Will you continue to write fanfiction of Alicent/Rhaegal? ( I hope your answer is yes)
No. I deleted the fanfic.
At the end of the day after a long thinking I realized that I am not cut to publish/post passion projects. When it comes to things I put my heart and passion on where I don't expect it to be monetized/getting anything in return, I really cannot handle the negativity that comes with it.
This absolute bullshit is still out there after months and AO3 is not doing anything about it. Therefore I don't want anything to do with AO3.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I won't be publishing anything in AO3 or this tumblr or anywhere else and stick to IRL stuff.
Really happy that people enjoyed the fanfic, but I'm out.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
darien gautier meets his teenage daughter in solstice after being dead for eleven years. it doesnt go great.
sotwc part one spoilers, up to writhing wall early stages (no WW quest spoilers, but small references).
Few ships came into Solstice after the Writhing Wall rose. Its waters grew choppier, the storms more savage, and a dense, unsettling aura hung over the coast. Merchant ships no longer wanted to stop on Solstice without some manner of hazard tax, and few locals wanted to risk the seas trying to escape what may be hiding on the other side of the ominous Writhing Wall. Most of the Stirk Fellowship came by portal and had not left since, busy preparing for what many were calling the Battle for the Writhing Wall.
So to see a grand ship bearing the flag of the Daggerfall Covenant was a surprise to many, but not all. At the docks stood a small assortment of high ranking Stirk Fellowship members waiting for its arrival. They had been expecting it for a few weeks and already experienced more than a concerning number of delays, but High King Emeric had assured he would arrange for his best crew to be entrusted with the Vestige’s most precious cargo. A lighthouse on the coast had sent word when the Covenant ship was spotted crossing the horizon at last, and the welcome party assembled.
Among them stood the Pact, Dominion, and Covenant representatives Walks-In-Ash, Razum-Dar, and Skordo the Knife, acting leader of the Fighters’ Guild and Stirk Fellowship Prince Azah, Savior of Nirn (as she hated to be called) and Vestige Isla Kingston, and one Golden Knight also known as Darien Gautier. Darien had arrived last, rushing out the gate and down the stone steps to the docks. He had been trapped in an agonizing debate: wear his Golden Knight armor to try to appear familiar to the person arriving, or dress in something more casual to appear more comforting and normal. This wasn’t a first impression, but it may as well be. The way this introduction went meant a great deal to him and had him feeling something very close to his understanding of the word fear.
“Thought you might not make it, pal,” said Skordo, slapping Darien’s unarmored back affectionately. Ahead of them, Isla turned around like a deer in the lantern lights. He wished she would stop looking at him like that. He wished he didn’t have to keep fighting down the flinch of pain at seeing her look at him like that. Though he supposed after… eleven, was it? Eleven years of Darien being a ghost to her, he shouldn’t expect her to recover right away. Three months was surely a reasonable amount of time to still avoid looking at him.
Darien smiled easily, leaning into his old buddy. “Aw, you know I wouldn’t miss this, Skordo.” Skordo threw an arm around Darien’s shoulders and ruffled his hair with the other hand before Darien pushed him off laughing. “Hey now! I can’t be looking a mess when she gets here,” Darien whined lightheartedly, smoothing his hair back down.
Skordo just laughed again. “Whatever you say, pretty boy,” he said and moved back to his spot watching the ship as it approached.
To the side, Darien could barely hear her over the low rumble of the ocean. “You look fine, Darien,” she said softly. By the time he whipped around to look at her, Isla had her gaze resolutely locked on waves, not him. He tried imploring her to look at him, finally look at him, but gave up after a few hopeless moments.
And so they stood, watching the ship crawl ever closer. Darien’s excitement grew, imagining how she looked now. The last time he had seen her, she was nearly the spitting image of Isla with her mother’s eyes and hair, but Darien could still tell she was his. He wondered if any trace of him would be visible in her after so many years. He thought about all the things they could do together on Solstice. Well, between fighting the Worm Cult. They did still have a job to do after all. He learned from Skordo that she had been training with the Mages’ and Fighters’ Guilds since she was a child, leaning into neither more strongly than the other. Could he teach her to swordfight? Did she already know? Or maybe they would just like to spend time together. Have dinner around the campfire with the rest of the Fellowship and help catch each other up; her on who he was, and him on everything that had happened in the last eleven years.
His chipper mood was ruined by the arrival of their welcome party’s final member.
