#《◇》 query received [ask]

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello so i sent you something very similar to this a few months ago but it looks like tumblr ate my og ask because i haven't seen it so i'm resending it except i don't remember my exact words so i have to rewrite it from scratch lmfao

about elves and culture: at one point i remember you mentioning offhandedly in some post that elves are all white culturally (i tried for about fifteen minutes to find it, but you know. tumblr.) which is another way the series lacks diversity (besides the obvious barely-any-non-white-people and no non-allocishet people) and i was thinking about how shannon could have even have fixed this problem because the elves are a monolith when it comes to culture. yeah, they have different races, but all the races have the same culture. so i was like. ok. how would shannon even incorporate multiple cultures into the story? how would it even be possible to show cultural diversity in a story where the elves all live in the same society? and i came up with a few ideas:

could do a mashpot, where everyone in the lost cities has bits of every single culture ever mixed into one (somehow). i have two ideas for this

mashpot option one: have the different aspects of a culture each come from different cultures (for example, clothes of one culture and the food of a different culture and traditions of the another culture and so on). putting it all together, this would create a collage-culture of sorts, which would be quite jarring, but it could be effective if done well, i think.

mashpot option two: they could have the different aspects of a culture pull from every culture ever. for example, the elves could eat foods that taste like foods from all around the world, instead of foods that just taste like american foods (as someone who hates the taste of stereotypically american food, i can say i would hate eating anything from the lost cities). or have them celebrate a variety of holidays or something across the whole year, each of which is representative of a different culture.

could have different groups of elves each have different cultures. i also have two ideas for this

different groups option one: each family line has a different culture or something like that. so you have cultural diversity through each family having a different culture and everyone being accepting of that. this could include different clothes, food, traditions, architecture, celebrations, and all that stuff (maybe not language though lmfao). this would at least be able to somewhat showcase different cultures, although it would have to have been done really half-assedly. this would also have a huge skew toward white cultures because most of the characters are white.

different groups option two: create different clans of elves, all of whom have mutual respect for each other. each clan of elves can have a different culture. this would literally be separate societies of elves. however, they could all respond to the same council, which is made of people from all the clans in the name of equality. this way, the monolithicity of the elves would be intact and while still showing some diversity of culture.

shannon makes up her own culture that is completely unlike any culture we've ever heard of, ever. equal neglect of all cultures is equality. sophie eats an umber leaf and is like "this tastes like nothing i've ever eaten before and tastes like it shouldn't even be a real food but i like it". sophie is shown their clothes and it's just a dress made out of solid, opaque crystal. their traditions involve scratching random shapes in the ground and dancing around them in a specific way. this is the chaos option.

this wouldn't really showcase cultural diversity, but instead of an all-white culture, it could be a non-white culture monolith. but then there's the same problem of "why do all the elves have the same exact culture, where's the diversity?" except a different flavor. it would also be really weird because most of the characters in the series are canonically white.

elves don't have any culture. not gonna lie, i have no idea how this would work. this is the other chaos option. up to interpretation, i guess.

thoughts? what would you do if you were shannon. i don't really see any other options for fixing this problem, but there might be something i missed.

(also, yes, i am sending this three times. sorry for annoying you. i want to make sure at least one makes it to your inbox this time lol.)

Hey! So sorry about that--I don't know exactly how long you were waiting, but if it ever seems a while you can send an ask sooner to double check!

Before I get into this, I will say: there is no one right way to approach this topic and I am one person. These are just my thoughts--and I am always open to hearing from others

That said, just to clarify my first point (from this ask, thanks for the link), what I meant by "the elves are all white culturally" is that the kotlc elven culture is fabricated, but seems largely white american inspired. Which makes sense, as that's what Shannon is. There's always going to be a level of bias from one's own experiences and life, it's legitimately impossible to avoid and not always a bad thing. In some cases though, we want to temper it a little, which I don't think it really was in kotlc.

Like you said, there's multiple ways to approach this.

I think the crux is how race, in the elven world, means nothing--but this story exists in a world where it means a lot. While race is a social construction (the meanings/distinctions we assign to skin color are arbitrary) and therefore can be given a null significance, doing so is difficult because socially constructed doesn't mean meaningless/insignificant

We also run into complications given how scattered elves are--I've brought this up regarding clothing, but the physical geography of one's community shapes not only what you wear, but what you grow, how you build, etc. And we don't have that landmark for the elves

I think either an elven monoculture or multiple would work, it's just a matter of what you'd want to do.

If we go for a monoculture as Shannon has, I'd personally go for its own unique culture rather than a mash-up. A mash-up seems too likely to remove significant context/meaning from the source, and the elves are supposed to be isolated from humans. I think Shannon choosing this was fine, it was the execution I dislike.

The food comparisons you mention, for example. Or the family structures. Beauty standards. The education system. They don't actually feel like a distinct monoculture, it feels American with a fantasy filter. If, for example, we expanded on how being immortal affects your family (everyone's still alive, what kinds of relationships does that create, etc.), or how they're taught (instead of lectures and homework, maybe more hands on involvement, travel for hands-on since they can do so instantly, different kinds of tests, etc.), then I'd be more satisfied. I know there's some level of familiarity so readers aren't lost, but it's a little too much, in my opinion

If we were going instead for multiple elven cultures, I think I'd personally base it on ability. It's the most defining thing in their world and could easily be taken further. There'd be kinks to work out given kids don't automatically inherent their parents' abilities, have to manifest, and that people with the same ability don't generally group together, but! that's not insurmountable

kids could be raised within their parents' ability cultures/customs and then, if they manifest a different ability, its culture could be passed via their instructors--which wouldn't necessarily be at Foxfire. Those who differ from their parents, perhaps, would be expected to seek out additional mentor figures and become more multi-culture kids in the process. just because they don't group in canon now doesn't mean they can't here (and could be seen as more necessary given how much ability cross-marriages there are). There could also be more celebratory days around abilities--e.g. a kind of ceremony conducted when a kid manifests. Lots of different ways to take it, the point is just that abilities, I think, make a great base for different elven cultures given how massively important it is in their world.

We're critiquing/discussing diveristy, so something to consider, I think, is what is diversity in the context of kotlc? We want a variety of people to be reflected in the story--but we're dealing with isolated non-humans, so including a variety of human cultures won't necessarily achieve that goal.

The main thing that comes up (or at least that I've seen discussed) is the lack of non-white characters and the fairly american constructed culture--so the course of action to take could be a better balance of physical descriptor (more non-white characters) that creates the varied reflections/connections we want, and a more distinctly elven culture that leans into it harder, making it less American.

I'll stop here for now until this gets too long, but at the moment that's the general direction of my thoughts. I think it's a fine thought experiment to ask "what if culture wasn't tied to race?" you just don't want to then forget that even though your fantasy book doesn't consider race, it exists in a society that does. which could lead us into further discussion on sterotypes as well, which also factors into all this

and again: these are just my personal initial thoughts. it's a broad, complex topic, so there will of course be things I miss or don't get to. but regardless, i hope that at least partially answers your question of what I would do :)

[spilledartery]

more angst king i’m begging you

my first anonymous ask... is begging? how delightful.

[ranqai]

do you like bob dylan

what are you, a cop?

[akashicsystem]

( @lunarburdened // aether and paimon to keqing!! )

"Oh! There you are!" Paimon calls out to Keqing in the traveler's place, and said traveler was grateful for his companion's excitement for once. Aether smiles as the Yuheng approaches, signing a quick greeting. ' Yes, it's been a while. How have you been, Keqing? '

This year’s Lantern Rite was already in full swing, and it was the busiest Keqing had been all year. She could feel her soles ache from the amount of walking she had done today, and made a mental note to find more pedestrian friendly shoes for next year’s festivities. 

“Aether! Paimon! A pleasure to see you two again, really! I’m so glad you could make it, everyone is really giving their all this year to make Lantern Rite amazing. Would you like me to give you a tour?”

