#wyverns bay

[esotheria-sims]

I'm sorry for having to end the Blackbird round just as things start to get interesting! But methinks that was more than enough excitement for one rotation. 🤣 They have an uncertain yet interesting future ahead of them, but for now, let's cast a look back into their past and recap everything that transpired during their dramatic 4th week:

- In true Knowledge sim fashion, Marcus and Gabriel were hard at work sharpening their respective skills. While Marcus focused primarily on his magic, Gabriel was working towards earning new charisma, logic, and creativity points. Annika, meanwhile, was focused mostly on the physical, honing her body skill through diligent sword practice!

- Naturally, all the hard work yielded results: Gabriel earned two promotions at work (and is now at Level 8 - Judge), Marcus reached maximum Good alignment, and Annika is just one point away from maxing her Body skill!

- Having celebrated his 20th birthday, Marcus has officially entered the realm of Adulthood! He had a big party to celebrate the occasion, and got some extremely nice (and expensive) gifts from the royal family!

- He was also gifted his very own flying broom by Gabriel, which he promptly put to use by taking a fun trip into town with his BFF Phillip!

- While out and about, Marcus and Phillip ran into the new girl in town, Winona Tanner. A round of causal flirtation between her and Marcus resulted in a mutual crush! 💞

- Annika discovered some disturbing news: her and Phillip's dalliance resulted in a pregnancy! To avoid being found out by her father and brother, she hatched an extreme plan: packing her things, she ran away from home...

- Gabriel and Marcus were devastated when they realized Annika went missing. They mobilized the entire town in search for her, but in the end, it was Gabriel who brought her home... but not before he came face to face with a living, (fire)breathing dragon.

- Despite the tragedy that befell the family, dues had to be paid. Marcus remembered to send their usual $750 worth of taxes to the Crown.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…

It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.

You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.

Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.

“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.

Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”

An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.

“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.

“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”

You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.

“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.

You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.

“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”

You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.

Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?

Typical!

The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.

Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.

Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.

Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”

You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”

The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”

Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.

Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.

Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”

“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”

“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”

You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”

“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.

“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.

You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.

You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”

“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.

You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.

When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.

“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.

Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”

~ More imagines here ~

[profound-imagination]

Broken Promises - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: I thought I'd try something different and write for the TOG characters! There's not enough fics on here about them and Fenrys is my favourite lil wolf boy ❤️ This could definitely have a part 2 if people want it! I hope you like it!❤️

W/C: 2.8K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The last place you thought you'd be was chasing ghosts with three fae males and another human girl, but here you were. All for that insufferable wolf. The one you couldn't shake from the moment you'd met him in Skull's Bay. Not to mention the young Queen of Terrasen who Rowan Whitethorn would hunt to the ends of the earth for, the four of you in tow.

It had been the most exhausting two months of your life, how Elide coped you didn't know, Gavriel's kindness in using his magic to brace her ankle was only a small part of it you were sure. How Rowan endured the empty mating bond was again a mystery. The other mystery that haunted you was why you so desperately needed to go with them, why you needed the wolf to be safe. He'd made his choices, he'd sworn himself to Maeve, he'd done this to himself and he'd broken his promises to you and he'd broken you in the process, but still you went.

Sea air caressed your face as you sat on deck watching the sun disappear in the horizon. You sensed him seconds before he sat next to you and drawled, "Mind if I join you?" You met his onyx eyes, "It appears you already have, Lord Fenrys." He snorted at that. "Just Fenrys, I'm no Lord." You smiled at him slightly and looked back out to the water, "How did you come to be such a close companion of the King?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at Dorian.

"Our mothers are friends, we are close in age so growing up, Dorian would be running around causing chaos, Chaol running behind him trying to fix whatever Dorian broke and I'd be behind both of them, just wanting to be involved." Fenrys chuckled, "I can picture that, the three of you being nightmares." You smiled as a memory hit, "Once, when we were 7, a boy from a visiting noble family pushed me over in the courtyard and poured his juice all over me because I wanted to play with them. He told me I was to be a Lady not a Knight and therefore I couldn't play Knights with them, when I refused he pushed me as hard as he could then poured his juice all over my new dress, I still have the scar on my knee. Dorian punched him so hard his nose broke and demanded he apologise and replace my dress. We were both screaming so loud our mothers thought we were being attacked, when they found us Chaol and Dorian were holding me and telling me I could be anything I wanted to be, if I wanted to be a knight, Chaol would train me himself and Dorian would name me the Kings Knight." Fenrys laughed then, a proper laugh, loud enough that Dorian, Aelin and Rowan all peered over at the two of you from the conversation they'd been having. "And are you? The King's Knight?" He asked, you smiled again and shook your head, "No, that job was always Chaol's, I took a more subtle job, as a lady of the court, I always had information and I was always listening." He raised an eyebrow, "So she's a spy." You grinned, "Something like that."

A friendship had formed between the two of you after that, it wasn't exactly a secret that Gavriel and Fenrys were trusted very little by everyone on the ship but you, the two warriors had given you no reason not to trust them so you made them be your friends instead, Gavriel was full of kindness and sorrow, sorrow for the son that couldn't yet look at him let alone speak to him, instead he'd ask you questions about him so you told him what you knew of Aedion Ashryver, the Wolf of the North. Fenrys was full of mischief and witty comments, often using that strange place jumping power of his to scare the life out of you, but you couldn't deny you had started to grow a soft spot for both of them.

"Have you been to war?" You asked them one evening, watching the Wyvern who had landed on deck not long ago in wonder. "Many times." Gavriel confirmed. "Do we stand a chance at this one?" His eyes met yours. "Are you worried that you don't?" He asked gently. "I'm worried that I won't live long enough to find out. I've had some training, but it was mainly self defense, I don't know how to wield a sword or a bow." His eyebrows bunched but it was Fenrys who spoke, "You'll see the new world, Y/N, I'll train you the best I can, so will Gavriel and I won't leave your side when the time comes, nothing will happen to you." You met his eyes, staring at him as if you could see into his soul, "You promise?" Your voice sounding weaker than you intended it to. "I swear it." Deciding not to pull on that thread of a promise you asked, "Do you think he'll let me pet him?" Gavriel snorted a laugh but Fenrys had gone pale, "Do not touch the Wyvern, Y/N!" You grinned at him, "I'm not going to but I am going to ride a Wyvern before this war is over."

You'd known deep in your soul that it was an oath he couldn't keep, the blood oath he'd sworn would pull him away from you sooner or later. He'd tried his best though, to train you, to keep you safe.

The Stone Marshes was a despicable place, one that should've never been entered, yet here you were, panting on your back and gritting your teeth as Aedion prepared gods knew what for everyone to eat on your first night in them. "Again." Fenrys commanded as you pulled yourself from the ground, "If you can disarm me, you can disarm anyone." You gritted your teeth and stood your ground, preparing to strike again when Rowan called him away to start his watch, you'd take him his meal later you decided.

