#thirdborn

[sewercentipede]

thirdborn

[sea-owl]

Anthony manifesting that his third born sibling's spouse be a pain in their ass but he manifested a little too hard because not only did his manifestation hit for Colin, the third son, but also Francesca the third daughter.

Anthony has only himself to blame for when Lady Whistledown and the Merry Rake are brought into the family. He'll never admit it though.

[krakenshipwreck]

(x)

[halffulltubofmintchip]

Leviathan after being told he needs to work out more

[nebulaafterdark]

More Than Anyone Pt. 3

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

More plot than porn this time.

Part 1 | Part 2

It has been some months since the Driftmark debacle. Y/N is growing by the day, about halfway through her term. Aegon delights in holding her close, with her back to his chest. Stroking a gentle hand over her baby bump.

He hesitates for a moment before he speaks. “There is something I’ve been meaning to run past you.”

“Mmm.” Y/N is nearly asleep. Comfortable, happy and he is about to ruin it all.

Aegon breathes a sigh of relief, “it will keep till the morrow.”

“But now I am curious, you must tell me.” Y/N insists.

“My mother wants to organize a hunting party for Laenor’s seconds name day.” Aegon tells his wife. They had a similar celebration for their daughter’s second name day. Where their son, Laenor, had subsequently been born, in a tent with only Aegon’s help.

“This does not please you?” Y/N smirks, “I promise not to give birth this time.”

“She wishes us to name him our heir, during the procession.”

“Laenor is our thirdborn child.”

“He is our firstborn son.”

Y/N purses her lips, “the Iron Throne is Dahlia’s birthright.” She had come into the world first, followed quickly by Visera a few moments after.

“I am advised by the small council-”

“Alicent brought this matter before the small council?” Y/N’s cheeks begin to burn.

“In the interest of the realms, my dearest love. This would help strengthen the reign of house Targaryen.”

“My mother named me.” Y/N reminds him. “Not Jacaerys, Lucerys or Joffrey. Even at the births of the children she shares with Daemon, never did she spurn me.”

“And you will make a fine Queen.” Aegon tells her.

“Then why not our daughter? What makes you think she will be unfit to lead?”

“We are toying with centuries old tradition, a dangerous game, under which we all will be crushed if it falls. I have no taste for duty. I could not care less about a stupid chair made of swords or who sits it. What I give a damn about is you. Our children. Leaving behind a safe place for all of them to live, truly live. If Laenor wearing the crown is all it costs, how could I be opposed?”

“This is much bigger than that and you know it.” Y/N pushes away from him, gathering her dress.

“In what way?” Aegon demands, settling at the edge of the bed.

“Look at the scene in its entirety before deciding on which side you fall.” Y/N brushes past him.

“Tell me then, what do you see that I do not?” Aegon catches her hand.

“I see,” Y/N trails off, staring down at their joined fingers. The metal of her wedding band stares back, taunting her. “I see a better future. One we cannot hope to achieve while the present stands. I had hoped you might sculpt it with me, or at the very least, hold my fucking hand.” She pulls away.

Aegon sighs, “where are you going?”

Y/N laces up the bodice of her dress with little care. “I need a moment to think.”

“I do not wish you to leave angry.”

“I am not angry, Aegon.” Y/N murmurs. “I am hurt. There is a difference.”

————————————————————————

Y/N moves about the Red Keep restlessly. Only servants and guards walk the grounds so late.

“What has you wondering the castle at this hour, little bird?” Daemon. He is the only one ever to call her that.

“I am,” Y/N is lost for words. Or perhaps she is just, “lost.”

Daemon shifts against the pillar upon which he sits. “That is unlike you. Of all my children, I worry for you the least.”

“Aegon and I are at an impasse.”

“That is marriage for you.”

“We do not agree on a line of succession.”

“Mmm.” Daemon hums, “that is a tricky one. Good thing you are not required to name an heir just yet. Not until you inherit the throne and that will be a number of years. Long after I’m gone…and your mother.” The words are slow to pass his lips, as if they pain him.

“Alicent is pushing-”

“Push back.” Daemon replies, flippantly. “You are the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne.”

“So instead of resolving this issue I should ignore it in favor of starting a separate issue with the Queen?” Y/N begins pacing in the corridor.

“Aegon may not rank high on the list of people I’d save first from a burning building; but he does adore you. Be firm, put your foot down and do not lift it. He will bend to your will in time, he has done so before.”

“I do not wish to manipulate him into doing my bidding.”

“You believe that Aegon has never manipulated you?”

Y/N wraps both arms around herself. Perhaps he has, would that change the way she feels about him? “I don’t believe he has.”

“Marrying you benefited him tremendously, it boosted his favor amongst the King and the value of his words in court. Perhaps he does love you, that is fine. But if he cannot stand against the snakes which whisper in his ear, then he is not the best match for you.”

“We could hardly annul the marriage now, we’ve children.”

“There are other ways.” Daemon smirks, “say the word and we could have you ready to remarry before the moon turns.”

