#pre maelstrom

[busyvampire]

[astarionposting]

I want your ugly, I want your disease.

my ex-corpo v has a type LOL

[wraithsoutlaws]

before there was royce and dum dum there was simon and [redacted]

[twistedtummies2]

Octavinelle is arguably the scariest dorm at Night Raven College. Now, this claim may seem surprising at first: what's so bad about it compared to places like Savanaclaw, or Diasomnia, for instance? Well...with the former, you know exactly where you stand. There is no kind of false pretense: it's a dorm filled with ravenous, "jocky" beastmen, and they don't exactly hide much. They wear their hearts - and their dark sides - on their sleeves. With Diasomnia, while the aesthetic is ominous and atmospherically Gothic, the ones who run the dorm are hardly the most wicked, when you get down to it. It is a case of not judging a book by its cover. Octavinelle is different. It is a place that invites you into a false sense of security...and then springs the trap when you don't anticipate it. Azul's bargains are hardly the only example of this at work with its members. For example...you probably thought it was safe to enter the housewarden's private office at the Mostro Lounge. After all, Azul was out of the building, Floyd and Jade were busy with other matters...no doubt it seemed like the perfect opportunity to sneak in and see if you could pinch a few baubles from the notoriously miserly octo-punk's little hideaway. Unfortunately for you, Floyd and Jade are not the only form of security the Lounge has anymore. New students...new help...comes in every day. And with the new help...comes new meat for them to enjoy. Now, if you're a very good little guppy, maybe they'll go easy on you...by which I mean, you might actually survive what's coming. Otherwise...if you have a deity to pray to, start doing so. At best, you'll be kept in their stomachs for a few hours and then released. At worst...you might not even make it to either of their bellies alive. After all...there's two of them...and only one of you. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a birthday gift from @norman6321ify, commissioned from @laizy_boy04 over on Twitter. Not much to say, just my OC, Maelstrom Baleno, and their OC, Tock Crockwork, doing what they do at the Mostro Lounge: acting as security personnel for the place. A job, as you can clearly see, they both relish deliciously. I absolutely love this. Maelstrom looks lovely in Laizy_Boy's inimitable style. Tock is a handsome specimen, too. ;) Thank you, Norman! And give the artist my thanks, as well! <3

[nevesmose]

You know, whenever I read the part in The Reflection Crack'd where it says

all I can think of is this

[thedoodlemuffin]

Pre-Maelstrom Oslo on the left and Julius who belongs to a good friend of mine

[noyasmashing]

Daichi getting dommed by his girlfriend?! Since he's in the police maybe his girlfriend is a detective or some form of government official that works with the police all the tine!!!

★ BAD BOY. daichi!

౨ৎ :: masterlist. reblogs are appreciated.

• warning: daichi + fem!dom reader, male penetration/fingering, mommy kink, cum eating, daichi has the “asian flush”

Daichi really wasn’t the one to drink. Actually, he shouldn’t be drinking. He lacked the enzyme that broke down alcohol once consumed. He wasn't suited for it, plain and simple. However, there were exceptions to his rule.

More often than not, he found himself holding a drink at parties, and tonight was no different. After months of tireless investigation, the combined efforts of the police officers and detectives had finally paid off, solving a particularly complex case. As a well-deserved reward, the team decided to treat themselves to a celebratory night out. They reserved a cozy private room at a highly-regarded restaurant, famous for its exceptional craft cocktails.

Their boss, in a thoughtful gesture, had arranged for everyone's drinks to be pre-ordered and paid for, ensuring that the team could relax and enjoy each other's company without worrying about the bill.

Daichi's concern about his metabolic issue flared up as he was handed a cold drink. However he disregarded it. After all, it was only natural that he felt compelled to partake, he didn’t want to seem stuck up, or rude. He started out with small sips, attempting to feign enjoyment.

No one had even noticed, he had gone almost the entirety of the party without even finishing half. Fortunately, everyones attention was diverted by a heartfelt speech from their respected superior officer, acknowledging the team's hard work and dedication.

As the party continued, Daichi's attention was divided between the celebratory speech and your persistent touch. Initially, the gentle rubbing of his thigh was a reflexive response to his coworkers' congratulations. But as the atmosphere mellowed, your hand remained, sending sparks of sensation through his body. The fleeting touches near his upper thigh were maddening, making him feel like he was losing control.

You couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on you throughout the night, his eyes drawn to the subtle details of your attire - the short skirt, the blouse that teased just enough to hint at what lay beneath. It was clear you were deliberately drawing attention to yourself, and Daichi couldn't help but be captivated by your presence.

“Shall we take care of your issue in the bathroom?” you whispered in Daichi's ear, your voice dripping with teasing intent.

As he tried to maintain a stoic expression, you couldn't help but giggle at his failed attempt to hide his emotions. His temples flexed in frustration as he remained silent, his grip on your hand tightening under the table.

“You know we can’t do that.” He reasoned, tuning to meet your gaze, just for a moment.

You purred out, “Suit yourself,” in response, your eyes never leaving his face. Before smoothly turning to another detective and launching into a conversation about a different case you were working on together.

Daichi turned to look at his own friends, but struggled to process any of their words, his mind consumed by a maelstrom of inappropriate thoughts. In a desperate attempt to shake off the tormenting sensations and clear his mind, Daichi turned his attention to his drink, downing the remaining contents of his glass with a swift motion. The sudden rush of liquid warmth doing little to calm his racing thoughts.

As he struggled to clear the unpleasant aftertaste of his previous drink, Daichi's eyes fluttered open to find the group surrounding him, refilling their glasses.

Before he could process the situation, the room erupted into a chorus of cheers and toasts, and someone was pressing another glass into his hand. With a sense of obligation, Daichi reluctantly accepted the offering, not wanting to be rude or spoil the celebratory atmosphere. As he added the new drink to his already-lively mix, Daichi couldn't help but lament the fact that he had now consumed two cocktails.

As the surprise toast came to a close, the room began to empty out, with many people saying their goodbyes and departing the restaurant. Daichi noticed your growing impatience, and he felt his own unease mounting. He tried to sound nonchalant as he suggested, "Uh, m-maybe we should get going?" His words were laced with a subtle sense of desperation.

Your hand had been resting on his knee for a moment, but then it drifted away, your gaze flicking to your watch as if checking the time.

You nodded curtly, responding with a, "About time," and turning your attention back to him. "Do you have the keys?" you asked, your tone tinged with a hint of concern as you took in his flushed appearance. Without argument, Daichi handed over the keys, preparing to bid farewell to his coworkers and make a hasty exit.

As you both rose from your seats, Daichi's hand instinctively reached out and grasped the back of your jacket, his fingers digging in slightly as he struggled to steady himself. The sudden movement left him feeling lightheaded, and his face flushed with embarrassment as he realized his mistake. You, however, merely raised an eyebrow and tried to stifle a chuckle, indulging in a discreet caress of his backside as you did so.

You were well aware that Daichi was one of those people who didn't handle his liquor well, and the signs were all too clear. "It was nice seeing you, Chief," you said with a charming smile, shaking his hand firmly as you bid him farewell. Daichi nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on yours with a mixture of fear and distraction as your wandering hand continued its gentle exploration of his body. He was too intimidated to say anything, too preoccupied with the sensation of your touch to speak up.

Once you two were out of the restaurant the cool night air hit Daichi like a train. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and he stumbled slightly as he walked to the car. “Why did I park so far away.” He groaned, facepalming when he remembered his decision from earlier that day.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you raised an eyebrow in inquiry. The crunch of gravel beneath your feet was the only sound breaking the silence as Daichi hesitated.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Daichi stammered, finally turning to face you with a flush rising up his cheeks.