Dorian sidled up beside you, he'd been unusually quiet these past few days. "So…the wolf?" He questioned with a smirk and you felt your cheeks heat, "So…the witch?" You questioned back. His smirk turned feline. "Fair enough." You laughed at him. "There's nothing between us, he's training me, we're going to war, Dorian and Chaol isn't here to teach me." His face fell. "Why did you stay? In the castle with me?" He asked quietly, so you were doing this now then, the conversation that had yet to happen about why you'd stayed while he was enslaved by the collar. "Because Chaol couldn't." Dorian's eyes turned stormy, "Y/N-" You cut him off, "I didn't want you to be alone, Dorian. I didn't know if you were still in there, but if you were, I didn't want you to be alone." He smiled gently and took your hand, his movements tracked, you noticed, by the white haired witch across the fire and the White Wolf on the rocks above.

"I don't deserve the loyalty you and Chaol give me." You squeezed his hand and smiled at him gently, "We don't give it to you blindly, Dorian, we give it to you because we believe in you and the world you'll help create. I give it to you for the little boy who got in heaps of trouble for breaking a bullies nose for me when we were seven, I give it to you for rejecting any and all proposed marriage matches for me, for always making sure I have a choice, in every aspect of my life." He sighed, pulling you into his side, his movements still being tracked, "I feel like I haven't given you one in this. You're being dragged into a war, I should've found you somewhere safe." Pressing closer into his side you said, "I had a choice, I could've gone with Chaol and Nesryn, but they have eachother and you'd have been alone, I chose to stay with you." He kissed the top of your head then, and Manon tensed ever so slightly across the fire and the White Wolf above loped away.

You were sure you did not want to know what Aedion had served you for dinner, you'd agreed with Aelin when she asked to never be told what she was eating. Balancing a bowl of whatever Aedion had cooked up in one hand and a skin of water in the other you trugged up the slope to find Fenrys. Your right foot caught in a root and your left began to slide backwards when you felt a weight behind you, pushing you back upright. You turned and smiled at the wolf. "I bought you dinner, I don't know what it is, I thought best not to ask, but I don't know if you hunt and eat as a wolf but I didn't want you to be hungry if you didn't and I just assumed that you did," You were well aware you were rambling and you cringed at yourself. With a flash the wolf was a man again and he took the bowl from your hands. "Thank you, Y/N." You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he studied you, "Show me your footwork and the moves we went through yesterday while I eat?" He asked as he handed you the dagger from its sheath at his hip. So you did.

Halfway through the steps he asked, "So you and Dorian?" You stopped, "What about me and Dorian?" His eyes hardened, "You seemed very close earlier?" Was he jealous? "He asked me why I stayed in the castle after Chaol fled." He nodded once, "Why did you?" He asked, so you told him, "I don't think he remembers, I told him the scars on my face were from the castle shattering, but it was that thing inside him, trying to break him, he shouldn't have to live with that when it wasn't him that did it, not really" Fenrys clenched his jaw, "There's nothing like that between Dorian and I, not now." His eyebrows rose, "Not now?" Your cheeks heated again, "Well, there never really was, just this this one time when we were 16, we decided to have our first time together after too much wine, we thought it was a good idea to get it over and done with, to take the pressure away from it being with someone we were interested in romantically." He nodded again, "I don't regret it." You weren't sure why you felt the need to add that on but you did. "It was awful." You confessed and finally Fenrys laughed, "That's often the way with first times." You smiled at him, "I don't see him like that, nor does he see me like that." He took a breath and made another oath, "No one will touch you again." The conversation was left there, "Show me the steps once more then go and get some rest." That night and every other night spent in the Marshes, you woke to a White Wolf curled around you, one of its Onyx eyes open, always watching. It was never spoken about. Nor was it spoken about how Fenrys had thrown himself off of the rocks he was shooting arrows at the Ilken from when Aelin's power exploded and threw himself over you like a shield.

It hurt to think about what happened on the beach, you'd spotted Lorcan jump in a long boat heading to shore where he'd left Elide, Gavriel and Fenrys long gone, the blood oath calling them to their master you were sure. Elide had become your friend and you were teaching her how to read and write, so you jumped and swam. You couldn't imagine how much it hurt Rowan, to have arrived too late, you knew he'd have let himself be killed to get Aelin to safety. It gutted you to see the warriors powerless and it made you sick to your stomach as you watched Aelin be whipped over and over again, refusing to count.

Fenrys knew he was helpless from the moment he and Gavriel appeared right where Maeve had summoned them, he'd fought it for as long as he could, they both had. Before they'd used his power to jump from the boat he'd looked at her one last time, to find her already watching him, both betrayal and understanding shone in her eyes and he couldn't take it, so, like a coward, he'd grabbed Gavriel and they were gone.

The young Queen, his young Queen wasn't going to last, each whip sounded like the earth was shattering, Gavriel was still trying to right himself from the blood oath being ripped from him, Lorcan was doing the same, Elide was hissing at him like an angry cat, to fight it, to help Aelin, to do something, she pleaded with the witch as well. He wouldn't be so lucky, he knew that. Maeve wouldn't take the oath from him knowing how much he openly despised it. He didn't think he could despise it more until her scent hit him, she was coming and he couldn't stop her, she breezed past him, throwing herself at Maeve, his dagger in hand, the same one he'd handed her this morning, with another promise that he would be close by, the dark queen simply laughed at her and flicked her wrist as darkness slammed into Y/N and sent her flying backwards, he wasn't quick enough to stop the warning growl that left his throat and Maeve's smile turned snakelike.

"Fenrys," She crooned, "Keep your new pet controlled and on the ground." He gritted his teeth, he would not do it, he would not obey. He would not- "Would you rather I ask Cairn to give her the same treatment as my dear niece?" He was moving instantly, he pulled her up as gently as he could. "Please." She begged him quietly, "Don't do this, help her." Silver lined her eyes and Fenrys couldn't look at her. "Such a pretty face." Maeve purred as she dragged the tip of her dagger from Y/N's forehead to her jaw, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to be a warning to Fenrys. Instead Maeve struck her with her other hand. He swore he could hear Y/N's teeth rattle as her lip split, she struggled against him, absolute betrayal was all he saw in her face now. "Down, in the sand." Maeve commanded and so he pushed her down so she was lying face down in the sand, she had to hate him, he had to make sure she wouldn't follow, "You promised." She whimpered. Maeve laughed again, Aelin contained in her coffin, she commanded him to leave, his eyes met Gavriel's. Don't let her move, he willed his friend as he stood. Gavriel was there, pulling her up and into his chest as she shouted down the beach after him. "You swore!" Each word like a hot poker to his heart. "You swore you'd be here, that you wouldn't leave!" So Fenrys did the worst thing he could think of, he stopped next to Maeve who was watching him carefully, "I lied, pathetic human. You really thought I'd stay, for you?" He raised an eyebrow at her and saw his words hit their mark, saw her shrink into Gavriel's chest, then, to seal it, to truly break any trust or hope she had in him or for him, he turned to the dark queen and kissed her. "I missed you Majesty."

