#(those tags are just two facets of the same jewel)

[lexsssu]

Divine (Arjuna Alter | Berserker)

TAGS: Arjuna Alter/Dragoness!reader, pining, heats/ruts, pheromones, knotting, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

From the moment he is summoned in Chaldea to assist humanity’s last master, Arjuna ( Alter ), the culmination of the Indian pantheon and former opponent of said master knew what his purpose was.

He is a weapon against evil, nothing more and nothing less.

But…

“I know it’s not the same as back in your country, but I like to think my Japanese-style curry tastes pretty good. I made sure to make it extra spicy for you too!”

The god blinked at the tall pile of steaming curry rice placed in front of him, smelling the various aromatic spices and feeling the heat it gave off thanks to sheer amount of spice. Though he had no need to eat thanks to his divinity and also because he was a servant, the tantalizing aroma of the meal didn’t fail to tease his senses especially as you gazed up at him expectantly with those molten gold orbs of yours that shone and glittered like the finest of jewels. It also didn’t help that you unknowingly bat your lashes up at him as you pleaded with him through your gaze alone, the dark lush crescents emphasizing how even just a pair of eyes could hold unimaginable beauty.

You are breathtaking.

And that honestly scared him.

He, who had shed his mortal shell to embody almost every god in his respective pantheon, who had dedicated his existence to purging the world of evil, and now who’d found himself a servant to a master much more powerful than he or any servant was.

Though servants being attracted to their masters and relationships before formed between the two wasn’t anything new, Arjuna ( Alter ) of all servants felt that he himself would never be so imbecilic as to fall for his master…

And yet here he is.

Leaning forward as you’d taken it upon yourself to scoop up a spoonful of curry rice and feed it to him since he’d frozen up like a deer in headlights the moment you’d placed the treat in front of him.

“So...how does it taste? Is it spicy enough for you? Or maybe it needs more flavor? Or…?”

Normally you always wore a look of complete serenity, as if everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen was simply all part of your grand plan that no one is privy to aside from yourself...At least that’s how it looked to Arjuna and everyone else within Chaldea considering the inconceivable feats you so easily make into reality.

But now you’re gazing up at him, seemingly as harmless as a little lamb despite your ability to destroy entire worlds according to one of the other servants, Tathamet, who’d apparently been a blessed witness to all your feats before arriving in Chaldea. The primordial revered you as much as he feared you despite apparently being ‘ The Prime Evil, ’ further proof of your power.   

Despite his understanding of mortal behavior having been eradicated when he decided to ascend, there is no denying the heat that seems to engulf his whole body as you sit so close to him, serving him as if he weren’t the servant within this relationship.

“...Good. It’s...perfect…” Though an invisible lump seems to have formed in his throat, the former Lost-Belt King manages to utter the words you’ve been waiting for so patiently.

He swallows when his eyes take notice of how visibly you perk up, the ear to ear grin and the slight wagging of the glittering silver tail behind you making his own deep blue tail move ever so slowly in response to your reactions.

“Great! I was afraid that you wouldn’t like it since it’s not really the same as what you’re used to but I tried my best…” 

The bashful grin you grace him with only worsens the Berserker’s condition, his dark chocolate complexion seemingly gaining a reddish hue as he did his best to understand these confusing feelings you elicited from him.

Was this another facet of your limitless power? Or perhaps...was his body simply too weak to handle your sheer might even by just being in close proximity to you?

With the both of you off in your own world, most of the servants seem to have their gazes glued to the pair you made. Not that it was surprising, considering you were their venerated master and pretty much every servant and everyone else within Chaldea was sure you were some sort of eldritch being that came into existence and power long before any of the known gods and primordial entities did.

At this moment however, Arjuna’s thoughts have moved on from your undeniable strength and towards uncharted territory.

Namely...the reactions his physical body seems to be making in response to you.

Perhaps he should consult with someone more...adept with human emotions? Maybe it was about time he paid a visit to his brother, Karna...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! KNOT ME! ”

 This...was the last scenario he’d expected after consulting with Karna about the emotions you made him feel.

“ PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! ” 

He simply knocked at your door some days later after he’d digested his brother’s words, understanding for himself what his feelings meant before he made a move. So caught up in his own affairs, he didn’t notice how your natural scent seemed to become...spicier and almost cloyingly sweet until he’d fully entered your room only to be hit with your raw pheromones.

It all becomes a blur at that point, because the next thing Arjuna knows is that he’s pinning you down upon your bed in a full mating press, the entire length of his cock forcing your lower lips open as he sought to pour every drop of his potent seed into your fertile womb.

Though in human form, you were both very much in tune with your baser instincts and like any animal, there were certain times where your bodies went against your minds. 

The combined scent of your sweat and other bodily fluids made the former god purr from his chest, especially as your body secreted pheromones that told him how happy you were for him to be the one mating you. How you looked forward to the brood you’ll bear for him once his seed takes root within your belly.

“Good mate…” He rasps, ragged breaths hitting the shell of your ear when he shoved every last inch of his cock inside, the heavy knot at the base slipping easily inside your velvety depths as he began painting your hungry cunt with rivulets of white.

[brown-little-robin]

Homesick

Home is something you somehow haven’t to deserve

Edmund Pevensie clinging to Aslan’s mane

pale green flowers around his bare knees

Thad Thawne sobbing in Max’s arms

Jason Todd sleeping in the Manor again

Even death does not separate forever

Home is heaven, love forever even in separation, home is time, home is knowing other people with the deep intimacy of ten thousand breakfasts

you always have time you always come back

Laurelin and Kaylie are sitting under a jlanket (jean blanket) miles and miles away and improbably together and I am so happy for them

I will sit under a blanket with them someday

Love is learning that Elle eats light and grows wings and sleeps in the hollow of a tree and understanding only one of those metaphors bone-deep

Love is learning that Rebekah’s favorite color is that exact shade of red and thinking: if I ever meet her I will give her something that shade of red

Thinking: when I meet her

A bedroom, blanket messy, heavy sunlight melting in it

Love is learning that Laurelin is reading the book I recommended for her miles and miles away

She is reading it under the jlanket

Heaven knows that time can’t separate forever

Heaven knows we won’t be homesick forever

Heaven knows we won’t be homesick for each other any more

[confused-as-all-hell]

as widely requested, here is the era of peace between the couples who have subjected to my misery and doom. rest assured i’ll stop causing you all so much pain. first, as always, comes nina and matthias serving enemies to lovers. i would love it if you reblogged, because it makes such a difference

tagging everyone who stormed my dms and notes looking for kinder endings: @thebonecarver @crazywritingbookworm @holding-shan-back-from-murder @highfaelucien @saltyfortunes @queer-bookwyvern @smol-satan @quintessential-octessence @nightshade3465 @murderbabies @wafflesandschemingfaces @dreaminginvelaris

@black-like-my-soul to you, ofc, because you make everything brighter

Matthias Helvar hadn't always loved her.