You shot him a concerned glance. "Did you drink too much or something, Sawa? You're breathing heavier than normal," you remarked, wrapping your arm around his waist to steady him as you walked towards the car in the dimly lit parking lot.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I felt rude not drinking, and then...of course, there was you..." He trailed off, his words hanging in the air as you approached the car, the silence between you thickening like fog.

But before he could break free and make his way to the passenger seat, you pinned him against the sleek, freshly washed car you had purchased together. The new sedan's gleaming surface reflected the dim parking lot lights, creating a sense of intimacy as you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear.

"What about me?" you whispered, your voice husky with desire. "Don't tell me you were turned on in front of your coworkers." you cooed, your knee gliding up to nestle against his groin, the movement deliberate and sensual.

His breath hitched, and he found himself grasping onto your jacket with an anxious intensity. "So-so what if I was?" he questioned, his voice trembling as he felt his heart pounding in his ears, his body burning with a sudden, intense heat.

His eyes widened as you made the bold move of pulling open the second-row door, revealing the dark interior of the car. "I can't wait till we get home," you whispered, your voice low and seductive, "and I don't think you can either." With that, you guided him into the back seat, the motion smooth and deliberate.

The effects of the alcohol were plain to see on him once you sat down beside him. You could almost hear his racing heart, his face a deep crimson, and the most captivating sight of all was his ragged breathing, as if he'd run a mile.

It was the most intoxicatingly vulnerable you had ever seen him, and by God, it was incredibly attractive. Once you closed the door behind you both, your lips crashed together in a sloppy, frenzied kiss. One that was full of fervor and desperation on his part.

Without hesitation, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. "I think you're going to need a little discipline for overindulging, don't you?" you whispered into his ear, taking a gentle moment to nip at the lobe.

He let out a soft moan, his head nodding in agreement as you spoke. His apologies tumbled out in a slurred, endearing manner. Daichi was typically contrite and apologetic for his mistakes, so it was unusual for him to receive punishment like this, it made him excited.

"Actually," you said, pulling back to gaze at him with a playful smile. His eyes, still glassy from the drink, met yours, and he stared at you with a dazed expression. "You know what? You're adorable when you're tipsy. Kinda like when I finish fucking your brains out.”

He felt his body flare with heat at your words. The only thing his mushy brain could get out was a “please!” His whole body starting to tremble with anticipation as the desire burned within him. Your words conjured vivid images in his mind, leaving him breathless and unsure of himself. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of emotions, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts: plead, sob, or surrender. Your gentle teasing was torturous, leaving him helpless and at your mercy.

"Please? What do you want, sawamura?" you asked, your tone softening as you reached out to gently push him down onto his forearms.

He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and wet lips. "F-fuck... fuck me.” he forced out, his breath catching in his throat as your hands ran gently along his chest, tracing the curve of his nipples.

“I don’t have my strap with me, darling.” You sighed, your hands tracing a gentle path along his torso. His abs contracted and relaxed, shifting beneath your touch. As you spoke, he let out a disappointed sob, his head tilting back in surrender.

“Don’t be greedy, my fingers will do just fine.” And with that, he was suddenly being flipped on all fours, his perky ass presented to you, the fabric of his clothes now inches from your face.

“Y-yes.. yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” He relented, arching his back in attempts to appease you. You released a contented hum, then unfastened his belt and slowly slid down the zipper of his dress pants.

As soon as his undergarments were removed, his throbbing cock sprang free, glistening with precum that dripped down onto his dress shirt, a rather unfortunate turn of events.

Not to mention his hole, which clenched in eager anticipation of whatever you had in store. Your initial move was to spit on it, which was fortunate, as you would have needed lubricant anyway. He let out a soft "Ahh" of pleasure, sinking deeper into position as he did so.

You leaned forward, your body pressed against his, as you guided two fingers into his mouth from behind. "Open," you commanded, and he complied.

He struggled to resist the urge to suck on your fingers as you roughly explored his tongue, making him gag. A muffled string of moans escaped his lips, accompanied by a gasp as you withdrew your fingers.

"I'm supposed to be punishing you," you scoffed, "but you're responding like this is some kind of reward." you added, scoldingly. You then proceeded to line your now-wet fingers with his tight hole.

"Relax," you instructed as your fingers slid into him. Ordinarily, you would have taken your time to ease him into it, inserting just one finger to begin with. But the circumstances didn't allow for that level of finesse. Instead, you established a rough and demanding pace, one that had him groaning and whimpering into his palm.

"Slow down!" he pleaded, his words slurred with a mixture of protest and pleasure. Despite his plea, his hips continued to move in tandem with your pace, practically fucking himself on your fingers.

You couldn't help but laugh at the drunken scene unfolding before you, one hand rising to make a harsh, stinging contact with his exposed ass. His skin was hot to the touch, and his entire body seemed to vibrate with excitement.

His light pants were now a canvas of moans, his cries of pleasure and pain mingling in a chorus of ecstasy. The stifling air in the car grew thick and heavy, the windows fogging up.

"I wonder how the team would react to seeing you like this," you sneered, your voice dripping with disdain. "Knowing that I fucked you in the back of your car, and you took it like a good slut."

You dug your fingers deeper, searching for his most sensitive spot, and he winced in response. "Stoppp," he drunkenly begged, his voice muffled by his hand. You couldn't help but snort in derision at his demand.

"If you want me to stop, then why are you dripping allll over the seat?" You taunted, your gaze flicking down to the damp fabric. "Somebody's going to have to clean this up, you know."

He paused, his mind processing your words as a wave of tension washed over him. Though you couldn't see his physical response, you sensed it with certainty - his cock was twitching at your rather harsh degradation.

"I'm gonna cum, mommy." he whimpered alas, his voice trembling and nasal, in a tone that was foreign to you. He rarely addressed you with such endearments, so you knew that the alcohol must have loosened his inhibitions. "I'm gonna cum b-because your being so mean to me." he stammered, his words punctuated by sniffles.

"Hmmm," you murmured, slowing your movements deliberately. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his ass looked, supple and inviting as it yielded to your fingers. You didn't want this moment to end too soon. "Perhaps I should make you wait until we get home," You suggested, your voice low and sadistic with a hint of amusement.

He let out a despairing "Hmph" and a muffled string of "no"s as he struggled to force your fingers deeper inside him. To his frustration, you took a firm hold of his hips, preventing him from generating any friction through his own movements.

"You tell me, sawa, how bad do you want to come?" you asked in a calm, measured tone, tracing small circles on his hips and barely pumping him with your fingers.

As you gazed at him, you could see his Adam's apple bob up and down, his ear that angled towards you flushed a deep red, while his face remained mostly hidden behind his arm. The tremble in his voice was palpable as he hesitantly spoke up. "I... I want to so badly. I need to. My head feels all fuzzy, I can't take it! Please. P-please. Please, Mommy. Let me have this."

It was an understatement to say you were surprised. You had rarely witnessed Daichi so beset by neediness. Maybe his “Asian flush”, a hallmark of his vulnerability, only added to his desperation. You were certain you wouldn't be treated to this sight again anytime soon, so you intended to savor every moment of it.

