#the green knight gifs about a thousand times

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hoyoverse #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fem reader #x reader #steamy #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai sr x you

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise

Chapter Two: The Greens Description: Saera Targaryen was her father's forgotten daughter. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her sister and seeks solace in the arms of her uncle. Not realizing that the consequence of their affair is just as dire as her sister's. Warnings: Pregnancy masterlist

<< previous chapter

SAERA SITS DOWN outside of the room, her heart filled with fury, and her mouth hoping to curse a thousand times. Rhaenyra has offered her great dishonor by simply offering her babe to hold. And Harwin, even more dishonor by not leaving her.

Ser Criston Cole stands in front of her, as she resists a scoff. It seems like his time in Kingslanding gave him tack. Now he was just as greedy as all the other knights in the kingdom.

"Who should I offer the congratulations to?" he questions as she raises an eyebrow. He smirks, and turns towards the closed door. "To the princess? Or to your husband, the father?" he repeats himself and she chuckles.

"Ser Criston," she begins as her breath begins to drip with disdain. "Princess," he replies as she looks up at him. She gathers her gown and stands up, reaching to his level. "What you speak of is treason, and its consequences are one worth your head." she ends their conversation as she begins to walk away once more.

It seems that there is no solace for her in Kingslanding, no solace in the arms of her husband who was currently preoccupied with her sister. Saera needed Daemon — she needed somebody to be on her side.

A dragon alone in this world, was a terrible thing.

HARWIN ENTERS THEIR SHARED CHAMBER and smiles at his wife. The only thing that filled his heart was doubt as of the late. He was sure that the rumors about Rhaenyra's pregnancy have already reached Saera's ears —  and judging from her easy to anger demeanor, she was already pissed with him.

"Good morrow, Harwin." she greets as she settles her book down on the table. He had the broad shoulders of the Rhoynar, and he seemed to be the perfect protector for Viserys' second daughter. "Good morrow, Saera." he greets as he sits down beside her.

If her sister was boldness and rage, then Saera was as calm as spring. It unnerved Harwin to no end —  how his wife could remain idle and cold despite the whole realm scheming behind her back. She was strong in that regard, and Harwin loved his mortal emotions.

"It's such a shame that Prince Jace inherited his grandmother's Baratheon blood — shame that he doesn't have my family's valyrian features." she remarks as Harwin frowns. "He is still a Targaryen," he defended as she raises an eyebrow.

"Well that cannot be denied," she replies as she goes back to her book. She pauses for a while, pondering if it would be the right time to ask Harwin for an explanation. "I've heard rumors, Harwin," she states as he sighs loudly.

Saera's anger would be one that no water could extinguish. There was a time where they both loved each other — Harwin believed those times never left. But what he did was a betrayal worth blood. And he would pay for it in due time.

"Rumors about?" he acted clueless as she glares at him, pretending to focus on her book. "Rhaenyra and you. I didn't want to believe it at first — but Prince Jace looks exactly like you." she responds trying to leave out the fact that she already caught them red handed.

She reaches for him —  a part of her heart still belonged to the heir of Harrenhall. Just a word from him, and she would allow herself to forget about their horrendous past.

"They are rumors, Saera." he shuts her down and she bites the insides of her cheeks. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. She wanted him to admit to his injustices. To beg on his knees for her forgiveness and start off in a clean slate.

She smiles and nods. Silence would suffice for now.

THE MAESTER'S OFFICE WAS COLD, there was a dripping of water behind her. She's been fatigued for a long time now — always vomiting, and always induced in nausea. She had her doubts — her uncle rarely pulled out when they made love.

"You're pregnant, my princess. Judging from your stomach, it must've been 3 turns of the moon since." The Maester states as she smiles, placing a hand on her swollen stomach.

next chapter >>

taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s c

#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon x reader #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x reader #coaxed you into paradise

[balbigalum]

Of War & Men

pairing: Aemond Targaryen/Reader

chapter summary: An encounter with Vaghar leaves you frail and angry, Aemond's gratitude seems to be a double edged blade.

summary: You knew war was ravishing your lands and when Targaryen soldiers came into your village demanding every healer to come with them and help the cause you knew that this war was something to be scared of. (In which reader is rumored to be a witch and prince Aemond needs her help after being deeply wounded.)

tags: war, witch!reader, ser criston cole is here, enemies to lovers kinda, prisoner of war to lovers kinda, i think reader is older than aemond because he is like 20 but is not mentioned so far, word count: 2.6k

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Chapter 3 (<<previous chapter | next chapter>>)

The order was given, you rode with Ser Criston Cole sharing a horse, your sides digging painfully against his armor. The hour of the owl was near and the night was as dark as it could be, half a moon  illuminated the camp. Those who could sleep did it, none of the soldiers had seen the Prince in days and the tensions were growing strained, these men were loyalists, they would kill and die for their green prince… as long as he was alive. 

The war was in a hurry, it didn't obey the times of men nor bend to their will, men had to rise above it all. You needed to find a way to twist time in your favor, to close the Prince's wound quick enough. 

Many years ago back when you were still a girl, if you'd ever been one, someone had whispered about dragons to you. Not here in Westeros, where dragons are devoted to valyrians, no-- It was in a dark bay, a city where the stones glowed from within and shadows danced the sky. 

A woman with green eyes, a green you've never seen in nature, had told you about them. Dragons were difficult to harm and even more difficult to nurse back to health, you couldn't use what you used in men, you had to get the dragon to heal itself. The magic in its blood was enough to live a thousand years, but a wounded dragon would often forget it. It was your duty to remind the beast of its power. 

You came to a halt and there she laid, Vaghar. Criston Cole helped you off the horse and you fastened Aemond's cloak over your own shoulders, it smelled of smoke and blood and him. You let out a shaky sigh, fear pooling in every single one of the corners of your body, the beast laid sleeping yet it was a frightening sight. The biggest dragon the world had seen since the times of Aegon The Conqueror, a dragon with a particular thirst for warfare and human lives, tamed only by the Prince who, at the moment, laid weak over silk sheets a few miles away. 

The knight seemed scared too, you could see it under his façade, he couldn't keep his eyes away from Vaghar, a hand on his horse’s halter ready to flee if needed. You were on your own. 

Dagger in hand you started the tortuous journey of getting close to her. Small steps at the time, trying to keep yourself from shaking, afraid that if you did you might dissipate into the night. When Cole figured out what you were doing he swallowed hard.

"Wait, wait..." He tried keeping his voice down, unsure of how sharp the beast's hearing was. "What are you doing? Come back here." He called after you. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Because I won't stand by while you get us both burned alive." You didn't look back at him, you kept your eyes on Vaghar, if you looked back you were sure you wouldn't be able to get what you needed, leaving on horseback unharmed was too tempting to risk it. 

"I'm doing what has been asked of me." You explained, another step. 

"I thought you needed to do some sort of... of... Ritual. Not this. You can't get close to her, you're not her rider." His voice was unsure, he was scared, afterall he was mortal and no dragonlord, you wondered if he was shaking too. Your grip on Aemond's cloak tightened.

If you didn't know any better you would have assumed the earth was shaking, that it was about to split in half right under your feet. But that wasn't the case, Vaghar was waking up. You froze in place and you heard Cole mounting his horse, getting ready to bolt. Your body tensed while the beast lifted her head, her eyes opening, icey and wide-awake. You wondered if this was what Gods looked like, or maybe this was Death. You tried burying yourself in the cloak, seeking safety or any feeling of comfort, you were sure you were nearing tears now. 

"Please," You yelled at the beast. "This is for your rider!" Don't hurt me, Don't hurt me. You felt your heart bursting from the inside out while you tried to reason with the dragon. You finally gave another step closer to her, lifting your hand, showing it to her. "Lykirī, Vaghar" Vaghar opened her mouth, rows of thousands of teeth sharp as blades looking at you, heat was coming from her-- She was going to kill you. Another step, you weren't looking at her, you were looking down, if she was to devour you she better do it quickly. You felt wind rustling the oversized cloak that engulfed your figure. Just be quick.

And just like that the oldest beast in the known world, Vaghar, closed her mouth. She looked beyond you and Criston, beyond the field that laid in front of her, and let her head fall against the dirt again, getting ready to sleep. You stood in your place and swallowed a sob. Vaghar didn't care about your presence or your mission, you were saved. 

You hurried your pace now, finally coming into contact with a part of her neck. You touched it softly, keeping an eye out for any reaction from her, until you found the spot you needed, a small part of her neck where her scales were in the middle of drying out and falling. The scales weren't fully dead and they weren't fully attached either, removing them would be possible and they kept some of the dragon's properties in them still. This would work quicker than any other known remedy. When valyrians died many of their secrets and techniques died with them, setting the world back by a hundred years, this was just a small portion of the power that came with dragons. You admired Vaghar for a second, your hand still on her, how many secrets did the beast keep, would the world ever know them all? 

You walked over to Cole who was further from where you had left him at, he was on top of the horse still, looking petrified. The bit of dragon scale you carried was barely twice the size of your hand, but it was enough. You presented the scales and your hand to Criston, asking him to help you onto the horse. He looked perplexed.

"So, you're a dragonseed now? Were you fathered by Daemon? Who-" He was trying to make sense of the situation.

"I'm not a dragonrider, Cole." You said, the rush of being close to dying was quickly abandoning your body, making you feel frail and without energy. "I'm not sure what is that you think you saw." You waved your hand again and he finally grabbed it, pulling you up the horse. You two rode in silence, you hugged the scales to your chest, you felt powerless and almost fell asleep by the time you arrived back at the Tower. Cole was softer this time, helping you down and into the Tower, he didn't say much but you could feel him thinking deeply. 

-

The Prince was asleep, a soft shade of orange coming from the fireplace illuminated his features, he had gotten, by now, two maybe three hours of sleep while you were away. He looked peaceful, his body healing his wound, finally pushing the fever away. But it wasn't enough. He was part tyrant and part conqueror, part dragon and part... monster. Nothing was ever enough for him. He made you risk your life just to buy two more weeks of bloodshed on the battlefield. You still wore those irons on your wrists, they cut your skin raw while he was dressed in the finest fabrics. You remembered Thomas, he was half a decade younger than the Prince yet he slept on the floor of the camp, he might as well be dead by now, killed by the King's war. Aemond's war. 

You marched towards him, your boots dirty with mud, still covered by his bloody cloak. You let anger consume you at once, you jumped on top of him, grabbing him by the jaw. He opened his eye, sharp, confused… Scared. For the first time since you had known the Prince he looked his age, a small moment of fright before switching to venom. You lifted the dagger with both of your hands, the valyrian steel blade shimmered under the light of the fireplace, the tip sharp and hanging over Aemond's head. He stayed put under you while you pinned him with your weight. 

"I almost died." You yelled at his face, poison in every word. "You keep me locked in here! and your dragon almost killed me!" You were being louder than you should, not stopping to think if any passing guard was able to hear you, you were letting your frustration pour out, sinking the blade on the Prince's chest was tempting… One second, one harsh stab and it would be over. But what would be over? You'd be killed as soon as anybody walked through those doors, that if you weren't tortured for killing a Prince. 

"You-" You were crying now, which didn't make you proud, and you put the dagger down. "I almost died." You repeated again, lower, you weren't talking to him, one of his hands found yours and made you drop the dagger by prying your fingers open. He didn't push you off him or hit you, he stayed there, sizing you up, trying to understand what action you might do next. 

"What are you speaking of?" He asked simply. You sighed defeated and got off of him, walking towards the small table.

"I have what I need for your wound." You said, you picked up the piece of Vaghar's skin, shining with her scales. You stared at them for a minute, zoning out. "You should take off your bandage," You told him. "So I can fix you." He hummed and slowly peeled it off his body.

"Might I know what was your intention with that murder attempt of yours." He said. 

"It was not, my lord, I was… Confused." You got closer to him again, trying to control your breathing. You cleaned his wound slowly and reached from the dagger again, he pulled it away from you with a condescending look. "I-" You began explaining again. "I had to retreat a piece of your dragon, it will heal your skin and muscle quicker than anything else… The creature… Almost attacked me." 

"Are we to blame your catatonic state for this? I could have you killed for treason." He said, toying with the dagger.

"And who would heal you then, my Prince?" You asked him, he hummed. 

"Heal me then and maybe I'll forget about your mishap." You nodded, there wasn't much left in you anyway, so you did as he told you. You chewed the inside of your cheek at his tone, cold and condescending. It was apparent that the only way he could speak was in commands. 

The scales were set on his chest, the shiny face of them looking up, letting everything else soak into the hole in his chest. He looked at your hands attentively, you guessed he was alert to your moves, not wanting you to snap again. The job was done and you hoped this was the last thing you ever did for a Targaryen. 

When you were cleaning your hands and finally getting rid of his dirty cloak, getting ready to sleep another night twisted in the seat they had assigned you like a dog he spoke again. 

"Sleep on this bed when I'm gone," You looked up. "My health is good enough for me to attend a council meeting, and I'm guessing it will only get better after this." He said and gestured to his chest, underneath it the dragon scales seemed to have a heartbeat of its own. "You can occupy it while I'm gone, tell the maids to prepare you a bath too." 

Silence grew thick.

"You should thank a Prince when he shows you mercy." He said yet he didn't wait for you to speak, he simply turned his back to you and attempted to fall asleep again. You stood there, in the middle of the room startled and stared at his back until you were sure he was truly asleep. 

-

Aemond was gone by the time the sun came out and just like he said he sent two maids to prepare a bath for you, you could see on the table that his bandages had been discarded, Vaghar's scale now black, having lost all color. The march was back on, he could command his troops. 

The warm water surrounded you as you lay there, you wanted to feel better, you tried, you washed yourself carefully and tried to enjoy the bath until the water turned cold, but you were weary of war, of this… imprisonment. 

The maids didn't leave the room while you bathed, they stood by the doors, ready to attend you if needed. You wanted to tell them that wasn't necessary, that you were as much of a commoner as they were, but the look in their eyes told you they already knew that. When you decided it was enough you withdrew from the bath, the maids helping you get dry, Aemond had been generous enough to get a nightgown for you. You were done, eyeing the bed he had promised you could take, ready to fall asleep, but the maids stood unmoving. One of them played with her hands nervously. 

"My lady," She started.

"I'm not a lady." You interrupted her, courtesies could be left outside of this room. 

"Um… Prince Aemond has left something else for you," She said and you dreaded the look on her face. "He said the campaign led while he was uncapacitated has been successful and his lords are urging him to celebrate," You stared at her, unknowing of where this was going. "He left a dress for you, he told us to get you ready by sunset… I thought… I thought you should know." She added. Oh. You finally recognized what laced her tone: pity. 

"I-" You started but you weren't sure what you wanted to say. You felt a lump on your throat, the maid didn't look at you in the eyes. Somehow Aemond was still taking power from you, robbing you of your agency, reducing you again to nothing but a wounded animal under his foot. You asked the maids to leave you alone and tried to find some comfort under the blankets.

The sheets were softer than any kind of sheets you ever laid on, silky and smelled fresh, they've probably been changed at some point while Aemond recovered, still the pillow smelled like him. Aemond's scent was recorded in your brain, now faint on the fabric, but you could recall it almost perfectly from the cloak you carried last night. If you closed your eyes you could make out the smell of his blood. A bitter feeling made its way up your throat and you swallowed it. You were starting to get frustrated again, finally you had the chance to sleep on a bed after so many days, weeks even, yet his scent only triggered you into being alert. You couldn't keep your mind away from the dress and sunset. "His lords are urging him to celebrate" What did he mean by that? Was he planning to make a mockery of you? The woman who had saved him? Was he going to present you to his lords as some kind of cheap whore? You shutted your eyes harshly and buried yourself in his pillow, you'd slice your neck open in front of his lords before you let any of that happen.