Y/N isn’t sure what he’s implying but she knows no good will come of it. “That will not be necessary. Thank you for your wisdom, Daemon.”

“I will see you on the morrow, Princess. Chin up.”

Y/N loves her husband, different as he is. Aegon has his honor and she has hers. His heart is good, his intentions to grant their children peace are true. She can be patient as he learns that there is more than one way to provide that peace. She wonders for a moment if Aegon would find his way back to a pleasure house that night.

The Princess returns to her chambers, to the bed she has often forsaken in favor of his. Tossing and turning through the night until the sun peaks through her curtains. She dresses in a simple red gown, setting off to bid the children good morrow. Finding Aegon on the floor of their eldest daughter’s room.

Dahlia is still dreaming, back to her father. Y/N makes her way down to the floor, jostling Aegon’s outstretched arm. “Aegon,” she whispers, “Aegon.”

“Shh,” he quiets her, “lie with me.”

“What are you doing in here?” Y/N whispers, making herself comfortable on the rug.

“I could not find sleep, same as you.”

“Who said I could not find sleep?” Y/N says, indignantly. Allowing her husband to wrap her up in his embrace.

“You were here before the children woke and look every bit exhausted.” Aegon buries his nose in her hair.

Y/N traces patterns on the back of his hand.

“I do not wish to be at odds with you, I cannot bear it.”

Her heart seizes, “I need you, Aegon. I need you to stick up for me when others pour their honey in your ear. I need you to make decisions with me, not for me. I need you to stand at my side. Show the masses and our families that we are a united front, that we love each other.”

“I will do this for you.” Aegon vows.

“Thank you.” Y/N breathes a sigh of relief.

“Can you forgive me for being so short sighted?”

“Only if you can forgive me.”

“I could forgive you for anything. You are the love of my life.”

————————————————————————

“Prince Aegon is not in his chambers.” Talia informs the Queen.

“And we’ve checked the Princess Y/N’s apartments?” Alicent asks, fingers ticking nervously at her sides.

“Her rooms are also empty.” Ser Criston confirms.

“The children?” Surely they wouldn’t have taken off in the night. Y/N would’ve at least informed Rhaenyra. They wouldn’t dare be caught in the silk streets either.

“Princess Visera and Prince Laenor have been taken by their maids to break their fast with Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra.”

“Where is Dahlia?” Alicent demands.

“The Princess did not open her doors, the maid is not to enter until she does, by Princess Y/N’s authority. Yvette believes she still sleeps.”

“No.” The Queen shakes her head. “That is not like Dahlia.” She sets off immediately to her granddaughter’s rooms.

“Your Grace,” Talia trails after her.

“I will send for you if I require further assistance,” Alicent dismisses her, “thank you, Talia.” She moves through the corridor faster than what is appropriate, flinging open the doors of Dahlia’s quarters and rushing inside.

The little girl is awake, she waves to her grandmother. Sandwiched between her mother and father in the four post bed, both their eyes closed.

Alicent waves back, perturbed and confused at the state of things, but that is not her granddaughter’s fault. “What has happened here, my dearest love?”

“Mama and Papa were sleeping on the floor.” The girl explains. “I asked if they wanted to sleep in my bed too. Maybe they had a night terror.”

“Perhaps.” Alicent reaches over Aegon’s shoulder to card her hair. “Do you want to get out of there?” The tangle of limbs.

“No,” the little girl admits. “I quite like it here. Just don’t tell Visera and Laenor, they will be jealous.”

“This will be our secret then.”

Dahlia blinks at her. “Can I tell you one more secret?”

“Of course.” Alicent smiles.

“My Papa said I’m going to be hair.”

“That’s silly, isn’t it.” Alicent replies, quietly.

“Like Mama is her Mama’s hair.”

Alicent hopes her face does not display an ounce of her dismay. This is not a jest, or words exchanged during a childhood game. Aegon told Dahlia she is to be heir. Heir to the Iron Throne.

Part 4

Series Taglist: @sophiexoxsblog @alicentswife

[2d-reality]

Little Things (The Envious Thirdborn)

characters: Leviathan, GN!MC navigation: Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie content/warnings: little things you do for the brothers, out of love. fluff. established relationship (implied you are dating all seven brothers equally with the exception of mammon whom i love more) word count: 1334, this one got away from me a little notes: Each brother has their own part, linked above. I am still my own editor and I loathe editing, so please forgive any mistakes!

Adrenaline pulses through Levi’s veins. His hands shake with it, even as he sits back in his gaming chair, and cold shock ices over the hot rush of blood in his veins. 

A Sucre Frenzy collectible has slipped from his grasp. It was a limited-time run, only live for a few minutes, given how quickly stock had sold out. He’d been watching the drop for days, even though the band had only posted vaguely to something happening, with a link to a blank webpage with a countdown. No one had known what it was they were hinting at, and even though Levi had what he thought was every e-commerce website preloaded to ensure a fulfilled order no matter what website hosted a flash sale, the limited edition merch he’d coveted since the launch went live was now nothing more than a distant dream. Maybe he didn’t click fast enough. Maybe the slight error in the shipping address that had forced him to re-enter his details had pushed him out of the running. Maybe Sucre Frenzy knew that he was just a worthless shut in, and didn’t deserve the special treatment. Maybe he just wasn’t good enough after all. He should have known.