"Lay on your back f’me. I wanna see your face." You urged in a gentle tone. He almost let out a sob when you detached from him, but your words steadied him. He shakily flipped onto his back, propping himself up on his forearms to gaze up at you. The agonizing seconds it took to reposition yourself felt like an eternity to him. As you finally resumed the motion, he let out a guttural moan, as if begging you to accelerate the pace. Unbeknownst to him, you added a third finger to the mix. Your gaze was transfixed on his face, drinking in the sight of his features twisted in a mix of pleasure and strain.

His labored breathing morphed into soft moans, his nose wrinkling as a single bead of sweat slid down his forehead, tracing the messy contours of his hair. The sight was almost mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but notice that your gaze was heightening his arousal. "You're so pretty, sawa, go ahead and come for me," you coaxed, abandoning any notion of this being a punishment.

But how could you be cruel to your lover when his throbbing cock quivered against his abs, as if begging for release? It was a pitiful yet endearing sight, one that tugged at your heartstrings. Just as your other hand reached out to claim his cock, he burst forth with a ragged cry, his semen coating his torso and the open expanse of his shirt.

A soft, whispered "Thank you, mommy" escaped his trembling lips, as his eyelids remained tightly closed, his gaze shut off from the world.

It took him a moment to collect himself, his breathing still ragged as you withdrew your hand from his under side. He anticipated a trip to the baby wipes, so his tiny whimper of surprise was all the more adorable when your warm tongue made contact with his skin instead. His eyes flew open, taking in the sight of you lapping up his semen.

His initial reaction was a gasp, which turned into a stunned silence as you pulled him in for a kiss mere seconds later, the taste of his own come mingling with yours on his tongue.

He eagerly swallowed everything you gave him, determined to prove he could handle it, just like he handled three of your fingers.

You pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva connecting the two of you, your mischievous glint hinting at the tease that was to come. "I should make you lick the seat clean," you said, your tone playful and unrepentant. Though he winced at the humiliation of the task, he couldn't deny the desire to submit to your whims.

[pers-books]

The Ninth Doctor meets River Song! 

Christopher Eccleston is joined by Alex Kingston in Star-Crossed, a brand-new box set of full-cast audio dramas from Big Finish Productions, due for release in May 2024. 

For the final release in the current series of The Ninth Doctor Adventures, the Time Lord with a war-torn past meets a very important woman from his future. 

Alex Kingston first played Professor River Song in Steven Moffat’s 2008 Doctor Who TV episode Silence in the Library, and since then the assassin-turned-archaeologist has met many incarnations of the Doctor – though not in the right order. 

It’s finally time for her to say “Hello, sweetie” to her husband’s ninth incarnation, as the two of them embark on three adventures together. They visit a planet in thrall to a dating app, an intergalactic bank with a catastrophic glitch, and a raging maelstrom. Fantastic! 

Doctor Who – The Ninth Doctor Adventures: Star-Crossed is now available to pre-order for just £29.99 (collector’s edition CD box set + download) or £22.99 (download only), exclusively here. 

The three thrilling stories are: 

Swipe Right by John Dorney  Face of the Apocalypse by Lizzie Hopley  Archipelago by Tim Foley 

Christopher Eccleston said: "Returning to the world of the Doctor has been a great experience precisely because it has allowed me to re-explore my interpretation of the character and how he interacts with the many extraordinary beings he encounters along the way. Alex’s River was one such character and this was an interesting, challenging and enjoyable encounter for the Doctor too.” 

Alex Kingston said: “This is the first time that I’ve had an opportunity to work with Chris's Doctor. It’s a challenge for River to step into his interpretation and navigate it. He’s got a different energy to any of the other Doctors – she has to work harder to engage him, to get through to him, which is great fun.” 

Big Finish listeners can purchase Doctor Who – The Ninth Doctor Adventures: Star-Crossed as part of a as part of a complete four-volume series bundle for just £108 (on collector’s edition CD box set + download) or £88 (download only). 

All the above prices include the special pre-order discount and are subject to change after general release. 

Series 1-2 of The Ninth Doctor Adventures are still available to purchase as triple LP vinyl bundles – limited to a pressing of 1,000 per volume – for £140 per series. Collector's edition (CD box set + download) bundles are also available at £110 per series, as are digital download bundles, for just £96 per series.  

Please note: the vinyl editions do not include any behind-the-scenes extras. However, listeners purchasing vinyl LP editions will receive a download of the story automatically and be given access to the CD edits as a bonus download. Episodes will be edited specifically for the vinyl format, presented as 2 episodes, one on each side, each with opening and closing music. In addition, all pre-orders of the vinyls will also receive the behind the extras as a bonus download.

Please note that Big Finish is currently operating a digital-first release schedule. The mail-out of collector’s edition CDs may be delayed due to factors beyond our control, but all purchases of this release unlock a digital copy that can be immediately downloaded or played on the Big Finish app from the release date.

-- What an announcement - and on Alex's birthday, too!!! 💙😍💙

[ryin-silverfish]

I know, I know. LMK is kinda its own fantasy setting at this point, not everything has to be mythos-accurate, yadda yadda yadda.

However, I won't be me if I don't take the chance to ramble and nitpick anyways.

Basically: What do I mean when I say "Chaos doesn't work that way in traditional Chinese cosmology", in regards to LMK S5?

When people think of Chaos in the pop culture sense, it tends to be this destructive, corrosive force of entrophy, or a maelstrom of changes and aimless activities.

Even when the Chaos/Order divide doesn't get simplified into Evil/Good, Chaos is still painted as the antithesis of Order, and the two forces are often engaged in an antagonistic, dualistic conflict.

The way the primodial chaos is described in LMK very much fits that mold. It is something Nvwa has to create the Pillar of Heaven to protect humanity from, its magic is dark and ominous-looking, and the villain of the season is obsessed with it.

Yet Chaos——Hundun, when it isn't this cute little guy in the Book of Mountains and Seas:

or the victim of two gods' failed cosmetics surgery in Zhuangzi, is simply the undifferentiated, pre-creation state of the world, before it separates into Yin and Yang and the Five Phases.

In fact, Chaos in early Daoism and later, internal alchemy is something one desires to return to, because with the division of Chaos into Yin and Yang and the subsequent formation of the world also comes life and death, suffering and disorder.

For early Daoists, they yearned to return to that primitive, undivided state, which was viewed as a golden age, on an individual and societal level. For practitioners of internal alchemy, it was a lot more personal: by returning oneself to that primodial, Pre-Heaven stage through the blending of one's Spiritual Mind and Vital Force, one can attain immortality.

In fact, the word for the sort of disorder and mayhem people imagine when they heard "Chaos" is not Hundun, but Luan in early Chinese sources.

Both early Daoists and Confucians used the word Luan in their writings, but had significantly different take on what caused it.

To early Daoists, Luan was the result of people imposing their arbitary moral standards and civilization onto the natural, undifferentiated state of the world, a.k.a. what the Confucians and their idealized sage kings had done.

By introducing order, they caused division in the undivided, and from such divisions comes disorder. After all, if you had to educate people on right and wrong and exhort them to do good, then the world you were living in was already an immoral one.

(That's what the fable of the failed cosmetics surgery in Zhuangzi means...probably. Where two sea gods try to artificially create the seven orifices for the faceless Central Lord Chaos to repay his favor, and end up killing him in the process.)

The early Confucians also shared the same yearning to return to the golden age of the ancients, but their idea of the golden age wasn't the sea of undifferentiated, primodial unity.

Instead, it's the reign of the virtuous sage kings. Luan was the result of a breakdown of the order they established, as people lost respect for propriety and hierarchy of relations and began to behave immorally.

