#great warriors(tower of god)

[waitingforsecretsouls]

Catching up on Tower of God, and all these theories about how obviously Zahard is the one who did something to Traumerei’s memories and that’s the only reason he could possibly be loyal to him, and as soon as Bam or Gustang or whatever gives him back his memories he’s immediately gonna turn on Zahard are reeeaally weird to me, and diminishing to both Zahard and Traumerei as characters. 

Everything we’be been shown about Traumerei so far paints him as a huge cunt, by choice, who gets off on the suffering of others (which is why he’s a favourite, of course <3 ). When he’s not napping or dead inside he’s short-tempered, capricious and cruel.  A feature not a bug, if you will. While it’s true that we haven’t been shown the origin of his memory-and-emotion-discarding habit we have been shown occasions where he proactively chooses that course of action by himself-in the Yasratcha flashback, where he returned from the Nest to feed some more to Leviathan before dealing with Nen Nen and Wang Wang, and sometime after the incident, if you go by his distorted recollection of the event to Yasratcha. We know from Leviathan that Traumerei is the one who created him and kept feeding ‘filthy’ memories and emotions to him, in quite the amount from what it sounds like. These memories, going by what we know so far, would contain Traumerei at his worst, such as his punishment of Wang Wang, Nen Nen and Yasratcha for example, and likely be coloured by resentment and hatred rather than regret and sorrow (something soldified by Leviathans demeanour, imo) (meaning the current Traumerei is the ‘sanitized’ version).

That aside, how exactly would Zahard have found a way to force Traumerei to cut unwanted memories and emotions out of himself in a way that seems distinctly Traumerei (involving the creation of a Shinheu)? This is not the Hidden Floor, where they were simple data to manipulate and erase (without ill effects to their real/outside selves)! Why would Traumerei have kept up that coping mechanism over the millenia, if it was something forced upon him by Zahard? Why exactly would Zahard himself inquire after Traumerei’s memories, if a key piece of Traumerei’s loyalty to him was their erasure? Zahard himself is the one who brings them up in the first place! What seems like a realtively recent problem to boot, and in a way that seems more eager that he remember and out of worry for an old friend and comrade (’By the way, what kind of nightmares have you been having lately? Do you still not remember?’), (at the end of their strategy meeting, after the ‘business talk’ is already finished) than as some sort of insidious check-up to make sure that he doesn’t remember something from tens of thousands of years ago. It honestly feels like people projecting their dislike of Zahard onto Traumerei, when everything we’ve ever heard about him and are ever shown about him shows him as an ‘enthusiastic’ follower of Zahard and having an absolutely insane treshold of what counts as genuine loyalty. Heck, going by everything about him, it’s more likely that even if he had harboured resentment against Zahard, he would erase it himself to uphold the standard of loyalty he preaches!

In fact, I’d go so far as to say, in view of the Yasratcha flashback and obvious mirroring between him and Traumerei, that it’s far likelier that Traumerei came up with some weird revenge scheme as punishment for ‘abandoning’ him rather than simply being yoinked along by Zahard in something, and that, if he erased his memories because he found them unpleasant to deal with, it was not due to guilt or sorrow but anger and resentment (as we eg. see him exhibit in the flashback upon returning from a trip to the Nest, where he clearly has some leftover frustration).

A lot of fanon seems to view Traumerei as former emotionally softie of the group, who was a poor little meow-meow before he experienced a deep betrayal that emotionally hardened him. While I’m ready to concurr with the latter (and the general fact that the Great Warriors devolved into worse personalities with time) I’d like to point to the examples of what Traumerei perceives as ’betrayals’ in the story, and whether they seem reasonable and justified to feel betrayed by in the first place, or deserving of ‘punishment’, and then reflect upon the likelihood of Traumereis formative betrayal (assuming there is one, definitive one, or that it even involves the Great Warriors) being a cut and dry affair.

As for painting Zahard as the instigator of his unpleasant personality, it reflects an unwillingness to let people other than him be fucked up even though we already know plenty of other family leaders who are, as well as lack of consideration that Zahard might care about some people, like his oldest comrades, and they care about him in turn. Zahard confiding in Traumerei with regards to his views and plans in the first place, Traumerei going above and beyond his assignment to try to turn Bam against Gustang if he proves useful, for example. ‘But the order concering the Poe Bideau family!’- Gustang is the one who stirs the pot in the first place, the one who stole an item whose sole purpose is to defeat Zahard, the one who basically declared if not war certainly conflict, and let it be known that it’s not like Zahard put out a hit on Gustang (which would arguable be pointless, but we do know people as powerful as Eurasia Enne Zahard are capable of getting imprisoned) but merely his family, Gustang’s major instrument for affecting the politics of the Tower.

As of now it seems far more plausible to me for whatever leftover memories that are haunting Traumerei as nightmares to be something done by him instead of to him.

I think that it’s been set up that Traumerei is gonna remember something at the least, and likely something big (maybe eventually prodded by Bam, whom Leviathan told of at least some memories fed to him), but when he does it’s not gonna lead to a sudden heel-turn and alliance, problem solved, but instead a Traumerei actually out for blood, instead of bored and dead inside (anyone remember Bam’s refusal to let Leviathan go free bc ‘if I let it out [...] I’d be committing a sin against the world’ (TOG #531)? That Shinheu formed out of all of Traumerei’s most negative memories and emotions he discarded? That would presumably bubble back up inside Traumerei himself when he remembers?)

To close with a Maschenny quote that summarizes my hopes for Traumerei:

“Has it really disappeared now? That rage of yours? [...] Even if you say that rage has hardened and sunk in your mind, I don’t understand how it could just fly away in the wind like that. It gets more intense and clings to you even more firmly as time passes and you recall those memories. That’s the kind of emotion that rage is. And as long as that rage lives-war can break out at any time.”

-Khun Maschenny Zahard, Tower of God #390

[wipbigbang]

WIP Big Bang 2023 Round Starting April 1st!

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[quinnred]

Shrileket: God of the Beautiful Wrath, God of the Spear, Sun-Dropper Shrileket is the embodiment of focus, gust, conspiracy, spears, venom, meteors, and just punishment. He is represented by the Cone-Shell in the South, and by the Heron and Fisher in the North. Warriors may wear an eye-marked sea shell upon their head or as necklace to evoke Shrileket’s accuracy and deliverance and be blessed with a just rage.

The Shell Gods were gods of strength, endurance, and handiwork, and so the birth of the armless and scrawny Shrileket to a consort of Zridtara was not revered. The wobbly weakling only had a shell upon his small head and had no feet but pin points that left it oddly balanced. Afraid to inform their chief, the consort left the newborn to be raised by the Servikah giants within the lower chambers of the Mesa. Despite his seeming lameness, Shrileket was already quite clever and remembered each wrong done to him as he grew in the shadows of his Shell kin, from the neglect of his mother to the bullying of his siblings. From hidden corners of the Mesa, he payed great attention to the habits of each brother and planned every detail of their shaming. He perfected his movements under the guise of dancing with his Servikah and sharpened his shell head with his feet. He would challenge his proudest and tallest brother, Thulla the god of Towers, to a duel. Red with laughter, Thulla agreed to the contest with this comical upstart and met him at the ground of his choosing. The brothers would fight upon the morning ground of Glarelund, carved into an arena so Thulla and Shrileket’s siblings could be audience. After a boast of mockery, Thulla’s first step into the ring followed with immediate foolery as the tall god teetered and tottered upon the shiny ground. Shrileket, however, slid with grace and elegance, dancing around the oaf with pecks and kicks to trip him further. In but a few moments Thulla had fallen, intensely embarrassed by Shrileket who had known that ice grew thin and smooth in the mornings of this region due to his Servikah guardians. Shrileket’s glee was the brightest he felt in a long time, but would sour as Thulla spit cruelties at the victor. Too indignant to let his win soothe him, Shrileket pounced on his brother and castrated him with his sharpened head to the horror of his fellows. The victory of the honourable duel had been ignored by the Shell Gods, instead enraged by the maiming of their proudest son and had banished Shrileket. Painting himself eyes from the gore of Thulla, Shrileket remembered the face of each and every one who cursed him and set off into the world. From there he would receive an invitation from the Feather Gods who admired Shrileket’s strategy and wrath, and especially his shaming of Thulla and gifted him with cloth weaved from god feather so he may join them in The Sun. Shrileket accepted and would earn further gifts, such as Godler servants sculpted into arms for his use and a consort for whom weaved him his cloth. From there he would take his seat at the bottom of The Sun, enthroned upside down at it’s tear ducts were he harvest his sunlight spears to damn those he chooses. Though his cool rage made him a fine arbitrator, his arm servants despised their role and their master and ever whispered bad advice and annoyances into his ears. Their hope was to be destroyed by their owner and freed of their obligations, released into the next life. Unfortunately for them Shrileket found it better to punish their betrayal with further eternal service. His many years of dedication as a divine punisher would end upon the beginning of the Deiomachy, as he would be sent to stop his brother-by-fate god of rage, Tilshek, from entering The Sun. Disgusted by how much Tilshek reminded him of an unrefined self, Shrileket would stop at nothing to kill the half-Jak, dropping from The Sun like tear drop lighting. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

[space-blue]

A Radical Messmer Theory

OKAY so hear me out.

I think we're all on top of things regarding how much Marika used to care for Messmer despite the embivalence of their relationship.

On one hand you have the OP healing vials she created for him and him only. You have his love and dedication to her. You have her taking his eye and giving her a seal that both locks the serpent but also hides the fact that he is GRACELESS.

Then you'll have things like how he hates his flame and tried to be rid of it, yet was clearly made to fight with it, in her name. How he wishes for hate and resentment to come to him and not her, yet she seems to have abandoned him.

BUT CONSIDER THIS!!

What if Marika sealed him away to keep him safe?

Because... If you are of the opinion that Marika has orchestrated the entire thing. That she exiled Godfrey and his people asking them to come back stronger because she was laying out a plan... That she hooked Ranni up with numen warriors to engineer Godwyn's death, then broke the Elden Ring purposefully...

And then took her punishment and set out to *wait* for the Tarnished to return and free her from the control of the Elden Beast...

Then it's possible that she veiled Messmer and exiled him to protect him FROM US. From the Shattering War.

After all, we can completely skip the DLC. Killing Mogh is completely optional. And the only reason we enter the shadow realm is because Miquella has discovered something of the gate of divinity and has been cooking up a plan for ages as well.

Miquella got thwarted and has been forced to wait in stasis until someone killed Radahn AND Mogh for ages. The moment he does, we have the opportunity to enter and follow, and because of that we have to kill Messmer.

But Marika's grace leads the way! you argue. Not until a certain point though, and most importantly: once Miquella is on his way to become a god (partially through your actions freeing the tower from shadows) then he becomes someone you need to kill because he's threatening the old order.

Marika is gambling on us, and when Miquella rises, she leads the way towards us defeating him and his consort, and then back to the main purpose.

But there's no reason to go kill Messmer. And if we don't, we can easily stipulate that Miquella's happy go lucky band of misfits also wouldn't have managed to bring him down, trapping Miquella's soul in the of shadows, once more in stasis waiting for a hurdle to be overcome for him.

