#the dragon is purple and silver its too good

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[marthawrites]

Beneath the Blooming Branches

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 800+

About: Spring has officially sprung. You and Rhaenyra enjoy a quiet afternoon strolling and picnicking in the gardens.

Includes: Soft wlw fluff 🩷

Note: Hello lovely reader! This fic was inspired by @hotd-bigbang! It is purely self-indulgent because our dragon queen deserves more soft moments. I wrote this with young Rhaenyra in mind, but you can use whichever Nyra your heart desires! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

“Would this be considered improper if anyone were to see us, princess?” You asked Rhaenyra in an excited, hushed voice, keeping pace with her agile steps out of the Red Keep and into the gardens. On your arm was a small basket of treats. During your time as one of the princess’ maid servants you discovered she had quite the sweet tooth. Some of her favorites were: candied lemon slices, candied orange slices, and sponge cake drizzled with honey. You just so happened to have all of those in your basket–along with a couple extra treats, too.

A small smile quirked her lips as her fingers interlaced between your own, continuing to drag you along the path. “Perhaps you have me mistaken for a princess who cares what others might think?” With a playful arch of brow her smirk gave way to a wide dazzling grin. Her clean teeth and pale purple eyes sparkled in spring's midday sun.

For a moment you weren't sure what to say. When she smiled like that–truly smiled–your belly and heart did silly little flips that stopped you in your tacks. She was lovely in a maroon silk dress with delicate lace details accented by pearls. In the high noon, her golden jewelry gleamed on her ivory skin like pure strings of sunlight. Radiant. How someone like her developed such a fancy for you was one of the biggest mysteries of your heart! You felt dull next to her in your common servant attire. But, beneath the neckline of your dress, you felt the silver chain dotted with its tiny crystals against your chest that she had gifted you; pretty, beautiful.

Rhaenyra was good at keeping secrets. As were you.

Besides, a headstrong Targaryen dragging her favorite maid around hardly looked suspicious. Simply two girls out enjoying the change of spring weather!

“Oh, silly me. Apologies, princess, I must have been thinking of someone else,” you winked.

“Just as I thought.”

Giggling, while still walking hand in hand, Rhaenyra led you along the garden's path. Sun dappled through bright green flowering trees making her silver hair glow. Fragrances–lilac, rose, lilly–filled your senses. The gentle ever-present buzz of bees hazed your brain in the best of ways. Each time Rhaenyra smiled at you, or squeezed your hand affectionately, magic bloomed to sweeten the memory this would soon become.

Between gossip, jokes, and easy conversation, you barely noticed how much time passed. 

“Oh! Let's stay here,” she said wistfully, tipping her head back to stare up at a blooming cherry tree. One of the prettiest sights this time of season. 

Next thing you knew you were laying out a blanket to sit upon beneath the pink and white tree; petals falling lazily from its branches like gentle snowflakes. Worker bees were louder here than anywhere else. Calm. Relaxing. You sat with a contented sigh. “I've brought your favorites. Are you hungry?” you asked, eyes bright.

“Always so sweet for me,” Rhaenyra replied as she carefully knelt behind you so as to not wrinkle her dress. “First, though, I want to do something.”

Since she was behind you you couldn't even see her from your peripheral. You trusted her, though. Maybe that's why butterflies twirled in your belly. You felt her fingers gently loosen your hair until it lay loose and natural. Despite the gentleness–or perhaps in spite of it–a shudder ran all along your spine and you couldn't help but squirm. A little. “What are you doing?” You asked, turning your head over your shoulder curiously.

“Hold still,” she answered with mock seriousness. Then, she added, softer, “I'm going to braid your hair and put cherry blossoms in it.”

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to not let out a tiny squeak of delight. “Ooh! Okay. Afterward, it's my turn to give you a surprise,” you proclaimed sweetly with a glance at your basket. A smile grew on your mouth and your cheeks warmed with joy. By the time Rhaenyra was done you could have dozed off against her in the warm sun.

“There,” she said, a gentle ‘aww’ escaping her. “I wish you could see it from the back! It's so lovely.”

“I'll be careful so that when we return to the Red Keep I can use two looking glasses to see it at the right angle," you promised. Grabbing for your basket, you turned around so you were both kneeling and facing each other. “Ready for mine?”

“Yes!”

You opened the basket and pulled out a clear glass jar of preserved, still plump, cherries. “From the last harvest,” you said, beaming. “How extra fitting that we can share them here.”

“How did you know I've been craving these?” She asked with bright eyes.

You shrugged, grinning. “Just a hunch.” The seal popped when you opened it, and the scent of syrupy sugar and perfectly ripened cherries wafted from the jar. You pulled one out by the stem and offered it to Rhaenyra. 

Taking it, she savored it as she ate it. Then, she did the same for you. 

Cherry after cherry, you shared the treat. By the end of the small jar both of your fingertips were stained red, as were your lips, and it made the kisses that followed all the sweeter; a saccharine secret beneath the heavily bloomed branches.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ��

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Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

An Adventurer’s Cold

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An original fic commissioned anonymously

********************************

Subject: Original Characters By Author

Length: 3,998 Words

Genre: Denial, RPG, Contagion, Stuck Sneeze

Rating: E for Everyone

CW/TW: Slight Food Description, Mild Blood

*********************************

You have entered MARLINE’S MAGIC SHOP.

“Snf…welcobe back, traveler.”

Marline took a worn handkerchief out of her front apron pocket, blowing her nose mightily. She sniffled, leaning against the old oak counter she stood behind.

“Whad can I interest you in today?”

Terra, only half listening, looked at the many mystical items lining the shelves. Dragon’s heart, succubus horns, even a small jar filled with pixie wings for one silver piece each. Not a bad price, considering how hard pixies were to catch.

However, she didn’t have time for browsing today.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bronze kobold fang, would ya?” she asked, looking through a green eyepiece at the tired shopkeeper.

Marline smiled. “You took thad request for the rabid fairies, I take it?”

“Yep! They’re some nasty critters, but we’ve got a potion that should stun ‘em -”

“Hah-! hhhhp’TSHIEW!”

Marline bent over the counter, her long red hair spilling over her face. She groaned, taking her handkerchief out again. Terra lowered the eyepiece.

“Good health, Mar. Though it sounds like it’s a little late for that.”

Marline blew her nose with a loud honk. “I was bushroom hunting during a rainy spell ereyesterday - snf! I believe I bay have lived to regret it.”

“I’ll say,” Terra said, frowning. “Have any faeleaf? It doesn’t taste great, but it’ll set you right again.”

“Not this week, I’b afraid. I wasn’d the only one who fell ill after the storm. I would harvest sobe byself, bud I…hih! hhh’PTCHIIEW!”

“Hey, no worries!”

Terra reached into her traveling bag and pulled out a small, bitter-smelling burlap pouch.

“I always keep some with me for emergencies.”

Marline shook her head. “You busn’t – hih’PSHIEW!”

Terra set the bag on the counter.

“Listen, if anybody has an emergency, it’s what you’ve got. Besides, I haven’t caught a cold since I was a kid! I don’t think I’m going to start getting one now.”

Marline gave a knowing smile, but took the herbs with no more opposition.

“Stday in good health, kind traveler,” was all she said before stuffing her handkerchief back into her apron pocket.

“I will!” Terra replied, not noticing Marline’s expression. “The spirit of adventure will keep me warm! And a little mead, if I can get it.”

Terra chuckled, and turned on her heel to leave.

“Ah! Your kobold fang!” Marline called after her.

Terra spun around again, putting her hand on her forehead.

“If my bow wasn’t on my back, I’d forget that too,” she said, reaching for her belt. “Let me just get my coin purse, and I’ll -”

Marline shook her head. “No, no, dear traveler, please. Your kindness has been paybent edough.”

She reached into her apron, pulling out a sharp, yellow tooth with a purple tint at the crown. She held it out to the adventurer.

“Don’t mention it,” Terra said, accepting the tooth.

Suddenly, Marline’s handkerchief was retrieved again, and she sneezed into it yet again, sniffling with a quiet groan. Terra suddenly realized that the tooth must have been next to the shopkeeper’s many handkerchiefs throughout the day. That would explain its uncharacteristic shine.

She shrugged, putting the tooth into her satchel. She’d touched worse bodily fluids.

KOBOLD TOOTH is now in your inventory.

“Get some rest, Marline!” Terra called behind her as she left.

“I shall,” Marline said wearily. “Fare thee we-heh! hhhh’PCHIEW!”

**************************************

You have entered the DARK FOREST.

“I believe this is the place, if my master’s geography is correct,” Vin said, peering at a dusty, yellowed scroll. “Though the topography may have changed since he made it.”

“Eh, how much can a bunch of rocks move?” Terra said. She squinted above her, checking the branches of the surrounding trees for glittering wings or beady eyes between the leaves.

Vin adjusted their glasses with a mechanism on the side of the hinge. “Quite a bit, actually. Earthquakes, battles, magical events, even the migration of animals can-”

ENERGY has decreased. You are now FATIGUED.

Terra yawned, rubbing her suddenly burning eyes. Vin scowled.

“You can at least pretend to be interested.”

Terra started. “Huh?”

“We have been walkin’ for a while,” Norif said, hoping to placate the scholar. “We ought to set up camp – it’s gettin’ dark anyway.”

Vin hmphed, but didn’t have any objection.

Suddenly, Terra noticed that there weren't as many sounds of footsteps as there were before. Her worn brogues, Norif’s dwarvish leather boots, Vin’s cork soles…

Terra turned around.

Frederick had completely stopped, and was looking up at the sky, which had just begun to show the pinpricks of summer stars. His wide, moonish eyes stared, unmoving. Then, with a slow motion, he lifted a thin arm and pointed a finger to the trees, his other hand moving inside his cloak. Terra instinctively rubbed her hands together, preparing her magic.

The others soon followed suit, grabbing their own weapons and standing at the ready.

Their preparedness paid off, as, before the party knew it, a swarm of angry fairies descended upon them, snarling and screeching.

Norif swung his ax at the creatures, taking large clouds of them with a single blow. Vin, with a scraping of iron, loaded their crossbow, the many cogs and mechanisms firing the arrows directly into each fairy heart. A thin rope attached to every arrow jerked them back into place with a satisfying clack. The practical Frederick fired his revolver quickly and without mercy, leaving every target a blood splatter on the dark soil.

But even with these efforts, the fairies quickly overtook them. Frothing mouths and gnashing teeth soon surrounded the adventurers.

They had expected this – after all, fairies could only be kept at bay with magic, as was their birthright. They all looked to Terra, their resident mage.

Taking this as her cue, Terra retrieved the kobold tooth from her belt, crushing the hollow bone in her palm until it was a thin powder.

A simple wind spell would spread the tooth, subduing the fairies until Terra could harness lightning to defeat them for good – electricity was the only natural element they had no control over.

Terra took a deep breath, and a howling gust of wind blew through the forest as she puffed out the ground tooth. A white cloud swirled around her. The rest of the party kept their distance, both out of reach from the spell and the rabid fairies. The cloud overcame the swarm, and, as they smelled the scent of their natural enemy, went limp and hovered in the air.

Exactly as planned.