(<<previous chapter | next chapter>>)

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd fanfic

[stromuprisahat]

... Tumbleton woke in the black of night to screams and shouts. Outside the town walls, the camps were burning. Columns of armored knights were pouring in from north and west, wreaking slaughter, the clouds were raining arrows, and a dragon was swooping down upon them, terrible and fierce. Thus began the Second Battle of Tumbleton. The dragon was Seasmoke, his rider Ser Addam Velaryon, determined to prove that not all bastards need be turncloaks. How better to do that than by retaking Tumbleton from the Two Betrayers, whose treason had stained him? Singers say Ser Addam had flown from King’s Landing to the Gods Eye, where he landed on the sacred Isle of Faces and took counsel with the Green Men. The scholar must confine himself to known fact, and what we know is that Ser Addam flew far and fast, descending on castles great and small whose lords were loyal to the queen, to piece together an army. Many a battle and skirmish had already been fought in the lands watered by the Trident, and there was scarce a keep or village that had not paid its due in blood … but Addam Velaryon was relentless and determined and glib of tongue, and the river lords knew much and more of the horrors that had befallen Tumbleton. By the time Ser Addam was ready to descend on Tumbleton, he had near four thousand men at his back. The great host encamped about the walls of Tumbleton outnumbered the attackers, but they had been too long in one place. Their discipline had grown lax, and disease had taken root as well; the death of Lord Ormund Hightower had left them without a leader, and the lords who wished to command in his place were at odds with one another. So intent were they upon their own conflicts and rivalries that they had all but forgotten their true foes. Ser Addam’s night attack took them completely unawares. Before the men of Prince Daeron’s army even knew they were in a battle, the enemy was amongst them, cutting them down as they staggered from their tents, as they were saddling their horses, struggling to don their armor, buckling their sword belts.

The Princess and the Queen × Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

#ASoIaF #The Princess and the Queen #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: The Dying of the Dragons: Rhaenyra Overthrown #Second Battle of Tumbleton #Addam Velaryon #Seasmoke #Dance of the Dragons #Blacks #V #GRRM #books #quotes #All Hail Addam Velaryon #one of the small heroes of the Dance.

[moonflower91]

I know you’ve answered a similar question on if Saerah would intentionally rile Aemond up by flirting with other guys in front of her, but seriously, I love the idea of her openly being playful, little smirk and all, just to get a reaction from him.

I don’t know if you do requests at the moment, but I’d love a one-shot of a young lord or knight who’s recently arrived in the capital, so isn’t aware of Princess Saerah being off limits and he begins being openly flirtatious with her and she goes with it to amuse herself and just for Aemond to end up scaring the hell out of him later on with a Tywin style deathstare.

I know I’ve also answered it before, and I’m gonna kinda contradict myself, but Saerah is a little shit and I can definitely see her flirting just to be a brat and watch her oh-so serious and controlled Aemond squirm. especially in a world where there is no war or conflict and they can afford to be silly and dumb.

And yes! I’ll write this out for sure!

A/N: This takes place in an alternate timeline where Saerah kept her mouth shut during her time on Driftmark about Rhaenyra's sons and therefore was not sent away.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was splendid. The walls adorned with banners from House Targaryen and House Hightower, the torches and candles suspended from above, lighting the dim hall so that the guests of the King and Queen might dance and laugh and eat and drink long into the night.

It was the harvest feast, and with the birth of the newest of Rhaenyra’s gaggle of children, the king thought it the perfect time to host an elaborate feast. No matter that the woman who they toasted was still on that damp rock, Dragonstone.

Just as well. Saerah could not stomach the thought of those plain faced, dark haired bastards in the Red Keep, nor their trueborn cousins, Baela and Rhaena. Not after what they'd done to Aemond.

She would have her home melted down than to have to suffer those self important cunts.

Saerah had chosen a lilac gown for the evening, a compliment to her eyes while her sweet Aemond had forsaken his black garb in favor of a dark green. He was so handsome, and Saerah wished she could see how his sapphire would gleam in the light, and wondered if it would flash at her from across the room so she could always know Aemond was there.

The king had begun talking again of betrothing her, her mother said. When Alicent had mentioned it the other morning as they broke their fast together, Saerah had huffed in annoyance. She felt almost cornered being confronted with such news, insulted even.

When they were small, she had heard rumors (mostly from passing serving girls gossiping, or from a nursemaid who was pondering the notion more than anything), that the king was considering betrothing her to Aemond, her twin brother. She had been very young, then, and the news had passed by her with all the dull acceptance of a child being told that the sky was blue.

It was not news to her that she'd spend her life next to Aemond, not to her four year old mind.

There had never been a word contrary, not even when it was announced that Aegon would wed Helaena.

But afterwords, before her eldest brother had even sobered up from the wedding feast, a name reached her ears, attached closely to her own.

Lord Viktor Tyrell.

"A fine match indeed, my queen." the king had rasped within the Small Council chambers once it was suggested. The House of the Dragon was already bound together by Helaena and Aegon. It only made sense to utilize their other children's marriage prospects and strengthen their family if they were bound by oath to other houses.

House Tyrell was rich, their harvests had fed thousands in King's Landing. Their daughter would be Lady of the Reach, a title many maidens coveted, but few ever earned.

Saerah wanted none of it.

Ladies seemed to be divided on their desires, she’d noticed. Some wanted the freedoms of a man while others longed for status and love and a quiet life.

Saerah longed only for the freedom to marry Aemond. Glory, power, children could all come next.

“I won’t have him.” She had declared once her mother came to her with an official proposal. Lord Tyrell had not yet declared his intentions, but the Crown would have to be blind not to see the offer creep ever closer. Others began their decent as well—Lannister, Tully and Stark—but the Tyrell’s were the first to make contact.

“Saerah…” her father grumbled. “It is a good match. A smart one.”

“It is one I don’t. Want.” She replied. "If you force me, I shall scream my protest all through the Keep. I'm sure Aemond will run the man through if I ask him to."

Viserys had left it at that, resolute that his youngest daughter was in the midst of the streak of rebellion his eldest daughter had. Her fires would dampen soon enough and she would marry and be content as Rhaenyra.

While the king was blind to the true nature of all his children, the entirety of the keep was not. None could mistake the way Aemond watched his sister for brotherly protectiveness. The way Saerah drifted to his side during feasts and tournaments and Court. The guards breathed not a word of how often Aemond went to his twin’s chambers long after the torches were guttered.

Had they been lower in station, they'd have been pariahs, the gossip floating through the air with ease and delight as a thousand eyes watched eagerly for their ruin.

But none would dare invoke the one eyed princes' wrath. And to insult his lady would bring the mad ferocity of a dragon down upon them.

When it came to the princess, Aemond's thirst for retribution knew no bounds, and shortly after their four and tenth name day, every man in the Keep knew that Saerah was so far beyond their reach, that to attempt it was madness. Some young knight from the Crownlands had pleaded for the girl to grant him her favor during their name day tourney.

Saerah had graciously given it and wished the lad good fortune, her brother's eye keenly watching the man below, fingers gripping the arm of his seat until the wood began to creak. Aemond hated tourneys and would not lower himself to be made a spectacle for the enjoyment of fools, and so he waited until the feast later that night to strike.

The knight had walked with a limp the next morning, but none noticed, too distracted by the mess of his face, and the three fingers missing from his sword hand. He never named who had done it, but they all knew, even without seeing the state of Prince Aemond's knuckles.

\ \

Aemond had gone to speak with Aegon at the royal family's table at the base of the Iron Throne, while Saerah mingled with some of the ladies of the Court.

Unknown to her, was that she was being watched. Ser Wendyll Rosby was a second born son, but the one thing he could proudly claim was the skill he possessed with a sword, and the charm that ladies said dripped from his tongue like the sweetest of wines.

His brown eyes were drawn to the princess, a vision in her lilac gown, her hair falling in silver waves from the braids woven behind her head. She was as beautiful as they said, her smile lighting up her face, her laugh rivaling the music sweeping warmly through the hall.

She must have a hundred suitors vying for the chance to claim her hand, he thought, watching as she gestured as she spoke, the ladies around her listening attentively as their princess regaled them. So infatuated, he did not even find it passing strange that the princess remained unmarried, when so many ladies her age were wedded, bedded and swollen with child.

But as Ser Wendyll watched the princess, a soft smile pulling his lips, Prince Aemond watched him, his keen eye darting between his twin and the man admiring her, rage bubbling in his gut. He did not recognize the brown haired, brown eyed man who gaped at his sister like a simpleton. He was a stranger, and obviously did not know that Saerah was his.

For men, marriage was not a deterrent for them. Many men gawked at married ladies and some even took them to bed. But not for Saerah. Weather or not Saerah was his wife, no other man would dare disrespect her by watching after her with lustful intent.

"Ser Criston beat a man to death during our sister's wedding feast." Aegon recalled, a slight slur to his words as a grin pulled at his lips. Aemond's gaze flickered back to his elder brother, before settling on the fool gawking at his twin. "You ought to outdo her. I suggest a good gutting would eclipse Rhaenyra's wedding day spectacle. Just don't get anything on Saerah's gown. She'd hate that, and then she'll complain to Helaena, and then it will eventually pass to me."

"Shut up, Aegon." Aemond murmured, fingers tapping against the table, his fist clenching when he saw the fool gather up his courage and approach Saerah.

\ \

"Princess." a soft voice came from behind her, a male voice she did not recognize. Turning her head to see who had spoken, Saerah's voice left her. He was very handsome--tall, dark haired, dark eyed, a beard coming in on his cheeks and jaw. She did not recognize his face. She would've remembered a face so fine. "Might I say you look beautiful this evening?"

Saerah giggled. "You may say it as often as you like, ser..."

"Wendyll, princess. Wendyll Rosby."

"Ser Wendyll Rosby. I have not met you before."

"I have lived my life away from Court, princess. As a boy, I was fostered in Nightsong, in the stormlands. I loved it there, so I simply did not leave."

"Why come back now?"

"I came in search of a wife." He replied, his soft brown eyes watching her with such a tenderness that she wanted to squirm, the implication much too apparent to ignore entirely. Unthinking, her eyes flashed to where her brothers sat at the table, a flare of delight surging within her to see Aemond watching them, his hand clenched tightly on the table.

"I see." she hummed, a little grin pulling at her lips. "Are there no suitable ladies in Nightsong?"

"None I would like to call my own." He smiled. "Might I be so bold as to ask the princess for a dance?"

"Your boldness had rewarded you this night, ser. I shall happily dance with you."

\ \

"It is a shame father keeps her unmarried." Aegon mused as he and Aemond watched as the unfamiliar man led their Saerah out to dance. "I imagine this one is the first of many." a smirk played on his lips, hidden by his wine cup. "Bet that bothers you, brother."

Aemond did not dignify the statement with a reply, continuing to watch the two as they glided around each other, his rage mounting higher. Saerah must know he was watching. She must.

"Seven hells, why don't you just pay off a damned septon and wed her? Who would deny you? It isn't like any man here would look twice at her." Aegon sat straighter, a drunken surge of brotherly indignance for their sister surging within him. "Really, it's cruel more than anything. That girl's bed is cold and empty because her lover's resolve is as soft as an old man's cock. Or, mayhaps, he wants all the perks of a married man but none of the bother." he suggested, a giggle on his lips as he took another drink of wine.

That brought Aemond's attention back to Aegon, his jaw clenching tight. "You've drunk too much, Aegon. Again. Do you really think the empty words of a septon will make my match with Saerah any more true?" Aegon shrugged, that look of drunken glee still on his face. Aemond hated it and snatched the cup from his brother's hand, tossing it's red contents to the floor. Aegon gave an affronted shout, but it went on a hundred deaf ears. "She's been mine, as I have been hers since the day we were born." With that, he stood, his chair screeching.

\ \

The dance came to a graceful end, and Saerah let the young knight escort her away from the new wave of courtiers who were inspired to dance by their princess.

“I must say, my princess, your dancing skills are impeccable." Ser Wendyll complimented, their feet coming to a stop well away from the others.

"Is that why you asked me to dance, my lord?" she asked sweetly. "To assess my skills?" It felt exhilarating to flirt this way, and she could not really understand why. But she hoped Aemond saw, hoped he saw and doubled his efforts to convince their king to wed them to each other. Or, perhaps he'd be inflamed, and come to her and ravish her as he'd done when that knight had asked for her favor. They'd been younger then, and though they'd gone no farther than kissing and sleeping next to one another, the strength and fire Aemond had shown her had inflamed her like nothing else. She longed to feel it again, to experience it fully as a woman grown ought to.

Saerah's eyes flashed to Aemond's, wickedly pleased to find him gone from his seat with Aegon. He would not abandon this feast without her, and she knew somewhere in this sea of faces and fabrics, he'd find her again. Yes, let him watch and burn and strike and show them all that I will not marry anyone else.

Ser Wendyll smiled, appearing almost shy. "I asked you to dance, my princess, because you are the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure to gaze upon. And I would never have forgiven myself if I did not at least try to earn a dance with the fairest maiden in the Realm."

Saerah's cheeks heated. "You flatter, ser."

"I speak only the truth." Saerah regarded him, his face holding no falsehood, and another surge of excitement gripped her belly, wringing it out like a wet rag. How sweet this would be, when Aemond came and took her and solidified his claim. Their father be damned.

Taking Saerah's reserved silence for appreciation, Ser Wendyll stepped forward, close enough that Saerah could feel his body heat. "Sweet princess, I would crown you with a garland of roses at the next tourney. Oh, please, princess, say you shall accept. I shall not offer it to any other. Not even the Maiden herself can claim half the beauty. you possess." His voiced was honied, earnest and lustful and Saerah might have accepted, just to dig her teeth in a little deeper to both the fool before her and her lover. But, Aemond appeared like a specter behind her, voice soft and cold and enraged. Dangerous, a dragon ready to breathe flame.

"She doesn't care for tourneys." He murmured, walking forward from the shadows. He'd heard the entire pathetic plea. He wished he could take Saerah into his arms and take her against the nearest pillar, just to show this little pup what he may never have the pleasure of doing. Saerah made such sweet sounds in the midst of her pleasure, her body squirmed so beautifully, trying to take more and more and more. Insatiable, greedy, sweet Saerah. All his, only his. "It's farce. She thinks it s a hollow, pathetic display, lacking of any real talent."

Ser Wendyll's irritation spiked at the appearance of the one eyed prince. While the Realm named Saerah a jewel, they called the one eyed prince ruthless and cruel and calculating. Once or twice he'd heard someone wonder if he even had the normal feelings of a man.

"The princess is quite well spoken, Your Grace." Ser Wendyll bit out as kindly as he could.

"Aye, she is." Aemond murmured softly, his eye studying his twin's profile, while his hand crept from her lower back and to around her waist. Ser Wendyll watched the princess' face for indications of disgust--hoping it would be there, but Saerah only smiled and tilted her head. And when her forehead brushed the one eyed princes' neck, while his jaw rubbed along her forehead, Ser Wendyll suddenly felt every bit the fool they deemed him as.

"I hate tourneys." the princess confirmed softly, her lilac eyes (eyes he had thought so soft and gentle), piercing him like a needle.

Ser Wendyll's brown eyes flickered back to Aemond's hand, which slowly crept over the expanse of the princess' midsection. Had Prince Aemond been a common man, he'd have challenged him to a duel--not even for the damned woman who pit them against each other, but for the sheer insult he'd been dealt by the two lovers before him. In fact, it would have been the sweetest justice to watch the princess weep over her brother and lover, dead and brutalized beneath his hands and sword.

It was the gods' ultimate injustice that Aemond was a prince.

"And I hate these feasts." Wendyll murmured hatefully, throat bobbing as he pinned the princess with his dark stare. "I hate farces as well, princess. In fact, the last I was caught in a farce, nothing could stop me from retaliating."