As the Yuheng, it was her responsibility to make sure Liyue’s cultural presence was front and center, as a point of pride for the nation. The Traveler was almost like her final test- if her work could impress an outlander to come back as often as he had, surely she was setting Liyue on the right path. She applied a smile to her face- her tactical cheer, she called it- and began walking alongside the outlander.

@lunarburdened

[former-property-of-phoenix-corp]

[WELCOME USER]

"I regret to inform you that there has been a unfortunate incident involving the "Eternal Nous" Project. Last night at precisely 13:35 a explosion erupted in the Research Wing of our ██████ Facility causing an inferno of fire to consume the lab and the complete destruction of all assets involving Project "Eternal Nous". Moments before the incident CCTV caught Dr. Lydia Moon and Technician Janet Rosin loading Primary Assets 52A - "LILY" and 52B - "CHERRY" into a corporate truck. When the explosion happened the same cameras spotted the vehicle leaving the facility. We know 52A and 52B were the only successful Advanced Artificial Intelligence Units to come out of "Eternal Nous" and their retrieval is our top priority. I will keep you updated sir."

|>:[Intro] (WIP) Welcome! This is a SCP RP/Ask blog about two AI's and their creators who are under Foundation custody. |>:[Info] [Rules] [Tags]

[rosiedansen]

Hey,

I'm turning off my Inbox on this app due to all the personal political messages. I will not be posting any of these as I'm unsure who is legit or not and I am too lazy to vet them all myself.

If anyone wants to reach me feel free to do so in chat/messaging.

Thank you!! 💙

[badjokesbyjeff]

Sex on the Sabbath

A man wonders if having sex on the Sabbath is a sin because he is not sure if sex is work or pleasure. So he goes to a priest and asks for his opinion on this question.

After consulting the Bible, the priest says, "My son, after an exhaustive search, I am positive that sex is work and is therefore not permitted on Sundays".

The man thinks: "What does a priest know about sex"? So he goes to a Lutheran minister, who after all is a married man and experienced in this matter.

He queries the minister and receives the same reply: "Sex is work and therefore not for the Sabbath"!

Not pleased with the reply, he seeks out a Rabbi, a man of thousands of years tradition and knowledge.

The Rabbi ponders the question, then states, "My son, sex is definitely pleasure".

The man replies, "Rabbi, how can you be so sure when so many others tell me sex is work"?

The Rabbi softly speaks, "My son, if sex was work, my wife would have the maid do it".

[spurbleu]

thinking about Johnny’s bird being possessed by a succubus, and him needing a little extra help.

you’d been a good girl, too.

patient like a clock, the tail end of ribbons and made from the middles of cotton. wore a perfume because you noticed Johnny’s fondness for sunflowers and their scents.

a just barely prude. “not here, johnny, please.” you’d chide politely when he’d hold your thigh in public restaurants. look away when he’d fuck you, blush when he told you that you looked pretty.

so it came to him as a deep, albeit welcomed, surprise when you mounted him one evening, saying with all the bravado he never knew you had,

“I need your cum inside me, Johnny.”

and then it got weirder. sweet girl who went to church on sundays, now preferred to sleep in after a night of sex, before waking up and asking for another round. stopped wearing the perfume, but good god you started smelling even better without it.

he scoured the internet for answers. sent queries only to receive virtual pats on the back and “enjoy it, man. got lucky.”

his mother was the superstitious of the family, but it seeped into the forefront of his mind after the third week, when you started glowing when you came.

it was a clumsy way to find out. told you he filled the water bottle with holy water when it was millimeters away from your lips. when you dropped the bottle immediately, he squinted and asked what you were. you’d grinned, and answered in a way that made his stomach knot.

but he accepts it. you’re still there, if only half. appear in the new table flowers, or the kisses between rounds. does his best to navigate the new reality of his girlfriend sharing sentience with a demon.

realizes he cannot keep up.

ghost is first. bends you over the pillow he placed under your hips (his only nicety) before fucking you back to oblivion. gaz comes second, kissing you sweetly, a contradiction to the way his hips ruin your cunt in swift, harsh thrusts.

and john price, ever the patient, lets you ride your last grievances out on his cock in his office, cooing you through it all as his men watch from leather chair and nicotine respites.

the sticky routine lasts about a month, before the demon decides she’s had quiet enough, tuckered out and belly full of cum, and makes for an Irish goodbye.

but you, the poor, fawnish girl she left behind, still has four cocks primed for her cunt, and a need that she cannot put out.

johnny strokes you through your first (sentient) taking of simon, whispering in your ear,

“ken ye can do ‘t, hen. done it before, s’well, too.” you sob when he knobs the first inch in, and johnny drawls, “our little hellion.”

[haunted-machines]

praise for Shade and Shadow? And biting for Shade

♡ >> send me a kink and I'll have my muse rate it << ♡

"Do you think I am some kind of dog?" yes, he is

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

"Too few can take a compliment without becoming combative, though that's not to say the reaction can't be endearing. And as for receiving, well, who doesn't really?"

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this

Regarding your second question, he just sort of looks at you.

scale: fuck no, gross, not for them, eh, no opinion, kinda, hot, fuck yes, p l e a s e do this, what do you think?

[adragonprinceswhore]

One Whore Is As Good As Another

Aemond x Brothel worker x (drunk) Aegon

Summary: Desperate to prove he's no mere boy, Prince Aemond leaves his taunting brother and seeks out another conquest. Momentarily, he feels back in control, until his brother reappears.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, reader is a brothel worker and has Valyrian features, targcest, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), face fuccin', P in V, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, titty slapping, humiliation, degradation, dysfunctional brothers

Word Count: 2000

A/N: I had this idea when I read the leaks for episode 3, and let's just say Aegon's awfulness worked great as inspiration. Filthy drabble ahead!

You've seen Prince Aemond's long, silver hair flash by in the corner of your eye countless times in the past weeks.

You never get the chance to observe the prince up close. He only appears fleetingly, confidently striding through the Blue Pearl towards the room where Madame Sylvie awaits him.

She seems to be his favourite; the only one allowed to touch the imposing young man. Sometimes he spends hours with her, though you are not privy to the details. All you know is that most men entering your place of employment conduct much shorter visits.

You do not envy your madame. Entertaining a Targaryen prince is no easy feat, from what you've heard.

Still, you do wonder what it would be like to catch his eye. For him to choose you, like he had chosen the madame.

Had he ever caught sight of you, like you did him? Had he ever seen the shimmer of your silver hair reflect in the corner of his eye?

Does you Valyrian heritage look as alluring as that of the statuesque prince, despite being born a bastard?

These thoughts had merely been fugitive, indulgent fantasies.

Until tonight.

Prince Aemond stands naked in the middle of the vast space in the heart of the Blue Pearl, seeing eye gazing out over the intertwined bodies moving in differing rhythms.

No one had asked for your services as of yet, and you'd therefore been tasked with refilling chalices and plates for the patrons.

The prince's gaze settles on you as you pour wine into a few cups scattered around, ensuring no one chases pleasure parched.

He walks towards you in slow, confident steps, seemingly uncaring that he is fully nude.

'Tis a brothel after all.

Placing the decanter back on the table, you curtsey as he draws near; trembling fingers fumbling with the thin material of your gown,

"Wine, your grace?"

"Do you work here?"

'Tis not the wine that caught his attention.

"Yes. How may I be of service?"

His eye scans the place, searching for a more secluded spot. He gestures towards a plush settee tucked away in a corner with a nod, prompting you to follow him there.

Walking next to the prince, you can truly admire the sharp features of his face. His hair is as fetching up close, and his skin resembles milk; so clear and smooth.

Clean.

Not fit for the filthy surroundings you'd been brought up in.

"Are you my uncle's bastard?"

His query catches you off guard,

"I-, I do not know, your grace. Mayhaps"

You could be his cousin.

Or his sister.

It matters little here; the gods had decided both of your fates when they ruled it fair he be born a prince and you a bastard to a whore in Flea Bottom.

Despite the evident uncertainty, your answer seems to please him.