Once upon a time, he had simply been a boy from the countryside, his fingers stained with blue ink, the curve of his mouth slow and deliberate.

Once upon a time, he had spent his days closeted away in the university library, poring over texts and thick tomes snatched from the very highest shelves.

Once upon a time, he had slept peacefully in his bed, and woken to the sun rather than a star-bright laugh, and his evenings were dull but he knew their rhythm, their beat.

Once upon a time, his name had been eight letters, three syllables, one simple intonation; the first time he heard her say it, breathless and gasping with her head thrown back against the wall, he lost his fucking mind.

They had just been two students, too determined and arrogant and convinced of their own pride. Nina Zenik was raucous and gorgeous and so likened to the sea, all lush curves and storming tempers and glittering surfaces and unknown depths. Matthias Helvar was quiet and furious and easily compared to the ice, all shining facets and cold beauty and unforgiving resistance and inflexible anger.

They danced around each other, at first, a solid series of cautious steps and mocking inclines of the head.

Sometimes he glimpsed her running around the fields, her straight dark hair slick with snow, spluttering as a tall young man tossed another handful at her. He watched with mounting fury as she stretched out during lectures, her head tipping back, soft rosebud lips parting.

Matthias hated her.

Hated the exquisite sprawl of her body, the graceful curves and elegant concaves and sharp angles.

Hated that when the night grew dark, darker, darkest, she was all he could think about.

Hated her eyes, brightest summer green, like dewy leaves and eager flower shoots and grapes stolen from his sister's plate.

But he had never glimpsed anything quite so ethereal as her gaze, and her lovely, secret smile. The smile she turned on her dearest friends, the smile he so often wished to experience, the smile he thought could turn the coldest dregs of the world warm.

She was fucking stunning, and brilliant and wise and glorious and he wanted to kiss her so badly it ached.

She was fucking awful, and loud and insouciant and miserable and he wanted to hold a knife to her throat and listen to her beg.

But she was Nina Zenik, after all, and he never managed to do much more than ruin himself with his fantasies and hopes and wild dreams.

When Matthias lay on someone else's bedroom floor, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that couldn't quite focus, all he could hear was the soft lilt of her laugh, the dulcet cadence of her voice.

He heard her whisper, Matthias Matthias Matthias as if his name was her religion, and she was kneeling at the altar.

And if Matthias spent his nights imagining the press of her hands, the furious set of her lips, the slide of her clothes against his bare skin, he could blame it on his hatred.

He found excuses to watch as she bickered with Kaz Brekker in the corridors, shouting over her shoulder and grinning all the same. He studied at the same table where she was talking to Wylan Van Eck as he sketched with limber dark pencils, preserving her smile in charcoal and paper. He couldn’t keep himself from listening as she laughed with Inej Ghafa, both of them doubled up, arm in arm. And when he glimpsed her trailing her fingers up Jesper Fahey’s arm, her eyes blurred with ecstasy, he nearly lost his damned mind.

Sometimes he reminded her of a hurricane, fierce and indomitable and unforgiving, and then he saw the shade of her eyes and all he could see was flowers flowers flowers.

Winter roses, shrouded in snow and cloud and mist, regal despite every attempt to make them bow.

Spring cherry blossoms, their branches slender and elegant, every little flower a bouquet of rosy jewels.

Autumn sunflowers, veiled in dusty light and the dying cinders of day, the sprawled petals a beacon of hope.

Summer hydrangeas, sweet and bright and prismatic with their precise hues, resting in a crown upon her head.

She was every blossom in the world flowering at once, a determined tide of unfurling colour, undaunted and unbothered.

Nina, Nina, Nina. Even the lilt of her name was a blessing in his mouth, though everything he longed to do with her was godless.

Matthias wanted to watch those rosy lips part, wanted to hear the breathless moan that escaped her, wanted to taste the sound on his lips. He wanted to watch the famous Nina Zenik come and come apart on top of him.

She was a song, and he could have listened until the downfall of the world. He had never heard anything quite so exquisite.

Her voice felt like redemption.

And suddenly, Matthias was seeing her everywhere.

She was in the little cafe across the street, her dark hair unbound, her lipstick the colour of fury, leaning across her table to better reach the sugar bowl.

She was dancing in the club his friends dragged him to, her hands tangled in a pretty girl's hair, and they were both kissing, moaning breathlessly, and all he felt was jealousy jealousy jealousy.

She was unwrapping a cherry popsicle and sucking on it idly, her head in some boy's lap as he braided her hair, and he had never known such hatred.

She was in his messages, in his kitchen, in his bed.

When Nina was drinking at a club, her lips around a twirling straw, her red velvet dress hitched around her thighs, all he could think about was the daring cut of her neckline, the precise slash across her breasts.

And maybe it was because he was drunk and tired and ecstatic that he asked her for a dance.

It wasn't the slow, sweet, serious waltz he had always imagined undertaking with his future bride.

It was furious and frenzied and fearless, his hands on the curve of her waist, her lips tracing a hot path down his throat.

It was Nina angling her face to stare up at him, long lashes low, her mouth parted ever so slightly.

It was Matthias sliding his fingers into her hair, gazing down at her, kissing her.

When she sighed against him, a breathless exhale, he lost his fucking mind.

His hands were tracing up the tight velvet of her dress, ghosting across the flare of her hips, faltering at the graceful curve of her breasts, and then she was whispering and smiling and her fucking green eyes were fluttering closed.

Matthias never saw the colour green the same way.

They never spoke of the kiss, or the dozens that followed, each one occurring beneath the strobe lights of their nightclub and a haze of ecstasy.

His evenings began to play out like a movie one had watched thousands of times, and yet every single twist was breathtaking, ethereal.

Nina's warm, sweet mouth. Her wicked hands. Her secret smile. The press of her lips against his own. The curve of her body tight to his own. The brilliance of her, so incredibly staggering that he felt the need to turn away.

She was Nina Zenik and sometimes when Matthias realized he was the one she was kissing, the one who felt her clever touch, the one who was witnessing her delighted grin.

And in those moments, the world could have been hewn of gold for how exquisite it seemed.

The very first time Nina kissed him outside of their club, he could barely move.

She had simply bounded up to him, dark hair ribboning back, and suddenly she was kissing him, one warm hand through his own.

All Matthias could do was stand still, stand still, stand still.

He still dreamt about the wicked, determined, furious look in her eyes as she collided with him. That single spark in her gaze could have lit cities aflame.

Their relationship was never the brutal, raucous wreck Matthias had imagined.

It was Nina with her arms around his neck in the corridors, leaning onto the tips of her toes, smiling up at him.

It was Matthias leaving a bouquet of sunflowers in her dorms, because something about their undaunted bright stand reminded him of her.

It was Nina tangled in his bedsheets, her hair a dark halo on the pillow, sunlight slanting across her soft skin, smiling just so slightly even in her sleep.

It was Matthias waking up to a series of drunken texts and shaking his head, because of course she was out drinking at three in the damned morning.