Terra stretched her fingers, feeling the warm pulse of magic flow through her hands. To the knuckles, to the joints, then to the tips it went.

But, before she could cast the final spell, her breath caught.

The KOBOLD POWDER is tickling your throat.

Terra tried to will herself to focus on the spell, but it was no use. The powder was making her eyes water and her throat dry. She hacked out a cough, still holding her hands in front of her to cast. The spell buzzed uselessly from her fingertips.

No matter how much she wheezed and croaked, Terra couldn’t keep upright long enough to cast her spell. The cloud was starting to settle, and one of the bigger fairies shook itself from its haze, baring its fangs. It dived into a thin part of the cloud towards Terra.

“Watch out!” Norif called, but it was no use. Terra could hardly hear herself think, much less anyone else over her hacking.

Terra looked up just in time to see the fairy rear back an arm and sink its claws into her cheek. She yelped, stumbling back. A tree root caught her heel, and she tumbled to the ground. She lifted herself onto her elbows to the fairy growling a low growl, preparing another, deadlier attack. Green venom dripped from its fangs, and its yellow eyes dilated. Terra held her hands in front of her, trying in vain to ward off the creature.

“N-Nice fairy…snf…”

Unbeknownst to the mage, the tickle in her throat had slowly traveled to her sinuses. Her freckled nose began to twitch.

You need to SNEEZE.

“Deh-Don’t…hih-!”

A small group of black clouds gathered above them, and Terra’s hands began to crackle. Thunder crashed. The fairy started, looking up with wide eyes and a whimper. Terra squeezed one watering eye shut.

“A-Almost…gih-!”

The clouds grew thicker, the thunder louder. The tree branches trembled in the wind. The other fairies, still hovering, looked up at the rumbling sky. Terra hitched, curling her fingers.

“HAH-!”

KSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH!

You used CALL OF LIGHTNING.

Lightning flashed, hitting every single fairy with a bolt of white hot magic. They fell to the ground, singed and lifeless. Barely contained, bolts began hitting nearby trees, giving them black, round burn marks with red centers. If the rest of the party hadn’t gotten out of range of Terra’s magic, they would have surely been struck as well.

It was VERY EFFECTIVE.

Once the spell had run out of targets, it ended, and the dust cleared. All that was left in the now barren clearing was Terra, stunned and still holding her hands in front of her. A light drizzle began to fall.

There was a long pause as the party stood still in front of the clearing, afraid to join the fairies littering the ground.

“Cogs and corkscrews,” Vin murmured, their usually narrowed eyes wide.

Norif gingerly stepped into the singed circle, keeping the blade of his ax above him just in case.

“Y’alright?” he said, taking a torn rag from his breast pocket.

Terra blinked, and a nervous smile shook on her lips.

“I, uh…the spell kind of got away from me, huh?”

“I’d say so,” Vin said, earning him a glare from Norif, who had begun dressing the wound on Terra’s cheek.

“At least the job’s done,” he soothed. “No one in their right head would want fairies caught alive.”

Terra nodded. “Yeah. That’s right. Just - koff! - give me a sec and I’ll -”

ENERGY has decreased. You are now EXHAUSTED.

Terra fell back against the tree trunk, wincing. Norif rubbed her shoulder.

“We’ll make sure the fairies don’ seep back into the soil. You did your part. We’ll do ours.”

Hardly in a position to argue, Terra leaned her head against the tree trunk, closing her burning eyes.

Before she knew it, a pair of strong arms lifted her up from the ground. All she heard before she dozed off was Vin complaining that their glasses would get rusted in the rain, and there wasn’t a blacksmith for miles, and was it really necessary to do a lightning spell of all things…

*****************************************

You have entered GWALT’S INN.

“A c-couple rooms, if ya would.”

The innkeeper peered over at the counter at the adventurers. Terra was standing, as she had insisted on entering the inn on her own two feet. However, she had a hand on Frederick’s shoulder for support.

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “On whose account?”

Terra looked around. Instead of drunken workmen or soldiers recounting battle, the fine oaken tables were filled with nobles politely chatting over honey mead or aged wine. A few of them had turned to stare at the soaked, mud-covered party in varying degrees of confusion and disdain.

This wasn’t an adventurer’s inn, but a place for those of higher standing to feel a clean ruggedness, a false sense of bravery as they “conversed with the locals.”

This wasn’t a place for them.

However, before they could return to the stormy darkness, Frederick held up a hand and reached inside his cloak. He retrieved a thin card, one side silver and the other gold. A few words that Terra didn’t recognize were engraved into the metal. Frederick laid the card on the counter, pushing it towards the innkeeper with the tip of his finger.

To Terra’s surprise, the innkeeper began to sputter, his waxy face turning red.

“Of course, sirs! Madams! His majesty’s brave battalion!”

The nobles began to whisper among themselves, their disgust turning quickly to awe and reverence.

“I am terribly sorry, no, outraged that you had to travel in such dreadful weather!” the innkeeper stammered, showing them up the stairs with a low bow. “I will have your clothes washed immediately, and perfumed of course! And whatever of our selection of humble morsels you may like, if thou wishes.”

Terra raised her eyebrows, looking at Frederick. He only nodded solemnly.

It wasn’t long before the mage was in a pair of silk bedclothes, laying in a large bed with frilled sheets and a thick quilt.

However, she wasn’t sleeping.

“Ih-! Hih…!”

You need to SNEEZE.

She sniffled, then, with a sigh, blew her nose. Mounds of tissues surrounded her, all provided by the inn staff, of course. However, no matter how much she snuffled and sniffled and rubbed her nostrils with the palm of her hand, she couldn’t bring herself to sneeze – though the need grew ever more powerful.

Unable to doze for more than a few minutes, she tried to plan the next few days' journey with Vin and Norif, but to no avail.

“If we - snf! - take the high road,” she wavered, keeping a tissue at her nose, “w-we can…meh-!...make good time.”

Norif rubbed the end of his beard. “I don’ think we’ll be leavin’ this inn for a while. On account’ve…”

He cleared his throat.

“...the weather, a’course.”

“The rain’s never stopped us before,” Terra said. “A-And we won’t - snf! - have to stop for washing! We’ll just let the rain…c-clean - HI’HIH-!”

“Would you be quiet?” Vin hissed, not looking up from the map. “I can hardly concentrate.”

Norif slit his eyes at the halfling. Terra growled in frustration.

“You made me lose it again!”

She reached for another tissue, but, finding there to be none left, she buried her nose into the neck of her shirt.

“Disgusting,” Vin said, recoiling and putting the map in front of their eyes.

Terra ignored them. “Maybe some of the kobold tooth got into my nose…I’ve neheeded to sneeze since we bagged the fairies.”

She sniffled.

“Or maybe it’s a curse? But what curse makes you n-need to sneeze?”

Before Norif could answer, the door opened, and Frederick came in, arms full with packs of tissues from the innkeeper. He moved carefully around the bed, handing one of the packs to Terra. She ripped them open with one hand – as the other was more than occupied – and put almost half of them to her streaming nose.

“Thangk you,” she said with a blow.

Norif moved the quilt up to Terra’s shoulders, gently pushing her head onto the mountain of silk pillows.

“Well, until this, er, curse passes, it would be best to lay yourself down for a bit. Maybe Vin could find a cure for ya. Yea, Vin?”

Vin raised their eyebrow at the pointed request, but said nothing to refuse.

“I’ll be fine,” Terra said, propping herself up on her elbows. “And we’re - snf! - leaving tomorrow, rain or shine…!”

She yawned, settling back down again.

“Curse…or no curse.”

******************************

The innkeeper had insisted on breakfast before the party left. An array of meat, pastries, fresh fruit, wine, and mead were brought before them – a king’s feast.

But Terra could hardly touch it.

Having been kept up almost all night by her burning sinuses and aching head, she could only lean against the back of the wooden chair, shivering as the chilly morning air drafted through. Her coat was made to be warm, even in the most frigid northern wind, but it seemed like the cold was leeching into her very bones.

She was only awoken when Norif put a hand on her forehead. The warmth of his rough palm felt her head, then either side of her neck. She heard him whisper something to the others, but the only thing she could hear was her pounding temples.

“Mmn…is it tibe to leave?” she murmured, trying to push her chair back from the table. Her sore joints were too weak, and the chair’s back legs clacked back onto the floor.

“Ah! Not just yet,” Norif saud, an odd tone of urgency in his voice. “We need’ta…er, Vin’s gonna go to a library nearby. T’cure your curse. There’s really no use ‘n you goin’, it’s all dusty books and scrolls.”

“Don’d have tibe,” Terra croaked. “Back to the guild.”

Norif gave Vin a pleading look, and the scholar fumbled with their knapsack, taking out a few tattered papers and maps.

“Eh, w-well, we are a few days ahead of schedule. We needn’t be back for at least another week, and it only takes three days to - ”

Terra was already up from the table, ignoring Vin. Without much choice, everyone else followed suit. After yesterday’s battle, they were afraid of what might happen if they tried to force her back to bed.

The weather had much improved since the day before. Though it was still a bit gray, the sun peeked out between the clouds, sending rays of light through the raindrops still left on the leaves.

Despite her weakness, Terra took the front as usual, plodding alongside Norif. Shivers ran up and down her spine as a cold wind left from the storm began to blow.

As the group walked near the edge of the woods, the clouds grew darker, and the sun disappeared again. Terra put a thumb on the underside of her nose.

You need to SNEEZE.

Terra sniffled and rolled her eyes. As if on cue, her nostrils began to tremble, and a burning tickle flared in her swollen sinuses. But, this time, the urge grew so great that it made the mage stop in her tracks.

“Hih…? HIH-!”

Attempt to STIFLE? > YES NO

She put her hands over her nose. A slow tingling made its way from her nose to the rest of her body. Soon, the air around her crackled with blue sparks of magic.

“Terra?” Norif said, reaching towards her before thinking better of it.

Terra tried to answer, but it was taking everything in her to keep the magic contained. Thunder rumbled in the clouds as she squeezed one watery eye shut.

“I-I’m…guh-! HUH-!”

She desperately waved to her friends to stand back – she knew that this sneeze was coming, one way or another. The party wasted no time, running behind the treeline with whatever they could carry above their heads to protect them.

“HihihHIH-!”

Terra leaned her head back, the magic coming to a peak inside her. The air was suddenly silent – a calm before the storm. Until –

“HIYA’TSHIIIIIIIEW!”

A circle of lightning flashed around her, and thunder rumbled loud enough to shake the earth. Smoking burn marks smoked around her.

But, before the rest of the party could join her again –

“HYESH’IIIIIEW!”

Again and again Terra sneezed, with each sneeze bringing another ring of lightning and another round of thunder. All of her lost sneezes from the night before seemed to finally come to fruition, and she couldn’t stop for some time.

Finally, though, Terra did stop. She lifted her head, dazed and with singed hair, and sniffled thickly.

SNEEZE COMBO x15!

Snottiness Rank B! Power Rank A+!

Bless you, TERRA!

One by one, her comrades came to join her – Norif first, of course, then Frederick, then, after some convincing, Vin.

The thunder had subsided, but a heavy rain had begun to fall. Terra started to shiver again, her trembling breath visible in blue puffs of steam.

