#BEHOLD THE QUEEN OF THE MONSTERS

[xxmissrosearts]

MOTH MY BELOVEDDDD-

VIBIN’

RELAXIN’

✨🦋✨

slowly tryna figure out how my Mothra looks and i think she’s coming together.

Bugs are Hard to draw man, even Monster bugs 😔

(BG snagged from IbisPaint, included a bonus image of my real background skill level, i really need to find time and motivation to work on my own backgrounds **sobs**)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Nejiron

Debut: The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

Yesterday I learned that this thing exists. And I realized I had never seen it in my life! I have not played Majora's Mask, but I still feel like it's weird that there is a weird guy in an old entry of one of the biggest game franchises, and I don't think I have EVER seen it. But now I get to see it! And so do you! Yahoo! Behold this lump!

Nejiron looks pretty pathetic (affectionate). It default pose is sitting while curled into a ball, and its body is already a ball! It would be funny to see it waltz around with its legs, but I don't think it wants to, because it rolls around everywhere. Also, please observe its eyes. They are such eyes. I feel like these are the sort of eyes that would make a noticeable, wet sound when they blink. This thing has not slept in days.

Nejiron doesn't have to be so sad, though, because its game got a remake! This forced game developers to once again occupy their minds with Nejiron, updating its model and design slightly, making it a bit more detailed. Someone had to draw Nejiron some more detailed eye bags. Isn't that great? Someone also decided that it has human-like fingers and toes. Maybe in a Majora's Mask HD, it would get fingernails! It would have to take some time every few days to clip them. Now that would be relatable! Representation!

If you were dissapointed that Nejiron would be one of those fictional monsters that you can only experience with one sense, do not worry! We are told that it smells like gunpowder. I have never smelled gunpowder, but if you know what it smells like, then yeah! You know what this beast smells like, and your immersion deepens. When one is hit, it will, of course, explode! It will then be replaced by another one that emerges from the ground. I guess they are disposable soldiers... but what is their purpose?

We actually know, miraculously! Nejirons hunt Gorons, the big, strong rocky people who eat rocks themselves, and also roll around in ball form. Nejiron evolved specifically to mimic and deceive them! In fact, "neji" means "twisted" or "warped", in reference to this! I can't imagine they can kill their prey by just ramming into them, so maybe that is where the exploding comes in, and then other workers bring the food to nourish a reproductive "queen" underground? I also can't imagine these basic Nejirons eating. No mouth, you see. So maybe there is an even more monstrous queen lurking beneath, eating Goron meat and popping out explosive babies... hooray! I hope she has a funny abdomen!

[feyhunter78]

Among The Sun

Description: The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. Emperor Miguel and his armies have scoured the land, and now they have set their sights on your kingdom. Will you fall to the Demonborn's blade, or will a strange connection between you and Miguel turn the tides of fate? Ch 2

The castle is abuzz with gossip and fear, words passed along in secret, gates closed, doors bolted. You press your back to the wall, the heavy curtain hiding you from the servants passing by. No one will tell you anything, simply bid you to dress and make yourself presentable as if there was to be a banquet, or a ball, not a potential siege.

“I’ve heard he’s coming from the West, that he set fire to the River Atraites, that his men—his armies of demons marched upon the flames.” One says, her voice hushed and filled with fear.

“No, he is coming from the East, the mountains bowed to him and allowed him passage through.” Another whispers, stronger but still afraid.

The Conqueror, the Ravager of Lands, He who deals in blood and war. He would be arriving soon if the rumors were to be believed, and you are no fool, you believe them.

You don’t know much about the Conqueror, your only information comes from rumors or war reports, neither of which are helpful. The rumors come from pleasurehouses, fanciful tales of the emperor storming in, scouring the establishment and searching for a woman with y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes. If one cannot be found, he is said to destroy the place, leaving terrifying claw marks and scorched bodies in his wake. If one can be found, the rumors say her cries of pleasure can be heard throughout the town and that she emerges from the encounter with only faint pleasant memories.

The war reports tell a different tale. They speak of him as merciless, tearing through men as if they are parchment, his armies moving as a perfect unit, no breaks, no faults, only skilled, relentless ruin. He is said to have claws and fangs, some say he has horns like a ram, and his eyes glow crimson. He is a terrifying sight to behold, half monster, half man, an abomination that has set half the continent ablaze.

You wait until their footsteps pass then slip from behind the curtain, hurrying down the hall to the throne room where your father, mother, and three brothers are set to gather. Instead, you stumble upon a horrid scene. Your father and brothers lie on the marble floor, bloodied and unmoving, your mother is draped over your eldest brother’s body, wailing wretchedly.

“Traitors to the crown, they have done this.” She shrieks, clinging to his body.

You’re frozen, staring at the carnage before you. True, you had no real fondness for your eldest brother, the gap between your ages was too far to bridge, but the others at least made an effort.

“What—what are we to do? Mother, you are queen, the Conqueror will be here, he will offer you what he offers every other window, you must be prepared.” You tell her, rushing to her side and attempting to pull her from your brother’s body.

She refuses to budge, shrugging you off. “I will not, he will not come here, we have nothing to offer.”

Your kingdom is not small, in fact it’s quite large, a port town, but your mother is right, it holds nothing that the Conqueror doesn’t already have. He has already captured the agricultural kingdoms, the larger trade kingdoms, and those who boast their stores of wealth and gems. His own lands that far-flung empire that declared him ruler after a bloody and horrid event, is rich in resources, the soil, and cities still boasting the remnants of Arcana. It is a wealthy and powerful force, wielded like an obsidian sword by the Conqueror.

“You do not know that, please, either we stay, and you take up your crown, or we flee to the ships.” You’re tugging on her arm, already formulating an escape route. But would you make it in time?

Your mother says nothing, only continues to weep and holds out her hand for her fallen crown. She has made her choice; she will doom you both to die here.

Your kingdom has fallen, the gates forced open, the crowns of your father and brothers thrown to the ground, their bodies lying beside them. There is no time to clean the throne room, you’ve received the reports, the Conqueror is mere minutes away.

The emperor is cruel, monstrous, a vile, wicked man who care only for conquest. You have heard the rumors, the whispers as his armies march across the lands, leaving death and destruction in their wake. And now he would be coming here, to give your mother the very same choice he gave to each former queen. Bend the knee, pay tribute, or watch your kingdom burn. Dozens of kingdoms have refused and burned, but your mother is not a warrior, she weeps over your father and brothers, laments their loss as your kingdom crumbles around you.

When the Conqueror comes, you fear the choice she will make, fear the rumors of the horrors that await those kingdoms gifted to the murderous emperor. You do not wish for your land to become a territory of the ravager, a sacrifice to the blood-soaked demon, Miguel the Conqueror, the Relentless, the Merciless, but you fear your mother will have no choice.

Miguel is bored, his fingers tangled in the hair of another whore as she moans, her face shoved into the pillows as she helplessly tries to fuck back on him. He has her bent over the bed, thrusting mindlessly as he starts out the window at this kingdom’s castle.

She is skilled, he will not deny it, but Miguel doesn’t simply desire skill, he desires the woman from his memories and dreams.

He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes trying to picture you, his soulmate, his horizon, with your soft skin and stunning smile, the lilt of your voice, your tantalizing smell. He groans as the image forms, crystalline fractured fantasies, flashes of you, snatches of memories.

“Fuck, mi vida, you feel so good, wonderful, you are wonderful, my empress.” He sighs, his free hand settling on your—the whore’s hip, steadying himself before he pounds into her, picturing how pretty you’d look, grasping at the silken sheets he’s procured for you, whining as he smooths a hand down your spine.

You’d be so sweet for him, clinging to him as he fucks you, your pretty eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted so perfectly. He misses when he would see you in his dreams, when he would hold you for a moment before you disappeared like sand slipping through his fingers. Now all he sees when he sleeps is darkness, exhaustion hitting him like a horse.

“Please, Your Majesty, harder.” She begs, lifting her head from the mattress.

Her voice rips him from his fantasy, and he pulls out, tucking himself back into his breeches. “I asked you not to speak.”

She looks back at him, and he regrets not compelling her. She looks so much like you, the closest he’s found, but he shouldn’t have taken the chance.

He grabs her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You will remember none of this, only that you did your job and was paid handsomely for it.”

She nods, her shoulders drooping, eyes glazing over as his spell takes hold.

Miguel sighs and arranges her comfortably on the bed before leaving more than enough gold for her rudimentary services.

As he trudges down the stairs of the brothel, he’s met by his advisor, Lyla. She’s still in full armor except for those oddly shaped glasses that cover her eyes.

“It’s time.” She says, nodding towards the door.

Another kingdom to burn or capture, another fruitless search. Have the gods not dammed him enough? Have they not stricken him with this unholy visage, with these demonic powers, with a life of misery and death? You, you are the one he searches for, in your arms he will finally find rest, and if not, he will ensure it is so. There will be no kingdom for you to run to, no lands untouched by him, no bounty great enough to pull you from him, no powers beyond the divine will separate you, and even then, he has always desired to fight the gods.