A frantic knock at his bedroom door registered dimly in the midst of his self-deprecating spiral. It isn’t until his tail, flicking anxiously behind him, knocks over the stack of manga next to his desk and he hears the sound of your voice on the other side of the door, that his thoughts grind to a halt long enough to push his body into action. 

It’s muscle memory that gets him up, still half-lost in his head, and leads him to the door. He’s speaking the other half of this week’s special passphrase before he even realizes he’s doing it. He reaches for the door handle, then pauses. For a moment, he watches his hand tremble, and hears you again. 

“Levi?”

Sucking in a breath, he opens the door, and the smile you wear nearly blinds him. You’re clutching your DDD to your chest and look fit to bursting. 

“So?” you chirp. “Did you see it?  I bet you’re excited to get it all! We don’t even know exactly what they’re giving us!” 

Us. You had managed to get your hands on the drop. Jealousy sparks in his chest, sharp and biting, and for a moment, he resents you. He was the one who introduced you to Sucre Frenzy, and now you were the competition. In the next moment, a bucket of cold shame is dumped over his head. He couldn’t be angry with you, not really, not when your eyes sparkle in the ambient light of Henry’s fish tank. The green monster still coats his tongue as he speaks. His tail swishes over the tile behind him as he grips the side of his bedroom door, attempting to shield himself from your exuberance. 

“I didn’t get it.” It sounds pathetic in his head, but comes out of his mouth as a snarl. Your expression falls. 

“Oh.” You take a step forward, maybe without even thinking about it, and he begins to shut the door without thinking either. “Oh, Levi.”

Your foot stops him from shutting himself out completely, and you slip inside. “What happened? You’re usually lightning fast.” Your gaze slides to his monitor setup, and you take a step before stopping yourself, turning back to him to await a response and permission to continue. He can’t find anything to say, but forces something out anyway as jealousy clouds his mind. 

“It’s stupid.” 

Your hand settles on his arm, soft and unobtrusive. Your brow is furrowed, and while your eyes are sad, your voice is firm. “You’re not stupid.”

Levi realizes he’d said I’m stupid. Shame shocks down his spine twofold. You hated it when he talked down to himself. Hot tears well in his eyes as he shuts his bedroom door and crowds his body against it, forehead pressed to the wood and shoulders hunched forward. Your hand slips from him in the process, and his tail curls around both of his legs. Now he had not only lost out on this once-in-a-lifetime drop, but he’d disappointed you, too. He really was a useless idiot. 

“I hope you like your merch,” he says. He means it, at least partially, but you can hear the jealousy in his voice. “Just leave me alone.”

You’re silent for a second. Levi waits for the word of encouragement you’re sure to leave before you go, holding back angry tears until he can hear the door shut behind you.

“Levi. I didn’t get this drop for me. You can have it.” 

He doesn’t believe you. He was too slow, not well prepared enough, he didn’t deserve the merch. He wasn’t quick and bright, like you. He wishes you would leave him to his misery, but it seems you’re not done.

“Not to mention, I can’t leave.”

He glares at you from over his shoulder. “Why not?”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you gesture to him. “You’re standing in front of the door.”

He is, you’re right again, and the third hit to his fragile ego is enough to shatter it. All mirth vanishes from your face as his chin quivers and tears finally spill over his lashes. 

“Leviathan,” you say, gently, and he allows you to take him into your arms. His tail wraps around you before the rest of him, and you hold him with one hand bracing the back of his neck, and the other secured around his waist, pressed as close as you can be. He buries his face into your neck, and your cheek rests over his ear. “I mean it,” you continue as he shakes. “I know you like to have one thing to use and one to preserve, so I figured I would try to snag a second set. It won’t be exactly how you want, but I really only wanted to get it at all for you.” 

A whine pulls from his throat. He knows you well enough by now to know you’re telling the truth. You’re too good to him. 

Your hand strokes his hair, nails catching on the base of one of his antlers. “Shit happens. It isn’t your fault you didn’t make it this time, but you also have your Henry as backup. I’d never let my Lord of Shadows miss out on something I know is important, if I can help it.”

You pull away, and he reluctantly lets you, but can’t bear to look at your face. Your gentle fingers brush his long bangs out of his eyes, and the hem of your sleeve brushes over his ruddy cheeks, catching a few more tears. “I love you more than any piece of merch. And who knows, maybe Mammon caught on to the hype and managed to get in to turn it at a million grimm markup. I bet I can convince him to -ahem- permanently loan it to you. Through me.” 

This makes him chuckle, and he risks a glance at you to see you smiling. Your expression, coupled with your touch still tingling on his face, soothes over the hurt like a balm. 

“Thank you, MC.” 

You set his heart pounding again by pressing a trail of kisses across his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. “Of course. Now, they leaked a new music video link in my receipt email, so we have to watch it before anyone else does.” 

