expect it to be long-term. Pure combustion if they ever got in a room together.

Arden/Ash: A whole lot of no. For a start, Ash is turned off by BDSM gear, scenes and toys (he's literally borderline triggered, and absolutely squicked, by the idea of it all even in The Wildness Within), and he's not interested in formal labels like 'dominance' and 'submission.' You'd never find him in a kink club. Likewise, Arden isn't interested in sleeping with anyone who isn't interested in the scene, he doesn't 'do vanilla.' And while Ash isn't vanilla, Arden has no way of knowing that. They're also both Extreme Top Energy. I don't even think they'd enjoy the experience of kissing, without it becoming a play for power. Verdict: Plug A does not go into Plug A.

*

Alright! I think we're good!

[blissfulalchemist]

✨ 🙋‍♀️🏆❌ and 👀 for the writer emoji asks please :3

Ahh!! Thank you Lydia! I uh...got a little long at the end there because I just decided to be an over sharer. Apologies if I’ve posted any of them before!

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

.....Listen....people may not know exactly what I write but I tend to tell people that I write fanfic in my free time. I just get excited to share my stories and characters with people that will listen that it just kind of comes out before I can stop myself. I do also uh use it for job interviewing as it does help in showing I have something of a hobby that isn’t just watching tv and playing games. 

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

So I believe on here it’s still the phone sex piece I wrote for Hayat and Mason with that being a stand alone work that isn’t attached to a commission, in which case it would be one of the first Cat and John scenes I wrote ever! (Like even when I first started to write for them before joining the fandom on tumblr.

On my Ao3 if you go by views alone its “A Chance for Faith”, but if you go by kudos then its “A Little More Complicated Than That” which is my Sahar and tv Marc Spector.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Other than your standard like icky things I won’t really write things I’m not personally interested in reading or just don’t have a good handle on just what it is. Like I can’t really list off tropes as I genuinely don’t know what things are specifically all the time. While I may say I don’t like a/b/o that doesn’t mean I haven’t already possibly written it on accident (I am fairly certain though I haven’t written it as its not something that sounds like my tastes) as I just write with little regard to genre at the time of writing. I guess horror might be the only one I won’t write as like a trope because its not that I dislike it (I quite enjoy me some good horror!) I just don’t know how to and I have very little frame of reference as to what it means to create good horror that fits my style and characters, I will simply leave it to the professionals (yeah mutuals that write horror I’m looking at you!)!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

alkdjfldjgl! Uhm....hmmm....I think I have to compliment on the ability I have to put emotions into my writing that people seem to like a lot! I always have a goal in mind that when I write things it should feel like you are feeling what the character is feeling (and hopefully not in a way that acts like I’m telling you the reader exactly how you should feel about it). I use styling of how words look, placement, and body language since these were things that I saw and read growing up that influenced how I also convey a scene. So apologies to those that don’t like the abundant use of italics, exclimations, ellipsis, single word paragraphs, and those times I just smush words together making it hard to read, its just the best way I can make the scene feel like the movie I see in my head.

I will also give a shout out to the times that I managed to subvert the intention of prompts sent in to me. Again most of the time I just let a piece take me and sometimes that means making very fluffy and domestic kind of prompts into angst sagas. 

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

God! I really haven’t written anything more significant in a long while! I have things started but nothing that hasn’t been shared before and that isn’t FFXIV related. Like I’ve touched on things but they’ve been little notes here and there so I could have reminders as to what I was thinking about with certain pieces going. In the mean time I’m gonna catch up on wip tags and sharing a little bit of everything that I think is new. There might be some stuff that gives away plot pionts to ffxiv so please be warned! 

To start here’s a little Demos from FF during Heavensward:

“Come here to drag me back to Alphinaud’s side, Yugiri,” he asks with a smile, not ready to face her quite yet.

“I actually thought I’d join you for a bit, Demos.” He nods, sitting up right to give her more space, “Why do you come up here? It’s not the easiest of places to get too.”

He shrugs, “Not that hard, but no one thinks to look up here.” They sit in silence looking over the city for a few minutes, Demos watching her relax out of the corner of his eye. “How did you know I’d be up here anyway?”