He will offer this kingdom’s queen the choice he offers all others, waiting as they cower in fear, his eyes searching their court for you. But you are never there, and his anger only grows.

Perhaps this time will be different? Gabi would be fond of this land, would enjoy the flowers and streams. He prays that is a good sign.

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer

[wearepurplejackets]

Little recap of episode 4 of season 4 of Wakfu

Look at this!!

You saw this beautiful smile???? This smile can stop babies from crying (and Nora). This smile can revive a puppy.

You saw it???

Well, I hope you did because I think we'll not see it in a really loooooooong time~ (maybe 9... Or 10 episodes.) The storm is coming... violently with a bat.

(BEHOLD SPOILERS OF EP 4 OF SEASON 4 OF WAKFU)

I remember Tot said season 4 was gonna be sad a f*ck and that Yugo will have to pass some kind of "hard trial" (AGAIN) in this season because this kid will never have a good rest. Not even a breath. Stop. Give this little boy some holidays c'mon, the lord is always testing our little angel to the limit. (And by lord I mean Ankama I'm looking at you...)

So it's very likely that Yugo will start to suffer even more in the next episode. And of course, in the entire season :))))))) Let this boy have something, someone precious by his side more than an instant and stop take it from him in the next second, I beg you. (He just found his family... And... Qilby I guess. And Adamai just abandoned him already to investigate by his own way...)

Just seeing how the kings and queens of every nation were so disrespectful in front of him and just called his mother a monster and made her cry, well. (I want to riot! When Joris said they were "quite tense" he fell short.)

Okay, yes, I understand the eyes in the sky~ are pretty creepy and of course I don't trust her either, at least, like this is so suspicious for sure, no one was born yesterday even when she is trying to be so kind and helpful monitoring the entire planet (yeessss mom, way too much).

But, c'mon, this is a goddess as tall as... I don't know, as much as she wants, girl she is made of f*cking magic. If she wanted she could erase you from existence. She didn't have to give a f*ck about anyone and HERE WE ARE~

The best thing you can do is looking for a fight with her in the moment you meet her with no hesitasion? Do you want to die that much? Do you know about survival? Did you skip that class maybe? (I'm going for a tea BECAUSE-)

It was so necessary to (be a little racist dear rich people and) insult the giant blue mother of your hero in his f*cking face and the people who are at least trying to do your job (which any of you losers did well, like ever, btw. When Sadida kingdom was about to be destroyed by the chaos of Ogrest what did you do?? Eh, where were you???)

Jobs like protecting and saving your citizens from, nothing, being robbed and I don't know: imminent death??? I mean, really? Was that all you thought about in this situation? Being a d*ck was your best choice.

These same guys here were talking about stolen freedom?? What freedom? The brotherhood of Tofu had to save your asses for like 3 season. 3 ovas and dozens of comics. The same people who criticize others actions but never assist and reunite when they are needed, Cause I don't know Rick, it seems a little fake....

Yugo just met his mom and his sis and he already has the world of 12 hating them... Like wow, the rulers are all going to die in the hands of that kind of white demon/zombies of TLOU/soul suckers or whatever they are. And I really don't give a f*ck for any of them, ladies and gentlemen. Only the crowns are going to remain. (Down with the monarchy.)

Weeeeeeeell.

You know what? I don't care what Yugo will do from this point. Nop, not a bit. But I'm with him to the end of everything. I will support you honey, I will defend you no matter what. I mean, I'll be totally okay if he decides to save the world for the third f*cking time and I also will be okay if in the end he prefers to let all these motherf*ckers die in an instant with no mercy and no regre-

And it could even happen that Yugo loses someone important in season 4... (The same way I will lose my mind.) Hope that never happens, I just swear to god-

Anyway, Yugo fans, unite and brace yourselves.

[barbieaemond]

Intrusion (part I)

moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: (modern) Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!reader

WARNINGS: angst, Aemond has no filter, drug use (very brief), mentions of overdose, suggestive themes, sexual tension (sadly nothing more but part II will be a helluva ride)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sothoryos is a large continent in Martin’s universe. It is located below Essos.

WORD COUNT: 7k

Song for this fic:

taglist: @zae5 @chompchompluke @multyfangirl

“What’s up with the green light?”

Jason's voice came distantly, even though he was sitting right next to her. She looked up through her long eyelashes, scanning the mighty, green-lit Hightower from top to bottom, an emerald glow kissed her face.

“How dumb are you? It was a beacon once.” She said mindlessly, dragging her eyes away from the car window to watch her brother crouched on a little mirror with three lines of white powder on it.

“D’you want some?”

“I’m done with that shit.”

“I should hope so.” He chuckled, rolling a banknote between his fingers with the expertise of a magician ready to do his trick. “Dad is still paying the hospital to keep their mouth shut. Not to mention the papers…”

She heard him snort the substance, humming with delight as it reached his brain. She looked at him for a moment, green just like the glowing light on her face. It was so easy for Jason to surrender to the void. She struggled to do even that.

“Speaking of which” he said wiping his nose “he could’ve bothered to come.”

“And watch Otto Hightower gloat in his face? Dad would rather throw checks to the homeless.”

“Why are we here then?” he asked as the car stopped in front of the huge, tall building, the tallest in all the continent.

“Because he wants to remind everyone we are still the wealthiest in this wretched world.” She said she grabbed her little purse and got out of the fancy car as soon as the driver opened her door.

Blinding lights fell on her as photographers took note that the Lannister family had sent its scions to attend the annual Gala held by the Hightowers. A party that had always been held in the capital in the previous years, at least until what the newspapers had called the divorce of the century.

“I would not be so sure about that.” Jason said, squinting his eyes in front of the ruthless flashes. “Papers say Viserys is going to pay a fortune, for alimony and all that shit.”

“Miss Lannister! Here, please! On your right!”

She built a broad smile for the photographers, maneuvering her hair to let it slide down her shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. A well-thought-out act, repeated incessantly for as long as she could remember. A beautiful machine doll bathed in gold and diamonds.

“Do you still read papers?” she asked, not breaking her plastic smile.

“How else should I find out if I've done something illegal?”

“They’re a reliable source on that, less on others. They claim I had a thing with Cregan Stark when even walls know he’s gay.”

They claimed many other things. But she never confirmed or denied the rumors, because it was all part of the plan.

Any rumor of an alleged flirt or talk of an engagement with a scion from one of the old power families of the country only increased the height of the pedestal on which her father and mother had placed her. So that when rumors died, the vultures would come even more savage, raising the stakes to win the most coveted prize in their circle of starched shirts and centuries-old privileges that no longer had any value except in the small, greedy world inside their small, greedy heads.

She moved, swiftly but graciously, and stepped inside the building, followed by her brother and his giggles, and the photographers screaming at the top of their lungs, begging for another picture—just one more. The begging had started already.

The Hall of the Hightower Palace was a sight to behold. Adorned with green and dark tones, crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings and yellow cocktail music pushing all the fine-dressed people to chat and laugh more loudly as if they unconsciously tried to imitate the lively ups and downs of the notes.

The Lannisters lingered on the entrance, immediately catching many pairs of eyes, greedy and green as the decorations around them.

“Are they waiting for us to go greet them?” Jason asked, watching the Hightowers at the center of the Hall. “Gods, why do they always act as if they were royals and us merely subjects?”

"Apparently, it has been proven they have hints of blue in their blood.”

“Who’s the blondie?” he asked, taking his sister’s arm as they walked towards the hosts.

“Helaena Targaryen.”

“Oh! The freak?”

“She’s not a freak. She’s a renowned entomologist.”

“And my point stands.”

Miss Lannister knew all the four Hightowers waiting to be greeted. After all, who didn't?

Otto Hightower was the most influential man in the country, although he liked to hide and pull his strings behind the curtains. They said that family and strangers made no difference to him. His daughter Alicent would agree with a stiff lip.

She wore the most lavish dress of all, but that was not what caught the eye, but rather the determination in her gaze and the way she stood. A woman free from the chains of a marriage she had never wanted.

“It is a pleasure to have both of you here.” She said smiling at the two Lannisters. Her father Otto was towering just behind her, a curious look on his face as his eyes rapidly scanned Miss Lannister.

In fact, he stepped in, saying “Indeed, Alicent. Especially Miss Lannister. I’m relieved to see you well.”

After what happened in Pyke, was the part he deliberately omitted.

The young woman looked at him, unfazed, building another one of her plastic smiles and then directed her attention to the youngest son of Alicent and Viserys Targaryen. Daeron.

The boy was no more than twenty, but he had a way of standing and carrying himself, which gave him at least five more years. That was the price of being doomed to inherit a heavy family name and all within it. The young Lannister girl understood it all too well.