It was Nina skating across the lake of his childhood, her arms held aloft for balance, smiling softly as she whirled; a wraith of the cold, a sylph of the ice. Her cheeks were red as cherries in the winter air, and every breath was a cloud of warm air past her parted lips.

When she threw her head back, dark hair shaking loose, he thought love might be his death after all.

And on the single night when the sky was clear, and the clouds were softer than spun silk, and they were laying intertwined in the meadows, Matthias wondered if it hadn’t already.

If he could have captured the stars, they would have been hers.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Is it just me or has this week been going kind of slow? It feels like Thursday, but no! It is WEDNESDAY! >:D That means it’s time to shaaaaaare! X3

So, I’m finally getting back into writing, but I’m doing bits and pieces at a time. I think I may have put too much pressure on myself, so everything I wrote and then read looked..bleh. 

However! Due to an ask that @the-dreadful-canine sent me, I found some inspiration! >:D

Thank you @noire-pandora for the tag! I send you all the hearts in the world! <3

Halamshiral brings out the best in the both the wolf and the dragon~ >:3

"She was friendly.", Fane said, face blank, arms crossed as he let his eyes follow after the elven servant that had just left where he and Solas were against the walls of the Winter Palace; the two of them keeping to the shadows and niches the soft darkness held.

He had sought out the Elvhen man, thankfully without much interference, to mention another spike in the air around them. There was magic somewhere in the palace, but he couldn't pinpoint its exact placement. Solas had agreed with his assessment after the first time, and the few times Fane had passed through this particular hall, the one lining the small courtyard, he had noticed his sky's brow furrowed slightly and his eyes glued ahead as if he were listening for something.

So far, neither of them had had any luck determining a focal point, but it had to be a rift; his mark proved that. It wasn't flaring violently, but the pulse was deeper than usual and his arm burned as the magic scorched through his veins. It was why, even after notifying the other about the fluctuation in the Veil, he had lingered.

Now, Fane wished he hadn't as his eyes continued to watch the retreating servant girl, her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining with something he knew all too well: infatuation. That would be fine on it's own, he wasn't one to judge or condone another's feelings as his very nature encouraged them to blossom, but the person that gaze was directed towards…

That was another story entirely. Why did he feel so...bitter? This prison of marble, gold, jewels, and stone was infuriating and confusing.

Solas chuckled, his eyes, too, following after the young woman, but they were still, clear, uninterested, but yet, Fane felt odd. "Indeed she was. Many of the servants have been. I believe they find my presence intriguing, and perhaps, comforting.”

"Makes sense. You have a certain air here. More relaxed, even if every shadow holds a knife. Confident, really. Makes you approachable.", Fane muttered out his observation absently, glancing down to be met with questioning orbs of blue-grey; the color was mixed due to the shadows dancing within and around them. They looked midnight in hue and they were trained on him now; no one else. “The responses to me have been the exact opposite. Not surprising, but annoying. I tried to question a pair of them outside this hallway, and they shooed me off.”

Solas gave him a small, but reassuring smile. “So I saw. Merely a precaution, I think, vhenan.”, he said, casting midnight orbs around once more, essences of lavender glinting from starlight. They landed upon a small group; three servants, each elven and they appeared to be wholly uninterested in ferrying about between the nobles. “Servants have long walked within the halls of power, unnoticed, but ever-watchful of those who see them only as inconsequential. Wariness is their greatest weapon against those who flaunt without reservation. The elves along these walls and in these dark corridors know what you represent, and so they keep you at arm’s length. ”

Fane hummed, pursing his lips a bit. "So, they’re fearful of me. Again, not an uncommon reaction.”, he said. albeit a bit bitterly. Typical. He should have known that was the case. Dressing a wolf in sheep’s clothing didn’t not make it a wolf, after all.

Except, he was a dragon. A dragon playing politics, playing with power. Fane was surprised he hadn't combusted as soon as his boots had touched the inner gate's threshold. The night was young, though. Sadly. Unfortunately. Miserably. How his sky, who was now leaning against the pedestal of a bust, appearing calm, collected, and enthused as eternal irises gazed up at him had done this almost day in and day out was baffling and honestly? Terrifying.

Solas shook his head. “No. Not of you as you are, my dragon.”, he denied simply, glittering jewels of deepest blue shifting like the sky just visible through the windows they stood beside. “They’re fearful of the power you possess. Elves have long been the victims of misused power. They wonder if you are the same as the Grand Duke, the Empress, the Duchess, or any here that have dealt a heavy hand without provocation.” A sigh and a warmer smile, midnight shifting to the paleness of moonlight. “However, I have seen gazes begin to linger among the groups each time you pass. They hold hope; a dream of opportunity. You are proving you are not the same, ma’isenatha. Unlike many, who believe themselves entitled. Continue to do as you’re doing, and a society will open up to you. Be patient, be mindful, and be true in a place rife with lies.”

Fane raised an eyebrow, keeping their gazes locked. “So, continue being a near ass to every atrociously dressed fop and priss that gets it in their head to waltz up to me?", he questioned before growling in the next moment. "The last prick I had the misfortune of walking within sight of nearly got a claw up the ass when they touched my arm.”

The mage smirked,  but it seemed...dark, eyes sharpening like metal at his last statement. “I would not call how you’ve been carrying yourself being a ‘near ass’, vhenan. It is far more nuanced than that.”

“Oh? How would you label my attitude then?”, Fane asked, keeping his eyebrow raised before a light of mischief and nostalgia flashed within blue, turning his curious expression into a blank slate. “What’s that look for?”

Something about the air was shifting due to this conversation. It wasn’t magic or anything, but it was...heightening, taking on a heady blend, power and emotion, present and past mixing with odd harmonies. Solas had mentioned something like that when they first arrived...

Solas hummed, eyes taking on a softer edge, primal darkness dispersing in both the curve of his mouth and the depths of his eyes. “It is nothing.”, he dismissed, the glint of nostalgia apparent upon every sharp line and curve of his sky’s face. Razor sharp eyes of blue steel shifted away casually once more, a single finger beginning to tap against where hands overlapped. “Suffice it to say, I am...pleased with this side of you as I am with every facet of personality you gift me with. The evening has been full of surprises, and hopefully, it will end on a high note."

Fane scoffed, leaning back a bit to rest against a windowsill; the marble was cool against the back of his legs and it helped soothe both his mind and the scars upon his legs. The material of his pants were better than most, but not what he was used to. “You’re just tempting the world to answer with that call, my sky.”, he said with a sidelong glance in Solas’ direction.

Solas responded with a sidelong glance of his own. “And what if I am?”, he retorted. There was something...cheeky about the elf’s tone and it wasn’t something Fane heard often, if at all. Yes, things were shifting, but not detrimentally so.

