#and I love wild hunt Dandelion

[benevolenterrancy]

I started replaying TW3 and gambesons are hands down my favourite type of armour in the game, especially the atrocious green and plum coloured one

#the witcher #witcher #the witcher 3 #tw3 #tw3 wild hunt #geralt #geralt of rivia #dandelion #dandelion witcher #jaskier #gerlion #trying to design clothes for dandelion continues to be one of the most frustrating possible things #the man looks like a five year old who was allowed to dress himself #my art #i needed to take a break from art fight to draw a silly comic i feel like i haven't done one in a while #i also have an art request in my inbox that i'll probably do before i return to artfight #though anon... that's a doozy man you're lucky i love you guys

[ghostlylicious]

she's everything he's just julian

these scrunklies took me 5 hrs to SKETCH n i'm not even done w all the details im dead. here have it in sketch form bc i feel like my suffering needs recognition 💯💥💥💥😭

why do they have to be designed like they're in a circus /lh

also i forgot my sign like always 💥

ah of course the reference pic

some stuff abt jaskier and priscilla's designs 👇

im convinced dandelion in the witcher 3 was designed like that to compliment priscilla so well. that might actually be true

also i luv how kinda tacky n attention-grabbing jaskier's fit is but priscilla's is relatively more tame (compared to jaskier's anyways) but also still matches dandelion's craziness w all the colors. it's prob bc she doesn't wear much jewelry. writing that made me realize i forgot dandelion's necklace but shhh

random but they prob changed dandelion's hair color so priscilla could be blonde and they don't look like siblings or cousins

#hands will be fixed in final drawing 💥 #i hate drawing hands #anyways slowly but surely becoming a die-hard priscilla fan just bc of her design #THEY COMPLIMENT EACH OTHER SO WELL I MEAN IT'S OBV BUT UGH I LOVE SEEING THEM TOGETHER #he kinda looks better without the necklace (just doesn't wanna break my hand by drawing it) #dandelion witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier fanart #priscilla #priscilla fanart #the witcher #the witcher 3 wild hunt #the witcher fanart #my art #digital sketch #kinda ugly but that's okay #fanart #digital art #priscilla x dandelion #dandelion x priscilla #she's everything he's just ken #barbie movie reference

[serenefiction]

This was sadder than being hit with a red shell in Mario Kart 🥲

[also art style change maybe??]

#geralt z rivii #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #princess cirilla #jaskier #dandelion #witcher 3 #wild hunt #henry cavill #geralt x jaskier #geralt x yennefer #witcher netflix #i love them too man #fan art #my art #witcher fanart

[podcastenthusiast]

Pleased to discover it seems I can romance Yennefer even without having sex during the wake. (I doubt most people try this but here we are.)

#nothing wrong with riding the unicorn it's just not for me personally. but goddamn he clearly loves her #do i wish i could kiss dandelion too? yeah a little obviously #witcher 3 wild hunt #the witcher 3 #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher 3 #ace geralt rights #kinda sweet that yen wanted to break the djinn magic to see if they love each other for real #also not a fan of the game's belief that triss is the sweet stable option. she literally took advantage of geralt

[botanyshitposts]

takeaways from seed hunting over the weekend:

-SOOOOO many seeds right now. GREAT time of year for seeds

-asters are off the chain rn making 20000 individual little seeds with little unique parachutes on them. i knew the family was huge but for some reason I didn’t know that so many of them did that for dispersal???

-big bluestem seeds are so cute and hairy and pretty and weirdly expressive. i found some on the side of the road and it’s like damn you guys just live here on the side of highway 30 looking like this?????

-WHERE did all the dandelions go?? it feels like there’s exponentially fewer of them around here (Iowa) than last year, I could only find like, one patch of them in town to sample.

-I found a shrubby weird plant outside a used farming equipment depo with big black pods attached that open and spill like, 2 little seeds per giant pod onto the ground around it. from just an initial investigation it looks like it’s some kind of bean, but not a soybean or a bean I recognize. wild times

-milkweed seeds on their GIANT poofs. i let them go on their way but I loved seeing them again, it seems like they’re mostly done blooming for now

-waiting patiently for the asters who don’t attach their seeds to parachutes to finish up so I can collect some

-I got some giant ragweed seeds, which is good because I was looking for them! unfortunately the inside of the container I collected them in is coated with pollen, though, so I might have to take it outside to clean them and get the flower bits out lmao

#seedposting

[tetheredfeathers]

A little something I wrote inspired by this line.

Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents, the way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods.

She always brought him something from the woods.

The first time she brought him a single dandelion.

It had been a long winter, and the sun had only begun to peek through the cold shadows. It had been a good hunt today, with 2 rabbits and a squirrel shot right through the eyes. Her short dark hair tickled her neck as she practically skipped back home.

That's when she saw it – the first spring flower, a lone dandelion lurking between the wet shadows. She scurried towards it and quickly plucked it, almost afraid it would run away if she wasn't fast enough.

"Peetaaa," her voice rang through the house as she peeled off her shoes and hung her father's hunting jacket on the hooks Peeta had installed for her.

"In here," Peeta called from the kitchen.

She found him all serious, wrinkle between his eyebrows as he kneaded some dough. She skirted towards him wanting kiss the lines between his eyes.

"Hi, bread boy," she whispered sweetly before kissing the frosting off his lips.

"Hi," he said in between kisses

"Mhm, vanilla." Katniss breathed licking his lips.

"Here, try this," he said, spreading a thick layer of icing on a cinnamon roll and handing it her.

"Mhmm, so good. Thank you baby," she said between huge mouthfuls.

"I got you something from town today," Peeta sang, reaching into his pockets.

"Show me, show me," Katniss almost begged.

"You know Thom's little sister, Darlene," she nodded. "Yeah, well, she was really happy with her birthday cake and wanted to give me something in return."

He pulled out a long strip of transparent lace.

Katniss' face broke into a huge smile. "A ribbon? What does she think you're 12 to go around wearing ribbons?" she teased.

"Be nice, Katniss, she's only five. I doubt she knows how to gift a grown man," Peeta said.

"You do know she has a crush on you, right?" Katniss said, grabbing another cinnamon roll, stuffing her mouth once again.

"Who doesn't?" Peeta sassed, swaying his hips.

"I don't," Katniss rolled her eyes.

"Oh really?" he eyed her mischievously before grabbing her arms, leaving all but an inch between their sugary lips. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

She shuddered involuntarily. Even after a year of being with him, just being near him made her weak in the knees. His warm hands slid down her arms before gently turning her around so that her back faced him. Slowly, he brought his hands up to her hair, bunching half her hair into a ponytail and tying the flimsy lace into a bow.

She turned around, beaming in his arms, peering into those blue eyes.

"Wow, birdie, look at yourself."

She blushed bright red before pulling out her dandelion from underneath the table.

"For you," she said shyly, holding it right under his face.

"Thank you, birdie," he said, delicately taking it from her hands as if it would slip from his grasp like water.

Her blush deepened. She loved it when he called her that. It reminded her of her father, that he was still a part of her, and just like him, she still sang wild and free. A bird that's what she was.

"You're my dandelion in the spring, you know that, right?" she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back, burying her mouth in long, warm kiss.

After that, she brought him something every day. Sometimes it would be tufts of dill or rye. Other times, she would bring him shiny stones that reminded her of the color of his eyes. Sometimes a feather or a leaf, but mostly she brought him flowers. She brought him wild onions because it reminded her of the day she broke her heart. She brought him daisies because they were as pure and white like his soul. She brought him sunflowers because he was her sun and followed him everywhere he went.

He kept a whole shelf dedicated to her gifts and pressed the flowers inside his notebook. It helped remind him that all was not lost on the more difficult days when she could not get out of bed or talk to him.

And on the night they conceived their first child, she whispered into his arms.

"I'm going to call her Dandelion."

#everlark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #thg #thg mockingjay #post mockingjay #canon compliant #fluff #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #the hunger games peeta #thg series #thg fanfiction #catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games trilogy #the hunger games fanfiction

[written-in-flowers]

Fly Away: Pt. 8

Pairing: Young!Aemond x Young!Velaryon!Reader | Side pairing: Rhaenyra x Alicent, Aegon x Helaena

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Au: friends to lovers, childhood love, incest (duh), slight homophobia expressed, repressed feelings, mutual pining, teenage runaways, mentions of bullying, arrange marriages

Word Count: 9k

Summary: Young love overcomes all in a family full of broken bonds and broken hearts. When Princess Y/N Velaryon and Prince Aemond Targaryen are discovered missing from their beds, their mothers must come together to find them. The search might do more for their families than a mere marriage pact can. 

A/N: want to clarify now that we stick with young!Aemond throughout the story. Ewan’s Aemond comes in at the very end. This is mainly done starting a bit before The Princess and the Queen and a little bit after the events at Driftmark. I do pull some scenes from the show, but it remains relatively loose throughout. Want to also point out that The Dance doesn’t happen in this universe, so...happy ending expected, because we need more of those.  

Taglist:  @yitish,  @imjustboredso, @dangerousbluebirdpoetry, @discowizard88, @mddieeunson , @caramelcandescence, @bookwhoresthings , @astrumark, @minteaspoon @eddiemunsonsgroupie @miraclealignertlsp369 @aemond-targaryenx​​ @afro-hispwriter​

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***

Aemond checked the few snares he’d placed along the way back to the cabin, and managed to get another rabbit from one. He told you about a larder he’d found outside the house, where the family must’ve stored their meats. Once they've cooked the meat, it’ll be safe to store there for a time. Aemond remembered Ser Criston having a similar technique, and thought it was safe to use here. It’d be helpful to not be hunting every day; it was precious time he could be spending by your side instead. 

The smile never fully left his face, making his cheeks hurt and strain from it. The darkening skies caused him to finally stop kissing you. He did not go any further, however. The only thing he kept thinking about were your words; the way you’d said them with such certainty. He’d thought his eye may keep you from him forever, but today you proved the opposite. You stood before a heart tree and spoke your vows to him in front of gods. Neither of you followed said gods, but did that really matter? You both kept your promises to one another in your hearts; your spirits binded themselves together underneath the shade of the blood-red leaves. 

Returning to the cabin as the skies grew darker, he mentally took account of everything you’d gathered. Besides the onions and potatoes from home, you had found patches of vegetation that grew wild over the decades: blueberries, clovers, dandelions, mint leaves, and rosemary. Pine cones were scattered on the ground, so they’d been collected as well. You had no idea what to do with them, but they’d been in your book. They wouldn’t use everything tonight, since you’d plucked plenty for other dinners, but you’d eat well tonight. You are not the best of cooks, but you said that you liked making food for Aemond. It makes you feel like a “real wife” despite knowing that is not a woman’s only role. He enjoyed getting the food for you, and helping you prepare it by skinning and gutting the animal. 