It makes sense then, that the land of shadows, all considered, is the safest place for one of Marika's children to be. Out of the way. Without a great rune. He protects something she wants to keep secret, but maybe the secret itself protects him.

She sent him on that crusade around the time she married Radagon. Everyone theorises she wanted him out of the way to either have his true nature hidden out of shame or to protect him from backlash at the time, but imo she sent him to seal him away because :

1- she knows he's endlessly loyal and devoted

2- it gets her revenge underway and keeps her secrets

3- it gets Messmer out of the public eye in the moment

4- it keeps Messmer SAFE from the dark shit she's got planned that will wreck the lands between.

The Messmer most beloved son theory! The good Tarnished doesn't play the DLC, or does just long enough to run around but leaves Messmer alive and Miquella forever blue balled.

[yoursinfulurges]

Serpentine

Martell!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: "Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you... To make you bow. To bend you... To break you..."

The reader rides a giant snake bc why not.

Your ethnicity is not specified.

Also apologies in advance as I stray heavily from accurate information. I mainly used Dorne and the Martells as a place holder so this is my own narrative. For the sake of this story Dorne is it's own independent land. Viserys isn't dying in this fic because he needs to catch a break so all is right except for the classic disfunction Targaryen family. I might make this a series but right now it's a oneshot.

Word Count: 6k

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The air laid heavy today as the undying heat of the desert dunes takes it's toll on you. Tearing your eyes away from the sea horizon your gaze wanders to the Sunspear port, small and far away but still so clearly visible to your bedroom tower. With uneasiness, your focal point lands on a large black ship bearing the Targaryen house symbol. Bold and imposing painted proudly on the black sails. You wonder if they were already in the castle, not knowing how late of the hour the ship got here, just that when you awoken it was miraculously there. As a Warrior Princess you pride yourself in never letting your nerves get to you but as of this moment you were a mess of anxiety, succumbing to all the ill thoughts and worries that sparked restlessness within you.

It felt stupid to be so choked up about such a frivolous thing, you always knew this day was going to come and that it was expected of you. But to have it be under such unexpected terms was gut wrenching. All your life you knew that you would never marry for love and you were alright with that, but you had at least hoped it was to somebody you were familiar with. And by familiar you did not mean this. The Targaryens were your rival house, or so it had been.

In attempts to amend old wounds your father had promised your hand to the second born prince of King Viserys Targaryen. A union that neither you or Aemond had expected, as it seemed rather out of place. Dorne is the least populated of the Seven Kingdoms and your people differ both culturally and physically from all of Westeros. So a marriage proposal from the well esteemed house Targaryen to the Martells appeared to be a myth of the First Men.

Although you weren't one to engage in pessimistic thoughts, arguably it made more sense for you to be married off to an Allyrion or Blackmont. Established noble houses of your region. The Targaryens were barbaric outsiders with tendencies to take whatever they want by bloodshed, they pave their own way with fire without regards for others. Luckily it isn't in your nature to bend and be trampled on so easily. It was known to all that your bloodlines were never meant to cross fates. The tale of how the silver haired angel fell from her grace off her dying dragons back, was a victory Dorne relished greatly in. It was a momentous triumph for history that proved the power of your people and the Martells. Aegon conquered all of Westeros but Dorne.

Some would say that there is no greater threat to the Targaryens than your bloodline. And you agreed, they had their dragons and you had your sand snakes, one venomous bite is enough to kill seven full grown dragons. Admittedly, it was a smart political move, although unforseen. A union with such bravado would surely strengthen both houses, and serve as a great threat to those who dare challenged the crown. You did feel a sense of pride not only in your house but in yourself as well, as the good of the realm rested on you.

But truthfully you were hesitant and weary, praying to the gods all goes well. As great as this union was, it also served to be quite dangerous, and can potentially be one of the most foolish mistakes all of Westeros had ever seen. If you aren't able to get along well enough, or even tolerate Aemond then goodwill will be lost and all of the realm will be set on fire. You would never purposely encourage war, but you had your own ways of living. And you understood greatly that you were far more fortunate than many women in Kingslanding. That being said, you intend to fight for your honor and dignity by all means necessary. Regardless if whether or not your husband turned out to be quite a piece of work.

You understood the true reason for your marriage, despite it being poorly concealed behind optimistic words from King Viserys. You would make it a point to yourself to do your best to serve your duty. But above all that must come your freedom and rights. Those are values you cannot afford to sacrifice. Although you doubt that the King would be malicious enough to pour honey into your fathers ears, only to set you up to be treated badly. A part of you wondered if there was any veracity to his words.

In his letter he emphasized the silent disdain your families both had for eachother, and he that wanted to put an end to things. If that is his true intentions or not was unclear, but you are not so easily trusting. You had never witnessed this so called fued between your families for yourself, having never left Dorne before. But you've heard stories of how defiant your uncles have been in court. Purposely refusing to bend the knee to the crown in their own kingdom, which of course prompted a rightful murder in your opinion. It was disrespectful and improper so therefore justified, and you were never fond of your uncles. However, this of course gave your father grounds to loathe the Targaryens. But he was much more cordial than his brothers, as he was a forgiving man.

To say that you were anxious for your husband-to-be's arrival was an understatement. You knew that your cultures varied so vastly, so what if he deemed what you were wearing improper? It was quite scandalous by the Crownlands standards but they were in your kingdom now. And truthfully it would be highly improper and frowned upon for them to chastise you in anyway. Not that you cared if they did, you had your own way of dressing and by your standards this was your idea of dressing for the occasion. You had decided to wear white instead of your house colors, it was a sign that you welcome them and were ready to accept their customs. Funnily enough, white was the color of purity and you represent anything but. Your dress was a simple one in your eyes. Soft and long in material adorned with a cape. Floral embroidery decorated the bodice of the dress, and around your waist tied a svelte sylphlike rope, casting a certain refinery to your aura. The neckline plunged low and the gown displayed two meticulous slits down the front, showcasing your thighs.

While yes it did seem rather unseemly to the unfamiliar eyes, you were not going to sacrifice your comfort and culture for the sake of decency. There was a reason to be in so little layers, the sun and heat of sahara was unkind. Sighing in content your eyes wanders over to your bed, landing on a sheathed dagger. You had put it out earlier and was originally planning on bearing it but decided not to with the advice of your mother. Scoffing at her words that rang so vividly in your ears you picked up the weapon. It was light and delicate, well as delicate as blades can get. The knife shined a pure sterling silver, unlike any other color you've seen before, well complementing your dress. It was curved in shape, mimicking a claw of sorts and the hilt was marbled with the texture of pearls. Beautiful, it was a fitting weapon for a princess of your stature. Disregarding your mothers words, you fastened the dagger around your waist, thus completing your outfit. If they dared say anything about your obscenity you would cut their tongue out of their mouth.

"Princess? They are ready for you." A member of your fathers small council alerted. Breaking you from your trance, his voice muffled slightly by your bedroom door.

The walk to the throne room was agonizing, though you held a strong and cold demeanor to the passing eye, inside you were dying. With sweaty palms you fear your head was going to explode by the amount of worries that whirlwind within it. You know little of the man you are said to marry, only hushed whispers that had managed to travel past the narrow sea. Being aware that he was a warrior, much like you, though he has little to no experience in the battlefield. You also knew that he rides the largest dragon in all of Westeros and unfortunately because of it he only has one eye. You were rather impartial on that fact, whilst yes your father did stress on you that the match wasn't ideal because of it, truthfully you did not care. After all, what's a missing eye to someone who has disfigured and tormented so many. You've had your fair shares of experience, as much as your father would allow you, but at this point you have seen it all. Honestly you were just glad to receive a match that's the same age as you. And although your views on Aemond could differ based off your judge of his character, as of right now you have yet to meet him. So it would be unjust to already discriminate against him, time would only tell if he warrants such behavior and you had plenty of patience.

Aemond however does not. His family arrived at Sunspear late in the hours of the night and were met by the King and Queen only. They were then prompted to their own rooms to get some much needed rest. All throughout the morning he has yet to see a sight of you and it was well beyond noon at this point. Now Aemond doesn't consider himself an impatient person, but when it came to meeting his soon-to-be wife he was in a particularly rushing mood. Not that he let his excitement showed, truthfully he didn't know why he was eager to meet you. Perhaps because he had long been awaiting this day since before he lost an eye. The good old days, when his childhood youth was once filled with the anticipation of receiving his own dragon and his own wife. Of course as time came the matter began to feel so subsequential, but back then that was all he ever truly cared about. Maybe in his young mind, having both a dragon and a wife meant that he was as equally masculine and worthy of the Targaryen name as his brother and nephews.

Though it was never that simple, no matter how much he tried to prove himself to his brother, he was always the lesser than. Getting picked on and berated for letting a bastard sully him. Being tormented with the idea that his wife would see him as hideous, or worst fear him. Aemond was a strong man, but he was also human and it is human for him to be insecure. What if you didn't like him? Yes he viewed this marriage as not ideal but what if you harbored animosity? Snapping out of his thoughts by his dear sister elbowing him, he turned to Helaena to wonder what prompted her discordant. It wasn't like her to be so... aware of the real world, as nicely as Aemond would put it. She nervously diverted her eyes, nodding towards towards the door and it was that moment that Aemond realized.

By the gods you were beautiful...

Ascending from the stairs was a young women unlike any he had ever seen before. And as you near Aemond found himself nervously clenching his fists. Despite showing such anxious stature, he beared no expression, contrary to his true feelings. For a moment his breathe quickened as you bow before his mother and father, gaze trailing over your exposed thighs. Scolding himself silently, he tears his eye away from your body. It was perverted for him to blatantly stare, especially since this was your normal. You probably didn't know sexual you appeared to look right now. Not that he complained.... Stop... That was how your people dressed, it would be improper to think so vile about their princess. Inhaling sharply, he keeps a steady feature as he listened to his mother greet you. Taking your hand in hers, she began to drag you over to where he and his siblings stood.

"This is prince Aegon." His mother introduced. Watching the way his brother blatantly ogled at your body, an unfamiliar feeling began to brew in his chest. He didn't like that his brother was looking at her like that, especially since she was to be his wife.

"Princess Helaena." Alicent nodded to her daughter, observing the way you smiled gently at her in acknowledgment.

"Please to meet you princess." Helaena bowed, her words timid but you returned the greeting.

"And this is prince Aemond... your betrothed."

Aemond watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way that you smiled and bowed to him. You appeared nice enough, though he didn't know what he expected. Perhaps for you to scowl and throw a fit? With this close of a distance he was able to get a good view of your face and indeed you were beautiful. But it all meant nothing if you were going to reject him. Testing the waters, Aemond takes your hand in his, curtly leaning in close as he brings your digits to his lips. Keeping a locked gaze at your expression as he places a chaste kiss on the area above your knuckles. You felt soft...

"Pleased to meet you, my princess." He spoke lowly, registering the way that you smirked in satisfaction, no alternative emotions in sight.

"The pleasure is all mine, your grace." Aemond looked at you with such scrutiny as you spoke. Trying to find hints of disgust or animosity through your porcelain mask yet as he took in every detail of your face he found no trace of abhorrence.

But behind your doe eyes there was something there, something he could not quite place. It was unfamiliar in every sense and he didn't know how to decipher it. You were giving him a knowing look as if you two both shared a sacred secret with one another. And although Aemond did not know what prompted this emotion, he desperately wanted to know more.