Fane kept his face blank, but he felt..light; a feeling of warmth in his chest apparent. “Then I would have to intervene on its behalf.”, he quipped, dropping his voice a few octaves and narrowing his eyes. These words falling from their mouths, mixing with shadow, candlelight, hushed whispers, and quiet refrains were interesting. They came with ease, they fell with grace…

...they sang with pride. That would usually terrify Fane, one of seven sins that could, but right now, with the sky gazing up at him from the side, body lax and garbed in black much like his own was, and expression titillating, ethereal, he was anything but frightened.

He was enthralled.

Solas hummed, eyes tempting with silent wishes. “My voice would harken a dragon to respond, would it?”, the mage pushed, or rather, pulled him in with that hushed question; the silk that Fane associated with his sky’s voice wrapping around his hearing like a gossamer sheet.

Fane shrugged a bit, bringing his arms up to cross them as he did so with his legs a bit; boots scuffing against pristine marble. He leaned back further against the ledge of the window now, but part of him wanted to inch away, ascend to the sky gazing up at him from hooded lids. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember,”, he began before pausing, a tight feeling of warmth ensnaring his chest as Solas’ eyes flashed with quiet indigo and so he pressed back with velvet. “...Fen’harel?”

*screeches* Why do I love these two being suave fools?! The brain worms are strong in this Chili’s tonight! 

Tagging (with no pressure, but all the court intrigue! >:3): 

@oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @dungeons-and-dragon-age @blueheaded @drag-on-age @shift-shaping @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and anyone else who’d like to share and revel in the court! *cackles* 

[thenightling]

The Bullshit I had to deal with on Tumblr Tonight

Okay, buckle up.  This is a long ride, folks.

Some months ago someone posted about having a Discord about The Dreaming (Sandman Universe comic).   I reblogged it as a fellow Sandman fan.  I noticed in the rules there was an anti-Incest rule.  I joked “Whoops, I mentioned Daniel and Ivy.  Guess I broke that rule.”   Daniel and Ivy are canonically a couple in The Dreaming.  Unfortunately they are also technically related as Ivy is the great-grand-daughter of Desire (Daniel’s brother).

Well, the person who created the post blocked me and started to tell people I was pro-incest.  Figuring this was a big misunderstanding I tried to reach out to their friends to set the record straight.  I don’t even LIKE Ivy!  

Then they decided to keep me on block (supposedly) because they felt I was “reblogging everything they post” and “stalking” them.   Honestly, I just follow the “Sandman” tag and hadn’t noticed who I was reblogging from.

I let it be for a long time.  Then tonight I saw a funny post on sandman-headcanons​ page that jokingly called Morpheus “Grandpa.”  I realized quickly that I couldn’t reblog it.  This had happened to me a lot in recent months because the posts in question had passed through the person who had blocked me or originated from them.

 I publicly posted about this frustration tonight.  That was my mistake.   Next thing I know I find out that person was now telling people I ship a “Three-year-old” with an “old man” and they were saying this, out-of-context, to people unfamiliar with Sandman who took the statement at face value.  Needless to say, I was horrified.

Here’s the thing Daniel and Morpheus are technically both “aspects” of Dream of The Endless. That means they are two facets or shards of a greater being who is essentially a great big, divine crystal or jewel.  They are fragment pieces from the same soul.  And I was always speaking of adult Daniel.  Daniel hasn’t been depicted as a toddler since the mid-90s.

And here’s what followed after that...

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189892817243/thenightling-thenightling-thenightling

I was given the ultimatum to delete any posts where I “ship” Morpheus and Daniel and they would consider unblocking me.  As one of those posts had been liked by Neil Gaiman, himself, (author of The Sandman) I did not want to do that.   And I was told “Oh, they already have Neilman on block too.”

(Neilman is a derogatory term used by those who think Neil Gaiman is a homophobe who “doesn’t deserve the ‘gai’ in his name.”)

So I was to choose them or the author of Sandman, Neil Gaiman.  Hmm? 

I got flustered and tried to explain further (suspecting this person I was talking to in direct mesage was the original person on an alt, based on how they wrote) telling me what my ultimatum was.  

And in the process of defending myself and Neil Gaiman I accidentally typed “She” when the person’s pronoun of choice is Xe.  I tried to correct myself but it was too late, that became a new subject of their anger toward me.  They were convinced I had typed “She” on purpose.  I had been using They / them as the pronoun up until that moment and I would never, ever misgender on purpose, even when angry.  They refused to accept it was a typo.    

Still, I was very upset at the misconception that I “ship a three-year-old with an old man.”  That bothers me to no end.  

Realizing there was another “misunderstanding” (and this time an exceptionally gross one) I made a post explaining who and what Daniel Hall actually is in great detail.  I also provided evidence directly from the comics to confirm what I said in that he is no three-year-old.  Not physically, nor mentally.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895590768/what-the-hell-is-daniel-hall

They clearly didn’t read this post because they were still referring to Daniel as Morpheus’ “Son” and “heir.” Claiming that Morpheus “groomed” Daniel.  And they referred to Morpheus as Daniel’s “predecessor” (which is something literally corrected as being wrong IN the very story that this person said is their “special interest” that they’ve read multiple times...)

Then the “ask” messages started rolling in...

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895724368/why-are-you-so-damn-obsessed-with-an-18-year-old

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895819008/just-because-someone-is-bisexual-and-supports  

This above one you HAVE to read the notes to get the whole thing. Yet again they accuse me of being obsessed with them, without giving me a chance to even answer.   No, I was never obsessed with them (this person). I was just bothered tonight when I couldn’t reblog a post I thought was funny.  

I had lost interest in them possibly unblocking me when I found out they had Neil Gaiman blocked too. I realized I was in good company on that blocked list.   But I will not stomach being accused of shipping a three-year-old.  Especially when that character in canon wouldn’t even be three-years-old right now if he was human.  If he was human he’d be thirty-years-old right now.  He does not look, nor act three-years-old.

(Does that look like a three-year-old to you!?)

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189895950763/yeah-well-you-are-a-dense-motherfucker-answer-my

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/189896055598/im-so-fucking-sick-of-you-youre-so-sure-that-youre  

Ironic that they accuse me of bullying while lying about me.  Or they were “misunderstanding the lore” (again...) and shaming me for posts the author had liked and trying to force me to delete and renounce those posts...

Here is the post Neil Gaiman had liked on the subject that they were trying to demand I delete.

https://thenightling.tumblr.com/post/171750432893/why-ive-started-the-crackship-of-morpheus-and

You may also notice the post is two-years-old.   But this became this person’s new excuse for how they were treating me.  

So yeah.   @sorry-for-the-chocolate​​  @zal001​​​ @missghostlymoonshadow​​  @endlessemptynight​ @deathlyendless​ @watertribe-enya​​  @bazpik​​   @hasturlavista​​ @jr4cats​​ @vagaryhexxx​​ @sunagirl​​  @iknowwheremytowelis​

 This is what happened to me tonight.  If you’re wondering why I’m being so antisocial tonight.

Edit: I just realized the most obvious and laughable part in all of this.  “Neil Gaiman is a homophobe!”  Followed by “Take down that gay ship post that he liked!”  ...And they, as well as their friends, don’t notice anything odd about that?!  That’s rhetorical.  