Prince Aemond's hums, seeing eye narrowing and the right corner of his mouth twitching briefly, perhaps nearly breaking into a smile.

The possibility of you being his uncle's daughter excites him.

"Lay down"

You do as told, reclining on the settee. The corner the two of you occupy is fairly out of sight, yet there is no curtain hindering wandering eyes from seeing your act. It surprises you that the otherwise secretive prince would chose such an exposed place for your coupling, yet you say nothing.

The choice is his.

He inspects your form as you lie down; gaze traveling from the round softness of your breasts to the smooth skin of your inner thighs. The gown you wear leaves little hidden, and the prince's searing stare causes your heart to drum quicker in your chest.

The unpredictability of what he'll do next; of what he wants from you, causes as much unease within you as the determined look in his eye elicits.

He hums, head nodding faintly to himself, before he moves towards you, lifting one long, lean leg so he may straddle your chest.

His cock is right by your mouth, already growing larger as he gazes down at your face underneath him.

Perhaps 'tis the gaining of control that arouses the prince so; seeing you laid out for him with nothing but obedience to offer.

He feeds you his half-hard cock; not too brutish to force it all in your mouth at once. A prince still keeps his manners, you suppose.

Taking him in, you feel the skin of his member; hot and with a taste like salt. It's heavy in your mouth, and the awkward position the prince has you in does not allow you much movement.

He looks down at you; one eye stoney and unmoving, with shadows and light dancing in it. The other expressive and fierce.

Hungry.

Both his hands grab the back of the seat as he leans forward, forcing more of his cock down your throat. It prevents you from breathing, yet you do your best to appease him, sucking and swallowing him to the best of your ability.

You feel his balls slap your chin as he rocks into your mouth, pleased grunts escaping his lips.

A few more thrusts and you start to feel dizzy, not receiving enough air with the prince's manhood in your mouth and his lower belly pressed up against your nose.

You gently tap his leg and he abruptly pulls away from you, hurriedly moving off of you to stand next to the settee.

You cough as you inhale air once again, looking up at him with glassy eyes and wet lips, shining with spit.

His face is still harsh and demanding, and your gaze flickers down to his cock.

Decorated in your spit, it has grown double in size and is now red; like vexed skin after a beating.

You lay still, breathing rapidly to regain your senses. After giving you a moment to calm, Prince Aemond gestures for you to stand, and sits down on the settee.

He grabs your hips, dragging you towards his lap, and so 'tis your time to straddle him, take his cock in hand and sink down on it.

You know how to play these games. You know how to appease the men seeking your touch. Still, the moan you emit as you take in the prince is not solely performative; the stretch of his member fills you to the point of pain.

You bite your lip in a vain effort to concentrate, set on pleasing and serving your prince. Moving up and down in a slow pace, you grow wetter and more accustomed to his intrusion, and soon, your own pleasure follows.

"A-, ah, Prince Aemond", you call out, hoping the flattery will make him favour you even more. Mayhaps as much as he favours your madame.

He grunts and places his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him so he may rest his face against your scarcely clad bosom. He's enjoying you; reveling in your cunt, and it feels like the highest of praise.

You continue to call his title, his name, moving faster and harsher up and down his length, until,

"Brother!"

You catch the flash of a figure stumbling towards you in the corner of your eye, certain you know who it is before looking up;

King Aegon.

His lips are curved into a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded and hair tousled,

"I knew you had it in ya!"

The king ends his exclamation with a slur, clearly far too drunk to be staggering around Flea Bottom unattended.

You'd never been eye to eye with the king before; word around the street was that he found the Blue Pearl far too dull. He requires more to quench his thirst for depravity.

And yet, seeing you ride his brother's cock seems to be to his liking,

"Come on, girl, ride the dragon!", King Aegon shouts before falling into a fit of laughter. His hand smacks your arse as if you were a mare, urging you to go faster.

You search the prince's face for approval, but he's not looking at you anymore. His dark gaze is trained on his brother; still harsh and determined. You take his silence for compliance and move faster; quick breaths of exhaustion and moans of pleasure slipping out from your still wet lips.

"Making her do all the work-",

Aegon's still laughing between the words he slurs out. Standing behind you, one of his hands move to cup your left breast, and he squeezes it roughly; too drunk to appreciate tenderness,

"-I can see why"

Prince Aemond is still silent; still staring at his amused brother.

"No, no, no, this won't do", the king mumbles as he releases the harsh grip he'd had on your breast,

"Remove your gown, bastard"

Again, you seek Prince Aemond's eye for instruction, but he does not grant it. So, you grab the hem of your thin attire and pull it off over your head, exposing yourself to the Targaryen brothers.

'Tis not like you've never been naked before; you entertain most guests nude. Still, there's something about the royals' presence, their ongoing, silent battle, that leaves you feeling more exposed than ever before.

King Aegon hums in appreciation at the sight of your bare teats, the same rough hand coming up to slap the side of one of them, chuckling as they knock together.

You pick up the pace to ride your prince again, yet the king does not leave you be. His voice is still amused, though tinted with something darker, as he commands his brother,

"I want to see you fuck her like a hound, Aemond"

The prince does not reply, and your pace does not falter. You were tasked with pleasuring the prince, and if he did not reply to his brother's orders, neither would you.

Though he is your king.

"Fuck her like a hound! Come on!"

King Aegon sounds more agitated now; impatient. He does not like that his brother does not obey him instantaneously; that he would refuse an order.

The prince is as stubborn as his elder, and in between the brothers, is you;

Caught between two dragons waging a war of wills.

"Get up", Prince Aemond grits through clenched teeth.

You comply, standing swiftly only to be turned and roughly placed back on the settee on your knees.

The prince places a hand on your lower back, pushing you to arch, and enters you in one stroke, reaching far deeper than your previous position had allowed.

He quickly sets a brutal pace; fucking your squelching cunt harsh and quick.

You desperately hold on to the back of the seat, vainly searching for some control as the prince takes his pleasure from you.

Behind you, you hear his laboured breaths and grunts, and the entertained cackle of the king,

"That's more like it!"

He walks around the settee to face you; watching your body as it sways back and forward with the prince's rough thrusts.

Leaning in closely, so closely that his wine-soaked breath is right by your cheek, King Aegon inquires, "How does royal cock feel?"

You know how to play these games.

"Heavenly, your grace"

He hums and touches a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger, "Is that what your mother thought as well?"

He does not bother with waiting for an answer from you; truly, he's not interested in knowing. Instead, he circles the settee yet again to stand next to his brother, mesmerised by the sight of his cock driving in and out of you,

"Where on her will you spill?"

Prince Aemond stays silent, pace never faltering.

“Face, teats or arse?”, his brother asks, but before his stoic sibling answers, he decides for him,

"Spill on her face. You got to appreciate those, uh, familiar features"

A few more rough strokes and the prince pulls out, grabs your waist, and turns you around so that you face them both. He pushes on your shoulder in a silent order for you to get on the floor, once again with his member in your face.

With a quick hand he strokes his slick cock, seed shooting out like arrows, landing on your cheeks, in your hair, on your lips.

He's breathing heavily, yet does not say anything, nor does he moan or grunt. He simply decorates your face in pearly luminescence, matching your silver hair and lilac eyes.

When he's done, he turns, and you see his older brother lay a comradery hand on his shoulder, commending him for "a good fuck".

As the brothers walk away together, you see the tension in Prince Aemond's shoulders ease ever so slightly.

The burdens of being a royal.

A/N: If the HotD writers want Aemond to be obsessed with his uncle, I'll comply! I like to write these little drabbles as a fun way to practice writing without much pressure, so please be kind, it's all just for fun!

[dashcon-two]

The Ball Pits

Hi all,

We realized only recently that we’ve never actually shown you how DashCon 2 is representing the iconic OG DashCon ball pit. We’ve mentioned details here and there, but now they are collated all in one place!

The First Pit: An Homage

two bros chilling in the ball pit

founder simone taking an afternoon nap

We couldn’t do DashCon 2 without having a kiddie pool full of plastic balls in a sad corner. We encourage using this ball pit as a photoshoot spot for some truly bizarre cosplay pics, or just to commemorate the experience.