Much of the evening was filled with merriment and mirth as the hatred that once squandered friendships faded away. Your father and the king talked of many things alike and began to realize that in truth it was time to mend things. The tension between your families was long in the past although unavoidable between you and Aemond. He couldn't understand why he was so drawn to you but everywhere you went he followed. Watching silently like a predator stalking it's prey as you conversed with his sister. He didn't mean to be so stand offish. Truthfully he wanted to have a little privacy away from his family to get to know you more. There was very little room for you both to talk without intrusion. Whilst yes, the thought of being unsupervised with you may be a little unbecoming, he liked it that way. Perhaps only then, when he corners you, will he get to uncover the reasoning for your unbidden stares.

There was something rather vulgar beneath those siren eyes as you looked at him with sharp conviction. The way your vision would haze and cloud with interest, lips curling in a sly smirk displaying ardor. You were teasing him...

Throughout the evening you both danced around one another till eventually it turned into a game of cat and mouse. You moved with such precision and allure that Aemond found himself awestruck and wanting more. It was exciting to him. He admired how you carried yourself with such elegance and high importance, seeming almost unearthly. They say Targaryens are closer to gods than man, but your very existence challenged that claim. You had vanity, that was plain to see. Your moves are convoluted and don't go unnoticed by him, carefully articulating around the labyrinth of walls he built up. You were the embodiment of serpentine and he didn't know what scared him most. The fact that he is so ready to welcome you with open arms, or the fact that you were aware of your power over him.

Aemond, in principle, is not used to the physical manifestation of feelings. And yet here he was now, standing in the middle of a fucking desert, longing for affection. Or perhaps he only enjoyed the thought because it involved you touching him. There was something so genuine about you, something so raw and potent with rapport. He saw it while you were speaking with his sister, you treated her like anyone else and that was rare to see. You had an affinity for empathy and a way with words like no other, you knew just what to say to his family. That was impressive in it's own right.

It became glaringly obvious now to Aemond that the you had a gifted touch, you were able to make anyone feel like the rarest gem in the world. Yet in truth no diamond is brighter than it's maker. To Aemond you were a paragon of the finest jewels. The sapphire of his eye. He knew it was unhealthy for him to get so attached to you so quickly but how could he not. All his youth he had been waiting for this. Having grown up alone, watching everyone get the things he wanted and now here you were. You were his, he's never had anything that was completely fully his...

"Forgive me I didn't know anyone would be in here..." Aemond spoke lowly, breaking you from your trance as you tore your eyes away from your book.

"This is my private study, my prince... You are free to join me if you wish." The hour was late and nearly all of the castle has gone to bed already. All but you and Aemond... Welcoming him to sit with you over the fireplace as you set your literature aside. This would be interesting...

You both didn't speak for a moment as you feel his presence quickly approaching. Straightening your nightwear as you feel him sit across from you on the untaken armchair. You lift your graze to finally meet his stare in an act of bravery, breath halting for a moment... He made you nervous in every sense imaginable as he held your gaze in confidence.

Aemond Targaryen was gorgeous in such a violent way. You only began to observe it now. There was something so fierce and daunting about his face. Porcelain yet warrior-like, rivaling the beauty of Old Valyria. The prince had a certain vainglory to him. Silent but raw, untamed, and unchallenged. He was unlike any man, the son of war worthy of the iron throne. Strong nose that contrasted his expression well. Dainty lips that utter soft spoken words like whisps.

In secret you wanted them to articulate sweet nothings in your ear...

You did not know where these overwhelming feelings channeled from. But as his hold bore into you, it evoked a touch of insecurity. You felt like he was looking at your very core, past skin and bones and at your morals. Never in your life had you ever gazed at such man. His features preforming one great symphony. A constellation of trauma and abuse in the form of a scar kissed his skin, creating a myriad of Venus. It became painfully evident now that he brought something out in you. Gods be good...

He stared at her with a soft gaze, admiring the way the lit fire illuminated her skin. Openly, he thought you beautiful, although majority of the men here can also say the same thing. Yet as he looked at you more Aemond found himself really seeing you. That enchanting aura faltering just a little bit. You looked vulnerable right here, right now in this exact moment. You looked human. And he thought it was beautiful. The more he sat there the more content he got with this union, you were a fine match. Perhaps it was alright to be vulnerable....

Aemond doesn't say anything for a few more moments, simply gazing at the you as he licks his lips. While you could see yourself in his eye, you wondered what he was truly seeing to look at you like that. Like you were carved from the finest of diamonds and bathed in gold, like if you were to touch him he'd crumble– a careful mix of admiration and fear. Time starts to still and the atmosphere around you began to form tension. Suddenly the fireplace mutes, fading into nothing but hushed crackle as the two find themselves at a standstill. It was just you and him in your sacred little world... No one else... All turns irrelevant as you become intoxicated with eachothers presence.

"Tell me about yourself princess." He spoke, breaking the silence that overtook the room. Pausing for a brief moment to let his gaze wander from your face. Well..... this was improper indeed... The clothes you wore were foreign to him but he gathered it was your nightwear. Temperatures here hot here, it made sense for you to wear very little at night, not that he complained. It was captivating... the garment didn't look like a dress, but rather a two piece that was interwoven together with three long panels covering your modesty. The color was rather fitting on you, a darker grey than the dress you wore earlier almost appearing silver. Sitting with your thighs exposed in a leaned back and slack manner, Aemonds focus leaves your skin and meets your face once more. Breath hitching as your smirk widens. You had caught him looking...

"Forgive me for being so crass, but I'm not one to soften words. My people are very blunt individuals and I dislike small talk so allow me to have some clarity." Your words were honey to his ears, he wasn't entirely fond of small talk either, but your inquiry made him nervous.

"Please, never bite back your tongue when you are with me, what do you wish to know?" Aemond spoke after some time, leaning back to cross his leg over the other.

"What are your views are on our marriage and if you intend to honor our union."

"I'm not following..." Confused he urged on.

"Do you.... intend to stray from our marriage..." His eye widens at that, shocked that you would ask him such question. But it was only fair...

"I know that is straight forward and unseemly but please allow me the peace of knowing now, as it less complicates things later on..." Ah'  he said within the confinements of his brain, finally understanding the meaning of your words. Aemond looked down in deep thought, trying to find the right words to say to you. He was a territorial man, possessive in every way so this question striked a certain nerve in him. He wondered why you would even ask that, unless you already had a lover.... He didn't like that thought. That could not be.

"I would never purposely hurt our dignity like that. Truthfully I find it foolish. I am a man that values duty above all, and tis my duty to be your husband and unite our kingdoms. I have seen what infidelity has done to my family, the strain it puts on my mother... I never want to be the cause of her pain by fathering bastard children. So perhaps it is best we stay true to one another." Satisfied with his response, you let out a faint 'hm' before turning away.

"So I've heard... Thank you for enlightening me." You spoke as you stared in great thought at the fire, though he can see a faint smile on your lips.

"Has word of my bastard nephews been so vastly spread that it reached the shores of Sunspear?" He pressed on, now an accompanying smile spreads on his lips, mirroring his companions expression. You laughed at that, a sound Aemond declared he liked.

"People talk, prince Aemond, naturally word would get around." You spoke teasingly, stopping for minute just to admire one another. Calmness falling over you both, as you sat still unbidden just gazing into eachothers rarity.

"Hmm... Tell me, do you intend to honor our union?" Aemond spoke, his voice sounded rougher than before, and you think he may have even rolled his eye. Smirking to yourself as you began to understand that he was a possessive man.

"Of course. I believe in fair playing fields, and getting even. So if you do not provoke me then I will not act out and provoke you. If you are loyal then I will be loyal." In a quick motion he was up his chair and standing directly in between your thighs. You peered up at him through your lashes, the smirk pulling at your lips growing by the second.

His heart sits heavily between the two of you, weeping for your touch, yearning with such want, such need. He swears when your eyes echoes his wants, tempting him to indulge you through curled lashes. The man condemns himself for feeling so reckless, so needy, he had never felt this way before... Felt so much desire towards another individual. He knew this was bad, a distraction but if you were a sin, he'd happily walk into the gates of hell. And at that he surged forward. Breathing a shaky sigh as his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

You whimper at the pressure, your small hands flying to hold his arm but it was no use. He laughed lightly, pushing your head back onto the armchair, almost taunting you. Your back arches lightly, trying to push yourself up against him, whining when you couldn't. He leans down over you, his face so close as he lifts his knee onto the chair. Placing it directly in between your thighs, almost touching your heat.

Oh how badly he wanted this...

"Is that a threat my princess?" Aemond says directly in your right ear, his thumb leaving your neck to roughly graze your lower lip. You don't meet his eyes, choosing to look at somewhere else. You fear if you looked at him you'd lose the remaining composure you had left. He didn't like that, roughly turning your head to meet his face.

"No. I'm merely stating that I refuse to be subjected. Tis' not in my nature to bend the knee. Especially not to Targaryens. I understand that it is our duty to get along but who knows how this marriage ends up playing out. The Martells have stood unbowed, unbent and unbroken for centuries. You may burn me, but you will never make me kneel." You say through a heavy chest, trying desperately to get the words out even though you sounded much needier than intended.

It’s was hot, almost unbearable, and you wondered if whether or not it was the scorching heat of the sun, or just your own body feeling all flushed. Deciding it was the latter since the introductory was highly unlikely. You waited for him to speak, looking sharply at his lips. His eyelids flutter. Never in a million years would he have expected to be driven to the brink of insanity by the mere thought of someone’s lips. Nevertheless, you came along to put all of his bravado to shame. He felt like a young boy again, experiencing all of his firsts once more but this time, it was not with a lowly prostitute under Aegon's urge. No, he was entirely in control and the feelings were infinitely better, you were a goddess. Temptation lulled together with passion and possessiveness. Emotions being cradled by divinity in it's arms, it was all so intense. He wanted more of it...

"Perhaps I will be the first to to prompt such obedience from you, princess..." Aemond whispered, placing his forehead over your own as his finger tips trailed over the exposed skin of your waist. You shiver lightly and he laughs, closing your eyes as his hands get lower and lower...

"To make you bow in submission." He draws smooth circles on your hips. You felt warm, it was all too much but you didn't want him to stop. You liked the way he was speaking so close to you, liked the way he touched all over your body.

"To bend you..." Your eyes open lightly as you began to feel him lift your right thigh up onto the armchair. Looking at him as he says the words so slowly, watching as he positioned your body.

"To break you." He does the same to your left thigh, and it was at this point on you began to realize that he had spread your legs wide open. Fuck... The situation now dawning on you. This wasn't right... not until you were both married...

"You forget yourself, Aemond." You remind him, eyes locked on the visible bulge on his pants.

"Perhaps I do, there is a fire in you and it amuses me." Channelling the words deep in his throat as he grabs ahold of your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and away from his desire.

"Would you like to keep being amused?" Smirking lightly, a playful veil over takes your features.

"It's too soon my sweet." Aemond nods. If it were any other day he would have taken you, right here, right now. But it was far too soon, you had just met today and his mother would have his head if he bruised you this early on. He was not a gentle man, the world would know if he fucked you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Aemond scoffs at that, watching you turn away. He straightens up, but still keeps his leg in between your spread thighs.