This brightens him significantly. “Really? Yeah!” He breaks away to bound over to his computer. You forward him the link, and pull your matching gaming chair next to his, settling in to help him liveblog his reaction. 

You’re true to your word, and when the conspicuously large package arrives a few weeks later, you’re breathless at his door in seconds. You hold the camera while he livestreams the unboxing, and neither of you is sure who is smiling brighter.

[bumblesimagines]

Headcanon:

Being Oberyn's lover

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

~~~

Oberyn is an infamous man for several reasons, some of which include the rumors of his usage of poison during duels and an interest in the dark arts. Posion-laced swords and dark arts aside, one of the most notable things about him is his multitude of lovers. From men to women, nobles to brothel workers, Oberyn is no stranger to sex and hardly a stranger to love. He may have a wandering eye but his heart remains fiercely loyal to his lovers/paramours and his many daughters whom he deeply cares for despite their bastard status. 

As such, it is no surprise that you catch Oberyn's eye during one of his trips with Ellaria throughout Westeros. He needs little convincing to speak to you and is as smooth as butter when he begins flirting. While he enjoys giggling maidens or blushing lords, his interest spikes when you come off as indifferent to his charm. He is a Dornishman and Dornishmen love a challenge, especially when he notices your eyes linger on him for far too long to be uninterested. 

Of course, Oberyn mentions his interest to Ellaria, for she is essentially his wife and the mother of many of his daughters. Ellaria provides her approval and encouragement, even going as far as befriending you and acting as some sort of wingwoman to her lover. You quickly put together her involvement in Oberyn's plan to woo you and while it's unusual at first, you learn that it's not so odd in Dorne. A cat-and-mouse game ensues and Oberyn's interest becomes all the more clear to others.

Oberyn's main love languages are gift-giving and physical touch, although he'll provide every other love language known to mankind. Since Oberyn's interest extends past sex, you'll be properly courted by him and this will include countless lavish gifts. He is a prince, after all, and his wealth knows little bounds. You can expect a variety of gifts, from clothes to brooches and anything you can think of. You mention wanting something? Expect that very thing sitting in your room the next day. Oberyn is also very handsy with his lovers and always has a hand on them or has them sit on his lap. He's still a prince and gentleman, however, so he will keep his hands to himself until you are comfortable enough with him. Once he has that green light, expect to find his hand resting on your waist or back, and don't be surprised if it wanders.

 You nod along to the lord as he speaks, absentmindedly listening to the conversation about lands and such. None of it really interests you as you're the thirdborn in your family and the likelihood of you ever needing to know much of what he spoke of was slim. The conversation shifts onto his children as he recalls a funny story and then begins the prodding.

"I hear you remain unwed." The Lord hums thoughtfully and strokes his beard. "We've been searching for someone to wed my second eldest-"

"My Lord," A familiar voice greets from behind and sends a welcomed jolt up your spine, unable to contain the smile before it breaks out on your face. Oberyn steps up beside you and his lips curl up in a genuine smile for you, the palm of his hand pressing soothingly against your lower back and slowly creeping to wrap his fingers around your hip. He holds eye contact, even as he speaks to the man. "I'm afraid I'll have to steal this one from you, My Lord." He simply states and without waiting for a response, he sweeps you away from the sputtering lord. 

"Oberyn," You laugh softly and send an apologetic look over your shoulder right before Oberyn leads you fully out of the room. He spins around on his heel and cups your face, his warm skin pressing against yours. His eyes lack their typical sultriness or grumpiness, instead replaced with a fond look that makes you want to look away. He leans forward and kisses you gently. 

"How are you, dearest?" 

Once Oberyn manages to convince the head of your family, you find your belongings packed and ready for Dorne. Oberyn and Ellaria show great excitement and contentment over this, talking about all the things they wish to show you and the people they want you to meet. Dorne is a hot, desert and mountain-covered region but Sunspear is a gorgeous castle surrounded by the ocean and the shadow city. Oberyn's family is welcoming, if not a bit exhausted with him, but they're still warm and kind to you. Though Doran is semi-distant at first, his children are much friendlier and happy to get to know you. After Doran and his children, Ellaria introduces you to the Sand Snakes, Oberyn's countless daughters. Their reactions vary and some are more welcoming than others but all are accepting of their father's decision to take you as a serious lover.

While eager to show you his home, Oberyn first gets you acquainted with your new bedroom and the bed. Oberyn is a versatile lover, although he enjoys being the one in control most times depending on his mood. You can expect to spend a lot of time in bed with Oberyn, and sometimes even with Ellaria. Oberyn is a giver and he'll often have you pinned beneath him until you can take no longer before peppering you with kisses and cooing gentle words in your ear. 

Oberyn is a thoughtful and dutiful lover who ensures you'll never feel left behind or cast away. However, you must be fine with sharing him with others, and even if you find this difficult at times, Ellaria will provide soothing words of advice and comfort. Oberyn will ensure to push away any worries or insecurities and he'll even encourage you to seek out your own lovers, just as long as you always return to him. 