"Oh." Saerah hummed, her eyes widening in a mocking sort of surprise. "Well I your wounded pride came back stronger than before, if such a slight wounded you so."

"What else do you hate, boy?" Aemond asked lowly, his lilac narrowing, a taunting smirk playing on his lips. Wendyll knew the prince would have no greater joy than having an excuse to spill his guts onto the floor.

"Undue quarrels." Wendyll replied evenly. Hmm, Aemond thought, not a very clever one. "Quarrel has no space in the life I intend to build, nor the tourneys I want to compete in." His brown eyes flashed back to Saerah, and although there was no rageful challenge there, she knew the knight before her would not forget the slight before him.

"Neither does ours. We intend to have a peaceful life." Saerah smiled cuttingly, her hands coming to rest over her twins' at her waist.

"Very good." The knight bit out, eyes shifting between the two, rage mounting. "May you both have lasting marriages. Excuse me, princess." he seethed, brushing past them.

A beat passed, Saerah's mouth spreading into a wide smile as Aemond's arm curled around her middle to pull her close to his side, her breasts tight against his side. It was as clear a display of ownership as any.

"At least you didn't cut off any fingers this time." Saerah smiled up at her twin, breath catching as he gripped the ends of her hair to yank her head back.

"My darling." Aemond murmured, his hands coming to cradle her face, tilting her head up so she could meet his eye with her own. "The night has only just started."

(How Saerah's night definately ended off)

#I’m on the way dear! #lol #game of thrones #asoiaf #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x oc!sister #saerah targaryen #aemond targayten x reader #fanfiction #jealousy

[seiso-m0rt1s]

Sleeping Beauty AU

Aunt Maleficent Chapter 1: Something Amiss

She carefully guided her hands through the wafting smoke that arose from her cauldron. Making a series of small, yet calculated hand gestures as she attuned her mind to the mystical energies of the great beyond. Nothing was beyond the great Maleficent's reach! Not even the curious jubilations of the nearby kingdom far across her dark and thorny sanctuary.

"Reveal to me what I seek!" she ordered the cauldron before making a grand gesture, like she was beckoning an audience.

The bubbles that formed over the surface of the cauldron settled and vanished. Clearing away as an image began to form. Her faithful raven, Diablo, swooped in and landed on her shoulder. Just as curious as she was to see what those snot nosed royals of the kingdom were whooping and hollering about as of late.

Soon it all became clear. An image of a party. A christening, so to speak. But not just any child was to be christened, no! It was Aurora, the newborn daughter of King Stefan and Queen Leah. So many upper-class dolts, and bejeweled fools in one place it made the evil fairy sick to her stomach.

A sickness that paled in comparison to the outrage she felt at not being invited to the christening!

"Look at those fawning idiots, Diablo!" she hissed, eyes narrowed in disgust, "Not a one of them has done anything remotely worthwhile for that kingdom! Not at all like the contributions I've made!"

Turning from the cauldron, Maleficent stormed off. With a flick of her wrist, her signature staff appeared in a flash of green flames and purple smoke.

Fuming as she walked, she told her pet raven, "I work myself to the bone keeping that kingdom entertained with a healthy dose of wickedness, and what do THEY do?! They sit on their hoarded riches like sows in mud!"

She stomped her way to the entrance of her castle. Heading straight for a large compass rose on the floor in the center of the massive foyer of her dark and decrepit castle.

As she stepped into the compass rose, Maleficent tenderly stroked the glowing green orb of her staff. Looking into the eager eyes of her mischievous raven, she said with a cunning smile, "I think it time that we remind these simpletons who's truly in charge! Teach them not to invite me, eh?"

Diablo bobbed his head up and down with excitement before letting out an excited, "Ca-CAW!!"

Maleficent wasted not a second more! Standing in the middle of the compass rose, the wicked fairy began waving her staff around. Focusing her attention on the green orb of her staff, she kept the image of King Stefan's castle in mind. The malevolent energy of her castle bowed to her will. Swirling around her, the beginnings of a grand column of green flames rose beneath her feet.

And right as she was about to invoke the ancient words needed to traverse great distances in a flash... A loud, booming noise interrupted her focus. A thundering banging at the double doors of her castle. With the transporting flames smothered, and the malevolent energy slumbering once more, Maleficent perplexedly glared at the doors.

"What the devil was that?!" she remarked, her fiery outrage now aimed at whoever dared to arrive unannounced.

"Caw! Caw!!" squawked Diablo, every bit as confused as his master was.

Maleficent marched toward the doors. With a flick of her wrist, they swung open. There stood a bewildered and frightened knight bearing the insignia of Stefan's kingdom.

"M-Maleficent!" the knight cried.

"What business do you have here, you oaf?!" she hissed at the knight, who stood there trembling in his armor before her piercing, hate filled gaze.

Without missing a beat, the knight held out a scroll tightly rolled up by a string. Averting his eyes, the knight said with a stutter, "A th-thousand pardons, y-your wickedness! I-I came to deliver-"

Maleficent snatched the scroll from his hands. Muttering "Wasting my time, you ingrate!" as she untied the string wrapped around the scroll.

With the evidence before her, Maleficent only assumed the obvious. All of this meant that King Stefan anticipated Maleficent's ire and decided to send a warning for her to stay away, or else. Instead, what Maleficent found, to her surprise, was an invitation. It said:

"We cordially invite you to attend our daughter Aurora's christening! Please come as you are and look forward to an extravagant affair!

With warm regards,

King Stefan & Queen Leah"

"Is this a joke?!" Maleficent cried in disbelief

"Oh, lord, I wish it were..." the frightened knight muttered, too terrified to look Maleficent in the eyes.

"Either this is the single most OBVIOUS trap in existence, OR-" Maleficent shouted at the knight, before looking back at the message in the scroll, "Or... The royal family has gone stark raving mad!"

"Th-That's what I said!" the knight said, still trembling, but now peeking at Maleficent's eyes, "S-So can I go b-back and tell them you've declined, or-"

"Declined?!" Maleficent shouted, causing the knight to hunker down and curl into a ball, then she added with a defiant laugh, "Oh-ho-ho, no! Trap or not, I refuse to cower in fear!"

She started to walk away, but then, right before she closed the doors, she pointed her staff at the knight and said, "Your transgressions will not go unpunished, you rat! Leave this place at once! And furthermore, do NOT taint my castle with your presence again, lest you draw my wrath as your King & Queen have!"

With a sweeping motion of her hand, the doors slammed shut by her command. Pivoting on her heels, once more she marched toward the large compass rose on the floor. Again, she invoked the full malevolent aura of her castle. Pulling it as if by chain, demanding it obey her will. Once more a column of bright green flame rose beneath her feet. Bathing Maleficent in mystic fire as the wicked fairy shouted a command in an ancient tongue.

----------------------------------

Elsewhere, in the grand chamber of King Stefan's castle, the most spirited and blissful christening was in full swing. The entire kingdom arrived for baby Aurora. Charmed were they in the glowing presence of King Stefan and Queen Leah, who were beaming with pride.

Right as gifts were being presented to baby Aurora, a terrible, ice cold wind flew in. The front doors of the castle swung wide open from the force. Tapestries fluttered furiously. The many guests, and even King Stefan and Queen Leah looked on in concern and bewilderment.

A floating, glowing green fireball flew in past the many gawking eyes around the room. Floating gently toward the center, not far away from the king and queen. Then, from the ether, Maleficent appeared. The glowing fireball melded with and became the light in the center of the crystal ball on the head of her staff.

She may have seemed amused by the frightened faces around her, but in fact she was anything but. Maleficent was on edge as she stood before the royal family and their guests. As far as she was concerned, she accepted their challenge!

Maleficent was ready for whatever it was they had planned for her... Everything... Save only for the truth.

#AU #Maleficent #sleeping beauty 1959 #King Stefan #Queen Leah #Princess Aurora #disney classics #disney villains #Mind of Seiso M0rt1s #creative writing #fan fiction #please do not repost

[theerrorofmylife]

Betrayal of Anubis

Based before Moon Knight, this tells the story about the avatar of Anubis and how they meet Marc/Steven. Most of the characters and gods are depicted are closely to the myths as possible, I did… so much research for this.

This... was purely for my own sake. But, it turned out longer than I anticipated so it’s gonna end up being a series hehehe. In this, the main character is an avatar, has no pronouns, and has no preference to partners HAHAHAHA aight enjoy PART ONE. 

~ Error 

     As an avatar, the first and foremost role is to be a god’s voice and acting hand on the mortal plane, as well as the be their eyes and ears concerning humanity. For thousands of years, avatars have walked the earth, mostly hidden from the public, doing the will of the gods and protecting humanity. Gods who represented war and such went through avatars quickly, whereas more peaceful gods could keep a single avatar for several lifetimes if they took care of them. In very few, rare cases, some avatars lived to be hundreds of years simply because their god couldn’t bear to part with them. The gods responsible were usually life or death gods who understood the fleetingness of human lives and became attached to their avatars. I was 28 when Anubis had chosen me.

 Anubis, a towering entity, with the body of a well-tanned man draped in the clothes of his ancient homeland, and the head of a jackal. Across his collar bones was a plate of gold with embeddings of red and orange and green jewels, in his right hand a tall was sceptres, in his left the ankh. He radiated the power he held and, while many had the wrong idea of him, he was always kind. Anubis had a care for humanity and an interest in their ways that many of the gods lacked. Those who passed into his realm were treated with kindness and those who were not able to be were at least given a fair send-off before Ammit ate them. I knew all of this because I knew him. As his avatar, there wasn’t much work to be done, mainly just keeping tabs on the mortal world for him while he stayed in the underworld for the majority of the time. I also accompanied him while he attended meetings of the Ennead, a treat and a dread to attend. While being in the presence of such great deities was thrilling, after the first two or three meetings, it became a rather dull affaire. Plus, sitting in on family problems was never that entertaining for me. But I remember one day, a meeting was taking place and Anubis was sneakily letting me listen in instead of fully controlling my voice and blocking me out.

“Tell me, Set, why have you called this meeting of the Ennead? You are aware your presence is unwelcomed here.” Set was a disgraced god, known for his evil tricks and cruel acts, especially against Osiris. Looking upon him made me sick.

“Aware, yes, you all have made that quite clear. I have called you here on the account of Anubis, and his treachery. His abuse towards his avatar. And his blatant hatred for the gods.” I was shocked, to say the least. Set was cruel, yes, but this was something else. To make such accusations, even without proof, would sow seeds of doubt in the minds of the gods and it may be difficult to weed them out. A cooling relief settled through me. Osiris spoke.

“Set, you are serpent tongued, doer of great evils, your words and your tricks are meaningless here. Leave us!” His presence was forced out of the temple, and the Ennead was left to think. I don’t know why I panicked so much; I should have remembered his words have no merit. They would not have believed him anyway. “Anubis, may we speak to your avatar.” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand, and chills run down my back as Anubis left my mind. Even more so, I felt him leave the temple entirely, leaving me alone to the Ennead.

“My lords and ladies of the Ennead.” I addressed them all with a bow of my head.

“We must ask, however uncomfortable it may be, is Anubis abusing or neglecting you at all? If Set’s claims have any merit that you know of, please speak up.” Isis looked across to me with worry on her face. I shook my head frantically.

 “No! No, Anubis has never and will never abuse me! And to address his claims, I can vouch for his character when I say Anubis has never harbored anything but love and reverence for his fellow gods. He would never commit any sort of treachery or hurt anyone!” I could tell my anger towards Set was getting to me. I took a deep breath and tried to reign myself in. “I apologize… I did not intend for my anger to be so blatant.”

“You defend him vehemently. You two are obviously close.” Nephthys teased. Looking up, I arched an eyebrow at the obvious jest. As Anubis’ mother, it wasn’t uncommon for her to tease me relentlessly, but I knew between her and Isis, I would always have a mother figure here at court. She laughed and smiled at her sister. “Clearly we have nothing to worry about, let us be off.” With that, the gods stand and leave their avatars. As I made my way down the steps to leave, Isis’ and Nephthys’ avatars, Lani and Mahora, race down to kiss my head before leaving. Lani was about 58 now, with two sons and a loving husband. Mahora was in her late 60’s, with children grown and grandchildren on the way. Mahora worked in a funeral parlor and tended to the families of the deceased. Lani was a writer working on her latest book. Both had taken me in in a way, and after bidding me goodbye they left, slipping through their portals, and soon it was just me, lingering in the temple room, the ancient chamber providing a calm security I didn’t quite know anywhere else. Upon returning to my home, I found Anubis waiting for me with Asim and Sadiki, my two jackals. Anubis had given them to me long ago since he could not always be with me.

“My child, Nephthys says you defended me. Thank you.” A large hand rested on my head for a second. I remember the days that followed vividly, only because nothing happened. Anubis left the next day, returning to the underworld where he attended the dead and maintained the scales with Maat. It had been some thousand years since Ammit was imprisoned and the task of disposing of the souls that did not pass the scales were left to Anubis and his jackals. More work for him… It wouldn’t be until about two weeks later that I would notice something off. It was on a Wednesday when I met Maat for the first time.

“Avatar of Anubis, watcher of the living and record keeper for the Lord of The Dead.” A woman in a maroon suit with a large rectangular bag set over her shoulder stood at my door. Short, buzzed hair and brown skin, she looked like everything I’d fear to see in the courtroom. This must have been Maat’s avatar.

“Maat, goddess of justice, truth, and order, daughter of Ra, keeper of the scales and giver of divine justice.” I acknowledged, but I didn’t see why we were using such formalities. Gods, that left me winded just a tad. Maat was always so formal from what Anubis had told me. “I must inform you; that such formalities are no longer necessary, my lady.” She smiled a bit, and her eyes glowed a yellow gold for only a second. I welcomed her into my apartment and as she passed, unease washed over me.

“My child, avatar of my oldest friend, I bring news,” I nod along but I already felt my stomach drop. “Anubis has been neglecting his duties, and the dead are roaming the red reed fields without guidance.” I was shocked. Anubis was never one to neglect his duties or be so careless as to leave souls unsupervised on their journey to the other side.

“My lady, what are you saying? Anubis would nev-”

“I sought him out, but only found blood. Your patron has been very busy.” She looked…accusatory. Suddenly she grabbed my arm and her eyes flashed gold again, this time brighter, louder, and my arm burned. When she let go, she looked conflicted. “If you had lied, the scales would have told me… but you are pure of heart…you did not know.” With that, she turned to leave. I was left alone with everything. Anubis was off killing people, my scales were balanced, Maat just visited the mortal realm for the first time in centuries… Anubis… I felt a chill run down my back as I realized what was going on. Two weeks ago, Set had made those claims, and here Anubis was, doing exactly what she predicted. If what I thought was happening, I needed to speak to Isis and Nephthys. Walking into the far back of the apartment, I pulled out two tiny statues, one shaped like a kite bird and the other a scorpion, setting them out and lighting two green candles for the sisters. I sat on my shins in front of the makeshift altar.

“Isis, Divine Mother, bearer of Horus, sister of Nephthys, I pray to you in my time of need. I seek your wisdom and your sanctuary for I know not what to do in troubling times. Nephthys, goddess of funerals, barer of Anubis, my patron, sister of Isis, I pray to you in my time of need. I seek your guidance and sanctuary for I am lost and alone. I can offer nothing but my words and intentions-” The room was flooded with the scent of hot sands, cooking garlic, and balsam oil which smelled more like vegetable oil. Turning around, Lani and Mahora stood in the center of the room, both of their eyes glowing a peridot green.

“My child, whatever is the matter?!” Isis rushed towards me, nearly stubbing Lani’s toe in the process. She wrapped her arms around me and for a moment, just a moment, I felt calm. Nephthys also approached me, taking her turn to hug me.