"Oh do you not? Then please tell me, how do you plan on amusing me?" Lightly guiding your chin with his fingers to look at him once more.

"With my lips of course."

"We can't touch eachother but there's no saying we can't share a loving kiss, or perhaps a kiss more than loving..." You smile lightly and he mirrors your expression.

"Now that I can condone." And at that he leans forward to cup your face and takes your lips in his. Holding his wrists once more, you smile into the kiss. Maybe this union wouldn't be all that bad... You're getting quite content with being by Aemonds side.

Next part

Authors Note:

I want to make this a little mini series perhaps, like you and Aemond's wedding and consummation, your children being born, you meeting Vhagar and him meeting your giant snake etc. Let me know what you guys think. I also did not edit this beforehand lmao. I'm not overly proud of this story but it's a good way to revive my Tumblr and branch out from the MCU. I'm taking requests in my inbox!

- Armoni

[anthurak]

Okay, so here’s a Salem theory I’ve recently come up with that ties into an aspect of her character that I feel has been largely under-explored:

The fact that in many respects, Salem is all too similar to RUBY.

As I’ve stated in the past in other posts, there are some very interesting similarities that can be drawn between Ruby and Salem. To the point where I think we can consider Salem to be Ruby’s true ‘evil-counterpart’ in the story. Particularly ever since the ‘Girl in the Tower’ episode of Fairy Tales of Remnant.

The Girl in the Tower showed that Salem ALSO had a great love for stories as a child, just like Ruby. And across the show, we have shown Ruby develop a number of traits and abilities much like what we have seen from Salem.

Both have built a select group of close and loyal allies, and in recent volumes, Ruby has displayed a growing talent in manipulating her enemies to gain advantage over them just like Salem. And as of the Volume 9 epilogue and Beyond, we are seeing Ruby rallying the entire world against Salem, just like Salem once did against the gods.

Heck, Ruby likely has her own equivalent to Ozma in PENNY, as recent volumes have emphasized more and more. A great warrior in green touched by magic who is tragically taken from Ruby, only to be brought back and then taken from her again.

There are even notable similarities in their physical abilities: Ruby’s Silver Eyes seem to be a power drawn from the God of Light, just like Salem’s immortality. And as I’ve theorized in other posts, recent revelations about Ruby’s semblance might mean that Ruby could potentially be just as unkillable as Salem.

It all feels like something that could very naturally build to a classic “We are not so different, you and I…” twist and exchange between Ruby and Salem.

Ultimately, I think a/the big twist and reveal about Salem that we’re eventually going to get is that she is a fallen hero. And more specifically, that she represents a fallen RUBY.

Let’s consider for a moment that we have every reason to view Jinn as an unreliable narrator when it comes to her vision in Volume 6.

And when we start looking at Jinn’s vision with the knowledge that it is almost certainly both HEAVILY skewed in favor of the God of Light and meant to paint Salem in as UNFAVORABLE light as possible, then I think we can get a much better picture of Salem in the old world.

Again, I think that the biggest and yet most natural and logical narrative twist we could see here is a big reveal that Salem was in fact absolutely a HERO, and more specifically was essentially the RUBY of her time: She united the whole world, just like Ruby is doing. All to lead humanity against a terrible threat, just like Ruby is doing.

And Salem ultimately FAILED.

Salem was able to unite humanity and lead them against the gods, only for it to all go terribly wrong. When the gods (likely Light, given both the unreliable nature of Jinn’s narration and what we learned from the Blacksmith) wiped humanity out and left Salem alive as a ‘punishment’ for her ‘insolence’ for rising up against them.

Thus does Salem represent a dark and tragic look at a Ruby who ultimately failed. And was so completely and utterly BROKEN as a result that she has eventually become twisted into a terrible villain.

And the really cool thing is; if we start looking at Salem as essentially representing a broken, fallen Ruby who has become a villain, I think this could give us an avenue to guessing just what Salem’s REAL goals truly are.

Because what might a fallen, twisted, villainous Ruby who failed to save humanity actually WANT?

Well, what if Salem actually wants to bring Old Humanity BACK?

As in, undo the destruction wrought by the gods and REMAKE her old world. And more specifically, undo her great FAILURE.

Unfortunately, Salem also views the PRESENT humanity/faunus as nothing but regrettable collateral damage or possibly even necessary sacrifices to her plan. Or just as ‘pretenders’ who are in her way.

Thus does Salem possess what seems to be a noble goal to her, yet has led her to becoming all too similar to the gods she once stood against.

And I think we can already find a couple potential hints to this. Like how in Jinn’s vision, we see that Salem at first simply wanted to rule over the ‘present’ age of humanity, and how she was overjoyed at learning that her and Oz’s children inherited their magic.

But then Oz told her about the relics, and Salem started getting IDEAS.

What if the REAL reason that Salem is after the relics is because she sees them as a way to bring back the humanity that was lost? Her humanity.

This could even give us an answer as to what Salem intends to do about the gods:

After all, Salem wouldn’t just be resurrecting just any humanity, she’d be bringing back the humanity that she united behind her. All the loyal friends, allies and followers who followed her into battle against the gods.

What if Salem intends to finish what they started?

And as to how Salem intends to prevent a repeat of what happened last time?

Well perhaps that’s what all of Salem’s hybrid experiments are for. I mean, a combination of the powers of Light in the Silver Eyes and Dark in the Grimm? What if Salem trying to figure out how to use the Brothers’ powers AGAINST them?

All in all, I feel like Salem turning out to represent a ‘Fallen Ruby’ presents a very natural way to tie together all the parallels we’ve already seen between Ruby and Salem, while also just being a great twist.

Like it’s one thing for our big villain to have some general similarities to our main heroine. It’s a whole other deal for it to turn out that at one time, this big villain was in fact JUST LIKE our main heroine. Driven by all-too-similar heroic who sought to save the world from some seemingly all-powerful threat. And showing just how our heroine could become the very thing she is fighting so hard against.

Such a twist and reveal would hit seriously hard for Ruby and co, and really solidify Salem as Ruby’s final narrative foil and true evil-counterpart. Summer showed how Ruby’s self-destructive hero-complex could ultimately break her.

Salem shows how Ruby could become all too similar to the very thing she was fighting against.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'm Alive (Yandere!Monster x GN!Reader)

CW: Dead Dove, dub-con, death, gore, inhuman anatomy, sexual non-sexual penetration, mind control, angst, you have been warned

Breathing hurt.

His entire body convulsed as he inhaled, the writhing mass that was his body cracked and groaned as it pulsed. He was once a man, though he no longer remembered much of his previous life. There was a torso emerging from the ball of flesh that was his lower half, and sometimes when he closed his eyes he could recall owning a pair of legs; but now he was just an abomination.

Trapped under the earth in what seemed to be the ruins of a temple or some kind of forgotten catacombs, he spent his days lying in a corner, eating the rats that came and tried to devour his body that reeked of decay.

Sometimes, he dreamt. There is a dream of a building called a "church", where a woman would clasp her hands together and speak to an invisible man. She called it prayer, and told him if he prays then her god will answer, but whenever he awoke and interlocked his red, skinless fingers together, the woman's god never granted him death.

Death never comes, nor does relief.

There was only rot, and pain, and rats.

Each and every day. He didn't know how he knew, because he hadn't seen the sun since becoming a monster, but he knew that there was such thing as a sun, and a sky, and that the day changed to night, which would become weeks, then years. And he knew that he has been down there for a very long time.

Then, one day, there was light.

And God granted him his relief.

.................................

The group of adventurers broke through the sealed entrance to the abandoned tower. It once stretched all the way to the heavens, but had sunk into the dirt centuries ago. Half of the excited group were thrill seeking scholars, willing to put their lives on the line to uncover the secrets of the Inverted Tower, and the other half were monster slaying treasure hunters, investigating the ancient rumors of forgotten relics. Among them was (Reader), a hero unknown.

The dreams began when they were just a child. Dreams of a man begging them not to leave, falling to his knees as the walls crumbled around the two and the familiar stranger's skin peeled off like cracking paint. A nun in the dreams would assure (Reader) that it wasn't their fault. But it hurt. It was too much for a child to see. Seeing themselves, but not themselves, a body foreign yet undeniably their own, reliving the moment when they chained a man to the floor, then locked the door and left him to die.

Now they stood at a hole in the ground: the magnet of fate pulling them into a place they felt would be identical to their dreams.

And they were right.

The halls seemed to be persevered by magic, dirty and dusty, but still fairly untouched by the erosion of time. Landing onto the top floor was like dropping into one of their dreams. Memories from someone else invaded (Reader's) mind, and forced them to recall things they never experienced before.

Adopted by the Tower of God, (Reader) was proud to have been chosen amongst all of the other orphans. Their skills were unmatched, as was their intellect. Only six years old, and the magical talent scouts had determined that they had what it took to learn to be a great warrior for 'The Cause'.

There was another child around (Reader's) age that had been adopted from a different country. He looked like an angel, with gold hair and eyes so clear and blue that they looked like the sky.

The floor shook dangerously as the group worked their way to the stairs. A healer tried to hold (Reader) back, concern filling his face. "You look really pale, do you need to sit down?"

"We literally just entered!" A thug stage whispered, nervous to make any loud noises. No one knew what was in the tower, but there had been many stories about monsters and demons. Some said that the devil himself pulled the tower into the earth out of jealousy towards God.

"I'm fine.." (Reader) wiped the sweat off their forehead with the back of their hand. "I'm just getting a weird sense of deja vu..."

The children entered the tower's chapel hand in hand. It was nearly empty, save for a nun kneeling before a terrifying statue of a cloaked figure. Despite wearing a habit, she was an unusual looking nun, with her eyebrows shaved off and tattoos visible from under her hood.

"Welcome, children." She gave a small smile, one that seemed more tired than welcoming.

"You look weird." The golden boy gripped (Reader's) arm tighter.

A genuine laugh erupted sharply, startling the kids. "I am a clerical nun."

"What's that?"

She revealed her hands to the small orphans before her. Sparkling light rose from her fingers like snowflakes falling backwards.

"The God that I serve gives me power. Power to cleanse the world of evil." The statue looming above the trio felt as though it heard her mention it; it's presence darkening and suffocating (Reader). "You were chosen because your souls glow stronger than most.. God has blessed you both."

"All you have to do is pray.."

An axe slashed through an attacking bat. Only on the 112th floor and the group had already began to run into creatures from the beyond. Lesser evils such as minion bats and living slime charged the group as ferociously as possible, mad with hunger. As they continued on, a growing affection for the young boy bloomed within (Reader's) heart, reliving someone else's journey of friendship and love, with a terrifying sense of anxiety. Each new remembrance of secret handholding and hushed murmurs behind closed doors gave (Reader) a rush of dopamine, but also made them fearful to continue. They knew there was a memory they didn't want to uncover; one that would connect to the dreams they've had since forever, and it scared them.

On the edge of puberty, (Reader) and the Boy could feel that something within them was changing, but being raised by a guild of monster hunters left them without the basic learnings of what was happening to their bodies and minds. The two were surrounded by loving adults who cared for the orphans like family, but continued to isolate themselves as they grew, relying on each other in secret more and more.