As for Helaena, she seemed the most out-of-place creature, like watching a dolphin swim along sharks. The Lannister girl didn’t know her that much; truthfully no one did. Helaena was always far away from the country for her studies, traveling to the edge of the world to discover wild and rare creatures. She had a way of avoiding eye contact, Miss Lannister noticed, if not for brief and furtive glances, as if she was afraid that if she looked too much, she would see too much.

“And you don’t call that a freak?” Jason asked once they moved away from the Hightowers.

“You are just sour because she barely looked at you.” his sister answered, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Hey. I’m nice to look at!” he said gesturing to his figure.

“You tell yourself that.” she sipped her bubbly like water, barely tasting it, as her eyes roamed around the lavish hall, watching the same old play unfold, with the same old puppets. And she was one of them, perhaps the main star, ready to follow the script and never stray from it. It was her purpose in life. A well-trained parrot with a melodic laugh and the stillness of a porcelain doll.

She looked around and saw the eagerness, the anticipation as they bided their time before flocking to her, begging for flesh and money and power, each one of them so eager to sell one piece of themselves to be on a golden plate, the very same on which everything was always freely given to her. Things, places, people. The Golden Girl, they called her. She was born in it, she reflected it. She never had to ask, she never had to beg for anything. While everyone around her seemed to be able to do nothing else.

"Miss Lannister, we would love to have you as our guest in High Garden. Please, consider our invitation."

"Miss Lannister, did your father receive the gift I sent him last week? Please, have him contact me as soon as possible, I have another proposal for a collaboration."

"Miss Lannister, please, convince your father not to cut off the funds, I wouldn't know what to do without the invaluable support of your bank.”

“Miss Lannister, please—"

Please. Please. Please. Please.

They all came muffled, the beggars and their begging, as if speaking from the surface while she was deep down underwater, floating. Then the puppet would take over, moving haughtily and mischievously, promising lies with empty smiles and stolen words. The same old power play, to tell the world the Lannisters were far above it.

But amid the muffled chatter and greedy eyes, there was one in particular, stripped of all reverence, blue and cold as the eye of the scientist dissecting something under a microscope.

He had placed her under the lens out of pure boredom.

He never attended these kinds of gatherings, at least not after Sothoryos, not after Floris. He was there only because his mother had insisted, almost pleaded with him. This was the first public event after the divorce. It was essential to appear close, united.

The word tasted rotten in Aemond's mouth.

He had made sure Aegon would not attend, and had come in through the back, creeping into the hall like a spectre.

Alicent had seen him at once, her eyes widening with surprise as if she were certain he would not come. And they had barely talked.

She had kissed him on the cheeks with that look in her eyes, the one that rose tenderness and contempt at once inside him, twin flames mirroring and dancing around each other. His mother's lips opened and closed repeatedly, like a record needle cutting the same groove on and on without making a sound. And he had no desire to fix that.

Once, maybe. He had nurtured so many unspoken words that they had ended up souring and festering the more he held them back, locked in a dark corner where no light filtered. So, his mouth stayed sealed and silent, like a tomb.

He had withdrawn to a corner of the hall, watching as the people lingered with their gazes on his dead eye, half curious, half scared. Something he was all too used to. He found himself cursing under his breath for wasting time in such a vapid and useless way. He could have been at home, studying, or working in the basement.

But then he had spotted her.

It was hard not to.

The moment she had entered the hall with her brother, it seemed she had drawn all attention to herself, absorbing all the light from the chandeliers. It seemed that her golden dress was truly made of gold.

Aemond had seen her once or twice in the past and each time, two distinct thoughts had rapidly crossed his mind.

First: that she was a pretty doll with more money in her pocket than cells in her brain.

Second: that he wouldn't mind taking her doll's clothes off.

No man with sense would have denied her beauty, but the more he looked at her, the more he saw how dry she was, how cold, like a sculpture doomed to live the same moment forever.

It was all scene, all pose. And Aemond understood it at once since he himself had enacted the same play in the years past. He knew what it meant to be an inanimate thing waiting to be moved by others, for duty or loyalty. Things that had lost all meaning to him once he’d found out that the more he latched on these things, the more hollow he felt.  

He watched the Lannister girl build fake smiles at each turn and he found himself grimacing, feeling pity for her, almost contempt. Perhaps she was just a tool, an extension of his former self for him to loathe, like spitting into a mirror.

But he just couldn’t stop watching.

She had a way of making the place where she stood like some kind of holy shrine and everyone around her kept scrambling to fall at her feet. She had a way of moving, slowly, like a creature living underwater. She would lean forward as she listened to people, only to retreat when it was her turn to speak, and she did it quietly, making the privileged speaker unconsciously lean towards her.

A tactic—a working tactic, though. Because Aemond had found himself craning his neck forward more than he would’ve liked to admit, and he wasn't even close to her.

“Choosing your next victim?”

He turned on his blind side as Helaena stopped beside him, handing a flute of champagne.

“Hāedar.” he said, taking the glass “Don’t say that. With all the shit they say about me, tomorrow they might title I’m a serial killer.”

“Well, you do have a dank basement in your place. And with the way you keep looking at the Lannister girl, it would be hard to beat the allegations.”

He looked down at the sizzling bubbles and curled his lips. Helaena did the same as her blue eyes scanned his face. Of all her brothers, she had always had the closest bond with Aemond. Born only one year apart, they had grown up as close as twins. Helaena did not look down when she talked to Aemond; she did not stutter or struggle to voice her thoughts as she did with anyone else. And his lips, which struggled so much to voice his emotions, always curled up in the most spontaneous way when they spent time together.

“You won’t get away with a smile, though.” She pointed out after a sip of bubbly “You barely talked to me earlier.”

“I was afraid our mother would stir up a hornet’s nest seeing me here.”

“She was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“I shouldn’t have. This place smells of coffin.” 

She watched him for a moment, trying to guess his mood and, therefore, whether it was a good time to speak. “Did you get my message last week?”

His eye remained fixed on the elated crowd, but Helaena didn’t miss the slight twitch in his lips. “I did.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“What was there to say?”

“Aemond, I know you have your grudges, but... he’s our father and he’s severely ill. He wants to see us, all of us, at Summerhall, next month. I want to believe he’s changing and—”

“Must I remind you what happened the last time we had a family heart to heart?”

She did nothing but cast a single, saddened glance to his dead eye and all her willingness to talk and try to make things better withered like a leaf in a frosted land.

“He’s changing because he already has one foot in the grave. Quit the fancy words, Hel, he’s not changing. He’s just trying to relieve his conscience. A bit late for that, no?” and he downed his champagne in one gulp.

“Aem—”

“I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t care.” He said, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket and placing one cigarette between his lips. He glanced one last time at his sister and with the coldest distance he said “But do let me know when he dies. I'll toast to that.”

She had had three flutes of champagne while talking to a countless number of faceless beggars when she started to feel nauseated. She didn’t even know by what, whether it was the champagne, the people, or herself. Perhaps all of them.

The cold night air embraced her as she went out on the terrace, making the hairs on her arms stand and her half-covered spine shiver. She had not brought her coat with her, but she did not mind. The cold awoke her from her torpor, made her stop being a relic on a mantelpiece.

She slipped a cigarette between her lips and looked into her purse for the lighter. "No, no, no—" she said to no one, frantically feeling every nook and cranny of the purse. "Fuck!"

"Here."

She jumped, turning her head just in time to see a lighter flying towards her. She caught it, staring at the dark corner on her left. There was a man sitting there, wrapped by the shadows, except for a thin white hand laying on the table, long fingers, and half a cigarette resting between index and middle.

She squinted, trying to get a better look. “I can’t see you.”

“I do.”

It was just a simple statement, but his tone was strange, riddled with an edge of shrewdness.

She stared at the dark figure for a moment longer, then lit her cigarette and walked a few steps closer.

"I would like to know who I'm speaking to, stranger." She said, handing over the lighter.

A moment later the shadow stood up, and she had to lift her chin as she watched the glow of the lamps unraveling his face, sharp like a knife. The air hitched in her throat, her gaze inevitably caught by the blue of his eye, as well as the dead blue of the prosthetic. "Oh."

His arched mouth bent upwards. "Define your oh."

“It’s just a oh, you’re not a stranger after all.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, curiously tilting his head with a ghosting grin “What do you think you know about me? Aside from what you read on gossip papers.”

“I don’t read gossip papers.”

“Yes, you do. All the girls like you do that.”

“All the girls like me?”

“Dolls with a trust fund to squander before forty.”

She raised her eyebrows, quickly scanning the young man before her. He was clad in black, with a black turtleneck and a leather jacket, accentuating his sharp features and pale face framed by short hair, a bit curly but neatly styled. “You’re the one to talk, Mr. I have blue blood in my veins.”

“I don’t work for my family.” He said matter-of-factly “They don’t pay my rent and they don’t cover up my shit.”

“Mine neither.”

His eyebrow raising was enough to dismantle her lie right away. “Papers say otherwise.”