However once we actually got the thing, we realized that hanging out in it is kind of incredible. Enjoy a relaxing pit stop at the candy-coloured ferret enrichment station!

The Second Pit: A Duel

This second pit - in reality, an inflatable jousting ring - is the home base of The Duel between Strange Aeons and the Muppet Joker. However, when they are not duelling, you all are welcome to throw down in the ball pit gauntlet!

The goal is to smack one another with jousting poles and knock each other down. Fight mano a mano or team up two versus two. Sharp objects and wet face paint are not allowed in the jousting pit, so attention all Vriskas: set that foundation.

You may be asking - where are the balls? We’ll be covering the floor in chopped pool noodles, so it’ll be a foam-ball pit. (Standard plastic balls would suck to land on.)

The Golden Ticket

You may be wondering: is it possible to acquire an extra hour in the ball pit?

Yes. But not how you’d expect.

One lucky purchaser of a charity raffle ticket will receive a golden ticket for themself and up to three friends for an extra hour in the ball pit. The final hour, in fact, before it closes for the day. Lounge, relax, and watch onlookers gaze enviously, from within a mass of colourful plastic. What more could you want?

Volunteer Emails

We’ve gotten plenty of queries from volunteers asking when they’re going to be contacted about their positions. The answer is that we’ve contacted a lot of you already and are waiting to hear back! Please be sure to check your spam folders - we don’t want to give away your position because our email got caught in a filter. You have a week to reply or the position will go to someone else. Go do it! Now!!

VirtualDash Panels!

If you haven’t applied for a VirtualDash panel but would like to, you should do that now!! Your deadline is the 20th. Infodumps, kahoots, party games, whatever you like! You might just get accepted :)

APPLY NOW

Oh yeah - and if you want to moderate, you can apply for that here.

Cosplay Photoshooots - A Note

We’ve done it, folks! One generous attendee has stepped up to host the Weed Smoking Girlfriends photoshoot! A time has not been selected yet, but it will likely be near the end of the day, at the very least after the Duel. (You’re welcome, @strange-aeons.) If you haven’t selected your cosplay yet, perhaps a weed smoking girlfriend is the right choice for you. (All people, regardless of gender, can be a Weed Smoking Girlfriend(TM))

A note for all Homestuck cosplayers: to avoid any body paint catastrophes, the Homestuck photoshoot organizer kindly requests that unset bodypaint is prohibited at the shoot. If you’re concerned that you didn’t use enough setting product, they will have some extra for you to use at the shoot.

[eraenaa]

Bound by Blood

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen Princess Reader Tag List

Synopsis: They can no longer hinder Aemond from taking whatever he wants, and you are the only one he desperately wants. 

Warnings: Non-Con, Targcest, ¿Harsher Aemond?, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (f receiving), Fingering, P in V Sex, Jealousy, Possessive, Mentions of Death, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,475

You bit your lip as you prevented a giggle from escaping your lips. You were merely walking down the halls of your home when you heard a peculiar sound that stirred your curiosity. The sound led you to the chambers of your brother, Aemond. You peeked through the ajar door, and your eyes widened at the scene; your brother stood in his chambers, without his tunic, whilst a lady stood before him, naked. She was peppering kisses on his bare chest whilst Aemond’s head was turned to the ceiling, his lone eye shut in what you presumed was pleasure. 

You could not help but let out a gasp left your lips as Aemond pushed the lady to kneel before him. Your hand covered your mouth as Aemond turned his gaze towards you. His lilac eye widened in surprise that mirrored yours. You gathered the skirts of your dress and bolted through the halls of the keep. You let out a bubbling laugh as you ran, hearing your brother’s footsteps following you as well as his voice calling your name. You found yourself seeking refuge behind the white, ashy trunk of the Weirwood tree, peeking from the trunk to see if your brother had followed you. You let out a yelp as you felt a firm hold on your waist and your body being pushed against the trunk of the ancient, sacred tree. 

“You dare spy on me?” Aemond questioned, now dressed in his tunic. You laughed at your brother, whose hold on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the bodice of your dress, tickling you. “You were with a woman,” You stated and let out another laugh as he did not cease his torment. “You surprise me, brother. I was led to believe you were indifferent to such acts… of pleasure,” You mused as your laughs died down, but your beloved brother did not relinquish his hold nor the close proximity of your faces. Aemond hummed, breathing in your scent and savoring the mirth in your eyes that was caused at his expense. “You were not meant to see such a scene,” He said sternly and watched as you shrugged. Aemond swallowed thickly as his eye glimpsed downward and saw the light heaving of your chest, your skin aglow with the light of the afternoon sun. 

“Tell me, was the lady in your chambers a gift from Aegon?” You asked in curiosity. You often see ladies of pleasure secretly threading the halls of the keep, but they were usually meant for your eldest brother. “Our brother is bedridden,” Aemond stated, and you nodded. “Ah… so you have taken it upon yourself to continue on his traditions,” You teased and watched as your brother’s jaw tensed. You licked your lips and rested your hands on his shoulders. “She was no whore, she was a lady of house Redwine,” Your brother defended. Your brows shot up in surprise. “A noblewoman,” You say, and he curtly nods, brushing away your hair that was jostled by the wind. 

“Will you marry her then?” You asked innocently with a tilt of your head. Aemond scoffed and shook his head, his face contorting in disgust. “No,” He immediately responded. His heart growing soft at the confused pout on your lips. “I have no wish for a marriage… especially with someone so… plain,” Your brother explained, and you nodded. Aemond pulled you away from the trunk of the tree and linked your arms together, escorting you back to the castle. 

“Speaking of marriages… when is mine?” You inquired, and Aemond halted in his steps, his body tensing at your query. “Aegon was the one to see through the proposals, and seeing that he is now bedridden and the duties of the king have passed towards the prince regent, I ask you, brother, when will I be married?” You asked, your innocent eyes gazing up at your older brother, who tried hard to mask his rage at the thought of your marriage. “Never, if I can help it,” He stated seriously, but you took it as a jest. “Aemond,” You whined as your brother continued to walk. “The war is finished, and I am of age now.” You reasoned, but Aemond only shook his head. “We will discuss such matters in due time.” He said simply, but you protested. “It is due time! I am six and ten; mother was married when she was five and ten— Helaena even sooner!” You reasoned, already feeling as if you were ready for such responsibility. 

Aemond let out a grievous breath at your words. “Is it not my duty as princess to marry? To bind our house with another to strengthen our name?” You asked your brother the teachings of your septa as to what your duty was embedded in your mind. “Your duty, my dearest sister, is to be here with your family, with me,” Aemond said, and you frowned. “Brother, even grandfather believes it is time for me to marry!” You insisted, “Whatever reservations he had years before had changed. Remember? He was the one who insisted for me to stay when the small council wanted to ship me off to Dorne so we could have them as allies?” Aemond clenched his fists, restarting himself to point any anger towards you. 

“Why this insistence on marriage? Tell me, sister, has any of the lords caught your attention for you to act as such?” Aemond questioned, words laced and dripping with jealousy. He watched as your cheeks bloomed with color and your eyes widened, fear and dread swirling in his heart as your bodily reactions were answer enough. “N-no.” You said; Aemond rolled his eye and shook his head at your lie. His mind already imagining the way he shall kill and hurt the one who had caught your attention. “There is no one, Aemond… Not yet, at least.” You said as you realized your brother did not believe your words. “I only wish to perform my duty,” You added quietly, your eyes widening in plea. 

“And you are performing it now. Your duty is to be here, to support and be with your family.” He reasoned, swaying your mind to let go of such matter. You huffed as you saw in Aemond’s eye that he would not discuss the matter as of now, stomping away from your brother with pouted lips and irritation at his stubbornness.