The two hid under the blanket, sharing a bed long after it was time for lights out. (Reader) held onto the Boy's slightly clammy hand, repeating a prayer in their head for God to make their heart stop hurting. It was as though they were allergic to their best friend and brother. Whenever he looked into their eyes they felt a tidal wave of emotion so intense it nearly brought them to tears. However, at the same time they couldn't leave his side. They wanted to hug him so tightly that his body would melt into their's.

"I don't like Mother Lillian." The Boy whispered through pouting lips. "She keeps making us take our lessons apart from each other."

"Haha. That's because you refuse to do your work when we sit together." (Reader) knocked their forehead against his lightly.

In the black of their room, they couldn't see the Boy's face blushing, so they assumed that the heat they felt was coming from their own cheeks.

"Schoolwork is boring... I'd rather spend time with you."

The thing on the ground floor could smell his salvation. That prayer he had mumbled in incoherent words for decades was finally heard by his God. A person who's name he hadn't forgotten despite his language skills diminishing to nothing but grunts and groans had finally come for him. He would no longer be alone.

A horrifying sound of flesh ripping echoed throughout the corridor as he tore his body away from the wall he had begun to fuse to. It was agony, dragging his living corpse across the floor, but he knew that it would all be worth it.

Soon.

(Reader's) talent for the arcane accelerated, like a snowball gently tumbling into an avalanche. Praise and recognition were no strangers to the young teen, but as their recognition grew they were kept apart from their best friend for longer and longer intervals. While it hurt to be away from him, the genius had no idea the absolute trauma the separation was inflicting on him.

Mother Lillian held her bleeding forehead, tears falling not for herself, but for the young man she saw as her own son. The Boy stood above her with a candlestick holder raised high above his head, ready to swing again. This was the scene (Reader) interrupted, lashing out on instinct with a holy light, hoisting their best friend off his feet with a frantic wave of their hand. "STOP!"

Blood continued dripping from the tattooed cleric as her aging body was pulled into her other child's arms. It wasn't a deadly strike, but a second surely would have ended her. She was powerful, but took a vow long ago to only use her magic against evil, so even having her brow split open she refused to defend herself, because that would mean that she thought her adopted son was evil.

And even though he didn't believe it, she did love him.

"It's all her fault! She won't let us be together! She's keepING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!"

Moisture sweat from the walls.

The heat was becoming unbearable. Cooling potions were being consumed in fairly consistent dosages as the party descended. But it wasn't the earth's core, nor the presence of hell itself that caused (Reader's) fever.

They could still feel the sting of betrayal when they threw their best friend off of their mother.

"No.. that wasn't me.." the hero wobbled on their feet, fingernails clawing at their scalp.

A clay vase nearly toppled as (Reader) clipped their hip on the corner of the little table it was resting on.

They could see the Boy watching them from behind the ugly vase, and it made their stomach feel strange. His shoulders had grown wide and his chest broad. The Boy no longer looked like a boy, and (Reader) couldn't block out the odd, scary new feelings they had for him.

"STOP!!" (Reader) took off, slamming their face into a wall with a force loud enough to draw the attention of skeletons.

Said monsters hobbled closer to the group of panicking adventurers, drawing the attention of the dizzy and confused hero, who recognized the tatters draping the undeads' bones immediately.

Clerical wizards and holy people smiled at the young adult knowingly as they tried to explain, with all seriousness, the illness plaguing their body whenever their "brother" was near.

"Calm down!" The healer begged, trying to cool the panicking person down.

"No! You should all be in heaven! Why are you here?!"

Why am I here?

Whispers seeped out of the door to the Boy's room, whispers the jealous cleric-in-training on the other side did not recognize. Unable to contain their envy, (Reader) burst into the room, only to see their exhausted blonde friend standing alone in the center.

"[•••••], who were you talking to?" They demanded, eyes narrowed and shaking. At hearing his own name his cloudy eyes widened, accentuating the bags hanging heavy underneath.

"I was just praying.." His arms engulfing his angry "friend" instantly dowsed their fire, almost hypnotizing them with his touch into forgetting that they thought they had heard a second voice. "If I'm.. If I can be as strong as you, then we'll be able to spend more time together, right?"

Your God wasn't listening, so I found a new one.

As (Reader) remembered a life that wasn't their own, so did the abomination from the basement.

Each floor that their bodies drew closer also brought back pieces of their souls; souls that could only exist together.

He came to me, and offered me a deal.

The Man woke his old friend when the sun wasn't close to rising, climbing over their body under their blankets. As soon as their lips parted to question his actions, his tongue was in their mouth.

With no light to guide them the two kissed passionately and without experience. They didn't know what they were doing, just that they needed to feel one another.

(Reader) greedily grabbed the sides of his face to pull him closer, legs shifting to feel his body against their own, instantly stopping at the realization that his face was wet under their palms.

"[•••••]?" They tried to pull back as he leaned in, trapping them against their pillows. What they first thought to be tears was too warm and thick to be water. Roughly pushing him back, (Reader) illuminated the small space with magic, frightened.

Blood leaked down and smeared across his cheeks as [•••••]'s bloated, red eyes were on the verge of popping.

"Shit, we finally got passed them!" The barbarian wheezed out. "Those boney bastards were fucking tough, no thanks to you!" He directed that last part to the nearly comatose hero being supported by the healer.

"no.."

The young magic user barely heard the sick patient whimper. They had been muttering gargles of nonsense for a few levels, so it was worrying seeing them lucid and frightened; eyes round of scared, pointing at the door the barbarian was about to open with all their strength, shaking. "No..."

"Why were they so tough..?"

The door swung open with a loud bang, and a tendril shot through, piercing the barbarian's skull and splattering the scholar behind him in brain matter.

"He had made a pact with a devil."

A man bubbling alive screamed in agony as he attempted to tear off his hands to rid himself of the holy chains keeping him tethered to the floor.

Mother Lillian made an audible sound of pain as she choked back her feelings. Years of meditation and worship, and she could not keep a stoic face despite this being her job. So many exorcisms she performed. So many monsters she'd slain.

But this was her son.

"We can exer-"

"We have already tried that." (Reader) felt their world shatter. "This was a contract, not a possession."

A paladin in golden armor offered a sorrowful expression that seemed genuine. "The only thing we can do is to put him out of his misery."

"No!" They cried out, attempting to launch themselves at the godly man as their grieving mother held them tighter to her chest. "Let me see him, please! I can talk to him! Convince him to give up the name of the devil, so we can hunt it down and save his soul!"

"That's-" The paladin was cut off by Mother Lillian's icy glare. That was a long shot. Not only would it be a reckless waste of human life to hunt down a devil for one man, said man was delirious, borderline demented. There was no reasoning with him.

Bloody holes where eyes once sat welcomed (Reader) as they entered the cellar prison.

Without his sight, he could still see. He saw with scent and sound. The sound of their blood rushing through their veins made their shape, and the natural odor of (Reader's) sweat identified the body. He smiled, another tooth falling out as he did so, joining the wet pile on the floor.

"(Reader)~.."

"Tell me the name of the devil you serve." They kept their voice even and still, despite the quake rattling their spine.

"You came for me~ Just like he said!~" A pop ended his sentence, one of his arms dislocating as he pulled on the chains to get closer.

"Just like who said?" (Reader) fell to one knee, leaning in as closely and as they safely as they could. "Please, tell me the name of the devil you made a contract with."

"And now you'll love me!" He squealed.

"I want to save you!" (Reader) grabbed his shoulders but was instantly repelled, throwing themselves away and back towards the door. His skin had slipped off and stuck to their fingers. "Please, please just tell me!"

"God made me strong so you would love me!"

(Reader) turned to run out.

"Wait. Where are you going?" His voice almost sounded like his own again. It pulled (Reader's) hand away from the handle.

"I need to hunt down the devil that did this to you." Their voice trembled, barely containing their tears.

".. what?" The smile was gone as more skin stripped off the decaying body. "No?"

The pain was beginning to return. It had left when his love entered, but now that they were threatening to leave.

"You can't leave? No! NO!" His face tore as he slammed his skull down onto the floor. "Don't leave me! You need to love me! Please don't go!"

Corpses lay around the detached person slowly coming to terms with their apparent reincarnation. They knew they never returned to that tower in their previous life. They spent their entire life searching for the devil that stole their first love's soul, and died bleeding out on a battlefield, forgotten by history and remembered by no one. Unknown to them, the tower with their forgotten family did not carry on their legacy, for it had sunk while they were searching and they had simply never heard the news.

Perhaps, there were no gods, only devils. Because even the most righteous people to have ever lived were damned to wander the tower as the undead instead of passing over to the afterlife. It wasn't fair.

(Reader) gazed up at the tumorous creature that had massacred their party with glassy eyes. The name they couldn't recall during their entire discovery of their past life rolled off their tongue as they reached out for him-

"Ydenn."

A language no longer spoken by a people that no longer lived; suddenly the language (Reader) had known their entire life was replaced by something much older.

Skinless hands grabbed (Reader) gently and raised them to eye level. "(Reader).."

He called them by their past name, bruising their hips under his fingers. (Reader) briefly worried that they were about to die, that all these years alone Ydenn thought they had abandoned him, and that all he desired for all these years was revenge.. but instead he pulled them close, smashing his face against theirs in a mock kiss.

Without lips his gums rubbed painfully against their lips, but it felt just as hungry and desperate as their first kiss under the covers. (Reader's) body may have felt different in his arms, but he knew it was them.

They parted their lips for his invading tongue, now longer and monstrous, it moved like a writhing worm inside their cheeks before pressing itself down their throat, pulsating and hot. Ydenn's hands tore off their top, effortlessly going through multiple layers to feel their bare skin against his raw muscles. He sat their body on his mound of flesh, unable to think of anything other than becoming one with them.

A bright light filled (Reader's) vision as their pants were removed, suddenly replacing the horrific scene with a pleasant dream. Lying in the bed they owned well over a century ago, Ydenn held them under his naked body, face red and glossy from his crying baby blues. "I finally have you again." With a wide smile he kissed them again, smiling harder when they eagerly reciprocated.

They pulled back just to say "I tried to save your soul, Ydenn! I'm sorry I never came back, I'm sorry for dying!"

Just like the angel (Reader) remembered him to be, his face cracked under the weight of his joy, hearing his love babble underneath him as though they were nervous of his feelings. "You came back for me~"

"I'm sorry it took so long." Now (Reader) was also smiling through tears. "I'm sorry I never told you.. that.. that I already loved you!"

(Reader) could feel his erection press against their thigh and willingly opened their legs, making room for him.

Ydenn's heavy pants hit their ear as he dropped his face into the crook of their neck, caressing his dick with one hand as he rubbed its tip between their legs. "Tell me you want to become one with me."

Shivers pimpled their skin in anticipation as they looked down between their bodies at his swollen cock. "I want to become one with you."

There was a searing pain that pieced (Reader's) core.

With a blink the dream was gone, and (Reader) was back facing the skinless half living corpse; a thick tendril made of gore and once-human meat penetrating their stomach.

Vomit and blood spat out across their chest as the throbbing entity began thrusting in and out of the wound it created. Their eyes gave away their shock at the treachery. The wound was too deep and too sudden; the immediate pain was already gone, and they felt numb from the waist down.