If you are a lady, you can surely expect to fall with child soon after arriving in Dorne. Ellaria, who basically becomes your sister, tends to you and helps you through the process of pregnancy and labor. Oberyn will grow protective during this time and you'll often find him resting his hand over the bump or speaking to it. He'll ensure you are being treated with the utmost care and by the very best. Whether son or daughter, Oberyn will love his child, and the Sand Snakes will be incredibly protective of their newest sibling. 

Oberyn is one of those lovers that still courts you well into the relationship. He continues providing gifts and trying to make you swoon all over just because he feels like it. Getting with Oberyn means having a thoughtful, open-minded lover, a kind sister, and countless deadly stepdaughters willing to fight in your honor if they have to. 

[neptnzz]

finished my sketches from this vs art party!! drew some buddies, some strangers, n i hope everyone likes it!! full potraits and names below the cut! tagging everyone whose url i know for sure

(i hope the colors + features are alright,, some were tricky to see in my screenshots and my tablet/laptop screens need to be calibrated)

Thirdborn Merilai - @straywyvern

Dawnchild Daphne - @creativebrainrot

Researcher Teela

Count Dregris

Lirana Surana - @snaakesnack

Huntress Arlena

Sebastian Nymphaea

Constance Deerheart

Harrow Heartrender

Noelani Keahi

[escailyyy]

So as a fan of Olivia Cooke ( loved her in Bates motel baby)

I always thought that it was sort of ridiculous how were supposed to believe that Olivia Cooke could in any universe be the mother of Ewan Mitchell I mean just look at them.

There are instances in hotd where Ewan/Aemond looks older than Olivia/Alicent. So in my mind it doesn't make sense for them to play mother and son.

Unlike Emma D'Arcy/Rhaenyra with Harry Collet/Jacaerys. Who do look like they have the age gap to be mother and son in some fantasy universe. Olivia and Ewan look so close in age, it's almost pushes past the usual tv induced suspension of disbelief

And then it dawned on me that Alicent and Aemond ARE supposed to look too young to be mother and son. That's the tragedy of it. Alicent had Aegon, Haelena and Aemond at an age where she was better fit to be their older sister, because she WAS the same age as their actual older sister when she married Viserys.

So now as adults Alicent, Aegon, Haelena and Aemond do look more like siblings with a slight age gap between the eldest and the youngest. Than mother and children

The fact that Olivia Cooke looks even younger than Ewan Mitchell, who is playing her thirdborn just adds to the wrongness of what happened to Alicent her because of the desires of the old men around her. And it's so sad that this goes unacknowledged.

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! Could you write a story where reader gets slapped and Helions reacts? Thank you!

Close Call

Helion x reader

A/n: I changed it a little so reader doesn’t get slapped more of an almost situation. I hope you enjoy it

Warnings: drinking, violence, and verbal abuse

Atlas had been a bother all evening. Beron’s thirdborn was notorious for acting like an entitled brat. And for getting far too drunk at gatherings. You and Helion always made sure to steer clear of the Vanserra boys at these events.

You were standing off to the side of the dance floor with Feyre catching up on life stuff. It was a pleasant conversation until you could hear Atlas struggling against his older brother from a few feet away. Eris always tried his best to keep him in line to save him from Beron’s wrath, but it never worked.

You and Feyre attempted to ignore Atlas, but he, unfortunately, made his way over to you two. You link arms with Feyre for safety. Atlas stops next to you, his drink sloshing over the edge of the glass. “Hellooooo, what are you two doing,” a hiccup interrupts him before continuing, “All alone.” Eris rushes up behind him, panicked grabbing his brother's shoulder. You and Feyre stayed silent, trying to inch away from the brothers.

Eris whispered in his ear and Atlas pulls away. He grabs your hand and tries to pull you into him, “Tell me, babe, does Helion keep you...satisfied?” Gross. You hear Feyre speaking in your mind. “Rhys and Helion are coming over. Try and stay calm. I'm with you.” “Thank you.” It comes out more desperate in your mind than you had intended.

Finding a sliver of bravery inside you, you make your voice sound firm, “Let go Atlas.” He lets go, pushing your arm back hard. You go to turn away but Atlas grabs the front of your dress, pulling you from Feyre’s arm. You panic, your heart beating wildly against your chest. You silently prayed to the Mother Helion would get through the crowded room fast.

“Don't be a bitch.” Anger laced his features as he breathed heavily in your face. “Am I going to have to teach you how to keep court relations in tact?”

Feyre and Eris try to pry the two of you apart before anything else can happen. Atlas’ grip is too strong for them. Your eyes go wide as he draws his hand back. Before he could strike Helion and Rhys appeared. Helion grabs Atlas’ wrist, pulling him off of you.

“How fucking dare you Atlas.” Helion hisses out, still clutching Atlas’ wrist and now the front of his tunic. “If I ever see you bothering my Lady again I will kill you.” The stench of fear rolls off Atlas in waves. He nods his head violently as Helion pushes him toward Eris. “Keep your brother contained next time.” Eris gives him the slightest tilt of his head and hauls Atlas away.