“Hey,” he said, jogging down the hill to the rest of the group. “I’m not late. Good.”
Darien saw as Isla turned around and immediately smiled at their late arrival, and bit down a bitter jealousy at not being its recipient.
Skordo waved the man over. “What held you up, hero? I’d have thought that attack would’ve been over a half hour ago.”
Sebastien Harbert, godson to High King Emeric, Covenant war hero, and… something special to his Isla, shrugged from the top of the steps. “Soldiers were barely making a dent on that grievous twilight. Had to find a high spot and wait for an opening to get the kill. Should be a few hours before they come for that camp again.”
Skordo grabbed Sebastien’s shoulder and shook him affectionately. “Atta boy, I’m starting to see why High King Emeric likes you so much!” Darien watched as the other man was nearly toppled over with the force of Skordo’s rattling, but a smile still made its way onto Sebastien’s face. “I’m guessing ship’ll dock in a few minutes. You wanna come up with me to get her stuff?”
“Alright,” Sebastien agreed. He made eye contact with Isla for a moment before noticing Darien’s glare, and then quickly turned to stand with the others. As much as the other man annoyed Darien, he appreciated that Sebastien understood this was a moment for the two of them. Even if he and Isla weren’t saying much, he appreciated just getting to spend this time with her. He tried not to stare, but did peek little glances at her every few moments.
Isla stood with her arms behind her back, commanding and steadfast. It gave off an aura of leadership and experience that he hadn’t seen from her in all of their adventures, but was betrayed by a worried furrowing of her brow. Was she worried for Phoebe after weeks at sea? Was she thinking about the logistics of the upcoming battle? About Phoebe’s safety during all of this? He was surprised when Isla suggested Phoebe come to Solstice during this tumultuous time, but could not find it in himself to argue that “waiting until things settled down” never worked out well for them. Their relationship had always been rushing into things and making the most of their time while it lasted. And she assured him that while she would do everything in her power to keep Phoebe out of the battlefield itself, their daughter was no green fighter. There were plenty of ways she could help without putting herself into danger.
Before Darien knew it, the ship had docked. It took everything in him to resist the urge to rush aboard to see her first. He had to watch as Skordo and Sebastien approached the ship, standing on either side of the gangplank and blocking his view. Why had their group chosen to stand so far away from where the ship would dock? His fidgeting must have given his antsiness away. “Relax,” Isla said. “She’ll be down soon enough.” Her voice steadied him, as always.
And right she was. A few moments later, a shorter woman with long, dark brown hair appeared from beneath the ship and reached for Skordo and Sebastien’s hands to cross the gangplank. They helped her make the jump and held on as she caught her landlegs again. She dusted the dirt and stale air off her traveling clothes once she could stand alone Darien could not hear them, but could tell they were all laughing like old friends.
“I know you’re made of tougher stuff than us mere mortals,” Isla said from beside him, “But I think you still need to breathe.”
Right she was, Darien realized. He hadn’t taken a breath since he first laid eyes on her. Quickly he remedied this and snapped himself back to reality. “Thanks,” he said. Skordo and Sebastien were catching supplies tossed from the ship, likely her belongings, while she began walking toward their little group.
As she approached, Darien was able to get a better look at her. The last time he saw her felt like mere months ago - most of them being spent on Solstice. Before that, it was only weeks between meeting his daughter and giving up his Light to purify Dawnbreaker. Seeing this young woman, thirteen years old now, and trying to imagine how she was that little girl was dizzying to try to understand. Isla and Skordo merely had more lines and exhaustion on their faces. His little girl went from barely being able to walk and say real words, to being an actual person. He realized her hair looked darker now, closer to his. It was hard to tell from this far away, but she still had her mothers eyes.
“Welcome to Sunport, Miss Kingston,” Prince Azah greeted with a grand smile, bowing slightly. “We’re honored to have you.”
Phoebe did a small curtsy in return. “Happy to be here, Prince Azah.”
“Just Azah is fine here,” he laughed. “We can deal with formalities on the mainland. I’m sure your mother explained who to expect here, but,” he gestured to where the Pact and Dominion representatives stood off to the side. They had insisted on coming for her arrival as well, despite not knowing the Vestige’s daughter personally. “Razum-dar of the Aldmeri Dominion.” Raz did a dramatic bow with a twirling hand, making Phoebe giggle. “Walks-In-Ash of the Ebonheart Pact.” She placed a hand over her heart and nodded slowly. “You’ve already met Skordo, our Covenant representative, and Sebastien.” Darien looked down the dock at them, appearing to be arguing over who should carry what.