Not to mention I never physically shipped Morpheus and Daniel in any erotic way.  I’m not some horny teenager.  To me it was always about emotional / intellectual connection as equals.  Also in the lore I use, it’s required that Daniel had re-created Morpheus posthumously as a dream entity (See Hob’s dream in Sandman: The Wake), which means technically, in that form Daniel would be the older of the two though both possess over eight billion years of knowledge and memory in their adult minds and bodies.  

[asoftervirge]

A Royal Bond: ...and Coronations (5/12)

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: R. Sanders/V. Sanders (main); L. Sanders/P. Sanders (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

FIC WARNINGS/KINKS: None in this chapter! :3 FIC SUMMARY: The Coronation of Prince Roman & Princess Virgil of Alexandros

TAGLIST: @hellomusicalnerdhere, @bunny222, @hexdream18243, @ss-mafia-au, @calvindientesblancos, @backatthebein, @saphael-malec102, @thefallendog, @entpscarleharrrr, @asleepybisexual, @the-fandoms-are-takin-over, @pansexual-cat, @derpiest-unicorn,  @zaidiashipper (if anybody else wishes to be tagged, please let me know!)

<< Chapter 4: Of Weddings... >> Chapter 6: coming soon!

CLICK HERE IF YOU READ IT ON AO3 INSTEAD!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the last chapter that will have a PG rating! Starting next chapter, they will have a more mature rating. Going down the typical A/B/O route from here on. Though, everything will tagged appropriately I can promise you that. If anybody wishes to be removed from the tag list due to these changes, please let me know immediately. I care about my followers/readers and I don’t want you guys to be squicked out by anything that I will write in the future. Also if you wish for me to, I can send summaries of chapters should anyone wish to be removed from the list. xx

The day that everyone in Alexandros anticipated, and Roman & Virgil feared, finally arrived.

Thomas has stepped down.

Roman and Virgil will become the King and Queen of Alexandros.

It wasn't as though they weren't expecting this day to happen, they just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Then again, it has been a little over a year since they got married and became Prince and Princess.

So for the people, and Thomas apparently, that is was the right time.

Even though Alexandros doesn't make coronations as huge of spectacles as weddings, they're still considered to be equally important occasions.

While Logan and Patton were going around the Palace to assist in any way they would, Roman and Virgil were getting prepared. Despite them not being Patton, Virgil found his Beta servants to be very sweet and pleasant. He chatted idly with them as they helped him into his dress and did his makeup.

Knock, knock. The door opened to reveal Roman, who looked exactly like his Father in his coronation attire. The Beta servants bowed in respect and Roman responded with a kind smile. He held a hand up to dismiss them and they did so promptly.

Virgil looked up to see Roman staring at him. He smiled softly and the Prince walked over to him. Roman gently titled his wife's head so he was facing him. He picked up the eye pencil and held it in front of him.

The omega flinched like he always does with eyeliner.

"Shhh..." Roman soothed and he carefully put the makeup on Virgil. It was hard for him not to try and not move, but Roman held a grip on his chin and he didn't want to upset his alpha. "There," Roman said after a short while. "You look beautiful."

Virgil smirked. "Always been beautiful to you." During their one year of marriage, Virgil was slowly coming out of his shell to the pleasure of everyone. Roman laughed.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Virgil laughed lightly. "Guess not." He accepts the hand that Roman gave him and stood up, giving his husband a better look at his dress. It was a royal purple with black accents on the skirt. His earrings were purple faceted beads that were points, they also had black filigree and wiring. His necklace was a choker with black lace and a large purple diamond in the center, a smaller diamond hung from that.

He looked regal and deadly at the same time.

"So...you ready?" Roman was snapped out of his trance by Virgil's question. He snorted.

"No. Are you?"

"Hell no!...Do we have a choice though?"

Roman shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not." He wrapped his arms around Virgil's waist and pulled him close, medals pressed between them. "Don't worry, Virgil. Everything will be okay."

Virgil sighed and buried his face in his husband's jacket, smelling his scent. "Hope so."

Roman rested his cheek against Virgil's hair. "You'll make a great Queen."

"And you an excellent King." Virgil agrees.

Their moment was interrupted by a Beta handmaid walking in. "Your Highness, they're ready for you."

Roman nodded at her and she left. He looked at Virgil and raised a hand, lifting his index finger, thumb, and pinky before twisting his hand twice. "I love you."

Virgil pecked Roman's lips before repeating the sign. "I love you too." With that, Virgil slipped his arm around Roman's and the two of them slowly made their way to the throne room.

The two eventually made to the doors of the throne room and waited. Logan Patton met them outside and wished them the best before Patton escorted Virgil inside. He stood at the very front of the crowd and could see that instead of one large throne, there were two sitting side by side. He looked around and saw red and gold everywhere and he felt out of place wearing purple.

Patton squeezed his hand reassuringly as the horns blared.

Logan entered by the thrones holding a large book and Roman entered down the aisle. The prince knelt before Logan as he said, “Sir, is your Majesty willing to take the Royal Oath?”

Roman looked up and said, “I am willing.”

The logical adviser nodded and then replied, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of Alexandros according to laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise to do so,” Roman replied strongly.

“Will you, to your power, cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will.”

“Will you to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws and customs that govern the binding of alphas and omegas? Will you be a guide to those presented as alphas and keep them on the right and just path? Will you lead and uphold your Father’s previous decrees of the Omega Consent Laws, along with maintaining the abolishment of Omega slavery?”

“All this I promise to do.” Then he stood up and faced the people in the throne room, looking straight into Virgil’s eyes and said, “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep.”

Logan nods and places a large, ornate crown on his head. “Then I proudly, and honorably, dub thee…King Roman of Alexandros.”

All the people cheered, “Long Live the King!”

Virgil can’t help the joy that is seeping from his chest as Roman smiled at him. Logan steps to the side and Roman stands on the highest step. The people quieted down in anticipation and Roman finally speaks, “My first act as King, I wish for Princess Virgil to please kneel before me and pledge allegiance.”

The omega took a deep breath and steps up and kneels in front of Roman, bowing his head in reverence and submission.

“Virgil,” Roman begins. “Are you willing to take the Royal Oath as I did?”

Even if he was working on being more outspoken, he still got anxious and regress. “Y-Yes.”

“Will solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of Alexandros according to laws and customs along side me?”

“I solemnly promise.” Virgil said, although his response wasn’t as strong as Roman’s.

“Will you, to your power, cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will.”

“Will you promise to bear true allegiance to me, our heirs and successors according to law? Will you give your loyalty to Alexandros and respect its rights and freedoms? Will you uphold its values, observe its laws faithfully and fulfill your duties and obligations as Queen?”

“All of this I promise.”

“Finally, will you bear rightful heirs to the throne, be that they are Alpha, Beta, or Omega? Will you ensure that our reign will continue through our successor and future generations to come?”