Helion turns to you, at the sight of you staring into space in Feyre’s arms he relaxes. “Y/n are you-” You fling your arms around him and bury your head in his chest. He feels you trembling as he wraps his arms around you. “Can we go home?” The question comes out muffled but he still hears you. “Absolutely my love.”

Helion looks to Feyre, “Thank you, for staying with her.” “Of course.” At that, Helion winnows you both to the safety of your home. You loosen your tight grip on him and he scoops you up. “You’re ok love, I promise.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I saw a picture on Pinterest, where Walburga punishes Sirius with spells and Regulus can’t do anything, but crying. So what if thirdborn!Reader stood right between Sirius and Walburga, shielding Sirius from their mother and doesn’t move away until Walburga stops? And I’m sure that Walburga wouldn’t hurt her beloved child, meanwhile Sirius and Regulus are worried, because they don’t know what to expect from their mother.

So, what do you think about it?

If Walburga had her senses about her than she wouldn’t intentionally hurt her precious beloved child by any means. But I could see Walburga being in a frenzied rage and blindly firing spells only to end up hitting the Reader a quite a few times. By the time Walburga realizes what’s happened the Reader has fallen unconscious to the floor in a crumpled mess. Sirius is desperately trying to wake them up or get some kind of reaction out of them to see if their okay but this would only enrage Walburga more. She completely and utterly blames Sirius for his sibling being hurt and unresponsive.

In her delusion she wholeheartedly puts him at fault for it causing Sirius to retaliate out of anger and throw his own blame at her for her actions. A massive fight would ensue with Walburga and Sirius shouting, hurling obscenities and deplorable things at each other while Regulus is knelt over his sibling trying to give them some form of aid. It takes Regulus screaming at the two for them to bring their attention back to the situation at hand, he would also yell for Kreacher to come and do something for the Reader.

I have no doubt that Walburga would keep the Reader from being taken to St. Mungo’s to be treated, that is unless the Reader was in dire need. She doesn’t want to come up with a story of why her child had been damn near basically tortured. She doesn’t want anyone to think it was her, nor does she want either Sirius or Regulus saying something to either get the Reader taken from her or have her admitted due to questions of her own sanity. She also doesn’t want Orion finding out about this incident whatsoever but if he were to Walburga would put everything on Sirius and how he had ‘attacked’ their beloved child.

Walburga would be completely adamant about taking on the Reader’s care to recovery, she wants to be by their side the whole entire time until they get better. Meanwhile, Sirius and Regulus want her no where near their sibling and have every intention of telling their father exactly what happened, that something needs to be done with their mother if she’s blindly attacking her precious bby. Regulus would also tell Kreacher to keep an eye on Walburga with the Reader. He would also have Kreacher tend to the Reader without his mother’s knowledge, ensuring that his younger sibling gets the care they really need.

Sirius knows he wasn’t at fault for what happened to his youngest sibling, he knows he didn’t do anything to them with his own hands but he can’t help but feel like he had a part in them getting hurt. He was powerless, useless, vulnerable to their mother’s wrath and he couldn’t do anything about it but his own baby sibling didn’t even think twice about steeping in between him and their mother to protect him. It should have been him protecting them, protecting Regulus. He shouldn’t have let the Reader get hurt but at the end of the day it was their mother who did this, not him.

Regulus is feeling his own shame and guilt over what happened. He couldn’t do anything for Sirius. He couldn’t do anything for the Reader. He just couldn’t do anything. He was stuck in his place, at first out of fear of taking Sirius’ place but then he was frozen in shock as he watched his youngest sibling be pelted with spell upon spell. He can’t even remember if he heard their scream or if they even screamed at all. Next thing he knew was that they were unresponsive on the ground and his mother and brother were arguing as if they completely forgot about their very wounded family member. This only brought out Regulus’ own desperation and panic for the situation as he screamed to get their attention and to get Kreacher’s help. Once he had time to process and collect himself enough he couldn’t believe that his mother had the audacity to blame Sirius for her own actions and even going as far as telling their father that too. It made Regulus’ blood boil, especially when his mother insisted on not taking the Reader to be tended to at St. Mungo’s and instead that she would take care of them.

This would only push Regulus and Sirius closer in their alliance and vow to keep the Reader safe from their mother all the more. They never thought Walburga would hurt the Reader either but they never considered that she would be so enveloped in her own wrath that she would continuously go after whatever was in her path, including her most beloved child. Given that Orion will find out one way or another, whether his sons tell him or he finds out on his own, he will be plotting his own plan to keep his family safe and well. Even if that includes not having Walburga in the picture anymore. He could tolerate a lot, he could turn a blind eye to quite a bit but hurting their youngest child was enough for him, among other things. This is just what broke it all for him and that he needs to take action now.

[sewercentipede]

thirdborn

[witchthewriter]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