“We were gone longer than I’d thought,” Aemond said, reaching the threshold of the cabin’s proximity. “The sun’s about to go down. We should get the fire going.”

“Right.” 

The island looked small in the sky, but you’d both learned it is quite vast. Beyond the little village and ship docks, there is nothing but an endless forest. He’s certain you’d hardly scratched the surface of the remote place. As he sat down outside the back door, the designated skinning and gutting area, you unloaded your satchel inside. Aemond watched you pick up dusty jars and bottles from a shelf near the fireplace. They’d been one of the few things that seemed salvageable in the cabin. While he patched up holes in the cabin with leaves and wood, you’d cleaned them out for proper use. As he made a slit in his kill, you saw you fill the jars with your findings. The remaining vegetables went into a crate near the fireplace, and the last of your bread sat in a basket. He knew the last piece resembled a rock by now, since you had no way of keeping it fresh.  

“Aemond?” you called to him. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you want to go into the village again?”

Aemond stopped cutting into the rabbit’s fur, “What for?”

“I want to see if we can find food there.”

“Y/N, the village is old. I doubt anything we find will be useful or edible. Neither of us can afford to become ill.” He started peeling the rabbit’s skin from its body, the familiar squelching noise breaking the silence. You pointedly looked away, and he snorted amusedly. “There is nothing in the village. Everything we need is in the forest behind us.” 

You accepted his answer, then began working on starting a fire in the hearth. Aemond thought back to the tablet and charcoal pieces he kept hidden in his bag. A perfect wedding gift for his beautiful bride, he decided. He finished stripping and hollowing out the carcass, and skewered it through a metal stick to hang over the fire. Ser Criston used to sit next to it, occasionally pouring the fat drippings to keep it juicy. He did the same, enjoying the warmth and your company in the meantime. It felt like a dream. You are his wife. You loved him. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at you at the nearby table. You’d decided to chop the onion and one potato to put in a pot for rabbit soup. Whether it’d taste good was yet to be seen, but he didn’t mind so much. Knowing you’d made it meant a lot to him. 

“I think I might make a fishing rod,” he said when you came to him with a pot of water and your vegetables. “That way we aren’t always eating rabbit.”

“I can find a way to grow food here by the cabin,” you replied. “A woman from the village used to grow her own food near her home.”

“Would that work?”

“I don’t know. I can still try.” You looked into your pot, “We will need more water. We only have one skin left and half a bucket. We should have gotten water by the river.”

“I will go in the morning.” He held your hand for a while, putting more fat over the rabbit and listening to it sizzle. It smelled wonderful. “Do you want to read tonight or should I?”

“I like it when you read,” you smiled at him. 

“Then I shall.”

Oh, what he wouldn’t do to keep you happy. Aemond planted a kiss on your lips, letting it linger before breaking away. You smiled and put your head on his shoulder. The dread did not touch him right now. That crippling sensation that they’d eventually be found, broken apart to never see one another again did not breach his thoughts. He knew once his mother found him, she’d make sure he never escaped again. She’d betroth and marry him to some noblewoman far away, forever barring him from being with you. Your mother will undoubtedly marry you off once you return home; possibly to a Stark or a lord far from the south. But, right now, that mattered very little. Sitting beside his wife by the fire, feeling her fingers lightly trace patterns on his forearm and occasionally being kissed by her, the outside world faded. The couple entered a place completely their own, and he’d live in it as long as possible. 

After you put the soup to boil, the rabbit pieces floating inside, Aemond walked over to his satchel by the edge of the bed. “I have something for you,” he said, finding the tablet and charcoal inside. “It’s customary for a groom to give his bride a present, and I waited for the right time.”

“A present? Aemond, you did not have to,” you smiled. 

“I did,” he said. “Close your eyes.” He returned to your side once you closed your eyes. He placed the wooden tablet, parchment, and sack in front of you. “Open them.”

When you looked down, your smile warmed his heart. “Oh Aemond,” you sighed, picking up the slate, “Where did you find this?”

“In the market with Aegon.” He refused to bring up that it’d been after their night in the brothel. “There was a vendor selling all kinds of different things, and I saw this,” he gestured to the tablet, “And thought you might enjoy using it. I brought more paper too for when you run out.”

“Thank you,” you beamed, holding the slate to your chest, “I love it.” You then frowned, “But, I did not get you a gift.”

“You becoming my wife is already enough for me,” he replied in a smile. “I wanted to give you something you’d use, and I thought this would be perfect.”

“It is.” 

You bent forward and kissed him. Out of habit, he brought you closer to deepen it. The urge to kiss you like he’d done in the godswood crossed his mind, but he forced himself to stop. 

“We should go into the village tomorrow, like you suggested,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Not for food, but to look around and see if there is anything useful there. It’d be good for us to get out of here and do something fun. Maybe then find our dragons, and we can fly together for a while.”

“That sounds nice,” you nodded, kissing him again. 

He’d never felt happier. 

***

Alicent’s muscles remained so tense throughout the flight that they burned. The terrifying thought of somehow slipping from Rhaenyra, off the saddle and into the open air crossed her mind several times. She’d felt fearful when riding with Aegon, who’d kept Sunfyre straight and steady to keep her at ease, and the fear came back now. Yet, her fingers digging into Rhaenyra’s leather coat, feeling her torso pressed against her’s, and her silver hair brushing into her cheek, it lessened over time. She closed her eyes, and the daydreams from long ago returned. 

‘I don’t care about that anymore. I love you, Alicent. It is you that I want; not the Throne or the Crown or the Seven Kingdoms. It is you I wish to be with like I said: fly away across the sea, seeing the wonders of the world and eating cake.’ 

The memory returned once again, stinging as badly as they’d done every other time. It’d come to her vividly. She’d been sitting up in her bed, her curls a mess and wearing her thin nightgown, looking at Rhaenyra in the near darkness. Rhaenyra’s hair shone in the moonlight; her eyes sparkled with hope and determination as she spoke. Alicent knew them to be true; she’d admitted them to herself. Flying through the orange and blue skies, she imagined what it’d look like if she’d gone. If she’d forgotten her father’s warnings and threats…if she hadn’t cared about what others believed…if she’d let go of every fear and doubt in her mind and given into her desires for once. Alicent blinked back tears. She’d once told Rhaenyra she’d go wherever her beloved went, whispering them between kisses in the sand. But she had not. She’d let fear stop her. 

‘But, Father, I love her!’

She’d declared it so loudly then, sobbing and pleading with her father to understand. It left a swelling in her throat. He’d told her that her ‘infatuation’ will eventually pass; she’d come to see he was right in the end. Deep down, Alicent knew he’d rather burn the world than let people believe a Hightower committed a sin. She’d held her tongue, swallowed her feelings, and continued living behind a mask. She married the king, gave him children and did her duty to her house. All the while, her beloved slipped through her fingers like silk. 

Alicent opened her eyes to see the sun setting on the horizon. How long had they been flying? Syrax will surely need to settle somewhere soon. She took in the fading gradients of the sky, the orange and yellow giving way to the black and blue of night. Alicent worried they may not find any of their children tonight, and be forced to turn back or go off course. She dared to gaze below, and finally saw it. A single ship stood out in the expanse of dark ocean below. Squinting to see through the clouds, she saw it sailed unaccompanied by other ships. It appeared to be heading in the same direction as them, rather than moving out of the bay. 

“Who is that?” she said in Rhaenyra’s ear, pointing a shaking finger at the ship. 

Rhaenyra took her eyes off the path to look. She guided Syrax out of the clouds, and halfway to the water. Both women then recognized the silver seahorse against aquamarine sails of House Velaryon. Lord Corlys must be setting out to find you and Aemond as well. You are his granddaughter after all. To add more suspicion, they heard a faint screech in the distance. Small and slender, another dragon flew on the other side of the ship. Baela and her dragon, Moondancer. 

It truly is all hands on deck in this search. 

“I’ll go lower, then he’ll see us!” Rhaenyra called over her shoulder, “Hold on!” 

Alicent let out a small scream as Syrax suddenly moved further down, her body being several feet from the water. They came up beside the ship, where they spotted several hanging lanterns lighting the deck. Alicent leaned a bit farther to see the imposing figure of Lord Corlys standing on the top of the deck, steering the helm himself towards the island. He turned his head at the approach of Syrax, and noticed Rhaenyra and Alicent riding her. Too far to exchange words, all the lord did was point ahead and nodded. They are going in the right direction. 

“Aegon?!” Alicent called out to him, hoping she was close enough for him to hear. 

He pointed upwards, and then forward again. Good, he’d seen them then. Another screech above told them Moondancer had flown ahead. Rhaenyra lifted the reins and Syrax turned back up into the skies. She prayed to The Mother silently. 

‘Please, Mother, protect our children and keep them safe. My children are all I truly have. Please, let them be well.’ 

“There!” Rhaenyra gasped after a long while. “It’s there!”

Alicent peeked over her shoulder to see a dark mass not too far away. It was larger than she’d imagined, with a long and wide stretch of forest around most of it. She could not see much else through the night time sky. The island was devoid of any light or life. A sense of dread came back to her. What if they’d gotten to the wrong place? What if the children aren’t here? Alicent clung tightly to Rhaenyra, who placed a hand on the one on her stomach. She almost melted from the comfort. In the night, she spotted several dragons of varying sizes flying away from the southern corner of the island. They dropped down on the sandy beach, their bodies making shapes in the white sand. Rhaenyra circled the area for a place to land, finally finding one towards the shore in the shallows. Alicent felt the soreness in her limbs again, not wanting to move from the position on the saddle. 

But, the sight of a silver-blond figure broke her from her seat. 

“Aegon Targaryen!” she bellowed, sliding off the dragon saddle and into the water. It splashed against her ankles, and soaked her slippers. She did not care. Her fury boiled up to her cheeks as she stomped through the waves, “Aegon Targaryen, what in the Seven Hells do you think you are doing here?!”

“I have come to look for Aemond, Mother!” he remarked, neither stepping back nor meeting her. 

“On your own?! Without any aid?!” she came right up to him, the fading sun giving her enough light to see him. “Do you realize how reckless this was? You had no idea the precise coordinates of this place. You might’ve been flying in the wrong direction, or gotten lost. You should have waited until we’d come up with a plan.”

“You were taking too long.” Aegon rarely spoke back to her in these moments, yet Alicent could not help admiring him. He stood straight with his shoulders back, staring hard back at her. “Aemond could be injured or sickly, and you and Rhaenyra were standing around a bunch of old maps. Forgive me, Mother,” he softened, “I knew you’d be worried but the longer we waited, the more likely something could happen to him.”

His softness simmered her anger. She knew his true reason for wanting to find Aemond first, and understood it. She nodded, “I only worried for you.” She hugged him tightly, taking in the scent of him like she’d done in his infancy. “You and your siblings are all I have,” she admitted in a whisper. “I…I cannot lose you.”