Their most explicit mention of Hundun was in Zuo Zhuan, where it was one of the Four Perils, all of which were immoral offsprings of ancient kings who were exiled by Sage King Shun. It very much fits into the narrative of "triumph of the righteous ruler over rebellious vassals", civilization over disorder.

However, the Confucian Hundun was no actual, primodial force of chaos, merely a historicized personification of disorderly, wrongful *human* conducts. In return, order isn't the cosmological, capital "O" Order either, but a moral and societal one.

Anyways, that's why the Order/Chaos conflict doesn't map neatly onto ancient Chinese cosmology: to have an Order/Chaos conflict implies there is a division, when Hundun is actually the lack of any sort of division.

Neither is Hundun a cosmological force of destructive changes and entrophy. If anything, it's more like the state of nature, from which everything spawns and will ultimately return to.

A cosmic egg, a sea of warm primodial soup, instead of a maelstrom of destruction or a corrupting poison.

(TL;DR: reject Moorcock, embrace Zhuangzi. /lh)

[thewertsearch]

[Dave] goes underground and discovers gold ruins. Before entering, he's interrupted by Karkat who uses a memo to warn both him and John about their involvement with Terezi and Vriska, telling them the scourge sisters are partaking in a dangerous game of rivalry fueled flirtation which has gotten both him and John killed at least once each.

Initially, I wasn’t sure we’d seen all four of these deaths - but on reflection, I think I can actually list them.

John was manipulated to his death by Terezi, creating Davesprite’s timeline.

He was also killed by Jack, as part of Vriska’s plan to turn him into a god.

Green-Suit Dave was killed as the result of Terezi’s game/experiment.

Red-Suit Dave was killed by DD, who was acting on Vriska’s suggestion to create Bec.

Bro is slain by his own sword, and the body is discovered by Dave later, who can't bring himself to retrieve the sword.

Bro's death is canon - but, at least for now, Davesprite's death is not. Hope is the thing with feathers.

[Dave] then goes on to make all the money needed, to buy all the fraymotifs, which are powerful battle techniques purchased from consorts, and to reach the top of his echeladder.

I’m interested in seeing these Fraymotifs in action – particularly the combined ones that we saw in John’s walkaround.

John appears to be getting a combination attack with each of his co-players. Based on what we know of their respective Aspects, I'll brainstorm some hypothetical techniques that match these names.

Ivories in the Fire [Breath/Time]: I'm picturing John and Dave's combination attack as a time-accelerated hurricane. The main problem with weather manipulation is that it tends to be rather slow; John's storms come out relatively fast, but Dave's help, he can bring them out instantly, firing gales off with the speed and precision of lasers.

Mixolydian Maelstrom [Breath/Light]: A maelstrom of light and wind sounds like something John and Rose would use to distract foes, rather than directly harm them. I think this could be a smoke-and-mirrors technique, summoning strobe lights and clouds of dust to confuse and disrupt large groups of enemies.

Fantasia’s Inhale [Breath/Space]: This sounds like some reality-bending shit. Maybe the Prospit siblings can warp space in a way that synergizes with John's normal fighting style. For example, they could lower the mass of any objects in their vicinity, allowing John's wind to launch much larger objects than normal.

With [Dave’s] massive reserve of grist accumulated in his travels and his more advanced torrenting capabilities, he allows Jade to alchemize some sophisticated equipment right away.

This is a good point that I didn’t catch at the time. The GristTorrent we saw in the comic has an extremely slow download speed, but Jade quickly had millions of grist to spare. Dave had to have a way to speed up the transfer.

[Jade] makes her entry item from the pre-punched card. A tree sprouts from the alchemiter, and a green Bec-shaped pinata dangles from a branch.

Oddly enough, Jade’s entry item spawned the same tree that John’s did. Rose and Dave’s items didn’t have anything in common, so it's just the Prospit siblings whose items share traits.

How typical is this phenomenon? Does it mean anything? With this comic, it's often difficult to tell.

As the clock ticks down to the CRITICAL EVENT, the most important character in Homestuck sits and watches this pandemonium ensue. And then, the second most important character in Homestuck positions a shitty drawing of himself in front of a typewriter and writes this recap.

Gamzee is now more important than Hussie, for whatever that’s worth. What the hell is going on with this guy?

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 24: Behind the Scenes

Word Count: 997

Rating: G

Pairing: None (this is pre-Reader x Eddie)

CW: None

Summary: Part of my As You Wish series! When Eddie has no one to watch his sons, he brings them to Corroded Coffin rehearsal

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

“I’m sorry, man.”

Eddie shoots his friends an apologetic look as they wait inside Gareth’s open garage. He knows the guys love his sons almost as much as he does, but Eddie’s never had to bring them to band practice before. 

A maelstrom of emotions churned through Eddie when he’d punched Gareth’s number into the phone and asked if he could bring the boys with him this afternoon. Anger at Brittany for flaking once again when the plan was for her to hang with the kids at home. Embarrassment that he has to make yet another excuse for her. Desperation that he couldn’t find a backup plan. Luckily, they were good kids who could be kept occupied with books and crayons.

Six-year-old Ryan slips out of the car while his father unbuckles his little brother from his booster seat. 

“Hi!” Ryan waves a hand in a wide arc over his head.

“Hey, Ry.” Jeff grins. “What’re you up to today, little man?”

“Watched Bear in the Big Blue House while Daddy chased Luke around.” Ryan walks forward into the garage, completely oblivious to the smirks and smiles on the men’s faces.

“Why was Luke running around so much?” Gareth asks.

The boy with the honey brown hair strolls past the awaiting instruments and plops down on the tattered couch in the corner. Ryan bounces on it a few times, the springs squeaking, and wrinkles his nose in distaste at the skunk-like smell that’s now woven into the fabric.

“Luke got mad and jumped out of the bath when Daddy said he can’t have a pet raccoon.”

The guys snicker, Jeff trying to hide it behind a cough. Frank rubs his nose to cover a smile.

“Yeah, that was my morning.” Eddie lets out a defeated sigh. Luke stands by his side, beaming up at the men with his gap-toothed smile. 

“Hello!” Luke bends at the waist, giving an approximation of a bow. “Daddy said I gotta color nice and quiet so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

With that, the four-year-old climbs up on the couch next to his brother.

Eddie gives his friends a pleading look before crouching down in front of his boys.

“Ryan, here’s your book. Luke, your coloring books. And some crayons. You guys just sit here and chill while we rehearse, okay?” 

Both boys bob their heads up and down, which satisfies Eddie. He presses a kiss to the top of each of their heads before grabbing his guitar out of the car trunk.

“Here we go,” Eddie says as he strolls back into the open garage.

 

The band practices for a good fifteen minutes before the first interruption of the afternoon. Just as they finish up the chorus in their cover of Peace Sells, Luke stands in front of Eddie, waving his hands back and forth erratically. 

Eddie’s guitar licks end with an anticlimactic sour note before being silenced.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at his son.

“I gotta go potty,” Luke says. 

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “You know where the bathroom is in Uncle Gareth’s house.”

“But…” Luke’s eyes travel around the edges of the garage, skimming over the various tools and holiday decorations piled up before looking back at his dad’s face, his blue eyes widening, “I need help.”

“No problem,” Eddie says, keeping his voice as calm as he can. He’s mildly irked, but not at Luke, so he doesn’t want the boy to think he’s upset with him. He’s four, he can’t help when he has to use the bathroom. 

“Alright, you, back on the couch—hey, what’s going on?” 

Eddie steps back into the garage, but it’s not the same laidback scene it was when he left. Gareth and Frank are both kneeling in front of an amp, bickering as they fight for space to look at something between them. 