“Ya poor thing…” Norif said, taking off his own fur-lined cloak and tying it around her shoulders. “You really oughta’ve stayed in bed.”

Terra rubbed her nose on the back of her damp sleeve. “Bud…th-the guild…we need…koff!”

She began coughing into her arm, and Norif fastened his cloak tighter around her.

“Ya need do no such thing,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “You’re sick as a gnome in the rainy season. And almost half as wet –”

“And the sooner you put aside that hero complex of yours,” Vin interrupted, “the sooner we can get inside the inn, out of this weather! I’m already soaking, and we certainly don’t need two people ill in this party!”

They crossed their arms, and lifted their chin.

“Furthermore,” they added, “we wouldn’t want you catching pneumonia. That’s quite a bit harder to treat than that disgusting cold. And I will be significantly more furious with you if I catch it.”

Frederick took off his combat gloves, then put them over Terra’s red-tipped hands. He looked over his glasses and gave her one of his rare smiles. Putting his palms on either side of Terra’s hands, Frederick rubbed them together, trying to warm them.

“Ya feelin’ better, Terra?” Norif asked.

Terra sniffled. “C-Cold…”

“Well, no wonder!” Vin said, scoffing. “Heat is mostly lost through the head. If she had some sort of covering, then, perhaps…she could…”

Vin stopped. Everyone was staring at them. Or, rather, their scholar’s beret.

“I mean…or, rather…” they spluttered, then threw their hands up. “Oh, fine! But it had better be returned to me in the exact condition I lent it. It’s irreplaceable, you know.”

They took off their hat, stiffly handing it to Frederick, as if through ceremony rather than a favor.

“Your sacrifice will be remembered through th’ ages!” Norif said, chuckling.

Vin glared at him. “My patience has already been tested enough. Do not test it further.”

“Aye, aye.”

Terra could feel a slow warmness spread through her, and her eyes suddenly felt heavy as iron.

“Alright, up ya go. Let’s get ya out of the cold.”

Terra was heaved up again, and, surrounded by the warmth of her friends, drifted into a dreamless, sneezeless sleep.

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL +1!

********************************

You have entered MARLINE’S MAGIC SHOP!

“Welcome back, traveler! Might I interest you in our wares?”

Marline smiled at the returning Terra, who replied by blowing her nose into a pink tissue.

“How’s it going, Mar?” Terra said, sniffling as she looked at the glimmering displays.

Marline’s smile faded. “Are you not well, traveler?”

“I’m weller than I have been. Just a liddle sniffly now. Snf!”

Marline put a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Terra…it must have been my chill that you caught. And I left you without any faeleaf!”

Terra rubbed the back of her neck. “About that. You wouldn’t happen to have any more of that left in stock, would you?”

“Ah, yes, a fresh bunch! Why-”

Suddenly, a large, dwarvish sneeze came from outside the shop, followed by a chorus of harsh coughs. Marline put her lips together underneath her hand, keeping back a giggle.

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah,” Terra said sheepishly. “I’ll take three pouches.”

She furrowed her brow, counting on her fingers.

“And a few-”

Another sneeze rang out, this time small and high-pitched.

“Okay, a lot of tissues. We’re gonna need ‘em. Maybe some tea? I guess? That’s what Vin gave me when I was sick, anyway.”

Marline winked. “I know just the thing.”

She disappeared behind the shelves for a few moments, coming back with many packs of tissues, two pouches of strong-smelling tea leaves, a few pouches of faeleaves, and a thick blanket.

“May your party be blessed with a quick recovery,” Marline said.

Terra started to reach for her coin pouch, but Marline stopped her.

“I gave you and the others my cold. I’m going to cure it as best I can.”

Terra opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again. She began to put the items in her bag.

“You’ll have nothing to sell at this rate, Marline,” she said.

Marline tilted her head. “Well, I can always deal in colds.”

Yet another sneeze came from the doorway, raspy and shuddering.

“It appears I’m quite good at it, I’m afraid.”

“I am too, if being an adventurer doesn’t pan out,” Terra said, turning to leave. “See you later, Marline!”

“Goodbye, dear traveler! And good health!”

Marline chuckled as Terra joined the others.

“Though it appears it’s a little late for that.”

[lunarmoonanons]

Dragon Sisters

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN finally goes out to the gardens in her colourful outfits. Wanting to spend the day with her dearest sister

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

It was always a treat to see the Targaryen princesses in their colourful and elaborate outfits. YN liked to dress up in her lovely outfits for her sister’s amusement. She had taken a respite from her colourful outfits since the death of her dear sister Daella, having worn black for a year. In the bright year of 84 AC, YN retired her black dresses for her colourful dresses once again. Her friend, Coren Thorne, had been a comfort to her and had finally convinced her to allow herself to feel happy once again. 

So on a bright warm springtime morning, YN finished her letter to Coren and asked for her maid to bring her light purple dress, one that flowed ever so gently in the wind and embroidered with butterflies in the skirt. She gave her letter to her maid, asking that it be delivered to her friend, then finally left her room preparing for the gazes of the court. 

She left quite the impression on the people in the keep who had grown used to seeing the mournful princess. YN paid them no mind, occasionally acknowledging the compliments that were given to her, but she intended to go to the gardens and find her mother or sister there. She knew her happy visage would make Saera happy. But before she was there she came across her dearest older sister Alyssa. She was in riding gear, which made YN smile at her sister’s antics. Even now, as heavily pregnant as she was, Alyssa would go flying. Alyssa smiled at her favorite sister, and opened her arms for YN to run into. 

“My dear baby sister. It’s so good to see you in colours again.”  Alyssa laughed and kissed the top of YN’s silver hair. 

“You should be taking care of yourself. What would the Maester say if he knew you were flying so late into your pregnancy.” YN teased and pulled back. 

“He would be too scared to dare speak against me.” Alyssa laughed. “Where are you going my dearest?” 

“I wanted to go into the garden and find Saera, or mother. I think seeing me in colours again would make them happy.” 

Alyssa wrapped one arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Then let’s go and find them.” 

YN smiled and rested her head against her sister’s shoulder. She always knew Alyssa would be there for her. When it wasn’t her and Saera, it was her and Alyssa. The two were so close. YN loved her older sister Alyssa so dearly, she had been her protector, her confidant, her dearest sibling. She knew that if she told Alyssa about her and Saera’s deep love for each other then Alyssa would understand. 

But she didn’t tell her. Saera knew the world better and knew no one could be promised with the knowledge of their relationship. So she made YN swear to not speak of their stolen kisses and their daring romance.

So as the two made their way to the gardens. Speaking about their mornings and how YN was getting along with her friend and penpal, Coren. Alyssa spoke about her dear sons, and how she was certain the babe in her belly was another boy. YN was very interested in her nephews and always asked about them when she could. 

When they finally found their way to the garden, Alyssa and YN looked around for their mother or sister. YN stopped by one of the flowers that bloomed recently and plucked it from its root and twirled it between her delicate fingers. She knew she would give it to her sister, Viserra. Alyssa steered YN away and then walked till they heard slightly raised and angry voices. When they came across the source, Alyssa rolled her eyes at the sight of Saera arguing with their mother. 

“I can associate with whomever I want to mother! It’s not your business nor is it father’s what i do with my time!” Saera snapped and threw her hands in the air. 

“I have every right to know who you spend time with and what you do! I am your mother!” Alysanne argued. 

“You spend all your time with Gael and Viserra! Let them occupy your concern rather than me!” Saera turned away and stopped her angry expression when she saw her dearest love YN in colours again. 

“Oh my dear one. How lovely you look.” Alysanne smiled and walked toward her daughters. Kissing Alyssa on the cheek then wrapping YN in a tight hug. “I’m so happy to see you so happy.” 

“Thank you mother.” YN whispered and kissed her cheek. 

“I must away. Viserra promised to show me her embroidery.” Alysanne excused herself. Alyssa, not wanting to speak to Saera, having not the best relationship with her, decided to leave with her mother and hugged YN for a moment before turning away. 

YN walked toward Saera who had turned away from them and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked defeated and upset at everything, wanting nothing more than to be in YN’s arms. 

“Saera?... Would you like this flower I plucked for you?” YN asked. What she was really saying was would she like to be held. Only her and Saera understood that. 

“Oh YN.” Saera sobbed and held her close.”I hate them. I hate how they are always disappointed in me. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.”

YN sighed and held her close then pulled away to look in her eyes. “I’m not disappointed in you. You could never disappoint me. I love you.”

Saera wiped her eyes and rested her forehead against YN’s. “I just wish they were more like you. I could be happy with only you. My dear one.” 

They both smiled at each other, before Saera brought her lips to YN’s and gave her a loving kiss. YN knew she was still very upset, but when they were together they could pretend it was only the two of them in the world. YN could always understand Saera better than the rest of her family. 

“Would you like to spend the day together?” YN asked as she placed the flower behind Saera’s ear. Twirling the locks of Saera’s silver hair.

“I would love to.” 

So they ran to their secluded part of the garden that very few would go to. The spot that looked over the blackwater. Only going out to order the servants to bring them food and drink. For a day the two could pretend it was only the two of them in the whole world.

[never-ending-fanfic]

Catching up with The Dragon Prince and decided to make a Crossover AU concept except all member of the Ghost Crew are different elves

(mind you I'm not deciding based on appearance or signature color ect I'm going with the General Vibe™ so it's rather personal, you can disagree or share your ideas)

Let's also say there are no humans in this case scenario kay? Let's dig in!

Hera- Skywing Elf, definitely, no doubt. Her love of flying is too strong for me to place her in a different type. She's also that "less than one in ten" case that's born with wings. I would say her horns would be long and curved to mimic the original lekku, I'd keep her green color (even though it's not usual for Skywing Elves to have that skin tonr) but maybe I'll add some silver/gray touches to

Kanan- Startouched Elf, going with what we know about that type, they're very rare and so are the Jedi after the fall of the Republic, so that's a nice touch. He'd have a deep indigo skin and obviously horns (to add the touch one could be chipped, to signify that he's been through a lot), his primal source is the stars ofc and ofc he's trying to teach Ezra about the arcanum with the stars, since that type of connection is rare and not much is known about it

Ezra- Startouched Elf, everything goes same as for Kanan, but I feel Ezra could have obviously smaller horns and a little lighter blue skin. He would also figure out the arcanum to more than one primal source and would definitely try Dark Magic at some point (just like how Ezra was tempted by the dark side in the show)

Sabine- Earthblood Elf- hear me out, she would definetly use her Earth Magic to create beautiful art, wether it would be with plants gems and crystals, she would have brown skin and green hair (at least originally, she could dye it later)

Zeb- Sunfire Elf, he would definitely still be a captain of the royal guard in Lux Aurea before its fall (lile Lasan) and it definetly fits that this type of Elves are known for amazing weapons (SWR Ladats- bo-rifle, TDP Sunfir Elves- Sunforge blades and armour) and his "heat-being mode" would definitely be something to see... He doesn't use the Sun Magic often, but like all Elves, he's connected to his primal source- the sun

Kallus- Moonshadow Elf, they're known for being great assasins and infiltrators, I think it would sit well with Kallus' spying abilities (and you cannot tell me that the phrase "by the light of Lothal's moons" doesn't fit perfectly!) He would still be pale with a bit of purple-ish hints, his markings would resemble his freckles, his hair would be white. He would know know a few spells but wouldn't rely only on them. He originally used Dark Magic, but after becoming one of The Good Guys™, he stopped. He's the perfect opposite of Zeb at first glance although also going with @seth-shitposts post about Kallus being like a moon that reflects the light around him, this is perfect.