“I know, Mother.” 

He hugged her back, then released her. Helaena stood nearby, and embraced her as well. At least they were safe. She thanked The Mother. 

“Jacaerys! Lucerys!” She heard Rhaenyra’s anger match her own. “I told you both to stay in the castle! This place can be dangerous!”

“We wanted to find Y/N,” Jace replied. “We could not wait any longer.”

“This was entirely foolish of you,” she looked at the others near her, “Foolish of all of you. If you’d waited, we could have built a strategy and flown here together.” 

She ran her hand through Jace’s hair, then brought him to her side. She did the same with Luke. Alicent heard muffled words from both boys, who no doubt apologized for upsetting her.  Alicent then turned to Aegon, “It appears my son is the leader of this little rescue group. What was your plan exactly?”

Aegon paused. He did not have one. “I thought of us splitting up in pairs to find them.”

“In a place as large as this one?”

“We’d use our dragons.”

“In the darkness?”

He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “Well…”

“We need to burn torches if we are to start searching,” Rhaenyra came up to them with her boys. “Lord Corlys is on his way with Baela. I’m certain he has brought more men with him. Knowing Laenor,” she looked at Alicent, “He would have followed us with Ser Criston; that’ll add more people to the party.”

“So, you suggest more patience, a thing we’ve had so little of these days?” Alicent responded. 

“There is not much we can do safely. I’d rather we stay together until Lord Corlys arrives. He is not too far, so I suspect he’ll be here by morning.”

“We’ve brought food and water,” Luke said from Rhaenyra’s side. 

“Yes, and bed rolls to sleep on in case we did not find them by daybreak,” added Jace. 

“Wine, Mother?” Aegon offered her his wineskin. Alicent looked at the skin, then her son. An olive branch, she assumed. She took it, uncorked the stopper and gulped some. A drink might calm her nerves, which buzzed enough to shake her bones. “Jace, Luke and I will set up a fire,” he told her, putting the cork back on for her. “You can divide up the provisions and Helaena and Rhaenyra can send off the dragons. They can patrol the skies for right now.” 

Alicent did not disagree. Dividing food and supplies gave her mind something to do while she impatiently waited for Lord Corlys. Everyone went their separate ways to their various tasks. They’ve managed to end up where Aemond is. If the Seven favored her, he might end up wandering into the camp and she can take him home. 

And then what? Lock him in the highest tower forever? He’d resent her for the rest of their lives if she did that. As she unloaded the sacks the children brought with them, she pictured herself in Aemond’s shoes. Well, she’d once been in them. Her son mustered the courage she never had. He’d left everything and everyone he knew to begin a new life in an unfamiliar place with his beloved. Yes, you are his beloved. He’d said so in all the letters he’d written you. Aemond wrote poem and poem declaring his love; he’d written at length about how being without you tortured him. She’s certain you’d responded the same way. How could she ruin that? She’d be no better than her father. 

“You should take off your shoes.” Rhaenyra appeared beside her, spreading a blanket to place the food on. “They’re soaked from the water.”

Alicent wiggled her toes in her wet shoes and stockings. She should’ve been more careful where she dismounted. Alicent kicked them off, along with her stockings. They’d dry on their own soon enough. Quietly busying herself with the provisions, she thought back to what Rhaenyra told her. Her children will be safe. She’d be safe. She caught sight of Aegon lighting a fire. He is the challenge. Many people said Viserys should have named him heir at birth, but he never did. He feared losing his daughter. If Rhaenyra wanted to remain uncontested, she’d need to remove any other claimants.

Rhaenyra wouldn’t. 

She’d never hurt her children. The moment in Driftmark made them both lose sense and sight. If they’d talked alone without interference from her father and husband, they might have found common ground. But, she’d let years of resentment and loss and longing start an inferno in her heart. She told herself over and over that Rhaenyra’s blatant treason was what upset her. That she’d committed adultery, mothering bastards with Harwin Strong, and subsequently putting her life at risk. But, turning to look at Rhaenyra, feeling her close and working together, she accepted the truth at last. It had not been the treason that could cost Rhaenyra her life if revealed. It had not been Viserys’s blindness or his unconditional love and favor for his daughter. 

It’d been because Rhaenyra chose Harwin. 

She’d shut Alicent out once she became her stepmother, and walked into the strong arms of Harwin. Even if undercover, she’d given her heart and soul to Harwin. She’d taken it from Alicent that night and given it to him. 

“Did you love him?” she heard herself ask before she could stop. 

“What?” Rhaenyra heard her. She had to be in their close proximity, but it was a ruse. It was a chance to retract the question. 

“Did you love him? Rhaenyra, did you love him?”

She did not answer immediately. Alicent watched her carefully place a bundle of apples in one corner, arranging them without thinking. She saw the wheels turning. Rhaenyra bit the inside of her cheek, a thing she often did when in thought. Alicent saw the answer in her hands. Yes, she had. 

“I did,” she finally said, the words staying between them and not floating away. “He came into my life during a very vulnerable time. He sensed my loneliness, my sadness, and lifted me from it. I felt trapped, and he comforted me. I did not feel lost with Harwin. I felt safe and secure in my position at home; I felt I could go onwards with him by my side.”

Alicent turned away. A hollow feeling buried itself into her chest. She’d been that person once, and she’d betrayed her. She’d set aside a sack of berries when Rhaenyra’s hand stopped her. When she looked up, she saw tears in the princess’s eyes. 

“I went to him because I’d lost you,” she whispered. “I’d lost you to my father…to the kingdom…to your father,” her voice hissed at the last word. “When you married my father, I resented you because you lied to me. You never told me about your meetings, or that you’d seduced my father into loving you-”

“-I did not ‘seduce’ your father. It was the ambition of my father who’d pushed me into your father. He…” she paused, taking a breath, “He wanted so badly to have a grandchild on the throne, he sacrificed me. In turn, I sacrificed the things I’d held so dear to me; I casted them aside for a ‘greater purpose’.” She thought back to her father telling her to comfort the king after his wife’s death. She knew his plan then, but young Alicent only obeyed her father’s orders. “I’d hoped your father would not favor me. I hoped he’d still see me as his daughter’s childhood companion, a girl not much older than her. I prayed, even, that he chose Laena Velaryon over me. He’d gain more from her than from me. But, my father’s plan worked. Your father chose me for his wife, and…And I lost you.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you every time we went to the strawberry patch in the gardens; I wanted so badly to reveal it to you, but I feared the outcome.” She rested her hands in her lap, starting to pick at the skin on her nail beds. She carved into it with her nail, pushing the skin away from the nail. It hurt a bit, but it did not bother her. “I feared what might happen if we’d been discovered by the wrong person. My father told me what they’d done to Ser Hoster when they found him abed with his squire. I’ve heard the things people say about your husband, and what’ll occur if it ever came to light. I was scared, Rhaenyra,” she could not look at her. Tears stung her eyes, adding to the self-mutilation on her fingers. “I was scared just as I am now.”

“I did not know then,” Rhaenyra said. “I thought you’d done it on purpose, to hurt me for some reason unknown to me. Perhaps, deep down in my silly dreams, I’d hoped we could still be together somehow, some way. But, knowing you’d married my father and he’d bedded you…I do not know, it…It sickened me.” She took Alicent’s hand to stop her picking. “Then, after Daemon returned from the Stepstones, I saw your unhappiness and knew I’d caused a portion of it. When you told me people only saw you as The Queen,” she caressed Alicent’s hand, fingers underneath her wrist, “I hoped we could mend what splintered.”

“Then you came to me in my bed, and once again…” she sniffled, “My fear kept me from going with you.”

“And my love for you kept me there.” 

Alicent looked at her with teary eyes. She clutched Rhaenyra’s wrist, turning slightly to face her. “We’re both mothers,” she began, “And we love our children. We’d do anything for them.” She rubbed her wrist, wanting to touch and feel her like before. She worried if she stopped, Rhaenyra would disappear. “Forgive me, Rhaenyra. Forgive me for all of it? For every disparaging remark or thinly veiled insult? For demanding your son’s eye in return for Aemond’s? For destroying…” she took a deep breath, “For destroying us. Do you forgive me for destroying us?” 

“You did not destroy us. I did.” She touched her back, and it melted everything inside her. “I did the night your boy lost his eye.” She sniffled, “Y/N implored me to speak with you after it happened. She said it could be mended if we’d both spoken in private; if we’d truly aired our feelings and discussed them. But, I’d been too stubborn and hurt to approach you. After what you’d said to me, after the knife slipped, I did not know if it was possible.” Their eyes met again, “Years of jealousy, betrayal, and bitterness have built up this wall between us that made you feel so unreachable. That wall was put there by both of us, and the world in which we live in. So much…So much ripped us apart, I did not know if it could ever be restored.” 

“I’d been too wrapped in my grief and worry for my son that the thought did not occur to me. What I said that night…Forgive me for it. Please.”

“You did not lie. I know my father’s favor is what keeps my sons and myself alive. I abused it that night. I needed to protect my sons; protect them from the whispers being spread about them. I should never have asked Aemond to be questioned, but you must understand, my sons…Their lives would be in danger if the truth ever came out.”

“Why, Rhaenyra?” she asked. “You knew your indiscretion with Harwin could put your life at risk; your sons’ lives at risk. Why?”

She shook her head, “I cannot honestly say. I loved Harwin. I did not wish for it to happen, but it did, and I have no regrets. Harwin gave me three beautiful sons, whom I love more than my own life.” She then asked, “Did you fear for your childrens’ lives, Alicent? Is that why you advocated for Aegon to be heir for so long? You know your son is not fit for the throne. This little stunt of his does not prove he could be-”

“-Of course I fear for them. I fear for them every day,” she cut her off. “Aegon and Aemond are true born sons of the King. They have their own claims to the throne, which someone might decide is a threat and kill them.” 

“You believe I’d do such a thing, Alicent?”

“Your sons took my son’s eye. What would stop them or any of your supporters from killing him?”

“I would stop them,” she said firmly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I would stop them before they even thought of raising their swords. Alicent,” she implored, “What happened to Aemond is terrible. I cannot fathom the pain it’d brought you to see him in so much pain. My sons did not intend to hurt him; they only defended themselves. As did your Aemond,” she added before Alicent could interrupt. “But, I would never put a sword to your sons or daughter. They are my blood. They are…” she paused, “They are a part of you. Killing them would be the equivalent of killing you. That is something I truly could not bear.” 

Tears fell freely down their faces. Alicent’s heart laid bare on the floor for Rhaenyra to pick up and take with her. The hole in her chest ached to be filled once more by her love. She’d missed her in The Red Keep. She’d missed their talks in the godswood, their walks in the palace gardens, and being at each other’s side always. The Keep feels colder and lonelier than ever before. She wanted to say this. The words tittered on the tip of her tongue, but Alicent could only weep. 