Jeff is with Ryan on the couch, the little boy’s shoulders slumped. 

“What happened?” Eddie asks, hand instantly going to rub Ryan’s back.

Tear tracks are visible on Ryan’s face, but Eddie can’t find any trace of new tears building up in his eyes, so he takes that as a good sign. 

“I-I got up ‘cause some of Luke’s crayons started rolling away and I tripped.” Ryan points over to where Gareth and Frank are shoving cables at one another. “I pulled wires out of that thing on accident. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, come on,” Jeff says softly. “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken, the wires just need to be put back in. It’s not your fault Thing One and Thing Two don’t know which wire goes where.”

A small smile cracks through on Ryan’s face.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Ryan affirms with a sniffle and a nod.

Jeff and Eddie push the other two out of the way and swiftly fix the wires. 

A glance at his watch tells Eddie that they’ve got time to practice a few more songs at least. He looks back over at his boys as he slings his guitar strap over his head, frowning when he sees them griping at each other. 

“Boys,” Eddie snaps. Both turn to him with wide eyes. Guilt weighs on Eddie’s shoulders as he realizes his tone was too harsh. “What song do you think we should practice next?”

“The albino one,” Luke says, making Eddie chuckle.

“That’s Smells Like Teen Spirit, bud. And that’s grunge, not metal.”

Luke groans, looking back down at his coloring book spread open in his lap before his head shoots up to stare at Eddie with eager eyes.

“Daddy!”

“What? Got another song?”

“No,” Luke says, waving a dismissive hand with a maroon crayon perched between his thumb and forefinger. “But I’m hungry. Can I have Dino nuggies?”

Eddie drops his head forward and rests his hands on his hips. He can hear his bandmates laughing as he sighs exasperatedly. Taking another deep breath, Eddie lifts his head up. 

“I need a babysitter.”

[busyvampire]

[a-game-of-beginnings]

The Darker Side Of It All

Usually the darker side of the Parable remains hidden, but maybe it can help to understand the one or other behavior in here a little better if you catch a glimpse. So this post will contain all of those.

First off, the Narrator. I know-- HE knows you won't care all that much if terrible things happen to him. Maybe you even believe he deserves it all. On top, his personal nightmares are far more on the abstract side. A human might be able to vaguely relate, but maybe there is no way at all to truly ever see the full picture of this entity.

Not to mention, you know how self-protective the Parable can get.

Now - under the cut - employee 432's worst moments, in his own Pre-Parable timeline, are far more on the tangible side. Yes, he gets moody, strange, highstrung or rebellious near all of the time.

But there is times where he is simply at his wits' end. There is not a single type of breakdown he hasn't experienced, over and over, and those are the moments where management will step in directly.

He will be put on timeouts, subdued, maybe even get his feelings or memories erased if the experiment is endangered, but he has long reached a point where this isn't as effective as they may think it is.

Long before he surrendered to the maelstrom of timelines and became the concept of the game's settings, he had started to hear and see and notice things he shouldn't. His physical form became unstable and would glitch out at random times, having them all believe he was merely being "clumsy".

Pushed beyond his limits and then so much further than that... what did they expect to happen, really? At least, in the end, they did get the results they were looking for.

Oh, and Stanley? One day he will become aware, and he won't know how to handle it. It will be the day when all the timelines break apart, and there are no more choices.

Maybe it can be fixed, and they can all, once again, return to their old routine, the story that cannot end.

Or maybe something more might happen, making their existence even a tiny bit more bearable. Babysteps.

[wraithsoutlaws]

ommmmmmg, thinking abt ways to destroy my oc n dum dum and thinking abt how the PERFECT angst is during the pickup when dum dum takes royce’s side n he points the gun at v and jack… like… hmm… if my v has a super deep connection with dum dum (she hates royce but was loyal to brick) OMG i am breaking my own heart…

yessss we love angst (*つ▽`)っ its a fun dynamic to play with. i use royce a lot as a point of contention between dagger and dd too, as dagger hates royce and is afraid dum dum will eventually pick him over him in any context. it's messy and complicated and something they have to work through for a long time :3c

[argoscity]

Hi there! I was wondering if you had a rec list of good comics to read for someone just starting to get into Supergirl comics. Thank you!

to start off, I will always recommend reading supergirl (1982) in its entirety. it’s self-contained so you don’t have to have any background knowledge of kara and her history to read it and it’s only 23 issues long. it really captures the essence of who kara was in pre-crisis continuity and it’s definitely my favorite characterization of her! in particular, i really like the first arc that spans the first three issues :)

supergirl (2011) is also really great all the way through—with some exceptions. her costume sucks and there are some annoying crossovers, but i really love how she’s characterized and there are a lot of interesting arcs. whenever people say that they wish someone would write a supergirl story that focuses on her trauma and doesn’t make her into a carbon copy of clark, i just want to hold up supergirl vol 6 and wave it around. 

now for some individual storylines/arcs i’d recommend:

superman/supergirl: maelstrom

superman: brainiac

supergirl (2005) #54-57 (”bizzarogirl”)

supergirl (2005) #58-59 (”day of the dollmaker”)

supergirl (2005) #60-64 (”good looking corpse”)

supergirl (2016) #19 (”plain sight”)

future state: kara zor el, superwoman

supergirl: woman of tomorrow

if you’d like something more in depth and specific to a certain era, i have reading guides on here for kara’s comics in pre crisis, post crisis, and rebirth! just search my reading guide tag :)

i also made a list of my favorite supergirl stories for her 64th anniversary on my personal blog here!

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Maera’s steps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep as she made her way towards the beach. Her hair, expertly braided by Thena, cascaded down her back in a neat arrangement of plaits, the strands of brown and silver interwoven with small golden clasps that caught the light as she moved.

Her riding leathers hugged her form snugly, the sleek black material accentuated by the intricate golden embellishments that traced sinuous patterns across the fabric. Beneath the layers of leather, a subtle bump protruded from Maera’s abdomen, evidence of the new life growing within her. Though barely noticeable beneath her riding attire, the swell of her pregnancy served as a silent reminder of the stakes involved in her quest, a concern for her if she failed to accomplish her task.

In her hand, Maera clutched the thick rope tightly, the coarse fibers digging into her palm as she gripped it with determination. Around her waist, the heavy chain hung like a burden, its metallic links clinking softly with her movements. Amidst the shadows of the secret corridors, Maera’s expression remained resolute, her features etched with determination and resolve. Though anger and confusion churned within her, she refused to let them deter her from her path. Instead, she channeled her emotions into each purposeful step, her singular focus driving her forward with unwavering determination.

The beach lay shrouded in pre-dawn hues, painted in soft shades of indigo and violet as the first light of morning began to filter through the horizon. The sky bore a surreal quality, a delicate canvas of pastel shades that stretched endlessly above, casting an eerie glow over the landscape below. Waves crashed against the shore with a rhythmic cadence, their relentless ebb and flow echoing through the stillness of the early morning. The sand beneath Maera's boots was cool and damp, the grains shifting beneath her weight as she made her solitary journey along the shoreline.

Approaching the giant beach cave, Maera was greeted by the flickering light of torches that lined its entrance, casting dancing shadows against the rocky walls. The flames danced with an otherworldly intensity, their warm glow providing a stark contrast to the cool hues of the predawn sky. As Maera drew nearer, she was met by a group of dragon keepers who stood vigil at the cave's entrance, their faces and robes smeared with soot from the fireballs that Ēbrion had been launching from his lair. Their expressions shifted from surprise to apprehension as they beheld the sight of the Princess approaching alone, their whispers of concern mingling with the sound of the crashing waves.