And there it was. The promise of giving Roman future princes and princesses in front of the entire Kingdom. As if Virgil didn’t have that expectation placed on him already, the fact that Roman asked him that pledge was all the more reason for people to be ashamed of him if he didn’t do so soon.

But he couldn’t not say anything in front of his, their people. So he just simply, and albeit robotically said, “I promise to fulfill my duty as an Omega and Queen of the Kingdom.”

While Roman didn’t say anything about that, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. Virgil ignored it though. The King nodded and grabbed the smaller, ornate tiara from Logan and placed it on Virgil’s head. “Then I honorably dub thee…Queen Virgil of Alexandros.”

All the people grew loud again as they cheered, “Live the Queen!”

Virgil took his place beside Roman as the people beheld their new rulers. The two looked at each other with varied expressions: Roman with nervousness and Virgil with an almost blank one. Roman wanted to ask why he sounded so…lifeless when he pledge to bring him heirs, but Virgil seemed as though he didn’t want to talk about it.

All he could do was hold his hand out for his omega, which Virgil took. Their fingers entwined delicately, their wedding rings along with the jewels on their crowns glittering in the light.

The two of them sighed quietly in the midst of the chanting.

It was going to be a long reign.

“Long Live the King! Long Live the Queen!”

[skymoonandstardust]

Baker’s Boy part 2

Peter Parker x reader

AN: Part two, here we go :D  and part one in case you need to catch up (still accepting tags for this if anyone wants to be added)

“Morning Baker’s boy!!”

Peter’s face lit up, his heart skipped a beat at the now familiar voice and he turned from the bread display he was refreshing to face you as you walked up with a beaming smile.   

“Morning Y/N, What can I get for you today?” He was more than comfortable enough with you now that his stutter had long vanished around you and it never appeared when he talked to you anymore.  “I’ll have some of those fantastic Danishes and throw two y/f/c cookies in there too please.”

Peter got the Danishes, then moved on to the cookies—casting a quick glance at you to make sure you were looking somewhere else before slipping a third one in the white paper bag on the sly to join the others. He stood up, keeping a straight face and asked, “Anything else?”

“Nope—that’s everything.”

“Alright, then let me get your bread order.”

When you first started getting bread every time you stopped in he’d just assumed that you ate it, until he learned different.

There were usually few leftovers by the end of the day, but Peter had managed to talk Mr. Delmar into letting him take them whenever there were some. He did save one or two for him and May but, but the rest he gave to the homeless and beggars he saw on the way home—sometimes even going out of his way to find them so he could give them out.  One day he’d found one of his regulars nibbling on a torn off chunk of Mr. Delmar’s special rye loaf. When asked, the man told Peter that someone had given it to him and as Peter gave him his usual share he said that it was a girl.  This peaked Peter’s interest and he prodded some more.  By the time he was walking away with a description and all his questions answered he knew it was you—and apparently you did this as often as him. Now every time he went on his bakery delivery route Peter would always see at least one person with a bit of Mr. Delmar’s bread.

Peter went to the back, walking to the counter again ,rhy loaf in hand  and gladly passed it to you—beaming inwardly when he thought of where it was going.  You took it with a smile and asked “How much do I pay?” He told you and you handed over the right amount.

‘See you tomorrow baker’s boy.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As he watched you leave Peter couldn’t help smiling or laughing silently to himself—or more like at himself--  as he remembered how shocked and surprised he’d been when he saw you walk through the door the day after you first came.

Now, months later and you were happily a regular sight, visiting the shop every other day-- sometimes every three days, though Peter had to admit that he was sad the times he had to go two days in a row without seeing you.

Just like today you’d entered saying good morning and calling him baker’s boy. . .and it just kind of stuck.  A few times Peter’d tried to remind you of his name and get you to stop calling him that, but you always stopped him and just kept referring to him by that nickname even though you knew his name. He knew you knew it —he’d told you the first time you met, and you’d heard Mr. Delmar call him or order him around good naturedly enough to know it, but it was still always “Baker’s boy”

He had to admit that he liked it and would be sad if the day ever came that you stopped calling him that.   It was always the highlight of Peter’s day to hear the bakery door open and your voice ring out—to have you call him that nickname. It never failed to make him happy and turn any day into a good one.

At first, he tried to get a little retribution by giving you a nickname too. Peter had come up with the perfect one— “Princess” – because it reminded him of you and it was way to fitting with your name, but the first time he called you that you bristled and he never had again—at least not to your face, but in his mind you were always “princess” , though he’d never tell you that. Peter was too lost in thought to notice Mr. Delmar standing behind him with a sly grin on his face, let alone realize that for the last two minutes he’d been staring off into space in the direction you’d gone in, a smile on his face that was a bit too wide and bright to have been caused by a simple ordinary customer.  

“Your girlfriend came in again I see, huh lover boy?”

That was more than enough to shake Peter out of his daze.

“S—she’s not my girlfriend.”

“No—no, of course not. But you want her to be”

Peter scrambled to find something, anything to say to that. . .But all his many defenses stuck in his throat-- there was nothing he could say. It was true.  He had to admit at least to himself that he’d had a crush on you since the first time you stepped foot into the bakery, and in the two months since then his crush had only gotten deeper and bigger- getting worse every time you came in, with every conversation the two of you had.  He would have loved nothing more than to meet you outside of the bakery, and pretty much every time he went out or headed to the market with Aunt May Peter kept his eyes out in hopes that he might see you, but he never did. That only helped to reinforce the image in his head of you as the fairytale princess (as silly as he knew that was by now—you were as normal and regular as everyone else)

The sight of the boy’s shocked face, frozen with wide eyes was enough to tell the man he’d won and he loosed a chuckle at the undeniably heart-struck boy “Don’t worry—Something tells me she just might feel the same way.”

That broke Peter’s frozen spell   “R-Really?”

Of course—why else do you think she comes in every other day? My cookies are good, but not that good.” Mr. Delmar gave Peter a wink before busting off to check the bread rising in the oven, leaving a stunned teenage boy in his wake. Peter wanted to forget what Mr. Delmar said—and he tried—he really did, but it was no use. His words replayed over and over in his head, turning over again and again in his mind as though they were jewels whose every facet needed to be inspected. For the rest of the day Peter kept going back to the topic every few seconds despite himself—questioning if it could be true or not and wondering what he should do either way.

It seemed a long time before he was finally calling out a goodbye to Mr. Delmar as he walked out the door.  On his long walk home Peter looked toward the next day with anxious excitement and dread.  He really didn’t want to go to work tomorrow, but that wouldn’t be fair to Mr.Delmar and since you’d come in today there was little chance you’d be coming tomorrow. Still, Peter didn’t like the idea of having to face the possibility of the man’s wide knowing smiles or you if you happened to come in two days straight.

Just the idea had him internally cringing and groaning. Nonetheless he knew he was going in tomorrow, knowing smiles, you, and all.