Fenrys woke with a jolt, Aelin watching him from the stone slab, a dream, it was a dream. She blinked at him. I am here, I am with you. It was either dreams of her, or his brother, which is why he tried his best not to sleep until his body gave out from the exhustion.

You and Gavriel had never spoken of those minutes on the beach where you'd clung to him like he was a teather to the earth, he healed your lip silently as you cried, as Elide pushed away from Lorcan and crawled towards Manon. Aedion pulled you away from his father with a growl, "What happened?" He demanded and through your tears all you could do was shake your head, he asked again and again until Dorian had pushed him away, folding you into his chest. Rowan holding a knife to Lorcan, he was saved by Elide who retold the story.

So a plan was made, Rowan would go with Gavriel, Lorcan and Elide to find her. Dorian was reluctant to let you go with them but he knew you'd go regardless so he agreed and went with the witches. Aedion and Lysandra disguised as Aelin would head back up North.

You were walking arm in arm with Elide when it happened, Gavriel and Lorcan in front of you stopped dead, Rowan taking up the rear was frozen on the hill. "What's happening?" Elide asked Gavriel as he and Lorcan rushed towards Rowan. The two of you caught the tail end of the conversation. "It came from the North, from Doranelle." Rowan looked lighter than he had in weeks, "She's alive." He breathed.

[breathingsbooks]

Fenrys x Reader

You watched Rowan leap in between Aelin and Skull’s Bay, her eyes went wide. A heartbeat later she swung her arm away from him. Instincts bleating, you reacted, screaming for your men to MOVE. You lunged for the crew you had stationed near the young queen. The blast sounded, the shouting and splitting wood barely registered as you grabbed the nearest pirate and yanked him past you. The force of the eruption launched your body into the air.

You felt the searing pain in your leg before you hit the water. Your body tumbled in the chaos as you flung your arms around, trying to gain your bearings. You clenched your fists, the water around you steadied, allowing you to claw your way up to the surface. Fighting to get air in your lungs as you took in the destruction around you. Three Valg ships remained, and the Sea Dragon was reduced to rubble, floating on the waves. A breath of relief rushed out when you noticed most of your men survived, Rolfe hauling them onto Lysandra’s scaled back on the far side of the ruined ship.

A head of silver hair flashed in the corner of your eye. Rowan was cutting through the water, aiming for a reef not too far off. Remembering the sea wyverns, you swam for it too. Clamping your teeth on your lip as you paddled for the reef, the pain in your leg bellowed, slowing you down. The magic escaped your grasp as you tried to get the water to push you forward. Have you really run out already? It seemed too soon to be depleted, but this damn magic stuff was hard. You had to learn how to control it, clearly teaching yourself hasn’t worked.

Strong, calloused hands gripped your shoulder. “Grab on to me,” Gavriel, the lion shifter, on your left.

“I know how to swim, go help someone who needs it.” You ordered.

“You need it. You aren’t moving fast enough with that leg,” He pulled your arm around his shoulders, “Hold on.”

Pride stinging, you obeyed and held on to him as he swam toward his friend.

Rowan kept scanning the sea, even as he crouched to help pull you up onto the reef. Gavriel followed less than a moment later. You bit back a scream as you put weight on your leg. The sound broke free when you looked down to see a splinter of wood the size of your foot sticking out of your thigh. Rowan snapped his arms out to steady you as you teetered, his eyes never leaving the bay.

“I have to pull it out to heal it.” Gavriel’s calming but urgent tone drew your eyes away from the injury and to his tawny ones. You nodded.

Rowan muttered a thank you to the gods as he spotted Fenrys and Aelin making their way towards the reef, but still a ways out.

“Rowan,” He turned to the golden haired man at the firm tone. They stared at each other. Rowan’s chin dipped once, confirming something from their silent conversation. He wrapped one arm around your middle a heartbeat before Gavriel yanked the splinter out. The leg holding all your weight buckled, the prince behind you keeping you upright. The warrior in front of you gripped your thigh with his glowing hands, your blood coating them as he began to quickly heal your wound.

Adrenaline sparkled in your veins from the chaos. Aelin and Fenrys were swimming closer. The latter had been his magic to leap further, but they still weren’t close enough. Shifting your weight to your good leg, you tapped Rowan’s tattooed arm twice and told him to go. He dove into the water without hesitation and began swimming towards the female.

You squatted down to offer a hand and haul Aelin up. Gavriel’s grip on your thigh kept you from toppling over, though the pain surging in your thigh had black spots dancing in your vision. Rowan and Fenrys hauled themselves up, the prince immediately scanning Aelin for any injury. She waved him off with a hand.

Fenrys bent over, panting with his hands on his knees, and said to no one in particular, “I’m out.” Rowan gave him a single sharp nod.

“I’ll need to work on it again later, but you’re good for now,” Gavriel said as he rinsed his hands in the sea. You nodded your thanks and tested your weight on it. Still tender, you’d likely have a limp for a while, but not at risk of bleeding out. You’d take it.

Fenrys slowly straightened, his hands moving to support his lower back as he took a deep breath, “Don’t you have water magic? Shouldn’t you be able to heal yourself with the water and healing magic tendencies?”

“Pirates aren’t exactly flush with magic tutors. Self taught, and shit’s harder than it looks. For lack of a better term, water magic is slippery, I can’t get a good enough grip on it to control it like that.”

The male smirked and opened his mouth to reply but a loud crash and roar had everyone’s attention snapping to it. Lysandra was facing off against two sea wyverns.

After the shifter killed the two beasts, a collective stomach drop could almost be heard as three full grown sea wyverns came to avenge their young. Lysandra, Dorian and Aedion defeated them in the most incredible battle you had ever witnessed. Fenrys had to steady you with a hand on your elbow as the battle raged - your adrenaline ebbing, the pain in your leg became more prevalent. As soon as Lysandra headed towards the shore, your group on the reef dove for the beach. Aedion was already with Lysandra when you all arrived. Fenrys and Gavriel halted by the tree line while Aelin surged forward, the silver prince on her heels. You stopped somewhere in the middle, giving them space.

“What happened?” Aedion asked, eyes trained on his cousin, “What the hell happened out there?”

“I’d also like to know what the hell that was!” You echoed, limping closer.

“Now is not the time.” Rowan snapped, looking at both you and the general, his green eyes lingering on Aedion.

Your temper surged, “No? When would be the proper time for me to be angry about the lives of my men? Give me a timeframe, you godsdamn bastard!” The terror of the battle wearing off, giving way to your fury at what happened on that ship. Attempting to stomp through the sand to Aelin, your limp hindering the threat you tried to present.

Fenrys cut off your path with little effort and growled in warning, your blood reaching a boiling point at the sound.