Among them stood Vovnik, the eldest of the keepers, his weathered face betraying his concern as he stepped forward to address her.

“Dārilaros, ao daor sagon kesīr, ziry iksos tolī gīmēdegon. Se dyni iksos hen udrāzmī,” Princess, you should not be here. It is too dangerous. The beast is out of control, Vovnik warned, his voice tinged with urgency as he clutched his staff tightly.

Maera met his gaze with steely determination, her grip firm on the thick rope coiled in her arm and the heavy chain secured around her waist. “Se bona iksos zāeron skoro kesīr,” And that is precisely why I am here, she countered, her voice unwavering.

Vovnik's frown deepened, his concern extending beyond personal worry to the ramifications of any harm befalling the Princess under his watch. “Naejot aōha ȳghāpī se bona hen riñnykeā, nyke līs eptan-“ To ensure your safety and that of your unborn child, I must insist-

“Riñnykeā issa se ānogar hen zaldrīzes, hae nyke,” My child carries the blood of the dragon, as do I, Maera interrupted, her hand instinctively resting on her lower stomach.

She then turned her gaze towards the cavern's entrance, her eyes alight with determination. “Valzȳrys iotāptan konīr iksos nykeā letagon rȳ zaldrīzes, se ziksoso naejot ziry.” My husband suspects there is a bond between me and the dragon, and I intend to confirm it

Though Aemond's recent confessions weighed heavily on her mind, Maera pushed aside her personal feelings, focusing solely on her resolve to prove her connection to the dragon. Vovnik's nerves remained palpable, his voice wavering as he attempted to dissuade her. “Dārilaros, kostilus-“ Princess, please-

Maera locked eyes with Vovnik, a defiant smirk playing on her lips. “Tolī se imastan hen mōrī dorolvie tubissa, Vovnik, nyke epagon ao ȳdra daor sylugon naejot keligon issa, ” After the events of the past few days, Vovnik, I suggest you don't try to stop me, she retorted, her gaze unwavering. “Ao emagon nykeā sȳrkta kelinītsos hen drīve rūsīr se dyni than rūsīr issa paktot sir.” You have a better chance of reasoning with the beast than with me at the moment.

With determined steps, Maera pushed past the dragon keeper, his startled protests fading into the background as she seized a lit torch and plunged into the depths of the dragon's lair. Her heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, fueled by the urgency of her mission and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

The sea cave loomed before her, vast and foreboding, its gaping maw swallowing the flickering light of her torch as she ventured deeper into its depths. The air grew colder and damp, clinging to her skin like a heavy shroud as the sounds of stones falling and trickling water echoed off the cavern walls. Shadows danced and flickered across the rocks, casting eerie shapes and shifting patterns that seemed to come alive in the dim light.

Despite the chill that permeated the air, Maera pressed onward, her resolve unwavering as she sought out the source of the haunting cries that had drawn her to this desolate place. With each passing moment, her determination grew, fuelled by the memory of Aemond's treachery and the need to find solace in the presence of the gigantic deep blue beast.

"Ēbrion!" she called out, her voice tinged with urgency and longing as it bounced off the cold stone walls, but the only response was the eerie silence that enveloped her. Maera lifted her torch high, straining her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the majestic dragon amidst the darkness that seemed to swallow everything whole. Yet, despite her efforts, the cavern remained shrouded in obscurity, revealing no sign of the creature she sought.

Disheartened, Maera turned to begin her retreat, her footsteps echoing softly against the rocky floor as she moved back toward the cavern's entrance. But just as she took her first few steps, a deep, guttural growl resonated through the chamber, the sound vibrating through the very core of the cave. The ground beneath her trembled in response, causing Maera to stumble backward, her heart pounding in her chest as she braced herself for what lay ahead.

From the depths of the cavern, a shadowy figure emerged, its form looming large against the dimly lit backdrop. Slowly, deliberately, Ēbrion stalked forward, his massive frame moving with a predatory grace as he closed the distance between himself and Maera. As the dragon drew nearer, his fearsome visage came into clearer view, illuminated by the flickering light of Maera's torch. His scales shimmered with a dark sheen, a mesmerizing blend of deep blue and jet black that seemed to absorb the surrounding darkness. Sharp spines protruded from his back, glinting menacingly in the torchlight, while his glowing orange eyes burned brightly with an otherworldly intensity.

Maera raised her torch higher, casting its light upon the magnificent creature before her. She marveled at his sheer size and power, feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation at his imposing presence. Despite the fear that gnawed at her insides, she stood her ground, her gaze meeting Ēbrion's as he drew closer.

Setting aside her torch, its flickering flame casting a warm glow against the cavern walls, Maera felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. With the rope still clutched tightly in her left hand, she outstretched her right palm towards Ēbrion, watching in awe as he leaned forward, his massive head coming closer until his snout gently brushed against her outstretched hand. The dragon's pupils expanded as he made contact, emitting a soft trilling sound from his throat that resonated through the cave.

In that moment, a wave of overwhelming emotion washed over Maera. Here she was, standing face to face with a dragon, solidifying a connection that defied all logic and reason. The dragon had harmed others who had attempted to approach him, but with Maera, there was a sense of trust and understanding that seemed to transcend words. Just as Aemond said it would be.

At the thought of her husband, tears streamed down Maera's face as she leaned against Ēbrion, feeling the warmth of his head against her skin. The chain around her waist clinked softly as she pressed closer, finding solace in the presence of the dragon. Despite all the challenges she had faced recently, Ēbrion's presence brought her a sense of solace and comfort that she desperately needed. Now came the difficult part, and Maera hoped the bond she shared with the beast would grant her the strength to go through with it.

“Rȳbās, Ēbrion,” Listen, she whispered to the gigantic being before her. “Jorrāelagon ao gaomagon mirros syt issa.” I need you to do something for me.

The dragon responded to her voice with a low, rumbling growl, his orange eyes narrowing in concentration. Her palm glided over the dragon's scales, feeling their rough texture, each scale slightly raised and hot to the touch. The sensation brought back memories of their first encounter, the scar on her palm a reminder of their bond forged in blood.

“Kostilus,” Please, she muttered, before pressing her face against his snout, taking in a moment to breathe in his scent, a mixture of smoke and sea salt. “Dohaerās, Ēbrion.” Serve me.

Focussed, she pulled away and moved around to his side, where his massive wing extended outward. Gripping the rope tightly in her hand, she mentally prepared herself, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Throughout it all, Ēbrion remained steadfast, his unwavering orange gaze fixed upon her.

Adrenaline coursed through her as Maera placed her foot on Ēbrion's wing, feeling the rough texture of his scales beneath her boot. She paused for a moment, allowing both herself and the dragon to become accustomed to the sensation. It was a daring move, one that had never been attempted before, but Maera was determined to succeed. Once she felt confident enough, Maera placed both hands flat on Ēbrion's scaly wing, using the leverage to push herself up and place her other foot beside the first. As she balanced precariously on the dragon's wing, she could feel the power and strength of the creature beneath her.

Suddenly, Ēbrion whipped his head around, snarling and baring his teeth at Maera. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down. With a soothing voice, she reassured him. “Lykirī.” Be calm. Gradually, Ēbrion's snarls subsided, and his orange eyes softened as he continued to observe her.