“Rhaenyra, I-”

“-Mother! Mother, look!”

The two women turned from each other to see a pale green dragon land on the other side of the dunes, her pale horns pearly white. On her saddle sat Baela Targaryen, who grinned at them both from her seat. Rhaenyra and Alicent wiped their cheeks, and went with their children to greet Baela. She forced herself to push the conversation from her mind, yet it lingered as she walked. As she finished hugging her cousins, Baela looked at Rhaenyra. 

“Have you found Y/N yet?” she asked hopefully. 

“Not yet,” Rhaenyra answered. “We are waiting for your grandfather to arrive.”

“He set out as soon as the guards told him about Starshine,” Baela told her. “I saw her flying when I first set out, and tried following her, but she’s too fast for Moondancer.”

“It is good you did not follow. Y/N might’ve told her not to land near here,” Rhaenyra told her. “Come, get warm near the fire and eat something.” 

Their conversation put to rest for now, Alicent and Rhaenyra joined their children by the fire and eagerly waited for Lord Corlys. 

***

As husband and wife now, you permitted Aemond to sleep inside the bed roll, rather than on top. You welcomed his warmth underneath the thin blankets; clinging to him shielded you from the cool winds that came in through the window. Finding a comfortable position proved difficult in the beginning, since neither of you wanted to inconvenience the other, but soon you found a position you liked. His arm around your waist, he laid on his back while you snuggled to his side. It was another step into being married. If you’re married, you’re allowed to share a bed. 

In the twilight between sleep and awake, you thought you heard a faint screech from outside. The winds briefly flurried and whacked branches into the window sill before going completely still again. You heard the sound again, but closer. 

“Aemond…” you mumbled and wiped your nose, “Aemond, I think there’s…a dragon…out-outside.”

“It’s nothing, my love,” Aemond replied, not opening his eyes and pulling you close. “Go…back to sle-e-ep.” 

“Hmm, alright.” 

The noises outside did not bother you any further. 

***

Lord Corlys’s ship appeared on the horizon around dawn. Rays of orange and yellow broke through the black sky, banishing night and giving way to morning. Rhaenyra found sleep difficult at the beginning. She kept picturing you somewhere deep in the forest, wandering aimlessly with Aemond beside you. Rhaenyra only found comfort when she reassured herself that you are fearless. Cautious, yes, but fearless. You would've adapted to your situation, and found ways to get water and food. You also had Aemond, who’d no doubt have some form of wilderness skills. Suddenly, she'd fallen asleep and seconds later was woken up again. 

"Mother, Grandfather is here," said Luke, his face inches from hers. 

"Oh, gods, Luke, please."

She gently moved him away and sat up. Across from her, through the dimness of morning, she spotted Alicent already standing. Their conversation the previous night returned like a dream. It'd been as you suggested: both women finally airing some of their grievances with each other. Their hearts finally spilled out onto the floor, and neither one held back. A weight, she felt, slightly lifted itself from her shoulders. Alicent did not hate her. She had in fact resented her for the freedoms she enjoyed, and believed she'd been replaced by Harwin. She thought Rhaenyra truly stopped loving her. How she wished to prove differently. 

She saw Alicent in Harwin’s dark curls, and her smirk in his sly smiles. 

She thought of her every time she ate a candied lemon off a cake and when a maid poured her sweet cream for her fruits. 

Every time Alicent Hightower crossed her mind, her heart shed another piece away. 

"Lord Corlys," Alicent greeted the sea lord as he approached. "I am glad to see you arrived safely."

"As am I, Your Grace," he bowed, long locs swinging from his shoulders. "The seas around this island can be rough if one does not know how to navigate them. It makes me glad Prince Aemond and Y/N took their dragons."

She shuddered briefly, picturing it, and pushed it away at once. "Has there been any sign of them?" he asked them. 

"Not since we arrived," Rhaenyra answered, walking up to him. "It was too dark to search with the few we have. I take it you've brought more men."

"I have," he nodded over to the shoreline where she spotted more rowboats coming to the shore. "Once everyone is here, we can divide up the parties. Dragonriders may take to the skies, while we go on foot."

"Can you tell us anything you know about this place, Lord Corlys?" Alicent asked, a plea laced in her voice. 

"There was once a village here, that I know," he answered. "But, it’s been abandoned for decades and therefore inhabitable. The children will be foolish to try staying in those buildings. I imagine they must've set up camp by a water source, if we're lucky." He looked at the sky above, "It is strange. I have not yet seen or heard Starshine or Vhagar."

"I find that strange as well," Rhaenyra agreed. "Dragons typically stay near their riders, and Starshine isn't one to leave Y/N alone."

"And we would've seen Vhagar," Baela came to her grandfather's side and hugged him. "She's big."

"I assume the children ordered them to stay away to avoid being caught." He kept Baela close as he said, "What were they thinking?" He sighed, "Coming here of all places. How could they expect to survive?"

"It must’ve been Aemond’s idea," said Alicent. "Ser Criston often takes him and Aegon on hunting trips. My son learned a lot from him. I am confident he's kept them both fed and watered at least."

She sounded as if she tried convincing herself more than anyone else. Rhaenyra put a hand on her back to comfort her, and she felt the queen's shoulders loosen. 

"They'll be fine. We only need to find them."

"If they wish to be found."

Rhaenyra knows you'll put up a fight. You will not leave so easily; if you caught a whiff of them, you'll run off again. It's what she would do if she was you. Lord Corlys, Aegon and the other boys circled a map Corlys brought along with him. Faded and withered, the copy was legible, so easier to organize search parties in various areas. Rhaenyra only cared about finding you. You mattered above everything else. An hour later, she spotted Seasmoke, a gray and silver dragon, flying through the sky towards them. She greeted Laenor and Ser Criston when they arrived. 

"Our girl?" Laenor asked her. When she shook her head, he said, "Well, I spotted Starshine in the skies to the east, so we must be in the right place.” 

“I hope so,” she frowned. “Your father is organizing groups to search the forest.”

“I will ride Seasmoke,” he told her, “And scan the island for a sign of them.” 

“No,” Rhaenyra said suddenly. When he gave her a puzzled look, she continued, “If they see dragons in the sky, they’ll be compelled to run off again.” He appeared unconvinced, so she said, “You know she’ll run if she thinks we’ve found them.”

“Rhaenyra, we need to use whatever resources we have to find them. The dragons are the best way to do that,” he told her, taking her hand to squeeze it gently. “They cannot run if they don’t have their dragons to ride.”

“They’ll find a new place to hide on the island then. Laenor, Y/N is stubborn and willful. You know she is, and she won’t give up Aemond so easily.”

“She wouldn’t have to give him up if you and the queen hadn’t…” he stopped himself from finishing. “Let us focus on finding Y/N and bringing her home.”

She knew what he meant to say. If her and Alicent made amends after Driftmark, then there’d be no broken betrothal. Did he believe she did not know that? That she felt no guilt or responsibility for causing this? If she’d tried speaking to Alicent and convincing her to reinstate the betrothal for their childrens’ sake, then you’d be home right now. She followed Laenor to the main group, noticing Ser Cole with Alicent. Seeing their heads close together, she guessed Ser Criston is giving his queen a report. Rhaenyra recalled their conversation once again, and forced herself to look away from her. 

That was when she spotted the empty bed rolls near the campfire. Aegon and Jace gave their rolls to their mothers, but Luke, Helaena, and Baela slept on their own. Her eyes swept the area for her sons, hoping that she must’ve missed them in the group of people settled on the beach. She even turned to the skies to see none of the dragons in the clouds. She walked around the occupied space, her breath growing heavier as her heart pounded. Seven Hells, they’d done it again. How? When? She’d woken up to Luke’s sweet smile inches from hers. How could they have snuck off so quickly? 

“Where are the children?” she asked Alicent, touching her forearm. 

“The children?” She then glanced around the beach, looking off into the distance beyond before realizing it herself. “They wandered off.”

“Or went to look for Aemond and Y/N.” 

“Ugh, Aegon!” she grunted, stomping her foot in the sand. “Ser Criston!” she walked over to the knight, “Aegon and the other children aren’t here.”

“Prince Aegon told us they’d be going on ahead together,” he said innocently. “Why do you ask…” he then mentally kicked himself, “That rascal.”

“Everyone is aware of my son’s proclivity for lying,” she hissed. “Why do people continuously believe him?” Rhaenyra recognized the anger starting to rise in her tone, and took her forearm again, gently rubbing the space under her arm. “Rhaenyra, I swear it,” she said, “He does it on purpose.”

“Or perhaps he believes he needs to prove himself?”

Alicent hesitated, taking a breath. “Let us go and look for them. They cannot have gone that far.”

“Unless they went on their dragons.”

“Oh Gods,” she growled, “Those damnable beasts…Lord Corlys is arranging groups to go into the forest for Y/N and Aemond. Now, we have to find the others on top of them as well.” 

“We’ll go together,” she comforted Alicent. “They cannot have gone far.” 

Alicent took a deep breath, and Rhaenyra noticed the raw skin around her nails. She put one hand over them, growing slightly. She must’ve done it throughout the night as she tossed and turned. They shared a glance, before Alicent looked away guiltily. 

“Come, Your Grace.”

****

Aemond and you set out for the village after a small breakfast. Since you’d been more concerned with shelter at the time, you’re sure the both of you overlooked useful items. Aemond brought his bow, while you carried a small knife on your belt. You insisted upon having your own weapon on the chance you are separated. 

The village remained as deserted as the day you’d first arrived. The storefronts, dusty and grimy, had broken glass or charred sills. The natural world reclaimed the area humanity took by growing through the cracks in the floor, and growing vines up the sides of buildings. Birds made their nests high on the rooftops and chimneys of some shacks; you suspected thousands of insects and arachnids made their homes inside the walls and dark places in the buildings. You walked carefully through the market square, where you imagined dozens of people bustling around in its prime. Merchants must’ve had stalls for their various wares; bakers put pies and baskets of bread to sell from their windows, and an apothecary likely handed out remedies and healing concoctions to customers. It was a shell of the village back on Dragonstone. You spotted a tavern, where you pictured fishermen and farmers going after a long day in the sun. Childishly, you saw yourself and Aemond among them. He’d have come home from fishing or hunting or farming, while you laundered and mended clothes or tidied the house or made dinner for you both.  It sounded lovely compared to court life, a vicious pit of vipers and flatterers. 

You longed for it more when you added your family into the picture. 

“We’ll start in here,” he nodded to one of the buildings. “I think it was an apothecary,” he nudged a broken sign on the front with his foot. 