Chopper- he would be Bait, but more outrightly unhinged

Not sure if I'm gonna write that or draw that but I wanna do SOMETHING

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Perc'ahlia Week Day 3: Mask/Trinket

another day, another @percahliaweek fic! this one was supposed to be the shortest one. lol. also available on ao3!

Vex hasn't seen her husband in days. She only knows he's even in the castle because of the meals being brought up into his study at semi-regular intervals. This is part of the deal, loving and living with the Terrible Tinkerer of Tal'dorei, but she's so curious. The last time he got like this, he disappeared for two and a half weeks and emerged, eyes bloodshot and hair stringy, with the prototype of the acid-powered streetlamps that now illuminate the paths of Whitestone each night. She's sure that whatever he's working on now, the city will be all the better for it, but that doesn't stop her from being grumpy in the meantime.

It also doesn't stop their children from noticing their father's absence. Luckily Gwen, still too young to recognize his odd behavior, has little to say on the matter, but the twins keep trading jokes about the elaborate, world-ending device Percy is surely working on, and Vesper grumbles that he's postponed their scheduled Celestial lessons again. Little Danny, however, is taking things the hardest; every night, when Vex tucks him in and kisses him good night, he murmurs, "Mama, he's gonna come to my birthday party, right?"

And every night, Vex makes a promise that she'd rather kill Percy with her bare hands than break. "He wouldn't miss it for the world, darling boy."

When the party in question rolls around, a raucous affair to be held on the castle grounds, with all manner of games and music for each and every child of Whitestone to enjoy, Vex steals away early in the morning to bang on the locked door of her husband's study. "Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, open this door now."

There is clanging and shuffling and crashing, and about forty-five agonizing seconds later, the door creaks open, revealing a sliver of manic blue eye. "Hello, dear."

She could throttle him. "Do you know what today is?"

"I do."

"Do you plan on joining your son at any time today?"

"I do."

"At any particular time, or...?"

"The party begins at noon, yes?"

His funeral will begin at noon if he doesn't stop being the most aggravating person she's ever met in her life. "Yes, and Danny would very much like both of his parents to be in attendance."

Percy seems not to have heard her. "Noon...yes...noon should be fine...I should be done by noon..." And then the door is shut and relocked unceremoniously in her face.

Well. She supposes she must trust him to keep his word. She spins on her heels and marches off to get dressed.

All of the children of the city start gathering in the late morning, and soon the castle grounds are alive with screams and laughter as the noble family of Whitestone celebrates its youngest son's birthday. There are endless tables of pastries and treats, courtesy of the Slayer's Cake, and Trinket's cub Charlie bounds around happily, hoping for dropped scraps from the young mouths eating them. Grog, in his esteemed position as Grand Poobah de Doink of All This and That, has been tasked with games, which all seem to involve either throwing or being thrown, but Vex gauges from the shrieks of delight that they're having fun. The height of entertainment, of course, are the magical rides offered by Keyleth and Scanlan, who use their shapechanging powers to transform themselves into a magnificent silver dragon and an ostentatious purple winged horse, respectively.

Vex has a hard time focusing on the party, though, because she's keeping a weather eye out for her wayward husband. As the party wears on, he still has not appeared, and even though Danny is currently occupied by Keyleth's mesmerizing ice breath, she knows that soon enough, he's going to notice that his father is missing.

Just as Vex has resolved to set the castle ablaze with the aim of smoking Percy out, the man himself appears, freshly washed and shaven and not nearly as frenzied as he'd seemed this morning. He has a wrapped box tucked awkwardly under his arm. She charges up to him, fists clenched at her side. "Where have you been?"

He at least has the nerve to look sheepish as he says, "It took longer than I'd hoped to finish, but I think it'll be worth it. Where is he?"

She has no clue what he's talking about, but for his sake, he better be right. "He's with Keyleth."

Just then, a loud groan erupts from where most of the children had gathered, and Vex sees a familiar head of red hair, and she knows that the hour must be upon Keyleth's Shapechange. Percy tuts happily and strides off in that direction, and Vex scrambles to keep up. "Danny!"

The birthday boy turns at his father's call, a grin breaking out like sun rays through clouds. "Dad!" He runs and launches himself at Percy, who kneels down just in time to catch him with his free arm. "You came!"

"Of course I came, little bird. I am very sorry that I was late and I am very sorry that I've been gone for a while, but I hope you'll like what I was doing while I was gone."

Danny frowns, confused, but then he notices the present, and delight sparks in his eyes. "Can I open it?"

Percy hands it over, and Danny, with an eagerness only a kid on his birthday can manage, tears into the wrapping. The box beneath is square and a few inches thick, and with shaking excitement, Danny lifts up the lid.

The mask inside is so lovely it takes Vex's breath away. It is entirely mechanical, a pastiche of clockwork pieces and whitestone that all weave together to form the unmistakable shape of a bear's face. Danny squeals, carefully picking it up out of the box. "Whoa..."

"I know how much you love playing with Trinket and Charlie, little bird, and I wanted to make you something to fit in. Look here." He flips a tiny switch on the inside of the mask, and like magic, the wheels and gears begin to move, and the mouth and eyebrows twisting together to form a mighty roar, which emanates from somewhere within the mask. "Now you'll be just a fierce as they are."

"Can I put it on?" Percy helps him strap the contraption to his head. Vex is sure it must be heavy, given its component pieces, but Danny can barely contain his glee when he announces, "I can't even feel it! It's just like I'm a bear!"

As if on cue, Trinket himself lopes over to nudge Vex's shoulder. She pats him on his graying muzzle, and then he leans down to sniff at the mask. Danny reaches up to flip the switch, and the resulting mechanical roar makes the enormous bear jump. Danny lets out a peal of laughter, then rushes up to wrap his arms as far around one of Trinket's legs as he can manage.

"Do you like it, Danny?"

Danny releases Trinket to throw himself mask-first at his father, who ducks his head out of the way just in time to avoid being brained by the metal parts. "I love it! It's the best birthday present ever!"

Then he's off, eager to show all of his friend his new bear mask, and Percy straightens up with a groan. He gives Vex a self-satisfied side eye. "Well? Was it worth it?"

Oh, he really is the most aggravating person she has ever met on this plane or any other. "Yes. Well. You could tell me what you're up to next time. So I don't think you're neglecting our children."

He wraps an arm around her waist, his hand broad and warm on the center of her back. "Would I ever?"

"So I don't think you're neglecting me."

He hums low in his throat, and she watches his Adam's apple bob hungrily. "Yes, well, fair enough. Should I make it up to you tonight?"

This plane or any other. "I really think you should. Several times."

"Yes, dear."

[silvergolddraco28]

Suppressed 3

Heartbreak

MK paced the dojo glancing at the clock and the sky, taking note that the sun was slowly starting to come out from being the mountains. ‘Where is he?’

Mei yawned, watching her friend fret. “MK, he’s going to be fine. You gotta chill.”

“I’m really worried, Mei... You saw that rogue clone! He took the staff right out of my hands like I was a child playing with a stick!” MK gestured rapidly to the older girl.

Mei huffed, pushing herself off the couch and over to the other teen. She tossed an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into a half hug. “Macaque is going to be fine . He’s fought the Monkey King before and lived. Right now he’s just sneaking around. Our Emo Monkey is good at that.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Dragon Girl.” Macaque chuckled as he popped out of the shadows. He grunted as MK threw himself at him.

“Easy Kid. I'm a little sore.” Macaque allowed the teen to hold him before he was dragged to the couch. As the teens began to chatter about what to eat for breakfast, Macaque opened his hand holding the large marble-sized pearl in his fingers. The pearl gave a soft glow before its images shone down to the table like a projection.

“What’s that?” MK asked, clinging to the monkey’s arm.

Mei tilted her head, eye lighting up. “Is that like some sort of magical projector?” She practically half climbed onto MK for a closer look.

“One of Wukong’s memories,” Macaque replied. The trio watched as the pearl began the memory from the beginning showing everything from Wukong’s perspective.

“This looks like it took place after the journey but before the fight with DBK,” MK noted the clothing Wukong wore. “Why does that look like something you’d wear Macaque?” the teen asked. It was odd seeing his mentor dressed in a dark purple tunic-like shirt with sleeves, black loose fitting pants, simple black shoes, and a blood-red scarf around his neck with his nose buried in the material. He looked to have just finished crying recently from the way his eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

“…cause those are my clothes.” The immortal’s voice came out small and lost. Amber eyes were locked onto the small orb, tracing the form of the younger king.

“Why does he have your clothes?” Mei asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't know...” Macaque trailed off as Wukong moved his hand behind him and knocked on the wood, turning his head to partially look at his shadow. The younger King in the memory began to speak.

“I know it's been a while, Mihou... Sorry I haven't talked to you, but I haven't really done anything worth telling the past few moons. I was able to find some of your clothes. I put them in a special chest that should keep them from being eaten by time along with some of your puppets...” Memory Wukong softly rambled to his shadow.

MK turned to the monkey. “Mihou?”

“That’s what the Shade thing kept calling you.” Mei realized, eyes wide.

“I don’t use that name anymore.” Macaque mumbled, unable to tear his eyes from the memory. His brows furrowed as he watched, conflicted. ‘It hurts too much to hear that name.’

MK narrowed his eyes before snapping his fingers. “Liu’er Mihou! That's where I've heard it before!”

Macaque visibly flinched before glaring at the kid. “I don’t use that name anymore.”

“Why?” Mei asked, glancing back down at the memory of Wukong talking to his shadow.

MK cringed. “Mei... I think we're dead naming Macaque....” MK said, elbowing her side.

“Oh....” Mei gave an apologetic smile scratching the back of her head. “Sorry.”

Macaque simply sighed before refocusing on the memory. ‘I suppose dying does make that technically a dead name.’

“I know you always wanted cubs Mihou... I... I know of a way...” Memory Wukong trailed off reaching under the scarf for a silver locket, opening it to reveal a lock of white fur. “I just hope this will be enough.”

Macaque’s attention snapped back to the pearl. “What?” He whispered, claws digging into the couch.

Mei and MK gave each other confused looks.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” Mei questioned MK.

“Well, in the legends it mentioned there was a special river that could get anyone pregnant just by drinking its waters. The pregnancy was for a few days at max I think.” MK stated, brows furrowed.

Macaque ignored them, heart racing. “He didn’t….” The old warrior covered his mouth, fighting back an unexpected wave of tears as grief and longing welled up in his heart.

Memory Wukong stood tucking the locket back into the scarf as his form changed. Golden fur became long shiny silver locks tied up in braids, golden eyes became dark purple with golden flecks, cream skin turned a semi dark shade of tan his tail fading behind the drastic changes while a set of silver earnings hung from his ears shaped just like the very moon. Memory Wukong thoroughly checked the ‘illusion’ having a satisfied smile. “At least one good thing came out of being able to shape shift... The cub will take after you... I’ll make sure they know their mother is you and you alone my shadow...” Memory Wukong softly spoke with a determined look in his eyes.