 It was a bit harder than usual for Peter to drag himself off of his hay stuffed mattress, out of bed and through the door—but he did it. Since he was on time Peter walked, taking a leisurely pace to stretch the walk on as long as possible.  . . ok so maybe his slow speed had more to do with his reluctance to reach the bakery then it did with the time. Still, he arrived only a minute late. Just as Peter feared he was greeted by a huge knowing grin. Thankfully though Mr. Delmar didn’t say anything and as the day wore on with no sight of you he still held his tongue—Peter certainly didn’t mention it, half because he didn’t want to somehow jinx it and have you show up right after and the other half because he knew if he said anything about it the man would be sure to comment.

Peter wasn’t sure how, but he got through the day without sight sign or word of you and he thanked his lucky stars as he left the bakery that night.

  It was worse the next morning because he knew that unless it was one of the rare days when you didn’t come in for 3 days in a row his state of grace would end today. Today or tomorrow—either way he’d see you sooner then he liked, and he still had no idea what  he wanted to do or say.  Once again, a sly grin was the first thing he saw when he entered the bakery.

“Hoping your “Princess” doesn’t come in?” the man asked cheekily before going back to kneading dough. “I don’t know.” Peter sighed, stepping behind the counter “I honestly don’t know what to hope for.” Mr. Delmar laughed, his deep chuckles ringing though the empty store as the boy tied on an apron “You and every love struck boy in the world”

Peter cracked a smile “Hey, at least I know I’m not alone.”

Mr Delmar nodded “That’s the one thing you can be sure of.”

 The early morning rush had faded, and it was so dead in the bakery that Peter had abandoned his usual counter post, instead he was in the back whipping up some cupcake batter. He was just finished when he heard the voice call questioningly from the front.

“Baker’s Boy?”

Immediately he cast a sidelong look at Mr. Delmer who was already staring at him, a cat-that-ate-all-the-cream sort of grin spread like thatch on his face.  

“Are you going to say anything to her lover-boy? Ask her out?”  “Mr. Delmar” Peter hissed warningly, desperately trying to keep you from hearing. The man chuckled softly and gently took the tray of soon-to-be cupcakes out of Peter’s hands “Alright-alright, you go help her and I’ll throw these in the oven for you.”          

“Thanks.” “Don’t mention it—now go and get her.” Mr. Delmar winked at him and turned to walk off before Peter could say or do anything.

Peter sighed got himself together then walked to the front of the bakery to face you.

“Morning Y/N”  Your face lit up at his appearance and you smiled—making his heart jump two or three times and stunning him. ”There you are. I was wondering for a minute there if you were hiding from me.” You were clearly teasing but the words made him sober up and a wave of guilt wash over him because he’d contemplated doing just that for a half a second.  Peter forced a smiled “Never.”

Your laugh made his heart skip a beat again.

“Anyway, what’ll it be today?”

After you picked out a few other things and your bread was brought up you payed. As usual the two of you made conversation as he put everything in a bag for you. He was about to hand it over when he paused making a spilt second decision using every ounce of courage he had. “I-I was wondering if you wanted to meet me outside of the bakery, s-say tomorrow by the fountain in the square?” The stutter was back for the first time in months, but he barely noticed that, too busy waiting for any answer or reaction from you with a beating heart.

You froze “You mean like a D-date?” you tripped over the word stuttering In front of him for the first time.

“I-if you want it to be t-then yeah.”

Your face immediately fell and so did his heart and hopes at the sight. You stood there, thinking, wrestling with indecision while he was rooted behind the counter trying to keep his inner agony at bay. He knew the second your decision was made and could see it clear as day on your face.  Your sad eyes, the now frowning mouth which up to now he’d only ever seen smiling or laughing—the regret in every line of your body.

“I- I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t. . . not if it’s a date.”

Despite his sinking heart a smile rose on his face “That’s fine, I-it doesn’t have to be a date.”

Your smile singlehandedly lit up the whole shop along with his heart and his mood, making him immediately happy again despite the dull ache of disappointment he could still somewhat feel in his chest. “Alright, then I’ll see you then.”

You’d only taken three steps before his tentative voice make you pause “C-can I ask why?” and oh gosh his heartbroken tone without a single not of anger or accusation tore at your soul, making you feel worse then ever.

Turning back to face him there was a smile on your lips “Why it can’t be a date?” He nodded, your expression grew a little sadder and you choked words up your throat “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you” you just couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing his expression would break your heart for good. “but trust me, if my reasons weren’t good enough i would have said yes to it being a date.” Awkwardly you took another two steps to the door feeling his gaze on you like a firebrand. At the last minute you hesitated turned back and regretted it immediately.  He looked every bit as sad and heartbroken as you knew he’d be. “I’m sorry. . . and I’ll see you tomorrow, at the fountain.” With that you turned and left the bakery without a backward look and the sound of the door closing after you twisted the knife in his heart just a bit deeper.

  The forevers: @casownsmyass @@docharleythegeekqueen @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @his-paradox @l4life @fangirl-who-dreams @sarciaczekk @esoltis280 @theresnofandomforthis  @laramitk @dragonangel-funandfire  @a-sea-of-fandoms @thatbasicnerd4life @scarlettsoldier @cassiopeia-barrow

Marvel girls: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @l4life  @thomashiddlestonloveloki @coltcas   @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @padfootsiriusorionblackthethird

 Spiderman/Peter Parker: @cutie1365 @l4life @tomxhotland  @lucypcvensie @internetgremlin @@meanwhile-in-other-worlds  @lets-imagine-fanfics @petah-parkah-and-potahtas

Baker’s Boy: @rosep16

[watchilove]

TAG Heuer presented the second of five limited-edition TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 timepieces that mark the icon’s 50th anniversary. The birthday celebration took place in Le Mans, France – the setting for the 1971 film Le Mans, in which the Monaco was worn by Steve McQueen. Guests included Steve McQueen’s son, Chad McQueen; five-time winner of Le Mans and driver in the movie Le Mans, Derek Bell; actor, race car driver and brand ambassador Patrick Dempsey; and race car driver, Formula E Champion 2017–18 and brand ambassador Jean-Éric Vergne.

LE MANS, FRANCE – 15 June 2019: Engines revved this weekend in Le Mans, France, where watch aficionados set their sights on the latest Monaco anniversary edition. The setting for the exclusive big reveal couldn’t have been more fitting – in the 1971 film Le Mans, actor and “King of Cool” Steve McQueen sported the iconic timepiece, securing its place in horological history. As a tribute to the Monaco’s cinematic debut, guests – including Steve McQueen’s son, Chad McQueen – enjoyed a special screening of the famous film in the place where it all began.

Every aspect of the Monaco timepieces design was radical, and went where no other watch had ever gone before in terms of design and technology. Not only was the TAG Heuer Monaco the first ever water-resistant square watch, it was also the first to feature an automatic-winding chronograph movement.

In honour of the Monaco’s 50th anniversary, five limited editions will be successively revealed throughout the year. These new models are inspired by the different decades from 1969 to 2019 and pay tribute to a style icon now more contemporary than ever. The special collector’s editions unveiled in 2019 pay tribute to the Monaco’s timeless design and TAG Heuer’s never-ending innovation.