“Do you trust papers and their cheap rumors?”

“Hmm. Trust is a strong word. But true or false, rumors are often more revealing than facts.” he took a long drag on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes and she watched as the dead one remained unnaturally still. It was not disturbing, she thought. It gave him a sinister allure, catching her off guard.

“Then I should believe all the rumors about you and your...charming mystery.”

“They say I’m charming now?” he asked with a smirk.

“I believe they called you a sphinx” she deadpanned “before claiming you hit a journalist, a woman.”

“And which one do you think is more likely?”

She looked at him uncertainly. Well, he was charming. But he was a lot more mysterious. More than a sphinx, Aemond Targaryen was a living riddle.

Even before the accident in Sothoryos, from where he returned with an eye missing, the second-born son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower was a foggy figure, often in the shadows, more than often in the shadows of someone else, his half-sister Rhaenyra, his older brother Aegon. And after Sothoryos, he seemed to have grown his own shadows, distancing himself from his family and dropping his academic career to do Gods-know-what in a small flat in the oldest quarter of Oldtown.

“Both?” she dared.

He clicked his tongue, looking away with disappointment, and flicked the cigarette. “Too easy. And now you’re boring me.”

“I shall take my leave, then.” she chirped with a tight smile.

“Don’t expect me to follow you. I am not one of those wankers inside who come in their pants as you bat your fake eyelashes.”

The smile left her face instantly, and she glared at him, throwing her half-cigarette on the ground. “It is true, then. Royals do act like the rudest jerks.”

Instead of looking offended, her words seemed to do nothing but tickle his pride—some kind of gratification that poured like poison from the angles of his mouth. “I don’t act. But if I wanted to, I'd know who to turn to.”

“Meaning?” 

“And you keep boring me.” his eye went momentarily below her neck, and he tilted his chin “Are those pretty diamonds slowing blood to your brain?”

Miss Lannister looked stunned. No one, ever, dared to talk to her like that.

She was used to being praised and begged and praised. A beautiful portrait framed by gold and hung on a wall for all to see. She should have been outraged, she should have used her last name as shield and threat. But for once, she was breathing on her own, free of any strings.

“Are they real?” he asked suddenly, and she stilled as his hand ghosted on her necklace, feeling his cold fingertips hovering above her skin.

“Of course they are.”

“Hmm.” He mused, pulling his hand back as he continued to stare at the necklace and then down at her dress.  “They serve their purpose I’d say.” he said dragging his eye back to her face.

“Slowing my brain?” she asked with a little vitriolic smile.

“Hiding all the fake beneath them.”

“Who are you, a fortune teller?” she spitefully asked. “Do you possess the Third Eye as well as the Fake One?”

“One eye is enough to see right through you, golden girl.”

“And why were you watching me if I am so blatantly obvious?”

He almost shrugged his shoulders. “These parties are dreadfully boring. I was in need of a distraction, and you were hard to miss.”

“I could say the same about you.” Her gaze flicked for an instant to his dead eye. “Except that I don’t hide in dark corners from my own family.”

Whether he was stung by her words or not, his composure remained utterly impassive. A sphinx through and through.

“No. You do it before them.” An amused smile, spiced up with poison, curled his lips. “At least I have the dignity to disappear instead of begging for attention like a pathetic creature.”

Her words did not sting, but his surely did. And they shouldn’t.

They had crossed paths once or twice in the years prior, but effectively, Aemond was but a stranger to her. She wasn’t even aware of him watching her inside the hall, maybe too absorbed in her puppet play, or maybe resigned to scream into a crowded room of deaf mannequins.

She swallowed heavily, not dropping her gaze, waiting for all the gold to shield her, hide her, serving its purpose once more. But Aemond had a strange look in his eye. He was staring at her, and what he saw thrilled him.

He was sure he would see harshness, contempt, but not that. Not…anguish. It was buried in her pretty eyes and yet it just lied there in full sight, the darker shade of abyss beneath the crystalline blue of the deceiving surface.

If only someone had bothered to look.

“You remind me of someone.” he said almost mindlessly.

“Do I dare asking or do you wish to offend me some more?”

He seemed to ponder for a while, looking at her as if he were measuring an opponent.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

He moved, leaving the terrace without waiting for her, sure enough she would follow him. And she did.  

Not immediately, though. She stared at his tall figure as he went back inside and thought she should go back to the party, go back to the script. There was something uncanny, almost eerie about staying close to him, like walking on the thin thread of a cobweb while being dreadfully aware to be walking towards the spider’s bite.

But the dread made her feel alive, made her heart pounding in her throat. So, she followed him.

“I didn’t know your family had it.” She said with a tinge of amazement as they stopped before the painting gloriously exhibited along one of the lavish corridors upstairs. “I thought it got lost during some war.”

“It was.” He said, stopping beside her, eye roaming on the canvas.

“Did I remind you of a lost anonymous painting?”

“You reminded me of the Maiden.” And his eye flicked to the left of the painting. Then he dragged his gaze on her, turning his head, and watched her. “Do you know the story?”

“The myth?”

“You don’t believe it to be true?”

“I don’t believe in Gods. Or myths.”

“That is strange, coming from a girl who spent so much time building her own.”

She turned her head and looked at him. He was smiling subtly, but it was different this time. There was no poison dripping from the angles of his mouth, but the clearest intrigue.

It stopped her heart for a moment. A sudden cut in the canvas, a crack in the porcelain. And she felt that this stranger was peeking inside, or perhaps she was.

Aemond looked back at the painting and laced his arms behind his back, making the leather of his jacket creak. “They said once there was a land inhabited only by Gods and Monsters. The Maiden was the most beautiful Goddess in the Holy Garden. She grew flowers from her hands, trailing behind her as she walked. But she was unhappy. The Gods only sought her for her gift, used her as a piece of ornament. She was beautiful on the outside, but inside—”

“Lonely and hollow.” she filled in.

“Just like the Stranger.” he said, and they turned at the same time, locking their eyes.

Aemond glanced back at the ominous figure in the painting and said “He was not allowed to enter the Gods world. He lived underground, blowing his mortal winds to call the souls into his realm of death. But then he saw her. He dried her tears through his wind until one day—”

“He took her.” she filled in once more. “He used the wind to tie her hands with the flowery branches she grew and kidnapped her from the Holy Garden.”

“Are you sure kidnapped is the right word?”

“According to the myth? Yes. You might have been a great scholar, but I’m not a goat.”

He chuckled quietly, and the sound made her turn again to watch him.

He held her gaze as amusement left his marbled features, and without taking his eye off her, he tilted his chin towards the painting “Look at her. Look at her face and tell me what you see."

She did so, observing the anguish, the dark trepidation on the Maiden’s face.

“She is frightened.”

“Is she?” he asked, and suddenly he was almost behind her. His breath tickled her ear like the wind on a hot summer day, and her breath hitched once more. “Look into her eyes.” he whispered on her nape “Is it fear to be taken…or desire?”

She swallowed, keeping her eyes fixed on the painting, and dug her nails into the expensive fabric of her little purse. “Art is not math.” she said with confidence “There is not one undisputable interpretation.” And she turned to face him “So unless you painted that, and I have some doubts, you say she’s keen on being taken. I say she’s frightened.”

Aemond stared at her for a moment with a strange new look on his face, as if someone had just issued a challenge to him. His blue eye was wide, and the little smirk was peeking through his lips. “Do you ever choose a position, golden girl?”

“I think I just did.”

“Allow me to rephrase, then. A less boring position.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but he was faster. “Let me show you something a little less ambiguous.”  

"Wow, these are beautiful," she said as they climbed the stairs to the floor above the one where the glorious anonymous painting stood. On the angled wall, a series of photographs were exhibited—portraits, precisely—all in black and white.

"Are we complimenting each other now?" he asked, halting on a step.

She looked at him doubtfully for a moment before slightly widening her eyes. "What, these are yours?"

He gave her a simple nod, and she looked back at the portraits.

"My mother put them here. Her way to prove she cares, I guess." He said absent-mindedly, as if conversing about the weather. 

The Lannister girl watched him closely, in search of something that would betray such a cold statement, but there were no cracks, no cuts.

"The great mystery unraveled.” She said forcing a dramatic tone “Aemond Targaryen is a photographer."

"I am not. I don’t do it for a living.”

“Yes, because you don’t need a job to get by.”

“Look who’s talking.”

She glared at him, trying with poor success to stifle a smile.

“It's just an interest." He stated.

"A passion." she dared to suggest.

"I wouldn't call it that. Passion preludes emotion, ardor. Photography is nothing like."

She watched him fold his arms behind his back in a peculiar way, grabbing his forearms with his hands. He had done the same thing earlier, in front of the painting. The gesture caught her attention then, as it did now.

"What is it then?" she asked, trailing her eyes back to his face.

He stared at her for an impossible long time before answering. “Revelation.”

She looked back at the portraits and observed them thoroughly. There were some men caught behind the camera, but the majority were all women. Young and beautiful women.

