⸻⸻ INDEPENDENT, MUTUAL EXCLUSIVE, AND SELECTIVE WRITING BLOG FOR FANTASY FOCUSED CANONS AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS. THEY/THEM, INDIGENOUS, RABBIT, LOW ACTIVITY ONLY.
G.R.R.MARTIN :
aegon ii targaryen, aemond targaryen, daeron targaryen, alys rivers, gwayne hightower, robb stark, robert baratheon
ACOTAR : lucien vanserra(SJM), Jurian(SJM)
DRAGON AGE : Zevran Arainai
26. Rabbit. Works full time. 100% non-binary neechi/Indigenous.
All nsfw content will be appropriately tagged as #NSFW & #trigger. Please let me know if you need me to tag anything for your safety!
This is a selective blog, meaning I will only write with those I am mutuals with. PERSONALS WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT!
OC-friendly! With an emphasis on the OC having a backstory + rules, please! It just makes writing starters easier for me!
zero tolerance for any toxic behaviour! I will not follow you if you have a history of toxic and/or gross behaviour.
I am open to exploring more serious dynamics with different muses, given that we've plotted beforehand and have gotten comfortable with having a dialogue about our muses OOC.
I will not write smut.
I do not write Targaryen ships. There will be themes and preludes present, but that can't be helped with the world GRRM wrote. It just won't be something that I write on this blog.
I'm duplicate-friendly and do not appreciate comparing writers to one another, as everyone's expression of a character is their own artistic take.
As always, I do my best to tag each character as #full name / on my multi-muse if you'd rather not see that character on your dash pop up!
[ It was hours before the fires guttered out. But from those ashes, only Vhagar rose unharmed. Meleys was dead, broken by the fall and ripped to pieces upon the ground. ] And Sunfyre, that splendid golden beast, had one wing half torn from his body, whilst his royal rider had suffered broken ribs, a broken hip, and burns that covered half his body. His left arm was the worst.
The dragonflame had burned so hot that the king’s armor had melted into his flesh.
❝ somehow i have a feeling i am not going to like what you’re about to say. ❞ / for criston
[...] White cloaked and dripping in honour forged by resolute hands once scorned in this very court, in the fleeting dreams dashed by entitlement; a knight, through and through, with pride grandstanding out of duty. You see, he's been here before in the changing tides of court and its heirs and spares, and the delight of it soured from inside out; time and reason rot away all good sense, and he's the Dornish knight at the other end of the pike ascertaining favour once more. Pale green hues light with recognition of the eldest, his own titles and prestige not lost on him. " Lord @gwaynes, " a respectful nod, spine stacked straight in suit of white armour, their King's golden sigil emblazoned on cloak and in the sly reverence of a knight, now enmeshed so fittingly as the figure cut from the guidance lacked inside Green matters; a stern hand, a figure they'd call father only just a King now dead. Kingmaker, says Alicent. He'd not be the one to slight a family he had trained in both swordplay, and tended to in confidence. He can only respond,
Mb it's also because I've been watching Catherine called Birdy but catch Daeron Targaryen coming back into the castle all muddied up, like, his clothes and hair are gone to the mud and he's starting to dry out when he walks back to his room.
I'm so fr when I tell y'all nobody watched over young Daeron 😭
A quiet presence of a boy lingers close to her with entreating eyes, nodding his head once while pressing his lips together in an earnest attempt to contain his impatience. He could be patient, he resolves, but his palms itch, and he fidgets in his seat. It's not long after that impatience wins when he places his head on the oak table, a splay of his silver hair spooling across shoulder and oak as he stares at her, his cheek squished against the wood and a sulk starting to crease between his brows. “ It's not finished... ”
A quiet attempt to stop her urges him to just reach out for the parchment @halfyearsqueen was reading and forget all about it, maybe even have Tessarion eat it. Yet, that'd be rude. He averts his eyes instead, flustered. Patience was a habit learned by watching his family practice with their fingers picking into their hands. Daeron was inclined to the same temperament, digging his nails into the table's wood, focusing on the way it left tracks behind with each drag of his nail. “ He's gonna think it's so stupid. I should've just copied a song. ” It was a song he had written for the past few nights under candlelight and away from prying eyes; well, a valiant attempt at one, anyways.
Me, only halfway through ACOWAR: Lucien's first introduction to Tamlin was when he sought a place in his court after seeing his father unalive Jesminda with his brothers holding him down, making him watch. The final straw was when Lucien gave Beron a reason to hunt him down in the woods, sending his brothers after him with the full intent to kill ( * he's always running from his brother's sharp teeth, their fire in hands, don't stop running don't stop running don't stop running. ) It's a bad habit, it's survival etched in his birthright, and Tamlin was the first to have shown him to stand up for himself, Feyre was the second.
This distinction is important because it never occurred to Lucien that he could bite back, that when prey is forced into a corner, watch how quickly it becomes a predator.
But his brother's blood is still warm on his hands, and it never went away, and here's the moment that he thinks: vengeance doesn't feel great. Not when he had grown up alongside his brothers and thought he'd be fine if he stayed out of their way, he had lagged purposefully behind in lessons so to never show any of them up. The whip scars on his back, deep and embedded, only taught him that it wouldn't do him any good.
You can imagine the horror, the gratitude, and the love Lucien would have for someone like Tamlin. The idea that Tamlin is this powerful monster in Spring, and how Lucien felt next to him for years after because this monster saved him; his autonomy his own, his life in his own hands, a brother for a brother.
( * But blood is always thicker than water, and he wonders if he'll ever stop keeping his brother's names buried deep in him; their judge, jury, executioner. Not even worthy of remembering them when he was brought up to be less than his brothers, and so begins that never-ending loop: I'm sorry it was me, it should've been you at the other end of that knife, why am I still here? )
When Amaranthe took his eye when he entreated for peace, he'd call it a fair exchange. For Tamlin and everything he had given him while being a part of his court, brutally losing his eye and a quarter of his face was only a fraction of what Tamlin did for him.
This makes Tamlin's descent into madness harder and harder to bear when the situation reverts right back to his time in Beron's court, constantly wearing a black eye, a broken arm, and spilling blood from wounds he doesn't mind because Lucien genuinely wants to fight for Tamlin, you think him consistently getting abused would break him but he's had worse. Worse still, Lucien still loves him like a brother. ( * I got thoughts about how this changes when Feyre arrives but that's another meta )