Prince Azah then gestured to Isla and Darien, making Phoebe look over at them. At him. He felt his heart stop, finally getting to see her, finally getting to see how mature and beautiful she had become. How sweetly she smiled. He could now tell she was only just barely shorter than he and Isla. “Of course, your mother. And-”
“Hi,” Darien said, unable to hold back from speaking any longer, smiling wider than he had in years and with tears on the verge of falling. “Uhm, I’m your dad.”
Her smile fell. “I know.”
…
The bluntness felt like being shoved out of the Colored Rooms and onto Tamriel again with disorientating it was. “I know”? Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. A “hi dad” or “I missed you” or “I’m so happy to finally meet you”, maybe. But not a short and simple “yes you are my father”.
“Phoebe,” Isla snapped quietly. She then looked at the others and asked, “Would you mind giving us a moment?” The other dispersed without any argument.
Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. After a moment she looked back up at Darien with a completely blank face and said, “Hi.”
Darien shook off weirdness as best he could. “You’re beautiful,” he said in awe without really thinking. “I always knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful, wonderful, incredible young woman, but getting to actually see it? It’s - wow.” He smiled dopily.
She looked up at her mom silently for a moment - looking for what, Darien did not know - and eventually responded with “Thanks.”
After that, Darien felt like looking to Isla for help himself. What was he supposed to be doing here? Was he doing something wrong? This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he felt. Not that he exactly knew either. There wasn’t exactly a guidebook for how to (re)introduce yourself to your child who grew up with you basically dead, but Darien sure felt like he was flubbing it big time. He was expecting to get harassed by Skordo for weeks for crying like a baby when he met his daughter again and they had their big, teary, loving reunion on the docks in front of everyone. He thought maybe she would remember Artaeum even after all this time because what’s a more unbreakable bond than that of a parent and their child? He thought that they’d reconnect instantly and there wouldn’t be a need for words.
Maybe that’s what she needed? Maybe she just needed that closeness again and something would trigger her memories of meeting him the first time, of being held and loved so much by the man that was her father.
He did also on a personal level really, really want to hug her.
“Could I-” his voice caught, “Could I give you a hug?” To that, Phoebe again looked to her mom as if for an answer. This time Darien tried to follow their silent communication, but couldn’t. They were both clearly experts at this practice of having an entire conversation through mostly blank faces. He couldn’t help wishing he’d had the chance to learn this with her, with either of them.
The stalemate ended with Phoebe sighing. “Yeah, sure,” she answered unenthusiastically.
Darien felt very confused. She didn’t sound like she wanted to, even if she said he could. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable. Especially on this first impression. “Ah, nevermind,” he waved off. “It’s fine. You don’t really know me after all. It’s fine. No worries.” He tried to smile, fighting a quiver on the corner of his mouth.
Phoebe sighed. “Can I go now, mom?”
“Phoebe,” Isla admonished harshly, the shock coming through much louder than expected.
“Seb and Skordo said they’d give me a tour of the camp,” she answered unphased. “I wanna get to killing Worm Cultists as fast as possible.”
Isla brought her fingers to her temple as she looked down and away from her child. She took a moment before answering, “Fine. Just… go.”
With that, the teenager was off, waving a salute back at them with a smile. “Thanks mom! Love you!” she called, mood completely different.
The two stood there in silence after she left. Darien was left stunned by the rapid turnaround in personality as soon as Phoebe could leave. Did she not like him? Why didn’t she like him? He had barely even spoken a word to her - how could she already detest his presence so greatly?
“I am,” Isla finally broke their silence, “so sorry, for that. I don’t know what I was expecting either.” She kept her gaze forward on the sea, away from him, but Darien could tell she looked nearly as heartbroken as he felt. “Phoebe has had a… rough time dealing with your legacy.”
“My legacy?” he asked, confused.
Isla sighed before finally glancing at him from the side. “She doesn’t really know you. Not like Skordo or Gabrielle do. Did. But they always talked about you to her. How wonderful and amazing you were. Not to mention the comparisons. How she’s going to be a brilliant tactician someday like her daddy. Or maybe she’ll be a Champion of the Light. I think eventually it just got tiring to always hear people compare you to someone you don’t know.