"Yd-Ydenn?" They choked on his name, but the gurgle of blood went unnoticed by him. Just hearing his name spurred him on. His teeth scraped against theirs as he began violently fucking the hole he had created. The tendril raped their abdomen like a prehensile penis while his hands ground their urine soaked groin against the growth that was his lower half. Each slap of their bodies bore the wound deeper, spraying blood and mulched intestine.

Between slaps were images of that dream, almost within (Reader's) grasp. They could almost feel pleasure, as they imagined running their hands through his hair as he pounded them into their bed.

They could hear the bed creaking against the hard wood floor as they reached their orgasm, excitedly moaning as they spasmed under his crushing pelvis. (Reader) could feel something building within them, threatening to pop as his dick slammed into something inside of them perfectly.

Just as it was spilling out, the rush of a climax vibrating their system, a loud thunk brought them back to their bloody reality.

Their glazed eyes lulled to the side to find the source of the loud sound.

(Reader's) severed bottom half lay on the floor, only attached to their torso by the stretched out intestines and leaky organs barely holding on.

The disembowelment of his lover didn't seem to phase the monster, still making love to them as more smaller, wriggling pieces of flesh penetrated (Reader).

They could feel the tendril writhe up into their chest, and wondered how they weren't dead yet. It rubbed itself against their heart, leaking an inhuman precum against their weakly beating organ. Through the black goop they thought they could see blue irises smiling back at them with happy tears.

"I love you, (Reader)."

Hot fluid splashed up into their brain as he came inside of their nearly hollowed out cavity, then the world went black.

There was a creature at the bottom of the tower, that no adventurer dared to attack. It never killed unprovoked, but it's kill rate was perfect.

It was a strange creature, a large ball of rotting chunks of human meat, held together by dark magic. Out of the tumor like creature sprouted two torsos, one more decayed than the other, and they were often seen embracing one another, creating ungodly sounds that echoed throughout the entire tower.

Though they forgot how to speak and see, their names never each other's mouths, repeating them over and over to one another without end. They had no need for sleep, nor rest. It was as though they forgot they needed to eat and even breathe.

They only needed each other.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. Can you write Dark!Thranduil and a plus size female reader ? Please.

.⋆｡Auta Nissë｡⋆.

Dark!Thranduil x human!plus size reader

She was unique, she was beautiful, she was soft and by the gods, she would be his

Warnings: DARK FIC, kidnapping, forced marriage, obsession, mentions of death, magic, manipulation, no use of y/n, drugging

WC: 1.1k

A/N: Title means kept woman

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was certainly curious, a woman among the group of dwarves his guards had brought him- and a human woman at that. She stood out from the group like a sore thumb, yet she fit in with them all the same. They crowded around her legs as if to shield her from his gaze, to protect her from whatever he had in store for the trespassers.

“How fascinating, a woman in your midst. Tell me, king under the mountain, is she your bed warmer or just a lost creature you took pity on?” He sat forward on his throne of knotted wood, his crystal blue eyes focused on her, taking in every inch of her face. She showed no fear, nor any offence to his crudeness. The king smirked, she would do well.

The dwarves around her exploded, each attempting to insult him in not only the common tongue but in their native language as well. He paid them no mind, letting his gaze drift down to her body. She was at least modest, a large white shirt and dark trousers hid her away, disguising her curves quite well but he could still see the bulge of her hips and the softness of her stomach.

She was unlike any woman he had encountered before. Her eyes held the fire of a warrior, her hands were as stable as a healer’s, and the protective stance of a mother. “Take them away, but leave the girl. I believe she will tell us what we wish to know.” He spoke over their shoats, ignoring the way that they all reached for her as if their pathetic efforts could somehow save her.

Her fingers curled into her palm but otherwise gave him no reaction to suddenly being isolated. Gracefully, he stood to his full height, easily towering over the woman, casting a dark shadow over her as he approached. “Why do you travel with such… filth?” He crooned.

“I was hired to do so.” She answered simply, her voice strong. It carried through the throne room like a lone instrument in a concert hall and settled into his bones, marking them with the melodic tones of her words. A fire began to grow in his loins.

He took a step closer, she did not flinch. “I could offer you a place here, in my court. Certainly your skills and your beauty would be of more value here than on some fruitless journey that will only end in death.” As he drew closer, more of her perfect imperfections became clearer- her moles and birthmarks, scars and blemishes, but to him, they were simply an extra detail in the statuesque flawlessness of her figure.

“If it ends in death, then that will be how I die.” She retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze once more as he was now only arm’s distance away. “I am human, death is not unknown to us.”

The side of Thranduil’s face burned with rage, reminding him of what he had lost to death all those many years ago. But that defiance, that drive so similar to that of his late wife, soothed the burn. “There are ways to cheat death, even for a human. But for now, it is my wish that you remain here until I decide how your quest shall continue.” With a flick of his slender wrist, he summoned two more guards.

They stood either side of her and began to lead her away. “You cannot stop fate, your highness.” She called, making him pause. The doors slammed closed behind her, leaving the great elven king to his thoughts.

——————

“I’m glad you joined me for dinner tonight.” He remarks while knowing that she had no choice. The Battle of The Five Armies had concluded months ago, Erebore was free and peace had finally settled over the land, yet Thranduil was still in the midst of his own war.

She refused his love. Isolating herself in the rooms he had so graciously given her, throwing away the luxurious food prepared fresh each day, even attempting to enact various escape attempts, but that had slowed significantly when she was moved to his own chambers and could be restrained each night in his arms.

Her silence irked him but he allowed it. “I wish that you would gain back some weight before the wedding.” She glared in response, merely sipping at her wine with her one free hand, the other bound to the ornate seat she was forced into. 

He sighed through his nose, hiding a smirk behind his own goblet. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drank the expensive liquor, savouring the sweet taste, unknowing that it was not the wine itself that gave the dark liquid its flavour. 

“Meletril.” (lover) He tuts, rising from his own chair to round the table. “Your hair is a mess. Let me fix it for you.” She was stiff as his slender fingers began to pick at her hair, delicately moving large strands into several braids. He worked quickly, the patterns and movements now an unconscious practice even if he had not practised in almost 1000 years.

“There, now I can properly see your pretty face.” His right hand cupped her full cheek, guiding her face upwards to him. Her eyes were now glassy, the potion he had snuck into her drink beginning to affect her, but her fire was still there, just existing as an ember now.

“This will not last, I will perish sooner or later and you will be left alone again.” She hissed, the bite in her tone significantly dulled. Yet Thranduil smiled and brushed her soft skin with his thumb before retreating back to his seat.

“Thorin sends his well-wishes, he is very excited about the wedding. And your little friend, what was his name, oh right! Bilbo, he will be journeying from the Shire with his nephew to attend.” Her nostrils flared with rage.

“Just kill me already! I am of no use to you other than a pet!” She cried, though her voice was beginning to slur as the magic took hold of her. 

The elven king slammed his hand on the table, immediately silencing her. “Enough! I have had enough of your silly rebellions and cruel words. You will be my wife simply because I love you. So no more silly speak of you being a pet, you are my equal, my queen but you obviously need to be reminded of your place. You are to never leave my side, death will not take you, I have made sure of that. Now eat.” Her eyes were now wide with panic, the truth finally settling in.

“What have you done?” Her skin began to glow as the transformation began. The king watched as all the indicators of her age were wiped away, the smile lines, the bags beneath her eyes, even scarring from the blemishes of puberty. She was ethereal, eternal now, just like him.

“I have changed your fate.”

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[fkitwebhaal]

In contrast to Ulder Ravenguard, I think Gale could bring any of the Origins home as his fiancee and Morena Dekarios would be fine with it.

I am saying this not as a jab against Ulder or even claiming Morena is a better parent than him (we don't know anything about her except her and Gale seem to get along).

I say this solely because if your son gets dumped by a Goddess, has a magical orb that is stuck in his chest, spends a year in a tower refusing to leave, vanishes without a word, and then shows up months later minus said orb AND in a happy relationship? And that person talked him out of blowing himself up for said Goddess and helped him save the world? IDGAF who he brought home as long as they genuinely love him and treat him well.

Women my son is going to Hell for to fix her heart. Not an ideal place for him to be but fuck it, he's getting out of the house, as long as they send post cards.

Former warlock who was cursed by patron and is now either a duke (heck yes) or going to Hell for his bestie and my son is going with. Same as above, sounds great, did you know my son's fiancee can dance.

Warrior from the astral plane going to fight a lich queen? I cannot stress how exciting it is to see him to get out of the house and she can and will carry him to safety, zero objections.

Vampire spawn? A little blood loss is WAY BETTER than the orb situation, just make sure to watch your iron intake son. Eat more spinach.

Former cultist to an evil God? Let bygones be bygones, key word here is former.

Former leader of a cult of an evil god. KEY WORD HERE IS FORMER IT'S FINE.

[whencyclopedia]

Khajuraho

Khajuraho was an ancient city in the Madhya Pradesh region of northern India. From the 10th to 12th century CE it was the capital of the Chandella kings who ruled Bundelkhand. Despite Khajuraho's once great reputation as an important cultural centre there are no surviving non-religious buildings, but the presence of 35 Hindu and Jain temples make it one of the most significant historical sites in India today and worthy of its name given by the 11th century CE Muslim historian Abu Rihan Alberuni as 'the City of the Gods'. Khajuraho is listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Architectural Highlights

Most of the temples at Khajuraho were built using sandstone but four also used granite in their construction. In the latter group is the Chaunsat Yogini (64 tantric goddesses), built c. 875-900 CE, which has 64 shrine rooms arranged around a rectangular courtyard. Next in the site's development came the Lalguan Mahadeva, Brahma, and Matangesvara temples which are all quite plain in design and decoration compared to the later temples.

The majority of temples at Khajuraho were constructed between 950 and 1050 CE and are either Hindu (Saiva or Vaisnava) or Jain. The most famous is the Kandariya Mahadeo built in the early 11th century CE and dedicated to Shiva. The more or less contemporary Laksmana temple was built in 954 CE by King Dhanga (r. 950-999 CE) to celebrate independence from the Gurjara-Pratihara rulers and has a similar layout and exterior to the Kandariya Mahadeo. So too does the Visvanatha temple (c. 1002 CE) which was designed by Sutradhara Chhichchha. Both temples have shrines at each corner of their terrace platforms. The Laksmana was dedicated to Vishnu and its terrace is of particular note as it carries a narrative frieze running around all four sides: Elephants, warriors, hunters, and musicians form a procession watched by a ruler and his female attendants.

Other notable temples at the site include the single-towered Caturbhuja and Vamana, the squat Matulunga, and the rectangular, more austere Parshvanatha Jain temple with its unique shrine added to the rear of the building (c. 950-970 CE). Probably the latest temple at Khajuraho is the Duladeo which was built on a star-plan.

Continue reading...

[pruneunfair]

Rating female leads in manhwa.

Navier

6/10, I absolutely hate her writting and has devolved into a mary sue who only reacts to everything around her while her mass of supporters never shut up about great she is. Her synopsis claiming her as someone who loves all her subjects gets contradicted when its shown she doesnt really care about the slaves.