Maera began her ascent up Ēbrion's wing, noting the variations of the blue and black scales, in texture and hardness. Some were raised and tougher, providing better grip for her hands and feet. With this in mind, she placed her feet strategically between the scales, using the harder ones as leverage to pull herself upward. As she climbed, memories of scaling the Keep’s garden walls with Aemond flashed through her mind.

However, her concentration was shattered when Ēbrion suddenly shifted beneath her, causing Maera to panic. The thought of falling at this height sent a wave of fear through her, knowing that not only could she be injured, but also her unborn child. With her nails digging into the scales, Maera closed her eyes and held on tight, bracing herself against Ēbrion's movements. When she cautiously opened them, she was relieved to find that Ēbrion wasn't intending to harm her but was instead assisting her endeavour. He had raised his wing and flexed it closer to his body, reducing the distance Maera had to climb.

With a smile of gratitude, Maera continued her climb, finding purchase on the tougher scales as she pulled herself up onto the dragon's back. She settled herself between two of his black spines, ensuring she maintained her balance. Once positioned, she secured herself by tying the chain around her waist to the spine behind her and looping the rope onto the spine in front for added support. As she double-checked her knots and ensured her safety, Maera took a shaky breath and settled into her position. She clutched onto Ēbrion's raised scales for reassurance, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

“Soves.” Fly.

At her command Ēbrion turned, the shift of his mighty scaled body causing her to sway slightly from side to side. She clung to his spines with a tight grip, her fingers digging into the tough scales for purchase. Amidst the dragon's movement, the echoes of rocks falling reverberated through the cavern, adding to the already tense atmosphere. With each step he took, the torch Maera had left on a nearby rock flickered and went out, leaving them engulfed in pitch black darkness. Panic seized Maera's chest, her heart racing as she pressed herself against the dragon back, the only source of stability in the swirling darkness. Her breaths came in rapid gasps as she struggled to maintain her composure, her fingers gripping Ēbrion's scales with white-knuckled intensity.

Straining her eyes, Maera caught sight of the faint glimmer of dawn filtering in from the mouth of the cave. With a sudden deafening roar, Ēbrion charged forward, his powerful strides propelling them towards the exit. As they burst out into the open air, the dragon keepers outside watched in shock as the beast spread his mighty wings and launched himself into the sky.

They ascended higher into the sky, Maera feeling the rush of wind against her face, whipping her hair wildly around her, as the dragon's powerful wings propelled them upwards. With each beat of his wings, Maera prayed that the rope securing her to the dragon would hold firm, her heart pounding in her chest with each passing moment.

Eventually, Ēbrion leveled out, his powerful wings stilling as the wind carried them through the open sky. A sense of triumph washed over Maera as she looked out at the horizon, the first peak of the sun casting its golden light across the landscape. The sky began to change colors, from deep indigo to hues of pink, orange, and gold, painting a breathtaking tableau against the canvas of dawn.

Below them, Kings Landing spread out like a sprawling tapestry, its streets and buildings coming to life as the city awakened. Maera could see the Red Keep standing proudly amidst the sea of buildings, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens. As they soared past the ancient castle, one of Ēbrion's wings clipped the top of a turret, sending stone crumbling down in its wake. The sound of the impact echoed through the air, a testament to his sheer power and size.

With a sense of exhilaration and confidence, Maera released her grip on the dragon's spines, trusting in the secure bonds that tethered her to his mighty form. Stretching her arms out wide, she embraced the rush of air against her skin, feeling as though she had sprouted wings of her own. A joyous laugh escaped her lips, carried away by the wind as they soared through the sky. In that moment, Maera felt invincible, as if she had transcended the limitations of mortal existence and tapped into something truly extraordinary. The worries and doubts that had plagued her before melted away in the wake of this newfound freedom and power.

Yet a wave of nostalgia washed over Maera. She couldn't help but wish that her mother could witness this moment, to see her daughter soaring through the sky as a dragon rider. She knew that her mother would be proud of her, her heart swelling with love and longing. As Maera glanced down at her small pregnancy bump, a sense of hope and anticipation filled her heart. She imagined a future where her child would be a dragon rider, and form an incredible bond with a beast just like their mother had with Ēbrion. Or their father had Vhagar. Aemond…

“Māzīs. Ninkiot rāenion,” Come. Land on the Beach. Maera called down to the dragon’s head, hoping he would hear her. Thankfully, Ēbrion obeyed immediately, swooping to the left and making his way back to his lair.

Ēbrion circled back towards the shoreline as Maera took in the breathtaking scenery below. The coastline stretched out before them, bathed in the soft hues of dawn. The shimmering waters lapped against the sandy shores, while clusters of rugged cliffs rose majestically from the earth, their jagged edges silhouetted against the emerging light of day.

Amidst this natural splendor, Maera's gaze was drawn to the figures below, the dragon keepers resembling tiny ants from their lofty vantage point. But one figure stood out among them, taller and more imposing than the rest. Dressed in black with long silver hair cascading around his shoulders, he exuded an aura of quiet authority and strength. Just as he always did.

With a sharp thud, they touched down on the soft sand, sending ripples through the shoreline. Maera glanced triumphantly at those gathered below, including her husband Aemond, whose single violet eye sparkled with a mixture of wonder and pride as he beheld his wife atop the mighty beast. In that moment, Maera felt a sense of accomplishment unlike any other, knowing that she had achieved something truly extraordinary on her own. She was the blood of House Targaryen, a fierce Princess, a soon-to-be mother and now, a dragon rider.

With careful precision, Maera untied the bindings of rope and chains that had kept her securely fastened to Ēbrion's massive form. Each knot came undone with practiced ease, her fingers deftly working despite the lingering adrenaline coursing through her veins. As she loosened the last of the restraints, Ēbrion lifted his wing once again, granting her freedom to slide down his bumpy scales and onto the soft sand below. Maera descended slowly, her movements deliberate as she navigated the dragon's immense form.

Once her feet touched solid ground, Maera couldn't help but feel a slight wobble in her walk, a residual effect of her airborne adventure. Ignoring the sensation, she made her way towards Ēbrion's colossal head. Standing before him, she pressed her forehead against his snout, closing her eyes as she offered a silent thanks, grateful to share this experience and bond with him.

Breaking away from Ēbrion, the majestic dragon took to the air once again, his powerful wings beating against the morning breeze as he soared effortlessly into the sky. With a sense of admiration, Maera watched him disappear into the distance, no doubt on the hunt for his next meal. Turning her attention back to the group of dragon keepers a few feet away, Maera made her way towards them, her husband standing amongst them. Despite the rush of triumph and exhilaration coursing through her veins, she couldn't shake the lingering weight of the previous day's revelations.

If it were any other time, Maera would have yearned for Aemond to scoop her into his arms, to share in this moment of triumph together. But now, the memories of his deceptions and entanglements with the witch cast a shadow over the milestone. Avoiding direct eye contact with the Prince, Maera focused her attention on the dragon keepers, her voice steady as she informed them of her progress with Ēbrion. She spoke with authority and confidence as she unclipped the chain around her waist, her words echoing with the newfound sense of purpose that came with her newfound role as a dragon rider.

“Nyke jorrāelagon dōrenka aderī, se belma hubon letagon zirȳla ziry. Vēdroso zȳhon, nyke dohaeragon rūsīr giez.” I need a saddle crafted immediately, and chains and ropes to bind him to it. Given his bad temper, I shall help with its installation.

“Kessa, Dārilaros,” Yes, Princess, Vovnik agreed, a prideful smile on his face. He turned to his acolytes and relayed some orders in High Valyrian before a few of them retreated, no doubt to the dragon pit to make their preparations.