Through your gritted teeth, you snarled right back, “Keep growling, dog, and your pelt will be the new rug in my cabin.”

“Enough.” Gavriel commanded, the growling ceased but your eyes stayed locked on the onyx ones. The shimmering you saw in them was enough to reignite the rage you were trying to stuff down.

You lunged at him, hands raised to wrap around his throat, but faltered when you had to balance on your bad leg. His hands that flung out to grip your wrists doing as much to hold you up as they did to keep your hands off his neck.

Wrenching them back, you turned back towards the scene on the beach.

“I’ll stay,” Aedion said. “You deal with Rolfe.”

Aelin and Rowan headed off to do as much, Aedion remained by the shifter’s side. You heard Gavriel offer to grab supplies and stay with them. Having no desire to hang around the awkward family reunion, you hobbled back to town.

Fenrys followed a few steps behind you, though he could have easily made it back to his lodgings without your pace slowing him down.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking back to town by myself,” You gritted, keeping your focus ahead of you.

“Oh I’m sure, but Gavriel will never let me hear the end of it if I left you to stumble home alone.”

“Leash a little tight, pup?”

He chuckled, “Another dog joke? I gave you too much credit, thinking you were far more clever than you clearly are.”

“Think of me often, do you?”

“Darling, I only think of you often enough to picture besting you when sparring, I delight in your anger.” The male now walking by your side.

“If you wanted to challenge me so badly, you could have just asked. I’d love the chance to filet you.” Your smile edged with distaste. “I’ll meet you at dawn in the courtyard.” You batted your lashes.

“Not unless you’re fully healed. It will be too easy with the injury, I want it to last longer than a minute.”

You chuckled, “Don’t have much experience holding out?”

Fenrys started just a fraction, blinking before a smirk grew on his face. “No complaints in my immortal, indulgent life.”

You rolled your eyes, sidestepping the glint in his eyes at the turn in conversation. “I’d argue that this injury would put us on equal footing.”

“You do realize I’m a fae warrior with over a hundred years of battle experience, right?” His golden brows rose.

You glanced sidelong at him, one brow cocked, “And I’m just a stupid little half-breed with less than ten years of training from pirates, right?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Fenrys blurted, halting and facing you.

You shrugged, “It’s ok, it’s more fun when you underestimate me anyway. Makes the victory even more…” You trailed off, turning your head to him. You cocked your head, akin to a predator assessing prey. Your purposefully half lidded eyes met his before sliding down to his lips. A subtle, almost subconscious darting of your tongue to the corner of your lips, delicately swiping just a little over your top lip. Driving it home with a hitch in your breath, gazing into his eyes again, you breathed, “Delicious.”

Fenrys stood impossibly still, but the smallest catch in his breath and the change in his scent gave it away.

You laughed and faced forward again, “Too easy.” You silently swore as your thigh burned, slowing your exit.

“Alright, I’ll concede that one. Looking forward to paying it back, honey,” He drawled, three strides putting him back on pace with you again.

“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to gain my interest, mutt.”

Fenrys grinned. “Interest? No, I meant the upperhand.” You rolled your eyes.

A block and a half, a few more snide remarks and you stood in front of your meager lodgings. Barely more than a bedroom, bathing room and kitchen, but it served its purpose when you were in between sailings. If he had any thoughts on the building, Fenrys thankfully didn’t share them.

“Ok, you saw me home. Shoo,” You waved a hand at him.

He looked up at the second level window. “Can you manage the stairs?”

Eyes closed, you sighed, “I’ve done far more with far worse. Now leave.”

Fenrys shrugged, and walked away. He half turned his head, still walking, “Ocean Rose courtyard, an hour before dawn. Gavriel can fix up your leg before we start swinging.” You grunted and headed into the building. Prick.

[seabringers]

I finished ‘A Day of Fallen Night’ today and I have so many thoughts but, Glorian’s epilogue was the saddest of all. In the very beginning, she swore to herself she would never treat her daughter as her mother, Queen Sabran, did to her. She would never reduce her to her ability to give an heir to Inys. But then the Grief of Ages happens, and Glorian gives birth to her daughter in a cave while Fýredel and the wyverns circle around laying waste to everything. The same day only a little later, it ends. The thing she swore she would never do comes to pass in the epilogue during her confrontation with Prince Consort Guma when he says the foundation of House Berethnet has been built on a lie. She doesn’t even realise she’s ran to the nursery and takes Princess Sabran outside to show her the ruins, and instills the same thing into her, shaking. They’re the chain that holds Virtudom together, and they must always give Inys another daughter to uphold the line and keep the Nameless One at bay.

[archineerlock]

Had some Worm x Disco Elysium ideas spiraling around in my head past couple days.

1. Taylor replaces the player character in DE. Proceed from there. Have her meet Kim and attempt to solve the hanging with all of the quirks that would come with someone like Taylor being out in those shoes. She can't control bugs, but she would have a really high "Shivers" score. This can be Taylor at any point in the OG canon although I do think post-GM would be the most interesting.

2. Same as above but replace Kim with Lisa, Amy, Victoria, whoever.

3. Now we turn it around. Harrier Du Bois in Brockton Bay. A lot of fun ways to go from here. Could writer Harry being a Brockton Bay detective who triggers and gains the ability to listen to all of his emotions and senses as personified voices in his head that he can also choose to prioritize between at the cost of the other emotions and senses (kind of similar to the wyvern serum in Twig actually). Could also insert Kim into this and just insert them into canon events. Investigate some characters death or another in the narrative or chase the undersiders or whatever. Harry is completely unreadable to Lisa because of how fucked his head is.

4. Evrart in place of Piggot. Crackfic.

[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

Crafting Wings

I finally remembered today that tumblr is a blog, and that in addition to whatever fandom nonsense I reblog, I can also post bloggy things on it. Obvious, right?

I am making a set of dragon wings for an event coming up in mid-June. They are of course inspired by Simon Snow and will be red dragon wings (though the pattern I bought from them is technically for a wyvern). I'm hoping that posting progress updates here will help me stick to it and actually get it done in time. I'm breaking it down into teeny tiny easy peasy steps and only looking at the very next step to try to keep the overwhelm and executive dysfunction at bay. This is likely to lead me down a path of "If I'd thought about it earlier, I could have..." But you know what? I always end up there anyway.

So first, I spent a long long long long long (long long long...) time trying to decide how to make these wings. I really wanted articulated wings, bonus if I could move them without obviously pushing or pulling or something. But looking at how people had made that happen was overwhelming. They require so much time and skill and I am prone to procrastination and crying and quitting when I mess up. I finally settled on this DIY Mechanical Wing kit by Chimera Wings. That would give me the frame for the wings, but they also have a sewing pattern (with printed AND video instructions) to make the covers for them!

This is what the contents of the kit looked like when I got it:

And this is the completed build! I almost didn't post this because I don't like the way I look, but you know what? Fuck that. I built something cool (using very simple, easy-to-follow instructions, sure) and I don't want to have to find a better fancier more flattering way to film that, so. I'm getting over it.