“He does not wish for me to be married! He would turn me into a spinster!” You grumbled as you did your needlework in your mother’s chambers, your grandsire and older sister present as well. Your mother sighed at your words, her gaze turning to her father, their suspicions made years before now manifested and now presenting themselves quite obviously. Your grandfather sighed and patted the back of your head, your hair that mirrored your mother’s cascading behind your back. “I shall see to it that your brother sees reason,” He said; you turned your gaze upwards in hope. “In the meantime… why not acquaint yourself with some of the sons of the lords here in court… just so when your brother finally agrees to your marriage, we are prepared, and you will know the true manner of your future intended.” Your grandsire advised, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“Are the matters for the day settled then?” Aemond asked grievously. Overly tired from having to sit in the room of the small council and tend to the matters of the realm. He was counting down the hours until he could escape the room and see you, who had always had a way to make him forget about his problems and exhaustion. “Not quite,” Otto spoke. “There is still the matter of marriage for the princess,” He added, and Aemond began to seethe in his seat. 

He watched as the men around the table leaned in closer to his grandfather, hanging on every word he uttered about your marriage. The lords zealous at the idea, Aemond would wager that they would be presenting their sons to you, the renowned beauty of the realm. “This matter can be discussed another time; my sister is not yet of age,” Aemond gritted out. “The princess is six and ten. She is of age. And she as well has made known her wish to be married, my prince,” Otto replied, averting his gaze from the fiery glare of his grandson. 

Aemond sat in his seat with great irritation as the matter of your marriage was discussed. Names of undeserving lords were thrown into the air and were being jotted down as future prospects for your hand that was already meant for another. Aemond sat stoically as the small council was dismissed, his body still wrapped in rage, and he feared if he moved, he would let it show and might just take a life with his bare hands. “The time has come, my prince. It is best to make your peace with it.” Otto spoke before exiting the room, looking towards his grandson, who had made his contempt on the matter quite obvious. 

After a long moment of calming himself down, Aemond finally stood and exited the room of the small council and found himself staying towards the tiltyard to train. However, the rage he tried to be rid of quickly returned as he saw you with a son of a lord. You leaning close towards the punny boy, a wide smile on your lips as you conversed with him. Ser Criston made hastened steps and stood before the prince, blocking his view of you who were acquainting herself with a son of a lord. “Ready to train, my prince?” The knight asked, hoping to distract Aemond as he, too, saw plainly the affection and fondness he had for you ever since childhood. A fondness that your mother and grandfather had tried hard to deny and keep tame. 

“I need a sparing partner,” Aemond gritted and unsheathed his sword, his eye clasped on the boy you kept chatting with. “Here I am,” The Knight said, his eye warily going towards you, who let out a laugh and moved to touch the arm of the lord before you, batting your lashes at him and presenting him with a smile from your pink lips. “My prince,” Ser Criston called, pushing upon Aemond, who stepped forward to charge toward the boy from house Lannister. “You cannot maim him,” Ser Criston reminded as he pushed the prince towards the other side of the tiltyard, Aemond’s lilac eye following you as you linked your arms with the young lord and sauntered off the tiltyard. 

“Aemond,” Ser Criston sighed, “She is your sister,” He reminded him of a fact that he knew all too well. “Exactly, she is my sister. And it is my duty to protect her from the dangers that come with undeserving men,” Aemond replied. “What danger? There is no danger at present, and I was here supervising her.” Aemond scoffed and walked off in search of you, but the knight followed him. “Supervision? Where was this supervision of yours when my sister was practically flushed against that lord? Flirting with him like a blushing whore,” Aemond spat and Ser Criston halted in his tracks as the bitter words left the prince’s lips. The knight’s brown eyes shifted between the prince and you, who stood by the hall and had heard the words spoken against you. 

You stared at your brother wide-eyed and brimming with tears as you heard the foul word he uttered against you. Aemond felt his heart pit as he realized that you had heard the untrue, bitter statement brought by jealousy that he had uttered. “Princess!” Ser Criston called as you ran through the halls once more, the knight looking back at the prince in disbelief for he had uttered such foul words. 

You ran to your mother for comfort, her readily taking you in her arm as you buried your tear-stained face in her neck. “Why, my child? What has happened?” The queen asked and ran her hands soothing through your hair that you had inherited from her. You did not speak and only continued to sniffle and let the tears pour out of your eyes. You hear the patter of hastened steps and the clink of armor, Ser Criston preventing your brother from entering your mother’s chambers where you sought comfort. “My love, what has happened?” Your mother asked once more, her gaze shifting between you and Ser Criston, who bared the room to prevent your brother from entering. 

You stayed quite still and let your mother assist you to a seat. You cast your gaze downward and continued to cry in silence, and your mother went to your family’s most trusted knight. “The prince saw as the princess was acquainting herself with one of the lords and… he had spoken offense.” Ser Criston whispered, his heart twisting as he watched you silently cry. “What offense?” The queen lowly questioned. “The prince, in his rage, had accidentally compared the princess’ likeness to a… whore,” Ser Criston’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he heard you stifle a sob. 

“Oh my love, that is simply untrue. You know that it is untrue,” Your mother kneeled before you. You were always her most sensitive child; how could you not be when you were always showered with praises and sheltered from any cruelty of the world? Great lengths were taken to keep you innocent from the hardships of life, and though this matter of offense seemed small for others, it was not for you. Especially when you consider the fact at how much your brother frowned upon women who earned such titles, and for him to compare you to such— it was too much for your fragile self to bear. 

“Your brother was simply tired. He did not mean to say such words; he did not mean it.” Your mother said as she tried to comfort you. You were unconvinced; you recalled his words earlier and the animosity and irritation he had shown the past few days when you brought up your wish to be married. His reactions were not at all brought by tiredness. The day had come when your favored brother had started to resent you. Your tears only multiplied at the thought. 

“How could you say such a thing?” The queen hissed at her son, who stood idly outside her chambers. It was night, and your tears only ceased when sleep had overcome you. “I was overcome by rage,” Aemond reasoned, and his mother rolled her eyes. “But that does not mean you shall disparage your sister! What even is the reason for your rage? Why are you so against for her to know the lords that she shall marry?” The queen asked, and Aemond gritted his teeth. “You know why,” He whispered harshly, watching as the eyes of his mother widened with dread. “Aemond… we have discussed this,” The queen whispered. Pulling him into another room in her apartments and away from any prying ears. 

“No, you discussed this,” Aemond spoke more loudly, fiery rage returning in his veins. “She is your sister. I… I cannot have another pair of my children married and offend the gods further!” The queen said frantic. Aemond shook his head. “You have known how I feel for her for years now… you knew perfectly well. You let Aegon and Helaena marry, but when it is me, you dare deprive me of the only one I want?” Aemond asked, voice almost heavy with emotion, anger, and sadness, but his anger loomed greater. “We cannot go against the laws of gods and men once more,” Alicent sighed, but Aemond shook his head. “That is where we differ, Mother. She and I are born Targaryens. We are dragons who do not succumb to rules such as yours.” Aemond spoke lowly, Alicent feeling fear for her son’s decisions. 

“My brother is clinging to life as we speak; the stranger shall arrive and take him any moment now. And seeing his heirs were taken by war, his seat and crown shall pass to me. And when I am king, not even you or Otto or even the kingdom can hinder me anymore, Mother.” Aemond swore. “She is mine. She has always been meant to be mine.” Aemond proclaimed and marched out of the apartments of his mother. 

You stood teary-eyed before a burning pyre, your eldest brother succumbing to his sickness and injuries. You turned your head towards your mother, who had her head cast down as tears were shed for her firstborn. You then turned to Helaena, who stood straight in her spot, whatever sadness she had greatly covered or overpowered by her numbness. Aemond breathed out as you had not even looked at him since the day he mistakenly uttered such a foul word against you. 

“Sister,” Aemond tried to call you and take hold of your arm, but you stepped towards your mother, and she wrapped her arms around you in comfort. “I’ll escort them back to the castle,” Daeron spoke as he returned from Old Town after the events of the war and only returned to Kingslanding to aid his older brother, who now held the title of king. Aemond gave a nod and turned his longing gaze to you. The death of Aegon was nothing unexpected, but still, it was still a death that had undone the stitches of the wound the war had left. Aemond felt a pang in his heart as you did not run to him for comfort as the news came. All Aemond wanted to do was wrap his arms around your frame, to seek comfort with you, who had always been his greatest solace. 