The portraits were majestic, she considered. He had found a way to toy with light which made these people look like glimpses from an otherworldly dimension, flashes of dreams.

No, not dreams, she thought.

The light was cruel, exposing, cutting. And all the subjects seemed to have been caught in a moment of great distress, flowing almost into a grotesque despair.

Flashes of nightmares.  

The sight made her lips part, her skin shiver with eeriness and something else, something she could not name. The same basic instinct that had pushed her to follow him. These people, made eternal by black and white, were dressed, but their souls utterly naked before the eye.

“I wouldn’t call it revelation…”

“And what would you call it?” he asked, stepping beside her to watch the portrait, not missing her little startle when his elbow brushed against hers.

She took a deep, silent breath and turned her head to look at him. "Intrusion.”

“Hmm.” He mused, slipping his pack of smokes from his pocket “Intrusion of which kind?”

He placed the cigarette between his lips only to see her hand snatching it away, but slowly, just like she was used to move, so much that her fingertip brushed his upper lip. “Any kind.” she answered and his eye fell on her rosy lips closing around the filter.

His mouth twitched, as if her light brushing had lit his skin aflame, and he moved unconsciously, bringing the lighter close but pausing, his thumb lingering on the little wheel, and he looked at her, just as she looked at him.  

When he pushed his finger to light the flame, the short metallic sound came through with a strange finality, a curtain dropping after the first act.

She lit the cigarette and took a long drag, glancing at the portraits and then back at him. “Did you fuck these women?” 

“No.” was all he said, hiding a little smirk as he slipped another smoke between his lips. He saw her raising her eyebrows with clear disbelief, so he clarified. “Not all of them.”

“I bet they revealed themselves thoroughly.”

“They were more than keen to do it.”

“And did you?” she countered, tilting her head, lowering her voice so that once again, he found himself leaning towards her, like a moth to a flame. “Did you reveal yourself as well? Did you let them intrude?”

“Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.”

She clicked her tongue and laughed—the very first genuine laugh she could conjure up in the span of hours, or even days. “Now you’re just trying to impress me.”

“Yes. And unfortunately for you, it is working.”

She gave him a bemused look at his brazen statement, but she felt strangely exposed under his unblinking stare, a hand ending her ceaseless floating to anchor her against the seabed.

“I want you to come to my place," he said suddenly, his voice kept quiet, almost soft, to the verge of whispering. It wrapped her senses like a soothing lullaby.

“I want to take your picture.”

“Why? To end up on this wall and in your bed like dozens of girls before me?”

“Dozens?” he raised an eyebrow “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.”

“Hmm” he crooned, cocking his head to one side, a contented expression stretching on his face, much like a cat licking its whiskers. “Envy doesn’t suit a Lannister.”

“Envy?” she repeated, laughing scornfully. “You’re an arrogant brat, has anyone ever told you?”

“Many in fact. So, shall we?”   

“Shall we what?”

“Pity, I thought you had stopped boring me.” He said pocketing his lighter “Stay here playing the doll with those old fogeys, if you like. I’m leaving.”

She had only time to blink and he was gone, leaving her on those steps with the foreign, unsettling longing to follow. Her feet moved on their own, dragging her back to the party with an urgency shaking her bones, pushing her eyes to dart in every corner of the hall, moving amongst the people as if chasing the wind.

“Oh, there you are!” Jason pulled her to him, and she stilled, as she was used to, but everything inside her kept moving. “That Lonmouth smartass came at me screaming like a chicken.” Jason said with cocaine pupils, slurring words after words “as if it’s Dad’s fault that he’s an idiot. Put him in his place, would you? I’m too high, I might stick a fork between his eyes. D’you you want to hear something funny?”

“No, Jason. I don’t.” she replied absently, looking around once more “Listen, did you see Aemond Targaryen?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She said, wriggling herself from his hold, but he was fast to pull her back “Sis, why are you looking for that creep?”  

“Let me go, Jason.”

“Listen to me. First the shit show in Pyke and now Aemond One Eye? Dad would not be happy to know you are—”

“Dad would not be happy to know fucking anything that he has not concocted and told us to do. And I’m tired of it, Jason.” She hastily broke free from his grip, alerting the well-dressed people around them, but she ignored them altogether. “Just this once, you’ll have to play the puppet. I’m done for tonight.” she tugged the pocket square from his jacket and threw it at him. “And wipe your nose, for Gods’ sake. There’s coke on it.”

She wandered inside the huge hall like walking through quicksand, sinking a little more any time another man or woman stopped her to chit chat, to ask her about her father and the bank and the next slot in her father's agenda.

As if she had any clue. As if her father had not dismissed any of her natural vocations  like wrong bills to be fed to the shredder only to make her study economics, only to frame her degree, and then instruct her himself to specialize in the sacred act of parading herself around like a rare stuffed creature.

“Here you are.” A hand slipped around her waist, and she found herself enveloped by two familiar hands. “I’ve looked for you anywhere.”

“Quentin.” She said, looking into the dark glinting eyes of Quentin Martell, slightly wrinkling her nose for the heavy male perfume in which he had apparently dunked his suit.

His eyes scanned her slowly, looking like he wanted to peel her dress off like an orange. “Always outshining anyone else, are you?”

She looked away, stifling an exasperated sigh, all too used to Quentin’s redundant flatteries.

“This party is dead, isn’t it? And rather self-celebratory from the Hightowers. As if they don’t owe their current position to Viserys Targaryen.”

She glanced at him and saw her father talking. It was one of his favorite refrains at breakfast, lunch or dinner. It made no difference to him. Any time was a good time to incense themselves as the best, the wealthiest, the proudest, and hundreds of more superlatives that made the food instantly go rancid in her mouth.

Distractedly, her eyes roamed around, numbing her ears while Quentin kept talking. It was then that she saw him. He had not left.

Holding a glass of some liquor, he seemed to be in deep conversation, or rather on the receiving end of a soliloquy from his grandfather, who was leaning slightly over him, almost talking to his ear.

His eye was absently buried to the floor, one long finger tapped against the glass. A couple of words she could not make from that distance slipped from his mouth, resigned as his whole demeanor.

She thought she was looking into a mirror.

“Honey, are you listening to me?” Quentin asked at some point, tightening the hold on her waist. “Who are you looking at so rapt?”

“No one.” she hurried to say. But Quentin was quicker to follow her gaze before she dropped it.  “Aemond One Eye?” he said on the verge of mockery. “Baby, he is so out of your league.”

She cocked her head and plastered a tight smile on her lips. “And precisely, what do you know about my league?” 

“You know what I mean. How blind can you be not to notice that your brother has been screwing your girlfriend behind your back for months? Oops, sorry, wrong metaphor.”

“Both the Baratheons and the Targaryens have denied it.”

“Sure, sure. Then why the Baratheons were not invited tonight? And why did the one eyed come? He never does. Oh wait, look at that, Aegon’s missing. Not surprising though, didn’t they say Targaryens used to fuck amongst their own in the old times?”

She lowered her gaze, lost in thought, and then turned her head, instantly widening her eyes, shoulders tensing when she saw Aemond looking straight at her, sipping his drink, straightening the cobweb’s thread on which she had been tottering until that moment.

“Baby, are you high again?” Quentin asked her, with a genuine, inquisitive tone.

“What?”

“You’re shivering. Greyjoy told me everything about that night. Said you went batshit crazy on coke. Depraved as he is, it’s actually a good thing that you OD’ed. That creep would have fucked you even that stoned.”

She immediately grabbed his arms, trying to wriggle out of his hold. “Let me go.”

“Oh, come on.” He nothing but hold her more tightly. “I know you like to get a little freaky once in a while. I do, too. In fact, why don’t we take a tour upstairs? We could cheer up this drag.”

“No. Quentin, let me go.”

“Come on.” He insisted, pulling her to his chest.

She had to step on his foot to shake him off. “Let me cut straight to the point. I won’t fuck you, Quentin. Not tonight, not even if you were the last man left on this earth.”

He grimaced, spitefully twisting his mouth like any man who's been denied the chance to feel like a man for a few minutes. “I had warned Greyjoy about this. I told him you’re a spoiled cunt. You know what? You should get with that Stark fag. He may fuck your ass, so maybe you’d feel something 'cause I’m sure as hell your cunt is drier than the Red Waste.”

The insults were also part of the play.

After all, the act might not please everyone in the stalls. “Just shrug them off. They’re praises, actually, disguised bitterly for what they cannot have.” her mother said “Besided, a lion does not concern itself with the opinion of the sheep.”

When she was younger, each bitter word was a giant finger pointed at her, a gavel sealing the next judgement. Her mother had tried with all her carelessness to teach her how to be exactly that. Careless, a river flowing in its direction no matter the filth that would pollute the waters.

But she was draining, ever since Pyke, perhaps long before that.