“Hm,” she looks over at him and down to the journal stuffed into the band of his belt, “Tataru gave me one of your drawings to use as a map, the perspective of it could have only been achieved from some place up high. So I just looked towards the sky.”

“I should have known it was her that’s been taking my cityscapes,” he laughs, “Was it helpful at least?”

“Quite. I use it to show the other shinobi where to be when the need arises.” She tilts her head, nodding to the journal, “Have you done anything new?”

In truth he hadn’t drawn more than a few lines for almost two weeks now, nothing here felt new or inspiring. Still she looked at him so expectantly and gods he didn’t want to disappoint her. He pulls the journal free, quickly flipping through the mass of blank pages before landing on a random one, “Oh plenty! Here take a look.” She looks at the page confused, “I call it Blizzard Forest,” he flips to a different page, “This one is more abstract and titled Collection of Snowflakes.” She looks up at his smiling face that’s holding back some laughter, the next page he flips to having a few rushed lines, “Oh this one is of the area just past the gates.” Yugiri laughs, making his smile grow as he picks yet another blank page, “This one is just a snow covered rock. And this one-.”

“Wow you really love to draw the snow don’t you,” she teases, handing the book back, “I was hoping to see something different of yours.” He sighs, giving another shrug, “Guess you would need a bit more variety of surroundings.”

“Most of my other works are either at home or Revenant's Toll….along with the better supplies.”

“Can you not find them here?”

“I can, it's just,” Demos shakes his head, “Well there’s something about using your older stuff. Like it’s not fair to give new life to something when the others have so much more to give still.” He leans forward, brown hair falling into his eyes, “It’s a weird sentiment but it’s just….” Demos gives a shrug, shaking away the thought.

“I don’t find it weird at all,” he glances up at her soft smile with wide eyes, “Sounds almost like something an old friend of mine would say.”

“From back in Doma?” She nods, eyes filling with melancholy as she looks straight ahead, “What was it like there?” He asks, pulling out the journal and pencil from his pocket, “Describe it to me.”

Here’s a little Sahar post Moon Knight show events:

“It was me,” she repeats, “I made sure Ammit was dead.” She steps forward, “Marc and Steven knew nothing about it.”

“Well clearly,” she hears Steven mumble.

“I am the current High Priestess of Khonshu, I was simply following my duty.”

“And what duty is that? By my understanding you have been very vocal about your distrust of our brethren.”

“I swore to protect the travelers in the night, to enact vengeance and justice on those that deserve it,” she tilts her head, daring them to look her in the eye, “I may be from another earth but I will not stray from my purpose.”

“Are you implying that you have become his most current avatar?”

She swallows, rolling her lips, “He needed one and I am the most qualified, don’t you agree?”

“Sahar you shouldn’t have done that,” Marc growls out, “You know what he’s capable of.”

She crosses her arms, glancing at Marc, “Exactly. The Khonshu of my earth was an opportunistic dick that had many more tricks up his sleeve making it harder to tell him no. This one is a cakewalk.”

“Is this an agreeable arrangement, Khonshu?” A goddess asks, lifting her hand prompting the old bird to speak. You better get the hint, Khonshu, After a moment she feels a chill throughout her body and a force slam into her back, gasping as she no longer feels her limbs.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” she says in a deeper tone, “Don’t worry I will help in keeping Jake a secret.”, “This world still needs justice to be served.”

“Are you saying that you’d rather have Marc back?”

“Well sad to say that even if he did, he can’t have us back,” Steven asserts, “We made a deal.”

“And I will uphold that deal.” Khonshu flexes her hands, “Though I could grow to like this one. She’s gained more training-.”

“And she’s stubborn enough to keep you in line. Don’t go thinkin’ we haven’t forgotten about how she’s stood up to her universe’s version of you,” Steven narrows his eyes, “Not that I like this idea of her being your avatar.”