But you kept your distance from your brother. The closeness that you two had since childhood started to drift apart as you heard his conversation with your mother the night he offended you. 

It was not you were that unaware of his fondness towards you, but you took his affection in the manner of a brother showing love to his sister and nothing more. But ever since hearing that confession that was not meant to be heard by you, you recalled yours and Aemond’s relationship. Now noting that perhaps the glances shared were not so innocent, the touches may have lingered and had hidden agendas. That the words spoken had innuendos in them, but you were just too oblivious and naive to notice. 

You sat solemnly in your chambers, staring at the fire as your fingers twirled your hair. The matters of your marriage paused as the kingdom was in mourning for your brother. You were brought out of your thoughts as you hear Aemond call your name, him standing by the door of your chambers. You stood in shock, moving to take your robe to cover yourself, who was only dressed in your shift. Your eyes widened as Aemond hindered you, pulling you flush against his body, wrapping his arms around your frame, and burying his head in your neck. 

“I’m sorry,” He uttered against your skin. “Please, sister, forgive me. I cannot bear for us to be like this, please, my fire.” He confessed and pleaded, holding tighter onto you as you stood idly, your arms not wrapping themselves around Aemond just like times before. “Aemond,” You sighed and tried to push him away, but your small action made the pang in his heart twist further. “What must I do for us to return to the way it was? My fire, please. Do you wish for new dresses? Jewels? What do you want, tell me, and it shall be yours,” Aemond pleaded, moving his face from the crook of your neck and standing straight, his cold, callous hands cupping your soft cheeks. You shook your head at your brother’s attempt at bribery. “Nothing. I— we cannot return to the way it was before,” You said quietly. Aemond frowned at your words; he knew what he had uttered against you was foul, but such a measly insult cannot result in him losing you.

You breathed out a grievous breath, trying to push him away once more, but he kept rooted at his spot. “I have heard what you had told Mother,” You said, watching as Aemond’s confusion morphed into realization. “And?” He asked, voice serious, the softness it harbored as he pleaded for your forgiveness gone. “And what? Aemond, you cannot be serious. You and I are brother and sister. We cannot—“ Your words were interrupted. “Aegon and Helaena were brothers and sisters as well. So were the conqueror and his wives. This is the tradition of our house. I love you— I burn for you in the way of the dragon.” He proclaimed, his face threading nearer to yours. You tried to push him away as your noses brushed, as his scent was starting to intoxicate your senses. “Aemond, please, we cannot— they will never approve of this. The gods w—“

“Fuck the gods!” Aemond screamed blasphemy, your eyes widening at his words and how his other hand placed itself on your waist. “I am king, and no one shall question and get in between me and what I want.” Aemond seethed. “That is not a king; that is a tyrant.” You said, growing in fear of your brother. An emotion you never thought you would feel when it came to him. “Call it what you want, my fire, but I shall still have you,” Aemond swore, and you resisted him as he captured your lips. “Aemond… no… please, do not do this, we cannot do this.” You breathed out as you managed enough strength to push him away. Your cheeks flushed and lips swollen by his kiss.

“Deny me as you will, sister, but I know you better than you know yourself. You are mine. You had always and will forever be mine.” Aemond uttered and pulled you against him once more, no matter your protests. “I regret that it must come to this, but you must learn who you belong to— I must pluck those thoughts of reservation out of your pretty little head, my fire,” Aemond murmured against your skin, nipping the flesh of your neck and leaving his mark, undeterred by your pushes, which he felt were half-hearted. He smirked as he pried out a sweet moan from your lips. 

“Your body betrays you, my fire. You can lie, refuse, and deny what you feel for me, but your body tells me the truth of it.” Aemond hummed, his fingers finding the hem of your shift, and started to hike it upwards. His calloused fingers brushed against your milky skin that he had never had the pleasure to touch before. 

You gasped as Aemond shifted his head toward your bosom. His eye gazed upwards as you watched his every move. You bit your lip as he took the string of your shift in his teeth and pulled at it, loosening the sheer cover you had on. Aemond hummed in contentment as you finally wrapped your arms around him once more, pulling him closer as his mouth enclosed your bosom, his tongue flicking the taut bud and resulting in a whimper escaping your lips. “Aemond… we… don’t,” You resisted further, your mind conjuring the reaction that will be caused by your damnable actions with your brother. 

“Do you truly mean that, sister? Do you truly wish for me to stop?” Aemond hummed, feeling you tremble as his hand caressed the soft skin of the inside of your thigh, his touch inching higher to your heat. Instead of an answer, you could only whimper as Aemond cupped your dripping heat, his answer given by your body. “Of course you don’t. Not when you’re dripping in want for me,” Aemond moved his slender fingers to rub your cunt, earning a moan from you, your sweet voice echoing through the room and he could only hope that it would reach down the halls in order for all to hear how you belonged to Aemond.

You whimpered as Aemond stole away his hand from pleasuring you. He pecked your lips, and you looked up at him through hooded eyes. “Do you wish for more?” Aemond asked, bringing his fingers that were slick with your essence to his lips, a groan slipping from his throat as he tasted you. You did not answer his question, “If you wish for more, my fire, just say it. Tell me you want more. Tell me that you are mine. Submit to me, sweet sister,” Aemond urged, “Be my wife… my queen, just as it ought to be,” Aemond insisted, leaning closer to you. He lifted your gaze that was planted on the floor, looking deeply into your eyes, and saw pure, unbridled want in them. 

Aemond sighed in contentment and smirked as you went to the tips of your toes and met your lips with his. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to you. Aemond lifted you off your feet and made you wrap your legs around him as he led you both to your feathered bed, never parting your lips, kissing you like a man starved because he was. All he had ever wanted was you. It was plain to him that even in childhood, when he thought of love, all he thought about was you. When his eye was taken, he did not fear seeing the world impaired; he was frightened at the possibility of no longer seeing you. When the war had begun, he had not wanted the throne; all he wanted was for you to be safe and sound. When Daemon had lunged at him atop his dragon, when Aemond thought his life would be taken, his last thought was of you. It had always been and will always be you. 

When Aemond laid you down, he gazed at you with this overwhelming thought that all he ever wanted would be his. That you will finally be hit, that you shall be bound to him, a dragon tethered to another by fire and blood. “You’re mine,” Aemond stated as his fingers moved to fully remove your cover. “I—I am yours,” You stated, and Aemond felt an urge to weep in happiness. He took your lips into his once more, trailing his kisses downward, placing wet, open-mouth kisses upon your skin.

You whimpered as Aemond paused by your heat, uncertain what he shall do. An odd, almost animalistic sound left your lips as you feel his mouth upon your sex. “Aemond… wha—“ Your words faded as a moan took over your thoughts as Aemond flicked his tongue upon the pearl of your cunt. Greedily sucking and licking at you, devouring you to the point that the world began to be incoherent. You knew you were moaning, verbalizing the pleasure he gave, but you could not even hear the noises you let out, but Aemond did. He smirked against your cunt as his arms hooked at your thighs and his hands held yours, his ears ringing with your moans and the way you called out his name. 

A groan left your lips as Aemond inserted his finger in you; his heaving breathing reached your ears as he could not believe how you clenched upon the digit. 

Aemond marveled as he watched his finger disappear in and out of you, already impatient that it would soon be replaced by his cock, but he had to ready you first, he could not be so cruel to subject you to such pain just because of his wants. “Oh gods,” You moaned as your eyes rolled back, and a twisting in your core that was unfamiliar started to take you. “Aemond,” You called, apprehension in your tone as you did not know where this feeling let. You propped yourself by your elbows and gazed upon him through dazed eyes as he inserted another finger and his lips were latched upon your cunt. “Are you to come, my fire? Are you to come by my fingers and lips?” Aemond hummed and used his thumb to rub the swollen pearl. 