You can tell that I kinda struggle with the wing on my right side. I clearly need to stretch my arms out before wearing these. Truly. I tried it after I stretched and it's no big deal. Or maybe I'll add some sort of pulley after all. (HAH. Like I'll have time for that.)

Otherwise, the kit and wings are fantastic. It was so easy to put together and they feel very cool to wear. I should probably go write them a review...

I didn't actually takes pics of the next step, but I printed out the pattern on regular 8.5x11 paper and taped it together. It... was not very well done, but I'm hoping I got it close enough to not have messed up the pattern dimensions. After taping and then cutting out the completed pattern, I could move on to working with actual fabric!

I'm making a mock-up out of old sheets first because I have never once done any sewing project successfully the first time. I decided to mock-up only one wing instead of both, so this will surely be my downfall when I move onto the real deal.

The next two pictures are the front and back pieces for a single wing. I decided to cut them separately instead of at the same time by folding the fabric in half because every time I do more than one layer at a time, at least one of the layers comes out real fucked up. I blame being a lefty in a right-handed world. Scissors are of the devil.

The next step was to make buttonholes that are actually strap holes. I have a little baby basic machine, and it has some limitations. I discovered one of these limitations during my buttonhole test runs. As you can see, the machine-provided "buttonhole" stitches are just... lacking. I messed with a screw that controls the length of these stitches, but for some reason it can only be used to balance out the stitch lengths, not make them overall longer or shorter. I have no control for generally change stitch length. I only have the options presented to me on my stitch chooser knob. Alas, I have less than optimal buttonholes.

Pictured above: (Left) One very sad buttonhole test. (Right) A second buttonhole test in which one side is almost respectable and the other should be ashamed to call itself a buttonhole stitch.

Finally, I gave up and balanced the stitch lengths and just went with it. When I do the real deal, I will likely go use my friend's much fancier machine. For the mock-up, this is sufficient. The next three pictures show, with increasing zoom and blurriness, the completed buttonholes.

I am intentionally using very bright, contrasting thread so that when I inevitably fuck up, I can hopefully see the point of fuck up more clearly so as to rectify it on my next attempt.

And that brings us up to speed! Next Step: Pin the pieces together. That's it. That's the whole step. How many days will it take to overcome executive dysfunction and do it? Only time will tell.

As long as I can remember to update regularly, future posts should be quite short.

[invisi-idol]

sea / marine life npt ! 🌊

requested by : @otomeroids

₊˚⊹⋆ names :

shelly , shark , siren , sporty , summer , treasure , pippy , pearl , patience , wyvern , willow , windsor , world , verulean , cerulean , blue , bonnie

₊˚⊹⋆ pronouns :

float / floats , fin / fins , fish / fishies , star / stars , shark / sharks , shell / shells , sink / sinks , sand / sands , sea / seas , eel / eels , bay / bays , beach / beachs , wave / waves , wash / washs , whale / whales , coral / corals , ocean / oceans , mer / mers , aqua / aquas , gill / gills

:0 / :0s

🐠 / 🐠s , 🐡 / 🐡s , 🦈 / 🦈s , 🐟 / 🐟s , 🌊 / 🌊s

₊˚⊹⋆ titles :

the wave - chaser , the beach wanderer , ( prn ) who worships the sea / ocean , ( prn ) who has gills , the mermaid / merman / mermain , ( prn ) who lives underwater , ( prn / noun ) who is covered in scales / barnacles

[esotheria-sims]

Welcome to Whitestone Gardens!

Before we see how the citizens of Wyvern's Bay like their new park, how about I give you guys a little tour? 😉

I've wanted to show off this lot since forever and I can't fracking believe there's a whole 3-year gap between the first WIP post and this one. (Actually, strike that, I can't believe there's a three-year gap between Moonfeather rotation 2 and Moonfeather rotation 3.) Where oh WHERE does the time flyyy? 😭

[genz420]

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 96: The Dance of Dragons.

Master List

Previous Part

138 -  Harrenhal

The news had not yet reached Harrenhal.  

The news that the Reds had taken the capital.  

That his innocent sister Helaena had thrown herself out her window in her grief.  

That the mighty dragon that is Morghon had been killed by Vermithor and the dragonseed Hugh Hammer.  

That the Blackwood knight had disappeared after the revelation of the death of Queen Helaena.  

That the all dragons in the dragonpit and the young prince Maelor had been killed.  

Or of what Aegon had done on Dragonstone.

Aemond had yet to know that the Velaryon fleet led by Corlys and Laenor was searching Blackwater Bay for any sign of Visenya.   But the mangled pieces of Silverwing, Vermithor, and Morghon had been littered on the water's surface. 

Aemond had returned to Harrenhal after receiving a letter from their forces that the rogue prince and the blood wyvern were approaching.   He was accompanied by a dragonseed Nettles and her dragon Sheepstealer, who seemed to be flying towards the Vale.  

The one-eyed prince would not allow his uncle to seize Harrenhal while they took the capital away from the greens.  Aemond was fully ready to embrace his name as Kinslayer.   To end the life of the mighty prince Daemon and his deformed dragon.  

He plans to remove Dark Sister from Daemon's soon-to-be-burned corpse and give it to Visenya, for she should wield the sword while he takes Blackfyre and the conqueror's crown.   A fantasy that the prince holds onto like a fool.  

Aemond hadn’t missed Harrenhal.  The only thing bringing him back was the thought that Daemon would try to have his children harmed and that he could end the Rogue's life.  But deep feelings in his stomach warned him that death would come, maybe not for him.  

The cold and bitter weather of the Riverlands was like a warning that he chose to ignore.  As the mighty prince dismounts his dragon, the feeling of impending death does not leave him.  That feeling only rises in his chest as he watches Daemon dismount Caraxes.  

The two dragons had both lived a long and eventful life.  Bringing greatness to House Targaryen and being blessed with some of the best riders the house has ever seen.  Vhagar is a seasoned war criminal who helped shape House Targaryen from a minor Valyrian house to one of the strongest Houses Westorest has ever seen.  Caraxes has bonded with Aemon and Daemon, fighting in the step stones and the Fourth Dourinsh War.  But most importantly, the two dragons have bonded throughout the years, flying together with Alyssa, Baelon, and Aemon and then Daemon and Laena.  But not the bond and feelings the Dragons had once shared are erased with the hate their current riders feel for one another. 

The older of the two was wearing his dragon armour, Dark Sister at his hip.  Daemon, too, was in the dark about the events happening in the East.  Caraxes lets out a whistling whine of disconnect as Daemon leaves his side.  Unlike his rider, Caraxes knew what was to come.  

The two self-proclaimed Prince Constorts did not waste any more time; the air was thick and foggy as the two left the safety of their dragon's side and met each other in the middle.  Both knew the fight would not start on land but in the air, another beautiful but tragic dance between dragons.   Unlike Daemon, Aemond was not clad head to toe in armour, the simple chestplate that Rob had gifted him.  