Here’s a little bit of Anthea and their first meeting of Hythlodaeus:

The person sitting across from them exhales removing their mask and hood revealing lavender hair that goes just past the shoulders braided loosely, paired with sparkling amethyst eyes that keep Anthea entranced until he smiles softening the angles of his fair, lightly sun-kissed face. He’s one of the most beautiful people they’d seen, their brain already spouting out ideas on flowers that could be made based around him. “You‘re free to remove your mask if you’d like.” Anthea stiffens recognizing the man’s voice as the same one from the stranger she fell into. He gives a nod, “Do you wish to begin, then?”

“Hm,” Anthea blinks a few times while the words he says gain meaning in their brain, “Oh right. Yes, sorry. Uhm….” They look down in their lap at the plant bag and stack of papers beneath it, deciding to put the plant between them hoping it can mask the blush they’re sure can be seen through the one they already wear. “Apologies, normally I just send paperwork in or someone else takes it for me, rarely do I ever make the trip myself, but I felt it necessary this time around.” They take a breath, shuffling papers before looking up to see the new centerpiece does wonders to block the distraction his all too pretty face can cause. Anthea clears their throat, “Right, well, my name is Anthea and I am here to submit new flora for approval to be studied on Elpis.”

“Wonderful,” he says cheerfully, peeking around to meet their eyes, “I’ve seen the design and have been most curious about the finished product.”

His hands reach out to open the bag, Anthea quickly shooing them away, “Well see here’s the issue, mister…,” they look around the desk hoping to find a name plate before-.

“Hythlodaeus,” he smiles, folding his hands in front of him politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Anthea.”

“Same to you,” they respond quickly, looking down at their paperwork once more, I swear he’s purposely trying to show off his face which is wholly unfair. “The issue, Hythlodaeus, is that this particular flora wasn’t approved prior. It just….happened. I didn’t mean to make something so far from the design already approved, so I’m hoping for a retro approval and approval to allow Elpis to study it.”

“Hmm, I see.” He looks to their lap, “Might I see what you have written so that I can prepare myself.”

“I could uhm also just show you.”

He laughs, “I do try to be prepared for my appointments, Anthea, and I read that the last time something like this occurred you brought in a carnivorous plant of some kind.”

“No one’s going to let that one go are they,” they grumble.

And finally a little bit of Siberite during Heavensward:

She shakes her head, “No, everything is fine. I apologize for waking you.”

His body relaxes giving her an easy smile, “Good, good. No need to apologize. You just, well, you just never know in these times,” he assures with a chuckle, “How may I be of service to you?” She looks down, absently tearing at her nails, Was it truly not enough to just lay in silence?. He cocks his head to the side looking at her curiously, “What’s wrong, my friend? What’s happened?”

She takes a deep breath, “I uhm-. I was-. It’s too cold in my room, I was hoping to stay with you?”

“I can arrange to have a fire started for you.”

“No, thank you,” she says, shaking her head.

He opens his mouth only to shut it once more, giving a solemn nod with the understanding finally hitting him. “Of course,” he says, opening the door wider, “I can sleep on the chair over-.”

“No. No need to give up your bed for me.”

“Well I certainly can’t have you sleeping in the chair, it's simply not right of a gentleman to do so.”

“Then we share the bed, Haurchefant.” She looks up at him, the words having slipped out before she had a chance to stop them or even phrase the whole thing in a less direct manner. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that idea.”

He gives her a soft smile, “Of course not, your comfort comes first, Siberite.” She gives a single nod, finding a place easily in the bed, Haurchefant covering her delicately with the blankets before laying down next to her. Her eyes close with ease into a dreamless sleep with his even breathing as her lullabye and his warmth melting away the last of the lingering nightmare. 

When she wakes, his hand is pressed to her chest underneath her own smaller hand, leg tossed between his, and her head using his free arm as a pillow, all the while his fingers trace patterns up and down her arm with a small smile. She blinks a few times until the ash blonde hair turns back to the silver of who really is tangled up in her limbs. “Good morning,” he says with a light laugh once she finally focuses on him, “Did you sleep well?” She nods, releasing his hand and sliding back to free him fully of her grasp, the ache and pain starting once again the instant his skin is no longer in contact with hers. She stands from the bed, Haurchefant reaching for her hand, “Wait, there’s no rush. Stay. Have something to eat before you run off to be a hero.”