She was tired of pretending to be gold while her fingertips seemed to leave behind nothing else but ash.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like to be tagged when I post part II, leave a comment below 🫶

[moonlit-imagines]

Bubbly

Druig x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: @shinycupcakebaker: “Druig + ‘Bubbly’ by Colbie Caillat”

Druig and you laid beside each other in your shared bed, legs tangled under the blankets while the raindrops pattered against the roof of your new home. New home, new life. A peaceful place to keep safe and away from all the troubles you’d just previously faced.

Now you face your partner laying peacefully on his pillow, his eyes shut gently while he lightly snored in sync with the thunder outside. You smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes with him and begun to drift off to the sound of rain. Every day and night here seemed quiet, but that’s to be expected after living day and night around chaos and ruin of man. The two of you fixed that, now chosen man lay in their own homes here, all just as content as you. You two did that.

Druig woke not long after you drifted away, admiring the sight of his lover slighting drooling with a strand of hair stuck on their lip. You were as stunning in that moment as you were at a formal dinner, or walking about the village to observe, or fighting monsters by his side. You were always a sight to behold for him.

He lifted a finger to drag your hairs away from your face, and a small tickle from a strand woke you. You peered up at Druig, glad to see his smirk. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” His coarse voice whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss at the top of your head.

“No, I bet you didn’t.” You retorted, breathing a quick chuckle and burrowing deeper into his embrace. “It’s raining.”

“So it is.” Druig replied, seeing a tinge of moonlight come from spaces in your home’s walls. “Calming, isn’t it?”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @ipurpleeyou // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven // @evilcr0ne // @minxsblog // @v0idl1nq // @sydknee624 // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston //@multifandomfix // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 //

[pillow-princess-diaries]

𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒 𝚡 𝙰𝙵𝙰𝙱!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary:- You and your detective girlfriend find out you have one more thing in common (dazai finds out her s/o is a monsterfucker,but it’s fine because she it too😌💅🏻)

Pairing:- Fem!Dazai x Afab!Reader

Type:- headcanons/scenario

Tw:- MDNI. use of dildos(monster-dicks),vibrators and cum eating???? Overstimulation??? Begging???

A/N:- had a thoughr at 2AM so naturally i hadd to jot it down ☺️ I hope y’all like it and stay safe everyone!

Okay so i had a silly thought ☺️

Imagine fem!dazai finding out her s/o is a monsterfucker~

Imagine the two of them on Dazais bed just rambling on to eachother and then reader just says “honestly sometimes id just love to be fucked dumb by a tentacle y’know?”

And dazai just nods like “yass girll me too~” but she has this sneaky look in her eye.

-“Zai?whats up??oh no…what did you just think of🤨”

-“Oh no just…hold on”

She goes over to her closet and picks up a box and brings it back to the bed and opens it.

And lo and behold its fuckin filled with an assortment of monster-dicks.

You then look up at dazai like 😳

And all she says is “ive got way better than a tentacle babe~ take your pick”

And when you can’t pick on,she just covers your eyes and makes you pick one to try.

Imagine the rest of the night she just uses them all on you so you can find your absolute favorite…

Well at least that’s the excuse she made to get you on board.

Imagine dazai just goin to townn on you with each and ever one in the box,trying some of her favorite ones twice(just to make sure you get a proper feel for it ofc! she definitely doesnt love seeing your face scrunch up and relax as each one enters your pretty little cunt,each one a different shape,size,length and girth.)

Imagine her going so deep,it rubs against your cervix…imagine cumming so many times that at this point neither of you have kept count accurately.

Imagine her stimulating your clit with a little bullet vibrator as she thrusts the foreign shapes into you revelling in the way you moan out her name and grip the sheets,your toes curling and your back arching.

Imagine her using a vibrating one and just keeping it inside you,buried to the hilt and making u beg to have it pulled out.

Imagine her running her finger along the edge of your cunt,gathering some of your slick and demanding that you clean the mess off her fingers in exchange for taking it out of you.

Imagine by the time your done you feel so sore and exhausted that you can barely even get up to go have a post-coital shower.

Imagine waking up the next day to see that each and every one of the little gadgets had been haphazardly thrown back into their box. Only your decided favorites lying nicely cleaned and dry on your night stand.

Imagine getting just a little sweet revenge on her and buying her one she doesnt have just to use it on her until she cant walk.

Honestly I doubt she’d mind~

I mean she gets to skip work the next day, AND she gets to be your little pillow princess~ It was a win win situation!

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 pillow-princess-diaries. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Fandom Observation Nicknames and Funny Tags: Part Jujutsu Kaisen

To add to my fandom behaviors and trends series. I thought it would share some of the funny or slutty nicknames some of the fandoms have given to their characters because trust me some had me laugh out loud and deserve more attention due to the creativity. Not just the nicknames. The tags have also been something to behold. But just in case that's not your thing, I did put a break in the post so expand at your own risk

Now let me make myself perfectly clear this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me.

So, let's start with Jujutsu Kaisen because that fandom is the best when it comes to nicknames and absolutely hilarious tags. So here are some of my favorites and they have at least one for every character

Kento Nanami: The Linkedin Daddy, The eldest daughter's dream man, " When you're tired of trying to fix him and now want a man that can fix you", The malewife, "The smutty wolf of Wall Street," "A man that could make a housewife out of anyone", Nanami 'i break walls with creeps and kneel for women' Kento," & Corporate Bae.

Gojo: "The unstable himbo", Everything the youngest child has ever dreamed of, The I could fix him (no one can fix him), A little freak affectionate

Geto: The "mentally ill genocidal pookie", "a DILF that fathered so hard he mothered", The middle child's dream man, & Precious baby girl who has done nothing wrong in their entire life (has literally committed terrorism and murder), "my princess with disorders."

Toji Fushiguro: "A horrible father that just happens to be unreasonably hot", Darling dirtbag, Extra wide blorbo, Precious beef cake, it would be worth the STD, hear me out the worm offers some interesting possibilities, my precious darling deadbeat, babygirl, The things I would let him do to me,

Choso: "His sunken eyes and depressed swag have captivated me", my little emo boy, "he is a beautiful angel and i want to sit on his face until he drowns in my p**** juice", pookie, big handsome kitty, baby daddy, mr. rideable nose, 150 y/o virgin.

Mahito: A "beloved princess with a disorder", "When you just want to freak who's objectively a monster"

Sukuna: "When you're down for atrocities", I might not survive but it would be worth it & Four armed daddy,

Yuki Tsukumo: "My tall and buff queen", & dommy mommy with a motorcycle.

I think everyone can tell the fandom favorites and if I see any more in the future I will add them. But I hope at least someone gets a laugh out of these and thank you to the people who put these nicknames or phrases in the comments, tags and multiple anonymous messages received.

And just in case you're feeling called out JJK fandom this is just part 1 of a series. I have multiple other fandoms posts started in the draft box

[fairy-verse]

I'm curious since nightmare and night light are the same person why does the shape of their wing different, nightmare wing looks more like summer fairy

Looks can be deceiving, and there’s no greater example of this than when it comes to the fairies of Autumn. Mystical fairies, the big folk call them, for while winter fairies remind them of moths, and the spring fairies remind them of dragonflies, the autumn fairies remind them of nothing else than that which is strange and mystical; magical. They have peculiar wings, oddly shaped, but the more they appear to remind you of another type of fairy, the more dangerous they are. Luckily, autumn fairies are peaceful and reserved, preferring to stay in their underground domain during the day, and only emerge to the light of the night when the big folk have gone to sleep.

They are graceful and they spend most of their time outside dancing. Their twinkling lights can be seen shimmering above the surface of the crystal lake, but should any of the big folk approach, then they will scatter and disappear.

In what way are they dangerous? Well, who is to know, because there’s never been anyone to speak of it. None that has survived, that is. You see, the autumn Queen is the most deceiving of all her kin, because her beauty will lure you in, and that is how she’ll get you.

Be you kind or cruel, it matters not to the autumn Queen, because if you invade her domain then you must be dealt with. After all, there is a story that tells of how she was once gentle and sweet, the purest and loveliest of all the firstborns, but that it was tainted and corrupted once that same loveliness led her into danger. Now, although changed, that same beauty can still make others approach, but now she’s not so defenceless. She wishes to be left alone, for her and her fairies to not be disturbed, and should you tread on forbidden land then your intentions matter not.

You didn’t heed her warnings nor her wishes, and so, she will ensnare you with her beauty.

With a flash, you’ll see wings that express such wonder and light that you won’t be able to look away. They almost remind you of a butterfly’s wing, but these are greater and more wonderful to behold, and the Queen’s smile is so tender and loving.

You can’t help but approach.

And that is when those same wings change before your eyes into something terrible, something that is black and glistening, almost rubbery to the eye. But they are sharp, and they easily pierce your flesh, and the sight of the autumn Queen is terrible to behold, for now, her smile is sharp, all jagged teeth and your eyes turn dark before you see what happens next, and no one ever sees you again.