As the two reach each other, the tension rises with each moment they watch each other. Not long ago, each one of them held respect for one another and almost cared about the other.  Perhaps they would have been closer if things were different, if the Greens had never schemed for the throne, and Daemon had never left for Pentos.  For Aemond is Viserys son, yet he took after Daemon more than his own father.  

“You were a fool to come alone,” Aemond is the first to break the tension, his voice deep, commanding yet soft as velvet.  His tone is that of a man who knows the weight of his words but, yet Daemon can not help but think he sounds like a boy trying to command authority and power.  

Aemonds grip is like a viper on the hilt of his sword.  He was weighing the choice of drawing his sword and trying to end his uncle where they stood, but he did not have a valyrian steel sword like Daemon.  He wasn’t wearing armour to protect himself.  But surely he could be fast enough to draw his sword and drive it through Daemon.  He has the advantage of youth and possibly more rage.  Yet his body remains unmoving, and he almost looks like a beautifully carved statue as he glares at Daemon.  The eyepatch burning against his skin, the sapphire underneath forever cold, like it held the souls of those claimed in this war, for that fateful night on Driftmark was the reason this war had advanced so fast. 

Daemon shifts his weight onto one of his feet, his hands resting on the hilt of Dark Sister.  His hand wrapping itself around the pommel, he has killed hundreds of men with the sword and no doubt the next victim would be the boy in front of him.   A son for a son was not enough; he should avenge Lucerys by spilling the blood of his murderer. 

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” Daemon retorts, far more relaxed than the younger Targaryen.  His shoulders were not tensed like Aemond's, and he could be mistaken for having a civil conversation with his nephew if it wasn’t for the matching grips on their sword. 

Daemon knew that he could unsheathe Dark Sister now, drive it through the younger's stomach, and be done with it. Vhagar might burn him to death, but Ceraxes would be safe.  Ceraxes would be available for his sweet Rhaena to claim.  

Aemond would have come even if Daemon was not by himself, and he knows that Daemon would have never tried to approach Harrenhal again if Visenya had not gone to King’s Landing.  A father is scared of his own daughter and what punishments he might face for daring to enter the Riverlands again.  

Aemond brings his lips together in a tight line.  Perhaps Daemon was right, but what could he have brought to make him waver in this fight?  The dragonseed he had formed a relationship with?  The Black Queen on his spoiled dragon?  Daemon had no more allies that would make Aemond nervous about killing.  No, he was the one with the allies.  He could have stayed in King’s Landing, told Visenya about his plan, and asked her to occupy him.  Brought Morghon and the Cannibal with them.  But he refuses to make his wife a kinslayer like himself.  

Both of them knew that going against one another was the only way they had a chance of killing each other.

“Yet you are, and I am,” Aemond tells Daemon, grip leaving the hilt of his sword as his arms apart and almost daring Daemon to unsheathe Dark Sister to kill him.  Aemond doesn’t allow his feelings to affect his voice, the slight nerves he feels for the battle to come.  Instead, he relaxes his shoulders to mirror Daemon and lets out a soft hum as a smirk creeps onto his face.  “You have lived too long, uncle,” 

Daemon puffs his chest out, eyes narrowing at Aemond as he speaks before slowly nodding, agreeing with him about the statement.  Daemon has lived out many people dear to him.  His mother, father, brother, grandmother, Aemna, Laena, his Strong Boys, and now his two daughters sired by Rhaenyra. 

Daemon had lived on borrowed time since he fought in the step stones.  

“On that much, we agree,” Daemon tells Aemond, giving him one final nod before turning his back towards Aemond, not fearing that Aemond might stab him.  Aemond spares his uncle one last look before he does the same. 

Both princes return to their dragons, praying to their gods for safety.  

Daemon prays that he will be able to return to Dragonstone to give his wife the good news of Aemond's death.  To see his daughters, all of them, once again.  To be able to watch his sons grow.  To bring justice to his son's death, to give justice to Lucerys.  

Aemond prays to also return to his wife to give her the news of the death of Daemon and Caraxes.   To remove the last power of the blacks.  To be able to watch his children grow up in the red keep.  To see his wife on the iron throne.  To send his brother to the wall and allow his sweet sister to finally be happy and safe.  To wear the conquered crown.  To mend the realm and prove himself worthy of the name Targaryen.   

But neither would have their prey answered.  It is as if the gods had finally punished them for the peace and happiness they had lived in and punished them for their sins.   

Because neither could return to their wives, the two Queens are now dead.  

Rhaenyra burned by her usurper brother and his half-dying dragon.  Aegon, the younger, forced to watch as his mother became ash and dragonfood.  Only leaving a few charred pieces of her left.

Visenya having a dragonriders death.  Killing the dragonseeds, Hugh Hammer, Ulf the white, and the two dragons Vermithor and Silverwing.  But also, in the process, ending her own life, along with one of her dragons, Morghon.  Both of their remains sinking to the bottom of Blackwater Bay, allowing Visenya to rest in the same waters as the rest of the Valeryons, just as she wanted.  The cannibal flew East after circling the bay for two straight days. 

Neither of them would see their children again. To watch their sons and daughters grow.  

Aegon, the younger, now traumatized after witnessing his mother's death.  Viserys is thought dead now in the lands of Lys.   Baela is scarred from her battle with Aegon.  Rhaena is safe and with her new hatchling.  

Laenor, Daenys, and Aenar are being held within the ruins of Harrnehal, which is within his eyesight.  If only Aemond had shared the gift of foresight, he might have climbed on his dragon, flown to Harrenhal, and brought his children to the now-claimed King’s Landing.  

On that day, the 22nd day of the 5th moon of 138 AC.  Aemond and Daemon, along with Vhagar and Caraxes, lost their lives.  The two sets fall into the god's eye once Daemon leaped from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister in Aemond’s one good eye.  

The battle above the god's eyes would be the last battle of the Dance of Dragons.  The Blacks dissolved quickly into the Reds.  The Greens followed suit after the death of Aegon, the usurper on Dragonstone.  The red held the capital but without a queen, leaving the succession of the Spiky Chair up for debate to the three small councils. 

Once the arrival of the winter wolves and the Black Aly arrived in the shambles of King’s Landing, they made quick work of breaking the betrothal with Daenys and Rickon and instead betrothing Daenys with Aegon the Younger and Laenor to their daughter, Sarra.  

Daenys becomes the “first” legitimate queen of the Seven Kingdoms with her consort Aegon II.  A marriage that was closer to a friendship rather than a marriage.  Yet both still did their duties to the realm.  

Robert Tully denied the position of Daenys hand, instead returning to Riverrun to see his wife give birth to a daughter.  She was quickly betrothed to Aenar, who later became lord of Riverrun, with his wife, Catelyn Tully, taking most of the title's responsibilities—a match made by the gods.