Siberite hugs herself, shaking her head, “I should really be going. Thank you, though, for coming to my rescue last night.”

“No need to thank me, just send for me and I’ll be there.”

His never ending smile falters as he sits up, tugging at her heart. “I’m sorry for my behavior, it-. It wasn’t fair of me to throw myself at you like that.”

[readbyred]

꒰🌸꒱₊

okay but i might have a crush on a character from a sitcom and idk how to feel abt this haha

i mean im just living my best life enjoying my new problematic fave, but i'm kind of nervous to post abt the character? the show gets brought up and referenced sometimes still and it feels weird watching the show through selfship lenses. ofc im still very much going to think my f/o thoughts, but it feels weird sharing anything abt this character? like, it's not that thing where like, in him/ym (does the '/' do anything here even or?) i think a resonable chunk of people can be like yeah i get it, character A is gf material u r right. but here, this show has only memes and some jokes with references to the source. no ffs on tumblr or even wattpad my beloved. it's like, it doesn't have a fandom, ur regular people r the main interest group. at least that's what it looks like from the outside. i'm sure there r people who care abt those 4 guys a little more than a normal amount like me /lh. idk if i end up posting abt the character just don't judge me too hard lol

also i just got it?? i remember there was this short with robert manion, the one where he and 3 other guys were in school, 3 friends, new guy shows up and also all of them r rlly unlikable. i literally just realized it must have been a parody of that show??? the age gap joke? hanging out in the park? i vaguely remember 1 of them being into a specific girl i think? i found "dibs" funny (i obvi don't condone,,, well anything there) and like, a year later here i am finding out that the orginal thing is going to be the only thing i talk abt for the next 3 weeks

[zenpai-senpai]

Litterally havent posted anything here in almost a year lmao my art is fucking awesome, you just havent seen anything new and everything isnt my "masterpiece", its made specifically so i could make alot of it. Thats why all my "me vs other girls but make it lesbian" and " trender vs real trans but make it gay" arent shaded or highlighted at all. They are just lined and colored 😂😂

all the art posted here was made almost a year ago, i just cant post my new stuff because its 1. Im currently working on animations and irl art mediums like painting/knitting/diamond sequin art/fanficition/writing/working on my fanganronpa/etc aka stuff that dosent make sense to post on a digital art blog thats mostly misc. Fandoms and ideas, 2. Some of my newer good stuff is nsfw so it cant be posted on tumblr without being reported by bitchass pple like you, 3. There is no age limit on art, anyone can start at any age and all that matters is that people like the art they've made and lastly 4. Ive been considering coming back and posting some undertale au and sans oc art but ive had a pretty consistent art block, i think you just broke it lol thanks! I might come back!

Most of my stuff hasnt been postable here and judgeing me on a mixed bag of art thats anywhere from a year ago to almost 6 years ago( considering my reblogs of art i posted on my og blog) is not a proper way to judge an artist. Like just say your lgbtphobic or racist or something because you dont like i made alot of different types of people in my mvogbmg posts because you didnt even give mean spirited constructive criticism, you just insulted it without any specifics 😂😂 So like, take a dick up the ass and whine in someone else's inbox or sumthn, id like to see you draw something better.

I went from this at 13-14

First 2 are my ocs and last one has muffet. All of these draw on anime bases off google and colored on ms paint. This isnt even the oldest ms paint art, i have hetalia(i dont support hetalia anymore, i was young and dumb) stuff even older.

To this at 19-20.

One manga coloring w/stock photo background, one of my own oc with no tracing or even a reference w/stock photo bg and last one is kacchako w/o any tracing or body references with a bg and clothing i created myself.

Id say for there being a max 7 years and minimum 5 years, thats a fuck ton of improvement, not counting my 2 billion big binders of art made on lined paper. Im very proud of my art because its the strongest thing about me. No amount of wah wah unrequested judgement of it will ever sway me from enjoying my art and how it looks. I went to school for it ffs, lets see your graphic arts degree, hm?? Oh you dont have one? Shut up lol