“It’s Anubis, Maat came here with her avatar and told me he was neglecting his duties. It’s just like what Set said! But I know him, he would never do this!” I watched Lani’s eyes take on a sad look and Mahora’s looked ready to cry. Nephthys had always cared so very deeply for Anubis, being his mother, so the idea of him neglecting his duties and potentially having to be imprisoned if it were truly as serious as Maat said, it visibly broke her heart.

“Child, if Maat is right, this could be very serious. We have certain things in the underworld in place for a reason; souls cannot be left to wander; the ritual of the scales must be overseen by both a god of death and a God of truth. We must call a meeting of the Ennead; we must speak to Anubis ourselves.” They each took one of my hands and closed their eyes. My apartment faded away, as if it were nothing but sand, drifting in the breeze until we were standing in the center chamber of the pyramid of Giza. Opening their eyes once again, they quickly walked to their seats, leaving me to stand front and center.

“Isis, what is the meaning of this?” Osiris and his avatar walk through a doorway to my right. Without Anubis with me, I had no place to be here. I felt nauseous all of a sudden standing in front of some of the most important deities in Egypt.

“Set’s claims may have some truth to them, and if so, we must speak to his avatar and Maat.” At the mention of her name, the Goddess of Justice entered through a hall to my left. Her avatar was still dressed in her suit, but she no longer carried her bag.

“Maat in attendance. I come to speak on Anubis.” She looked to me, and for a moment I saw sadness.

“Child,” looking up, Isis was looking down at me with Lani’s eyes, “We will summon Anubis once all accounts have been heard. If you feel unsafe at any time, tell us.” I nodded and stepped aside for Maat to speak directly. “Maat, relay your account and what you and your avatar had found.”

“The souls in the underworld are wandering aimlessly, they are not entering the afterlife. The scales are being neglected; the ritual is only being fulfilled on one side. And worse, too many souls are coming through, more than there should be. This led me and my avatar to seek out the cause. Anubis has been rampaging through the mortal plane, killing and hunting like a wild animal!” I felt… cold. Like a fear I did not ever want to know had washed over me. Anubis… killing… I felt sick. Had Set been right?

“Child,” Osiris addressed me, “Did you know this?”

“No! No, I didn’t… Anubis would never do this…I do not wish to disrespect Maat, but there has to be a reason…” I could feel them look at me with pity, even Maat. If Anubis really did this… no.

“We must summon him; we must find out the truth.” Nephthys lifted her hand and a door at the far end of the room. Thudding steps echoed through the chamber. Anubis, in a form somewhere between physical and not, walked out of the shadows, blood dripping from his hands and maw. Teeth bared like a wild animal; something was… off. As he came closer, for the first time since I met him all those years ago, I felt fear.

“Why do you pester me?” His voice was growling, low, and tired.

“What have you done Anubis? Did you kill a human?” Nephthys spoke, standing to get a better look at him.

“Not just one. They deserved it, their insolence… disgusting… they all deserve death. They do not deserve the scales or the promise of the afterlife. They are worthless…” I could hardly breathe. Anubis, a god who had so much care for humanity as to literally create embalming and dedicate his time to guiding the dead. A god who had found me when I had nothing and stayed with me through everything, who was more like a father to me than any other could be. He would never say such things.

“Anubis please-” I stepped too close.

“Silence!!” His hand swatted at me, and his claw caught my jaw. Stumbling back, I hit the raised floor behind me hard enough to hear the crack of the stone and my own ribs. The pain was blinding; I squeezed my eyes shut and drew every muscle in my body tight to try and stop the pain. Hands grabbed at me and practically dragged me up a set of steps, away from the meeting, where a lot of yelling was happening. I was tugged into another room, I think. I tried to open my eyes but my right one hurt too much, a stinging pain just making my face smush together after every attempt.

“Don’t try to open it my child, it's ok, it's ok.” Isis was there, was she the one that dragged me away? Where was Nephthys? I felt rubbing against my face and the whole of the right side stung sharply. Everything hurt, my back, my chest, my arms, my face. Maat was right… Set was right… my father was gone.

#moon knight #marvel #marc spector #steven grant #khonsu #avatar #egyptian mythology #a lot of research #like a lot #anubis #angst #marvel series #mr night #jake lockley #this is way longer than i thought #yikes

[thefantasticreader]

No One Shall Know

"Vast woods, all yours, and yet you are always in the same spot." the girl snickered not daring to look up from her book "You are still here? After the battle and evening dinner you still come around? with all these people?" he stalked closer his hand resting against his sword encased by his hip.

"My dear princess, what good knight would I be if I didn't protect the one thing I was destined to. A good book I take it?" this time he gained her attention as she drew up to look him in the eyes. A mistake because any slight glance at the blue eyes had her mesmerized and made her stomach do loops and made her words stutter for the boy. "A handmaids tale about love." he read from the cover title while titling his head. "So, another love story." he snickered while looking up to her. "If you came her to mock me you can take your precious little gear inside and stalk to my mother about being unlady like towards my. How do you put it? KNIGHT and shiNing ArmoR." she joked in a deep voice.

"And I'm mocking you. Princess if I didn't know that was you being playful, and you know your mother disproves us being seen together. Alone." he paused as she huffed. "Yes run and alert the queen the two love birds are together." the giggles stifled from above alerted them they were not alone as they had thought they were. "Don't worry I won't say anything!" the small girl sitting on the ledge of the old cobblestone wall laughed. Her golden brown eyes lit cheerfully as she giggled louder and louder. "You two should admit you love each other. AH! And kiss! The thing mother and father do, the smoochy sounds!" The young girl laughed as she puckered her lips and made kissy noises at the young teenagers. "Lilian your mother would not be very pleased with you for messing up your evening gown. Now come down before I tell her you were watching us again." groaning the girl complied and jumped down at her older sisters words. "Boring as always big sister."

rubbing the dirt off her dress she picked up the book from her sisters lap, "Love story! BLEGH!" she exclaimed before tossing it to the grass and skipping off towards the castle. The moment the girl was out of eye sight giggles erupted from both male and female teen. They quickly died down and a comfortable silence fell between them, lost in their own thoughts it quickly became too silent too fast and they both turned to speak to make the silence end. "Well princess I believe that is out queue to go inside. Shall we continue this talk through the courtyard?" she nodded and rose from her spot. dusting off her own dress she was interrupted by a hand in front of her. "Wouldn't make you walk yourself over now can I?" she took it while laughing and retrieved her book from its spot where it had been disregarded.

"Now, your sister does bring a fine point up, yes?" the girl nodded as she interlocked her arm with his. "Well I believe so, yes, I suppose she does. However no one must know of us." she paused from walking as he turned to look at her. "Indeed, no one." his blue eyes flicked from her mouth to her green eyes. A back and forth motion, so innocent, yet it spoke a thousand words without anything being said. She smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck "Princess, I- I shouldn't- I-" she stopped him by drawing him into a kiss. He returned it and deepened the kiss hungrily. Pulling away panting he turned to look around them, his eyes pausing for a moment just behind her. Snatching one of the roses off the bush he brought it around her head swiftly and then placed it in her warm hands.

"Until next reading m'lady." she smiled and said back sweetly "Until next time my future king." they laughed as he bowed to her and walked the opposite way both giggling the entire time.

#creative writing #girly #princess aesthetic #writing #random #cute #cuteness #fluff

[filthy-darkweaver]

Tea time for Faltheriel

"Why the interest in cultist activities?" Blonde Faltheriel prodded at his black-capped signet ring, "What we have is an extremely unfortunate scenario. My king is Kael'thas Sunstrider in every timeline we are aware of, save this one. In every single scenario, he was redeemed in Outland. Sometimes Illidan has mercy on him and cures his racial addiction. In other timelines, Kael'thas plays the ole' game and outwits Kil'jaeden himself. In a few others, Jaina Proudmoore seeks him out to save him, and then she eventually becomes his queen."

The Night Elf priestess known as Opalbane cringed. She looked at nothing for a moment, then took up her cup of tea again.

Faltheriel winked at her, "Don't worry, in my timeline, a squadron of Blood Knights, specially-trained for the task, dragged Kael to redemption. And he married their captain, so no mages, blood nor Kirin Tor, were harmed in the making of my world." Faltheriel winced, "In other timelines, he marries Sylvanas, or another crush he had. One queen was an absolute knockout, a rebel Eredar woman he met while battling the Legion for control of Netherstorm. It varies."

"What??" Opal shook her head, "Well. A union between those two, Jaina and Kael, just seems the most cataclysmic of all to me." She sipped the aromatic ruby tea, "Even if Jaina and Kael made it work in a thousand other timelines, the initial clash of their personalities, their magics, it just makes me shudder. And maintaining peace between their kingdoms would be a nightmare job, at best--"

Faltheriel interrupted in a staunch tone, "In any case, things have come to a head at my end. That is why I need your husband's help."

Opal itched the center of her pale forehead. Her kaldorei features were characteristically youthful and flawless. It aroused instant ire in some, but Faltheriel couldn't help smiling at her exotic beauty. He was taxed with being treated like a handsome elven anomaly himself, being sin'dorei, and couldn't help feeling relief in their fast comraderie. But there was something else they both shared, a tinge of malice, a burnt-around-the-edges quality. Hers was the violet-dark of the Twilight Hammer Cult, and Faltheriel had been fully inculcated into the fel green Burning Legion before he escaped. So they were both once power-hungry addicts, but saved from damnation by true love, apparently. People who, once they knew the light in their souls, angrily fought to tear them out of their separate messes.

For a brief period, Faltheriel's obsession had extended to Opal's husband. However, that was a misunderstanding, and over ages ago. Hopefully. By his absence today, Triumvir Alessandre Shademoon was clearly not convinced.

Opal smirked, the thought of a gruesome conflict she might yet puzzle apart enticed someone like her. "Come to a head? So then, my husband the master spy is right and King Kael'thas intends to invade our world in some form? You're clearly the advance force, albeit a darkly charming one, Faltheriel." She reveled in staying so casual about such things, showed off with another langid sip of tea.

Faltheriel frowned at her, "I don't think it's so simple as that."

Opal grinned and showed her elven fangs, "Fine. Lie directly to my face. A civilization such as yours, a mighty Quel'thalas all but restored, bathed in the arcane once more, near fluent in time magics that were once considered the birthright of Bronze dragons alone. In your world, and under King Kael'thas Sunstrider, have become mere Blood Elf cantrips--"

Faltheriel flattened finely gloved hands on the table, on either side of his storm-gray cup. "We are not speaking of invasion!"

"No? It sounds like Kael'thas has not changed in any era. We're finished with our business then." She set her teacup down with a firm clack, rose from the table. "I'll tell my husband, the assassin, to escort you the hell back--what happened to the main-world you, anyway? From this timeline? You dispose of him?"

Faltheriel checked at her mood swifting from reviling him, to mild curiosity. As mild as the Opal's Bane got.

"No, I--he was already dead." Faltheriel chanced showing true emotion on the matter of his alternative demise, "Just by, horrible, horrible chance."

Opal lay a hand on her hip. She wore a darkened mauve-and-white version of moon priestess robes.

"The um, marvelous strip club where my now husband worked, where we first met. It didn't exist. The Goblin man who dreamed it up got discouraged early on in his business pursuit by those who would judge him harshly, so he decided to keep his beloved kinks and cravings underground. A secret. And so, there was no prominent gay strip club at that end of Kezan, drawing handsome Night Elves and men of all races to come and dance." He watched her, he couldn't resist seeing whether Opal was as morally open as she purported to be. She looked right back at him, solemn. "So, on a certain night, the other me did not end up someplace naughty-but-nice. He ended up someplace truly nasty instead, indulging another kind of addiction."

"Fel magic?"

"Whatever passes for strong enough stuff in the bowels of Kezan. Between that and my utter loneliness and desolation trapped in the Legion, I destroyed myself. I'm sure the gruesome loss of my liege pushed me beyond the limit."

Opal lingered, a manicured hand on her chair. Then, she sat down again. Her voice was tender, "But in the other Azeroth, where you are from. You found and married this man?"

Faltheriel gently cleared his throat, "Dannox was a high-ranking druid, he'd faced plenty of nightmares. Perhaps worse ones than mine. Suddenly, a had a seasoned champion fighting on my side. And then there's my wife--"

Opal went instantly on the defense. She dug nails into the table.

"I got married twice! It's not like that. I'm not cheating. We're all together, we have a... we are a triad."

Opal relaxed some, "But about Kael'thas..."

"That is also so unlike what you must be thinking. It is a different world, Opal. King Kael'thas is disturbed that this is the one timeline, the only one, where he has not succeeded in defeating the Legion, come home as a triumphant king. Wouldn't you be? And people, other Blood Elves especially, will one day learn about this. We couldn't hope to keep it a secret for long."

Opal regained her knowing look, "So Kael wants to take the throne, here, to consolidate his power? Quell the doubt in his own timeline. About his true character, his motivations, practically every decision he makes on the throne. He must have some serious opposition."

"It's... yes, that comes into it. But that opposition exists only because the world is a dangerous place."

"Typical Azeroth, I suppose. The Alliance should give him a hard time, in my opinion. It's a wonder the Draenei of your timeline can stomach Kael'thas as a king."

"There, you see? And it's undecided yet whether he will build a permanent time-rampart in order to rule in both places--"

"Time rampart!" It did sound a bit evil, Faltheriel allowed for that.

"Or if King Kael'thas will merely reach out to his counterpart here in the Shadowlands, help him to retake the throne."

Opal scowled, "That Kael'thas is dead. You'd be putting a literal undead man on the throne. We already had that in Lordaeron."

Faltheriel brightened, "He'd be the Sun King forever! Eternal youth, a constant celebrity on the throne, and stability for Quel'thalas!"

Opal swore under her breath, what Faltheriel could hear at the end of it was, "...You damned fanboy zealot."

"Uh, the other thing, priestess, that I hoped your people would be greatly interested in is the task I have, from my good king, to discover why this anomaly has happened. Why was Kael'thas an utter failure and a despot on this version of Azeroth?"

"What?"

"I... well, there was some kind of timeline meddling, surely. By the Primalists? Or, Murozond? Or perhaps the Legion that hasn't actually been conquered like we think?"

Opal stared for a time, "I rather think the timeline has been altered, the other way around, in Kael'thas' favor."

"I don't follow you," Faltheriel's smile was certainly condescending.

"Your king wins in every single timeline there is? In all of existence? Not even Nozdormu... not as Murozond. He was never so lucky, the aspect of Time itself."

Faltheriel's smile hardened. "What, precisely are you implying so boldly, and to my face?"

Opal narrowed her gaze at him, "And Kael’thas so conveniently chased his lusts, whatever was the flavor of the moment. One queen was an eredar did you say? Where is his soulmate in any of this! Did he manage to marry his succubus in another timeline??"

"How DARE you!"

Now they were both up on their feet.

"Faltheriel Darkweaver! It is highly irregular that Kael'thas is rich, handsome and victorious, married to some hot dish in every single variation of Azeroth available to us! Don't you think? You're being played for a fool! This isn't about his vanity, at least I hope not! A man that vain would be insane, dangerous, worse than Denathrius himself, worse than Sargeras!"

Faltheriel gasped, clutched at his silken necktie, "You take that back!"

"And you open your eyes! Admit that Kael'thas is a villain, and he's coming to invade our world. I said it before, jokingly, but yes! You are the advanced force. Look at you!The scouting mission before the storm. Can't you see that?"

Faltheriel sat right back down, drained his teacup and resumed his lunch. His elegant apartment in Valdrakken was extremely quiet in that long, weird moment where he preferred to fuss with slicing the dainty remnants of a homemade roast and sprouts on his plate.