Benjicot took the role of the hand of the queen instead, along with taking on the responsibilities of raising the three children, not allowing anyone to hold or be near them for close to three years after the war, fearing that something might happen to the last connection he had to Visenya and Aemond.  The Blackwood knight also protected the little Princess Jaehaera until she married Bloody Ben in secret one faithful day, becoming the lady of Raventree Hall. 

The dance of the dragons was the true downfall of the house, Targeryn, for even years after the war in peaceful times.  No house looked at the house the same; the death of the dragons allowed the once perfect marble of the house to crack and slowly, through the years, fall apart. 

-- --

Last chapter. I loved writing this story in the beginning as it was just a little daydream that my friend told me to write. I never thought that it would get this far, ever. I know that this story is cheesy, badly written, and probably full of plot holes I don't see. But I am dyslexic, and I never thought people would read this. Thank you all who have commented and read this far along. Truly the comments are the only reason why I didn't just give up on this story and delete it; they mean more to me than you could know.

-- --

Taglist: 

@tempt-ress @kassies-take

[deathsdue]

I'm here to cry on the dash about Gerome (nothing new there) using some quotes from his supports as reference. Post is under a read more for potentially triggering content and length.

My main focuses with writing Gerome revolve around a few things:

Gerome keeps everyone at a distance in order to protect himself from pain. Like the other gen2s, he's lost a lot, and he can't take losing more. Inwardly, he's very soft, and the trauma has led to no small amount of depression.

The way he was as a child made him unable to handle the events that transpired as well as others might have (not that gen2 does not all struggle with what happened, I'm not trying to negate any character's feelings, this is just touching on why Gerome wears a mask and pushes people away)

He deeply cares for his friends and is a good teacher but doesn't believe in himself.

In short, Gerome's own worst enemy is himself. So let's get into it! And what better place to start than the beginning?

Cynthia B Support Cynthia: Liar! Remember when we were kids? We'd talk for hours and hours! Gerome: We're not children anymore. Cynthia: I know. But remember when you told me I looked all strong and graceful like a hero? Gerome: …I said that? Cynthia: Oh, yeah! All the time, actually! I'd love to hear you say it again. Hee hee! It sent a thrill down my spine when you'd tell me how wonderful I was! I love that about you! Cynthia S Support Cynthia: Remember how we'd go into the woods and play Justice Cabal? Gerome: …Vaguely. Cynthia: There was that time I pretended to be a paladin and killed all those evil goblins… You said I looked truly heroic, even though the goblins were only snapdragons. Gerome: You don't forget anything, do you? [...] Gerome: Do you remember teaching me to fly when we were young? Cynthia: Yeah, sure! You were so scared of heights you couldn't ride a wyvern! So I took you on my pegasus, and we flew and flew until you weren't afraid anymore. Hee hee! That was so much fun! I haven't thought about that in ages… Severa A Support Gerome: …When I was but a child, I often dreamed of being a warrior. And in my dreams, I always wore a mask, because… Because I thought it looked cool. Severa: LAAAAAAME! Gerome: I'm not finished! …I began to wear masks all the time, just for the thrill. But it's as you know, I don't like to reveal my inner life if it can be helped. And soon, a child's plaything became a tool for keeping people at bay. Cherche A Support Gerome: People everywhere grieved for the heroes and honored their noble sacrifice. But I didn't want heroes. I wanted a father and a mother…

As a kid, Gerome played imaginary games with his friends (which included Cynthia of all people, the most bubbly of their group, as well as Owain, the other Justice Cabal member), easily handed out compliments (i.e. spoke his feelings), wore a mask just because it was cool, and he was terrified of heights.

This is the soft, little kid that was broken by losing his parents and being thrust into an apocalypse. People all react to and handle trauma differently and the way he is as an adult is a result of how he adapted to that trauma in order to protect himself.

That he took such an extreme way to do so is really a reflection of how he was as a child — imaginative, emotional, and with aspirations of heroism. The most iconic of the changes he made is his mask.

M!Robin B Support Robin: Hmm… The mask hides your emotions from foes on the battlefield… But I imagine it also serves to hide your inner self from allies as well? Cynthia A Support Gerome: I'm not finished. You have always been a perpetual ray of sunshine in my life. But sometimes, a man like me wishes to draw the curtains and sit in the dark.

The mask is a hot topic for a lot of his supports and he typically only takes it off willingly when he's bearing his feelings - such as during a love confession. He also frequently runs away from many of his companions when he starts feeling too much and doesn't know what to do. Additionally, he even frequently lies to his companions about his mask and his feelings, deflecting or not telling the whole truth until he's pressed further or finally comes around to telling the truth.

Cynthia's A Support line is really what gets me though: The urge to sit in a dark room by himself. I don't think depression and suicidal ideation is a topic FE would generally touch on heavily or very explicitly, though it's a theme for a lot of characters I'm sure, so I interpret this as a way of hinting at the issues plaguing him. Not to mention, a lot of times when Cynthia reminds him of something he did as a kid, he's surprised to learn it. Having a poor memory for positive events is a sign of depression as well. (In fact, the one thing he prompts her to remember is something he associates as a negative memory.)

Gerome was a very soft hearted kid and without a proper support system, not to mention being embroiled in a war for most of his life, it all went downhill.

Which leads to Gerome's extreme lack of self confidence.

Cherche B Support Gerome: How skilled could I be to still fall victim to the cruel whims of fate? …How skilled could I be when I was unable to protect those I loved? Cherche C Support Gerome: Minerva, you look so sad and woebegone. I suppose it's my fault, isn't it? If it wasn't for me, you'd be living a life of tranquility in Wyvern Valley. I'm sorry that I've dragged you into yet another terrible war. …Hmm? What's that? That's not why you're sad? …Ah, yes. I understand completely. Your original mistress is alive in this time, and you pine for her hand on the reins. Cherche: …That's not it either. Gerome: Ch-Cherche?! Cherche: Minerva is worried about you. Don't you see that forlorn look in her eyes? Fire Emblem Heroes Gerome, on learning a new skill: This is much too valuable. Maybe someone else should have it.

These kinds of lines, in addition to his depression, is why I've made him a student. He could absolutely be a teacher (and I'll get into that in a bit) but he has no belief in himself. To the point that he can't even understand Minerva's concern for him; he keeps assuming her mood is somehow his fault, his shortcoming, or that she wishes she had Cherche instead of him. He cares for Minerva with his whole heart and he doesn't even think she would be concerned about him.

Despite all of that, Gerome is incredibly sharp and a good teacher. These were skills he learned because of the state of his timeline and the people he had to protect. He was certainly lucky to have survived to the end of the apocalypse, but it took skill as well.