ISTJ

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral > Evil?

The Emperor Reversed 

Scorpio Sun, Aries Mooon, Pisces Rising

Also known as Aemond One-Eye and later Kinslayer, he was the thirdborn child and secondborn son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent Hightower. A notable part of his physical appearance played a big part in his personality; Aemond lost one of his eyes during an altercation with his young cousins in his childhood. In its place he wore a sapphire, but commonly donned an eyepatch as to not frighten ladies at court. 

  The animosity between Rhaenyra and Alicent had been passed on to their children. Rhaenyra’s three sons; Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey despised Alicent’s three; Aegon II, Aemond and Daeron. With each encounter tension brewed and brewed. And none of the ploys of Viserys to draw his family closer to one another worked. In fact, for the boys it did the opposite. 

 In his youth, Aemond held a lot of bitterness for the family members who had dragons and dragon eggs. It tormented him greatly. Yet one night Aemond claimed the biggest dragon in all of Westeros; Vhagar. However, it was upon this night that while he gained one thing invaluable, he lost something in turn. 

  With a fight against four of his cousins, Lucerys wounded Aemond’s face so harshly that his left eye could never be recovered. This had been foreseen by Helaena, Aemond’s eldest and only sister. 

 Aemond seemingly had the closest relationship with his mother out of all her children. His relationship with his father seemed...empty. But in his youth Viserys did oversee some of his training, however, his sickness developed quickly and substantially. 

It was said that Aemond was a great swordsman, but had a dangerous temper. The latter was proved true as he had slain Lucerys and Arrax at Storm’s End. This forced Rhaenyra’s hand and the Dance of the Dragons began. 

[galedekarios]

oc meme

name: altonaufein, kulg llarzoran ithrana d'qu'ellar hlarahel

ages ago, when i was trying to find a name for my drow cleric, i was looking to create a drow name and drow house name that would reflect the role he would play within his house, while at the same time reflecting his backstory and journey:

altonaufein -> powerful, eyes of / seer of the way kulg -> male offspring in the house llarzoran -> three, thirdborn ithrana -> name of his mother, matron of the house d'qu'ellar -> of house hlarahel -> seers of, the gods

nickname: alton

alton has been called a lot of things in his life.

he was named altonaufein at birth, his designation as a male is kulg llarzoran ithrana d'qu'ellar hlarahel. during his captivity, he was called auflaque. when he finally fled and made it to the settlement, surrounding a small ilmater temple, he was called treated both with suspicion and fear, but also kindness and an open hand. he was called alton only ever by karl. in time, gale comes to call him alton too - and much, much later alurlssrin.

gender: male

star sign: aries

height: 160 cm, on the taller side for a drow

orientation: gay

race: drow

romancing: karl eifers (oc), gale dekarios

i've written more about alton's backstory and karl's part in it here in more detail.

fave fruit: wild strawberries. one of the first little fanciful things on the surface he took a liking to. at camp, he can often be found reading a book he nicked from the grove. the flora and fauna of faerun.

fave season: late summer, early autumn.

alton enjoys the balmy warmth around that time of year, a contrast to the cold dampness of ust natha that has seeped into his bones.

fave flower: wood anemones. they grew plentiful around the small settlement and ilmater temple that altonaufein lived at before the nautiloid attack.

fave scent: the crisp smell of a cold forest, the salty sea breeze, the soap-clean scent of skin

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: ever since i found coffee in the actual game, i am convinced that alton would drink tons of it. only making his anxiety & overthinking worse too.

average sleep hours: four. a trance usually lasts that long. he's a very light sleeper due to necessity and his paranoia about being found and brought back to the underdark. to ust natha.

i do think that after the game, once he's settled fully into his new life in waterdeep, with gale's coaxing and own habits, he sleeps in more and more, and trances longer.

dogs or cats: cats. alton isn't really used to pets at all. the first experience he had with them was back at the temple where karl fed a little anxious thing of a black cat. sometimes it would curl up to him and he would freeze and just let it do its thing, confused when it started purring up a storm.

but he learned to find it comforting. it was rewarding to pet it and treat it gently, learn to give and receive affection in this way.

dream trip: i don't think alton has one. he's too focused on them surviving the journey. reaching waterdeep maybe. for gale.

amount of blankets: one. he's very utalitarian and can make do with nothing at all if need be. yet again, once settled in waterdeep, he's very much able to learn to enjoy the finer things in life.

random fact(s):

-he's not a perfect eilistraeen and has little knowledge about her or her customs, gale helps him learn & shares what knowledge he has, as eilistraee has a bond with mystra and is known in waterdeep - and through this, they bond during the very early days of the journey -he always wears an ilmater pendant, stolen from karl, and it's his most priced possession -he later buys a medaillon, holding a small piece of parchment (on it are written the names of those important to him, people who have been kind to him - it's a reminder of how far he's come, a motivation to keep going, to keep fighting no matter how grim things are) -alton can't swim and is afraid of deeper water (he wouldn't ever show that fear) -he adopts myshka and takes him to waterdeep