"I... I am not a scout. I consider myself more of a shocktroop!" His final, vain retort.

Opal growled and stormed out of there.

Faltheriel shouted after her, "Well we don't have to get along! Will you help me or not? We do still have a common enemy!"

Opal slammed the door behind her.

Faltheriel kept eating, alone, with his excellent manners until he cleaned his plate. He did briefly consider that he may be brainwashed and that his master Kael'thas craved more than perfection, but dominion, in some long-range plan that involved controlling the timelines. That Kael'thas, in every timeline, would, before too long, prove to be an insatiable, evil man.

But then he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a white cloth napkin. "She's just bitter! I'm closer to serving a godlike creature than she will ever be and it infuriates her! Ex-cultist witch!"

Another thought occurred to Faltheriel soon after. Did this mean her husband, Alessandre, would be out to assassinate him again?

Faltheriel threw up his hands, exasperated, "Oh balls! Fine, then. What will this be, the tenth time? Bring it on, Big Al!"

Alessandre murdering Faltheriel. That seemed to be another constant in every timeline.

#story

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #580

Top Ten Iron Man Suit-Up Moments in the MCU

Ah, back to the MCU; along with stuff to do with Transformers, this is absolutely my Top Ten comfort zone (memo to self: “Top Ten Comfort Zones”). And where would the MCU be without Iron Man? The lodestone of the entirely seventy-film, eighty-year saga (or something like that). Robert Downey Jr’s portrayal of Tony Stark really did set the tone for the entire endeavour though; he was the backbone of the franchise for about a decade, and provided it with some of its best and most iconic moments, right up until his heroic death in Endgame (spoiler alert).

Whilst a lot of what made Downey’s Stark so great was his delivery – his louche demeanour, his charming arrogance, his way with a nifty nickname (“Legolas”, “Manchurian Candidate”, “Lebowski”), so much of it also derived from how well various filmmakers displayed his signature superhero hook – that is to say, the Iron Man armour itself. Right from the off, Jon Favreau rooted the visual style of the first Iron Man in an attempt at something approaching down-to-Earth realism; from the gritty Middle East-set opening, with its War on Terror-evoking palette and action, through to the street-level action and boardroom shenanigans, it felt a world away from Tim Burton Gothic Gotham City or the hyper-colourful New York of Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films, and a lot closer to what Christopher Nolan was attempting at the same time over in his Dark Knight trilogy. And this extended to the portrayal of the suits; all whirring cogs and shifting pistons. Whilst we know arc reactors and repulsors and the things of fantasy, the armour itself still felt like something that could just about exist in the real world. I remember back in 2008 thinking the most out-there aspect of the whole film was the idea that Stark could have designed a sentient AI in the present day.

As the films ploughed on, barrelling into the wider MCU with aplomb, the scale, scope, and tone shifted somewhat. As soon as giant green rage monsters, space Vikings, and wizards became part of the MCU, Tony’s humble suits ran the risk of looking quaint. As such, new films explored new ways of dressing up Our Tone, giving him snazzier duds that he was able to pull on in new and exciting ways. And that’s what this list celebrates; not the various Iron Man armours themselves, but the really cool ways Tony gets dressed into them in different films. Because – again, right from the very start – one of the showpiece spectacle moments of most Iron Man appearances has been seeing him suit up for the first time in each movie, revelling in the way the armour wraps itself around Downey’s frame. It also helps to showcase the different styles and improvements he’s made over the years. And that’s what I’m ranking here. Just below.

One caveat: I’ve called this a “suit-up” list, but there are a couple of outliers here. Some are when he’s removing his suit; I think it still counts, because it’s seeing the different ways it goes on or comes off that I like (er, that sounds dodgy). And there’s at least one that’s technically not really a suit at all, but it’s something Iron Man-y that Iron Man wears, so I’m including it. What can I say? I love it three thousand.

The Briefcase Suit (Iron Man 2, 2010): after the first film had established the concept of Tony Sark putting on his shiny metal pyjamas, the second one naturally had to twist it and show it off in a new and exciting way. As an inventor, it helped to also show Stark’s ingenuity; as a comic adaptation, it would be cool to call back to something from the source. Hence the transportable suit-in-a-can, a briefcase that contains a lightweight easy-on version of the armour. It’s cool on a number of levels but for me the best bit is the way it goes on, unfolding accordion-like, pulled in two separate directions to activate the armour. It looks great, and this whole sequence is by a mile the best thing in the film.

One-Button Suit-Up (Captain America: Civil War, 2016): taking the ingenuity to heretofore unmatched heights is the suiting-up process in Stark’s private jet. Up till now the film has deliberately shied away from Iron Man, instead giving us Stark the negotiator, the politician. Now, finally, he suits up, pressing just one button on his chair, only for the mechanisms to spring forth and wrap around his finger, as he’s pulled backwards into the plane as parts of his armour are built up automatically around him. It’s an almost organic process and while it makes little practical sense it does look great.

Automatic Suit Removal (The Avengers, 2012): here we do have, to be honest, a suit-off process. Landing on the balcony-slash-runway of his sumptuous tower (full-tilt diva), a series of circular tracks rotate around him as mechanical arms grab and remove all the parts of his armour. It’s a streamlined version of the robot arms we’ve seen in the prior Iron Man movies, and the fact it takes place along walkway gives it an almost assembly-line feeling. The icing on the cake, though, is how nonchalant Stark is, never breaking his stride or slowing down as the machines do all the work.

Mark 42 (Iron Man 3, 2013): Stark’s travails with his new armour in this movie are a recurring gag. The new suit is – a bit like the robo-arms from earlier films – given a good deal of personality and there’s a lot of humour as the individual components rocket around and bounce off things as they try to find their mark on Stark. It’s a great, fun sequence that again shows off Stark’s inventiveness; and it’s paid off again and again, especially when he calls upon the armour to rescue him doesn’t go quite as well as he’d hoped. I also want to shout out the homemade jerry-rigged “suit” he builds out of the contents of a local B&Q, but as we don’t really have a “suit-up” moment for that I didn’t include it in the list.

The Nano Suit (Avengers: Infinity War, 2018): after praising the more down-to-Earth nature of some of the suits, here we go with something so outlandishly futuristic it borders on magical. It was fairly obvious Downey was leaving the franchise because really, where do you go from here? A nanotech Iron Man suit that almost bleeds itself over his body, generating weapons and shields organically. It’s a great effect, and the culmination of every bit of tech we’ve seen from him before. But it’s the first moment he puts it on that really rocks, when he tosses his glasses aside and seemingly tugs on the strings of his hoody to activate it. He is Iron Man.

The Watch (Captain America: Civil War): yeah, here we go again with something that can only charitably be referred to as “a suit”. But it’s just so damn cool, and again it’s another show of his ingenuity. Many references are made to him being a “civilian” in Civil War, only wearing his “Tom Ford” suit. But when the need arises, he taps a few commands into his watch and then sort of pulls it over his hand in one incredibly cool motion, creating one Iron Man glove. It allows him to off a few repulsor blasts and is robust enough to stop a bullet at point-blank range with seemingly no ill-effects.

Veronica (Avengers: Age of Ultron, 2015): the Hulkbuster armour is something from the comics so naturally everyone was clamouring to see it realised on-screen. Its use in Age of Ultron is great – the best bit of the film? Nah, that’s Hawkeye’s “the city is floating” speech – because of how it’s teased and how it unfolds. We know that “Veronica” (a nice play on Betty and Veronica) has been designed by Stark and Banner to control the Hulk just in case, which adds a good bit of tragedy to the proceedings. But launching from space, initially plonking great walls around the Jolly Green Giant, with some kind of Centurions-style wing-suit just about visible attaching itself to Iron Man in the background. And then the reveal: all the component parts fired from space, clicking into place around Stark’s existing armour, his squat round head flopping down over his tiny human head. And the fight begins, which is great; bonus “suit-up” points for replacement limbs flying in when Hulk trashes the existing ones.

Mid-Air Suit-Up (The Avengers): Stark’s nifty suit-removal system in his penthouse has already been singled out, but there’s another really cool moment in Avengers. Typically this scene is remembered, I’d say, for Stark’s “We have a Hulk” line to Loki, but his suit-up is great too. Slyly putting on some wristbands during his convo, he’s chucked out a window and mid-fall his new suit is fired to him, locking onto those fancy bracelets (still attempting some kind of just about plausible technology at this stage) and then folding itself around him like an uncomfortable-looking billion-dollar blanket.

Testing the Mark 2 (Iron Man, 2008): the iconic red-and-gold Iron Man armour is actually the third suit he wears in his debut film. And whilst it’s cool and all, it’s this, the first “real” suit-up moment, that I think set the stage for all that followed. Stark’s various automated arms and appliances piece the suit together around him, with lots of close-ups of screws being whirred into place and different flaps and hinges opening and closing. It’s an almost pornographic depiction of metal, a real petrolhead’s dream of the future. As I said before, the realism afforded this suit – its tactility and rigidity, its almost plausibility – gave the whole film and, really, the whole MCU a solid foundation.

House Party Protocol (Iron Man 3): well, where to start? The finale of Iron Man 3 might be another CG-heavy aerial battle, but conceptually it’s so damn fun. The running theme of a traumatised Stark building too many suits comes to a head as he unleashes all of them, running on autopilot, but available for him to jump into and out of at a moment’s notice as he battles the metal-melting Extremis-addled baddies. Cue a helter-skelter sequence of Stark leaping into one suit, ejecting just in time, losing (mechanical) limbs, getting picked up by another suit, et cetera. It’s hilarious and – that word again – ingenious and in culminates in a fantastic Mark 42 gag.

Shame I didn’t have room for Stark using the Mark 42 to save Pepper in Iron Man 3, but there’s only so much you can do. I think the various ways filmmakers have depicted these suit-up (and suit-down) moments over the years has been tremendous fun. Thus far, the “Iron Man-adjacent” characters we’ve met in Black Panther haven’t had anywhere near as cool a moment to shine. Hopefully the Ironheart show will give us a new contender.

Also, looking at the gif from Civil War again: where does the top of the glove come from? These films make no sense!

#top ten #iron man #avengers #mcu #marvel #movies #comics

[nanikio]

dads bestfriend part 1

driving home for xmas

warnings: age gap 20s-30/40s, kissing , dbf

The light tapping of snow pattered against the glass along with the hum of Christmas music in the background it felt good. You'd been packing for about an hour now there was no rush you weren't expected back home until tomorrow so you planned to take your time.

Scanning through your wardrobe you picked out some sweaters some thicker some thinner you knew home would already be covered in inches of snow, packing your favourite comfy pjs and awry of jeans and joggers along with large shirts and hoodies. Not forgetting your toiletries and all important accessorise.

Surprisingly they all fitted in your suitcase, hauling it behind you made your way out of campus and down to your car .

I'm driving home for Christmas

Oh, I can't wait to see those faces

I'm driving home for Christmas, yea

Well I'm moving down that line

And it's been so long

But I will be there

I sing this song

To pass the time away

Driving in my car

Driving home for Christmas

Fitting it in the boot you slipped into the front seat, connecting your phone onto Bluetooth playing through the car speakers. Half way through your journey your phone went off, stopping for a red light you checked the message it was from you mom. Nothing unusual she was exited that you were coming home for a while, reading the message the smile dropped from your face.

-Hey hun! Just to let you know Jacob to staying with us for Christmas this years! Can't wait to see you drive safe!❤️xxxx-

Butterfly's slammed around in your stomach at the thought of Jacob, it's not like you haven't thought about him god knows you have, you've fell asleep to the thought of him some nights, but you haven't spoken to him in three years not since the New Year's Eve party not since the night he kissed you.

It's gonna take some time

But I'll get there

Top to toe in tailbacks

Oh, I got red lights on the run

But soon there'll be a freeway yeah

Get my feet on holy ground

The soft press if his lips against yours his dark beard scratching your cheeks, the smell of alcohol on his breath, the strong smell of his oaky Cologne, his calloused yet soft hands wrapped around your waist pushing you against the bathroom wall his hands roaming around your body.

The loud sound of a car honking pulling you from you thoughts your eyes shot up to the traffic lights the light light had gone green while you were deep in thought immediately you turned the Christmas music up drowning out your thoughts focusing on the drive over, it was too late to turn back and spend Christmas somewhere else so you carried on, maybe he didn't remember maybe he was too drunk and thought you were someone else, part of you hoped he did know it was you and that he remembered how it felt when your lips touched. The other wished he'd forgot about it the night after and moved on with his life.

So I sing for you

Though you can't hear me

When I get through

And feel you near me

Driving in my car

I'm driving home for Christmas

Driving home for Christmas

With a thousand memories

Rounding the corner of your street your eyes were instantly taken by the bright lights decorated all over your home a small laugh escaped your lips. Every year your mother always went overboard with the decorations, it was flashy and cluttered but it was home.

Pulling into the drive way you parked you car your eyes quickly scanning around the drive way checking for Jacobs car there was no sign of it. Getting out you walked around to the boot pulling it open you start to get your bags out, slipping you bag onto you shoulder as your hand went to reach for your suit case, just as your hand wrapped around the Handel you felt something warm pulling your hand back it felt as if you stepped back Into a soft wall your nostrils filled with that familiar cologne turning your head around you were met with the chest of Jacob knight moving back you turn fully around looking up at him.

I take a look at the driver next to me

He's just the same

Just the same

He's changed since you last saw him his hair is longer a couple more visible greys his beard is a little shorter, he seem broader like he's more solid than he used to be.

"I'll take this in for you" his deep voice spoke out to you, still as sweet as you remember it to be

You turned back around grabbing your suitcase from his hand "I can handle it" you pulled it down out of your boot pulling it down onto the floor you closed it behind and locked your car up.

Pulling your things to the door you heard him laugh behind you, turning around in a frustrated huff you glared stop him seeing him hold back a laugh you rolled your eyes and carried on bringing your things inside, ringing the door bell the door flung open to see your ecstatic mother a larger than life grin on her face.

Top to toe in tailbacks

Oh, I got red lights all around, uh

I'm driving home for Christmas, yeah

Get my feet on holy ground

So I sing for you

Though you can't hear me

When I get through

Oh and feel you near me

Driving in my car

Driving home for Christmas

Driving home for Christmas

With a thousand memoriesu

She took your bags from your arms and handed it to your dad allowing you to step inside

"Godddd we've missed you so much y/n" she grinned wrapping her arms around you swaying letting you go and into your dads arms taking you into a tight hug.

Hearing heavy foot steps you turn around seeing Jacob your mood instantly dying, "I'm gonna go put my things away I'll be down in a bit" picking up your bag and pulling the suitcase behind you, lugging it up the stairs you slipped into your room, just how you left it they hadn't changed a thing.

You heard loud talking down stairs random laughter occasionally then a yell from your mother, your parents were leaving for a while to go get some shopping.

Walking over to your record player you slipped on a Christmas record, singing along you began to unpack your things dancing around your room in the process not hearing the door open behind you, finally turning around you stopped in your tracks seeing Jacob standing at the door watching you his eyes burning holes into you.

"What do you want Jacob" sighing you pulled the remanding clothes out of your suit case and putting them away.

"Nothing just admiring the view I haven't seen you in a while..you've changed a lot sweetheart.."

I take a look at the driver next to me

He's just the same

He's driving home, driving home

Driving home for Christmas

Driving home for Christmas

[lathalea]

The Devil and the Witch

Dear diary, today I was a very bad girl and instead of writing clean fluff like any other proper author would as request for their friend 🤭, I ended up with several thousand words of filthy smut. Whoops! ;) @fizzyxcustard I hope you'll forgive me for the smut instead of angst 🤭😈😏

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017) Relationships: Raymond de Merville x Witch!Reader Rating: E (18+) Author's notes: Smut, filthy smut, and rough Raymond. I played kink bingo when I wrote it. Kink list: slight dubcon (if you squint), semi-public sex, praise kink, sexual denial, dirty talking, size kink, beard kink, unprotected intercourse

Proceed at your own discretion.