Patrick Dempsey, Chad McQueen and the TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 Limited Edition

After the unveiling of the first model at the Monaco Grand Prix in May, TAG Heuer was proud to reveal the next limited-edition model celebrating the period from 1979 to 1989 in Le Mans, France. The first model took inspiration from the years 1969 to 1979 – the first decade of the Monaco’s history.

Chad McQueen, Patrick Dempsey and the TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 Limited Edition

Red-hot racing through the 1980s

TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 Limited Edition

Hot on the heels of the first of the five timepieces, the second model reveals a fiery design with a bold red dial synonymous with cutting-edge design and racing victory. Presented on a black calfskin strap punctured with holes lined in red, this special edition captures the speed and style of the Monaco’s second decade. The stainless-steel model, with its iconic square case, features a red sunray dial and two rhodium-plated subdials with curved edges. Black and white accents on the dial perfectly complement the black-tipped hour and minute hands. The hands and indexes are coated with Super-LumiNova® for improved legibility.

TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 Limited Edition

As with the original, the pushers are on the right of the case while the crown is on the left – an unconventional feature that has distinguished the Monaco over the past 50 years. The caseback of this 1980s-inspired wristwatch is engraved with the “Monaco Heuer” logo as well as “1979-1989 Special Edition” and “One of 169”. Sporting a design inspired by the original model, the stainless-steel caseback has vertical and circular brushed patterns. The case houses the renowned Calibre 11, a modern version of the automatic-winding chronograph movement that made its debut inside the original Monaco in 1969. This watch has been produced in an edition limited to 169 pieces.

Looking back on 50 years of the TAG Heuer Monaco and Calibre 11

When the Heuer Monaco (TAG was not part of the company name at the time) was introduced at simultaneous press conferences in New York and Geneva on 3 March 1969, journalists and watch aficionados around the world were amazed. With its never-before-seen water-resistant square case, the Monaco’s daring and iconic design made it instantly recognisable. The watch’s design was the perfect complement to the advanced technology being presented by the Swiss watchmaker at the time. Developed and commercialised by Heuer, the Calibre 11 was the world’s first automatic-winding chronograph movement.

CEO at the time Jack Heuer believed that this groundbreaking innovation required a design that would demand attention. The Monaco did exactly that.

In 1971, the Monaco was worn by Steve McQueen, the “King of Cool”, in the movie Le Mans.

TAG Heuer and Le Mans

Was it luck or was it destiny? Jack Heuer once explained that the world’s first self-winding chronograph, called the Chronomatic in 1969, was not about luck but rather filling a clear need on the market for chronographs. “But if the Monaco is a first in design, its success is owed almost entirely to luck,” he has said. As the story goes, Jack Heuer sent stopwatches and chronographs to the set for the filming of the movie Le Mans, and he was also able to send six identical Monaco watches (a move made possible by the watch’s poor post-launch sales). It was this watch that was chosen for Steve McQueen to wear. The watch might not have been successful in 1970, but today it is a TAG Heuer icon. Jack Heuer himself has said that he could never have imagined the watch would be as successful and coveted as it is today. He went to the set of Le Mans after the watches had been delivered, but McQueen was not there that day. They never even met!

The paradoxical superstar

Over the past two decades, the Monaco has been closely linked to haute horlogerie with other versions that feature new complications, designs and materials. As it evolves, the Monaco still has the revolutionary spirit that made it both infamous and famous. The complete story behind this icon is told in the new book Paradoxical Superstar, which includes archive excerpts and sketches of the designs and movements. British journalist Nicholas Foulkes, watch expert Gisbert Brunner and American writer Michael Clerizo all contributed chapters that capture the heritage and innovation that defines the Monaco. Underscoring the timepiece’s bond with its namesake city, H. S. H. Prince Albert II of Monaco wrote the book’s foreword.

MONACO 1979–1989 LIMITED EDITION Technical Specifications

Reference CAW211W.FC6467

MOVEMENT TAG Heuer Automatic Calibre 11, diameter 30 mm, 59 jewels, balance oscillating at a frequency of 28,800 vibrations per hour (4 Hz), 40-hour power reserve

FUNCTIONS Chronograph with seconds and minutes; date, hours, minutes and small seconds at 3 o’clock

CASE Diameter 39 mm, case in stainless steel, fixed bezel in stainless steel, sapphire crystal, polished steel crown at 9 o’clock and push buttons at 2 and 4 o’clock, water-resistant to 100 metres (10 bar), steel caseback with “1979-1989 Special Edition” and “One of 169” engravings

DIAL Red dial with sunray finishing, fine brushed rhodium-plated counters, polished, facetted indexes, black and white touches on hands and indexes

STRAP Black calfskin leather strap, polished folding clasp in stainless steel

Limited to 169 watches

SPECIAL PACKAGING Like the watch itself, the watch box is also inspired by the original. Each of the special-edition models comes in a box with colours that match the watch and the decade it represents. The 1980s-inspired model is packaged in a dark blue box decorated with the Heuer logo and a horizontal chequer-pattern stripe. The watch is placed on a grey cushion and surrounded by a red interior – the same colour found on the dial.

About TAG Heuer

In 1860, at the age of 20, Edouard Heuer founded his watchmaker’s workshop in the Jura Mountains of Switzerland. Creating the Mikrograph in 1916, sponsoring Formula 1 teams in the 1970s or launching the first luxury connected watch in 2015 are just a few examples of the major technical innovations, ultimate accuracy and passion for disruptive design that define our unique spirit. Headquartered in La Chaux-de-Fonds, TAG Heuer operates in four production sites – mastering the whole watchmaking process – and is represented on all continents through 4,500 points of sale, including 170 TAG Heuer boutiques that are now directly available on http://www.tagheuer.com in selected countries. TAG Heuer timepieces are designed for those who love challenges. Our influence is enhanced by our unique communication based on three pillars: sport, lifestyle and heritage, embodying our legacy and DNA. Our partnerships and ambassadors illustrate our open-minded and open-door culture, with the most prestigious and avant-garde names teaming up with TAG Heuer: the Aston Martin Red Bull Racing Formula One team, the Monaco Formula 1 Grand Prix, the Formula E championship, the biggest football leagues in Europe, the Americas and Asia, Manchester United, trendsetter Cara Delevingne, and actors Chris Hemsworth and Patrick Dempsey. #DontCrackUnderPressure is much more than just a claim – it’s a state of mind. Find out more at http://www.tagheuer.com Instagram: @tagheuer, Twitter: @TAGHeuer, Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/TAGHeuer

MONACO 1979–1989 LIMITED EDITION Reference CAW211W.FC6467

TAG Heuer unveils the new TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 Limited Edition TAG Heuer presented the second of five limited-edition TAG Heuer Monaco 1979–1989 timepieces that mark the icon’s 50th anniversary…