With her heart still racing from the exciting ride and her face flushed from the wind, Maera made her way toward Aemond, her footsteps resolute and purposeful. Despite the lingering anger that simmered within her, it was momentarily overshadowed by the empowerment she felt. Reaching Aemond, Maera thrust the rope and chain that had tethered her to the dragon into his chest with a forceful shove, causing him to stagger backward slightly. Instinctively, Aemond reached up to grab hold of the items, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

“Gōntan līve ūndan bona?” Did your whore foresee that? Maera asked him in a mocking tone, the words spilling off her tongue with sweet satisfaction. Before Aemond could utter a word in response, Maera merely clicked her tongue dismissively and turned on her heel, sauntering away from him and back toward the Red Keep.

Returning to her chambers, she wasted no time in shedding her boots and riding gear, unbuttoning her leather tunic and slipping it off, leaving her clad in a loose-fitted cotton shirt and trousers. Despite the practicality of her leathers, she found herself craving the comfort of something lighter and more freeing, especially given her pregnancy’s continued growth.

However, her moment of respite was shattered by the sudden clamor of her chamber doors swinging open and slamming shut. Startled, Maera turned to see Aemond standing there, his presence commanding attention. His long silver hair, usually neatly kept, was now disheveled, strands falling across his forehead in a wild manner. Ragged breaths escaped his lips, indicating the haste with which he had arrived. Beneath his eye patch, a faint blush betrayed the emotions swirling within him. But it was his single violet eye that captured Maera’s attention the most, conveying a complex mixture of determination, anger, and a subtle hint of lust that she was able to identify immediately.

She met Aemond's intense gaze with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. Despite her resolve to stand firm in her anger and resentment, her breathing involuntarily synced with his, and her heart pounded rapidly against her chest. Maera hadn't forgiven him, not by a long shot, but amidst the tumult of emotions brought on by her recent triumph, the sleepless night preceding it, and the swirling cocktail of anger and adrenaline, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him.

As Aemond rushed towards her, determination etched into every line of his face, Maera stood her ground defiantly. But his urgency was palpable, and before she could react, she found herself ensnared in a bruising, harsh kiss. His lips pressed forcefully against hers, igniting a fire within her that she couldn't extinguish. His touches were possessive as he pushed her back against the stone wall, conveying a raw desire and longing for her that matched her own tumultuous feelings.

His teeth nibbled the sensitive flesh of her bottom lip until she winced from the sting, the familiar coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. Aemond wasted no time in brushing his tongue against hers, savouring the flavour with a passionate frenzy. Cupping her jaw roughly, he yanked her head to the side and began licking and sucking down her jawline before landing on her neck. Maera instinctively tilted her head back, allowing her husband more access as one of her hands reached for the nape of his neck, tangling in his silvery locks. When she tugged it at the roots, a deep groan from him sent a rush of heat down to her core, causing her to press her legs together instinctively.

Aemond suddenly bit harshly at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the pleasurable pain eliciting a hiss from Maera’s mouth. The Prince ran his tongue across the sensitive area, allowing a cooling sensation to follow as he began undo the laces of Maera’s leather trousers. The feeling of his hands near her core had her hips canting up towards him and panting in desperation, soft moans and sighs leaving her mouth.

Dropping to his knees, he tore down her trousers and smallclothes in one, and she assisted him in stepping out of the clothing before he tossed it across the room. The sight of him on the floor, his single eye looking at her with such intensity made her breath catch in her throat, and a warmth spread in her core. Without a word, he hiked her left leg over his shoulder, a groan leaving his mouth at the sight of her glistening cunt, licking his lips eagerly. Not breaking eye contact, he began to relentlessly lap at her, her back arching off the wall as he hands flew to his silver locks, hanging on for stability.

“I knew you could do it,” Aemond cooed in a low voice, bringing his fingers to her slit, moving them up and down before plunging one inside her. “My fierce wife; a dragon rider. Such a clever girl.”

“Fuck,” Maera whimpered, throwing her head back against the stone. He watched her with a piercing gaze, curling his fingers upwards inside of her, grazing over the sweet spot over and over again, pleasure building in the pit of her stomach. He placed his mouth on her clit, his tongue swirling against it and the vibrations of his satisfied grunts sending waves of ecstasy through her entire body.

Maera attempted to press her thighs together as she approached her peak, yet her husband kept them firmly pried apart, adding another finger to deliciously stretch her as she continued to pump in and out of her. She writhed above him, unsure how she was still standing. With a final suck on her clit, she came undone, spilling on his tongue and fingers, crying out his name as pleasure coursed through her veins.

Aemond did not give her a minute to collect herself before he jumped to his feet, quickly unlacing his breeches and freeing his long and throbbing cock. Without warning, he wrapped both of her legs around his waist, pinning her against the wall with his hips and plunging himself deeply into her, filling her to the hilt. A primal growl left his throat at the feeling of Maera clenching around him as he began an animalistic pace, slamming into her with reckless abandon, his cock bullying her cervix.

Her mind went blank with pleasure, not being able to focus on anything in this moment apart from the relentless sound of their shared moans and gasping echoing in their rooms, accompanied by wet slapping of their contact. She attempted to grab him, to touch him, to find some way to ground herself, yet he was still clothed. As Maera dug her nails into his shoulders, the feeling of leather was not enough hang onto. Instead, she opted to grab onto his locks once again, fisting at this roots before pulling his face to hers for a sloppy and heated kiss. This was short lived however as with another tug of his hair and a low groan, it appeared Aemond could no longer take it. He used one of the hands that was on her hips to pin both of her wrists above her head before burying his face in the crook of her neck, licking a long stripe up the sweaty skin.

Not being able to touch him and the fact that her husband’s thrusting showed no sign of slowing or faltering, pleasure bloomed in Maera’s gut once again, her core clenching around him and her legs squeezing his waist to bring him closer, if even possible. When his cock brushed against that spongey spot inside of her, she lost it, closing her eyes tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks as the pleasure threatened to tear her apart, approaching another orgasm.

“Aemond,” she moaned in a warning tone, prompting him to look up at her, his eye half-lidded with lust and a blush painted across his cheeks.

“Let me feel you cum around my cock, issa daria,” he whispered against her lips, swallowing her whimpering breaths as his thrusts grew sloppier, chasing his own high simultaneously. As the Prince gripped her wrists tightly, his entire body tensed, clenching his violet eye shut and filling her with his seed, a guttural groan leaving his throat. The godly sight of him unravelling sent Maera over the edge, her walls clamping down on him as she reached her second peak with a whimper.

As their breathing slowed, Aemond pressed his forehead against hers, releasing the wrists above her head so she could finally touch him. Maera’s fingers instantly went to his face, moving the strands of hair that were stuck to him, before pressing her cheek to his scarred skin with a sigh. His cock continued to twitch inside of her as they remained joined together, the memories of the last few days seeming of less importance. They would need to be addressed, that was certain, but not right now. Not whilst they held each other in a desperate embrace, the feeling reminding them both why they had entered this union.

She felt his sharp nose press into her braided brown and silver hair, inhaling her scent before whispering into her locks.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

I love you.

Notes: She did it 💙 Also, we haven’t had a bit of smut in a while, and those two need to release some tension 🤣 I don’t think I’m very good at writing smut so any feedback is helpful. Enjoy!

Tags: @blue-serendipity @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @saltedcaramelpretzel @abecerra611 @shesjustanothergeek @watercolorskyy @0eessirk8

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