Kjelle C Support Gerome: When thrusting with the lance, you should push with your leg and stomach muscles. You used only your arms just now. Such technique will betray you in battle. Kjelle B Support Gerome: Much better. You now place your whole body behind the thrust. Kjelle: See? I told you I would fix it. In fact, just before you— Gerome: However, your footwork is lacking. Kjelle: What's wrong with it? Gerome: You're throwing too much weight into the thrust and becoming unbalanced. It's a common enough mistake. More practice should fix the problem. M!Robin B Support Gerome: Hmph. Then the sermon is over? You weave a lovely tapestry with your words, master tactician. But talk is cheap. In the real world, where I must live, power is everything. Power is right, it is truth, it is victory. And I'll prove as much on the battlefield. Cherche B Support Cherche: You handle the reins superbly… I was hoping you'd teach me what you know. Gerome: I have nothing to teach you. I just sit in the saddle and follow Minerva's lead. Cherche: Oh, hogwash. I've seen how you two swoop and dance in the sky. Plus you handle the lance with such verve! A skilled rider like yourself has a great deal to teach me.

Cherche recognizes his skill even as he dismisses it. He also gives specific advice to Kjelle, always evenly and never with admonishment, and with clear ways to improve. He's only seeking to help.

His skill and power is something he's had to earn due to his hard life, but he takes that knowledge and tries to pass it on, he even looks out for others outside of his friend circle.

Laurent C Support Laurent: I'm here to give my regular report, as per our arrangement. Gerome: Oh, yes, of course. How could I forget? Laurent: Ahem! I'm happy to report that today everyone continues to be in good health. There have been no reported instances of brawls or other insubordination. Logistics are running smoothly, and we have sufficient stockpiles of military supplies. Laurent B Support Gerome: In your report just now, you neglected to suggest that we stock up on arrows. Laurent: Is that a particular concern? Gerome: We're likely to march within the week and can expect to encounter aerial forces. I strongly suspect we'll need extra arrows in the baggage train. Laurent: An astute observation. I shall make the necessary adjustments to the manifest.

Gerome is honestly full of contradictions, from his feelings to his abilities. He doesn't care about anyone else, but he constantly worries over his friends and the army's supplies. He's not skilled, but provides instruction on combat. He wants to be alone, but he's attentive to his friends's needs and enjoys being around them.

Before coming to the academy, he spent much of his time alone, because the army dispersed and people went back to their normal lives. His parents are due to have this timeline's version of him and there's no place for him there. However, leaving Gerome alone for an extended period is a bad idea. Losing the presence of his friends really did a number on his already fragile mental health.

I could go on, there's so much, but I feel this is already pretty long. Hopefully it was also coherent.

[skitter-queen]

Hi my name is Taylor Skitter Weaver Khepri Bug Hebert and I have long curly dark hair with lots of bugs in it (that’s how I got my name) that reaches my mid-back and big eyes like cockroach shells and a lot of people tell me I look like Alexandria (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Grue but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a parahuman but my figure is gawky. I have pale white skin. I’m also a superhero, and I go to a horrible school called Winslow in Brockton Bay where I’m in the sophomore year (I’m fifteen). I’m socially awkward (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly baggy bland clothes. For example today I was wearing a black oversized hoodie with a really big hood and plain loose-fitting blue jeans, gray socks and black sneakers. I wasn’t wearing any makeup. I was walking outside Winslow High. It was hot and muggy so there were a lot of mosquitos, which I was very happy about. Emma, Sophia, and Madison stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

Hi my name is Sylvester Project Wyvern Twig Lambsbridge and I have shitty greasy bad hair with lots of wyvern formula in it (that's how i got my name)

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

Sonic 06 was like

It's like a

A reverse fairytale or something

Sonic is a hero rescuing the princess from the likes of boss battles named after mythical beasts like Egg Cerberus and Egg Wyvern, and in the end, SONIC is the one saved by the PRINCESS.

Elise was using chaos energy to help bring him back to the land of the living, and y'all had to go and make this gross somehow by saying she was kissing a dead animal or whatever, as if it would have been any better of a situation if any other of your preferred OTP compliant characters were in her place here.

Sonic was basically Sleeping Beauty or Snow White here and Elise was the royalty that woke him up, it's a spin on the classic fairytale setting, and y'all still ain't seing that yet even though it's been 16 years now.

Instead of the hero saving the princess in the end, it's the princess saving the hero.

Elise was having to attend a festival as part of her royal duty, that was celebrating a deity that her dad died trying to clone to harness time so they could see her dead mom again, and she was left an orphan at age 7 and had to take on the royal responsibilities at that age and couldn't feel intense emotions or the seal that was keeping that monster at bay that killed her dad was going to be let loose like some Naruto level logic and destroy the whole city, and this girl was probably just wanted to go back to her room so she didn't have to think about how she probably wasn't ever allowed to grieve for her dead parents because I'm sure the festival was probably not fun for her in reality, then this crazy guy with this big mustache shows up to blow up things and wants to kidnap her for the Chaos Emerald she has ((which, mind you, was given to her via some time trickery by Silver as a "lucky charm" shortly after her dad was killed in the lab accident)), and suddenly this cool carefree guy shows up, whisks her away to safety and does so without asking for anything in return just because he wanted to help her, so of course she gets a fleeting crush on the guy because she's a freaking teenage girl who's hasn't had a chance to sort her emotions before, and yes, she does confirm that before Sonic showed up, she never got to be "myself, a girl" before, so her level of "attraction" to him is purely parasocial at this point and she works out of it by the end when she realizes that she's being selfish for wanting to hold onto the ruined timeline because otherwise would mean they would have never met and this whole adventure was going to be forgotten, but then the game ending and ending theme suggests that the memories still exists in thier hearts and that perhaps that moment they lock eyes at the end for the briefest seconds was thier souls remembering that they were friends in another time, and also, Elise like died in at least three of the timeline offshoots trying to defy Eggman's plan for the greater good, so cut the girl some slack, she's like 17 and a kid, and just let her peck Sonic for a moment as a gesture of the importance of thier bond while trying to call his spirit back to his soulless husk of a body.

Time is literally collapsing on itself because Solaris is eating that up like a Sega GameGear with a fresh pack of AA batteries. They're all gonna disappear into the void if Sonic doesn't wake up, just let her have this, it's covered by blinding light anyway.

Like geeze, sorry it wasn't Shadow or Amy doing this or whatever, I guess.

[nestaismommy]

Manon swallowed hard. “You saved my life. Many times. I never thanked you for it.”

Abraxos let out another low whine.

“You and me,” she promised him. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

Abraxos gave her a look full of reproach, but his body tensed, wings lifting.

And Manon decided she had never hated anyone more than she hated the Queen of Terrasen and her friends. For making him leave. For causing this parting, when so many dangers had not been able to cleave them.

Her hands trembled. Asterin was not dead. The Thirteen were not dead.

She’d kept the thoughts about it at bay. But now, with that flower-smelling wyvern vanishing over the horizon…

The last piece of the Wing Leader had vanished with him.

BRB gonna go throw myself off the balcony

[jayahult]

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