A whimper left your lips, and soon it was followed by your loud moans that were caused by your orgasm. Aemond held down your frame as you spasmed before him, your body shaking by the pleasure he had caused.  Aemond moved his frame atop yours, capturing your lips, and you sighed as you tasted your essence on his tongue. 

“You’re mine, sweet sis,” Aemond hummed as he aligned himself at your entrance. “I’m yours, brother… always yours,” You moaned as he glided the tip of his cock against your fold. Aemond groaned at your words, feeling he could come by just your words. Aemond’s breathing shortened as his cock penetrated you, he wiped and kissed the salty tears that spilled from your eyes as your maidenhead was taken. “Aemond… I— I can’t,” You cried as you could not bare the pain, “Just a bit more, my fire, and you’ll feel the pleasure that only I could give you,” Aemond hissed as you clenched around his length painfully but pleasurably so. 

It felt like an eternity before the pain subsided, and you started to let out small moans of pleasure. Aemond hurried his head in your neck and nipped at your skin, his thrusts slow and cautious as he was still measuring how much of him you could take. “More, Aemond… please, more,” You moaned quietly, and Aemond’s hand ventured to your folds and grew circled upon your pearl as his pace quickened and you clung to him, your nails scratching his shoulders, presenting him with stinging pleasure. 

“Oh… it’s good, it’s so good, Aemond,” You called and your king took one of your tit into his mouth, nipping at the bud of your ample bosom, feeling as you clenched tighter around him. “Are you to come again, my fire? Will you come for me again?” Aemond hummed as he watched your eyes roll back once more, and the words slipping from your lips grew incoherent. Aemond gave a long, deep thrust, and your legs wrapped around his waist as you came undone. Aemond soon followed and filled you with his seed as your name slipped his lips in a cry of pleasure. “You’re forever mine, my fire. My sister, my wife, my queen,” Aemond affirmed and kissed your lips once more as you started to slip into slumber brought by exhaustion. 

Aemond gazed down at you as he rested his bareback by the headboard of your feathered bed, and you slept soundly by his side, your body covered by a thin sheet, your breath fanning his skin. Aemond heard the faint knock of the door, and before he could deny entry to whoever dared to disturb your peace, your mother entered. He watched with satisfaction as her brown eyes widened in scandal as she realized what had transpired between you and Aemond. 

“Best not to cause a scene, Mother, my sweet sister needs her rest,” Aemond whispered as he ran his hand through your silky hair. A smirk rose to his lips as realization shone in his mother’s eyes that there was nothing that could be done anymore, by the eyes of the gods and man, you were Aemond’s, fully. The blood on your sheet and his seed in your cunt was enough evidence that you were his. Your mother could only leave the chambers, pale in shock as whatever actions she had made to take you from Aemond had failed. 

You stirred and hummed as you heard the door shut loudly, and Aemond was quick to hush and lull you back to sleep. “Go back to sleep, my fire,” Aemond whispered and soothingly ran his hand through your hair and he felt his lips twitch into a smile as you did as he said and went closer to him, draping your arm atop his body and pulling him closer to you. 

The day after next, when your soreness had faded, you rode atop Aemond’s dragon as he flew the both of you to Dragonstone, your own dragon following Vhagar as they both were present to you and Aemond’s union. A Valyrian wedding commenced on the shores with your dragons as witnesses. Aemond peered down at you with a beaming smile, leaning in to kiss your lips and taste the copper of your blood. “My wife, my queen,” Aemond murmured in sheer joy. “My husband, my king,” You whispered with a smile on your lips and kissed the man you will forever be bound to. A wedding that no man nor god could contest for the two of you were dragons who did not answer or bend to any other’s will.

[akashicsystem]

《 TAG MASTERPOST 》

[ddejavvu]

Mean Logan who needs the answer to a question ( you don't have the answer) and decides to ask while he's inside u. Won't move until u answer his question and you're just crying and begging him to move

this post is 18+, minors dni.

He's cruel for asking in the first place, but he's even worse for asking while he's got you sitting in his lap, his cock nestled snugly into your tightly-clenched hole. You're gripping him practically hard enough to bruise, your legs wound around his waist but tensed all the same as your cunt sucks him in. He's rocking you on his hips, bouncing you up and down as you wrap yourself around him, breathing heavily into his shoulder and muffling your moans into his flushed skin.

"You got an answer for me, sweetheart?" Logan asks, and he knows you can feel his vocal chords thrum where you're burrowed into his throat, nosing at his pulse like a vampire about to sink your teeth into him.

You don't so much respond as you do acknowledge, but the humming whine you release into the joint between his neck and his shoulder is distinctly negatory.

"C'mon, you don't know? Who's better, me or Cyclops?"

"That's- He's not- Scott's my friend." You insist, but your body ignites with shame just as much as it does pleasure at the memory of Logan walking in on you and Scott clumsily hooking up. You're not lying, you are friends with him, but sometimes friends get drunk and make poor decisions. Your friendship with Scott survives, but perhaps your pride dies here and now against Logan's queries.

"Oh, it's Scott, is it? That doesn't seem like something you'd be worried about stressing if you were just friends. Come on. I saw it all. He was pathetic. Couldn't even get his pants down right."

That's unfair, mostly because you and Scott were both wasted beyond belief. You're sure Scott could deliver a spectacular performance were he in possession of his fine motor skills, but as it was, his zipper had bested him. Admittedly, it was not your best lay.

"That's not fair." You whine, though whether you're referring to his rampant criticism of Scott or the way that he's interrogating you while you're speared on his cock is unknown even to you. It doesn't seem to matter to Logan, though, because he lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, one that you feel against your face and your core simultaneously.

When he halts the movement of his hips, leaving your cunt buzzing with the need for the constant stimulation it had just been receiving, you think he meant everything to be rather unfair.

"Well, you'd better figure it out, honey, because you're not cumming until you give me an answer. I'll be here," He shifts his hips, nestling his cock just that much tighter into your hole, "-so you just pry your face out of my neck whenever you're ready to admit it."

[wannabepoeticischiya]

as long as you'd let me

ao3: as long as you'd let me pairing: nagumo yoichi x f! reader genre: romance wc: 1.7k status: one shot

If anything—Nagumo was the one who thought himself fortunate enough to be granted the chance to be loved by her. Everybody wants her—all the heavens wonder what it would have been like to love her.

And he was the only one lucky enough to do both.

When she met him all those years ago, [Name] couldn't understand why she felt so drawn to him. She could never wrap her head around the idea that tagged along when his image crossed her mind. 

There was nothing special about him. Absolutely nothing. He was a face in the crowd. Someone who just so happened to be there when she was standing in the middle of the ballroom. He was someone who coincidentally just wanted to blend in—a dance was a redirecting tactic so it seems. 

So why did his eyes look at her like that? How could he dare to look at her with all the stars in the sky and say it was nothing more than convenience? How could he play off this—this... this incessant drumming inside her chest that had her heart wanting to run out of her body and straight to him? How could he look at her like that? 

How could he stand there and look like loving her would be his honor? That being on the receiving end of her adoration would be enough to last him this lifetime? Or that being the guy whom she harbored affection for would be the greatest thing he'd be blessed with in this life and all the next?

But he did. 

He dared to dream beyond that moment, and it brought him to where he stood now. As if fate had a lasting impression on them. 

Nagumo had met her again but this time, he was sure—this time he was sure he'd get it right. 

"Nagumo!" A shrill voice called, running as fast as his legs could take him to the assassin who stood before the windows overlooking the gardens. "[Name]—"

At the mention of her name, he had already closed the distance that separated him from the informant.

"What—" his head turned in an uncomfortable position to glare at the man, "did you do to my wife?" His voice was frosted, as if they were plunged into the depths of the oceans that housed all his hostility. 

The small man looked at Nagumo in fright, not expecting the assassin to hold his weapon against his person who only ever wanted to tell Nagumo the whereabouts of his beloved. He should have known something was off when his other superior, Shishiba, had asked for his assistance when the blond man had once never even bothered to accept any help from anyone before. The informant thought it would be a simple job, one that would end just like all his other errands: convey the information and be done with it. 