Macaque choked back a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Wukong, you fucking idiot .” Mei and MK’s jaws went slack.

“God damn, Monkey King looks hot like that...” Mei gaped, eyes wide.

“Why would he? He-I don’t-why?” Macaque shook his head, ears folding back. “Why didn’t he ever say anything?” His voice broke as he took in his old appearance. His silver fur that was now tainted and hidden.

“Mei!” MK hissed, pulling her close to him. “I think we might be missing something kinda important and now is not the time!”

“Oh come on Mk! You're thinking the same thing!” Mei countered.

Movement caught their attention as the Memory Wukong left the shack he called home glancing back before holding out a hand. He seemed to grip something before twisting it slightly, opening a small portion creating a small silver doorway before heading inside. He made a fast track through a massive palace looking for something before he came to a single door with a moon carved into its face. Gently he opened the door looking side the semi-messy room littered with notes on rune magic and prototype puppets hanging on the walls. Memory Wukong entered the room heading directly to the nest-like bed in the center. With a determined look, he dug in the pillows before making a sound of victory. He had pulled out a soft-looking beep purple blanket covered in little moons. “Perfect.” Memory Wukong smiled before leaving the room, gently closing the door behind him before calling his cloud.

Macaque cradled the pearl close, disbelieving eyes following the shifted form of the king.

“Who’s room is that?” Mei loudly whispered to the other teen.

MK gripped her shoulders and very seriously whispered back. “The hero and the warrior were like the Sun and the Moon.” He very purposefully jerked his head towards Macaque and her eyes grew wide.

“I'm shutting up...” Mei clamped her mouth shut as past Wukong let the cloud drop him off in a nearby clearing.

”The river should be a bit of a walk from here... Better get moving.” Memory Wukong began the trek easily, quickly making his way to the water.

Macaque shook his head. “This is crazy. He couldn’t have. He would have told me.” His fingers trembled around the pearl. “He knew how much it meant to me.” The warrior jerked back to the present as MK placed a hand on his shoulder. The boy frowned, squeezing the monkey’s shoulder in a comforting manner. His breath hitched and he almost seemed to plead with the kid. “He wouldn’t keep this from me. Not this.”

“Macaque... I don't think it worked .” Mk softly stated, biting his lip.

The scene swiftly changed to Memory Wukong bowing to the women of the river asking questions while getting answers before being handed a bowl. He pulled out the locket from his neck, opened it, and took out the silver lock to drop in the water. The water glowed before turning as black as night with specks of silver and gold. Wukong gently picked up the bowl and gulped down the liquid making a face when he finished it. The women cheered while the younger women congratulated him before one of the older women took him aside.

”Child... What you are doing is the first of its kind even to our people. There is a great possibility the babe will be stillborn or be born too early to safely stay alive.” the elder gently warned Wukong of the risks.

“I have to try. ” Memory Wukong told her, eyes watering. “ I miss him.”

A wounded noise escaped the warrior. “ Wukong… .” Macaque clutched his scarf as tears started to trail down his cheeks. Oh, Sunshine. Why didn’t you tell me? Mei somberly moved over to the other side of the simian, giving him a side hug.

Time went forward with Wukong’s stomach becoming heavy with a cub... Until something went horribly wrong. Wukong was doubled over in obvious pain, blood leaking from his stomach. ”Quickly help me rest him near a tree! The babe is coming early!”

Macaque silently wept as the memory continued, eyes never leaving the form of the man he loves and the child he never learned of. ’No… no please no!’

”She's out! She’s not breathing!”

”The cord wrapped around her throat... She’s stillborn... I'm sorry child.” the elder stated to utterly exhausted Memory Wukong looking at the small child with bloody tears. Gently he cradled the cooling body of the infant and simply let out cries of grief and utter despair. The purple blanket with little moons slowly becoming red with blood. The pearl started to grow foggy, becoming unclear with echoes of the king’s mourning cries.

The two teens had buried their faces in his scarf as the king’s shadow wailed. Mei hugged the warrior firmly, rubbing circles on his back. MK just cried into his shoulder holding him steady.

Macaque chucked the pearl away from him and dropped his head into his hands with a broken sob. The two teenagers just held him as he fell apart. He wept quietly, but fiercely. His whole body trembling as waves of grief and guilt wracked his form.

Once Macaque was completely cried out both teens gently laid him down to sleep off the revelation. Tucking a spare blanket over the ebony monkey before retreating to the kitchen. Mk paced around the small kitchen chewing on his nails while he thought.

“Monkey King had a stillbirth... He never told anyone about it and no one ever found out since he went shape-shifted as someone else...” MK groaned flipping into a seat. “I feel hungry, but seeing that pearl just made my appetite vanish.” The teenager muttered to the dragon heiress typing frantically on her phone. MK sniffled, turning to face the girl. “I hate this. Monkey King is out there stuck with some twisted version of himself. Macaque just cried himself to sleep. And we are stuck here.”

“MK, we aren’t exactly powerful enough to fight Monkey King toe to toe, much less this warped version of him... But this warped version seems to have some weaknesses.” Mei pointed out, wrapping an arm around the young man.

MK glanced at her, brows furrowed. “Weaknesses?”

“He’s got a scatterbrain attention span, plus I don't think he can read modern Chinese.” The older teen explained.

MK snorted. “Powerful demon. Can’t read. L.”

“Tag and reblog!” Mei cackled. “Anyway, I ordered food to be brought here, hope you like American style breakfast MK.”

MK huffed, dropping his face onto the small table. “…thanks, Mei.”

“Welcome.... You think Macaque will be alright with pancakes? I don't think I've seen him eat anything but noodles and fruit.” Mei genuinely asked, turning back to her friend.

MK shrugged. “Fruit pancakes? He might like blueberry pancakes. I know Monkey King is a vegetarian, but I don’t know about Macaque.”

“With those teeth?! Get real MK, they are carnivores like RedBoy.”

MK sat up. “Monkey King is still Buddhist. I saw him use those teeth to bite into a coconut, Mei. A coconut!”

“Those are really hard to open.” Mei stated, amused at her friend’s exaggerated horror.

“I know we’ve seen him like crush mountains and all that, but it still scared the shit out of me.” MK shuddered. “Anyway, how long do you think we should let Macaque sleep? I feel bad about waking him up but….”

“Let's wait until the food comes. Then see if we can wake him up but if he sleeps anything like Monkey King nothing short of a bomb going off will wake him.” Mei shrugged.

“Gee. I hope not.” MK sighed, dropping his head onto the table. “I want a nap.”

“Why not go snuggle on the couch with Macaque then? Pretty sure monkeys socilize through cuddling.”

MK considered it. “Would that be rude? Eh. Whatever. He’s somehow more physically affectionate than Monkey King. It’ll probably be fiiiine.” He stood up with a yawn and smiled over at his friend. “Are you okay being awake by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine Mk. Not the first time I've had to wait for food.” Mei replied.

“Okay.” He gave her a quick hug. “Wake me up when the food is here.” With another yawn he turned and walked back over to the couch. His heart broke a little at the sight of Macaque curled up into a small ball against the side of the couch. He sighed and slipped under the blanket next to him. Macaque’s tail curled around his arm and pulled him against the monkey’s back. “This is fine.” MK mumbled, already starting to fall asleep.

“Thanks, kiddo.” A quiet whisper caught the teen’s attention. MK just hugged the monkey tighter and fell asleep.

Here’s my discord user if anyone is interested to chat with me!

silvergolddragon28001

[papermonkeyism]

Me age 13: "omg, this is the best book ever I love it so much!"

Me age 20: "ugh, this is the worst book I've ever read, I hate it."

Me age 36: "this is a DnD campaign."

So I made it through the second book of the Icewind Dale trilogy, Streams of Silver, in my nostalgia trip.

And yeah. It's a game of DnD.

Specifically, it's a bunch of Tolkien fan boys having fun playing a fantasy fighting game and being awesome, and, yeah, it does its job.

It's still lacking in things I like in stories, but I can see where this is coming from. I prefer characters with more emotional depth and them having more natural feeling interactions, and deeper world building. But this is a game for people who like feeling awesome in a traditionally heroic way, and experience similar stuff as with their favourite books.

The characters are more archetype-ish/stereotypey, because they're written as player characters instead of complex people. There are A LOT of bad guys and evil creatures that the heroes have to fight, because DnD is a game built around a fighting mechanism, and campaigns are built with Random Encounters so the players can engage with the mechanics of the game they're playing. So this area has orcs in it, that will fight you. This bit here has human barbarian tribes that will fight you (and have some Unfortunate Implications about "noble savages" and their belief system being built aroud this monster creature from another plane of existence and other fun eighties tropes, but it's not like they get mentioned again after the encounter.) You failed a persuation roll to let this one town's guards let you pass because your elf hails from an evil elf race even if he himself is a good individual, and him having black skin marks him as dangerous to people (no wonder many modern depictions of drow have them more purple or gray than flat out black), so you are forced to take a detour through this swamp area that's full of trolls that will all attack you. And there's a giant snake that will attack you. And so forth.

And the Tolkien really shows! You could probably make a drinking game out of spotting all the Tolkien references, just the amount of times the word "mithril" gets thrown around could be one on its own.

So one of the main characters is a dwarf king of a lost underground dwarf kingdom, the Mithril Halls, who's ancient home got taken over by a shadow dragon which drove them to exile, and the Main Quest is to go find it and take it back (Hobbit). (None of his other clan mates from the Icewind Dale seem to remember or care enough to join their king in his search, but that's not the point, because you only got four players and they all picked different races. It's a game, your supposed to build it for them to play, that's the whole point.) Once they get to the place, there's a kinda "Mines of Moria" feeling scene of them wondering how to open the door, though the solution to it is more DnD feeling than that of Lord of the Rings. Though, speaking of Moria, remember how awesome the Gandalf vs Balrog scene was? Good news! We liked it too, so much so that we did the whole "beloved hero falls to a 'certain death' in the depths of the mine while fighting a bad guy/evil being" thing TWICE! Oh, and did your players like Galadriel? You have a nice GM who gives you a magical queen NPC (who's name even rhymes with her), who comes to the heroes' aid by giving advice and helpful items, except even better, because what if she also had a crush on your favourite character?

Sprinkle in a group of evil rivals, with a nemesis for the favourite character ("narrative foil" kinda feels like an understatement, though, as Entreri gets introduced as a dark mirror for Drizzt with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer), couple evil wizards, a fun and quirky family of good wizards for a fun interlude for your players, and few other fun and magical encounters, some cool loot, and a classic damsel in distress (though I do give credit for Catti-Brie actually having a role in this book. I hated the way she got kidnapped and damselled when I read the book last time, but on a re-read now, I do see her being clever and using her situation to sabotage her kidnappers, even if teenage me was very disappionted in how she didn't pick up a sword and do the awesome battle stuff herself).