“She’s never wanted someone to act like a dad to her. Not Seb or anyone else. She stopped accidentally calling Sai “daddy” after we lost you the second time. I think she just doesn’t really know how to handle having a father in her life after accepting that he died.”
Darien felt devastated. He thought that maybe bringing all three of them together would fix this horrible mess of feelings between him and Isla. That after all this settled down (ha, he should have known better), he could finally learn what it was like to have a family of his own after having it dangled in front of him in Summerset. Instead, he found he wasn’t needed anymore. He was too late. She was strong, independent, amazing, and not interested in him being in her life at all.
“Give it time,” Isla said, placing her hand on his elbow. He hadn’t noticed her coming closer, and realized this may be the closest she had let herself get to him since recovering him from the Colored Rooms. She smiled sadly at him. All it took to finally get one aimed at him was having his heart shattered into a million pieces. “She may just need to get to know you as a person, not a memory.”
☝️that’s the information written in her clothes also fun fact The puppet's head is made of sculpted and hand-painted foam latex in the same style as the Vapran Gelfling in the show, "Mira,"
don't you think it's kinda childish that you just stop writing altogether because someone reposted one of your fanfics?? I get that it sucks but you have lots of readers waiting for your fanfics you can at least continue the Rhaegal x Alicent one if the problem was someone posting your fic?? Don't let one person caused hundreds of people who bookmarked your fanfic left with nothing...
HUH???? HUH????????????
The lion
The witch
THE ENTITLEMENT OF THIS BITCH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
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Following that logic, killing a fictional character is illegal, or making a character steal would make you an accomplice, or making an character run away from home would be considered kidnapping
It's not a neutral thing. Proship/Profic literally just means you're anti-censorship and anti-harassment over fiction. That is literally it. You don't have to ship any certain kind of pairing or like any certain kind of character to be proship/profic.
So, do you believe no one should be harassed over fiction? Do you believe there should be no censorship in fiction? Or are you fine with harassment and censorship? It's an easy question.
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Fandoms stopped being a fun escape from reality when people started spreading the belief that you should prioritize purity over pleasure and the art you create must be a reflection of your moral standards at all times.
SkekYi, the Philosopher, descended from her mount with a slow, measured grace, the clawed feet of her steed crunching the dew-laden earth beneath them. The bird-like creature snorted softly as she alighted onto the moss-covered ground, the pale mist of early morning swirling about the tattered hem of her robes. It had been a long journey through the murky swamp, but now she was here—at the edge of the biggest Podling village, where the air held the rich, damp scent of wet earth and freshly blossomed wildflowers.
The pungent smell of the swamp mingled with the fragrance of morning dew, a reminder of life’s slow, eternal dance in the world of Thra.
A quiet smile crept across the Philosopher’s beak as she stood in the clearing. The first rays of sunlight kissed the tops of the trees, the three suns rising in the sky like slow, golden orbs. There was a stillness in the air, like the moment just before the storm, but it was a stillness full of promise. The earth seemed to hum with potential as if waiting for the voice that would speak to it. And the Philosopher—who regarded herself as a friend to all sentient beings of Thra—was ready to fill that silence.
The Podlings began to gather first, their beady eyes wide with curiosity, small hands brushing against each other as they looked toward the Skeksis with awe. Among their people, skekYi was rather tiny-but she seemed like a giant to them.
The Gelflings, too, emerged from the shadows of the surrounding trees, their delicate figures framed by the morning light, their expressions both cautious and eager. They all came—without titles, without judgment, each one simply seeking to listen, to learn. For skekYi knew, in the deepest parts of her being, that these creatures, despite their smallness, were just as worthy as the grandest Lords of the Crystal.
"They are not inferior," skekYi whispered to herself, the words lost in the wind as she stretched out her arms and spoke aloud in a low, gravely voice. "No, not inferior at all."
She motioned for them to gather closer, her talons sparkling in the sunlight, like the ancient stones of Thra. “My friends…today, I shall speak to you of the stars,” she began, her tone soft, yet powerful. The Gelflings tilted their heads, the Podlings shifted, settling into the clearing around her. “We are not merely creatures of this world. No, no… we are made of the same dust as the stars themselves, born of fire and light.”
Her round, bright eyes fluttered with the weight of the words, as though she were not only teaching them, but teaching herself too. The breeze danced through the clearing, stirring the strands of moss that clung to the earth, the smell of wet leaves filling her nostrils. She still remembered a different world, before, beyond the crystal-but this place already felt like home to her.