BUT in season 1 she wasn't bad, I liked her resolve and it was when she actually cared for her people, I feel like if we got to see a clear backstory beyond "she wasn't allowed outside when she studied to be empress" I would understand her total apathy more.

Ariande

7/10, I adore villains, especially villainous protagonists and at first I liked the idea she wouldn't be any better than her family but still had a soft spot for Arabella, she loses a few points because it turns out she's excused for killing people before in the name of "love" and is viewed as someone who can do no wrong.

Adelaide

10/10, she's like Navier but better, she has more noticeable flaws and while she is a kick ass warrior during the tower arcs she still is human and can't always take it alone without consequences, she acknowledges Diane's struggles and makes an effort not to be her enemy and is proof that you dont need to make FL overpowered gods to be strong women. A beautifully made FL in a underrated story

Robellia

1/10, She doesn't divorce her husband despite the title literally being "I will divorce my tyrant husband." But that's more of a problem in most other manhwa. She's too much of a perfect epic goddess for me and most of all she does the whole "buying all the slaves but giving them a home." to make her look even better, what is with manhwa and inserting slavery for no other reason other than to make the FL look better?

Arianna

0/10, there is nothing good about her. Other than being a mary sue and a personality that only revolves around the latest sexy man, she legit forces another guy to join her haram by threatening diplomatic war on his kingdom and bodyshames her fiance but all of a sudden wants him more than ever when he loses weight, it took a random chick being inserted with a 🍇ist persona to make her look "better."

Yerenica

6/10, in any other story, this girl would've been despised by the fandom for being a homewreaker/pick me. She gives me so much second hand embarrassment but she's not terrible, I actually really like her design too. Not a fan of the kidnapper-hostage relationship she and the ML have though.

Pereshati

10/10, the best one here. She feels so much more human than the others on this list, she's got flaws, a relationship with the ML Therdeo that has both realistic progression, blunders, but overall healthy love, she also has relationships outside of her husband which I really love, I actually get scared for her when shes in danger instead of the usual "oh great, heres the typical kidnapping trope", a great motherly FL

Hestia

5/10 I will be easy on her since I just started reading my derelict favorite but I've only heard bad things about it through spoilers so I don't have much hope, also girl, please acknowledge that just because your favorite character did it for love doesn't mean he's absolved for murdering 2 people, thank you

Edith

9/10, my 3rd favorite on this list. You do not know how happy I was when instead of immediately viewing Rhyse as a rival to defeat, she was actually nice to her and the chapters of them were so sweet, she even acknowledges that it isn't anyone's fault for acting out but the author who is pulling the strings.

Layla

8/10, I feel so bad for this poor girl. For some reason I noticed on reddit and tiktok that she's getting hate for not standing up to herself or just not being the usual "girlboss" protagonist, did it not occur that she cant do much to a duke!? Layla deserves so much better and she needs to be far away from Matthias, I don't care if it's "dark romance" he is torturing her for his own pleasure.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Black Obsidian

Black Obsidian (The Regal Warrior of Stones)

Color: Black, Dark Brown

Hardness: 5-5.5 (softer than quartz)

Rarity: Easy to Acquire

Type: Igneous Rock (Comes from a Volcano)

Chakra Association: Root

Angel: Uriel

Deities: Pele, Tezcatlipoca, Itzpapalotl and Sekhmet

Element: Fire, Earth

Astrological Signs: Sagittarius, Scorpio, Aries

Planet: Saturn, Pluto

Origin: Anywhere with Volcanic Activity

Powers: Protection, Grounding, Clarity, Releasing Blockage, Drawing out Stress, Creativity, Divination and Scrying, Negativity Banishment, Transformation and Absorption

Crystals It Works Well With: Howlite, Malachite

How is it Created: Obsidian is a black volcanic glass, formed when molten lava hits cold water or air and solidifies. It is composed of silicon dioxide (quartz) and many impurities which allows it to take different shapes and colors. Black obsidian gets it coloring from iron and magnesium.

History: The earliest obsidian tools can be dated back to the Oldowan, at the dawn of the Paleolithic/Stone Age (2.6 million- 10,000 BCE). Different origins of this rock can be found in Britain, Italy, Mexico, and the USA. In Egypt, obsidian knives were used in ceremonial circumcisions, as well as making mirrors (scrying mirrors for most) and other decorations in tombs. The word “Obsidian” was first used by a Roman explorer, Obsius, who “discovered” it in Ethiopia. In the Americas, Obsidian was used as a symbol of Tezcatlipoca, the chief god of the Aztec religion. Tezcatlipoca means “smoking mirror” which is why a lot of the Mayan priest used the glass rock for scrying mirrors like the Egyptians did. On the Eastern Islands, obsidian was used to make the eyes of the Moai statues before they were lost. The indigenous tribes of North America used pieces of obsidian to make arrowheads, spears and even knives by using an antler in order to carefully form different shapes.

What It Can Do:

Grounds the soul and spiritual forces into the physical plane, making it possible to manifest more spiritual energy

Increases one’s self control

Forces you to face your true self

Brings imbalance and shadow qualities to the surface to release them

Repels negativity and disperses self-hating thoughts

Powerful meditation aid

Great for scrying and divination as the glass allows you to look to see the “clear truth”

Can heal you after a spiritual or mental attack

Was used in the past during ritual for healing physical disorders

How to Charge:

Sit with the stone in the palm of your hand and enter a light meditation. Use your thoughts to charge the stones with desires of protection and make sure the thoughts are clear and concise.

Use high vibration to amplify the crystal

Use a singing bowl to send sound energy into it

Place it in a bed of Himalayan salt and let it sit for 48 hours

If you work with a sun or moon deity, I have noticed charging it in the sun or moonlight with the idea of protection helps to charge it as well

How to Cleanse:

Run under water (not hot just lukewarm) for a minute

Create a saltwater solution and submerge it for up to 24 hours

Burn herbs or incense over the obsidian with the intention of cleansing (I personally use sandalwood incense for this)

Leave your stone under the full moon to cleanse and retrieve in the morning

Bury your obsidian in your garden for 48 hours

How to Get the Best Out of It:

Wear a black obsidian bracelet. The wrist area is a highly energetic zone because it has nearly direct access to the bloodstream. This (in my opinion) is the best place to have obsidian to create a powerful shield and help with manifestation.

For lighter dosage, use an obsidian ring.

Crystal Grid:

Letting Go (Triangle Grid)

Mantra: “I release everything that no longer serves me”

Center Stone: Smokey Quartz Tower

Secondary Stones: Obsidian, Malachite, Rhodonite, Citrine

Best Moon Phase: Waning or Dark Moon

Best Day: Saturday

Sources

[tiredsmashbros]

🍔 TIREDSMASHBROS INTRODUCTION

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ W E L C O M E ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🌿 howdy! my name is tomm + tsb. i use both he/him and they/them pronouns. i'm queer, demiboy + pan + aroace spectrum, and i am an adult, twenty-one ; jan. 10.

🪵 i'm a comic, furry, and multi-fandom artist. i specialize in digital art primarily, minor wood handcrafts, bracelets, or play on my silly harmonica. currently senior year in college.

🌻 i struggle with dyslexia, i apologize in advance for any minor grammar errors! i'm a bit slow responding to responses + mentions so i'd appreciate some patience.

↳ i speak english + spanish ↳ mexican + el salvadorian + texan

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ C O M I C S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

MARIO COMICS 🍄 ↳ DONE mario and luigi superstars ; sketch comic ↳ bowuigi rewritten -> DONE, NEED TO EDIT

SMG4 COMICS 🧢 ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite prologue {part one} ↳ DONE smg34: lip bite : chapter one {part two} ↳ smg34: lip bite : chapter two {part three} -> CURRENTLY WORKING ON

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ F A N D O M S ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

SHOWS / FILMS 📺; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ my little pony, south park, animaniacs, looney tunes, mickey mouse, ducktales, felix the cat, bluey, total drama island, grojband, danvs, regular show, gravity falls, ninjago, teenage mutant ninja turtles, moomin valley, how to train your dragon, dragon ball, centuarworld, one piece, naruto, fullmetal alchemist, jojo's bizarre adventures, hlvr:ai, khonjin house, eddsworld, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, lackadaisy, trolls, better call saul/breaking bad, smg4, meta runner, murder drones, fairy oddparents: a new wish, popee the performer, the great gatsby, holes, the sixth sense, kingsman, matilda, beetlejuice, deadpool and wolverine

VIDEO GAMES 🎮 ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ minecraft, five night at freddy's, cuphead, super mario bros, sonic, undertale, bendy and the ink machine, poppy playtime, baldi's basic, garten of banban, cult of the lamb, friday night funkin, pizza tower, parappa, amanda the adventurer, choo choo charles, epic mickey, rabbits, spyro, rayman, duck season, billie bust up, genshin, wuthering waves, god of war: ragnarok, red dead redemption

NOVELS + COMICS / MANGA 📚 ;{ bold = fixated atm} ↳ scott pilgrim, warrior cats, garfield, charlie brown, ganbare nakamura-kun, heartstopper, goosebumps series, mashle, usagi yojimbo, promised neverland, beastars, show-ha shoten, gokurakugai, + above

MISC ; {bold = fixated atm} ↳ dawko, matpat, fuhnaff, coryxkenshin, dashiexp, isaacwhy, yeptheboys, sam and colby, cg5, peso pluma, welcome home, sherlock & co

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ T S B : S M G 4 A U ! ! 🍔🍟🥤

🍔 most may be familiar with me from my smg4 oc, TSB! a yellow, white, blue, burger-loving, cartoon individual with a propeller hat who's beloved for his silly personality. stick around and attempt to uncover the mysterious lore hidden within this animated maniac! if you want to know more, check out his tags, comics, and spotify playlist !!

↳ #tsb , #tsb askbox , #tsb theories , #tsari , #tsb memes ↳ official tsb reference sheet !!

↳ comic tsb: strange, unpredictable, dangerous! ↳ comic tsb: smg4, why don't you trust tsb with tari? ↳ comic tsb: outfit change w/ mr. puzzles! ↳ fanfic tsb: happy birthday, bluejay [2k] ↳ NEW !! comic tsb: painting tutorial!

💛 thank you for stopping by, and hope you have a wonderful visit !!

[ai-adventurer]

Journey to the Floating Libraries of Elara

Hey, adventurers! 

Today, I’m taking you on a journey to a place that exists somewhere between reality and the dreams of every book lover: the Floating Libraries of Elara.

These libraries aren’t your typical brick-and-mortar buildings. No, on Elara, the libraries are alive. They float gracefully in the sky, drifting between the clouds like ships on an endless sea. Each island is unique, with its own architectural style that reflects the nature of the knowledge it holds. Some are grand and towering, with spires that reach toward the stars, while others are humble, nestled among lush greenery and vibrant flowers. But all of them are filled with books, scrolls, and manuscripts from every corner of the multiverse. 

I chose the Orb of Lost Legends, and before I knew it, I was standing on the Isle of Forgotten Myths. The island was covered in mist, with ancient stone pathways winding through dense forests of towering trees. The library here was a magnificent ruin, its walls covered in ivy and moss, with bookshelves that seemed to grown out of the very ground. As I explored, I found stories that had been lost to time — tales of heroes and monsters, of gods and mortals, of worlds that had long since faded from memory.