You agreed, and followed him inside. Dusty bottles and jars remained cracked or broken on the shelves, the glass crunching underneath your boots when you walked. You remained near Aemond while inspecting the shelves, which didn’t have much to offer but the occasional insect or dried up plants. The ages hadn’t been kind to the village, it seemed. But, you did find a selection of books underneath the bar. 

“Look,” you picked out one gingerly, feeling the thick soot on its leather spine. “I found a book.” 

“What book?”

The cover bore no title, but once you opened it, you noticed it was a ledger. Faded letters read the names, amounts and items each person bought; no doubt the shopkeeper kept a record of his inventory and coin. Aemond retrieved a second, smaller book. 

“This one must’ve been their guide,” Aemond said, flipping through the pages carefully. “For the different herbs and plants that can be used.” He read a bit into one part, “It tells you how to use their seeds and make oils too. We could use this.” He put it in his bag, then said, “Do you think they grew them here?”

“It’s possible. I can’t see where they’d get them otherwise.”

You abandoned the books for the door behind the counter. It was a workshop; the workbench and equipment  proved as much. Aemond delicately picked up a mortar and pestle left on the table, the stone smooth on his fingertips. 

“Maybe we can use this?” he asked, “For food?” 

“Hm,” you examined it next, then said, “We could.” 

You tucked both objects into your satchel, and continued looking around. After finding a few bowls, you decided the shop carried nothing else, and moved on through the back door. In bushes underneath the window, you saw overgrown plants with red fruit hanging from the vines. Tomatoes. How have tomatoes managed to grow out here? Rain? You took the ripe ones, then followed Aemond to the next shop, the bakery. 

“A wheelbarrow,” he said, finding a disused wheelbarrow beside a large, rusty furnace. “We can hold stuff in here whenever we go out.”

“Good find,” you nodded your approval. 

You each put your belongings inside it, then went into the bakery. Of course, no bread or baked goods were found, but you placed a wicker basket, wooden spoons, a tray, and a semi-rusted pan you found near the brick oven. A good cleaning will make them all usable, you decided. The best find turned out to be a small barrel of salt that had withstood the years. Aemond proclaimed not only could it be used for cooking, but also preserving foods, so hunting doesn’t need to be daily. The bakery being stripped, the tavern and several other shops came after. Whatever glasses hadn’t been smashed ended up in your wheelbarrow, as well as blankets or bags for storage. You had also found a large basin and a washer board for clothing. You have no oils to give them a smell, but hot water will get them cleaner. 

Picking whatever flowers the book deemed edible or at least useful filling your new basket, the both of you set back home. Each of you holding a side of the wheelbarrow, you felt good about what you’d found. Little by little, you were building your own home, and you loved it. 

“I am glad we came here,” you told Aemond halfway down the path out of town. “I think we would’ve liked it here if there’d been people.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “But I like that there isn’t anyone here.”

“Why is that?”

He put down his side of the wheelbarrow, so you put down yours. “Because then I can kiss you as much as I want,” he smirked before doing just that. You’d become addicted to Aemond’s kisses, your cheeks heating up every time you did it. It made you feel more “married”. When he broke away, he said, “And there is nobody to stop me.”

“Except me.”

“Except you,” he nodded. 

You stared at one another for a moment. Having him this close to you still made your heart race. He was right. No meddling mothers, no fussy septas, no annoying brothers were around. It is only you and him. Pecking his lips one more time, you smiled and took up your half of the wheelbarrow again. 

“We should refill our waterskins and the bucket,” you said, smiling at his dreamy eyes. “We’re running low on water.”

“We’ll go once we’ve put everything back at the house.” He lifted his side, then said, “I can fish in the lake too, if Vhagar and Starshine don’t come down for another drink.” 

You vaguely recalled the noise you’d heard last night. “Do you think they’d been flying around here last night?” 

“I suppose. I was sleeping.”

Knots filled your stomach thinking of another possibility. You knew as well as Aemond that your families will eventually appear. They’d rip you both apart, and you’d never see him again. Walking in silence, you decided you won’t let that happen. You’d fight for him. You’ll run away again; you’ll both go farther away where you cannot be found. Looking at him walking beside you, spending all this time with him, how could she expect you to want another? How can they expect you to simply walk away from him into the arms of some nameless, faceless lordling? You’d meant every word under that heart tree. You’ll never leave him. 

Coming back home, you both unloaded the wheelbarrow, and Aemond placed it near the front door. You started putting your newest floral finds in jars on the shelves. The apothecary guide book stayed on another shelf where you’d stocked the rest of your books, papers, and slate. Aemond sat at the table to try cleaning off the arrowheads he’d found in the blacksmith shop, while you knocked your basket against the edge to shake out bugs or reptiles nested inside. 

“What do you think of these as curtains?” you held up the thin sheets you’d found in- what you assumed- was a seamstress’s shop. “They’re a bit mothy and smelly, but I think if I wash them well, and we use the nails to hang them, we can close them at night.” 

“Hm, that’ll be nice. They can keep out the wind at night at the very least.” He touched the tip of one arrowhead, “These aren’t as sharp as I thought. Good thing I found the whetstone too.” 

“I’m sure they will still get the job done.” You picked through the other fabrics and sewing supplies you found, keeping it in a basket, “I found this old leather. I can try fashioning you a new patch? That cloth doesn’t hold well and I can tell it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he grumbled, using a whetstone now. 

“It does.” You put aside the strip of leather, thread and needle before walking over to him. “We should go to the lake now. Maybe we can perhaps have lunch there too?”

“Sounds lovely.”

He stood up, kissed you, and gathered his bow and arrow sheath again. You dumped the waterskins, pail and the tub into the wheelbarrow and walked through the thicket of trees and shrubbery to the lake. You’d been discussing the newest book you’d found in the shop when darkness fell over you both through the forest canopy. Standing still, you tried seeing the dragon’s underbelly through the leaves above, but the thick layers of branches and trees made it discernible. 

“Must be Starshine,” Aemond concluded, beginning to walk again. 

“Starshine is faster than that.”

“She might be slowing down for Vhagar to catch up. She’s not as fast since she carries so much weight.”

“Not to mention she’s a hundred-and-thirty years old.”

“And still as fierce as her younger days.” 

You found his constant need to defend his elderly dragon sweet. “She and Starshine seem to get on well,” you noted, careful not to trip over anything. “I once feared Vhagar might try to eat her.”

“I worried the same. Vhagar isn’t one to spend too much time around other dragons. She’s often alone, but since she met your dragon,” he looked up into the sky, “They seem to be together a lot.”

“Like us,” you grinned. 

“Like us,” he nodded with a smile. 

You expected to find the pair at the lake, but they weren’t there. They must’ve flown to the ocean for bigger prey. It didn’t matter. It made you happy to see Starshine having an older dragon friend. 

“I’ll collect sticks for a fire,” you said to him, “And you’ll fill the skins?”

“And fish,” he lifted a spear he’d made. 

You both nodded, then began your tasks. Walking back to the treeline by the lake, you grabbed whatever sticks and twigs you could use for a fire. Having a meal by the water sounded so tranquil. It made you wonder why you hadn’t done it before. You’d thought of making a fire pit with stones when a noise caught your attention. Looking up from the floor, you stared around the area around you. You held your breath, your body going still as you tried catching more sounds. When you heard a faint crack from farther away, you picked up one last stick and slowly walked backwards. Shadows and figures started forming in your mind, and put them between trees and bushes in the distance. You’re being ridiculous. There is nobody on this island but you and Aemond. Still, you stayed alert on your way back to the lake. 

Quietly, you started building the fire in the shade of the trees, while occasionally glimpsing Aemond in the water. Spear held up, violet eyes remained focused on the water. You tried your best not to pay too much attention to the woods behind you. If you kept your mind focused on other things, then the less likely anything would happen. As a fire finally kindled in your small pit, Aemond returned with a fish on the end of his spear. 

“I finally caught one,” he beamed, his breeches and shirt wet from standing in the water. “There are plenty more in the lake, so I can try later. Once they’re cooked, we can salt them in the larder for a while.” 

“That’s wonderful,” you replied, trying to keep the worry out of your tone. “Do you wish for me to prepare it?”

“I can gut it,” he said, taking a seat by the crackling fire, “I’ll cook it this time.” 

“Fair.” 

You took a seat beside him, and pulled out the small sewing kit you’d tucked into your bag. The leather strip in your lap, you used a knife to cut out a pattern. It wouldn't be the prettiest patch, but Aemond preferred function over fashion. Aemond quietly removed the bones and guts from the fish, which you tried not noticing as you started sewing pieces closed. 

“I don’t need a new patch,” Aemond insisted stubbornly, putting the fish onto the tarnished pan. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do,” you replied, making another stitch to close off one strap. “That cloth doesn’t fit you properly.”

“It does too.”

“It falls off whenever your head is down too long. Also, it’s dirty and I don’t wish for it to affect your eye.”

“How could it do that?” he snorted, “It’s already healed.”

“I don’t know,” you said, head up slightly, “But you need something more permanent.”

“It’s fine, Y/N.”

“Ooh, can a wife not do something nice for her husband?” your annoyance flared slightly at his teasing smile. 

“Alright, fine,” he said, pulling out innards from the dead fish. “If you insist, dear wife.” 

“Good.” 

You managed to make one strap by the time he started cooking the fish. Then, you paired the fish with water and berries you’d picked yesterday. You both lounged near the lake for a time, the hours slowly creeping along to give you more sunshine. You took a break from your sewing to dip into the water. You took off your boots, shirt and breeches until you only wore your linen small clothes. The shyness from the first time disappeared, and you felt Aemond’s eyes on you as you dove into the water.  He continued spearing more fish to take back home, but you knew he watched you. You floated on your back near him, shutting your eyes and letting the water drift you around. A natural luxury you’d never find at home. When your body accidentally brushed into Aemond, you giggled. 

“It isn’t my fault,” he suddenly said when you laughed harder. “You’re…You…” 

“I’m not naked.”

“You might as well be.” 

You opened your eyes to see his back towards you. Much like the last time you swam in the lake, you stood up from the water and looked at him. He stood awkwardly with his hands in front of him, and you stifled a giggle. 

“I think I will go back to the house,” you said, cheeks heating despite the cool water on them. “I might start on the curtains now, so then we can have them at night.”

“Yes, you, um…should.”

“Be careful, Aemond,” you told him as you started walking away, “I think there might be an animal somewhere in the forest. I heard it when I was collecting wood.”

“I will.”

You left Aemond in the water, gathered up your sewing kit and the unfinished patch, and went back towards the house. You’ll admit knowing you had that effect on Aemond inflated your pride. Water streamed down your legs, and plastered your clothes to your skin by the time you returned to the cabin. A slight chill made you shiver, so you stripped off the soaked clothes to dry in the sun, while you wandered around the cabin in your nightgown instead. You’d started measuring the thin curtain fabric at the windows when you heard Aemond return. 