A Podling, with hands wringing nervously, raised a hand. SkekYi turned to the creature, pausing mid-sentence. The little Podling spoke in common tongue, with a soft but clear voice. “But, Skeksis... are the stars not far away? Too far to ever touch?”
SkekYi’s crooked beak opened in a small, thoughtful smile. There it was—the simplicity of truth in the question. She tilted her head, her unkempt mane brushing against the air as she stepped forward, her feet crunching the moist ground.
"Perhaps," she said slowly, her voice gentle, "the stars are not for us to touch in the way we touch the ground, or the trees. But," she paused, letting the words hang in the air like a thread of light, "they are part of us, just as we are part of them."
She lowered herself to the ground, settling beside the gathering, her arms folding neatly. There was no need for grand gestures or theatrics today. Just a quiet, humble exchange of thoughts.
“Look around you, little one,” she gestured with a wiry hand toward the new growth at their feet. "The smallest seed, the tiniest creature, all have within them the essence of the stars. Just as you hold the light of a thousand suns within your eyes, and so do I."
The Podling blinked, the weight of the Philosopher's words sinking deep into his heart, as if the world around them had shifted, revealing a little more of itself.
It didn’t matter that this was a world of dangers, of shadow, and of unpredictable tides. Today, they were here to learn, to grow, and to exist in the simple, powerful act of sharing knowledge.
As the Philosopher spoke, the crowd grew, and the morning light deepened, casting a warm glow on the gathering. She smiled again, a rare softness that most would not expect of a Skeksis. But in her heart, she knew this moment was precious. In this sacred space between the swamp’s murk and the village’s warmth, she wasn’t one of the distant, cold Skeksis of legend. Here, she was a teacher. A guide. A friend.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, Thra—at least this small corner of it—felt a little more whole.
*DISCLAIMER*
This art challenge is not official or sponsored by the JHC. SkekTember is a small, fun thing created by a fan, for fans.
👇
I do not consent to ANY platform to use my artwork, posts, writing or reels to train generative AI tools.
👆
Artwork may be reblogged, but not be used or redistributed elsewhere without written consent.
Sketch based on a scene in me and moogleyart's RP ⚔️
Sandmaster Rek'yr has been summoned to help Rian after he lost his eye to a Garthim, but something has also put him at odds with Thra herself, yet he has refused to explain the reason why. After days of no progress the tension is running high while Rek'yr's patience runs low. The Stonewood's scorn for him and his clans's ways has only grown stronger, finally resulting in Rian challenging him to a battle. It's the only way he knows how to settle their differences once and for all…
In the show Rian was very suspicious of Rek'yr, blind to his own prejudice despite wishing to unite all the clans to fight the Skeksis, so exploring this idea of him slowly coming to understand Rek'yr, seeing they have much more in common than he thinks and finally leaving the hypocrisy behind is very intriguing. We love to see a flawed hero and their disgruntled mentor! 😁
WOOO I had so much fun with the poses and expressions! 🤩 Kept the linework very loose to speedrun the process. Didn't bother to draw them in their canon outfits, no time for all those details lol
Also my first time drawing Rek'yr (the man, the legend ✨️)
If there was anyone who benefitted from the Montclair's incident, it would be Lady Cassandra Dorell; the second wife of Baron Alard Dorell. He wedded her about eight years after his first wife passed away and gave him three children... Adrian, Genevieve and Regina. Smart children, they were mere shadows compared to Ellic Dorell, their half-brother and the heir of Northpoint.
However, with Ellic failed to defend Northpoint against the Montclair and even went as far as being seduced by Lleraya Montclair, Baron Alard Dorell decided to imprison and disown his eldest son. With Ellic gone, Cassandra's son Adrian was named the heir of Northpoint.
"Perhaps even the most terrible of tragedies has Akatosh' light shining upon it," she once said. Cassandra fled with her young children away from Northpoint just a night before Lleraya's arrival.
Maybe she knew something?
(I added noise filter to my art because I heard it protects art from being stolen by generative AI and ended up liking the result🩷 it added texture that I always struggle with)
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yall get free content & you have the audacity to demand it be censored lmfao. who the fuck do you think you are? sit the hell down and shut up. fanfic authors and artists sometimes dedicate years to their craft, to their stories/art all for free. and you want to be a little fucking bitch because... there's incest? underage content? oh no! fuck me sideways. get over yourselves, it's pathetic lol.