Special thanks to @linasofia and @legolasbadass for encouraging me to post this fic, you she-devils! 😈😈😈

The Devil and the Witch

In the fairytales you read as a child, witches were always old and creepy. They had rotten teeth, hooked noses, and claw-like nails. A proper witch had a broom and a mandatory black cat, too. You were different: your teeth were in a much better condition (thanks, Colgate), you were definitely younger and your nails looked cute with that translucent nail polish. No brooms nor cats around – you were allergic both to cleaning and cat hair. Perhaps you weren’t the very model of a mediaeval Irish witch, but you were doing your best.

What was an allergy-prone, toothpaste-loving girl like you doing in a place like mediaeval Ireland? The answer was simple: you had no idea. It was the 21st century when you visited the Green Island for a vacation. When walking around the ruins of an ancient castle, you slipped into a mysterious narrow stone passage and followed it, but when you finally reached the exit on its other end, you found yourself in a mediaeval village, 800 years before your time, with no way of returning. 

An elderly woman named Dubheasa found you. She recognized that you were not of her world – she called herself a seer, but the locals called her “the Witch”. She offered you to stay with her at the edge of the forest and you accepted her invitation, having nowhere else to go. It turned out that she was a kindhearted person with a great knowledge of herbs and natural remedies. She took you under her wing and taught you all that she knew. That was five years ago.

Now you were the Witch. Dubheasa passed away last winter, leaving her trade to you. The locals, even though they were still distrustful of you, visited you often to seek help in their ailments, to ask for advice or solutions to their problems. You weren’t as skilled with the herbs as your predecessor, at least not yet, but your 21st century knowledge made up for it quite well. The life you lead suited you. Somehow, you didn’t miss the pollution, the city noises, and the stress of modern life. Plus, this place had knights. Real, fierce knights wearing armours that perhaps weren’t too shiny, but those virile men had swords, horses, banners, and everything else a knight should have.

There was one knight who ticked all your boxes. The Devil. That’s how the locals called him and the first time you looked at him made you think that this moniker fitted him more than well. He was tall and dark as the devil himself, ha had devilishly handsome features accentuated by a scar on his cheekbone, and his steel gaze made you think of the flames of hell. His powerful, broad shoulders, his physique of a warrior, his bearing – everything about him exuded raw male power. There were tales of his fierceness in battle, of his bloodlust and cruelty, and yet you felt drawn to the Devil like a moth to a flame. You tried to deny it, but it was the truth. 

His name was Raymond, the only son of baron de Merville, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him whenever you saw him at the castle, as he passed through the village on his dun horse or rode out with his men. You would catch a glimpse of him many times only to find that he was staring straight into your eyes with that intense gaze of his. After several such occurrences, you learned to be more careful. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were some harlot, a loose woman. Proper maidens modestly averted their gaze whenever a man looked at them. They certainly didn’t ogle handsome knights like the Devil and they surely never thought about how it would feel to kiss him, how his beard would feel brushing against the skin of your breasts, what a beast he surely was in bed and whether Mother Nature blessed him not only with large hands but also with other sizeable appendages. Okay, you weren’t perhaps a very proper maiden, but you tried very hard to blend in. And so you visited the nearby village and castle from time to time, selling herbal tinctures and other products. If luck was on your side, you sometimes saw Raymond training in the courtyard, muscles bulging under his linen shirt, and those images gave you quite a few pleasant dreams during your lonely nights.

One day, as you were at the far edge of your garden, taking water from the well, a group of soldiers on horses stopped in front of your house. You frowned – only the local villagers visited you, never the soldiers nor the finer folk from the castle. And never Raymond de Merville himself. You swallowed, seeing him dismounting his horse. This wasn’t yet another of your steamy dreams. Raymond was truly here, entering your garden and approaching you swiftly, after ordering his soldiers to wait for him.

“So you are the Witch,” the Devil eyed you from head to toe with a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’m afraid so. And you are the famous Devil,” you made a pale imitation of a curtsy. You weren’t one for courtesies. “Sir Raymond de Merville to you, lass,” he grunted with a frown. This was a different time and one word of a temperamental noble could make you hang in a blink of an eye. You were too fond of your neck for such activities as hanging, so you played along.

“Of course, Sir Raymond,” you corrected yourself. “What brings you to my humble abode, my lord?”

“You, Witch,” his frown deepened as he spat these two words. 

“Well then, how can I help?” you put the bucket filled with fresh water on the ground.

“This has been continuing for far too long. You will release me from your spell at once!” Sir Raymond commanded you.

“I’m sorry but… what? What spell are you talking about?” Now it was your turn to frown but then you hastily added the customary title, “my lord.”

“I am speaking of the spell that you cast on me! I saw you lay your eyes on me that day during the fair. Since that day I can barely think of anything else,” he grunted, taking a stride towards you, his chainmail clinking. “I see you everywhere I look! You sneak into my dreams! The vision of you haunts me every waking moment. Your hair, your face, your…” Raymond shook his head and fell silent.

Were you hallucinating? 

“Remove your spell from my person with haste!” Raymond de Merville’s gloved hand rested on the pommel of his impressive sword.

Uh oh. Am angry man and a sharp blade. You lived for too long in this time to know how it usually ended. Although… what was that thing he said about your hair…?

“I don’t know where you came to this conclusion, but I have not used any spells on you. You have my word for it. I don’t even know how to use magic!” you shrugged, trying to play cool and telling your brain to shut up and ignore his words. The Devil was extremely alluring, especially from this close, but it was clear that he must have spent too much time riding in the sun or something to say such things about you of all people.

“Do not lie to me, Witch! I do not know why you are tormenting me so, but you need to stop it! I am ordering you!” Raymond fumed, his nostrils flaring dangerously. He was even more formidable when he stood before you like this, with his strong frame, thick, dark beard, and eyes sharp as the hardest steel.

“Do as I say or there will be consequences,” he added coldly, muscles dancing on his clenched jaw.

“Allow me to repeat myself, my lord. I do not put spells on people, I have more important things to do,” you retorted, taking the water bucket from the ground. “And now excuse me while I go about my business. The animals need to be watered. Have a good day, Sir Raymond.”

With these words, you turned your back to him and walked behind your house towards the barn. The door to the wooden building stood open before you when you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Sighing wearily, you adjusted the grip on the bucket’s carrying handle and turned around, ready to face the Devil again.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. He closed the distance between you with a smirk on his devilishly handsome face, ice-blue fire burning in his gaze. He covered your hand with his and the water bucket fell on the ground with a thunk and a splash.

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t carry such weights,” he half-spoke, half-growled, lowering his face towards yours. Raymond towered over you; he was even taller and more robust from up close and emanated some kind of powerful energy that made you freeze in place, all your witty remarks suddenly forgotten.

“What happened to your sharp tongue, Witch?” He lifted your chin with his hand. His gloved fingers felt coarse, almost unpleasantly so against your face. “Not so eager to oppose me now, are we?”

“I told you already, I put no spells over you! I am innocent!” you managed to utter, avoiding his piercing gaze, ignoring the emotions his closeness woke in you. This rough devil of a man with his rough manners oozed danger and you realised that he, the baron’s son, didn’t take well to disobedient subjects.

“Are you now?” His words made you think of a growl of a feral beast and he bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “There is only one way to find out.” Before you knew it, he pulled you close and covered your lips with his. Raymond kissed you as if he were a hungry wolf and you were his prey. You forgot to breathe. A faint cry of surprise left your throat but his mouth was taking possession of yours, demanding everything from you and more, conquering, his tongue brashly exploring  your mouth. He was insatiable to the point of making you dizzy. All the coherent thoughts left your brain, there was only the scraping of his luscious beard against your soft skin, his teeth grazing your lips, his palm splayed across your back, pressing you hard against his torso. “Well, well, well, who would have thought? You don’t kiss like an innocent maid at all,” his growl filled your ears. Contrary to your expectations, this was not a growl of disappointment.

“I never said I was an innocent maid,” you offered, thankful for the support his arms gave you. And speaking of who would have thought – who would have thought that a kiss from a knight would leave you not only breathless but also weak in the knees?

“You have never looked like one to me,” he caught your lower lip between his and then staked out a trail of wet kisses towards the side of your neck, leaving your skin on fire. “I saw you many a time. Your eyes are too hungry. Perhaps you are not a witch after all, but a common wench.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He has definitely noticed all the surreptitious glances you cast at him whenever you saw him. And here you were, thinking you were careful.

“I don’t know what… what you mean,” you sighed faintly when Raymond’s hand tilted your head to the side and his scorching lips assaulted a sensitive spot on your neck. He knew what he was doing to you.

“You don’t know?” he rasped out, facing you again, his darkened eyes set on your lips. “No…” you swallowed, hoping he hadn’t noticed more. This man was like a hot spark on a heap of dry firewood. And you wanted to burn. Badly.

“Then let me show you,” without any warning, he pressed his lips to yours and then swiftly took a step forward, still pressing you into him.

Your back slammed against the barn wall, driving the air out of your lungs. You were squashed between the wooden plank and his powerful body, your breasts helplessly flattened against the metal links of his chainmail, and the only thing you could think of was his lips and his beard violating your lips and every piece of uncovered skin without mercy. “What…?” you started faintly, but then he wedged his knee between your legs and his inquisitive lips returned to your neck. You were supposed to protest at this kind of harsh treatment, most women probably would in your place, but his ministrations made molten lava flow through your veins. Nothing, not even the kisses of your long-time ex from your time made you feel this way.

That was when Raymond’s hands started roaming your body. One rested on your hip while the other quickly found its way to your right breast and closed over it rapidly. A stifled yelp escaped you. A rumbling chuckle filled his chest at the same time as his powerful thigh moved slightly upwards, pressing against that special place at the juncture of your thighs and stoking the liquid fire inside you. You fisted his tunic instinctively, unable to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

“You are enjoying this as much as I am, wench,” he rasped into your skin while lips travelled across your shoulder and down your cleavage, his prickly beard burning a new trail on your skin. “I can feel it.”

“Raymond, I…” you spoke dazedly.

“Sir Raymond, wench,” he pressed harder against you, lifting your chin to meet his demanding gaze. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir Raymond,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed at the sensations this commanding man woke in you.

“That’s a good wench,” he leaned in, kissing you hard and this time you answered with a matching fervour, your tongues fighting for domination in a duel of lust. Your fingers ran through the short hair on the back of his head. Raymond hummed low and grinded his thigh against the most sensitive part of your body, kindling the flames of desire inside you even more. His hand found its way into your chemise, pulling it down with one swift move. You heard the sound of ripping fabric and a whiff of cool air danced on the skin of your suddenly exposed breasts, a wave of arousal washing over you at his bold move. He was so unlike the men you had known in the modern times. You couldn’t imagine a man tearing a modern bra off you like this. Life in the 13th century taught you to dress like women of that time in Ireland. A long chemise was enough – panties and bras were a thing of the future.

Raymond’s greedy gaze rested on your newly uncovered skin and you saw how his tongue licked his upper lip.

“What have we here…?” His mouth covered the pebbled tip of your breast while he rolled the other nipple between his gloved fingers, making you arch your neck and whimper. You wondered how many marks he would leave on your skin once he was done with you.

“Look at you, wench, so eager,” he murmured against your breast with a smirk. That was when you realised that you pressed yourself into his thigh at a slightly different angle, moving your hips to the rhythm of his ministrations.

“Kiss me,” you managed to reply, feeling the familiar feeling growing between your legs, but then his thigh disappeared. You whimpered in protest and lifted your eyes at him.

“Are you ordering your liege?” his scarred face made you think of a cursed demon straight from the deepest pits of hell, hints of anger darkening his eyes.

You shook your head and a wicked little smile danced on your lips, “I need you to kiss me, Sir Raymond. Please, my lord?” 

“That was better, wench. Do not forget yourself again,” not waiting for your reply, he pulled off his glove with his teeth and then gave you another rough, insatiable kiss, crushing your lips with his.

A large, hot hand found its way under your skirts. It moved against your skin almost all the way to your hip and then cupped your uncovered mound. His fingers brushed against your folds teasingly, back and forth, making you let out a moan. 

“Your quim is as wet as the sea, wench,” he grinned. “Do you know what it means?”

Panting, you said, holding on to his arm, “Will you tell me, Sir Raymond?”

His lips brushed against your earlobe when his raspy voice found its way to your very core, “I’m going to plough you senseless.”

The heat deep inside you ached at the Devil’s words as you bucked against his hand, making him chortle triumphantly. You turned your head to kiss him, but his hands covered your bottom and hoisted you to his height. With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and felt his groin against you as you wrapped your uncovered legs around him, your skirts bundled up around your waist. Raymond’s hand dove between you, its back brushing against your moist folds and soon you felt something very hot and hard pressing at your entrance.

“Are you going to… oh… plough me senseless now, Sir Raymond?” you met his steel eyes, your lips skimming against his lightly. 

“Only if you are a good little wench,” his gaze sharpened immediately and a smirk appeared on his face. Raymond pushed hard into you, filling you instantly to the brim, stretching you deliciously. You were barely able to adjust to his size. Were all the mediaeval knights so well-endowed?

“You… You’re so… huge,” you gasped, barely able to form a full sentence.

“And you will take every single inch of me,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off your face, and then plunged deep inside you with one long thrust until he was seated to the hilt. “All of it.”

You gave out a lengthy moan and heard a horse neighing. Biting on your lower lip, you suddenly recalled the soldiers waiting for their lord on the road. And then he thrusted again, making you repeat your moan.

“We can’t do this,” you whimpered, holding on to him. “Your men…”

He slammed into you before you could finish the sentence, making you cry out with pleasure even louder than before.

“My men will wait until I’m done with you, wench,” Raymond pressed his forehead against yours. You felt every single of his words deep inside you, as deep as his powerful hardness delved into you, throbbing against the velvet of your inner walls. Another movement of his hips. Another intense stroke. Another one of your moans. He was conquering you, body and soul, one thrust at a time. “But they will… please, oh, they will hear…” you muttered as the next thrust hoisted you higher against the barn wall, delivering a new wave of pleasure.

“Let them hear your moaning, wench,” he rammed into you harder, making you see stars under your closed eyelids. “Let them know how well you are serving their lord.”

He repeated his movements, slowly but forcefully,  a sweet, intense sensation forming in your lower belly. “Please, oh, Raymond…” you whimpered, bracing yourself for yet another hard thrust that would send you one step closer to ecstasy.

It didn’t come. Your eyelids fluttered open, meeting the Devil’s cold stare. He wasn’t moving.

“What did you say, wench?” the Devil growled, holding you trapped between his chest and the wall.

“Raymond…” you mumbled, recalling the rules of this dangerous game. “Forgive me, Sir Raymond, I forgot myself.” You clenched around his hardness, making him let out a groan. He felt large, almost too large for you, but at the same he fit perfectly inside you, a sensation you have never felt before with any other man. A lightest of shivers ran through your body, a herald of more intense pleasure to come. “I have told you not to forget yourself, have I not, wench?” he spat out the words while his fingers fondled your breast roughly, pinching your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“Please,” you whimpered, clenching around him again and trying to move your hips on your own. You ached for him to move inside you, you wanted this man badly, you craved for the rapture only he was capable of giving you. “I need more of you.”

“And yet you said we couldn’t do this,” he rolled his hips against you, grinding into your sensitive nub, making you whimper again. Then his gloved hand moved to your neck, caressing it slowly and then closing around it, but allowed you to breathe, thick leather bruising your delicate skin. When he spoke again, his voice seemed to be full of anger or some similar emotion as he spoke slowly. “You have disappointed me, wench.”