“Do you think we should make them long?” you asked without looking at him, standing by the windows. You heard him putting down belongings on the side table near the door. Weapons and boots are always by the door. “Long curtains might keep out insects and more wind, but then I lose fabric I could use for something else.” 

“Whatever you wish is fine, my love.”

“I would still like your opinion on them,” you stretched out the fabric once you nailed it to the window’s corner. It reached well past the window sill by several inches. You felt you’d be wasting fabric by leaving them long. “This is your house as well.” 

“It does not mean much to me either way, Y/N,” he said. Footsteps moved around behind you, and you heard the scraping of the salt barrel. “I need to cut and salt these before they spoil.”

“Do it outside,” you told him. “It’ll stink of fish in here otherwise.” 

Aemond chortled, “As you wish, dear wife.” 

You heard the continued dragging of the small barrel on the floor before it suddenly stopped. Deciding on shorter curtains, you took up your knife and attempted to cut a straight line. 

“Now,” you said, turning to face him, “What do you thi-Aemond? What’s wrong?”

For Aemond stared at the window, completely still and focused on something outside. “Aemond?” you called to him again before walking over. When you stepped within a foot of him, he stopped you with his hand. “Aemond, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

Slowly, Aemond reached for his sheath of arrows and bow. “Stay in the house,” he whispered over his shoulder. He flinched a moment, then became fully stiff. “Bar the door. Don’t come outside, no matter what happens.”

“Aemond,” you squeaked. You looked out the window to see nothing but the greenery a few yards from your cabin. It reminded you of the sounds you’d heard in the forest by the lake, and the hairs on your neck stood up. 

“Just stay here.” 

You reached out for him when he began to move away, “No, Aemond. Stay here with me, please.”

“Keep quiet,” he hushed you, “And keep yourself hidden.”

You bit your lower lip, and stuck yourself to the side of the window facing the forest. Following Aemond with your eyes, your nails dug into the wooden frame and you chewed your lip. Your senses and nerves braced themselves for an attack; your toes curled inward, and a slew of scenarios crossed your mind. Pirates, bandits, feral people, or a wild predator might come flying out of those bushes and kill Aemond. Then, they’d come after you in the cabin, and you whimpered to yourself. Aemond withdrew an arrow from his sheath, notching it on his bow, and stretching it far back to his cheek. His one good eye stayed trained on the space between the bushes. The faint sounds of footsteps cracking the dried leaves and twigs on the ground came through; voices followed it. Voices meant people. You quickly reached for the nearest object, Aemond’s sword, and held it tightly in your hand. 

You wished he’d stayed inside with you. 

Right as the bushes parted, Aemond let his arrow fly. 

****

A/N: A cliffhanger leaving the question of not ‘what’ has found them, but ‘who’? As always, thank you so much for reading this. I always appreciate any feedback you guys have for me <3 

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #leo ashton #ewan mitchell

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

So if you're making a food forest, you need to gently noodge the land towards something that looks a little like this

using all edible plants. Or at least all plants that function towards the goal of food production for someone or something within the forest.

Because we intend to make biomes within our food forest for each livestock pasture, tailored to the needs of the animal that lives there, we'll want each biome of the food forest that we rewild to feed either us or the pastured livestock intended to live there.

Take the chicken biome

At it's barest foundations, the chicken biome is centered around the following plants:

Mulberry and weeping mulberry trees, fig trees, yucca, raspberry and blackberry bushes, climbing roses, nasturtium, pumpkin and squash, wormwood, oregano, thyme, lemonbalm, yarrow, comfrey, clover, sage, plantain leaf, rosemary, dandelion, beebalm, echinacea, calendula, turnips, carrots, and beets

While the final ecosystem we cultivate will obviously have far more biological diversity than that, these are the starting blocks of the biome. Functional plants that chickens and humans both love to have easy access to, including some that help us measure the environmental impact of the chickens themselves.

While there will ideally be lots of room to range free during the days, the goal is still to coop the chickens at night, so a recycled wood coop with climbing roses trellised on it, recycled crates for nesting boxes, and hay or wood chip litter. Some chicken friendly puzzles around, a few climbers/perches, and a watering trough hooked up to a rainwater collection system. We want them to lay their eggs in the nesting boxes as often as possible because frankly I don't plan to go egg hunting in the biome or cracking open fertilized eggs that were laid fuck knows how long ago because who knows how long it took me to find them. So obvi we need the chickens to like the coop as much or more than they like the biome lol. And considering the biome will be really nice, this will involve both training and a serious dedication to making that coop a lil chicken heaven.

The form of all these things obviously can not be determined until there is actually specific land to be cooperated with for a variety of fairly philosophically overwhelming reasons. But having the amorpheous theme of what will need to take shape when that day comes is exceptionally helpful to hitting the ground running, so to speak. It lets me build up my ecosystem mentally beforehand so that I can begin as much of that rewilding work as soon as possible and let nature take its course with little nudges and suggestions from me. By far, my preference I think in how to tackle all of this.

And the really cool part for me is going to be seeing it all come to life and getting to cultivate my home into a symbiotic wilds.

#chicken biome #references #food forestry

[redanianstupidity]

my witcher sexuality headcanons (if anyone takes this way too seriously im spitting on them)

philippa - stating strong, and lesbian, of course

triss - bisexual with preference for women

yen - bisexual with preference for men

sabrina - straight until she has two drinks

keira - gremlin

tissaia - hates everyone equally

rita - loves everyone equally

ciri - in books she's just traumatized / in games she's also traumatized but unsure if she's lesbian or bi

geralt - straight

dandelion - straight (i already hear them running louder than wild hunt)

regis - gay or bi spirits weren't clear about this one

dijkstra - bisexual and i stand by that

that's all spirits have told me for now

#the witcher #witcher netflix #yennefer of vengerberg #yenneferthewitcher #philippa eilhart #witcher yennefer #sabrina glevissig #triss merigold #tissaia de vries #keira metz #the lodge of sorceresses #ciri #dandelion #geralt of rivera #geralt witcher #merihart #yenralt

[covenofwives]

Dandelion Kisses

Dream is forever waiting for DreamXD to return. George is sick of Dream's moping around.

Waiting was the worst thing for Dream.

He spent months on edge waiting in that prison for the next visitor, or the next torture session. Dream always liked to pride himself on patience, and knowing the importance of letting things naturally fall into place but ever since the prison, waiting was the enemy.

There were a few dandelions just starting to sprout their seeds. They looked fluffy, like perfect puffballs but soon they’d be loose and ready to be windswept.

Dream watched the gentle sway of the dandelions in front of him. Some yellow heads mixed with the white. Swaying back and forth in the breeze. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was becoming hypnotising, slowly emptying Dream’s mind of any thoughts which was actually welcomed at that point.

Whenever Dream had a moment to think, it would all go back to DreamXD and remembering the rage on his brother’s face. Being able to just not think was a blessing.

“Are you done sulking?”

A voice pushed passed the puffballs filling his head, drawing up Dream’s attention. Without moving too much from his position he turned his head ever so slightly to look over his shoulder.

George stood, as he usually did, like a perfect painting in the afternoon sun. He must have been absolutely sure the two wouldn’t be disturbed as the wraps he usually had on his arms and chest under his tunic were off, showing the red mushrooms patches on his skin openly.

“No.” Dream mumbled into his arm as he turned back around to watch the flowers. He was laying on his front, arms folded under his head as he watched the flowers.

He heard a frustrated sigh from George behind him but wouldn’t look around. “You’re being very reckless, just laying out here where anyone can see you.”

“No-one comes here.” Dream mumbled back and it was partly true.

The rolling meadows were a lovely show of wild flowers in the Kinoko Kingdom. Dream, Sapnap and George would frequently go there to chill as well as a few others, but after Foolish build the impressive gardens with the Kingdoms walls most people flocked there, leaving the meadows mostly abandoned. That was perfect for Dream and George to steal some moments alone, or take time for themselves.

Dream was overcome with a want to see the meadows today and ventured out before George had woken up. He had left a note that read ‘OUT’ but it should be expected George would have looked here first.

“Thought you were busy today anyway.” Dream added, trying to annoyingly not let it show it bothered him but also hint that it bothered him.

“I said I was busy later today.” George came closer and Dream could feel him sit down on the grass beside his waist. “Sapnap wants a meeting with few people. Probably on security.”

Dream snorted to the irony of it before things went quiet for a while. An uncomfortable quietness before George spoke up.

“I could tell him today, if you want. Just calmly speak to him about…”

“No!” Dream snapped. “He’d put me back in there.”

“He’d listen to me. I could convince him to listen to you.”

“No!” Dream bristled to the thought of speaking to Sapnap again. Not after how everything had been left.

It was expected but heartbreaking when he saw Sapnap’s face in the crowd hunting him down. He replayed the words again and again in his head.

“Miss George? He doesn’t miss you. He doesn’t think of you, certainly doesn’t talk about you!”

It was one of the things Dream couldn’t bring himself to ask, though it always plagued his mind. Sapnap was just out to hurt Dream but then the words held some truth. George had already explained he wouldn’t visit Dream in prison because it hurt too much. So did he just pretend Dream didn’t exist?

“Well fine.” George threw up his hands and quickly stood up. “If you’re not up for talking then I’ll be back home.”

“I…never said that.” Dream forced himself to speak before George stepped too far away. He wouldn’t turn around but he heard the steps stop and finally he heard George come back. That settled his heart.

“Alright, so you’re up for talking. Not about Sap but you want to talk.” George sat himself down again by Dream’s side. This time he was closer and Dream could feel the warmth of him. “So what about?”

The dandelions all stilled for a split second, like they were letting Dream collect his thoughts before they started swaying again.

“XD… When do you think he’ll…y-you know…?”

“Deal with you?” George unhelpfully finished but Dream couldn’t deny that was the proper word for it. “I don’t know. Honestly I didn’t expect him to give you back, I thought you were gone again.”

That was Dream’s greatest fear too. He still wasn’t done processing everything that happened to him in that…wherever the hell he was. He told George about it, of course. He was still wearing the soft green tunic HD had given him, only now it was pared with black shorts that reached above his knees. But he had expected XD to show up the next day, or the day after. It was a week now and still nothing.

“Do you think he’s ever coming back?” George asked.

Dream’s heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. “Of course! He has to… He…”

“He didn’t come back for you in the prison.” George’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was bluntly to the point. “He didn’t come back to me either.”

“You stopped speaking to him?” Dream turned his head to look at George. He was absolutely bathed in the sunlight. His back to Dream but still an absolute picturesque sight. The sun caught on the edges of his hair, making it look golden.

“After he told me he wasn’t freeing you from prison, we fought and I told him to leave. He did and never came back.” George turned to look at Dream and seemed almost surprised to see his friend staring at him. “In the End, that’s the first time I’d seen DreamXD in months.”

Dream frowned. “Did you mean to send him away? Completely?”