The autumn fairies are the most deceiving of all the season fairies, and none more than the Queen herself, for hidden deep within her underground nest rests her true heart, her true visage. It’s protected, kept safe from the horrors she faced all those centuries ago, and though they may look different, they are the same. The Autumn Queen has only been forced to deceive the world to protect herself and her kin, and so her light needed to change.

The Autumn Queen will never again become whole, lest the island turns pure and rids itself of all the big folk. Because, for as long as they remain, she must be strong, fierce, and beautiful. She must remain a predator who’ll always be ready to attack those who do not heed her warnings or her wishes because in truth she is always afraid.

Afraid that she’ll experience the horrors of the past again, afraid she’ll lose herself completely and become the monster her victims scream at before they die, afraid she’ll lose all she holds dear and near to her broken soul.

The Queen of Autumn is a peaceful ruler who will never attack innocents who wander about their daily lives outside of her borders, for she is tired, and her only wish is to close her eyes and rest for a century or two, and then hopefully reawaken to a perfect Island where only the fairies reside, but of course, that is just a dream, and she still finds herself in the shadows of a living nightmare.

[miraculan-draws]

If you are stubborn enough in da2 party combat dynamics barely matter. Just make them dead faster than they can kill you. Defense? I do not know her. May I introduce you to Tank-a-bela, Queen of the Eastern Sea? Varric "Goodnight" Tethras? My wife, Dr. Bitch, whose only purpose is to not let them die? And mage Hawke, whose only purpose is to AHHH go crazy AAHHH go stupid???

Secondary party build that I HIGHLY RECOMMEND is Triple Mage and Carver. Just make him unkillable. Make a monster out of this 19 year old boy. Behold the power of our collective baby brother.

[dragonofthenorth]

Oh my oh my it has been a minute hasn't it guys?

Gym season is a special brand of hell for me so I've been busy. But I have some news! When don't I?

Cyprian is officially retiring. He's not old but his eye is gradually getting worse and he deserves to not have to worry constantly about battling.

But who will replace him? I hear you cry. Well, Sovereign of course. Because they evolved. And they're beautiful. (Once more thank you @/kobolding for bringing my CHILDE to life)

Neither king nor queen they rule above them all. Sovereign is a Nidoreign and a whopping 220 cm and a monster to behold. Absolutely regal and powerful.

All hail your Sovereign.

Any questions I'm always open.

[alligator-with-a-top-hat]

Gonna meditate on Ridley’s importance to the Metroid series, edited from comments I made on a video about him. After some thought, it’s clear to me that every appearance of his after the first ties him strongly to the theme of each individual game. Analysis under the cut, in in-game chronological order.

Zero Mission's whole premise is being a new spin on a familiar story, showing us things we never thought about in the NES game. Zero Mission's cutscenes show him commanding the Pirate Mothership and deliberately tracking Samus down. His robotic double, Mecha Ridley, is the new final boss stopping her escape from Pirate patrols. It's an organized, calculating side to the Pirates never seen before in the 2D games. The game is about insight into the past, and we gain insight through Ridley.

Prime is about respecting our history and the dangers of wasteful exploitation. Ridley is the face of the Pirates on Tallon IV as they discover and abuse Phazon, and his opening salvo in his boss battle is to bomb the Artifact Temple. However, the Phazon hurts the Pirates as much as it hurts their enemies, and the boss battle ends with the statues of the ancient Chozo blowing Ridley away in violent, laser-y retribution. The game is about destructive exploitation, and Ridley shows what happens to those who go too far for power.

Corruption is about the corruption of the body and spirit by violence, as represented by toxic Phazon. At the beginning, Ridley is his crafty old self, hounding Samus on Norion and forcing her into a boss fight he knows she cannot escape on her own when he knocks her into the generator shaft. But at the end of the game, he reappears, corrupted by Phazon, as an animalistic guardian of the leviathan seed on the Pirate Homeworld, little better than a guard dog. It parallels Samus' own journey as she is corrupted by Phazon, put on a leash by the Federation, and forced to kill those like her. The game is about corruption, and Ridley shows the end of those taken by the corruption.

Samus Returns is like Zero Mission in that it is about shedding new light on an old story, but it goes deeper than that. Samus sparing the Metroid hatchling is the single most important decision in the series, so it's no surprise that the remake should have Ridley -- whose most famous moment in the manga was making the opposite decision in regards to Samus -- appear to try and tear them apart. His appearance also foreshadows his role in Super Metroid, and putting aside the change in tone from the original Metroid II, his appearance gives Samus and the baby Metroid a chance to develop their bond in a way that had mostly been told, not shown. The game is about Samus' moment of mercy, and Ridley is there to see if she can really do it.

Super Metroid is about Samus and the baby Metroid's bond. Samus throws her plans away to recapture the baby Metroid, and in the end it sacrifices its life to save her. Lo and behold, Ridley is the one who separates them, and when she kills him, she finds only the broken Metroid capsule, a tantalizing clue that brings her no closer to the baby Metroid. The game is about what matters to Samus, and Ridley is the one who takes it all from her.

Other M is a game about nothing. Samus does not impact the plot in any significant way because other people sideline her and handle the plot for her. Ironically, Ridley still fits this theme -- he appears as a cloned baby to annoy and distract Samus, has a boss battle that makes no sense in context, and finally is eaten by a poorly foreshadowed Queen Metroid and never comes up again. The game is stupid and Ridley is handled stupidly.

Fusion is about identity and the past. Everything is flipped upside down when Samus is infected by an X parasite, loses everything, and discovers that the monster trying to kill her is, essentially, her. The power of the Metroids, her eternal enemy, becomes the key to her success and survival. In an important scene, the Federation, which Samus has trusted since her Zero Mission, is revealed to have recreated the Metroids. Immediately after this upsetting revelation about an entity she has worked for for years, who does she encounter in the Federation's facility? That's right, Ridley, who has even been possessed by an X parasite as if to mock her situation.

It's not all bad, though. Fusion is the game where Samus finishes Ridley for good (seeing as he doesn’t return for Dread), and fittingly enough she finally comes to terms with part of her past when she reconnects with ADAM. It's a game about the past. Ridley is that past, and Samus finally puts him behind her.

Ridley is so special not just because of his cunning nature and terrifying brutality, but also because of how neatly he fits into the puzzle of Samus' life. He’s a relentless phantom that embodies the violence she cannot escape. He represents everything Samus must overcome to finally find that "true peace in space" from the NEStroid end screen.

Thanks guys 👋

[oleander-neruim]

Alrighty everyone so here's what's going to be my "Master Post" for my new brainroting AU.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Welcome to "A Myth's Voyage AU"

Essentially this is a Pirates SMP & Empires SMP x Epic The Musical AU. It follows a loose Canon of Pirates, the storyline of Epic, and nonesense and shenanigans thrown into the mix.

~•~•Behold our lovely Cast & Crew•~•~

『•Fully Established/Solidified•』

• Sausage Mythos as Odysseus 「#Odysseus!Sausage」, the Captain and protagonist of our story

• Joel Beans as Penelope 「#Penelope!Joel」, the Sausage's spouse & stand-in head of the Isles

• Hermes Mythos-Beans as Telemachus 「#Telemachus!Hermes」, Sausage's son

• Will Renais as Polites 「#Polites!Will」, 3rd in command & Sausage's closest crewmate

• Kuervo Fang as Eurylochus 「#Eurylochus!Kuervo」, 2nd in command

• Kyle Eef as Permides 「#Permides!Kyle」, pilot of the head ship

• Red D. Doons as Elpenor 「#Elpenor!Redd」, member of Sausage's main crew

• Aeor as Zeus 「#Zeus!Aeor」, God of Life & Storms

• Exor as Athena 「#Athena!Exor」, God of Death & Wisdom

• Codfather Jimmy as Polyphemus 「#Polyphemus!Jimmy」, a giant bipedal fish monster, "Cyclopes"

• Ocean Queen Lizzie as Poseidon 「#Poseidon!Lizzie」, Goddess of the Ocean

• Pearl Moon as Aeolus 「#Aeolus!Pearl」, Goddess of the Winds

• Fwhip Grim as Hermes 「#Hermes!Fwhip」, Messenger God of Travel

• Gemini Tay Grim as Circe 「#Circe!Gem」, Goddess & Sorceress of Magic

• Acho Denholm as Tiresias 「#Tiresias!Acho」, the Prophet

『•Likely Established/Not Featured Yet•』

• Oli Orion as Apollo 「#Apollo!Oli」, God of the Sun & Music

• Pixlriffs as Hephaestus 「#Hephaestus!Pix」, God of the Forge & Craft

• Katherine Elizabeth as Aphrodite 「#Aphrodite!Katherine」, Goddess of Love & War

• Shrub Berry as Ares 「#Ares!Shrub」, God of War & Bravery

• Joey Graceffa as Hera 「#Hera!Joey」, God of Marriage & Family

• Scott Major as Calypso 「#Calypso!Scott」, Nymph of the Sea, a shapeshifter

• Owen Orange as Antinous 「#Antinous!Owen」, lead suitor & attempted usurper of the "throne"

『• Additional Cast •』

• Guqqie Mey, member of Sausage's main crew

• Michela Ray, member of Sausage's main crew

• Ros Cumber, member of Sausage's main crew

• Puffy Kara, member of Sausage's main crew

• Graecie Elaine, head of another ship on Sausage's fleet

〔Relevant Tags〕

• #AMyth'sVoyageAU -> Main tag for the AU

• #VoyageQueries -> Tag for questions about the AU

• #VoyageTapestries -> Tag for art related to the AU

• #VoyageGossip -> Tag for random rambles or thoughts on the AU

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I'm not sure what all should be included here honestly but I can add on as we go.