(Okay, so this is just me theorizing, and I don't really have any factual basis for this, but I kinda get the feeling like Wulfgar was originally planned as the "young hero protagonist" of these books, but Drizzt ended up a lot more interesting of a character, and the stories just gravitated to focus on him instead as the author's fave. Not that a similar thing would have ever happened to me or anything, haha...)

Like. This book still isn't my thing, really. I very much prefer deeper and more rounded character writing and more thought out worldbuilding, but I must admit, realizing that this book was basically a game of Dungeons and Dragons kinda made the whole experience so much more enjoyable. Even if I spent the entire time reading thinking about the players of the characters instead of the characters themselves as people, but still.

You made the story out of reshuffled Tolkien tropes but edgier, put in some whimsy nonsense that makes no logical sense, and had tons and tons of really flat enemies that kept spawning and aggroing your party like video game mooks. Aww, sounds like a fun campaign, your players must have had great time!

... I should probably re-read Lord of the Rings one of these days.

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 51

Cw: mentions of blood sacrifices, bullying, and murder

Gif by @beyondtheciouds

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @ewanmitchellcrumbs @darylandbethfanforever9 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @sweethoneyblossom1

Aegon remembers all the times he teased Aemond over his egg not hatching.

Its had been a smoky gray with red flecks given to him by Laenor and clutchmate to Jace's Vermax and Aemma’s annoying little dwarf dragon, Elēnar.

It had a name, some name that was meant to inspire fear, but made Aegon want to bully him some more.

Once mama caught him offering his blood to it after Aegon told him to, father had shouted at Aegon, taken Aemond aside and given him Barth's book on dragons while mother shouted at father for shouting at him only to slap him when she turned to yell at him, and he pointed it out.

Now as the king tries to make a second Sunfyre for himself, he finds himself looking for the dragonglass dagger Aemma keeps under her pillow for her protection.

They haven’t slept in the same bed since he was poisoned, mainly because he finds it gross as she told him she is to bleed for the forty days after the birth. Aemma had about a week or so to go and appreciated having the bed to herself.

She keeps busy, restless in her cage like the dragon she is and much like Silverwing, she does a good job of pretending she is fine as she is.

This morning he finds her reading her correspondence and having a late breakfast. She wears lilac today, brings out the purple of her eyes and matched the tie at the end of her long braid.

“What are you up to this morning, dear wife?” he asks completely forgetting what he came here for.

Aemma was always lovely, sure she was not the most beautiful, but she was kind and good company and had the old blood of Valyria running through her veins just like him. It would be nice to see her fly again, to see her throw her head back and laugh as Silver’s wingtips skim the ocean.

Once Baratheon wins this war for them, he will give her the freedom to fly again.

Of course, not often because it would look wrong when the king had no dragon of his own.

“Just some letters, Aunt Elenda wants me to take my cousins into our household, apologizes for the whole trying to drug me and almost killing your brother the night before his wedding, oh, and wants to confirm if Uncle Borros is still the man you want as Aenys’ godsfather.” She said showing him the letter as if he would doubt her word.

Aegon trusts her, a stupid thing to do, but he knows Aemma would never hurt him nor try to kill him. He quite likes her, finds himself missing waking up to her in the mornings.

“Tyland suggested him, I guess he had sent the letters already. I know you wanted Aemond to be Aenys’ godsfather, but we can keep Baratheon loyal to us without promising him a royal groom.” Aegon admits knowing why she wants Aemond to be made the babe’s godsfather. If either were to die, Aemond would be the man to raise Aenys as one would a son, if he was close to the boy no one would be suspicious of it and his overly familiar way with his wife not be too obvious.

The reason Aegon readily agreed to make Borros his godsfather.

Besides, Aemond fled Crossed Elms like a coward claimed to have dragon dreams knowing those tree worshiping cunts would believe him. Had he fought they would have won the battle, his brother just won’t admit it. Claims that the fucking riverlords had archers and the commanders too experienced for them to do more than to wave a peace banner and hope for the best.

If he had been there and had Sunfyre, the Riverlands would have burned, and he’d be a fucking warrior king like the conqueror.

Instead, he is here, stuck in this castle because he has been unmanned by his wife’s own fucking grandmother and humiliated by his own little brothers. Even Daeron went down as Daeron the Daring as he died like a man should.

When Borros comes, Aegon intends to lead the battle. He did it once and his sword arm is strong enough to fight, how hard could it be? And what better way to announce it than by entering the tourney.

“I suppose you are right, husband, especially because it will remind people that both your mother and my great-grandfather were brown of hair and eye. A shame Borros refused Cousin Joffrey, we could have had the Vale and Aunt Jeyne would be here to show she also has brown hair.” Aemma pretends it doesn’t bother her. Does a great deal of that since they married, Aegon wondered if one day she will like him and trust him like he trusts her.

He envies Aemond for getting to see the true Aemma, not the poised lady hiding her dragon’s blood underneath silks and brocade.

Aegon would’ve preferred Daeron had been the one to return and not Aemond. Daeron didn’t steal his wife’s heart from under his nose.

“If anyone dares to insinuate you cuckolded me, I will have their heads, dear Aemma. I plan on making sure they get the message at Aenys’ anointing next week.”

“Harwin used to have the worst nightmares as a boy, always dreaming he and father were burning to death and Larys’ laughing as he stood outside the door.” Alys speaks softly as she nursed Aenys.

The babe had been small and frail when he was born and yet the moment Alys became his nurse that night, he awoke as healthy as if he had not been born early. Her witch’s blood refused to let her create new life but made her able to nourish life that already existed.

“I had nothing to do with their deaths.” The queen mother says even though she remembers asking Larys to do what he must to bring her father back to court. Larys had been using her, like all men have done, and yet this time she had the power to say no.

But she hadn’t said no.

Instead, she prayed for forgiveness and put it out of her mind when word of their deaths came just as the raven from Daemon did.

“Just because you say it outloud does not make it true, your grace.” The witch chides her like a mother does to lying child. “I know you agreed to it for your cause.”

“Then why join me? Why kill Harwin’s lover and his sons?” the queen asked hoping that was the answer as to why everything had gone wrong.

“To get to Larys, to have the Blacks kill all those who stand between me and Harrenhal. I work the corridors of self-interest just as anyone here. Now with the war lost and my dear little brother getting his comeuppance, you are of no use to me ,your grace.” The witch said as if it were just something trivial that had failed and not a system of governance.

As if it was always meant to fall.

“You said it was Aegon’s destiny to be king!” the queen cannot comprehend why Alicent would make her do such things if it had not been meant to happen.

“And it was, I never said for how long. Two years is more than Aegon the Uncrowned got.” Alys put the babe in his basket without burping him first and went to stand by the window.

Why did no one else seem to care about this more? Why did no one see that for her family to be safe, Aegon needs to be king and her as his right hand?

Aemma had poisoned her sons against her an now her most trusted ally is led astray by her.

“Oh, no, the little queen did not seduce me from your side, your grace. Our paths are no longer aligned. You stand at the end of your road while I still have so far to go.” the witch answered as if she had spoken aloud.

“You tricked me! You had me sell my soul to the Stranger and damn myself to the Seventh Hell!” Alicent begins to see her with horror.

And yet the witch just stands there by the open window as if nothing was happening.

It would be so easy to kill her. She could lie and say she was going to hurt the little bastard, that she cast a spell on him and she as his grandmother only meant to save him.

Alys would die instantly on the spikes in the dry moat, no one would know.

What is one more kill?

“You said you would do anything to make Aegon king, you agreed to the price, your grace.” Alys coos at her making the queen mother snap and barrel towards her like an angry bull.

Just over the window.

That is all she needs.

And yet when they stand over the edge, Alys overpowers her and instead, Alicent is forced to look down at her grave.

“Now be a good girl for mummy and pay it.” The witch whispers in her ear like a lover and tosses her over the edge as if she weighed as much as little Aenys.

[innocentlymacabre]

They were walking again. It was raining but Kavi had wanted a change of scenery – and Ravi just wanted Kavi – so they were walking again.

Ravi listened to her talk attentively. About The Midnight Library, about Camus, about the farm she worked at and the animals there she liked. Ravi happily listened to it all and related his own stories to hers, honestly surprised by the fact that he hadn’t already said something unbelievably stupid. He had no idea where this sudden stroke of luck had come from but he wasn’t going to question his newfound ability to impress this incredibly pretty girl.

They’d started the evening by going to a restaurant she’d reluctantly picked. “If you don’t like it, just lie and say that you did,” Kavi had said.

“Oh, don’t worry, I am a fantastic liar.”

“Are you really?”

“No,” Ravi immediately confessed, “I am awful.”

“Thanks for trying,” she laughed. “The effort is appreciated.”

That was the first time Ravi had heard her laugh and had instantly fallen in love with it.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he asserted.

He didn’t remember what he thought of the food.

He was sure it was great, but present company had been far too engaging for him to care about the plates set in front of them or the wines they had picked out. Their waitress even had to jump in and ask if they’d wanted any recommendations on what to order after they’d asked her to come back for the fourth time because they both kept forgetting to go over the menu.

They’d continued on to a bar Ravi liked where he proceeded to lose at a long, drawn-out game of pool (neither of them were very good players), underscored by conversations about dragons, comfort shows, and bad dancing. And throughout it all, one incessant thought kept surfacing in the swamp that was his brain. The exact same thought he had now.

Kiss her.

It was raining.

They were walking.

The sun had set and the moon had them awash in a silver tinge.

It was all too much for Ravi’s cheesy, sappy, gooey heart. 

But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. They were having far too good a time to risk it by making the wrong move. So they kept walking.

They kept walking until they found a park with a bench and enough green around to make Kavi happy. They both simultaneously sat on the backrest instead of the actual seat and Ravi couldn’t help but notice how close they were. An errant wind could have probably pushed them close enough to touch.

Their hands gripped their bench for stability side by side and a spark flew through Ravi’s. It lit up in his palm and quickly spread through the rest, a travelling flash taking over the entire hand within moments. They were talking about Mamma Mia, Heartstopper, and tattoos, but Ravi was imagining how it would feel to hold her hand in his. The hand closest to hers had three rings, while hers was bare. He thought they might not feel too nice and considered moving them to the other hand, but didn’t want to move away from that position. What if she decided to take his hand at that moment? Moving it away might tell her he didn’t want that. No, he thought. Best to keep it where it was and risk his chances on that roll.

His fingers twitched and he found himself wanting to fiddle with his rings again – that was half the reason he wore them at all – but he resisted the urge. He wanted to keep the hand free just in case. He tuned back into the conversation and turned his head to face her, and soon forgot all about his rings while they talked some more about colours they liked, saxophones and base guitars, and flowers. He made a note to pick out some orange and purple ones for next time.

Next time.

They had already decided there was going to be a next time.

“I really want to kiss you,” Ravi muttered, his voice dropping. All semblance of suaveness he had miraculously managed to scrap together over the evening had all but evaporated and each hand was thumbing its respective rings.

Kavi kept fiddling with her cycle’s lock in a pause that felt far too long to Ravi.

He was suddenly very aware of his surroundings but found it all but impossible to take in anything except the girl he had just spent the most wonderful evening with. The light from the giant neon lettering beside them seemed to fall on Kavi and Kavi only, making her outline glow. The only sound he could hear was the pistons in her cycle lock clicking in place; the rest of the world had dulled. He was certain there had been a breeze blowing just before but even that had seemingly halted, as if to grant them this pocket of solidarity.