“Sir Raymond… Please, my lord… I am very close,” you pleaded. At that moment, you would have said anything, promised everything, just to make him thrust into your wanton heat again, trapped in the hell of your own lust and hunger for him.

“First you need to learn your lesson,” the Devil’s piercing gaze rested on you, making you shudder as you once again felt the roughness of his glove on your neck. “If you wish me to continue, you will do as your liege commands. Do you understand?” “I do, Sir Raymond,” you whispered.

“You will not come until I tell you to. I want to have my way with you first. Will you be a good little wench and obey me?”

“I will do as you say, Sir Raymond,” you heard yourself say and then his hand moved away from your neck, lifting one of your legs under your knee and resting it against his shoulder.

You felt much less in control in this position, much more open and vulnerable, and yet the thrill of what was to come made you ignore your doubts.

“That’s a good wench,” he growled and baring his teeth, he suddenly pounded into you, delving even deeper inside you than before, at a new angle. And then he repeated his motions, once, twice, thrice, more, until you lost the count. You were sure that your loud, frantic moans were heard by the soldiers, but you didn’t care at this point. With your back arched your hips meeting Raymond’s hardness with each stroke, you couldn’t think about anything else than him covering your body with his, claiming every single inch of your body with his bold, powerful thrusts.

“See now? Very good. This is how a good wench takes his liege,” Raymond grunted into the crook of your neck, his beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You do it so well. I may get used to your tight little quim.”

Everything he did, his rough caresses, his thrusts, each of them faster and more intense than the one before, made you balance at the edge of pure ecstasy, clinging to him, begging him for release.

“Do not dare to come, wench,” the Devil ordered in a low growl. “I am not done with you yet.”

“So close…” you mumbled through your swollen lips, your body shivering in anticipation, on the verge of bliss. You were losing the last shreds of control over your own body. “Please, my lord, let me come…”

Raymond grabbed your arms that encircled his neck moments before and lifted them, pinning your wrists with ease against the wall above your head.

“I said no! Not until I allow you to, wench,” he warned you and thrust swiftly inside you, making the barn wall wobble dangerously.

He made you think of a relentless machine, of a powerful engine going continuously, without mercy, pummeling into you mercilessly. Your moans turned into helpless mewling, your hips bucked and your body began to tremble again while Raymond’s movements became erratic, every single of them bringing you closer to completion.

“Not yet, wench,” he rasped again, squeezing your tender bottom. Waves of pleasure washed over you with each of his thrusts and you did not know where he ended and you began any longer. 

Raymond rammed into you with a series of short, final thrusts that went straight to the core of your being, and as he groaned, you felt a wave of heat spill inside you. That was what sent you over the edge and the bliss consumed you whole with the intensity of a supernova. Darkness claimed you and you could only feel his strong arms around you and your raspy breaths intermingling.

An eternity passed when you came to. You lay in your bed but didn’t remember getting there at all. Raymond lay by your side, resting on his elbow and observing you closely like a hawk. He wore only his undershirt and trousers, his weapon and armour no longer shielding his strong body. It was dark outside and only a faint light of a candle made the room somewhat brighter.

“What happened?” you sighed, feeling the sweet soreness between your legs.

“I am beginning to believe that you may be a witch after all. But I found a way to break your spell,” the Devil smirked, the darkness of his beard accentuated by the white of his teeth.

“Have you, Sir Raymond? What is it?”

“Disciplining you, thoroughly,” the Devil offered, cold steel flames igniting in his gaze.

“Me?” you batted your eyelashes in mocked innocence.

“You were a very bad wench, were you not?” he smirked, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “You came without my leave. Now I will have to punish you for it.”

Without a pause, Raymond leaned over you and gave you a rough kiss that told you everything you wanted to know. You were definitely looking forward to the punishment administered by the Devil himself.

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[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Daenerys I (Chapter 8)

The author is having a little too much fun.

No squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father's fleet to kindling.

Shoot, I need help! I don't know whether to laugh harder at the squall and howling, or the storm and smashed fleet.

And the gargoyles! Oh my god, the gargoyles.

+.+.+

She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she'd watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor.

+.+.+

But when she told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hair until she cried. "You are blood of the dragon," he had screamed at her. "A dragon, not some smelly fish."

Why don't we compare how many fish and dragons are left at the end of the series, Viserys.

+.+.+

Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of seawater still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.

I'm going to need a whole separate post for Dark Daenerys Highlights & Laughs, aren't I?

+.+.+

Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they [Viserion & Rhaegal] had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport.

The first time...

+.+.+

He was always hungry, her Drogon.

I bet.

+.+.+

For six days and six nights they had been becalmed, and now a seventh day had come, and still no breath of air to fill their sails.

And on the seventh day, there was still no life for the Daughter of Death.

+.+.+

But the great cog Balerion was a song of a different key; a ponderous broad-beamed sow of a ship with immense holds and huge sails, but helpless in a calm.

Ask me how many times I put my phone down to laugh while reading this chapter.

+.+.+

"I cannot see Drogon," said Ser Jorah Mormont as he joined her on the forecastle. "Is he lost again?"

"We are the ones who are lost, ser.

What am I even here for? The jokes are writing themselves.

+.+.+

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas."

Dany laughed. "That would be a wondrous sight to see."

Wouldn't it?

+.+.+

They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.

x

"It is only a tale, Khaleesi," said her exile knight. "They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well."

"Well, how long does a dragon live?"

[...]

The squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, "Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom."

I love that this girl, who believes she's the last of her line, never once contemplates what happens to the world and those dragons once she's gone.

+.+.+

"If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants," said Ser Jorah. "I've seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles."

"Men are men," Whitebeard replied. "Dragons are dragons."

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. "How profound." The exile knight had no love for the old man, he'd made that plain from the first. "What do you know of dragons, anyway?"

The girls are 🌺 fighting. 🌺

It's a competition for who she will send to their grave first.

+.+.+

"Did you ever meet my royal father?" King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

"I had that great honor, Your Grace."

"Did you find him good and gentle?"

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. "His Grace was . . . often pleasant."

Seriously, who's the bigger bootlicker, Davos or Barristan?

+.+.+

"He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies."

"A wise man never makes an enemy of a king," said Dany.

Can you picture Bran ever saying something like this?

+.+.+

"It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings."

Ser Jorah snorted. "Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you'll claim you squired for him."

"I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar's squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne."

Let's ask ourselves the obvious: why are two squires getting this much attention alongside Lord Connington and Arthur Dayne?

From what I can tell, one is still alive.

+.+.+

Whitebeard bowed his head. "It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys."

"King," Dany corrected. "He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name.

A king who never reigned. Third of his name.

What a tragedy.

+.+.+

"As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"

"And he was!" said Dany, delighted.

Right. Got his chest caved in his first and only battle.

Rhaegar had no interest in playing with other children. Big surprise there.

Fucking loser seriously read a book and decided he was The Chosen One.

+.+.+

Back in Qarth, the warlock Pyat Pree had sent a Sorrowful Man after her to avenge the Undying she'd burned in their House of Dust.

Is there anything in the text to suggest it was Pyat Pree and not Xaro Xhoan Daxos? It's Daenerys, so naturally I assume she's wrong.

"Suppose a Sorrowful Man came to my palace one night and killed you as you slept," said Xaro. - Daenerys III, ACOK

+.+.+

She hoped that Xaro Xhoan Daxos was not an enemy, but the Quartheen merchant had coveted her dragons. And there was Quaithe of the Shadow, that strange woman in the red lacquer mask with all her cryptic counsel. Was she an enemy too, or only a dangerous friend? Dany could not say.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos is your enemy, so I think I know what Quaithe is.

+.+.+

Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next.

✨ foreshadowing ✨

+.+.+

Thankfully, I have Ser Jorah and my bloodriders. And my dragons, never forget. In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago. Just now, though, they brought her more danger than protection.

Just now, eh? You poor stupid little thing.

+.+.+

She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule.

You're the third-born daughter.

+.+.+

It will be as fair a shore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?

Grim places needed lightening, not solemnity, and Dragonstone was grim beyond a doubt, a lonely citadel in the wet waste surrounded by storm and salt, with the smoking shadow of the mountain at its back. - Prologue, ACOK

+.+.+

"I was not sleeping, ser. Come and watch." She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily.

Thank god there's lots of salted pork on the ship to keep the dragons fed!

There were pigs as well: the biggest, blackest boars that any of the ironborn had ever seen and plenty of squealing piglets in the brush, bold creatures that had no fear of man. They were learning, though. The larders of the Iron Fleet were filling up with smoked hams, salted pork, and bacon. - The Iron Suitor, ADWD

+.+.+

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws

+.+.+

"So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward.

Love that they respond to anyone saying this. That might be a problem.

+.+.+

Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you."

[...]

"The Usurper is dead," she said.

"But his son rules in his place."

Are we still talking about Joffrey?

+.+.+

His jaw set stubbornly. "Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. But if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did."

[...]

"Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him . . . but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver's Bay."

[...]

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she'd ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. "What is there for me in Slaver's Bay?"

"An army," said Ser Jorah. "If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen . . . but it is Astapor I'd set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied."

"The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?"

[...]

There is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought

Perfect.

Jorah, the liar and schemer, sending her on the wrong path. Daenerys, ignoring her own instincts, blindly trusting him.

She quickly warms to the idea of buying a slave army, not realizing Aegon and the Golden Company are waiting in Pentos. Whoops.

Later in the series it will be Tyrion who convinces Aegon to turn towards Westeros.

+.+.+

Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?"

[...]

"But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

"The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

"Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained . . . but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons.

I believe the author would like me to recall something from the previous chapter.

The free folk. If his brothers were to catch them in such disarray, many of them would pay for that freedom with their life's blood. They had numbers, but the Night's Watch had discipline, and in battle discipline beats numbers nine times of every ten, his father had once told him. - Jon I, ASOS

+.+.+

The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under . . .

+.+.+

"Hand me my medallion belt," she commanded Jorah as she pulled the sandsilk up over her hips. "And my vest—" she started to say, turning.

Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.

"Oh," was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by the shoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back, and her mouth opened for his tongue, though she never told it to. His beard is scratchy, she thought, but his mouth is sweet. The Dothraki wore no beards, only long mustaches, and only Khal Drogo had ever kissed her before. He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman.

It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. "You . . . you should not have . . ."

"I should not have waited so long," he finished for her. "I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well." His eyes were on her breasts.

Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. "I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen."

Pardon?

Gag at all of this.

+.+.+

Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon's wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands.

I know where she can find two brothers!

Final thoughts:

And here I thought Storm x Storm hints would drop off with no Theon chapters.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #daenerys i

[crabas-lordes]

Explaining Gen. 3 Legendaries/Mythicals in My Remakes

According to the games/anime:

Regirock - The Rock Peak Pokémon, a pure Rock type, unknown gender, 5′07″ tall, weighs 507.1 pounds, was sealed away hundreds of years ago. It lives in caves or ruins.

Regice - The Iceberg Pokémon, a pure Ice type, unknown gender, 5′11″ tall, weighs 385.8 pounds, capable of surviving extremely hot temperatures, and is made of Antarctic ice. 

Registeel - The Iron Pokémon, a pure Steel type, unknown gender, 6′03″ tall, weighs 451.9 pounds, actually made of metal harder than any known metal and hollow. It’s body was tempered underground pressure for thousands of years, therefore, it cannot get a scratch. It’s food source is unknown. 

Latias - The Eon Pokémon, a Dragon and Psychic type, always female, 4′07″ tall (long), weighs 88.2 pounds, capable of Mega Evolution, can telepathically communicate with people and disguise as people. It is capable of refracting light to become invisible. It is highly intelligent and capable of understanding human speech. It is highly sensitive to human emotions, and will act intimidating if it senses a hostile person. 

Latios - The Eon Pokémon, a Dragon and Psychic type, always male, 6′07″ tall (long), weighs 132.2 pounds, capable of Mega Evolution, can telepathically communicate with people. It is highly intelligent, capable of understanding human speech, and dislikes fighting. It can fly faster than a jet plane, and can open its heart to any compassionate trainer. It can detect peoples’ emotions. 

Groudon - The Continent Pokémon, a pure Ground type, unknown gender, 11′06″ tall, weighs 2,094.4 pounds, has a Primal Forme, depicted in mythology as a Pokémon who raised lands. It can make volcanoes erupt upon awakening, and saves people from suffering from floods. It has beef with Kyogre. 

Rayquaza - The Sky High Pokémon, a Dragon and Flying type, unknown gender, 23′ tall (long), weighs 455.3 pounds, has a Mega Evolution, lived for hundreds of millions years in the ozone and never descended to the ground. It feeds on meteors and water particles in the atmosphere. It is only to descend to the ground if Kyogre and Groudon were to battle. 

Kyogre - The Sea Basin Pokémon, a pure Water type, unknown gender, 14′09″ tall (long), weighs 776 pounds, has a Primal Forme, capable of causing downpours. It was depicted to form the oceans, and saved people suffering from droughts. It sleeps in a marine trench after battling with Groudon. 

Jirachi - The Wish Pokémon, a Psychic and Steel type, unknown gender, 1′ tall, weighs 2.2 pounds, capable of granting every wish written on its sticky notes on its head. If it senses danger, it can fight without awakening. Jirachi will sleep for thousands of years and waken to a voice of purity. When it sleeps, a tough crystalline shell envelopes its body to protect it from enemies. It only stays awake for seven days. 

Deoxys - The DNA Pokémon, a pure Psychic type, unknown gender, 5′07″ tall, weighs 134 pounds, has 4 forms total (Normal, Attack, Defense, and Speed), created from a alien virus in space that underwent DNA mutations. It’s crystalline orb in its chest seems to be its brain. It is highly intelligent and has psychokinetic powers. 

My Take on Gen.3 Pokémon For the Remakes:

Regirock - It was originally sealed away by the ancient people of Sinnoh, but then a Mew decided to put it to good use. Mew set Regirock free from its temple confine and lead it to the Tree of Beginning to guard. Regirock has no gender in my remakes, since it is completely made of rocks and therefore, cannot mate. It sometimes likes to collect igneous minerals, and has a liking toward crystals. Even though it is made of rocks, it is intelligent, and has a telepathic connection to its other siblings. It can also shed its rocks when it feels it becoming too clustered.

Regice - It was formed from the powerful storms around Snowpoint City, and was awakened by a Mew to be brought to the Tree of Beginning to guard. It is highly intelligent and has a connective mind with its other siblings. Regice has no gender in my remakes, since it is made of entirely ice. While it still can survive very hot temperatures, dragonfire would easily be able to melt and kill it. It sheds shards of ice occasionally when it feels it needs to be cleaned. 

Registeel - It was found sealed in a cavern by a scientific team. They took it to their base to study, where Registeel was awakened. It wasn’t violent, but was seen as observative and intelligent. It mimicked the humans’ actions. Upon discovery, it was stated to be hollow, and its armor harder than tungsten (the strongest metal known to Earth). Registeel has no gender in my remakes since it is made of metal, and therefore cannot breed. Registeel was shown to communicate to humans, and is the only one of its siblings capable of speech (but it sounds artificial). It was soon abducted by Team Rocket, where they would take its shed armor and use dragonfire to meld its powerful metal into god-killing weapons known as “God-Killers”. 

Latias - Latias is very skittish, but loves human contact. Once she warms up to someone, she will become emotionally attached to them. She is highly intelligent but tends to act like a puppy. Latias was made from the soul of a little girl with a free spirit. When her village was destroyed by a volcano in Groudon’s wake, and flooded by Kyogre’s fury, Rayquaza had saved her and transformed her into a Latias. Latias can disguise as a human to hide herself from enemies, turn invisible, and telepathically communicate with anyone that deserves her voice. Latias likes to whistle and hum. 