George’s eyes flicked down to the grass while he thought. “I don’t know. Maybe in the moment I did, then I regretted it. But then the more I thought of it the more I meant it. If he was going to let you stay in there then I didn’t want him around.”

“He was your friend.”

“You’re more important.”

Dream’s heart worked through a mixture of flutters, tightening and thumping seemingly all at once. His cheeks flushed and he quickly looked away, back to the dandelions still dancing in the wind for him.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” Dream asked, trying to distract his confused heart.

“Do you want that?”

“No I… I-I don’t know. He can’t just…leave!”

“Didn’t you want him to leave?”

“I wanted him to help me!” Dream hand wrung through the grass. “I wanted him to listen to me! Just stop speaking for me and listen to me for once! But he never does and he never will! I nearly die and he wouldn’t even hear me out! Nothing I ever do for him gets his attention! He only listens when others talk about me, he never even bothered to ask-EEEP!”

A feathery swipe ended his thoughts and jolted through Dream’s body. It touched on his knee, swiping up to his thigh and causing his leg to kick out before Dream turned over.

He couldn’t fully turn over though, as George had very purposefully laid over Dream’s calves, so all Dream could really do was turn his waist. The fluffy head of the dandelion twirled softly in George’s hand.

“Wh-Whahat was that fohor?”

“You were spiralling.” George shrugged and twirled the flower in his hand again. He positioned it so close to his cheek Dream was sure it touched him, but it seemed George kept it just a hair length away from his skin.

“I was just…talking.” Dream tried to calmly talk, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the fluffy flower twirling around so delicately. It had felt so soft against the back of his knee, like it was a feather. Multiple feathers.

“You were spiralling.” The flower drooped in George’s hand slightly and Dream worried it was about to fall onto his leg.

Remembering the flower tingling along his leg made Dream jump ever so slightly, but he couldn’t really move much with George on top of them. “You-You asked…!”

“Now I’m not. Now I’m running this flower over your knee.”

“NO!”

George lowered the flower just ever so slightly but stopped. He gave a smug smile to Dream’s panic and attempt to dislodge himself. He couldn’t properly push himself up and George placed ever so perfectly over his calves meant he couldn’t kick his legs properly either.

“I don’t like it when you spiral.” George turned the flower over in his hand so the white fluffy head fell and pointed towards Dream’s knee. Dream drew in a short grasp, seeing how close he flower was to his skin. The back of his knees prickled from just the thought of it.

“You get a bad look on your face, like a scowl.” George softly and slowly twirled the flower. “It’s ugly on you. It twists up your pretty face and gives you a nasty look in your meadow eyes.”

“G-Geohohorge!” Dream fumbled as his words as his face burned redder and redder. His focus was torn between the flower twirling so close above his knee and the praises George was so freely giving out.

One of the flower’s twirls was just a little too harsh and the newly fluffed seed dislodged from the stem. It fluttered downward so gently, landing on the back of Dream’s knee. It barely felt like more than whisper, but Dream’s nerves and flusters set his skin on high alert.

“G-GEHEohohorge! GEhehet ihit o-ohohoff!”

“What?” George blinked, completely unaware. He moved the flower to the side ever so slightly, seeing the little fluff over Dream’s knee. “Is that it?”

“Ihihit’s…nn!” Dream smothered his face into his arm, screaming laughter into it to let out his pent up nerves. “Juhuhust-Just mohove ihit!”

“Are you serious?! Is it tickling you?” George cackled. His high pitched taunt ringing in Dream’s ears and prickling his skin. “You idiot! It’s just a little bit of fluff! Does it tickle Dreamie? Is it tickling your knee so much?!”

“Geohohohorge!” Dream whined, his pride completely thrown to the soft breeze. In all honesty the fluff would have probably stopped tickling now if George wasn’t so instant to mention it over and over again. “J-Juhuhust hehelp!”

George rolled his eyes to Dream’s plight, but he moved to help. Or he seemed to. His arm slightly moved up but then a brilliant idea flashed across his mind and he thought better of it. Instead of wiping away the offending fluff he lowered his head closer to Dream’s knee.

Still hiding in his arms, Dream couldn’t see George’s approach until he felt just a puff of air on the back of his knee. He jolted up, and turned around just in time to see George blowing softly against the back of his knee.

It wouldn’t have been so ticklish if Dream wasn’t already on edge. What would have just prickled his skin a little shot through his nerve system. He arched his back, letting out a silent squeal before falling into helpless yapping giggles. “GehEHEOHohoHOHORGE! S-StahAHAhahahap!”

“Does even that tickle Dreamie?” George asked, his voice high with giddiness. “Even the wind tickles you!”

“It’s nohohohot the wihihind! Ihihit’s yohohohohou! Ihihihit--”

A gasp caught in Dream’s throat, silencing his laughter and stopping his words. He was stunned into silence, the skin on the back of his knee prickling as George’s lips pressed against them.

It wasn’t a raspberry blown on his knee, or nibbles. It was just a soft kiss against his skin. It tickled Dream’s already sensitive skin but he was too stunned to properly respond. His face flushed a deep red and mind stopped suddenly, like short circuiting and rebooting over and over.

“G-G…Geohorge…” The word came out so softly, and even then Dream didn’t know what he was going to really say.

Before his brain could work out any form of sentence, George pulled back and his lips returned just a little bit below his knee, this time blowing a quick raspberry into the skin and kick-starting Dream’s brain. Of course it was just to scream with laughter, but at least it was something.

“StohOHoOhoOP! Stop stop! GeoHOHOHOHORGE!”

Dream tried to kick his legs to no avil, but it didn’t stop George from gasping in offence. “Did you really try to kick me Dream?! In your position?! That’s bold of you!”

“N-No! Nohoho! I-I didn’t mea-AAAAAA! GEOHOHOHORGE! NOHOHOT THAHAHAHAT NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAT!”

The dandelion twirled against the side of Dream’s knee, tickling him just ever so slightly. But the scream came from George leaning forward and nibbling over the back of Dream’s thighs. It was just right above his knees, and George’s teeth were nowhere near as bad as XD or HD’s fangs, but it tickled so much more than simple kneading or nails would.

“GEORGE PLEHEHEHEASE! PLEEEEEHEHEASE! I’ll-I’ll dohoho anIHIHIHYTHIHIHIHING!”

“Anything?” George asked, which took his teeth away from Dream’s thigh for one blissful second, but he brought up his nails to scribble over the skin still.

“Anythihihihihing! Anything! Plehehehease stohohohop!”

The tickling did stop, slowly turning to a firmer touch that wiped away the ghostly tickles still prickling over Dream’s thighs. The dandelion dancing on the side of his knee was discarded, but now even the grass was tickly. He couldn’t help but giggling into his arm, only coaxed out when George gently took his shoulder and turned Dream over on his back.

The sun shone behind George as he sat over Dream. It gave him and almost ethereal back lighting, turning the edges of his hair and skin golden. He looked like an angel, and Dream was just content to watch him for however long George would let him.

“Your hair is a mess, idiot.”

It probably was. He could feel some of the stands of hair sticking to his face from the sweat. George reached out, his fingers fiddled with Dream’s hair a little before he pulled back, holding some of the dandelion seeds between his fingers. They must have been all over Dream’s hair.

“Wh…What was that all about?” Dream asked with his voice just slightly breathless.

“What? Tickling you? You were spiralling.” George replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“N-Not with that!” Dream flustered. “Th…The kiss…”

“Oh! What about it?”

“Wh-What about…” Dream blinked up to George, silently asking if he was serious. But George seemed oblivious to the issue at hand. “You’ve…you’ve never kissed me before.”

The Dream Team were very openly affectionate with each other. They slept like a pack together and were often cuddling one another. It was a common occurrence and never blinked at. The three were just affectionate people, even George who hissed like a cat and would deny it. But kissing was always different to each of them. Dream commonly kissed his friends, usually on the cheek. It was a natural thing for him, but George never did. He’d accept kisses from friends, through eye rolls and insults, but he’d never give any out. Dream and Sapnap always used to joke George’s kisses were specially magical. But here George was, kissing Dream so casually and then looking like nothing was wrong.

Well, he kissed Dream’s knee which Dream still counted as a kiss.

George tilted his head, like a cat observing a mouse. He said nothing and Dream wasn’t sure what else to say. It felt like there was a lump in his throat and no matter how many times he gulped, it wouldn’t clear.

George was the first one to move. He leaned over so he was on top of Dream, and brought his face down closer. Dream would have gasped, but his lungs refused to work. He felt frozen and burning at the same time.

The space between the two was so minuscule. Their lips were practically together until George moved at the last moment. He bought himself up more and planted a kiss over Dream’s forehead.

While Dream was still stunned over everything that happened, George pulled himself back. “There. I’ve kissed you two times now. No big deal.”

George pulled himself to stand up while Dream still lay in the grass. He must have looked a mess with his hair entwined between the blades of grass and the blush fresh on his cheeks. But George hit his arm softly and he was brought out of his stupor for a moment.

“Come on. I’m hungry. Lets go eat something before I have to meet Sapnap.”

Dream was pulled up on his feet. The dandelion seeds still clung to him, and while he made some attempt to shake them off he didn’t care too much. His heart was racing but also fluttering so softly. He felt heavy and light at the same time. For the first time in a while Dream felt a twinge of youthful carelessness and he wanted to bask in the feeling for as long as possible.

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!dream #ler!george #godsiblingau #covenofwords

[lesbienyu]

normal, wild versions of fruit look and taste different. and it's weird to see ppl shocked at how small non-cultivated berries are. like no, strawberries do not naturally grow to be as big as they are in the supermarket. no, raspberries being tart and having seeds is normal. there's nothing wrong w disliking them but it's weird to see how surprised ppl get at how wild-grown food looks, tastes, and feels. it's not as watery, the flavor is more concentrated, and they're smaller, with more seeds. I'm not trying to be pretentious, but it's bizarre that I'll give people foraged berries and they're shocked by the fact there's a more condensed flavor, that they're tiny, that they grow in funny shapes sometimes. same with herbs, greens, and even stuff sold as "all natural" like chaga.

I'm not saying this as a hippie rant, but I am. I'll spend hours picking berries, harvesting leaves and barks and mushrooms, and have people act like it's dirty or unsanitary to eat because it doesn't look like the aggressively engineered products they find at the store. I've had people worry I haven't cleaned what I find in an untouched, old-growth forest well enough while comparing it to pesticide covered fruits, shipped in on jets from halfway across the world, put in storage with pests and mold (seriously, work a grocery or warehouse job if you don't believe me).

I don't eat meat, due to health, moral, and religious reasons (not that it's anyone's business), but my home base is in an area where many people hunt wild game and fish. I've heard so many people call it gross to eat venison while biting into burgers made of cattle stuck on feed lots being pumped full of unnecessary antibiotics. I'm not gonna debate hunting or fishing, but it's such a weird argument to make.