Finally, she looked up at Ravi with determined eyes and a slight smile. “Good,” she said, stepping a little closer. “I want to too.”

She took another step towards him and Ravi found himself mirroring her actions. She raised her arms over his shoulders and pulled him in closer, while he did the same around her waist. He noticed how different this felt to when he had hugged her earlier, but didn’t have enough time to wonder why; Kavi had already drawn his face forwards and upwards, bringing it towards hers. Their heads tilted sideways and their lips met.

And the whole world fell away.

When they stepped back into time and the world rematerialised, Ravi’s hand was in Kavi’s. She didn’t seem to mind the rings.

~~ The Slightly Edited, Partly Fictionalised, and Occasionally Completely Imagined Kavi and Ravi Photo Album [1/]

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[diosmaden]

"She looks more and more like her father every day," Charity says, voice soft and tinged with some complex emotions, watching the little purple cambion girl swing a hefty stick around the flower blanketed garden, giggling gleefully, her twintailed black braids bouncing wildly behind her as she chases imaginary foes that only her little yellow eyes can see. Every now and then the pitter patter of her little cloven hooves clatters its way onto the cobblestone before being buried again in grassy plumes.

Rosalie hums from from the rim of her teacup and sets it gently on its saucer. She too watches the child prancing through her garden for a moment, then turns her gaze back to the large, imposing cambion across from her—skin deep red and etched in old scars, not a hoof in sight, messy brown hair that looks like it was cut with garden shears half tied into a ponytail, and gentle silver eyes, ever watchful. "She looks more and more like you too, you know."

"Really now?" Charity laughs with a face awash with pure perplexion, "Have your eyes begun to fail you in your old age Rose, or are you just saying that because of the horns?"

Rosalie rolls her eyes with a smile, "No of course not teacup—I mean she has your smile."

Charity blinks, and looks back into the garden, "Oh."

Rosalie turns to watch too, resting her chin in a gloved hand, "And you know, I'd say a fair bit of Warlon in her too, she's got that mischievous twinkle of his in her eye."

"Oh that.. I think she gets that from his daughter actually, Elwyn really admires her."

"Ah I see," Rosalie smiles, "It's good that they get along."

"Yes, though his daughter is decidedly more rambunctious than I imagine he's ever been in his life!" Charity laughs.

"Oh now I don't know about that," Rosalie muses with a wry smile, "I reckon there's a thousand embarrassing stories about that old dragon's younger days that he keeps quite secret."

"Ha! Maybe," Charity concurs, setting her pale eyes back on the other woman.

She studies her quietly for a moment, watching Rosalie's soft smile as Elwyn pretends to stalk something around the bushes, before those dark eyes meet hers and—seeing her face—frown. "...Yes my dear?"

"Mm," is the response Rosalie gets back, nodding to herself slightly, to Rosalie's increased confusion. "If it's mannerisms you mean, then she looks a lot like you, too," Charity answers.

Rosalie's eyebrows shoot upwards and her head lifts out of her hand ever so slightly, "Me?"

"Yes, whenever she finds some new fascinating mystery to solve, her eyebrows scrunch up just so, exactly like yours just did—and then after a moment a little excited smile creeps onto her face."

A light pink dusting spreads across Rosalie's pale cheeks and she quickly averts her gaze back into the garden and clears her throat, "Well. She certainly has a lot of people caring for her."

When Charity says nothing to this, Rosalie frowns and looks back across the table.

A dark expression has clouded the handsome woman's face.

"Charity?"

"I think I'll gut him if he ever shows his face," she mutters.

Rosalie relaxes and exhales softly, "Well be sure to do a thorough job, we don't want to add him to her list of influences."

"Gods no, Edel's bad enough," Charity says, frown evaporating as a conspirational grin takes its place.

"Oh aye?" Rosalie smiles back, taking another sip of her tea.

"Oh aye indeed, she's a troublemaker—you might be onto something with Warlon's sordid past with a daughter like that!"

[aegor-bamfsteel]

I am of the opinion that none of the dragonseeds are actually dragonseeds, especially Nettles. They are just ordinary folk who lucked out. Its circular logic Targaryens and their fans apply. 'How do you know they have Valyrian blood?' 'They rode dragons.' 'But how did they ride dragons?' 'They have Valyrian blood.' ??? We do know how Nettles was able to claim Sheepsteeler. By feeding him sheep. And what were Targaryens in Valyria? Yes, you are right, shpeherds. Is it too absurd to think Nettles applied the original method to tame the dragon? I mean come on, Rhaena and Jaehaerys were so much worried when Elissa stole the eggs. Why? She wouldn't have been able to hatch them anyway? Unless, she could. Its a good thing dragons died during the Dance, before other people realized that dargonseeds actually being dragonseeds is far more unlikely than them being just common people who displayed exceptional courage. Like Aemond displayed. Aemond approached Vhagar like he already owned her, all targaryens who claim/bond with dragons do the same, this is the trick.

I agree with some of what you’ve said, but not all of it.

“Dragonseeds actually being dragonseeds is far more unlikely than them being just common people who displayed exceptional courage”: We’ve seen multiple times people approach dragons with an intent to ride them (Quentyn Martell, Steffon Darklyn, Silver Denys, Alyn Velaryon, Gormon Massey, two knights who tried to retame Silverwing) and they either died or were maimed for life. Sixteen people lost their lives trying to tame the Dragonstone dragons, and three times that number were burned or maimed. There’s nothing in the text to indicate that those who failed were any less courageous than those who succeeded (Darklyn and Martell showed exceptional bravery in making the journey, and Alyn was a brave adventurer after the Dance). If all it took was bravery, then all of the would-be dragon riders would’ve succeeded rather than 4 out of over 50 people.

“None of the dragonseeds are actually dragonseeds”: I can’t agree with that, because it’s all but stated that Addam and Alyn Velaryon were in fact Corlys’ children. Not only do they have the silver hair and purple eyes to indicate Valyrian heritage, but Corlys was visiting Marilda’s father’s shipyard around the time her sons were born, Corlys wanted them legitimized after Addam proved himself, he faced torture to let Addam escape, when Baela was pregnant Alyn wanted the supposed son named for (his father) Corlys while she wanted to name her daughter for her mother Laena. This is actually fairly significant, because Corlys isn’t a Targaryen but a Velaryon (whereas if her children were Laenor’s sons like Marilda claimed, they would be Targaryens) who weren’t dragonlords during the Valyrian age, but then again the Targaryens have intermarried so much with the Velaryons they were basically the same family at that point. As for Ulf, he was a man-at-arms on Dragonstone with the unusual Valyrian white hair, so it seems likely he had some Targaryen ancestry. We don’t get a description of Hugh except that he was very tall and strong, but as “a common Blacksmith’s bastard” born on Dragonstone, it’s possible he’s also part Targaryen. Sometimes it seems having Valyrian ancestry does make the dragons fonder of one’s smell (like with Brown Ben Plumm) other times it doesn’t make a difference (Silver Denys was undoubtedly a Targaryen descendant but was maimed and then eaten by Sheepstealer and Cannibal, Alyn was burned trying to tame Sheepstealer while his brother did tame Seasmoke, and of course poor Quentyn was burned by Rhaegal while trying to tame Viserion). It also seems that once a dragon has been ridden, it’s easier for them to be retamed as they’re already used to people; of the 4 dragons the dragonseeds rode during the Dance, only one of them (Sheepstealer) had never been ridden.

I do agree with you that Nettles wasn’t a dragonseed. We get a full description of her in TPATQ as having black hair, black eyes, and brown skin, which none or very few part Targaryens have had. She wasn’t born on Dragonstone where Targaryens had been siring children for centuries, but in the newly built Spicetown of Driftmark, meaning there’s less chance for her to be part Targaryen. She’s the only one of those who succeeded who we’re told exactly how she tamed Sheepstealer. Maybe it was Hugh, Ulf, and Addam’s Valyrian ancestry that gave them more of an affinity for dragons, or maybe because their three had already had riders. But Nettles, as you said, instead of just walking up to Sheepstealer and trying to tame him, brought him a freshly slaughtered sheep each morning until he learned “to expect and accept her”. You’re also right for making the connection between Valyrian sheepherders and Nettles using many sheep to gain Sheepstealer’s trust, and maybe that was the original method to tame dragons. However, there are also blood magic rituals involved in hatching them, and apparently Valyrians used sorcery to bind them to their will (like the horns), so I can’t say it’s the only way.

Hatching a dragon egg is also very different from trying to bond with or tame an actual dragon; we see Dàny used blood sacrifice, but the other Targaryens just seemed to be given eggs and some of them hatched (they didn’t for Aemond and Maegor which led them to approach the biggest dragon around). Dragon eggs at a time dragons still ruled getting stolen was a big deal because they’re basically Targaryen “children”, especially to Rhaena who was Dreamfyre’s rider. Dragon eggs don’t need to be hatched to be valuable, such as Illyrio’s eggs and possibly the other Dragonstone eggs and the one Euron might’ve given to the Faceless Men, as there’s lots of magical people who want to do something with them. It’s not even clear if Rhaena and Jaehaerys knew about a blood sacrifice ritual to be used to hatch dragons, since as far as we know, Vermithor and Dreamfyre hatched without their input and they just bonded with them.

[irithnova]

East Asia fashion headcanons:

China: Bold, bright colours. Likes to stand out and likes that he puts an effort into what he wears. Depending on his mood, his clothes could be loose/flowy or tight and body confirming. Likes incorporating traditional prints/elements too. He likes things with long sleeves/bell sleeves. Wears a lot of silk. Loves accessories, whether its sunglasses, earrings, necklaces etc. Loves dainty gold jewellery , he thinks its so elegant, but does wear more trendy jewellery too sometimes. Likes dragon themed jewellery! Wears all types of shoes, from heels to sneakers to boots depending on the outfit! Doesn't really like hats? He thinks they cover up his beautiful hair.

S Korea: More into pastel colours than bold colours. Lots of oversized, comfy clothing. Loose pants. Graphic prints with either cute/cool/edgy-ish designs or says something borderline cringey. He does like a good blazer, tries to make office wear like blazers and pantsuits look more quirky with accessories. I think hes a sneaker enthusiast. He just loves the diversity of the designs/colours. He's more into chunky and modern looking jewellery than elegant jewellery.

Japan: Not very much into bold colours for the most part, but does like to branch out and . Lots of white/brown/grey/blue in his wardrobe, but has some other colours which are also muted like green. I think his clothes wouldn't be too loose/oversized but not overly tight either. However he likes wide trousers though as they're very comfy. He enjoys clothing with shoulder pads in it as he thinks they make him look more sharp? Lots of high neck tops in his wardrobes. Doesn't wear too many accessories, maybe a necklace with a wooden pendant here or there. He does have some nice sterling silver pieces though, he's not really a gold guy. Not too fussy about his shoes in his day to day life, but he does care about the quality though. As long as its not too outrageous and is practical he'll wear it. I do think he is pretty big on high quality dress-shoes though when he goes to meetings and formal events and whatnot. I think he secretly does want to dress a bit more out there like the fashionistas in Harajuku (he does do it sometimes) but does not want to draw too much attention to himself.