Some names may end up being placeholders if I think of something better but this is what we're working with right now.

My ask box is always open for those who have curiosities or perhaps scene requests

/nudgenudge/

Enjoy your time & enjoy the story

[ladycloudless]

Welp here we have An Lian family ✨

First up is his mother Queen Merry Breeze

Queen Merry Breeze, was once a celestial but chose to leave the celestial realm as her love and curiosity of the mortal realm grew. Especially once she learn that she had distinct family who dwell in a large village. She went and lived in the village, where she gain her most trusted servant Dr.Liang; who had been serving the family for generations and now they were serving her. There she earned the title "Queen" as the villagers grew to love Merry Breeze for her resourcefulness, tips in trading and that she kept the village safe from the threats around them.

Fun facts: Is the older sister of Princess Iron Fan, gain her immortality by the immortal peaches and is overprotective of her children. Has a dislike towards Azure, cause that guy flirted with her husband.

Next up the father Shui

Shui, a water demon born from water, who was found by some celestial maidens as a baby and taken to the celestial realm where he was raised by whom he dubbed his sisters. He received education that the celestial realm had, he would be told to study the art form of fighting, but he was drawn to art form of dancing and he skip out on his studies to watch the dancers practice. Often practicing the dances on his own time. Once others found out about this, they did scold him before Shui showed off his skill and low and behold, they could only describe his dancing as elegance, his movements flowing like water, smooth, graceful, as if he had been dancing his whole life. He was granted to be a celestial dancer, becoming one of the best ones.

Fun facts: He's judgemental on those that have intent on becoming friends with his family. The necklace he wears keeps him from turning into his water monster form out of anger and such. Has a glamour over his ears. To say many people have tried to woo him is an understatement

Up next the triplets!

Minyi the oldest by 3 minutes, Suyi the 2nd oldest by 2 minutes and then Yanyi the youngest.

Fun facts: They're 8 years old, Dr.Liang is their caretaker, they knew of their brother, but never met him until they meet him after the events of season 4. They haven't met QMB sister family yet and they have only seen PIF once. The sisters love playing a lot henceforth they're very energetic and friendly. Little gremlins at night-

And last but certainly not least Dr. Liang!

They been serving the family for generations and been the closest friend to them. Though once QMB came into the picture, they became loyal to her as she eventually became the leader or what the villagers called her "Queen". He found this generation to be his favorite and they loved being the caretaker for QMB and Shui children.

Fun fact: They're 6'9, quite strong, they're an ex mercenary, he was the messenger for the love letters between Shui and QMB, he's been the family doctor for generations, only became the caretaker of the kids for QMB and Shui. He questions the family taste in partners sometimes though, having been a bit skeptical of Shui at first before eventually accepting it. They have patches of missing fur.

take this nice drawing of Shui ✨

[tina-aumont]

Arabian Nights

Arabian Nights is a 1942 adventure film directed by John Rawlins and starring Jon Hall, Maria Montez, Sabu and Leif Erikson. The film is derived from The Book of One Thousand and One Nights but owes more to the imagination of Universal Pictures than the original Arabian stories. Unlike other films in the genre (The Thief of Bagdad), it features no monsters or supernatural elements.

This is the first feature film that Universal made using the three-strip Technicolor film process, although producer Walter Wanger had worked on two earlier Technicolor films for other studios: The Trail of the Lonesome Pine (1936) at Paramount and the 1937 Walter Wanger's Vogues of 1938 for United Artists.

Plot (it may contain spoilers)

In ancient Persia, the young women of a royal harem read the story of Sherazade, unfolding the film's story. Sherazade, a dancer in a wandering circus, captures the attention of Kamar, the brother of the caliph, Haroun al-Rashid. Kamar's infatuation influences his attempts to seize the throne from Haroun and make Sherazade his queen. His revolt fails, and he is sentenced to slow death by exposure, but Kamar's men storm the palace and free their leader. Wounded and forced to flee, Haroun chances upon Sherazade's circus and is spotted by the young acrobat Ali Ben Ali. Aware of Haroun's identity, Ali hides him in the circus. Later, upon awakening from his injuries, Haroun beholds Sherazade and falls in love with her.

Meanwhile, Kamar assumes the throne, but Sherazade is not to be found. He orders the captain of his guard to find her, but a scheming grand vizier, Nadan, approaches the captain with the order to make Sherazade 'disappear.' After finding them, the captain sells the troupe into slavery. When the captain is found out, Nadan murders him in order to conceal his treachery. Haroun, Sherazade, and the acrobats escape the slave pens, but are found by Kamar's army and taken to a tent city in the desert. Kamar reunites with Sherazade and proposes, but she has fallen in love with Haroun instead. Nadan, recognizing the caliph, uses this knowledge to blackmail Sherazade into helping him remove Kamar from the throne, in return for safe conduct for Haroun out of the caliphate. In secret, however, he plans to have Haroun killed once he has crossed the border.

Upon learning of this insidious scheme, Ali and his fellow performers rescue Haroun, who then decides to free Sherazade with the help of the acrobats. But Haroun and the others are quickly captured, and Sherazade finally learns his true identity. Kamar engages Haroun in a swordfight, while the acrobats set fire to the tents; and the arrival of the caliph's loyal troops, summoned by Ali, triggers a massive battle. In the end, as Kamar prepares to deliver the deathstroke to Haroun, Nadan assassinates Kamar. But as he prepares to do in Haroun, Ahmad and Ali interfere, forcing him to flee. Nadan is stopped by a thrown spear and dies inside a burning tent, leaving Haroun, Sherazade, and their loyal friends to celebrate victory.

Cast

Jon Hall – Haroun-Al-Raschid

Maria Montez – Sherazade

Sabu – Ali Ben Ali

Leif Erikson – Kamar

Billy Gilbert – Ahmad

Edgar Barrier – Nadan

Richard Lane – Corporal

Turhan Bey – Captain of the Guard

John Qualen – Aladdin

Shemp Howard – Sinbad

William 'Wee Willie' Davis – Valda

Thomas Gomez – Hakim

Jeni Le Gon – Dresser / Dancer's Maid

Robert Greig – Eunuch

Charles Coleman – Eunuch

Emory Parnell – Harem Sentry

Harry Cording – Blacksmith

Robin Raymond – Slave Girl

Carmen D'Antonio – Harem Girl

The film was released on 25th December 1942.

Photos from ebay and text from wikipedia.

[goosemixtapes]

max's september 2023 reads

i have always been faintly jealous of the people who post little lists of the articles/books they read at the end of the month. lo and behold, i have realized this is in my power to remedy. i've also assembled a list of my favorite short stories and articles of all time :)

fiction

Vergil's Aeneid, book 12 (aeneid daily reread) (review)

the latter half of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (review)

Edmund Spenser's Faerie Queene, books 1-3

selections from Edmund Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar (review)

Shakespeare's Macbeth (for the fourth time now)

the latter half of Us Against You by Frederick Backman (review)

Gregor the Overlander by Suzanne Collins (review)

I Am Your Spaniel by Gislina Patterson (i have a[n author-sponsored] pdf of this if anyone should like it!)

Peerless by Jihae Park (review)

Twelfth Grade Night by Molly Horton Booth (review)

the first two episodes of What Happens Next comic

nonfiction

The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel (review)

Why Centrism Is Morally Indefensible by Nathan J. Robinson (↳ musings on Tim Urban's book about polarization)

The Promise of Monsters: A Regenerative Politics for Inappropriate/d Others by Donna Haraway (↳ this was classwork and i understood maybe half. but the half was good!)

What Do We Owe Afghanistan? by Nathan J. Robinson and Noam Chomsky (↳ on the war in Afghanistan and the evils of the US military; cws for everything you'd expect)

What is a Woman? (A Response) by Julia Serano (↳ on the TERF's favorite question)

video essays

PragerU and the Politics of Pain by Zoe Bee (↳ do leftists centrally aim to avoid pain? and is that a bad thing?)

On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People by Patricia Taxxon (↳ ostensibly what the title says, but actually a detailed musing on the essential properties of furry media and the freedom of dehumanization; changed my life a bit)