Latios - Latios is more confident than Latias, and is more of a protective older brother. He’s more skeptical about humans, but can warm up to them. He too can become invisible, but he lacks the ability to disguise as a human. He is also much faster than Latias, having passed speeds of over Mach 1 in times of crisis. Latios was made from the soul of a young boy with a wish to become a knight, and was transformed by Rayquaza, just like his younger sister. Latios can also speak telepathically, and also can project his vision into the mind’s of those he finds worthy. 

Groudon - Groudon is extremely territorial and almost impossible to catch and tame. Groudon is a male in my remakes. Team Magma has failed an abundance of times to catch the Legendary beast, but would fall to his extreme heat and radiation. Groudon likes to rest in volcanoes, where he swims and drinks the magma and feeds on radiation. Groudon’s armor is iron; it is usually hard to pierce his hide. Groudon also protects Jirachi in her sleep; he nests her cocoon in a connective cave in the volcano, so the deity is not always a savage. Groudon has only battled Kyogre once as the continents and oceans formed, and the battle was eventually ended by Rayquaza. Groudon is the middle sibling of the Weather Trio. Groudon now stands at fifteen feet and weighs about a ton, due to his size and armor. 

Rayquaza - Rayquaza is one of the most territorial dragons on the planet. Rayquaza is a hermaphrodite in my remakes, which means its both male and female. Rayquaza mostly has beef with the Deoxys species and Ultra Beasts, due to them invading its home. Sometimes Rayquaza descends to check on the people of Hoenn, and only Hoenn (it’s birthplace). There, it made friends with a young boy, and sometimes it visits him in a time of need. Despite its territorial tendencies, Rayquaza is usually very curious to its surroundings. Rayquaza is now slightly longer at 25′ long, and its Mega Evolution now slightly longer at exactly 50′ long. Rayquaza is the most respected deity in Hoenn. Rayquaza is the oldest of the Weather Trio.

Kyogre - Kyogre is the least territorial and is a female in my remakes. She is the least territorial because she remains nomadic around the oceans -- until she gained the trust of Team Aqua. Once Team Aqua moved to the coasts of Sinnoh due to their discovery of Samiya, Kyogre followed, now loyal to Archie. Archie had no interest to catch Kyogre, but rather, study and monitor her. Once Kyogre joined their ranks, she would circle her routes from Sinnoh to Hoenn, and stay near those two regions. She only fought Groudon once in her lifetime, and nor does she plan to do so again. Kyogre is extremely intelligent and can pinpoint the solutions to problems fairly quickly. Kyogre is now around 25′ long and weighs slightly over a ton. She is the youngest of the Weather Trio.  

Jirachi - Jirachi is a female in my remakes and is very childish despite her age. She also is very curious and skittish, which is understandable when you only have so many days to be awake out of a thousand years. She can remain to her sleeping schedule, but rarely does she sense someone worthy to wake early for. While she can grant most wishes, she cannot grant the wishes that involve serious crimes/harm or resurrect the dead. She can speak telepathically, but is limited in speech, and almost sounds like a three-year-old. Despite how old she sounds, she is quite intelligent. She is smart enough to remember the faces of anyone she meets for quite a while, and she’s also smart enough to understand the situations she is put in. She can sense people’s emotions like her own, and does her best to change it if the emotions are negative. Jirachi mainly stays in Hoenn, but can choose to go to any other region that she pleases. She is very attached to Groudon and Giratina. 

Deoxys - There are two Deoxys on Earth; one with a purple core, and one with a green. They always stay together as partners, not mates. They have no genders, since they are mutated viruses and almost tend to breed asexually. However, Earth is slightly too harsh for them to raise their young, given Rayquaza nearly hunts them down every chance it gets. Their core is not their brain, but rather, their “heart”, or life source. If it is shattered, then the Deoxys disappears forever. Deoxys are smart enough to evade problems and don’t go looking for fights. They are usually very curious, especially in the human world. They have a fascination for humans and tend to try to mimic their actions. The two Deoxys have notably different personalities: The one with the purple core is confident and protective, and more willing to fight offensively as the one with the green core is curious, skittish, and prefers to fight defensively. To put another example in the make, if there was a lost child in the woods, the purple-cored Deoxys would more likely leave the child, but the green-cored Deoxys would most likely bring the child to safety.  

Disclaimer: These remakes are for fun and by no means are meant to replace the Pokémon franchise.

#pokemon remakes #remakes #pokemon #my take #fanfiction #pokemon fanfiction #explanation #deoxys #pokemon deoxys #jirachi #pokemon jirachi #kyogre #pokemon kyogre #team aqua #archie #rayquaza #pokemon rayquaza #groudon #pokemon groudon #team magma #latios #pokemon latios #latias #pokemon latias #registeel #pokemon registeel #team rocket #regice #pokemon regice #regirock

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Super Green

The Green Knight s finally out and i can see it without having to wait a month and a half! I thank A24 for this rather quick turnaround because this thing has been on my radar fr what seems like forever! I’ve written about this before but A24 is my favorite studio releasing content. Neon is a close second and Netflix is making a real charge, but A24 releases classics. Some of my all-time favorite films are A24 products. Ex Machina, Hereditary, Under the Skin, The VVitch, Uncut Gems, Zola, Midsommar, Lady Bird, Eighth Grade, The Lighthouse, High Life, The Monster, Enemy, Climax, Room, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Disaster Artist, and Under the Silver Lake have all impressed in one for or another, all of them A24 offerings. This studio is f*cking amazing and i cannot sing it’s praises enough. They’ve been around for less than a decade, A24 was founded in August of 2012, and they’re brought this level of quality consistently. The Green Knight has all of the workings to slide right into my all-time list, just like Ex Machina and Hereditary did before it. Let’s see if i really love it as much as i think i will.

The Exceptional

The first thing that hits you is how f*cking gorgeous this film is. Seriously, i was immediately captivated by that opening scene with Gawain rushing for Mass. It definitely opens up as the film progresses and you are treated to one of the most visually striking films of the year. This movie could give Denis Villeneuve, Ari Aster, or Robert Eggers a run for their money. Seriously, you can frame several shots in a museum and no one would know the difference between that and the Van Gophs on display.

I r0aely mention this but it’s absolutely necessary that i do in this particular review because it was just that memorable. The sound design made this film. I’m not talking about music choice or score, but the actual sound effects for specific scenes. That sh*t was some of the tightest I've ever hear on a film and it really added to the overall experience. Just the way the Green Knight creaked and popped as he moved was more than enough to get this mention but there is so much  ore than just that. I hate that i had to see this at home because, f*ck, this thing would have sounded like god in a proper theater.

I mentioned that you can frame these shots in a museum before and a lot of that shine belongs to the cinematography. The shots chosen for this film are breathtaking. I imagine a lot of that has to do with location but even the scenes filmed in dank castles and murky bogs popped with that same, meticulous, shot composition and it really gave those scenes life. The were ties when my jaw dropped at the majesty of a scene. The one with the giants immediately comes to mind. Like, f*ck, was that beautiful to witness.

In that same breath, you have to know when to pull back. Editing is just as important to a film as anything else and The Green Knight is cut with a precision I've rarely seen. This thing has no fat whatsoever. It presents to you exactly what you need and little else. I love that. I love that this film has a story to tell and it tells it with extreme prejudice. These cuts were made with intent. That’s rare nowadays.

I also have to give a nod to the use of color and lighting. Again, it’s not something i ever really focus on but goddamn is it necessary for this review. Light plays a very important role in how this story was told. Certain scenes absolutely need it and others are perfectly accentuated by it. It takes a deft hand to juggle such a nuanced aspect of film and The Green Knight has done that the best this year. So far.

This film has a very real, very potent, atmosphere. It’s not tension, not like Uncut Gems of Good Times, but there is this unrelenting sense of dread that runs through this entire film. It’s measured and restrained but it’s always there. I appreciate that. For a film to illicit such emotion out of me is testament to the mastery of it’s visionary.

All of the praise I've given to the technical aspects of this film would be for naught if i didn’t recognize the director, David Lowery. This dude is fast climbing the list of my favorite directors. I actually listed  bunch above but, after seeing what he’s gone with this film, dude is really making a case for himself. He did the Pete’s Dragon remake which i hear as pretty good, and A Ghost Story but i haven’t seen either. Not really my cup of tea. But if they’re as good as The Green Knight, i might have to revisit that thought because, holy sh*t, this dude can direct the f*ck out of a film.

The writing is on point. I legit hesitated to put this on here because it is the weakest aspect of  everything else in this film but that is misleading. The writing is exceptional. There is no way this film could be as good as it is, if the script was dog sh*t. The material given to these performers had to the top tier in order for them to give the performances they did and and they definitely f*cking did that!

This whole cast really f*cking delivered. Sarita Choudhury as Mother and Sean Harris as the King were easily the best of the supporting cast but everyone else brought that same energy. Joel Edgerton, Kate Dickie, and  Barry Keoghan, all deliver powerful performances. Hell, this is the best I've ever seen Erin Kellyman act and i have to give a lot of credit to the overall quality of this cast delivered. That said, there are three individuals who put everyone else to shame and i say that knowing exactly how much praise i just heaped upon them all.

Alicia Vikander comes in and delivers on two roles, Essel and the Lady. This isn’t surprising at all because she always delivers. I’m never disappointed by her performances. Admittedly, i haven’t seen many but that’s because she is very particular about the characters she signs on to portray. That said, it’s weird the two performances she’s done that immediately jump out to me, are both with A24 films. Her Eva in Ex Machina, and that film in general, is what made me even take notice of both her and A24 as a studio. Here we are, seven years later, and she’s still blowing my mind. F*cking exceptional.

Ralph Ineson is almost unrecognizable in the Green Knight make-up but the second he opens his mouth, you immediately recognize that gravitas. There is a weight to this character and you f*cking feel it with every move Ineson makes. Dude isn’t in it much but the scenes he does appear in are absolutely stolen by this big, green, maestro of his craft.

More than anyone, this is Dev Patel’s film. This dude is a great actor but it’s rare someone gets a part where they can really bite into the content but that is not the case with this role. No, sir, this sh*t was tailor made for Patel and he definitely digs right the f*ck in. His Sir Gawain is just as good as his Jamal Malik from Slumdog, if not better. Seriously, this film would be nothing without Patel. As outstanding as every other aspect that i gushed about in this brilliant goddamn film, the very best is Dev Patel’s performance. Seriously, that sh*t, alone, is worth the watch.

The Verdict

The Green Knight is f*cking exceptional and exceeded all of my expectations. This year long wait was more than worth. It's the best film of the year so far, leap-frogging into my top twenty all-time and I've seen thousands of films. This thing is a masterpiece on all levels. Narrative, plot, lighting, performances, sound design, composition, editing, score; It's the closest thing to a technically perfect film I've seen in quite some time. If Dev Patel doesn't get an Oscar nod for this, there is no justice in the world because he f*cking carries this movie. Patel is easily the strongest force driving this incredibly compelling watch, but Alicia Vikander, Erin Kellyman, Sarita Choudhury, Ralph Ineson, Sean Harris, Kate Dickie, and Barry Keoghan all match that energy with f*cking gusto. I was absolutely mesmerized by the way these absolute masters in their craft, embodied and gave their respective characters life, particularly Vikander. She never disappoints.

The only issue I see that would hinder someone actually getting into this film is the fact that it's a little long in the tooth. You never really feel it, as long as you buy into the fact it's a character study and not a high concept fantasy film filled with dragons and sh*t. If you think Michael Bay and Zack Snyder are the pinnacle of cinematic excellence, pass on this. You won't make past the first tn minutes. Also, make better life choices. No, this is about Gawain and it never deviates from that core drive. Weird sh*t happens, sure, but it's nothing as fantastical as Smaug or a Balrog. Even so, this f*cking movie kept me glued to the edge of my seat. I loved every second of it and cannot sing it's praises enough. My only regret is that I didn't get to see it in a proper theater. This f*cker would have been a real experience to see on a proper cinema screen, especially that shot with the giants. The Green Knight is outstanding and deserves all of the praise it's gotten and so much more.

#Smokey brand Movie Reviews #The Green Knight

[raplinesmoon]

Attraction tag ✨

Tagged by @lcksndkys (thanks Suzie, this looks fun hehe)

Rules: Post 8-9 people you’re very attracted to.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon is the most attractive mf to ever walk this earth, don’t fight me ✨ he’s the ultimate package: his facial features are so nice, from his lips to the dimples, to his eyes (esp when he smiles 🥺). And on top of that, he’s smart and seems nice with a killer personality which only makes him even hotter. Being single is just slightly tolerable knowing if I can even achieve close to a fraction of his perfection, it’s worth holding out for 🥰

Kim Seokjin

Listen, when I was in Greece, I came across all these ancient statues with features carved to perfection. And you know what? They all reminded me of Kin freaking Seokjin. This man is too attractive, it’s scary in a vampiric sort of way. Not only has his face persisted through thousands of centuries (convinced he was an Ancient Greek official at some point), but just like his whole aura of being super confident is sexy af (WWH indeed) 😍

Choi Youngjae

I don’t want anyone to sleep on how cute this man is. I’ve never looked at a person and fallen so hard in my life (only Namjoon hahahaha). Like he just has a face that makes you light up and smile and feel like you’ve had an entire cup of hot chocolate on a cold, snowy day. His smile is easily the single best thing I’ve ever seen, and I am a certified simp through and through 🤗

Lim Jaebeom

My single most embarrassing story from the past few weeks is that I’ve spent such an absurd amount of time staring at JB’s Instagram that he literally became my entire explore page at one point oops 😅 ANYWAYS STAN THIS ATTRACTIVE CAT DADDY (for real he has like five cats, talk about being CEO of that 😺)

Dev Patel

Abshsjdjdkdk the brown boy crush I wish I had in college!! Like he’s just so cute!! I loved his evolution from being so wide eyed and innocent in Slumdog Millionaire to really coming into his own as a certified hottie in Lion and his more recent works. He’s a many of many talents, and The Green Knight is the one movie I’m looking forward to this year so I can scream over him ok 💖

Farhan Akhtar

An unconventional pick, considering he’s like 20 years older than me, but also not what one typically gravitates towards when they think of attractive bollywood actors. However, mans exudes big brain energy: he can sing, dance, act, produce, direct, and manage a non profit that seeks to prevent violence against women in India. That alone is worth the mention 💕 (the gif I’m blushing 😳)

Ahn Hyo-Seop

I would host weekly kdrama nights at my apartment so my friends and I could scream over this man. AND HE ALMOST DEBUTED IN GOT7 😮 Thank you for coming to my TED talk, now go watch Abyss pls n thank u 😃

Andrew Garfield

Suzie, I am also jumping up and down bc #1 Peter Parker in my heart! I cannot get over how soft and cute he was as Spider Man and I’m so mad they cancelled the planned movies with him 😡 he’s the only reason I had every single line of The Social Network memorized as a teen

Sidney Crosby

Shoutout to the OG bae, because he’s the reason I found myself on Tumblr in the first place!! I used to (still) have a massive hockey fangirling phase, and he’s 100% of the reason whyyy. Seeing him place in person at my very first hockey game was one of the highlights of my life!! 🤩

Mentally, Jung Hoseok is on this list too and he does not need any explanation or reasoning as to why so here have a sexy Hobi pic

Tagging: @dinamitae @propinqxity @jinpanman @coepiteamare @sunshinekims @augustbutwinter @cutechim and anyone else who sees this and would like to <3

#tag games #lcksndkys #we can always bend the rules for Hoseok hes just that powerful #also like if we’re talking girls this list would be a mile long bc I have so many girl crushes #it’s already too long bc I am a simp what can I say #it’s my side hustle