Taiwan: Pink is the best colour and she will die on this hill. Elle Woods could never. Loves loves loves skirts, whether they're long or short. They're just so cute and comfy! Has lots of cute hair accessories, a lot of which being floral. Puts a lot of effort into styling her hair. I think she really likes heels, but not ones which are too high. Her favourite are kitten heels just cause they don't hurt her feet too much whilst still looking cute. Surprisingly doesn't often wear a lot of jewellery other than a cute ring/earring or two, she thinks her outfits speaks for itself. When shes being more casual she wears things like cute graphic shirts and shorts/skinny jeans.

Hong Kong: Dresses a bit more edgy than the rest of the East Asians! Favourite colours are black and red, and he often combines the two in his outfits. But obviously those are not the only colours he wears. Lots of hoodies/cargo trousers in his wardrobe, and really likes to wear big boots and trainers. Can see him wearing metal jewellery, maybe in the future he wants a piercing or two (much to Chinas dismay!).

Macau: I don't think there's a colour Macau wouldn't wear but in his wardrobe it's mainly lot of red/green/beige/black and some purple and grey. I think he really likes looking classy, and he definitely does! Nicely fitted/tailored tops/trousers, even when he's not going to meetings. He definitely gets lots of compliments after meetings. Has lots of good quality button ups, and like Japan, is an enthusiast on good quality dress shoes. Has a collection of beautiful waist coats. Looks very sharp. He definitely likes gold jewellery, has some very nice gold rings.

Mongolia: I think he owns lots of turtlenecks/high neck tops/jumpers! Doesn't really wear/like bright/bold colours. Lots of navy blue/black, just darker colours in general. His clothing is comfy/practical without being oversized/loose. Certified pocket-enthusiast. Mongolia produces the best quality cashmere in the world so you bet your ass his wardrobe is full of it! Loves a good trenchcoat and loves his furs. I think he owns quite a few hats! Whether they're more traditional or modern woolly hats, he likes a good hat, especially during the winter (it gets cold af up there y'all). I think he mainly wears boots, and definitely owns very high quality ones. He picked out glasses that compliment his facial features, and his prescription sunglasses for the summer do so too. He still very much likes wearing his deels (traditional Mongol clothing) on a daily basis though. He just feels more comfortable in them. Doesn't often wear a lot of jewellery, his ears are pierced though. I also see him as more of a silver/stainless guy these days. Also shout out to him for finding one hairstyle and sticking to it for all these years. Like Japan, I think he sometimes wants to dress more out-there, but more in an edgy sense (Mongolian metal anyone? ) but again, doesn't want to draw too much attention to himself and is afraid he's far too old to pull it off.

[crowfeatherquill]

In Which Crow Does Things That Aren't Spider And Songbird

Hello gentlefriends! I'm posting fic again But Different This Time!!

My goal here is to have a chapter of this ready on the first Friday of every month. If I happen across a windfall of inspiration and end up with a massive backlog, posting frequency might increase, but I'd expect slow updates overall. Hope you enjoy <3

If there is one thing that carving out a modest existence for himself in the Underdark has taught Tathlyn, it’s that there’s a first time for everything. If there is a second thing it has taught him, it’s that the stranger and more interesting your life is, the harder the gods have to work to find new firsts for you.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s staggered about, disoriented and surrounded by fire, in the hopes of finding a path to safety. It also wouldn’t be the first time he’s been unable to escape the stench of burning flesh. It is, however, the first time he’s had the opportunity to do something quite so visceral as to crush an intellect devourer to death while it squirms, not-quite-born, in the skull of its unfortunate host.

There’s little time to process such a gruesome undertaking, though. The blood has scarcely dried on his hands when he catches his first glimpse of the landscape outside the burning…whatever-it-is. Nautiloid, the runic tablets had called it, as they bled information directly into his brain like the tip of an inked quill dipped in water. Part vessel, part creature, entirely disgusting, and frankly quite far down his list of priorities for unpacking. By his estimation, it ranks somewhere beneath the fact that, if the endless expanse of burning brimstone is anything to judge by, this Nautiloid-thing has found its way into the Hells. That fact itself is also swiftly outranked by the bellowing bloody dragon that dives across his field of view, arcing flame toward the Nautiloid’s hull -- or perhaps husk would be more appropriate? -- before being chased off by flashing purple cannon fire.

He takes a few staggering steps toward the nearest vertical surface -- something to reach out and ground himself against in the face of a tidal wave of panic -- and finds it unfortunately fleshy. He pulls away with a grimace, wiping his hand down the front of his armor and leaving a smear of slime mixed with the still-tacky blood of the intellect devourer. He’s too occupied with his own disgust to notice the figure prowling above him until it’s too late.

She descends in an arc from over his head and before he has the chance to reach for a sword he doesn’t have, hers is at his throat. This, too, is far from a first, but a fleeting sense of foolishness does cut the panic briefly. It’s been a long time since something managed to get the drop on him from above. There are far too many things that like to cling to cavern ceilings in the Underdark for him to risk ignoring his upper periphery under normal circumstances.

She calls him abomination. Intones a threat with confidence he is all too familiar with. But before she can deliver, something squirms behind the eye he would have called his good one up till now. He sees her stagger, just briefly, before he’s launched into visions -- scattered images seen through eyes that aren’t his at all. A dragon’s wing from an impossible angle. A silver sword nearly the size of its wielder from tip to pommel. A brief flash of his own face, wan and sweaty, the imprint of his magic writhing around his dead eye in response to his unease.

He looks a fright, he realizes. He can hardly blame her for thinking him an enemy.

[zodarii-dae]

Oh wow!!! You put a lot of thought into it,,, perfect!!! SkyWings bleeding purple was not something I thought I'd see, but purple is indeed the color of royalty, and if they're based off the classic European dragon, nothing screams that better :) NightWings bleeding silver and being sparklier in moonlight... man, just think of how eerily beautiful battlefields would look afterwards...

Speaking of RainWings photosynthesizing, I'm pretty sure that's canonically something LeafWings can do? We just never see one do it. It's written in the guide that they gain energy from the sun, though whether they meant physically or motivationally, I'm not sure.

It's interesting because the sun seems to go the opposite route for RainWings and pacify them? (this is reference number two if you caught the first one from last ask :))) Even Glory was described as snoozing away and drunk on sunlight when she was Scarlet's art. Plus the whole sun time thing. When the sun is at its peak they tend to go night-night. while still being diurnal smh

good points. glory, and a few other rainwings, describe having suntime as being 'full'. they compare it to eating, so that was where i got the photosynthesis from. it's kinda like how you get sleepy after a big meal!

this also connects to another headcanon of mine, that rainwings can get sunsick. if they go a while without suntime, then go in the sun for a long time, they get sunsick. it makes them extra lethargic and nearly comotose. like how if you eat too much after a fast, you get sick!

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(Context)

Wanted to like,, almost make it a story.

○●○

Long ago, there was nothing. Nothing but the empty void, and it's howling wind. There was no light, no darkness, no sound. Just the void.

Until, one day, a spark came. Then a second. A third. A fourth.

All four growing into beings.

The first was elegant. He wore an outfit befitting that of a king, with its color ever-changing. His color was ever-changing. The only thing that ever stayed the same was the golden headpiece that rested on the back of his head, representing a rising sun.

The second was as elegant as the first. She wore an outfit befitting that of a queen, her color too ever-changing. The only thing that ever stayed the same was the silver circlet she wore that had a crescent moon.

The third was monstrous, dangerous in appearance but kind in personality. He was that of an anthropomorphic dragon, his color too ever-changing with his outfit befitting that of a knight's. The only thing that stayed the same were the purple cuffs on his wrists.

The fourth was less monstrous but still dangerous in appearance yet kind in nature. She was that of an anthropomorphic lamb, color ever-changing. She wore an outfit befitting of a priestess. The only thing that stayed the same was the blue veil that rested over her face.

The first named himself Adminstrator.

The second named herself Moderator.

The third named himself Virus.

The fourth named herself Program.

The Four quickly formed a tight and close bond. They talked and laughed, filling the once quiet and desolate void with sounds of joy and companionship.

However, it didn't take long for loneliness to settle in. The Four knew that they couldn't be alone forever, left in a void that no one else would ever know of.

So one day, Moderator arose and spoke, "I say we make a world of our own!" She declared. "I say we start making this world into something new, something beautiful.. something us."

The others agreed, and they began to work. Using their vast powers, they created a world where code reigned supreme. Where all beings of code could reside.

Then, together, Program and Virus began to make entities. Entities to live in the world, to expand and inhabit.

However, Program was not pure or corrupt, and neither was Virus. Those that came from their did not always have the good hearts their creators did.

This lead to clashes. Battles. Wars. Things the Four desperately tried to stop, but they soon realized they never could. So, together, Adminstrator and Moderator began to create spaces. Spaces where Viruses and Programs could be separate if they wish, but could join together should they feel like they can.

As the years went on, the Four found themselves often lonely. Though, that loneliness soon vanished when a brave little Program approached them one day.

He called himself Sparks, and the Four found his bravery admirable. Very rarely did any creation come to them merely to talk. Even rarer was any of them finding the nerve seek them out.

They enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed theirs.

However, one day, they noticed cracks.

Virus was the first to point them out, how they ran along the walls of the world. Cracking and splintering. It soon got worse, and they were able to realize why.

The world was far too small, there were far too many inhabitants, and not enough Moderators and Admins.

While thinking of a plan to try and save the realm, Program was able to see a small glimpse of a future. So too was Virus.

A fight, a Virus, Four Founders, and a Space. Filled with Admins that would survey the world of code, keep things in order, and keep everything safe.

So, the Four began their work.

Program and Virus made more of their creations. Made ones tough, strong, hard to defeat but not impossible. (One Virus named Worm, and he knew deep down that this would be the one.)

Administrator and Moderator began expanding the spaces. Simplifying the qualifications needed to be overseers of Spaces. Together, they even created some Admins and Mods. Not too many, and some of them the duo pushed to always look out and beyond.

By the time they had done, the world of code was larger than ever, yet no longer cracking. However, the Four were exhausted. Their code frayed and sparking, hot to the touch. They knew that they needed to find a way to rest, and fast.

That is when their dear friend came and said a simple word, "Fuse."

The Four did not question how he knew, but they knew it was the only way. So they individually said their farewells before they joined hands and fused.

It was a bright spectacle. Able to be seen throughout the entire world, and from the merged code arose one being and one being alone; Database.

Their body massive, towering over all, their color ever-changing. A blue veil rested over their face, obscuring their eight white eyes. Purple cuffs rested on their arms, keeping the long sleeves of their dress from swaying as they moved. Their crown, mimicking a rising sun coming over a crescent moon, often glittered in the light, just as their cape did. Large wings of a dragon rested on their back, with small clouds of what seemed to be wool floated around them.

Database thanked Sparks once more, before they departed. Only their friend ever knowing where they went.

A secret he intended to keep until the day came that he deactivated. Though he would honor them.

There's a reason his establishment is called the Ever-Changing after all.