tagging (with zero pressure): @ayrennaranaaldmeri, @messiahzzz, @lairofsentinel, @shibepetter, @rahabs, @wild-magic-oops, @friberchi, @leopardmuffinxo, @hawke, @zahra-hydris, @thenightsong, @fuzzy-set, @inkberrry, @waterdeep

if anyone else wants to do this, please do so and feel free to tag me. 🖤

[turtle-paced]

Do you think Tywin would have had the same reaction to Genna being betrothed to an heir to a more venerable house say a young Bronze Yohn rather than the second son of the "upstart" Freys? or is it just that the betrothal was a non-Lannister?

Here's Genna's recount of what happened:

"I was seven when Walder Frey persuaded my lord father to give my hand to Emm. His second son, not even his heir. Father was himself a thirdborn son, and younger children crave the approval of their elders. Frey sensed that weakness in him, and Father agreed for no better reason than to please him. My betrothal was announced at a feast with half the west in attendance. Ellyn Tarbeck laughed and the Red Lion went angry from the hall. The rest sat on their tongues. Only Tywin dared speak against the match. A boy of ten." Jaime V, AFFC

What it looks like to me is that first, there's who Genna was betrothed to. A second son, not set to inherit much of anything, when Genna was the daughter of the Lord of Casterly Rock. It being the Freys almost certainly didn't help - it's not like Genna was being betrothed to a prince of the realm here.

The second is the how. It looks like Tytos was thoroughly outbargained in a way highly revealing of his personal weaknesses as a negotiator, and everyone could see it. Seeing his father's public humiliation had to feed into Tywin's own nascent beliefs and his subsequent protest against the match.

[tanoraqui]

excerpT Tuesday

Inspired by the excellent pieces @thelordofgifs has been sharing of their Fëanor/Nerdanel fic, I wrote a whole little scene of my very-slowly-written Finarfin Beats the Shit Out Of Morgoth fic! [not real title]

Unsurprisingly, the gathered forces of the last of the Noldor and their allies, armed and ready for a venture into the very realm of Discord, ended up waiting outside Angband’s fallen gates while engineers and scouts did their best to confirm that the entrance itself wouldn’t slay the next elf to set foot within it. Thus was war!

Finarfin stood easily. His way forward was clear. He watched from across the rallying-ground as Elwing and Eärendil’s sons, who wished to join the main thrust of the attack, argued with Gil-Galad, Galadriel and Maglor, all briefly united in strident opposition to that wish. It was the most genuinely animated that Finarfin had seen Maglor on this cursed shore.

“How is the sword?” asked Celebrimbor, who, like his last living uncles, had invited himself unasked into Finarfin’s vanguard. For this final battle, for the first time that Finarfin had seen, he wore plate and surcoat emblazoned with the eight-pointed star. In addition to his own ruby-hilted greatsword, he bore half a dozen throwing knives, narrow blades all marked with Curufin’s personal crest.

He also retained a distinctly proprietary interest in the craft of his own hands, even when it had been a collaborative project and already handed off to its proper wielder. Finarfin had made his own sword in Aman, the first he’d ever owned, after he woke one night from pain like claws in his chest and knew his firstborn dead. Scant years after knowing, in his and Eärwen’s hearts if nothing else, their second- and thirdborns dead, and Fingolfin at their heels, and countless others. He had consulted philosophies on the nature of Ainur, on the nature of Discord and its defiance, and—with no clear thought of when he’d use it, only that it was this or fade from grief—he’d forged a blade honed for the specific purpose of slaying Melkor.

When he’d arrived in Middle Earth at last, after countless more wrenching deaths and a Silmaril-flash of hope, he’d shown it to Celebrimbor, who was much grown from the restless octogenarian Finarfin remembered. Fëanor’s grandson had held it for a few moments, murmuring, “Oh…oh!”; interrogated him on its making for an hour; then vanished. They’d repeated this interaction several times over the next decades, until one day Celebrimbor, along with a dwarf and man whose names Finarfin never learned but who bore the signs of master crafters, presented him with a new sword. It was called Anan-Noldoron, Justice of the Noldor, he was informed in no uncertain terms; and it would achieve his aims, if anything could.

He drew it now, in the sunlight before Morgoth’s cracked-open gates. Anan-Noldoron shone like flame in the rays of Laurelin’s legacy. Its balance was perfect. It was long, but Finarfin was tall. It brought some of the same peace and purity as the hospital tents, honed to a ruthless edge.

Celebrimbor took it unasked, tested its weight, and handed it back with a judicious nod. He hadn’t really outgrown his youthful restlessness.

Across the field, Elrond and Elros lost their argument, and were consigned to the forces who would stay outside, at the back of the forces waiting to catch the flushed prey. Galadriel thoroughly won hers; her young king, Gil-Galad, looked surprised to realize he’d agreed to stay with them.

(Finarfin knew his daughter followed him into strategy meetings for her own ambition and because she knew that he couldn’t bear to turn her away. She called him “Father” and he drank it in; she never addressed him with any formal title that diplomacy didn’t demand.)

The engineers declared themselves satisfied and all the scouts returned alive and unharmed.

Finarfin hadn’t resheathed his sword. He gestured, and Amarië raised her trumpet to sound the final advance.

Tagging anyone who is inspired to work on their own stubborn WIP!