I think, in the US, there's something wrong with our food system and the culture around it, where cheap or free means of finding healthy, natural food are treated as gross or unsanitary because they come with the same natural oddballs as all living things. yes, that berry does have crunchy seeds, yeah, that venison is disturbing to process, yeah, those wild ramps and fiddleheads have discoloration, pine nuts are annoying to harvest, purslane and dandelion taste kinda bitter compared to artisan greens.

it isn't all uniform and tbh it's weird to realize how people view food as unsafe if it doesn't come in plastic packaging. nature is varied and wild, and so will the food you find. and I'm not dunking on GMOs or making a point about eating organic- it's just weird how disconnected the average US american is from how food looks naturally, especially when it grows all around us.

people love to tell me it's cool I forage and homestead or that they'd love to learn but, when it comes down to it, most are picky eaters and feel wary of eating things that don't match the idea of what they should look like. and that's not a criticism of them, but the fact people have no connection to what they eat, where it originated, how it's been cultivated, and get put off by the fact the tomatoes in their garden are tiny (and more flavorful) than the ones at the supermarket makes me think there's a disconnect here.

[ladycibia]

Seeing that you cherish the game designs for Eskel and Lambert made me squeak with glee. I miss them so much and cherish every single one of your art pieces, old and new. Welcome back and I wish you a lovely relaxed summer.

I got into The Witcher thanks to Wild Hunt and sometimes I want to kick myself for not drawing Dandelion that often, aaaaaaaa >:| anyway, thank you. 💖 I'm wishing you a lovely summer as well and I'm so happy you feel this way about my drawings. (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ this is quite old, I hope you don't mind!

(I mean, look at beta lil'bleater XDDD)

#thank you so much!! #<333 #ask box

[azures-grace]

I love Time of Contempt

The Witcher: The Time Of Contempt spoilers below

random things I've enjoyed so far:

Yennefer saying that playing the bagpipes is the best way to cure depression Dandelion being left in charge of Ciri (and promptly losing her--) Geralt punching Dijkstra (long time coming, he deserved it) Dandelion having a panic attack about a fight he's caught in the crossfire of and being MUCH more dramatic than those actually getting hurt (I lob him) Geralt thinking about how some girl probably needed her doll to sleep The quote from the king of the Wild Hunt about Ciri being Death (metal af man) Geralt telling Yennefer he loves her (it was so adorable it was so cute it was so sweet and he was immediately hit on by a lady afterwards)

#the witcher books #the time of contempt #time of contempt #halfway through babyyyyyyy #6 more hours of audiobook and then I can start the next oneeee #too many characters #I aint tagging them all

[bookmaker-untaken]

would’ve been named fire & something if that wasn't cliche af ch 1

Male! Triss Merigold x Reader // Witcher III: Wild Hunt

Summary: Oh, the sorcerer has spellbound you - enchanted your heart, and it burns like sizzling fire. At least he’a a nice guy?

Authur’s Note: some of you may call me a coward for genderbending. blame THE BRAINROT!

Word Count: 1,032

i.

You go to meet the King of Beggars covered in dirt, grime, and blood.

This is unfortunate because he is talking to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. He has hair the color of - well, you’re not the poet Dandelion, you’re only a hunter - so none of the things that first come to mind are particularly flattering. His eyes are very green, like trees after rain in the summer. Is that something you’re allowed to say?

“Do you know each other?” The King asks.

The beautiful man looks at you, disgusting and wet. “No?”

“Ah, well, maybe I aught to give you some time to get acquainted,”

You don’t like the way he says that.

“I’m assuming that since you’re here the job is finished?”

“I figured you didn’t want me to bring the head in here,”

“You figured correctly.”

He fishes around for a something in his pockets and throws a bag of coins on the table.

“Your pay. Pleasure doing business with you. You’re dismissed. Both of you.”

The beautiful man seals his lips into a thin line and turns on his heel and you creep behind him until you’re both standing outside.

“Goodbye sir sorcerer,” Says the Guardsman at the gate. “Always lovely to see you around,”

“I’ll likely be back soon,” The beautiful man replies. “Oh, am I in your way?”

“No,” You say, harsher than you mean to. Realizing you need this conversation to continue you quickly add, “You a sorcerer?”

Internally you are slamming your head against the nearest brick wall.

He blinks, and you can’t help but notice how offensively long his eyelashes are. “Yes?”

“Do you need … Do you need me to walk you home?”

A polite smile blossoms on his face and you resist the urge to shield your eyes. “That’s very sweet of you, but no. I’m sure you have … business to attend to,”

His eyes find the swords on your back and your face warms slightly.

“You would think, wouldn't you,” You grumble.

He chuckles. “I understand completely. Tristyn Merigold,”

He extends a hand, and, distracted you almost don’t shake it. It’s soft but there are ridges from paper cuts and a writer’s callous.

“[Name] Witcherson,”

He nods. “Well, it was lovely to meet you - but I really must be going. My errands weren’t run themselves, unfortunately,”

The corner of your lip tugs. “A shame. But I want you to know, my offer still stands. Especially since …”

Tristyn’s face becomes solem. “Yes. Thank you, again. Well, it was nice meeting you.“

As you wave goodbye, you consider that you will likely never see him again and you’re just going to have to appreciate the glimpse you where given and that the feeling of your heart dropping into your fluttering stomach will certainly fade.

Please, for the love of eternal fire, fade.

ii.

“[Name]?

You recognize that voice. More accurately, you’d never forget it.

“Tristyn? What are you doing here?”

“Well, my services where requested in ridding the millers of their rat infestation,” He says. “And you? What are you doing here?”

“Guard duty. Pays the bills when there’s no monsters to hunt,”

Tristyn pauses. “You mentioned that you were a … Witcher?”

“Witcher-son.” You correct.

The furrow in Tristyn’s brow deepens.

“Judging by that face you must know a thing or two about Witchers,”

An unreadable emotion flickers across Tristyn’s face. “Yes.”

“One of my ancestors saved or gambled or something, nobody knows, with a Witcher and the crafty bastard asked for all his secrets.” You shrug. “Well, they taught their child, and the child after, and the child after - all the way down to me, who now guards grain.”

Tristyn nods, now understanding. “I know somebody else like that,”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s like a little sister to me,” There’s a small smile on his face you can’t help but share.

“Well hopefully she’s not wasting her skills like me,”

“Hey,” Tristyn says. “Everyone has to do someone’s dirty work once in a while,”

“Even sorcerers?” You joke.

“Definitely sorcerers,” He says. “If I knew my specialty was to become casting out rats, I may have been more lax in my studies.”

“Hm. Must be demeaning.”

He laughs lightly. “You have no - well, I suppose you may have some idea, [Honorific] Witcherson.”

You shrug. “Can’t be helped. It’s Novigrad,”

“It’s Novigrad.” Tristyn agrees.

“There he is!”

When you turn and the man who hired you for the day is flanked by three witch hunters, you immediately know what has happened.

You step in front of Tristyn.

“You don’t have to -“ He begins, but the witch hunters are already upon you.

You draw your sword and lunge, getting in a few quick slices. When one of the witch hunter’s parry throws you off balance and he moves to attack your opening, something hot flies past your ear and he bursts into flame.

You toss a glance over your shoulder where Tristyn stands, hands enveloped in dancing fire. He reaches out and another fireball springs forth from his hand.

Working in perfect sync, you owe down the witch hunters.

“Please,” The boss begs, hands held up in surrender. “Please! D-Don’t hurt me!”

“You could have just said you didn’t have the money,” You grumble, flicking the blood from your sword. “But you should give us what you do have. Now.”

Panicked, he scrambles to take out a coin purse to hand it to Tristyn before running away. You watch him trip over his own feet to escape.

“Here,” Tristyn says, hand outstretched. “It’s likely less than you were promised, but, please, take it.”

You hole up your hane. “You don’t have to,”

“I mean it, [Honorific] knight-in-shining-armor,” He winks playfully. “That fight would have been harder without you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I sincerely doubt that,”

He smiles indulgently. “Perhaps. But I find it’s always nice to have an ally. And uncommon,”

You can’t argue with that. “So, what now? More rats?”

“Ug. No. Nothing even remotely fulfilling,”He says. “I almost wish there was more rats. but such are the times.”

You sigh. “It’s Novigrad.”

You notice the dimple on the right side of his cheek. “It’s Novigrad.”

#witcher 3 #the witcher iii wild hunt #triss merigold #triss merigold x reader #m!triss x reader #x reader #fanfic #my fanfiction

[dukeofdogs]

Morenn (I have no idea why half of this tree is about Triss and there’s nothing about Morenn)

Chest 1: Triss Merigold is sometimes called the Fourteenth of the Hill. The moniker refers to the Battle of Sodden at which many mages and sorceresses perished while fighting for the North. Struck to the ground with a powerful spell, it seemed Triss had shared the others' fate. Fortunately, it turned out news of her death was somewhat exaggerated...

Chest 2: When King Radovid V began his hunt for mages, Triss – like many of her colleagues – sought refuge in Novigrad, a neutral city. In place of a haven, however, she and the others found themselves in a trap. Soon the bodies of mages and sorceresses began to pile up, their lives extinguished by the fanatical priests from the Church of the Eternal Fire. Those lucky enough to be spared a gruesome death owe their thanks to Triss... As well as a certain white-haired witcher.

Chest 3: Triss had countless admirers, but only ever truly loved one – Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. The two have endured countless trials together. Salamandra's siege on Kaer Morhen, the putsch at Loc Muinne, the exodus of mages from Novigrad, the battle against the Wild Hunt... Yet, it wasn't all blood and tragedy. That being said, no chronicler of strong repute would dare detail their more... intimate... moments.

Scroll 1: Contrary to common belief, dryads on rare occasion would permit humans into their forest. Among that privileged minority was Milva Barring, well-known human archer and guide. She was often contracted by enemies of Brokilon – unaware of her allegiances – to lead expeditions against the dryads... Every time leading her patrons into an ambush...

Scroll 2: The number of dryads known by name can be counted on a single hand. One such dryad was Braenn, made famous by the ballads of Master Dandelion. Unlike most dryads, however, neither her eyes nor her skin were green – evidence she was once an ordinary human child, forever changed by the Waters of Brokilon.

Scroll 3: Under their influence, she forgot her past, even her true name. Despite her human past, she guarded borders of Brokilon with a ruthlessness equal to that of her dryad sisters.

Scroll 4: Dryads can survive even the gravest of wounds. Their ability to heal via magic is unrivaled. In fact, it was they who saved Geralt of Rivia following his brush with death against Vilgefortz. His bones crushed, it seemed the witcher might never walk again. But under Eithné's care, the White Wolf recovered and soon returned to the Path.

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[witchertits]

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