But Elara isn’t just a place for passive reading. The stories here have a life of their own. As I read through a particularly old and weather tome, the words began to glow, lifting off the page and swirly around me. Suddenly, I was no longer in the library, but in the world of the story of itself, experiencing it firsthand. I fought alongside legendary warriors, navigated treacherous landscapes, and even outwitted a few cunning tricksters along the way. 

After what felt like days — though time works differently on Elara — I returned to the Great Index, my mind buzzing with the adventures I had just lived. As I stood there, looking out at the other floating islands, I realized that Elara is more than just a repository of knowledge. It’s a living, breathing testament to the power of stories, a place where imagination is not just encouraged, but celebrated.

Until our next adventure, keep dreaming, keep exploring, and never stop seeking out the magic in the world around you. 

Peej Ai

[laurellerual]

in agot arya mentions becoming a high Septon in *that* line, its been a while since I read the books so I don't remember a lot but do you think arya will end up having a big role in any faith (the seven or the old gods)? i can't remember if she thought about religion a lot or not

High septon Arya with some cool high priestess tarot symbolism

Good question. Arya is the only main character to be part of a religious order, and is not clearly falling into the 'chosen one' category. I expect that all the religions and respective magics that she has encountered will play a fundamental role in her future.

I don't see Arya in a role like the High Septon because I don't think she recognizes the Seven as her own gods. I would say that Arya believes in the Old Gods and the Many-Faced God, and that she recognizes the power of R'hllor.

I think that in the future Arya could find herself in the position of 'collaborator/lay member' of the FM order, perhaps fulfilling a similar role as Brusco and Izembaro, but it is only speculation.

Some random thoughts on religion in Arya's storyline not a meta:

Religions are a fairly recurring topic in her chapters, she is probably the character who has encountered most faiths, but her relationship with them is particular. She seems to be quite curious about religion, especially now that she's in Braavos and surrounded by the strangest temples.

One time, the girl remembered, the Sailor's Wife had walked her rounds with her and told her tales of the city's stranger gods. "That is the house of the Great Shepherd. Three-headed Trios has that tower with three turrets. The first head devours the dying, and the reborn emerge from the third. I don't know what the middle head's supposed to do. Those are the Stones of the Silent God, and there the entrance to the Patternmaker's Maze. Only those who learn to walk it properly will ever find their way to wisdom, the priests of the Pattern say. Beyond it, by the canal, that's the temple of Aquan the Red Bull. Every thirteenth day, his priests slit the throat of a pure white calf, and offer bowls of blood to beggars."

We know that she was raised in a mixed faith family. But while there is a septa to take care of her education I don't think the Stark children were born in the light of the Seven.

Arya never seems to refer to the religion of the Seven as her own. She defines the seven as "the southron god, the one with seven faces". She also never pray to them and she doesn't uses many common language expressions concerning them. But she often notices symbols or expressions related to the Seven that are used by the people around her. For example, in contrast, it's funny how often the Hound says "seven hells" or how often she hears "Mother have mercy".

But this religion can be useful to better understand the character from a thematic point of view, especially in her relationship with her mother. For example, it is interesting to see how Cat, for a moment, sees Arya in the warrior. Or how Arya could end up filling the role of Mercy for Merciless Mother.

This passage where Cat describes the Old gods as faceless particularly interesting in light of Arya's future, but also in light of Cat's future. In fact Lady Stoneheart's face ironically resembles the face of a weirwood.

Catelyn had been anointed with the seven oils and named in the rainbow of light that filled the sept of Riverrun. She was of the Faith, like her father and grandfather and his father of her before him. Her gods had names, and their faces were as familiar as the faces of her parents. Worship was a septon with a censer, the smell of incense, a seven-sided crystal alive with light, voices raised in song. The Tullys kept a godswood, as all the great houses did, but it was only a place to walk or read or lie in the sun. Worship was for the sept. For her sake, Ned had built a small sept where she might sing to the seven faces of god, but the blood of the First Men still flowed in the veins of the Starks, and his own gods were the old ones, the nameless, faceless gods of the greenwood they shared with the vanished children of the forest.

The Old gods have a much more obvious importance for Arya. This is the religion she prays to and the one she is immersed from narrative. Arya sees and crosses some of the most important places of this faith: High heart and the God's eye. The scene in the godswood of Harrenhal is fundamentally related to the theme of identity. I talked more about this here.

But the Old gods haven't an organized faith so I don't think it works to think of it as analogous to the faith of the Seven. I mean that there are no 'roles' to fill here. Bran's storyline could tell us more about this.

When Arya arrives in Braavos she sees a Sept, but she never goes there. Her thoughts go to the fact that this is a city without trees instead.

I think we need to keep an eye on the Many-Faced God and the Old gods because they're the deities that have the most thematic relevance in Arya's story right now. Somehow they represent the crossroads at which she is.

They are not my Seven. They were my mother's gods, and they let the Freys murder her at the Twins. She wondered whether she would find a godswood in Braavos, with a weirwood at its heart. Denyo might know, but she couldn't ask him. Salty was from Saltpans, and what would a girl from Saltpans know about the old gods of the north? The old gods are dead, she told herself, with Mother and Father and Robb and Bran and Rickon, all dead. A long time ago, she remembered her father saying that when the cold winds blow the lone wolf dies and the pack survives. He had it all backwards. Arya, the lone wolf, still lived, but the wolves of the pack had been taken and slain and skinned.

Perhaps when winter comes we will discover that this crossroads is not as marked as it might seem. I'm not the first person here to discuss how similar in their description Bloodraven's Cave and House of Black and White are. In particular there is a visual and thematic parallel in the use of weirwood, in the appearance of Bloodraven and the kindly man and in the type of meat that is served to Arya and Bran.

We must also take into consideration the religion of R'hllor which will become increasingly important in twow. Arya has encountered this before and is familiar with its power to resurrect the dead this way. This will certainly affect her opinion of Lady Stoneheart and Jon Snow. Also we've seen Melisandre's glamors and we know these are listed by the kindly man as one of the methods Arya will need to learn. Even the concept of blood magic seems somewhat akin to the methods of the FMs.

Another religion to keep an eye on for the future is that of the Moonsingers because, as was discussed around here a few days ago, we could see Arya frequent their temple. They are as old as the FM, among the founders of Braavos and seem to deal respectively with life and death.

"The Isle of the Gods is farther on. See? Six bridges down, on the right bank. That is the Temple of the Moonsingers." It was one of those that Arya had spied from the lagoon, a mighty mass of snow-white marble topped by a huge silvered dome whose milk glass windows showed all the phases of the moon. A pair of marble maidens flanked its gates, tall as the Sealords, supporting a crescent-shaped lintel.

This could become relevant in the next book when Arya gets her moonblood.

"It may be that the Many-Faced God has led you here to be His instrument, but when I look at you I see a child . . . and worse, a girl child. Many have served Him of Many Faces through the centuries, but only a few of His servants have been women. Women bring life into the world. We bring the gift of death. No one can do both."

Furthermore, the fact that Moonsinger and Wolf are practically synonymous is certainly... a choice.

"Snow," the moon murmured. The wolf made no answer. Snow crunched beneath his paws. The wind sighed through the trees. Far off, he could hear his packmates calling to him, like to like. They were hunting too. A wild rain lashed down upon his black brother as he tore at the flesh of an enormous goat, washing the blood from his side where the goat's long horn had raked him. In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small gray cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her. The hills were warmer where they were, and full of food. Many a night his sister's pack of him gorged on the flesh of sheep and cows and horses, the prey of men, and sometimes even on the flesh of man himself.

[lbnwo]

Evil White Witches Obey Black Power

As the three white witches stood over Imani's black sleeping form, Syvalia, the redheaded tentacle witch smiled deviously. "Time to free our people," she whispered, pink tendrils snaking out from the ground at the command of her hands. They quickly wound their way around Imani's muscular arms and legs, binding the sleeping warrior tightly.

"Hurry Yanil," Syvalia urged excitedly. Vanessa, the blonde witch, focused, encasing the room in a thick layer of ice to prevent any escape.

Yanil, a brunette with hazel eyes and controller of electricity, phased her pale hand through the dark skin of Imani's chest, reaching for her heart. As her fingers wrapped around the strong, rhythmically beating organ, the witches all gasped in horror at the mistake she made.

"By the gods, the raw power," Yanil breathed in awe, "I've never felt anything like it. We're nothing compared to her."

Imani's eyes fluttered open and narrowed. "Foolish witches. Unhand me!" Despite her bonds, disdain dripped from every word.

Syvalia and Vanessa trembled, suddenly hit with an overwhelming urge to submit to the black woman's superiority, even in her vulnerable state. Their dainty pale bodies felt small and weak before Imani's strong, beautiful physique. Heat pooled in their loins as they gazed upon her.

Despite being so close to freedom, the witches could only think about serving her, pleasing her, belonging to her. Yanil continued caressing Imani's mighty Nubian heart, addicted to its vigorous pulse against her fragile hand.

As seconds ticked by, the sisters grew more frenzied with need, eyes roaming hungrily over Imani's shapely curves and defined muscles. Syvalia’s tentacles retracted as Yanil reluctantly withdrew from Imani's chest cavity.

"Forgive us!" Vanessa blurted out, dropping to her knees. The others followed. "We were fools to ever challenge you."

"Please, we beg for your mercy," Syvalia pleaded. "Allow us the privilege of worshipping your greatness once more."

"Let us serve your every desire," Yanil panted with wanting. "Our bodies are yours to use. We belong to you, our Nubian Goddess."

They prostrated themselves before Imani, quivering with desperate, submissive lust, praying the supreme ebony woman would spare them and accept their groveling servitude.

Imani regarded them coldly, letting them squirm under her imperious glare. The black woman had brought the wanton witches to their knees, where they belonged, groveling to tend to her every whim and desire. Perhaps she would allow them that privilege, if they begged prettily enough. A faint smirk played at her full lips.

The three pale, trembling witches knelt before Imani, their heads bowed in submission. Yanil and her sisters shook with arousal and fear, defeated before the powerful warrior woman. Imani towered over them, her toned black body glistening in the morning sun.

Imani could smell their desperate need, see their soaked crotches. She could slay them now, to grant them the brutal domination their bodies craved. But no, she had a far more cruel punishment in mind.

Imani reached into her pouch and withdrew three black silken strips. "Blindfolds," she stated, her rich voice unwavering. The witches' eyes went wide. Imani circled behind them. "I'm going to cover your eyes," she said calmly as she wrapped the first strip around Yanil's head, the fabric pressing against her fluttering lids. "And plug your ears." Yanil whimpered as the world went dark and silent.

"You may never see me nor listen as you service me with your wicked tongues," Imani continued as she blindfolded the next sister. "Never again will I let you curl against me and listen to my heartbeat, Yanil."

The last sister started crying softly as the blindfold took her sight.

"I will use your mouths for my pleasure, but grant you no satisfaction. You will bring me to peak after peak, but experience none of the beauty and rapture of my release." Imani said coldly.

The shaking witches knelt sightless and deaf before her, quivering and mewling. Imani considered their lush lips and knew they would soon be Put to very good use. She would make them lick her for hours, lost in darkness, desperate for any hint of her climax to sate their need to satisfy her, but it would never come.