Now it seems that his life would be done with before he could even finish saying what needed to be said.

"She—she," Nagumo lifted the man from the ground by the collar, inching the weapon impossibly closer to the area on his neck that could sniff out his life. "She's by the gardens—"

He couldn't even finish the rest of his sentence when the tattooed assassin had already taken off, disappearing behind the corridors with his yukata fluttering in the spring gale. The open window was the only remnant that he was even in the room, and of course the frightened worker who just wanted to do his job. 

---

"So," Nagumo gazed at her softly, raising his eyebrow as a gesture for her to continue. "What are you doing up there?"

[Name] looked down at him from the tree branch she sat on. "Oh, you know... just admiring the clouds." 

Earlier, Shishiba had asked her the same query, except her answer was far different from the one she gave her husband just now. 

‘Why are you sitting up there?’ Shishiba would ask.

‘Waiting for my husband to come by.’ She would answer.

Perhaps Shishiba had informed Yoichi and he came rushing here like his life depended on it. 

Nagumo leaned against the trunk and continued to observe her figure from below, threads of [h/c] waltzing to the tune of the breeze, leaves that fluttered across the space that separated them painted fleeting shadows over her face, the heavens housed within those vibrant [e/c] irises. 

"Why'd you marry me, Yoichi?"

Her voice held a certain softness to it, as if she feared the answer that was yet to come. Did she think of herself as someone unbefitting of him? Does she label herself unworthy? Or was she in doubt of his affection? 

She shouldn't. 

If anything—Nagumo was the one who thought himself fortunate enough to be granted the chance to be loved by her. Everybody wants her—all the heavens wonder what it would have been like to love her. And he was the only one lucky enough to do both. 

I love you, he would say. And I'll love you for as long as you'd let me. 

"What are you talking about, dear?" he smiles, half a mind wanting to climb the tree and be nearer to her, the other half wanting to just stay put and see how nature pales in comparison to her. 

"What makes me so special, huh?" [Name] leaned in further to the tree trunk, side-eyeing her proclaimed husband, mirroring the same affection on her face as he had held for her. 

Silence was left to drown in the weight of her words, because as he was—Nagumo was unsure with what to say. 

He could have named a thousand things—and he reckons a thousand more after that... and it still wouldn't have been enough. 

It meant more to him, that day, that moment, all those moons ago. 

When destiny tied her fate to his. The day the heavens smiled down on him and allowed him the chance to hold her hand. To dance with her under the guise of convenience. 

She never knew that. And Nagumo was most certain that she never will. How could someone as great as her even remember the face of someone like him? Not when so many sunsets have already passed them by. 

[Name] released a breath of air, eyebrows creasing as a look of anxiousness colored the hills of her face at his lack of feedback. 

For the next minutes or so, she didn't bother filling the unnerving silence left by his unresponsiveness; opting to just permit the sound of rustling leaves to whisper melodies into her open ears.

"Nothing."

What?

[Name] craned her head to meet his stare, whether due to her being startled by his sudden answer or the meaning of what he just replied.

And she thought to herself, was there a proper way to sick a husband in the face when he tells you that there was nothing special about you? 

"There is absolutely nothing special about you, my love," was his answer, smiling at the woman perched on the top of a tree branch as if his statement did not just cause a turbulent downpour of emotions in her heart. And he even has the nerve to repeat such things! And call her love! Has he relinquished all shame?

I may not have the most experienced dating life out there but I'm not so much of an idiot to not know that those words are not what you say to your wife! Even if we are married for less than a year!

"Tch. So typical of you to say—" [Name] rolled her eyes at him and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest as she directed her attention to the ducks swimming around the pond.

"It's just that—" he began, tapping the tree trunk in a karate style way and holding his arms out, "without you..." the grown plant started emitting creaking noises and soon enough it landed on the ground with a very noticeable thud, "nothing is special." He whispered, holding the woman who once sat on the now fallen tree.

"Now, let's go back inside... shall we?" he grins.

[Name] couldn't comprehend why she felt such emotions for him. 

Yoichi was always so spontaneous and straightforward, he spoke when he felt the need to correct someone and he did so without remorse. 

She didn't understand, there were so many people out there who are better than him and yet... her heart continuously longed for his attention, the kind of attention that she once had though she will never get. 

In that light, during once upon a time, she had so badly wanted to give up on him... find someone better—still, the more she pried into his soul to uncover his flaws, the more his imperfection came flooding into her sight... the harder she fell.

Every breath he took was magic. 

To [Name], every word he spoke was like a spell, hypnotizing her deeper into loving someone like him.

After years of questioning why she had fallen for someone like Nagumo, it soon became clear that she didn't treasure him just because he was good-looking, gods he had such a horrible fashion sense when he danced with her all those years ago... [Name] did not cherish him as she had now just because he had a nice smile, or a certain way with words that would leave her flustered or annoyed. 

No. 

Sure, she loved all those things about him and she knew that she would come to feel the same way many, many steps into the future, but those were something that could be seen by the world. Those were things that people could see—traits that others were capable of discerning at a single glance.

[Name] liked him because he was flawed, his imperfections were proof that even someone that seemed almost perfect as him, could feel hurt... could be capable of needing someone.

And I once had hoped that the someone that he would need could be me...

So how fortunate am I that I have you here? That you turn to me when you are hurt, or scared, or in need of someone to lean on? 

It was nice to feel wanted—even more so, it feels nice when you are loved. But how many people can say that they feel safe? That they feel secure and seen; they cast away all the masks, all the faces shown to the world, every wall is still held up high but a door is wide open for you to enter. To see all the things growing in the gardens of their hearts, and know that you are trusted with something they held dear.

Nagumo could thank all his stars, every wish he had ever cast into the galaxies... but deep down, [Name] knew, she would always be the lucky one.

just a little something because I just realized I haven't posted this month ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) I legitimately have no idea what turn this took bcz it's past midnight when I bulldozed my way through this. the short something story I was working on for Miyuki Kazuya mylovethelightofmylifebooboobearhoneybunchsugarplumappleofmyeyeicingonmycupcake got a little out of hand and now I'm definitely sure I can't post it by the end of the month because well—well it's not finished and also because my studies are killing me ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ I hope you enjoy this ❤️ I love Nagumo. ps. to the anon who had requested to me, I promise you it is on the way (pls believe me (つ﹏⊂))

[kira-sucks-lawlipops]

Had two great conversations yesterday.

The first was with my boss, during our weekly catch up. After discussing work stuff he asked me how school was going (I am six weeks into a law degree). I said "Great! Last weekend I finally figured out how to summarise cases properly, so what used to take hours will now take minutes!"

He responded, "Wouldn't it be easier if you got ChatGPT to do that for you?"

And I said, "I would rather kill myself." 🙂

Then he went on a little rant about how AI is inevitable and in the future it will all be about how skillfully you can word your queries and I tuned him out. When he stopped talking I said, "I fundamentally disagree with everything you just said. There is nothing that AI can do that I can't do better, and so far no one has put a gun to my head and forced me to use it. So I don't."

The second great conversation happened after work, during an evening lecture.

The lecturer who is teaching our first law subject interrupted himself mid-sentence to say, "Oh by the way, we're marking your first assignments right now and a shockingly high number of you have clearly used AI to write your papers and will receive an automatic fail. Since you can't sit the exam without submitting a genuine attempt for both assignments, and we track feedback across both to see how you've improved, anyone who tries that again won't be eligible and will have to repeat the subject."

There was a general uproar from the students, which I won't attempt to transcribe.

He silenced it by saying, "I've explained this before. Trying to use AI to become a lawyer is like trying to become a musician by listening to CDs. If you can't develop the skills to get through your study on your own, then you will not survive in a courtroom. One day, a judge is going to demand that you pick up an instrument and actually play, and if you've never done that before, you will disgrace yourself and the entire legal profession. My job is to make sure that doesn't happen."